“Oh, bullseye, bullseye!” Paul Martin and Charles Dean hugged William Thompson, shouting and jumping, so excited they didn’t know what to do with themselves.

But William Thompson couldn’t feel happy at all. He had tried hard to get a feel for the gun, but still hadn’t hit the target.

However, for Paul Martin and Charles Dean, this was already extraordinary. Most people couldn’t even hold a gun steady, and someone like William Thompson with such a good feel for shooting was rare even among the Eighth Route Army.

“Brother Wei, you’re amazing, you hit the target with your second shot.” Julia Brooks also smiled with her lips pursed, not as wild and exuberant as Paul Martin and Charles Dean.

“You’ve got a bright future, Wei.” Paul Martin was convinced now, even changing the way he addressed him. He had rarely seen anyone like William Thompson who didn’t have shaky hands or a racing heart the first time they fired a gun, just like a seasoned shooter. If he hadn’t seen William Thompson’s hands himself—though they were a bit calloused, they didn’t have the specific gun calluses from holding a gun—he wouldn’t have believed that William Thompson had never touched a gun before.

“Well done, you really have the makings of a sharpshooter.” Charles Dean was also very happy. William Thompson truly hadn’t let his beloved Zhongzheng rifle go to waste.

“Just lucky, just lucky.” William Thompson wasn’t being modest; he really wasn’t sure of himself. Maybe it really was luck that he hit the target with just his second shot.

In just half a day, William Thompson had become fast friends with these two mountain kids. Maybe it was because both sides treated each other sincerely and trusted one another.

“Let’s shoot two more rounds for fun.” Julia Brooks jumped up, clearly hooked as well. Opportunities to shoot like this were rare. Just thinking of the quartermaster’s ashen, debt-ridden face was funny—he’d painfully recorded all twenty bullets as non-combat consumption.

“Let’s shoot at live targets. Come on, let’s use the little devils as targets, hehe. That way we won’t waste bullets and can practice our marksmanship.” Charles Dean suddenly said in a very tempting tone. As the saying goes, every bullet should be saved. Whether you shoot at a dead target or a live one, it’s all the same—might as well use the little devils as live targets.

“Better not, it’s too dangerous.” After all, she was a girl, and Julia Brooks was a bit worried—bullets don’t have eyes.

“It’s fine, we’ll sneak over and take potshots from the side. The devils won’t notice.” Charles Dean leaned in and said. He’d done this kind of thing plenty of times before.

“Alright, let’s go have some fun.” William Thompson was interested now. Using the little devils as targets for fun, treating the battlefield like a game—he was probably the first in history to do so.

“I’m going. If you’re not, forget it. Let’s go.” Paul Martin couldn’t hold back his excitement; once he had an idea, he acted on it.

“You guys go ahead, I have to get back to headquarters.” Julia Brooks said.

“Girls are such a hassle.” Paul Martin pretended to be impatient.

“Hmph, what’s wrong with being a girl? You really need a beating.” Julia Brooks waved her fist, nothing like the demure girls from ordinary families.

“Alright, alright, big sis, big bro’s just talking nonsense.” Charles Dean looked at the bickering pair and quickly tried to mediate.

“Hehe, equality between men and women, equality between men and women.” William Thompson tried to smooth things over.

“At least Xiao Li knows how to talk. I’m off, you guys be careful, go and come back early.” The girl’s temper flared up quickly and faded just as fast. Julia Brooks swung her pigtails and hopped away.

“Xiao Li?!” William Thompson was really put off by this nickname, a chill running down his spine. He wasn’t some eunuch.

“Xiao Li, let’s go, what are you spacing out for?”

“Forget it, just call me Wei.”

The three of them ran toward the distant sound of gunfire and explosions.

On the way, as they walked, William Thompson listened to Paul Martin tell stories about the unit he and Charles Dean belonged to.

It turned out their unit was the main Third Regiment under Nie Rongzhen of the Jin-Cha-Ji Army, currently working with the First and Second Regiments in the Huangtuling area to wipe out the Japanese Mongolian Garrison Army’s highest commander, who was also the commander of the Second Mixed Brigade.

Paul Martin and Charles Dean were soldiers in the second platoon of the guard company at the Third Regiment headquarters. Because they were too young, they were only responsible for guarding the headquarters. The guard company had nearly twenty boys about their age, and Paul Martin, who was a year older than William Thompson, was the platoon leader of the second platoon. Although they were small-time officers, they mostly did orderly work. Occasionally, Paul Martin, Charles Dean, and other comrades would sneak onto the battlefield to shoot for fun. By chance, they ran into William Thompson today and brought him back.

The three youngsters, all under twenty, trekked over mountains and ridges, getting closer and closer to the battlefield where gunfire raged.

On the way, they ran into a squad of Eighth Route Army artillerymen heading to the front, carrying several heavy pieces—five or six mortars, all captured from the enemy. Dozens of soldiers carried the gun carriages and ammo boxes, striding briskly, not a bit slower than William Thompson and the others with their two rifles.

Along the way, Paul Martin borrowed binoculars from the artillery company commander and looked around as he ran with the artillery squad.

Binoculars were a rare thing, able to see things so far away clearly. There were only a few in the regiment, and each was assigned to a specific person. Paul Martin rarely got the chance to play with one, but Company Commander Yang of the artillery company found the kid likable and lent it to him for fun.

“Hehe, there are little devils—look, over there!” Paul Martin suddenly shouted, as if he’d found treasure. It was rare to spot a few devils through the binoculars.