On January 1, 1944, it rained in Cairo. The pitter-patter of the light rain dampened the streets of the city, washing away the lingering stench of sewage.

In Egypt, spring rain is as precious as oil. Even as the drizzle soaked their uniforms, the officers and soldiers of the 11th Army of the World People's Liberation Army (WPLA)—preparing for another assault on El Alamein—felt no displeasure. Instead, they savored the rare moisture as they awaited the order to advance.

The 11th Army consisted of the 41st, 42nd, and 43rd Corps. Following the WPLA’s "triangular" organizational structure, a single army group included specialized transport units, bringing its total strength to over 200,000 men.

News that the 11th Army, composed primarily of Asian and Black personnel, was returning to the El Alamein front left a bitter taste in the mouths of other units currently undergoing reorganization and training in Egypt. The WPLA prided itself on integrating personnel from all nations across its units to avoid divisions. However, in the previous Battle of El Alamein, those units had performed abysmally.

The infantry of the 41st, 42nd, and 43rd Corps were selected directly by China from the *Bianhu Qimin* (registered households) of East Africa. Their commanders were almost exclusively Chinese, Japanese, or Korean. The urgent formation of the 11th Army was a clear sign that the Chinese leadership no longer believed other units could improve their combat effectiveness in a short period.

The vast majority of WPLA personnel were men, and men have pride. Seeing themselves so slighted, many members felt a sense of spiteful anticipation, hoping to see the newcomers fail. While the other units rested and trained in the Egyptian interior, their commanders held informal meetings to discuss the situation.

Because the WPLA Committee generally opposed strict military discipline, the aftermath of the previous defeat resulted only in administrative reshuffling rather than the executions or imprisonments common in other national armies.

Observing the 11th Army’s composition, many WPLA committee members—already lacking confidence—felt embarrassed. Unlike the conscript armies of nation-states, which demanded the physical and social death of those responsible for failure, the WPLA was composed of volunteers. By its very nature, it lacked the foundation for such draconian measures.

The committee argued that while the WPLA could execute individuals for personal crimes based on humanitarian principles, humanitarianism could not support the execution of individuals for military failure. Even if they wished to perform such an execution, they would first need to prove treason or deliberate sabotage to justify a charge of intentional homicide.

Executing a commander simply for losing a battle would be seen as oppression, conflicting with the fundamental nature of a volunteer army.

Since they had lost the battle, no one used this to make a point. Instead, the non-Asian committee members debated the 11th Army’s combat potential.

"These Black soldiers have only been trained for about a year. Due to the language barrier, most haven't even completed military academy education," one noted.

"But the Japanese and Korean officers are fluent in Chinese. Could this be a new model for a colonial army?" an Indian volunteer asked with concern. This organizational model bore a striking resemblance to the British Indian Army. The only difference was that while the British Indian Army’s officers were British and its NCOs and lower officers were Indian, the 11th Army’s high command was Chinese, with NCOs and lower officers being Japanese and Korean. Furthermore, the 11th Army contained units composed entirely of Japanese and Korean troops.

In the eyes of the world at that time, Europeans viewed the peoples of China, Japan, and Korea as being far closer in blood than the various European nations were to each other. They likened the relationship to that between the Habsburg Dynasty and the free territories of the Holy Roman Empire. Many Europeans even considered Korea a Chinese overseas province and Japan a Chinese client state.

Regardless of the relationship, the immediate priority was whether the Second Battle of El Alamein could be won. If the 11th Army failed, it would prove that the WPLA was inherently inferior to the armies of the Great Powers. If the 11th Army won, it would prove that a national-style army was simply more capable than a volunteer-based one. This posed a significant challenge to the WPLA’s current organizational model.

Thus, the non-Asian committee members were torn—they both hoped to see the 11th Army humbled and prayed for its victory.

Far away in East Africa, Cheng Ruofan understood the contradictions facing the WPLA. He also knew that, logically, they could not resort to executions. This was why he had deployed the 11th Army to the front to take charge of the second offensive. The 11th Army was built on the national army model, its construction mimicking the core principles of the old Northeast Army era.

Initially, even Chinese comrades felt that the army’s "grassroots" workshop-style approach gave it an indescribably "rustic" feel. If one had to describe it, the army seemed more like a team of elementary school students—or even preschoolers—than a modern military force.

None of them expected that they would eventually have to rely on this 11th Army to carry out the assault on El Alamein.

On December 31, 1943, Cheng Ruofan sent a telegram to Hu Xiushan in North America. After exchanging greetings, he asked if the WPLA’s failure at El Alamein had affected the North American campaign.

Hu Xiushan replied on January 1 with only six words: "No impact. Happy New Year."

The answer left Cheng Ruofan feeling slightly awkward. However, if Hu Xiushan said there was no impact, then there truly was none. After all, heavy snow was already falling across Canada, and the Chinese forces could rely on the mountainous terrain for defense. In such harsh weather, the difficulty of defending the mountains was greatly reduced. Given Hu Xiushan’s meticulousness and the elite nature of the North American theater troops, the defensive war should be manageable.

Satisfied that there were no chain reactions, Cheng Ruofan turned his attention back to the liberation of Africa, merely instructing his secretary to record the latest battle reports for him to read when he had time.

Corporal Obama, a Black soldier in the 11th Army, was a member of the combat engineers. He came from a middle-class urban family in former Mozambique; his father was a minor civil servant, and his maternal grandfather was a local merchant. His older brother and sister had already gone to China to study, and Obama had expected to follow them. Given his grades, he could never have gotten into a British school, nor could he afford the local ones.

Local schools were harder to get into because they were filled with the children of local Black officials and "comprador" families. The qualification bars were so high that a minor civil servant like Obama’s father would have to bankrupt the family just to send one child for higher education.

Then, the Chinese army arrived to liberate Africa. Obama’s siblings returned with them and quickly became important local officials. After a political screening, it was determined that Obama’s father had no deep ties to the British, and his grandfather was a local merchant rather than a comprador. Thus, Obama joined the army.

At this moment, Obama wasn't thinking about complex political issues. He was huddled with his Korean comrades in the engineer regiment, discussing several samples of British and Italian mines in broken Chinese.

Because he wanted to study in China, Obama had begun learning Chinese early. He used to think his Chinese was mediocre, but after being stationed with Korean comrades, his confidence returned. In terms of thick accents and mixed dialects, his Korean brothers-in-arms were about the same.

The current topic of discussion was indeed fascinating. Obama had always believed the British were formidable, so their equipment surely had to be better than the Italians'. However, the mines before him told a different story. The British mines were simple in structure and easy to disarm. In contrast, while the Italian mines were cheaply made, they were incredibly devious in their details. Disarming a British mine took seven steps; an Italian one took ten, one of which required extreme caution.

Across from him, Song Yongfu frowned and said unhappily, "Obama, your hands are fast and steady. You take the job of pulling the retaining pin."

At those words, Obama’s already dark face darkened further. He used to think the sun in his hometown was intense, but the North African sun was even fiercer; he was thoroughly tanned. Besides, pulling the retaining pin was dangerous, and Obama was reluctant.

Seeing his expression, Song Yongfu immediately ordered, "Finish ten of them, and you won't have to touch an Italian mine for a week!"

The work of a combat engineer might not involve charging the front lines, but it was often more dangerous. Clearing mines, erecting field bridges, laying pontoon bridges, and even stringing telephone lines were no safer than active combat. Once the enemy spotted engineers, they would prioritize them as targets.

The prospect of only having to disarm ten Italian mines tempted Obama. At that moment, Squad Leader Liu Zhaoji spoke up: "It's settled then. Our Black comrade will disarm ten, and we’ll handle the rest."

The El Alamein region was only 350 kilometers from Cairo, serving as a vital transportation hub. The 11th Army was fully motorized; their ten-wheeled trucks reached the destination in a single day.

By now, the Anglo-Italian forces had laid massive minefields in the eastern Alamein area near Cairo. Early on the morning of January 2, the 11th Army’s artillery began shelling the flat terrain of the minefields, attempting to clear the mines with fire.

Simultaneously, Obama’s engineer unit, dressed in desert camouflage, began clearing mines further south. The required clearance width was less than 100 meters, intended to allow an armored unit to break through once the battle commenced.

In the sky above, Chinese fighters maintained a continuous bombardment of the distant Italian positions. Snipers and marksmen from the 11th Army stood ready to pick off any Italian soldiers who approached the minefields. Under this protection, the engineers began their advance.

Obama took out a magnetic detector, a device that reacted to large metallic objects underground. Soon, the green light on the detector went out, replaced by a red glow. Obama knelt on the sand and pulled a strap from his uniform, which was covered in paperclips. He took one, straightened one end, and probed the sand with the needle.

This was a technique he had mastered after dozens of mine-clearing operations in South Africa. Although the probe seemed inefficient, it almost never triggered a mine upon contact. Using this method learned from Chinese mine-clearing experts, Obama quickly located a British mine and disarmed it.

Beside him, whether Black, Chinese, Japanese, or Korean, everyone worked with the same meticulous focus. It wasn't that people with similar traits were naturally drawn together, but rather that detailed social surveys had identified their aptitudes, leading to their specific assignments.

Judging by the sounds of explosions and gunfire, the Italians opposite them were being hammered. Yet, these distractions did not affect the careful work of the engineers. Mine after mine was cleared, its fuse removed, and sent to the rear.

Although this was an Italian-held sector, the mines laid at the front were British-made, which gave the engineers some peace of mind. After disarming his twentieth mine, Obama lost count. It wasn't that he couldn't do the math, but the mental strain was so great that he stopped thinking about numbers.

After an unknown number of mines, Obama felt he couldn't go on. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned to see the squad leader and the others equally drenched, their camouflage uniforms soaked. But they showed no signs of stopping. Everyone knew they had to clear the designated area completely; a single missed mine could stall the entire armored offensive.

Exhausted, Obama drank the last of his water and lay down in a small hollow within the minefield to rest. No one criticized him; this was common practice among engineers in the field.

If one were to look down from a high-altitude aircraft, these small dots in camouflage would be nearly invisible against the vast desert. Even if seen, they were like a line of tiny ants in the immense wilderness. The idea of these ants opening a kilometer-long path through the desert through sheer effort seemed like trying to extinguish a fire with a cup of water.

Yet, though these "ants" were weary and drenched in sweat from the tension, none abandoned their duty. Lying in the sand pit, Obama thought of the rice fields of his home, of his parents, and his siblings. He had joined the army to drive away the white colonial officials who looked down on his father, and the local Black comprador leaders who despised his family. Once they were defeated, Obama could return home and reunite with his family. According to their agreement, he would also be able to study in China, fulfilling his dream.

As for his major, Obama had already decided. The political officers had discussed it, suggesting that engineers should work on the railways after demobilization. The railway was an industry that would last for centuries; entering it meant a "guaranteed iron rice bowl."

Obama had only seen operational railways in educational films and books. Though he didn't know the internal workings of those steel machines, he had decided to attend the Lanzhou Railway University. A Chinese officer had told him that Lanzhou was sandy, very similar to African terrain. While Lanzhou Railway University might not be the absolute best among China’s railway academies, it was the one best suited for him.

After a moment of idle dreaming, his mood lightened and his strength returned. Obama climbed out of the pit and resumed his mine-clearing.

Another hour passed. When his probe struck something, Obama’s expression changed. From the subtle feedback of the needle, he knew he had hit a godforsaken Italian mine. Carefully digging away the sand, he revealed the devious shape of the Italian device.

This mine was essentially a long wooden box filled with seven pounds (about three kilograms) of explosives, triggered by pressure on the lid. The use of wood was largely due to Italy’s lack of industrial resources; wooden boxes were cheap and easy to manufacture. However, this crude method unexpectedly made them difficult for Chinese magnetic detectors to spot.

The Italian wooden boxes also resulted in irregular internal wiring—good for Italian workers’ production speed, but a nightmare for engineers who had to face various unexpected configurations.

Following the disarming procedure, Obama found the retaining pin. Holding his breath and taking several long, deep breaths, he used his nimble fingers to smoothly draw the pin. This action wasn't based on cognitive knowledge but on pure feel. It required three bursts of pressure and two relaxations in a very short time. Obama’s comrades could never achieve his level of fluidity.

With the pin removed, he carefully opened the box, only to find the installation inside was absurd. Although the wires were all there, the explosive was facing the opposite direction of the regulations. While this wouldn't make the mine a dud, opening it the "correct way" by mistake could have triggered it.

The engineers had seen the power of these explosions firsthand. With three kilograms of explosives, if it went off, Obama was a dead man.

After disarming the Italian mine, Obama was confused. He turned to the squad leader, who had come up to carry away the disarmed device, and asked, "Why are there Italian mines all of a sudden?"

Squad Leader Liu Zhaoji looked grim. Seeing that expression, Obama knew instinctively that his superior was thinking. Sure enough, once Liu’s brow cleared, he answered, "We’re likely to encounter a large number of Italian mines from here on."

Obama didn't understand the logic and wasn't even sure if he should ask. Liu Zhaoji was a Chinese high school graduate; his way of thinking was often quite peculiar, at least to Obama.

But this time, Liu Zhaoji didn't keep him in suspense. He asked, "Obama, who laid the British mines we were clearing earlier?"

"The British," Obama replied immediately. This was an easy question, and he liked proving he wasn't slow.

"And who laid the Italian mines?"

"The Italians."

"So, are the Italians in front of the British, or hiding behind them?"

Hearing this, Obama felt a sudden clarity. He had always believed the British were more capable than the Italians, so the Italians would naturally hide behind the stronger British forces. He answered immediately, "Are you saying, Squad Leader, that there are Italians behind this defense line?"

Liu Zhaoji was stunned. He hadn't expected Obama to follow the logic that far. Suddenly, he felt a pang of shame, for he too had harbored the stereotype that Black people were naturally dull. But the fact before him proved that Obama was simply inexperienced.