Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 265 The Death of Nakano Hidemitsu
Inside the trench, Nakano Hidemitsu paced anxiously back and forth. He would occasionally look up at the sky, hoping to see reinforcements, but there was nothing but wisps of smoke blown away by the wind.

The soldiers remained huddled in the narrow trenches, their heavy, suppressed breathing echoing between the mud walls.

"Warning... Enemy planes in the sky!" a sentry suddenly screamed, his voice distorted with fear.

Nakano Hideaki suddenly looked up and saw more than a dozen dark blue streaks of light approaching at an alarming speed in the sky.

Unlike the bulky Japanese aircraft, they appeared exceptionally light and agile, like messengers of death, carrying an aura of grim dread.

"Air raid! Quick! Air raid!"

Hidemitsu Nakano roared at the top of his lungs, but his voice was quickly drowned out by the first wave of explosions.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

With a deafening roar, the first batch of bombs landed precisely on the Japanese positions.

This is not a small bomb weighing a few dozen kilograms, but a heavy bomb weighing one hundred kilograms or even two hundred and fifty kilograms.

At the moment of the explosion, the entire earth seemed to tremble. Soil and rubble were thrown into the sky by the enormous force, mixing with the limbs and severed bodies of Japanese soldiers, forming bloody mushroom clouds.

The shockwave spread along the trenches, shaking the mud walls and sending countless pieces of dirt and gravel raining down, pounding against the soldiers' helmets with a dense crackling sound.

Hidemitsu Nakano was thrown to the ground by the violent tremor; his ears were ringing and his vision was blurry.

He struggled to his feet, a sweet, metallic taste rising in his throat; he knew it was blood. He saw a huge gaping hole blasted open in the trench beside him, several soldiers thrown into the air by the shockwave, crashing heavily to the ground, their bodies contorted into grotesque shapes, blood gushing from their mouths and noses, staining the soil beneath them red.

The F4U fighters in the sky never stopped. Like a flock of predatory eagles, they circled over the Japanese positions, constantly dropping deadly gifts.

Each bomb that fell triggered a small earthquake, tearing the Japanese defenses apart even more thoroughly. Soldiers didn't even have time to see the enemy planes before being engulfed by the blast wave and flying shrapnel.

"Ah..." A Japanese soldier let out a shrill scream as his right arm was severed clean off by a shrapnel bullet. Blood gushed out like a fountain, drawing a scarlet arc in the air.

He writhed on the ground in agony, clutching his severed arm with his left hand, but to no avail in stopping the gushing blood. The air was thick with the pungent smell of burnt flesh and gunpowder, making the surviving soldiers feel nauseous.

Nakano Hidemitsu looked at the hellish scene before him, and his heart bled.

He never dreamed that his proud elite troops would be so vulnerable in the face of this steel torrent.

The bombing continued inside the trenches, and each explosion made Nakano Hidemitsu's heart clench.

His ears were filled with the deafening roar of explosions, the screams of soldiers, and the groans of those on the verge of death; all he could see was a bloody mess.

He tried to continue giving orders in a hoarse voice, but in this hellish scene, his commands sounded so weak and powerless.

Just then, a burst of gunfire, closer and more intense than the explosion, came from not far away. It was the distinctive "rat-a-tat-tat" of the Thompson submachine gun, its metallic roar instantly drowning out the sparse "bang-bang" of the Type 38 rifle.

Immediately afterwards, a roar with a thick local accent, accompanied by the sharp glint of a bayonet, came from the other end of the trench.

"Brothers! Kill them!"

Hidemitsu Nakano turned around abruptly, his pupils suddenly contracting.

He saw a group of Chinese soldiers with ferocious expressions, their faces covered in mud and blood, their eyes filled with a bloodthirsty light.

Armed with short, powerful Thompson submachine guns, their muzzles spitting fire, bullets rained down, turning the narrow trenches into death tunnels.

Zhang Wenshan was one of these Chinese soldiers. A ferocious smile was on his face as his Thompson submachine gun roared "rat-a-tat-tat" as it swept forward, the gun even carrying a faint smell of burnt gunpowder.

He charged into the Japanese trenches like a tiger descending a mountain, leading the charge.

In the trenches, the Japanese soldiers were suppressed by the sudden close-range fire and could not raise their heads.

In such a confined space, their Type 38 rifles were simply ineffective for aiming and stabbing. The excessively long barrels of the rifles became a burden, and before they could even thrust their bayonets out, the dense hail of bullets from the Thomson had already torn them to shreds.

A Japanese soldier tried to retaliate with his gun, but his Type 38 rifle bumped against the trench wall. Before he could adjust his posture, Zhang Wenshan's submachine gun was already aimed at him.

"Rat-a-tat-tat!" The bullets instantly riddled his chest with holes, leaving it a bloody mess. His body fell limply backward, splattering a cloud of blood.

"Kill! Kill all these little Japanese devils!"

Zhang Wenshan roared and rushed forward, kicking a Japanese soldier who was trying to bayonet him in the stomach.

The soldier groaned, his body arching like a shrimp. Zhang Wenshan took the opportunity to smash the butt of his rifle hard on the soldier's head. With a muffled thud, the soldier's head exploded instantly, and red and white matter mixed with bone fragments flew out, landing on the muddy trench wall and slowly sliding down.

Inside the trenches, corpses piled up like mountains, blood stained the soil red, and in some places small pools of blood had even formed.

Besides the smell of gunpowder, the air was filled with a pungent stench of blood and human excrement, making everyone want to vomit. The Japanese soldiers were terrified; their proud Bushido spirit proved utterly vulnerable in the face of the Thompson submachine gun.

They tried to organize a counterattack, but the confined space and the sudden attack made it impossible for them to form an effective defensive formation.

Zhang Wenshan led his three platoons of soldiers, advancing along the trenches like a meat grinder.

Every corner, every straight stretch of road, was a scene of bloody slaughter. The screams of the Japanese soldiers rose and fell, and any sporadic counterattacks were quickly suppressed.

Their bayonets traced desperate arcs through the air, unable to reach the enemy so close at hand. Meanwhile, the muzzles of Thompson submachine guns continuously spewed flames of death, utterly shattering all obstacles in their path.

Meanwhile, in the trench, Nakano Hidemitsu listened to the screams of Japanese soldiers not far away, his face turning ashen. He witnessed his soldiers being slaughtered, yet he was powerless to do anything about it.

He even saw a soldier being hit by a submachine gun bullet, his body torn apart by the powerful impact, his internal organs and blood gushing out and splattering all over him.

Warm, viscous liquid slid down his cheek. He instinctively reached out and wiped it away, only to find it was blood—hot and foul-smelling blood.

He felt a churning in his stomach, but he clenched his teeth tightly, trying his best not to vomit.

He knew this was not the time for cowardice. He had to find a way, even if it was just to save one soldier, to buy time and wait for reinforcements. The carnage in the trenches continued, and Nakano Hidemitsu's screams were completely drowned out by the roar of the Thompson submachine gun.

He waved his command sword wildly in the air, the tip reflecting a pale, cold light, as if it were his last struggle.

"Commander! The Chinese are attacking! Let's go!"

A voice, trembling with sobs, rang in Nakano Hidemitsu's ears.

That was his chief of staff, who was now gripping his arm tightly, trying to drag him away from this living hell.

The chief of staff's face was filled with terror, his sweat and blood mingling together, making him look utterly disheveled. His fingers gripped Nakano Hidemitsu's arm so tightly that they almost bruised his skin, as if afraid he would break free.

Nakano Hideaki's eyes were bloodshot. He violently swung his arm, using all his strength to shake off the staff officer's hand. Like a raging beast, he drew his command sword from his waist, pointing the tip at the rows of fallen Imperial soldiers before him, and roared, "I won't leave! I will fight alongside the warriors of the Empire!"

He made a move as if to charge forward and fight to the death with the Chinese soldiers who were reaping the lives of the Japanese.

His steps were unsteady, as if he might fall at any moment, but his fearless madness made him stagger forward.

"Quickly! Stop the regimental commander! Take him away!"

Upon seeing this, the chief of staff disregarded hierarchy and sternly ordered the guards standing nearby.

The guards knew that Nakano Hidemitsu was a valuable asset to the empire, and although they were unwilling to go against their superior's wishes, they couldn't care less at this moment.

They immediately rushed forward, ignoring Nakano Hidemitsu's struggles and curses, and four or five of them swarmed him, dragging and pulling him backward.

Like a trapped beast, Nakano Hidemitsu punched and kicked, roaring in despair, but ultimately he was no match for the combined strength of the group. His military uniform became disheveled in the struggle, stained with even more mud and blood.

However, after taking only a few steps back, the group bumped into a group of Chinese soldiers who were clearing trenches. Inside the narrow trench, the two sides were almost face to face, their breaths audible to each other.

In the blink of an eye, before the Japanese soldiers could even raise their guns or even put their fingers on the trigger, the enemy's Thompson submachine guns roared into action.

"Da da da!"

The dense barrage of bullets instantly tore through the air. A Japanese guard at the forefront had several bursts of blood erupt from his chest. His body was thrown backward as if struck by a giant hammer, crashing heavily onto the cold, muddy ground. He convulsed a few times and then fell silent.

Fresh blood gushed from his body, quickly spreading a dark red stain on the ground.

"Go to the right!"

The chief of staff roared, making a decision almost instinctively, and directed everyone to rush toward another fork in the trench.

The group of people dashed around the trenches like headless flies, trying to shake off their pursuers.

The narrow passage, the piles of corpses, the slippery mud, and the constant gunshots and screams of their comrades made every step they took exceptionally difficult.

They dodged and weaved, bullets whizzing past them, comrades falling one after another, but they could never seem to pick up speed. Chinese soldiers were everywhere, surging in from all directions like a tide, completely surrounding the area.

With each turn and each attempt to break through, new Chinese soldiers would intercept them. They were trapped in a giant maze, running for ages only to find themselves still in the same place, unable to break out of the encirclement.

In the end, after a fierce battle, the three platoons led by Zhang Wenshan successfully trapped Nakano Hidemitsu and his men in a dead end of the trench.

The two sides clashed in close combat, bayonets hitting bayonets with a crisp metallic scraping sound. Gunfire, shouts of battle, and the screams of dying Japanese soldiers mingled together, creating a bloody symphony.

Hidemitsu Nakano was surrounded by several guards, brandishing his sword as he tried to buy himself a chance to survive.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like a madman. The blade in his hand reflected a faint light, and each swing of it carried a sharp, piercing sound.

However, he was ultimately just one person, and he was surrounded by a group of bloodthirsty Chinese soldiers.

At this moment, Zhang Wenshan threw away the Thompson submachine gun that had run out of bullets, picked up a Type 38 rifle, and seized an opportunity. He dodged the blade wielded by Nakano Hidemitsu, turned to the side, and thrust the front of the rifle forward.

The sharp bayonet, like the fangs of a venomous snake, pierced Nakano Hidemitsu's abdomen with precision and ruthlessness.

"Pfft!"

A dull thud of flesh being pierced rang out, and the tip of the bayonet, carrying hot entrails, emerged directly from Nakano Hidemitsu's back.

His body trembled violently, his eyes widened instantly, and his mouth opened wide, but he couldn't utter a sound.

A warm, fishy-smelling liquid surged from his abdomen, quickly soaking his military uniform.

He looked down at the bayonet that had pierced through his body, the madness in his eyes gradually fading, replaced by emptiness and bewilderment. He swayed a few times, and the command sword in his hand fell limply to the ground with a crisp metallic clang.

Zhang Wenshan forcefully pulled back his bayonet, and streams of red blood gushed from the wound, splattering the mud walls of the trench.

Nakano Hidemitsu's body went limp, his knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily to his knees.

He clutched his bleeding abdomen with both hands, the blood gushing from between his fingers like a spring, warm and viscous. His breathing became rapid and weak, and with each breath, blood bubbles oozed from the corners of his mouth.

He struggled to lift his head and look at the sky above, blackened by gunpowder smoke, as if trying to grasp the last glimmer of light, but his vision was already blurred.

"Pfft!"

Finally, Nakano Hidemitsu's body lost all support and he collapsed heavily into the muddy trench. His face was down, his mouth and nose blocked with blood and mud. His body twitched a few times before finally falling into stillness.

His blood, mixed with the blood of countless Japanese soldiers in the trenches, seeped into the cold soil, becoming yet another silent footnote on this land.

"Sir...look! That's a Japanese colonel!" In his last remaining consciousness, Nakano Hidemitsu seemed to hear the voice of a Chinese soldier...

(End of this chapter)