Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 299 Relentless Attacks
If the battles on the front lines were a high-speed, blood-splattering meat grinder, then the Shanxi militia headquarters in the rear was a brain center stretched to its limit.

At the start of the battle, not only were front-line officers like Li Yunlong, Ding Wei, and Li Gaoyuan on high alert, but the three-person command team, led by Su Yaoyang, Bai Chongxi, and the brigade commander, also faced immense pressure.

The air seemed to freeze in front of the enormous war sand table.

Su Yaoyang, dressed in a gray combat uniform, stood in the center. His expression was calm, but a thoughtful look occasionally flashed in his deep eyes.

To his left was Bai Chongxi, a famous general of the Guangxi clique known as "Little Zhuge Liang." He was holding a baton and pointing at the Japanese defensive points on the sand table, muttering to himself.

To Su Yaoyang's right was the Eighth Route Army brigade commander, who stood with his hands on his hips, leaning slightly forward, staring intently at the red arrow representing his own armored forces.

Throughout the command center, the sounds of telephones ringing, telegraph machines ticking, and staff officers moving quickly and reporting in hushed tones intertwined, creating a tense yet efficient symphony of war.

Telegrams about enemy activity from the front lines arrived like snowflakes.

Within just one hour of the start of the battle, the command headquarters received more than twenty telegrams and more than ten emergency phone calls from various units at the front. It could be said that a new enemy situation was reported almost every two minutes.

This intelligence, once gathered, will be immediately reported to the three people in front of the sand table, who will then analyze and judge the ever-changing battle situation and issue the latest decisions.

A operations staff officer, carrying a stack of newly translated telegrams, strode to the sand table, stood at attention, and reported:
"Reporting to the Commander-in-Chief, Commander Bai, our armored forces and the 1st and 6th Infantry Regiments have successfully breached the Japanese first line of defense. Currently, they are coordinating with infantry and tanks to expand the breakthrough to both sides and consolidate the occupied area."

Meanwhile, our special operations team captured Hill 87 an hour ago, annihilating the defending enemy and successfully destroying a Japanese anti-tank gun company deployed there!

Upon hearing this, Bai Chongxi nodded slightly; this was good news that he had expected.

But the staff officer didn't pause; he immediately read out the second telegram, his voice noticeably heavier:
"Furthermore, the Japanese army reinforced its anti-tank forces on the second line of defense! They used the remaining fortifications and ruins to organize multiple anti-tank teams."

Four Sherman tanks and three Chaffee light tanks belonging to our armored forces have been damaged and are no longer operational, awaiting repairs from the rear!

Su Yaoyang frowned slightly.

The staff officer took a deep breath and read out the third, and most worrying, intelligence report:
"Most of the Japanese army's forward positions have been destroyed by our artillery fire, but their will to resist remains extremely strong."

After our tanks broke through the lines, they were desperately sending out "human bomb" teams, sending soldiers carrying explosive charges and cluster grenades out of craters and ruins in an attempt to halt and destroy our tank offensive through suicide attacks.

Upon hearing the term "human bomb attack," his expression instantly turned serious.

He was very familiar with the Japanese army's crazy tactics, which were a desperate fighting style that used human lives as a means of survival. Although primitive and bloody, it put enormous psychological pressure and real threat on tank crews and soldiers who cooperated with the tanks.

Upon hearing the term "human bomb attack," the already tense atmosphere in the command room instantly became even more oppressive, as if a layer of ice had formed.

All the staff officers subconsciously slowed down their movements, and their gazes turned to the three supreme commanders in front of the sand table.

However, Su Yaoyang's face remained as calm as a deep pool, and the Japanese army's madness seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever.

He simply withdrew his hand from the sand table, slowly straightened up, and said to his chief of staff, Pi Ruoyu, in an unquestionable, icy voice:
"Tell Li Gaoyuan, Wu Qingyun, and John and Forl from the armored regiment."

I don't care what tactics the Japanese use to fight back, whether they use bayonets or human bombs.

My only requirement is to crush all Japanese counterattacks with the most resolute and courageous actions and determination.

Infantry must establish a buffer zone around the tanks and kill any Japanese soldiers who attempt to approach them on the spot!

His voice wasn't loud, but it struck the hearts of everyone in the command room like a heavy hammer. It was a command born of absolute confidence and overwhelming strength, devoid of any emotion, carrying only a pure pursuit of victory.

The brigade commander beside him also had a somber expression; he deeply understood the brutality of this kind of battle.

He turned to a staff officer beside him, who was also from the 386th Brigade, and said seriously, "Immediately send a telegram to the Independent Regiment and the New 1st Regiment, telling Li Yunlong and Ding Wei not to be afraid of sacrifice and casualties during combat."

This battle is for the future of our entire Chinese nation, for the complete expulsion of the invaders! Even if we lose all our troops, it will be worthwhile if we can recapture Taiyuan. Never forget, we are fighting for the independence and integrity of our nation and against the aggression of Japanese imperialism!

His words were filled with the passion of a revolutionary and the determination to sacrifice himself for his ideals, which contrasted sharply with Su Yaoyang's purely military orders, but their determination to win was exactly the same.

After listening to the two men's words, Bai Chongxi, who had been silently contemplating, nodded heavily. He pressed his baton firmly on the sand table representing the location of Taiyuan City, producing a crisp sound.

"Yes!"

His eyes gleamed. “Mingxi, this is no exaggeration.”

In this battle, we have poured all our energy and resources into it; victory is our only option, defeat is not an option! No matter the casualties, nothing can stop us from pursuing final victory!

The three supreme commanders, with their three different styles, reached a highly consistent consensus at this moment.

The order was quickly written down, and the staff immediately turned and rushed to the telegraph and telephone to transmit this order, which was filled with iron will and sacrifice, to every commander at the front.

The battle lasted from dawn until noon, a full four hours, with the sounds of cannons, gunfire, and explosions never ceasing.

By noon, under the repeated attacks of the Shanxi militia armored forces and elite infantry, the Japanese army's long-established first line of defense had been riddled with holes and completely breached in many places.

The remaining Japanese troops were like turtles whose shells had been smashed; they could only rely on some isolated strongholds and dilapidated fortifications to struggle against the militia's relentless offensive. It was only a matter of time before the entire front collapsed.

Covered in blood, Li Gaoyuan stood in a bombed-out Japanese command post, looking at the last large bunker complex that his men were besieging not far ahead. He was about to give the order to take it down in one fell swoop.

Wu Qingyun, who was next to him, wiped the smoke from his face, raised his binoculars, and prepared to call for the tanks behind him to carry out a final precision strike.

However, at that moment, the order to retreat from headquarters reached the front lines. Despite their reluctance, military orders were absolute.

Li Gaoyuan and Wu Qingyun could only reluctantly order their troops to take turns providing cover and withdraw from the positions they had already occupied.

The Sherman tanks, billowing black smoke but still powerful, slowly reversed, their tracks crushing the bodies of Japanese soldiers and the twisted wreckage of weapons.

Exhausted but in high spirits, the militia soldiers carried the wounded and spoils of war back to their starting positions in an orderly fashion, allowing the Independent Regiment and the New 1st Regiment, who had been waiting for a long time, to take over their attacking positions.

The rhythm of the battlefield underwent a miraculous shift at this moment.

If we say that the Shanxi militia's offensive was like an indestructible 10,000-ton hammer, relying on tanks, heavy artillery, and superior firepower, it crushed the opponent's defenses, along with their people and fortifications, into dust with absolute and unreasonable force.

Therefore, the Eighth Route Army's attack was like mercury spilling onto the ground, penetrating everywhere.

The soldiers of the Independent Regiment and the New First Regiment were far less well-equipped than the militia. They had no tanks to clear the way, nor did they have overwhelming artillery support.

But as soon as they entered the position, they immediately broke into smaller units, like countless agile loaches, and instantly burrowed into the numerous gaps and crevices that the militia had smashed open.

They would launch attacks on the Japanese army from any angle or direction you could not have imagined.

A three-man combat team would silently sneak in from the side of a collapsed trench and take out a machine gun position with bayonets and grenades.

A squad of soldiers would use the dense smoke as cover to outflank the remaining Japanese bunkers.

Li Yunlong would even organize his most proficient earthwork operations to dig temporary passages between shell craters, appearing undetected right under the noses of the Japanese army.

Their tactics and strategies were extremely flexible and varied. Sometimes they would concentrate their forces to launch a fierce attack on a single point, and other times they would disperse and harass the enemy, making it impossible for the already short-staffed and morale-breaking Japanese army to organize an effective defense.

Just as they were dealing with a frontal assault, the sound of grenades exploding rang out from the flanks, and sniper shots were even coming from behind.

This pervasive pressure left the remaining Japanese soldiers exhausted and their nerves constantly on edge, as if they were trapped in a tightening net, being strangled bit by bit.

On the left flank of the first line of defense, which had been repeatedly ravaged by artillery fire and resembled the surface of the moon, was the 222nd Infantry Regiment of the Japanese 36th Division.

At this moment, taking advantage of the brief lull in the Chinese army's offensive, Major Tokutaro Nakajima, the commander of the First Battalion of the regiment, was inspecting his already ravaged position, stepping on the soft, scorched earth mixed with human tissue.

His battalion had been decimated, with mutilated corpses and wailing wounded soldiers everywhere. The surviving soldiers, like a flock of frightened birds, huddled in shell craters and broken trenches, their eyes vacant, their faces etched with black smoke and despair.

Just then, a series of dragging footsteps approached. A wounded soldier, his abdomen wrapped in thick bandages that were already soaked with blood, was struggling to drag a heavy wooden mess kit to the edge of a trench where a dozen or so soldiers were still panting.

He leaned weakly against the trench wall and, with his last bit of strength, said to the starving soldiers, "Hurry up... eat while it's hot... after you've eaten... drive the Chinese away."

Upon seeing the food, the eyes of the starving soldiers instantly gleamed with a beastly light.

They didn't even have time to thank them. They swarmed over, opened the box without a word, grabbed the still-warm rice balls inside, and stuffed them into their mouths, wolfing them down.

However, halfway through the meal, one of the soldiers suddenly froze.

He looked down at the rice ball in his hand and noticed that the white rice was stained with large patches of glaring, sticky dark red.

He froze for a moment, then felt a churning in his stomach and immediately lay down in the trench, vomiting violently.

His reaction was contagious; the other soldiers who were eating also stopped what they were doing and looked down at the food in their hands.

When they realized that the rice ball wasn't stained with sauce at all, but with human blood, everyone's face turned pale. A chorus of vomiting erupted from the trenches.

"idiot!"

Upon seeing this, Nakajima Tokutaro flew into a rage. He strode over, raising his hand to deliver a few resounding slaps to the wounded soldier who had brought the food, and rebuked him for using such things to undermine morale.

However, when he rushed over, he found that the wounded soldier had leaned against the trench wall, his head lolling to the side, and he had stopped breathing completely.

Behind him, a long, bluish-green intestine was pulled out from the wound in his abdomen, leaving a wet trail of blood several meters long on the ground.

The blood on the mess box, the blood on the rice balls... it all belonged to this soldier.

Tokutaro Nakajima's raised hand froze in mid-air. He looked at the soldier's lifeless face, then at the gruesome intestines on the ground, and finally at the blood-stained rice balls his men had discarded. An indescribable sense of shame and sorrow instantly overwhelmed him, leaving him feeling utterly dejected.

He understood that the soldier was using his last breath and his flowing blood to deliver this final supply to his comrades.

"eat fast!"

Nakajima Tokutaro suddenly let out a suppressed roar. He bent down, shamefully picked up the reddest rice ball stained with blood, and, under the shocked gazes of all his subordinates, shoved it into his mouth. While chewing it with the bloody taste, he shouted in a muffled voice:
"We've eaten our fill! Get all the Chinese out of here!"

"boom……"

Just then, several mortar shells suddenly exploded around the trench. In an instant, limbs and severed bodies flew everywhere in the trench. An arm that was still holding a rice ball was blown by the shock wave and landed on a tree branch not far away.

Soon, accompanied by a loud bugle call, countless Eighth Route Army soldiers dressed in khaki uniforms charged towards them with rifles at the ready...

(End of this chapter)