Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 317 No bones left
The second F4U Corsair fighter jet cut in from a more cunning angle, its pilot clearly having learned from the attack by its parent aircraft.

He ignored the truck that was riddled with bullets and instead targeted another Type 95 tank that was trying to turn and making a futile resistance with its anti-aircraft machine guns.

The piercing shriek returned once more.

This time, the bullets were even more concentrated. The 12.7mm bullets precisely penetrated the relatively weak sides and top of the tank.

The armor plate was torn apart like paper, sparks flying everywhere.

The anti-aircraft machine gunner on the roof, along with his weapon, was instantly reduced to a mangled mess of flesh and blood. Immediately afterward, an armor-piercing incendiary round penetrated the vehicle and detonated the ammunition.

"boom……"

With a muffled but violent explosion, the armored vehicle was completely thrown into the air, tumbling like a tin can kicked by a naughty child, spewing out orange-red flames and thick black smoke before crashing heavily to the ground, turning into a pile of burning scrap metal.

The explosion, which was so close at hand, became the final straw that broke Yoshio Shinotsuka's spirit.

"Ah ah ah ah..."

He let out a piercing scream that was unlike anything he could hear, and his body, curled up in the corner, convulsed violently.

A warm liquid spread from beneath him, and the pungent smell of urine instantly filled the narrow, stuffy carriage.

This dignified lieutenant general, commander of the Japanese First Army, completely lost control of his bladder in the face of absolute fear, and his mental defenses collapsed.

He started talking nonsense and even called out for his mother.

"Shut up!"

Yamamoto Ichiki's face was covered in dust that had seeped in through the cracks in the observation window. He looked at the commander beneath him, who had turned into a puddle of mud, and a look of disbelief and disappointment flashed in his eyes.

All his plans and efforts became a joke in the face of the opponent's unreasonable and absolute air superiority.

"Break through... head west... crash out!" He suddenly kicked the driver in the back and roared madly at the terrified driver.

The armored vehicle, like a headless fly, suddenly lurched forward, smashed through the factory wall, and rushed onto the rubble-strewn street.

But where can it go?
High in the sky, Cheng Rufeng easily leveled the plane, looking at the only armored vehicle on the ground that was fleeing in a sorry state, as if he were looking at a mouse that had been plucked clean.

"Well done, Pirate Eight."

He chuckled over the radio, "Now that the appetizers are all done, it's time for the main course."

He did not choose to fire the machine gun again.

He was tired of that kind of game. He wanted to end the hunt in a more ritualistic way.

He skillfully switched weapon options, targeting the 500-pound aerial bomb mounted under the fuselage.

"Listen up, you rats on the ground, Grandpa's sending you to the Western Paradise!"

Cheng Rufeng pushed the control stick, and the F4U Corsair fighter jet emitted a joyful roar. The nose of the aircraft dipped slightly, and it began its final and most deadly dive towards the frantically fleeing tank.

The iconic, death-like shriek of the F4U Corsair fighter jet was drawn to its extreme over the western part of Taiyuan.

For people on the ground, the sound did not come from one direction, but seemed to pour into their brains from all directions and from every corner of the sky, tearing at their nerves.

Inside the carriage, Yamamoto Ichiki had given up all movement.

He sat quietly on the floor, his eyes bloodshot, staring intently at the ceiling of the carriage. He didn't even bother with the commander, who had completely turned into a puddle of mud and was foaming at the mouth.

As a seasoned special operations expert, he knew it was all over when he heard the roar of planes overhead.

He could even picture the trajectory of the bomb.

The last thought that flashed through his mind was not the Emperor, not the Empire, not his family, but a kind of absurd black humor to the extreme—he had meticulously planned special operations his whole life, raids, infiltrations, assassinations, and in the end, today he was going to be killed by a lump of iron falling from the sky in the most conventional, brutal, and irresistible way.

High in the sky, Cheng Rufeng's gaze was focused and cold, like a surgeon on an operating table. The scope's beam had already locked onto the fleeing armored vehicle.

In his world, all that remained was the roar of the engine and the ever-growing metal coffin before him.

With his right thumb, he gently, with an almost tender resolve, pressed the bomb release button.

"Click."

A faint mechanical sound rang out, almost inaudible in his cockpit.

Beneath the fuselage, a 500-pound aerial bomb detached from its pylon and, with initial inertia, began its brief but deadly journey.

It traced a tiny arc in the air, then, with increasing speed, precisely struck its destiny.

Time seemed to be stretched at this moment.

The bomb's fuse was triggered the instant it made contact with the roof of the armored vehicle.

There was no earth-shattering roar, at least not at first. The first phase was pure physical destruction. The sturdy armored vehicle roof, faced with that terrifying kinetic energy, was like an eggshell struck by a hammer, instantly caved in, torn apart, and disintegrated.

Then came the explosion.

A blinding white light, too bright to look at with the naked eye, suddenly exploded from the center of the armored vehicle!

In that fraction of a second, Yamamoto Ichiki, Shinotsuka Yoshio, and the equally desperate driver inside the car, along with all their glory, shame, fear, and memories, without even having time to utter a scream, were instantly vaporized in the temperature exceeding three thousand degrees Celsius, leaving not even the smallest fragment of DNA behind.

What followed was a devastating shockwave.

Centered on the explosion point, a visible ring of air, mixed with flames and dust, violently spread outwards.

The tank was instantly blown to pieces, turning into countless red-hot, twisted metal fragments that shot out at high speed in all directions.

The surrounding ruins were further pulverized, and a charred crater with a diameter of more than 50 meters was blasted into the ground.

A few seconds later, the deafening roar, as if it would tear the whole world apart...

"Boom..."

Only then did it truly spread and sweep across the entire battlefield.

Cheng Rufeng piloted the F4U Corsair fighter jet, pulling up with a graceful loop to easily avoid the impact of the explosion.

He glanced back at the mushroom cloud rising from the ground, a mixture of black smoke and flames, and a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.

"Pirate One calling Eagle's Nest."

He casually spoke into the radio, "The main course is finished, and the plates have been licked clean... Over."

…………

More than ten minutes later, the vanguard of John's armored regiment finally arrived at the industrial area that had just been baptized by death.

The three Sherman tanks leading the way rolled over the rubble, making a screeching sound, and came to a stop in front of the huge bomb crater that was still emitting wisps of black smoke.

John leaned halfway out of the turret of the lead tank, and a wave of heat, mixed with the nauseating smell of gunpowder, scorched earth, and some kind of burnt protein, hit him in the face, making him frown.

Even a seasoned veteran like him, who had seen countless life and death battles, couldn't help but gasp at the sight before him.

Is this what happens when a 500-pound bomb is used?
Centered on the scorched crater, within a radius of fifty meters, the ground seemed to have been slammed down by an invisible giant hand, and all the buildings were razed to the ground.

The power of the explosion was so concentrated and terrifying that there was not a single piece that could be called "wreckage".

The so-called chariots have been reduced to countless large and small, twisted and charred metal fragments, which are embedded in the surrounding broken walls and ground like scattered flowers. Some fragments are covered with a strange, grease-like black substance.

"Commander..."

A tank commander, who was also peeking out of the tank, looked pale and said in a dry voice, "This...this is the high-ranking officer the higher-ups were talking about...preparing to escape?"

John didn't answer; he just stared at the crater for a long time without saying a word.

He knew that, let alone a person, even a piece of pig iron, if thrown into this pit that had just experienced the flames of hell, would be nowhere to be found now.

"Pass the word down!" he said helplessly. "Search outwards for 100 meters from the crater! Everyone, keep your eyes peeled."

"Search high and low, find me something to prove that old Japanese devil's identity! A epaulette, a collar insignia, even a gold-plated tooth will do!"

"Yes!"

Many soldiers jumped off the tanks and armored personnel carriers, enduring the pungent stench and visual shock, and began to carry out orders.

They carefully avoided the still-steaming metal fragments and began searching through the scorched earth and rubble with bayonets and entrenching tools.

A young soldier used his bayonet to pry open a piece of armor plate that had been blown off and was deformed, and found a small piece of a telescope underneath that had been burned down to just the metal frame.

On the telescope's lens, one can still vaguely see a blackened mark representing the Japanese army's chrysanthemum crest.

On the other side, an old soldier found a small, charred, carbonized object under a pile of rubble.

From the remaining shape, it can be vaguely discerned that it was the heel of an officer's riding boot, with a melted and deformed spur still nailed to it.

John took the two items, weighed them in his hands, and then sent a report via walkie-talkie to the headquarters outside the city.

"Reporting to Commander-in-Chief, this is John Miller."

Arrived at target location... Target confirmed to be completely destroyed. Repeat, target confirmed to be completely destroyed. At the scene... no survivors were found, nor were any intact... remains.

Preliminary assessments suggest that the convoy, which was attempting to escape, belonged to Yoshio Shinotsuka, commander of the Japanese First Army, and has since been destroyed beyond recognition.

complete. "

(End of this chapter)