Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 331 Trembling Amidst the Roar of Cannons

In late September, the air in the Taihang Mountains carried a biting chill.

The night sky around Niangziguan was already gloomy and oppressive. In the latter half of the night, a dense drizzle suddenly began to fall from the sky, as fine as cow hair, yet penetrating everywhere.

Raindrops fell on my frozen, purple earlobes, instantly seeping into my skin. The chill seeped into the gaps of my rough, thin military uniform, penetrating straight to my bones.

The infantrymen of the 3rd Division had initially tried to keep warm by hugging their blankets tightly, but the rain soaked the thick woolen blankets in less than fifteen minutes. The blankets, which were no longer warm when pressed against their backs, were now as cold as ice.

The combination of drizzle and cold wind amplified the damage caused by the cold exponentially.

Occasionally, the sound of soldiers coughing unconsciously could be heard from the position, and the muddy ground under their feet made a "crunching" sound on the soles of their shoes.

Originally, Japanese officers strictly prohibited lighting fires for warmth. With their rich combat experience, they knew very well that on nights with low visibility, campfires would become the best targets for enemy observation, sniping, and even artillery fire.

As they walked further into the night, the cold and rain turned the camp into a wet and muddy mess, and many soldiers began to shiver so much that they could barely hold their guns.

Finally, someone couldn't resist any longer. They gathered some damp, dead wood and turf from the foot of the mountain, carefully lit it with a match, and breathed on it to slowly ignite it. Smoke rose first, followed by tiny, scattered flames, weak yet brightening the eyes of those around them.

The officer stopped at first... "バカヤロウ! やめろ! (Asshole, stop!)"

But the officers soon found that even their teeth were chattering, and the mist they exhaled as they spoke swirled in front of them, torn apart by the cold wind. He pulled down his hat brim, glanced at his men, and ultimately did not order the fire to be extinguished.

So, sporadic fires gradually lit up the battlefield, clusters of orange-red flames dancing, illuminating the weary faces of people huddled under tattered sheds, their hands reaching out to the flames amidst the thick fog and drizzle.

The soaked military uniform clung to his skin, and the rising heat mingled with the pungent smell of burning firewood, creating a scene of unnatural stillness in the night.

That night, the sentries of the 3rd Division stood guard, shivering in the wind and rain. The sound of water droplets hitting their helmets and the occasional whispers of conversations coming from around the fire filled the air.

To their slight relief, the Chinese positions opposite them remained completely silent throughout the night, without firing a single artillery shot or launching any surprise attacks by shadowy sentries. The only sounds in the valley all night were the cold rain and the crackling of campfires.

The Japanese commanders, who had been on tenterhooks, gradually relaxed... At least in their view, natural disasters were far more terrifying than man-made ones in this kind of weather.

Unbeknownst to them, at that very moment, in the darkness on the other side of the distant valley, a pair of eyes were silently recording the location of each campfire through a telescope.

The sky before dawn was still thick and dark, and the grass and trees in the valley drooped heavily in the rain. The clouds in the night sky were low and heavy, as if they might fall down on the mountaintop at any moment.

"Have you memorized everything?"—A low, short voice came from the damp grass.

In the darkness, it was a faint outline, almost blending into the night.

Another person, bent over, held a notebook wrapped in waterproof paper, its pages splattered with tiny raindrops. He replied in a very soft voice, "I've written it all down and sent the location to the hideout."

The other person nodded, raindrops sliding down the brim of their hat, splashing clearly on the mud. "That's good, we should head out now."

As soon as the words were spoken, the two figures disappeared into the night, flashing along the slippery mountain path, leaving only the soft sound of drizzle pattering on withered leaves and mud.

The drizzle accompanied us throughout the night, its fine threads seeping the mountain chill into our very bones.

Until dawn, the clouds were finally pierced by a golden line that cut through the sky, and pale, slow-moving light appeared in the east, with the upper edge of the sun peeking out from the distant mountains.

The first rays of sunlight slanted through the valley, and the still damp and cold air was filled with the lingering smell of last night's campfire.

Anti-tank bunkers, machine gun emplacements, and thatched huts steaming from the rain were all illuminated by the morning light.

On the positions of the Japanese 3rd Division, shouts and cheers that had been suppressed all night came... but more than anything, there was a sense of relief, as if they had survived a disaster.

Last night's damp chill left many people with numb hands and feet. The campfire brought some warmth, but it wasn't enough to dispel the bone-chilling cold.

For these soldiers of the Third Division who had just been transferred from Hubei, the cold in Shanxi was not a simple drop in temperature, but a damp and chilling cold that felt like a "magical attack".

The temperature wasn't low, but it still managed to seep in through your trouser legs, collar, and even between your fingers, making you shiver involuntarily.

The cold, repeatedly enveloped by wind and rain, felt like an invisible snake burrowing into the bones, clinging to every muscle, keeping one awake all night.

Even seasoned veterans couldn't help but mutter curses under their breath. The soldiers' complaints rose and fell. The soaked blankets hanging on the handguards emitted a faint warmth from the sun, but it was just a futile consolation.

They were eagerly hoping for a fight today that would allow them to stretch their muscles and at least warm up their bodies quickly.

However, they never expected that the Chinese scouts who had disappeared into the darkness the previous night had already transmitted the coordinates of their campfire to the artillery positions and airfield control centers several kilometers away.

The warm light of dawn may just be a gentle ray of sunshine before the storm.

The faint morning light shone weakly through the holes in the oil paper covering the simple window onto the cold ground.

Winter in Shanxi is bitterly cold, even indoors.

Masataka Yamawaki struggled to get up from the hard cot.

Unlike the ordinary soldiers who were huddled in dirty haystacks, Yamawaki's treatment, even in this simple command post on the front line, was clearly much better.

As soon as he moved, a soldier waiting outside the tent immediately lifted the heavy cotton curtain and respectfully entered, bringing with him a gust of biting cold wind from outside.

He carefully put down the wooden basin he was holding, which was filled with steaming water, and a towel was placed next to it.

Yamawaki stretched out his hand, feeling the warmth of the hot water flowing through the wooden basin. He soaked a towel in the hot water and gently wiped his face, feeling the rough texture of the towel against his skin.

The warm steam rose up, briefly dispelling the weariness on his face and gradually clearing his tired eyes.

After quickly washing up, he handed the towel back to the orderly, who immediately bowed and took it, then quietly slipped out.

Soon, the orderly came in again with a tray. On the tray was Masataka Yamawaki's breakfast.

Compared to ordinary soldiers struggling to eat frozen rice balls as hard as rocks in the biting cold wind and with cold water, Yamawaki's breakfast was undoubtedly much more substantial.

A bowl of rice mixed with millet, a bowl of miso soup, a dish of pickled radish, and a small piece of grilled salmon. Yamawaki didn't pick up his chopsticks immediately. He first picked up the rough enamel mug, slightly warm from the hot tea inside. The warmth seeped through the cold enamel and into his palm, bringing a touch of comfort. The tea was cloudy, with the astringent taste characteristic of local Shanxi tea, a flavor completely different from the delicate and mellow Gyokuro from his hometown of Shizuoka.

He took a small sip, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

He then put down the teacup and picked up the spoon.

The miso soup, steaming slightly, was made from the powder from compressed rations. A few pieces of tofu, frozen solid in the cold, floated on the surface, along with some wild vegetables that I couldn't name, which I had picked from local farmers.

After taking a sip of soup, Shan Xie picked up a piece of radish with his chopsticks.

After taking a bite, I found that the radish was pickled for too long, and it had an indescribable bitter taste in addition to its salty and astringent flavor.

As he ate, a sense of helplessness welled up in his heart. Even the food had become so coarse. Could the course of this war really be as smooth as the headquarters had predicted?

He was chewing silently when, halfway through his meal, the tent flap was gently lifted, and Chief of Staff Colonel Mori Takumi walked in.

Those bloodshot eyes, weary from exhaustion, glanced at the breakfast on Yamawaki's table, then quickly looked away, standing respectfully to the side, awaiting the division commander's instructions.

"What's wrong?" Yamawaki finally put down his chopsticks and picked up a towel to wipe his mouth.

Sen Shao bowed and reported: "General, the front line reports that the Chinese army opposite us has not made any moves. The reconnaissance troops have repeatedly confirmed that everything on the enemy's positions is normal, and no signs of large-scale mobilization or attack have been found."

Upon hearing this, Yamawaki nodded slightly, showing no surprise whatsoever. He let out a soft "hmm," as if he had expected this.

A hint of contempt flickered in his eyes. "Yan Xishan's Jin-Sui Army is cowardly to the core."

There is no doubt that they did not have the courage to attack us.

He picked up his teacup and took another sip of the bitter tea: "It seems we can get through these next few days in peace. Pass down the order to strengthen the troops' vigilance, but don't be too tense. As for supplies, continue to collect them as quickly as possible, especially fuel and food. We need to prepare for the upcoming attack on Taiyuan."

Colonel Mori replied respectfully, "Hai!" Although he had some concerns, he turned to leave out of trust in his division commander.

But before he could leave, he could faintly hear the rumble of an engine in the distance.

"This is..." Chief of Staff Sen Shao suddenly looked up, his face changing color. "General, it's a tank, it's a Chinese... no, it's a tank unit of the Shanxi militia!"

Yamawaki suddenly stood up, and the chair fell heavily to the floor behind him.

"Quickly, order the troops to take cover and defend the position."

Yamawaki shouted sharply.

However, before the command had even finished, a terrifying explosion erupted outside... The first 105mm high-explosive shell ripped through the air and crashed into the command compound, sending a mixture of dirt, rubble, and twisted metal flying into the sky.

The shockwave slammed into the restaurant like a hammer blow, sending Yamawaki flying backward. His head slammed hard against the edge of the cabinet, and blood immediately stained his temples.

Tinnitus overwhelmed my senses, and the air was filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the burnt smell of charred wood.

Just as he was struggling to get up, another roar came... The second shell accurately hit the wall on one side of the room, and the center of the blast turned into a pale fireball. The wall was scattered like paper, and fragments flew past like raindrops.

Chief of Staff Colonel Mori was closest to the detonation point and was instantly struck in the chest by the shockwave. The muffled sound of breaking ribs was accompanied by blood gushing from his mouth and nose.

His body was thrown off the ground by the force of the explosion and slammed violently into another dining table. His head smashed open a deep gash at the corner of the table, and white brain matter mixed with blood kept gushing out. His eyeballs bulged out, frozen in lifeless terror.

"Your Excellency General!"

At this moment, four guards rushed in. The two in the lead grabbed Yamakawa's hand without saying a word and dragged him out of the door, while the other two guards stayed behind to check on Colonel Mori's injuries.

But not long after Shan Xie ran out, another high-explosive grenade hit the roof.

Because they were too close, the two guards were instantly vaporized. The heat and shockwave tore their flesh and bones apart, and their white spines and shattered ribs flew around in a cloud of blood mist.

One of the guards, his body charred black by the explosion, remained kneeling on the ground like a bizarre statue.

The blood splattered on the wall slowly slid down the cracked surface, mixing with the remaining miso soup to form a pool of foul-smelling muddy water.

Yes, five kilometers away, two heavy artillery regiments of the Shanxi militia, with more than 160 heavy cannons, began shelling Niangziguan. Countless shells rained down on Niangziguan, and the Japanese soldiers of the Third Division paid the price for the bonfire of the previous night.

The air compressed by the high temperature of the cannon flames burst forth instantly, shattering anything in their path. The shockwave, like an invisible giant hand, swept away the mist in the mountains and fields.

More than a hundred grenades pierced the sky, trailing sharp whistles as they hurtled towards the Japanese positions at Niangziguan Pass.

Moments later, the entire pass seemed to be swallowed by a torrent, with a series of explosions booming one after another, as if the gates of hell had been smashed open. The enormous impact cracked the thick rocks, sending up clouds of rubble and dirt, while flames and black smoke shot into the sky like the mane of a ferocious beast.

The Japanese soldiers of the 3rd Division were lazily tidying up their campsite in preparation for the bonfire feast the previous night, many of them still struggling out of their warm sleeping bags.

The sudden shelling was like a judgment from the heavens, dragging them from their dreams into a purgatory of blood and fire.

The shelling landed right in a densely packed camp area... Several military tents were torn to shreds by the high-temperature shockwave in the explosion. The soldiers inside didn't even have time to scream before they were blown into a cloud of blood mist. Fragments of bones and charred flesh flew through the air, and when they landed, it was impossible to tell whether they were people or mud.

A corporal who had just woken up rushed out of the tent, his clothes disheveled, his face still flushed from waking up, his eyes filled with confusion and fear.

His ears were filled with a deafening roar, and his breath was filled with the acrid smell of burning. Before he could even think, a 105mm grenade exploded more than ten meters away from him.

The shrapnel, hot as it was, hurtled towards him like hundreds of razors, instantly slicing open his cheeks, throat, and chest, causing blood to gush out like a fountain.

Half of his jaw had been cut off, his tongue hung limply in the air, and his eyes were wide open, as if he couldn't believe that death had come so quickly.

His legs took another step forward due to inertia, and then he fell backward, his head smashing into a red and white mess on the hard rock.

The entire Niangziguan Pass trembled amidst the roar of cannons.

(End of this chapter)