Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 332 Sudden attack

The mountain breeze in the early morning, carrying the chill washed away by last night's drizzle, howled through the valleys of the Taihang Mountains.

As the distant sky was just beginning to crack open with a sliver of pale golden dawn, the high ground surrounding Niangziguan was already being pushed into a deafening hell by the low rumble of cannons.

The first to speak were not people, but two heavy artillery positions covering the hillside—

"Boom...boom..."

The first deafening salvo came from 105mm and 155mm howitzers deployed three kilometers away behind a ridge. The shockwave from that explosion was so powerful that it made one's chest feel tight even from a distance.

Then, the only 203mm heavy howitzer battalion, like a giant beast, roared with enough force to overturn concrete, pushing shells half a person's height into the air.

After the loud bang, the air in the entire position seemed to be torn apart, and the roar echoed layer upon layer in the valley.

On the artillery position, the gunners stared intently at the scope, their fingers gripping the launch cable tightly.

Each time the word "release" was uttered, the trigger was pulled without hesitation, and the flames of burning gunpowder burst forth in the cannon barrel in an instant, hurling the massive steel projectile weighing thousands of pounds towards the enemy lines.

If these heavy artillery pieces with a caliber of 105mm or larger are like giant axes tearing through sheet metal, then the 107mm heavy mortars and 75mm light howitzers distributed in the middle layer of the position are like a dense swarm of bees.

They fire faster and make a more rapid sound; the parabolic arcs of their shells intertwine in the air, creating a web that is invisible to the naked eye.

Immediately afterwards, the 82mm and 60mm mortars on the front lines joined in the chorus, short "thump, thump-thump" sounds interspersed between the deep "boom" of the artillery, like raindrops hitting a dense array of gongs.

Their objective was to suppress the Niangziguan watchtowers and machine gun fire along the line, ensuring that any enemy soldiers who tried to peek out would only end up in the dirt.

In less than a minute, the entire valley was covered by a rain of fire from more than four hundred cannons.

Niangziguan, this strategic pass nestled against the mountain, now appears as a giant anvil, being relentlessly hammered and forged, under the reflection of the cannon muzzle.

Where the 203mm shells landed, the Japanese army's concrete machine gun position had its roof blown off, and half of the iron frame protruded diagonally from the collapsed ruins, emitting black smoke in the firelight.

The barrel of the Type 92 heavy machine gun was twisted by the explosion, and the machine gunner lying behind it was also thrown off the position by the blast wave.

High in the sky, the campfire locations marked yesterday were now being directly covered by a terrifyingly precise barrage of artillery fire, with sparks and towering mud flames erupting from every spot, like a giant beast spewing flames from the valley.

Many Japanese soldiers were awakened from their sleep by the bombardment. Before they could even touch their rifles, they were thrown into the mud by the blast wave, their ears ringing as if stuffed with cotton.

On a distant hilltop, Su Yaoyang, who had personally gone to the front line to command, stood with his hands on his hips, raising his binoculars and staring at the direction of Niangziguan.

"Push to the third target line," he instructed Pi Ruoyu beside him. "Don't stop until I order a ceasefire."

As the artillery observers flashed their flags, the sound of artillery fire on the other side of the valley suddenly intensified... like a long-planned thunderstorm finally pouring down on this morning.

The soldiers of the Third Division beneath the walls of Niangziguan had no time to think about why the attack came so quickly. All they could do was instinctively shrink their bodies, but the mud, gravel, and steel fragments from the shells would not let any gap that could embed itself into flesh go unpunished.

In Taiyuan, inside the Second War Zone Headquarters, the morning light streamed in through the thick window frames, but was weighed down by the tense atmosphere inside.

The large map on the wall almost took up the entire wall, and red and blue flags were densely planted at various key points in Shanxi. At the locations of Niangziguan and Xinkou, the flagpoles were topped with black triangular symbols, indicating that fierce battles were taking place there.

Hurried footsteps sounded at the door, and a staff officer, his military cap still damp with night dew, rushed in, saluted, and quickly reported:

"Commander Yan... the battles at Niangziguan and Xinkou have already begun!"

Yan Xishan sat in his executive chair, his eyelids slightly drooping. After listening, he simply hummed in response and slowly nodded.

He didn't immediately look at the map, but instead scanned the senior officers and staff present to make sure they all understood the situation.

According to the battle plan set a few days ago, Su Yaoyang was in charge of directing the Shanxi militia to launch an independent attack on Niangziguan.

Meanwhile, in the direction of Xinkou, the Deputy Chief of Staff Zuo and Chen Changgeng, the commander of the Sixth Army Group, coordinated the 61st and 83rd Armies and three artillery regiments under the Sixth Army Group of the Jin-Sui Army, and together with the entire 129th Division of the Eighth Route Army, to launch a pincer attack on the Japanese Fourth Division stationed in Xinkou and the 27th Division that had just arrived to reinforce them.

This means that... the two major strategic passes in the entire Shanxi battlefield were ignited almost simultaneously.

On the map, the artillery positions marked in blue along the Niangziguan line have begun to flash red dots, which are radio signals from the front... indicating that firepower is continuously covering the target.

In the direction of Xinkou, there is a patchwork of red and blue lines, representing that the two sides' troops are engaged in close combat.

Yan Xishan's gaze slowly fell on Niangziguan. He knew Su Yaoyang's fighting style... it was a tactic of high-density firepower and multi-service coordination, aiming to turn the enemy's position into ruins in a short time.

In comparison, the battle at Xinkou was a different kind of clash.

"That's all our assets and elite troops," Yan Xishan muttered to himself.

On the battlefield in Shanxi, a region characterized by both plateaus and mountains, both the Chinese and Japanese sides deployed almost all of their elite forces.

The Chinese forces included the mechanized armored units and artillery groups of the Shanxi militia, the main force of the Jin-Sui Army, and the 129th Division, one of the three main forces of the Eighth Route Army.

On the Japanese side, the 4th Division, along with the 3rd and 27th Divisions, were all veteran and formidable units that had made outstanding contributions on multiple fronts.

While receiving a constant stream of coded messages from the front, the staff officers meticulously adjusted the advances and retreats of both sides' positions on the map with fine strokes.

The radio in the operations room kept emitting static, occasionally punctuated by a short report in dialect or a gasp in Japanese.

An intelligence officer approached Yan Xishan and whispered, "Sir, the shelling from Niangziguan is still ongoing. It is speculated that Commander Su is still clearing the way for the infantry and armored units."

In addition, fighting has already begun in the Xinkou direction.

Yan Xishan closed his eyes slightly and stopped speaking.

On one side, there was a barrage of artillery fire destroying enemy positions with modern technology;

On the other side, in the mountain trenches, soldiers were engaged in a primitive, bloody battle, fighting desperately with bayonets and shovels.

He slowly uttered, "Issue the order... no retreat is permitted along the entire front. Niangziguan must be breached, and Xinkou must be held fast. The lifeline of Shanxi lies in these two places."

Northwest of Xinkou, the mountains rise and fall, and the thick smoke of gunpowder mixed with the morning mist, turning the boundary between heaven and earth into a gray-white.

The temporary command post, hidden in a natural cave halfway up the mountain, had its entrance covered by thick camouflage netting and freshly cut pine branches, making it almost impossible to tell from the outside that two theater-level military commanders were hiding there. A large map spread out on the cave wall was yellowed by the light of an oil lamp, covered with red and blue lines, each line representing the lives of hundreds or even thousands of soldiers.

The static from the radio was incessant, accompanied by occasional loud booms, making the air in the entire cave seem to tremble slightly.

The deputy chief of staff stood at the cave entrance, gazing at the distant battlefield, where bursts of artillery fire pierced the sky. Lines of flame licked and swirled amidst the gray-white dust, occasionally interspersed with the bright red of exploding incendiary bombs.

Even a seasoned general like him, commanding tens of thousands of troops in a head-on confrontation with the enemy's most elite mechanized division, had to be extremely vigilant.

The sense of oppression came not only from the enemy's firepower, but also from the heavy stakes of the battle itself: victory meant taking the northern gateway to Shanxi, defeat meant Taiyuan would be in jeopardy.

Commander Liu stood with his hands behind his back on the left. With each resounding blast of artillery fire, his shoulders would unconsciously twitch slightly.

Although he appeared calm, he could not completely conceal the gravity in his heart.

"Although the Shanxi militia did provide a great deal of assistance before the war..." Deputy Chief of Staff Zuo paused slightly.

Before the battle began, the Shanxi militia sent a large amount of supplies, including Type 38 rifles, Type 92 heavy machine guns, Czech light machine guns, Type 92 infantry guns, and 60mm mortars, enough to last for this campaign.

“There are indeed quite a lot of weapons and ammunition,” he said, but still sighed, “but even so… I still don’t feel confident.”

Commander Liu smiled, but there was no hint of relief in his expression.

He closed his binoculars and said coldly, "It seems that the 'cowardly division' on the other side isn't as bad as the rumors say."

"A useless, incompetent division?" The deputy chief of staff sneered. "Anyone who actually thinks the Fourth Division is useless because of those unreliable rumors is truly foolish."

Don't forget, they inflicted heavy losses on the Chinese army in Shanghai and Xuzhou. This time, we're going to fight them head-on, not steal their rations.

Another thunderous roar echoed outside the cave, followed by the faint sounds of machine guns blaring from the valley floor, and the cacophony of bugle calls from both sides. It was the real sound of flesh and steel rubbing against each other; every second, someone fell.

Deputy Chief of Staff Zuo took a deep breath and patted Commander Liu on the shoulder: "Alright, now is not the time to be sad about casualties. If we win this battle, our Eighth Route Army will be even stronger."

Commander Liu nodded slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on the battlefield outside, where smoke and fire billowed.

In the western section of the Xinkou battlefield, the morning mist was shattered by the continuous gunfire, and the smell of mud, blood, and gunpowder mixed together in a pungent odor.

The 385th Brigade of the Eighth Route Army had already pressed to the forefront of the outskirts of Xinkou Town. Assault teams with siege ladders and explosive charges took turns advancing, following the collapsed stone walls and dilapidated bunkers.

On the east side, the 386th Brigade made a desperate breakthrough at Jiehepu. The earthen dikes on both sides of the Jiehe River were dug into a series of serpentine trenches. As soon as the soldiers rushed in, they were met with the fire of Japanese machine guns.

To the south, the 61st Army of the Jin-Sui Army is launching a fierce attack on Huaihua and the high ground on the north bank of the Yunzhong River under the cover of artillery fire.

Although their three artillery regiments were roaring and shells were raining down on the 4th Division's forward fortifications, the 4th Artillery Regiment on the other side was equally determined.

The Japanese artillery muzzles spewed fire relentlessly, their deafening roars clashing with our artillery fire across the air. Shells whistled past each other, and the resulting mud waves repeatedly tossed charging soldiers into the air.

This brutal struggle between flesh and steel had been going on for an hour. Just when the shockwaves were making the eardrums of the frontline soldiers ring, suddenly…

"Woo...Woo...Woo..."

A deep, rapid roar came from high above, like a herd of ferocious beasts sweeping across the sky at extremely high speed.

"Airplanes...enemy planes are coming..."

Before the shouts from the front lines had even subsided, more than eighty Japanese warplanes bearing red insignia burst forth from the clouds like hawks pouncing on their prey.

The gleaming black nose of the machine faced the sun, reflecting a blinding light, followed by the dense sound of machine gun fire and the rapid whistling of bombs.

"Boom...boom...boom..."

The bombs exploded like thunder between the positions, the shockwaves whipping up dust, debris, and the severed limbs of soldiers, and screams and cries were instantly drowned out by the smoke and fire.

The machine gun fire instantly tore down many Eighth Route Army soldiers who were loading mortars, and the sound of bullets hitting the ground was chaotic... It was the sound of the earth being forcibly carved open in the face of high-temperature, high-speed bullets.

In the trenches of the Jin-Sui Army, officers were shouting orders for their gunners to return fire with field anti-aircraft machine guns, but the machine guns had limited firing arcs and were not as fast as the Japanese Zero and Type 97 light bombers that were flying low overhead.

Several Japanese planes, which were specifically targeting the trenches and assembly areas, tore open visible charred wounds across the entire position with wave after wave of explosions.

A battalion commander covered in blood ran up to Ding Wei, who was directing the battle, and shouted, "Regimental Commander, the Japanese planes are too fierce. Our soldiers have suffered heavy casualties. Should we withdraw the troops first?"

Ding Wei hesitated for a moment, and before he could speak, he heard another roar from the sky.

"Buzz...buzz...buzz...whoosh!"

Another distinct and piercing howl appeared, carrying the metallic quality of tearing through the sky, rapidly approaching from the northwest.

Before the chaotic soldiers in front could even look up, someone exclaimed, "It's...it's our plane! Our plane has come to support us!"

In the sky, the silver-white streamlined fuselage gleamed coldly in the sunlight, like a blade sweeping across the sky.

A formation of two P-51 Mustangs roared in with their distinctive afterburners, cutting directly into the rear of the Japanese formation. The .50 caliber machine guns under the wings immediately burst into flames, bullets shooting through the air like rows of steel nails, creating a deadly web of fire.

The first Mustang's machine gun ripped a bloody hole in the left wing of a Type 97 heavy bomber, sending metal fragments flying in the sunlight. The entire aircraft, trailing flames, tumbled and crashed into the battlefield below the clouds.

The second group of Mustangs came up with a diagonal slash, shattering the Zero's fuel tank. Flames instantly spread from the belly of the aircraft to the cockpit, and the Zero, like a burning comet, crashed straight into the hillside south of Huaihua.

The sounds of gunfire and heavy machine guns mingled, and the situation in the air changed drastically in less than three minutes.

Although the Japanese pilots attempted to retaliate, they were completely outmatched by the Mustang fighters in terms of speed and dive performance.

On the ground, the soldiers of the Jin-Sui Army and the Eighth Route Army watched as one smoking Japanese plane after another crashed, their morale suddenly soaring, and the shouts that had been suppressed for an hour erupted in the trenches and fortifications.

Some people were so excited that they rushed out of their bunkers, waving their helmets at the silver-white machine flying overhead and shouting, "Well done!"

(End of this chapter)