Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 342 News Confirmed
Tada Shun remained silent throughout, his gaze calmly sweeping over the small flags covered with arrows on the sand table until Iwamatsu finished speaking.

The room was quiet for a few seconds, with only the second hand of the wall clock ticking crisply.

Then, he slowly asked, "What do you plan to do in this situation?"

Yoshio Iwamatsu tried to control his breathing to be more steady, but the slight shrugging of his shoulders still betrayed the pressure he was under.

He slowly shook his head: "I have already ordered the Army Aviation Corps to provide full support to the 27th Division and to crush the arrogance of the Chinese. Right now, our Army Aviation warriors are still engaged in fierce fighting with the Shanxi militia's air force. Everything has to wait... wait for the results of the air battle before we can talk about anything else."

When he mentioned the word "air combat," his voice clearly paused, and his gaze drifted downwards... It wasn't fear, but rather an unspeakable embarrassment and reality.

The staff officers in the room exchanged glances, a complex mix of emotions flashing across their eyes – worry, hesitation, and even a hint of dejection.

They knew all too well that the Japanese army had never been subservient to others, especially on the mainland battlefield, where it had always been primarily infantry-based, with artillery support.

But now, facing a well-equipped and ruthless force belonging to the Shanxi militia, those once "invincible" magic weapons seem to have lost their effectiveness one by one.

If you hadn't experienced it firsthand, who would believe that in Shanxi, they would actually pin their hopes on the Army Aviation Corps to first take down the enemy in the air before even discussing a ground offensive?

Just then, a light drizzle began to fall.

A gust of wind carrying rain and mist crashed against the windowpane, instantly blurring the boundary between indoors and outdoors, as if deliberately reminding the people inside: the battle between the two sides of the house at this moment is denser and more intense than the raindrops.

Tada Shun paced slowly around the table, his hands behind his back, his eyes thoughtful, clearly weighing his next move.

This time he took a huge political risk: relying on his old reputation, he pleaded with General Nishio Juzo to transfer the permanent troops of the 3rd and 4th Divisions from the Hubei and Hunan battlefields, and also asked the 27th Division to cooperate.

They also mobilized more than 300 aircraft to reinforce Shanxi, hoping that the First Army could not only defend but also suppress the situation and remove this poisonous thorn that was growing in the heart of the empire.

In Tada Shun's ideal blueprint, Taiyuan would be returned to the control of the Japanese army in a short battle, and the Jin-Sui Army and that troublesome "Shanxi militia" would be completely reduced to dust in history.

However, reality slapped him hard in the face.

Before the operation could even begin, news came that the Yangquan supply warehouse had been attacked and bombed, and gasoline had turned it into a sea of ​​fire.

The Japanese army's supply lines, upon which it relied for its operations, were cut off. Even the normally insignificant "poor devils"—the Eighth Route Army and the Jin-Sui troops—dared to take advantage of the chaos and launch attacks against the Imperial forces.

The whole of Shanxi is like a pot of porridge being stirred up by a strong wind.

Tada Shun was filled with anger, but also with a sense of powerlessness.

He knew that this was not simply a problem with the troops' tactics, but rather that they were facing an extraordinary enemy, a "Shanxi militia" whose military skills and equipment far exceeded their expectations.

"Fail again..."

These two words coldly surfaced in his mind, as if even the air itself was suppressed. One failure might be explained by "complex battle situation," but two or three failures had become "command failure."

Another defeat, and he might really lose his position as commander. The pressure from both inside and outside headquarters regarding the situation in Shanxi was immense; he had no way out.

However, the air force of the opposing militia not only fought fiercely, but also seemed to be precisely cutting through every blood vessel of the Japanese army. Warehouses, supply lines, and bridges were all their targets. Japan is a resource-poor island nation and simply cannot withstand such attrition.

His gaze shifted to Yoshio Iwamatsu, who stood silently to the side.

Although the commander of the First Army was dressed in a crisp military uniform, his face revealed an undeniable weariness.

Tada Shun wanted to yell at him, but reason stopped him.

Even if you scold him, what difference will it make?

In the past two years, the First Army has replaced three commanders, but what has been the result? The situation remains out of control.

If Iwamatsu were to be dismissed as well, he really didn't know how he could explain it to the Tokyo headquarters.

The air in the office seemed to solidify with the ticking of the wall clock, making even the faint hum of the lights sound jarring.

"Bang..."

The heavy wooden door to the office was suddenly pushed open, and a gust of cold wind rushed in, bringing with it a chill.

The communications staff officer rushed in without even taking off his hat; his uniform was still dripping wet, but his face was flushed, and his voice was urgent:

"Commander, an urgent report has come from the 27th Division... Our Army Air Force has just ambushed a Chinese air raid on the 27th Division... and shot down eight enemy aircraft!"

"Shot down eight?" a staff officer blurted out, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Great!" Another staff officer couldn't help but clench his fist, as if he had finally caught a glimmer of hope that heralded victory.

"This victory can be reported to the expeditionary force headquarters!" someone said urgently.

In an instant, the previously oppressive atmosphere in the headquarters was ignited as if charcoal had been thrown into it, and the staff officers murmured with delight, their eyes sparkling with joy.

But Tada Shun, seated in the main seat, remained completely still, not even lifting an eyelid. He simply uttered in a flat, almost indifferent voice, "What about our losses?"

The air suddenly froze.

The communications officer's breath hitched, and the telegram in his hand crumpled. He hesitated for a moment before gritting his teeth and squeezing out a low voice, almost a forced whisper: "...a total of sixty-two were lost...thirty Zeros and thirty-two Type 1 fighters."

"Baka ya deer!"

Tada Shun slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing between the walls and wooden beams. The excitement in the office vanished instantly, and the staff officers turned pale and stiffened.

Eight against sixty-two.

The casualty ratio was almost eight to one.

The thought of such a loss weighed heavily on everyone's hearts, like a boulder pressing down on them. The fleeting joy that had filled the air vanished instantly, leaving only a suffocating heaviness.

Some people's Adam's apples bobbed rapidly, but they kept their mouths tightly shut, and no one dared to make a sound.

"If we keep fighting like this a few more times..." A senior staff officer felt a chill run down his spine. "Forget about air superiority, not even a single Japanese warplane will be left in the skies over the entire North China Plain!"

The only sound was the raindrops pattering against the windowpane, clearer than before, as if the outside world was mercilessly mocking this so-called "victory".

In the afternoon, the aroma of food still lingered in the command post's mess hall. Half a bowl of uneaten white rice sat on the ammunition box, and several side dishes were still warm.

Just as Su Yaoyang was picking up a piece of salted meat with his chopsticks and putting it in his mouth, hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor outside the door. Then Pi Ruoyu, dressed in military uniform and covered in dust and dampness, strode in.

"Commander, the results of today's air battle are in."

He stood ramrod straight and handed over a mimeographed battle report with both hands.

Su Yaoyang put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth, and took the battle report.

The ink on the pale yellow paper was still fresh, and the rough numbers and densely packed aerial combat records were clearly visible.

"Eight to sixty-two?"

He scanned the data, nodding frequently, his eyes narrowing slightly with satisfaction.

"The lads of the Third Flight Group did a great job. A casualty ratio of nearly eight to one... that proves they really put their heart into it."

Seeing the commander's calm demeanor, Pi Ruoyu suppressed his earlier excitement, but still couldn't help swallowing twice before speaking.

"Chief... there's something else I feel I need to report to you." He hesitated slightly before speaking.

"What's the matter? Tell me."

Su Yaoyang picked up his teacup, took two large gulps of hot water, and said in a calm tone.

Pi Ruoyu took a deep breath: "It's about your nephew-in-law, Song Shaojie. Today is his first time officially going to the battlefield."

He displayed exceptional bravery in today's air battle, personally shooting down a Zero... truly a promising young man.

However, in his excitement, he was ambushed and hit by another enemy plane, forcing him to eject. Fortunately, our search team acted quickly and rescued him soon after. He only suffered a minor injury to his left leg... otherwise, he was fine.

The doctor said that with some rest and recuperation, he'll be able to fly again.

After he finished speaking, he glanced at him nervously out of the corner of his eye, afraid that his boss would take his anger out on Ye Qifeng.

Su Yaoyang frowned slightly, sighed softly, and tapped the table lightly with his fingers.

"Young man... still needs more experience."

He shook his head, then his tone became firm, "Tell Ye Qifeng not to give Song Shaojie any special treatment, and to treat him as an ordinary pilot."

"Yes." Pi Ruoyu was relieved to hear this and answered loudly.

"Also, deliver this message to Madam to put her mind at ease."

After all, Shaojie is the only son of the Song family, so Song Mei must be very worried about him.

Su Yaoyang picked up the teacup, tilted his head back and took a big gulp. The scalding tea slid down his throat, but his eyes fell on a corner of the table, where there was a wooden statue that Song Mei had personally carved. The statue depicted him.

Ever since Song Mei gave him the statue, Su Yaoyang has kept it with him.

At this moment, Song Mei's due date is getting closer and closer, and her belly is getting bigger and bigger, but he can't be by her side.

However, this feeling only lasted for a short while, and Su Yaoyang quickly regained his composure.

Inside the command post, the oil lamps flickered gently, their wicks crackling and illuminating the patterns on the map with an intermittent glow.

Su Yaoyang stared intently at the blue marker on the map, his fingertip hovering over the rectangular area circled in blue.

He suddenly said to Pi Ruoyu, "By now, the Third Division's ammunition reserves should be almost depleted, as can be seen from the firepower of the Japanese devils' counterattack starting today."

Before their supplies arrive, they will no longer have the resources to fight us. It's time to launch a final offensive.

He turned to Pi Ruoyu, his eyes revealing a hint of determination and resolve: "Issue the order immediately... Tomorrow morning, launch a general offensive against Niangziguan! The newly arrived 11th, 12th, and 13th Regiments will be the main attacking force, concentrating their strength to break through."

"understand!"

Pi Ruoyu immediately stood up straight and answered, then turned and left without hesitation.

The command center fell silent once more.

Su Yaoyang slowly exhaled, his gaze returning to the battle map.

He gestured with the red pencil in his hand towards Xinkou, a barely perceptible sneer appearing on his lips as he muttered to himself:
"It'll be soon... Once we take Niangziguan, the Japanese invasion will be ruined."

I'll lead my troops to attack from both the north and south, encircling them from the direction of Xinkou... Hmph, I want to see what these Japanese devils can use to resist!"

In October, the sky over Shanxi is azure, the air is clear, and sunlight shines through the sparse clouds, making the withered grass on the hillside glow with a pale gold.

The dirt road at the foot of the mountain meandered, its surface hardened into a layer of mud by the footsteps of soldiers.

The autumn wind swept by, bringing a touch of dry chill, but it did not diminish the intense, murderous aura that permeated the jungle.

In the bushes, a sniper from the Shanxi militia lay prone in a well-camouflaged hiding place.

He was covered from head to toe with withered grass and netting, and the camouflage mud on his face had almost blended into the earth.

His sharp eyes were fixed on the front, not even blinking, as he coldly locked onto a Japanese officer hundreds of meters away through the scope.

The Japanese officer was new, and his uniform was no different from that of an ordinary Japanese soldier—the same khaki autumn uniform, with no obvious rank insignia on his shoulders. However, his finely crafted leather satchel gave him away; it was an item that only officers were issued.

A thought flashed through the sniper's mind, and a slight smile even appeared on his lips. His finger slowly moved to the trigger, and he steadied himself with a few shallow breaths.

"boom……"

The muzzle flashes as bullets streak through the air at speeds of up to 800 meters per second.

In an instant, the bullet pierced cleanly through the officer's side.

Before the officer could even utter a sound, he collapsed onto the grass as if his skeleton had been removed, his body convulsing and rolling, his blood immediately soaking the autumn grass.

"Major!"

The two guards cried out in alarm and bent down to help, but the moment they made contact, a second and a third bullet followed.

"Puff... puff..."

Two dull thuds, hitting their targets precisely. Their bodies fell straight down, the stench of blood quickly spreading in a small patch—cruel and cold.

The sniper didn't rush to move.

He lay prone, holding his breath, motionless for over a minute, hearing only the wind and the distant cawing of crows. Only after confirming there was no sudden counterattack did he slowly slide out of his hiding place and crouch low, running forward a hundred meters.

Crawl, pause, then accelerate in a low posture.

His exceptional battlefield awareness made him extremely vigilant; even while walking, his eyes constantly scanned his surroundings.

He quickly reached the officer's body, gently turned it over, and swiftly removed the leather satchel.

"Squeak." The clasp on the handbag opened.

There were no gold bars or maps inside, but a stack of thin sheets of paper.

The sniper immediately reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dusty officer's ID card, clearly showing his rank and name.

"He's a major."

He muttered to himself, a sense of crisp, satisfying pleasure welling up inside him.

Continuing his search, he pulled out several sheets of paper from the officer's breast pocket. The paper was rough and yellowish, with black ink that had overflowed the edges, clearly products of a makeshift field printing press.

One of them particularly caught my attention: it was an official document, concise in language, but its core content was...

We request that our superiors replenish our ammunition and supplies as soon as possible; our battalion's reserves are almost depleted, and without resupply, we fear we will be unable to withstand any further attacks from the Chinese army.

The sniper raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that this intelligence was extremely valuable; there was no more direct evidence than the enemy admitting they were "out of ammunition and supplies."

He stuffed all the documents into his ammunition pouch, then raised his gun again to survey the surroundings. Once he confirmed it was safe, he crouched low and quickly ran away from the body, carrying his unexpected find to the rear…

(End of this chapter)