Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 354 Broken Jade
The wind at Panlong Ridge finally stopped, and the sunlight filtering through the clouds was like a blade, cutting away the damp chill that had accumulated on the battlefield over the past few days.

Li Yunlong continued to give orders in a low voice, the rough cloth strip on his left arm soaked black with blood, sticking to his flesh in the wind. The messenger behind him also grabbed a rifle and fired desperately, his eyes red.

The forward bunkers were reduced to half their original size by the blast waves of artillery shells, the machine gunners had been replaced twice, and the position was covered with mottled footprints left by the Japanese soldiers.

"Everyone stay calm, aim before you fire, and fire the grenade launchers according to the commands. Don't mess around!"

Li Yunlong roared as he pointed his gun forward, "Anyone who dares to back down will face my wrath."

Before the words were even finished, a completely different sound suddenly came from the sky... coming from afar and getting closer, from faint to loud, as if someone had drawn back a curtain across the sky.

The observation post shouted first: "Organic cluster...organic cluster...that's our marker!"

Then more people looked up as a dive bomber, its aluminum gleaming in the sunlight, broke through the clouds and came into view. The bombs hanging under its belly gleamed with a dark, cold light, and the Kuomintang emblem under its wings was particularly clear in the sunlight.

The lead formation of the third squadron, which took off from Mengxian Airport, has arrived.

Two Mustang fighters provided escort by flapping their wings at high altitude, followed by a line of Dauntless dive bombers descending in formation, pulling up their attack angles, their wing brakes opening, and the sharp whistling of their dive piercing eardrums like nails.

"Everyone lie down, smoke sign, don't move! Stay put!"

Li Yunlong shoved the man down hard, and the soldiers at the front threw yellow smoke from the trenches toward the front of the position. The column of yellow smoke stretched diagonally in the wind, like drawing a line on the mountain ridge.

Grenade launchers cease fire, light machine guns are kept at bay, and all gun muzzles are kept as low as possible to avoid contact with friendly aircraft in the air.

As the missile separated from the hull, a blinding white light burst forth at the point of impact.

Those weren't flames from an explosion, but rather streaks of white flame billowing thick smoke.

Accompanied by thick smoke with a pungent garlic smell, streams of extremely viscous, white phosphorus gel-like substance with a temperature of thousands of degrees Celsius were splashed out like lava.

"Boom... Pfft..."

Please note that after a white phosphorus bomb explodes, the flames do not ignite, but rather "explode" and "flow," instantly covering the entire ridge. The originally icy rainwater becomes a catalytic agent for the devil. The white phosphorus does not extinguish itself when it comes into contact with this water; instead, it burns even more intensely.

The mountains and fields were covered with mud, pebbles, grass and trees, and... Japanese soldiers covered in them!
The entire mountaintop instantly transformed into a churning white inferno spewing thick, toxic smoke!
One second the Japanese soldiers were charging wildly, shouting "Emperor Banzai," and the next second they turned into moving torches rolling and screaming in the sea of ​​fire!

"Wow……"

"Water...water!"

"It's burning me!"

A piercing, inhuman wail instantly replaced the shouts and clamor of charging forward. Human bodies twisted, curled up, and sizzled as their fat burned under unimaginable extreme heat.

The clothes turned to ashes instantly, and huge blisters swelled up on the skin and burst immediately, emitting a burnt smell.

The flames clung to the human body like living demons, and even swatting and rolling only made them more ferocious. The air was filled with a nauseating stench of burning meat and chemicals.

The flames not only consumed flesh, but also ignited fear.

The attacking force completely collapsed, and fear spread like a plague. The Japanese soldiers who had not yet been affected looked at the hellish scene in front of them in terror. They watched their former comrades, who had instantly turned into human torches and were struggling desperately to rush towards them for help, only to bring flames back to them, and all their courage and madness vanished in an instant.

The rout happened in an instant.

Like the receding tide, the Japanese soldiers abandoned their armor and weapons, crying and screaming as they turned and ran wildly down the mountain, wanting nothing more than to escape this hell on earth that spewed white flames and screams of agony!

The Independent Regiment's position was equally deathly silent.

Exhausted soldiers leaned on their rifles, mouths agape, staring blankly at the nightmarish scene below, a mass of writhing and wailing amidst the white flames.

Occasionally, raindrops fall on the scorching rocks, making a sizzling sound and rising up strange steam.

Li Yunlong leaned stiffly against the edge of the collapsed trench, his bloodshot eyes wide open, even stopping the half-finished command he was about to utter.

His pistol hung limply. The brutal scene of "reinforcements" appearing from the sky was so shocking that even this seasoned veteran, who had survived countless battles, felt a chill run down his spine and... a tremor of relief after surviving a catastrophe.

"Commander, this fire is burning so intensely!"

Zhang Dabiao swallowed hard, his eyes still fixed on the front line.

Coming to his senses, Li Yunlong smacked him: "Stop talking nonsense, keep an eye on your men! Once the fire's over, get ready to fill in the gaps at the front! Whoever's still alive, go!"

On the other side of the mountain, in the joint command post of the Shanxi militia, Su Yaoyang pressed his earpiece even tighter, waiting for the third detachment's group call to confirm for the second time that "the target area is clearly marked, and the smoke from friendly forces at the front has been identified."

He shifted his gaze from the electronic sand table to the physical map, tapping his knuckles on the table: "Artillery, take note: extend your fire, don't press against friendly forces' forward positions, fire along the valleys behind them. Infantry, prepare, activate Plan Three, mixed formations advance according to the established plan, and cross over."

Brigade Commander Chen stood to the side, listening to the report over the radio, and nodded slightly: "Excellent firepower preparation. Once the fire is extinguished, our men will go up and clear out all those who can move as quickly as possible, so as not to give the enemy a chance to regroup."

"Wild Horse Squadron calling command: escort complete. Dive teams have two more salvos of ammunition remaining, which can be replenished as needed." Ye Qifeng's voice came from another radio.

Su Yaoyang replied: "According to the original plan, the last wave will attack the rear of the ridge to block the retreat; another wave will be left on standby to attack when friendly forces encounter stubborn resistance."

On the position of the First Battalion at Panlongling, the white smoke was gradually torn apart by the wind, and flames still licked their tongues in some corners, causing the ground to become extremely hot. This heat even spread to the position of the Independent Regiment.

The high temperatures also forced medics to crawl along the trenches, keeping their bodies hunched over, to tighten bandages on able-bodied soldiers. If they encountered soldiers scorched by the heat, they would try to cool them down before moving them. The soldiers carrying stretchers could only move through the trenches, trying their best not to touch the scorching hot ground around them.

…………

"Watch my hand gesture... Go!"

On the mountain ridge, before the yellow smoke had completely dissipated, a group tasked with the attack had already moved out from the flank and rear.

In each assault team, the militia's automatic firepower was positioned in the center, while the Eighth Route Army's elite snipers advanced along the rocky embankment, and demolition experts, carrying packs, crept along the remaining fortifications. As soon as a firing point appeared, several grenades or rifle grenades were fired, followed by a line of submachine gun fire. Riflemen then finished off any remaining points, and the formation split to the left and right, clearing every shallow trench and every collapsed shack like the teeth of a comb, leaving no blind spots.

If the fighting style of the First Regiment was unreasonable and ferocious, Ding Wei's new First Regiment was precise and agile. The Eighth Route Army soldiers were fast, had steady marksmanship, and were more patient.

Soldiers would often take advantage of lulls in the fire to advance nimbly through trenches and craters, firing as they went, before moving on to the next bunker.

On the way, they encountered Japanese soldiers waving white flags. They first ordered them to drop their guns, turn around, cover their heads, and squat down. Then they sent someone to escort them out of the combat zone.

If they encounter any resistance, a group of demolition experts will throw in a 20-pound canvas explosive pack, followed by a flamethrower, their main goal being to carry out violence to the end.

After the first three rounds of attacks, the Eighth Route Army would take the opportunity to block the entrance, leaving one escape route open, while their firepower would come from both sides, coordinating very smoothly.

Kong Jie, on the other side, had already cleared the two zigzag lines on the right flank. His report was filled with a sense of suppressed satisfaction: "The right flank is cleared. We encountered many stubborn resistance points, but they have all been dealt with. The enemy is showing clear signs of retreating towards the back mountain road."

Request that artillery fire two more rounds at the valley entrance to prevent escape.

"Approved. 2nd Artillery Regiment, fire two rounds of blocking fire at the right flank valley entrance, with a 30-second interval. Keep an eye on the situation."

In the temporary command post at the rear, Masaharu Honma's orders changed several times: "Disperse... Do not gather... Retreat to the right ravine... Reserves, move forward and hold the line!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than a new round of artillery fire came from the distance at the mouth of the valley.

The repeated "can't hear clearly" and "try again" sounds on the radio made his eyes twitch.

He knew that the situation was heading from defeat to irreversible collapse. The offensive momentum was abruptly cut off by the sudden air raid, and the subsequent waves of attacks were cut off by the Chinese artillery, making it impossible to regroup. He was caught in a dilemma, unable to advance or retreat.

On Panlong Ridge, the pungent smell in the air gradually faded, but the heat wave still lingered.

Li Yunlong tightened the cloth strap on his arm, took a couple of deep breaths, and raised his hand to signal the machine gun fire to move forward two meters to suppress the two possible protruding corners.

He glanced at the people still standing beside him: "Watch out, don't rush or chase, make way for the brothers behind... At this point in the battle, as long as we hold Panlong Ridge, we will have won."

"Sir... Regiment commanders Li Gaoyuan, Ding Wei, Kong Jie, and others have reported that they have occupied the hilltops on both sides, and the main force can pass through."

"it is good!"

After the flags were planted on the high ground on both sides, the wind on the ridge seemed to suddenly quiet down for a second. Kong Jie and Ding Wei each pushed the "comb teeth" to the designated line, and their reports arrived at the joint command almost simultaneously: the two flanks of the mountain were under control and the passage was cleared.

"Commander, the main force can proceed." Li Gaoyuan's voice was crisp.

"As originally planned, we would surround the canyon from all sides."

Without wasting words, Su Yaoyang drew a closed circle on the map with his fingertips. "Artillery extend firing, air cover, blockade the valley entrance. All units launch an attack on the 27th Division."

Brigade Commander Chen, who was standing to the side, also threw the pencil in his hand onto the map and shouted: "Pass on my order, the soldiers of the 386th Brigade must show their spirit of not being afraid of sacrifice and completely and resolutely annihilate this enemy!"

The battle lasted from the afternoon until dusk.

Heavy artillery struck the mountains like hammers, the echoes reverberating through the valleys.

Under the escort of fire, the infantry changed lines, infiltrated, and divided the enemy positions, shaving them thinner and thinner with a razor. Meanwhile, the air support aircraft swooped down again and again, and aerial bombs and rockets fell on the Japanese positions as if reporting a message.

The hastily constructed formation of the 27th Division was constantly being torn to pieces. Masaharu Honma was also constantly organizing forces to counterattack, trying to break through from the flank valley and try to rebuild the firing points to maintain a decent line. However, every time a fire broke out, the militia's rifle grenades, the Eighth Route Army's precision fire, and the artillery regiment's timed blockade would "pop" and extinguish the flame.

As dusk fell, the counterattack turned into sporadic cries of pain, the bugle calls became chaotic commands, and the ranks became individual black dots running wildly across the hillside.

The encirclement was completed before it got completely dark.

The afterglow clearly outlined the last small hill, and the canyon resembled a natural bowl, with more than 5,000 remnants pressed down to the bottom.

Four lines of defense have been established: the outermost ring is a deadly fire net composed of militia artillery, with their firepower overlapping each other; in the middle is a mixed infantry force composed of Shanxi militia and Eighth Route Army soldiers, occupying five high points, observing and covering each other.

The innermost part is a combined fire network consisting of armored units, machine gun teams, and mortar squads.

Inside the encirclement, almost every inch of hollow or pile of rocks in the hills and valleys where people could hide was crowded with Japanese soldiers who looked like stray dogs.

They were covered in dust and dirt, some with dirty bandages wrapped around their bodies, some barefoot, their guns scattered about, their eyes blank and desperate as they looked at the busy gray and dark gray figures on the surrounding high ground.

With each inch the encirclement tightened, the air of despair grew more stagnant.

Fear, like a tangible fog, enveloped this tiny land that was about to be stained with blood.

The cries of the wounded soldiers sounded particularly jarring and helpless in this deathly silence.

The military tent, which was being used as a temporary command post, had long been riddled with holes by days of artillery fire and rain.

Murky water droplets dripped from the torn canvas, and the support pole in the corner was leaning precariously.

The dim gas lamps flickered in the polluted air, casting the shadows of the people standing or sitting inside like ghosts, swaying violently against the tent walls.

The air was thick with damp, cold smoke, dust, the smell of sweat, and... the smell of despair. It was so thick it was almost suffocating.

Commander Masaharu Honma of the 27th Division sat upright on a simple folding chair with a broken leg and a corner barely propped up by an ammunition box.

His general's uniform was stained with mud and dried dark brown bloodstains, his hat was nowhere to be found, and his once meticulously combed hair was now disheveled and hanging down in front of his forehead, covering most of his face.

In the shadows, those once sharp eyes were now empty and numb, staring blankly at the map in front of them, which was covered with scratches and had become a blurry outline.

The tent was deathly silent, with only the occasional sporadic gunfire from outside reminding them that they were still alive.

Behind him stood Major General Yoshikazu Harada, the Chief of Staff. This officer, once known for his impeccable appearance and competence, now looked ashen-faced, his cheeks sunken.

Further behind were the two regimental commanders in charge of the first and second regiments, and a dozen or so junior officers whose shoulder insignia were adorned with stars, but who now looked emaciated.

Every face was as stiff as a wax figure, the light in their eyes extinguished, replaced by a numbness mixed with resentment, fear, and eventual resignation.

Everyone knew that the tide had turned and all struggles were futile... It was time to end it.

It seemed as if Honma Masaharu had expended tremendous effort to finally gather a sliver of clarity from the void that was devouring his consciousness.

He raised his head very slowly, his neck making a stiff "click" sound.

His cloudy gaze swept over the last imperial officers before him, finally settling on the carefully folded military flag in the corner of the tent, a flag symbolizing the Emperor's personal bestowal and the division's supreme glory.

His lips trembled violently a few times, as if he wanted to say something; his Adam's apple bobbed laboriously, but in the end, he only uttered two dry, hoarse words, like sandpaper scraping:
"The... flag..."

This is an order! No more words are needed! As if using all his strength, he lowered his gaze again, staring intently at the cold, muddy ground.

Harada Yoshikazu's body trembled violently.

This order, like a cold razor, completely severed the last shred of hope in everyone's hearts.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, his eyes held a kind of death-like, almost morbid calm.

He slowly and solemnly nodded toward the flag-bearing officer standing in the corner, whose face was solemn and who was tightly clutching the military flag.

The young captain moved. The flag bearer, whose face was covered in dust and tears, suddenly straightened his body, which had been slightly hunched over in despair.

He no longer looked at anyone, but with a devout and tragic expression, like a pilgrim, he carefully untied the golden silk cord that wrapped the precious flag, and then, as if holding a sacred object, slowly unfurled the Rising Sun Flag hidden deep inside, the one with the golden "Kinjiro" embroidered in the center of the "Hinomaru" and the royal symbol of gold!

The vibrant background color, which once symbolized the power of the rising sun and the majesty of the empire, now appears, under the dim, flickering light of the dilapidated tents, as a stark and chilling tragedy.

Beside him, an officer silently handed over a military gasoline can. The flag bearer took a deep breath, and without the slightest hesitation, his movements were swift and decisive—he crumpled the precious military flag, which represented the spirit of the 27th Division and the faith of countless soldiers, into a ball and stuffed it deep into the cold, gasoline-smelling can!
Then he struck a match.

laugh……

The faint firelight illuminated his bloodless face. The flame flickered and danced, like a ghostly dance.

His hand loosened.

Flames fell onto the gasoline that had been poured onto the military flag!
"boom--!"

A blinding orange-red flame suddenly shot up from the mouth of the barrel, instantly engulfing the flag that carried countless fervor and glory.

The fabric twisted and tumbled in the flames, making painful crackling sounds. The exquisite gold threads, silk threads, and symbols on it quickly charred, curled, and turned to ashes under the high temperature! Thick, ominous smoke billowed up and instantly filled the entire tent space.

The pungent smell of burning overpowered all other odors, enveloping every officer with their head bowed, eyes closed, and body trembling slightly.

The leaping, fiery light danced wildly across their tightly pressed lips and deathly gray faces, as if scorching their souls!

This is the final ceremony, and also the final farewell.

The ashes of this Rising Sun Flag will be buried with them in this foreign valley.

They lit it with their own hands, and they also tolled the death knell for the 27th Division.

The crackling sound of the flames licking the air became the background noise.

Honma Masaharu's head drooped even lower in the billowing smoke. His shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly.

A few seconds later, a hoarse voice, yet imbued with his last vestige of madness, escaped from his lips:

"Everyone..."

He paused, his eyes turning bloodshot, and he seemed to shout with all his might.

"Pass on my orders...Execute the 'All-Out Attack' plan...All troops, attack!"

The last four words, like a poisoned dagger, pierced through the stagnation and despair within the tent!

No further commands needed!

Like a puppet being suddenly pulled up by invisible strings!

Chief of Staff Yoshikazu Harada was the first to open his bloodshot eyes, abruptly drawing his sword from his waist, the tip pointing directly at the burning gasoline can, letting out a shrill, inhuman roar:
"All troops! Fix bayonets... Target... center of enemy lines! 'Golden Shatter'... Charge!"

The hoarse, shrill sound was like ice being thrown into boiling oil! It shattered instantly!

The tent was roughly ripped open!

A dozen or so officers, like dying beasts, drew their swords or pistols from their waists! The despair on their faces was replaced by a morbid fanaticism and a frenzied urge to die.

They burst out of the tent, screaming with all their might, their throats ripping open:
“'Jade shattered'... 'Jade shattered'..."

The roar exploded like a plague in the crowded canyon filled with the remnants of the army, crushed by fear!

Whether it was a bewildered soldier or a wounded soldier lying on the ground groaning in pain...

Whether it's a commander or the lowest-ranking supply soldier...

At this dead end, when the final moment arrives, I hear this soul-stirring command of "shattering the jade!"
A collective hysteria and apocalyptic carnival atmosphere swept through the entire compressed encirclement!
"'Jade Shattered!' 'Jade Shattered!' Banzai!"

A jumble of shouts, howls, and meaningless screams mingled together.

Thousands of emaciated and exhausted Japanese soldiers, as if struck by an invisible electric current, raised their bayoneted rifles, entrenching tools, and even picked up stones amidst frantic roars...

Without any order or structure, yet exuding an aura of despair, they rushed towards the surrounding hillsides, which were already heavily fortified and ready for battle, like a black steel forest!
"Rush..."

"Half a year!"

As the Japanese troops roared like beasts, muffled cannon fire suddenly erupted from the already prepared positions, and flares were launched into the sky, instantly illuminating the valley.

The instant the flares went off, countless machine guns, mortars, and all sorts of weapons opened fire on the demons who looked as if they had crawled out of hell...

(End of this chapter)