The Wind Rises in 1898: Becoming a Warlord Starting in Southeast Asia

Chapter 115 Bloodstained Morning River

But the soldiers' situation was a hundred times more dangerous than Chen Feng's.

Most of them had not received formal trench warfare training, and when faced with coordinated attacks from Spanish soldiers, they were often overwhelmed.

Just as someone stabbed down an enemy, another person pierced his lower back with a bayonet.

Someone tried their best to hold onto the enemy, but their arm was broken by the enemy's comrade with a rifle butt.

Even younger soldiers, due to nervousness, stabbed the enemy with their bayonets but missed the mark, and were slit in the throat by the Spanish. Their bodies slid limply into the waterlogged trench.

The trenches had become a veritable meat grinder.

Elizabeth looked through the telescope and felt her hands and feet grow cold.

She saw a Chinese soldier's intestines being ripped out by a bayonet, yet he still gripped the hilt tightly and slashed down hard at the enemy's thigh.

Seeing the two soldiers back to back defending against the attack, they were eventually exhausted and stabbed down. Before dying, they even bit off a piece of the enemy's ear.

Seeing that Chen Feng's longsword was chipped, he simply discarded it, grabbed a Spanish officer by the neck with his left hand, and let the officer's bayonet pierce his thigh until he twisted the man's head off.

"They've all gone mad...they've all gone mad..."

Elizabeth muttered to herself, the small notebook in her hand clenched so tightly it became deformed.

Just then, a deafening shout suddenly came from the riverbank!

It's Tian Gang!

He didn't bring those cumbersome cannons and machine guns, but led all the soldiers who could fight, each with a rifle with a bayonet fixed, wading through waist-deep river water, roaring as they rushed towards the shore!

They were the reinforcements, their eyes bloodshot. They had already witnessed the carnage on the beach, and now their hearts were filled with rage.

"Fight for the freedom of Chinese people, charge!"

"Master, I've arrived!"

Tian Gang took the lead, with Pang Li close behind.

No matter how brave and skilled the Spanish soldiers were, after enduring a barrage of fire from the Olympus's guns, they had already lost a third of their men, and their morale had plummeted to rock bottom.

The hand-to-hand combat with Chen Feng and his men had exhausted their last bit of strength.

Now that Tian Gang has arrived with fresh troops, the Free Army has instantly gained an absolute numerical advantage, and the situation on the battlefield has been completely reversed.

The Spanish soldiers in the trenches panicked completely. Some dropped their rifles and tried to crawl backward, but were kicked over by the Free Army soldiers who rushed up, and their bayonets pierced through their chests.

Some people tried to put up a last-ditch resistance, but several bayonets were pressed against their bodies at the same time, giving them no chance to struggle.

Chen Feng leaned against the trench, watching Tian Gang rush over and more and more comrades pouring into the trench. His tense body finally relaxed a little.

His thighs were already soaked in blood, and every movement felt like being pricked by countless needles, but he still gritted his teeth, picked up a bayonet from the ground with his left hand, and charged toward the last Spanish soldier who was still resisting.

Elizabeth watched this scene, finally letting out a sigh of relief. Trembling, she picked up her notebook and added another line after the previous writing:

The situation has reversed!

But behind this victory lie so many young lives!

"Take a headcount!"

Chen Feng said in a hoarse voice, "Carry back those who can still breathe and treat them as soon as possible. As for the dead... collect their bodies properly."

Pang Li nodded, turned around and roared, "The general has ordered that the casualties be counted in groups!"

Those with minor wounds bandaged each other, those with serious wounds carried to the beachhead, and treatment arranged as quickly as possible. As for the fallen brothers, make sure they are all properly cared for; not a single one is left behind.

The surviving soldiers began to move.

Leaning on their tattered rifles, they moved shakily through the trenches.

Some people lifted the clothes off the corpses, trying to recognize the familiar faces.

Some people held their lifeless comrades, their shoulders trembling uncontrollably, but dared not cry out, for fear of disturbing their fallen brothers.

Some people squatted in the corner of the trench, silently bandaging their wounds, their faces showing no joy of victory, only numbness and exhaustion.

Elizabeth raised her binoculars and looked at the scene in the trenches, her heart heavy.

She saw a soldier recognize his fellow villager from among the corpses. The man was stunned for a moment, then suddenly covered his face, and his suppressed sobs were particularly jarring in the empty battlefield.

She saw several young soldiers carefully collecting the rifles and bayonets of their fallen comrades, arranging them neatly as if performing a solemn ceremony.

Pang Li walked to Chen Feng's side, clutching a blood-stained roster in his hand, his face terribly grave.

"Master."

His voice trembled, "Two thousand one hundred and seventy-three people were crossing the river before, now... only one thousand two hundred and eighty-seven are still standing, one hundred and fifty-four are seriously injured, and the rest... are all gone!"

One thousand two hundred and eighty-seven people!

This number hit Chen Feng like a boulder.

He slowly closed his eyes, and the young faces of those he had seen before he set off flashed through his mind. They laughed and called him "General," saying they would go home, get married, and farm after the war...

But now, those vibrant voices have all turned into cold corpses.

He climbed up the trench using both his hands and feet and looked towards the opposite bank of the river.

The sunlight was just right, shining on the water and creating shimmering ripples.

But in this shimmering water, it seemed as if countless faces of fallen soldiers were reflected.

"Have you written it all down?" Chen Feng asked in a low voice.

"I've got it."

Pang Li said in a deep voice, "I've remembered every single name."

"it is good."

Chen Feng nodded, his voice as soft as a sigh, "After the war is over, send them all home."

The battlefield gradually quieted down.

The sun rose higher and higher, dispelling the smoke of battle, but it could not dispel the lingering smell of blood and sorrow in the air.

The surviving soldiers sat casually on the ground, no one spoke, they just silently looked at the neatly stacked corpses, at their still bleeding wounds, at their stiff fingers gripping their rifles.

Elizabeth clutched the notebook, the pen hovering over the paper, yet unable to bring it down.

She originally wanted to write a lot, to write about how magnificent the victory was, and how brave Chen Feng was.

But at this moment, looking at everything in front of her, she felt a tightness in her chest.

In the end, she wrote only one line: The flag of victory is dyed red with young lives.

This battle resulted in heavy casualties not only among the soldiers but also among the officers.

Battalion Commander Kong Yunfei was grazed in the left eye by a stray bullet. He was slumped on the beach, clutching his eye socket with one hand, blood seeping from between his fingers and staining half his face red.

He gritted his teeth, remaining silent, veins bulging on his forehead, his whole body trembling uncontrollably.

In hand-to-hand combat, Battalion Commander Ren Dayong was accidentally stabbed in the right shoulder by a Spanish soldier's bayonet, which nearly severed his scapula.

The medics were frantically bandaging him, wrapping the rough cloth around and around, but they still couldn't stop the gushing blood. He was in so much pain that his face turned pale and he was covered in cold sweat.

The most unfortunate was Ding Junkai, the battalion commander of the third battalion.

As he led the charge up the riverbank, he was hit squarely by a Maxim machine gun from the trench. His body was riddled with countless bloody holes, and before he could even utter a sound, he collapsed straight down at the very front of that death zone.

At this moment, his body was carefully carried back by his comrades and placed at the forefront of the fallen soldiers, his face still frozen with the determination he had shown during the charge.

Chen Feng's gaze was fixed on Ding Junkai's corpse, and images of the man kept flashing through his mind.

It was clearly when they had just left the conscription camp, the two of them lying side by side in the mud, facing the iron hooves of the Spanish cavalry as they came hurtling towards them, their eyes filled with a fierce determination to risk everything.

It was the most intense moment of the Battle of Balangai when he shot and killed the indigenous boy who had ambushed him.

He is usually quiet and reserved, but he is extremely strict when training soldiers, and he is meticulous in every movement, as if he wants to forge every soldier into steel.

Last night, he even managed a rare smile, revealing two rows of white teeth, and patted his chest, saying, "After this battle, I'll go back to my hometown, kowtow to my mother, and make her a pot of her favorite chicken soup."

Chen Feng felt a mix of emotions, as if something was blocking his throat, making it hard for him to breathe.

He closed his eyes tightly, and only slowly opened them after a long while. As the sunlight fell on the surviving warriors, his Adam's apple bobbed twice, and he was about to say something when a small boat suddenly floated down from the water upstream.

As soon as the ship docked, a dust-covered Independence Army soldier stumbled off the beach and jumped onto the shore, shouting at the top of his lungs, "General Chen! General Luna requests your immediate support for the Manila Water Tower Fortress!"

support?

Chen Feng frowned, bent down and picked up a fallen Spanish Mauser rifle from the ground. Using his uninjured left hand to support himself on the barrel, he limped to the highest point of the trench and looked towards the upstream of the river to the east.

The smoke over there was much thicker than on their side, with thick, dark columns of smoke shooting straight into the sky, and the roar of cannons echoing one after another.

The soldiers of the independence army were densely packed on the riverbank. Many of them had already braved the artillery fire to cross the Marigina River and even broke through the Spanish checkpoints along the river. At this moment, they were launching a fierce attack on a towering stone building.

That's the Manila Water Tower Fortress.

The massive water tower was constructed from thick, heavy stones. Its walls were mottled yet exceptionally sturdy, and several dark, gaping holes were drilled into its surface.

At that moment, dense tongues of fire were spewing from those firing ports, and bullets swept towards the charging Independent Army soldiers like raindrops. Those at the forefront fell in droves, and their corpses piled up into small mountains in front of the fortress.

Although the independence army outnumbered the enemy, they could not get close to this impregnable fortress.

Without even thinking, Chen Feng shook his head.

He pointed to the still-bleeding wound on his thigh, then to the strip of cloth wrapped around his shoulder, which was already stained red, and said to the messenger without any politeness, "Go and tell Luna that more than half of my men have been killed or wounded, and most of my officers have been lost. I myself am in this state, and I really can't lead troops to provide support."

The messenger's lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something more, but when he saw Chen Feng covered in blood and the mountains of corpses piled up in the trenches, he didn't dare to say another word. He could only reluctantly jump back into the small boat and row upstream.

Tian Gang strode closer, watched the messenger's departing figure, and asked in a low voice, "General, what should we do next?"

"Many Spanish soldiers just fled; will they go to get reinforcements and then launch a counterattack?"

Chen Feng sat down directly on the trench wall and said in a deep voice, "The US military and the Independent Army are launching a fierce offensive on the southern front and will be too busy to defend themselves for a while. The Spanish will not easily launch a counterattack."

Beyond that lies Manila, with its high walls and strong fortifications. There's no need for us to engage in a direct confrontation; even if we tried, we wouldn't be able to break through.

As he spoke, he turned his gaze towards the Manila Water Tower Fortress, his expression darkening. "Closely monitor the movements of the Independence Army. If they show any signs of retreat, we'll leave immediately!"

"Walk?"

Tian Gang paused for a moment, then looked back at the bodies of his fallen comrades on the riverbank, a hint of resentment flashing across his face.

But he also understood that Chen Feng was right.

Once the Independent Army is defeated, the Spanish will inevitably turn their guns on them and launch a full-scale counterattack. These wounded and disabled soldiers simply cannot hold this position that they have won with their blood and flesh.

"Understood! I'll go and reassure the garrison commander immediately, and personally keep an eye on the situation over there!"

Tian Gang nodded vigorously, then looked at Chen Feng's wounds with concern. "General, your injuries are quite serious. Should we go back to the camp to recover? I can keep an eye on things here."

Chen Feng shook his head, his tone calm: "No need. The injury to my thigh didn't damage the artery, and the injury to my shoulder didn't break the bone. I'm pretty lucky."

The midday sun gradually rose overhead, its scorching rays making one's scalp tingle, and the stench of blood in the trenches grew stronger.

Just then, a communications soldier rushed over: "General! Connor from the USS Olympus sent word that the offensive by the Independent Army and the American forces on the southern front has been thwarted. After a morning of fighting, they have only captured a few outer positions."

Fortune