You were tasked with guarding the Sihang Warehouse, and you brought out a Tiger tank?

Accompanied by the officer's whistle, the soldiers of the newly formed 3rd Infantry Regiment leaped out from behind the woods and earthen slopes on the flank.

They were all armed with Mauser Kar98k rifles, while the squad leader and deputy squad leader carried MP-40 submachine guns, with spare magazines in their chest pouches and M24 grenades on their waists.

The most critical issue was that each infantry squad was equipped with an MG34 general-purpose machine gun.

Although this thing doesn't have the insane rate of fire of the MG42, its 900 rounds per minute rate of fire was still a formidable weapon on the Asian battlefield of that era.

"Spread out skirmish lines, machine gun teams occupy high ground and provide suppressive fire."

"Da da da da da—"

The distinctive crisp and dense gunfire of the MG34 instantly resounded across the battlefield, intertwining with the cannon fire of the Jagdpanzer 38(t) and the Panzer III ahead, forming a symphony of death.

The attack formation of the Japanese 33rd Regiment originally resembled a sharp awl relentlessly probing the Northeast Army's positions.

But now, the side of the awl was suddenly struck hard by a heavier and sharper hammer.

Sergeant Sato of the 2nd Battalion, 33rd Regiment of the Japanese Army was lying on the edge of a shell crater, his face covered in mud.

Just minutes before, he was brandishing his saber, directing his squad to charge the Chinese trenches, and they were about to break through.

But now, the situation has reversed!

"Baka! The left wing, the left wing is full of Chinese war machines."

Sergeant Sato, gripping his helmet, roared, "Machine guns, suppress those infantry over there!"

The machine gunner next to him hurriedly set up the "crooked handle" light machine gun, while the assistant gunner frantically stuffed five-round magazines into the funnel-shaped magazine.

"Thump, thump, thump..."

The shrill, asthmatic-like gunfire from the crooked-handled machine gun had barely begun when it was drowned out by an even more violent and intense tearing sound.

"Da, da, da..."

Four hundred meters away on the flank, two MG34 general-purpose machine guns formed a crossfire, and the dense bullets swept through the Japanese machine gun team like an electric chainsaw.

The Japanese machine gunner's head exploded like a rotten watermelon. The assistant gunner was about to take over when his arm was broken, and he screamed as he rolled into a mud pit.

"What...what kind of machine gun is this?!"

Sergeant Sato stared wide-eyed in horror.

He participated in the early stages of the Battle of Shanghai and witnessed the most elite German-equipped divisions in China.

Even those units, with only a few Czech-made guns per company, had fierce firepower, but there were still gaps in their firepower.

But this unit in front of us has an absolute surplus of firepower.

Do you think bullets are free?!

Before he could figure it out, several figures in gray military uniforms had already sneaked within 100 meters under the cover of the tanks.

"Fire! Fire!" Sato raised his Type 38 rifle.

"Bang!"

He fired a shot, pulled the bolt, ejected the spent cartridge, and chambered a new one.

He practiced this move countless times, and it only takes 2 seconds.

But those two seconds are eternity in the face of modern automatic firearms.

"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!"

The Xia soldiers opposite him, armed with MP-40 submachine guns, unleashed a burst of fire at Sato's position.

9mm pistol bullets rained down like a deluge.

The two recruits next to Sato were instantly riddled with bullets, their bodies riddled with bloody holes, and they collapsed, convulsing.

"Submachine guns?! How can there be so many submachine guns?!"

Sato was in despair.

In his mind, submachine guns, these "aristocratic weapons," were only equipped in small numbers by the naval idiots' marines or the Chinese supervisory units.

But this unit in front of us, at a cursory glance, seems to have one for every single person.

"Where's the grenade launcher? Quick! Blow them up!"

Sato made a last-ditch effort.

However, he was met with a 75mm high-explosive shell fired directly from a distance.

"boom!"

That was the hunter's masterpiece.

The massive blast wave sent Sergeant Sato flying into the air.

In his last moments before losing consciousness, he watched as limbs and severed bodies flew everywhere, and only one thought remained in his mind:

"This isn't a Chinese army at all... Could it be the Hans?!"

My lord, times have changed.

Faced with an absolute disparity in firepower, the Japanese soldiers' pride in their individual combat skills and Bushido spirit seemed both laughable and pathetic, like Don Quixote trying to poke a windmill with a lance.

The offensive momentum of the Japanese 33rd Regiment was forcefully thwarted by this torrent of steel.

The vanguard suffered heavy casualties, the follow-up troops were cut off by artillery fire, the entire regiment's flank completely collapsed, and signs of an unstoppable rout began to appear.

-----

In the mud-filled trenches, Huo Shouyi, the commander of the 112th Division, was in an extremely undignified position, his mouth wide open, his jaw almost falling to the ground, unable to close it for a long time.

He even forgot to dodge stray bullets, leaning half his body out of the trench, staring intently at the battlefield on his flank, shrouded in smoke and fire.

"Good heavens...this good-for-nothing..."

Huo Shouyi wiped the blood and mud from his face and muttered to himself:

"Am I dreaming? This is what real warfare looks like!"

What did he see?

He saw those strangely shaped tanks without turrets and casually fired a shot that blew away the Japanese tanks that had been so effective against his troops.

He saw those tall tanks, braving the Japanese machine gun fire, their tracks crushing the Japanese corpses, advancing and firing as they went, targeting the Japanese machine gun positions one by one.

He also saw that the infantry unit had firepower so intense it was like they were burning money.

The machine gun fire was continuous and never stopped, while the rain of bullets from submachine guns was like a deluge, pressing down on the Japanese soldiers so they couldn't even lift their heads.

"This Provisional 8th Army... what kind of deity descended from heaven? Their equipment is just too extravagant!"

Huo Shouyi lowered his head and looked at the worn-out Liao-made Type 13 rifle in his hand.

This gun was made at the Fengtian Arsenal back then, and it's been with him for almost seven years.

He then looked at the various weapons in the hands of his brothers: Hanyang rifles, old-fashioned rifles, and even broadswords.

A deep sense of sorrow and envy welled up in my heart.

Back in the day, during the Second Zhili-Fengtian War, their Northeast Army was quite powerful.

What a magnificent sight that must have been!

The young marshal held the only air force in the Great Xia, with hundreds of planes covering the sky; he also had Renault FT-17 tanks bought from the Gauls, which were the Great Xia's first armored force.

At sea, there was also the Northeast Army's own fleet, and even seaplane carriers.

Back then, the Northeast Army was invincible, conquering Beijing and Tianjin one after another. Who dared to disrespect them?

But now?

Their home was lost, their young commander was detained, their equipment dwindled with each battle, their manpower dwindled, they became orphans, and a ragtag army subjected to mistreatment everywhere.

"well……"

Huo Shouyi sighed, his heart filled with mixed feelings.

But looking at the imposing presence of the Provisional 8th Army before him, he had to admit:

"Judging from the current situation, Lin Feng's troops are even more arrogant than the Northeast Army in its heyday. This is the real treatment of the Central Army, right? No, even the Central Army wasn't this rich."

Just then, the company commander of the guards nearby came over and shouted excitedly:

"Commander, the Japanese have retreated. They were routed by the Provisional 8th Army."

He pointed ahead:

"The brothers are all watching, bayonets are fixed, shall we... charge or not?"

Huo Shouyi suddenly came to his senses.

He looked at the Northeastern men in the surrounding trenches, their faces scorched by smoke and fire, but their eyes filled with renewed hope.

Although they were poorly equipped and were soldiers in dire need, their fighting spirit remained!

Our allies are feeding us; if we're just cowering in the trenches watching the show, what kind of man are we? How can we ever face anyone again?

"Rush! Why aren't you rushing?!"

Huo Shouyi ripped open the top button, revealing a filthy shirt underneath, then abruptly removed his helmet and slammed it into the muddy trench.

"Clang!"

He picked up the Liaoning 13 rifle with its bayonet fixed, stepped on the ammunition box, and was the first to jump out of the trench.

"Brothers!"

Huo Shouyi, with his hoarse voice, let out a deafening roar:

"We men from Northeast China pee standing up! We can't let our allies look down on us!"

"If we lose our home, we can fight our way back! If we lose our lives, it's for the sake of our ancestors!"

He brandished his rifle, pointing it at the retreating Japanese soldiers:

"Pass on my order! From me, the division commander, down to the cooks, everyone! A full-scale counterattack!"

"Charge!!!!"

"kill!!!"

"Kill those little devils!"

The thousands of Northeast Army soldiers, who had been feeling stifled for so long, poured out of the trenches like a flood bursting its banks.

They had no tanks, no submachine guns, and not even many machine guns.

But they had bayonets, broadswords, and a burning desire for revenge that had been suppressed for six years.

The gray uniforms covering the hillsides, together with the well-equipped German troops on the flank, formed an unstoppable force at that moment.