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

Two kilometers north of Teng County, at the edge of a relatively flat wheat field.

Twelve Type 94 ultralight tanks, arranged in a loose wedge-shaped attack formation, roared as they slowly advanced.

These bean-shaped armored vehicles look like large metal boxes, weighing only 3.4 tons, with frontal armor of only 12 millimeters and even thinner side and rear armor.

However, for the Sichuan Army, which once lacked anti-tank weapons, they remained a nightmare.

Behind the tank followed hundreds of Japanese infantrymen, bent over, holding Type 38 rifles with bayonets fixed, and carefully moving forward.

The turret of the tank at the front was filled with the pungent smell of gasoline and the deafening roar of the engine; the temperature was as high as a steamer.

The train commander, Nishimura, was smoking a cigarette, completely oblivious to the fire control regulations, and leisurely peering through the observation slit at the scorched earth in front of him, which had been plowed by artillery fire.

"Hey, Kobayashi, do you think all the Chinese might have already run away?"

Nishimura blew a smoke ring and loudly mocked the driver in front:

"I heard that the enemy on the other side is the Sichuan Army, a bunch of beggars wearing straw sandals."

"That shelling just now probably scared them so much they wet themselves!"

The pilot, Xiaolin, was an 18-year-old recruit, participating in his first combat mission. In the stuffy, cramped cockpit, his palms were sweating profusely.

"Sergeant Cao, let's be careful."

I heard that Lin Feng, the Black Tengu, is somewhere around here…

"Baka, shut up."

Nishimura kicked Kobayashi, who was huddled in the driver's seat at the front of the vehicle, on the head and cursed:

"What nonsense about the Black Heavenly Dog? That's just a ghost story to scare new recruits."

Our Type 94 rifle, although its armor is a bit thin, is invincible against these Sichuan troops who don't even have many heavy machine guns.

Just you wait, once our tanks charge in, those Chinese will definitely turn around and run away.

"Then we'll use machine guns to wipe them all out, like shooting rabbits."

As he spoke, Nishimura patted the 7.7mm vehicle-mounted machine gun in front of him, his face full of arrogance and pride.

The tank continued forward, its tracks grinding against the scorched earth with a "clack-clack" sound.

They were less than 800 meters from the first line of defense of the Sichuan Army.

The position was completely silent, without the slightest sound.

"See? What did I tell you?"

Nishimura became even more smug, and he even leaned half his body out of the turret, looking around with binoculars.

Then he excitedly turned around, waving the signal flag in his hand and signaling with the flag:

The enemy is in disarray, and our vehicles will be the first to charge!

However, he did not know.

The position of the 122nd Division of the Sichuan Army at this time was no longer the one he remembered as a place where they could be slaughtered at will.

In the front-line trenches.

Wang Minzhang, commander of the 122nd Division, lay prone on sandbags, staring intently at the approaching Japanese tanks.

Surrounded by child soldiers who no longer had grenades strapped to their chests and were ready to die, he was no longer surrounded by them.

Instead, it consisted of several PAK36 37mm anti-tank guns carefully concealed with camouflage nets and tree branches.

These cannons were the very weapons Lin Feng had provided to the Sichuan Army through Wang Tianlu, essentially selling them at half price.

"Commander, those Japanese devils have entered the 850-meter range."

A gunner gripped the firing cord tightly, his palms sweating.

"Keep calm, damn it, let it get closer before you hit it."

Wang Minzhang knew very well that his artillerymen had only received less than a month of intensive training.

He wasn't yet proficient in the technology, so he came up with a clumsy solution.

The three cannons were positioned together and aimed at a single target.

"Today, I'm going to show these bastards just how tough the Sichuan Army is."

800 meters.

700 meters.

500 meters.

The machine guns on the Japanese tanks had already begun spitting fire, and the bullets were making a thud as they hit the sandbags.

"Now's the time, get on it!"

Wang Minzhang suddenly waved his hand and let out a roar.

"Splash!"

The camouflage net was instantly torn off.

"put."

"Boom boom boom".

Three crisp, short cannon shots rang out almost simultaneously.

Three 37mm armor-piercing rounds, with an initial velocity of 760 meters per second, tore through the air and flew toward the Type 94 tank at the front.

"Clang! Clang!"

Two extremely piercing sounds of metal clashing.

Three out of two.

An armor-piercing shell penetrated the turret, effectively amputating the tank commander, Nishimura, from the neck down to the waist. Splattered blood and chunks of flesh instantly filled the turret's interior.

Another armor-piercing round struck the front of the vehicle, instantly penetrating the thin frontal armor.

Then the alloy bullet penetrated the driver, Kobayashi, and the engine, and continued its momentum to penetrate the rear armor, directly piercing through the bean-shaped armored vehicle.

The last shot went slightly too high and unfortunately missed.

And so, Sergeant Nishimura and his driver left not even a complete body; they simply covered the inside of the vehicle with mud.

"Baka! There's an ambush!"

"Anti-tank guns, the Chinese have anti-tank guns."

"Turn around, turn around quickly!"

The Japanese tanks behind them realized what was happening and frantically tried to reverse and turn.

But it was too late.

The artillerymen of the Sichuan Army deftly ejected spent shell casings, reloaded, and aimed.

Although the process was somewhat unfamiliar, everyone remained relatively calm and quickly completed the tactical maneuvers.

"Good shot!"

"Good job, Second Artillery Corps!"

"Three shots, good!"

"put!"

Division Commander Wang Minzhang peeked out and saw with his own eyes that a Type 94 tank opposite them seemed to have had its ammunition and fuel ignited, instantly turning into a huge fireball.

The turret was blasted several meters into the air by the violent blast wave.

"Damn it, well done!"

The gunners continued to eject spent cartridge cases, reload, and aim.

As the sounds of gunfire faded into the distance, the gunners began to drift into a state of detachment.

The advantage of small-caliber anti-tank guns—rapid reloading—was brought into play, and a few seconds later, another "Fire!" rang out.

Then came three cannon shots.

Another Japanese tank that was turning in the mud had its tracks broken, and the vehicle began to slide in circles.

Wang Minzhang could even imagine the Japanese tank drivers desperately pulling on the control levers, trying to escape.

"Well done, damn it, keep reloading."

"put!"

Another salvo was fired, and this time Wang Minzhang could clearly see sparks coming from the side of the spinning Japanese tank through his binoculars before the tank stopped moving.

The next second, the hatch on top of the turret opened, and a Japanese soldier jumped out.

Wang Minzhang put down his binoculars, turned around and shouted:

"Where are the mortars? Blow those Japanese infantry back!"

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

Behind the position, several 82mm mortars opened fire simultaneously.

The shell flew over the wreckage of the tank and crashed into the ranks of the Japanese infantry behind it.

The mortars were effective. Wang Minzhang raised his binoculars and could clearly see that the Japanese attack formation had been completely disrupted.

The remaining Japanese tanks finally completed their turn and were accelerating backwards to escape.

Unfortunately, as the distance increased, the drawbacks of the anti-tank gunners' lack of sufficient training became apparent.

When facing moving targets at long distances, the hit rate of our 37mm anti-tank guns drops sharply.

In the end, only four Japanese tanks remained.

But this was enough to make the Sichuan soldiers erupt in cheers as loud as a tsunami.

"It's blown up! The iron turtle has been blown up!"

"The cannons that Commander Lin gave us are damn good."

"Let those bastards be arrogant again."

Wang Minzhang's eyes welled up slightly as he looked at the burning Japanese tanks.

He turned his head, looked south, and silently said to himself:

"Thank you, Brother Lin."

Our good young soldiers from the Sichuan Army, today they finally don't have to risk their lives to fill the gaps.