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

The four PAK36 anti-tank guns were quickly pushed by the artillerymen to their firing positions halfway up the hill.

The gunners were sweating profusely, panting heavily as they loaded armor-piercing shells.

Through the gun scope, the firing ports of several pillboxes on the Japanese hilltop were clearly visible.

"Boom! Boom!"

The shells whistled out.

"Damn it, it didn't go through!"

The 37mm armor-piercing round struck the concrete of the bunker's outer wall and bounced off instantly, leaving only a faint white mark.

"Damn it, I'm not going to give up today! Load and keep firing!"

"Boom! Boom!"

Braving the hail of bullets from Japanese machine guns and the whirlwind of grenade launcher shells, several Northwest Army artillerymen risked their lives, desperately loading and firing from behind the shields of their anti-tank guns.

Finally, one of the shells accurately penetrated the firing port of the Japanese bunker.

Instantly, flames from the explosion erupted from the narrow hole.

"Well played!"

At the foot of the mountain, Battalion Commander Zhong Dazhu saw that one of the Japanese machine gun emplacements had been knocked out and roared.

"Brothers, charge!"

Hundreds of Northwest Army soldiers, rifles in hand, crouched low and charged up the hillside.

Zhong Dazhu was at the forefront, carrying a Mauser pistol.

The soldiers successfully stormed the first small hill.

Just as they were about to catch their breath, regroup, and continue their charge up the mountain.

A sharp whistling sound suddenly came from the sky.

"Fire! Take cover!"

No sooner had Zhong Dazhu finished speaking than several 75mm mountain gun shells from the Japanese army slammed into the high ground.

The explosion engulfed several soldiers who didn't have time to lie down.

Immediately afterwards, more shells rained down from the Japanese positions behind the mountain.

Zhong Dazhu lay prone in the shell crater, with dirt and gravel pelting his head and back.

All I could hear was the deafening roar of the explosion.

The shelling lasted for about two minutes.

When the cannon fire subsided, Zhong Dazhu looked up, and the scene before him sent a chill down his spine.

Dozens of corpses lay scattered across the newly captured position.

The wounded clutched their bleeding stomachs or severed arms, rolling on the ground and howling.

"Commander, commander, our artillery has fallen silent!"

A soldier with a face covered in blood scrambled to Zhong Dazhu's side.

"The Japanese heavy artillery overturned our anti-tank gun positions."

All four artillery crews are gone!

"What?!"

Zhong Dazhu's eyes widened, but he hadn't had time to order a retreat.

Suddenly, a large, dark mass of Japanese soldiers surged out from behind the reverse slope positions on the mountain.

They charged forward with bayonets fixed on their Type 38 rifles, yelling and shouting.

Zhong Dazhu raised his hand and fired two shots, knocking down a Japanese soldier who was charging at the front. Immediately afterward, the Japanese returned fire, with bullets flying everywhere.

He quickly rolled behind cover, stuck out his gun and fired blindly, knocking down another Japanese soldier.

But the Japanese soldiers were completely fearless and continued to charge forward, stepping over the corpses of their comrades.

"Fix bayonets and fight the Japanese devils!"

Zhong Dazhu threw away his Mauser pistol, which was now empty of bullets, and picked up a blood-stained broadsword from the ground.

The two groups of people collided violently on the hillside, instantly throwing the hillside into chaos.

The Type 38 rifle was significantly longer than the Hanyang rifle, and the Japanese soldiers, having been trained in bayonet fighting for many years, suffered greatly in hand-to-hand combat.

More than a dozen people were defeated in a single encounter.

Zhong Dazhu and his guards stood at the forefront.

The military boots sank into the muddy mixture of blood and grime, each step accompanied by heavy resistance.

The air was filled with the stench of rust, blood, and the burnt smell of explosive residue.

In the final moments of the battle, Zhong Dazhu was stabbed simultaneously by two Japanese soldiers, one in the thigh and one in the abdomen.

His body swayed and he collapsed into a pool of blood.

Fearing it was a feint, the Japanese soldier fired another shot into his chest.

The gunshot rang out, and Battalion Commander Zhong's body jerked violently before falling completely still.

Upon seeing their battalion commander sacrificed, the Northwest Army soldiers around them instantly lost their fighting spirit.

The defensive line collapsed instantly, and the surviving soldiers turned and ran back.

The Japanese soldiers chased after the fleeing soldiers, stabbing each wounded soldier who was slow to run with their bayonets.

Liu Yongnian watched this scene through binoculars from the command post.

He watched as the battalion he had built up was wiped out in a short distance.

He watched as the veterans who had followed him for many years were lifted up by the Japanese soldiers with bayonets and thrown down the hillside.

Hot tears rolled down his dry eyes and dripped onto the lens of the telescope.

He didn't say anything, but stubbornly put down the binoculars and wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve.

The command post was deathly silent; no one spoke.

half an hour.

Several soldiers covered in blood carried a canvas stretcher, running down the hillside with uneven steps.

Zhong Dazhu was lying on the stretcher.

His uniform was soaked in blood, and his face was deathly pale.

But he was still alive. The Japanese soldier's shot hit his left lung, and the bullet went out below his shoulder blade.

He had three bayonet wounds all over his body, all of which were oozing blood.

"Travel seat... Travel seat..."

Zhong Dazhu struggled to sit up, but was held down by the medic next to him.

"The bodies of our brothers are still on the mountain... There are still our seriously wounded brothers on the mountain who can't be evacuated."

We can't abandon them... we can't! *cough cough cough*

Zhong Dazhu coughed up a mouthful of bloody foam, his voice turning into a muffled roar.

Liu Yongnian gripped the edge of the stretcher, tightly holding Battalion Commander Zhong's blood-stained hand.

He couldn't utter a single word.

The chief of staff took off his glasses, and tears streamed down his wrinkled face.

"Commander, we can't attack anymore. If we continue, all of our thousands of men from the Northwest will die on this Black Mountain."

"The First Battalion is wiped out; we need to leave some seeds for the 45th Brigade!"

Liu Yongnian took a deep breath and was about to order a retreat.

Suddenly, the roar of a car engine came from behind.

Several trucks sped along the temporary road at the foot of the mountain.

A truck kicked up a cloud of yellow dust and stopped in the open space next to the command post.

The carriage partition was lowered, and a young officer jumped down.

At the age of twenty-six, he wore a major's rank badge on his collar, a military belt around his waist, and a pair of military boots covered in mud and grime.

He strode up to Liu Yongnian, stood at attention, and saluted.

"Brigade Commander Liu, Qi Liang, the battalion commander of the 1st Battalion of the 1st Regiment of the 1st Division of the Su-Lu Guerrilla Force, has been ordered to come to our aid."

Liu Yongnian and the chief of staff exchanged a glance.

Both of their expressions were somewhat subtle.

The First Division of the Sulu Guerrilla Forces?

The name sounds like it was adapted from a guerrilla group.

Although they all knew that Commander Lin Feng had taken the initiative to send troops to help, to be honest, they were all somewhat resentful.

The Japanese had built so many bunkers and pillboxes on the mountain, with one reverse slope position after another. Our 45th Independent Brigade fought for a whole morning and suffered more than half of its casualties.

For such a tough position, Lin Feng would at least have to send a main force like the Honorary First Brigade or the 107th Division, which is famous for annihilating the 5th Division.

What good would a group of troops reorganized from guerrilla forces do?

"Battalion Commander Qi, where is your division headquarters?"

The chief of staff adjusted his glasses and asked.

"Does your division have a radio? Our brigade's radio is malfunctioning, and I need to borrow your division's radio to speak with your Commander Lin."

The Japanese positions on the mountain are very cunning and difficult to attack.

The chief of staff spoke in a gentle tone, but the meaning was crystal clear.

You guerrilla division shouldn't cause any more trouble. Quickly get your Commander Lin to send the main force.

Qi Liang wasn't angry when he heard this.

In war, victory or defeat is always determined by success or failure.

A little doubt is perfectly normal.

I'll show them what I've got later, and they'll be impressed.

"A radio station? No need to wait for the division headquarters."

Qi Liang turned around and pointed to the truck behind him.

"Our battalion has a high-powered radio, which is mounted on a truck."

"Xiao Zhang, take some men and move the radio down, set up the antenna, quick!"

"yes!"