Not enough Japanese devils to kill? 1.4 billion people volunteer for the Battle of Shanghai.

But the Japanese army was ultimately a well-trained force.

The third Japanese tank, which was also the last tank in the sixth Japanese assault, finally brought Lieutenant Yasumoto, who was sitting inside, to his senses.

This Lieutenant Sakamoto, a tank commander, had participated in several small-scale battles against Chinese troops.

He had witnessed the tenacity of the Chinese army, seen them use cluster grenades to blow up tanks, and seen them charge forward carrying explosive charges.

But he had never seen such a sight before.

Those three tanks that suddenly appeared... no, they couldn't even be called tanks, they were practically mobile steel fortresses.

The streamlined turret, the frighteningly thick gun barrel, and the terrifying firepower that could destroy two Type 95 tanks with a single shot...

"Aim at—that strange tank!" Sakamoto roared, his voice distorted with extreme fear, yet he forced an air of officer authority. "Quick! Machine gunner! Aim at it!"

The turret began to rotate.

The 57mm machine gun barrel was painstakingly adjusted to its angle, aiming at the nearest black tank—the Kirin No. 102.

But Sakamoto soon discovered a problem.

too big.

That black tank was at least a size larger than their Type 95, with a higher hull and more cunningly angled armor plating.

Moreover, the enemy's location was too good—relying on a half-collapsed building ruin, only the turret and the front half of the vehicle were exposed, while the sides and rear were completely obscured.

What's worse, the other party seems to... not take them seriously at all.

The turret of the black tank didn't even turn towards them; it remained aimed at the retreating infantry in the distance.

humiliation.

Naked humiliation.

Sakamoto's face flushed crimson, anger overpowering his fear. He made a wrong decision, yet one that reflected the ingrained thinking of Japanese military commanders of that era:

"Machine gun fire! Suppress it! Take out its observation and aiming equipment! Take out its cannon barrel!"

Two 7.7mm Type 97 vehicle-mounted machine guns simultaneously spewed fire.

Da da da da da—!

The bullets, like two strings of golden raindrops, splashed onto the front of the No. 102 Qilin Tank.

In Sakamoto's mind, even the most robust tank has vulnerable sighting equipment and gun barrels. If these are damaged, the tank is blind and just scrap metal.

Inside the No. 102 Qilin Tank.

The embroiderer was sitting in the carriage driver's seat.

She is 28 years old and is one of the few female main battle tank commanders in the entire army.

She has short hair, wheat-colored skin, and long, narrow eyes that always seem to have a hint of a smile when she looks at people, like a friendly older sister next door.

But those who know her well know that beneath that smile lies steel that has been tempered by fire.

At this moment, she is staring at the integrated display screen.

On the screen, warning dots representing hits from Japanese machine gun bullets flashed densely on the front armored area of ​​the vehicle, like a small, harmless firework.

"Those little devils..." the embroiderer said softly, a playful smile curving her lips, "Don't you think...?"

"Your broken machine guns—"

"Can it penetrate our composite armor?"

The embroiderer adjusted her posture and stretched her wrists.

"Let me show you little devils what a real coaxial machine gun is."

The embroiderer pressed her face close to the eyepiece of the sighting system and gripped the control lever of the coaxial machine gun with her right hand.

Then, I pressed the fire button.

On the right side of the turret of the No. 102 Qilin tank, an armored cover popped open with a "whoosh".

The muzzle of a 7.62mm coaxial machine gun slowly rose from its armor protection.

It's not like the old-fashioned Maxim gun, a bulky machine that requires water cooling and has a slow rate of fire.

It is a modern, electrically powered, dual-feeding, 800-round-per-minute killing machine.

The gun is short and compact, with a barrel featuring efficient heat dissipation grooves and a flash suppressor and muzzle brake.

As it rises, the muzzle tilts slightly downwards, like a hunter sizing up its prey.

Then--

Da da da da da da—! ! !

The sound of firing was completely different from that of the Japanese Type 97 machine gun.

The Japanese machine guns fired a clear, intermittent "rat-a-tat-tat" sound, like the beating of a wooden fish.

The sound of this coaxial machine gun was "rat-a-tat-tat-tat"—so dense it was almost continuous, like a chainsaw cutting through steel, like a downpour hitting sheet metal, like Death sharpening its scythe.

The first burst of bullets struck the frontal armor of the Japanese tank's turret with precision.

Ding ding ding—!

It wasn't the "thud" sound of flesh being pierced, but the crisp sound of metal striking metal.

But that kind of collision wasn't evenly matched.

It's crushing.

The 7.62mm armor-piercing incendiary projectile has a hard steel core, an outer copper jacket, and contains a small amount of incendiary agent inside.

The first shot hit the turret armor, leaving a white spot.

The second shot turned the white spot into a dent.

The third shot penetrated.

The warhead penetrated a 15-millimeter-thick rolled steel plate and entered the turret.

Lieutenant Sakamoto was yelling into the communicator, "Keep firing! Don't stop! Shoot it..."

His words came to an abrupt end.

Because he heard a strange sound.

"Pfft—"

It looked like something had been punctured.

Immediately afterwards, he felt a heat in his left shoulder, followed by excruciating pain.

He looked down.

There was a large hole in his left shoulder, and blood was gushing out of it.

Then, he smelled something burning.

The incendiary agent inside the warhead was ignited.

Tiny, but extremely hot flames burned inside his wound.

"ah--!!!"

Sakamoto screamed in agony.

But this is only the beginning.

The second volley of bullets from the coaxial machine gun has arrived.

This time, the impact point was slightly to the left, concentrated in the observation window area of ​​the turret.

Clang!

The bullets penetrated the turret, bouncing, tumbling, and tearing apart everything they touched in the confined space.

The machine gunner in the Japanese tank was trying to aim when he suddenly felt a heat on his face. He reached up and touched it, and felt a warm, viscous liquid.

He looked down at his hands.

His hands were covered in blood.

But it wasn't his blood.

It was the blood of the loader sitting next to him—the nineteen-year-old private, whose neck had been cut in half by a ricocheting bullet, his artery severed, and blood gushing out like a fountain, spraying all over the gunner's face.

The loader opened his mouth, trying to shout, but his throat was blocked by blood, and he could only make a "hoarse" sound.

His eyes widened as he stared at the gunner, his gaze filled with confusion.

Why does it hurt so much?

Why is it so cold?

Then, his head tilted to one side and he stopped moving.

The gunner froze.

He had seen corpses, on the training field, during training.

But I've never seen anyone die like that.

I have never seen anyone have their throat slit open like a chicken being slaughtered in front of him, with blood spurting two meters high and splattering everywhere.

He screamed.

She screamed uncontrollably.

Private First Class Kobayashi, the driver, sat in the driver's cab at the very front of the vehicle, terrified by the screams around him.

At that moment, he suddenly remembered what his instructor had said during training: "If the turret is penetrated and the crew is killed, the driver must immediately evacuate through the bottom escape pod!"

Escape pod!

Correct!

Kobayashi grasped at a straw and frantically tried to pull the escape hatch lever at his feet.

He pushed hard—

The hatch popped open outwards.

Fresh, gunpowder-smelling air rushed in.

Xiaolin took a deep breath and crawled out using both his hands and feet.

He climbed out of the vehicle and stepped onto the ground.

become free!

A surge of joy filled him, and he was about to stand up and run away—

Da da da da—!

The muzzles of the coaxial machine guns were slightly lowered.

A bullet, like the gaze of death, struck his stomach.

Kobayashi screamed and collapsed to the ground.

A large hole was torn in his abdomen, and blood gushed out, quickly pooling into a dark red, still steaming pool beneath him.

His eyes were still open, looking at the sky, at the sky that had been stained gray by the smoke of gunpowder.

His eyes were vacant.

at a loss.

Until the very last moment, he didn't understand—

Why?

Why would those Chinese have such weapons?

Why can their bullets tear through steel and bodies like paper?

「どうして???」