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

123. On the battlefield, the long-lost sounds of laughter and joy returned.

Iron Anvil, feigning exaggeration, staggered forward several steps, then turned and glared at her:

"Hey! That hurts!"

The embroiderer rolled her eyes at him: "Who told you to keep showing off?"

Her tone was disdainful, but the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned.

The soldiers in the trenches burst into even louder laughter upon seeing this.

"I thought Commander Iron Anvil was fearless, but it turns out he has fears too."

"Well done, Commander Embroiderer! Let's see if this guy keeps getting cocky!"

"Exactly! So what if he sets off fireworks? Our embroidery commander's fireworks are bigger than his!"

Amidst the laughter, Tiezhen rubbed his lower back, looking aggrieved.

"Who's showing off? I'm just reporting the results to the brothers..."

At this moment, the Chinese positions on the north bank of Luodian are filled with a long-lost, almost forgotten atmosphere.

Laughter and cheers filled the air.

A young soldier with a face covered in soot squatted by the shell crater, wiping his rifle with a rag while grinning.

As he was laughing, he suddenly paused, turned to the old soldier beside him, and asked:

"Squad leader, when was the last time we laughed like this?"

The veteran was loading bullets into an empty magazine when he heard this and paused.

He raised his head and looked at the pale dawn in the east, his eyes somewhat dazed.

"Last time?" the veteran murmured, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Let me think..."

"Was it when I first arrived in Shanghai? No, I was very flustered back then, and I couldn't smile."

"That was...the first time we repelled the Japanese attack? No, that's not right. Several of our brothers had just died then, so how could we be laughing?"

He shook his head, his fingers unconsciously stroking the cold cartridge case:

"I think... I can't remember."

Another soldier nearby whispered, "We haven't laughed since we started watching our brothers fall one by one."

As soon as these words were spoken, the laughter in the trenches gradually faded away.

But soon, the young soldier from Guangdong spoke again, loudly proclaiming in broken Mandarin:

"Yijia is different!" (It's different now!)

He pointed to the still-smoking ruins in the northwest, his eyes shining:

"Look, the Japanese fireworks are so beautiful! We had a lot of fun watching them!"

This made everyone laugh again.

Yes.

It's different now.

We have iron weapons that can blow up Japanese tanks with a single shot.

We have ruthless guys who dare to sneak into enemy camp at night and set off fireworks.

We have... a chance to win.

Laughter broke out again, louder and more open than before.

On the front line, Chen Dashan, the one-eyed company commander, leaned against a section of a collapsed bunker, watching this rare scene in the trench with a complex expression.

His gaze swept over the three silent steel behemoths beside him—the "Qilin" tanks gleamed with a cold, hard metallic luster in the morning light, their cannons pointing diagonally forward, like ferocious beasts ready to awaken at any moment.

Then he looked at the anvil, the embroiderer, and the doorbreaker who had just walked back to their positions.

three people.

There were only three people.

Without bringing those three large tanks, they simply blew up the mortar positions, the ammunition depot, and even the clock tower of the command post behind the heavily guarded Japanese lines.

This sounds like a myth.

Chen Dashan hesitated for a moment, then asked:

"You guys..." His voice was a little hoarse, "Just three people... How did you manage that?"

Iron Anvil patted the oddly shaped launcher, which was still slung over his shoulder and was called a "single-person portable missile".

"Take it with you," the anvil said casually, "then sneak in, find your target, fire, and run."

He paused, then added:

"The Japanese are in a state of chaos right now, so let's take advantage of the confusion."

Looking at his relaxed expression, Chen Dashan's single eye flashed with a complex light.

He knew, of course, that there was more to it than just "taking advantage of the chaos."

What kind of courage does it take to dare to break into the enemy camp alone in the dead of night?

What skills are needed to avoid all checkpoints and patrols?

What kind of teamwork is needed for three people to bomb three targets simultaneously?

How much luck would it take to come back alive?

While Chen Dashan was still in shock, Xiu Niang had already stepped forward and faced the soldiers in the trench.

The morning light shone on her face, making her usually calm eyes appear exceptionally bright.

"During the day," she began, her voice low but clear to everyone, "the Japanese suffered a great loss."

"That night," she paused, looking towards the still-smoking ruins in the northwest, "we suffered an even greater loss."

"The Third Division—" the embroiderer's voice turned somber, "will definitely not let this go."

The laughter on the position ceased, with only the occasional crackling sound from afar, whether from the wind or from embers burning.

"Commander Xiu Niang is right. The Japanese suffered such a great loss, they're not cowards, they're definitely thinking of revenge," Little Guangdong replied loudly.

"Sir, what do we do now?" the tall Shandong man asked loudly.

All eyes turned to the embroiderer.

"us……"

The embroiderer hadn't finished speaking.

From the northwest direction of the position, faint sounds like the howling of wild boars could be heard.

The embroiderer raised her binoculars and looked over.

A large number of Japanese troops had gathered there.

The number of people is extremely large.

These Japanese troops, arranged in skirmish lines, surged in wave after wave from the horizon.

At the very front were Type 94 tanks—although compared to the "Kirin," they were just thin-skinned cans, there were several of them.

Behind the tank were infantrymen carrying light and heavy machine guns.

"At least two regiments..." The embroiderer put down her binoculars, her face grave. "No, it could be three."

Tiezhen walked over to the embroiderer and also raised his binoculars to look at her for a few seconds.

Then he put down the binoculars and said softly:

"The Third Division is going all out."

…………

Northwest direction, the front line of the Japanese army's offensive position.

Major General Katayama Satoichiro, commander of the 5th Infantry Brigade, stands on the turret of a Type 89 medium tank.

He held a military knife in his hand, the tip of which pointed at the Chinese positions on the north bank of Luodian, his face flushed with excitement and rage.

"Gentlemen—!!!"

His voice was hoarse and frantic:

"First Infantry Regiment, Second Infantry Regiment, Third Infantry Regiment—all to attack positions!!!"

Below, the dark mass of Japanese soldiers roared in unison:

"Hai—!!!"

"Field Artillery Regiment—All artillery, advance!!!"

"Hai—!!!"

"Tank squadron—all units mobilize! Attach infantry and launch a frontal assault!!!"

"Hai—!!!"

"Engineer Regiment—Open up more attack routes at all costs!!!"

"Hai—!!!"

"Logistics Regiment—Ensure ammunition supplies! Unlimited ammunition for this battle!!!"