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

Inside tank number "01".

Ichiro Watanabe looked through the observation window at the infantrymen who had finally caught up.

He watched them panting like dogs.

They slumped to the ground, their backs pressed tightly against the tank's armor.

Looking at the relief on their faces, as if they had survived a disaster.

There was no sympathy on his face.

Only disgust.

"Baka!"

He cursed:

"These useless people are so slow."

Gunner Kimura leaned closer, a fawning smile plastered on his face:

"Commander, they did their best... After all, two legs can't keep up with the tracks..."

"Try your best?"

Watanabe Ichiro suddenly turned his head and stared at him:

"On the battlefield, there are only results, not effort!"

"If I lose all the credit I've earned because I'm waiting for them—"

His face began to twist and contort, becoming as ferocious as a demon.

"I'm going to shoot them one by one!"

Just then.

Watanabe Ichiro suddenly caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.

A black thing.

It flew in from afar.

soon.

Faster—

It leaves no time for anyone to react.

"What is that...?"

He murmured.

I squinted, trying to see clearly.

But the shadow grew larger and larger.

More and more—

clear.

It was a cannonball.

One —

The shells were heading straight for them.

"boom--!!!"

The armor-piercing shell struck the tank's frontal armor.

In that instant, Ichiro Watanabe saw a scene he would never forget for the rest of his life—

Their most prized possession is the steel plates used in their tanks.

The most advanced armor in the Imperial Army.

Those things they thought were indestructible.

Faced with that shell—

Like paper.

It was cut open.

It was torn to pieces.

It was pierced through.

"No way"

Watanabe Ichiro's mouth was agape.

The sound was squeezed out of the throat.

He watched the shell fly into the ammunition depot.

That instant.

On Watanabe Ichiro's face appeared an expression he had never seen before in his life.

That expression was fear.

Real fear.

It's not fear.

It's not panic.

It's that kind of—

They knew they were doomed to die.

Deep into the bone marrow.

Irreversible—

fear.

then.

The ammunition depot on the tank is subjected to high temperature friction.

Blasted.

"boom--!!!"

The first explosion.

But then—

"BOOM BOOM BOOM—!!!"

It was the secondary explosion of all the shells inside the tank.

Those shells, neatly stacked on the ammunition rack, were ready to hit the Chinese positions.

Everything exploded.

One by one.

What Ichiro Watanabe saw in his last moments was—

Firelight.

A sea of ​​fire.

From the ammunition depot, it instantly filled the entire interior of the tank.

The light was blinding.

Scorching hot.

Like the sun.

His body was torn apart by the explosion.

It's not "death".

It is "broken".

His head was blown off by the shockwave.

It crashed into the top of the tank.

The skull was fractured.

Brain matter splattered out.

The white, blood-tinged stuff splattered on the roof, flowed down, and dripped onto the seats.

His upper body and lower body.

They broke up.

The upper body was wedged between the driver's seat and the turret.

His lower body was blown into a corner.

My legs are still twitching.

It's still moving.

But it's pointless now.

Gunner Kimura died an even more gruesome death.

He was sitting in the gunner's position at the time.

Just as the armor-piercing shells came in, he turned his head to see why Watanabe was cursing.

then.

The armor-piercing bullet flew past him.

Wipe his face.

He felt the scorching wind.

I felt that—

The scent of death.

At that moment, his heart almost stopped beating.

He thought he was going to die.

But the shells passed by.

I missed him.

He froze for a moment.

Then, an incredulous, relieved smile appeared on his face.

"I'm not dead... I'm not dead..."

But next second.

The ammunition depot exploded.

He was sitting in a position closest to the ammunition depot.

It's less than a meter long.

At the moment of the explosion, his body was pierced by countless pieces of shrapnel.

Chest.

abdomen.

Limbs.

face.

It's full of holes.

Like a fountain.

He screamed in agony.

He screamed in agony.

He screamed in agony.

He screamed in agony.

That voice didn't sound human.

Like a skinned animal.

But it only lasted three seconds.

Because in the third second, his head was sliced ​​off by a flying piece of turret debris.

Half a head flew off.

It crashed into the side wall.

Fall.

Roll to Watanabe's lower half.

Two halves of a body lay together.

Watanabe's upper body is in the driver's seat.

Kimura's half-head lay on the ground.

Watanabe's lower body is in the corner.

Kimura's body, in the gunner's position, was riddled with holes.

They're inexplicably a perfect match.

And the loader, Sato, probably died the quietest of all.

When Ichiro Watanabe was cursing, he kept his head down.

Pretending to be sorting out artillery shells.

Actually, he didn't do anything.

I just don't want to look up.

I don't want to see Watanabe's hideous face.

I don't want to be scolded.

He squatted there.

His hand rested on a shell that hadn't been loaded yet.

The shells were ice-cold.

The metal casing feels very cold to the touch.

But his heart was even colder.

He thought of his hometown.

It reminds me of the snow in Hokkaido.

I'm reminded of the rice balls my mom used to make.

think--

then.

An explosion occurred.

He didn't even see it.

I didn't hear it.

I didn't feel anything.

A piece of shrapnel.

Cut in from the back of his head.

Like a red-hot knife, cutting through butter.

Cut open the skin.

Cut open the skull.

Cut open the brain tissue.

The shrapnel went in through the back of his head.

It comes out from between the eyebrows.

"puff--"

A very soft sound.

Like farting.

At the same time, one of Kato's eyeballs was squeezed out.

Although the shrapnel that hit Kato in the back of the head was not large.

It's only the size of a thumbnail.

But it's very fast.

As fast as a bullet.

It crawled in from the back of Kato's head.

Cut open the skin.

Cut open the muscle.

Cut open the skull.

Then--

It entered the cranial cavity.

The cranial cavity is a closed space.

It's encased in bones.

It's hard.

Once the shrapnel entered, the internal pressure caused an instant explosion.

Those brain tissues have nowhere to go.

The only option is to push forward.

Rush forward.

Past--

The only place to get out is crowded.

orbital.

The eyeball was forced out by the pressure inside.

It didn't "fall" out.

It "pops" out.

Like a bottle stopper being forced open by air pressure.

"Pop—"

A very soft sound.

The eyeballs flew out.

It circled twice in the air.

then.

fall to the ground.

Those eyes were wide open.

Very big.

It's very round.

Like a glass bead.

The blood vessels in the eyeball are still clearly visible.

Red.

Thin.

Like a spider web.

The pupils were dilated to the extreme.

Because when he died, he saw—

fear.

That fear was frozen in his pupils.

It's fixed inside.

They'll be stuck inside forever.

You can even see the expressions inside.

It's very complicated.

There is fear.

That fear lingered in the final moments.

It's the moment of consciousness when shrapnel pierces the back of the head.

He knew he was going to die.

I knew I couldn't escape it.

Know--

It’s over.

There is something I don't understand.

Why?

Why run in the lead?

I regret it.

Why do I regret it?

To set foot on Chinese soil...