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

"Su Yue, charge! Four tanks, roll them over! Let those little devils see what an iron torrent is like!"

Su Yue poked half her body out of the turret of the Qilin Tank 104. Her short hair fluttered in the smoke.

"No. It's too risky." She paused.

"If the tanks charge in, and something goes wrong, or they run out of ammunition, they may face the risk of being surrounded. More than 20,000 Japanese soldiers and more than 30 tanks are not something that four Kirin tanks can crush."

"Even though we have the GL-5 active protection system, it's not invincible. Charging in is gambling with our lives."

Lei Gang paused for a moment, then slowly loosened his fist.

He knew Su Yue was right. He gritted his teeth and didn't refute her.

Su Yue crawled out of the turret, stood on the tank, and pointed to the front of the position.

Her voice, amplified by a loudspeaker, resounded throughout the entire Liuhang position.

"Four tanks, lined up in a straight line. Each tank is forty meters apart. This distance is exactly within the coverage area of ​​the GL-5 active protection system."

Her gaze swept over the four tanks.

"The GL-5 active protection system consists of four phased array radars and four interceptor missile launchers, which are installed on the front and rear sides of the tank turret, respectively. Each sensor and interceptor is responsible for a 90-degree sector, and is deployed outside the vehicle without blind spots."

"This system can automatically detect and identify incoming targets within a 100-meter range, and damage, destroy, or blast them within a 10-meter range. The interceptor missile can attack at a distance of 1.5 to 10 meters, using high-energy explosive fragments and shock waves to destroy enemy-fired shells."

Su Yue's words were meant for the soldiers of 1937.

This is no ordinary tank; it's a tank with an "umbrella."

"Now, there are four tanks, each spaced forty meters apart. The GL-5's coverage radius is ten meters, and the protection zones of two adjacent tanks overlap exactly, forming a continuous protective belt."

Her finger drew a straight line in the air.

"All soldiers of the 021st Brigade, as well as the wounded, move to the back of this protective zone. The tanks will hold off the first wave of artillery fire for you."

She paused, then her voice suddenly rose:

"Remember, this isn't about hiding, it's about living. Live, and wait for the counterattack. Live—to see the new China."

The soldiers of the 021st Brigade began to move. Some helped the wounded, some carried their comrades who could not walk, and some carried stretchers, moving them to the rear of the four tanks.

Chen Xiaogou helped an old soldier who had been shot in the leg move forward step by step. The old soldier's leg was bandaged with strips of cloth, and blood was still seeping out, but he gritted his teeth and did not utter a sound of pain.

But some people didn't want to leave.

On the east side of the position, a severely wounded veteran leaned against the trench. He had lost both legs and was using strips of cloth to tie up his stumps. Blood had soaked through the soil.

He was holding a bundle of grenades in his arms—six grenades, tied together with their fuses twisted into one.

His name is Chen Jinjin, he is fifty years old, and he is one of the oldest soldiers in the entire brigade.

A young soldier ran over, trying to help him: "Uncle Chen, let's go! Let's get behind the tank!"

Chen Jinjin shook his head and hugged the bundle of grenades even tighter.

"Brothers, don't worry about me. You can still fight, go ahead. My legs are both useless, I'm just a burden. Let me stay here."

The young soldier's eyes reddened: "Uncle Chen, you can't..."

"I can," Chen Jinjin interrupted him.

"I've fought so many wars, it's been worth it. When the Japanese come, I just draw my bow. One for several, it's all worth it."

On the west side of the position, a seriously wounded veteran leaned against the edge of a shell crater.

He also had a gash in his chest torn open by shrapnel, his intestines were sticking out, and he wrapped them up haphazardly with strips of cloth.

He was holding a grenade in his hand.

A medic ran over to help him up: "Brother, let's go!"

He shook his head, his voice soft: "I can't leave. You guys go. I'll stay here and wait for the Japanese."

Tears streamed down the medic's face: "Brother, you..."

"Stop talking." A slow smile spread across his face.

I was given this life as a gift. Today, I return it to the country.

Behind the lines, a young soldier lay on the ground, both legs blown off.

An old soldier walked over, squatted down, and looked at him: "Xiao Jun, let's go."

Sun Xiaojun shook his head, his voice soft: "Brother, I can't leave. You guys go. I'll stay here and hold them off for you."

Tears streamed down the veteran's face: "Xiao Jun, you're only nineteen..."

"Nineteen is enough." Sun Xiaojun smiled, but as he smiled, tears streamed down his face.

There's more.

Many of the wounded were unwilling to leave.

They didn't want to leave. Not because they didn't want to live.

It's because—they felt they wouldn't survive. How could they live without their legs? How could they live with their intestines spilling out? How could they live with their eyesight gone?

They didn't want to be a burden to their comrades, they didn't want to be a liability, and they didn't want to watch others die for them while they were still alive.

They would rather die here. Die on this land they had defended for three days. Die on this land they had won with their lives.

Gu Yunshan stood there, gripping the large, blunted sword, took a deep breath, and roared, as if to unleash all the pent-up frustration of the past three days.

"Everyone—obey orders! Proceed to the rear of the tanks! That's an order!"

Silence fell over the position. The seriously wounded soldiers looked up at their brigade commander.

"Chen Jinjin!" he roared.

Wang Dahe raised his head.

"You think you can't live just because you've lost both your legs? The future generations will come! They'll have medicine, doctors, and surgery to sew your intestines back in! If you die, who's going to take you to the new China?!"

Chen Jinjin's lips trembled. He looked at Gu Yunshan, at those eyes burning with fire. His hand slowly released the bundle of grenades.

"And you!" Gu Yunshan continued to roar, "You think you can't live just because your intestines are sticking out? The military doctor Su from later generations is more skilled than any doctor you've ever seen! She can save you! She can keep you alive! If you die, who will kill the Japanese devils for you?!"

"Sun Xiaojun!" Gu Yunshan's voice rang out, "You're only nineteen! You haven't even gotten married yet! You haven't even seen your mother! If you die, who will take care of your mother in her old age?!"

Sun Xiaojun lay on the ground, crying like a child. But he released the grenade.

Gu Yunshan stood there, panting heavily.

His eyes swept over the seriously wounded and those who were about to die.

"Brothers!" His voice was hoarse, but every word was like a nail, "The next generation will come. They will have medicine, doctors, and the healing power to save you."

He raised his broadsword: "Live to see the new China!"

The seriously wounded began to move.

Some people were crawling, some were being helped up, and some were being carried.

One, two, ten, a hundred. The seriously wounded, those prepared to die, and those unwilling to leave—all moved.

Towards the rear of the tanks, towards that protective belt, towards that tomorrow—a tomorrow they thought they would never see in their lifetime…