World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Kazuo Yamamoto nodded.

"That's what I think too."

He stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the night view of Singapore was exceptionally quiet under the moonlight—a quietness like the calm before a storm.

"Doihara, issue the order to all divisions: Tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM, continue the northward advance. All four divisions are to be deployed. The target is—Kuala Lumpur."

Kenji Doihara was taken aback for a moment.

"All of them? No troops left to defend Singapore?"

Kazuo Yamamoto turned to look at him.

"Singapore is ours now. The British won't be coming back—their navy is gone, what will they bring back?"

He walked back to his desk and put away the map.

"Tell the soldiers that Singapore is just the beginning. Kuala Lumpur is the real battlefield."

Eighty kilometers south of Kuala Lumpur is Mount Bundal.

Kazuo Yamamoto held up his binoculars, gazing at the lush, verdant mountain peak in the distance. The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, and the part of the mountain above the waist was faintly visible, as if veiled by a light gauze.

But he knew that behind that veil were 35,000 British soldiers.

Kenta Doihara stood beside him, holding a report that had just been delivered by a scout.

"General, the British have built a complete defensive line here. Three trenches, two layers of barbed wire, and a minefield fifty meters deep. There are permanent fortifications on the hillside, made of reinforced concrete, which can withstand direct hits from artillery fire of 155 mm or less."

Kazuo Yamamoto put down his binoculars.

"What about the heavy artillery?"

"Intelligence indicates that they have thirty-six 18-pound field guns, twelve 4.5-inch howitzers, and... eight 60-pound heavy guns."

Sixty-pounder cannons. Those were the main suppressive firepower of the British army, with a range of over ten thousand meters and enormous power.

Kazuo Yamamoto remained silent for three seconds.

"Where are our heavy artillery?"

Kenjiro Doihara shook his head: "It's still ahead. The mountain roads are difficult to travel, and the artillery unit won't arrive until tomorrow at the earliest."

Kazuo Yamamoto raised his binoculars again and looked at the mountain.

Mount Bundal. The gateway to the Malay Peninsula. Roads and railways both cut through the mountains; without capturing this place, the army cannot advance north.

"Where are Lanfang's naval guns?"

"General Zhou replied: This place is more than 50 kilometers from the coast, beyond the range of naval guns. But he has coordinated a 105mm artillery regiment with 36 cannons, which is on its way. It is expected to arrive within two days."

Two days.

Kazuo Yamamoto closed his eyes.

Within two days, the British will only strengthen their fortifications and tighten their defenses. Within two days, more British troops will arrive from Burma, from India, and from every place where troops can still be mobilized.

Two days is too long.

"Doihara."

"exist."

"Order all divisions to prepare for the attack. We can't wait for the artillery regiments."

Kenji Doihara was taken aback for a moment.

"General, without heavy artillery support, attack directly..."

"I know," Yamamoto Kazuo interrupted him, "but we don't have time to wait."

He pointed in the direction of Mount Bendal.

"The British are gathering. Every day we wait, they gain more troops. We must attack before they can establish a foothold."

Kenta Doihara was silent for three seconds, then stood at attention.

"yes!"

At 2 PM, the first wave of attacks from the Sakura Kingdom began.

Two regiments, totaling about six thousand men, launched an assault from the foot of the mountain. Engineers cleared mines in front, followed by infantry, and then machine gunners and mortar crews provided cover.

Yamada Ichiro led his squadron at the forefront.

His left shoulder was still not healed, wrapped in thick bandages, and every step he took was painful. But he didn't stop, he didn't slow down, he just gritted his teeth and charged forward.

The minefield. The sappers used mine detectors to search for mines one by one, and pliers to cut them one by one. The "snap snap" sound was particularly clear at the foot of the silent mountain.

The first mine was defused. The second, the third, the fourth—

Suddenly, a loud bang.

A combat engineer stepped on an undetected mine and was blown away. Several other combat engineers nearby were also knocked down by shrapnel and lay on the ground screaming in agony.

"Keep lining up!" Yamada Ichiro roared. "Don't stop!"

The engineers, their eyes red, continued forward. Some trembled, some cried, but no one retreated.

A narrow passage has finally been opened up.

"Rush!"

The Japanese soldiers rushed through the minefield and toward the first barbed wire fence. The engineers used large pliers to cut the barbed wire, and the soldiers crawled through, advancing on their stomachs toward the first trench.

Three hundred meters.

Two hundred meters.

One hundred meters.

The British positions remained quiet.

That silence reminded Yamada Ichiro of the beach yesterday. The same silence, the same waiting, the same—

"Fire!"

The British machine guns finally opened fire.

Thirty-six Vickers machine guns fired simultaneously, bullets raining down like a storm. Soldiers at the forefront fell in droves; some were riddled with bullets, some were hit in the head and died instantly, and some dragged their broken legs on the ground screaming in agony.

"Lie down!" Yamada Ichiro roared.

The soldiers lay prone on the ground, their faces pressed against the dirt, listening to the bullets whizzing overhead. The British machine guns were so powerful that they couldn't even lift their heads.

"Mortars! Compressed machine guns!"

Six mortars were set up and began firing smoke grenades at the British positions. White smoke billowed across the ground, obscuring the machine gunners' visibility and slightly reducing their firepower.

"charge!"

The soldiers got up and continued forward.

Fifty meters.

Thirty meters.

Twenty meters —

The first trench has finally been reached.

Yamada Ichiro leaped into the trench and opened fire with his pistol. Several British soldiers in the trench were riddled with bullets before they could react.

More Japanese soldiers jumped in. They advanced along the trenches to both sides, using grenades to clear cover and bayonets to finish off the remaining enemy.

The first trench has been captured.

But Yamada Ichiro was not happy.

He looked up at the hillside—where the machine guns in the second trench were still firing, and the soldiers in the third trench were still aiming. Higher up, the eight sixty-pound cannons were adjusting their angles, ready to unleash another volley of shells at any moment.

"Give the order," he said breathlessly, "to continue the attack. Second trench."

As dusk fell, the Sakura Kingdom had captured the second trench, but suffered heavy losses.

Yamada Ichiro leaned against a tree trunk that had been broken by artillery fire, panting heavily. His uniform was soaked with sweat, his face was covered in mud and gunpowder, and the wound on his left shoulder had reopened, with blood flowing down his arm.

"Casualties?"

The adjutant's voice trembled: "The First Regiment has... about 800 men left. The Second Regiment has a little over 1,000 men left. The Third Regiment... the Third Regiment was scattered and is being regrouped."

Yamada Ichiro closed his eyes.

Two regiments, six thousand men. Now less than two thousand remain.

He looked at the third trench on the mountainside, still spitting fire, at the heavy artillery still roaring, and at the soldiers still falling.

"It's getting dark," he said. "Give the order to halt the attack. Regroup the troops and wait for nightfall."

The adjutant breathed a sigh of relief and turned to relay the order.

Yamada Ichiro continued to lean against the tree trunk, watching the sky gradually darken.