The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

When the entire Zhengtai Railway was laid out, soil was falling from the top of the cave dwellings.

Zhao Weiguo pressed a pencil down on Yangquan, the tip of the pencil following the black line all the way to Shouyang. A shallow groove was drawn on the paper, and seven outposts, two bridges, and several sections of telephone lines along the line were all covered by the pencil.

Thirty kilometers.

He stopped writing on the west side of Shouyang, the pen tip still pressing against the paper, and the eyes of several people around him also fell on that small section of railway.

"This line will no longer exist by this time tomorrow."

Zhao Gang didn't respond to that. He placed the brigade headquarters telegram on the corner of the map and then weighed it down with an enamel mug. The mug contained cooled sorghum soup, with a half-circle of black ash around the rim.

"The brigade headquarters only gave two sentences: 'Permission granted. Results and costs to be reported together.'"

"Is the old brigade commander afraid I'll only report good news?"

"He was afraid that you would get carried away and use people's lives to fill the railway tracks."

Zhao Gang's fingers were still pressed against the telegram, his fingernails filled with red and blue pencil shavings. Three forms were nailed to the wall: one for ammunition, one for mules and horses, and one for the clinic. The destinations of the eight thousand men were first determined on those three forms before being mapped onto the map.

The seven strongholds have a total of 2,600 men, with about 1,500 mobile reinforcements at Yangquan and Shouyang. According to the message sent by Zhizi, the armored train is parked east of Yangquan, the boilers are still running, and the soldiers on board are not disembarking at night.

After the people inside finished listening to the enemy situation, Zhao Weiguo pointed to the bend in Heisonggou with the tip of his pen. It was next to a railway bridge and a necessary passage for armored trains coming from the west.

"If it doesn't come, there's a piece of meat missing. If it does come, it'll leave its teeth behind."

Old Zhou squatted by the table, his eyes fixed on Yangquan West.

"I'll lead two main battalions to attack the barbican first, and the monk will come with me. Give me four cannons."

"Two mountain guns and one infantry gun."

"Too few."

"Giving you an extra point means you'll have to bang your head against the wall elsewhere." Zhao Weiguo tapped point number four with his pencil. "This is the really tough spot. The railway bridge, the signal station, the armored train—they can all take it down. Put the reserves in the middle section."

Old Zhou rubbed a layer of damp mud off the edge of the table with the back of his hand. He didn't argue anymore and tucked the cigarette behind his ear.

Duan Peng led the eastern force to first capture the outer city gate of Shouyang, then turned around and seized two railway strongholds. Li Dazhu led a mobile battalion of 900 men to guard the central section. He was given two armored cars, which were not to be used in the first round. He would send his men to whichever point he couldn't hold first.

The remaining troops were not evenly distributed, but were divided up according to their tasks. Some cut telephones, some planted explosives, some watched the bridge, and others surrounded the bunker, waiting for the people inside to thin out the bullets before pressing them up.

The six mountain guns were distributed in three locations, and the four infantry guns were disassembled into two groups. Two tons of explosives were packed into wooden crates and then disassembled into seven ammunition depots. Each depot was only allowed to take its own portion; no more than one crate was permitted.

Once the troops and explosives had found a place to go, Zhao Tieshan pulled the ammunition list in front of him. He was still concerned about how many rounds each cannon could fire and how long it could last.

"How many mountain guns and infantry guns are prepared?"

"Distribute the amount needed for one night first, and don't leave any whole boxes on the front lines."

"State your numbers."

Zhao Weiguo handed over the ammunition list. Zhao Tieshan took the list but didn't speak immediately. He first ran his finger along the seven dots from beginning to end. After looking at it for a while, Zhao Tieshan crossed out the number at dot four one space down and added a stroke after dot one.

"Point 4 can see the bridge, and the gun emplacement is vulnerable to being hit by train artillery. Firing more guns there would be suicide. Send point 1 over to reinforce it and shoot at the base of the wall."

Old Zhou snorted through his nose.

"I asked for an extra one earlier, and you didn't say anything."

"What you want is the cannon, what we're calculating here are the cannonballs. If you can't even tell the difference, don't touch my cannon."

Old Zhou opened his mouth, but couldn't bring himself to curse. Someone inside the cave chuckled softly, then quickly stopped. Zhao Gang laid out the three letters, addressed to Pingding, Yuci, and Xiyang respectively.

"Li Yunlong will block the south, Ding Wei will hold the west, and Kong Jie will guard the mountain road. They will only block reinforcements, not advance beyond 7 o'clock, nor will they help us attack the enemy. After six hours, everyone will go about their own battlefield."

"What did Old Li reply?"

"He said six hours is not a short time. The Japanese are slow, so he can stay a little longer. He also told Zhao Weiguo not to just focus on dismantling the rails, but to leave him a few cartloads of good stuff."

Old Zhou actually laughed this time. Zhao Weiguo pushed the three letters back to Zhao Gang.

"Tell him that if you can't stop the reinforcements, you won't even have road spikes."

After the order was issued from the cave dwelling, only two days and nights were left for all the people and livestock to prepare. From that point on, they never got a full night's sleep again.

The 1,200 mules and horses were divided into three relays: one from the rear warehouse to Liujia Town, another across the makeshift bridge from Liujia Town, and the last to deliver supplies to the seven points. The bridge was narrow, and the planks were damp, making the cannon wheels rattle as they rolled over them. The six mountain cannons had their mounts and wheels removed, and the cannon barrels were tied to thick beams, with soldiers and laborers taking turns shifting the load onto their shoulders.

The mule's hooves were wrapped in cloth, and its bit was bound with hemp. Only muffled thuds echoed along the mountain path. The white breath from the animals' nostrils, mixed with the smell of sweat, pressed against the legs of the riders as they moved forward. Some were so tired that they swayed as they walked, their hands still gripping the pack animals, afraid to let go.

Zhao Gang kept watch in Liujia Town for half the night. When the third batch of explosives arrived, a blue mule's legs gave way, and it tumbled into a ditch along with the box. He jumped down the slope, first checking the seal, then the animal. The wooden box wasn't cracked, but a large patch of skin was worn off the mule's front leg, and blood was mixed in with the mud.

The old man driving the mule was heartbroken and kept breathing heavily.

"I can still walk."

"They can't go any further." Zhao Gang ordered the boxes to be unloaded. "Record the damage and take them back. Make up for the lost leg strength from the second section."

The old man stroked the mule's ears, muttering, "I've raised it for four years, and it's never made a mistake." Zhao Gang lowered his head and wrote a few strokes on the form.

"This time it was also successful. It delivered the goods."

Seven ammunition depots were dug on the back slope, with explosives, shells, and rifle bullets stored separately, and matches and detonators packed separately. The guards only recognized the transport team at their designated point. If someone went astray into a ditch, they would rather go back than borrow a box from a neighboring point.

The clinic was divided into three lines. The front line only stopped bleeding and stabilized bones; those who could be moved were moved immediately. Surgery was performed on the North Mountain Road, and the seriously injured were treated at the back. Each road was marked with a flattened wooden sign, without any writing, tied with a strip of red cloth that fluttered in the wind.

Zhao Gang counted the stretchers twice, but there were still too few.

"Include door panels and window panels. Carry people first after the fighting starts. Whoever dismantles a door will have to pay compensation after the battle."

Just as they were about to start, Zhi Zi returned from the direction of Yangquan. Her shoes were covered in coal dust, and her right sleeve had been torn by a wire. After entering the cave, she didn't bother to brush off the dust; instead, she pulled a thin piece of paper from the lining of her cotton coat.

"The armored train was tested last night. The front of the train was facing west. A flatcar was attached to the front, and armored carriages were attached to the back. The train's guns could hit the outside of curves, but not the inside of the slope."

"Where did the information come from?"

"The people in the boiler room heard the conductor cursing, and the switchman saw the patrol car's movements. The two sides didn't collide."

Gardenia took out a small piece of oilcloth, inside which was the wax seal of the signal station key. Her fingers were stiff with cold, and she had to untie it twice before she could open it.

"The person on the right can sneak into the signal station. Make your move a quarter before seven o'clock, and cut the telephone line at the last minute."

"If we cut it early, the armored train won't come."

"right."

The explosions will occur simultaneously at 7:00 AM, cutting off telephone lines first, then the railway tracks. A slight delay in detonating the bunkers is acceptable; the railway must be destroyed first.

Before dawn, the teams gradually left their hiding places. After the footsteps and the muffled thuds of mules and horses faded into the ravine, only three telephones, a radio, and wallpaper remained in the cave dwelling. Zhao Gang placed his pocket watch on the corner of the table, the cover left open.

At 6:42, point one was in position. At 6:47, point three's medicine was packaged. At 6:50, point six entered the station.

At 6:53, the phone line at point two was still connected. At 6:55, there was still no news from point five. The operator pressed the headset tighter, and sweat slowly beaded on his forehead.

Zhao Weiguo held the pencil, his palm damp with sweat. The old cracks in the shaft pressed against his thumb. He didn't urge them on. The cavalry had to cross two ridges to return from point five; urging them wouldn't speed things up.

At 6:57, a whistle sounded from the direction of Yangquan. The armored train started moving. At 6:58, the phone line at point two was lost.

At 6:59, the cavalry charged into the kiln entrance, shouting before even dismounting, "Number five, in position!" The second hand struck the hour. Zhao Weiguo grabbed the phone.

"Detonate."

When the first sound came from the west, the air in the cave seemed to be pushed hard, and the watches hanging on the wall shook at the same time.

The base of the western barbican wall of Yangquan suddenly bulged, sending dust and broken bricks rushing over half of the wall. This was followed by the area under the bridge, the bend in the road, the roadbed, the signal station, and the outer city gate of Shouyang. Seven clusters of fire rose one after another along a thirty-kilometer stretch, so fast it was impossible to tell which came first. The distant mountains lit up first, then the floor of the cave dwelling trembled, and the enamel mug on the table jumped, spilling cold soup onto the edge of the map.

At exactly seven o'clock, seven people were simultaneously stabbed between Yangquan and Shouyang. Old Zhou lay prone behind the earthen embankment west of Yangquan, the blast of wind whipping across his face, his mouth full of brick dust. Before the dust had settled, he charged forward with his gun.

"Get to the base of the wall! Don't squeeze through the gap!"

The monk led the special agents in, approaching from the right. The breach, blasted open, was only half a person's width wide, and machine guns were already firing, bullets whizzing and gnawing at the brick edges. The two men at the front had barely leaned out when they fell; one curled up in a ball, clutching his stomach, while the other didn't even make a sound.

Old Zhou lunged against the wall, his back pressed against the cold bricks, and raised his hand to gesture behind him twice.

The infantry gun changed its angle, lowering the muzzle to its lowest point. A shell grazed the corner of the wall and went in, silencing the machine gun inside. Taking advantage of this opening, the monk rolled into the gap, and before he could hold the gun steady, he first stuffed a grenade under the firing port.

The explosion was muffled inside the wall.

When he rushed in, half of his hat had already been sheared off by brick dust. A Japanese soldier lunged out of the smoke, bayonet pressed against his chest. The monk dodged to the side, but still got a cut on his shoulder. He smashed the man's chin with the butt of his rifle, and then knocked him over with a second blow.

After entering the wall, Lao Zhou didn't chase the stragglers; instead, he seized the telephone room and the stairs of the pillbox. The defenders in the barbican wanted to retreat to the main fortress, but the second main force battalion outside had already pressed up from the back gate, blocking both ends. The people in the courtyard were crammed between the grain stacks and water tanks, and they couldn't even set up their grenade launchers.

"Don't burn the pillbox yet! There are machine guns up there, take them and use them yourself!"

A soldier, already holding a satchel charge of explosives and on fire, heard this and quickly pressed the fuse into the mud. Sparks burned through his gloves, and he shook his hand in pain, but he still protected the explosives and didn't dare to throw them away.

While the fighting raged in Yangquan, ladders were also erected against the walls of the outer city gate of Shouyang.

Duan Peng didn't try to force his way through the main gate. He had two groups fire from the west side first, while the real assault team circled around to the drainage ditch behind the city gate. The ditch was covered with a thin layer of ice, and the soldiers lay down inside, their cotton trousers quickly becoming soaked. As soon as the first ladder was put into place, a pot of hot water was poured down from the wall, and the man in front of him shrank back, his skin instantly turning red.

The men behind didn't stop; they continued to push the ladder up, their shoulders bracing against the legs. Duan Peng stood by the ditch, his short gun still unfired. He stared at the head peeking out from the top of the wall, waiting for the other person to bend down a second time before raising his hand and firing a shot.

"superior."

After the assault team scaled the wall, they opened the side gate first. The puppet troops inside the city gate, hearing explosions from both the east and west sides, panicked; some threw down their guns and ran towards the stables. Duan Peng blocked the main gate, preventing anyone from chasing them into Shouyang County.

"Take over the city gates and block the roads. Anyone who goes into the streets and alleys, I'll skin them alive when they come back."

A platoon leader was still eyeing the warehouse in the county town.

"There's grain inside."

"We won't take the grain today. What we want is the railway."

The first point where the middle section broke was the railway bridge. Li Dazhu's men did not wait for the results from the two strongholds. At seven o'clock, they moved the medicine packs in the original order.

The explosives under the bridge piers ripped a section of steel beam off the bridge abutment, causing the iron frame to jump upwards and then fall at an angle. The bridge sleepers snapped one after another, and half of the track fell into the river, splashing mud and water onto the bank. The engineers lay hidden behind rocks, waiting for the broken iron to fall before getting up to cut the remaining power lines.

The medicine packets on the other bridge got damp, and the first attempt only cracked the outer layer of stone. When the telephone report from point four was sent into the cave, the telegraph operator's voice had changed.

"The bridge didn't collapse. The abutment on the east side is cracked, but the main beam is still there."

Zhao Weiguo didn't look anywhere else.

"tonic."

"The armored train has passed Yangquan West Station."

"tonic."

Zhao Gang drew a ditch along the route taken by the wounded. The ditch was near the bridgehead, and if the train's artillery opened fire, the stretcher team would be unable to proceed.

"The No. 4 medical route will be rerouted along the north slope, adding five li to the journey. Notify Li Dazhu to prepare armored vehicles to transport the engineers."

The two armored vehicles had been hidden in the dry riverbed behind Black Pine Gully, their bodies covered with straw mats and mud. When Li Dazhu lifted the straw mats, the metal was covered with cold water droplets. He didn't send all nine hundred men on board, but only selected an engineering platoon and a row of infantrymen.

"When you reach the bridge, get out of the car. Don't drive into the bend."

The driver patted the steering wheel.

There are potholes on the road.

"Avoid pitfalls, but if you fall, I'll kill you first."

"Battalion Commander, you won't find me even if you search the whole place."

Li Dazhu kicked the car door.

"Stop being poor, open up."

As soon as the engine roared to life, all the birds in the dry riverbed took flight. The armored vehicle chugged along the dirt road toward the bridgehead, its metal wheel arches scraping against the rocks, the people inside rattling and grinding their teeth. The sound of artillery fire pounded ahead, and the closer they got, the stronger the smell of explosives mixed with hot engine oil became.

The armored train arrived faster than expected. Just as the second batch of wounded soldiers were being carried down the slope, the sound of the iron wheels rolling onto the rails came from the direction of Yangquan and rolled into the bend.

It came hurtling in from the direction of Yangquan, its engine belching black smoke, the flatcars in front piled high with sandbags. The train's artillery fired first at the bridgehead, then swept the outside of the curve. As the shells fell, the entire hillside was lifted up, and the stretcher team that had just changed course was chased and pelted by mud. A militiaman carrying a wounded soldier was hit on the back of the head by a stone, but as he fell, he still clung tightly to the stretcher pole, pulling the person in front of him down to his knees.

"Put me down." The soldier on the stretcher had pale lips. "You all take cover first."

Nobody paid him any attention. The two men dragged the stretcher up the slope, their arms trembling.

Ahead of the bend, the first section of rail had been blown up. The armored train slowed down, and the engineers on the flatcar jumped off, carrying the rails forward. The machine guns on the train pressed down on the hillsides on both sides, bullets skimming the rocks and leaving a trail of white dots.

Even after discovering the broken rails ahead, the train didn't retreat. The machine gunners on board used the slopes on both sides to hold the tracks in place, while the engineers on board carried rails towards the break under gunfire. Zhao Weiguo stared at the map. His pencil tip, pressed against the inside of the curve, broke.

"It's in."

The radio suddenly crackled to life. The telegraph operator copied down the short message; it read only one sentence: "Southern reinforcements have been engaged; proceed within six hours." Zhao Weiguo pushed the message aside.

"Notify point four to wait until the front and the last four sections of the car are fully into the curve before blasting the second section."

On the bend, the sapper lay prone beneath the sleepers, the overhead wires threading through the rubble. He heard the sound of steel wheels pressing against the rails growing closer, and the rubble beside his face shifted rhythmically with each impact. Coal smoke billowed down with the wind, choking him and bringing tears to his eyes.

The train gun fired another shot. Dust settled on his back, burying part of the wire. He didn't dare look up, his hands groping in the rubble, his fingernails quickly turning black. The flatcar ahead passed.

The front of the vehicle passed by. The first armored car body rolled over from the front, the sound of steel wheels hitting the seams piercing the chest. The engineer counted to the fourth car body and then slammed the detonator down.

The rails folded up behind the train, and half a rail struck the last carriage, scattering sparks everywhere. The train lurched forward a few feet, only to encounter another section of the rails ahead. The locomotive braked sharply, and the following carriages crashed together with a series of muffled thuds.

The train gun tried to turn inward, but the gun mount was blocked by the curve, so it could only rub the muzzle back and forth against the mountain wall. The infantrymen on the train jumped off and climbed up the slopes on both sides. Only then did the machine gun at point four open fire.

Previously concealed firepower erupted from the inner slope, sending the leading Japanese troops tumbling back to the roadbed. The infantry sent by Li Dazhu slanted in from the bridgehead, separating the train engineers from the escorting infantry. The armored vehicles didn't enter the bend; they simply stopped behind the slope to unload the personnel, their roof-mounted machine guns pressing down on the flatcars through the gap.

The train was trapped between two broken tracks, unable to move forward or backward.

The train was stuck on the curve, but the bridge was not completely broken. As long as the tracks behind it were cleared, the people on the train would still have a chance to retreat towards Yangquan.

As the engineering platoon disembarked, the second railway artillery shell landed near the bridge abutment. The platoon leader was thrown into the ditch by the blast wave, and when he got up, all he could hear was a buzzing in his left ear. He touched the medicine packet at his waist; the medicine was still there. Then, dragging his numb leg, he crawled under the bridge.

The gaps in the bridge beams were full of rubble, and half of the original medicine room had collapsed. He and two others dug it out with their hands, ignoring the blisters on their fingers. Every time a bullet hit the steel beams above, they vibrated and dust poured into their collars.

When the medicine packet was stuffed into the cracked bridge seat, the fuse was no longer long enough. The squad leader joined the two pieces together, his hands trembling violently as he tied the knot. A young soldier next to him held it down for him.

"Squad leader, your ear is bleeding."

"Go back and let it flow again."

"I'll order."

The squad leader glanced at him and handed him the matches.

When the fire started, the young soldier's hands were so black that only his fingernails were white. He lit the fuse, and the two of them bent over and ran towards the ditch. Before they even reached behind the rocks, the bridge abutment collapsed in the middle.

The steel beam, along with half a track, crashed into the riverbed, sending black water and ice shards surging ashore. The men on the armored train, seeing their escape route blocked, suddenly found themselves under heavy machine gun fire. From the cave dwelling, two words finally came from point number four.

"The bridge is broken."

Zhao Gang re-circled the line indicating the injured on the north slope and wrote "accessible" next to it. He gripped the pencil too tightly, and the edge of the wood pressed a deep mark on his middle finger.

"The first clinic is full. The wounded from Yangquan West and Point 4 are still being carried down."

"Send it to the North Mountain Road."

"There aren't enough mule carts."

"Remove all the empty launchers after they've been used to deliver the bombs."

"We need to replenish the shells."

Zhao Weiguo paused for a moment.

"Stop resupplying shells at point one. The wall has been breached; let Old Zhou deal with the rest himself. Use mules to carry the wounded first."

When Lao Zhou received the order to cease fire, there was still one level left in the main fortress of the barbican. He wiped the dust off his face, cursed under his breath, and turned to tell the artillery crew to save the last few rounds.

"Don't shoot the roof, shoot the stairwell. Make sure you aim carefully with every shot."

The men inside the main bunker tried to rush out while the shelling stopped. Old Zhou deliberately opened the courtyard gate, and as they rushed into the narrow alley, rifles fired simultaneously from the rooftops and behind the side walls. The monk blocked the alley entrance, his shoulder wound staining his cotton coat black. As he reloaded, his fingers slipped, and the magazine fell to the ground.

A young soldier nearby picked it up and gave it to him.

"Go and bandage it."

"A minor scrape."

"The blood is down to my waist."

The monk glanced down and tightened his robe.

"Wait until we're done playing."

The western barbican of Yangquan was brought down before 9:00 a.m.

Old Zhou didn't offer any fancy words. He ordered the surviving prisoners to be herded into an empty courtyard first, then took stock of his own company and platoon. One company commander stood and called out the numbers, but even on the third try, the count didn't match. Finally, he found two seriously wounded soldiers behind a stack of grain. The two men were huddled together; one was already dead, and the other had his hand pressed against his comrade's chest, as if pressing it would keep him warm.

Old Zhou squatted down and checked his breathing. When he stood up, his legs were a little stiff.

"Carry the living ones first."

He walked to the phone and said only one sentence.

"We've captured Yangquan West. The casualties haven't been tallied yet."

After capturing the outer city gate in the east, Duan Peng did not pursue them into Shouyang County. He kept his troops stationed on the railway and two access roads, preventing the temporary success from disrupting the overall offensive plan.

Duan Peng occupied the town gate, the outer edge of the station, and the two access roads, driving the retreating garrison towards Yangquan. The Japanese thought there was still a road to the west, but when they reached the middle section, they found the bridge was broken and had to abandon their heavy machine guns and retreat into the mountains. The right wing did not pursue them far, pushing back the stragglers along the railway before turning around and eliminating the remaining signal points.

Ding Wei managed to hold off the reinforcements arriving from the west. When they tried to bypass the village roads, he retreated and blocked them, never following them into the Independent Regiment's main battlefield. When the telegram arrived, the paper was covered in mud; it only stated that the reinforcements were still in the direction of Yuci and wouldn't be there for a while.

The mountain path guarded by Kong Jie was the quietest. Troops from the Shouyang direction attempted to cross the mountain, but their scouts were met with two volleys of sniper fire as soon as they appeared. He didn't pursue, but instead waited at another pass. The enemy struggled for a long time, their route longer than the railway, and when they reached the river, they only saw a broken bridge and a river of black water.

Li Yunlong's blockade of the southern reinforcements was the fiercest. Six hours later, instead of immediately withdrawing, he first silenced the opposing artillery positions, then seized several boxes of grenade launchers while they were changing formation. His telegram to Zhao Weiguo included an extra half-sentence: "I don't want the railway spikes, but we'll settle the cost of the artillery shells."

Zhao Gang handed the note to Zhao Weiguo.

"Should we go back or not?"

"Keep accounts."

"How much should I remember?"

"Let him take whatever he wants, but don't let him come back and triple it."

Zhao Gang's lips twitched slightly as he tucked the note into the seizure register.

By noon, five of the seven key points were completely under control, while the remaining two bunkers were surrounded. The armored train abandoned its rear carriages, and the main train, damaged, struggled towards Yangquan. With the road ahead blocked, it could only have its engineers lay temporary tracks, inching its way back inch by inch. The train's artillery was still firing, but the sound was fading into the distance.

As the main train struggled toward Yangquan, no team along the route chased after it. Li Dazhu left all his men on the high ground, at the break point, and at the bridgehead, securing the places he had already gained.

Li Dazhu first secured the high ground on both sides, then sent men to dismantle the usable rails. Intact rails were separated from the damaged ones, spikes were installed separately, and cables were coiled up. Several soldiers saw canned food in the carriage and tried to eat it, but were stopped on the spot by the accountant sent by Zhao Gang.

"Check the seal first."

"The Japanese have all fled, what's the point of checking?"

"Whose fault is it if you get poisoned?"

The soldier licked his chapped lips and put the can back in the wooden box.

The remaining bunkers remained occupied until nightfall. The garrison's telephone lines were down, the bridge was destroyed, and they had no idea how badly other areas had fallen. Some fired sniper shots, while others extended white cloths out of their firing ports and then pulled them back in. The Independent Regiment stopped piling more men against the wall, simply sealing off the exits and firing a shot from an infantry gun every now and then.

At night, the last outpost opened its doors.

The prisoners were brought down in batches, their guns piled up by the roadside, bayonets placed separately. The translator asked for their unit numbers one by one, many of them having had their ears damaged by the noise, and it took three tries for them to hear him. Several puppet soldiers squatted on the ground, trembling, their hands still covered in soot from the stove. They were only halfway through making breakfast when all seven explosions occurred simultaneously, the rice in the pots burning until it turned black, and no one bothered to add water.

After fourteen hours of concentrated fighting, the situation was finally brought under control.

The fires along the line are still burning. One of the oil-soaked sleepers caught fire, and several others nearby began to smoke. Telephone poles lay fallen off the roadbed, broken wires dangling into the mud. Both bridges were completely destroyed, their decks and steel beams leaning precariously in the riverbed. Approximately eight kilometers of track were dismantled or damaged, with the worst damage occurring near curves, bridgeheads, and signal stations; the line is unlikely to be open to traffic anytime soon.

The battle results report was delivered in full the following morning.

Zhao Gang sat on a door plank, spreading out seven sheets of paper. The papers varied in size; some were stained with blood, others had been soaked in water, and the writing was blurred and smudged. He first checked the people, then the guns, and finally the livestock and ammunition. Whoever gave an "approximate number," he would send someone back to recount them.

"How many bodies were buried?"

"More than 300 were buried in the eastern section, and there are still some in the gullies."

"How much is over three hundred?"

The messenger got stuck.

"Go back and find out. Separate the enemy corpses, prisoners, and escapees into three columns. Do the same for our own people: separate the dead, seriously wounded, and slightly wounded. Don't use one casualty count to cover up the whole thing."

The numbers on the paper gradually came together.

The Independent Regiment suffered 126 dead and 311 wounded. The seriously wounded were sent first, and those with minor injuries who could walk on their own were not allowed to remain by the roadside. The seven medical lines were crammed full, using doors, window panels, and even empty mule frames. Surgeries on the North Mountain Road continued from morning until late at night, with pot after pot of water being boiled, and blood-stained rags piled up in the corner, their original color impossible to wash away.

The enemy suffered 1,710 killed and 506 captured. The remaining troops retreated towards Yangquan, and the strongholds along the railway line on the Shouyang side could no longer be recaptured. Two bridges were destroyed. Eight kilometers of railway track will require post-war repair.

Two hundred and sixty-one steel rails were completely excavated. Rifles, machine guns, ammunition boxes, telephone equipment, rail spikes, sleepers, cables, and station storage supplies were listed separately in seven locations. No one dared to move anything from the warehouse back to their own camp first. Seals were affixed, and three people signed them; if anything was missing, the person who handled it would be traced back to them.

Zhi Zi brought back a stack of storage lists from the signal station. The lists detailed how much coal, oil, grain, medicine, and spare rail materials were originally stored in each location and where they were usually moved—more meticulously than the records of a raid. Zhao Gang flipped to the back and circled the names of several abandoned stations and small warehouses in red.

"Don't demolish these places yet."

"What are you going to do with it?" Li Dazhu asked.

"From now on, store grain, medicine, and telephone lines. Even if the railway is cut off, will the warehouse still have legs?"

Li Dazhu reached out to take it. Zhao Gang slapped his hand down.

"Wash your hands before touching it. The blood is all over the place."

Li Dazhu looked down and saw a gash on his hand, blood mixed with black grease. He wiped it on his trouser leg.

"Can we touch it now?"

"It's dirtier now."

A few people nearby burst into laughter, but it was short-lived. A stretcher was being carried past by the roadside, a white sheet covering its chest, the soles of the shoes worn through. The laughter stopped as soon as it reached those shoes.

After the casualties and the captured weapons were cleared out, the ammunition box at the bottom was finally opened, and the numbers on it were even uglier than the empty shell boxes.

The six mountain guns and four infantry guns fired continuously for fourteen hours, and the seven ammunition depots were almost empty. A total of 680 rounds of domestically produced and reloaded shells were fired, and the remaining captured ammunition was also running low. Of the two tons of explosives, less than 200 kilograms remained, and detonators and fuses were also in short supply.

Zhao Tieshan meticulously noted down the malfunctions of each cannon. Two cannons had overheated trunnions, one was having trouble recoiling, and the cannon wheels at four different positions were cracked. His trouser legs were covered in mud, and his shoes were filled with water, making a squelching sound with every step he took.

"We need to make up for the 680 rounds; it will take at least a month."

"Where's the copper?"

"At the current rate, it's not enough."

"steel?"

"The salvaged rails can be used for some of the work, but we can't use them all to make ammunition. We also need to repair bridges and connect roads."

Zhao Tieshan flipped the fault table over, revealing the bottom row.

"There are still people. The dead and wounded in the artillery crew are all in the main tent. The cannons can be repaired, but the men need to be trained again."

Zhao Weiguo's gaze lingered on that line of text for a moment. Zhao Gang then handed over the mule and horse tent.

1,200 mules and horses completed three relays, with 47 collapsing from exhaustion and 19 killed by artillery fire. Those with injured legs, dislocated paws, and worn-out backs are listed on a separate page. Those that could be recovered were led to the rear, while the dead were disposed of on the spot, and their hides, meat, and harnesses were also taken into the tent.

The old man driving the mule squatted beside the blue mule. The mule's front legs were already bandaged, but it still refused to eat. He broke the bean cake into pieces and fed it to the animal little by little.

"This horse isn't exhausted," he said as he saw Zhao Gang approaching. "It can walk again after a couple of days of rest."

"The records show injuries, not collapses."

The old man reached out to see. Zhao Gang turned the page to him. The color of the blue mule's coat, its wounds, and which village it was sent back to were all written on it. The old man stared at it for a long time, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"That's fine then."

Zhao Gang closed the notebook, his fingers already chafed red from the edges of the paper. He had only eaten two cold rice balls since last night, and the third one was still in his pocket, flattened.

"If we have another battle like this within three days, the Independent Regiment will run out of ammunition."

He said this without looking at Zhao Weiguo, only at the casualty report.

"One hundred and twenty-six dead, three hundred and eleven wounded. The reinforcements weren't just with bullets."

Zhao Weiguo took the report. The paper was a little damp, and the edges were soft. His thumb moved from the number of dead to the number of wounded, then to the number of ammunition, mules, and spoils. The thirty kilometers won were all recorded on a few sheets of paper. If even one column was missing, the accounts wouldn't add up.

"First, replenish the telephone lines, bridge materials, medicines, and explosives."

Zhao Tieshan looked up.

"The shells are being fired backwards?"

"Move to the back. The Japanese can't get through for a while, let's connect the people and the goods first."

"Where are the railway tracks?"

"Those that can be lifted can be lifted; those that can't, keep them for our own use later."

Zhao Gang placed the inventory list next to the casualty report.

"We cannot station all our main forces at the seven locations along the railway line. Villages, towns, roads, warehouses, and telephone lines all need to be managed. If the Japanese launch a counterattack, they won't just attack the railway tracks first."

Zhao Weiguo pointed to the abandoned stations and small warehouses on the map.

"Mark out which places can be used as outposts, which places can be used as lookout posts, and which ditches can be used to carry the wounded."

"Who owns this stall?" Old Zhou walked over with one hand wrapped in bandages, the cloth on the back of his hand already showing through red.

"You should hold Yangquan West first."

"I'm asking about the general ledger."

Zhao Weiguo looked at Zhao Gang. Zhao Gang stacked the three notebooks together; the top was for casualties, the middle for supplies, and the bottom for spoils. They were about an inch thick when stacked.

"I'll take care of it."

Old Zhou glanced at the stack of notebooks and immediately swallowed the rest of his sentence.

"That's alright then."

Before noon, the engineers laid out the last pack of medicine next to the broken railroad track in Yangquan West.

This section of track no longer held tactical significance. With the front and rear bridge rails destroyed, the armored train was forced back outside the broken track. It remained here to pry open the last joint west of Yangquan, preventing the enemy from sneaking in at night to attempt repairs.

When Zhao Weiguo took the torch, the wind was blowing up from the railway ditch. The flames were kept low, making his knuckles hot.

He looked east along the tracks. Smoke was still rising from the line; in the distance, people were carrying the wounded, retrieving telephone lines, and loading intact track spikes into baskets. Two dead mules and horses were covered with straw mats, their hooves sticking out. Along the barbican wall, a long row of newly dug pits stood, their names yet to be written on the wooden plaques.

Zhao Gang stood behind him, holding the stack of tents between his arms.

"The old brigade commander called. Congratulations on the victory! Clear the defense zone within three days and be on high alert against a counterattack."

Zhao Weiguo squatted down and held the lit fuse to the side. The sparks clung to the fuse, slowly creeping forward. He turned and walked away. After taking about twenty steps, a loud bang echoed behind him.

The rails lifted from the joint, bending into a sharp arc, and the sleepers broke in two. Gravel and loess hit the back of the overcoat with a crackling sound. The thirty-kilometer Zhengtai Railway, from Yangquan to Shouyang, had no more complete sections.

Zhao Weiguo stopped beside the broken rail, his shoes sinking into the still-hot iron filings.

"A continuous conclusion."

Zhao Gang pulled the storage list out of the ledger and unfolded it.

"Where should we start?"

Zhao Weiguo raised his hand and pointed to the villages and mountain passes north and south of the railway tracks.

"We now call the shots on the north and south of the Zhengtai Railway."