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

The bugle call of the 219th Regiment rolled in from the other side of the highway, amidst the smoke of gunfire.

The major raised his pistol above his head, half of his face covered in mud and blood.

"On the walls of Wanping! We'll hold them off for three minutes! After three minutes, once the Japanese artillery has recovered, no one should hold back!"

The deputy battalion commander grabbed the ammunition box that had just been delivered and slammed it onto the city wall.

"Open the crate! Give the machine gun the bullets first! Distribute the grenades to the gaps! Don't fucking act like you're royalty while holding onto the crate!"

The wooden crate was pried open with bayonets, and the gleaming bullet belts spilled out like cold, hard ears of wheat. The soldiers rushed forward, none flinching even as their fingers were pricked by splinters. The garrison commander surnamed Meng stuffed two rows of bullets into his coat, grabbed a pack of grenades, and grinned until his lips bled.

"We have food! Even the guns can be fed!"

Old Xu leaned against the sandbag and reached for a bullet belt, but his face twitched in pain halfway through.

Give me a row.

Li Shuanzi held his hand down.

"You lie down."

Old Xu glared.

"I can still pull the trigger."

Zhao Weiguo shoved a Type 38 rifle into his arms and loaded five bullets into the magazine.

"Shoot the closest one. Don't be reckless."

Old Xu looked at the gun and grinned.

"Alright. If any of those Japanese devils get within ten paces, I'll call them out."

Outside the city, the mortars of the 219th Regiment fired smoke, the white smoke spreading between the bridge and the highway. The Japanese reserve troops were thrown into chaos by the explosions. A sergeant brandished his sword and roared. Just as a few men were about to set up their light machine guns again, they were pushed back into the ditch by Czech-made machine guns parked by the roadside.

The major, lying prone behind the ditch, shouted to the messenger:

"Tell the city, don't just defend! The Japanese east of the bridge are in disarray, let them take a bite!"

The messenger crouched low and ran to the city gate, looking up and shouting:

"The major said there's chaos east of the bridge; could we attack their flank from the city wall?"

The battalion deputy's eyes lit up when he heard this.

"Mr. Zhao?"

Zhao Weiguo had already crouched behind the breach. Through the crack in his binoculars, the images of the Japanese troops east of the bridge resembled charcoal scattered by fire hooks. The front rank sought cover, while the rear rank shrank towards the artillery positions. There was a narrow ditch in the middle, leading directly to their ammunition transfer point.

The system's blue line converged before my eyes.

[Enemy flank briefly exposed]

[Targets that can be engaged: ammunition transport teams, remnants of grenade launchers, and messengers]

[Recommendation: Concentrate firepower for thirty seconds to cut off the enemy's reorganization]

Zhao Weiguo put down his binoculars.

"Machine guns don't fire into groups of people, they fire at people running around."

The deputy battalion commander frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Zhao Weiguo pointed to the smoke-filled area east of the bridge.

"The one carrying the flag, relay the order. The one holding the wooden box, ammunition. The one crouching down with the tube, that's a grenade launcher. Shoot them, and the Japanese won't be able to gather their scattered troops back together."

The soldier surnamed Meng licked his dry, cracked lips.

"I carry the flag."

Zhao Weiguo pressed the Type 38 rifle into his shoulder.

"Wait until he stops and turns around. It's harder to fight him while he's running."

The Meng-surnamed garrison soldier put the sights on his eyes.

In the smoke east of the bridge, a Japanese messenger ran frantically, bent over, the small flag on his back swaying wildly in the wind from the artillery fire. He rushed to the side of the half-collapsed earthen wall, stopped, and shouted back.

"Right now."

Snapped!

The messenger's chest tightened, and the flagpole plunged into the mud.

Before the Meng-surname garrison could even laugh, Zhao Weiguo had already raised his hand.

"Machine gun, third from the right, shortest."

Czech style: spit out half a tongue of fire.

Da da da!

Two Japanese soldiers carrying ammunition boxes were knocked over; the wooden boxes shattered, and grenades rolled all over the ground. Just as the grenade launcher team lay down nearby, the skinny soldier and the short soldier fired their rifles, shooting down the deputy with two shots, the launcher barrel tilting into the ditch.

The deputy battalion commander suddenly waved his hand.

"Fire in bursts! Don't waste bullets!"

The gunfire from the city walls became more synchronized.

No longer fighting individually as before, they began to gnaw at the spots Zhao Weiguo had pointed out. At the edge of the smoke screen east of the bridge, the three small groups of Japanese soldiers who had just gathered were scattered. Two sergeants brandished their swords to press down on the men, but as soon as they stood on higher ground, they became targets for guns.

On the highway, a major from the 219th Regiment saw a Japanese soldier on the east side of the bridge being bitten on the waist by someone on the city wall of Wanping. He slammed his fist into the mud.

"Good! Wanping's teeth are tough enough!"

He turned around and roared.

"Second platoon, advance along the ditch! Don't go too far, rendezvous with the ammunition crew! Mortars, fire two more rounds at the ruined house east of the bridge!"

Boom!Boom!

Two mortar shells landed on the east side of the bridge, scattering another group of Japanese troops who were gathering. Taking advantage of the situation, the soldiers of the 29th Army along the roadside advanced, three men at a time, leaping forward in turns, bayonets lowered, and gun muzzles spitting fire close to the edge of the smoke.

The defenders on the city wall were also pushed up by this force.

When the garrison soldier surnamed Meng was reloading, his fingers slipped, and two bullets fell out. He muttered a curse under his breath, and a young soldier next to him immediately handed him his own magazine.

"Brother Meng, use mine!"

"And you?"

"I'll move the grenades!"

The young soldier picked up a bag of grenades, bent over, and ran towards the breach. A shell landed outside the city, knocking him to his knees. He got up and kept running, his voice hoarse from shouting.

"A gap leading to a landmine!"

Old Xu leaned against the sandbag and suddenly fired a shot.

Snapped.

A Japanese scout, having found a blind spot, climbed down from the base of the wall, dropping his small flag into a crevice in the rocks.

Old Xu coughed up blood and waved his gun at Zhao Weiguo.

"Roll call within ten steps."

Zhao Weiguo did not turn around.

"Keep two more."

Old Xu placed the gun on the sandbag.

"I'll listen to you."

The Japanese officer east of the bridge finally couldn't hold back any longer. He drew his sword and led a dozen or so soldiers to retreat, intending to regroup in the direction of Fengtai. A major on the highway saw the opening and immediately stood up.

"Sound the charge! Push forward and seize that heavy machine gun!"

The bugler puffed out his cheeks.

The resounding bugle call echoed across Lugou Bridge.

A platoon from the 219th Regiment leaped out of the ditch, their bayonets like a row of white teeth. Just as the assistant gunner beside the Japanese heavy machine gun was about to turn his weapon, a soldier surnamed Meng on the city wall shattered his shoulder with a single shot. Zhao Weiguo followed up with his own shot; a short, sharp crack of his pistol sent the machine gunner sprawling onto his gun mount.

The major led his men to the machine gun position and kicked the corpse aside.

"Turn around! Use the Japanese guns to fight the Japanese!"

Two soldiers rushed over and turned the gun mount. The Type 92 heavy machine gun was adjusted half a turn, its muzzle aimed at the backs of the retreating Japanese soldiers east of the bridge.

Da da da da!

The Japanese retreat formation was forcibly torn open.

A roar erupted from the top of Wanping City.

"Well played!"

"The 29th Army!"

The deputy battalion commander gripped the parapet, his eyes bloodshot.

"Mr. Zhao, they've retreated! Qiaodong has retreated!"

Zhao Weiguo looked behind the smoke.

The dust was still rising from the direction of Fengtai. The Japanese army had not given up, but this time, they were driven back half a mile by the combined forces of Wanping City and the 219th Regiment.

At the city gate, the ammunition team pushed up two more boxes of bullets.

"Brothers on the city walls! And more!"

The deputy battalion commander caught the rope and shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Pull him up!"

Zhao Weiguo removed the overheated magazine, his palm burning red. He pressed the new magazine in, and the bolt clicked shut.

"Take over the captured heavy machine guns too."

The deputy battalion commander was stunned.

"Those were looted by the reinforcements."

Zhao Weiguo looked at the Type 92 rifle that was spitting fire by the roadside.

"Let them use it first. After they're done, don't throw away the spent cartridges, barrels, or damaged parts."

The garrison commander surnamed Meng grinned, his face covered in gunpowder smoke.

"Mr. Zhao, are you still thinking about that scrap metal?"

Zhao Weiguo stared at the embers on the east side of the bridge.

"Scrap metal can become the lifeblood of the next battle."