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

Xinghualing, an abandoned primary school.

At ten o'clock at night, the moon was covered by clouds, and the sky was very dark.

The primary school is surrounded by mountains on three sides, with a shallow river in front.

The river wasn't deep, just ankle-deep, and the bottom was covered in pebbles that crunched underfoot.

The primary school consisted of three tiled houses, with half of the surrounding wall collapsed and repaired with a wooden fence.

There was an old locust tree in the courtyard, its large canopy covering half of the yard. Two horses were tethered under the tree, their heads down, occasionally snorting.

The school building was requisitioned by the Sakata Regiment headquarters as a temporary command post.

An oil lamp was lit in the main room, its light shining through the paper windows and drawing several squares in the courtyard.

There were shadowy figures moving on the window paper; it was the shadow of a staff officer walking back and forth.

The area was guarded by a squadron of over 150 men, who were scattered around the perimeter of the compound, on the rooftops, and at several sentry posts outside the courtyard.

Some people leaned against the wall smoking, the red glow of their cigarettes flickering in the night. Others squatted on the rooftops, rifles resting on their knees, their eyes fixed on the mountains.

Several tents were set up on the open ground outside the compound, belonging to the communications platoon and the service squad. There were figures moving around inside the tents.

Two cooking pots were set up on the open ground on the east side of the wall. The cooks were still awake, and something was cooking in the pots, with steam rising up.

Two Type 92 heavy machine guns were mounted on the roof, their muzzles pointing towards the mountain pass.

There was a mortar squad in the backyard, four men, with the mortar mount propped up in the corner and ammunition boxes piled up next to it.

There was a sentry post on the small hill behind the primary school, with six people on a light machine gun, and the post was supported by sandbags.

Sakata, the commander of the regiment, sat at the table in the main room, with a map spread out on it, marked with an arrow pointing in the direction of Niangziguan.

The arrow points westward from Niangziguan, across the Taihang Mountains, towards Xingshuping.

A glass of sake sat beside him; the sake had gone cold, and water droplets condensed on the glass.

He was unaware that the vanguard battalion had been completely wiped out. He assumed the vanguard was currently on the official road east of Tiger's Mouth and would be able to rendezvous with the central army early the next morning.

The staff officer stood across the table, holding a draft telegram.

The telegram came from the direction of Niangziguan, and it said, "The vanguard brigade passed through Tiger's Mouth today and will reach the designated position tomorrow."

Sakata nodded, placed the telegram on the table, and took a sip of sake.

The sake was Japanese sake, brought from Japan, with a Japanese label on the bottle. Only officers of his rank could enjoy it.

He put down his cup, picked up a pencil, and drew a circle on the map, marking the location of Xing Shu Ping.

"The vanguard will arrive tomorrow, and we'll start sweeping from here," he said calmly, as if he were commenting on the nice weather.

On the hilltop, Zhao Weiguo lay prone behind a large rock, holding up binoculars.

Through the binoculars, the outline of the primary school was clear: three tiled houses, a wall, an old locust tree in the yard, two machine guns on the roof, and a mortar in the backyard.

He put down his binoculars and glanced at his pocket watch. 9:58.

"All groups, report to your positions," he said in a low voice.

Chen An lay prone beside him, using hand gestures to relay messages down the mountain. Three flashes of white light appeared in different directions—replies from each group.

"Everything is in place," Chen An said.

Zhao Weiguo nodded. He closed his eyes and mentally went through the intermediate-level simulation. The rooftop machine gun was high-point firepower and had to be disabled first.

The mortars in the backyard are counter-fire and must be destroyed simultaneously.

The south gate draws fire, the north entrance blocks retreat, and the dry riverbed on the west side plunges directly into the main hall.

He opened his eyes.

"Fire at 10:00 sharp. Four mortars, two for the roof and two for the backyard. The first round must be accurate."

Staff Officer Luo wrote down the time in his notebook: 21:58.

Two minutes later, all four mortars opened fire simultaneously.

On the hilltop, an artillery veteran squatted beside a mortar, clutching a shell in his hand.

He shoved the shell into the muzzle, and it slid down, striking the primer. The cannon shuddered, and the shell flew out.

Zhao Tieshan's sights came in handy at night. Aiming the crosshairs of the front sight at the rooftop machine gun position was more accurate than aiming with the naked eye. The first shot missed by two meters because of the wind.

The second shot corrected the wind drift and hit the bunker squarely.

The four mortars on the hilltop, with eight shells, were all fired within ten seconds.

The shells flew down from the hilltop, trailing sharp whistles like four night birds.

The first shot landed two meters off course near the rooftop machine gun emplacement, exploding on the eaves, sending tiles flying and shards of debris raining down into the yard. The second shot struck the machine gun bunker squarely, with a deafening roar. Sandbags burst open, scattering sand and dirt everywhere. The machine gunner was thrown off the roof by the blast wave, tumbling heavily into the yard, where he landed motionless on the ground. His legs were bent at an unnatural angle, bone fragments protruding from his trouser legs.

The third shell landed near the mortar crew in the backyard, tilting the mortar mount. One gunner had half his face sliced ​​off by shrapnel and fell to the ground, blood streaming down his face and seeping into the soil. Another gunner tried to run but was hit in the back by shrapnel from the fourth shell and collapsed onto an ammunition box. The fourth shell overturned the ammunition box, scattering shells everywhere. One shell's fuse was knocked, hissing and smoking. A gunner lunged to throw the shell away, but before he could, it exploded in his hand.

The two Type 92 heavy machine guns on the roof and the mortar squad in the backyard were all wiped out by a single round of shelling.

The guard squadron was in an uproar.

Some people peeked out from the corner of the wall to check the enemy's location, while others ran into the courtyard to protect their superior at close range.

Liu Dashan's Group A team advanced from the south.

There are two wooden doors on the south side, the door panels are rotten and covered with sheet metal.

The light machine gun fired a burst, the bullets hitting the door panel, the metal sheet flying off, and several holes being punched through the wooden door.

The two grenade teams crept along the wall to the doorway, pulled the pins, counted to two, and threw the grenades into the yard.

The grenade exploded in the yard, and shrapnel hit the trunk of the old locust tree, tearing off a piece of bark.

The two horses tied under the tree were startled, neighed, broke free of their reins, and ran deeper into the yard.

The guard company's firepower was drawn to the south. A dozen men, rifles at the ready, charged toward the south gate, shouting in Japanese. Their helmets had white bands around their necks, the insignia of the Sakata Regiment. They reached the gate, three of them shot down by rifles, the rest retreating to the wall. A sergeant crouched in the corner, pulled out his pistol, and fired two shots toward the south gate; the bullets struck the doorframe, sending splinters flying.

Group B blocked their retreat from the north entrance. Zhang Dabiao led his men to the back of the school building.

Behind the school building was an open space, where firewood and miscellaneous items were piled up.

Two orderly soldiers rushed out of the side door, carrying rifles, their faces filled with fear, shouting something.

Zhang Dabiao's soldiers rushed forward, and two bayonets were thrust in simultaneously. The orderly fell to the ground, and his rifle slammed onto the pile of firewood.

Zhao Weiguo led Group C along the dry riverbed on the west side to the back of the school building.

They bent over, their footsteps light, making a soft crunching sound as they stepped on the gravel.

Chen An walked at the front, holding scissors, and cut a slit in the wooden fence.

Staff Officer Luo followed behind, writing down the time in his notebook with a pencil: 10:03 PM.

Group C crawled through the opening into the back of the school building.

There was a small wooden door in the wall behind the school building; it was rotten. Chen An kicked the door open, and the door panel flew off.

They ran into the regimental headquarters staff squad.

The staff officers were organizing maps and telegrams when they heard the sound of artillery fire and realized what was happening.

An aide drew his pistol, and just as he raised his hand, Chen An plunged a bayonet into his stomach.

When the bayonet pierced through, Chen An felt the tip of the blade hit the bone. He twisted it hard, pulled it out, and blood sprayed all over his face.

Another staff officer rushed over with a dagger, but was hit on the head with the butt of a rifle by a veteran next to him, fell to the ground, and the dagger flew out and landed with a clang in the corner of the wall.

Of the seven staff officers, four were taken down within thirty seconds. The remaining three raised their hands and knelt on the ground.

Zhao Weiguo didn't stop, leading his men straight into the main room.

Inside the main room, Sakata had already rushed out the door.

He was wearing a military uniform, holding a command sword in his hand. When he saw the chaos in the courtyard, his expression changed.

He thought it was just a small-scale harassment on the periphery, but he didn't expect the enemy to have already reached the entrance of the command post.

He turned to retreat back into the main room, but Zhao Weiguo had already rushed in through the side door.

The two men faced each other, less than ten paces apart. The light from the oil lamp shone on Sakata's face; his face was thin, his cheekbones high, and his eyes filled with terror.

He didn't expect the enemy to have already reached the entrance of the main hall.

Sakata shouted in Japanese, raised his sword above his head, and slashed at Zhao Weiguo.

The blade reflected the lamplight, a cold, white streak that darted past, brushing against the lamp's shadow. Zhao Weiguo dodged to the side, the blade grazing his shoulder and tearing his cotton-padded coat, cotton wafting out of the gap.

His shoulder was grazed by the blade, and it stung, but there was no bleeding.

A soldier, about sixteen or seventeen years old, rushed out from behind Sakata, his face filled with fear.

Sakata grabbed his shoulder and pushed him in front of him as a human shield. The orderly's rifle was still held aloft, its muzzle pointed at Zhao Weiguo.

Zhao Weiguo did not hesitate.

He pulled the trigger.

Gunshots rang out in the main room, echoing between the walls. The bullet pierced the orderly's shoulder and lodged in Sakata's waist. The orderly screamed and collapsed to the ground, blood spurting from his shoulder.

Sakata paused for a moment, as if he had been pushed.

The sword flew from his hand and landed on the ground with a clang.

He knelt down, his hands supporting him on the ground, blood flowing down his side and seeping into the soil.

He was still reaching for the Nambu pistol at his waist.

Chen An rushed forward and kicked away the commander's sword and pistol.

Two veterans pinned Sakata to the ground, tied his hands behind his back, and bound them tightly with rope.

Sakata was still shouting in Japanese, his voice hoarse, but no one was listening.

Zhao Weiguo walked over and squatted down in front of Sakata.

Sakata's face was very pale, his lips were purple, and the blood on his side had soaked through his military uniform.

His eyes were still open, but his gaze had become unfocused, like a lamp about to go out.

He was still muttering Japanese, his voice very soft, and it was impossible to hear what he was saying.

"Don't let him die," Zhao Weiguo said. His voice was calm, as if he were talking about something very ordinary.

But Chen An understood the significance of that statement. A living regimental commander was worth ten times more than a dead one.

Chen An took out a bandage from the first aid kit and pressed it onto Sakata's wound.

The bandage was immediately soaked with blood, which seeped out from the edges and pooled on the ground.

He then took out a packet of sulfanilamide powder and sprinkled it on the wound. The sulfanilamide powder was obtained through the system; the white powder immediately turned the blood red upon contact with it.

The regimental chief of staff came out of the main room, his face pale.

He saw Sakata tied to the ground, his lips moved, but he didn't say anything.

He took his sword from his waist and placed it on the ground. Then he raised his hands.

"Subdue," he said softly.

One by one, his staff officers stepped forward, placed their weapons on the ground, and raised their hands.

Zhao Weiguo stood up and walked into the main room.

The main room was in a mess; maps and telegrams were scattered all over the floor, a sake cup was overturned, and sake had spilled onto the map, wetting the arrow pointing towards Niangziguan.

The oil lamp was still burning; the flame tilted slightly in the draft, then straightened up again.

A flag hangs on the flag rack in the center of the main room. It is blue with white characters that read "224th Infantry Regiment".

The flag was made of cloth, and the edges were worn, but the lettering was still clear.

The flagpole is made of wood, with a copper cap at the top, on which chrysanthemum patterns are engraved.

He took the flag down from the flagpole and rolled it into the burlap sack that Staff Officer Luo handed him. The sack was for grain, and there were still bits of millet inside.

The regimental flag. The face of the Japanese army. Losing the regimental flag meant the regimental commander would either commit suicide or be executed.

Liu Dashan ran over from the south gate, his face covered in sweat.

"The south gate hasn't been completely cleared yet. There are still more than thirty Japanese soldiers in the classrooms on the east side, holding out with grenades and rifles."

Zhao Weiguo nodded. He handed the sack to Staff Officer Luo and turned to look at the staff officers who had surrendered in the main room.

"Clear the main room first. Then check the file boxes; these contain important intelligence, so be careful. Sakata, don't let him die."

Staff Officer Luo wrote down the orders in his notebook, the pencil scratching across the paper.

Zhao Weiguo walked into the courtyard and looked at the classroom on the east side in the distance. The east classroom was the largest of the three tile-roofed houses; the window was blocked with sandbags, leaving only a crack. Light shone through the crack, and behind the light were gun barrels. Inside were more than thirty people, the remnants of the guard company.

Liu Dashan squatted against the wall, clutching a hand grenade in his hand.

"Should we just rush in?" he asked.

Zhao Weiguo glanced at his pocket watch. 10:18.

"First try to reason with them. If that doesn't work, then resort to force."

He walked to the front of the classroom and stood in the shadows where the moonlight couldn't reach.

Staff Officer Luo followed behind and shouted "Put down your weapons" three times in Japanese into the classroom.

There was no response from inside. After a dozen seconds of silence, a bullet shot out from a crack in the window, grazing Zhao Weiguo's ear and hitting the wall behind him, sending dirt flying into his face.

He retreated to the base of the wall.

"beat."