Even if I'm a useless bum at Whampoa Military Academy, I'll be invincible in the War of Re

Colonel Noda received a harsh lesson, and the moment he received the casualty figures, the volcano finally erupted:

"You bastard, Zhao Yunwen, I will tear you to pieces!"

Major Matsushita had long lost his former arrogance, replaced by fear and hatred, his eyes as vicious as a cobra's.

"Commander, the blood of thousands of warriors cannot be shed in vain. Zhao Yunwen is very cunning, but in the face of absolute strength, all schemes and tricks are futile."

"Matsushita-kun, we must learn from this lesson and devise a highly targeted battle plan. We must be quick! His Highness the Prince is not giving us much time."

Major Matsushita bowed deeply; it was his duty, and the 33rd Regiment wouldn't fall into the same trap twice.

"Commander, the offensive on both flanks must be intensified. They have played almost no role in this offensive, especially in the northern mountains, where not even a single shot has been fired."

Major Matsushita's words were brief and to the point. A flash of resentment crossed Colonel Noda's eyes; he felt he had been tricked and said in a deep voice:

"I will inform His Excellency the General of this matter. We must make thorough preparations; the next battle will be the decisive one!"

On the central position of the Second Regiment, Second Lieutenant Luo Zeping, the deputy platoon leader, did not expect to win so easily. He was a graduate of the 2nd Company of the 11th Class of the Central Military Academy and had just graduated in October.

He was originally supposed to be assigned to the Training Corps, but instead he ended up in the Sulu Guerrilla Detachment, which, judging from the name, wasn't a regular unit. What he found most unacceptable was that he was just a deputy platoon leader. The platoon leader, Lin Yongwang, was a roughneck who hadn't even attended military academy, and spoke with a thick, rustic Manchurian accent that was incredibly unsophisticated. Where could he possibly reason with him?

"What are you sitting there for? Waiting for the Japanese to come and attack?"

Before Luo Zeping could even finish his cigarette, Lin Yongwang's loud voice rang in his ear, showing him no respect whatsoever.

The veterans wore mocking smiles; in their eyes, Luo Zeping, who was going to the battlefield for the first time, was just a greenhorn.

Lin Yongwang then yelled at several squad leaders:

"What's so funny? If Deputy Platoon Leader Luo doesn't understand, do you all not understand either? Are you asking for a beating?"

The squad leaders stopped watching the spectacle, took a few deep drags on their cigarettes, threw them away, and led their men to retake the position. This was a tradition of the guerrilla detachment; whenever they had free time, they would dig trenches.

Luo Zeping wanted to say that he was an officer, but under Lin Yongwang's piercing gaze, he could only throw away the half-smoked cigarette and join the trench-digging team.

Lin Yongwang raised his voice and said:

"Hurry up, you damn well better! The Japanese shells could fall at any moment."

After yelling, he took the entrenching tool off his back and started repairing the earth like a silent gourd.

In the guerrilla detachment, not only deputy platoon leaders, but even platoon leaders cannot make exceptions. They are not allowed to beat, scold, or physically punish soldiers, nor are they allowed to drink soldiers' blood.

Of course, it's acceptable for someone to swear a few times or kick someone's butt when they get angry; in a place like the military, there's no such thing as absolutely civilized leadership.

There's never enough work on the front lines. Although Luo Zeping had some reservations, he was impeccable when it came to carrying out orders—a trait ingrained in his very being, typical of graduates of the Central Military Academy.

The veterans smoke leisurely, but when they get to work, they don't need anyone to watch them; they know the standards.

While we were working, a shell ripped through the sky and landed a few hundred meters behind us, creating a deep crater.

Lin Yongwang's expression changed drastically. Based on his experience, he judged that it wouldn't be long before a barrage of shells would fall.

He deftly pulled out his brass whistle and blew a series of short, piercing whistles. The squad leaders, who had been sweating profusely just moments before, began shouting for their men to crawl into the artillery bunkers. If time allowed, they were to go into the artillery bunkers first; if there wasn't enough time, they would crawl into the foxholes.

Lin Yongwang stayed with the first squad, while Luo Zeping and the third squad shared a tunnel to avoid being wiped out by the Japanese. These were lessons learned through bloodshed.

As soon as Luo Zeping crawled into the bunker, shells rained down on him, and the ground shook.

The soldiers of the third squad spontaneously formed two rows with their backs against the cave wall, with the squad leader on the left and the deputy squad leader on the right rear.

Luo Zeping is second from the right. The squad leader and the veteran on the right are both holding entrenching tools. Once the entrance to the artillery shelter is blocked by loose soil, they will have to dig out a ventilation opening.

Before graduating, Luo Zeping interned at the Training Corps, which was a model unit for the entire army, but in many aspects it could not compare to the guerrilla detachment, which refreshed his understanding.

After an unknown amount of time, the artillery fire began to spread, and the third squad shouted coldly:

"The Japanese devils are coming! Let's kill them all!"

Before the shelling ended, the third squad leader was the first to rush out of the position. They were lucky and escaped being hit by shells.

After Luo Zeping rushed out of the artillery shelter, he ran to his battle station, where Yang Guai was already in the command position.

Looking up, I could vaguely see the figures of the Japanese soldiers deep in the smoke. Sure enough, they were coming up, charging almost right on the artillery positions.

The Japanese troops moved quickly, but the guerrilla detachment reacted even faster. The second platoon was at the forefront, forming the first line of defense for the entire battalion.

Luo Zeping chose a Springfield rifle. His marksmanship ranked among the top three in his platoon when he was in military school. Although he was not using the Type 24 rifle that he was used to, he was confident that he could outshine the entire platoon.

He had just been assigned to the second platoon, and there was a platoon leader squatting above him. His prestige in the platoon was even lower than that of the squad leader.

In the military, strength speaks volumes. Luo Zeping is confident in himself and is determined to rise to prominence in this battle!

As the Japanese soldiers drew closer, their skirmish lines widened considerably, and they bent their waists even lower—they had learned their lesson.

A volley of shells flew over Luo Zeping's head and landed among the Japanese soldiers, stirring up a cloud of blood mist.

This is a Type 20 mortar; he could recognize it even with his eyes closed. It also seemed to contain a Type 92 infantry gun. According to the veterans, it was captured from the Japanese.

The battalion has fifteen artillery pieces of various sizes, which is absolutely unique in the entire army, especially the 60mm mortars, which are equipped down to the company level.

The more he learned about the guerrilla detachment, the more embarrassed he became of his previous ignorance. With such a configuration, it was absolutely unique in the entire army, even the Training Corps couldn't compare!

The shelling ended quickly, followed by the display of heavy machine guns and mortars, which Luo Zeping had to wait patiently for.

The Japanese infantry guns and heavy machine guns were also firing, bullets whizzing around, and he instinctively buried his head a few centimeters deeper.

In the contest of heavy firepower, the guerrilla detachment held its own, which greatly excited Luo Zeping. He personally witnessed a Type 92 heavy machine gun being blown away by a Type 60 mortar from the firepower platoon.

The Japanese fought very tenaciously, slowly advancing under a hail of bullets, getting closer and closer until they were finally within rifle range.

Luo Zeping selected a Japanese soldier who was holding a saber upside down, which was standard issue for officers. He slowly brought his gun muzzle toward the target's head, about 150 meters away, intending to blow his head off!

The order to fire rang out, and Luo Zeping confidently pulled the trigger. Without warning, the Japanese soldier ducked back, and Luo Zeping's bullet grazed the officer's scalp before flying away.

Luo Zeping blushed, realizing he had missed. He glanced guiltily at Lin Yongwang, whose gun had also fired, hitting an officer 300 meters away.

"Holy crap, is this even human?"

Lin Yongwang's gun barrel also lacked a scope. Since his promotion to platoon leader, he no longer occupied the sniper's position and focused his energy on command.

Lin Yongwang's casual shot ignited Luo Zeping's competitive spirit, and he adjusted his scale to "3" and picked another target to get revenge.

This time he learned his lesson and stopped hitting his head. The 300-meter dash was a big challenge for him, and he wasn't sure he could keep up.

He measured the wind speed according to the instructions taught by the military academy instructors, aimed, fired, and shot it away again.

Lin Yongwang killed another Japanese soldier; he was over 200 meters away and could take him down with a wave of his hand.

Luo Zeping was convinced and stopped being overly ambitious. He obediently turned his gun towards the officer he had shot down earlier, now within a hundred meters.

Luo Zeping pulled the trigger, and a flower of blood bloomed on the target's chest. He managed to salvage some of his dignity and couldn't help but sigh:

"The guerrilla detachment is truly full of hidden talents!"