Holding the original shares, they fought all the way to the Korean War!

After a while.

Naoki Nakajima slowly stood up and walked to the window.

The night outside the window was still dark, and the distant mountain shadows were faintly visible in the moonlight.

He turned his back to the communications soldier inside the room and remained silent for a long time.

Then he turned around, his gaze falling on the telegram, his voice hoarse.

"Send a telegram to headquarters."

The communications soldier stood at attention, waiting for his next words.

"It has been confirmed that the 107th Regiment has been completely annihilated."

Naoki Nakajima's voice remained steady.

But beneath that calm surface, something that was being suppressed was surging within.

"Numerous signs of burning have been found in the area south of Lugu. The 69th Regiment will adjust its operational plan according to the current situation, and will report any further developments as they occur."

He paused, looked away from the telegram, and gazed at the pitch-black night outside the window.

"In addition, I will convey my personal opinion to headquarters."

"The opponent in this battle is by no means an ordinary Eighth Route Army unit; they are capable of confronting Imperial Army regiment-level units head-on."

"It is recommended that the headquarters reassess the overall combat capability of the 386th Brigade."

The communications soldier stood at attention, saluted, turned around, and quickly walked out of the house.

Naoki Nakajima sat alone in the room.

He remained silent for a long time, then whispered something.

The voice was very soft, as if speaking to oneself.

It's as if it's speaking to unseen adversaries in the darkness.

"Abe-kun, you haven't gone far enough."

Then, Naoki Nakajima sat at the table and remained motionless for a long time.

……

Taiyuan City.

Headquarters of the Japanese First Army.

Lieutenant Sato from the communications department was carrying a telegram and walking much faster than usual.

He stopped at the door of the commander's office and knocked twice.

Yoshijiro Umezu's voice came from inside the house.

"Come in."

Lieutenant Sato pushed open the door and went inside.

Yoshijiro Umezu was sitting behind his desk, wearing a military jacket.

When his gaze fell on Lieutenant Sato's face, it carried an undisguised scrutiny.

"What is it?"

Lieutenant Sato walked to the desk, stood at attention, and handed over the telegram with both hands.

"Commander, an urgent telegram has arrived from the 69th Regiment."

"The news about the 107th Regiment has been confirmed..."

He paused for a moment, as if considering his words.

But in the end, he simply told the truth.

"completely annihilated."

Yoshijiro Umezu paused for a moment in mid-air as he reached out to take the telegram.

Then he took the telegram and looked down at it.

The office was extremely quiet.

Lieutenant Sato stood there, holding his breath, his eyes fixed straight ahead, not daring to move an inch.

Yoshijiro Umezu read the telegram again.

Then he slowly put down the paper, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

He thought about many things.

Thinking back on the days since he took office as commander of the First Army.

I thought of the scene where Kiyoshi Kazuki was assassinated at Kosha Airport on the day he took office.

He thought of the restrained telegram from headquarters and the covert investigation that made him feel uneasy.

He thought he had gotten through the hardest part.

I thought those things that had kept me up at night were over.

Then something happened in Shanghai.

On Hata Shunroku's territory, two generals were sniped at the entrance of the headquarters, and the murderer is still at large.

When he was sitting in his office in Taiyuan reading that telegram, he even felt a secret sense of relief.

Fortunately, the accident happened in Shanghai, not Taiyuan.

Now that sense of relief has shattered.

Yoshijiro Umezu opened his eyes and his gaze returned to the telegram.

The 107th Regiment, with more than 3,000 men, was a fully-equipped regiment.

Just like that, it's gone, without even a complete organizational structure left.

Not a single decent telegram requesting help was sent back.

Yoshijiro Umezu's lips twitched, and then he suddenly stood up.

He placed his hands on the table, leaned slightly forward, and stared intently at the telegram.

His lips were pressed tightly together, as if there were words stuck in his throat, about to burst out.

Then, he suddenly grabbed the ceramic teacup on the table and smashed it on the ground.

The teacup shattered into pieces, spilling tea all over the floor and leaving a dark, damp stain on the carpet.

Lieutenant Sato shuddered violently.

He remained standing at attention, his forehead beaded with cold sweat, and his shirt clung tightly to his skin.

"Baka!"

Yoshijiro Umezu's voice finally erupted.

It was a burst of rage that had been suppressed for too long.

"More than three thousand people! More than three thousand people!"

"An entire regiment! Gone just like that!"

"They can't even get a complete report back!"

He walked around the desk and paced back and forth in the room a couple of times.

He pointed to the telegram on the table.

"Koichi Abe!"

"I spoke with him personally before he left, and he said there wouldn't be any problems with the sweep."

He said that the 386th Brigade was nothing more than poorly equipped guerrillas, and that they would collapse as soon as the main force of the Imperial Army pressed in!

"That's what he assured me!"

"And the result?"

"He sacrificed himself and the entire regiment!"

After he finished speaking, he took two more steps and stopped in front of the window.

He gazed out the window at the pitch-black night, his chest heaving violently.

His blurry face was reflected in the windowpane, a face that had lost all its usual composure and calmness.

Instead, there is a distortion, torn apart by anger and frustration.

It was as if he had more words stuck in his throat that he couldn't say.

He took a deep breath, then another, finally letting the surging anger subside temporarily in his chest.

He turned around, walked back behind his desk and sat down, his gaze returning to the telegram.

After a few seconds of silence, he looked up at Lieutenant Sato.

"Go and call the chief of staff."

Lieutenant Sato breathed a sigh of relief, stood at attention, saluted, and quickly walked out of the office.

The moment the door closed behind me.

He found his clenched fists were full of sweat.

About ten minutes later.

A series of steady footsteps echoed down the corridor.

The chief of staff pushed open the door and walked in.

He was dressed in a neat military uniform, and although he had been woken up from his sleep, his appearance remained impeccable.

Upon entering, his gaze first fell on the pile of broken porcelain shards on the carpet, then he glanced at Yoshijiro Umezu's expression.

Then, without saying a word, he walked to his desk and sat down.

Yoshijiro Umezu pushed the telegram in front of him.

The chief of staff glanced down at the text, his gaze lingering on those few lines for a long time.

Then he looked up at Yoshijiro Umezu, but didn't speak immediately.

There was a moment of silence.

"Is this intelligence confirmed by the 69th Regiment?"

He asked.

"Yes."

Yoshijiro Umezu's voice still carried a lingering hoarseness.

"They found the burned number flag of the 107th Regiment and fragments of the regimental commander's saber at the scene."

"The entire area was piled with burned corpses, the total number of which was basically consistent with the regiment's organizational structure."

"No signs of any survivors have been found."