Courtyard House: I only wiped out 30,000 Japanese pirates

He Dajun knew that he was currently behind the Japanese lines. If he attacked from behind, he could disperse the Japanese firepower and slow down their advance.

But he saw the Japanese positions below the hillside, and it wasn't just one or two companies.

Behind the artillery positions at the foot of the mountain, there was at least one battalion of Japanese soldiers stationed in a camp.

The camp was surrounded by barbed wire, four armored vehicles, and two lines of defense. Soldiers were still moving in and out, carrying ammunition.

He can launch a surprise attack from behind, which might destroy a few cannons and kill dozens of Japanese soldiers, but it won't change the overall situation and will also expose his presence.

So we have to find a way.

He was all alone; below him was the Japanese artillery regiment, and he was surrounded by a squad of infantry guards.

But he had to find a way, otherwise Jingzhou wouldn't survive the night.

He Dajun retreated behind the rocks and opened the system panel to browse through it. He had plenty of points and enough weapons, but charging straight down was too dangerous.

He had used heavy machine guns, grenade launchers, and hand grenades. The Japanese had learned their lesson. Infantry patrols had been added around the artillery positions, and every few minutes a squad of Japanese soldiers carrying submachine guns would walk around the positions.

A direct, head-on attack would be suicidal.

He needed to find a different approach, one that the Japanese wouldn't expect.

He Dajun closed the system interface, retreated behind the rock, and walked westward along the ridgeline for a while before finding a secluded thicket to squat down in.

Then I opened the system and redeemed a set of Japanese military uniform. It was made of yellowish-green coarse cloth, with standard Showa 5th generation military boots, and the collar buttons were neatly fastened.

He took off his gray cloth shirt and stuffed it into his bundle, put on the dog skin suit, pulled his hat down to cover half his face, and slung the Type 38 rifle over his shoulder.

He Dajun stood up from the bushes, tugged at the collar of his military uniform, and then strode off down the mountain with a swagger.

His strides were neither too big nor too small, his leather boots clattering on the gravel, his rhythm exactly the same as the Japanese soldiers around him.

This was a method he had used before when he raided the enemy camp at night in Beijing. It worked once, so it should work a second time.

When they were still four or five hundred meters away from the artillery position, a Japanese sentry carrying a Type 38 rifle emerged from behind the sandbag fortifications and blocked He Dajun's path.

"Password!" the sentry shouted in Japanese, his tone alert but not tense.

After all, He Dajun was wearing an Imperial Army uniform and was taking the normal route down from the mountain, so he looked like one of their own.

He Dajun didn't understand, but he was prepared.

He didn't stop, but quickened his pace, raising his hand to wave at the sentry as he walked, saying a few words he had practiced beforehand in broken Japanese: "Urgent report, there's a situation."

The sentry paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over He Dajun and then over his gun.

The Type 38 rifle, standard equipment, no problem. The uniform was also standard style, the collar buttons were fastened neatly, and the mud on the boots was the same as that on the shoes of the surrounding soldiers.

The sentry took two steps forward and asked what the urgent report was.

He Dajun had already walked to within two meters of the sentry.

A natural tension hung on his face as he pointed to the ridgeline behind him, mumbling a few words: "Up there... someone... is attacking..."

The sentry glanced up the mountain in the direction He Dajun was pointing; it was now.

He Dajun gripped the barrel of the Type 38 rifle with his right hand and thrust it upwards, plunging the bayonet into the sentry's throat from below.

The bayonet pierced the Adam's apple with such speed and ferocity that the sentry didn't even utter a sound before collapsing to his knees.

He Dajun grabbed his body and dragged him behind the sandbag fortifications. He pulled out his bayonet, placed the corpse against the sandbag in a sitting and resting position, which looked like he was dozing off from a distance.

He Dajun crouched behind the sandbags and glanced at the position.

The shelling continued. The loader was taking shells out of the ammunition box and stuffing them into the gun barrel. The gunner stood beside him holding a command flag. Everyone was busy and no one noticed that the sentry a few dozen meters away had been replaced.

He Dajun then used the system to obtain a heavy machine gun and unleashed a barrage of fire. The Japanese troops were stationed in an artillery camp with few infantrymen, and He Dajun's barrage nearly wiped them all out.

Once the infantry is out, the rest will be easy.

He Dajun picked up the machine gun, propped it on a sandbag, and aimed the muzzle at the artillerymen next to the nearest heavy cannon.

When the sound of the Type 92 heavy machine gun rang out on the artillery position, the artillerymen initially thought it was a friendly machine gun misfiring.

It wasn't until the loader standing on the outermost edge was shot through the chest and fell backward onto the ammunition box that the gunner next to him reacted.

It wasn't an accidental discharge; it was an enemy attack.

But it was too late.

He Dajun held the trigger, and the bullet flew out from behind the sandbag like a red-hot iron bar, sweeping over the gun position, over the pile of ammunition boxes, and over the artillerymen who were running towards the bunker.

With each burst of fire, several figures fell, screams and gunfire mingling together, and the artillery position instantly erupted into chaos.

Some men lay prone on the ground, guns in hand, firing in He Dajun's direction; others tried to turn the cannons to fire at the sandbags, but the heavy artillery's elevation was too low to reach such a close target. Many more simply ran off the position, forgetting even to grab their guns.

After firing a belt of ammunition, He Dajun pushed the heavy machine gun aside, stood up, and charged deep into the position.

As he charged, he exchanged grenades from the system, pulled the pins, and threw them near the still-smoking heavy artillery pieces.

The grenade struck between the gun carriage and the ammunition box, sending shrapnel and fragments flying everywhere. The gun barrel was bent, the gun carriage was blown apart, and the ammunition box exploded with a deafening roar, flames shooting into the air.

The artillery positions were illuminated as if the sun had exploded.

One, two, three. He Dajun ran around the position, blowing up all the heavy artillery pieces that could be destroyed.

After firing the last cannon, he stopped to catch his breath, looked back, and saw that the battlefield was littered with corpses, roughly a hundred in number.

There are basically no Japanese soldiers left alive.

Of course, a few cannons were not destroyed; He Dajun deliberately left them behind.

They were set up side by side at the innermost part of the position, with no ammunition boxes around them, the gun mounts intact, and the gun barrels still pointing upwards at an angle.

He Dajun ran over and checked it. The gun barrel was still warm. The loader probably hadn't had time to pull the fuse when he was killed by the machine gun.

Standing in front of those heavy cannons, He Dajun suddenly recalled the scene when he blew up tanks on Lugou Bridge.

At that time, he was also wandering around the enemy's weapons, thinking about how to use the enemy's things to fight the enemy.

He can't drive a tank, but he knows how to use a cannon. He can adjust the muzzle height and angle, load shells, and pull the fuse. The operating procedures are similar to those of a mortar.

Anyway, the target is just down the mountain, a few kilometers away. We can just bombard the area with more people.

He walked to the nearest cannon, squatted down, and looked at the dial on the gun mount. The elevation angle was too low, and the muzzle was pointing directly towards the city.

He raised the muzzle a few degrees and adjusted the azimuth angle, aiming the cannon at the open area where the Japanese infantry were gathered at the foot of the mountain.

Then he took a shell from the ammunition box next to him, pushed it into the breech, walked behind the gun carriage, and pulled the ring attached to the fuse.

Take a deep breath, then pull hard.