Chapter 25: The Madness of the Japanese Devils

...When American soldiers in the Pacific theater felt fear upon encountering the Japanese military's fanatical combat style, such scenes had long since become routine for us.

In comparison, we were even more fanatical.

If we were not this fanatical, how could we have held our ground throughout such a prolonged war while being completely outclassed in terms of weaponry and equipment...

...Excerpt from Hu Biao's diary collection, "Hu Says"...

Around 7:46, when a shout of "Commander Hu, the Japs seem to be coming up!" rang out, Hu Biao bolted from the dugout.

After nodding in approval at the sentry from the logistics unit, he ignored the torrential, pea-sized raindrops pelting down and threw himself into the trench, which had already become a muddy mess in such a short time. Alongside Wang Peng and Zhou Kun, he stared wide-eyed into the depths of the rain curtain.

In truth, even under such heavy rain, the two sides in Luodian were still locked in a life-or-death struggle.

Because of this, both sides were constantly firing illumination flares.

These devices could barely function in the rain, providing just enough light for the nearby Position No. 7 so that it wasn't pitch black.

However, due to the downpour, the visibility for Hu Biao and his men remained abysmal.

Hu Biao strained his eyes, only to find that beyond fifty meters, he could only make out vague, shadowy figures. If the distance exceeded a hundred meters, even with his sharp 1.5 vision, he could see nothing at all.

Now, as Hu Biao pricked up his ears, he could only faintly hear the sound of footsteps in the heavy rain, slowly approaching the position.

It seemed the Japs had launched an attack despite the downpour.

Yet, after a brief analysis, this environment was actually quite good news for those of them on the defensive.

The main reason was that their biggest fear—the Japanese using Type 92 infantry guns and grenade launchers to destroy their "Little Bean" tanks—no longer seemed to be a concern.

Under these visibility conditions, the enemy's artillery and grenade squads simply had no way to aim.

Hu Biao was not wrong about this.

What he hadn't anticipated was that even with the accuracy of their direct-fire guns and grenade launchers severely reduced, the Japs would still launch an attack, and the process would be so incredibly fanatical...

Just as Hu Biao was weighing whether to lead his men to open fire early to disrupt the enemy’s rhythm, even if they couldn't clearly see their opponents, seventy or eighty flashes of fire suddenly erupted before them.

It was more than a dozen Japanese light and heavy machine guns, along with an even greater number of Arisaka rifles, firing desperately from a distance toward the position.

A second or two later, two or three grenade rounds came crashing down.

Suddenly, a dense hail of bullets whistled overhead, and the grenades from the launchers landed and exploded, sending up massive sprays of mud and water.

If it had just been this, the three men huddled by the trench would not have panicked. They had reinforced the trench, and the dugout was still functional.

The key was the terrifying sight they soon witnessed: under the cover of the Japanese's full-force fire suppression, groups of three or five soldiers were hunched over and charging out from the rain curtain.

In each group, there was a man bare-chested, wearing a headband that looked like a blood-stained menstrual pad, clutching a bundle of something to his chest.

Even without seeing clearly what they were holding, Hu Biao, Wang Peng, and Zhou Kun realized instantly: these were Japanese suicide troops, similar to the "dare-to-die" squads of the Nationalist Army, and they were carrying satchel charges to blow up the tanks.

Instinctively, as they raised their weapons to aim, they shouted in unison: "Fire! Shoot them down! You must not let them get through!"

No sooner had they finished shouting than their mouths were filled with rain—rain that tasted of blood.

Under these circumstances, the firepower from Position No. 7 and the "Little Bean" tank erupted to its maximum intensity.

******

Once the battle began, the tactics of both sides were so simple they were hair-raising.

To put it bluntly, one side wanted to charge up and blow up the tanks, while the other was determined to stop them at any cost. To achieve their goals, both sides turned into beasts.

Therefore, the battle entered a white-hot state from the very beginning.

Knowing they would be finished the moment the Japanese suicide squad got close, Gao Yi and Zhang Wei turned the "Little Bean" tank back and forth, firing desperately to create a lethal fan of fire.

Combined with the firepower from the position, the Japanese suicide troops stumbling through the mud were mowed down one after another.

But these Japanese were fierce; ignoring casualties as if drugged, the moment one group fell, another group charged out from the rain.

It was as if they were an endless, surging tide that could never be killed off.

This style of combat put tremendous pressure on novices like Hu Biao and his men. They soon forgot everything else, with only one thought in their minds:

Fire. Keep firing. As long as you're not dead, keep firing.

Then, as their magazines ran dry and their firepower waned due to mounting casualties, the pressure on the position grew ever greater...

When the count reached five in his mind, Wang Peng discarded his Arisaka rifle and reached toward his left side without looking.

Before the battle, he had known that reloading these old bolt-action rifles was cumbersome. To maintain continuous fire, he had prepared five pre-loaded rifles and placed them aside, saving reload time and allowing him to fire more shots.

But when he reached out, his hand met empty space. Unknowingly, he had exhausted the ammunition in all five rifles.

Meanwhile, just to his left, a Japanese soldier with a bullet wound in his leg was still clutching a satchel charge, limping toward the "Little Bean" tank, now less than ten meters away.

Gasping, Wang Peng drew a Mauser C96 from his waist.

Imitating the way Li Xiangyang fired in the movies, he flipped his wrist and held the pistol at an angle, firing 'bang, bang' in rapid succession.

It had to be said—there was a reason why the Mauser was disliked by the Germans who originated it; the recoil was simply too great, and the muzzle jump was severe.

For a novice, it was impossible to aim, and the first few bullets flew off to who knows where.

One shot, two shots... By the fifth shot, Wang Peng finally struck the Japanese soldier in the abdomen, causing him to collapse with a scream.

Just as Wang Peng breathed a sigh of relief, he felt as if his chest had been struck by a heavy hammer. Struck by a 6.5mm Arisaka round, he fell backward instantly.

Lying in the muddy trench, Wang Peng still tried to crawl up with his Mauser to keep firing, but he felt a sharp pain in his chest and a weakness in his limbs that made it impossible to rise.

Fortunately, at this moment, the gunfire from the Japanese side thinned out and soon ceased entirely. Could it be that their attacking force had retreated due to heavy casualties in such a short time?

Indeed! This fanatical Japanese attack had finally been repelled.

The most critical factor was the death of the Japanese commander.

As Wang Peng clutched his chest, Captain Kuki—who was in the rain curtain, just seventy or eighty meters in front of the position, holding a Nambu Type 14 pistol (a weapon so pathetic even a dog would shake its head)—felt a bitter despair at the staggering casualties his men had suffered in such a short time.

After wave after wave of suicide squads had been wiped out, and with the machine gun and grenade squads providing cover having been decimated, he had few men left.

He finally understood the mindset of Young Master Feng when facing the "Little Bean" tank hours earlier.

Thinking of his superior, Major Oguri Sasaki, and the demand that he commit seppuku if he failed to take this damned position, he acted like a desperate beast. Throwing away his useless pistol, he drew his katana and charged forward through the mud.

In the rain and darkness, Zhang Wei, his eyes bloodshot from the fighting, did not realize the shadow charging him was actually a Japanese captain. Instinctively, he opened fire, gunning the figure down.

The Japanese soldiers following the charge, seeing their captain fall, lost all courage to continue. With a shriek, they dragged Kuki’s corpse away and retreated toward the rear.