Chapter 28: A Ray of Light in Hell

During the Battle of Songhu, my brothers and I received several shipments of relief supplies for the troops. These supplies varied in type, and the occupations of the donors were just as diverse; there was everything imaginable in those parcels. However, once we received these goods, what was inside or whether it was useful didn't really matter much to us. What mattered was the heartfelt sentiment of our own people. More importantly, it taught us one thing: if even a cabaret dancer or a beggar could stand firmly behind us in this war against aggression, then we would never give up, nor could we ever give up.

— Excerpt from "Hu's Sayings," a collection of Hu Biao’s diaries.

It was 5:51 AM on August 29, in the twenty-sixth year of the Republic of China, and the sky was already brightening. Yet, the heavy rain that had begun shortly after nightfall the previous day was still pouring down relentlessly, showing no signs of stopping.

In the cramped company command post on the front line, Hu Biao sat heavily on a stack of empty ammunition crates. His legs were almost completely submerged in muddy water; if this continued, it wouldn't be long before he developed the legendary trench foot. His feet would rot away, and there would even be the danger of amputation. But at this moment, Hu Biao couldn't bother with such dire consequences that would take days to manifest. Damn it! It was as if he, Hu Biao, could actually survive the day.

Yes, that was right. Hu Biao was absolutely certain of one thing: he would not live through the day.

Why? Throughout the long night that had just passed, they had not received a single reinforcement or a single extra bullet, yet they had endured three separate attacks from the Japanese. The first attack was the most intense; the Japanese, having rested for four hours, charged the positions like they were pumped full of adrenaline, targeting the small "tankette" in particular. Five of the six "living mines" had detonated, each one claiming a number of Japanese soldiers. Even so, after several more minutes of fighting and suffering at least a hundred casualties, the Japanese finally retreated. As for why the last living mine didn't go off—the brother carrying it was too severely wounded and had passed away silently in the rain before the Japanese could reach him. When they cleared the battlefield later, his hand was still locked so tightly around the grenade's fuse pull-cord that it couldn't be pried open.

Fortunately, the intensity of the subsequent two attacks had diminished significantly, for reasons unknown. The Japanese retreated after losing only twenty or thirty men, seemingly just going through the motions. Even so, because every skirmish resulted in casualties, there were now only Hu Biao, Zhou Kun, and five supply soldiers left in the trenches who could still move. Outside the position, inside the tankette, were Zhang Wei and Gao Yi, along with the four severely wounded brothers who had volunteered to be living mines. Right—they had been lying in the rainwater for over two hours now, and no one could say for sure if they were still alive.

Of course, there were some silver linings. First, when Hu Biao and his men cleared the battlefield, they found plenty of ammunition and "melon" hand grenades; among them were some 7.7mm rounds, which kept the machine gun on the tankette from falling completely silent. Second, experience is the best teacher, and Hu Biao and his men had grown tremendously during the fighting.

After firing countless rounds, though their shoulders were swollen and aching from the recoil of the rifle stocks, the marksmanship of Hu Biao and his men had improved significantly within a fifty-meter range. Even when the Japanese charged rapidly, they could land a hit with every two or three shots. But with so few men left, the decline in firepower was an undeniable fact. Therefore, once the rain stopped and the Japanese artillery had a clearer line of sight, they could easily approach and destroy the tankette with direct fire. Without the tankette as their core defensive point, these men would be completely finished.

Thus, facing their inevitable deaths, everyone was doing something different. Zhou Kun used a few empty ammunition crates as a desk while standing in the water, scribbling rapidly on a stack of cigarette paper. This doctoral student in materials science from a prestigious university intended to write down the developmental trajectories and key points of physics and chemistry for the coming decades. If any of them survived this battle, they would hand these over to the people in Northern Shaanxi. It would surely be of great use, and it would mean they hadn't come to this world in vain.

As for the future of history and the major events to come, Gao Yi was writing those down inside the tankette; middle-aged men, once they reach a certain age, always seem to pay attention to such things. Well, you know how it is.

The five supply soldiers were devouring the remaining meat buns, eating like starving ghosts; even when they choked, they would pause for a moment and then continue eating. In their words, if they were going to die, they refused to be hungry ghosts.

As for Commander Hu Biao, he was like a chimney, puffing away incessantly. As soon as he finished one cigarette, he would reach for the pack again. Perhaps he hoped this would bring a flicker of warmth to his freezing heart. When Hu Biao reached for an empty cigarette pack, he didn't panic. Beside him sat a large burlap sack filled with small, individual packets of relief goods—candies, letters, cigarettes, and more—like opening a blind box every time. Hu Biao figured if he opened enough of them, he would eventually find a pack of cigarettes.

But when Hu Biao casually opened one of the packets, he froze. Inside, besides two packs of "Fairy" brand cigarettes, was a photograph. It was black and white, about the size of half a palm. Hu Biao recognized the smiling woman in the photo instantly; she was the lead beauty from the Paramount Ballroom advertisement he had seen when they first entered Nanxiang Town: Annie. Back then, Hu Biao had thought that once he escaped to the International Settlement and made his fortune, he would definitely hold this woman and dance the night away. He never expected to make contact in such a way.

After admiring her beautiful face and figure, Hu Biao turned the photo over and saw a few lines written in elegant, vertical cursive with a fountain pen:

"Once this war begins, regardless of north or south, age or gender, everyone has the responsibility to defend our land and resist the enemy. It is a pity that I am but a woman, too weak to go to the front lines to kill the enemy. But as a daughter of China, I wish to offer my support to our soldiers at the front. Whether you are a general or a private, why don't we make a gentleman's agreement? You focus on killing the enemy heroically at the front line, and one day, bring this photo to the Deyuelou Restaurant next to the French Concession in Shanghai. I shall prepare a grand feast to host you, and we shall drink and converse until we are both intoxicated."

"Heh! Who would have thought that a woman like Annie would be so playful?" Hu Biao muttered after reading the lines on the back. This special relief item felt just like the wish card a girlfriend of his in the modern world had once given him for his birthday. As long as he held the wish card, he could have one wish fulfilled. For instance: wearing a maid outfit, tying his hair in twin tails, and calling her 'Master.' Although Annie didn't promise to dance with him, but rather to host him for a meal and drinks, Hu Biao felt a strange warmth spread through his heart after reading it.

It was as if a beam of light had pierced through the dark clouds, the rain, and the leaking roof of the command post, warming his entire being. Suddenly, Hu Biao wanted to live. He wanted to hold the position and survive with honor. In the future, he could stand tall, go to the Deyuelou Restaurant, and eat Annie's meal until he was thoroughly drunk.

"Stop eating, you lot! Help me reload all the empty magazines and rifles. We will hold out until reinforcements arrive." After carefully wrapping the photo in oil paper and tucking it securely against his chest, Hu Biao shouted.

*******

At 7:12 AM, the Japanese launched an attack as the rain let up slightly. Just like the battle the night before, the Japanese tactics were nothing new; it was the same old routine of long-range fire suppression followed by waves of suicide squads charging forward. Hu Biao and his men responded in kind, firing continuously, shooting down any Japanese soldier who dared approach the tankette.

If there was any difference, it was that when the whistling in the air grew closer, Zhou Kun, who was operating the ZB-26 light machine gun, didn't have time to move. He was struck directly by a blind shot from a Japanese Type 92 infantry gun. He didn't even have the chance to be a living mine like Wang Peng and the others. When the battle ended, Hu Biao searched through the waist-deep water in the trench, but he couldn't find any piece of his comrade larger than a fist. The notes he had spent half the night writing were also nowhere to be found. One could only say the Japanese artillery had great luck, or perhaps Zhou Kun had terrible luck.

In the end, Hu Biao fished the ZB-26 out of the muddy trench, but after one glance at its warped barrel, he tossed the thing away.

"No matter what, I will survive," Hu Biao told himself.