Chapter 42: Night Raid on Guiyang City

Hundreds of Red Army soldiers moved swiftly through the cold rain, launching simultaneous assaults on several security regiment encampments.

"Tat-tat-tat-tat!"
"Bang, bang!"

Gunshots echoed continuously through the rainy night, and within moments, several positions held by these security regiment soldiers were brought under control. Even the soldiers who had still been playing cards and smoking surrendered their weapons.

In the direction of Guiyang, the Nationalist military leadership was abruptly awakened from sleep by a phone call from Xue Yue.

"The Wujiang River defense line has been breached by the Red Army. Their main force is currently heading south overnight, pressing directly toward Guiyang."

This news caused the Nationalist leader's vision to go black. After all, the entire city of Guiyang currently held a mere single regiment of troops, alongside three logistics battalions. Yet those logistics battalions possessed no combat capability whatsoever; the only fighting force available consisted of this mere thousand or so men.

"W-what did you say? Repeat that."
"The Wujiang River defense line has been breached by the Red Army, and their main force is heading south overnight, pressing toward Guiyang."

Thunder rumbled. He took a deep breath, steadying his emotions slightly before rebuking angrily:

"Dammit... Xue Yue, what on earth have you all been doing?! With hundreds of thousands of troops forming tight blockades, how on earth did the Red Army manage to slip around behind us?!"
"Rush reinforcements to Guiyang immediately!"

With that single phone call, the eight Central Army divisions, Yunnan provincial forces, Guizhou provincial forces, and others—which had originally been searching for the main Red Army force in the Gulin area—began a forced march through the night, rushing to reinforce Guiyang.

At that moment, the city of Guiyang was engulfed in lightning, thunder, howling winds, and torrential rain. Escaping by plane was clearly out of the question; they had no choice but to hold out and wait for reinforcements.

If they held firm, there would still be a way out.

The good news was that the Wujiang River was still some distance from Guiyang—a hundred or so li away. Coupled with the storm, even if the Red Army's main force had grown wings, it would still take them a full day and night to reach Guiyang. The Nationalist troops currently inside the city still had some time to deploy their defenses.

However, the Nationalist forces inside Guiyang were completely unaware that, in the western suburbs of the city, a Red Army force of over four thousand men was already closing in on the urban area amidst the flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder.

At the west city wall, the young and able-bodied men of the Basha Miao Village were already barefoot, with ropes bound tightly around their waists. Behind them lay a vast formation of assault team members pressed flat against the ground.

These youths from Basha Miao Village operated year-round in the mountain forests; they were agile and exceptionally skilled at climbing.

Company Commander Bao Bao, having served as their previous leader, naturally charged at the very forefront. He carried a British Pattern 1917 rifle on his back, a rope tied around his waist, and pressed himself close to the base of the city wall. After feeling around the gaps between the bricks, he began scaling the wall barefoot.

Amidst the flashes of lightning, Long Wencheng could use the pale green glow of the lightning to see Bao Bao's figure clinging closely to the city wall, moving upward like a gecko along the mortar lines of the bricks.

The wall was not completely vertical, retaining a slight inward slope, yet even in later eras, scaling it would have required a professional rock climber.

At this moment, Bao Bao was climbing at an astonishing speed. In less than three minutes, he reached the very top of the city wall, then vaulted across the battlements.

Climbing up right behind him were four or five other elite climbers from the Basha Miao Village. They secured their ropes to the battlements, allowing the brave warriors of Basha below to climb up rapidly, followed closely by the assault team led by Yang Gang.

The assault team members were elites handpicked from various battalions. Each of them held a "flower-neck" submachine gun; over sixty of these submachine guns had been concentrated for their use.

By this time, the defensive layout within Guiyang City had already been adjusted. The Nationalist forces had deployed their main strength along the northern and eastern city walls, as those were the sectors most vulnerable to enemy attack. Conversely, the southern and western walls had very few troops stationed for defense.

The gate tower was guarded by only a dozen or so enemy soldiers, but they had all crowded inside the tower to escape the rain, utterly unaware that in the darkness outside, enemy soldiers were quietly drawing close.

At that exact moment, a series of grenades suddenly came flying through the windows into the room, trailing wisps of white smoke.

"Ah! Grenades!" someone shouted, but it was already too late.

"Boom, boom, boom!"

As the explosions subsided, the assault team soldiers, led by Yang Gang, rushed into the gate tower, raising their weapons and unleashing a sweeping barrage upon the Nationalist soldiers inside.

Simultaneously, the soldiers of the Basha Miao Village, led by Bao Bao, charged down toward the gate passage below.

"Bang, bang!"

After a few crisp and decisive gunshots, the soldiers guarding the lower gate were also eliminated. Bao Bao and his men rushed forward and threw open the massive gates.

At that very moment, as a red flare streaked into the sky, a large contingent of Red 18th Regiment soldiers hidden outside the city—wearing coir rain capes and conical bamboo hats—poured into Guiyang through the west gate like a long, dark dragon amidst the rainy night.

"Report! A large force of Red Army troops has been spotted at the west gate! There are at least a thousand of them!"

"What?! Didn't the Red Army just cross the Wujiang River? How on earth did they get here? Did they grow wings?! Dammit! Why aren't you leading men up there to hold the line?!"

Chiang's vision darkened once more. He thought to himself what utter parasites his subordinates were; the enemy had already infiltrated the city of Guiyang before anyone even noticed.

"The bulk of our forces are deployed to the north and east. There's simply not enough time."
"What about the logistics battalion? Send the logistics battalion up there to hold the line!" he roared, practically beside himself with fury.
"Yes, sir!"

Lin Que never could have imagined that while sleeping soundly in Guiyang, a combat alert would suddenly be sounded, yanking them out of bed, handing each of them a rifle and ammunition, and even stuffing three grenades into their tunics.

"Red Army forces have broken into the city! The logistics battalion is to move up immediately! No retreat is permitted, or I'll execute anyone who dares!"

The Nationalist officer brandished his Browning pistol, shouting at the top of his lungs. The unit then marched out of camp toward the western district, and in the pauses between the peals of thunder, the rattle of gunfire and explosions could be heard echoing persistently.

Lin Que could never have conceived that he—a respectable logistics battalion commander who lived by idling the days away—would face two separate life-or-death crises within the span of just a few days.

Of course, Lin Que was no longer a logistics battalion commander; he had been demoted to a company commander. After his previous transport convoy was raided and plundered, he had returned to a severe reprimand and a direct reduction in rank.

The troop marched through the dark, rain-slicked alleys, flanked by a squad of grim-faced督战队 (discipline enforcers).

"C-Commander... No, Company Commander, are we really going to fight the Red Army in a bit?"
"Fight my foot! Even the regular armies can't beat the Red Army; a bunch of logisticians like us aren't even enough to serve as appetizers."

Lin Que possessed a clear grasp of reality. If the Red Army were truly as fragile and incompetent as the Nationalist propaganda claimed, how could they have fought this long without a definitive outcome, to the point of staging a surprise strike right in the Nationalist rear?

The soldier lowered his voice and whispered, "Company Commander, shall we run when the time comes? The brothers will listen to whatever you say. Just give the word, and we'll scamper off in a flash."

Lin Que glanced back at the discipline enforcers. Those men would show no mercy; if they said they would shoot, they would pull the trigger without hesitation. He pondered for a moment, suddenly hitting upon a method to survive.