Chapter 297: Cannon Fire
Just at the moment before more than three hundred artillery pieces were about to thunder, on an unnamed high ground dozens of kilometers away from the flank of the main battlefield, a silent battle had already quietly begun.
Under the morning sunlight, this cliff over three hundred meters high appeared exceptionally stern.
It was like a silent giant beast overlooking the winding highway below. The biting morning mountain wind battered the bare trees and gray-white cliffs recklessly, producing a whooshing sound.
Suddenly, on the nearly vertical gray-white cliff, more than twenty shadows almost fused with the rocks were moving with difficulty.
Their movements were slight yet determined, like geckos clinging to the rock wall. Several minutes later, one shadow finally grabbed a protruding rock at the cliff edge. He exerted force to push himself up, flipping his entire body over the cliff edge.
This was a soldier wearing Shanxi Militia special operations uniform.
He didn’t pause at all. He immediately supported himself on a wind-twisted tree trunk at the cliff edge, laboriously raising the submachine gun in his hand with its muzzle aimed at the direction of the mountaintop, providing alert for his comrades behind him.
The morning sunlight filtered through the sparse tree shadows, mottling his face. Under the helmet covered with camouflage netting, beads of sweat had already formed on his forehead, sliding down his cheeks.
This cliff had no name. On the Shanxi Militia’s combat map, it had only one cold code name—Point 87 Unnamed High Ground.
According to intelligence, a Japanese infantry detachment was stationed on this cliff. Their mission was to monitor and block an important supply highway below.
Due to the extremely dangerous terrain, easy to defend and hard to attack, the Japanese commander stationed here—Squad Leader Tanaka—appeared very arrogant and negligent.
He had not arranged any sentries on the cliff edge. In his view, such a steep natural barrier meant that the Chinese could never climb up here unless they were reincarnated mountain cats with wings.
At this moment, if Cat in the bushes on the mountaintop looked toward the other side of the mountain, he could clearly see the Japanese position.
A group of Japanese soldiers in disheveled clothes were leisurely building fortifications. Some even gathered together smoking, and their muttering conversations and laughter could be heard from time to time, completely oblivious to the impending threat of death.
On the cliff top, one after another militia special forces member climbed up silently. They quickly dispersed, forming a semicircular assault formation with their dark gun muzzles already aimed at the Japanese who were still chatting idly.
“Ah… I really envy Kobayashi-kun!”
A Japanese soldier slacking off leaned against an unfinished fortification dirt pile, smoking contentedly while kicking the dirt mound in front of him hard, complaining jealously with a full face of envy:
“Damn it, that guy Kobayashi was so lucky. While repairing the trench, he got his finger cut off by an engineer shovel.
Now he’s comfortably lying in the rear medical cave, enjoying the care of those gentle nurses, without worrying about Chinese artillery strikes or having to go to the front line nervously. He’s so damn lucky!”
Several companions beside him also chuckled, chiming in one after another, fantasizing about finding some excuse to go to the rear for “rest” themselves.
At that moment, Squad Leader Tanaka, who had sharper ears, suddenly frowned. He listened intently, then elbowed the soldier still complaining beside him: “Hey, wait, listen… it seems like there’s some sound on the mountain.”
As he spoke, he vigilantly picked up the Type 38 rifle beside him and looked around tensely.
The mountain wind blew, producing a “rustling” sound in the woods.
“Captain, you’re too nervous. That’s just the wind…” The soldier who had been complaining waved his hand carelessly. It seemed this guy despised his own captain’s timidity.
However, before he finished speaking, he horror-struck saw that in the direction of the mountaintop Tanaka pointed to, from that seemingly calm forest, suddenly seven or eight small black dots flew out.
Those black dots traced precise parabolas in the air, dragging faint smoke trails, heading straight for the trench where they were!
“No… not wind! Hand grenades!”
Squad Leader Tanaka’s pupils contracted sharply. He let out a shrill scream, and almost instinctively shouted this while throwing himself to the ground regardless.
“Boom… boom boom boom…”
Almost the instant he hit the ground, the violent explosions instantly resounded through the entire Japanese position.
Several U.S.-made MKII offensive grenades accurately landed in the densest area of Japanese soldiers. The explosive blasts mixed with dirt, gravel, and torn flesh directly hurled several stunned Japanese soldiers into the air!
“Fire!”
Before the smoke from the explosions cleared, a militia special forces soldier suddenly leaped up from the grass and bushes on the mountaintop. The Thompson submachine gun in his hand, nicknamed the “Chicago Typewriter,” spat out frenzied flames. Dense .45 bullets poured down like a rainstorm on the chaotic Japanese below.
Behind him, more than twenty special forces members also appeared simultaneously. While suppressing with their submachine guns and Garand rifles, they charged fiercely toward the Japanese position like tigers descending the mountain.
The Japanese soldiers stationed here were completely stunned by this sudden, textbook-perfect assault! The soldiers who had been bragging moments ago now had blank minds, left only with survival instincts.
Ogawa and others scrambled down the mountain like frightened rabbits, desperately trying to flee this death zone.
But it was too late.
The special forces members from above rained down dense bullets, instantly downing most of the fleeing Japanese. Blood stained the newly built fortifications red.
The special forces members didn’t pause. They leaped into the trench.
Facing the remaining enemies, they didn’t even bother shooting again. Instead, they directly drew their military knives and bayonets, thrusting fiercely at the Japanese still resisting stubbornly. The cold blades piercing warm flesh produced bursts of “puchi” sounds.
The entire battle lasted less than three minutes.
Soon, facing these enemies like gods of death from heaven, the remaining dozen or so Japanese soldiers whose morale had collapsed could only drop their weapons, trembling as they raised their hands in surrender.
And just at the moment when this key high ground, Point 87, was cleanly captured by the Shanxi Militia special forces team.
“Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!”
Three signal flares—two red, one green—were fired into the sky with sharp whistles, bursting into three brilliant yet deadly fireworks in the morning sky.
This was the signal for the general offensive!
Almost at the same time the signal flares rose, truly deafening cannon roars began to echo through the heavens!
“Fire…”
“Fire…”
On the rear artillery positions, Zhang Zhihao and Xiong Junfeng shouted the orders with all their strength.
The gunners of more than three hundred artillery pieces yanked the lanyards fiercely. The huge gun barrels recoiled violently backward, then shells carrying vengeance and destruction hurtled out at terrifying speeds of hundreds of meters per second, emitting air-tearing shrieks like swarming locusts, blanketing the sky toward the Japanese positions.
If before today, some clueless guy dared ask Li Yunlong: “Hey, Old Li, have you seen an artillery barrage?”
That person would surely get kicked in the ass by Li Yunlong until it blossomed, then drowned in his spittle.
Damn it, who are you looking down on?
From participating in the Huangma Uprising to now, Li Yunlong had been in the army for over ten years, crawling out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood. He had fought countless battles big and small, and gunfire was as commonplace as daily meals for him.
Whether Japanese artillery barrages or Nationalist artillery barrages, had he experienced few?
But when he saw the scene before him, he was still utterly shocked.
He was sprawled in the trench, the cigarette butt dropping from his mouth to the ground, eyes bulging like copper bells, mouth agape enough to fit an egg.
What did he see?
That wasn’t the “artillery barrage” in his cognition. It wasn’t scattered shells falling and blasting a few craters.
That was… a storm of steel! A flood of destruction!
With the signal flares rising, he only saw countless, uncountable shells lifting from the rear horizon, converging in the air into a cloud of death, then almost simultaneously smashing ruthlessly into the Japanese positions!
“Rumble… rumble rumble…”
Indescribable gigantic roars merged into one, the earth trembling violently like chaff, as if an earth dragon was turning over.
Though far away, Li Yunlong felt his internal organs shifting in this terrifying vibration.
Immediately after, the entire Japanese position was instantly engulfed by massive columns of thick smoke and flames shooting skyward.
Countless gravel, dirt, twisted steel, even shredded limbs, were blasted high into the air by the heaven-destroying shockwave, then fell like rain.
The entire Japanese position, in mere seconds, completely turned into a veritable death zone of flames, debris, and thick smoke.
“Damn it…”
Li Yunlong muttered to himself, then a nearly mad smile appeared on his face. “This… this is what a damn artillery barrage is, exhilarating… damn exhilarating!”
But what shocked Li Yunlong wasn’t just this. What stunned him most was the duration of the barrage.
As time passed, Li Yunlong gradually felt something was off.
Isn’t it an artillery barrage? Why after more than ten minutes, it still hasn’t stopped? If the barrage doesn’t stop, how can the infantry charge?
Half an hour passed… the barrage continued. Only then did Li Yunlong realize something was wrong.
“Damn it, that guy Li Gaoyuan didn’t tell us the barrage would last this long. That spendthrift, how many shells is this wasting? These are all money!”
