Chapter 304: The Second Line Of Defense
The rain grew heavier, and the cold raindrops pelted the tank’s thick armor, making a “pitter-patter” sound. The tank company commanded by Zhuang Xiaoman, second platoon, advanced like a steel torrent, closely pursuing the desperately fleeing Japanese cavalry.
Those Japanese cavalrymen only regretted that their warhorses under them had two fewer legs. While firing their Type 44 carbines wildly behind them in hopes of hindering the pursuers, they madly whipped their horses without regard for anything, hoping the horses could run faster, even faster.
This was the sorrow faced by cavalry in this era.
The cavalry that once galloped across battlefields, invincible wherever they went, had long since evolved into auxiliary units used only for reconnaissance and intelligence transmission.
Especially when they encountered armored forces, it was like rabbits meeting their natural enemy, the cheetah; the only thing they could do was turn tail and flee in panic, utterly powerless to fight back.
“Da-da-da-da!”
The coaxial machine gun and anti-aircraft machine gun on Zhuang Xiaoman’s tank turret streaked lines of fire through the curtain of rain, with bullets pouring out like a downpour.
Every tank closely pursuing behind him was also firing continuously, hurling a dense rain of bullets at the Japanese cavalry fleeing ahead.
Japanese cavalrymen and their warhorses continuously screamed in the rain as they were hit and fell, their bodies tumbling under inertia or collapsing directly into the mud, splashing up large patches of muck.
Some fallen cavalrymen didn’t even have time to struggle before being mercilessly crushed under the heavy, spike-covered tracks of the Sherman tanks charging up from behind.
“Crack… screech…”
The sound of bones breaking, horse flesh tearing, and the teeth-gritting friction of tracks against mud and flesh mixed in with the rain and machine gun fire.
Bright red blood mixed with chunks of entrails was quickly blended with the damp loess under the repeated crushing of the tank tracks.
The mud was dyed dark brown by the blood, carrying a faint fishy stench, then deeply pressed into the soil under the churning of the tank tracks.
However, this pursuit was not entirely smooth sailing.
As time passed, the rain grew heavier, and a gray veil seemed to blanket the heavens and earth. Visibility became increasingly blurred, with everything ahead shadowy and indistinct, hard to make out.
Visibility dropped sharply, and the machine gunners found it harder and harder to lock onto targets through the rain curtain.
In the end, this remnant Japanese cavalry unit slipped into the depths of the rain curtain like mud eels under the cover of the foul weather, vanishing from the sight of Zhuang Xiaoman and his tank unit.
Zhuang Xiaoman had no choice but to order a halt to the pursuit, to avoid the unit falling into unnecessary trouble in the rain.
………..
Today was the third day of the offensive, the assault on the outskirts of Taiyuan.
The sky remained overcast, showing no signs of clearing; instead, the drizzling rain grew more urgent, soaking the earth into a muddy mess.
The first line of defense deployed by the Japanese 36th Division on the outskirts had completely collapsed after two days of fierce assault. The remaining Japanese forces retreated in disarray like homeless dogs toward the second line of defense. The allied forces of the Shanxi Militia and the 386th Brigade of the Eighth Route Army were now pressing the attack, launching a fierce assault on the Japanese second line of defense.
“Boom… boom… boom…”
Shells like raindrops, carrying mud, water, and smoke, instantly swept across the entire ridgeline.
This unnamed hill, at only a few hundred meters elevation, seemed like a lone little boat in a stormy sea amid the incessant roar of artillery, liable to be swallowed by giant waves at any moment. Shrapnel and shattered stones flew everywhere, mixing with rainwater and soil, clanging against the bunkers and making those inside feel waves of trepidation.
“Heaven won’t show mercy, raining at a time like this!”
Inside the command post, Li Gaoyuan, regimental commander of the 1st Regiment of the Shanxi Militia, muttered a low curse.
His face was splattered with a few mud spots, his eyes filled with anxiety and helplessness.
This weather was simply adding insult to injury for the attackers.
Through the narrow observation slit in the bunker, he could see his 1st Regiment soldiers on the muddy hillside outside, holding weapons with bayonets fixed, braving the dense bullet rain and charging up the hill in the downpour.
The muddy, slippery slope made every infantryman’s charge extremely difficult.
Their feet sank deep and shallow with each step; every forward stride saw their shoes sucked fast by the mud, requiring their full strength to pull free.
From time to time, someone would slip or trip into a hidden pothole, lose balance, and crash heavily into the mud with a “splash,” sending up a big spray of filthy water.
However, they had no time to hesitate or rest.
Those who fell would quickly roll in the mud, struggle to their feet, heedless of their mud-soaked bodies and the cold rain, driven by an unyielding will to charge once more into the bullet rain pouring down from the hilltop, toward their objective.
Rain washed their faces, indistinguishable from sweat, but not one retreated.
As for those highly anticipated assault weapons… the tanks, they were even more useless in such terrible terrain.
The thirty-plus-ton Sherman tanks could be invincible on flat, hard ground, but on steep, muddy slopes, let alone climbing, their immense weight became a burden.
The tracks slipped in the mud, the engines roared laboriously, but they could only spin in place; one slip, and the tank would lose traction due to its own weight, slowly sliding down the slick slope, utterly unable to provide effective fire support for the infantry.
At that moment, regimental chief of staff Ye Shaolin entered from outside, soaked through, his uniform clinging tightly to his body, clearly having hurried through the rain. He approached Li Gaoyuan, his voice somewhat breathless but tinged with excitement:
“Commander… the 386th Brigade has taken Wotou Ridge on the right wing. Joint Command demands we seize this hill by 1 PM!” Ye Shaolin said, pointing to the simple map on the table.
After capturing the Japanese first line of defense, the Joint Command had halted the previous rotation of Shanxi Militia attacking in the morning and 386th Brigade in the afternoon.
In its place was a clearer, more specific task allocation: the 1st and 6th Regiments of the Shanxi Militia were to concentrate forces to break the Japanese left-wing positions, while the 386th Brigade handled the right wing, advancing on both flanks to tear open the Japanese second line of defense in the shortest time.
“A Japanese infantry regiment plus an artillery regiment and cavalry regiment, but we only have two infantry regiments… taking the position on time… tough!”
Li Gaoyuan sighed. In this weather, aircraft bombing accuracy dropped sharply, shell power was greatly weakened, and as for artillery, no need to mention it—the riskily raised observation balloon couldn’t see a thing.
Firing artillery now was like a blind man riding a horse; one mistake and it’d hit their own people.
As for mortars and such, forget it—they didn’t dare fire at all, lest a misfire turn into a disaster.
At the same time, Colonel Masami Takagi, commander of the Japanese 223rd Regiment, was now crouched wretchedly in the trenches of the main position on the second line of defense.
He was drenched through by the rain, his cap askew, uniform clinging to his body; cold rainwater trickled down his neck into his uniform, making him shiver uncontrollably.
He gripped his command saber tightly; the hilt was icy and slick, yet it couldn’t suppress the anxiety surging from deep within him.
As a regiment commander, Takagi Masami had many things to consider, especially in the current battle situation.
He was now racking his brains, pondering how to cope with the allied forces’ even fiercer upcoming assault. He clearly recognized that the Chinese army before him was very strong in both combat power and individual quality. Their bravery in battle was no less than that of Imperial soldiers, even superior in some aspects.
Secondly, the enemy’s infantry firepower was alarmingly powerful.
The roar of machine guns, flames of flamethrowers, and explosive charges that could easily demolish fortifications far exceeded his own side’s firepower.
His soldiers, under the enemy’s powerful fire suppression, often couldn’t even raise their heads.
Third, and most despairing, was the enemy’s endless artillery support.
The shells raining down like the sky itself seemed inexhaustible; every barrage inflicted massive casualties and mental pressure on his troops.
His 36th Division was only a Class B division; over ten thousand men in the entire division, yet fewer than thirty 75mm mountain and field guns.
This limited artillery fire was a drop in the bucket against the enemy’s fierce barrage, leaving them short-handed everywhere in battle, only able to take a passive beating.
As he pondered bitterly, a “rumble” suddenly came from the foot of the hill. He looked toward the sound and, through the pervasive rain mist, several steel behemoths appeared starkly in his view.
Takagi Masami’s heart sank with a thud; a chill shot up his spine, and his hand gripping the saber trembled uncontrollably.
But after observing carefully again and barely making it out through the rain curtain, he finally let out a long sigh of relief.
What appeared before him was only a light tank, not the heavy tank he feared most. Otherwise, he truly wouldn’t know what to do next; aside from choosing to perish honorably, he had no way to stop a heavy tank assault.
Several M24 Chaffee tanks charged up the hill on the muddy slope, engines roaring, tracks churning, fearless.
The tanks’ heavy tracks carved deep furrows into the muddy slope, kicking up waves of muck with filthy water splashing everywhere.
Behind these tanks, shadowy figures of Chinese infantry advanced in a crouch, using the tanks for cover, surging forward like a tide toward the Japanese second line of defense.
