Chapter 73: The Devils’ Balloons Take To The Sky
“Regiment Commander!”
Li Gaoyuan suddenly said.
“Hm…”
Su Yaoyang was slightly stunned, and couldn’t help laughing: “Old Li, why are you so serious?”
Li Gaoyuan looked into his eyes and asked seriously: “Tell me honestly, do you really plan to fight to the death, never retreating even if it means death?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I’ve figured it out. From the very beginning, you never planned to defend the church to the death. Instead, you’ve been thinking all the time about how to break out of Nanjing.”
“Hey… you even saw through that.” Su Yaoyang burst into laughter.
Li Gaoyuan was both angry and amused, and couldn’t help swearing: “Damn it, I was fooled by you at first, but later it felt more and more off.
These past few days, whenever you had time, you went to the church to teach your little maid, Doctor Song, and those female students how to march and withdraw. You even started teaching them to shoot. Is that something a person who’s single-mindedly seeking death would do?”
“Alright, since you’ve seen through it, I won’t hide it from you. I really never intended to perish together with Nanjing.” Since it was seen through, Su Yaoyang no longer concealed it and admitted frankly.
Li Gaoyuan stared at Su Yaoyang for a good while before lightly sighing and asking: “Then why do you keep shouting every day about fighting to the death?”
“Nonsense.”
Su Yaoyang gave him an eye roll. “Don’t you see what kind of people we have under us now?
They’re all a bunch of rogues and defeated old soldiers. If I didn’t put on a stance of fighting to the death from the start, with no life in death, they’d probably all run off clean in less than a day.”
“I…”
Li Gaoyuan’s mouth twitched a few times, but he then had to admit that what Su Yaoyang said was indeed the truth.
If Su Yaoyang had told those rogues from the beginning that their goal was to break out of Nanjing, the battle wouldn’t even need to be fought—they’d probably all run off after one engagement.
“So do you have any good ideas?”
“No.”
Su Yaoyang also rubbed his temples somewhat annoyedly. “Right now, there are fully several tens of thousands of Japanese troops in Nanjing City. All the roads out of the city are blocked, and even the Xiaoguanzhen Wharf fell into the devils’ hands yesterday. Unless we all grow wings, it’s hard to get out of the city.”
Li Gaoyuan didn’t speak, just imitating Su Yaoyang by rubbing his temples.
This was a dead end. They were like fish on a chopping board—no matter how they struggled, the end was death.
Su Yaoyang patted his shoulder and comforted: “Alright, don’t think about it anymore. There’s always a way when the cart reaches the mountain. All we can do is do our best and leave it to fate. If heaven really wants us to die fighting here, there’s no helping it.”
“That’s all we can do.” Li Gaoyuan patted his somewhat swollen head helplessly and said: “No more thinking about this. The Second Battalion has been fighting up front for a day. Tomorrow it’s our First Battalion’s turn to relieve them. If you have any ideas, discuss them with Huang Guantao.”
“Okay… you go.”
After Li Gaoyuan left, Su Yaoyang walked to the wall and looked at the NJ city map hanging on the wall, lost in thought. But for some reason, he always felt that something big was about to happen.
As time passed, the Ninth Division’s fortifications became increasingly fierce.
The Seventh Regiment and Nineteenth Regiment launched desperate assaults under the cover of artillery, but the Security Regiment, under the command of Huang Guantao and Li Gaoyuan, relied on the ruins under the cover of the artillery battalion to inflict heavy casualties on the Japanese army.
By 17th morning, the Japanese finally captured two street blocks of the first line of defense, but the Seventh Regiment and Nineteenth Regiment commanders had also finally exhausted their strength.
Republic of China Year 26
The cold wind of December carried gunpowder smoke, howling through the broken streets and alleys of Nanjing City.
The Gothic spire of St. Paul’s Church pierced the lead-gray sky, the gold paint on the cross long scorched black by artillery fire.
Inside the Japanese Ninth Division headquarters, Tani Hisao strode in under the protection of several guards. He heavily stamped his mud-caked military boots on a operations map fallen to the ground. The crack from the saber hanging at his waist crossed right through the red circle marking the church.
As soon as he entered the headquarters, his gaze fell on Yoshizu Ryoji standing by the window, a mocking expression appearing at the corner of his mouth.
“Is Yoshizu still dreaming of being a philanthropist?”
He pulled a telegram from his pocket and slapped it on the table, causing half a cigar in the copper ashtray to roll onto the floor. “The Ninth Division has shed enough blood in front of this damned church, but you’re still reluctant to use the special munitions?”
Yoshizu Ryoji adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his narrow eyes behind the lenses narrowing slightly: “Don’t forget, there are observers and military attaches from at least a dozen countries watching us around. If we really use special munitions, who will bear the international pressure?
We should let the Western countries witness the benevolence of the Great Japanese Empire!”
“Benevolence?” Tani Hisao suddenly burst into laughter, his saber at his waist clanging against the corner of the table.
His gaze swept over the《Nanjing City Defense Key Map》 hanging on the wall. Those arrows repeatedly revised with red and blue pencils were tangled into a dead knot at the church position. “From Shanghai to Nanjing, the Imperial Army’s benevolence has only brought more stubborn resistance—just like that Security Regiment!”
Before his words finished, a staff officer rushed in holding a telegram.
When Tani Hisao saw the words “Prince Asaka Yasuhiko’s personal order,” his eyes gleamed with joy and sharpness.
The telegram was crumpled in his palm, then slowly unfolded. Yoshizu Ryoji noticed the other’s fingers pausing for five seconds on the words “special munitions.”
“Noon tomorrow.” Tani Hisao squeezed out a cold laugh through his teeth. “As expected, His Highness sees clearly. The Chinese only understand kneeling and listening to the sound of cannon fire.”
11:40
On a high building less than three kilometers from St. Paul’s Church, Prince Asaka Yasuhiko slowly lowered his binoculars.
Just now, he had already seen through the binoculars that a convoy of sixteen trucks had arrived at Xiaolingwei. The skull markings on the lead-gray bomb casings were gilded by the noon sunlight. He took the chrysanthemum-crest pocket watch handed by his attendant; the diamond-encrusted hands were about to overlap.
“Your Highness, Yoshizu Division requests two more hours…”
Major General Iinuma Moru’s words were interrupted by the sound of a teacup shattering. Prince Asaka Yasuhiko stroked the imperial saber at his waist, the sixteen-petaled chrysanthemum gold pattern on the scabbard reflecting a distorted image.
“I’ve already given him a chance; it’s his own failing. Also, tell Tani Hisao, exactly at noon on the dot.” The prince’s voice was as cold and hard as Nanjing’s bricks and stones. “I want to see the church spire flying the Rising Sun Flag.”
Almost at the same time, on the second-line position one li away from St. Paul’s Church, Li Gaoyuan was distributing the last half crate of MARK II grenades in his hand to the surrounding soldiers.
A young machine gunner suddenly pointed to the southeast and cried out in alarm: “Regiment Commander, look quickly… the devils’ balloon is rising!”
