Chapter 114: The Offensive Fails!

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Twelve artillery shells struck the Japanese battery with pinpoint accuracy, instantly engulfing the eight Type 92 battalion guns. The Japanese soldiers manning the guns did not even have time to scream before they were blown to pieces, leaving nothing behind. Of the eight guns, six were reduced to scrap metal in this single barrage.

Watching this, the Japanese battalion commander roared in fury, yet he was helpless. He had no choice but to order his men to quickly move the remaining two guns before they, too, were destroyed by the Chinese forces. Even for the Japanese, losing six Type 92 guns was a painful blow. With his artillery neutralized, the commander had no way to break the defensive line and could only pin his hopes on the reinforcements successfully overrunning the Chinese positions.

...

"Well done, lad! You really pulled it off!" Seeing the Japanese artillery fall silent after Zhang Xiucai's barrage, the battalion commander was overjoyed and praised him.

"Hehe, I told you, Battalion Commander! You can always count on me!" Zhang Xiucai, seizing the moment, patted his chest without a hint of modesty.

In truth, even Zhang Xiucai hadn't expected to hit the enemy position on the very first ranging shot; it was purely a stroke of luck. Usually, they would need at least one adjustment round to find the mark, but this time, they had scored a direct hit on the first try. It had to be said that the Japanese were so unlucky that even the heavens couldn't bear to watch.

"You brat, don't get cocky just because I praised you. Get back to firing! Give those Japanese a taste of real hell!" the battalion commander laughed, scolding him with wide eyes.

"Don't worry, Battalion Commander, I've got this! With us artillerymen here, the Japanese will never get the upper hand!" Zhang Xiucai patted his chest again, acting as if his twelve Type 92 guns alone could wipe out the entire Japanese 9th Division.

His antics drew a roar of laughter from the surrounding soldiers. Despite the intensity of the battle, the men showed no signs of nervousness. They returned fire in an orderly fashion and even cracked jokes with their comrades—a promising sign. At the very least, it showed that the men were neither afraid nor intimidated by the fight.

The guns shifted their fire, this time targeting the Japanese infantry, specifically the company that had been leading the assault. Ever since they had charged the front line, they had been pinned down by the defenders, unable to even lift their heads. Coupled with a barrage of grenades and light mortar fire, many Japanese soldiers had been killed while trying to take cover.

"Why haven't the battalion commander's reinforcements arrived yet?" Watching his men dwindle in number, the company commander grew frantic, his lips blistered from the sheer stress of the situation.

"Commander, the Chinese firepower is too intense! We can't hold out any longer!" a platoon leader crawled over and shouted.

Before the company commander could respond, he heard the sharp whistle of shells overhead. Instinctively, he looked up, his face turning deathly pale, drained of all color.

"It's the Chinese artillery! It's over... my company is finished!" the commander muttered in despair.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

Shell after shell slammed down, exploding amidst the Japanese ranks and blasting the soldiers who were hugging the ground into the air. One shell landed right next to the company commander; he didn't even have a moment to react before he was reduced to a pile of mangled flesh.

The Type 92 battalion gun was a small-caliber piece. Though its bore was only 70mm, its power and blast radius were comparable to a mortar. Its shrapnel spread widely, covering a radius of seven or eight meters with every hit, making it one of the most effective support weapons for basic battalion and company-level units. While not as destructive as heavy artillery—which could vaporize a man instantly—the Type 92 was lethal enough to tear anyone near the blast zone into pieces.

When the shelling finally ceased, the Japanese approach was littered with broken bodies and severed limbs. Looking across the field, the scene was one of utter carnage.

"Good! Well struck!" The battalion commander’s face lit up with excitement.

The defenders were equally thrilled. This initial victory was a major morale booster. Even though they had only wiped out a single Japanese company, it was a profound experience for the men of the 1st Regiment, who had just finished their training and had never fought a proper battle before.

At the very least, the soldiers were no longer as fearful or tense; they had relaxed into the rhythm of the Japanese assault. Having wiped out an entire enemy company so cleanly, the men realized that these Japanese soldiers were not invincible—they bled and died just like anyone else when hit by bullets.

After this baptism of fire, the soldiers grew significantly steadier. Applying their training, they returned fire methodically. They were maturing rapidly in the heat of battle. Soon, they would become seasoned soldiers.

Watching from a distance, Fang Xiaodong observed the soldiers' transformation and nodded to himself. He thought that the Brigade Commander was right: only war could forge a qualified recruit.

With that thought, Fang Xiaodong lowered his binoculars and spoke to an officer beside him: "The first wave of the Japanese attack is over, but they won't give up. They will certainly use their artillery to bombard our forward positions next. Tell the artillery battalion to be ready; the moment the Japanese battery reveals its position, give them everything we've got!"

"Yes, sir!"

...

"Nani?"

When the Japanese battalion commander led his troops to reinforce the trapped company, he was shocked to find no sign of them—only a field of corpses.

"Baka! How could the Chinese firepower be this fierce? How could an Imperial company be wiped out in such a short time?" the commander asked, his face full of disbelief.

"Sir, the Chinese machine-gun fire is relentless. Our company's own machine guns couldn't suppress them; we were trapped on the road, unable to advance or retreat. You must be cautious, sir! Do not underestimate the Chinese firepower!" said the only survivor of the company, who had crawled back to request reinforcements, leaning heavily on a cane.

Hearing this, the battalion commander nodded with a grave expression. He was not arrogant, nor did he believe that the Chinese would be easy to defeat. Having climbed the ranks from a common soldier, he knew that the Chinese troops possessed a fierce will to fight. Generally, any Chinese unit capable of holding off the Empire’s first wave was composed of men who feared no death. They would often trade their own lives just to take out a single Imperial warrior.

Against such an opponent, the battalion commander would not lower his guard. He stated firmly: "In that case, send a request to the Brigade Commander. Request artillery support to bombard the Chinese positions!"