Chapter Eighty-Three: Ten Meters Between Life and Death

The three soldiers, clutching their satchel charges, hunched low and sprinted toward the Japanese armored vehicles, making every effort to dodge the hail of bullets. Yet their evasions proved futile. The Japanese infantry, catching sight of the trio, immediately concentrated their fire. In barely a dozen steps, all three fell, riddled with bullets.

“Damn it all!” Wang Zanbin slammed his fist against the sandbags before him, cursing in fury. He barked, “Send in the next wave!”

Another group of warriors, explosives in their grasp, charged forward. But their fate was no different—they barely made it twenty steps before being cut down in a withering crossfire.

Wave after wave threw themselves forward, only to be shot down one after another. Wang Zanbin’s face darkened with rage and frustration. As he prepared to order another assault, he suddenly realized that every member of the death squad had already gone forward.

“Commander! We can’t keep this up! If we just throw ourselves at them like this, we’ll never break through! With three of those damned armored cars blocking the way, and all those Japanese soldiers, our men can’t even get close before being gunned down!” Teng Chong, the commander of the 213th Regiment, rushed over, sweat streaming down his face.

“You think I don’t know this won’t work?” Wang Zanbin ground out, his expression grim. “But what else can we do?” With the Japanese armored vehicles forging ahead, their troops were nearly at the defensive line. If they couldn’t hold, they would be forced to retreat to the third line of defense.

But how could the third line possibly hold?

In all likelihood, Chi River would eventually fall.

Teng Chong glared as the Japanese armored vehicles pressed forward, his teeth clenched in helpless rage. He slammed a fist into the sandbags, a flash of hatred crossing his face.

The commander was right. Their 174th Division had no other options. Even knowing that throwing men forward meant heavy casualties, there was nothing else to be done.

“Damn those bastards! If only we had artillery, we wouldn’t be left helpless against these iron monsters!” Teng Chong spat out furiously, waving his hand in unwilling surrender. “Keep organizing the death squads. Keep sending them in! If we can’t blow up these armored vehicles, none of us will get out alive!”

The veterans understood Teng Chong’s words. Silently, one after another, they crouched in the trenches, then surged forward toward the Japanese vehicles—only to be gunned down in their turn.

From his vantage atop the middle armored car, a Japanese gunner manned his machine gun, mowing down the brave defenders as they charged—moths to a flame, each one falling helplessly before his muzzle. A smug smile crept across his face.

“Foolish Chinese, thinking they can blow up my armored car. They have no idea how hopeless they are!” he sneered, relishing the sense of accomplishment as his victims fell one by one.

Just then, his eye caught another defender making a dash, darting and weaving in an attempt to avoid the bullets. But to the Japanese gunner, these evasive maneuvers were meaningless. With a casual swing of his weapon, he unleashed a burst; the soldier crumpled to the ground. The gunner dismissed him with a curl of his lip and turned his attention elsewhere. Anyone struck by his bullets was as good as dead.

“Bastard! Send the next wave!” On the defenders’ side, Teng Chong cursed loudly as another soldier fell, waving his hand to signal another attack.

But just as he spoke, the commander beside him said in a low voice, “Wait! Look—there’s still hope!”

Teng Chong was taken aback, but followed Wang Zanbin’s gaze. There, where the wounded soldier had fallen, he suddenly saw movement. The man, clutching his explosives, began to crawl forward, inch by agonizing inch.

“Is he...?” Teng Chong’s eyes widened, heart pounding as he watched the soldier’s desperate efforts, praying the Japanese wouldn’t spot him.

At that moment, the enemy’s focus was fixed on the main defensive line; they failed to notice the lone figure creeping ever closer—now less than twenty meters from the armored car.

Wang Zanbin, Teng Chong, and many of the other defenders caught sight of the soldier’s movements. Even as they fired their weapons, their eyes were drawn to the crawling figure, watching each painstaking advance.

Closer—just a bit closer!

Fifteen meters.

A little more.

Thirteen meters.

As the soldier edged toward the armored vehicle, every heart on the line seemed to stop. If he could only get close enough—just close enough to destroy that machine—their burden would be lessened, even if two more vehicles remained.

Ten meters.

He was within ten meters now.

The soldier, struggling to crawl, had nearly reached the armored car, when at last the Japanese noticed him. The realization that he had closed to within ten meters sent a jolt of panic through them.

“Quickly! Shoot him! Kill him!” the gunner on the turret screamed, swiveling his weapon and unleashing a torrent of bullets.

Other Japanese soldiers fired as well.

A series of dull, heavy thuds rang out. The soldier was struck again and again—legs, arms, back, his blood soaking through his uniform and pooling beneath him.

After being hit, the soldier lay still.

Seeing this, Wang Zanbin and Teng Chong’s faces contorted with fury, but before anyone could speak, an astonishing thing happened. The fallen soldier moved once more.

Despite the hail of bullets and his grievous wounds, when all believed him dead, he stirred again.

Blood gushed from his mouth, yet he forced himself to move. This time, instead of crawling forward, he grabbed a rifle from nearby and, using it for support, shakily pushed himself upright.

“What?” The gunner atop the armored car, in the midst of reloading, caught sight of the movement out of the corner of his eye. Shocked, he looked up to see the soldier, not only alive, but standing. He froze, unable to believe it.

A flash of disbelief crossed his face, quickly replaced by rage. “Damn you! You still refuse to die!” he shouted, jamming in a fresh magazine and aiming once more. “Let’s see if you can survive this!”

He pulled the trigger, sending another volley of bullets into the soldier’s body.