War Photographer's Notebook

Chapter 1962 One in Ten Survives
"We are going to retake the Northeast highlands."

Under the dim light, the officer who had reached the trench line said bluntly, "Let's take back the hill with our lives. If you're scared, you can do it now."

"What are you afraid of! We're going to chop off the heads of the Japanese devils!"

In the trench, a tall soldier couldn't help but shout out before the officer could finish speaking, and everyone else echoed his words.

The officer who had just arrived gestured for everyone to quiet down before continuing, "We're short on guns and ammunition; we can't even provide one bayonet for each of you."

This time we're risking our lives. All we can prepare for you, besides broadswords, is a single grenade.

After a brief pause, he continued, "Even if it means death, we must throw grenades into the Japanese horde. Even if we die, we must kill one of them first before we die."

"Better to die fighting than to be a slave to a conquered nation!" shouted a soldier in the trench, raising his broadsword.

"Better to die fighting than to be a slave of a conquered nation!"

In this trench, more and more soldiers shouted in unison, disregarding life and death.

At the same time, several soldiers brought in boxes of wooden-handled grenades and gave two to each person.

Including Wei Ran, all the soldiers who received grenades got up and left the trenches, stepping on the snow-covered ground and braving the biting cold wind as they headed towards the positions that had been seized by the enemy.

Just as the unnamed officer at the front said, their only weapons were broadswords and grenades.

They didn't even take the old, outdated rifles or Hanyang rifles—those were meant for the survivors to continue fighting. From the moment they received the grenades, they were prepared to die.

During the unusually quiet journey, Wei Ran tried to take out the Mauser pistol that was tied to the Long March carrying pole.

Fortunately, the 10-round magazine on this Mauser pistol was full, but the other two 20-round magazines were empty.

What frustrated him even more was that although his father had given him a saddlebag containing a grenade launcher, he couldn't take it out at all.

He also couldn't get the three-piece lighter set out, but he didn't try to retrieve the camera case or the large telescope.

However, he believed that even if he could retrieve it, the 1911 pistol hidden in the camera case would certainly not be there.

After putting the last food-removing knife back into the metal notebook, Wei Ran glanced at the young soldier walking alongside him, then drew the three-piece box from his waist and handed it to the man.

The latter was stunned for a moment, and then quickly shook his head. He clearly did not dislike the weapon.

He knew perfectly well that this gun might be the key to his survival.

Wei Ran was too lazy to argue with the other party, so he simply tucked the gun into the other party's belt and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

The young soldier nodded vigorously, as if he understood Wei Ran's blessing that he should "survive," and responded with "You too."

As they advanced, the cold wind began to carry more and more snowflakes, but the suicide squad grew increasingly quiet—the position that had been seized by the enemy was just ahead.

However, Wei Ran, with his eyes slightly narrowed, felt a headache coming on as he looked at the position they were trying to reclaim.

The looted high ground is located on a nearly vertical cliff, with remnants of the Great Wall even above it.

Although the position hidden in the night was not clearly visible, Wei Ran had already determined the time and space he was in and the identities of the soldiers around him.

This is the Big Sword Team led by Regiment Commander Wang Changhai on March 9, 1933.

He even knew that in the ensuing battle, fewer than 30 of the 500-man sword-wielding squad would survive.

While he was lost in thought, the others lay in wait patiently.

Using his broadsword, Wei Ran cut the rope between the two glove caps and gave them to two soldiers to warm their hands. He then put his hands inside his dog-skin hat and covered his ears.

As time went by, more and more snowflakes fell from above, and Wei Ran gradually felt colder and colder.

In this agonizing wait, the sky grew darker and darker, and the cold wind became increasingly biting.

Fortunately, the conversations on the distant, fire-lit position gradually faded and eventually stopped. After a long while, even the firelight dimmed considerably.

Just then, the person in front turned around, shook off the snow, and gently patted the right shoulder of the person behind.

Wei Ran subconsciously relayed the signal to the soldier beside him. But then, the people in front, behind, and even beside him unbuttoned their cotton-padded coats and pulled their right arms out of their sleeves.

这 是
Seeing the soldiers moving their arms, Wei Ran realized that this was probably just to make it easier to swing the broadsword in their hands.

Even just giving everyone a Mauser pistol would be nice.
As Wei Ran unbuttoned his shirt, he sighed inwardly. At some point, he had naively believed that the "Big Sword Team" was actually a "Pistol Team."

In reality, let alone pistols, it seemed that even rifles were not available for everyone before the trip.

At this moment, these soldiers who were preparing to die did have pistols of varying styles in their equipment, but not every one of them had one.

This was not heroism but desperation. At this moment, the only firearm these suicide soldiers could carry was a hand grenade, with each person having only one hand grenade.

Even so, they were prepared for battle.

At the signal of the leading officer, Wei Ran and the young soldier who delivered the gun to him began to climb the cliff from the side with one group, while the other group began to climb from the front.

This is absolutely terrible!
Wei Ran shuddered the moment he touched the rock wall; the snow-covered stones made his still-feeling hand shiver with cold.

Even so, he followed the soldiers in front of him, climbing the jagged, cold rocks as quietly as possible.

Climbing this steep slope, nearly 100 meters high and almost a cliff, was not easy, especially since the slope was covered with a lot of snow. However, they had neither crampons on their feet nor ice axes in their hands.

At this moment, the only thing these soldiers could use to help them advance was their broadswords, which could barely serve as climbing axes.

As the broad blade gently pierced the snow, using it as leverage to climb, the group drew closer and closer to the summit, and Wei Ran's heart pounded in his chest.

Gradually, Wei Ran became confident in throwing grenades at the enemy's position from this distance, and gradually, he could hear faint snoring coming from the enemy's position.

"Rat-a-tat-tat!" Just then, the Japanese machine gun opened fire.

"Grenade! Blow that son of a bitch up!"

With a roar, Wei Ran, who had already pulled out a grenade, immediately pulled the pin and swung his arm to throw it up.

Before any of the grenades exploded, he used his Mauser bayonet as an axe and climbed to the bottom of the city wall as quickly as possible, using both his hands and feet.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The explosions of grenades and the distant roar of machine guns mingled together, and taking advantage of this rare lull, more and more soldiers rushed over.

But only for a short while, the machine guns overhead also began to roar, and the soldiers who climbed up a little later rolled and fell down after being hit by the machine gun.

Amidst the roar of machine guns, several grenades were hurled onto the enemy's position.

Before the grenades could explode, Wei Ran grabbed a long wooden pole held up by several soldiers rushing up behind him, and stepped on the wall, letting the soldiers behind him push him up to the top of the wall.

At the same time, the other soldiers also used their own abilities, either stepping on the ladders they brought or forming human ladders to rush up.

"boom!"

Before Wei Ran could "run" up the city wall, the grenades he had just thrown exploded one after another, and the machine guns and even the rifles also came to a brief halt.

In that split second, Wei Ran and the others also rushed onto the city wall! "Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Wei Ran took out a Mauser pistol with only 10 bullets and pulled the trigger at the Japanese soldiers in the distance. At the same time, he placed his broadsword on the neck of a Japanese soldier who had been injured by the explosion and made a light slash.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Five more quick shots hit the Japanese soldiers around them who were trying to reach the machine gun, and Wei Ran and several other soldiers with guns beside him finally secured a precious landing point.

Putting away the Mauser pistol with only one bullet left, Wei Ran, his right arm bare, raised his broadsword and began hacking and slashing at the soldier who had also run out of bullets.

"puff!"

After easily slicing open the neck of a Japanese soldier, Wei Ran noticed that the men from Northwest China around him were actually quite methodical in their chopping.

The legendary Eight Blades of Breaking the Edge?

Wei Ran suppressed his suspicions and, after using his height and strength to deflect the Japanese soldier's bayonet, delivered a jabbing kick to the soldier's knee.

With a crisp cracking sound, he had already pushed the knife to the Japanese soldier's neck and gently pulled it.

Before the foul-smelling blood could gushed out, he had already kicked the Japanese soldier in the chest, causing it to stumble backward and collide with another Japanese soldier.

Using this small obstacle, Wei Ran slashed off the head of a Japanese soldier with a diagonal slash.

Using the precious time gained by this reckless fighting style, more and more members climbed up. After the pressure was relieved, Wei Ran immediately picked up a trebuchet and pulled the trigger in the direction the enemy was charging.

"Da da da! Da da da! Da da..."

After only two and a half bursts of fire, Wei Ran had to throw the broken gun aside—damn, it jammed.

At this moment, the Japanese soldiers on the other side also opened fire with their rifles.

At such close range, even without detailed aiming, the accuracy of these bolt-action rifles is still frightening; almost every shot hits and causes injury.

But these soldiers with their right arms exposed seemed to have forgotten about life and death. After throwing grenades with all their might, if they were still alive, they would draw their broadswords and rush forward, risking their lives to buy time for their comrades behind them to climb up.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Amidst a series of roars, the continuous explosions of grenades, and the piercing sound of gunfire, the distance between the two sides rapidly closed.

Wei Ran had already picked up his broadsword and wrapped his hands and the hilt with a rag, joining the incredibly bloody close combat amidst his roars.

"clang!"

After Wei Ran's slash was blocked by the Japanese soldier's rifle once again, he once again used the force of pressing down on the enemy's rifle to kick the leg of the Japanese soldier he didn't know.

Amidst piercing screams, Wei Ran swiftly dragged his blade and slashed the neck of a Japanese soldier, then repeatedly raised his blade and brought it down in a vicious chop.

In this seemingly endless hacking and slashing, Wei Ran had long since lost count of how many Japanese soldiers he had killed.

But he knew clearly that with each slash, the originally white wiping cloth had been stained red, and even the chill on his body was gradually replaced by fatigue, sweat, and wounds of all sizes.

This is still considered good. In this battle after battle, one after another members of the Big Sword Squad have either fallen to the ground or, with their last breath, rushed onto the enemy, helping their comrades create one last chance to kill.

"puff!"

After once again slashing down a Japanese soldier whose gun was being held tightly by a member of the Big Sword Squad, Wei Ran was also stabbed through the shoulder by a bayonet.

Despite the excruciating pain, he gripped the muzzle of the other man's gun and pulled him back forcefully, dragging the gun and the Japanese soldier out of the three-man squad, creating a rare opportunity for his comrade beside him.

"Oh!"

Wei Ran kicked the Japanese soldier in the stomach, and at the same time, a large knife slashed at its neck.

"Bear with it."

The young soldier who had previously received the Mauser pistol from Wei Ran said that he had already pulled out the Type 38 rifle and the bayonet that had pierced his shoulder.

"Thank you," Wei Ran said, grinning.

I should be thanking you.

The soldier patted the Mauser pistol still clipped to his belt. "What's your name? I've never seen you before."

"Wei Ran, what about you?"

"Guo Xiuqi, survive first, then we'll talk!"

As he spoke, the soldier untied the broadsword from his hand, picked up the Type 38 rifle he had just drawn, and charged forward.

Gradually, as more and more members of the Big Sword Squad climbed up, the Japanese soldiers gradually lost their numerical advantage, and the original Big Sword Squads also became more combat-effective as they picked up the captured Type 38 rifles.

Finally, with a final cry of despair, after suffering heavy casualties, they captured the position in the howling snowy night.

"Clean up the battlefield! Quickly!"

A hoarse voice shouted, "The Japanese will attack soon!"

"boom!"

Before he could finish speaking, a shell flew over with a whistle and crashed onto the exposed high ground.

"Lie down! Lie down!"

Amidst the rising and falling roars, the surviving members of the Big Sword Squad huddled together in the corners of the remaining broken walls, cowering among the corpses of their comrades and enemies.

Amidst the successive explosions, Wei Ran completely disregarded the penetrating wound in his shoulder, crawling in the dark as he groped for a usable weapon, using the faint reflection of the snow as light.

Also moving were the remaining soldiers, crouching low and spreading out, raising their guns and searching for targets in the distance.

Even though Wei Ran knew perfectly well that all of this was in vain, the shells that were being fired were not from grenade launchers, but from mountain guns with a range far exceeding that of rifles.

In other words, unless they have weapons with the same range, they will only be bombed unilaterally here.

And indeed, with each cannon shot, fewer and fewer soldiers remained alive on the position.

"Withdraw! Withdraw!"

Seeing the casualties mounting, the officer who had led them up finally gritted his teeth and gave the order, "Take the machine guns! Take as many as you can!"

What happened to their bodies?

"Get the gun first!" the officer roared, his eyes bloodshot.

Including Wei Ran, many of the surviving members of the Big Sword Squad gritted their teeth and tried to take as many captured weapons and ammunition as possible. With resentment and frustration, they left the high ground they had just reclaimed amidst the shelling.

Using the reflection of the snow, Wei Ran, who was carrying a crooked-handled gun on his shoulder, a grenade launcher in his hand, and even a bag containing eight grenades hanging from his mouth, could clearly see that less than one in ten had survived and made it back from this highland.

He heard even more clearly the officer behind him crying; the sobs, muffled by the cold wind, contained sorrow, heartache, resentment, and...
There is also a shared sense of despair among the Chinese people of this era, a despair as if they could not see the light.

(End of this chapter)