Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 77 See the Martyrs' Shrine
The night, like ink, seeped into every crack of the bricks of Nanjing, a city ravaged by war.

On the cratered cobblestone road, the leather boots of several security soldiers crunched over the still-wet blood, making a sticky sound. They were hunched over, like a group of puppets with their strings cut, the rubber tubes of their gas masks trembling with their heavy breathing.

A soldier suddenly froze at the partially damaged breastwork of the trench.

Through his glasses, he saw dust floating in the moonlight, much like the yellowish-green poisonous fog of the daytime. His fingers unconsciously gripped the rifle trigger, gunpowder residue embedded in his fingernails falling away with a soft rustling sound.

The sound of rolling rubble came from afar, and everyone immediately huddled into the shadows. The helmets clanged against the broken wall, and the sudden sound made them all shudder.

On the battlefield, several ragged corpses lay scattered on the ground, the moonlight casting a bluish glow on their pale skin.

One of the young soldiers couldn't take it anymore and suddenly took off his mask and gagged, only to be kicked hard by the veteran.

"You fucking bastard, don't you want to live anymore? Put your mask on!" the veteran cursed viciously.

On a street behind the church, more than a dozen Dodge trucks, which Su Yaoyang had just cashed in a few hours earlier, lay silently in the shadows, their fuel tanks full of gasoline emitting a pungent smell.

Slender figures moved between the carriages. Meng Shujuan's braids were stuck to the side of her neck with sweat. She bit her lower lip and pushed the stretcher onto the vehicle. Although the wounded tried their best to endure it, low groans could still be heard from inside the gas mask.

Just then, the sound of ammunition boxes clattering came from behind, and a group of soldiers were carrying ammunition boxes past the truck.

Zhang Zhihao stood on the street, hands on his hips, staring at the boxes the soldiers were carrying. When his gaze swept over the skull and crossbones symbols that looked particularly pale in the moonlight, his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

He took a deep breath and turned to Xiong Junfeng beside him, saying, "Fumin... are you saying these are really special-purpose ammunition? Is the regimental commander lying to us?"

"Lying to us?" Xiong Junfeng shook his head: "I don't think so. The situation is already extremely precarious. The slightest mistake could lead to total annihilation. What benefit would the regimental commander gain from lying to us?"

“That’s true.” Zhang Zhihao thought about it and agreed. He looked at the dark night sky and sighed helplessly. He took a step forward and suddenly bumped into an empty shell casing at his feet.

All that could be heard was a clanging sound.

The clanging of metal carried far into the night.

Everyone froze instantly. Yu Mo, who was lifting the stretcher, strained so hard that her knuckles turned white. She only continued moving when she heard Song Mei urging her in a low voice.

Xiong Junfeng lowered his voice and said, "My brother Qiu Jie, be careful. If we alert the Japanese and cause the mission to fail, we will be held responsible even if we die nine times over."

After several hours of busy work, at three o'clock in the morning, Su Yaoyang, who was getting impatient, finally received reports from all units that all troops were ready.

In the security regiment's command post, six battalion commanders, including Huang Guantao, Li Gaoyuan, Lu Shaobin, Hou Tianyou, and Li Tao, gathered together. All of them looked solemnly at Su Yaoyang, who stood by the window with his hands behind his back.

Since the September 18 Incident, the Japanese army has repeatedly disregarded international law and brazenly released poison gas on Chinese soil.

But the Chinese army couldn't even equip its soldiers with basic gas masks, let alone launch a counterattack, let alone retaliate.

If this operation succeeds, it will be unprecedented. Regardless of the outcome, this newly formed unit, less than a month old, will definitely become internationally famous.

Although none of them knew how Su Yaoyang obtained the poison gas, they still obeyed his orders closely out of trust in him.

All six infantry battalions and one artillery battalion of the regiment, totaling more than 3,000 men, were mobilized.

When the hands of his watch pointed to 3:20, Su Yaoyang finally turned around and said to everyone: "Everyone... since the September 18 Incident, the Japanese invaders have repeatedly released poison gas on our Chinese soil to slaughter our soldiers and civilians. However, due to our country's weakness, our army can do nothing but condemn the atrocities committed by the Japanese army."

At this point, Su Yaoyang's voice suddenly rose, "However... as the old saying goes, what goes around comes around, and no one escapes the wrath of Heaven."

Today... it's time for us to fight back.

Ten minutes later, at 3:30, the heavy artillery company 1 and the artillery company 2 of the artillery battalion will begin shelling the 6th Division in front of them, launching all 500 stockpiled poison gas shells, so that the Japanese can also feel the pain we suffered in the past.

After the shelling ends, we will use the 1st Battalion as the vanguard, with the 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th Battalions in the middle to escort the wounded and the artillery battalion out along Yuhuatai, Mianhuadi and Banqiaozhen.

We must break out of Nanjing and reach Cihu Town before dawn.

May the spirit of the Father of the Nation bless our army with success.

Of course, many brothers might fall on the way to break through, or we might be surrounded by the Japanese army or even be completely wiped out.

But it doesn't matter, at least we tried and fought. Even if we die, so what?

I believe that our actions tonight will leave a significant mark on the history of the War of Resistance against Japan, and our descendants will remember us, the predecessors who sacrificed ourselves for the victory of the War of Resistance.

I... have absolutely no regrets!
Ladies and gentlemen...see you at the Martyrs' Shrine!

"Whoosh..." Everyone stood up straight and said in unison, "See you at the Martyrs' Shrine!"

Dusk fell as dark as iron, and the artillery positions were shrouded in a leaden-gray mist.

Just as the second hand swept across the dial at 3:30, the sounds of heavy breathing could be heard from behind the gas masks.

The loader's forearm muscles were bulging, and the veins throbbed beneath his protective suit. When his fingertips touched the skull and crossbones symbol on the ammunition box, his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

The moment the 11.1-kilogram shell landed in my hand, a chilling aura emanated from the steel shell.

The cannon barrel gaped open, its black mouth emitting a metallic hiss as it swallowed the projectile. The observer, crouching in front of the gun emplacement, suddenly gripped the rangefinder tightly, his knuckles turning bluish-white inside his leather gloves.

"put!"

Zhang Zhihao's roar tore through the stagnant air, causing all sixteen cannon barrels to tremble simultaneously. The dust kicked up by the recoil splattered onto his mask lens, making everything in front of him appear gray.

The echoes of the first salvo were still ringing in his ears when the gunner in charge of observation suddenly froze.

Through the telescope, the projectiles trailing pale green smoke were tracing parabolic arcs, like a flock of phosphorescent crows swooping down into the distance.

Before he could finish his observation, he heard the commander's deep, angry voice: "What the hell are you all standing there for? Load your weapons and keep firing!"

Amid the officers' curses, the loaders hurriedly continued to take shells from the ammunition boxes and repeat the same actions.

(End of this chapter)