You are ordered to support the War of Resistance against Japan; China enters Level 1 combat readines

"Those beasts, they actually used germ warfare!"

"This isn't war! This is a massacre! This is genocide!"

Shen Wang's voice echoed throughout the entire airport.

Someone in the queue gasped for breath, their chest heaving violently.

Some people clenched their back teeth, their cheeks taut and tense.

Gao Zilong stood in the first row, his hands clenched behind his back, his knuckles white, and veins running from the back of his hands to his wrists.

Shen Wang's gaze swept across their faces, and he slowed down his speech, uttering each word slowly and deliberately.

"Now, an additional 100,000 beasts have besieged southeastern Shanxi!"

"They thought southeastern Shanxi was finished, that we were all dead, and that they could just swagger in and scavenger the spoils!"

"What should we do?"

As the last sentence was uttered, someone in the queue shouted, "Fuck them!"

"Fuck him!" someone shouted again, this time louder.

"Burn those beasts to death!"

"Not a single one of them will escape!"

……

"very good!"

Shen Wang nodded.

In fact, this mobilization was completely unnecessary.

Which of these soldiers present did not have relatives or friends who died at the hands of the Japanese?

National and personal grievances need no further explanation, just fight!

After the roar subsided, Shen Wang waved his hand.

"Boarding."

The queue instantly dispersed.

More than a hundred people split into three groups: one group ran towards the H-6 bomber, one group ran towards the Q-5 fighter jet, and one group ran towards the J-5 fighter jet.

His steps were quick but not chaotic, and his boarding movements were clean and efficient, as if he had practiced them a thousand times.

The gangway creaked and groaned, and the cabin doors opened and closed one by one.

The engine began to warm up, and a deep roar came from the fuselage, one after another, like a group of beasts rumbling and growling in their throats.

Shen Wang turned and walked toward the lead H-6 bomber.

Zhao Gang followed behind, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just sighed heavily.

"Mr. Shen, please be careful!"

Shen Wang turned and glanced at him: "Don't worry!"

Then he climbed up the gangway, his steps steady, each step making a crisp sound as he tapped the metal ladder.

The moment the canopy closed, Zhao Gang saw him inside make a gesture toward him—a thumbs-up, simple and crisp.

Zhao Gang stood by the runway, watching the H-6 bomber's engine change from a low roar to a high-pitched shriek, its wings vibrating, causing the surrounding air to tremble.

The first H-6 bomber began taxiing.

The nose of the plane slowly turned toward the runway, the fuselage dipped slightly, and then accelerated.

It taxied, accelerated, tilted up, the front wheels left the ground, the main wheels left the ground, and the entire massive fuselage seemed to be lifted up by an invisible hand, steadily rising into the sky.

The bomb bay under the fuselage was tightly closed, and nothing could be seen inside, but Zhao Gang knew that it contained nine tons of incendiary bombs.

Then came the second one, the third one...

Ten H-6 bombers took off in succession, forming a loose wedge formation in the sky, and climbed toward the southwest.

The morning light shone on the fuselage, giving the silver-gray iron birds a thin layer of gold trim, making them look as if they had flown out of the sun.

Strong Five followed closely behind.

Thirty-six Q-5 fighters were divided into six squadrons of six. As they flew low over the runway, the roar of their engines shook the ground.

The rocket pods and bomb racks hanging under the wings gleamed coldly in the morning light, densely packed like rows of teeth waiting to fall.

They were much faster than the H-6 bombers, and after taking off, they quickly caught up with the formation in front, standing on both sides and below the H-6 bombers, like a group of sharks guarding a giant whale.

Finally, there's the J-5.

The ten escorting J-5 fighters climbed the highest and were the most agile.

They spun in the air and then steadily took up the top and wingtips of the formation, their noses slightly turned as they warily scanned the surrounding skyline.

Fifty-six planes circled once over the city, then formed up, leveled off, and flew southwest.

Zhao Gang stood by the track, looking up at the shadows that were getting smaller and smaller.

The morning light cast a half-light on his face, and something reflected in his eye sockets.

Outside the airport, the soldiers who were unloading supplies stopped what they were doing, looked up at the sky.

One, two, three... too many to count.

There were too many. As those silvery-gray shadows swept overhead, the roar of the engines rolled by like thunder, making my chest resonate.

Some people had their mouths open and forgot to close them; some people were clutching sacks in their hands, their knuckles turning white; some people stood still, their necks craning upwards until they ached, but they refused to lower them.

"Ours," someone said first, their voice low, as if talking to themselves.

"They're all ours," someone added, raising their voice a little.

"Goodness...so many..."

"Look at that! It's huge!"

"My God, how many bombs would that be?"

"Hahaha, this is going to be a real headache for those little devils!"

"I never imagined we had so many planes!"

"That's great!"

"Long live the Eighth Route Army!"

……

More and more people were talking, and their voices were getting louder and louder.

Someone threw a sack on the ground, put his hands on his hips, looked up at the sky, and grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

Someone patted the shoulder of the guy next to him, patting hard and making a loud slapping sound, while muttering, "Did you see that? Did you see that?"

A young soldier squatted on the ground, looking up until his neck ached. He simply sat down on the ground, supporting himself with his hands, and stared blankly at the shadows in the sky that were getting smaller and smaller.

A warm sensation welled up from my chest and got stuck in my throat; I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

It's cathartic, it's cathartic, it's something that's been bottled up for so long and can finally be released.

When the Japanese released the poison, they could only watch.

People were dying one after another, and they could only watch.

Their comrade had a fever but was still holding his gun, and they could only watch.

They couldn't do anything, couldn't help with anything, and didn't even have the strength to rush up and fight the Japanese with bayonets.

That kind of humiliation is worse than suffering a defeat.

it's good now.

Those things in the sky are there to vent their anger.

People started clapping. One person, two people, and finally, everyone joined in.

The sound of slapping echoed over the airport.

. . .

Yuan County.

As dawn broke, mist rose from the valley, shrouding the entire county in a layer of grayish-white gauze.

The distant mountains were indistinct, and the nearby houses were only vague outlines; only the road beneath our feet was solid.

The road had been trampled all night, muddy, potholed, and covered with messy footprints and tire tracks.

The 21st Division has already broken camp.

The embers of the campfire were still smoking, the tents were in disarray, and a few logistics soldiers who hadn't finished packing were squatting on the ground stuffing cans into their backpacks when a passing officer kicked them in the backside, sending them tumbling to their feet.

The entire camp was like a pot of porridge that had been stirred up. People, horses, and vehicles were everywhere. Curses, shouts, and the neighing of livestock were all mixed together, buzzing like a swarm of headless flies buzzing around their nest.

"Baka!"

"Hurry up! All of you, get on your feet!"