The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

The wind in the dry ditch carried a slightly earthy smell, blowing along the fallen weeds at the bottom of the ditch.

Li Dazhu squatted behind a stone embankment that was about half a person's height, the rough gun butt digging into his palm.

He slowly turned the pistol over, the barrel resting diagonally against his thigh, not daring to reveal any reflection.

The bottom of the ravine in front of us was full of rocks and withered shrubs. The sun shone on the white stones, making our eyes sting.

He squinted, his jaw muscles tensed, and he stared intently at the opening of the trench directly in front of him.

The soldiers of the Second Battalion were scattered on the slopes on both sides.

It's wider here than Heisonggou, but the terrain is fragmented, with potholes and mounds everywhere. The mountains and plains are covered with dense pine trees, their intertwined branches casting scattered patterns on the ground.

The soldiers lay prone in the pits under the tree roots, their rifle butts pressed against their shoulders, their sights peering through the gaps in the branches and leaves, their eyes fixed on the bottom of the ditch.

The only sound on the entire slope was the rustling of pine needles in the wind.

The wounded soldiers of the First Battalion had just evacuated through the secret passage in the back ditch.

When Old Zhou passed by Li Dazhu, half of his face was covered in blood and mud. He was panting heavily and grabbed Li Dazhu's arm with his only good hand.

"The Japanese cannons can hit the top of the hill, so don't pile people together."

Old Zhou smelled of blood, and Li Dazhu nodded.

Old Zhou let go and was helped away, staggering.

Li Dazhu turned around and crawled halfway up the stone embankment, using both hands and feet. He reviewed the firing network of each company once again.

Each firing position can accommodate a maximum of three people, with a 20-step blind spot between each firing position. Once three magazines are emptied, a new firing position must be chosen.

He then directed men to cut several crooked pine branches from the top of the slope. The branches were wrapped in strips of gray cloth and tied behind protruding rocks. From two hundred paces away, the reflective gray cloth looked like protruding gun barrels.

After tying the branches together, a young soldier climbed back into the pit and whispered, "Company commander, will this really fool the Japanese?"

Li Dazhu didn't look at him.

"I can't fool you anymore, and you won't have a chance to ask."

At 9:20, the sound of gravel breaking came from the direction of the gully mouth.

The sound of leather boots crushing dry branches drifted over from the bottom of the ditch in the crosswind.

Yamazaki's main force has gone into the ditch.

The Japanese vanguard was much more cautious than they had been at Heisonggou. The skirmish lines, tanned in color, were spread out wide, with each soldier spaced five or six steps apart, their Type 38 rifles held high in front of their chests.

Several scouts led the way, their bayonets constantly shoving through the withered grass and dead branches at the bottom of the ditch. The blades scraped against the stones, making a harsh, screeching sound.

But the fatigue from the long journey eventually showed.

The easy breakthrough at Heisonggou caused the main force's formation to show signs of loosening.

A sergeant had his rifle slung across his neck and was chatting idly with the person next to him, his head tilted to the side. A private's canteen cap wasn't tightened properly, and the water spilled all over his leggings, soaking a large area.

Yamazaki rode a tall horse in the middle of the procession. The horse's hooves slipped on the gravel, and it snorted uneasily.

The staff officer followed closely beside the horse, clutching a military map soaked in sweat.

Yamazaki gripped the reins, his gaze sweeping over the uneven, undulating slopes on either side.

It's too fragmented; all you can see are craters and mounds of earth, making it impossible to discern where a complete defensive position could be hidden.

His brows furrowed, and he tapped his riding crop twice on his boot.

"Send the scouts to check both slopes."

The three scouts immediately picked up their guns and climbed up the slippery gravel towards the east slope.

After climbing forty or fifty steps, all I saw was a ground covered with pine needles scattered by the wind. In the distance, behind a few rocks, several gray gun barrels were half-exposed and half-hidden.

The scout didn't dare get too close. He held his gun and stood guard for a while before turning around and waving to the people below.

Yamazaki's tense back relaxed a little.

He loosened the reins, and the horse continued to move forward.

Just as the middle section of the caravan had completely plunged into the ditch, the mule and horse team behind them got stuck.

In the middle of the dry riverbed, several old stone embankments, about waist-high, lay across the road. The mules hauling the ammunition refused to climb them. The mules and horses were huddled together at the bottom of the ditch, and the driver was sweating profusely, cracking his whip loudly.

The mule, in pain, craned its neck and brayed mournfully.

The originally spread-out formation was forced into a huddle here.

Li Dazhu lay prone behind the highest stone embankment, his gaze fixed on the chaotic group of Japanese soldiers beyond the crosshairs.

The sweat on my palms made the gun handle slippery and hard to grip.

He forcefully pressed his raised left hand down.

The slopes on both sides of the dry riverbed came alive instantly.

"beat!"

Dozens of flames shot out simultaneously from the scattered pits.

The gunshots shook the pine needles, causing them to fall in a rustling sound. Bullets rained down on the bottom of the ravine from all directions.

The Japanese army's central section was instantly cut into three parts. Those in front were blocked by high stone embankments, while those behind were blocked by frenzied mules and horses. The few dozen Japanese soldiers squeezed into the very middle became sitting ducks.

The sounds of bullets piercing flesh mingled with screams as Japanese soldiers collapsed in droves on the rocky beach.

Yamazaki reacted with lightning speed; the moment the gun fired, he tumbled off his horse. The warhorse, struck in the neck by a stray bullet, neighed and crashed to the spot where he had just been.

Yamazaki scrambled behind a boulder, his facial muscles twitching violently.

He pressed himself tightly against the cold stone, listening to the whistling bullets flying overhead.

Something is wrong!

The ambush at Heisonggou was well-organized, with concentrated firepower and a clear direction. But the firepower in front of us was scattered; a shot from the left, a burst from the right, and we couldn't find the main position.

"artillery!"

Yamazaki screamed at the top of his lungs, not even bothering to spit out the dirt that flew into his mouth.

"Bring the cannon up!"

Hearing the commotion, the artillery detachment left outside the ditch immediately pushed their Type 92 infantry guns inward. However, the bend in the dry river ditch was too sharp, and the bottom of the ditch was full of waist-high embankments.

The heavy wooden wheel got stuck between two large rocks and couldn't be moved no matter what.

The artillery sergeant, his eyes bloodshot with rage, roared for his men to dismantle the cannon barrel and its base. Seven or eight Japanese soldiers, shirtless, carried the hundreds of pounds of steel parts on their shoulders and trudged into the ditch, their steps uneven.

They have just climbed over the first hurdle.

Behind an old pine tree on the eastern slope, Gardenia lay nestled among the thick pine needles. The cold wooden saddlecloth of the Mosin-Nagant pressed tightly against her cheek.

She kept one eye closed and the other eye pressed against the scope, not even her eyelashes moving.

Three hundred and twenty steps, the wind was blowing to the right, and the wind rustled the branches of the trees.

She slowed her breathing, and the rise and fall of her chest gradually subsided.

In the field of vision, a Japanese observer was carrying a rangefinder and climbing uphill with his rear end sticking out.

The wind stopped for a moment, and the leaves remained still.

Gardenia taps her index finger.

The butt of the rifle slammed into her shoulder, the immense recoil sending numbness through half her body. A bullet, whistling sharply, instantly traveled three hundred paces.

Observe the right shoulder of the hand from the center.

Before the Japanese soldier could even scream, his body suddenly flipped backward and he fell straight down the stone embankment. The heavy rangefinder smashed into a sharp rock, and the glass lens shattered.

The other observer nearby shuddered in fright and instinctively crouched down to pick up the pile of fragments.

Without pausing, Zhi Zi quickly pulled the bolt, pushed the cartridge, and chambered the round. The scalding hot cartridge case flew off and landed in the pine needles, scalding them and sending up a wisp of white smoke.

The second shot was fired.

The observer, who was crouching by the rock, had a burst of blood mist erupt from his chest, and collapsed onto the rock like a broken sack.

Without the rangefinder, the artillery was completely blind.

The hastily assembled infantry gun could only fire blindly, relying on guesswork. The first shell whistled as it hit the western slope, snapping a pine tree as thick as a bowl in half.

The flying shrapnel severed the surrounding branches, but there wasn't a single scream.

The second shot was even more absurd, landing directly in the pile of rocks belonging to the Japanese troops themselves at the bottom of the ditch. Several pieces of rock were blasted into the air, slamming into the head of a Japanese machine gunner, causing his brains to splatter out instantly.

Hiding behind a boulder, Yamazaki watched the artillery in disarray, his teeth grinding with rage.

"Machine gun squadron! Crush Dongpo!"

Four Type 92 heavy machine guns were quickly set up in a blind spot at the bottom of the ditch. The ammunition feed plates made a continuous clicking sound, and a dense barrage of fire swept across the east slope.

The bullets struck the muddy ground, kicking up a half-meter-high column of earth. They hit tree trunks, sending bark and sawdust flying everywhere.

But Li Dazhu had already planned ahead.

After firing three magazines of bullets, the men from Dongpo immediately rolled backward along the shallow trenches they had dug beforehand. The Japanese heavy machine guns locked onto the smoking empty pits and dummy gun barrels, unleashing a furious barrage of fire.

They fought for a full five minutes, but apart from a ground littered with broken branches and shattered stones, they didn't even see a single Eighth Route Army soldier.

The Japanese infantry at the bottom of the ditch could not hold out any longer.

One after another, sniper shots appeared out of nowhere overhead, and one by one, their comrades fell down beside them.

The Japanese soldiers in the front row lay motionless in the cracks between the rocks, refusing to raise their heads no matter how much the sergeant kicked and cursed them. Those in the back even began to retreat, hunched over, along the path they had come from.

Yamazaki drew his command sword and swung it backhand, striking a piece of dead wood beside him.

"Military Police! Those who retreat will die!"

A dozen or so military police wearing red armbands and carrying bayonets blocked the back of the line.

A terrified recruit had barely scrambled back a couple of steps when a military policeman rushed up and smashed a rifle butt into the back of his head.

The sound of bones cracking was clearly audible. The recruit twitched twice and lay motionless in the pool of blood.

Bloodstained bayonets forced the remaining Japanese soldiers to push forward against the sniper fire on the slope.

At the highest point of the western slope, Li Dazhu lay prone behind the earthen embankment, his gaze fixed on the earthen-yellow figures struggling to advance at the bottom of the ditch.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced behind him. Three hundred meters away on the high ground, the regimental communications soldier was holding up a hand flag.

Three small flags, red, yellow, and green, were waved vigorously three times in the wind.

After inflicting casualties, withdraw in batches.

Li Dazhu tucked his pistol back into his waistband. He climbed down the embankment into the ditch.

"Attention all companies, withdraw according to the predetermined route! The special operations company will leave thirty men behind to see them off one last time!"

The Second Battalion's retreat was carried out in an orderly manner.

The firepower from the three pits on the left suddenly intensified, and the men on the right immediately slid backward down the reverse slope. Once the men on the right had set up their guns on the next ridge, the men on the left took turns providing cover as they retreated.

The retreat routes drawn by Li Dazhu were already etched into the minds of the company commanders. Who would take the dry ditch, who would go through the forest, and who would meet at the dilapidated temple on the back mountain – everything went perfectly.

The Japanese soldiers at the bottom of the ditch only felt the firepower above them starting to thin out, but they couldn't detect where the Eighth Route Army was running.

Old Hu, with his thirty special operations company soldiers, clung tightly to the last high embankment. In front of each of them were two unscrewed border-issued guns.

Once the main force of the Second Battalion had completely disappeared into the pine forest, Old Hu suddenly waved his hand.

Dozens of grenades flew through the air in parabolic arcs and crashed into the bottom of the ditch that the Japanese soldiers had just struggled to climb.

The series of explosions shattered half of the slope's rubble. Thick smoke mixed with dust instantly turned the dry ditch into a dim, earthen kiln.

Taking advantage of the Japanese troops being disoriented by the bombing, Lao Hu and his group slid close to the ground and down the steep slope of the back ditch into the dense forest.

The smoke of battle has cleared.

Apart from the charred grass and the pungent smell of blood, not even a scrap of cloth belonging to the Eighth Route Army remained in the dry ditch.

Yamazaki emerged from behind the boulder, his military boots crunching on the spent cartridge cases scattered on the ground.

A Japanese supply soldier sat slumped beside a dead mule, half his arm still attached by skin and flesh. His face was covered in black mud mixed with blood, and he cried out, but his voice was torn apart by the wind.

The cries of the wounded echoed through the narrow ditch.

The staff officer jogged over, tripped, and handed over the battle report with a livid face.

"Fifty-seven people were killed on the spot in Ganhegou, and thirty-three were seriously injured."

The staff officer's voice trembled slightly as he swallowed.

"Including Heisonggou, we have lost more than two hundred people."

Yamazaki stepped onto a blood-stained stone, his gaze sweeping over the empty slopes on either side, riddled with bullet holes.

There was no joy of victory.

A chill ran from the soles of my feet straight to the back of my head.

The first gully was Black Pine Gully, the second was Dry River Gully. After descending both gullies, he was two hundred men short. The Eighth Route Army was using the terrain to slow him down.

Yamazaki looked up at the winding mountain path directly ahead. The path led to Baima Ridge, and the further he went, the more precipitous the mountains became on both sides.

No one knows if there are hundreds of dark gun barrels hidden behind the next bend.

He gripped the hilt of his command sword tightly.

"Reorganize the troops, leave the wounded in place, and the main force continues to advance."

The staff officer froze, then abruptly looked up.

"Lieutenant Colonel! This is highly unusual! Two ambushes in a row, there's likely a third one ahead!"

Yamazaki turned around, his cold gaze making the staff officer swallow the rest of his words.

"They have no soldiers left."

Yamazaki gritted his teeth, as if trying to persuade his staff officer, or perhaps trying to persuade himself.

"One battalion in Heisonggou, one battalion in Ganhegou, plus the regimental headquarters and the wounded, they have at most a thousand men."

"With their troops so scattered, their main position at Baimaling must be empty!"

The staff officer opened his mouth, but in the end he could only lower his head and retreat.

The Japanese troops regrouped.

Leaving behind heavy supplies and seriously wounded soldiers, the remaining six hundred-plus people dragged their weary steps and continued to move towards the regimental headquarters ditch.

The formation was still relatively intact, but the fearless spirit they once possessed was gone. Everyone's heads were bowed, their eyes only daring to look down at the increasingly narrow mountain path beneath their feet.

Tuanbugou, the command post of the Independent Regiment.

Zhao Weiguo sat on a wooden stake, holding the battle report that Li Dazhu had just delivered in his hand.

In the battle of Ganhegou, nearly a hundred enemy soldiers were killed, while the 2nd Battalion suffered three dead and nine seriously wounded. The entire force has now withdrawn to its pre-arranged positions in the regimental headquarters ditch.

He laid the sweat-soaked note flat on his knees and tapped it twice heavily with his fingers.

Two bloodletting cuts reduced Yamazaki's forces by a quarter.

The remaining six hundred Japanese soldiers, their morale dampened and filled with suspicion, were already a weary force.

He stood up and walked to a high point outside the command post.

Following his gaze, Yamazaki's remnants were writhing along the narrow mountain path, like a long snake whose tendons had been pulled out.

Zhao Gang came out of the tunnel and stood beside him.

"Li Dazhu and his men have retreated, and the third line of defense has been set up."

Zhao Weiguo didn't turn his head, but simply reached out and brushed the yellow dust off the cuffs of his military uniform.

He turned around, walked back to the table, and picked up the red and blue pencil that had been worn down to half its length. He drew a heavy red circle around the bag-shaped gorge at Tuanbugou on the map.

"Is the mortar company in position?"

Zhao Gang nodded and followed.

"Everything is in place."

Zhao Weiguo threw the pencil on the map and pressed his knuckles against the red circle.

"Use all twenty-three shells left, not one of them, and fire them all into this circle. Twenty-three shells, not a single one can be wasted."

The wind blew in from the mouth of the ditch, causing one corner of the map to curl up. Zhao Gang reached out and pressed it down.

Neither of them spoke.

In the distance, Yamazaki's troops were getting closer and closer.