"Ah..."
Japanese soldiers crushed under the tank treads scread and cried, so still struggling even after only half their bodies remained. But no one bothered to give them a rciful end. Compared to the dead, they cared more about killing the remaining Japanese soldiers.
With the roar of the tanks, the blood-and-flesh-caked treads rolled over the Japanese lines. Though so Japanese soldiers, burdened with bombs or even landmines, beca human bombs, they stood little chance against the fierce firepower of the STG44s. Sotis, the landmines on their bodies would explode, even endangering those around them.
But even more deadly was the flathrower...
Flathrowers—when the Chinese attacked, they relentlessly sprayed the trenches and fortifications with fire, and after the fire dragons devoured the trenches, the Japanese soldiers hiding inside, ready to launch suicide bomb attacks, were instantly turned into human firebombs.
The human bombs, their bodies set alight, ran hoarsely screaming through the trenches or across the battlefield, and then, with a boom, they exploded, blasting any survivors away.
Perhaps "human bomb attacks" had once terrified Arican and Australian troops, and even the infamous "banzai charges" could force them to retreat out of fear of casualties. But for the Chinese, whether it was suicide bomb attacks or banzai charges, these only excited the soldiers—because, for the past eight years, this had been their way of fighting.
Once, those soldiers had used their own flesh and blood to blow up tanks, fought cannons and machine guns with broadswords. But now, the tables had turned—it was finally the Japanese who had to pit flesh and blood against tanks and artillery. How could the soldiers not be exhilarated?
"Burn them, burn these sons of bitches to death!"
Amid the soldiers’ excited shouts, fire dragons swept across the battlefield. Compared to bullets, the fuel from flathrowers was far deadlier. The burning Japanese soldiers ran and scread in agony, begging their own comrades to shoot them and end their suffering. But at such monts, who could spare them a thought? Desperate to end their pain, so even charged at the enemy, trying to embrace them in a final act. You had to admit, the Japanese were still crazy.
But they clearly misunderstood one thing: the enemies they now faced were even more cold-blooded and ruthless than they imagined.
"Shoot their legs, don’t kill these bastards..."
In the rapid gunfire, the burning Japanese soldiers had their legs shot out from under them and could only writhe and howl on the ground. anwhile, the soldiers with assault rifles covered the flathrower operators as they swept the battlefield.
The trenches were set ablaze, the fortifications caught fire.
With the fire dragons rampaging, the battlefield was filled with the wails of burning n. Many Japanese soldiers were charred to a crisp, but still clung to life. As they lay on the ground, barely breathing, if soone accidentally stepped on them, the charred flesh would flake off, exposing raw, bloody muscle beneath. Desperate screams erupted from their throats, and then, another careless step...
On the battlefield, there is no rcy for anyone—at least not here. The kindness in the hearts of the Chinese had long since been erased by these beasts. Now, it was only an eye for an eye, blood for blood!
There was no other way!
The chaotic lee on the battlefield was inevitably one-sided. Facing the overwhelming firepower of assault rifles, the screaming Japanese charging forward were gunned down before they could even get close. Still, the Japanese fought with madness, so strapping small aerial bombs to their backs and charging at the soldiers, detonating themselves.
Such crazed tactics did cause so casualties among the soldiers—after all, body armor offered little protection against such violent explosions.
As the battle devolved into chaos, the armored troops supporting the infantry failed to notice twelve Japanese Type 97 "Chi-Ha Kai" tanks lurking in the nearby jungle, watching them like tigers eyeing prey. This was the only armored force the Japanese had left.
"Yoshi! Those are German Panzer IVs! With armor-piercing rounds, if we are close to within 400 ters, we can definitely destroy them!"
Captain Takaguchi was a bit excited—Panzer IVs were much easier to take out than M4 Shermans. Before the Pacific War, Japanese tank officers who had inspected German tanks in person knew the Panzer IV inside and out.
These tanks looked big, but their protection was nothing special.
"All units, attack!"
Due to outdated radios, Captain Takaguchi could only command his tank squadron to attack by waving his arms. With camouflage branches tied to their tanks, they weren’t noticed right away as they burst out from the flank.
But it was only a matter of monts before Lin Ping’an, stationed on the flank, spotted the tanks. His eyes lit up as he shouted excitedly:
"Two o’clock! Japanese tanks! Armor-piercing rounds!"
The Japanese tanks charging out of the jungle looked like moving tree stumps, covered in branches—not ideal for aiming or rangefinding. But as the powered turret swung to two o’clock, the tank gunner quickly took aim at the Japanese tanks.
"Fire!"
With the thunderous roar of the 75mm tank gun, an armor-piercing round flew from the barrel, striking the lead Japanese tank. As thick black smoke billowed from its hatch, another tank was hit.
In the next minute, Lin Ping’an and his comrades experienced the highlight of their lives. They kept aiming and firing—one Type 97 after another was hit, and on so, the turret was even blasted sky-high.
Even as tanks around him were destroyed, Captain Takaguchi kept observing the enemy through the turret slit, sweat pouring down his face. He kicked the driver’s shoulder hard—a signal to turn left.
"Left, left..."
Finally, the gunner got a bead on a Panzer IV. At a range of over 400 ters, he fired, sure he would destroy it. But with a tallic clang, the shell simply bounced off.
"Nani...?"
On the battlefield, there’s often no ti to be stunned. Before Captain Takaguchi could figure out what happened, his tank was already targeted. With a blast, it was hit and sent flying. As the ammunition cooked off, the Type 97’s small turret was blown sky-high, as if doffing its cap to the Panzer IVs.
Blown into the air as if in a salute.
In just a matter of ten-odd minutes, Lin Ping’an’s tank company systematically took out all twelve Japanese tanks.
By this point, the Japanese positions had been almost completely cleared. There were no Japanese soldiers left standing—only bodies lying in pools of blood. Yet, even so, the Japanese troops had not given up resistance. While the soldiers were mopping up the remaining enemies, so Japanese soldiers detonated grenades, choosing to die together with the attackers. Thanks to their bulletproof plates, the soldiers survived, but such encounters erased the last traces of rcy from their hearts.
"Burn these bastards to death!"
Amidst the curses, the flathrower operators unleashed jets of fire on the Japanese bodies lying on the ground, not caring whether they were corpses or wounded. Sure enough, a few Japanese soldiers who had been feigning death leapt up, engulfed in flas, screaming as they charged with grenades in hand. But before they could get far, they were hit directly by the flathrowers, and in monts, were reduced to ash.
"Burn them—don’t leave a single one alive!"
Zhao Shiqi shouted, pointing at the Japanese on the ground.
"Burn them all!"
It was a cremation by fire.
In this hellish oil field, blackened by flas, the flathrower troops were like demons under the command of the Grim Reaper, harvesting lives without restraint. Both the dead and the living were reduced to ash, and in the end, everything was consud by the raging inferno, vanishing without a trace.
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