Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

The setting sun was like blood, painted over the sky above the mudflats filled with thick smoke and steam, dyeing the rolling clouds into strange orange and iron gray.

The burning metal wreckage exuded a pungent smell, mixed with burnt flesh and the thick smell of blood, forming a stomach-churning hellish smell.

The Chuanshakou position, the defense line built with mud, minced meat and iron will in the morning light, has now been completely shattered, like a giant steel beast that is still twitching slightly after being gutted.

Around the huge puddle formed by the explosion, turbid sea water carrying sticky black and red blood plasma, broken pieces of military uniform and unidentifiable soft tissues slowly flowed back, only to be stirred up again by the shock of the next wave of artillery fire.

A swollen corpse floated on the water, its belly swollen, its skin a horrifying bluish-white, and the wounds from being bitten by fish and shrimp were faintly visible.

Zhou Zhenqiang barely managed to steady himself from the severe tinnitus and dizziness, and leaned against a half-broken tree stump that was blackened by gunpowder smoke.

A mixture of sweat, mud, and blood formed a crust on his face, and every breath burned his torn throat.

The guard desperately dragged him from his exposed position back to the only remaining depression. He looked at the last group of people still struggling on the battlefield.

Chen Changhe's rough roar will never be heard again.

The veteran huddled in a shallow swamp not far from the huge puddle that had swallowed up the heavy machine gun position.

Half of his body was soaked in dark red mud, one of his legs was twisted at an impossible angle behind his back, and the broken bone pierced through the torn trouser leg, exposed in white outside.

There was a bloody hole the size of a bowl from the left shoulder to the chest, caused by shrapnel carried by the shock wave of the explosion. The edges were charred black, and the ruptured internal organs were faintly visible.

He was still breathing, his lips moving with difficulty, but his eyes were already unfocused, and one hand was tightly grasping the broken light machine gun in the mud, as if it was his only fulcrum to another world.

Several soldiers with bloodstained faces crawled on the ground, trying to drag him out of the mud, but every movement caused a vague whimper of pain to roll out of his throat.

The gunfire became sparse and desperate.

The continuous chirping of Type 38 bullets and the intermittent short bursts of fire from the Type 99 light machine gun dominated the space.

The yellow tide of the Japanese army was approaching inch by inch, foot by foot, stepping on the gentle slope of the corpses of their comrades and defending soldiers.

The cold light of the bayonets formed a cold murderous aura in the setting sun.

The soldiers fished out weapons that could still fire from the mud, or pulled the fuse of the last grenade, and with a roar that was not human voice, rushed towards the approaching enemy, but were immediately riddled with bullets and turned into broken limbs in the flash of the explosion.

The defenses were irreversibly collapsing. Will was completely dissolved by the blood and flesh attrition that went beyond its limits.

"Brigade Commander! Lion Grove can't be defended! The flank... the flank has been attacked by the Japanese!" A communications soldier, covered in mud and with blood gushing from his arms, almost crawled in and screamed in a crying voice.

. . . . .

As if to justify the signalman's tearful announcement, the scene on the Lion Grove mudflats dozens of kilometers to the southeast became even more desperate.

The battle here has gone from brutal to complete sacrifice.

The wide river beach was also covered in thick smoke, but the difference was that the Japanese naval gun firepower was extremely concentrated and layered.

In the distance on the river, the fleet of the Third Fleet responsible for providing artillery support was more orderly.

Several small minesweepers, under the close protection of destroyers, are carefully clearing the mines that were hastily laid a few days ago.

Every time a dull water explosion was detonated, a column of turbid water tens of meters high was blown up.

In the safe waterway created by the clearing of the mine belt, the Japanese engineering corps was demonstrating chilling efficiency.

Large motorboats towed the pre-assembled floating bridge components, which were quickly connected and fixed on the turbulent and muddy river surface like building giant building blocks.

The rubber boats serve as auxiliary units, connecting to form a stable bridge deck support.

The pontoon extended towards the shore at a terrifying speed!

Several armored vehicles and even light tanks were on standby at the end of the pontoon bridge, their guns pointed coldly at the opposite bank.

An infantry regiment guarding the Lion Grove tried every possible means to stop them.

Lacking heavy firepower, they even organized a suicide squad to jump into waist-deep water and try to use cluster grenades to blow up the connection of the pontoon bridge.

However, as soon as they entered the water, they became sitting ducks for the ship's guns and the Japanese army's covering fire.

The water columns stirred up by the heavy artillery swallowed and tore people apart again and again.

The machine gun bullets were like red-hot comb teeth, combing through the swaying figures in the water over and over again.

Floating corpses accumulated in the slow-flowing area on the sides of the floating bridge, swollen and green, blocking part of the river.

The air was filled with a foul mixture of corpses and gun smoke, so strong that soldiers on both sides could not help but vomit.

"Boom!" A Japanese light armored vehicle that had just reached the shore through the pontoon bridge easily overturned the last machine gun bunker on a section of the river embankment with its 37mm main gun.

Under sporadic bullets, the engineers worked quickly to lay the wooden trestle section across the last mudflat to connect with the land.

The Lion Grove was declared lost and its gates were wide open.

. . . . . . . . .

The last rays of sunset leaked through the gaps in the thick smoke, painting the final battlefield of Chuanshakou with the crimson of hell.

A figure staggered in front of Zhou Zhenqiang, his uniform was torn, his face was covered with tears and blood. He was the quartermaster of the brigade.

He fell to his knees in the blood-soaked mud with a thud, his voice hoarse: "Commander! The ammunition... is gone! All gone!

The communication with the rear was cut off, and the supply truck convoy was attacked by Japanese planes on the road!

Nothing left! . . . No more bullets!" He spread out his muddy hands and pounded them on the ground again, whimpering in despair.

Zhou Zhenqiang's body swayed and he almost fell down.

No more ammunition! Even the last bit of hard firepower support has completely disappeared!

He raised his head, which felt as heavy as if it were filled with lead. The telescope had long disappeared, and his cloudy eyes swept across his eyes.

As far as the eye can see, there are only a few figures who can stand or crawl to shoot, less than three hundred in total!

These soldiers, all wounded, looked like puppets fished out of mud and blood, their eyes filled with a mixture of deep hatred and immense exhaustion and despair.

The defense line has collapsed into scattered and unconnected islands of craters.

The Japanese infantry's bayonets flashed coldly, and the distance to the nearest front line was less than a hundred meters!

You can clearly see the other person's face covered in blood and oil, with only a hideous outline left!

In the sky, it was unknown how many batches of Type 96 carrier-based attack aircraft were circling, like a group of vultures that had smelled rotten meat and were about to feast on it.

The dull sound of the ship's guns maneuvering in the distance was like the horn of death, foreshadowing the precise coordinate positioning of the next round of covering fire.

retreat!

These two words were like two huge pieces of blood-stained ice, smashing hard into Zhou Zhenqiang's heart!

It was cold and stinging, yet it held a suffocating, last glimmer of hope for survival.

His lips trembled violently as he stared intently at the battlefield ahead, littered with corpses and every inch soaked in the blood of his brothers.

The heroic spirit when we first arrived here to stop the Japanese landing, the expectations for the soldiers, the dreams of the elite...

Here they were all beaten back to their bloody original forms.

Every second of delay means more soldiers’ blood will seep into the mud forever!

The countless pairs of eyes that stared at him before dying, some pleading, some determined, almost dragged him into the bottomless abyss.