Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

When night fell, the entire defense line was brightly lit.

The soldiers worked hard to strengthen the fortifications with the weak light of lanterns and flashlights.

Trees were cut down to reinforce the roof of the bunker, communication trenches were dug to connect various firing points, and mines and barbed wire were laid in key areas.

Li Xiaodou was assigned to the transport team, and together with dozens of soldiers, he transported ammunition from the rear to the front line.

The heavy ammunition box pressed down on his thin shoulders, making every step extremely difficult.

In the early morning, when he made his fifth trip back and forth, the sky in the east was already turning pale.

"Xiaodouzi, take a break." The quartermaster handed the boy a cold and hard steamed bun.

Li Xiaodou sat down against the ammunition box and wolfed down his first proper meal in days.

Just then, he heard a low and unfamiliar roar.

"Plane! Japanese planes are coming!"

The shrill sound of sirens rang out at dawn.

Twelve Japanese bombers appeared in the morning light and dived towards the Xiejiaqiao position.

The next moment, there was a deafening explosion and the whole earth was shaking.

Li Xiaodou immediately rolled into the trench. After three months of bloody battles in Shanghai, he was already accustomed to dealing with the Japanese bombings. . .

The first wave of airstrikes lasted about twenty minutes. As the planes left, several newly repaired fortifications were destroyed, and the first casualties appeared on the battlefield.

"Paramedic! Paramedics are needed here!" The shout came from the right wing position.

Li Xiaodou saw a soldier about his age holding his broken leg and wailing, with bright red blood gushing out from the base of his thigh.

Without the nausea and vomiting he felt when he first saw the blood a few months ago, Li Xiaodou simply mourned for his unfortunate comrade and then began to eat the steamed bun in his hand.

At 8 o'clock in the morning, the vanguard of the Japanese 16th Division arrived at the outskirts of Xiejiaqiao.

Through the telescope, Yi Anhua saw a scene that made his scalp tingle. At least twelve tanks were leading dense infantry and advancing towards the position along the road.

"Anti-tank guns ready!" The order was transmitted to every corner through the trenches.

However, the division's anti-tank artillery company suffered heavy losses during the retreat, and its only four German 37mm guns were deployed in key positions.

The gunners nervously calculated the distance: 1500 meters, 1000 meters, 800 meters...

"Fire!"

The shell whizzed out of the barrel and hit the leading Japanese tank.

These artillerymen who survived the Battle of Songhu have become so proficient in the use of anti-tank guns that they can basically avoid wasting a single shell. . . .

Those who couldn’t shoot accurately… In the fiercely contested Battle of Shanghai, they would basically be reduced to smithereens by the Japanese retaliatory artillery fire, along with their tanks and men…

However, the crisis was far from over. More tanks were approaching, and the Japanese infantry were within grenade-throwing distance.

At the critical moment, the artillery in the rear finally showed its power. The national army artillery group hidden in the suburbs of Changshu began to fire in unison, and the shells accurately fell into the Japanese attack formation.

At the same time, there was a sound of fierce gunfire coming from the direction of Fushantang.

The 13th Regiment of the Japanese Army attempted to cross the river and encircle the flank of Xiejiaqiao, but was met with a head-on attack by the well-prepared 21st Army of the Gui Army.

The Guangxi soldiers were skilled in close combat. They waited until the Japanese were halfway across the river and then launched a sudden counterattack, engaging the enemy in hand-to-hand combat. The water of Fushan Pond was dyed red with blood, and countless corpses floated on the river.

At the main position of Xiejiaqiao, the Kuomintang soldiers took advantage of the setback of the Japanese attack and launched a local counterattack.

In a semi-underground bunker behind the position, Division Commander Wang Jingjiu was observing the battle situation through the artillery telescope.

Shells exploded near the bunker from time to time, causing sand and dirt to fall from the ceiling.

"Commander, it's too dangerous here. You'd better retreat to the command post." The chief of staff advised.

Wang Jingjiu said without even turning his head: "My soldiers are fighting in the front, how can I retreat?

Tell the artillery commander to concentrate his firepower on the Japanese second echelon and not allow them to rotate and attack."

The battle lasted until dusk, and the Japanese army finally retreated.

The battlefield temporarily returned to calm, with only the groans of the wounded and the occasional sound of cold gunfire breaking the silence.

Wang Jingjiu walked out of the bunker and personally inspected the front line.

He stopped in front of Li Xiaodou and looked at the wound on the boy's shoulder: "How old is he?"

"Ten...eighteen years old, Master."

"Well done." Wang Jingjiu patted the boy's shoulder and turned to Yi Anhua: "Your brigade fought well today, but you must be vigilant against the Japanese army's night attacks.

Take turns to rest and reinforce the fortifications, tomorrow will only be more brutal."

When counting the casualties, Li Xiaodou's company lost another 18 people.

Throughout the Xiejiaqiao defense line, the 259th Brigade suffered more than 500 casualties, but the Japanese army also paid a heavy price, leaving more than 400 bodies in front of the position, including Colonel Yukizo Kurihara, commander of the 13th Regiment, who was killed by a National Army sniper.

As night fell, Li Xiaodou leaned against the trench wall and wrote a letter home in the moonlight.

This was his habit after every war, even though he knew it was almost impossible to send the letters.

That night, on the Yangtze River, the remaining gunboats of the National Army launched a suicide raid in an attempt to disrupt the Japanese army's logistics lines.

The huge cannons of Jiangyin Fortress roared from time to time, and the shells cut through the night sky and flew towards the Japanese assembly area.

At Wang Jingjiu's division headquarters, officers were holding a combat meeting.

The map hanging on the wall marked the enemy and friendly situations, with red and blue arrows intertwined.

"The Japanese will undoubtedly send more troops." Wang Jingjiu pointed at the map. "Next, we need to organize a flexible defense along the Xiejiaqiao and Fushantang lines, trading space for time..."

Outside the window, the bleak early winter weather foreshadows the coming of a more brutal battle.

At dawn on November 18, gun smoke covered the entire Wufu Defense Line like a thick curtain.

After three consecutive days of fierce fighting, the land along the Xiejiaqiao line was almost completely turned over by artillery shells.

The once neat farmland is now covered with craters, and dark brown bloodstains can be seen everywhere on the broken walls of the village.

Li Xiaodou curled up in the trench and carved another mark on the butt of the gun with his bayonet.

This was his third day on the Wufu Line.

The boy's face was thinner than a few days ago, with sunken eye sockets, but his eyes showed a hint of determination after having experienced the baptism of war.

"Are you counting the days again?" Company commander Zhao Dahu handed over half a cold steamed bun and lit a wrinkled cigarette.

The left ear of this man from Northeast China was wrapped in bloody gauze, a souvenir of yesterday's hand-to-hand combat.

Li Xiaodou nodded and took a bite of the steamed bun.

In the distance, the Japanese artillery fire began to roar again, like the horn of death.

"It seems the Japs won't wait for us to finish breakfast." Zhao Dahu blew out smoke rings and shouted to the soldiers in the trenches: "Get to your positions!"

The position immediately became active.

The soldiers quickly took up their combat positions, the machine gunners pulled the bolts, the ammunition handlers opened the bullet boxes, and the snipers looked for the best shooting points.

This troop, which retreated from the Battle of Shanghai, had been fighting with the Japanese 16th Division on this line of defense for three days and three nights.

The Japanese artillery preparation was more intense than ever before.

The shells fell like raindrops, and the whole earth was shaking.

The recruits huddled at the bottom of the trenches, their hands tightly covering their ears, while the experienced veterans judged the landing points by the whistling sound of the shells and calmly adjusted their positions.