Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

"Reporting to the commander! The second wave of Japanese troops is coming, at least one company, mixed with engineers. It looks like they want to blow up the fire!"

Xie Chengrui walked to the edge of the barricade, ignoring the stray bullets whizzing by.

My gaze passed over the wall of fire and landed on a seemingly inconspicuous ruin in the distance.

There were several antennas swaying faintly, and figures were occasionally seen entering and exiting; the area was heavily guarded.

"I've found you," Xie Chengrui said in a low voice.

Based on pre-war intelligence and his observations at that moment, he determined that it was the temporary command post of the Japanese 2nd Battalion.

Major Fujii, the battalion commander, is known for his bravery and is the actual commander of this attack.

"Bring the 'old ox' over here!" Xie Chengrui ordered.

The term "old ox" was what the officers and soldiers called the last remaining Type 24 heavy machine gun.

This heavy machine gun, a copy of the Maxim gun, has some leaks in its water-cooled sleeve, but it is still reliable.

The soldiers mounted the heavy machine gun in a sturdy firing position, overlooking the ruins.

Xie Chengrui personally took the archer's seat and adjusted the sights.

He refused his deputy's offer to shoot for him: "You guys can't hit the target. This is what I practiced in France."

I took a deep breath, the cold butt of the gun pressed against my shoulder.

In my field of vision, an officer in a woolen overcoat and carrying a sword was pointing at a map, surrounded by several staff officers. That was Fujii.

"450 meters away, wind speed 3, come on..." Xie Chengrui muttered to himself, his index finger steadily pulling the trigger.

"Thump...thump thump thump...thump thump..."

The Type 24 heavy machine gun emitted a deep and continuous roar, unlike the sharp "chicken neck" sound of the Japanese Type 92 heavy machine gun.

The long canvas cartridge belt was rapidly wound into the receiver, and the scorching hot cartridge cases clattered out.

The 7.92mm steel-core bullet, like an invisible iron broom, accurately swept across the ruins.

Major Fujii and most of his staff officers fell in the first round of gunfire.

Xie Chengrui spared no ammunition, firing another long burst to ensure coverage of the entire area.

He only released the trigger when there were no more people standing in the ruins in the binoculars.

White steam billowed from the gun barrel, and the air was filled with the smell of gunpowder and the scorching heat of metal.

"Commander... we took it down! The Japanese command post is silenced!" The observer's voice was filled with unbelievable excitement.

Xie Chengrui didn't say anything, but silently took the water bottle handed to him by his adjutant and took a sip.

The icy water slid down my throat, suppressing the surging blood in my chest.

He knew that this could only delay, not stop.

The Japanese offensive will not stop just because a battalion commander died. The real test is yet to come.

On the same day, at noon, the Battle of Zhonghua Gate broke out in full force after the main position at Yuhuatai was lost.

The battles here are a different kind of brutality.

Guanghua Gate is a fiery hell, while Zhonghua Gate is a steel furnace.

Japanese tank units provided cover for infantry, repeatedly assaulting the city gates and surrounding streets defended by the 88th Division.

Most of the defenders' anti-tank guns had been destroyed in the previous shelling, and the remaining infantrymen often had no choice but to rely on cluster grenades and their own flesh and blood to face the rolling tanks.

"Artillery Company! Zhao Shoucheng! Where the hell are you?!" The division commander's hoarse roar came through the walkie-talkie.

Behind a street that had been bombed and partially collapsed, artillery company commander Zhao Shoucheng wiped the soot off his face. On his position, only three 75mm mountain guns remained, barely capable of firing.

There were very few shells left.

"Company commander, the Japanese lightly armored tanks are coming up again! Three of them, followed by infantry!" the observation post shouted.

Zhao Shoucheng climbed to the edge of the ruins and looked out. Japanese tanks were slowly advancing along the wide stone-paved street, machine gun bullets shattering the broken walls and ruins on both sides of the street.

Direct fire? Their gun emplacements had poor vantage points, and if exposed, they would be covered by the fire of the accompanying Japanese infantry.

A daring idea flashed through Zhao Shoucheng's mind: ricochet the bullets.

This was an old tactic he had heard German instructors mention during his military academy days, used for naval gun bombardment of shore bombardment or anti-armor warfare in specific terrains.

By utilizing the hard stone surface, the shells are made to hit the ground at a very small angle, causing them to bounce and thus attack the relatively weak bottom or sides of the tank's defenses.

The risk is extremely high. Even a slight difference in angle or timing could cause the shell to disappear without a trace or explode prematurely.

"All personnel! On my command! Target ahead: cobblestone street, area one, decrement sights by one, delay fuse! Gun number one, fire!"

Boom! The shell whistled out and slammed into the stone slab about twenty meters in front of the tank, sending up a string of sparks. It bounced up, but just barely missed the top of the tank turret and exploded far behind.

"Angle too large! Reduce the sight by two! Cannon number two, fire!"

The second shell landed closer, bounced, and struck the front of the lead tank's turret with a crisp sound, but was deflected and failed to penetrate!

The Japanese tanks clearly sensed the threat; their turrets began to rotate, and their machine guns fired even more fiercely.

"Damn it!" Zhao Shoucheng's eyes turned red. "Load! All cannons, aim at the same area, fire rapidly! Until they're all gone!"

He personally operated the cannon and fine-tuned the angle.

The remaining seven or eight shells were loaded into the gun barrels by the artillerymen as quickly as possible.

"put!"

"put!"

"put!"

Shells pounded one after another on the hard bluestone pavement, bouncing and crashing, making a teeth-grinding sound.

One of the shells luckily penetrated under the chassis of the second tank.

boom!

A violent explosion came from inside the tank, the turret top was blown off, and flames and thick smoke shot into the sky.

Then, another tank's tracks were broken by ricocheting bullets, leaving it paralyzed on the spot.

The Japanese offensive momentum was thwarted once again.

However, the artillery battery's positions were also completely exposed.

The Japanese infantry's grenade launchers and machine guns rained down like water.

The gunners kept falling.

"Company commander! We're out of ammunition!"

"The cannon barrel... it's red-hot, it'll explode if we fire any more!"

Zhao Shoucheng looked at the cannon barrel, which had turned dark red and was even somewhat deformed from excessive firing, and then looked at the seven or eight wounded brothers who remained around him.

The Japanese infantrymen were already charging in, howling.

He picked up an entrenching tool from the ground and roared, "Artillery company! Fix bayonets! If you don't have any! Then swing your pickaxes! Fight those bastards!"

The surviving artillerymen picked up every weapon they could find—picks, shovels, even wrenches—and launched a final counterattack against the charging Japanese troops.

In the chaos of battle, Zhao Shoucheng's entrenching tool split open the head of a Japanese sergeant, but at the same time, several bayonets pierced his body from different directions.

Before he fell, he took one last look at the red-hot mountain gun.

Evening, Shuixi Gate.

The offense and defense here are more like a battle of wits.

The garrison commander was an obscure engineer battalion commander. He carefully observed that when the Japanese tanks moved through the complex streets and ruins, they relied heavily on the markings made by the engineers in advance with lime or white cloth strips on the tracks to avoid traps and minefields.