Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

A daring plan was put into action as night fell.

A small detachment composed of engineers and daredevils, under the cover of night and ruins, silently infiltrated the edge of the Japanese-controlled area.

Using the black paint they brought, they carefully altered several key route markers, pointing the arrows to another fork in the road, at the end of which lay a densely minefield pre-planned by the defenders.

The following morning, the Japanese tank offensive resumed.

The lead tank followed the seemingly "familiar" markings and turned into the deadly fork in the road without hesitation.

The series of violent explosions reduced the first two tanks to scrap metal and blocked the passage.

The tanks behind, bewildered and caught in a dilemma, became easy targets for the defending anti-tank team.

The pressure at Shuixi Gate suddenly eased.

Midnight, outside Nanjing, at the headquarters of the Japanese 6th Division.

Division Commander Lieutenant General Hisao Tani's face turned ashen.

After a day of bloody fighting, they still couldn't take down the mere Zhonghua Gate.

The cold numbers on the battle report burned into his eyes: more than two thousand casualties, including one battalion commander and several company commanders killed in action, and that damned city wall still stood there.

"Useless! All of you are useless!" Tani Hisao slammed the battle report on the table. The command post was silent, and the officers were trembling with fear.

His gaze, like that of a venomous snake, swept over Major Tanaka, the operations staff officer who stood with his hands at his sides.

It was this very advisor who confidently assured them that they could break through Zhonghua Gate in one fell swoop.

"Tanaka-kun!" Tani Hisao's voice was icy: "How can you still have the face to live in this world?"

Major Tanaka's body trembled, and his face turned deathly pale.

He bowed deeply, then slowly drew his military knife from his waist.

No one in the command center tried to stop them.

Only the whistling of a saber cutting through the air and the muffled sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh could be heard.

Then came the sound of a body falling to the ground.

Without even glancing at the corpses on the ground, Tani Hisao said to his adjutant, "Records: In today's battle, my 6th Division fought bravely and captured Yuhuatai! However, the Chinese army resisted stubbornly with the strong city walls, especially Zhonghua Gate."

Our officers and soldiers suffered more than 2,000 casualties, while the city wall remained in the hands of the Chinese army.

The officers and soldiers all felt humiliated, and many committed seppuku to prove their resolve.

At dawn tomorrow, concentrate all artillery fire and focus on bombarding Zhonghua Gate. Infantry will launch a desperate assault; we will not rest until Nanjing is captured!

The adjutant's hand trembled slightly as he took notes.

On the 4th, in Nanjing.

The Nanjing garrison, already ill-prepared, began to run out of supplies.

Supporting the Songhu defense line, the Wufu defense line, the Xicheng defense line, and the outer positions, Nanjing's strategic reserves were emptied time and time again.

By this time, logistical support was almost exhausted.

In the underground command post at Beijige, the garrison commander faced unprecedented pressure.

The communications soldier kept bringing bad news: Yuhuatai was almost lost, Zijin Mountain was in dire straits, and Guanghua Gate was on the verge of collapse... Chief of Staff Zhou Lan suggested softly, "Commander, shouldn't we consider..."

"Shut up!" The garrison commander slammed his hand on the table, causing the teacup on it to fall to the ground and shatter.

He coughed violently, and the guard quickly handed him a medicine bottle.

After swallowing the pill, he stared at the portrait on the wall and murmured, "If I abandon the city and flee today, how will I face the Premier in the afterlife!"

At this moment, a communications soldier delivered a telegram from the General Headquarters: "If things become unmanageable, we should retreat as appropriate and plan for future actions."

After a long silence, the garrison commander said to Zhou Lan, "Send orders to all units to vow to live and die with Nanjing! At the same time... secretly prepare a retreat plan." This seemingly contradictory order reflected his extreme inner struggle.

. . . . . . . . . .

The fire at the breach in Guanghua Gate burned all night, turning the sky an ominous dark red.

The smell of burning, mixed with gunpowder smoke and a sweeter, more cloying scent of death, permeated the chilly air of Nanjing.

Xie Chengrui, the commander of the First Regiment of the Training Corps, had only slept for less than two hours when he was awakened by the anxious voice of the quartermaster.

"Commander, the ammunition count is complete..." The quartermaster's voice was hoarse: "There are less than three rounds of rifle bullets left, and as for grenades... that's less than two per person on average."

The heavy machine gun ammunition belts can only sustain a maximum of two decent sniping attacks per gun.

Xie Chengrui rubbed his bloodshot eyes, remaining silent. The number was worse than expected.

The supplies left behind by the supreme command before the evacuation are almost gone after days of intense consumption.

The situation is even more serious regarding food and medicine.

The number of wounded is increasing every moment, while the number of combat-ready personnel is decreasing sharply.

"Order all units to strictly control the firing rhythm. No firing is allowed without a clear target. Hand grenades are to be concentrated and distributed to the suicide squads." Xie Chengrui's voice was calm, but every word sounded like it was weighed down with lead: "Tell the brothers that from now on, every bullet must be used wisely."

A temporary operating room was set up in a sturdy air-raid shelter near Hanzhong Gate.

There are no surgical lights here, only a few lanterns and flashlights for illumination.

The air was filthy, and the stench of blood mixed with the pungent smell of disinfectant was nauseating.

Straw mats were laid on the ground, and the wounded lay one after another, their groans, suppressed sobs, and the occasional brief instructions from the medics mingling together.

The white coat of the military medical director, Hu Menglin, was already stained with blood and dirt so that its original color could not be seen. He was pressing on a young soldier whose abdomen had been cut open by shrapnel and whose intestines were protruding.

The soldiers' screams had become faint.

Hu Menglin glanced at the tray next to him.

It's completely empty.

The anesthetic drugs ran out three days ago.

Sulfonamide powder? That's something legendary.

Hemostatic gauze? We already tore up the sheets long ago...

We're using any reasonably clean strips of cloth we can find.

"Hold him down!" Hu Menglin shouted to Lin Wanqing, the nurse beside him. His voice was unusually calm due to exhaustion and a kind of numb resolve.

Lin Wanqing was originally a nursing student at Jinling University, but she stayed behind when the war broke out.

Her delicate face was etched with exhaustion, yet her eyes held an unusually firm gaze. She pressed down hard on the soldier's convulsing shoulders.

Hu Menglin picked up a saw—not a surgical saw, as that was already broken—but a woodworking saw, which he sterilized by heating it with the flame of an alcohol lamp.

The soldier's leg was shredded by the shell, leaving only a small piece of skin and flesh connecting it. It had to be amputated immediately, otherwise infection would quickly kill him.

"Brother, just bear with it, just for a moment..." Hu Menglin whispered, as if speaking to the soldier, but also as if speaking to himself.

The screeching sound of the saw against the bone drowned out the wounded man's screams, which rose sharply and then quickly faded.

Blood splattered on Lin Wanqing's apron and face, but she just blinked and continued to press down hard.

How many times has this scene been repeated today?