Chapter 330 The position is still in our hands (for Davarishsky 9/10)
In the early morning of August 6, such a night attack began on the station.
There are many things in it that neither party has thought of.
For example: As for the Japs, Major Honda and other Japs who were holding on to the position never thought that the attack on them would be launched from behind.
Those opponents whose faces were stained with blood and smelly looked worse than beggars.
They appear like ghosts, as if they emerged from the geography.
Also, the grenades in the hands of those people are really vicious and ferocious. Once they are contaminated a little, they are like tarsal maggots and cannot be destroyed no matter what.
I don't know how many people were in great despair, begging the team members to give them a shot.
It can be said that the emergence of the M15 white phosphorus grenade put too much pressure on the Japanese side.
As for Hu Biao's supplementary regiment, they did not expect that the Japanese on the battlefield would be so ferocious and unwilling to retreat.
In yesterday's night attack, when the Japanese casualties reached almost 70%, they could no longer hold their nerve and began to withdraw from the Xinshi Street position.
But in tonight's battle, even after they even used the M15 white phosphorus grenade, a weapon that seemed a bit permeable to them, the Japanese still refused to retreat.
Moreover, from the direction outside the city, there were also Japanese troops landing one after another, rushing over from Chengdu to support them.
Perhaps these supporting troops would not be large in number, but for Hu Biao and his companions to conduct such a night attack, it would be far more difficult than expected.
The problem is that now that the fight has begun, they have no other choice but to fight hard...
With a sound of "Boom~", the warehouse manager led a squad of reinforcements and rushed towards the Japanese second lieutenant on the Xinshi Street position.
Like a stupid roe deer, he was shot through the skull, causing him to be knocked to the ground immediately.
At this point, although the Japanese mortar positions were destroyed by Yang Dongli, no more flares were fired into the sky.
But on the battlefield, there were still many human-shaped fires burning blazingly.
Under the care of these firelights, it actually no longer affects the battle between the two sides.
After killing a Japanese commander, the Hun Dharma God, who was counting the bullets in his heart every time he fired a shot, did not put the 38 cap in his hand at all.
Continue to load a bullet and then fire.
Instead, he directly put down such an empty rifle and picked up a loaded, even loaded, Chinese-style rifle from his side.
After picking up such a completely different model and not light, the warehouse manager just took a slight aim.
He shot a Japs who was about to throw a grenade through the left chest and let him stagger to the ground. Immediately, the seriously injured Japs was hit by the small melon grenade in his hand, and lost his life.
"What the heck! I'm a sniper. After a shot, I have to change places and engage in this kind of artistic fighting style. I'm not a fire assaulter like Xu Feng who just rushes in with a submachine gun and only knows how to act recklessly."
While struggling to pull the bolt and load a new bullet into the chamber, the warehouse manager cursed bitterly.
The main reason is that on the position about 100 meters away, the personnel of both sides were completely mixed together, and the fight was very tense.
In order to provide support to his teammates as much as possible, the warehouse manager has transformed into a shooting machine with no emotion.
It is necessary to fire continuously to knock out the Japanese officers, machine gunners, and grenade launchers, who are threats to the team.
Even during such a process, he didn't even have time to load the rifle himself.
Fortunately, a veteran whose legs were blown off by a Type 92 infantry cannon during the daytime battle spontaneously helped the warehouse management.
A round was fired and the bullet was pressed to him, and another chamber was loaded.
In this way, the warehouse manager can lie down in a sniper position and continuously pull the bolt to fire.
From the beginning of such a night attack, even the warehouse manager didn't remember how many Japs he had killed before and after. Anyway, the number could not be less than thirty or forty.
It can be said that with his own strength, he suppressed the firepower of the Japanese side by three points.
Threats came one after another, and he killed them directly.
It's just that under such a coquettish performance, the warehouse manager felt a little frightened and guilty the more he fought, because for a sniper, not changing the sniper position for a long time is simply a taboo.
No one knows when he will be defeated by his opponent's counterattack.
This is indeed the case. When the warehouse manager put a shirtless sergeant waving a Japanese knife into the crosshairs, he didn't have time to pull the trigger on his fingertip.
A cannonball roared towards the area where they were located to greet them.
At the moment when the sound of gunfire appeared, according to the experience of the warehouse manager, this shell was just a 70mm caliber Type 92 infantry gun.
The problem was that with the speed at which the shells flew, he had no time to move. Such small-caliber shells were still enough to kill him.
So under the current situation, the warehouse manager can only hope that this cannonball will miss.
It's just that the Japanese artillerymen smashed a small cannon like the Type 92 infantry gun and almost went out of style. The possibility of such a possibility is basically zero.
Therefore, the only thing the warehouse manager can do now is to lower his forehead and protect his head with both hands.
Then, while he was waiting for the shells to fall, he was surprised to find a figure lying on top of him.
After vaguely realizing who this person was, the warehouse manager didn't have time to react. The shell landed a few meters away from them.
Under the impact of the explosion, both the warehouse manager and the man pressing on him were immediately overturned.
But thanks to the cover he had, he was able to block the most deadly shell fragments.
After Cangguan spat a mouthful of bloody spit, he felt a pain in his legs and seemed to have lost all consciousness, but he still survived.
The first time he supported his upper body, the warehouse manager asked the person next to him to look at him.
Sure enough, as he expected, the veteran who risked his life to save his life just now was the veteran with a broken leg.
The bodies on this side are all veterans with bloody flesh. It seems that after feeling the warehouse manager's eyes, he actually squeezed out a simple and honest smile.
Then, using his last bit of strength, he said: "Brother, we currently have no cowards in the 54th Division."
Under such a meaningless sentence, the warehouse manager understood the meaning.
After he nodded affirmatively, the veteran with a broken leg breathed his last.
Looking at the corpse that was almost invisible after being blown up by a shell because he was covering himself, dragging his legs whose hamstrings were probably severed by shrapnel, the warehouse manager climbed back to the sniper position just now.
He picked up a Type 38 rifle, pulled the bolt and loaded it, and then continued to fire.
Perhaps on the battlefield, there is indeed some truth to the saying that two shells will not fall into the same crater.
Anyway, after the warehouse manager climbed back here, he never suffered another shelling.
In this way, he kept loading, firing, and reloading, until he collapsed here due to severe blood loss.
And now even the two military doctors, Black Chinese Medicine Doctor and An Tusheng, are holding fire with their submachine guns. Where can anyone take care of the poor warehouse manager...
At 5:57 in the morning, when the sky was slightly bright, the Japanese attack finally stopped.
After seeing the Japanese in the distance and desperately fleeing towards the starting position, Hu Biao didn't even have the intention to pick up the rifle on the ground and fire.
With the bloody bone blade on his arm, Hu Biao sat down on the ground.
In front of his chest and abdomen, even though he had a thick DIY bulletproof insert, but because he was hit by many bullets, how many of his ribs were broken by the kinetic energy of the bullets?
Anyway, it was very laborious and painful for him to even move a little bit.
Compared with Hu Biao, the other people on the battlefield were not much better, with almost the same performance.
But in such an embarrassing state, these guys didn't know why, but they suddenly burst out laughing collectively.
As for why, the reason for this?
Hu Biao then used his memory to pull out a buried field phone in the trench.
Maybe the phone line was buried deep enough. After Hu Biao tried it and found that it still worked, he shouted directly into it:
"I am Hu Biao from the supplementary regiment. Pick up General Fang for me. I want to tell him that the Xinshi Street position is still in our hands."