On October 6, 1937, the 61st Division, which had fought bloody battles with the Japanese troops on the Yunzaobang front line for three days and nights, was ordered to withdraw from its position, and its position was taken over by the Sichuan Army's 133rd Division, which had traveled thousands of miles to the Songhu battlefield.
The 61st Division fought fiercely back and forth with the Japanese 9th Division in Yunzaobang for three days and nights without retreating. Among them, Li Zhong, the commander of the 361st Regiment, and Ji Weipei, the commander of the 365th Regiment, died heroically, and most of their troops were killed.
When the remnants of the 61st Division withdrew from their positions, the 8th Division, 59th Division, 77th Division, and 90th Division, which had also fought fiercely for several days and nights, withdrew from their positions one after another due to heavy losses, and were handed over to reinforcements and friendly forces to take over the defense.
The weather was gloomy, and it seemed that countless innocent souls were unwilling to leave. Continuous fierce battles turned the battlefield into scorched earth, and there was no time to bury the rotting corpses, emitting a stench.
Lao Yanqiang's shoulder was shot through by a Japanese rifle, but fortunately the bullet was not left in his body. At this moment, a bandage hung around his neck, and his face looked heavy.
Sichuan soldiers wearing single clothes and straw sandals were busy on a position full of corpses, repairing the position that was dilapidated by Japanese artillery bombardment.
In this cold and humid Jiangnan area, there is no steel and concrete, only simple trenches dug by civil engineering. They will be immediately shattered by artillery fire. After every battle, they have to dig again in order to survive for a few more hours. Something is better than nothing.
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Xiong Dawu, commander of the First Company of the Third Battalion, is Lao Ci'an's old enemy. They compete for ammunition and food... Every time they meet, they will blow their beards and glare at each other, but now Xiong Dawu will never compete with Lao Ci.
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His body had been poked with several bloody holes, and the blood had solidified and turned dark brown. The old smoker squatted next to the body, lit half of the cigarette and took a puff and put it in Xiong Dawu's mouth.
"Old brother, you might as well go now. You have been fighting with me all your life, and you will never have a chance to fight with me again..." Lao Yanqiang murmured to himself while wiping Xiong Dawu's face.
With his face stained with dirt and blood, he was choked with sobs and couldn't speak. He stretched out his sleeves and kept wiping his tears.
From Wusongkou to Yunzaobang, Lao Yanqiang watched each of his brothers fall under the guns of the Japanese. He did not cry, but gritted his teeth and fought to the death with the Japanese.
But now that the last familiar brother has left, Lao Ci can no longer bear it. Faced with the tough-minded man who didn't even frown in the face of Japanese bullets, he shed tears in despair, his eyes a little red and swollen.
Their 61st Division Wusongkou was crippled, and only a few hundred men were reduced to a regiment. After reorganization, they fought bloody battles for three days and nights, and were all wiped out again. In a vicious circle, the Songhu battlefield is like a furnace of blood and fire.
Countless living lives were swallowed up.
The remaining soldiers were also rummaging among the corpses for their comrades. From time to time, low cries could be heard, and the atmosphere was heavy.
Yang Ling held the pocket watch in the pocket of the regiment leader Li Zhong in his own hand, and remained silent for a long time. The mountains and rivers were tragic, and the voice of the regiment leader Li Zhong echoed in his ears for a long time: Even if everyone is dead! The position
Don’t throw it away either!
"Brother Yang, you can't resurrect the dead, please be patient." Lin Xiaohou, leader of the 799th Regiment, saw the silent Yang Ling and came over to pat his shoulder to express comfort.
Yang Ling took a deep breath and buried his sorrow deep in his heart. He knew that this war was not over, and he, Yang Ling, would not stop fighting. This was a blood debt.
"Well, Brother Yang, can you please not take away the cannon you captured and leave it with us?" Lin Xiaohou pointed to the captured Japanese infantry gun in the distance and asked for Yang Ling's opinion.
Seeing that Yang Ling didn't speak, Lin Xiaohou added: "I won't let you suffer. I can write you an IOU. As long as this battle is over, whether you want oceans or cannons, we all agree..."
Lin Xiaohou said in a lower and lower voice in the end, looking at Yang Ling's face with a look of embarrassment. He also wanted to give him a gift, but they were too poor and didn't have a single copper on them now.
But their entire regiment only had eight light machine guns, and the rest of the soldiers were holding old Sichuan-made Mauser guns with old sleeves. Many of the riflings had been smoothed, and the firepower was too weak, so they lowered their faces and begged Yang Ling.
Yang Ling looked around and saw that it was already late autumn and the humid Jiangnan area was already very cold. These Sichuan soldiers who had traveled thousands of miles to the battlefield were still wearing worn-out single-clothes and straw sandals. They didn't even have kettles for drinking water, using half bamboo tubes instead.
Looking at their tired bodies, his heart was trembling. Defending the homeland and the country was not a slogan, but what these poorly equipped soldiers practiced with their lives. His heart became heavier.
"Um, Brother Yang, what do you think? You can even lend it to us." Although Lin Xiaohou, the leader of the group, is the leader of the group, he still has to ask for help from others, so he is a bit groveling.
They sacrifice their lives to defend their homeland, but they have to lower their noble heads for weapons and ammunition.
Yang Ling raised his head, looked at the thin and dark regiment leader in front of him, and said: "Commander Lin, they are all Chinese, they are all fighting Japanese. Why are they so talented? If you want to use it, just take it. Anyway,
There is no need for us to retreat."
Lin Xiaohou didn't expect Yang Ling to be so cheerful. Instead, he felt a little embarrassed: "Well, brother Yang, we can't let you suffer. I'll write an IOU and we will seize new ones and return them to you later."
Yang Ling waved his hand to stop, and shouted to Lao Yanqiang and the others: "Keep all the machine guns we captured with the brothers of the 799th Regiment, and let them fight the Japanese!"
Lin Xiaohou was very honest and honest. Faced with the huge surprise, he didn't know how to express his gratitude for a while. Instead, the other Sichuan soldiers expressed their gratitude.
"Don't worry, you can retreat and rest. As long as we are here, little Japan will never want to step foot here!"
"I'm going to beat the little Japanese until he wets his pants!"
"Hahaha, just don't wet your pants."
"I'm here to fight a national war. I don't want to lose my pants."
These tired Sichuan soldiers promised, and bursts of laughter erupted from the position. They did not know what kind of cruel and bloody battle was waiting for them.
The soldiers of the Sichuan Army stepped onto the battlefield against the Japanese soldiers for the first time. They didn't know how powerful the Japanese soldiers were. They felt glorious and excited, but Yang Ling couldn't be happy in his heart.
"Captain Lin, you should pay attention to the artillery. Remember that the enemy's attack is all about artillery bombardment, infantry charge, and then bombardment..." After Yang Ling told Lin Xiaohou, he led the remaining soldiers to escape from the position filled with their comrades.
The reason why Yang Ling wanted to escape was because he couldn't bear to watch these new Sichuan soldiers fall under the gun of the Japanese one by one. He had seen too many such tragic scenes, and he couldn't bear to watch them again.
Sometimes knowing history is a very painful thing. Although the soldiers of the Sichuan Army were as high-spirited as newborn calves that are not afraid of tigers, Yang Ling knew that they would all pay for their lives in the end. He knew that the 799 regiment fought hard to the end.
There are only eight people left in the group...
Yang Ling was in pain. Although loyal bones were buried everywhere in the mountains, there was no need to return corpses wrapped in horse leather, but he watched helplessly as these soldiers advanced one after another, and then were shot and fell to the ground. The scenes were repeated, and he couldn't help but want to escape, far away.