Rise From Eight Hundred

Seeing his soldiers burying explosive packs with unprecedented efficiency, Jiro Wakiita was not at ease at all.

The Chinese must have a conspiracy, this is almost certain, this is the conclusion that he has drawn from fighting with the Chinese for several consecutive days.

But seeing that the demolition soldiers were retreating, the long fuses of the explosive packs placed in the theoretical blind spots of the Sihang Warehouse were already "sizzling" with white smoke, and the Chinese in the warehouse remained silent.

Deathly silence.

No matter how hard Jiro Wakiita racked his brains, he couldn't figure out why such a weird situation occurred.

The biggest reason why people are afraid of death is the unknown. The incomparable fear of the unknown world after death is why they invented heaven and hell. Good people go to heaven and evil people go to hell. It is the most typical psychological self-comfort.

No one on his side died, but the Japanese colonel was sweating like a pulp on his vest. This is the psychological fear of the unknown.

Of course, this was mainly because the warehouse guards had rubbed the poor Japanese army colonel too hard a few days ago, so that one day when they stopped rubbing him, he became "tender and affectionate", and he was extremely uncomfortable.

What a terrible inertial psychology! Even hatred is chosen to obey.

"Order, except for the front infantry squadron participating in the explosion, the rest of the troops must not move rashly." Wakiban Jiro finally gave the order.

Even if the Chinese have another earth-shattering conspiracy, the only ones who are finished are the more than 100 people. The Japanese colonel is still an infantry battalion commander, and he has no intention of really playing himself into an infantry squadron commander.

'Where are the troops? There are only five squadrons left! ' The Japanese lieutenant colonel lowered his eyelids and complained fiercely in his heart.

His future was ruined by this stupid boss in front of him. If he didn't complain about him from time to time, the Japanese lieutenant colonel felt that he was about to become depressed.

With a few loud noises of "boom boom boom", the huge Sihang Warehouse was shaking.

Six or seven explosive packs were buried in the four corners, and the thick walls of the Sihang Warehouse could no longer hold out.

When the smoke cleared, the walls of the Sihang Warehouse, which had once blocked infantry guns and heavy artillery and seemed indestructible, collapsed in front of everyone, forming new ruins under the warehouse.

If there were not enough load-bearing columns in the warehouse, the explosions in these four places would have been enough to blow down a building, but if it didn't collapse, what would be the use?

Behind the collapsed wall was the building of the Sihang Warehouse, and it was the first time that the Sihang Warehouse showed its internal structure so clearly in front of everyone.

The rooms, stairs, sandbag fortifications, and scattered ammunition boxes were extremely clear under the bright autumn sun.

The Sihang Warehouse had already lost its most important shield.

The call from the south bank of the concession disappeared.

The middle-aged man in a suit was speechless. For the first time, he felt that it was a mistake to come here. He felt that he was deceived by the female reporter with a nice name.

What was so heroic about that? Some were just cowardly, even so cowardly that they didn't even fire a single shot. The originally impregnable fortress was blown up by the Japanese army right in front of him.

The rickshaw driver was full of disbelief. He didn't understand why this happened. What about the endless tactics before? What about those fearless Chinese soldiers? Why did they all disappear?

Tan Tai Mingyue was also surprised, but she had firm confidence in the Tang sword. The Tang sword would never let her down, and this time should be the same.

So, even if the wall of the warehouse was opened, she was only shocked but not panicked.

But this scene was a great joy and ecstasy for the Japanese colonel!

Because he was a soldier, he was not like those ordinary Chinese who only built victory on the confidence born from previous achievements.

Without the strong wall that could be used as artillery, he didn't even need to send out infantry. He could destroy the Chinese soldiers who dared to resist in the artillery fire with infantry guns and grenade launchers alone.

At this point, no matter what conspiracy the Chinese had, victory was only a matter of time. He didn't even have to wait until sunset today to raise the flag of his regiment on the roof of the warehouse.

"Order, one-third of the vanguard will go into the building for reconnaissance. If the Chinese counterattack using the terrain they are familiar with, there is no need to fight them head-on. The regiment artillery will bury them bit by bit." The Japanese colonel, who had regained his confidence, even began to cherish the lives of his soldiers.

Now that victory has become a fact, he must consider the future.

If the losses continue to increase, I am afraid that the heads of more than a hundred Chinese soldiers alone will not be enough to make up for the anger of the division commander. He has even thought about getting some Chinese civilian bodies to make up the number. The division commander should not refuse this kind of blatant fooling.

The 36th Infantry Regiment lost face, but it was not the entire 3rd Division that took the blame!

As the military order was passed down level by level, more than 170 Japanese soldiers hiding in temporary field fortifications more than 100 meters away rushed to the warehouse.

The first floor, which had seven or eight large holes, was no longer dark. Even Chinese civilians more than 200 meters away could see the structure clearly.

Because of the need to take soil, the ground was in a mess. Several trenches stretched across the ground. Concrete ruins shattered by artillery and explosive packs were everywhere. The entire first floor was already riddled with holes.

But worse than this mess was naturally the hearts of the Chinese people.

"Why didn't anyone blow up his son of a bitch? Why didn't anyone even shoot? Where are the brothers? They were still there yesterday!" The rickshaw driver murmured to himself with a heavy cry.

As a person who lives at the bottom of society in Songhu, the rickshaw driver who has been in Songhu for more than ten years is certainly afraid of offending the boss who paid fifty copper coins to cover his day, but the most important thing is that he finds it difficult to accept the scene in front of him.

Others don't understand, but he knows why he has been squatting here for most of the days in a row. It's not because there are free porridge and rice here, but because this is the only place where he can feel that he still has dignity.

Here, he can cheer for every victory of the soldiers with those well-dressed upper-class people. There are even masters in brocade robes who pat his shoulders and throw him dozens of copper coins in the evening after the battle and invite him: "Let's go, I'm happy today. I'll treat you to a drink and a meal when we get there."

Although he would not go, he, who had never been looked at by the nobles, could feel that he was the same identity as the nobles here---a Chinese.

Even the foreign adults who usually frowned when they saw him even when he was extremely humble, no longer showed such obvious expressions of disgust for the strong sweat smell on his body.

He dreamed that one day, he would not have to bend down to greet those yellow-haired and blue-eyed foreigners, let alone bend down to pick up the copper coins they threw on the ground, although such a life had already numb this strong laborer who had worked hard in this prosperous city for ten years.

But it does not mean that this ordinary Chinese has no dreams. He dreams that his son will not be like this again.

Now, the dream has come true.

He understands that it was given by the brothers who risked their lives on the opposite side.

It can be said that the defenders of the Sihang Warehouse are his spiritual totems, although there have never been any words such as spirit or totem in the world of the strongest laborers at the bottom of this city.

Now, will the dream finally return to reality? Will the foreigners show disgusted expressions again and scatter copper coins on the ground for him to pick up on his knees?

"Fellow countryman! Go, take me away from here!" The middle-aged man in a suit looked disappointed, looking at the Japanese infantry who were rushing into the warehouse frantically.

He himself did not know that he would be so depressed, and he did not want to look at the warehouse again.

Perhaps, the fire of hope was just lit, but then a bucket of cold water was poured over my head!

No matter if they are Japanese or Chinese, they are clear about one thing.

Defeat is a foregone conclusion.

. . . . . .

PS: An old friend came to visit me last night and hosted a banquet for me. So, I got drunk and just woke up. Sorry for the late update! Everyone, please continue to vote! There are still six days before it is available.