Rise From Eight Hundred

Around 4 pm!

Li Shoushan, whose continuous attacks were fruitless, finally showed his ferocious face. He no longer cared about the wounded soldiers in front of the position and mobilized four Type 41 mountain guns and a total of 12 Type 92 infantry guns to carry out saturation bombardment on the left wing position.

For a full 40 minutes, the fierce artillery fire lifted up the dense branches and leaves covering the position, and the front-line trenches collapsed in several places.

Under such artillery fire, let alone the wounded and corpses who were only tens of meters away from the front-line trenches were blown into pieces and scattered all over the sky, even if there were people inside the trenches, the casualties would be heavy.

Fortunately, before Tang Dao left, he had ordered everyone to withdraw from the trenches and hide on the other side of the ridge, leaving only the heavy machine gunners and several observation posts in the heavy machine gun fortifications.

That was also the first time that the front-line trenches were completely exposed to the vision of the infantrymen of the Jing'an Army. The trenches dug along the mountain range stretched for nearly a thousand meters. If they wanted to cross this mountain to attack the main position of Jiepai Village, they had to first occupy this trench that seemed to have been shaky by artillery bombardment.

Otherwise, they would have to continue to take a detour.

The mountains in the distance that were much more precipitous than here might allow small troops to cross over, but small troops with only rifles and other light weapons would be useless, just delivering food to the Chinese army equipped with machine guns and mortars.

The Jing'an Army once again organized three infantry companies of more than 400 people to approach the front line of the trenches that were already clearly visible.

This time, the front-line commander of the Jing'an Army obviously received a death order and had to conquer the enemy's position in one go. The artillery fire had not completely stopped, but gradually became sparse, and more than 400 infantrymen began to march forward from two hundred meters away.

Two heavy machine guns hidden in the bunker fortifications behind the front-line trenches began to roar.

That was the signal to notify the infantry hiding behind the ridge.

"Brothers, the second devils are coming, follow me!" Li Jiujin waved his hand without hesitation.

Three infantry platoons resolutely entered the battlefield from all parts of the ridge, braving the Jing'an Army's still extending artillery fire, jumped into the second-line trench, and then entered the first-line trench through the communication trench.

In the flying artillery fire, at least five or six soldiers were hit by shrapnel and fell in a pool of blood before they had time to jump into the trench, but no one helped them, everyone knew that they had no time.

Two heavy machine guns might be able to suppress the attacking Jing'an Army infantry to a certain extent, but the battle line was too long. It was purely a dream to rely on two heavy machine guns with a firing rate of only 500 rounds per minute to completely suppress the Jing'an Army infantry on a kilometer width.

"Brothers, come with me and carry the wounded!" The second lieutenant of the Sichuan Army watched the soldiers of the second company advance in the artillery fire, and then fell in the artillery fire, and his eyes couldn't help but turn red.

Under such artillery fire, sending a large number of soldiers to the battlefield is like suicide, so the entire Sichuan Army Camp was used by Li Jiujin as a second-line force. Once the front-line battle was urgent, the Sichuan Army Camp had to go into battle.

But watching the soldiers of the second company rush into the artillery fire without caring about anything, even the wounded were not taken care of in a hurry. Even those with a little blood could not watch the wounded struggling in a pool of blood, or even die in the next round of artillery fire.

Sweet potato was the first to roll down along the ridge.

The 15-year-old boy soldier was still afraid. He watched the rising fireballs blast the rocks into pieces. He could feel the heat waves burning his face even when hiding behind the ridge. He felt that his heart was about to be shaken out by the trembling earth when he lay on the ground. He was extremely afraid.

Just like the previous infantry platoon staying on the wide position, watching the black mass of enemies rushing up, Digua was extremely afraid of death.

But why weren't those brothers and uncles afraid? At the military order, their dark and dirty faces were firm and calm. They just tightened their belts, checked whether the grenades were inserted tightly and whether the belts were loose, and turned around to follow their superiors and brothers, rushing into the artillery fire that could tear them to pieces at any time.

Don't they have parents? Don't they have wives and children? All the questions became blank in the minds of the young Sichuan soldiers when they resolutely rushed into the artillery fire.

He could only lie on the ridge and watch them jump, roll, fall and get up, and those who could never get up again.

With the roar of the platoon leader beside him, Digua jumped out of the ridge. It was almost subconscious that he wanted to help those brothers or uncles up and drag them back to a safe area. At that moment, he overwhelmed the fear of death. :.

He rolled and crawled, and the military cap with a cap badge had disappeared in the air wave. It was the first cap in Digua's life. He usually cherished it very much, but now he couldn't care about it.

The body and face were scratched by gravel and bushes, leaving blood marks, but it didn't hurt that much at this time. On the contrary, Digua was full of joy, because he was finally close to a strong big brother.

The big brother in dark blue military uniform and helmet was lying on the hillside. There was not much blood on his body, but his face was a little pale, and even the color blackened by gunpowder smoke could not be suppressed.

"Big pot, big pot, where does it hurt? I'll help you bandage it." Digua said repeatedly after quickly crawling to the front of the injured soldier.

The injured soldier's eyes were half open, and he should have fallen into a semi-faint state. He didn't respond to Digua for a long time until Digua was very anxiously searching for wounds on his body. Maybe he hurt him and woke up from the fainting state. He focused his eyes for a long time before he saw the small Sichuan soldier in front of him with sweat on his forehead, and groaned in pain.

"Big Guo, it's great that you're awake. You told me where you were injured. I'll bandage it for you. My platoon leader will immediately bring the brothers down to carry you back. Don't worry." Digua was ecstatic and approached the injured person. Bing comforted loudly.

Gu/span\u003e "Thank you, little brother!" Feeling the care of the small Sichuan army, the wounded soldier felt warm in his heart and struggled to express his thanks in a low voice. "But there's no need to bother."

"No trouble, no trouble! We are all brothers, you don't have to be so polite." Digua shook his head repeatedly. "Don't worry, there are no wounds on your body. You were probably hit by the dog's air. You will be fine soon."

"It's not possible, a guy was bitten by a shell!" Facing the young Sichuan soldier's comfort, the wounded soldier twitched his cheeks and smiled bitterly, trying his best to open his arms.

An extremely hideous wound was revealed in front of Sweet Potato.

What a horrific wound that was. The ribs torn by shrapnel were enough to extend into the entire palm of the hand. Looking from the perspective of the sweet potato, one could even vaguely see the slightly undulating internal organs in the wound.

That is at least the amount of damage that can be caused by a piece of shrapnel the size of a palm.

The reason why Di Gua didn't see blood before was because a huge amount of blood flowed out and then penetrated into the ground. The wounded soldier subconsciously protected himself and used his arms to cover this huge and ferocious and fatal wound.

He can't survive. Even if Di Gua is a newcomer to the battlefield, he knows that it is impossible to survive with such an injury.

Tears welled up in Di Gua's eyes instantly.

"Don't cry!" The wounded soldier looked at the young Sichuan Army who burst into tears. He shook his head with difficulty and looked at his chest. "Take it out for me!"

With tears running down his face, Digua carefully took out a photo from the wounded soldier's pocket.

It was an image of a young and handsome soldier wearing a lieutenant's uniform, a helmet, and standing straight with a submachine gun. Behind him was a window, and some vague buildings could still be seen vaguely.

"This is a photo taken by a reporter from Tantai. If possible, please ask the superiors to send it home for me. My parents want me to stand out most. If you show them this photo, they will be very happy!" the wounded soldier murmured. Talk to yourself. "Little brother, I leave my gun to you to kill the Japanese!"

"I don't want your gun, I don't want it!" Digua burst into tears and shook his head desperately.

The wounded soldier's gun fell two meters away. It was a nearly new medium-grade rifle. At most, I had only seen good guns made in Hanyang, but I had never seen such a good gun before. Who would have said that he would be given such a rifle before? A gun, he could sleep with this gun in his arms every day, and he would be so happy that he would wake up laughing even in his dreams.

But Di Gua doesn't want it at all now. He just wants this wounded soldier whom he has only seen once to be alive.

But, I can’t live!

The wounded soldier's face became paler and paler, and before the second lieutenant platoon leader crawled over with a few people and a stretcher, he was already silent.

When the greatest wish in the heart is realized, the tenacious vitality will eventually wither in the face of fatal wounds.

Meng Qianqiu, a sergeant in the Independence Battalion, died!

After the Battle of Guangde, the 43rd Army specially promoted Meng Qianqiu to the rank of second lieutenant. His military position finally matched the uniform he borrowed from his superior in the photo.

His mother received a photo of her son two years later and kept it on her chest every day. She died of illness a few months later.

What a mother wants is not for her son to succeed, but for everything to be well.

It's a pity that my son hasn't lived long enough to understand his parents, so he doesn't understand.

Even if they have never been parents, they have no way of understanding the pain parents feel after losing their child.

The pain is so deep that it would be better if I was the one who died...

Di Gua has the best gun in his infantry platoon.

The blood stains on the gun were stained by Digua, who cherished the gun very much but never wiped it off throughout his life.

The blood in the cauldron seems to be always warm and never cold! To provide you with the fastest update of Rise from Eight Hundred, Chapter 588 is free to read if you are not yet that age. :.