Chapter 23: Glorious Victory

The self-confidence of an army is built continuously through victory. By the same token, if a new recruit can secure a victory in their very first engagement, it is undoubtedly of immense benefit to their personal confidence and growth.

Fortunately, thanks to a bit of cleverness and coincidence, I achieved quite a decent result in my first battle. Unfortunately, that was merely the beginning of a series of brutal fights... — Excerpt from "Hu's Words," a collection of Hu Biao's diaries.

After recovering from their initial panic, the Japanese soldiers realized that the greatest threat to their offensive was that small "bean tank" firing wildly. If they could just take it out, they could easily overrun the position, given the weak firepower and the nature of the defenders. Although it felt somewhat humiliating to go to such lengths to destroy a tank that had originally belonged to their own side, the reality of the situation left them no choice.

Consequently, the attacking Japanese soldiers focused all their energy on the tank. Following the orders of a Japanese second lieutenant, the soldiers who had been charging with their Arisaka rifles halted; they either sought cover or dropped to the ground to exchange fire with the defenders. Their marksmanship was precise, and in the blink of an eye, they had wounded two logistics soldiers. Seeing this, Hu Biao had to order the men to change positions after firing a few shots, which significantly weakened the firepower on the line.

The Japanese light and heavy machine guns, along with their grenade launchers, began to target the small tank. The machine gun fire was manageable; due to the angle of the attack, the bullets merely struck the tank's 12-millimeter-thick frontal armor, sparking off and ricocheting away without penetrating. However, the threat from the grenade launchers could not be ignored. If one of those rounds landed on the roof of the tank, it would be disastrous. Just as a modern main battle tank often cannot withstand a mortar shell striking its top, it stood to reason that this thin-skinned "bean tank" could not survive a grenade launcher round hitting its roof.

Just then, a grenade launcher fired with a "thud." Instead of hitting Zhou Kun’s Czech light machine gun on the defensive line, it landed not far from the tank and exploded with a "boom." Wang Peng, an old PLA veteran, was jolted into realization. He immediately shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Hu Biao, Zhou Peng! Focus your fire on the Japanese grenade launchers! I'll take the one on the left; you two handle the one on the right!"

Hearing this, Hu Biao—who had switched to a Hanyang 88 rifle after running out of ammunition for his MP28 submachine gun—did not hesitate. He pulled the bolt, chambered a round, and pulled the trigger, aiming at the faint silhouettes of the two-man grenade team about two hundred meters away. The rifle butt kicked hard into his shoulder, and the bullet went who knows where. As a novice who only knew the basics of "three-point alignment" for aiming, it would have been a miracle to hit anything at that distance.

The Japanese grenade team fired another round at the tank, and the impact was even closer. Shrapnel pelted the tank's hull, sending sparks flying. It was easy to imagine that once those two soldiers adjusted their aim, the next grenade might very well land right on top of the tank. Ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder, Hu Biao hurriedly worked the bolt and fired again. Once more, he missed. The bullet flew off into nowhere, and the two Japanese soldiers, busy adjusting the angle of their launcher, didn't even flinch.

Wang Peng, the veteran, was relatively more reliable. Despite using an unfamiliar Hanyang rifle, he fired two shots, one of which nearly hit the operator of the other grenade launcher, forcing them to relocate. Comparing their results, Hu Biao felt like crying. Fortunately, Zhou Kun, using clumsy movements, managed to reload the Czech light machine gun. As a Ph.D. in materials science from the modern era, he clearly didn't know that light machine guns should be fired in three-round bursts. He pulled the trigger and didn't let go, dumping all twenty rounds from the fresh magazine in one go.

Although he emptied the magazine in a frantic burst and had to scramble to reload, he accidentally struck gold. Several bullets tore through the soldier operating the launcher, and the remaining soldier, terrified, began to crawl away. Seeing this from the corner of his eye, Wang Peng was about to shout, "Good shooting, Old Zhou!" when a piercing whistle tore through the air. His face changed instantly. Before he could react, a shell landed ten meters in front of the tank, kicking up a massive cloud of dirt and sand.

It turned out that a Type 92 infantry gun, positioned about five or six hundred meters behind the Japanese lines, had adjusted its aim to take out the tank with direct fire. The Type 92 had a caliber of only 70 millimeters. Its power was limited, but a direct hit would easily blow through the tank's frontal armor. Realizing this, Wang Peng knew the gun had to be destroyed, but his own marksmanship couldn't threaten a target at that range. He shouted at the top of his lungs: "Zhang Wei! Zhang Wei, you idiot! Forget everything else, target that infantry gun! Use the heavy machine gun!" He knew, however, that in such a deafening environment, with Zhang Wei hidden inside the tank, he couldn't possibly hear him.

Indeed, Zhang Wei and Gao Yi were experiencing a constant ringing in their ears; they couldn't hear a thing from the defensive line ten meters behind them. The constant clanging of bullets against the tank's hull had left them feeling deaf. Fortunately, Zhang Wei, though prone to posturing and bluster, was no fool. When the artillery shell exploded in front of them, rocking the tank violently, he immediately sensed the danger. He kicked Gao Yi, signaling him to stop rotating the tank, and grabbed the heavy machine gun—the weapon with the longest range and greatest power—and unleashed a barrage at the Type 92 infantry gun.

He emptied the belt, and because of the poor light, he couldn't tell if he’d hit it. But while there was no explosion, the shelling stopped. Even better, the Japanese soldiers finally began to retreat. Zhang Wei immediately switched to the light machine gun and fired at the retreating backs of the enemy. He took down five or six more before the distance increased and his accuracy dropped, forcing him to finally release the trigger.

The battlefield fell into a deathly silence. The Japanese were stunned and frustrated, while Hu Biao and his men stared at the seventy or eighty corpses left behind, unable to believe their eyes. Damn it! Such a brilliant result, achieved by a few rookies leading a group of armed farmers? A single Japanese squad claimed they could take on an entire Nationalist army company. Yet, the price they paid for this victory was only two logistics soldiers dead, one severely wounded, and five slightly injured.

After a long while, once they confirmed the outcome, Hu Biao and his team began to cheer. They roared, releasing the long-suppressed fear, sorrow, and anger that had been pent up inside them. Anyone could see that Hu Biao, Wang Peng, Zhou Kun, and even the remaining logistics soldiers had undergone a fundamental change in spirit and demeanor. Hu Biao, acting as the platoon leader, stepped into his role with newfound confidence and issued a series of crisp orders:

"Zhou Kun, go bandage the wounded. Wang Peng, pick a few of the sharp ones and slip out to scavenge for weapons, ammo, and loot—go 'loot the bodies.' The rest of you, with me—hurry and reinforce our positions!"

"Yes, sir!" the men shouted in unison, their spirits burning as brightly as the moment itself.