Chapter 27: Reinforcements?

"Many times, I clearly knew that certain tactics were quite ruthless for the brothers—some might even say they were the ideas of a soulless wretch. Yet, to win the battle, I still had no choice but to force them to carry them out. What else could we do? Facing the 'little devils' who had everything, the only thing we had was our own wretched lives. If we couldn't even risk these, how could we ever defeat such beasts..."

—Excerpt from *Hu Shuo*, a collection of Hu Biao’s journals.

Wang Peng smoked his filterless cigarette until only a tiny nub remained, hot enough to burn his lips, before he reluctantly spat it out. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the lingering sensation of the smoke. After several minutes of silence, the only military professional on the front line spoke up:

"Hu Biao, drag me out now. Take me about a hundred meters in front of the position and find a spot among the corpses to lay me down. Then, leave me a few grenades—the wooden-handled kind. Oh, and the 'devils' left behind some explosive satchels, right? Leave me one of those, too. When the 'devils' charge and pass by me, I’ll trigger them and give those bastards a hell of a surprise. It should take out quite a few of them and lighten the load for you. This tactic, I believe, is something the 'devils' are destined to use against the Soviets in the future; today, I’m giving them a lesson in it first."

Hearing this, Hu Biao and the others exchanged glances, finally realizing what Wang Peng’s plan was. He intended to turn himself into a human landmine—or an automatically triggered explosive. Caught off guard, the enemy would surely suffer a heavy blow. Yet, given their upbringing, they found it impossible to accept such a cruel method of treating men as expendable supplies.

As for why Wang Peng specifically requested the wooden-handled grenades or satchels, it was because the Japanese 'melon' grenades required striking them against something to arm them, and Wang Peng feared he would no longer have the strength to do so.

Faced with their hesitation, Wang Peng cursed, "With injuries this severe, I won't make it anyway. Whether I die slowly in the trench or go out as a human mine, it's all the same death, isn't it? The latter at least lets me take a bunch of these devils with me to the grave. It’s worth it. *Cough, cough...*"

After the outburst, he fell into a violent coughing fit, and blood began to seep through the bandages on his chest.

"Fine," Hu Biao gritted his teeth and reluctantly agreed.

No sooner had he agreed than the middle-aged logistics soldier who had briefed Hu Biao earlier spoke up: "Officer Hu, if it's not too much trouble, please have the brothers drag me out as well. Leave me a few grenades; I want to take a few of these devils with me before I go."

In the rush of the moment, Hu Biao didn't even know this man's name. In the previous fighting, a mortar round had landed nearby, shattering half his face and blinding one of his eyes. With the current lack of medical supplies on the front, he knew he didn't have long to live.

After biting his lip until it nearly bled, Hu Biao replied, "Fine." Then he added, "Brother, what is your name, and where are you from? As long as I, Hu Biao, am still alive, I will make sure your family knows you were a real man who died with great heroism."

This promise from Hu Biao triggered a chain reaction. Other severely wounded men began to speak up, requesting to be used as human mines, their voices forced into a tone of nonchalance and calm in the crowded command post:

"Su Rui, from Jinhua—the place known for its hams. My home is in Shanyang Village, Lanxi. Once you get there, just ask for the second son of the Su family, and they’ll know it’s me. If you make it there, please tell my two sons to take good care of their grandparents, their mother, and their sisters in my stead."

"Zhao San, from Xiwushan, Tonglu..."

"I have remembered every word. As long as I, Hu Biao, don't die here, I will visit each and every one of your homes," Hu Biao promised after hearing the final wishes of the six wounded men.

Then, he grabbed Wang Peng by the collar and dragged his limp, mud-caked body out into the pouring rain. He didn't dare say another word or linger for even a second, fearing that if he hesitated, he would lose the heart to go through with it. Zhou Kun, Gao Yi, and Zhang Wei followed suit, hardening their hearts as they signaled three other logistics soldiers to drag the remaining six wounded men out into the rain. Throughout the process, they felt a salty taste in their mouths, for the rainwater trickling down their faces was mixed with their own tears.

***

9:02 AM, at the Xiaotangzi command post behind Luodian.

Zhu Cong, whom Hu Biao had sent to request reinforcements, knelt outside the command post, slamming his head against the blue stone slabs until his forehead was covered in blood. With a voice choked with sobs, he cried out:

"Officer, you must send reinforcements to Officer Hu! Otherwise, the brothers won't be able to hold on any longer; they'll all die on Position No. 7!"

As the plea reached the ears of Division Commander Li Shushen inside the command post, it felt as though a blade were cutting into his heart. A dozen minutes earlier, guards had brought in this mud-covered soldier, reporting an urgent military situation. Zhu Cong had described the dire straits of Position No. 7, and how the cook-turned-platoon-leader Hu Biao needed reinforcements, ammunition, and artillery support, or the line would collapse.

Artillery support? Where could he find that? The enemy air force was powerful, and the Nationalist artillery had suffered heavy losses. The remaining fire support was nowhere near enough to be spared for Position No. 7.

Reinforcements? He did have one unit available—about three hundred men consisting of division staff, lightly wounded soldiers, stragglers, and grooms. But the left and right flanks were under constant threat from enemy infiltration, and requests for reinforcements were coming in from everywhere. More importantly, the battle for Luodian was at a critical juncture; that was the most important area. He had already made his decision on how to use those reserves. In any case, they would not be sent to Hu Biao and his cook platoon.

Yet, knowing his men were facing certain death and having the power to potentially save them but choosing not to was an agonizing burden. Finally, the cold logic of a military officer took hold. He turned to his guard company commander: "Order the reinforcements to move out immediately to support Luodian. Tell Commander Yin of the 401st Regiment that Luodian must be taken tonight. This window of opportunity was bought with the lives of the other brothers."

After giving the order, his voice softened: "Take that young man down, find him some dry clothes, and get him something to eat."

Amidst a flurry of orders, the reinforcements set out, but their destination was not Position No. 7. Hu Biao and his men were destined to wait in vain for help that would never come.

***

10:37 PM, under the relentless lashing of the heavy rain, Wang Peng lay motionless among the corpses like a dead man, biting his lip hard. By now, his pale lower lip had been chewed into a bloody mess. Due to severe blood loss, an overwhelming exhaustion was washing over him, tempting him to drift off into sleep. But he knew that if he fell asleep, he would never wake up, and when the enemy charged, he would be unable to pull the fuse wrapped around his finger. So, he forced himself to stay awake through the searing pain of his mangled lip, repeating to himself, "Wang Peng, Wang Peng, you cannot sleep. You must not sleep."

In this state, his mind began to drift into a haze.

11:19 PM, just as Wang Peng felt he could no longer hold on, he finally heard the sound of gunfire and artillery. A group of shirtless enemy soldiers charged past him, bayonets fixed. One soldier even stepped directly onto his stomach. The pain from the wound was so intense that he almost screamed, his muscles tensing so hard that when he tried to pull the fuse, he failed.

Ironically, this mishap resulted in an even greater victory. Because he hesitated, the moment he finally pulled the fuse happened to coincide with the arrival of Battalion Commander Oguri, who was supposedly leading the charge. Leading the charge was, of course, just talk; in reality, he was merely following in the middle of the ranks, having long decided to stay a hundred meters back to command.

When Wang Peng pulled the fuse, the explosive detonated. Even from several dozen meters away, the shockwave blew the Japanese commander off his feet. He didn't die immediately, but the severe internal organ damage rendered him incapable of command. Along with him, a captain, three lieutenants, and fifteen or sixteen other soldiers who were guarding him were all wiped out.

Wang Peng didn't know this, nor did he care. As he felt the fuse finally ignite, he thought with a sense of relief, "Damn it! I can finally get some sleep. Nobody better wake me up..."