Chapter 6: Air Raid

Many of our ancestors, before joining the army, were nothing more than simple farmers or humble craftsmen. Before they enlisted, the farthest place they had ever traveled in their mundane lives might have been the county seat a few dozen miles away.

Before leaving their hometowns, the most they had ever seen was an automobile; they had certainly never seen or even heard of the Japanese devils' airplanes.

Therefore, when they encountered an air raid and the enemy planes began their strafing dives, they had no idea how to react correctly. They would often stand rooted to the spot like petrified geese, letting the aircraft mow them down. Even those who instinctively knew to run would simply bolt in a straight line, never considering that no matter how fast they ran, they could never outpace an airplane in the sky or the bullets it fired.

Every time they encountered an air raid during a march, the result was always catastrophic. —Excerpt from Hu Biao’s diary collection, "Hu Says."

As it turns out, when they were shouting that they would "give ten years of their lives in exchange for a chance to escape," none of them, including Hu Biao, imagined that this chance would arrive so quickly.

It was just that this opportunity did not arrive in the way they had hoped; consequently, the final outcome far exceeded their expectations.

It was past two o'clock in the afternoon. The men of the Third Replenishment Company were marching in two columns along a dirt road.

Wang Peng, whom Hu Biao suspected was a veteran of the People's Liberation Army, was positioned in the middle-rear of the column, moving his legs mechanically as he followed the ranks. Throughout the march, he kept his head down, his face a mask of misery and listlessness, resembling a dejected young rooster.

And believe it or not, for all his tendency to just "lie flat," Hu Biao had developed a sharp eye for people after drifting through society for so many years. Wang Peng was indeed a retired PLA veteran—a first-term non-commissioned officer from a combined arms brigade—who had intentionally kept this fact hidden from Hu Biao and the others.

Why? Because for a period after his discharge, he had held firmly to the belief: "Should war break out, I will answer the call."

But recently, he had become quite disillusioned. To be more precise, as he struggled through work and life after leaving the service, he had witnessed too many wretched things, causing his once-firm convictions to waver.

For instance, there was the time a retired veteran was beaten by a woman driving a luxury car. Given his professional training, he could have subdued her with a single move, yet he chose not to fight back, letting her beat his face until it was bloody, distorted, and purple with bruising. The veteran had believed that this was an internal domestic matter, that his training shouldn't be used in such a way, and that the relevant authorities would handle it fairly.

And the result? The assailant paid a fine of 1,000 yuan and was detained for ten days, and that was the end of it. Many veterans, including Wang Peng, had raised their voices for their comrade online, but nothing changed. Their accounts on several platforms were nearly deleted. Besides this, there were many other disheartening incidents.

In short, having seen and experienced so many of these wretched affairs, a huge doubt began to grow in Wang Peng’s heart: If a war were to break out, why should he be the one to fight? Why should he risk his life to protect those bastards and scoundrels?

This was the reason why, shortly after "transmigrating" here, Wang Peng decided to run away; his heart was brimming with immense anger and a sense of injustice.

Yet, despite his decision to flee, Wang Peng could never bring himself to feel happy; he felt only an inexplicable restlessness. It wasn't just that several days had passed and they were already nearing Shanghai, yet he still hadn't found an opportunity to slip away. More importantly, he had already decided to run, but whenever he thought of the villagers' hopeful gazes, their encouraging words, and the chickens, ducks, fish, and meat they had insisted on giving the soldiers, he felt a strange sense of shame. He began to feel that perhaps things weren't as he had imagined.

*****

As Wang Peng marched along, lost in his complex emotions, someone not far in front of him suddenly shouted in terror: "Oh my god! What the hell is that thing in the sky?"

Instinctively, Wang Peng looked up toward the sky ahead. He immediately saw two ancient propeller planes flying toward them. Because they were spotted so late, they were already very close and had begun their dive. On the wings of these planes, the large, red, circular insignias—looking like bloody sores—were strikingly clear. There was no doubt about it; these were Japanese planes, likely Type 96 dive bombers.

These machines had a top speed of only 310 kilometers per hour; they were slow and had virtually no armor. In a modern battlefield, if they dared to take to the skies, they would be easily shot down like turkeys by an array of weapons.

But the Third Replenishment Company currently had only a dozen or so Hanyang-88 rifles and a few Mauser C96 pistols. Facing the 7.7mm aircraft machine guns above, along with the three 100-kilogram bombs mounted on the fuselage and wings, they were utterly defenseless.

Even more critical was the fact that upon seeing the planes start their dive, the new recruits simply stood where they were, looking up in naive curiosity, with no thought of returning fire or taking cover.

Seeing the ancient Japanese planes, Wang Peng’s first reaction was: "Oh no! It’s a Japanese air raid! I must leave the road immediately and hide behind obstacles like rocks or trees."

Then he realized: "Wait, hide my ass! This is the escape opportunity I traded ten years of my life for; I can't waste it like this."

With these thoughts flashing through his mind, Wang Peng immediately took off at a sprint toward the left side of the road. Hesitating for a moment, he still shouted loudly: "Those are Japanese planes! Everyone, run!"

Hu Biao, Zhou Kun, Gao Yi, and Zhang Wei were only a second behind in their reaction. Once they realized what was happening, they too joined in shouting, "The Japanese planes are here, run!" Even while shouting, they didn't miss a beat in following Wang Peng's lead, joining the flight.

The expressions of sheer joy on their faces clearly reflected their shared thought: "If we’d known God would be this efficient, we would have promised fewer years of our lives. Five years! No, three would have been enough."

Just as the five of them dashed off the dirt road, the officers and veterans behind them finally reacted, shouting, "Japanese planes!" and "Take cover!"

Unfortunately, it was already too late. As the officers' shouts rang out, the roar of the Japanese engines grew louder, and the thunder of machine guns began to rip through the air. Suddenly, the sound of bullets tearing into the earth and the screams of the soldiers who had been hit erupted everywhere.

The scene descended into absolute chaos. There were all kinds of screams, but not a single shot was fired back at the planes, nor did anyone try to stop Hu Biao and his group. Clearly, the officers and veterans were too preoccupied with the carnage to care about the deserters.

It seemed their trade of ten years of life was worth it; they had truly secured a golden opportunity to escape. Forty or fifty meters to the left of the road lay a vast peach orchard, already harvested but still lush with leaves and branches. If they could reach it, they would have a high chance of getting away.

The five of them covered the distance in just six or seven seconds. But just as they were about to dive into the peach orchard to freedom, for some reason, all five of them looked back in unison.

What they saw made their very souls tremble. In that brief moment, the two Japanese planes had finished their first strafing run, pulled up, and were banking to turn around for another pass.

A single attack had already turned the road into a hellscape; the Third Replenishment Company had suffered massive casualties. Facing the dive, save for the few veterans and recruits who knew to find cover, the rest of the new soldiers were at a complete loss. They either stood there like petrified geese, letting the bullets cut them down, or, overcome by fear, bolted down the road—but no matter how fast their legs moved, could they outrun the planes and their bullets? In the blink of an eye, they too were caught and killed.

After just one pass, even with only machine-gun fire, more than twenty men lay on the road. Most were not yet dead, writhing and screaming in agonizing pain. Yet, the Japanese planes showed no mercy; after completing their turn, they dove once more.

Perhaps driven to a frenzy by the heavy casualties of his men, the company commander whipped his horse and charged toward the diving planes, his Mauser pistol barking continuously. This was the only act of resistance the Third Replenishment Company mounted during the entire raid.

Then, with the thunderous explosion of a 100-kilogram bomb, a massive crater appeared on the ground, and the company commander, his beloved horse, and several other soldiers were blown into the air like discarded toys.