Chapter 12: The Sound of the Charge

Taking advantage of the fact that he could still clearly see the situation below, he needed to ensure a single shot would hit its mark, directly taking out the machine gun position deployed by the supply battalion.

At the same time, the assault team, along with more than two hundred other soldiers, maneuvered around the flanks to encircle and block the roads on both sides.

If any soldiers from the supply battalion tried to flee into the surrounding woods, they would not be pursued—after all, Long Wencheng’s priority was the supplies and provisions.

At this moment, after a full day of forced marching, the enemy troops were thoroughly exhausted, both men and horses weary.

Long Wencheng had roughly tallied their numbers: about three hundred men in the supply battalion, fifty mules and horses, twenty wagons, and over a dozen donkeys.

In terms of firepower, they were significantly inferior to the main force of the 189th Regiment.

Over three hundred men were equipped with only one Maxim machine gun, two Czech rifles, and fewer than a hundred rifles in total.

The rest were unarmed, mainly responsible for handling the pack animals.

Although dusk had not fully fallen, Long Wencheng’s men had already scouted the enemy’s formation and pinpointed the locations of four machine gun nests.

Checking his watch, Long Wencheng raised his Lee-Enfield rifle first.

This rifle held ten rounds, with decent range and accuracy—far superior to the Hanyang rifle.

In fact, the Guangxi army also had some Arisaka rifles, but in jungle warfare, their long barrels were unwieldy. Though more accurate, they were less practical than the Lee-Enfield.

Using the lingering sunset light, Long Wencheng locked onto the machine gunner closest to him.

The others took their designated combat positions, and Long Wencheng’s first gunshot signaled the attack.

Bang!

The rifle reverberated in his hand as his finger released the trigger and he quickly worked the bolt for a second shot.

The first bullet struck the machine gunner who had been smoking, piercing his steel helmet instantly. He collapsed stiffly to the ground, the cigarette falling from his mouth.

The nearby assistant gunner shouted, “Enemy attack!”

He tried to operate the Czech rifle to return fire.

But before his palm even touched the grip or he could pull the bolt, the second bullet flew in.

Bang!

Another headshot.

The other Red Army soldiers watching this scene couldn’t help but shout inwardly, “Excellent marksmanship!”

Hitting a target accurately at a hundred meters is not extraordinarily difficult, but the battlefield was ever-changing, and the targets were moving. To land two consecutive shots so precisely was truly remarkable.

At the instant Long Wencheng’s rifle fired, Wen Song’s artillery erupted.

Boom!

The 37mm shell soared from above, striking the makeshift heavy machine gun position with deadly precision.

The two machine gunners hadn’t reacted before they were blown apart, their bodies mangled, and the Maxim machine gun was overturned.

“Reload the second round!” Wen Song shouted as Xiao Shi Tou pulled the breech behind him.

Now acting as Wen Song’s assistant gunner, Xiao Shi Tou also kept a close watch on him.

During previous drills, Xiao Shi Tou had proven extremely fast at working the breech, almost instantly loading a 37mm shell as soon as the breech was opened.

“Adjust firing parameters!” Wen Song continued yelling, though these commands were mostly to himself, as he alone knew how to perform this task.

While shouting, he quickly adjusted the elevation angle using the sight.

Boom!

The second shell fired, completely wiping out a light machine gun position.

With the heavy and light machine gun nests eliminated, the Red Army soldiers concealed on the flanks roared and surged forward.

Leading the charge were the assault teams armed with Lewis guns.

They did not open fire immediately; instead, they hurled grenades directly into the supply battalion’s camp.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions erupted, black smoke billowed, and amidst the chaos, muffled screams and the terrified braying of pack animals echoed.

Before the smoke cleared, the assault teams wielding Lewis guns pounced like a wolf pack.

Rat-tat-tat!

The Lewis guns roared relentlessly; bullets flew like a sudden downpour, quickly suppressing the supply battalion’s soldiers with overwhelming firepower.

At the same time, the light and heavy machine guns on both sides—the Maxim, the Czech rifles, and the Hotchkiss heavy machine gun—all howled in unison, creating a dense, overlapping network of fire.

Machine gun bullets zipped overhead, focusing on suppressing the troops at the rear of the supply battalion.

Those soldiers barely knew what their enemies looked like but already felt the hail of steel bullets like nails pinning them to the ground.

The units trying to organize a defensive line ahead were crushed under the fierce close-range fire of over thirty Lewis guns; any who tried to raise their heads were instantly riddled with bullets.

Still, the 189th Regiment’s combat resilience was extraordinary. Despite these conditions, no large-scale rout had occurred.

Their battalion commander frantically waved his arms, shouting orders for his soldiers to hold the line, while dispatching a rider to seek reinforcements.

But just as the commander was trying to organize resistance and stem the enemy’s assault, Long Wencheng had him in his sights.

Holding his breath and focusing, using the last rays of the sunset, Long Wencheng spotted the officer’s conspicuous uniform.

His finger preloaded on the trigger, he remained perfectly still, even stopping his breathing just before firing.

Bang!

A gunshot rang out. The supply battalion commander’s chest blossomed with blood as he collapsed to the ground with a thud.

“The commander is down!” a soldier cried out in terror.

This was the final straw. The defensive line that had barely held began to unravel and collapse swiftly after their leader’s fall.

The bugle call echoed through the forest.

Toot-toot-toot! Thirty sharp notes!

The call sounded like the scream of death itself. All the Red Army soldiers’ eyes blazed red as they gripped their Hanyang rifles and Lewis guns, charging forward once more.

“Kill! Annihilate these damn bastards!” Qi Delong’s roar, born from the Central Plains, echoed through the southwestern mountains.

Behind him, his soldiers charged out, clashing fiercely with the remaining Nationalist troops.

Pouch-pouch!

The sharp sound of bayonets piercing flesh filled the air.