Haneda, a major in the Japanese Army's 18th Division, had led his squadron out of the jungle three days earlier to the Karaka area on the Burma-India border. There were several Japanese squads like Haneda's squadron that had gone into the jungle, and they were all preparing to enter the Indian border through the Karaka or Tajiapu line according to the orders of the 18th Division.

Haneda's eyelids jumped when he woke up in the hayshed in the morning, making him feel uneasy. After crossing the jungle with rudimentary equipment and rice balls, Haneda lost 14 soldiers, one of whom was his own brother. The generals of the division seemed to be crazy, and they delusionally thought that they could enter India with a few small Japanese troops, and after Karaka and Tajiapu was Ledo, and the British army had a regiment in Ledo.

Haneda, who had been thinking about it for a long time, decided to stay in the mountains near Ledo, wait for the arrival of the large army, and then enter India, he did not want to die in vain like his younger brother. "Shaoza, let's have breakfast" Orderly Ozawa brought Haneda's breakfast, a skewer of roasted mouses, and a can of porridge. The mountain rat was caught by Ozawa, and the rice for boiling porridge was snatched from the village below the mountain yesterday, which was enough for Haneda's team to consume for half a month.

Haneda, who was well fed, decided to personally lead the search party down the mountain today, and yesterday found another village at the bottom of the mountain, where Haneda needed meat to replenish the strength of his squad soldiers. The unarmed Indians were clearly no match for the heavily armed Japanese soldiers, and the whole village was surrounded by smoke, fire, shouting, and the smell of blood.

The Japanese soldiers, who had just come out of the jungle, needed to vent their inner timidity and fear with killing. All the Indians in the village were killed, the ground was covered with blood, and all the food and livestock were gathered together to be brought back to the mountains.

Haneda snuggled comfortably in a thatched hut, enjoying the lunch Ozawa had made for him, a chicken stew and a few baked potatoes. The strong curry smell in the Indian house is unbearable for many people, but Haneda is an outlier, as long as he is facing food, Haneda has an appetite in any environment.

"Let's go" Haneda led the bloody village back to the mountain before dark. Chubby Ozawa led a cow at the front of the line, carrying some home-brewed sake and rice on its back. With a "whoosh" sound, a black shadow burrowed into Ozawa's chest, and Ozawa looked at his chest in disbelief, with a crossbow arrow pierced on it. Ozawa, who was still holding the reins in his hand, knelt on the ground, opened his mouth and wanted to say something, but he only spurted blood and couldn't say a word.

"Hidden, hidden," Haneda, who reacted, shouted loudly, beckoning the Japanese soldiers who were still stunned to hide. It was too late, and more than a dozen gunshots burst out from the grass beside the road, and the dense rain of bullets had firmly enveloped Haneda and them. The close range of the submachine guns was terrifying, the Japanese soldiers who were shot twisted their bodies in the rain of bullets, they had just been hit by the bullet from the left and fell to the right, and then they were hit by the bullet from the right and fell to the left again, until their bodies were torn apart by the bullet, and they stopped the dance of death in the rain of bullets.

"Grenade, grenade," shouted the surviving Japanese soldiers, looking for shelter and taking cover. More than a dozen grenades fell in the middle of the air, and the Japanese soldiers shouted, screamed, and hid in the rising smoke and flying shrapnel. When Haneda commanded the Japanese troops to hide in a dead corner and prepare to counterattack, the gunfire on the opposite side stopped, and the attackers seemed to have disappeared out of thin air, and the sides of the mountain road were quiet.

The cunning Haneda sent a soldier up the mountain road to observe the situation, and the soldier walked the mountain road twice, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Haneda was still not at ease, and prepared to hide until dark before retreating to the mountain. Time passed minute by minute, 2 hours passed, and the opposite side was still quiet, Haneda wondered if his judgment was wrong, and the attacker on the opposite side might really be gone.

But sometimes, imagination is beautiful, but reality is cruel. Just when Haneda judged that the attackers had gone and asked the surviving Japanese soldiers to clean up their own bodies, the situation suddenly changed. The attackers had apparently taught Haneda, a graduate of the Imperial Military Academy, a good lesson, and as the Japanese were reining in the corpses of their comrades, a dozen gunfire erupted from the grass again, this time the Japanese were even more embarrassed than the last time.

After two rounds of bullets, Haneda's 100-man search party consisted of less than 50 soldiers, and the surviving Japanese soldiers no longer dared to return fire like the last time, but just huddled behind the concealment with their heads in their hands, praying that they would not be the next to be hit by bullets. Haneda was also cowed down behind a fallen ox, clutching his southern pistol tightly and at a loss, the Imperial Military Academy did not teach him that he would be ambushed twice in a row in the same place, and that he was the same group of attackers.

This time, the attackers' gunfire did not stop, only rang out again and again, but the accuracy was much higher. Every time a gunshot was fired, a Japanese soldier would scream and scream. The attackers did not seem to want to kill them, and most of the parts of the bullets were hands, feet or joints, which only made the Japanese soldiers incapacitated from fighting.

The gunfire was still ringing unhurriedly, and the attackers had a lot of time, but Haneda had no time, and his soldiers were slowly decreasing, and there were less than 30 people, and if this continued, they could only be wiped out. "Come out, come out, you cowards" A Japanese soldier who was forced to stand it jumped out of his concealment, holding a 38 rifle and shouting loudly into the four directions, like a desperate beast.

The attacker did not appear at the frenzied Japanese soldier's curses, but only a flying bullet was answered, and the Japanese soldier who was shot in the head finally determined the direction of the bullet, but unfortunately he was only a dead man and could not speak. Fear overwhelmed the psychological defenses of the Japanese soldiers, and there were constantly frenzied Japanese soldiers picking out from behind their concealments and charging in the direction they judged might be hiding the attackers. Unfortunately, they did not see the attacker until they died, and all that awaited them was the bullets that flew in.

When Haneda was left with three soldiers, the attacker finally appeared, and a dozen hairballs came out of the grass, a dozen soldiers covered in thatch. Haneda carefully observed the dozen or so soldiers who attacked them, and it was hard to believe that these soldiers, all of whom were equipped with American equipment, were actually Chinese soldiers with yellow faces. After the hairballs disarmed Haneda and their weapons, a guy who was apparently leading the way blew a bamboo whistle in his mouth, and a whistle in response was heard in the mountains and forests in the distance.

After a short time, a group of soldiers covered in thatch came to the mountain road. Haneda shielded himself from the glare of sunlight with his hands and looked at the crowd passing by, trying to determine who was in the lead. A strong man with a full face came and grabbed Haneda by the collar and pulled him to a dead cow on which was sitting a young officer.

The young officer had a smile on his face, looking very good-talking and kind, and Haneda also had a smile on his face, trying not to look so embarrassed. "Hello, I'm Zhao Zhi, and my people know Japanese. I want to know, are you from the Japanese army? Why is it here? Zhao Zhi smiled kindly and asked Xiucai to translate it to Haneda.

"My name is Hanedazawa, I can't tell you my unit number and my mission" Haneda tried his best to maintain the dignity of an officer, rejected the cigarettes handed over by Zhao Zhi, and refused to answer Zhao Zhi's questions.

After examining the corpse, the old cannon came over with a few Japanese soldiers' identity cards and handed them to Xiucai, waiting for Xiucai to translate to Zhao Zhi in a whisper. Zhao Zhi still smiled and asked Haneda, "I know that you are from the 18th Division of the Japanese Army, I want to know, why did you come back here?" Seeing that Haneda still didn't want to answer, Zhao Zhi pulled out the pistol on his waist without thinking, and shot three shots, killing the last three remaining soldiers of Haneda.

"One last time I ask you, why are you here?" Zhao Zhi narrowed his eyes, and the pistol was also aimed at Haneda's head, waiting for Haneda's answer.