If the phone can be connected, then all decisions made by Kobayashi must be made quickly on the spot. Kobayashi recalled the disposition of commanders at all levels on the front line, and remembered the outstanding performance of each squadron and even each squad. His memory-stricken mind suddenly flooded back with a lot of small things from the past, and a series of troop numbers. He knew every cannon and every soldier of the army, and these situations were now flashing in his mind, but they were still some primitive information.

At this time, he felt furious with a fire surname. It was the storm that was against him. A burst of anger surged into his heart, confusing his thoughts, "If there is a storm, I won't report it." The meteorological department is simply eating dry food! ”

His camp had been destroyed, his troops were under serious threat, and his heart could not help but crink at the thought of a possible attack by the American army.

Seeing that the storm was getting bigger and bigger, Fukui couldn't help but curse. At this time, the artillery of the American army started fighting again, and the sound was deafening. "I don't know which poor creatures are going to suffer!" Someone said, sighed, and sat down on the wetland. A thick, damp mist floated on the ground, and they shivered with cold as their wet clothes and pants sticking to their flesh. A flurry of American shells fell about a mile away, and they all listened and did not squeak again. A procession walked by, numbering in small groups for one hour, and the guns clanged against the steel helmets and backpack buckles. Not long away, a flare rose into the air, and the group looked like a string of black paper cutouts moving in the spotlight with a strong light. Their guns were crooked, and there was a bulge on their backs, which looked strange, as if they were hunchbacks. The sound of footsteps was mixed and chaotic, and it sounded like a gently lapping wave just now when a convoy was driving on the road. After a while, the flares went out, and the line was over. The people gradually walked away, but they still dragged a string of soft gunshots. There was a small contact in the distance, and the sound of rifle fire was heard, and the gunfire of the Americans sounded much more fierce than the guns of the other himself, as if a belt was being pumped on a table. Someone couldn't sit still and began to ask his companion: "How far do you say the people of the United States are from us?" ”

"How do I know! It's going to be fast anyway, and you'll be able to meet them in a while. Someone replied angrily.

Several soldiers walked through the darkness, and Aida lay down on the ground. On the first night of the battle, he was groggy and wanted to sleep, and he felt a little annoyed. His shirt was already wet, but when he lay down, he was even more soaked, and he shivered and sat up again.

I waited another half an hour before I received the order to advance. Aso stood up and followed the guide to lead the way, with the rest of the people following behind. The guide led them into a low forest, where there was a small group of soldiers surrounded by six anti-tank guns. It was six "Type One" 47mm anti-tank guns, the guns were not large, and the barrels were quite thin. If it were on hard flat ground, it would not be too difficult for one person to pull a cannon.

Aso said: "Let's bring anti-tank guns to the first brigade. Let's pull two of the six cannons. After saying that, he called everyone to his side and made arrangements: "I don't know how muddy the path ahead is, but it can be imagined." We're in the middle of the queue, so I'm going to divide the group into three groups of three, so that one group can take a break at a time. ”

He walked over and spoke to an officer, and then came back and said, "Ando's group should rest first." "After saying that, he came to the back of a cannon and pulled it hard." Good guy, it's pretty heavy to pull up. Fukui and Aida pulled up with him, and the soldiers of the other squad had already been broken into pieces, and a few people were clustered on each cannon and began to move. In this way, the group pulled six guns, walked through the camp, and went out through a hole in the barbed wire.

The group of fifty or so people followed a narrow path through the jungle, moving extremely slowly. After walking a hundred feet, the rear team could not see the front team. The trees on both sides stood in the middle of the road, and the branches on top were intertwined, and they felt as if they were groping their way through a tunnel that could not reach the end. The road was muddy, and as soon as you stepped on it, you sank into it, and after a few steps, your shoes were covered with large chunks of mud. Those who pull the cannon can only rush hard, stop for a few steps, and stop for a few steps. Every time he couldn't walk more than ten yards, the cannon would sink into the mud, so the three people on the cannon had to be dragged alive until their hands and feet were numb. It was easy to get the cannon out, and he took advantage of the situation to rush forward, but unfortunately it was only fifteen or six feet that the momentum was lost. At this time, I had to walk again and again, but I couldn't walk a few yards, and I would fall into the mud puddle again. The procession followed the path, struggling forward at a pitiful pace. Sometimes the people on the back guns unknowingly hit the muzzles of the front guns, and sometimes the rear teams fell far away, so that the team broke into several sections, and each slowly crawled, as if an earthworm had been cut into many pieces, and they were still writhing there. The most bitter are the people in the back team. By the time they had passed, the path had already been almost a swamp for the guns and men of the front team, and in some places a cannon had to be carried and pulled by two groups of people to get through the worst quagmire.

The path is only a few feet wide. The thick roots of the trees were always stumbling, and the branches and thorns scratched their faces and hands with blood. Their eyes were dark, and they didn't know anything about the twists and turns of the path, and sometimes when they encountered a downhill slope, they let the cannon rush up a section, but when they got to the bottom, there was still a little shadow of the path. So I had to protect my eyes with my arms and grope in the woods with thorny vines. Moving the cannon back to the road, it was another hard fight. It is quite possible to ambush a few Americans in such a place, but it is impossible to pull the artillery without making a sound. The cannon itself had both rolling and rumbling sounds, tires sinking into the mud and smacking, and the person pulling the cannon was so anxious that he cursed and gasped for air, as if the wrestler had just finished a round after a long standoff. The sound of words and orders was really nothing, and the complaining, sobbing loudly, sweating and shouting hard did all this. After an hour, they only felt that there was nothing in the world anymore, and the only reality was the thin-necked cannon in their hands that they could not help but pull forward. Sweat soaked through his pants and captivated his eyes. Even scolding and scolding, working hard, they pulled these small cannons, moving a few feet at a time, and they no longer knew what they were doing in their heads.

When it was the turn of the person to rest, he shuffled and walked beside the gun, catching his breath, and sometimes asking for a retreat to rest for a while. The queue had to stop every ten minutes so that those who had stragged behind could catch up. As soon as the line stopped, the cannon puller would lie down on the road, covered in mud. They felt as if they had been running for hours, and they couldn't breathe, and their stomachs wanted to vomit but couldn't. Some of them threw up their followers; Especially the steel helmet on the head, everyone took it off one by one, either took it off and threw it to the side, or let it fall on the road.

"How far is it?" Someone couldn't help but ask.

"There's still a mile...... There's still a mile to go. It is estimated that more than half of the way has already been reached. It's really not a human job. ”

"These cannons are in a hurry?"

"Probably in a hurry...... There were no tank-fighting guns on the front line. Two hours earlier, the 3rd Squadron had repelled an enemy tank attack. Then an order came from above, telling them to send some artillery there. Presumably, the enemy will attack in that area. ”

"Then let's send it quickly."

"It's going to have to be sent quickly. If a cannon gets stuck here, it's troublesome. Front...... You have to cross a small river. I'm afraid it's not easy to deal with. ”

Fukui turned around and struggled back to pull his cannon. By this time, the line was more than two hundred yards long from beginning to end. After a while, the team moved, and the drudger had to work again. Occasionally, flares rose in the air, and the light was not too bright to penetrate the dense foliage, leaving only a faint faint blue light on them. In this short moment of blue light, their figures pulling cannons turned into typical desperate images, like the reliefs on monuments, with sharp outlines and beautiful forms. Their uniforms had long since been black and black, first soaking black from the rain, and then smearing a layer of mud on the road. Therefore, when they called Qingguang such a photo, the faces became more and more pale, and they all seemed to have changed. The cannons were like a green worm with its slender hind legs against the ground, raising its forelimbs and body. In the blink of an eye, the darkness overwhelmed them again, so they could only rush forward as if they were blind, like a flock of ants carrying grain back to their nests.

Finally arrived at his destination, Aida couldn't figure out how he hadn't collapsed. He gulped for air, his dry lips trembling. The belt of the backpack was rubbed with pain, and there were two flames under his feet. Even if he wanted to speak, he couldn't open his mouth, because from his chest, throat, and mouth to his mouth, it was as if a felt had been tightly covered. He couldn't even smell the pungent stench on his clothes. He was secretly surprised in his heart: he was so tired and tired, and his body was even able to stand up. He was originally a lazy young man, and he never wanted to do more than the work that had to be done, and he always tried not to touch anything that had to be done with some hardship, some fatigue, and so on, which made his shoulders ache, panting and heartbeat. He also has a vague desire to be a hero - in Yueben, as long as there is a huge reward for being a hero, he can live a comfortable life from now on, and he and his mother no longer have to worry about food and clothing. He also has a daughter, and when he becomes a hero, he can go back with a few medals to show off in front of his daughter. However, he always thought that fighting a war was nothing more than thrilling. You don't have to endure hardship, and you don't have to spend a lot of effort. Rushing through an open field under the fire of several machine guns was something he imagined; However, running so many miles with such a heavy burden on his back, he was so tired that he was stinging with a tingling pain, which he never expected.

The personnel of the artillery transport team all settled down one after another and gradually fell asleep. From time to time, shells flew and landed in the nearby jungle, but they didn't pay much attention. The battle has been in place for a night, and it has always been like thunder and no rain, and now if there is no overwhelming artillery coming, don't try to make them move. Besides, they are so tired that they can't dig the fortifications anymore.

Fukui slept later than everyone else. He has an old problem for many years, as long as he is exposed to moisture for a long time, his waist will not be used. At this moment, he was lying on the wet ground, his waist was throbbing for a while, and he turned over several times in a row, trying to see if it was better to feel better with his back against the wet mud, or to feel better with his back to the sky and the wind. He was hungry and suffered for a while, and then he finally got up, rummaged through his backpack, found a box of dry food, took out the compressed biscuits and ate them, and took up the kettle and drank a few sips of water. The blanket was still wet from the evening storm, but he still took it out and wrapped it around his body, and then he felt warmer. So he wanted to close his eyes for a while, but the pain in his back was so unbearable that he couldn't stand it. In the end, I sat up, felt in the first-aid kit on the bullet belt for a while, and found the "ambulance tablet" in a small paper bag. He swallowed half of a bag of pills, and drank half of the rest of the water in the kettle. He wanted to eat all the pills, but it occurred to him that he might be able to use it if he was injured. As soon as I thought of this, my heart suddenly sank again, and my eyes stared gloomily into the darkness, and after a long time, I saw the figures of the soldiers sleeping around.

There was a cannonball whizzing overhead, but he couldn't hear it. The sound of the cannonballs sounded a little special this time, like the cold wind on the branches and treetops. A flare illuminated the drenched and ugly trees outside, and their wet and blackened clothes and pants were reflected as if they were faint. Fukui found that Aida had a muddy face, so he also touched his face, and when he saw that his hands were also muddy.

The flares went out, and darkness reigned in all directions, and for a moment there was nothing to see.

There were a few heart-pounding snaps, and the American mortars were fired again. Fukui watched as the shells landed in the jungle on the other side, one after another, but the landing point gradually moved to this side. On the other side, a mortar returned fire, and about a quarter of a mile to the left, several machine guns were firing at each other, and the sound of gunfire was mixed and sounded loud and scattered.

"Mi Guoyan! The rice guy is coming! "The voice was thin and high-pitched, and the lower it was, the more terrible it became.

Immediately, there was no movement for more than ten seconds, and the moonlight was still shining on the river, and only the crickets were still screaming happily. Then the voice came again: "Mi Guoyan! Here we go! Someone shouted with all his might: "Come up, everybody!" ”

Suddenly, a machine gun from the opposite shore rushed at this side, and Fukui quickly lowered his head under the cover. The American's machine gun spit out a fierce white light in the darkness, like a fire-breathing welding torch blowpipe, and the sound was even more thrilling to hear in the dark. Fukui relied on the strength of his will to calm down. He pulled the trigger, and the machine gun jumped under him, spitting out a barrage of bullets, dragging streaks of light, and lunging into the jungle on the opposite bank.

The sound of the gunshot, combined with the vibration of the barrel of the gun, calmed him down. The Americans' point of fire he had just seen was there, and he aimed his gun there and shot a shuttle. It was not possible to hold the gun with one hand, the handle of the machine gun was bounced in the palm of his hand, and he had to hold the machine gun firmly with both hands. The barrel of the gun wafted into his nose with a hot, metallic smell that cleared his mind completely. He quickly lowered his head after the fight, waiting for the other party to return fire, and sure enough, the bullet whirred past his head, and he couldn't help but shiver. Bullets swept across the mud, splashing loose dirt and hitting him in the face. Fukui didn't feel it at all. This is a common phenomenon in human struggle; The flesh is numb. He would shrink as soon as he heard the sound, his lips would suddenly clench and loosen, and his eyes would keep wide, but he would not react to his own skin.

He got up again and struck hard, and then bowed his head in the fortifications. A scream pierced the night, and a faint sneer crossed his lips, thinking: I have knocked that guy down. It was as if he had seen his bullets pierce through the flesh of the American, shattering all the bones he touched along the way. "Ahh——!h There was another scream of despair, which made his hairs stand on end, and he could not help but think of branding the calf, and then there was such a strange moment of wandering, the sound, the smell and the scene of branding the calf were presented in front of him one after another, making him feel as if he were there again. He screamed again and fired continuously for about ten seconds in one breath to cover the rest of the soldiers into position. As soon as the machine gun stopped, he could hear someone crawling behind him.

Fukui looked at the other side again. There was silence on the other side of the bank at the moment, and the sudden shots were long gone, like sparks flying on a grinding wheel, and there was no trace of it.

"The enemy is about to attack."

"Alas——! It's really terrible to wake people up like this! ”

The machine guns of the Americans on the opposite bank swept at them again. Bullets whizzed into the jungle behind them, sending branches and leaves flying. Tracer bullets are like red lightning bolts, sticking straight into the jungle. There really seemed to be thousands of rifles coming from across the river, and the soldiers had to stick their bodies to the bottom of the pit.

The sound of gunfire "thumped" into their ear drums. Fukui's head hurts. The machine gun I fired just now shook my ears a little deaf. A bullet flew past the ground, and then flew up a lot of dirt, splitting and falling on them. This time, Fukui felt that there was actually a torrential rain on his back. He had to poke his head out to fight back, so he kept an eye on the gunfire and spied on the timing. The sound of the gunfire seemed to be a little quieter, and he cautiously raised his eyes and quickly drilled down again. The Americans' machine guns strafed back and forth in the bushes, refusing to let them go.

(To be continued)