Chapter 1437: Containment

The shells struck the ground; of course, it was nothing like the roaring flames and billowing smoke seen in films and dramas. They merely blasted a few small craters, kicked up piles of dust, and incidentally took out a few Japanese soldiers at close range.

Dozens of shells were fired, yet they only eliminated a handful of Japanese soldiers; some weren't even killed outright, while others were merely wounded.

The main issues were the insufficient blast radius and the inadequate density of the bombardment.

Amidst the flying gravel and dust, the Japanese troops guarding the warehouse quickly reacted; an officer stumbled out in panic, shouting loudly, while junior officers organized everyone to seek cover and evade the attack.

This warehouse stood on relatively open flat ground; likely due to fire prevention concerns, the surrounding trees were still several dozen meters away from the structure.

It was precisely these several dozen meters that blocked the soldiers of the Sichuan Regiment.

The Japanese hid behind the warehouse walls and atop the blockhouse; Wang Yan led his men to surround the warehouse from all four sides, exchanging fire across the intervening distance of several dozen meters.

"Wang, I must say, if this is all there is to it, unless the Japanese run out of ammunition, we won't be able to capture this warehouse even after fighting for a month."

John spoke nicely, claiming he was a qualified soldier; yet once the battle truly began, he stayed by Wang Yan's side together with Thompson.

Wang Yan shook his head: "Haven't you noticed that the machine gunner on that blockhouse is already gone?"

Following Wang Yan's pointing finger, they looked at the blockhouse on the southeast corner of the warehouse directly ahead; at the start of the battle, its machine gun had been spitting fire, but now, only a few minutes later, no one remained up there.

John's eyes widened in astonishment: "Wang, your soldiers are all marksmen."

"Marksmanship also depends on talent; bullets can accumulate a certain degree of accuracy within an area, but they cannot pile up extreme precision," Wang Yan said with a chuckle. "It's just that my brothers have marksmen distributed quite evenly, and combined with their generally good shooting skills, they can achieve this. My brothers are all elites forged in battle."

Of the over three thousand brothers, aside from the routed soldiers Wang Yan later swept up along the way, and the Burmese and Thai recruits, the rest were basically those who had followed him through hundreds of battles; whether fighting with superior numbers or inferior ones, they had participated in it all, and for a long time they had absorbed Wang Yan's indoctrination and absorbed his combat experience.

Regarding areas of dense firepower, Wang Yan always supported concentrated fire attacks; a blockhouse is not a bunker, not constructed of reinforced concrete with only a single firing port. Under such circumstances, a concentrated fire attack is highly efficient, capable of disabling the target in a single volley.

At the same time, Wang Yan never demanded his brothers fire rapidly; one shot at a time, firing slowly was sufficient.

After such long-term cooperation, the brothers below had developed a tacit understanding; instead of one person firing here and another there, often two or three would team up to take down a single target.

As for the other Japanese soldiers not covered by this, the role of the machine gunners became apparent; they fired short bursts, a few shots here, a few shots there, and when the large-caliber bullets from the machine guns swept across, the Japanese devils dared not expose themselves for at least three seconds.

With over a thousand men surrounding and firing like this, it wouldn't take long before the Japanese dared not come out.

Just as they were speaking, Wang Yan spotted a Japanese officer inside the warehouse exposing his head; he was positioned on a small hillside, granting him a height advantage.

He immediately raised his sniper rifle, took brief aim, and fired with a bang; the officer collapsed to the ground.

John witnessed this scene clearly, but before he could offer any praise, Wang Yan fired four consecutive shots, and four people around the officer fell dead on the spot.

Wang Yan turned his head, raised an eyebrow at John, then began reloading while shouting loudly: "Bugler!"

"Yes!" A young lad who had been waiting behind him for some time excitedly picked up the bugle prepared long ago and blew: "Toot-toot-toot!"

Thus, the soldiers hiding behind the trees below heard the sound; from one location, two or three men were dispatched, using all their strength to sprint madly, while the soldiers behind them spared no ammunition, laying down dense suppressive fire even where no Japanese were visible, blasting plaster off the walls until it flew everywhere.

Covering the several dozen meters in the blink of an eye, the soldiers who rushed to the warehouse's edge pulled out grenades from their persons and, without a second word, hurled them over the wall.

Almost simultaneously, soldiers from the jungle behind rapidly advanced, beginning to probe their way into the warehouse.

It was only at this moment that the battle had been underway for merely ten minutes; the soldiers of the Sichuan Regiment coordinated with tacit understanding and smoothness, advancing with order, retreating and advancing at will.

Wang Yan paid no more attention to John or to Thompson, who was sulking on the other side; instead, he utilized his height advantage and his marksman's precision in picking off targets to provide support for the soldiers below.

He was now a regimental commander and no longer needed to lead charges personally or engage in close-quarters combat; yet possessing marksmanship that could kill any god blocking his path, he naturally could not let it go to waste—he still had to fight when necessary.

His precision in picking off targets, summoning death like the King of Yama, was no worse than the suppressive capability of a heavy machine gun; expose your head, and you were instantly killed.

For every additional enemy he killed, perhaps several of his brothers could avoid death.

For a moment, the sound of gunfire erupted violently; the brothers below quickly fought their way into the warehouse. Once one side broke through, the Japanese on the other three sides naturally panicked; once panic set in, the result was that all four sides were breached, marking the end of this battle in victory.

Unless there were ten Wang Yans among the Japanese, otherwise in such a cramped space, a warehouse with particularly little room to maneuver, even if Wang Yan personally resisted, he would have been riddled with bullets like a beehive.

Wang Yan lit a cigarette, strolled leisurely down the small hillside with his men, and by the time he reached the warehouse, the sound of gunfire had already ceased.

"Brother, this Japanese major and lieutenant colonel were killed by you," Mi Long said, pointing to a Japanese soldier kneeling on the ground.

"I thought you were going to behead someone again."

"What kind of talk is that? We must progress, after all. It's better to take live captives; you understand bird language and speak devil talk, so interrogate this Japanese devil properly, and we won't be completely in the dark."

"What 'understand bird language, speak devil talk'?" Wang Yan kicked him amusingly, then said, "But what you said is indeed correct; the progress is quite obvious."

Mi Long lacked the ability to command troops independently; he was suited only for executing orders, and even then, he lacked flexibility. However, he had one good point: he was rather reckless and highly efficient in execution. Whatever Wang Yan told him to do, he did it, which was why Mi Long became the commander of the Guard Company.

However, in terms of address, Mi Long still maintained the term 'Brother'; among the over three thousand brothers, only he, Wang Yan, and Li Wula—who still hadn't died by now—were from Northeast China, and the two of them had known each other the longest, sharing an ironclad relationship. Mi Long believed this highlighted his special status.

When even A Yi, whom he looked down upon, had rapidly advanced to become a battalion commander, he felt he needed to prove something; otherwise, how could he establish his footing among the ranks of over three thousand brothers?

Wang Yan did not rush to interrogate; instead, he first inspected the contents of the warehouse. This was a logistical supply point containing fuel, food, and ammunition, with fuel and food being the most abundant.

The fuel was useless to them, but the food solved an urgent need; at the very least, it allowed everyone to eat their fill for a few days.

He had the foreign telegraph operator use the radio to transmit the message that they had arrived nearby and that combat had commenced. Wang Yan then proceeded to interrogate several of the little Japanese.

To date, no one had ever held out against Wang Yan; indeed, if the same methods were used on himself, Wang Yan suspected he wouldn't last either. The little Japanese were no exception; their performance ranked at the very bottom in Wang Yan's interrogation records. Without him needing to expend much effort, they confessed everything they knew or had heard.

From this, Wang Yan largely understood the situation on this battlefield: over thirty thousand troops were being hammered relentlessly by the Allied forces. Of course, this side was primarily composed of British troops; various armored brigades, motorized regiments, and the like were being beaten back step by step by the Japanese, unable to advance, and could only turtle up in defense.

Of course, this did not mean the British army was weak. In fact, the Japanese had committed more troops to this area than all other forces combined. With this numerical advantage, plus the Japanese' appropriate command strategies, this was the reason the Japanese had nearly swept across Burma.

The British army struggled alone; in the early stages when the Japanese attacked, they did not allow the Expeditionary Force to engage, resulting in them getting beaten badly. With their homeland also being hammered by the 'Art Student,' they were in their darkest hour, which led to Wang Yan and others entering Burma to fight previously.

Wang Yan's unit was the anomaly on the Burmese battlefield; the casualties they inflicted on the Japanese were hardly less than those inflicted by all other units combined...

"Respected Wang, shall we go to link up with the Allied forces?"

Seeing Wang Yan sitting on a stool, with the head of a captive officer just severed lying at his feet, and Wang Yan rubbing his foot back and forth on the devil's head, John was frightened by Wang Yan's cruelty, maintaining a cautious humility.

Wang Yan was studying a map, planning the next moves based on the intelligence extracted from the interrogations.

Without lifting his head, he responded: "John, you are a professional soldier, and furthermore an officer. Tell me, on the battlefield, who is fuel meant for? We only have two legs of flesh and blood; surely we aren't expected to use our flesh-and-blood bodies to ram tanks and armored vehicles?"

Ignoring John's awkward laugh, he waved his hand. "Just wait. At fastest one month, at slowest three months—if your compatriots aren't good-for-nothings, then it should be about right. Go now, do not disturb my thinking and judgment; this concerns whether you will smoothly reunite with your compatriots."

Shortly afterward, the rumble of artillery fire came from the south; Wang Yan ordered everyone to pack up and prepare to depart, while simultaneously sending someone to tell Long Wenzhang to bring his men back.

Within merely ten minutes, a messenger arrived to report that Japanese armored units had advanced; the Second and Third Battalions were retreating.

Wang Yan immediately led his team darting into the mountains, linking up with Fan La and A Yi, who had run in.

"Lord Wang, run, run quickly! The little Japanese are truly desperate; they've even sent out tanks. I estimate that eight out of ten times, the moment we made our move, the people in the warehouse reported the situation, and they immediately realized it was us. If we don't leave now, our brothers will be surrounded!"

"Indeed, Lord Wang, the little Japanese have gone mad, chasing us as if their lives don't matter. Look, in the past when we entered the woods, how would they dare follow? Now they're chasing us, trying to kill us!" A Yi also shouted loudly, urging a quick retreat.

Wang Yan shook his head: "What's the rush? Before we even fired a shot, I didn't cut the phone lines—I let them spread the news on purpose. Otherwise, how would they know we were coming? How would they move their troops around? If they don't move, how do we find their weak spots? War demands motion, chaos—only then can we slaughter the devils without mercy and lead them around like dogs."

"Tell the brothers not to panic, keep formation. If both your company commanders are terrified, how can you expect the men to fight? We can't beat their tanks, but we can beat their men. Withdraw along our original route, lure them in—Si La is already leading troops back to ambush them from behind."

The Sichuan Army's men were all experts in jungle warfare, mainly because they'd followed Wang Yan from the start, fighting nothing but jungle battles. They mastered every kind of trap and booby trap.

As they withdrew, the pursuing devils began falling into the traps.

Once they crossed a small hill and escaped direct artillery fire, the devils who followed in were in even worse shape—because Wang Yan stopped running and began launching ambushes everywhere.

Less than twenty minutes later, Long Wenzhang arrived, cleverly encircling from behind—the battle ended immediately.

After hastily clearing the battlefield, Wang Yan led his troops straight south.

"Lord Wang, didn't you take a wrong turn?" Fan La asked curiously. "The Japanese tanks and artillery came from the south…"

"Go on? Why stop talking?" Wang Yan smiled at him.

"But what if the Japanese still have heavy troops guarding that side?" Ali pressed.

"Si La!"

Hearing Wang Yan's call, Long Wenzhang ran over: "Lord Wang?"

"Explain to Company Commander Lin why we're heading south, and how to respond if we meet heavy resistance."

"When they think it's empty, make it real; when they think it's real, make it empty. We have four thousand men—how many troops count as 'heavy'? How many would they need to completely trap us? The Japanese have only thirty to forty thousand here total, and even counting logistics, less than sixty thousand. Where can't we run to?"

Even if we march straight into the Japanese command center, even if we take heavy casualties, it's still not a dead end. Lord Wang is here—he's a heavenly god descended among us. We won't suffer too many losses. We can even walk dogs until the devils drop dead."

"Our mission now isn't to fight—it's to tie them down. The more Japanese we move, the greater our victory here. To the west, there are foreign devils' troops—armored brigades with tanks, artillery, and machine guns that rattle and rattle, deadly as hell, far superior to our weapons."

Wang Yan nodded in satisfaction and patted Ali on the shoulder: "Ali, you still need training. When you're idle, think harder—don't ignore any factor. Even when the brothers shit or piss, you must consider it."

He wasn't joking with Ali. Thousands had followed him for months—fighting, marching, fighting, marching, constantly shifting, baked by sun, soaked by rain, battered by wind, eating poorly, sleeping poorly—and still, no mass illness, no mental breakdowns. Instead, every man fought like a wild beast.

Could that be simple?

It's all because Wang Mou is a great general…

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