Chapter 342: Yichang, War Drums Like Thunder!

The Yangtze River surface was shrouded in a haze of gunpowder smoke.

Yao Quanyi stood on the bow of the lead LCI infantry landing craft; he was the overall commander of this landing operation.

He gripped his binoculars, his gaze piercing the smoke, fixed steadfastly on the opposite bank, where the Yichang dock had become a charred wasteland, flames still licking, thick smoke billowing.

Behind him, eight LCI landing craft spread out in a fan formation, cutting through the dark river water, their engines roaring like thunder.

Each craft carried the elite soldiers of an Infantry Company, steel helmets over resolute, tense faces. They remained silent, clutching their Mauser 98 rifles or MP40 Submachine Guns.

Dum… dum… dum…

Low, sonorous, like the heartbeat of the earth.

It was a war drum; from the direction of Moji Shan the drum sounded like thunder!

A thousand years ago, the two armies clashed, using drums to boost morale; today, in the Battle of Yiling, Jiang Anguo does the same.

Dum! Dum! Dum!

The drumbeats accelerated from slow to rapid, from single beats into a rhythm.

At first like ancient thunder, then like ten thousand horses galloping, finally turning into a raging tide that drowned out the crashing waves and the sound of artillery.

Yao Quanyi felt a jolt in his heart.

"Drum advances, gold retreats; fight to the death without turning."

But at this moment, as the drum sound pierced the smoke, swept over the river surface, and struck straight to the soul.

"Four hundred meters to the opposite bank!" the helmsman shouted.

The helmsman constantly reported the navigation distance to Yao Quanyi.

Yao Quanyi abruptly lowered his binoculars and barked, "All fire teams, prepare suppressive fire!"

Before the words finished, the 20 mm Erlich cannon and the 12.7 mm Browning heavy machine gun on both sides of the eight landing craft roared simultaneously.

Da da da!

Bullets rained down like a storm, slashing the river surface, weaving a deadly fire net that hammered the remaining Japanese Army river defenses.

Sandbag cover was torn apart, Barbed Wire shredded into a sieve, several Japanese Army sentries peeking out were instantly swept into a cloud of blood, not even a scream could be uttered.

7.92 mm rounds could kill any carbon‑based creature, and the 12.7 mm bullets and 20 mm cannon were so destructive that even the Little Devil's parents wouldn't recognize them.

Dum dum dum! Dum dum dum!

It didn't sound like modern war machinery, but like ancestors' shouts, like the roar of mountains and rivers, like forty million compatriots behind them cheering in unison.

Japanese Army soldiers had never heard such a sound.

They hid in the shelters, listening to the clear, unstoppable drum rhythm, and developed an illusion: it seemed not an army crossing the river, but the entire Yangtze River flowing backward, the whole Huaxia rising!

It was a meticulously timed moment, opening fire when crossing the river to the midline—avoiding premature exposure of intent while maximally suppressing enemy fire points in the final sprint.

At this moment, the 150 mm Howitzer at the Moji Shan position continued its barrage, shaking the Japanese Army's rear positions and preventing any effective counterattack.

Yichang was the burial ground of the Little Devil's 13th Division.

Yao Quanyi drew his pistol, raised it overhead: "Brothers! Hear that? That's our drum! Our ancestors are watching us! Today, if we don't retake Yichang, we'll have no face before the elders of Jiangdong!"

"Kill—!"

Thousands of warriors roared in unison, their clamour nearly drowning out the drum.

"Accelerate! Full speed ahead!" Yao Quanyi shouted.

The landing craft surged like an arrow released from a bow, charging toward the burning beachhead.

The river water churned into white spray by the propellers, the hull tossed violently, yet no one fell. Everyone braced their bodies against the hull, eyes sharp as knives.

Four hundred meters… three hundred meters… one hundred meters!

"Prepare the ramp!"

"Splash!" the bow steel plate slammed down, sending a spray of water aloft.

"Charge! Faster, faster!" Yao Quanyi was the first to leap off the ramp; mud and water rose to his shins, yet he didn't pause, drawing his pistol while roaring, "Scout formation! 2nd Battalion left wing, 3rd Battalion right wing! Rush into the craters! Find cover!"

The order spread swiftly through the entire unit.

The warriors, like tigers released from their cages, leapt into the shallow shoal. Some slipped and rose instantly; others had their legs lacerated by shrapnel, gritted their teeth and kept charging.

Their target was clear: the massive craters carved by aerial bombs and heavy artillery. Those pits, a meter deep and over eight meters wide, now served as the most valuable natural cover.

Just as they surged onto the beachhead, the remaining Japanese Army machine guns finally opened fire.

"Da da da—!"

A Type 92 heavy machine gun spat fire from a concrete bunker behind the dock ruins, its bullets skimming the ground in a horizontal sweep. Two warriors fell at once, their blood quickly staining the river water.

"Sniper! Three o'clock, concrete fortification!" Yao Quanyi crouched at the edge of a crater, issuing rapid commands.

Almost simultaneously, 3rd Battalion deputy commander Deng Bao, without delay.

Holding a Mauser 98k sniper rifle, he plopped into the mud, his body leaning slightly back, steadying the gun, aiming and pulling the trigger.

"Bang!"

Deng Bao, born to make a living as a sniper, didn't have time to log another kill, and decisively searched for the next target.

A flash of fire lit the firing port of the bunker, and the machine gun abruptly ceased.

"Well done!" Yao Quanyi growled low, "2nd Battalion, demolition team, go! Blow that bunker for me!"

The demolition man, agile as a cat, sprinted using the craters and debris for cover, closing in on the target. He jammed two Cluster Hand Grenades into the firing port, lit the fuses, and rolled into the adjacent crater.

"Boom!"

Concrete fragments splattered everywhere, the bunker was completely silenced.

At this point, all eight landing craft had beached, and follow‑up troops streamed onto the beachhead. Engineers quickly erected a floating bridge, signal troops laid field telephone lines, and the Medical Team set up a temporary aid station in a rear crater.

The entire Yichang dock landing zone, though chaotic, was orderly.

【9】 Yao Quanyi looked around.

【10】 The dock was a wreck: the pier broken, warehouses collapsed, rails twisted like pretzels, the ground littered with craters and charred corpses, and even the air carried a repulsive smell of flesh.

Yao Quanyi looked around.

The pier was already a wreck, the dock bridge broken, the warehouse collapsed, the rails twisted like a braid, the ground was strewn with shell holes and charred corpses, and even the air carried a repulsive meat smell.

But it was precisely this ruin that became their foothold.

At the Moji Shan command post, Jiang Anguo set down his telescope, a slight smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

The first wave of the landing went very smoothly; although the Japanese Army had fire support, it was not as strong as he had imagined, and now they only needed to send all the second‑wave assault troops across to the opposite side.

"Tell Yao Quanyi," Jiang Anguo said in a low voice, "the drums never cease, the soldiers never stop. Before night falls, I will raise the flag on Yichang's city tower!"

"Report, Regiment Commander!" a communications officer ran up, panting, "The 2nd Battalion has secured the eastern oil depot ruins, and the rd Battalion is advancing toward the customs building!"

"Good!" Yao Quanyi nodded, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes, "Tell them not to linger in battle, to interleave and split, and to strike straight into the Japanese Army command! The Commander said that before night falls, we must raise the national flag atop Yichang!"

Yao Quanyi stood up, brushed the mud from his trousers, and looked toward the depths of the city.

Outside Yichang, sporadic gunfire and explosions still came, but they were no longer dense. The Japanese Army's resistance receded like the tide; it seemed the Japanese had received orders, and a portion covering the retreat slipped into Yichang itself.

It looks like a street fight is inevitable!

And street fighting is exactly what Yao Quanyi excels at.

The Yangtze River still rushes onward, but today it witnessed a grand scene of the Huaxia Army wiping out the invaders.

It was not by miracle, but by steel, courage, and the victory bought with countless lives.

Yao Quanyi inhaled deeply, raised his pistol, and shouted, "All units, attention, advance toward Yichang's city area!"

The warriors of the 2nd Battalion and the rd Battalion roared in unison, like thunder rolling along the riverbank.

Their silhouettes surged into the flames and ruins, marching forward toward victory without hesitation.