Chapter 533: Lightning Strike on Yangon (7)

The smoke from the air raid had not yet cleared when Jiang Anguo's all‑out attack order spread to every unit of the Expeditionary Force.

Kill!

Charge!

Capture the Japanese commander alive!

Many soldiers shouted that they wanted to capture the Japanese commander alive, but after informing the Squad and Platoon Company Commander, the Japanese commander's name was Iida Shojiro, yet many could not remember his name.

The fervent battle cries rang through the sky outside Yangon, tearing the silence of the fire‑sea like a sudden thunderclap.

All tanks, kill your way through and take Yangon! Zhang Bing roared loudly from Tank 001.

The radio transmitted Zhang Bing's order to all tanks.

The st Division's Zhang Bing Tank Regiment, having completed the withdrawal maneuver, immediately turned around, and the 48 Sherman tanks started up again.

The tracks rolled over a ground littered with craters and rubble, emitting a resonant roar as they surged at full speed toward Yangon, becoming the spearhead of the ground assault.

The tank's forward barrel still glimmered with cold steel, and after a brief pause the crew, invigorated, drove the tank through the remaining Japanese outer defensive line, cutting a path like a hot knife through bamboo.

Machine Gunner, press down on them! a Tank Commander stuck his head out of the turret, bellowed at the accompanying infantry, and pointed his pistol toward the concealed positions on both sides of the street.

The Expeditionary Force infantry trailing the tank held Mauser rifles, with Hand Grenades strapped to their waists.

Under the cover of MG42 machine guns, they charged like a tiger descending a mountain, steps firm, eyes sharp, each foot treading on smoke and blood.

The MG42 Machine Gunners swiftly seized the high points on both sides of the street, set up their guns, and aimed the cold muzzles at corners where Japanese forces might appear.

Dada—

The dense machine‑gun fire erupted instantly, like a torrential downpour, suppressing any Japanese‑occupied shelters or windows.

Suppress them! Don't give the Little Devil a chance to raise his head!

The machine‑gun Squad Leader adjusted the gun's angle while shouting at the nearby assistant shooter.

Change Magazine! Quickly! Keep fire suppression, cover the infantry's advance!

The assistant shooter deftly removed the empty Magazine, inserted a fully‑loaded new one, and the MG42's roar never ceased, becoming the battlefield's deadliest melody.

The Sherman tanks advanced steadily through Yangon's streets, their tracks crushing Japanese corpses and wrecked weapons, and whenever they encountered a Japanese fire point, the tank gun fired without hesitation.

"Dong—" the cannon boomed, each shell striking its target precisely, blasting the shelters to pieces; the Japanese soldiers hidden inside could not scream before the smoke engulfed them.

Infantry, stay close to the tanks and watch both sides of the street!

The Platoon Leader, holding a Mauser rifle, loudly reminded the nearby soldiers, "The Little Devil will definitely hide in houses for ambush; stay alert and don't be careless!"

The soldiers answered in unison, staying tightly behind the tanks, using the armor as cover and advancing cautiously.

The Mauser fire rose and fell, the soldiers shooting precisely at fleeing Japanese on the street, each shot bringing a Japanese soldier down.

A young soldier, his Mauser gripped tightly, eyes steady, pulled the trigger on a fleeing Japanese ahead.

The bullet hit the Japanese's back precisely; he let out a howl and collapsed, motionless.

"Well done!" a comrade patted his shoulder, voice full of praise, then lifted his rifle and kept firing forward.

The Japanese Fifty-five Division had long become a frightened flock; there were not even 8,000 Japanese garrison troops left in Yangon, the Fifty-five Division was already short a regiment, and when Jiang Anguo launched the Tonggu counter‑offensive, the 144th Regiment was annihilated.

In Yangon, the Japanese were reduced to a single regiment of the Fifty-five Division and a few soldiers from the 15th Army Headquarters.

Trying to hold Yangon under the onslaught of aircraft, tanks and artillery is sheer delusion.

According to Jiang Anguo's explicit pre‑war orders, every soldier must throw a Hand Grenade before searching a house to prevent Japanese ambushes inside.

"Enter the house and check, throw a Hand Grenade first!" the Squad Leader ordered the two soldiers beside him.

As soon as the words finished, a soldier pulled a Hand Grenade from his waist, pulled the fuse, paused a second, then hurled it hard toward the house door.

The soldiers behind immediately took positions on both sides of the house to avoid friendly fire from the Hand Grenade.

"Boom—" a massive blast, the Hand Grenade exploded at the doorway, sending shards of stone and wood splinters flying, and Japanese cries echoed from inside.

Charge in!

The Squad Leader gave the order.

Two soldiers, carrying Mauser rifles, rushed into the house; inside was a wreck, walls full of bullet holes, and several Japanese corpses lay on the ground.

An injured Japanese soldier was curled up in a corner, trembling all over, still clutching a rifle tightly in his hand.

"Put down your weapon! Surrender and we won't kill you!" a soldier shouted, the Mauser's muzzle aimed squarely at the Japanese soldier.

The Japanese soldier's eyes were hollow as he looked at the Expeditionary Force troops before him, slowly lowered his rifle, raised his hands, his face full of fear and despair.

He knew resistance was meaningless; only surrender could save a life.

The Squad Leader kept a wary eye on the Little Devil, evidently worried the surrender might be feigned.

After seeing the Little Devil surrender, the Squad Leader immediately ordered the soldiers forward, "Control both hands, check all weapons and equipment, take everything out."

Especially the Hand Grenades on the Little Devil; his hands were bound behind, causing pain, yet he dared not resist, his eyes showing only fear.

The Expeditionary Force's bombing had already instilled fear in the Japanese soldiers within Yangon.

They had no idea what kind of force they were facing.

Such scenes played out on every street and in every building of Yangon.

The Expeditionary Force soldiers had clear roles: tanks destroyed Japanese heavy fire points and fortified shelters, MG42 Machine Guns provided fire suppression and covered the infantry's advance, and infantry, armed with Mauser rifles, searched street by street, house by house, leaving no hidden Japanese behind.

On the streets rang the roar of Sherman tanks, the sweep of MG42 machine guns, the crack of Mauser rifles, and the blasts of Hand Grenades.

Along with the soldiers' battle cries and the Japanese's wails, they intertwined into a heroic war song.

Zhang Bing stood on the tank turret, one hand on the gun barrel, the other gripping the communicator, continuously issuing orders: "First Platoon tanks, clear the Japanese fire points on the east street! Second Platoon tanks, support the west infantry and break through the Japanese street‑fight defenses! Third Platoon tanks, hold the intersection and prevent the Japanese breakout!"

The tanks in the city cannot operate by regiment, as they cannot maneuver that way.

They can only move by Platoon, slowly advancing through Yangon while serving as mobile fortresses, shielding the Expeditionary Force troops behind them.

Copy that! First Platoon, understood!

Second Platoon advancing, requesting infantry support!

In the communicator, responses from each Platoon kept coming, their tones full of fighting spirit.