Chapter 558: Andaman Islands (1)

"Regiment Commander, if we keep going like this, when we finally reach the Andaman Islands, we can't say whether 1,000 men will still be combat‑effective!" a staff officer walked up to Hu Dali and said gravely.

Hu Dali remained silent; he knew the staff officer spoke the truth.

At this moment, his heart was full of hesitation: on one side the battlefield soon to be reached, on the other the soldiers' dire condition.

If they pressed on, the soldiers, being physically weak, would struggle to form effective combat power even after landing, and could suffer heavy losses.

But if they retreated, it would not only disrupt Jiang Anguo's overall deployment, it would also miss the optimal window to seize the Andaman Islands.

At the same time, Jiang Anguo in Yangon also received the telegram sent from Hu Dali's side.

He stood up, moved to the map, his face solemn, his fingers lightly tapping the table, and his mind was likewise caught in a dilemma.

At the current speed, with more than half the voyage still ahead, the number of Non‑combat Casualties will continue to rise.

"Thirty percent Non‑combat Casualties…"

He murmured softly, his gaze complex, "Whether this 448th Regiment under Hu Dali can hold out to the Andaman Islands, whether it will have enough combat power, truly raises doubts."

Beside him, Xiao Si watched Jiang Anguo's expression and asked cautiously, "Young Master, what shall we do now? Retreat, or continue the attack?"

Jiang Anguo slowly closed his eyes and pondered for a moment.

He knew the Andaman Islands held great strategic importance; once abandoned, retaking them later would be even harder and would affect the whole plan to contain the Japanese Army.

But he also felt sorry for his troops and could not let them fight hard while physically weak.

On deck, the wind and waves remained fierce; the soldiers on the transport ship still endured seasickness, intermittent vomiting and weak murmurs intertwining, weighing heavily on the heart.

Jiang Anguo's decision in his heart gradually became clear.

This battle must be fought, but the soldiers' casualties must be minimized as much as possible.

Jiang Anguo sent telegrams to Jiang Zhiyuan and Hu Dali respectively: "The fleet will continue forward, no matter what, we must take the Andaman Islands!"

Hu Dali, upon receiving the order, immediately conveyed it to the soldiers.

Although still uncomfortable, the soldiers, after hearing the order, strained to lift themselves, helped each other, and their eyes gained a few more points of resolve.

The wind and waves persisted, and the transport ship kept pitching.

In the early hours of August 3, the night was as black as ink; the sea wind, laced with salty, briny scent, howled across the surface of the Myanmar Sea.

The Nankai Fleet, moving under the night, quietly arrived in the offshore waters of Brayer Port of the Andaman Islands.

The hull, in the darkness, resembled a coiled steel behemoth—still and majestic.

Only the signal light on the mast flickered faintly in the night, guiding the fleet's course.

After nearly a day and night of sailing, the Nankai Fleet stood in strict formation, the troops' eyes sharp, already prepared for attack.

Inside the command cabin of the battleship Zhenhai, Jiang Zhiyuan, in uniform, stared at the outline of Brayer Port on the radar screen with eagle‑like focus; his tone was firm, with no superfluous small talk.

"All fleet, attention: assume attack formation, target the Japanese Army camp and ships at Brayer Port, commence attack!"

With Jiang Zhiyuan's single command, the entire Nankai Fleet instantly boiled with activity.

The Zhenhai battleship first adjusted its hull, its main gun turret turning slowly.

The 406‑mm giant cannon glimmered a cold sheen in the night, its barrel precisely aimed at the target inside Brayer Port.

The rangefinder crew quickly calibrated distance; the loader forcefully rammed a heavy armor‑piercing shell into the barrel, "crack!" rang sharply, the main gun locked on, ready to fire.

"Boom—!"

A deafening boom shattered the pre‑dawn silence.

The Zhenhai's first 406‑mm shell, whistling like wind, streaked across the night sky like a meteor toward Brayer Port.

The projectile left a dazzling trail of fire in the air, reached the target area instantly, and landed precisely in the middle of one Japanese Army camp.

"Rumble—!"

The violent explosion roared across the heavens; a massive shockwave instantly engulfed the entire Japanese Army camp, fire leapt skyward, thick smoke billowed, turning the black night sky a dark red.

The Japanese tents inside the camp were ripped apart in an instant; stones, wood chips, and soldiers' remains were hurled by the shockwave, scattering everywhere, their screams and explosions intertwining, shattering Brayer Port's calm.

At that moment the Japanese Army, still deep in sleep, had no defenses; the sudden bombardment threw them into total chaos.

Immediately, the cruiser Dingyuan also joined the barrage; its eight 203‑mm main guns fired in succession, shells raining onto the port like raindrops, precisely striking Japanese defensive works, ammunition depots and barracks.

The Japanese ships in the harbor also became primary targets at that moment.

Two Japanese gunboats, before they could get underway, were struck by several shells; their hulls were blown open with huge gashes, seawater surged in wildly, and the boats floated like cut‑string kites for a moment before slowly sinking.

Several small transport ships were utterly destroyed; shells hitting their hulls caused violent explosions, debris sprayed, fuel leaked onto the sea surface and ignited into raging fire.

The flames painted the entire harbor sea surface red, reflecting the aerial artillery; the scene was breathtaking.

The Japanese regiment commander Inoue Nakamura, responsible for guarding Brayer Port, was startled awake by the violent explosion; his clothes were in disarray, he hadn't even managed to put on his shoes, and he staggered out of the barracks, the sight before him leaving him instantly dumbfounded.

The camp was a wreck, flames leapt skyward, thick smoke rolled, soldiers fled in all directions, screams and explosions never ceased.

"Baka!"

"Quick! Get into defensive positions! Anti‑air guns and shore batteries, fire all!" Inoue Nakamura snapped back, shouting hysterically at his nearby soldiers, his tone full of panic and fear.

But the Japanese troops, already stunned by the sudden bombardment, were fleeing everywhere, unable to mount any effective defense; the shore batteries had not even been set up before shells hit them, turning them into piles of scrap metal.

The anti‑air guns were essentially useless, unable to intercept the incoming shells at all.

On the Zhenhai battleship, the 406‑mm main gun continued its frantic roar.

Each shell that fell was accompanied by a devastating explosion; the Japanese camps were destroyed one by one, defensive works turned to ruins, and the ammunition depots, once hit, triggered chain reactions.

The massive flames illuminated the entire Andaman Islands, and the explosions made the ground tremble faintly.

The Nankai Fleet crew each performed their duties, their movements deft and swift; ranging, loading, firing—a seamless sequence—faces set with resolve, without a hint of slack.

"Report, Commander, all Japanese shore batteries have been completely destroyed, not a single ship remains in the harbor, Japanese camps heavily damaged!" the communications soldier rushed to Jiang Zhiyuan, reporting urgently.

Jiang Zhiyuan gave a slight nod, his gaze still fixed on the battlefield ahead, his tone icy: "Continue the bombardment, do not stop! Annihilate the Japanese Army's living forces completely, give them no chance to breathe!"