Chapter 273: Special‑Issue Weapons

Matsumoto is a short, sturdy youth from a farming family in Hokkaido, naturally adapted to the cold, but now his face is frozen bright red, with ice beads on his nose tip.

"What's the matter, Private Matsumoto?"

"This…" Matsumoto raises the weapon in his hand—a Type 38 rifle—but a strange strip of cloth is tied to the stock. "It was given by the Deguo, said to be anti‑freeze oil cloth. It should be wrapped around the bolt to prevent freezing."

Nakamura nods. This is one of the many small pieces of equipment supplied by the Deguo, including cold‑weather gloves, thickened socks, and even a special "anti‑freeze lubricant" that, when applied to moving weapon parts, is said to keep them operating at minus thirty degrees Celsius.

"Do as they say," Nakamura says, "The Deguo have been fighting here for half a year and know how to conduct winter operations."

"Yes." Matsumoto begins carefully wrapping the bolt, his movements as serious as if handling something precious, "Major, I have a question."

"Speak."

"Why are we using Deguo equipment?" Matsumoto looks up, pure confusion in his eyes, "We have our own guns, our own gear. And… didn't Lanfang give us a new machine gun? Why do we still need Deguo oil?"

The question is sharp. Nakamura knows the answer but cannot reveal it all.

The weapons Lanfang supplied are "contract equipment," purchased by the Sakura Nation government with future mercenary fee revenue. Those are all combat weapons—machine guns, infantry guns. Logistical items like anti‑freeze oil cloth, gloves, and socks, however, the Deguo insist on providing, saying it is "to ensure combat effectiveness."

In fact, Nakamura heard Hans mention privately that the Deguo aim, through this method, to make the Sakura Nation troops dependent on their equipment, thereby exercising better control.

"This is part of joint operations," Nakamura chooses the official line, "We must cooperate with the Degjun, and using compatible equipment and supplies is necessary."

Matsumoto nods as if half‑understanding, and continues his work.

The unit keeps moving forward. Time stretches in the cold, each minute feeling like an hour. Nakamura constantly checks his pocket watch, calculating progress, calculating Distance.

At two o'clock in the morning, they reach the edge of the Second Lake area. The terrain begins to change, the flat ice giving way to rolling hills and scattered woods.

Hans returns from ahead, his expression solemn.

"Major Nakamura, the scout reports a Russian guard unit three kilometers ahead," he says in a lowered voice, "About the Scale of a battalion, with simple fortifications, possibly machine guns as well."

Nakamura's heartbeat quickens. Finally, they will engage the enemy.

"Location?" he asks.

Hans crouches, drawing a simple sketch on the snow with a branch: "They control this high ground, overlooking the lake corridor. If we go straight through, they'll spot us and open fire."

"What if we go around?"

"It would delay us by at least two hours," Hans shakes his head, "Moreover, the eastern terrain is complex, with partially unfrozen marshes—dangerous."

Nakamura stares at the sketch on the ground, his mind racing. This is their first real combat, affecting not only the mission's success but also how the Deguo view the Japanese troops.

"How much time do we have?" he asks.

"We must pass before four o'clock," Hans says, "After four, daylight begins and our movement will be exposed."

Nakamura glances at his pocket watch—2:17. There is one hour and forty‑three minutes left.

"We can push through," he finally says.

Hans raises an eyebrow: "A frontal attack? They have terrain advantage and may have heavy machine guns."

"But we have the advantage of a surprise raid," Nakamura points to the sketch, "The Russians won't expect troops to appear from the lake direction in this weather at this hour. If we close quickly and strike before they can fully react…"

He doesn't finish, but the meaning is clear.

Hans thinks for a few seconds, then nods: "We can try. But you must be fast, very fast. If it turns into a stalemate, surrounding Russian units will rush to support."

"Understood," Nakamura turns, speaking to Kobayashi, who is awaiting orders, "Relay to each squad leader: assemble immediately and deploy combat tasks."

The command spreads through the battalion like electricity. The weary soldiers snap to alertness, fear replaced by tension, and the cold no longer seems so unbearable.

Combat is about to begin.

The officers of the Third Battalion form a circle, crouching in the snow, with a more detailed map spread in the center—drawn moments earlier by a Deguo scout.

"The Russian position is here," Nakamura says, his gloved finger pointing to a spot on the map, "At the top of the high ground, with open visibility. They've dug trenches, but according to the reconnaissance, the fortifications are shallow, likely temporary."

Lieutenant Yoshida, commander of the First Squadron, frowns: "If we attack head‑on, we must cross at least five hundred meters of open ground, all snow, with no cover."

"So a direct assault is impossible," Nakamura says, "My plan: the Second Squadron makes a feint from the front to draw fire. The First and Third Squadrons flank from both sides, especially the west, where rocks and scrub can provide partial cover."

He looks up at the officers: "Speed is key. Once the feint begins, the flanking units must close to grenade‑throwing range within five minutes, then launch a simultaneous charge for a breakthrough."

"What about fire support?" Captain Zuoteng of the Third Squadron asks, "If we had mortars…"

"No mortars," Nakamura cuts him off, "But we have this."

He gestures, calling Warrant Officer Yamada, the machine‑gun squad leader, over. Yamada carries that odd "Type 11 light machine gun"—the crooked‑grip.

"Yamada, your machine‑gun squad is responsible for suppression," Nakamura says, "After the feint begins, fire at maximum rate at the Russian position to suppress their machine‑gunners and riflemen."

Yamada salutes: "Understood. But Major…"

"What?"

"We've only trained with this gun for a month," Yamada admits, "It's fine for target practice on the ship, but in real combat… and with weather this cold, I don't know if it will malfunction."

Nakamura pauses. This is also his concern. The weapons supplied by Lanfang have decent performance specs, but field testing is another matter. Moreover, Lanfang's instructors repeatedly emphasized during shipboard training: "This machine gun fires rapidly, but its barrel overheats easily. Do not fire continuously for more than three magazines; let it cool."

Three magazines equal ninety rounds. In fierce combat, how long can ninety rounds sustain?

"Do your best," Nakamura finally says, "This is our first battle, and the first field test for these weapons. Gather data, record issues, and report them after the fight."

"Yes!" Yamada salutes again.

Deployment finishes quickly. Soldiers inspect their gear, oil their rifles, pull grenades from their packs and hang them within easy reach. Some begin writing farewell letters—a Japanese military tradition—but most sit silently, waiting.