Chapter 280: The Victor's Bill

As he walked past the still‑smoking Type 92 infantry cannon, he paused. The gun crew was clearing the barrel, preparing to relocate. A gunner saw him and nodded.

"Thanks," Matsumoto said.

"You're welcome," the gunner replied, "This cannon is good, accurate, and easy to move. It's just that the shells are few; each man only carried twenty."

Matsumoto kept walking forward. Behind him, the sounds of guns and cannons still rang, but they were gradually fading. The battle in the Augustov Forest region had only just begun, while his detachment had almost been exhausted.

He patted his pocket; inside were Xiao Ye's talisman and the last look Da Dao gave him before dying.

The war kept going, and death kept coming. And they, the soldiers, were merely bits of flesh in this massive meat grinder—inserted, crushed, then forgotten.

Matsumoto looked up; the gray sky began to snow. Snowflakes fell on his face, cold as tears.

East Prussia, Insterburg, 8th Group Army Headquarters.

The air in the conference room mingled cigar smoke, old leather, and paper. A massive Mazuri Lake operational map lay on the long table, marked with dense red and blue pencil symbols and arrows. The lamp on the low ceiling cast a dim yellow light, making everyone's faces look weary and aged.

Erich Ludengdaofu stood before the map, holding a slender pointer. The 49‑year‑old Degjun Chief of Staff had a sharply angular face, his gaze as keen as a scalpel. His uniform was impeccably pressed, yet the dark circles under his eyes revealed days of sleeplessness.

"The Augustov encirclement battle officially ended at 16:00 on February 21," Ludengdaofu said in a flat tone, devoid of triumph, as if reading an engineering report, "The Russian army's 20th Army main force was annihilated, 247 captured officers confirmed, over 86,000 soldiers. Seized artillery: 132 guns, 87 machine guns, rifles…"

He paused, glanced at the document in his hand: "Rifle numbers are still being tallied, estimated at over 40,000 units."

The senior Degjun officers seated around the table murmured. Paul von Xingdengbao, seated at the head, gave a slight nod; the 67‑year‑old veteran bore deep wrinkles, yet his eyes remained clear. He tapped the tabletop with his sturdy fingers:

"Our losses?"

"Degjun casualties total about 21,000, with 4,300 killed, 6,700 severely wounded, the rest lightly injured," Ludengdaofu replied, "Furthermore…"

He turned to the other side of the map, where Japanese positions were marked in yellow.

"The Sakura Nation dispatched four divisions, with total casualties around 25,000. Details: 3rd Division lost 6,300, 7th Division 5,800, 9th Division 6,700, 11th Division 6,200."

The conference room fell silent for a moment.

"One quarter," General Herman von Aixi Huoen, seated to Xingdengbao's left, said slowly, "A 100,000‑man force lost a quarter in a single battle, and this is only the first large‑scale engagement."

Herman von Aixi Huoen was the commander of the 10th Group Army and the main commander of this flanking operation. He was 59, lanky, and always twirled his neatly trimmed moustache with his fingers when he thought.

"How did they perform?" Xingdengbao asked, his gaze turning to Ludengdaofu.

Ludengdaofu lifted another thick report from the table: "This is the compiled combat assessment of all units. Overall…"

He flipped to a page and began reading:

"Sakura Nation soldier individual combat rating: Grade A. Performance: extremely high battlefield discipline, absolute obedience to orders, remarkable endurance (over 48 hours of combat in –20 °C conditions), and… an almost fanatical offensive will."

"Fanatical?" an artillery general raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Ludengdaofu looked up, "The assessment repeatedly notes that Japanese soldiers, when ammunition runs out or positions are breached, voluntarily launch bayonet charges, even knowing they are suicidal. This 'jade‑shatter' spirit inflicted considerable psychological shock on the Russian army."

"What's the cost?" Eisihorn said coldly, "These charges raise their casualty rate far above normal. In the report we saw a Japanese battalion, during a defensive fight against a Russian regiment's attack, should have held out for reinforcement but chose an all‑out charge, ending almost completely annihilated."

Ludengdaofu nodded, "That's their biggest problem—tactical rigidity. Japanese officers seem indoctrinated with the notion that attack is always the best defense, even when tactically unsound. They fought that way in Port Arthur and Fengtian; ten years later, nothing has changed."

"Regarding equipment?" Xingdengbao asked.

"Uneven," Ludengdaofu turned to the next page, "Their rifles are indigenous Type 38, 6.5 mm caliber, with decent range and accuracy, but lacking stopping power. Russian soldiers, even when hit, can keep fighting unless a vital spot is struck."

He paused briefly, seeming to search for the right phrasing:

"But what's truly interesting are the 'Lanfang-made' weapons. The Japanese equipped a light machine gun they call the 'Type 11', which our men privately nickname the 'Crooked‑Neck Machine Gun.'"

A few light chuckles rose in the conference room.

"This machine gun," Ludengdaofu continued, "has a very peculiar design. Its rate of fire is high—theoretical 500 rounds per minute—but in combat heat‑dissipation makes sustained fire difficult. Moreover, reloading is extremely cumbersome, requiring a special ammunition bucket; each reload takes 15 to 20 seconds."

"Twenty seconds?" a general with a machine‑gun background said incredulously, "Our MG08 changes its belt in just five seconds."

"Yes, that can be fatal in intense combat," Ludengdaofu said, "The assessment records several cases where Japanese machine‑gun crews were ambushed and wiped out by the Russian army while reloading."

"Then why do they still use that junk?" someone asked.

Ludengdaofu looked at Xingdengbao, and the two exchanged a glance.

"Because it's part of the contract," Xingdengbao said slowly, his voice low, "According to the three‑way agreement among Deguo, Lanfang, and the Sakura Nation, the Japanese must use Lanfang's 'standard equipment package.' The machine guns, infantry cannons, certain ammunition… are all manufactured or designed by Lanfang."

"That's clearly a commercial bundle," Eisihorn sneered, "Lanfang defeated the Sakura Nation, now sells them weapons and forces them to use them. Shrewd businessmen, indeed."

"It's more than business," Ludengdaofu continued, "Our technical department analyzed the captured samples. These Lanfang-made weapons share a common trait: deliberately simplified design for mass production, at the cost of reliability and service life."

He walked to the table edge, lifted a folder, and handed out several photos. The pictures showed twisted, deformed metal parts.

"These are damaged 'Crooked‑Neck Machine Gun' bolt assemblies. Material analysis shows the critical steel falls below Deguo standards, and the heat‑treatment process is flawed. After sustained fire, they tend to deform and jam."

"And their infantry cannon," Ludengdaofu added another photo, depicting a short‑barrel gun, "Type 92, 70 mm caliber, very light—two men can haul it. Range only 2.8 km, but accuracy is decent. The problem is…"