The shells struck the ground. Naturally, there were no soaring fireballs or smoke billowing everywhere like in the movies—only a few small craters, clouds of dust, and a few Japanese soldiers caught at close range.
Several dozen shells went out, yet they only killed a handful of Japanese soldiers. Some were not even killed outright, merely wounded.
The main problem was that the blast radius was too small, and the bombardment was not dense enough.
Amid the flying sand and gravel, the Japanese guarding the warehouse reacted quickly. Officers ran out in panic, shouting loudly, while lower-ranking officers organized the men to find cover and evade the attack.
This warehouse stood on a relatively open stretch of flat ground. Perhaps for fire prevention, the surrounding trees were kept several dozen meters away from it.
And it was precisely those several dozen meters that obstructed the Sichuan Regiment's soldiers.
The Japanese hid behind the warehouse walls and atop the watchtowers. Wang Yan led his men in encircling the warehouse from all sides, exchanging fire across those several dozen meters.
"Wang, I have to say, if this is all we do, then unless the Japanese run out of ammunition, we won't be able to take this warehouse even in a month."
John made it sound nice, saying he was a qualified soldier. Yet once the fighting truly began, he stayed beside Wang Yan together with Thompson.
Wang Yan shook his head. "Didn't you notice that there's no one left at the machine gun on that watchtower?"
Following Wang Yan's pointing hand, John looked at the watchtower on the southeast corner of the warehouse directly ahead. At the start of the battle, its machine gun had still been spitting fire. Yet only minutes later, no one remained up there.
John's eyes widened in