In mid-April 1945, having completely concluded the campaign in Yizhou, Liu Ren was leading his remaining troops toward the Ryukyu battlefield.
As a notoriously stubborn fanatic, Mitsuru Ushijima was Liu Ren's absolute favorite kind of enemy. Thanks to Ushijima's "gyokusai" fight-to-the-death tactics, Liu Ren had no need to worry about Japanese soldiers surrendering—and even if they did, he would tear them to shreds all the same!
Aboard the amphibious landing craft, the silent soldiers were wiping down their weapons.
Yet the next moment, boisterous laughter erupted all around, as many of them had received letters from home.
One of them held up his letter, grinning from ear to ear. "Old Wang, Old Wang, look at this! My son got into Yale! With a recommendation letter written personally by our group! Hahahaha!"
Hearing his comrade, Old Wang rolled his eyes. "I'm already holding my grandson this year while your son is still studying. What are you showing off to me for?"
Listening to the two banter, the men burst into hearty laughter.
Just then, a middle-aged man nearby turned his head and asked, "By the way, young fella, how come you joined the army?"
"Me? Heheheh!" Rubbing his head sheepishly, the young man replied, "My mother fell seriously ill back then, and the Boss saved our whole family without asking for a cent in return. Now I'm even married. When I heard the Expeditionary Special Operations Brigade was recruiting, I went through training and got in!"
Hearing the young man's words, quite a few fell silent. Most of the Chinese men here had been looked after by the Silver Rock Group at some point.
More than thirty years ago, foreigners hadn't been nearly as "gentle" as they were now. Back then, they spoke with their chins in the air, and the slightest misstep would draw hostility and beatings.
And now? When they walked down the street, who dared raise their voice at a Chinese person? It was all because they had a formidable military-industrial group behind them—or rather, a leader whose power dominated New York!
Any Chinese person who could pass the assessment to join the Silver Rock Group started in management at the very least, pulling in no less than ten thousand dollars a year. And back then, what did an average working-class person earn? Around twenty-five hundred dollars a year!
Their compensation was maxed out to the hilt, which was why so many men fought tooth and nail on the battlefield for Liu Ren. They knew full well that even if they died in battle, their families would live in luxury and comfort for the rest of their days!
What people thought of as death-sworn soldiers were mercenaries paid off to do a job; but true death-sworn men were those whose families had been indebted to the Silver Rock Group since their parents' generation!
Silver Rock Group: *To repay the lord upon the golden terrace, we draw our jade dragons and die for our lord!*
Liu Ren: *Fight against me? Do you fuckers even qualify?*
In southern Ryukyu, the terrain was rugged, with precipitous mountains and dense woods.
To turn his forces into an unyielding wedge and hold the line to the bitter end, Mitsuru Ushijima had subjected his troops to utter brainwashing: demanding that every soldier offer up his life and bravely die a "shattered jade" death for their "Emperor."
At first, such tactics truly gave the American forces immense trouble. They had deployed nearly four hundred and fifty thousand troops to Ryukyu solely to wipe out the Japanese forces in southern Ryukyu once and for all.
Yet when the offensive ground to a halt, the Navy finally remembered that there was still an elite force hunting "rats" back in Yizhou: the outfit led by Liu Ren!
Whether to save face or out of concern for international prestige, the newly inaugurated Truman had not authorized "special" tactics. But that restriction applied only to the US military—it certainly didn't include Liu Ren's Special Operations Brigade. Because when Liu Ren wanted to do something, not even the President could stop him!
Fellow members of the "democratic" club, could Truman really throw a fit at the financial consortium that had backed his rise to power?
After all, back then Roosevelt, reigning like "Emperor Wu of America," had already tormented the conglomerates to the breaking point. Putting Truman in office was meant precisely to loosen the noose around everyone's necks, wasn't it?
If Truman really dared follow in Roosevelt's footsteps openly, then his successor Kennedy would show him what it meant to have one's mind blown—literally!
Dismantling the CIA was bad enough, but Kennedy actually wanted to halt the Vietnam War—wasn't that throwing sand directly into the gears of the military-industrial complex? If he had really pulled that off, what would they even amount to? Would all the grievances and hardships endured under "Emperor Wu of America" have been suffered for nothing?
On the southern battlefront, at Hacksaw Ridge.
Staring at the sheer cliff, Liu Ren rested his hands on his hips, clicking his tongue in disbelief. While the place looked a bit shorter than it did in the movie, it was steep as hell.
Turning his head to Smith, the brigade commander from the 1st Marine Division beside him, Liu Ren asked in shock, "Did you guys never think of dropping something with heavier firepower up there?"
"Fuck, we applied for it, but it got suppressed. That bastard MacArthur thinks victory is already in the bag and disdains using such methods. He's completely forgotten how he won in the first place!" Speaking to Liu Ren, Smith couldn't help venting his frustration. After all, back when they fought on Guadalcanal, nobody had banned them from using that stuff.
You could call the US military ruthless, but you couldn't call them incompetent—they had used plenty of chemical weapons back then!
Looking over at Smith, Liu Ren sneered, "Just because he didn't approve it, does that mean we can't use it?"
"Oh, good God, Liu, you're an angel! The men will surely pray for you!" Smith flattered Liu Ren, already knowing full well what he intended to do.
Sure enough, once the large-scale withdrawal began, the Japanese troops atop Hacksaw Ridge thought they had won and immediately roared in triumph. Little did they imagine their opponent had changed—and someone far more beastly had arrived!
"Coordinates calibrated, ready!"
Raising their arms, the artillery battalion commanders completed their calibrations.
The very next second, a shrill whistle blew.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
As the sound of countless artillery shells boomed out, the Japanese atop Hacksaw Ridge shouted in panic, "Incoming barrage! Shelling! Everyone, get into the tunnels!"
Yet before the words were out of his mouth, a shell smashed directly onto the ground.
Crash!
With a violent crack, the Japanese soldier turned his head and stared blankly at the cylindrical shell beside him, freezing on the spot.
In the very next instant, the casing split open, releasing thick, viscous oil...
With a single spark igniting the field, billowing smoke and raging fire engulfed the world in an instant.
Gazing up at the inferno blazing atop the ridge, the soldiers below tilted their heads back. "Whoa, that's intense. Must be pretty hot up there, huh?" One soldier unbuttoned his uniform jacket as he asked.
Hearing him, a man beside him replied dubiously, "Shouldn't be too hot, right? After all, I hear Tokyo gets plenty hot!"
"Is that so? Then that's just splendid!"
As the two finished their banter, the surrounding soldiers burst into uproarious laughter.
Because that truly was one hell of a dark joke!
Chapter 73