SFS Chapter 664 Zhang Chi: Fighting the Enemy with Bamboo Spears? Resist to the End? Then Burn Them!
Chapter 664 Zhang Chi: Fighting the Enemy with Bamboo Spears? Resist to the End? Then Burn Them!
In late July 1945, the Potsdam Declaration hung like the Sword of Damocles over the heads of neon lights.
The decision-makers in Edo were reading this ultimatum in a secret room, already knowing that defeat was inevitable.
The imperial family, led by the Emperor, began quietly removing members of the imperial bloodline from key positions in the army and navy, and instead promoting a group of fanatical or sufficiently foolish officers to high positions.
The ultimate mission of these warriors, thrust into the forefront, was to serve as perfect examples of imperial sacrifice and scapegoats when the empire collapsed completely.
However, for millions of ordinary Japanese people, the truth remains firmly locked behind a veil of lies woven by the military.
The headquarters continued to issue battle reports.
"Our valiant navy has once again achieved a glorious victory in the waters off Okinawa, sinking fourteen enemy aircraft carriers, including the USS Enterprise, eight battleships, and countless cruisers and destroyers."
"Good news from the Army! The Imperial Army has fought bravely on the China battlefield and Okinawa Island, annihilating more than 100,000 enemy troops. Victory is just around the corner!"
The radio and newspapers were filled with these astonishing reports of victory.
Information cocoons and strategies to keep the masses ignorant have dragged the entire nation of Japan into a state of collective madness and numbness.
Evening, Hakata Ward, Fukuoka Prefecture.
Sakuma Ryūken, a former Japanese army major, dragged his right leg, which had been severed by shrapnel from a tank shell of the then-called Anmin Army in Bago, and was now fitted with a simple wooden prosthetic leg, as he walked unsteadily down the somewhat desolate street.
His left eye lost its sight forever in that battle, and it was covered with a black eye patch. His only remaining right eye was cloudy, yet it exuded a coldness and clarity that was completely out of place with the fervor around him.
He bent down and picked up a newspaper that had been trampled on the ground with his calloused hands.
As he glanced at the sensational headline, a subtle, sarcastic twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"They sank the Enterprise again? Ha..."
He almost uttered that soft snort from his nose.
"The Navy is probably so stupid that they haven't even seen the Enterprise. This kind of nonsense can only fool those fools who have nothing left in their heads."
He looked up from the newspaper and onto the street.
A group of new recruits were walking by unsteadily.
They were small in stature, most of them probably less than 1.5 meters tall, with childish faces forcing a serious expression, wearing obviously ill-fitting, rough-made military uniforms, and white headbands symbolizing their determination to die tied around their heads.
The rifles they carried were even longer than some of their own height.
"They're all just students..."
Sakuma remained silent.
With the war intensifying and manpower dwindling, these teenagers, who had only received less than two weeks of hasty training on their home soil, were being driven by officers with long sticks and slogans onto transport ships bound for the front lines of death.
On the other side, a group of female students lined up, each holding a sharpened bamboo pole and a dimly lit paper lantern in their other hand, walking by while chanting slogans such as "Defend the neon lights, one hundred million die for the emperor."
As they passed by Sakuma, they noticed his old military uniform and mutilated body, and cast longing glances at him with a mixture of reverence and pity.
Sakuma knew that this was a women's volunteer team organized by the prefecture.
If the White Eagles, or those rumored fierce Nanyang Daxia people, dare to land in Kyushu, these girls will use their ridiculous bamboo poles to launch a desperate charge against the enemy's machine guns and tanks on the beach.
From the loudspeakers on the street corner, military songs blared, interspersed with the announcer's hoarse urging.
An elderly woman was kneeling and praying towards the east by the roadside.
Some vendors hung banners outside their shops wishing for lasting military success.
Some people were also distributing leaflets, calling on citizens to fight the enemy with bamboo spears...
The entire street was permeated with a morbid, hysterical frenzy, as if everyone was immersed in the last dream and madness of the empire.
Sakuma felt a tightness in his chest.
This false prosperity, this nationwide frenzy, is like a castle built on quicksand; it can be destroyed with the slightest push…
Woo-woo-woo-woo!!!
The shrill, piercing air raid siren, sharp enough to shatter eardrums, abruptly ripped apart the tranquility of dusk without warning.
In an instant, the scene on the street changed drastically.
The crowd, which had been orderly and full of fighting spirit just moments before, exploded like an anthill that had been hit by a stone.
The fervor on people's faces was replaced by extreme fear, and screams, cries, and chaotic footsteps instantly drowned out the military songs and slogans.
"Air raid! Air raid! Run!"
"Mother--!"
The female students who had been staring at Sakuma just moments before now turned pale with fright, dropped their bamboo poles and lanterns, and scattered like startled rabbits.
The group of student recruits also lost their composure, bewildered by the officers' shouts and curses.
Sakuma's reaction was much faster than that of an ordinary person.
He had experienced war and knew what the alarm meant.
Without further hesitation, he dragged his limping leg and rushed as fast as he could toward the nearest public well he could remember.
He scrambled and crawled into the well, clinging tightly to the slippery protrusions on the well wall, pressing his body against the cold stone.
Boom—! Whoosh—!
The muffled roar of aircraft engines echoed through the sky, along with the deathly shrieks of bombs detaching from their racks and slicing through the air.
Immediately following was a series of explosions, like the pounding of a drum.
Boom! Boom boom boom—!!!
The earth trembled, and pebbles fell from the well walls.
Even while hiding underground, Sakuma could feel the scorching heat emanating from above, like a furnace of hell being opened.
He risked raising his head and looking up at the sky from the well opening.
The sky had been dyed an eerie orange-red.
Countless long, streamlined metal barrels fell, densely packed onto the wooden buildings of Fukuoka.
That wasn't an ordinary high-explosive bomb.
It was an incendiary bomb, and... the kind he least wanted to see.
Napalm bomb.
The propellant splashes everywhere upon impact and ignites violently upon contact with any flammable material.
Wooden houses, shops, and warehouses were instantly ignited, like paper thrown into a fire.
The flames greedily licked everything, quickly merging together to form huge, moving walls of fire.
The crackling of burning, the rumbling of collapsing houses, the desperate screams of dying Japanese soldiers…
They intertwine to form a symphony of hell.
Even more frighteningly, the intense heat generated by the massive combustion caused the air to rise rapidly, quickly replenishing the surrounding cold air and creating a strong air convection above the street.
Huge, spinning fire tornadoes began to appear.
Like mythical fire serpents, they twisted their massive bodies, sweeping up burning wood, rubble, and even struggling human figures into the air before hurling them down—a scene resembling divine punishment at the end of the world.