Los Angeles defector

Bayonet and Hand Grenade.

The devil is in the details. The vampires have set up two defensive lines on this small street. In front, there is a crooked machine g*n manned by an infantry squad. The main force of the platoon is positioned in the second line, about twenty to thirty meters behind.

In an instant, the dozen or so individuals in the front line vanished amidst the explosion. Soon after, a dozen enemies emerged from the smoke, just a few meters away. The vampires were momentarily bewildered, but instinctively charged forward with their bayonets.

Bang bang bang... The second row stood on the spot and fired a row of guns. They could only fire such a row of guns, knocking down more than a dozen vampires. Then, the shining bayonets came in front of them, and it turned into a battle. m******e.

Why "m******e"? Vampires have bayonets, don't we have them too? Unfortunately, we don't! While our rifles have bayonet lugs, they lack the bayonets themselves. The entire platoon only has a few bayonets that are issued to skilled hand-to-hand combatants. The rest of the soldiers have to scavenge for bayonets on the battlefield, often finding vampire Type 38 bayonets that cannot be attached to their own rifles. Instead, they are carried on the waist. So, don't assume that everyone has a bayonet. In many units, bayonets are scarce commodities. The reality is just that cruel.

When the bayonet truly comes face-to-face, there is no one who isn't afraid. But when it pierces one's own body, there is a strange sense of relief. As long as there's breath left, one can grab the rifle and prevent it from being pulled out. Then, with the knife pulled out from the waist, it can be thrust back in with vengeance. Alternatively, one can grab anything nearby and viciously smash the b****y hell out of the vampire or attempt to grab hold of the vampire across, clawing, scratching, and biting, never letting go. The second platoon vanished amidst a sea of cold steel...

Suddenly, a series of explosions echoed from the front, followed by the sound of Type 79 rifles firing in succession. This was followed by a wave of charging and howling, causing the vampire's gunfire on the small street to temporarily cease. The company commander felt that something must have happened to the vampires in front, but he didn't know what exactly. According to the mission orders, the second platoon was supposed to be positioned in the left-wing streets, while the third platoon should have been in the right-wing streets, forming a defensive line alongside his own first platoon. The mission was to hold the position temporarily and wait for the second and third battalions to arrive before advancing. Based on intuition, it seemed that a friendly force had engaged the enemy up ahead, but who were they? Should they charge forward? The orders were to hold the position, and the situation ahead was unclear... In the midst of the company commander's hesitation, the opportunity was missed.

A small squad of vampires was quietly advancing from south to north, sneaking through alleyways, crossing broken walls, and passing through courtyards. They were supposed to encounter the second platoon head-on, but the second platoon made a left turn towards the small street before encountering them, missing them altogether.

The vampire cautiously leading the way finally came to a halt, gesturing and passing on information to the others. They had discovered a building where the enemy was hiding, with an unknown number of individuals and g*n barrels visible through the windows. The squad of over fifty individuals quickly split into two groups. One group sought cover by entering nearby houses and establishing firing positions for suppressive fire, while the other group quietly approached the target building. Two vampires silently crawled beneath the windows, each retrieving a Type 91 hand grenade from their satchels, gently pulling the safety pins...

The Type 91 hand grenade and the wooden-handle hand grenade differ primarily in their appearance and the way the fuses are ignited. The wooden-handle hand grenade uses a pull-wire ignition system, where the fuse is lit by pulling a string, resulting in a delayed explosion of about seven to eight seconds. Before use, the top cap of the grenade must be struck or knocked off. It can also be launched using a grenade launcher with a propelling charge. Although its range is not as far as that of a standard grenade, it can still reach a distance of over two hundred meters. Later, the vampires replaced it with the Type 97 hand grenade, commonly known as the "48-petal" grenade.

When the rookie Ethan opened his eyes, he saw a hazy sky, tinged with a reddish hue. He stared blankly for a while before finally recalling what he, as the last one from the third squad, had experienced when jumping through the window. His body was covered in dust, and blood from the corners of his eyes, mouth, and behind his ears had started to coagulate. Sticky and mixed with the gray soil, it had turned brown, forming peculiar grooves and marks on his youthful, soil-gray face and neck.

Leaning on his rifle, Ethan struggled to crawl out of the dusty ruins and managed to stand up unsteadily. A layer of gray soil mist slid off his body, rippling outward in a haze before dissipating, just before touching the ground.

"I want to go home, I just want to go home. I have to go help my dad; he might still be working in the fields. I can't let him do it alone, especially with his bad legs. I must go, or else Mom will scold me, even though she never wants to hit me. I'm going now..." At this moment, the young soldier Ethan had only one obsession in his heart, the longing for home. It made him forget the pain, forget the clamor of bullets. Stumbling and staggering, he crossed the broken low wall as if crossing the hills of his hometown. He shuffled through narrow alleys, as if walking on the ridges of the fields in his hometown...

Jason, who had been staring near the window, was somewhat puzzled. The sound of the grenade explosions was a bit suspicious. It seemed to have occurred on the defensive line set up by the vampires in the small street. Apart from the row scattered around the small buildings, there were only two rows ahead. Their mission should have been to flank and probe the vampires' flank position. If it was really done by the two rows, how did it end up hitting the small street? If that's the case, it's bad news.

Old Blackskin was also drawn to the window by the sound of the explosions just now, observing his surroundings. "Jason, do you think that clumsy fool, Big Yellow Fang, took a wrong turn and ended up knocking on the small street? But why is there no movement from the enemy forces on the street?"

"It could also be Second Platoon from the east side of the small street. I hope it's not Second Row!" Jason sighed.

"Yeah, let's hope it's not them. Otherwise, we wouldn't even know when the vampires would pop up right under our noses."

Jason's concerns go beyond Second Row potentially missing the vampires. They still have no idea how many vampires have made it ashore and how many are deployed on the opposite side. Everything is an unknown. Judging by the gunfire on the small street, there is at least a vampire squad holding the position. Even if it's just a squad, that's over fifty individuals. Unless the vampires are clustered together, if they are dispersed into two or three defensive lines, even if Second Row catches them off guard, the odds are not in their favor. Unless First Platoon launches a charging support, things are not looking optimistic.

Still shrouded in mist, Old Blackskin's eyes grew tired from straining to see. He turned around and leaned against the window, picking up the half-extinguished cigarette butt from the ground and relit it. He grumbled, "That damn Big Yellow Teeth, he's just a greedy bastard obsessed with climbing the ranks and making money. In terms of experience and ability, he's nowhere near qualified to be the Second Row leader. It's absurd that the Company Commander blinded himself to that fact for a measly fifty bucks. mark my words, Second Row will eventually lead him straight into a ditch."

Brown, listening to Old Blackskin's grumbling downstairs, couldn't help but ask from above,

"Sergeant, how much did you pay back then? I also want to save up some money to take over your position."

"Damn it, I... Get lost! You're everywhere. Even if you die, you won't be able to take over my position."

Listening to Old Blackskin and Brown bickering, the big guy and the silly kid, they laughed heartily.

"We've got a situation!"

Upon hearing Jason's low growl, Old Blackskin extinguished his cigarette once again. With a swift motion, he pulled back the bolt of his rifle and leaned against the window, while the big guy rested the barrel of his g*n on the windowsill. Looking out from the south window of the small building, they saw a hazy figure staggering out at the alleyway about fifty meters away...

Just as the vampire near the base of the wall was about to remove the safety pin from the hand grenade, he watched in disbelief as a dirt-covered figure emerged from the corner of the wall, leaning on a rifle and staring blankly at the two of them.

With a loud clang, the window behind them suddenly swung open, and the misaligned grip light machine g*n began to roar, unleashing a rapid barrage of gunfire. Without hesitation, the vampire responsible for covering fire opened fire.

Amidst a spray of blood mist, another spray, and yet another spray of blood mist, the young recruit Ethan involuntarily staggered under the onslaught of bullets until he was pinned down on the ground. With hazy eyes, he gazed up at the cloudy sky. "I have to go help my father with work..."

Almost simultaneously with the sound of the machine g*n, pop, pop, pop—three gunshots echoed from the second floor of the small building. The big one hit the window frame, Jason's shot struck the ground, and the third shot pierced right through a vampire who was crouched on the ground, clutching a hand grenade. The other vampire finally snapped out of their surprise, forcefully smashing the hand grenade onto the ground, disregarding the delay. Without waiting for the fuse to run out, they raised their hand and threw the grenade through the window above their head, then swiftly turned and darted into the nearby pile of debris.

Seven or eight soldiers were hiding in this room, along with the platoon leader who was there, rolling up his sleeves and holding a water bottle, tilting his head back to take a drink. Suddenly, a piercing sound of a misfired weapon came from outside the window, accompanied by the distinct whistling of 6.5mm bullets and the sound of bullets hitting the ground nearby. Then, a bullet struck the window frame next to him, causing him to spew out all the water he had just drunk. Vampires! He quickly stooped down, throwing the water bottle aside and reaching for his g*n at his waist. In that instant, he saw a hand grenade fly in through the window, landing on the wall behind him and rolling to his feet, still spinning. One of the soldiers next to the platoon leader, who witnessed the scene, immediately froze, staring with terrified eyes. He fell to the ground, convulsing and scrambling backward, unable to utter a word.

"f**k you!" The platoon leader stomped on the still-spinning hand grenade, bent down to pick it up, and swiftly threw it out of the window. Boom! "You cowardly piece of s**t! Don't just stand there like a f*****g i***t, shoot those motherfuckers!" he exclaimed, then crouched down again, pressing himself against the side of the window, and pulled out his handgun.