The snow was up to his knees, and Lin Hai was lying on the ridge. Through the telescope, the village 300 meters away was as quiet as a tomb. There were twelve men behind him, the barrels of their guns were white with cold, and they only had three days of rations left. "Captain Lin, are the Japanese really coming?" Zhao Jinglin asked in a low voice. Lin Hai didn't answer. The picture that came to his mind was that forty minutes later, two trucks entered the camp from the east, with forty-three Kwantung troops on board and a military dog. This was his foreknowledge. Before each battle, he could see fragments of the battlefield for the next three hours. "The first squad leader took five people to the east ridge to lay mines, only three of them, seven steps apart. The rest of the second squad followed me to block the west entrance." He lowered his voice, "Remember, only hit the tires in the first wave, don't be greedy for guns." Zhao Jinglin was stunned: "How did you know they came from the east?" "Guess." Lin Hai pulled the bolt of the gun, "I'll tell you when I'm done." The gunfire sounded in the afternoon. As he watched, two trucks were stuck in the ridge, their tires blown to pieces. When the Japanese jumped out of the car, the machine gun at the west exit happened to be closed. Thirteen minutes, forty-three bodies, zero casualties. But Lin Hai knew that this was not victory. Three hours later, Sato Koichi's special high school class will transfer a squadron from Harbin to block all exits from the mountain. And his forecast showed that there were exactly three bullets left.
