This indomitable warrior was none other than Zhang Jie. He survived the fierce bombing and had a firm belief in his heart, that is, to complete the company commander's mission and plant the flag of Daxia on the 313 high ground. Even if he was the only one left in the sharp knife company, he would complete this difficult task.
Chen Ping was filled with respect, patted his shoulder, and said firmly: "I'll take you up there."
Zhang Jie stared at Chen Ping in a daze. His eyes were blurry and he rubbed them hard. When he saw Chen Ping's appearance clearly, he was very excited and his voice trembled: "Brother Chen, is it you? Is it really you?" Tears welled up in his eyes uncontrollably.
Chen Ping was slightly startled, then recognized him and said, "Are you Xiao Jie?"
"Yes, it's me, Brother Chen. It's me." Zhang Jie's face was full of tears, and he choked up and said, "Brother Chen, our company commander has died, the regiment commander has died, the battalion commander has died, the platoon leader has died, and the squad leader has died. Now I am the only one left. I must complete the mission, please take me to the high ground, Brother Chen."
Chen Ping felt mixed emotions in his heart. He knew that Xiao Jie was a soldier. He never expected that they would meet again on this cruel battlefield. At the same time, he was also very pleased. Xiao Jie used to be a naughty and troubled child, but now he has grown into a true warrior who dares to face death and stick to his mission. He felt sincerely pleased.
Zhang Jie was very excited when he saw Chen Ping again. He joined the army because of Chen Ping, and Chen Ping has always been his idol and role model. He wanted to be a brave and fearless soldier like Chen Ping who defended his country.
"Xiao Jie, I'll take you to the high ground!" Chen Ping's eyes were sharp. He pulled Zhang Jie up and launched the final charge towards Hill 313.
The American troops on Hill 313 were just struggling desperately. If it weren't for the artillery fire, the Hill would have been taken by the 1st Regiment long ago. Now facing the strongest special forces soldier Long Yan, they are even more powerless to turn the tide.
The soldiers of the Longyan Special Forces were as fierce as tigers and wolves. Under the leadership of Chen Ping, they quickly broke through the defense line of the US Army with thunder and lightning. The resistance of the US Army seemed so pale and powerless in front of Longyan. The sound of their guns gradually became sparse, and was finally completely suppressed.
Soon, under the heroic command of Chen Ping and the fearless charge of the Dragon Flame Warriors, Hill 313 was successfully captured. All the American troops on the hill were killed, without a single one escaping. Hill 313 became the first hill captured by Daxia, and this dawn of victory brought new hope to the entire battle situation.
Chen Ping and Xiao Jie stood on the high ground. The wind was strong, blowing on their faces covered with smoke and dust. Chen Ping personally planted the flag symbolizing Daxia firmly on the highest point of the high ground. The bright flag fluttered in the wind.
Xiao Jie looked at the bright red flag of Daxia, tears streaming down his face. He shouted in a hoarse but powerful voice: "Company commander, platoon leader, squad leader, I did it. I am standing on the 313 high ground." As he spoke, he bent down, picked up a handful of soil, carefully put it into his trouser pocket, and murmured: "Platoon leader, I will take the soil back."
"Xiao Jie, you are too tired. It's time to rest." Chen Ping looked at Xiao Jie with admiration. His transformation still shocked Chen Ping.
"Brother Chen, I'm really tired."
After Zhang Jie finished speaking, he fell into Chen Ping's arms.
Chen Ping immediately ordered his men to escort him down the hill and send him to a field hospital for treatment.
The successful capture of Hill 313 was like a shot of stimulant that quickly flowed into every corner of the Great Xia Army, giving all the soldiers a boost of confidence. At the same time, it was like the final song for the American Army.
The attack of the Great Xia army was like a surging tide, one wave higher than the other, ruthlessly destroying the enemy's positions one by one with overwhelming force. Good news came to the command center like snowflakes.
First, the news of the heroic capture of Hill 313 came, and then Hills 311 and 312 were also captured by our army. The exciting news came from Jinjiling. Our army wiped out more than 30,000 people from three divisions of the US-West Alliance with a thunderous force. The battlefield was filled with smoke and the enemy had thrown away their armor.
Soon after, good news came from Chifeng Ridge. After an arduous and arduous battle, our army successfully captured Chifeng Ridge. The two group armies of the Allied Forces suffered heavy losses under our fierce attack. The remnants were like frightened birds, abandoning their positions and fleeing in defeat.
Afterwards, the situation in Shangfengling gradually became clear. As the high ground was taken one by one, the victory of Shangfengling was decided. At dawn, exciting news came that Shangfengling was successfully taken and the 10th Division of the Midi Division was completely annihilated.
The sound of gunfire also stopped completely before dawn. This land once ravaged by war finally enjoyed a brief moment of peace.
Although Daxia finally won a complete victory in this war, it also paid a heavy price. Countless brave warriors shed their blood on this land, and they defended the dignity and integrity of the country's territory with their lives.
On the battlefield, the smoke of gunpowder has not yet dissipated, and the scorched earth and cold bodies all tell of the cruelty and tragedy of the battle. But their sacrifice was not in vain, and their heroic deeds will be forever engraved in the long river of history, inspiring generations of Daxia children.
The war was over, and the surviving soldiers were exhausted. There was no joy of victory on their faces, but endless sorrow.
The battlefield was littered with corpses, all of them were comrades who had fought side by side, laughed and played together in the past. Their voices and smiles seemed to still echo in my ears, but now, they were lying coldly on this blood-stained land, and they could never go back.
The soldiers dragged their heavy steps and slowly searched for their comrades among the pile of corpses.
Their faces were expressionless, but the sorrow in their eyes was as deep as the abyss. They carried their fallen comrades on their broad shoulders, and every step they took was so heavy, as if the ground beneath their feet had a thousand-pound strength.
When some soldiers found their brothers, they couldn't help but lie on them and cry loudly. The cry was heartbreaking, as if venting all the pain in their hearts.
The dead are heroes, and their names will be remembered, but the living have to endure a feeling more painful than death, which is the deep remembrance of their comrades and endless guilt.
The sun shone on the faces of the soldiers, and their tears sparkled in the sun. They were not tears of failure, but tears of victory, tears of remembrance for their sacrificed comrades, and tears of grief for this cruel war.
They carried the bodies of their comrades, step by step, away from this cruel battlefield and towards new hope, but the pain in their hearts could never be erased.
This battle that attracted worldwide attention began at 3 a.m. on September 9 and ended at dawn on September 6. The battle lasted for 3 days and ended with Daxia's complete victory.