Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Chapter 1186: Three Routes, Each a Backup

Qi Anzhi looked in the direction he pointed, his gaze sweeping across the entire intersection without making a sound.

This is a well-connected crossroads with a flat and open road surface. There are no tall buildings to block the view, which is excellent, but it also means that it is easy to attack but difficult to defend. Once the attack begins, there is almost nothing to cover the area, and it is easy to be exposed to the Japanese army's firepower.

At the northeast corner of the intersection stands a gray three-story building with mottled walls and a brand-new wooden sign that reads "North China Post." The color of the sign clashes with the old walls.

Chen Gongshu immediately noticed that the original "Chung Hwa Post" lettering had been forcibly covered up, and the remaining characters could still be faintly seen on the edge of the wooden sign, as if it had been scraped with a knife or forcibly covered with paint, exuding a sense of humiliation.

Two Japanese soldiers stood at the entrance of the small building, holding guns, pacing back and forth, watching people coming and going warily.

In the southeast corner was a bank, its heavy iron gate tightly closed, with two thick Japanese military seals hanging on it, the stamps on the seals clearly visible.

The glass display case was riddled with bullet holes, some with black burn marks around the edges, clearly indicating that a conflict had taken place there.

The shop window was empty. The gold bars and silver coins that were originally displayed had long been looted by the Japanese army, leaving only broken glass shards scattered on the ground.

In the northwest corner was an open space with piles of bricks, tiles, and timber scattered haphazardly, some of which were still covered in dirt and snow.

The edge of the open space was bordered by several low walls, which were old and riddled with bullet holes. They could serve as temporary hiding places and provide cover for shooting.

Chen Gongshu noticed that there were several homeless children hiding behind the low wall. They were huddled together, shivering from the cold, their eyes filled with fear, and they dared not make a sound.

In the southwest corner were several low bungalows, their roofs covered with a thin layer of snow, not a wisp of smoke rising from their chimneys, their doors and windows tightly shut, and a rusty iron lock hanging on the door.

It seems that either the owner had already fled Beiping, or he dared not light a fire easily, for fear that the Japanese army would cause trouble for him under the pretext of "possessing contraband".

At the corner of the bungalow, some dry weeds were piled up, and they were blown away by the cold wind.

Chen Gongshu calmly parked the rickshaw against the wall opposite the post office and squatted down to pretend to fix the rickshaw chain.

The cold iron chain pressed against his palm, making his fingertips numb, but he deliberately slowed down his movements, his fingers repeatedly groping along the chain, while his peripheral vision scanned his surroundings like a searchlight, memorizing the location of every sentry post and the expression of every pedestrian.

He noticed a green mail truck parked in front of the post office, with the words "North China Post" prominently displayed on it. The tires looked full, suggesting they had just been filled with air.

Two men in blue postman uniforms were slowly loading mailbags onto the vehicle, their movements sluggish, occasionally breathing warm air into their hands and rubbing their ears and the backs of their hands, which were red from the cold.

Their eyes were numb and lifeless, as if their souls had been ripped out. They mechanically repeated the action of moving mailbags, occasionally glancing up at the Japanese soldiers at the door with fear in their eyes.

Qi Anzhi also squatted down, pretending to hand him the tools.

Chen Gongshu explained, "This mail truck departs from here at 2 p.m. every day, heading towards Tianjin, and passes through this intersection."

The mail truck driver was an old man in his fifties, timid and cowardly. Besides the two mailmen, there was no one else on the truck.

He paused, making sure no one was approaching, before continuing, "We can take control of this car in advance."

Have the brothers lie in ambush in the narrow alley behind the post office. When the mail truck is loaded with mailbags and ready to leave, quickly tie up the driver and the postman and stuff them into the post office basement.

Our people checked and found that there was an abandoned storage room in the basement of the post office, which was very well hidden.

Then my men drove up to the intersection and waited for Wang Kemin's convoy to come, then rammed into it, forcing the convoy to stop.

"The impact point must be precise." Chen Gongshu's eyes were fixed on the center of the intersection, his tone serious and without a trace of emotion: "It can't be too violent, lest it directly destroy the vehicles and give the enemy time to react. As long as we hit the car in the middle of the convoy precisely, Wang Kemin is definitely sitting in that bulletproof car. Hitting it will force the entire convoy to stop."

The key is that the follow-up attack must be fast and ruthless; the core target must be eliminated within three minutes, without delay.

The Japanese military police patrols reacted very quickly; once the gunfire started, they could arrive in five minutes at most, leaving us no extra time.

The Thompson submachine gun has a high rate of fire, making it suitable for close-quarters assaults, but it also depletes ammo quickly. Inform the men that each person should carry at least three drum magazines, each loaded with thirty rounds. Once the drum magazines are empty, use grenades to finish them off. Absolutely no survivors, especially Wang Kemin; he must be confirmed dead.

"What about the retreat route? This intersection is too open; it won't be easy to escape after the battle." Qi Anzhi frowned, his tone full of worry.

He rubbed his fingers, which were purple from the cold, his eyes full of worry: "Once the military police arrive, they will definitely block all the roads. Even if we deal with Wang Kemin, it will be difficult for us to break out."

Chen Gongshu pulled out a small notebook, about the size of a palm, from his pocket, and then took out a pencil that had been sharpened to a very short length. He quickly drew a route on it, the pencil tip scratching on the rough paper, leaving clear marks.

"Three routes, serving as backups for each other."

He pointed to the lines drawn on the paper and explained in a low voice: "First, after we succeed, everyone should get on the mail truck and drive towards Xizhimen. Zhao Guangyuan has arranged an inside man at the city gate, a Japanese translator, who can help us sneak out of the city."

But this is a poor choice. The mail truck is too conspicuous; its green body is extremely eye-catching on the road, making it easy for the Japanese army to pursue. Moreover, the checkpoints at Xizhimen are heavily guarded. If our inside agent fails, we will be surrounded.

"Secondly, disperse and retreat, breaking up into smaller groups."

Behind the post office was a narrow alley, a maze of crisscrossing lanes, so winding and twisting that Japanese vehicles couldn't get in, and even infantry would easily get lost; it was the best route.

The brothers were to familiarize themselves with the alleyways beforehand, and after the raid, they would retreat in different directions to regroup at the designated location.

Chen Gongshu paused, his pencil leaving a small black dot on the paper, and his tone turned serious, with a hint of determination: "The third, and the last, path."

If surrounded, retreat to the post office.

The post office was a brick-and-mortar structure with thick walls and small windows, making it easy to defend and difficult to attack. The brothers could use the tables, chairs, and mailbags inside to build fortifications and hold out for as long as possible, buying time for the other brothers to retreat.

But this is a dead end, and it should never be taken unless absolutely necessary.

Retreating to the post office means being prepared for mutual destruction.