The expeditionary force began to dominate Southeast Asia by recruiting defeated soldiers

Chapter 695 Three blows shatter the Yamato spirit, Commander, I am Korean.

In a secluded alley in Hakata Ward, Fukuoka City, a small bar with a noren curtain hanging over it still has a dim light on.

It was just before curfew, and there were seven or eight customers in the shop, mostly middle-aged men, dressed in old national dress or wrinkled kimonos, with cheap shochu in front of them.

The air was filled with the smell of cheap tobacco and despondency.

A man with a flushed face, wearing an old army shirt, suddenly tapped his chopsticks on the table and began to hum a tune, albeit haltingly:

"...Crossing the sea, corpses float on the surface; crossing the mountains, corpses lie everywhere; to die for the Emperor, we face death without fear..." This is the famous "Camping Song," which was widely circulated in the old army.

At first, it was just a low hum, and one or two people next to him echoed it indistinctly. The alcohol and the pent-up humiliation seemed to have found an outlet.

The singing gradually grew louder, carrying a sense of self-destructive sorrow.

"Bang!" The wooden lattice door of the tavern was kicked open, and a cold wind rushed in.

Four men wearing Nanyang-style steel helmets, armbands with "Military Inspector" badges, and carrying short hardwood sticks rushed in. The leader was Park Jung-soo.

He squinted, scanning the astonished faces in the room.

"Baka! Who gave you permission to sing such militaristic poisonous songs!" Park Jung-soo adopted a vicious dog-like stance and shouted sternly in Japanese, "Everyone stand up, face the wall, hands behind your heads!"

The tavern owner's legs went weak with fear, and he quickly bowed, "Sir, sir, please calm down, they've just had too much to drink..."

"Shut up." Park Jung-soo slammed his stick on the counter, the bottles rattling loudly. "Protecting criminals is punishable as an accomplice."

The veteran who had been singing, emboldened by alcohol, staggered to his feet, his eyes bloodshot: "You...you Koreans from the peninsula...what right do you have..."

Before he could finish speaking, a burly police officer rushed up behind Park Jung-soo and slammed a stick into his shoulder.

The veteran screamed and fell to the ground.

Other patrol members pounced on the guests like wolves, using sticks and fists to attack those who tried to resist or were simply stunned.

The sounds of shattering bottles, overturned tables and chairs, men's cries of pain, and women's screams mingled together.

Park Jung-soo watched coldly, a hint of satisfaction even playing on his lips.

He walked up to the retired Japanese soldier who had sung first, pressed his boot against his face, and rubbed it.

“Remember, we’re in charge here now. Take this imperialist stray dog ​​away, shut down the tavern, detain the owner, and check for any other illegal activities.”

The men responded loudly and roughly dragged the bruised and battered customer and the wailing boss out.

Park Jung-soo took one last look around the messy pub and ordered the trembling waitress huddled in a corner, "Go to the military control headquarters tomorrow to register and undergo inspection!"

Having said that, he raised his head, turned, and left.

At the alley entrance, a small patrol of Nanyang soldiers happened to pass by. The squad leader looked at the Japanese soldiers being dragged out, and then at Park Jung-soo.

Park Jung-soo immediately put on a fawning expression, jogged over, stood at attention, and saluted: "Reporting, sir, we have apprehended several die-hards who openly defied the ban and incited militaristic sentiments. Please give instructions!"

The sergeant nodded expressionlessly: "Take them to Detention Center No. 3. Hurry up, curfew is approaching."

"Understood!" Park Jung-soo answered loudly, watching the Nanyang soldiers march away in neat steps. Only then did he straighten up and shout to his subordinates, "Did you all hear that? Hurry up!"

This scene was witnessed by some daring residents in the vicinity.

Their fear of the Nanyang soldiers was profound, but their resentment towards Park Jung-soo and other ruthless peninsula people who "borrowed the tiger's power" grew like poisonous weeds in their hearts.

An old man hid behind a window, clenching his fists tightly and cursing in a barely audible voice.

-----

A national school in Zaara Ward, Fukuoka City.

In the fifth-grade classroom, music teacher Nobuo Suzuki, a thin man in his fifties with gray hair and round-framed glasses, is leading his students in choral practice.

The textbook was the "Collection of National Folk Songs" approved by the Ministry of Education before the war, but many of the songs had been explicitly banned.

Suzuki's fingers glided across the old organ, and the children's innocent voices rose up with the melody.

The song they sang was "Hometown," a song with a soothing melody and lyrics depicting idyllic rural scenery. However,

In the second verse of the song, there are some adapted lines that encourage "going to war for the Emperor," which were added spontaneously by many teachers during the war.

A pair of cold, sinister eyes had been observing for a while through the small window at the back of the classroom.

Park Jung-soo, accompanied by two members of the school's security detail, appeared at the school like a ghost.

They came after receiving an anonymous tip that teachers here were conducting militaristic education.

"Stop!" Park Jung-soo suddenly pushed open the classroom door and strode onto the podium.

The singing stopped abruptly.

The children shrank back in fear, staring in terror at the menacing-looking figures.

Ms. Suzuki stood up, her face pale, but she tried her best to remain calm: "May I ask who you are...?"

Park Jung-soo snatched the sheet music from his hand, glanced at it quickly, and sneered:

"Nobuo Suzuki? Did the song you just taught contain phrases like 'Defend the Empire' or 'Seven Lives for the Country'? You are indoctrinating innocent children with militaristic ideas; your intentions are despicable."

"No, no," Suzuki hurriedly explained, "It's just a simple folk song, I didn't..."

"Still trying to argue?" Park Jung-soo interrupted sharply, harboring a strange aversion and resentment towards these educated Japanese intellectuals who liked to reason.

He waved his hand sharply: "Beat him! Make him realize what he should be teaching the children now!"

As if receiving a royal decree, the two disciplinary officers rushed forward, grabbed Suzuki by the collar, dragged him to the ground, and began to beat him indiscriminately with short hardwood sticks.

Chaos erupted in the classroom as the children screamed and cried.

Suzuki curled up, clutching his head, and let out a painful groan.

Park Jung-soo walked to the center of the podium, glanced at the trembling children, and spoke in his Japanese dialect, which he tried to be as kind as possible but was still stiff:

"Children, don't be afraid. We are getting rid of bad teachers, clearing away the garbage that poisons your minds. From now on, we will sing new songs, songs that praise peace, understand?"

He picked up the chalk and wrote the two Chinese characters for "peace" crookedly on the blackboard.

At this moment, the principal and several teachers who had rushed to the scene burst into the classroom and gasped when they saw Suzuki on the ground.

The principal bowed deeply, almost burying his head in the ground: "Sir, please calm down. Mr. Suzuki was just confused for a moment. We will definitely discipline him strictly and never let him do it again."

Park Jung-soo tapped the podium with a stick:

"Discipline? You educators used to use these militaristic things to discipline so many invading soldiers."

Now, all of you must relearn and undergo scrutiny; this school will be temporarily under our supervision.

He pointed at the principal and said, "You, immediately gather all the teachers in the office for questioning, and dismiss all students!"

As Park Jung-soo walked out of the school, he faintly heard the suppressed, resentful chatter of the Japanese instructors behind him.

"...The people of the peninsula have gone too far..." "They're treating us like livestock..."

A cold smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Hate it, the more you hate it, the more it proves that we've done our job well.

Sure enough, the news reached the Nanyang Garrison Command in the afternoon.

A military officer from the Nanyang Army "accidentally" passed by the school. After learning about the situation, he "criticized" Park Jung-soo for using excessively harsh methods that were detrimental to the purpose of "education" and "ordered" him to "express a certain degree of apology" to the injured teacher Suzuki and the school. At the same time, he reiterated that the direction of the review and reform was correct.

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