Ages of Conquest: a Kings and Generals Podcast
Mongol Invasions, Napoleonic Wars, Diadochi Wars, Rome and the Cold War. Every part of your life -the words you speak, the ideas you share- can be traced to our history, but how well do you really know the stories? We’ll take you to the events, the times and the people that shaped our world. Hosted by David Schroder for Kings and Generals.
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3.181 Fall and Rise of China: Soviet Counter Offensive over the Heights
12/22/2025
3.181 Fall and Rise of China: Soviet Counter Offensive over the Heights
Last time we spoke about the Japanese Victory over Changkufeng. Japan’s generals hatched a plan: strike at night, seize the peak, then bargain if need be. Colonel Sato, steady as a compass, chose Nakano’s brave 75th Regiment, selecting five fearless captains and a rising star, Nakajima, to lead the charge. Ahead, scouts and engineers threaded a fragile path through darkness, while distant Soviet tanks rumbled like distant thunder. At 2:15 a.m., wire breached and soldiers slipped over the slope. The crest resisted with brutal tenacity, grenades flashed, machine guns spit fire, and leaders fell. Yet by 5:15 a.m. dawn painted the hill in pale light, and Japanese hands grasped the summit. The dawn assault on nearby Hill 52 and the Shachaofeng corridor followed, with Takeshita’s and Matsunobe’s units threading through fog, fire, and shifting trenches. Narukawa’s howitzers answered the dawn with measured fury, silencing the Soviets’ early artillery as Japanese infantry pressed forward. By daybreak, the Russians were driven back, their lines frayed and retreating toward Khasan. The price was steep: dozens of officers dead or injured, and a crescent of smoke and memory left etched on every face. #181 The Russian Counter Offensive over the Heights Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. After admitting the loss of Changkufeng and Shachaofeng by dawn on 31 July, the Russian government issued a communique the next day asserting that Soviet troops had “hurled back a Japanese division… after a two-day battle” involving tanks, artillery, and aircraft. Some hours after the Japanese penetration, Soviet regulars rushed to the scene and drove out the invaders. Japanese losses amounted to 400 men; Soviet losses were 13 killed and 55 wounded. On Soviet soil, the Japanese abandoned five cannons, 14 machine guns, and 157 rifles, while the Russians admitted losing one tank and one gun. A Soviet reconnaissance pilot may have fallen into Japanese hands after bailing out. “Both before and during the Japanese attack… Soviet troops did not once cross the Manchukuoan frontier,which deprived them of the possibility of surrounding or outflanking the invaders.” By 1 August, Russian ground forces were deployed and the Soviet Air Force took action. Soviet aircraft appeared at 24:30 to reconnoiter. Soon after, more than ten planes flew in formation, launching strikes against forward units. Eight sorties, light bombers and fighters, roughly 120–150 aircraft in flights of two or three dozen, bombed and strafed. Raids were conducted by as many as 30 planes, though no Soviet losses were reported. The Russians also hit targets on the Korean side of the Tumen. The 75th Regiment judged that the Soviet Air Force sought only to intimidate. Russian planes dropped several dozen bombs on the Kyonghun bridge, but the span was not struck; damage was limited to the railway, producing an impression of severity that was misleading. The lack of air cover troubled the troops most. Japanese casualties on 1 August were modest: three men wounded in the 75th Infantry, and one wounded and a horse killed in the 76th. However the three Japanese battalions expended over 15,000 machine-gun and 7,000 rifle rounds that day. The appearance of Soviet air power at Changkufeng drew anxious international attention. Shanghai reports electrified observers, who anticipated that major Russo-Japanese hostilities would transform the China campaign overnight. Some observers were openly dismayed, foreseeing a prolongation of the mainland war with potential benefits to Soviet interests. Japanese Army spokesmen sought to downplay the situation. Officers in Hsinking told correspondents that the raids, while serious, represented only a face-saving measure. The Red Army was reportedly attempting to compensate for losses at Changkufeng and other disputed positions, but aside from the bombings, the frontier remained quiet. If the Russians were serious, observers noted, they would have bombed the vital Unggi railway bridge, which remained untouched; raids focused on minor bridges, with limited damage. In Tokyo, foreign observers believed the appearance of about 50 Soviet heavy bombers over North Korea signaled an extension of the incidents and that the Japanese government was taking urgent measures. Military leaders decided not to escalate but prepared for emergencies. The Korea Army Headquarters denied Soviet bombing of Harbin in Manchuria or Najin and Chongjin in Korea. Regarding retaliation, an American correspondent reported that the Japanese military had no intention of bombing Russian territory. Although Soviet use of aircraft introduced a new dimension of danger, the main efforts remained ground-based on both sides. After Japanese troops cleared Changkufeng and Shachaofeng, the Russians appeared to be redeploying to contract their defensive frontage; no troops or works remained west of Khasan. Four or five Russian infantry companies and ten artillery pieces stood between the lake and Paksikori, while the main forces, with numerous gun sites, were concentrated west of Novokievsk. On the Kwantung Army front in southeast Manchuria, no changes were observed. “The Russians were apparently shocked by their defeat at Changkufeng and must suddenly have resorted to negative, conservative measures.” Korea Army Headquarters assessed the situation as of the evening of 31 July: “The enemy must fear a Japanese advance into the Novokievsk plain and therefore is concentrating his main forces in that district. Our interests require that we anticipate any emergency, so we must prepare the necessary strength in the Kyonghun region and reinforce positions at Wuchiatzu.” At 20:45 on the 31st, the 19th Division received a detailed message from the Hunchun garrison commander describing his northward deployments. Suetaka was heartened; he “earnestly desired to bring about the end of the incident as a result of the fighting of 30–31 July but was equally resolved to defend the border firmly, based on Japanese interpretation of the Hunchun pact, in case the Soviet side did not perform intensive self-reflection.” First, Suetaka issued instructions from Kyonghun at 8:15 on the 31st via K. Sato: “It is our intention that Changkufeng and the high ground northwest of Shachaofeng be secured, as well as the high ground south of Shachaofeng if possible. Enemy attacks are to be met at our positions, but you are not to pursue far.” Second, Colonel Tanaka was instructed not to fire as long as Russian artillery did not bombard friendly forces. “Except for preparing against counterassaults, your actions will be cautious. In particular, harassing fire against inhabited places and residents is prohibited.” Suetaka was finally armed with formal authority, received at 22:05 on 1 August. He did not delay in implementing it. At 23:00 he ordered the immediate rail movement of strong reinforcements: the alerted infantry brigade headquarters, as well as four infantry battalions and the remaining mountain artillery battalion. Thus, Suetaka could deploy forward not only the forces he had requested but also a brigade-level organization to assume control of the now sizeable combat elements massed at the front for “maneuvers.” Earlier that afternoon he had already moved his division’s message center forward to the Matsu’otsuho heights at the Tumen, and he regularly posted at least one staff officer there so that the center could function as the division’s combat headquarters. An additional matter of explosive potential was built into the divisional order: provision of Japanese Air Force cover for rail movements forward, although use of aircraft had been prohibited by all higher headquarters; Nakamura intended only ground cover. At the front, Japanese units spent most of their time consolidating their hard-won positions. By 3 on 1 August, a column of Soviet forces with vehicles was observed moving from the east side of Khasan. Late in the day, the division received an extremely important telegram from the 2nd (Intelligence) Section of the Kwantung Army: “According to a special espionage report from our OSS in Khabarovsk city, Red Army authorities there have decided to retake the high ground along Changkufeng.” From other intelligence, the Kwantung Army concluded that the Russians were rebuilding in the Novokievsk region. Frequent movements observed immediately to the rear of the Soviet battle zone caused K. Sato to grow apprehensive about a dawn counterattack on the 1st, and he reinforced Changkufeng with the 6th Company. The second of August was marked by continuation of Soviet air attacks and the anticipated Russian counteroffensive. According to Japanese intelligence, Marshal Blyukher had arrived in Khabarovsk, and Lieutenant General Sokolov was in Voroshilov. An offensive buildup, estimated at about 3,000 men plus tanks and guns, was reported in the Kozando area by evening on the 1st. Hirahara, commanding the battalion at Changkufeng, grew concerned about Hill 52. With day’s end approaching, he reinforced the defenses further and ordered the battalion medical officer to establish a dressing station at Fangchuanting. Around 15:00 Soviet artillery began firing at forward areas, especially gun positions; the bombardments were described as severe. Japanese artillery sought to conserve ammunition, firing only at worthwhile, short-range targets. Main Russian ground actions focused on the far-right (Hill 52) and far-left (Shachaofeng) sectors, not Changkufeng. In line with Hirahara’s orders, two infantry companies and four heavy machine guns were moved by 8:00 from Changkufeng to the heights 800 meters southeast. Soviet heavy artillery pounded the zone between Fangchuanting and Hill 52; observing the enemy became difficult. Russian planes engaged at 9:00 fighters, then bombers, to soften defenses and gun positions. Meanwhile, the Soviets deployed firepower southeast of Khasan, while two infantry battalions and more than ten tanks advanced through the pines on the western slopes. Japanese regimental guns and two machine-gun platoons at Hill 52 attacked the enemy heavy machine guns and neutralized them. By 10:00 the Russians had advanced with heavy weapons to the high ground 800 meters from Hill 52. From Changkufeng, the battalion guns engaged heavy weapons. Hirahara moved with the engineers and battalion guns to the heights to which he had transferred reinforcements earlier, took command, and prepared an assault. Initially, Soviet troops advanced in formation, but after cresting a dip, they dispersed and moved onto the high ground opposite Hill 52. Heavily armed, they drew within 700 meters, with artillery and heavy machine guns providing coverage. By 10:00 Sato requested Shiozawa’s mountain guns across the Tumen to unleash a barrage against Hill 52’s front. For about half an hour, the battery fired. By 10:30, the Soviet advance grew listless. Believing the moment ripe, Hirahara deployed his men to charge the foe’s right wing, ordering rapid movement with caution against eastern flank fire. On the heights north of Hill 52, Inagaki watched the struggle; with the telephone out and the situation urgent, he brought up firepower on his own initiative. Taking the main body of the 1st Machine Gun Company, along with the battalion guns, he moved out at noon, making contact with the 10th Company on Hill 52 around 14:00, where the Japanese machine guns and battalion guns joined the fray. The Russians, losing momentum, were checked by Japanese heavy weapons and by mountain guns from Hill 82. Hirahara’s main battalion advanced onto the high ground north of Hill 52 around noon. By 15:00, two enemy companies began to fall back, climbing the western slopes of Hill 29 as the main forces retreated piecemeal to a dip. By 16:00, Suetaka observed that his units were continuing to secure their positions and were “gradually breaking the hostile intention.” Despite heat and rain, front-line troops showed fatigue but remained vigilant. Between 11:00 and 16;00, Sato inspected the lines and directed defensive positions, particularly at Hill 52. After a poor initial performance, the Russians awaited reinforcements before attempting another assault on Hill 52. They moved up a mechanized corps, and by 15:00 50 tanks massed east of Maanshan. Around 17:00, the Russians began moving south along the high ground across Khasan. Another two Soviet battalions advanced along the Tumen hills, led by armor. Hirahara anticipated an assault at twilight, especially after 18:00, when nine bombers struck Hill 52. Earlier, Takeshita had received reports from the antitank commander, Lieutenant Saito, that at 17:00 several enemy tanks and three infantry battalions were advancing from Hill 29. Convinced of an imminent Soviet strike, Takeshita ordered the defense to conceal its efforts and to annihilate the foe with point-blank fire and hand-to-hand fighting. He sought to instill confidence that hostile infantry could not reach the positions. Before 19:00, the enemy battalions came within effective range, and Japan opened with all available firepower. Rapid-fire antitank guns set the lead tank alight; the remaining tanks were stopped. Support came from Hisatsune’s regimental guns and two antitank gun squads atop Changkufeng. The Russian advance was checked. By nightfall, Soviet elements had displaced heavy weapons about 400 meters from Japanese positions. As early as 16:00, Suetaka ordered a mountain artillery squad to cross the river. Sato told Takeshita at 7:30 that there would be a night attack against Hill 52. Takeshita was to annihilate the foe after allowing them to close to 40–50 meters. The Russians did mount a night assault and pressed close between 8 and 9 p.m. with three battalions led by four tanks. The main force targeted Takeshita; all ten Russian heavy machine guns engaged that side. Japanese machine guns and battalion guns joined the fray. The Russians pressed within 30 meters, shouted “Hurrah! Hurrah!” and hurled grenades before advancing a further 15 meters. The Japanese repelled the first waves with grenades and emplaced weapons, leaving light machine guns and grenade dischargers forward. Soviet illuminating shells were fired to enable closer approaches within 100 meters. Japanese grenade-discharger fire blasted the forces massed in the dead space before the works. While the Hill 52 night attack collapsed, other Russian units, smaller in strength and with one tank leading, moved against the hill on the left that the Japanese had not yet occupied that morning. The Russians advanced along the Khasan slope north of Hill 52, came within point-blank range, and shouted but did not charge. By 22:00, the Japanese, supported by machine guns, had checked the foe. Thereupon, the 6th Company, now under a platoon leader, Narusawa, launched a counterattack along the lake. “The enemy was bewildered and became dislocated. Buddies were heard shouting to one another, and some could be seen hauling away their dead.” The Soviet troops held back 300–400 meters and began to dig in. Sato decided artillery should sweep the zone in front of Hill 52. At 21:30, he requested support, but the mountain guns could not open fire. Still, by 23:00, not a shadow of an enemy soldier remained on the Hill 52 front, where the Japanese spent the night on alert. In the northern sector, eight Russian tanks crossed the Japanese-claimed border at 5:25 on 2 August and moved south to a position northwest of Shachaofeng. Around 7 Russian artillery opened fire to “prepare” the Japanese while a dozen heavy bombers attacked. An hour later, the ground offensive began in earnest, with one and a half to two infantry battalions, a dozen machine guns, and several tanks. Supporting Takenouchi’s left wing were several batteries of mountain artillery and two heavy batteries. Well-planned counterfire stopped the offensive. There was little change north of Shachaofeng and in the southeast, where Kanda’s company held its positions against attack. On Takenouchi’s front, Akaishizawa notes 120-degree daytime heat and nighttime chill. Men endured damp clothes and mosquitoes. To keep warm at night, soldiers moved about; during the day they sought shade and camouflage with twigs and weeds. No defense existed against cold night rain. Nocturnal vigilance required napping by day when possible, but the intense sun drained strength. For three days, Imagawa’s company had only wild berries and dirty river water to eat. At 6:00 on 2 August, Colonel Tanaka exhorted his artillery to “exalt maximum annihilation power at close range, engage confirmed targets, and display firepower that is sniperlike—precise, concentrated, and as swift as a hurricane.” Tanaka devised interdiction sectors for day and night attacks. At 10:30, the artillery laid down severe fire and eventually caused the enemy assault to wither. Around 24:40, Rokutanda’s battalion detected a Russian battalion of towed artillery moving into positions at the skirt of Maanshan. When the first shells hit near the vanguard, a commander on horseback fled; the rest dispersed, abandoning at least eight artillery wagons and ten vehicles. Suetaka, observing from the Kucheng BGU, picked up the phone and commended the 3rd Battalion. Japanese casualties on 2 August were relatively light: ten men killed and 15 wounded. Among the killed, the 75th Infantry lost seven, the 76th Infantry two, and the engineers one. Among the wounded, the 75th suffered nine and the 76th six. Infantry ammunition was expended at an even higher rate than on 30–31 July. In Hirahara’s battalion area, small arms, machine guns, ammunition, helmets, knapsacks, and gas masks were captured. A considerable portion of the seized materiel was employed in subsequent combat, as in the case of an antitank gun and ammunition captured on 31 July. Soviet casualties to date were estimated at 200–250, including 70 abandoned corpses. Twelve enemy tanks had been captured, and five more knocked out on 1–2 August; several dozen heavy bombers and about 5,000 Soviet ground troops were involved in the concerted offensives. Nevertheless, reports of an imminent Soviet night attack against Hill 52 on 2–3 August alarmed Suetaka as much as his subordinates. Shortly after 20:00 accompanied by his intelligence officer, Suetaka set out for the hill, resolved to direct operations himself. Somewhat earlier, the division had sent Korea Army Headquarters a message, received by 18:30, reflecting Suetaka’s current outlook: 30 to 40 Soviet planes had been bombing all sectors since morning, but losses were negligible and morale was high. The division had brought up additional elements in accord with army orders, and was continuing to strive for nonenlargement, but was “prepared firmly to reject the enemy’s large-scale attacks.” Impressed by the severity of the artillery and small-arms fire, Suetaka deemed it imperative “quickly to mete out a decisive counterassault and thus hasten the solution of the incident.” But Japanese lines were thinly held and...
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3.180 Fall and Rise of China: A premature Japanese Victory over Changkufeng
12/15/2025
3.180 Fall and Rise of China: A premature Japanese Victory over Changkufeng
Last time we spoke about the battle over Changfukeng Hill. In the frost-bit dawn by the Chaun and Tumen, two empires faced a cliff of fate: Soviet and Japanese, each convinced that Changkufeng belonged to them. Diplomats urged restraint, yet Tokyo’s generals brewed a daring plan, strike at night, seize the crest, then bargain. Sato and Suetaka debated risk and restraint, weighing “dokudan senko” against disciplined action as rain hissed on the ground. Night fell like velvet. Nakano, a quiet, meticulous regimental leader, gathered the 75th Regiment’s veterans, choosing five fearless captains and a rising star, Nakajima, to carry the charge. Scouts and engineers moved ahead, weaving a fragile path across the Tumen: wire-cutters in the dark, signals humming softly, and the thunder of distant Soviet tanks rolling along the shore. At 02:15, after breaches breached and silent men slid through wire, the Japanese surged up the slopes with bayonets glinting, swords ready, and nerves as taut as steel. The crest lunged with savage resistance: grenades flashed, machine guns roared, and leaders fell. By 05:15, dawn broke, and the hill, Course of blood and courage, stood in Japanese hands. #180 A premature Japanese Victory over Changkufeng Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On 31 July 1938, dawn seemed to indicate Changkufeng Hill was in Japanese hands. From his command post, Colonel Sato Kotoku, his regimental staff, and most of Hirahara’s 3rd Battalion had been anxiously watching the progress of the 1st Battalion’s operations since 12:30 on 31 July. Around 03:00, the Japanese infantry commanders issued “heroic orders to charge,” audible above the withering fire. Sato expected the crest to fall in little more than an hour; when no signal shell burst over the hill, he grew apprehensive, praying for success with his heart breaking. A mile away on Hill 52, the troops could discern no voices, only gunfire and the spectacular glow of flares and tracers. As one soldier recalled “It was like fireflies,” another soldier added “it was like a carnival”. To Sasai, on the heights at Kucheng, it was, as he put it, “c’était un grand spectacle.” By the way I think its one of the only times I’ve read a Japanese soldier using French, what he said translates to “it was a large spectacle”, I am from Quebec so I speak baguette. The mist moved up Changkufeng Hill, and Japanese troops followed it, fighting for hours. Fearing Nakano’s battalion might have been wiped out, Sato’s staff prayed for fog. Sato later admitted, “By dawn we were failing to take our objectives.” At the base of Chiangchunfeng, Sato held the 6th Company in reserve, ready to attack Changkufeng from the left. He would have preferred not to commit it, given the danger of an accidental fire-fight with friendly forces. Nevertheless, as combat intensified, Sato decided to push the company into support of the 1st Battalion. After orders at 03:15, Ito moved toward the northwest side of Changkufeng. The Russians laid down heavy fire, especially from a well-placed machine-gun position on the far left. Ito’s company, suffering heavy and needlessly casualties, had to hold near the middle of the slope. A runner was sent to the regimental command post requesting artillery support after dawn. By 04:30, Sato could discern the Changkufeng crest, where fierce close-quarters fighting raged between Japanese and Russians on the south edge, while the enemy continually sent reinforcements, troops followed by tanks, up the northern slope. Ito’s company was visible on the western slope, bravely bearing a Japanese flag. 10-15 minutes later, grenade-discharger fire began to blast the Soviet positions. At 04:40, Ito, redeploying at dawn, observed elements of the 1st Company near the hill’s summit. Contact was established with Inagaki’s men. The Russians began to show signs of disarray under the grenade dischargers and the heavy weapons deployed by the reserve battalion at Chiangchunfeng. Thereupon Ito’s company charged as well, capturing the northwest corner of Changkufeng roughly concurrently with the main body of the 1st Battalion under Sakata. Ito was wounded and evacuated; two sergeants were later cited in dispatches. Meanwhile, the 10th Company, led by Takeshita of the 3rd Battalion, was to conduct a separate night assault against fire points around Hill 24, about 1,000 meters north of Changkufeng. The aim was to disrupt Russian withdrawal along the slopes to the rear and to hinder reinforcements. At midnight, the company left the skirts of Chiangchunfeng in fog and darkness. Moving stealthily over the undulating terrain, they faced knee-deep bogs and tall vegetation. After evading sentries, they penetrated behind the enemy. By 02:00, five teams totaling 16 men under Sergeant Uchibori were ready to strike Hill 24. Takeshita led the charge from the right and overran the defenders by 02:20. The Russians, numbering 20 to 30 riflemen with one machine gun, fled toward Khasan, leaving four soldiers behind whom the Japanese bayoneted. Takeshita’s company continued to consolidate Hill 24, awaiting counterattacks, which soon followed. At 04:00, eight tanks, with headlights on, launched an attack from the Shachaofeng sector, supported by an infantry company . Takeshita reinforced Uchibori’s unit with assault teams; the Russian infantry were routed, and five tanks were knocked out. At dawn, about 100 Soviet troops were observed retreating from the direction of Changkufeng, surprised and mowed down by heavy and light machine guns at ranges of about 300 meters. At 06:30, the Soviets attacked again with an infantry battalion and a machine-gun company from north of Khasan. The Japanese allowed them to close, then concentrated the firepower of both infantry platoons plus heavy machine guns. After a 30-minute firefight with heavy casualties on the Soviet side, the Russians fell back. Again, at 07:10, the Soviets struck from the north of Khasan, this time with one company and five tanks. Russian infantry, supported by three tanks, pushed in front of the Japanese positions, but machine-gun and small-arms fire forced them to retreat eastward, the tanks being stopped 50 meters from the lines. Meanwhile, two Japanese enlisted men on patrol near the lake encountered armor; they attacked and, after taking casualties, returned with captured ammunition and equipment. One rapid-fire piece had been providing covering fire behind Takeshita’s unit and opened fire on three tanks attacking north of Changkufeng, helping to stop them. As daybreak arrived, Takeshita’s company cleared the battlefield, retrieved casualties, and reinforced the defenses. Then an order from the regiment transferred the main body to Changkufeng. Leaving one platoon at Hill 24, Takeshita came directly under Hirahara’s command. Takeshita was later officially cited by the regiment. If Hill 52 fell, Changkufeng would be lost. The Russians understood the importance of this constricted sector as well. Their armor could swing south of Khasan, while the terrain to the north was boggier and could be made impassable by the field-artillery battery emplaced on the Korean side of the Tumen. To check hostile reinforcements into this vital region, Sato had dispatched an infantry element to Hill 52 early. Northward, he had 1st Lieutenant Hisatsune emplacement the two 75-millimeter mountain pieces belonging to his infantry gun battery, together with two of 2nd Lieutenant Saito’s three 20-millimeter anti-tank guns and the two 37-millimeter infantry rapid-fire guns belonging to 2nd Lieutenant Kutsukake’s battalion gun battery. At 23:00 on 30 July, in accord with Nakano’s orders, Hisatsune moved these six guns to the ridgeline between Changkufeng and Hill 52. Apart from the guns to the left, defense of Hill 52 was entrusted to the experienced Master Sergeant Murakoshi Kimio, 2nd Platoon leader in Nakajima’s company. After the Shachaofeng affair, Murakoshi was ordered to occupy the hill. Moving along the shore on 30 July, his unit encountered neither friendly nor hostile troops. The regimental records note that “some enemy unit came into the dip east of Hill 52 since morning on the 30th, and both sides were watching each other.” Murakoshi deployed his three rifle squads, totaling 34 men. After Nakano’s battalion jumped off on 31 July, the platoon observed not only the “fireworks display” but also Soviet motorized units with lights aglow, moving on high ground east of Khasan. Later, tanks could be heard clanking toward Hill 52. Around 04:00, Murakoshi organized anti-tank teams and sent them into action. Most accounts emphasize the anti-tank efforts, rather than the fire of Murakoshi’s machine gunners. Three privates, carrying anti-tank mines, undertook daring assaults once the terrain obliged the Russian tanks to slow. They laid their mines, but the soil proved too soft, and the attempt failed. In the most publicized episode, Private First Class Matsuo, nicknamed a “human bullet,” was badly wounded by machine-gun fire from a tank and knocked from the vehicle, but he managed to reboard with a satchel charge and, it is said, stop the tank at the cost of his life. The platoon leader and his remaining 20 men, having withdrawn 200 meters below their positions, poured torrents of fire at the infantry accompanying the tanks. Flames from the antitank mine assaults provided blazing targets. In concert with Hisatsune’s six infantry guns emplaced on the Crestline southeast of Changkufeng, Murakoshi knocked out the remaining two tanks. When the tanks were immobilized, the Soviet troops did not press forward; exposed to Japanese fire, their losses mounted. By daybreak, the Russians had pulled back. Official records describe one Soviet company with four heavy machine guns, led by mounted officers. After hours of intense combat, Colonel Sato and his staff observed that all operations were succeeding by dawn. It was fortunate that Japanese units had posed a threat from the east; only then did the Russians begin to retreat. “But what an incomparably heroic first combat it had been… the scene at Changkufeng was sublime and inspiring. Private feelings were forgotten, and all bowed their heads in respect for the gallant fighting by matchless subordinates.” As soon as Sato confirmed that Changkufeng had been occupied, he sent an aide to assess casualties. “When the colonel learned about the death of his capable and dependable officers,” a lieutenant recalled, “he… murmured, ‘Is that so?’ and closed his eyes. The dew glistened on his lids.” Meanwhile, in addition to the battle of annihilation at Changkufeng, Major Takenouchi of Okido’s regiment was to conduct the dawn assault in the Shachaofeng area. His 1st Battalion and attached elements numbered 379 men; Kanda’s company of the Kucheng Border Guard Unit added another 49. An engineer platoon was attached. At 18:00 on 30 July, Takenouchi issued his orders. According to that evening’s regimental maps, north of Khasan were two battalions of Soviet infantry and 20 tanks. South of Shachaofeng, the Russians had entanglements and machine-gun nests, with additional emplacements to the rear, west of the lake, and armor moving south toward Changkufeng. Northwest of Shachaofeng lay the main body of Takenouchi’s battalion. Signal lines connected his headquarters with Sato’s command post. The only Soviet patrol activity noted, as of evening, was in the direction of Matsunobe. Around 02:00, machine guns chattered south of Changkufeng, signaling an increasing intensity of Sato’s night assault. On Takenouchi’s front, the Russians went on alert, firing illuminating shells and opening fire from the north side of Changkufeng. At 02:30, Matsunobe’s unit finished breakfast and moved to the jump-off site. The terrain was difficult and there was considerable enemy tracer fire, but, thanks to effective reconnaissance, the force reached its destination without loss by 04:00. Matsunobe eliminated an outpost unit using rear-area scouts who struck from the rear and gave the enemy little opportunity to respond. Then the Japanese prepared for the main attack as they awaited daybreak. At 04:00, the supporting mountain artillery platoon took position between Matsunobe and Takenouchi. Throughout this period, the sounds of fighting grew more violent toward Changkufeng; machine guns were especially active. At 05:00, three enemy tanks could be seen moving up the northern slope of Changkufeng, but soon after news arrived that friendly forces had seized the crest. With sunrise imminent, the Japanese guns assumed their role. The longest-range support Takenouchi could expect was Narukawa’s two 15-centimeter howitzers, emplaced across the Tumen north of Sozan. This battery took position at 04:20, after which the commander went to join Sato just behind the front. Several thousand meters of telephone line had been strung across the river, linking observation post and battery. Narukawa watched the fierce struggle at Changkufeng and prepared to support the dawn assault, while honoring the desperate effort of Ito’s company for covering fire. Firing began at 05:10, though range data were not adequate. After little more than ten rounds, the enemy heavy machine guns on the Shachaofeng front subsided. A veteran artilleryman proudly remarked, “These were the first howitzer shells ever fired against the Soviet Army.” At 05:20, Takenouchi’s own heavy weapons added effective counterfire. Matsunobe and his company had crept to a line 150 meters in front of the Russian positions, taking advantage of dead angles and covered by light machine guns. Three Soviet tanks, however, had pressed forward against the main body. Two Private First Class soldiers, members of a close-quarters team, waited until the lead tank reversed course, then dashed in from the rear and blew it up. Two other soldiers attacked the third tank with mines but could not destroy it because of the tall grass. In a dramatic action that always thrilled Japanese audiences, a Private First Class jumped aboard with a portable mine, while a superior private jammed explosives into the tank’s rear and allegedly blew off both treads, though the tank continued firing. While Matsunobe’s company laid a smoke screen and prepared to charge, the Soviet tank was knocked out by rapid-fire guns. Master Sergeant Sudo’s platoon seized the opportunity to race forward 15 meters and overrun two firing points at 05:40. When the Russians counterattacked with 60 infantrymen and three new tanks, Matsunobe ordered the grenade-discharger squad to fire while he had Sudo pull back to the foot of the hill. Close-quarter teams knocked out the tanks in succession. By this time the Russians had been shaken badly, allowing Matsunobe’s main force to surge into two more positions. Five or six remaining Soviet soldiers were wiped out by a combination of Japanese pursuit fire and Soviet gunfire emanating from east of Khasan. After 06:00, the Japanese held the high ground at Shachaofeng. Kanda’s unit had achieved a similar result, swinging around Matsunobe and skirting the left of the Soviet positions. Russian artillery opened from the east, but the Japanese used the terrain to advantage and suffered no casualties. Around this time, enemy forces in the Changkufeng area began to retreat, a portion by motor vehicle. Takenouchi had Matsunobe secure the site and, at 06:13, directed the main battalion to advance toward the north side of Khasan. A stubborn four-hour battle then ensued as Soviet forces delayed their retreat and the covering unit occupied the northern edge of the lake. Takenouchi estimated the enemy’s strength at two infantry companies, a company of 12 heavy machine guns, and one heavy battery. Several Russian counterattacks were mounted against Matsunobe, while Takenouchi reinforced Kanda. The battalion attacked with great intensity and by 10:30 had managed to encircle the right flank of the enemy defenses at the northwest edge of Khasan. The Russians began to fall back, though one company of infantry resisted vigorously. At 10:50, the Soviet rear-guard company opened fire with machine guns while several tanks delivered heavy machine-gun and cannon fire. Soviet artillery, firing rapidly, also joined the resistance to Takenouchi’s advance. Firepower pinned down the Japanese in this sector from late morning until nightfall. For reasons of necessity as well as doctrine, the night assault on Changkufeng Hill received no artillery support. The dawn assault to clear Shachaofeng, however, required all available firepower, even if limited. Firing diagrams reflect no howitzer fire directed north of Changkufeng; this is understandable since Narukawa had only two pieces to handle numerous targets. A Soviet tank element was driven off, west of the lake, by 03:00 from the skirt of Chiangchunfeng by 3rd Battalion heavy weapons. Sasai, at the Kucheng command post, contends that Japanese artillery scored a significant success: school-tactics were followed, and the battery stood ready in case the night assault by the infantry failed. By dawn, Russian remnants clung to the crest, though the infantry had “peeled the skin” from their defenses. “In the morning, one of our howitzer shells hit near Changkufeng, whereupon the last of the enemy fled.” Survivors of the night assault recalled no direct artillery support by Japanese artillery, though firing charts suggest some; Soviet sources dispute this. Regimental records note: “After firing against positions southwest of Shachaofeng, the Narukawa battery fired to cut off the enemy’s retreat path from Shachaofeng and to neutralize the foe’s superior artillery. Results were great.” In the morning, Sato returned to Chiangchunfeng, observed the difficult anti-artillery combat by the Narukawa battery, and commended their performance. He watched howitzer fire disrupt Soviet artillery positions opposite Shachaofeng and estimated enemy strength at a battalion. Sato saw Russian horse-drawn artillery blasted from its sites and pulled back north of Khasan. Narukawa’s first targets were positions and tanks south of Shachaofeng. Northeast of the lake, one battery of Russians headed north after dawn. In Narukawa’s firing pattern, north of the lake, a Soviet motorized unit of more than ten vehicles withdrew in the afternoon. A new Russian artillery formation moving north of Khasan that afternoon received the heaviest fire from the howitzers. On that day Narukawa’s two active pieces fired a total of 74 rounds. The only other Japanese artillery support for the infantry consisted of the half-battery of 75-millimeter mountain guns already forward. The platoon under 2nd Lieutenant Ikue moved west of Shachaofeng, starting from behind Kanda at 04:00, and bombarded Soviet positions to the northeast. Firing a lighter projectile than Narukawa’s pieces, Ikue’s men fired 162 shells and 37 shrapnel rounds at the Russians. Colonel Tanaka, the artillery regiment commander, reached the front during the night...
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3.179 Fall and Rise of China: Lake Khasan Conflict II
12/08/2025
3.179 Fall and Rise of China: Lake Khasan Conflict II
Last time we spoke about the beginning of the battle of lake Khasan. On a frost-bitten dawn by the Chaun and Tumen, two empires, Soviet and Japanese, stared at Changkufeng, each certain the ridge would decide their fate. Diplomats urged restraint, but Tokyo’s generals plotted a bold gamble: seize the hill with a surprise strike and bargain afterward. In the Japanese camp, a flurry of trains, orders, and plans moved in the night. Officers like Sato and Suetaka debated danger and responsibility, balancing “dokudan senko”, independent action with disciplined restraint. As rain hammered the earth, they contemplated a night assault: cross the Tumen, occupy Hill 52, and strike Changkufeng with coordinated dawn and night attacks. Engineers, artillery, and infantry rehearsed their movements in near-poetic precision, while the 19th Engineers stitched crossings and bridges into a fragile path forward. Across the river, Soviet scouts and border guards held their nerve, counting enemy shadows and watching for a break in the line. The clash at Shachaofeng became a lightning rod: a small force crossed into Manchurian soil in the restless dark, provoking a broader crisis just as diplomacy teetered. #179 From Darkness to Crest: The Changkufeng Battle Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. As remarked in the 19th division’s war journal “With sunset on the 30th, the numbers of enemy soldiers increased steadily. Many motor vehicles, and even tanks, appear to have moved up. The whole front has become tense. Hostile patrols came across the border frequently, even in front of Chiangchunfeng. Tank-supported infantry units were apparently performing offensive deployment on the high ground south of Shachaofeng.” Situation maps from the evening indicated Soviet patrol activity approaching the staging area of Nakano’s unit near the Tumen, moving toward Noguchi’s company to the left of Chiangchunfeng, and advancing toward Matsunobe’s unit southwest of Shachaofeng. Russian vessels were depicted ferrying across Khasan, directly behind Changkufeng, while tanks moved south from Shachaofeng along the western shores of the lake. The 19th division’s war journal states "Then it was ascertained that these attack forces had gone into action. All of our own units quietly commenced counteraction from late that night, as scheduled, after having systematically completed preparations since nightfall." Meanwhile, to the north, the Hunchun garrison reinforced the border with a battalion and tightened security. All evidence supported the view that Suetaka “in concept” and Sato”(in tactics” played the main part in the night-attack planning and decisions. Sato was the only infantry regimental commander at the front on 30 July. One division staff officer went so far as to say that Suetaka alone exerted the major influence, that Sato merely worked out details, including the type of attack and the timing. Intertwined with the decision to attack Changkufeng was the choice of an infantry regiment. The 76th Regiment was responsible for the defense of the sector through its Border Garrison Unit; but the latter had no more than two companies to guard a 40-mile border extending almost to Hunchun, and Okido's regimental headquarters was 75 miles to the rear at Nanam. T. Sato's 73rd Regiment was also at Nanam, while Cho's 74th Regiment was stationed another 175 miles southwest at Hamhung. Thus, the regiment nearest to Changkufeng was K. Sato's 75th, 50 miles away at Hoeryong. Although Suetaka had had time to shuffle units if he desired, Sasai suggested that troop movements from Nanam could not be concealed; from Hoeryong they might be termed maneuvers. Suetaka undoubtedly had favorites in terms of units as well as chiefs. K. Sato had served longest as regimental commander, since October 1937; Okido's date of rank preceded K. Sato's, but Okido had not taken command until 1938. He and Cho were able enough, but they were unknown quantities; T. Sato and Cho were brand-new colonels. Thus, K. Sato was best known to Suetaka and was familiar with the terrain. While he did not regard his regiment as the equal of units in the Kwantung Army or in the homeland, K. Sato's training program was progressing well and his men were rugged natives of Nagano and Tochigi prefectures. From the combat soldier's standpoint, the Changkufeng Incident was waged between picked regulars on both sides. The matter of quantitative regimental strength could have played no part in Suetaka's choice. The 74th, 75th, and 76th regiments each possessed 1,500 men; the 73rd, 1,200. Even in ordinary times, every unit conducted night-attack training, attended by Suetaka, but there was nothing special in July, even after the general inspected the 75th Regiment on the 11th. It had been said that the most efficient battalions were selected for the action. Although, of course, Sato claimed that all of his battalions were good, from the outset he bore the 1st Battalion in mind for the night attack and had it reconnoiter the Changkufeng area. Some discerned no special reasons; it was probably a matter of numerical sequence, 1st-2nd-3rd Battalions. Others called the choice a happy coincidence because of the 1st Battalion's 'splendid unity' and the aggressive training conducted by Major Ichimoto, who had reluctantly departed recently for regimental headquarters. Coming from the 75th Regiment headquarters to take over the 1st Battalion was the 40-year-old aide Major Nakano. By all accounts, he was quiet, serious, and hard-working, a man of noble character, gentle and sincere. More the administrative than commander type, Nakano lacked experience in commanding battalions and never had sufficient time to get to know his new unit (or they, him) before the night assault. He could hardly be expected to have stressed anything particular in training. Since there was no battalion-level training, the most valid unit of comparison in the regiment was the company, the smallest infantry component trained and equipped to conduct combat missions independently. Sato valued combat experience among subordinates; Nakano's 1st Battalion was considered a veteran force by virtue of its old-timer company commanders. All but one had come up through the ranks; the exception, young Lieutenant Nakajima, the darling of Sato, was a military academy graduate. For assault actions synchronized with those of the 1st Battalion, Sato selected Ito, the one line captain commanding the 6th Company of the 2nd Battalion, and Takeshita, 10th Company commander, one of the two line captains of the 3rd Battalion. In short, Sato had designated five veteran captains and a promising lieutenant to conduct the night-attack operations of 30-31 July, the first Japanese experience of battle against the modern Red Army. During the last two weeks of July, numerous spurious farmers had gambled along the lower reaches of the Tumen, reconnoitered the terrain, and prepared for a crossing and assault. Scouts had operated on both the Manchurian and Korean sides of the river. Major Nakano had conducted frequent personal reconnaissance and had dispatched platoon and patrol leaders, all heavy-weapons observation teams, and even the battalion doctor to Sozan Hill, to Chiangchunfeng, and close to enemy positions. In Korean garb and often leading oxen, the scouts had threaded their way through the Changkufeng sector, sometimes holing up for the night to observe Soviet movements, soil and topography, and levels of illumination. From this data, Nakano had prepared reference materials necessary for an assault. Hirahara, then located at Kucheng BGU Headquarters, had established three observation posts on high ground to the rear. After Chiangchunfeng had been occupied, Hirahara had set up security positions and routes there. Regarding Changkufeng, he had sought to ensure that even the lowest private studied the layout. Formation commanders such as Takeshita had volunteered frequently. Sato had also utilized engineers. Since the order to leave his station on 17 July, Lieutenant Colonel Kobayashi had had his regiment engage in scouting routes, bridges, and potential fords. Sato’s 1st Company commander had prepared a sketch during 3% hours of reconnaissance across from Hill 52 during the afternoon of 18 July. Captain Yamada’s intelligence had contributed to the tactical decisions and to knowledge of Russian strength and preparations. The most important information had been his evaluation of attack approaches, suggesting an offensive from the western side, preferably against the right flank or frontally. This concept had been the one applied by the regiment in its night assault two weeks later; Yamada had died on the green slopes he had scanned. Cloudy Saturday, 30 July, had drawn to a close. The moment had been at hand for the 75th Regiment to storm the Russians atop Changkufeng. Setting out from Fangchuanting at 22:30, Nakano’s battalion, about 350 strong, had assembled at a fork one kilometer southwest of Changkufeng. The roads had been knee-deep in mud due to intermittent rain and downpours on 29–30 July. Now the rain had subsided, but clouds had blotted out the sky after the waning moon had set at 22:30. Led by Sakata’s 1st Platoon leader, the men had marched silently toward the southern foot of Changkufeng; the murk had deepened and the soldiers could see no more than ten meters ahead. It had taken Sakata’s men less than an hour to push forward the last 1,000 meters to the jump-off point, where they had waited another two hours before X-hour arrived. Scouts had advanced toward the first row of wire, 200–300 meters away. Platoon Leader Amagasa had infiltrated the positions alone and had reconnoitered the southeastern side of the heights. Sakata had heard from the patrols about the entanglements and their distance and makeup. While awaiting paths to be cut by engineer teams, the infantry had moved up as far as possible, 150 meters from the enemy, by 23:30. Although records described Changkufeng as quite steep, it had not been hard to climb until the main Russian positions were reached, even though there were cliffs. But as the craggy peak had been neared, the enemy defenses, which had taken advantage of rocks and dips, could not have been rushed in a bound. It had been 500 meters to the crest from the gently sloping base. The incline near the top had been steep at about 40 degrees and studded with boulders. Farther down were more soil and gravel. Grass had carpeted the foot. Japanese Army radio communications had been in their infancy; wire as well as runners had served as the main means of linking regimental headquarters with the front-line infantry, crossing-point engineers, and supporting guns across the Tumen in Korea. From Chiangchunfeng to the 1st Battalion, lines had been installed from the morning of 29 July. Combat communications had been operated by the small regimental signal unit, 27 officers and men. In general, signal traffic had been smooth and reception was good. Engineer support had been rendered by one platoon, primarily to assist with wire-cutting operations. Nakano had ordered his 1st Company to complete clearing the wire by 02:00. At 23:30 the cutters had begun their work on the right with three teams under 1st Lieutenant Inagaki. Since the proposed breach had been far from the enemy positions and there were no outposts nearby, Inagaki had pressed the work of forced clearing. The first entanglements had been breached fairly quickly, then the second. At about midnight, a dim light had etched the darkness, signaling success. There had been two gaps on the right. On the left side, Sakata’s company had hoped to pierce the barbed wire in secrecy rather than by forced clearing. Only one broad belt of entanglements, actually the first and third lines, had been reconnoitered along the south and southeastern slopes. Sakata had assigned one team of infantry, with a covering squad led by Master Sergeant Amagasa, to the engineer unit under 2nd Lieutenant Nagayama. Covert clearing of a pair of gaps had begun. The Russian stakes had been a meter apart and the teams cut at the center of each section, making breaches wide enough for a soldier to wriggle through. To the rear, the infantry had crouched expectantly, while from the direction of Khasan the rumble of Soviet armor could be heard. At 00:10, when the first line of wire had been penetrated and the cutters were moving forward, the silence had been broken by the furious barking of Russian sentry dogs, and pale blue flares had burst over the slopes. As recalled by an engineer “It had been as bright as day. If only fog would cover us or it would start to rain!” At the unanticipated second line, the advancing clearing elements had drawn gunfire and grenades. But the Russians had been taken by surprise, Sakata said, and their machine guns had been firing high. Two engineers had been wounded; the security patrol on the left flank may have drawn the fire. Sakata had crawled up to Lieutenant Nagayama’s cutting teams. One party had been hiding behind a rock, with a man sticking out his hand, grasping for the stake and feeling for electrified wire. Another soldier lay nearby, ready to snip the wire. The enemy had seemed to have discerned the Japanese, for the lieutenant could hear low voices. Although the cutters had been told to continue clearing in secrecy, they had by now encountered a line of low barbed wire and the work had not progressed as expected. Forced clearing had begun, which meant that the men had to stand or kneel, ignoring hostile fire and devoting primary consideration to speed. The infantrymen, unable to delay, had crawled through the wire as soon as the cutters tore a gap. Ten meters behind the small breaches, as well as in front of the Soviet positions, the Japanese had been troubled by fine low strands. They had resembled piano-wire traps, a foot or so off the ground. The wires had been invisible in the grass at night. As one soldier recalled “You couldn’t disengage easily. When you tried to get out, you’d be sniped at. The wires themselves could cut a bit, too.” Sakata had kept up with the clearing teams and urged them on. On his own initiative, Amagasa had his men break the first and third lines of wire by 01:50. Meanwhile, at 01:20, Nakano had phoned Sato, reporting that his forces had broken through the lines with little resistance, and had recommended that the attack be launched earlier than 2:00. Perhaps the premature alerting of the Russians had entered into Nakano’s considerations. Sato had explained matters carefully, that is, rejected the suggestion, saying Changkufeng must not be taken too early, lest the enemy at Shachaofeng be alerted. The entire battalion, redeployed, had been massed for the charge up the slope. In an interval of good visibility, the troops could see as far as 40 meters ahead. A little before 02:00, Nakano had sent runners to deliver the order to advance. When the final obstructions had been cut, Nagayama had flashed a light. Then a white flag had moved in the darkness and the infantry had moved forward. Sakata’s company, heading directly for Changkufeng crest, had less ground to traverse than Yamada’s, and the point through which they penetrated the wire had been at the fork, where there appeared to have been only two lines to cut. The soldiers had crawled on their knees and one hand and had taken cover as soon as they got through. It had been 02:15 when the battalion traversed the barbed wire and began the offensive. The Japanese Army manual had stated that unaimed fire was seldom effective at night and that it had been imperative to avoid confusion resulting from wild shooting. At Changkufeng, the use of firearms had been forbidden by regimental order. Until the troops had penetrated the wire, bayonets had not been fixed because of the danger to friendly forces. Once through the entanglements, the men had attached bayonets, but, although their rifles had been loaded, they still had not been allowed to fire. The men had been traveling light. Instead of the 65 pounds the individual rifleman might ordinarily carry, knapsack, weapons and ammunition, tools, supplies, and clothing, each helmeted soldier had only 60 cartridges, none on his back, a haversack containing two grenades, a canteen, and a gas mask. To prevent noise, the regulations had prescribed wrapping metal parts of bayonets, canteens, sabers, mess kits, shovels, picks, and hobnails with cloth or straw. The wooden and metal parts of the shovel had been separated, the canteen filled, ammunition pouches stuffed with paper, and the bayonet sheath wrapped with cloth. Instead of boots, the men had worn web-toed, rubbersoled ground socks to muffle sound. Although their footgear had been bound with straw ropes, the soldiers occasionally had slipped in the wet grass. Considerations of security had forbidden relief of tension by talking, coughing, or smoking. Company commanders and platoon leaders had carried small white flags for hand signaling. In Sakata’s company, the platoons had been distinguished by white patches of cloth hung over the gas masks on the men’s backs, triangular pieces for the 1st Platoon, square for the second. Squad leaders had worn white headbands under their helmets. The company commanders had strapped on a white cross-belt; the platoon leaders, a single band. Officer casualties had proven particularly severe because the identification belts had been too conspicuous; even when the officers had lay flat, Soviet illuminating shells had made their bodies visible. On the left, the 2nd Company, 70–80 strong, had moved up with platoons abreast and scouts ahead. About 10 meters had separated the individual platoons advancing in four files; in the center were Sakata and his command team. The same setup had been used for Yamada’s company and his two infantry platoons on the right. To the center and rear of the lead companies were battalion headquarters, a platoon of Nakajima’s 3rd Company, and the Kitahara Machine-Gun Company, 20 meters from Nakano. The machine-gun company had differed from the infantry companies in that it had three platoons of two squads each. The machine-gun platoons had gone through the center breach in the entanglements with the battalion commander. Thereafter, they had bunched up, shoulder to shoulder and with the machine guns close to each other. Kitahara had led, two platoons forward, one back. The night had been so dark that the individual soldiers had hardly been able to tell who had been leading and who had been on the flanks. The 2nd Company had consolidated after getting through the last entanglements and had walked straight for Changkufeng crest. From positions above the Japanese, Soviet machine guns covering the wire had blazed away at a range of 50 meters. Tracers had ripped the night, but the Russians’ aim had seemed high. Soviet illuminating shells, by revealing the location of dead angles among the rocks, had facilitated the Japanese approach. Fifty meters past the barbed wire, Sakata had run into the second Soviet position. From behind a big...
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3.178 Fall and Rise of China: Lake Hasan
12/01/2025
3.178 Fall and Rise of China: Lake Hasan
Last time we spoke about the beginning of a conflict between the USSR and Japan. In the frost-hardened dawns by the Chaun and Tumen, two powers eye a ridge called Changkufeng, each seeing a prize and fearing a trap. On the Soviet side, weary front-line troops tighten their grip, while Moscow’s diplomats coaxed restraint through Seoul and Harbin. As July unfolds, Tokyo’s generals push a dangerous idea: seize the hill with a surprise strike, then bargain for peace. Seoul’s 19th Division is readied in secret, trains loaded with men and horses, movement masked, prayers whispered to avoid widening the rift. Japanese scouts in white Hanbok disguise, peering at trenches, wire, and watchful Russians. Russian border guards appear as shadows, counters slipping into place, yet both sides hold their fire. On July 29, a skirmish erupts: a platoon crosses a shallow line, clashes flare, and bodies and banners ripple in the cold air. #178 Night Attacks and Diplomatic Strains: The Lake Khasan Conflict Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. A second troop train was scheduled to depart Agochi for Nanam on the night of 29 July, carrying back the initial elements of the 75th Infantry. At Haigan, regimental commander Sato was pulling on his boots at 16:00 when the division informed him that fighting had broken out near Shachaofeng since 15:00 and that the Russians were assembling forces in that area. Suetaka ordered Sato’s 3rd Battalion, which had not been slated to leave until the following night, to proceed to Kucheng; the remainder of the regiment was to assemble at Agochi. After consulting with Division Staff Officer Saito at Agochi, Sato returned to Haigan with the conclusion that “overall developments did not warrant optimism, it was imperative to prepare to move the entire regiment to the battlefield.” One of Sato’s first actions was to telephone a recommendation to the division that he be allowed to occupy Hill 52, which commanded the approaches to Changkufeng from south of Khasan. Suetaka approved, and at 17:30, Yamada’s company was ordered to proceed to Shikai along with Hirahara’s battalion. Meanwhile, Suzuki’s 15th Heavy Field Artillery Regiment, which had been among the last units ordered to leave, had finished loading at Agochi by about 15:00. Sato recommended to Suetaka that a portion of Suzuki’s regiment be attached to him; this was why Suetaka decided to transfer one of the two batteries to the 75th Infantry. The rest of the heavy artillery concentrated at Kyonghun. Suetaka’s orders, issued at 18:20, called for Sato to have two of his battalions, the 1st and 3rd, cross the Tumen as soon as possible, with engineer support. Attached was Narukawa’s heavy battery. Sato’s mission was twofold: to assist Senda and to watch the enemy in the Changkufeng area. Sato arrived at 21:15 in Shikai. There, he assembled a number of his officers, including Yamada, and explained his plan: the 1st Company plus machine guns were to cross the Tumen from Sozan ahead of the other units, occupy Hill 52 with an element, and concentrate the main body at the foot of Fangchuanting to await Hirahara’s battalion. A portion of the 19th Engineers would go to Sozan to assist the 1st Company with its river crossing. Amid heavy rain and darkness, the various units set out at 22:15. The platoon sent to Hill 52 arrived before dawn on the 30th, the rest of the forces somewhat later, though Sato had intended to move everybody across the river by the early hours. On the 29th the engineer regiment commander, Kobayashi, had also arrived at Shikai. He ordered Captain Tomura to handle the crossing in the vicinity of Sozan, as well as preparations for a future offensive with the main body. When Kobayashi reached Kucheng, he learned from Hirahara not only about the front-line situation but also about Sato’s important plans: “The K. Sato force is going to cross the river tonight, 29–30 July. A night attack will be launched against Changkufeng on the night of 30–31 July.” Kobayashi issued orders to his two commanders to assist the crossing by Nakano’s infantry unit, 1st Battalion, 75th Regiment at Matsu’otsuho and Sozan, and, in addition, to cooperate with the position attack by Nakano and help in the assault at Hill 52. Most of these young officers, such as Seutaka dishing out orders were performing what the Japanese termed “dokudan senko” or "arbitrary or independent action”. Japanese operational regulations actually contained a section dealing with dokudan senko, by which initiative, not imperiousness, was meant. Two elements were involved: control but encouragement of self-reliant thinking. This subject became important in training officers, all of whom, including such infantry experts as Suetaka, were well acquainted with the requirements. Combat missions were stipulated in operations orders, but, if these were not realistic, initiative was to come into play, though only when there was no time to contact superiors. By the same token, commanders had to be ready to assume full responsibility if matters turned out adversely. “We were disciples of the ‘Moltke’ system of AGS control, with dual authority vis-à-vis the local forces and the chief of staff.” The Korea Army’s version of events on 29 July, there was no mention of any report received from the division prior to 17:30. Details did not reach Seoul, in the form of printed divisional intelligence reports and operational orders, until 1 August. The late afternoon report from Kyonghun provided the Korea Army authorities with little solid information, but Seoul had to notify higher headquarters immediately. Kitano sent messages to Tokyo and Hsinking at 19:15. The command and Kwantung Army were told that, in addition to Senda’s assault party, 40 Japanese soldiers were deployed west of Changkufeng and at Yangkuanping. The division’s main forces had begun the rail pullback from the 28th, leaving behind only two infantry battalions and a mountain artillery battalion for the time being. At 21:20 on 29 July, Korea Army Headquarters received the text of Suetaka’s full report, which concluded: “With a view toward a possible emergency, the division suspended movement back of the 75th Regiment and is making necessary arrangements to have them advance instead. The latest affair derives sheerly from the enemy's unlawful challenge. It is my firm belief that the nature of this incident differs completely from the one at Changkufeng and should be handled separately. At present, since communication with the forward lines is not good, Lieutenant Colonel Senda (who is at the front) has been entrusted with command, but I assume entire responsibility for the consequences.” Instead of boarding their trains at Agochi, Sato’s regiment and supporting engineers moved to the Manchurian side of the Tumen as soon as possible. Suetaka called Sato’s 2nd Battalion to Kyonghun as divisional reserve. Subsequent dispatches claimed that: (1) Senda’s unit, which had driven off intruders in the Shachaofeng area once, was engaged against new Soviet forces (sent at 18:20, 29th); (2) Senda’s unit had expelled trespassers, and a combat situation had developed near Shachaofeng (22:00, 29th); (3) fighting was going on in the vicinity of Shachaofeng (06:40, 30th). Korea Army Headquarters, however, obtained no more important communication concerning the events of 29 July than a report, sent that evening by Suetaka, that revealed his concern about a possible Soviet attack in the Wuchiatzu sector near the neck of the long Changkufeng appendix. After the clash at Shachaofeng, a general officer, Morimoto, happened to be visiting Colonels Okido and Tanaka in Nanam. Both of them were said to be of the pronounced opinion that no troubles ought to be provoked with the USSR while the critical Hankow operation lay ahead; yet Suetaka apparently had some intention of striking at the Soviet intruders, using the 75th Regiment. They urged that this policy not be adopted and that Suetaka be approached directly; the channel through Y. Nakamura, the division chief of staff, was hopeless. Although in agreement, General Morimoto declined to approach Suetaka; since the latter seemed to have made up his mind, it would be inappropriate to “meddle” with his command. Suetaka was functioning as an operations chief at that time. Apart from the mobilization staff officer, who was not enthusiastic about aggressive action, the only other officer who may have affected the decisionmaking process was the Hunchun OSS chief, Maj. Tanaka Tetsujiro, a positive type who shared Suetaka’s views and was probably with him on the 29th as well as 30th. Although developments at Suetaka’s command post were known more as the result of silence than of elucidation, we possessed considerable information about thinking at the Korea Army level: “Suetaka contacted us only after his men had driven out the enemy near Shachaofeng. Till then, the front had been relatively quiet and we were of the opinion all or most of the deployed forces were on their way home. We at Seoul had no foreknowledge of or connection with the 29 July affair. Reports came in; we never sent specific orders. Triggered by the affray at Shachaofeng, the division attacked on its own initiative. It was our understanding that very small Japanese forces had been committed to evict a dozen enemy scouts and that, when a platoon of ours got atop the hill, they observed surprisingly huge hostile concentrations to the rear. This was probably why the platoon pulied back, although much has been made of the desire to obey the nonaggravation policy to the letter. We at Seoul felt that this was a troublesome matter—that our side had done something unnecessary. When the division finally made its report, the army had to reach some decision. There were two irreconcilable ways of looking at things. We might condemn what had been done, and the division ought to be ordered to pull out promptly, having arbitrarily and intolerably acted against the known facts that Imperial sanction for use of force had been withheld and Tokyo had directed evacuation of the moved-up units. The opposing, eventually predominant view was that the division commander's course of action ought to be approved. Perusal of small-scale maps of the locale indicated a clear violation of the frontier, something not proved in the case of Changkufeng. We shared the division commander's interpretation. His BGU had its mission, and he was acting with foresight to solve matters positively and on his own, since he was the man closest to the problem. General Nakamura felt that the latest development was inevitable; our units did not cross the Tumen until the Soviets attacked us in force. Therefore, the division's actions were approved and a report was rendered promptly to Tokyo. It could be said that our outlook served to "cover" the division commander, in a way. But if IGHQ had ordered us to desist, we would have”. Nakamura added: "I was of the opinion the only solution was to drive the Soviet troops outside Manchukuoan territory; therefore, I approved the action by the division." Such sanction had been granted on the basis of information supplied to Seoul by Suetaka on the evening of 29 July, again post facto. At 01:20 on the 30th, Nakamura wired Suetaka a message characterized by gracious phrasing that suggested his grave concern: “One ought to be satisfied with expelling from Manchurian territory the enemy attacking our unit on the . . . heights southwest of Shachaofeng. It is necessary to keep watch on the enemy for the time being, after having pulled back to the heights mentioned above, but we desire that matters be handled carefully to avoid enlargement; in case the foe has already pulled back south of Shachaofeng . . . he need not be attacked.” Nakamura also sent a wire to the AGS chief, the War Minister, and the Kwantung Army commander. After conveying the information received from Suetaka, Nakamura continued: “In spite of the fact that our troops have been patient and cautious . . . this latest incident [near Shachaofeng] started with Soviet forces' arrogant border trespassing and . . . unlawful challenge. Therefore, I am convinced that this affair must be dealt with separately from the incident at Changkufeng. Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to handle matters so that the incident will not spread and shall make it my fundamental principle to be satisfied with evicting from Manchurian territory the hostile forces confronting us. The Korea Army chief of staff is being dispatched quickly to handle the incident”. The Korea Army, “painfully slow to act,” says a Kwantung Army major, was merely the intermediary link, the executor of Tokyo’s desires. In the case of remote Shachaofeng, there was an inevitable gap between on-the-spot occurrences and AGS reactions. By then, Arisue, Kotani, and Arao, Inada’s observers, had returned to Japan—an important fact, given the “Moltke” system of staff control. Nevertheless, their return must have exerted significant effects on central operational thinking. Kotani remembered that his AGS subsection had given him a welcome-home party on the night of 29 July when an emergency phone call was received from the duty officer. “It was about the clash at Shachaofeng. The festivities came to an abrupt end and I headed for the office. From then till the cease-fire on 11 August, I remained at the AGS night and day.” Since the 19th Division had furnished higher headquarters with minimal information, Tokyo, like Seoul, had only a few ostensible facts to act upon. But this had been the first combat test for the Korea Army, which needed all the encouragement and assistance possible. Although Japanese field armies, notably the Kwantung Army, were notorious for insubordination, one could not overemphasize the fact that the Korea Army was meek and tractable. If Nakamura had concluded that Suetaka acted properly (which reports from Seoul indicated), the AGS could hardly demur. It would have been unrealistic to think that Tokyo, although cautious, was “softer” about the Russian problem than front-line forces. There had been no concern over time lags; details were Seoul’s province. Reaction took time at every level of the chain of command. Decision making in the Japanese Army had been a many-layered process. The Army general staff had been of the opinion that initial guidance ought to have been provided to the Korea Army soon, particularly since there had been evidence of failure to convey intentions promptly to the front and no high command staff officer remained to direct matters. After hearing from Seoul twice about the Shachaofeng affair, the responsible Army general staff officers conferred at length. Stress had been laid on the indivisibility of the Shachaofeng and Changkufeng incidents. It had also been evident that further information was required. On that basis, a “handling policy for the Shachaofeng Incident” was drafted, and Tada notified the Korea and Kwantung armies accordingly on 30 July. Nakamura had received the telegram at 16:50 and had its contents retransmitted to Kitano, then at Kyonghun: “Shachaofeng Incident is progressing along lines of our policy, leave things to local units, which have been adhering to the principle of nonenlargement. Have them report on front-line situation without fail.” The Army general staff and the Korea Army were calling for prudence, but the division, well down the rungs of the ladder of command, was initiating actions that jeopardized the government’s basic policy. Earlier quibbling about restraints on “unit-size” elements crossing into Manchuria had been abandoned after the firefight near Shachaofeng on 29 July. At 15:30, Takenouchi’s battalion, part of the 76th Regiment, had been directed to assist Senda near Yangkuanping; at 18:20 Suetaka was ordering the 75th Regiment to head for the Kucheng sector and be ready to assault the Russians in the Changkufeng area. Support was to be provided by Kobayashi’s engineers, by Iwano’s transportation men, and by Suzuki’s heavy guns. Of particular interest had been Suetaka’s acceptance of Sato’s recommendation that elements be sent to occupy Hill 52, a measure linked with a possible Japanese attack against Changkufeng. Sato had decided by evening that the new situation required rapid deployment of his forces across the river. At Shikai, he conducted a briefing of his officers. Suetaka’s orders conveyed orally by staff officers had stipulated: “The division will take steps to secure the border line immediately, even if the situation undergoes change. The Sato unit will advance immediately to the left shore, reinforce Senda’s unit, and maintain a strict watch on the enemy in the Changkufeng area.” Around 23:20, the last elements ordered forward arrived at Shikai station. Sato instructed only his headquarters and the Ito company to get off. The rest of the troop train primarily the 1st [Nakano’s] Battalion was to move on to Hongui. From there, the soldiers proceeded to the Tumen near Sozan. With his staff and Ito’s company, Sato trudged in silence through the mud from Shikai to the shore at Matsu’otsuho, starting at 00:30 and reaching the crossing site at 03:00. Reconnaissance had proved satisfactory, Sato remembered. At the crossings, the hardworking engineers rowed his 1st and 3rd battalions across, company by company. Near dawn, around 04:30, he traversed the river. The movement had been completed in about an hour. When Sato’s infantry finally got across, they proceeded to the skirt of Fangchuanting and assembled in secrecy. Not until about 08:00 did the regimental headquarters, Ito’s company, and Hirahara’s battalion reach Hill 147, already held by Noguchi’s company west of Changkufeng. By then, plans had fallen behind schedule by at least several hours because of difficulties in train movement forward. Sato also remembered torrential rains; other officers mentioned darkness. Members of Nakano’s battalion pinpointed a shortage of engineer boats from Kucheng. Engineers rowed some boats downstream during the night, but six of them were kept at Matsu’otsuho. This left only three boats for moving the 400 men of the 1st Battalion, the unit slated to storm Changkufeng, across the river at Sozan. Sato had wanted all of his troops across well before dawn on the 30th. A division staff officer rightly thought that Suetaka had already advised Sato, in secret, to “attack at an opportune time,” and that the night of 29–30 July had been intended for the surprise assault. “Perhaps there was not enough time for all the attack preparations.” Kobayashi’s engineers admitted problems in moving boats to Sozan: “Although the water level had gone up because of daily rains recently, there were still many shallows and the current was irregular. Not only was it hard to move downstream, but dense fog also complicated the work. Nevertheless, the units at both sites were able to accomplish...
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3.177 Fall and Rise of China: Point of no return for the USSR and Japan
11/25/2025
3.177 Fall and Rise of China: Point of no return for the USSR and Japan
Last time we spoke about the Changkufeng Incident. In a frost-bitten dawn along the Chaun and Tumen rivers, a border notched with memory becomes the stage for a quiet duel of will. On one side, Japanese officers led by Inada Masazum study maps, mud, and the hill known as Changkufeng, weighing ground it offers and the risk of war. They glimpse a prize, high ground that could shield lines to Korea—yet they sense peril in every ridge, every scent of winter wind. Across the line, Soviet forces tighten their grip on the crest, their eyes fixed on the same hill, their tents and vehicles creeping closer to the border. The air hums with cautious diplomacy: Moscow’s orders pulse through Seoul and Harbin, urging restraint, probing, deterring, but never inviting full-scale conflict. Yet every patrol, every reconnaissance, seems to tilt the balance toward escalation. #177 The point of no return for the USSR and Japan Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Days passed and the local emissaries had not been released by the Russians. Domei reported from Seoul that the authorities were growing worried; the “brazen” actions of Soviet front-line forces infuriated the Manchurians and Japanese. From Seoul, too, came ominous news that villagers were preparing to evacuate because they feared fighting would soon begin in the Changkufeng area. While diplomatic activity continued in Moscow without effect, the Tokyo press continued to report intense military activity throughout the Soviet Far East—the greatest massing of troops in months, with planes, armored cars, and motorized equipment choking the Trans-Siberian railway. The press was dominated by commentary about the danger of war. One enterprising Tokyo publisher ran advertisements under the heading: “The Manchukuo-Soviet Border Situation Is Urgent—Ours Is the Only Detailed Map of the Soviet Far East: Newspaper-size, in seven clear colors, offset printed, only 50 sen.” Although the Manchukuoan foreign office issued a statement on 20 July about the dire consequences the Soviets were inviting, it is probable that the next Russian actions, of a conciliatory nature, were reached independently. Either Moscow had taken almost a week to make the decision, or the diplomatic conversations there had had an effect. Local Japanese authorities reported inactivity on the Changkufeng front from the morning of 23 July. On the next day, word was received that the USSR proposed to return the two emissaries as “trespassers.” At midday on 26 July, the Russians released the blindfolded agents at a border site along the Novokievsk road. After completing the formalities, the Japanese asked the Russians for a reply concerning local settlement of the incident. According to Japanese sources, the “flustered” Colonel Grebennik answered: “My assignment today was merely to turn over the envoys. As for any request about the Changkufeng Incident, our guard commander must have asked for instructions from the central government. I think this is the type of matter which must be answered by the authorities at Moscow through diplomatic channels.” Grebennik’s postwar recollection does not differ appreciably from the Japanese version. Soviet sources mention a second effort by the Japanese military to deliver a message under more forceful circumstances. On 23 July a Soviet border unit drove off a four-man party. Russian cavalry, sent to investigate, discovered that the Japanese had pulled down a telegraph pole, severed lines 100–150 meters inside Soviet territory, absconded with wire, and left behind a white flag and a letter. Undated, unsigned, and written in Korean, the message struck Grebennik as being substantively the same as the communication delivered formally by the emissaries on 18 July. Japanese materials make no reference to a second, informal effort by local forces, but there is little reason to doubt that such an attempt, perhaps unauthorized, was made. Although Japanese efforts at low-level negotiations came to naught, two observations emerged from the local authorities and the press. First, on-the-spot negotiations had broken down; it had been difficult even to reclaim the emissaries, and the Russians in the Posyet region were using various pretexts to refer matters to diplomatic echelons. Second, the Russians had released the men. Some interpreted this as the first evidence of Soviet sincerity; possibly, the USSR would even return Matsushima’s body as a step toward settlement. Other Japanese observers on the scene warned the public that it was imperative to stay on guard: “All depends on how diplomacy proceeds and how the front-line troops behave.” Yet the excitement in the Japanese press began to abate. It is difficult to ascertain the nature of the decision-making process on the Russian side after the Japanese attempted local negotiations. The Soviets contend that nothing special had been undertaken before the Japanese provoked matters at the end of July. Grebennik, however, admits that after receiving the two Japanese communications, “we started to prepare against an attack on us in the Lake Khasan area.” He and a group of officers went to Changkufeng Hill and sent as many border guards there as possible. Although he personally observed Japanese troops and instructed his officers to do the same, he denied categorically that the Russians constructed trenches and fortifications. Only the observation of Manchurian territory was intensified while instructions were awaited from higher headquarters. For its part, the Korea Army was carrying out Imperial general headquarters first instructions while pursuing a wait-and-see policy. On 16 July, Korea Army Headquarters wired an important operations order to Suetaka. With a view toward a possible attack against intruders in the Khasan area, the army planned to make preparations. The division commander was to alert stipulated units for emergency dispatch and send key personnel to the Kyonghun sector to undertake preparations for an attack. Lt. Col. Senda Sadasue, BGU commander of the 76th Infantry Regiment, was to reconnoiter, reinforce nearby districts, and be ready for emergencies. Particular care was enjoined not to irritate the Soviet side. Maj. Gen. Yokoyama Shinpei, the Hunchun garrison commander, was to maintain close contact with the BGU and take every precaution in guarding the frontiers. Like Senda, Yokoyama was warned against irritating the Russians. Korea Army Headquarters also dispatched staff to the front and had them begin preparations, envisaging an offensive. Upon receipt of the army order, Suetaka issued implementing instructions from his Nanam headquarters at 4:30 A.M. on the 17th. The following units were to prepare for immediate alert: the 38th Infantry Brigade Headquarters, 75th Infantry Regiment, 27th Cavalry Regiment, 5th Antiaircraft Regiment, and 19th Engineer Regiment. The same instructions applied to the next units, except that elements organic to the division were designated: the 76th Infantry Regiment, 25th Mountain Artillery Regiment, and 15th Heavy Field Artillery Regiment. Another order enjoined utmost care not to irritate the Russians; Japanese actions were to be masked. Next came a directive to the forces of Senda and K. Sato. The former comprised mainly the 76th Infantry BGU and a cavalry platoon. The latter was built around the 75th Infantry Regiment, the Kucheng garrison unit, another cavalry platoon, two mountain artillery and one heavy field artillery battalion, and the 19th Engineers. Suetaka’s idea about a solution to the border troubles had become concrete and aggressive. From the night of July 17, concentration would be accomplished gradually. The exact timing of the attack would be determined by subsequent orders; in Senda’s area, there was no such restriction regarding “counteraction brought on by enemy attack.” Division signal and intendant officers would conduct reconnaissance related to communications, billeting, food, and supplies. Sato and his subordinates were to reconnoiter personally. Having ordered the division to begin concentration and to stand by, Korea Army Headquarters was prepared the next morning, July 17, to direct the movement. Nevertheless, there was concern in Seoul that Suetaka’s advance elements might cross the Tumen River into Manchurian territory, which could result in a clash with Soviet troops. Such an outcome might run counter to the principle established by Imperial general headquarters. Consequently, it was decided that “movement east of the river would therefore have to be forbidden in the Korea Army’s implementing order.” Nakamura transmitted his operational instructions to Suetaka at 6:00 on July 17: “No great change in latest situation around Lake Khasan. Soviet forces are still occupying Changkufeng area. Diplomaticlevel negotiations on part of central authorities and Manchukuoan government do not appear to have progressed. Considering various circumstances and with view to preparations, this army will concentrate elements of 19th Division between Shikai, Kyonghun, Agochi.” Restrictions stipulated that the division commander would transport the units by rail and motor vehicle and concentrate them in the waiting zone in secret. Movement was to begin on the night of July 17 and to be completed the next day. Further orders, however, must govern unit advance east of the Tumen as well as use of force. The remainder of the division was to stay ready to move out. Troops were to carry rations for about two weeks. Late that day, Suetaka received an order by phone for his subordinates in line with Seoul’s instructions. Senda would handle the concentration of elements assembling at Kyonghun, and Sato would do the same for the main units arriving at Agochi. A communications net was to be set up quickly. Caution was to be exercised not to undertake provocative actions against the opposite bank of the Tumen, even for reconnaissance. The division would dispatch two trains from Hoeryong and four from Nanam. At 11:58 pm on 18 July, the first train left Hoeryong for Agochi. Concentration of units was completed by dawn. By that time, the Japanese had dispatched to the border 3,236 men and 743 horses. Past midnight on 20 July, Division Chief of Staff Nakamura wired headquarters that the division was ready to take any action required, having completed the alert process by 11 pm. Japanese scouting of the Changkufeng sector began in earnest after mid-July. Although the affair had seemed amenable to settlement, Sato took steps for an emergency from around the 14th. His thoughts centered on readiness for an attack against Changkufeng, which simultaneously required reconnaissance for the assault and preparation to pull the regiment back quickly to Hoeryong if a withdrawal was ordered. After arriving at Haigan on 18 July, Sato set out with several engineers. At Kucheng, the officers donned white Korean clothing, presumably the disguise directed by the division—and boarded native oxcarts for a leisurely journey southward along the Korean bank of the Tumen across from Changkufeng. The seemingly innocent “farmers” studied the river for crossing sites and Changkufeng Hill for the extent of enemy activity. On the hill’s western slope, in Manchurian territory, three rows of Russian entanglements could be observed 300 feet below the crest. Only a handful of soldiers were visible, probably a platoon, certainly not more than a company. Infantry Captain Yamada Teizo conducted secret reconnaissance of the entire Changkufeng-Hill 52 sector for 314 hours in the afternoon of 18 July. Even after intense scanning through powerful binoculars, he could detect no more than 19 lookouts and six horsemen; camouflage work had been completed that day, and there were ten separate covered trench or base points. Barbed wire, under camouflage, extended about four meters in depth, yet even Yamada’s trained eye could not determine whether there was one line of stakes or two. He jotted down what he could see and compared his information with that learned from local police. Artillery Colonel R. Tanaka shared the view that the Soviets had intruded. When he went reconnoitering along the Korean bank, he observed Russian soldiers entrenched around the hilltop, easily visible through binoculars at a range of two kilometers. Trenches had been dug 20 to 30 meters below the crest on the western slope. Eventually, there were three rows of barbed wire, the first just below the trenches and the lowest 100 meters under the summit. Tanaka estimated Soviet strength at two companies (about 200 men). Suetaka’s intelligence officer, Sasai, recalls seeing barbed wire after Japanese units deployed to the front on 18–19 July; he had surmised then that the entanglements were being prepared out of fear of a Japanese assault. To obtain first-hand information, the Gaimusho ordered a section chief, Miura Kazu’ichi, to the spot. Between 23 July and the cease-fire in August, Miura collected data at Kyonghun and transmitted reports from the consulate at Hunchun. On 28 July he visited Sozan on the Korean bank. He observed Soviet soldiers on the western slopes of Changkufeng, digging trenches and driving stakes. These actions were clearly on Manchukuoan territory even according to Soviet maps. Miura insisted that he saw no friendly troops on territory claimed by the Russians and observed no provocative actions by the Japanese. These statements are supported by a map drawn for him in early August by Division Staff Officer Saito Toshio, a sketch Miura retained as late as 1947. Miura’s testimony is tempered by his assertion that he saw a red flag flying near the top of Changkufeng Hill. This contention conflicts with all evidence, as Russian lawyers at the International Military Tribunal for the Far East argued, it is improbable that a Soviet frontier post, highly interested in camouflage, would have hoisted a pennon so large that it could be seen from Sozan. Russian sources are unanimous in stating that no flag was put up until 6 August and that no trenches or entanglements were established by Soviet border guards in July, at least prior to the 29th. The two Army General staff consultants, Arisue and Kotani, arrived in Seoul on 16 July, the day Korea Army Headquarters was ordering an alert for the 19th Division “with a view toward a possible attack against enemy intruders.” Inada dispatched them mainly to inspect the frontline situation; but he had not fully decided on reconnaissance in force. At Shikai, Arisue and Kotani donned Korean garb and traveled by oxcart on the Korean side of the Tumen, reconnoitering opposite the Shachaofeng sector. Kotani was convinced that hostile possession of Changkufeng posed a serious threat to the Korean railway. He agreed with the division’s estimate that, if the Japanese did decide to seize Changkufeng, it ought not to be too difficult. Arisue, as senior observer, dispatched messages from Kyonghun to Tokyo detailing their analysis and recommendations. Meanwhile, in Tokyo, on 17 July the central military authorities received a cable from the Japanese envoy in Moscow, Colonel Doi Akio, reporting that prospects for a diplomatic settlement were nil. The USSR was taking a hard line because Japan was deeply involved in China, though there were domestic considerations as well. The Russians, however, showed no intention of using the border incident to provoke war. It would be best for Japan to seize Changkufeng quickly and then press forward with parleys. Meanwhile, Japan should conduct an intensive domestic and external propaganda campaign. There was mounting pressure in the high command that negotiations, conducted “unaided,” would miss an opportunity. Based on reports from Arisue and Kotani, that army seemed to be contemplating an unimaginative, ponderous plan: an infantry battalion would cross the Tumen west of Changkufeng and attack frontally, while two more battalions would cross south of Kyonghun to drive along the river and assault Changkufeng from the north. Inada sent a telegram on 17 July to Arisue for “reference.” Prospects had diminished that Soviet troops would withdraw as a result of negotiation. As for the attack ideas Arisue mentioned, Inada believed it necessary to prepare to retake Changkufeng with a night attack using small forces. To avoid widening the crisis, the best plan was a limited, surprise attack using ground units. The notion of a surprise attack drew on the Kwantung Army’s extensive combat experience in Manchuria since 1931. The next morning, after the forward concentration of troops was completed, Suetaka went to the front. From Kucheng, he observed the Changkufeng district and decided on concrete plans for use of force. Meanwhile, Nakamura was curbing any hawkish courses at the front. As high-command sources privately conceded later, the younger officers in Tokyo sometimes seemed to think the commander was doing too good a job; there was covert sentiment that it might be preferable if someone in the chain of command acted independently before the opportunity slipped away. This is significant in light of the usual complaints by responsible central authorities about gekokujo—insubordination—by local commands. An important report influencing the high command’s view arrived from Kwantung Army Intelligence on 19 July: according to agents in Khabarovsk, the USSR would not let the Changkufeng incident develop into war; Russians also believed there would be no large-scale Soviet intrusion into their territory. By 19 July, the Tokyo operations staff was considering the best method to restore control of the lost hill by force, since Seoul appeared to maintain its laissez-faire stance. On 18 July, Arisue and Kotani were instructed by Imperial General headquarters to assist the Korea Army and the 19th Division regarding the Changkufeng Incident. What the Army general staff operations officers sought was an Imperial General headquarters order, requiring Imperial sanction, that would instruct the Korea Army to evict the Russian troops from Changkufeng the way the Kwantung Army would, using units already under Nakamura’s command. The sense was that the affair could be handled locally, but if the USSR sought to escalate the incident, it might be prudent for that to occur before the Hankow operation began. The IGHQ and War Ministry coordinated the drafting of an IGHQ order on 19–20 July: “We deem it advisable to eradicate Soviet challenges . . . by promptly delivering blow on this occasion against unit which crossed border at Changkufeng. That unit is in disadvantageous spot strategically and tactically; thus, probability is scant that dispute would enlarge, and we are investigating countermeasures in any case. Careless expansion of situation is definitely not desired. We would like you people also to conduct studies concerning mode of assault employing smallest strength possible for surprise attack against limited objective. Kindly learn general atmosphere here [Tokyo] from [Operations] Major Arao Okikatsu.” The 20th of July proved to...
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3.176 Fall and Rise of China: Changkufeng Incident
11/17/2025
3.176 Fall and Rise of China: Changkufeng Incident
Last time we spoke about the Soviet-Japanese Border Conflict. The border between Soviet Manchuria and Japanese-occupied territories emerges not as a single line but as a mosaic of contested spaces, marks, and memories. A sequence of incidents, skirmishes along the Chaun and Tumen rivers, reconnaissance sorties, and the complex diplomacy of Moscow, Tokyo, and peripheral actors to trace how risk escalated from routine patrols to calibrated leverage. On the ground, terrain functioned as both obstacle and argument: ridges like Changkufeng Hill shaping sightlines, river valleys shaping decisions, and markers weathered by snow, wind, and drift. In command tents, officers translated terrain into doctrine: contingency plans, supply routes, and the precarious calculus of restraint versus escalation. Both nations sought to establish firmer defensive barriers against the other. Inevitably they were destined to clash, but how large that clash would become, nobody knew. #176 The Changkufeng Incident Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. In the last episode we broke down a general history of the Soviet-Japanese Border Conflict and how it escalated significantly by 1938. Colonel Inada Masazum serving as chief of the 2nd Operations Section within the Operations Bureau in March of 1938 would play a significant role in this story. When the Japanese command’s attention was drawn to the area of Changkufeng, consideration was given to the ownership and importance of the disputed high ground. Inada and his operations section turned to an appraisal of the geography. The officers had been impressed by the strategic importance of the Tumen, which served to cut off the hill country from North Korea. In the Changkufeng area, the river was a muddy 600 to 800 meters wide and three to five meters deep. Japanese engineers had described rowing across the stream as “rather difficult.” Russian roads on the left bank were very good, according to Japanese intelligence. Heavy vehicles moved easily; the Maanshan section comprised the Russians’ main line of communications in the rear. To haul up troops and materiel, the Russians were obliged to use trucks and ships, for there were no railways apart from a four-kilometer line between the harbor and town of Novokievsk. Near Changkufeng, hardly any roadways were suitable for vehicular traffic. On the right, or Korean, bank of the Tumen, there were only three roads suitable for vehicular traffic, but even these routes became impassable after a day or two of rain. In the sector between Hill 52 to the south and Shachaofeng to the north, the most pronounced eminences were Chiangchunfeng and the humps of Changkufeng. Rocky peaks were characteristically shaped like inverted T’s, which meant many dead angles against the crests. The gentle slopes would allow tanks to move but would restrict their speed, as would the ponds and marshes. In general, the terrain was treeless and afforded little cover against aircraft. Against ground observation or fire, corn fields and tall miscanthus grass could provide some shielding. Between Chiangchunfeng and the Tumen, which would have to serve as the main route of Japanese supply, the terrain was particularly sandy and hilly. This rendered foot movement difficult but would reduce the effectiveness of enemy bombs and shells. The high ground east of Khasan afforded bases for fire support directed against the Changkufeng region. Plains characterized the rest of the area on the Soviet side, but occasional streams and swamps could interfere with movement of tanks and trucks. The only towns or villages were Novokievsk, Posyet, Yangomudy, and Khansi. At Kozando there were a dozen houses; at Paksikori, a few. The right bank was farmed mainly by Koreans, whose scattered cottages might have some value for billeting but offered none for cover. On the left bank, the largest hamlets were Fangchuanting, with a population of 480 dwelling in 73 huts, and Yangkuanping, where there were 39 cottages. Shachaofeng was uninhabited. Japanese occupation of Changkufeng would enable observation of the plain stretching east from Posyet Bay, although intelligence made no mention of Soviet naval bases, submarine pens, or airstrips in the immediate area of Posyet, either in existence or being built in 1938. As Inada knew, the Japanese Navy judged that Posyet Bay might have another use, as a site for Japanese landing operations in the event of war. In Russian hands, the high ground would endanger the Korean railway. This line, which started from Najin in northeastern Korea, linked up with the vital system in Manchuria at the town of Tumen and provided a short cut, if not a lifeline, between Japan and the Kwantung Army and Manchuria from across the Sea of Japan. Even from relatively low Changkufeng, six or seven miles of track were exposed to Soviet observation between Hongui and Shikai stations. The port of Najin, with its fortress zone, lay 11 miles southwest; Unggi lay even nearer. It was not the danger of Japanese shelling of Vladivostok, at an incredible range of 80 miles that was at stake but the more realistic hypothesis of Russian shelling of the rail line, and Russian screening of the Soviet side of the border. Hills and questions were thought to have two sides. It was the consensus of Japanese that Changkufeng Hill’s potential value to the Russians far outweighed its possible benefits to them, or at least that the Japanese had more to lose if the Russians took the high ground by the Tumen. Inada nurtured few illusions concerning the intrinsic value of the heights. Despite the fact that the high command always had good reasons for quiescence in the north, Inada believed that the latest border difficulty could not be overlooked. By mid-July 1938 Inada’s thoughts crystallized. The Japanese would conduct a limited reconnaissance in force known as iryoku teisatsu in the strategic sense. Whereas, at the tactical schoolbook level, this might mean the dispatch of small forces into enemy territory to seek local combat intelligence, at the Imperial General Headquarters level the concept was far more sweeping. There would also be useful evidence of mobilization and other buildup procedures. The affair at Changkufeng was merely a welcome coincidence, something started by the Russians but liable to Japanese exploration. Inada had no intention of seizing territory, of becoming involved in a war of attrition at a remote and minor spot, or of provoking hostilities against the USSR. The Russians would comprehend the nature of the problem, too. If they were interested in interfering seriously with the Japanese, there were numberless better locations to cause trouble along the Manchurian front; those were the places to watch. The cramped Changkufeng sector, described as “narrow like a cat’s brow,” could too readily be pinched off from Hunchun to render it of strategic value to either side. The bog land to the north interfered with the use of armored forces, while artillery sited on the heights along the Tumen in Korea could as easily control the area as batteries emplaced east of the lake. It was Inada’s professional opinion that the Russians could commit three or four infantry divisions there at most, with no mechanized corps—no heavy tanks, in particular. No decisive battle could be waged, although, once the Russians became involved, they might have to cling to the hill out of a sense of honor. The military action would be meaningless even if the Japanese let the Russians have the heights. For their part, the Japanese would ostensibly be fighting to secure the boundary and to hold Changkufeng peak, beyond which they would not move a step onto Soviet soil. There would be no pursuit operations. Troop commitment would be limited to about one division without tank support. Japanese Air Force intervention would be forbidden. Matters would be directed entirely by Imperial General Headquarters working through the Korea Army chain of command and carried out by the local forces. Calm, clear, and dispassionate overall estimates and instructions would be based on materials available only in Tokyo. The command would not allow the Kwantung Army to touch the affair. Inada foresaw that the Japanese government might also seek a settlement through diplomacy. Although border demarcation was desirable and should be sought, the command would not insist on it, nor would it demand permanent occupation of Changkufeng summit. As soon as reconnaissance objectives had been achieved, the local forces would be withdrawn. As Inada described it “In the process, we would have taught the Russians some respect and given them a lesson concerning their repeated, high-handed provocations and intrusions. If a show of force sufficed to facilitate the negotiations and cause the Russians to back down, so much the better; the affair would be over and my point proved.” The instrument for carrying out Inada’s strategic design appeared to be ideal, the 19th Division, strenuously trained and high-spirited. It could be expected to perform very well if unleashed within defined limits. Colonel Suetaka was just the commander to direct local operations. Since he had been pleading to fight in China, an operation at Changkufeng might prove to be an excellent “safety valve.” His staff was full of experienced, fierce warriors eager for battle. Until recently, the Korea Army commanding general had wisely kept the aggressive division away from Changkufeng Hill, but now Imperial general headquarters had its own overriding ideas and needs. How could the Japanese ensure that any military action would remain limited if the Russians chose to respond with vigor? Naturally, one infantry division, without armor or air support, could not withstand all of the Soviet forces in the maritime province. Inada answered that the mission to be assigned the 19th Division was merely the recapture of Changkufeng crest. If the Japanese side had to break off the operation, evacuation would be effected voluntarily and resolutely on Imperial general headquarters responsibility, without considerations of “face.” At worst, the Japanese might lose one division, but the affair would be terminated at the Tumen River without fail. “Even so, we ought to be able to prove our theory as well as demonstrate our true strength to the Russians.” In case the Soviets opted for more than limited war, the Japanese were still not so overextended in China that they could not alter their strategic disposition of troops. Although the Kwantung Army’s six divisions were outnumbered four to one and the Japanese were not desirous of a war at that moment, the first-class forces in Manchuria could make an excellent showing. In addition, the high command possessed armor, heavy artillery, fighters, and bombers, held in check in Manchuria and Korea, as well as reserves in the homeland. There was also the 104th Division, under tight Imperial general headquarters control, in strategic reserve in southern Manchuria. Inada recalled “How would the Russians react? That was the answer I sought. Victory in China depended on it.” By mid-July, the high command, at Inada’s urging, had worked out a plan titled, “Imperial General headqaurters Essentials for Dealing with the Changkufeng Incident.” Tada’s telegram of 14 July to Koiso described succinctly the just-decided policy: the central authorities concurred with the Korea Army’s opinion regarding the Changkufeng affair, then in embryo. Considering that Changkufeng Hill posed a direct threat to the frontier of Korea, Imperial General headqaurters would immediately urge the foreign ministry to lodge a stern protest. Next day, Tojo sent a telegram stating the Japanese policy of employing diplomacy; whether the Russians should be evicted by force required cautious deliberation in case the USSR did not withdraw voluntarily. On the basis of the guidance received from Imperial General headqaurters, the Korea Army drew up its own plan, “Essentials for Local Direction of the Changkufeng Incident,” on 15 July. Intelligence officer Tsuchiya Sakae was sent promptly to the front from Seoul. At the same time, military authorities allowed the press to release news that Soviet troops were constructing positions inside Manchurian territory in an “obvious provocation.” The government of Manchukuo was demanding an immediate withdrawal. Even then, those Japanese most closely connected with the handling of the Changkufeng Incident were not in agreement that everybody at command level was as ardent a proponent of reconnaissance in force as Inada claimed to be. Some thought that most, if not all, of his subordinates, youthful and vigorous, were in favor of the notion; others denied the existence of such an idea. Inada remained clear-cut in his own assertions. Everything done by the local Soviet forces, he insisted, must have been effected with the permission of Moscow; it was customary for the USSR not to abandon what it had once started. The Japanese Army never really thought that the Soviet Union would withdraw just as the result of diplomatic approaches. Therefore, from the outset, preparations were made to deal the Russians one decisive blow. Inada had recommended his plan, with its clear restrictions, to his colleagues and superiors; the scheme, he says, was approved 14 July “all the way up the chain of command, through the Army general staff and the ministry of war, with unexpected ease.” The only real opposition, Inada recalled, came from the navy, whose staff advised the army operations staff, in all sincerity, to give up the idea of strategic reconnaissance. Inada adhered to his opinion stubbornly. He never forgot the grave look on the face of Captain Kusaka, the UN operations section chief, as the latter gave in reluctantly. The navy view was that the Changkufeng affair typified the army’s aggressive policies as opposed to relative passivity on the part of the navy. Like Kusaka, Japanese Navy interviewees shared the fear that Changkufeng might prove to be the most dangerous military confrontation ever to occur between the USSR and Japan. In view of navy objections, one wonders where Inada could have drawn support for his concept of reconnaissance in force. If one accepts the comments contained in a letter from a navy ministry captain, Takagi Sokichi, to Baron Harada Kumao at the beginning of August, in the army and in a portion of the navy there existed “shallow-minded fellows who are apt to take a firm stand in the blind belief that the USSR would not really rise against us, neglecting the fact that the Russians had foreseen our weak points.” Takagi also had violent things to say about “white-livered” Gaimusho elements that were playing up to the army. Although Takagi’s remarks, expressed in confidence, were sharp, cautious injunctions were being delivered by the high command to the new Korea Army commander, General Nakamura Kotaro, who was about to leave for Seoul to replace Koiso. Nakamura’s attitude was crucial for the course and outcome of the Changkufeng Incident. More of a desk soldier than a warrior, he characteristic ally displayed a wariness that was reinforced by the guidance provided him. This personal quality assumes even greater significance if one believes that the Russians may have initiated the Changkufeng Incident by exploiting the special opportunities afforded them by the routine replacement of the Korea Army commander, the temporary absence from Moscow of Ambassador Shigemitsu Mamoru, and the geographical as well as subjective gap between the Kwantung and Korea armies that was exposed during the Lyushkov affair. At 10:00 on 15 July Nakamura was designated army commander by the Emperor at the palace. Soon afterward, he was briefed by Imperial General headquarters officers. Hashimoto, the operations bureau chief, recalled that when he saw Nakamura off on 17 July, Hashimoto stressed prudence, limitation of any military action, and diplomatic solution of the problem. The new commanding general, Inada asserted, promised full cooperation. There was no mention, at this level, of Inada’s concept of reconnaissance in force. When Nakamura reached Seoul, he found an Imperial order from Tokyo dated 16 July awaiting him. This important document stipulated that he could concentrate units under his command in Korea near the border against the trespassing Soviet forces in the Changkufeng area. Resort to force, however, was dependent upon further orders. This message was followed by a wire from Kan’in, the Army general staff chief. The Imperial order, it was explained, had been designed to support diplomatic negotiations. Simultaneous approval was granted for concentrating forces to respond swiftly in case the situation deteriorated. As for implementation of the Imperial order, discretion should be exercised in line with the opinion expressed earlier by Korea Army Headquarters. Negotiations were to be conducted in Moscow and Harbin, the location of a Soviet consulate in Manchukuo. Meanwhile, the command was dispatching two officers for purposes of liaison: Lt. Colonel Arisue Yadoru in Operations and Major Kotani Etsuo a specialist in Soviet intelligence. Inada advised Arisue that, apart from liaison flights inside the frontiers, particular care should be exercised with regard to actions that might lead to air combat. Nevertheless, although Inada stated that the Imperial order called for “a sort of military demonstration,” he admitted that it meant preparatory action for an attack. The Korea Army senior staff officer, Iwasaki, recalled hearing nothing about secret intentions. Nakamura briefed his staff about the need for restraint, especially during this key period of the Wuhan operation. Koiso had disposed of speculation that he had issued an order to concentrate the 19th Division before Nakamura arrived, although he and Nakamura did have the opportunity to confer in Seoul before he departed for Japan. The Imperial order of 16 July, in response to Koiso’s inquiry received in Tokyo on 14 July, had arrived in Seoul addressed to Nakamura; thereupon, the Korea Army chief of staff, Kitano, had the message conveyed to the division. By 21 July Koiso was back in Tokyo where, the day afterward, he advised the war minister, Itagaki, “to act prudently with respect to the Changkufeng problem.” Why did the high command dispatch two field-grade liaison officers to Korea from the outset of the Changkufeng Incident? The Korea Army lacked operations staff. Its commander had been allotted prime responsibility, within the chain of command, for defense of northeastern Korea. At the beginning, the highest-ranking staff officer at the front was a major. Since there were no fundamental differences of opinion between the command and the forces in Korea, it was proper to send experts from Tokyo to assist. Imperial General headqaurters would observe the situation carefully, devise measures on the basis of the overall view, and issue orders which the Korea Army would implement through ordinary channels. It had not been the type of incident which...
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3.175 Fall and Rise of China: Soviet-Japanese Border Conflicts
11/10/2025
3.175 Fall and Rise of China: Soviet-Japanese Border Conflicts
Last time we spoke about the Changsha fire. Chiang Kai-shek faced a brutal choice: defend Wuhan to the last man or flood the land to slow the invaders. He chose both, pushing rivers and rallying a fractured army as Japanese forces pressed along the Yangtze. Fortresses at Madang held long, but the cost was high—troops lost, civilians displaced, a city’s heart burning in the night. Wuhan fell after months of brutal fighting, yet the battle did not break China’s will. Mao Zedong urged strategy over martyrdom, preferring to drain the enemy and buy time for a broader struggle. The Japanese, though victorious tactically, found their strength ebbing, resource strains, supply gaps, and a war that felt endless. In the wake of Wuhan, Changsha stood next in the Japanese crosshairs, its evacuation and a devastating fire leaving ash and memory in its wake. Behind these prices, political currents swirled. Wang Jingwei defected again, seeking power beyond Chiang’s grasp, while Chongqing rose as a western bastion of resistance. The war hardened into a protracted stalemate, turning Japan from an aggressive assailant into a wary occupier, and leaving China to endure, persist, and fight on. #175 The Soviet-Japanese Border Conflicts Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. So based on the title of this one, you probably can see we are taking a bit of a detour. For quite some time we have focused on the Japanese campaigns into China proper 1937-1938. Now the way the second sino-japanese war is traditionally broken down is in phases. 1937-1938, 1939-1942 and 1942-1945. However there is actually even more going on in China aside from the war with Japan. In Xinjiang province a large full blown Islamic revolution breaks out in 1937. We will be covering that story at a later date, but another significant event is escalating border skirmishes in Manchukuo. Now these border skirmishes had been raging ever since the USSR consolidated its hold over the far east. We talked about some of those skirmishes prior to the Sino-Soviet war in 1929. However when Japan created the puppet government of Manchukuo, this was a significant escalation in tensions with the reds. Today we are going to talk about the escalating border conflicts between the Soviets and Japan. A tongue of poorly demarcated land extends southeast from Hunchun, hugging the east bank of the Tumen River between Lake Khasan to the east and Korea to the west. Within this tongue stands Changkufeng Hill, one of a long chain of highlands sweeping from upstream along the rivers and moors toward the sea. The twin-peaked hill sits at the confluence area several miles northwest of the point where Manchuria, Korea, and the Russian Far East meet. The hill’s shape reminded Koreans of their changgo, which is a long snare drum constricted at the center and tapped with the hands at each end. When the Manchus came to the Tumen, they rendered the phonetic sounds into three ideographic characters meaning “taut drum peaks” or Chang-ku-feng. The Japanese admired the imagery and preserved the Chinese readings, which they pronounce Cho-ko-ho. From their eastern vantage, the Russians called it Zaozernaya, “hill behind the lake.” Soviet troops referred to it as a sugar-loaf hill. For many years, natives and a handful of officials in the region cultivated a relaxed attitude toward borders and sovereignty. Even after the Japanese seized Manchuria in 1931, the issue did not immediately come to a head. With the expansion of Manchukuo and the Soviet Far East under Stalin’s Five-Year plans, both sides began to attend more closely to frontier delimitation. Whenever either party acted aggressively, force majeure was invoked to justify the unexpected and disruptive events recognized in international law. Most often, these incidents erupted along the eastern Manchurian borders with the USSR or along the 350-mile frontier south of Lake Khanka, each skirmish carrying the seeds of all-out warfare. Now we need to talk a little bit about border history. The borders in question essentially dated to pacts concluded by the Qing dynasty and the Tsardom. Between the first Sino-Russian Treaty of Nerchinsk in 1689 and the Mukden Agreement of 1924, there were over a dozen accords governing the borders. Relevant to Changkufeng were the basic 15-article Convention of Peking, supplementing the Tientsin Treaties of November 1860, some maps made in 1861, and the eight-article Hunchun Border Protocol of 1886. By the 1860 treaty, the Qing ceded to Tsarist Russia the entire maritime province of Siberia, but the meaning of “lands south of Lake Khanka” remained rather vague. Consequently, a further border agreement was negotiated in June 1861 known as “the Lake Khanka Border Pact”, by which demarcations were drawn on maps and eight wooden markers erected. The border was to run from Khanka along ridgelines between the Hunchun River and the sea, past Suifenho and Tungning, terminating about 6 miles from the mouth of the Tumen. Then a Russo-Chinese commission established in 1886 drew up the Hunchun Border Pact, proposing new or modified markers along the 1860–1861 lines and arranging a Russian resurvey. However, for the Japanese, in 1938, the Chinese or Manchu texts of the 1886 Hunchun agreement were considered controlling. The Soviets argued the border ran along every summit west of Khasan, thereby granting them jurisdiction over at least the eastern slopes of all elevations, including Changkufeng and Shachaofeng. Since the Qing dynasty and the house of Romanov were already defunct, the new sovereignties publicly appealed to opposing texts, and the Soviet side would not concede that the Russian-language version had never been deemed binding by the Qing commissioners. Yet, even in 1938, the Japanese knew that only the Chinese text had survived or could be located. Now both the Chinese and Russian military maps generally drew the frontier along the watershed east of Khasan; this aligned with the 1861 readings based on the Khanka agreement. The Chinese Republican Army conducted new surveys sometime between 1915 and 1920. The latest Chinese military map of the Changkufeng area drew the border considerably closer to the old “red line” of 1886, running west of Khasan but near the shore rather than traversing the highland crests. None of the military delimitations of the border was sanctified by an official agreement. Hence, the Hunchun Protocol, whether well known or not, invaluable or worthless, remained the only government-to-government pact dealing with the frontiers. Before we jump into it, how about a little summary of what became known as the Soviet-Japanese border conflicts. The first major conflict would obviously be the Russo-Japanese war of 1904-1905. Following years of conflict between the Russian Empire and Japan culminating in the costly Battle of Tsushima, Tsar Nicholas II’s government sought peace, recognizing Japan’s claims to Korea and agreeing to evacuate Manchuria. From 1918 to 1920, the Imperial Japanese Army, under Emperor Taishō after the death of Meiji, assisted the White Army and Alexander Kerensky against the Bolshevik Red Army. They also aided the Czechoslovak Legion in Siberia to facilitate its return to Europe after an Austrian-Hungarian armoured train purportedly went astray. By 1920, with Austria-Hungary dissolved and Czechoslovakia established two years earlier, the Czechoslovak Legion reached Europe. Japan withdrew from the Russian Revolution and the Civil War in 1922. Following Japan’s 1919-1920 occupations and the Soviet intervention in Mongolia in 1921, the Republic of China also withdrew from Outer Mongolia in 1921. In 1922, after capturing Vladivostok in 1918 to halt Bolshevik advances, Japanese forces retreated to Japan as Bolshevik power grew and the postwar fatigue among combatants increased. After Hirohito’s invasion of Manchuria in 1931–1932, following Taishō’s death in 1926, border disputes between Manchukuo, the Mongolian People’s Republic, and the Soviet Union increased. Many clashes stemmed from poorly defined borders, though some involved espionage. Between 1932 and 1934, the Imperial Japanese Army reported 152 border disputes, largely tied to Soviet intelligence activity in Manchuria, while the Soviets accused Japan of 15 border violations, six air intrusions, and 20 cases of “spy smuggling” in 1933 alone. Numerous additional violations followed in the ensuing years. By the mid-1930s, Soviet-Japanese diplomacy and trust had deteriorated further, with the Japanese being openly labeled “fascist enemies” at the Seventh Comintern Congress in July 1935. Beginning in 1935, conflicts significantly escalated. On 8 January 1935, the first armed clash, known as the Halhamiao incident, took place on the border between Mongolia and Manchukuo. Several dozen cavalrymen of the Mongolian People’s Army crossed into Manchuria near disputed fishing grounds and engaged an 11‑man Manchukuo Imperial Army patrol near the Buddhist temple at Halhamiao, led by a Japanese military advisor. The Manchukuo Army sustained 6 wounded and 2 dead, including the Japanese officer; the Mongols suffered no casualties and withdrew after the Japanese sent a punitive expedition to reclaim the area. Two motorized cavalry companies, a machine‑gun company, and a tankette platoon occupied the position for three weeks without resistance. In June 1935, the first direct exchange of fire between the Japanese and Soviets occurred when an 11‑man Japanese patrol west of Lake Khanka was attacked by six Soviet horsemen, reportedly inside Manchukuo territory. In the firefight, one Soviet soldier was killed and two horses were captured. The Japanese requested a joint investigation, but the Soviets rejected the proposal. In October 1935, nine Japanese and 32 Manchukuoan border guards were establishing a post about 20 kilometers north of Suifenho when they were attacked by 50 Soviet soldiers. The Soviets opened fire with rifles and five heavy machine guns. Two Japanese and four Manchukuoan soldiers were killed, and another five were wounded. The Manchukuoan foreign affairs representative lodged a verbal protest with the Soviet consul at Suifenho. The Kwantung Army of Japan also sent an intelligence officer to investigate the clash. On 19 December 1935, a Manchukuoan unit reconnoitering southwest of Buir Lake clashed with a Mongolian party, reportedly capturing 10 soldiers. Five days later, 60 truck‑borne Mongolian troops assaulted the Manchukuoans and were repulsed, at the cost of three Manchukuoan dead. On the same day, at Brunders, Mongolian forces attempted three times to drive out Manchukuoan outposts, and again at night, but all attempts failed. Further small attempts occurred in January, with Mongolians using airplanes for reconnaissance. The arrival of a small Japanese force in three trucks helped foil these attempts; casualties occurred on both sides, though Mongolian casualties are unknown aside from 10 prisoners taken. In February 1936, Lieutenant-Colonel Sugimoto Yasuo was ordered to form a detachment from the 14th Cavalry Regiment to “drive the Outer Mongol intruders from the Olankhuduk region,” a directive attributed to Lieutenant-General Kasai Heijuro. Sugimoto’s detachment included cavalry guns, heavy machine guns, and tankettes. They faced a force of about 140 Mongolians equipped with heavy machine guns and light artillery. On February 12, Sugimoto’s men drove the Mongolians south, at the cost of eight Japanese killed, four wounded, and one tankette destroyed. The Japanese began to withdraw, but were attacked by 5–6 Mongolian armored cars and two bombers, which briefly disrupted the column. The situation was stabilized when the Japanese unit received artillery support, allowing them to destroy or repel the armored cars. In March 1936, the Tauran incident occurred. In this clash, both the Japanese Army and the Mongolian Army deployed a small number of armored fighting vehicles and aircraft. The incident began when 100 Mongolian and six Soviet troops attacked and occupied the disputed village of Tauran, Mongolia, driving off the small Manchurian garrison. They were supported by light bombers and armored cars, though the bombing sorties failed to inflict damage on the Japanese, and three bombers were shot down by Japanese heavy machine guns. Local Japanese forces counter-attacked, conducting dozens of bombing sorties and finally assaulting Tauran with 400 men and 10 tankettes. The result was a Mongolian rout, with 56 Mongolian soldiers killed, including three Soviet advisors, and an unknown number wounded. Japanese losses were 27 killed and 9 wounded. Later in March 1936, another border clash occurred between Japanese and Soviet forces. Reports of border violations prompted the Japanese Korean Army to send ten men by truck to investigate, but the patrol was ambushed by 20 Soviet NKVD soldiers deployed about 300 meters inside territory claimed by Japan. After suffering several casualties, the Japanese patrol withdrew and was reinforced with 100 men, who then drove off the Soviets. Fighting resumed later that day when the NKVD brought reinforcements. By nightfall, the fighting had ceased and both sides had pulled back. The Soviets agreed to return the bodies of two Japanese soldiers who had died in the fighting, a development viewed by the Japanese government as encouraging. In early April 1936, three Japanese soldiers were killed near Suifenho in another minor affray. This incident was notable because the Soviets again returned the bodies of the fallen servicemen. In June 1937, the Kanchazu Island incident occurred on the Amur River along the Soviet–Manchukuo border. Three Soviet gunboats crossed the river’s center line, disembarked troops, and occupied Kanchazu Island. Japanese forces from the IJA 1st Division, equipped with two horse-drawn 37 mm artillery pieces, quickly established improvised firing positions and loaded their guns with both high-explosive and armor-piercing shells. They shelled the Soviet vessels, sinking the lead gunboat, crippling the second, and driving off the third. Japanese troops subsequently fired on the swimming crewmen from the sunken ships using machine guns. Thirty-seven Soviet soldiers were killed, while Japanese casualties were zero. The Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs protested and demanded the Soviet forces withdraw from the island. The Soviet leadership, apparently shocked by the incident and reluctant to escalate, agreed to evacuate their troops. By 1938 the border situation had deteriorated. The tangled terrain features, mountain, bog, stream, forest, and valley, would have complicated even careful observers’ discernment of the old red line drawn in 1886. Fifty years later, the markers themselves had undergone a metamorphosis. Japanese investigators could find, at most, only 14 to 17 markers standing fairly intact between the Tumen estuary and Khanka—roughly one every 25 miles at best. The remainder were missing or ruined; five were found in new locations. Marker “K,” for example, was 40 meters deeper inside Manchuria, away from Khanka. Japanese military experts noted that of the 20 markers originally set along the boundaries of Hunchun Prefecture alone, only four could be found by the summer of 1938. The rest had either been wrecked or arbitrarily moved and discarded by Russian or Chinese officials and inhabitants. It is even said that one missing marker could be seen on display in Khabarovsk. The Chinese had generally interpreted the boundary as the road line just west of Khasan, at least in practice. Free road movement, however, had become a problem even 20 years before the Japanese overran Manchuria in 1931–1932 during the so-called Manchurian Incident. The Japanese adopted, or inherited, the Chinese interpretation, which was based on the 1886 agreement on border roads; the key clause held that the frontier west of Khasan would be the road along the lake. Japanese sources emphasize that local residents’ anger toward gradual Soviet oppression and penetrations westward into Manchurian territory fueled the conflict. Many natives believed the original boundaries lay east of the lake, but the Soviets adjusted the situation to suit their own convenience. In practice, the Russians were restricting road use just west of Khasan by Manchurian and Korean residents. There was speculation that this was a prelude to taking over the ridgelines, depending on the reaction of the Manchukuoan–Japanese side. Villagers who went to streams or the lake to launder clothing found themselves subjected to sniper fire. Along a 25-mile stretch of road near Shachaofeng, farmers reported coming under fire from new Soviet positions as early as November 1935. Nevertheless, Japanese and Koreans familiar with the Tumen area noted agrarian, seasonal Korean religious rites atop Changkufeng Hill, including fattened pigs sacrificed and changgo drums beaten. Village elders told Japanese visitors in 1938 that, until early the preceding year, no Russians had come as far as Changkufeng Hill. Looking only at the border sector around Changkufeng, the easy days were clearly behind us. In the summer of 1938, Gaimusho “Foreign Ministry” observers described the explosive situation along the Korea–Manchuria–USSR borders as a matter of de facto frontiers. Both sides pressed against each other, and their trigger-happy posture was summed up in the colloquial refrain: “Take another step and we’ll let you have it.” Near dawn on 13 June 1938, a Manchurian patrol detected a suspicious figure in the fog swirling over Changlingtzu Hill on the Siberian–Manchurian frontier. Challenged at 15 feet, the suspect hurled two pistols to the ground and raised his hands in surrender. At headquarters, the police soon realized this was no routine border-trespassing case. The man was a defector and he was a Russian general, in fact he was the director of all NKVD forces in the Soviet Far East. Beneath a mufti of spring coat and hunting cap, he wore a full uniform with medals. His identification card No. 83 designated him as G. S. Lyushkov, Commissar 3rd Class, countersigned by Nikolai Yezhov, NKVD head in Moscow. Lyushkov was promptly turned over to the Japanese military authorities, who transferred him to Seoul and then to Tokyo under close escort. On 1 July, the Japanese press was permitted to disclose that Lyushkov had sought refuge in Japan. Ten days later, to capitalize on the commissar’s notoriety and to confound skeptics, the Japanese produced Lyushkov at a press conference in Tokyo. For the Japanese and foreign correspondents, who met separately with him, Lyushkov described Soviet Far East strength and the turmoil wracking the USSR, because for those of you unfamiliar this was during the Stalinist purges. Clearly, the Japanese had gained a unique reservoir of high-level intelligence and a wealth of materials, including notes scratched in blood by suspects incarcerated at Khabarovsk. A general tightening of Russian frontier security had recently...
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3.174 Fall and Rise of China: Changsha Fire
11/03/2025
3.174 Fall and Rise of China: Changsha Fire
Last time we spoke about the fall of Wuhan. In a country frayed by war, the Yangtze became a pulsing artery, carrying both hunger and hope. Chiang Kai-shek faced a brutal choice: defend Wuhan to the last man, or flood the rivers to buy time. He chose both, setting sullen floodwaters loose along the Yellow River to slow the invaders, a temporary mercy that spared some lives while ripping many from their homes. On the river’s banks, a plethora of Chinese forces struggled to unite. The NRA, fractured into rival zones, clung to lines with stubborn grit as Japanese forces poured through Anqing, Jiujiang, and beyond, turning the Yangtze into a deadly corridor. Madang’s fortifications withstood bombardment and gas, yet the price was paid in troops and civilians drowned or displaced. Commanders like Xue Yue wrestled stubbornly for every foothold, every bend in the river. The Battle of Wanjialing became a symbol: a desperate, months-long pincer where Chinese divisions finally tightened their cordon and halted the enemy’s flow. By autumn, the Japanese pressed onward to seize Tianjiazhen and cut supply lines, while Guangzhou fell to a ruthless blockade. The Fall of Wuhan loomed inevitable, yet the story remained one of fierce endurance against overwhelming odds. #174 The Changsha Fire Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. In the summer of 1938, amid the upheaval surrounding Chiang Kai-shek, one of his most important alliances came to an end. On June 22, all German advisers to the Nationalist government were summoned back; any who refused would be deemed guilty of high treason. Since World War I, a peculiar bond had tied the German Weimar Republic and China: two fledgling states, both weak and only partially sovereign. Under the Versailles Treaty of 1919, Germany had lost extraterritorial rights on Chinese soil, which paradoxically allowed Berlin to engage with China as an equal partner rather than a traditional colonizer. This made German interests more welcome in business and politics than those of other Western powers. Chiang’s military reorganization depended on German officers such as von Seeckt and von Falkenhausen, and Hitler’s rise in 1933 had not immediately severed the connection between the two countries. Chiang did not share Nazi ideology with Germany, but he viewed Berlin as a potential ally and pressed to persuade it to side with China rather than Japan as China’s principal East Asian, anti-Communist partner. In June 1937, H. H. Kung led a delegation to Berlin, met Hitler, and argued for an alliance with China. Yet the outbreak of war and the Nationalists’ retreat to Wuhan convinced Hitler’s government to align with Japan, resulting in the recall of all German advisers. Chiang responded with a speech praising von Falkenhausen, insisting that “our friend’s enemy is our enemy too,” and lauding the German Army’s loyalty and ethics as a model for the Chinese forces. He added, “After we have won the War of Resistance, I believe you’ll want to come back to the Far East and advise our country again.” Von Falkenhausen would later become the governor of Nazi-occupied Belgium, then be lauded after the war for secretly saving many Jewish lives. As the Germans departed, the roof of the train transporting them bore a prominent German flag with a swastika, a prudent precaution given Wuhan’s vulnerability to air bombardment. The Japanese were tightening their grip on the city, even as Chinese forces, numbering around 800,000, made a stubborn stand. The Yellow River floods blocked northern access, so the Japanese chose to advance via the Yangtze, aided by roughly nine divisions and the might of the Imperial Navy. The Chinese fought bravely, but their defenses could not withstand the superior technology of the Japanese fleet. The only substantial external aid came from Soviet pilots flying aircraft bought from the USSR as part of Stalin’s effort to keep China in the war; between 1938 and 1940, some 2,000 pilots offered their services. From June 24 to 27, Japanese bombers relentlessly pounded the Madang fortress along the Yangtze until it fell. A month later, on July 26, Chinese defenders abandoned Jiujiang, southeast of Wuhan, and its civilian population endured a wave of atrocities at the hands of the invaders. News of Jiujiang’s fate stiffened resolve. Chiang delivered a pointed address to his troops on July 31, arguing that Wuhan’s defense was essential and that losing the city would split the country into hostile halves, complicating logistics and movement. He warned that Wuhan’s defense would also be a spiritual test: “the place has deep revolutionary ties,” and public sympathy for China’s plight was growing as Japanese atrocities became known. Yet Chiang worried about the behavior of Chinese soldiers. He condemned looting as a suicidal act that would destroy the citizens’ trust in the military. Commanders, he warned, must stay at their posts; the memory of the Madang debacle underscored the consequences of cowardice. Unlike Shanghai, Wuhan had shelters, but he cautioned against retreating into them and leaving soldiers exposed. Officers who failed in loyalty could expect no support in return. This pep talk, combined with the belief that the army was making a last stand, may have slowed the Japanese advance along the Yangtze in August. Under General Xue Yue, about 100,000 Chinese troops pushed back the invaders at Huangmei. At Tianjiazhen, thousands fought until the end of September, with poison gas finally forcing Japanese victory. Yet even then, Chinese generals struggled to coordinate. In Xinyang, Li Zongren's Guangxi troops were exhausted; they expected relief from Hu Zongnan’s forces, but Hu instead withdrew, allowing Japan to capture the city without a fight. The fall of Xinyang enabled Japanese control of the Ping-Han railway, signaling Wuhan’s doom. Chiang again spoke to Wuhan’s defenders, balancing encouragement with a grim realism about possible loss. Although Wuhan’s international connections were substantial, foreign aid would be unlikely. If evacuation became necessary, the army should have a clear plan, including designated routes. He recalled the disastrous December retreat from Nanjing, where “foreigners and Chinese alike turned it into an empty city.” Troops had been tired and outnumbered; Chiang defended the decision to defend Nanjing, insisting the army had sacrificed itself for the capital and Sun Yat-sen’s tomb. Were the army to retreat again, he warned, it would be the greatest shame in five thousand years of Chinese history. The loss of Madang was another humiliation. By defending Wuhan, he argued, China could avenge its fallen comrades and cleanse its conscience; otherwise, it could not honor its martyrs. Mao Zedong, observing the situation from his far-off base at Yan’an, agreed strongly that Chiang should not defend Wuhan to the death. He warned in mid-October that if Wuhan could not be defended, the war’s trajectory would shift, potentially strengthening the Nationalists–Communists cooperation, deepening popular mobilization, and expanding guerrilla warfare. The defense of Wuhan, Mao argued, should drain the enemy and buy time to advance the broader struggle, not become a doomed stalemate. In a protracted war, some strongholds might be abandoned temporarily to sustain the longer fight. The Japanese Army captured Wuchang and Hankou on 26 October and captured Hanyang on the 27th, which concluded the campaign in Wuhan. The battle had lasted four and a half months and ended with the Nationalist army’s voluntary withdrawal. In the battle itself, the Japanese army captured Wuhan’s three towns and held the heartland of China, achieving a tactical victory. Yet strategically, Japan failed to meet its objectives. Imperial Headquarters believed that “capturing Hankou and Guangzhou would allow them to dominate China.” Consequently, the Imperial Conference planned the Battle of Wuhan to seize Wuhan quickly and compel the Chinese government to surrender. It also decreed that “national forces should be concentrated to achieve the war objectives within a year and end the war against China.” According to Yoshiaki Yoshimi and Seiya Matsuno, Hirohito authorized the use of chemical weapons against China by specific orders known as rinsanmei. During the Battle of Wuhan, Prince Kan’in Kotohito transmitted the emperor’s orders to deploy toxic gas 375 times between August and October 1938. Another memorandum uncovered by Yoshimi indicates that Prince Naruhiko Higashikuni authorized the use of poison gas against the Chinese on 16 August 1938. A League of Nations resolution adopted on 14 May condemned the Imperial Japanese Army’s use of toxic gas. Japan’s heavy use of chemical weapons against China was driven by manpower shortages and China’s lack of poison gas stockpiles to retaliate. Poison gas was employed at Hankou in the Battle of Wuhan to break Chinese resistance after conventional assaults had failed. Rana Mitter notes that, under General Xue Yue, approximately 100,000 Chinese troops halted Japanese advances at Huangmei, and at the fortress of Tianjiazhen, thousands fought until the end of September, with Japanese victory secured only through the use of poison gas. Chinese generals also struggled with coordination at Xinyang; Li Zongren’s Guangxi troops were exhausted, and Hu Zongnan’s forces, believed to be coming to relieve them, instead withdrew. Japan subsequently used poison gas against Chinese Muslim forces at the Battle of Wuyuan and the Battle of West Suiyuan. However, the Chinese government did not surrender with the loss of Wuhan and Guangzhou, nor did Japan’s invasion end with Wuhan and Guangzhou’s capture. After Wuhan fell, the government issued a reaffirmation: “Temporary changes of advance and retreat will not shake our resolve to resist the Japanese invasion,” and “the gain or loss of any city will not affect the overall situation of the war.” It pledged to “fight with even greater sorrow, greater perseverance, greater steadfastness, greater diligence, and greater courage,” dedicating itself to a long, comprehensive war of resistance. In the Japanese-occupied rear areas, large armed anti-Japanese forces grew, and substantial tracts of territory were recovered. As the Japanese army themselves acknowledged, “the restoration of public security in the occupied areas was actually limited to a few kilometers on both sides of the main transportation lines.” Thus, the Battle of Wuhan did not merely inflict a further strategic defeat on Japan; it also marked a turning point in Japan’s strategic posture, from offense to defense. Due to the Nationalist Army’s resolute resistance, Japan mobilized its largest force to date for the attack, about 250,000 personnel, who were replenished four to five times over the battle, for a total of roughly 300,000. The invaders held clear advantages in land, sea, and air power and fought for four and a half months. Yet they failed to annihilate the Nationalist main force, nor did they break the will to resist or the army’s combat effectiveness. Instead, the campaign dealt a severe blow to the Japanese Army’s vitality. Japanese-cited casualties totaled 4,506 dead and 17,380 wounded for the 11th Army; the 2nd Army suffered 2,300 killed in action, 7,600 wounded, and 900 died of disease. Including casualties across the navy and the air force, the overall toll was about 35,500. By contrast, the Nationalist Government Military Commission’s General Staff Department, drawing on unit-level reports, calculated Japanese casualties at 256,000. The discrepancy between Japanese and Nationalist tallies illustrates the inflationary tendencies of each side’s reporting. Following Wuhan, a weakened Japanese force confronted an extended front. Unable to mount large-scale strategic offensives, unlike Shanghai, Xuzhou, or Wuhan itself, the Japanese to a greater extent adopted a defensive posture. This transition shifted China’s War of Resistance from a strategic defensive phase into a strategic stalemate, while the invaders found themselves caught in a protracted war—a development they most disliked. Consequently, Japan’s invasion strategy pivoted: away from primary frontal offensives toward a greater reliance on political inducements with secondary military action, and toward diverting forces to “security” operations behind enemy lines rather than pushing decisive frontal campaigns. Japan, an island nation with limited strategic resources, depended heavily on imports. By the time of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, Japan’s gold reserves,including reserves for issuing banknotes, amounted to only about 1.35 billion yen. In effect, Japan’s currency reserves constrained the scale of the war from the outset. The country launched its aggression while seeking an early solution to the conflict. To sustain its war of aggression against China, the total value of military supplies imported from overseas in 1937 reached approximately 960 million yen. By June of the following year, for the Battle of Wuhan, even rifles used in training were recalled to outfit the expanding army. The sustained increase in troops also strained domestic labor, food, and energy supplies. By 1939, after Wuhan, Japan’s military expenditure had climbed to about 6.156 billion yen, far exceeding national reserves. This stark reality exposed Japan’s economic fragility and its inability to guarantee a steady supply of military materiel, increasing pressure on the leadership at the Central Command. The Chief of Staff and the Minister of War lamented the mismatch between outward strength and underlying weakness: “Outwardly strong but weak is a reflection of our country today, and this will not last long.” In sum, the Wuhan campaign coincided with a decline in the organization, equipment, and combat effectiveness of the Japanese army compared with before the battle. This erosion of capability helped drive Japan to alter its political and military strategy, shifting toward a method of inflicting pressure on China and attempting to “use China to control China”, that is, fighting in ways designed to sustain the broader war effort. Tragically a major element of Chiang Kai-shek’s retreat strategy was the age-old “scorched earth” policy. In fact, China originated the phrase and the practice. Shanghai escaped the last-minute torching because of foreigners whose property rights were protected. But in Nanjing, the burning and destruction began with increasing zeal. What could not be moved inland, such as remaining rice stocks, oil in tanks, and other facilities, was to be blown up or devastated. Civilians were told to follow the army inland, to rebuild later behind the natural barrier of Sichuan terrain. Many urban residents complied, but the peasantry did not embrace the plan. The scorched-earth policy served as powerful propaganda for the occupying Japanese army and, even more so, for the Reds. Yet they could hardly have foreseen the propaganda that Changsha would soon supply them. In June, the Changsha Evacuation Guidance Office was established to coordinate land and water evacuation routes. By the end of October, Wuhan’s three towns had fallen, and on November 10 the Japanese army captured Yueyang, turning Changsha into the next primary invasion target. Beginning on October 9, Japanese aircraft intensified from sporadic raids on Changsha to large-scale bombing. On October 27, the Changsha Municipal Government urgently evacuated all residents, exempting only able-bodied men, the elderly, the weak, women, and children. The baojia system was mobilized to go door-to-door, enforcing compliance. On November 7, Chiang Kai-shek convened a military meeting at Rongyuan Garden to review the war plan and finalize a “scorched earth war of resistance.” Xu Quan, Chief of Staff of the Security Command, drafted the detailed implementation plan. On November 10, Shi Guoji, Chief of Staff of the Security Command, presided over a joint meeting of Changsha’s party, government, military, police, and civilian organizations to devise a strategy. The Changsha Destruction Command was immediately established, bringing together district commanders and several arson squads. The command actively prepared arson equipment and stacked flammable materials along major traffic arteries. Chiang decided that the city of Changsha was vulnerable and either gave the impression or the direct order, honestly really depends on the source your reading, to burn the city to the ground to prevent it falling to the enemy. At 9:00 AM on November 12, Chiang Kai-shek telegraphed Zhang Zhizhong: “One hour to arrive, Chairman Zhang, Changsha, confidential. If Changsha falls, the entire city must be burned. Please make thorough preparations in advance and do not delay.” And here it seems a game of broken telephone sort of resulted in one of the worst fire disasters of all time. If your asking pro Chiang sources, the message was clearly, put up a defense, once thats fallen, burn the city down before the Japanese enter. Obviously this was to account for getting civilians out safely and so forth. If you read lets call it more modern CPP aligned sources, its the opposite. Chiang intentionally ordering the city to burn down as fast as possible, but in through my research, I think it was a colossal miscommunication. Regardless Zhongzheng Wen, Minister of the Interior, echoed the message. Simultaneously, Lin Wei, Deputy Director of Chiang Kai-shek’s Secretariat, instructed Zhang Zhizhong by long-distance telephone: “If Changsha falls, the entire city must be burned.” Zhang summoned Feng Ti, Commander of the Provincial Capital Garrison, and Xu Quan, Director of the Provincial Security Bureau, to outline arson procedures. He designated the Garrison Command to shoulder the preparations, with the Security Bureau assisting. At 4:00 PM, Zhang appointed Xu Kun, Commander of the Second Garrison Regiment, as chief commander of the arson operation, with Wang Weining, Captain of the Social Training Corps, and Xu Quan, Chief of Staff of the Garrison Command, as deputies. At 6:00 PM, the Garrison Command held an emergency meeting ordering all government agencies and organizations in the city to be ready for evacuation at any moment. By around 10:15 PM, all urban police posts had withdrawn. Around 2:00 AM (November 13), a false report circulated that “Japanese troops have reached Xinhe” . Firefighters stationed at various locations rushed out with kerosene-fueled devices, burning everything in sight, shops and houses alike. In an instant, Changsha became a sea of flames. The blaze raged for 72 hours. The Hunan Province Anti-Japanese War Loss Statistics, compiled by the Hunan Provincial Government Statistics Office of the Kuomintang, report that the fire inflicted economic losses of more than 1 billion yuan, a sum equivalent to about 1.7 trillion yuan after the victory in the war. This figure represented roughly 43% of Changsha’s total economic value at the time. Regarding...
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3.173 Fall and Rise of China: Fall of Wuhan
10/27/2025
3.173 Fall and Rise of China: Fall of Wuhan
Last time we spoke about the beginning of the Wuhan Campaign. As Japanese forces pressed toward central China, Chiang Kai-shek faced a brutal choice: defend Wuhan with costly sieges or unleash a dangerous flood to buy time. The Yellow River breached its banks at Huayuankou, sending a wall of water racing toward villages, railways, and fields. The flood did not erase the enemy; it bought months of breathing room for a battered China, but at a terrible toll to civilians who lost homes, farms, and lives. Within Wuhan’s orbit, a mosaic of Chinese forces struggled to unite. The NRA, split into competing war zones and factions, numbered about 1.3 million but fought with uneven equipment and training. The Japanese, deploying hundreds of thousands, ships, and air power, pressed from multiple angles: Anqing, Madang, Jiujiang, and beyond, using riverine forts and amphibious landings to turn the Yangtze into a deadly artery. Yet courage endured as troops held lines, pilots challenged the skies, and civilians, like Wang Guozhen, who refused to betray his country, chose defiance over surrender. The war for Wuhan was not a single battle but a testament to endurance in the face of overwhelming odds. #173 The Fall of Wuhan Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. In the last episode we began the Battle of Wuhan. Japan captured Anqing and gained air access to Jiujiang, Chinese defenses around the Yangtze River were strained. The southern Yangtze’s Ninth War Zone held two key garrisons: one west of Poyang Lake and another in Jiujiang. To deter Japanese assault on Jiujiang, China fortified Madang with artillery, mines, and bamboo booms. On June 24, Japan conducted a surprise Madang landing while pressing south along the Yangtze. Madang’s fortress withstood four assaults but suffered heavy bombardment and poison gas. Chinese leadership failures contributed to the fall: Li Yunheng, overseeing Madang, was away at a ceremony, leaving only partial contingents, primarily three battalions from marine corps units and the 313th regiment of the 53rd division, participating, totaling under five battalions. Reinforcements from Pengze were misrouted by Li’s orders, arriving too late. Madang fell after three days. Chiang Kai-shek retaliated with a counterattack and rewarded units that recaptured Xiangshan, but further progress was blocked. Li Yunheng was court-martialed, and Xue Weiying executed. Madang’s loss opened a corridor toward Jiujiang. The Japanese needed weeks to clear minefields, sacrificing several ships in the process. With roughly 200,000 Chinese troops in the Jiujiang–Ruichang zone under Xue Yue and Zhang Fukui, the Japanese captured Pengze and then Hukou, using poison gas again during the fighting. The Hukou evacuation cut off many non-combat troops, with over 1,800 of 3,100 soldiers successfully evacuated and more than 1,300 missing drowned in the lake. Two weeks after Hukou’s fall, the Japanese reached Jiujiang and overtook it after a five-day battle. The retreat left civilians stranded, and the Jiujiang Massacre followed: about 90,000 civilians were killed, with mass executions of POWs, rapes, and widespread destruction of districts, factories, and transport. Subsequently, the Southern Riverline Campaign saw Japanese detachments along the river advance westward, capturing Ruichang, Ruoxi, and other areas through October, stretching Chinese defenses thin as Japan pressed toward Wuchang and beyond. On July 26, 1938, the Japanese occupied Jiujiang and immediately divided their forces into three routes: advancing toward De’an and Nanchang, then striking Changsha, severing the Yue-Han Railway, and surrounding Wuhan in an effort to annihilate the Chinese field army. The advance of the 101st and 106th Infantry Divisions slowed south of the Yangtze River, yet the Central China Expeditionary Army remained intent on seizing Ruichang and De’an to cut off Chinese forces around Mount Lu. To this end, the 9th and 27th Infantry Divisions were deployed to the sector, with the 9th regarded as an experienced unit that had fought in earlier campaigns, while the 27th was newly formed in the summer of 1938; this contrast underscored the rapidly expanding scope of the war in China as the Japanese Army General Staff continued mobilizing reservists and creating new formations. According to the operational plan, the 101st and 106th Divisions would push south toward De’an to pin Chinese defenders, while the 9th and 27th Divisions would envelop Chinese forces south of the river. Okamura Yasuji ordered five battalions from the 9th to move toward De’an via Ruichang, and the Hata Detachment was tasked with securing the area northwest of Ruichang to protect the 9th’s flank. North of the Yangtze, the 6th Infantry Division was to move from Huangmei to Guangji, with Tianjiazhen as the ultimate objective; capturing Tianjiazhen would allow the 11th Army to converge on Wuhan from both north and south of the river. The operation began when the 9th Division landed at Jiujiang, threatening the left flank of the Jinguanqiao line. The Chinese responded by deploying the 1st Corps to counter the 9th Division’s left flank, which threatened the Maruyama Detachment’s lines of communication. The Maruyama Detachment counterattacked successfully, enabling the rest of the 9th Division to seize Ruichang on August 24; on the same day, the 9th attacked the 30th Army defending Mount Min. The Chinese defense deteriorated on the mountain, and multiple counterattacks by Chinese divisions failed, forcing the 1st Corps to retreat to Mahuiling. The seizure of Ruichang and the surrounding area was followed by a wave of atrocities, with Japanese forces inflicting substantial casualties, destroying houses, and damaging property, and crimes including murder, rape, arson, torture, and looting devastating many villages and livelihoods in the Ruichang area. After Ruichang and Mount Min fell, the Maruyama Detachment and the 106th Infantry Division advanced on Mahuiling, seeking to encircle Chinese forces from the northwest, with the 106th forming the inner ring and the Maruyama Detachment the outer ring; this coordination led to Mahuiling’s fall on September 3. The 27th Infantry Division, arriving in late August, landed east of Xiaochikou, providing the manpower to extend Japanese offensives beyond the Yangtze’s banks and outflank Chinese defenders along the river. Its main objective was to seize the Rui-wu highway, a vital route for the continued advance toward Wuhan. After the fall of Mahuiling, Japanese command altered its strategy. The 11th Army ordered the Maruyama Detachment to rejoin the 9th Infantry Division and press westward, while the 101st Infantry Division was to remain at Mahuiling and push south toward De’an along with the 106th Infantry Division. This divergent or “eccentric” offensive aimed to advance on Wuhan while protecting the southern flank. The renewed offensive began on September 11, 1938, with the 9th Infantry Division and Hata Detachment advancing west along the Rui-yang and Rui-wu highways toward Wuhan, followed days later by the 27th Infantry Division. Initially, the Japanese made solid progress from Ruichang toward a line centered on Laowuge, but soon faced formidable Chinese defenses. The 9th and 27th Divisions confronted the Chinese 2nd Army Corps, which had prepared in-depth positions in the mountains west of Sanchikou and Xintanpu. The 27th Division encountered stiff resistance from the 18th and 30th Corps, and although it captured Xiaoao by September 24, its vanguard advancing west of Shujie came under heavy attack from the 91st, 142nd, 60th, and 6th Reserve Infantry Divisions, threatening to encircle it. Only the southward advance of the 101st and 106th Divisions relieved the pressure, forcing the Chinese to redeploy the 91st and 6th Reserve Divisions to the south and thereby loosening the 27th’s grip. After the redeployment, the 9th and 27th Divisions resumed their push. The 9th crossed the Fu Shui on October 9 and took Sanjikou on October 16, while the 27th seized Xintanpu on October 18. The Hata Detachment followed, capturing Yangxin on October 18 and Ocheng on October 23, further tightening Japanese control over the highways toward Wuhan. By mid-October, 11th Army commander Okamura Yasuji resolved to sever the Guangzhou-Hankou railway to disrupt Chinese lines. On October 22, the 9th and 27th Divisions attacked toward Jinniu and Xianning. By October 27, the 9th had captured Jinniu and cut the railway; the 27th Division extended the disruption further south. These actions effectively isolated Wuchang from the south, giving the Imperial Japanese Army greater leverage over the southern approaches to Wuhan. The push south by the 101st and 106th Infantry Divisions pressed toward De’an, where they encountered the entrenched Chinese 1st Army Corps. The offensive began on September 16 and by the 24th, elements of the 27th Division penetrated deep into the area west of Baishui Street and De’an’s environs. Recognizing the growing crisis, Xue Yue mobilized the nearby 91st and 142nd Divisions, who seized Nanping Mountain along the Ruiwu Line overnight, effectively cutting off the 27th Division’s retreat. Fierce combat on the 25th and 26th saw Yang Jialiu, commander of the 360th Regiment of the 60th Division, die a heroic death. Zhang Zhihe, chief of staff of the 30th Group Army and an underground CCP member, commanded the newly formed 13th Division and the 6th Division to annihilate the Suzuki Regiment and recapture Qilin Peak. Learning of the 27th Division’s trap, Okamura Yasuji panicked and, on the 25th, urgently ordered the 123rd, 145th, and 147th Infantry Regiments and mountain artillery of the 106th Division on the Nanxun Line, along with the 149th Regiment of the 101st Division on the Dexing Line, to rush to Mahuiling and Xingzi. To adapt to mountain warfare, some units were temporarily converted to packhorse formations. On the 27th, the 106th Division broke through the Wutailing position with force, splitting into two groups and pushing toward Erfangzheng and Lishan. By the 28th, the three regiments and mountain artillery of the 106th Division advanced into the mountain villages of Wanjialing, Leimingguliu, Shibaoshan, Nantianpu, Beixijie, and Dunshangguo, about 50 li west of De’an. On the same day, the 149th Regiment of the 101st Division entered the Wanjialing area and joined the 106th Division. Commanded by Lieutenant General Junrokuro Matsuura, the 106th Division sought to break out of Baicha and disrupt the Nanwu Highway to disrupt the Chinese retreat from De’an. At this juncture, Xue Yue’s corps perceived the Japanese advance as a predatory, wolf-like maneuver and deemed it a strategic opportunity to counterattack. He resolved to pull forces from Dexing, Nanxun, and Ruiwu to envelop the enemy near Wanjialing, with the aim of annihilating them. Thus began a desperate, pivotal battle between China and Japan in northern Jiangxi, centered on the Wanjialing area. The Japanese 106th Division found its rear communications cut off around September 28, 1938, as the Chinese blockade tightened. Despite the 27th Division’s severed rear and its earlier defeat at Qilin Peak, Okamura Yasuji ordered a renewed push to relieve the besieged 106th by directing the 27th Division to attack Qilin Peak and advance east of Baishui Street. In this phase, the 27th Division dispatched the remnants of its 3rd Regiment to press the assault on Qilin Peak, employing poison gas and briefly reaching the summit. On September 29, the 142nd Division of the 32nd Army, under Shang Zhen, coordinated with the 752nd Regiment of the same division to launch a fierce counterattack on Qilin Peak at Zenggai Mountain west of Xiaoao. After intense fighting, they reclaimed the peak, thwarting the 27th Division’s bid to move eastward to aid the 106th. Concurrently, a portion of the 123rd Regiment of the 106th Division attempted a breakout west of Baishui Street. Our 6th and 91st Divisions responded with a determined assault from the east of Xiaoao, blocking the 123rd Regiment east of Baishui Street. The victories at Qilin Peak and Baishui Street halted any merger between the eastern and western Japanese forces, enabling the Chinese army to seal the pocket and create decisive conditions for encircling the 106th Division and securing victory in the Battle of Wanjialing. After the setback at Qilin Peak, Division Commander Masaharu Homma, defying Okamura Yasuji’s orders to secure Baishui Street, redirected his focus to Tianhe Bridge under a pretext of broader operations. He neglected the heavily encircled 106th Division and pivoted toward Xintanpu. By September 30, Chinese forces attacked from both the east and west, with the 90th and 91st Divisions joining the assault on the Japanese positions. On October 1, the Japanese, disoriented and unable to pinpoint their own unit locations, telegrammed Okamura Yasuji for air support. On October 2, the First Corps received orders to tighten the encirclement and annihilate the enemy forces. Deployments were made to exploit a numerical advantage and bolster morale, placing the Japanese in a desperate position. On October 3, 1938, the 90th and 91st Divisions launched a concerted attack on Nantianpu, delivering heavy damage to the Japanese force and showering Leimingguliu with artillery fire that endangered the 106th Division headquarters. By October 5, Chinese forces reorganized: the 58th Division of the 74th Army advanced from the south, the 90th Division of the 4th Army from the east, portions of the 6th and 91st Divisions from the west, and the 159th and 160th Divisions of the 65th Army from the north, tightening the surrounding cordon from four directions. On October 6, Xue Yue ordered a counterattack, and by October 7 the Chinese army had effectively cut off all retreat routes. That evening, after fierce hand-to-hand combat, the 4th Army regained the hilltop, standing at a 100-meter-high position, and thwarted any Japanese plan to break through Baicha and sever Chinese retreat toward De’an. By October 8, Lieutenant Colonel Sakurada Ryozo, the 106th Division’s staff officer, reported the division’s deteriorating situation to headquarters. The telegram signaled the impending collapse of the 106th Division. On October 9, Kuomintang forces recaptured strategic positions such as Lishan, tightening encirclement to a small pocket of about three to four square kilometers in Nantianpu, Leimingguliu, and Panjia. That night, the vanguard attacked the Japanese 106th Division’s headquarters at Leimingguliu, engaging in close combat with the Japanese. Matsuura and the division’s staff then took up arms in defense. In the early hours of October 10, Japanese forces launched flares that illuminated only a narrow arc of movement, and a limited number of troops fled northwest toward Yangfang Street. The two and a half month battle inflicted tremendous casualties on the Japanese, particularly on the 101st and 106th divisions. These two formations began with a combined strength of over 47,000 troops and ultimately lost around 30,000 men in the fighting. The high casualty rate hit the Japanese officer corps especially hard, forcing General Shunroku Hata to frequently airdrop replacement officers onto the besieged units’ bases throughout the engagement. For the Chinese, the successful defense of Wanjialing was pivotal to the Wuhan campaign. Zooming out at a macro level a lot of action was occurring all over the place. Over in Shandong, 1,000 soldiers under Shi Yousan, who had defected multiple times between rival warlord cliques and operated as an independent faction, occupied Jinan and held it for a few days. Guerrillas briefly controlled Yantai. East of Changzhou extending to Shanghai, another non-government Chinese force, led by Dai Li, employed guerrilla tactics in the Shanghai suburbs and across the Huangpu River. This force included secret society members from the Green Gang and the Tiandihui, who conducted executions of spies and perceived traitors, losing more than 100 men in the course of operations. On August 13, members of this force clandestinely entered the Japanese air base at Hongqiao and raised a Chinese flag. Meanwhile, the Japanese Sixth Division breached the defensive lines of Chinese 31st and 68th Armies on July 24 and captured Taihu, Susong, and Huangmei Counties by August 3. As Japanese forces advanced westward, the Chinese Fourth Army of the Fifth War Zone deployed its main strength in Guangji, Hubei, and Tianjia Town to intercept the offensive. The 11th Army Group and the 68th Army were ordered to form a defensive line in Huangmei County, while the 21st and 29th Army Groups, along with the 26th Army, moved south to outflank the Japanese. The Chinese recaptured Taihu on August 27 and Susong on August 28. However, with Japanese reinforcements arriving on August 30, the Chinese 11th Army Group and the 68th Army were unable to sustain counteroffensives and retreated to Guangji County to continue resisting alongside the 26th, 55th, and 86th Armies. The Chinese Fourth Army Group directed the 21st and 29th Army Groups to flank the Japanese from the northeast of Huangmei, but they failed to halt the Japanese advance. Guangji fell on September 6, and while Guangji was recovered by the Chinese Fourth Corps on September 8, Wuxue was lost on the same day. Zooming back in on the Wuhan Front, the Japanese focus shifted to Tianjiazhen. The fortress of Tianjiazhen represented the 6th Infantry Division’s most important objective. Its geographic position, where the Yangtze’s two banks narrow to roughly 600 meters, with cliffs and high ground overlooking the river, allowed Chinese forces to deploy gun batteries that could control the river and surrounding terrain. Chinese control of Tianjiazhen thus posed a serious obstacle to Japan’s amphibious and logistical operations on the Yangtze, and its seizure was deemed essential for Japan to advance toward Wuhan. Taking Tianjiazhen would not be easy: overland approaches were impeded by mountainous terrain on both sides of the fortress, while an amphibious assault faced fortified positions and minefields in the narrow river. Recognizing its strategic importance, Chinese forces reinforced Tianjiazhen with three divisions from central government troops, aiming to deter an overland assault. Chinese preparations included breaching several dykes and dams along the Yangtze to flood expanses of land and slow the Japanese advance; however, the resulting higher water levels widened the river and created a more accessible supply route for the Japanese. Instead of relying on a long overland route from Anqing to Susong, the Japanese could now move supplies directly up the Yangtze from Jiujiang to Huangmei, a distance of only about 40 kilometers, which boosted the 6th Division’s logistics and manpower. In August 1938 the 6th Infantry Division resumed its northward push, facing determined resistance from the 4th Army Corps entrenched in a narrow defile south of the Dabie Mountains, with...
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3.172 Fall and Rise of China: Road to Wuhan
10/20/2025
3.172 Fall and Rise of China: Road to Wuhan
Last time we spoke about the flooding of the Yellow River. As Japanese forces pressed toward central China, Chiang Kai-shek weighed a desperate gamble: defend majestic Wuhan with costly sieges, or unleash a radical plan that would flood its heart. Across/Xuzhou, Taierzhuang, and the Yellow River’s bend near Zhengzhou, commanders fought a brutal, grinding war. Chinese units, battered yet stubborn, executed strategic retreats and furious counteroffensives. But even as brave soldiers stalled the enemy, the longer fight threatened to drain a nation’s will and leave millions unprotected. Then a striking idea surfaced: breach the dikes of the Yellow River at Huayuankou and flood central China to halt the Japanese advance. The plan was terrifying in its moral cost, yet it offered a temporary shield for Wuhan and time to regroup. Workers, farmers, soldiers, laborers—pushed aside fear and toiled through the night, water rising like a raging tide. The flood bought months, not victory. It punished civilians as much as it protected soldiers, leaving a nation to confront its own hard choices and the haunting question: was survival worth the price? #172 The Road to Wuhan Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Following the Battle of Xuzhou and the breaching of the Yangtze dykes, Wuhan emerged as Japan’s next military objective for political, economic, and strategic reasons. Wuhan served as the interim capital of the Kuomintang government, making it a crucial center of political authority. Its fall would deprive China of a vital rail and river hub, thereby further crippling the Chinese war effort. From a strategic perspective, Japanese control of a major rail and river junction on the Yangtze would enable westward expansion and provide a base for further advances into central and southern China. For these reasons, the Intelligence Division of the Army General Staff assessed that the capture of Wuhan would likely deliver the decisive blow needed to conclude the Second Sino-Japanese War. Recognizing Wuhan’s strategic importance, both the National Revolutionary Army and the Imperial Japanese Army committed substantial forces to the city and its approaches. The IJA deployed roughly 400,000 troops, while the NRA fielded at least 800,000. China began the war with an estimated regular force of 1.7 to 2.2 million men, organized into six broad loyalty-based categories around Chiang Kai-shek’s command. Directly loyal troops formed the first group, followed by a second tier of soldiers who had previously supported Chiang but were less tightly controlled. The next category consisted of provincial troops that Chiang could ordinarily influence, while a fourth group included provincial units over which his sway was weaker. The fifth category comprised Communist forces, the Eighth Route Army in the northwest and the New Fourth Army forming in the central Yangtze region. The final category consisted of Northeastern or Manchurian units loyal to Zhang Xueliang, known as the “Young Marshal.” The first two categories together accounted for roughly 900,000 men, with about a million more in independent provincial armies, and roughly 300,000 in Communist and Manchurian forces. As commander-in-chief, Chiang could effectively command only about half of the mobilizable units at the outbreak of war in July 1937, which meant that military decisions were often slow, fraught with negotiation, and administratively cumbersome. Division-level coordination and communication proved particularly challenging, a stark contrast to the Japanese command structure, which remained clean and disciplined. Geographically, most of Chiang’s loyal troops were located in the corridor between the Yangtze and the Yellow rivers at the start of 1938. Having participated heavily in the defense of Shanghai and Nanjing, they retreated to Wuhan at about half strength, with an already decimated officer corps. They then numbered around 400,000 and were commanded by generals Chen Cheng and Hu Zongnan. The northern regional armies, especially Han Fuju’s forces in Shandong, had suffered severe losses; some units defected to the Japanese and later served as puppet troops. After six months of Japanese onslaught that cost the coastal and central regions—Peiping-Tianjin to Shanghai and inland toward Nanjing—much of the relatively autonomous, sizable armies remained from the southwest or northwest, under leaders such as Li Zongren, Bai Chongxi (Guangxi), Long Yun (Yunnan), and Yan Xishan (Shanxi and Suiyuan). Roughly 700,000 of these troops—predominantly from Guangxi under Li and Bai—were committed to the defense of Wuhan. The Communist forces, by contrast, numbered about 100,000 and remained relatively unscathed in bases north and east of Xi’an. In total, approximately 1.3 million men were under arms in defense of Wuhan. In December 1937, the Military Affairs Commission was established to determine Wuhan’s defense strategy. Following the loss of Xuzhou, the National Revolutionary Army redeployed approximately 1.1 million troops across about 120 divisions. The commission organized the defense around three main fronts: the Dabie Mountains, Poyang Lake, and the Yangtze River, in response to an estimated 200,000 Japanese troops spread over 20 divisions of the Imperial Japanese Army. Li Zongren and Bai Chongxi, commanding the Fifth War Zone, were assigned to defend the north of the Yangtze, while Chen Cheng, commanding the Ninth War Zone, was tasked with defending the south. The First War Zone, situated to the west of the Zhengzhou–Xinyang segment of the Pinghan Railway, was responsible for halting Japanese forces advancing from the North China Plain, and the Third War Zone, located between Wuhu, Anqing, and Nanchang, was charged with protecting the Yuehan Railway. Following the Japanese occupation of Xuzhou in May 1938, they sought to expand the invasion. The IJA decided to dispatch a vanguard to occupy Anqing as a forward base for an assault on Wuhan. The main force would then advance north of the Dabie Mountains along the Huai River, with the objective of eventually capturing Wuhan via the Wusheng Pass. A second detachment would move west along the Yangtze. However, a flood from the Yellow River forced the IJA to abandon plans to advance along the Huai and instead to attack along both banks of the Yangtze. Despite Chinese numerical superiority on the Wuhan front, roughly a 2:1 advantage, the offensive faced several complicating factors. The NRA was a heterogeneous, fragmented force with a variety of tables of organization and equipment, and it lacked the unified command structure that characterized the IJA. Historian Richard Frank notes the broad diversity of Chinese forces at the outbreak of the war, which hindered cohesive mobile and strategic operations: “Chiang commanded armies of 2,029,000 troops of highly variegated capability and loyalty. His personal forces included an elite cadre of three hundred-thousand German-trained and eighty-thousand German armed men. A second stratum of the Chinese armies, numbering roughly 600,000 included various regional commands loyal to Chiang in the past that generally conformed to his directives. These troops were better armed and trained than the rest. The third category encompassed a million men who were neither loyal nor obedient to Chiang”. The NRA faced a significant disadvantage in both quantity and quality of equipment compared to the Japanese. The disparity was stark in artillery allocations. An IJA infantry division possessed 48 field and mountain guns, whereas a German-equipped Chinese division had only 16. In terms of regiment and battalion guns, a Japanese division had 56, while a German-equipped Chinese division possessed just 30. Of roughly 200 Chinese infantry divisions in 1937, only 20 were German-equipped, and merely eight of those met their paper-strength standards. Many Chinese divisions had no artillery at all, and those that did often lacked radios or forward-observation capabilities to ensure accurate fire. These deficiencies placed the NRA at a clear disadvantage in firepower when facing the Japanese. These equipment gaps were compounded by poor training and tactical doctrine. The NRA lacked adequate training facilities and did not incorporate sufficient field maneuvers, gun handling, or marksmanship into its program. Although the 1935 drill manual introduced small-group “open order” tactics, many formations continued to fight in close-order formations. In an era when increased firepower rendered close-order tactics obsolete, such formations became a liability. The NRA’s failure to adapt dispersed assault formations limited its tactical effectiveness. Defensively, the NRA also faced serious shortcomings. Units were often ordered to create deep positions near key lines of communication, but Chinese forces became overly dependent on fixed fortifications, which immobilized their defense. Poor intelligence on Japanese movements and a lack of mobile reserves, there were only about 3,000 military vehicles in China in 1937, meant that Japanese infantry could easily outflank fixed NRA positions. Moreover, the Japanese enjoyed superiority in artillery, enabling them to suppress these fixed positions more effectively. These realities left Chinese defenses vulnerable, especially in the war’s first year. The leadership deficit within the NRA, reflected in limited officer training, further constrained operational effectiveness. Chiang Kai-shek reportedly warned that Chinese commanders often equaled their counterparts in rank but did not outmatch them in competence. Only 2,000 commanders and staff officers had received training by 1937, and many staff officers had no military training at all. Overall, about 29.1 percent of NRA officers had no military education, severely limiting professional development and command capability. With the exception of the Guangxi divisions, Chinese units were hampered by an unnecessarily complex command structure. Orders from Chiang Kai-shek needed to pass through six tiers before action could be taken, slowing decision-making and responsiveness. In addition, Chiang favored central army units under direct control with loyal commanders from the Whampoa clique when distributing equipment, a pattern that bred discord and insubordination across levels of the Chinese field forces. Beyond structural issues, the Chinese force organization suffered from a lack of coherence due to competing influences. The forces had been reorganized along German-inspired lines, creating large field armies arranged as “war zones,” while Russian influence shaped strategic positioning through a division into “front” and “route” armies and separate rear-area service units. This mix yielded an incoherent force facing the Japanese. Troop placement and support procedures lacked rationalization: Chiang and his generals often sought to avoid decisive confrontation with Japan to minimize the risk of irreversible defeat, yet they also rejected a broad adoption of guerrilla warfare as a systematic tactic. The tendency to emphasize holding railway lines and other communications tied down the main fighting forces, around which the Japanese could maneuver more easily, reducing overall operational flexibility. Despite these deficiencies, NRA officers led roughly 800,000 Chinese troops deployed for the Battle of Wuhan. On the Wuhan approaches, four war zones were organized under capable if overextended leadership: 1st, 3rd, 5th, and 9th. The 5th War Zone, commanded by Li Zongren, defended north of the Yangtze to protect the Beijing–Wuhan railway. Chen Cheng’s Ninth War Zone defended south of the Yangtze, aiming to prevent seizure of Jiujiang and other key cities on approaches to Wuhan. The 1st War Zone focused on stopping Japanese forces from the northern plains, while Gu Zhutong’s 3rdWar Zone, deployed between Wuhu, Anqing, and Nanchang, defended the Yuehan railway and fortified the Yangtze River. Japan’s Central China Expeditionary Army, commanded by Hata Shunroku, spearheaded the Wuhan advance. The CCEA consisted of two armies: the 2nd Army, which included several infantry divisions under Prince Naruhiko Higashikuni, and the 11th Army, advancing along the Yangtze’s northern and southern banks under Okamura Yasuji. The 2nd Army aimed to push through the Dabie Mountains and sever Wuhan from the north, while the 11th Army would converge on Wuhan in a concentric operation to envelop the city. The Japanese forces were augmented by 120 ships from the 3rd Fleet of the Imperial Japanese Navy under Koshirō Oikawa, more than 500 aircraft from the Imperial Japanese Army Air Service, and five divisions from the Central China Area Army tasked with guarding Shanghai, Beijing, Hangzhou, and other key cities. These forces were intended to protect the back of the main Japanese thrust and complete the preparations for a major battle. The Kuomintang, led by Chiang Kai-shek, was acutely aware that Japan aimed to strike at Wuhan. Facing Japan’s firepower and bold offensives, Chiang and his commanders pursued a strategy of attrition at the Wuchang conference in January 1938. Central China would be the primary theater of China’s protracted struggle, distant from Japan’s existing center of gravity in Manchuria. Chiang hoped Japan’s manpower and resources would be exhausted as the empire pushed deeper into Central China. Eventually, Japan would be forced either to negotiate a settlement with China or to seek foreign assistance to obtain raw materials. The mountainous terrain to the north and south of the Yangtze presented natural obstacles that the Chinese believed would hinder large-scale concentration of Japanese forces. North of the Yangtze, the Dabie Mountains provided crucial flank protection; to the south, rugged, roadless terrain made expansive maneuvering difficult. In addition to these natural barriers, Chinese forces fortified the region with prepared, in-depth defenses, particularly in the mountains. The rugged terrain was expected to help hold back the Japanese offensive toward Wuhan and inflict substantial casualties on the attackers. The Yangtze itself was a critical defensive factor. Although the Chinese Navy was largely absent, they implemented several measures to impede amphibious operations. They constructed gun positions at key points where the river narrowed, notably around the strongholds at Madang and Tianjiazhen. Specialized units, such as the Riverine Defense Force, were deployed to defend these river fortifications against amphibious assaults. To reinforce the Riverine Defense Force, Chinese forces sank 79 ships in the Yangtze to create obstacles for potential Japanese naval advances. They also laid thousands of mines to constrain Japanese warships. These defensive measures were designed to slow the Japanese advance and complicate their logistics. The Chinese aimed to exploit stalled offensives to strike at exposed flanks and disrupted supply lines, leveraging terrain and fortified positions to offset Japan’s superior firepower. On 18 February 1938, an Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service strike force comprising at least 11 A5M fighters of the 12th and 13th Kōkūtais, led by Lieutenant Takashi Kaneko, and 15 G3M bombers of the Kanoya Kokutai, led by Lieutenant Commander Sugahisa Tuneru, raided Wuhan and engaged 19 Chinese Air Force I-15 fighters from the 22nd and 23rd Pursuit Squadrons and 10 I-16 fighters from the 21st Pursuit Squadron, all under the overall command of the 4th Pursuit Group CO Captain Li Guidan. They faced a Soviet Volunteer Group mix of Polikarpov fighters as well. The 4th Group fighters claimed at least four A5Ms shot down, while the Soviet group claimed no fewer than three A5Ms. Both the Japanese fighter group commander, Lieutenant Kaneko, and the Chinese fighter group commander, Captain Li, were killed in action during the battle. A largely intact A5M downed in the engagement was recovered with a damaged engine; it was the second intact A5M to be recovered, repaired, and flight-tested in the war, following the first recovered-intact A5M credited to Colonel Gao Zhihang during an air battle over Nanjing on 12 October 1937. On 3 August 1938, 52 Chinese fighters, including 20 I-15s, 13 I-16s, 11 Gloster Gladiators, and 7 Hawk IIIs, intercepted at least 29 A5Ms and 18 G3Ms over Hankou. The Guangxi era pilots Zhu Jiaxun and He Jermin, along with Chinese-American fighter pilots Arthur Chin and Louie Yim-qun, all flying Gladiators, claimed at least four A5Ms shot down on that day. The Wuhan Campaign began in earnest when the Imperial Japanese Army’s 3rd and 13th Infantry Divisions advanced north of the Yangtze River. Central China Expeditionary Army commander Hata Shunroku designated Shouxian, Zhengyangguan, and the Huainan coal mine as the objectives for the 3rd and 13th Infantry Divisions. Meanwhile, the 6th Infantry Division, part of the 11th Army, advanced toward Anqing from Hefei. The 6th Infantry Division coordinated with the Hata Detachment, which launched an amphibious assault from the river. The 2nd Army’s sector saw immediate success. On June 3, the 3rd Infantry Division seized the Huainan coal mine; two days later, it captured Shouxian. The 13th Infantry Division also secured Zhengyangguan on that day. The 6th Infantry Division then made rapid progress immediately north of the Yangtze River, taking Shucheng on June 8 and Tongcheng on June 13. These advances forced the Chinese 77th Corps and the 21st and 26th Army Groups to withdraw to a line spanning Huoshan, Lu’an, and Fuyang. More critically, the Hata Detachment crossed the Yangtze River and landed behind the Chinese 27th Army Group’s 20th Corps. The sudden appearance of Japanese forces in their rear forced the two Chinese divisions defending Anqing to withdraw. The fall of Anqing represented a major Japanese success, as they gained control of an airfield crucial for receiving close air support. After battles around Shucheng, Tongcheng, and Anqing, all three cities and their surrounding countryside suffered extensive damage. Much of this damage resulted from air raids that indiscriminately targeted soldiers and civilians alike. In Shucheng, the raids were reportedly aided by a Chinese traitor who displayed a red umbrella to guide daylight bombing on May 10, 1938. This air raid caused substantial destruction, killing or wounding at least 160 people and destroying more than a thousand homes. The town of Yimen also endured aerial destruction, with raids killing over 400 people and destroying 7,000 homes. Yimen and Shucheng were among many Chinese towns subjected to terror bombing, contributing to widespread civilian casualties and the destruction of livelihoods across China. The broader pattern of air raids was enabled by a lack of quality fighter aircraft and trained pilots, allowing Japanese bombers free rein against Chinese cities, towns, and villages. While the aerial assaults caused immense damage, the atrocities committed in these cities were even more severe. In Anhui, where Shucheng, Anqing, and Tongcheng were...
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3.171 Fall and Rise of China: Flooding of the Yellow River
10/13/2025
3.171 Fall and Rise of China: Flooding of the Yellow River
Last time we spoke about the Battle of Taierzhuang. Following the fall of Nanjing in December 1937, the Second Sino-Japanese War entered a brutal phase of attrition as Japan sought to consolidate control and press toward central China. Chinese defense prioritized key rail corridors and urban strongholds, with Xuzhou, the JinPu and Longhai lines, and the Huai River system forming crucial lifelines. By early 1938, Japanese offensives aimed to link with forces around Beijing and Nanjing and encircle Chinese positions in the Central Yangtze region, threatening Wuhan. In response, Chiang Kai-shek fortified Xuzhou and expanded defenses to deter a pincer move, eventually amassing roughly 300,000 troops along strategic lines. Taierzhuang became a focal point when Japanese divisions attempted to press south and link with northern elements. Chinese commanders Li Zongren, Bai Chongxi, Tang Enbo, and Sun Lianzhong coordinated to complicate Japanese plans through offensive-defensive actions, counterattacks, and encirclement efforts. The victory, though numerically costly, thwarted immediate Japanese objectives and foreshadowed further attritional struggles ahead. #171 The Flooding of the Yellow River Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. We last left off with a significant event during the Xuzhou campaign. Three Japanese divisions under General Itagaki Seishiro moved south to attack Taierzhuang and were met by forces commanded by Li Zongren, Sun Lianzhong, and Tang Enbo, whose units possessed a decent amount of artillery. In a two-week engagement from March 22 to April 7, the battle devolved into a costly urban warfare. Fighting was vicious, often conducted in close quarters and at night. The urban environment negated Japanese advantages in armor and artillery, allowing Chinese forces to contend on equal terms. The Chinese also disrupted Japanese logistics by resupplying their own troops and severing rear supply lines, draining Japanese ammunition, supplies, and reinforcements. By April 7, the Japanese were compelled to retreat, marking the first Chinese victory of the war. However both sides suffered heavy losses, with around 20,000 casualties on each side. In the aftermath of this rare victory, Chiang Kai-Shek pushed Tang Enbo and Li Zongren to capitalize on their success and increased deployments in the Taierzhuang theater to about 450,000 troops. Yet the Chinese Army remained hampered by fundamental problems. The parochialism that had crippled Chiang’s forces over the preceding months resurfaced. Although the generals had agreed to coordinate in a war of resistance, each still prioritized the safety of his own troops, wary of Chiang’s bid to consolidate power. Li Zongren, for example, did not deploy his top Guangxi provincial troops at Taierzhuang and sought to shift most of the fighting onto Tang Enbo’s forces. Chiang’s colleagues were mindful of the fates of Han Fuju of Shandong and Zhang Xueliang of Manchuria: Han was executed for refusing to fight, while Zhang, after allowing Chiang to reduce the size of his northeastern army, ended up under house arrest. They were right to distrust Chiang. He believed, after all, that provincial armies should come under a unified national command, which he would lead. From a national-unity perspective, his aspiration was not unreasonable. But it fed suspicion among other military leaders that participation in the anti-Japanese war would dilute their power. The divided nature of the command also hindered logistics, making ammunition and food supplies to the front unreliable and easy to cut off. By late April the Chinese had reinforced the Xuzhou area to between 450,000-600,000 to capitalize on their victory. However these armies were plagued with command and control issues. Likewise the Japanese licked their wounds and reinforced the area to roughly 400,000, with fresh troops and supplies flowing in from Tianjin and Nanjing. The Japanese continued with their objective of encircling Chinese forces. The North China Area Army comprised four divisions and two infantry brigades drawn from the Kwantung Army, while the Central China Expeditionary Army consisted of three divisions and the 1st and 2nd Tank Battalions along with motorized support units. The 5th Tank Battalion supported the 3rd Infantry Division as it advanced north along the railway toward Xuzhou. Fighting to the west, east, and north of Xuzhou was intense, resulting in heavy casualties on both sides. On 18 April, the Japanese advanced southward toward Pizhou. Tang Enbo's 20th Army Corps, together with the 2nd, 22nd, 46th, and 59th corps, resisted fiercely, culminating in a stalemate by the end of April. The 60th Corps of the Yunnan Army engaged the Japanese 10th Division at Yuwang Mountain for nearly a month, repelling multiple assaults. By the time it ceded its position to the Guizhou 140th Division and withdrew on 15 May, the corps had sustained losses exceeding half of its forces. Simultaneously, the Japanese conducted offensives along both banks of the Huai River, where Chinese defenders held out for several weeks. Nevertheless, Japanese artillery and aerial bombardment gradually tilted the balance, allowing the attackers to seize Mengcheng on 9 May and Hefei on 14 May. From there, the southern flank split into two parts: one force moved west and then north to cut off the Longhai Railway escape route from Xuzhou, while another division moved directly north along the railway toward Suxian, just outside Xuzhou. Simultaneously, to the north, Japanese units from north China massed at Jining and began moving south beyond Tengxian. Along the coast, an amphibious landing was made at Lianyungang to reinforce troops attacking from the east. The remaining portions of Taierzhuang were captured in May, a development symbolically significant to Tokyo. On 17 May, Japanese artillery further tightened the noose around Xuzhou, striking targets inside the city. To preserve its strength, the Nationalist government ordered the abandonment of Xuzhou and directed its main forces to break out toward northern Jiangsu, northern Anhui, and eastern Henan. To deter the Japanese army’s rapid westward advance and penetration into northern Henan and western Shandong, many leading military and political figures within the Nationalist government proposed breaching dams over the Yellow River to delay the offensive, a strategy that would have been highly advantageous to the Nationalist forces at the time. Chiang Kai-shek vetoed the proposal outright, insisting that the Nationalist army could still resist. He understood that with tens of millions of Chinese lives at stake and a sliver of hope remaining, the levee plan must not be undertaken. Then a significant battle broke out at Lanfeng. Chiang also recognized that defeat could allow the elite Japanese mechanized divisions, the 14th, 16th, and 10th, to advance directly toward Zhengzhou. If Zhengzhou fell, the Japanese mechanized forces on the plains could advance unimpeded toward Tongguan. Their southward push would threaten Xi’an, Xiangfan, and Nanyang, directly jeopardizing the southwest’s rear defenses. Concurrently, the Japanese would advance along the Huai River north of the Dabie Mountains toward Wuhan, creating a pincer with operations along the Yangtze River. Now what followed was arguably the most important and skillful Chinese maneuver of the Xuzhou campaign: a brilliantly executed strategic retreat to the south and west across the Jinpu railway line. On May 15, Li Zongren, in consultation with Chiang Kai-shek, decided to withdraw from Xuzhou and focus on an escape plan. The evacuation of civilians and military personnel began that day. Li ordered troops to melt into the countryside and move south and west at night, crossing the Jinpu Railway and splitting into four groups that would head west. The plan was to regroup in the rugged Dabie Mountains region to the south and prepare for the defense of Wuhan. Li’s generals departed reluctantly, having held out for so long; Tang Enbo was said to have wept. Under cover of night, about forty divisions, over 200,000 men, marched out of Japanese reach in less than a week. A critical moment occurred on May 18, when fog and a sandstorm obscured the retreating troops as they crossed the Jinpu Railway. By May 21, Li wired Chiang Kai-shek to report that the withdrawal was complete. He mobilized nearly all of the Kuomintang Central Army’s elite units, such as the 74th Army, withdrawn from Xuzhou and transferred directly to Lanfeng, with a resolute intent to “burn their boats.” The force engaged the Japanese in a decisive battle at Lanfeng, aiming to secure the last line of defense for the Yellow River, a position carrying the lives of millions of Chinese civilians. Yet Chiang Kai-shek’s strategy was not universally understood by all participating generals, who regarded it as akin to striking a rock with an egg. For the battle of Lanfeng the Chinese mobilized nearly all of the Kuomintang Central Army’s elite forces, comprising 14 divisions totaling over 150,000 men. Among these, the 46th Division of the 27th Army, formerly the Central Training Brigade and the 36th, 88th, and 87th Divisions of the 71st Army were German-equipped. Additionally, the 8th Army, the Tax Police Corps having been reorganized into the Ministry of Finance’s Anti-Smuggling Corps, the 74th Army, and Hu Zongnan’s 17th Corps, the new 1st Army, equipped with the 8th Division were elite Nationalist troops that had demonstrated strong performance in the battle of Shanghai and the battle of Nanjing, and were outfitted with advanced matériel. However, these so-called “elite” forces were heavily degraded during the campaigns in Shanghai and Nanjing. The 46th Division and Hu Zongnan’s 17th Corps sustained casualties above 85% in Nanjing, while the 88th and 87th Divisions suffered losses of up to 90%. The 74th Army and the 36th Division also endured losses exceeding 75%. Their German-made equipment incurred substantial losses; although replenishment occurred, inventories resembled roughly a half-German and half-Chinese mix. With very limited heavy weapons and a severe shortage of anti-tank artillery, they could not effectively match the elite Japanese regiments. Hu Zongnan’s 17th Corps maintained its national equipment via a close relationship with Chiang Kai-shek. In contrast, the 74th Army, after fighting in Shanghai, Nanjing, and Xuzhou, suffered heavy casualties, and the few German weapons it had were largely destroyed at Nanjing, leaving it to rely on a mix of domestically produced and Hanyang-made armaments. The new recruits added to each unit largely lacked combat experience, with nearly half of the intake having received basic training. The hardest hit was Li Hanhun’s 64th Army, established less than a year prior and already unpopular within the Guangdong Army. Although classified as one of the three Type A divisions, the 155th, 156th, and 187th Divisions, it was equipped entirely with Hanyang-made firearms. Its direct artillery battalion possessed only about 20 older mortars and three Type 92 infantry guns, limiting its heavy firepower to roughly that of a Japanese battalion. The 195th Division and several miscellaneous units were even less prominent, reorganized from local militias and lacking Hanyang rifles. Additionally, three batches of artillery purchased from the Soviet Union arrived in Lanzhou via Xinjiang between March and June 1938. Except for the 52nd Artillery Regiment assigned to the 200th Division, the other artillery regiments had recently received their weapons and were still undergoing training. The 200th Division, had been fighting awhile for in the Xuzhou area and incurred heavy casualties, was still in training and could only deploy its remaining tank battalion and armored vehicle company. The tank battalion was equipped with T-26 light tanks and a small number of remaining British Vickers tanks, while the armored vehicle company consisted entirely of Italian Fiat CV33 armored cars. The disparity in numbers was substantial, and this tank unit did not participate in the battle. As for the Japanese, the 14th Division was an elite Type A formation. Originally organized with four regiments totaling over 30,000 men, the division’s strength was later augmented. Doihara’s 14th Division received supplements, a full infantry regiment and three artillery regiments, to prevent it from being surrounded and annihilated, effectively transforming the unit into a mobile reinforced division. Consequently, the division’s mounted strength expanded to more than 40,000 personnel, comprising five infantry regiments and four artillery regiments. The four artillery regiments, the 24th Artillery Regiment, the 3rd Independence Mountain Artillery Regiment, the 5th Field Heavy Artillery Regiment, and the 6th Field Heavy Artillery Regiment, possessed substantial heavy firepower, including 150mm heavy howitzers and 105mm long-range field cannons, placing them far in excess of the Nationalist forces at Lanfeng. In addition, both the 14th and later the 16th Divisions commanded tank regiments with nearly 200 light and medium tanks each, while Nationalist forces were markedly short of anti-tank artillery. At the same time, the Nationalist Air Force, though it had procured more than 200 aircraft of various types from the Soviet Union, remained heavily reliant on Soviet aid-to-China aircraft, amounting to over 100 machines, and could defend only a few cities such as Wuhan, Nanchang, and Chongqing. In this context, Japanese forces effectively dominated the Battle of Lanfeng. Moreover, reports indicate that the Japanese employed poison gas on the battlefield, while elite Nationalist troops possessed only a limited number of gas masks, creating a stark disparity in chemical warfare preparedness. Despite these disparities, Chiang Kai-shek and the Nationalist government were initially unaware of the updated strength and composition of the Doihara Division. Faced with constrained options, Chiang chose to press ahead with combat operations. On May 12, 1939, after crossing the Yellow River, the IJA 14th Division continued its southward advance toward Lanfeng. The division’s objective was to sever the Longhai Railway, disrupt the main Nationalist retreat toward Zhengzhou, and seize Zhengzhou itself. By May 15, the division split into two columns at Caoxian and moved toward key nodes on the Longhai Line. Major General Toyotomi Fusatarou led two infantry regiments, one cavalry regiment, and one artillery regiment in the main assault toward Kaocheng with the aim of directly capturing Lanfeng. Doihara led three infantry regiments and three artillery regiments toward Neihuang and Minquan, threatening Guide. In response, the Nationalist forces concentrated along the railway from Lanfeng to Guide, uniting Song Xilian’s 71st Army, Gui Yongqing’s 27th Army, Yu Jishi’s 74th Army, Li Hanhun’s 64th Army, and Huang Jie’s 8th Army. From May 15 to 17, the Fengjiu Brigade, advancing toward Lanfeng, met stubborn resistance near Kaocheng from roughly five divisions under Song Xilian and was forced to shift its effort toward Yejigang and Neihuang. The defense near Neihuang, including Shen Ke’s 106th Division and Liang Kai’s 195th Division, ultimately faltered, allowing Doihara’s division to seize Neihuang, Yejigang, Mazhuangzhai, and Renheji. Nevertheless, the Nationalist forces managed to contain the Japanese advance east and west of the area, preventing a complete encirclement. Chiang Kai-shek ordered Cheng Qian, commander-in-chief of the 1st War Zone, to encircle and annihilate the Japanese 14th Division. The deployment plan mapped three routes: the Eastern Route Army, under Li Hanhun, would include the 74th Army, the 155th Division of the 64th Army, a brigade of the 88th Division, and a regiment of the 87th Division, advancing westward from Guide); the Western Route Army, commanded by Gui Yongqing, would comprise the 27th Army, the 71st Army, the 61st Division, and the 78th Division, advancing eastward from Lanfeng; and the Northern Route Army, formed by Sun Tongxuan’s 3rd Army and Shang Zhen’s 20th Army, was to cut off the enemy’s retreat to the north bank of the Yellow River near Dingtao, Heze, Dongming, and Kaocheng, while attacking the Doihara Division from the east, west, and north to annihilate it in a single decisive operation. On May 21, the Nationalist Army mounted a full-scale offensive. Yu Jishi’s 74th Army, commanded by Wang Yaowu’s 51st Division, joined a brigade of Song Xilian’s 71st Army, led by the 88th Division, and drove the Japanese forces at Mazhuangzhai into retreat, capturing Neihuang and Renheji. The main Japanese force, more than 6,000 strong, withdrew southwest to Yangjiji and Shuangtaji. Song Xilian, commanding Shen Fazao’s 87th Division, launched a sharp assault on Yejigang (Yifeng). The Japanese abandoned the stronghold, but their main body continued advancing toward Yangjiji, with some units retreating to Donggangtou and Maoguzhai. On May 23, Song Xilian’s 71st Army and Yu Jishi’s 74th Army enveloped and annihilated enemy forces at Donggangtou and Maoguzhai. That evening they seized Ximaoguzhai, Yangzhuang, and Helou, eliminating more than a thousand Japanese troops. The Japanese troops at Donggangtou fled toward Lanfeng. Meanwhile, Gui Yongqing’s forces were retreating through Lanfeng. His superior strength, Jiang Fusheng’s 36th Division, Li Liangrong’s 46th Division, Zhong Song’s 61st Division, Li Wen’s 78th Division, Long Muhan’s 88th Division, and Shen Ke’s 106th Division—had held defensive positions along the Lanfeng–Yangji line. Equipped with a tank battalion and armored vehicle company commanded by Qiu Qingquan, they blocked the enemy’s westward advance and awaited Japanese exhaustion. However, under the Japanese offensive, Gui Yongqing’s poor command led to the loss of Maji and Mengjiaoji, forcing the 27th Army to retreat across its entire front. Its main force fled toward Qixian and Kaifeng. The Japanese seized the opportunity to capture Quxingji, Luowangzhai, and Luowang Railway Station west of Lanfeng. Before retreating, Gui Yongqing ordered Long Muhan to dispatch a brigade to replace the 106th Division in defending Lanfeng, while he directed the 106th Division to fall back to Shiyuan. Frightened by the enemy, Long Muhan unilaterally withdrew his troops on the night of the 23rd, leaving Lanfeng undefended. On the 24th, Japanese troops advancing westward from Donggangtou entered Lanfeng unopposed and, relying on well-fortified fortifications, held their ground until reinforcements arrived. In the initial four days, the Nationalist offensive failed to overwhelm the Japanese, who escaped encirclement and annihilation. The four infantry and artillery regiments and one cavalry regiment on the Japanese side managed to hold the line along Lanfeng, Luowangzhai, Sanyizhai, Lanfengkou, Quxingji, Yang’erzhai, and Chenliukou on the south bank of the Yellow River, offering stubborn resistance. The Longhai Railway...
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3.170 Fall and Rise of China: Nanjing has Fallen, the War is not Over
10/06/2025
3.170 Fall and Rise of China: Nanjing has Fallen, the War is not Over
Last time we spoke about the continuation of the war after Nanjing's fall. The fall of Nanjing in December 1937 marked a pivotal juncture in the Second Sino-Japanese War, ushering in a brutal phase of attrition that shaped both strategy and diplomacy in early 1938. As Japanese forces sought to restructure China’s political order, their strategy extended beyond battlefield victories to the establishment of puppet arrangements and coercive diplomacy. Soviet aid provided critical support, while German and broader Axis diplomacy wavered, shaping a nuanced backdrop for China’s options. In response, Chinese command decisions focused on defending crucial rail corridors and urban strongholds, with Wuhan emerging as a strategic hub and the Jinpu and Longhai railways becoming lifelines of resistance. The defense around Xuzhou and the Huai River system illustrated Chinese determination to prolong resistance despite daunting odds. By early 1938, the war appeared as a drawn-out struggle, with China conserving core bases even as Japan pressed toward central China. #170 The Battle of Taierzhuang Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Following their victory at Nanjing, the Japanese North China Area Army sought to push southward and link up with the Japanese Eleventh Army between Beijing and Nanjing. The two formations were intended to advance along the northern and southern ends of the JinPu railway, meet at Xuzhou, and then coordinate a pincer movement into Chinese strongholds in the Central Yangtze region, capturing Jiujiang first and then Wuhan. Recognizing Xuzhou’s strategic importance, Chinese leadership made its defense a top priority. Xuzhou stood at the midpoint of the JinPu line and at the intersection with the Longhai Line, China’s main east–west corridor from Lanzhou to Lianyungang. If seized, Japanese control of these routes would grant mobility for north–south movement across central China. At the end of January, Chiang Kai-shek convened a military conference in Wuchang and declared the defense of Xuzhou the highest strategic objective. Chinese preparations expanded from an initial core of 80,000 troops to about 300,000, deployed along the JinPu and Longhai lines to draw in and overstretch Japanese offensives. A frightening reality loomed by late March 1938: the Japanese were nearing victory on the Xuzhou front. The North China Area Army, led by Generals Itagaki Seishirô, Nishio Toshizô, and Isogai Rensuke, aimed to link up with the Central China Expeditionary Force under General Hata Shunroku for a coordinated drive into central China. Li Zongren and his senior colleagues, including Generals Bai Chongxi and Tang Enbo, resolved to meet the Japanese at the traditional stone-walled city of Taierzhuang. Taierzhuang was not large, but it held strategic significance. It sat along the Grand Canal, China’s major north–south waterway, and on a rail line that connected the Jinpu and Longhai lines, thus bypassing Xuzhou. Chiang Kai-shek himself visited Xuzhou on March 24. While Xuzhou remained in Chinese hands, the Japanese forces to the north and south were still separated. Losing Xuzhou would close the pincer. By late March, Chinese troops seemed to be gaining ground at Taierzhuang, but the Japanese began reinforcing, pulling soldiers from General Isogai Rensuke’s column. The defending commanders grew uncertain about their ability to hold the position, yet Chiang Kai-shek made his stance clear in an April 1, 1938 telegram: “the enemy at Taierzhuang must be destroyed.” Chiang Kai-shek dispatched his Vice Chief of Staff, Bai Chongxi, to Xuzhou in January 1938. Li Zongren and Bai Chongxi were old comrades from the New Guangxi Clique, and their collaboration dated back to the Northern Expedition, including the Battle of Longtan. Li also received the 21st Group Army from the 3rd War Area. This Guangxi unit, commanded by Liao Lei, comprised the 7th and 47th Armies. Around the same time, Sun Zhen’s 22nd Group Army, another Sichuan clique unit, arrived in the Shanxi-Henan region, but was rebuffed by both Yan Xishan, then commander of the 2nd War Area and Shanxi’s chairman and Cheng Qian, commander of the 1st War Area and Henan’s chairman. Yan and Cheng harbored strong reservations about Sichuan units due to discipline issues, notably their rampant opium consumption. Under Sun Zhen’s leadership, the 22nd Group Army deployed four of its six divisions to aid the Northern China effort. Organized under the 41st and 45th Armies, the contingent began a foot march toward Taiyuan on September 1, covering more than 50 days and approximately 1,400 kilometers. Upon reaching Shanxi, they faced a harsh, icy winter and had no winter uniforms or even a single map of the province. They nevertheless engaged the Japanese for ten days at Yangquan, suffering heavy casualties. Strapped for supplies, they broke into a Shanxi clique supply depot, which enraged Yan Xishan and led to their expulsion from the province. The 22nd withdrew westward into the 1st War Area, only to have its request for resupply rejected by Cheng Qian. Meanwhile to the south Colonel Rippei Ogisu led Japanese 13th Division to push westward from Nanjing in two columns during early February: the northern column targeted Mingguang, while the southern column aimed for Chuxian. Both routes were checked by Wei Yunsong’s 31st Army, which had been assigned to defend the southern stretch of the Jinpu railway under Li Zongren. Despite facing a clearly inferior force, the Japanese could not gain ground after more than a month of sustained attacks. In response, Japan deployed armored and artillery reinforcements from Nanjing. The Chinese withdrew to the southwestern outskirts of Dingyuan to avoid a direct clash with their reinforced adversaries. By this point, Yu Xuezhong’s 51st Army had taken up a defensive position on the northern banks of the Huai River, establishing a line between Bengbu and Huaiyuan. The Japanese then captured Mingguang, Dingyuan, and Bengbu in succession and pressed toward Huaiyuan. However, their supply lines were intercepted by the Chinese 31st Corps, which conducted flanking attacks from the southwest. The situation worsened when the Chinese 7th Army, commanded by Liao Lei, arrived at Hefei to reinforce the 31st Army. Facing three Chinese corps simultaneously, the Japanese were effectively boxed south of the Huai River and, despite air superiority and a superior overall firepower, could not advance further. As a result, the Chinese thwarted the Japanese plan to move the 13th Division north along the Jinpu railway and link up with the Isogai 10th Division to execute a pincer against Xuzhou. Meanwhile in the north, after amphibious landings at Qingdao, the Japanese 5th Division, commanded by Seishiro Itagaki, advanced southwest along the Taiwei Highway, spearheaded by its 21st Infantry Brigade. They faced Pang Bingxun’s 3rd Group Army. Although labeled a Group Army, Pang’s force actually comprised only the 40th Army, which itself consisted of the 39th Division from the Northwestern Army, commanded by Ma-Fawu. The 39th Division’s five regiments delayed the Japanese advance toward Linyi for over a month. The Japanese captured Ju County on 22 February and moved toward Linyi by 2 March. The 59th Army, commanded by Zhang Zizhong, led its troops on a forced march day and night toward Linyi. Seizing the opportunity, the 59th Army did not rest after reaching Yishui. In the early morning of the 14th, Zhang Zizhong ordered the entire army to covertly cross the Yishui River and attack the right flank of the Japanese “Iron Army” 5th Division. They broke through enemy defenses at Tingzitou, Dataiping, Shenjia Taiping, Xujia Taiping, and Shalingzi. Initially caught off guard, the enemy sustained heavy losses, and over a night more than a thousand Japanese soldiers were annihilated. The 59th Army fought fiercely, engaging in brutal hand-to-hand combat. By 4:00 a.m. on the 17th, the 59th Army had secured all of the Japanese main positions. That same day, Pang Bingxun seized the moment to lead his troops in a fierce flank attack, effectively supporting the 59th Army’s frontal assault. On the 18th, Zhang and Pang’s forces attacked the Japanese from the east, south, and west. After three days and nights of bloody fighting, they finally defeated the 3rd Battalion of the 11th Regiment, which had crossed the river, and annihilated most of it. The 59th Army completed its counterattack but suffered over 6,000 casualties, with more than 2,000 Japanese killed or wounded. News of the Linyi victory prompted commendations from Chiang Kai-shek and Li Zongren. General Li Zongren, commander of the 5th War Zone, judged that the Japanese were temporarily unable to mount a large-scale offensive and that Linyi could be held for the time being. On March 20, he ordered the 59th Army westward to block the Japanese Seya Detachment. On March 21, the Japanese Sakamoto Detachment, after a brief reorganization and learning of the Linyi detachment, launched another offensive. The 3rd Corps, understrength and without reinforcements, was compelled to retreat steadily before the Japanese. General Pang Bingxun, commander of the 3rd Corps, urgently telegraphed Chiang Kai-shek, requesting reinforcements. Chiang Kai-shek received the telegram and, at approximately 9:00 AM on the 23rd, ordered the 59th Army to return to Linyi to join with the 3rd Corps in repelling the Sakamoto Detachment. Fierce fighting ensued with heavy Chinese losses, and the situation in Linyi again grew precarious. At a critical moment, the 333rd Brigade of the 111th Division and the Cavalry Regiment of the 13th Army were rushed to reinforce Linyi. Facing attacks from two directions, the Japanese withdrew, losing almost two battalions in the process. This engagement shattered the myth of Japanese invincibility and embarrassed commander Seishirō Itagaki, even startling IJA headquarters. Although the 5th Division later regrouped and attempted another push, it had lost the element of surprise. The defeat at Linyi at the hands of comparatively poorly equipped Chinese regional units set the stage for the eventual battle at Tai’erzhuang. Of the three Japanese divisions advancing into the Chinese 5th War Area, the 10th Division, commanded by Rensuke Isogai, achieved the greatest initial success. Departing from Hebei, it crossed the Yellow River and moved south along the Jinpu railway. With KMT General Han Fuju ordering his forces to desert their posts, the Japanese captured Zhoucun and reached Jinan with little resistance. They then pushed south along two columns from Tai’an. The eastern column captured Mengyin before driving west to seize Sishui; the western column moved southwest along the Jinpu railway, capturing Yanzhou, Zouxian, and Jining, before turning northwest to take Wenshang. Chiang Kai-shek subsequently ordered Li Zongren to employ “offensive defense”, seizing the initiative to strike rather than merely defend. Li deployed Sun Zhen’s 22nd Group Army to attack Zouxian from the south, while Pang Bingxun’s 40th Division advanced north along the 22nd’s left flank to strike Mengyin and Sishui. Sun Tongxuan’s 3rd Group Army also advanced from the south, delivering a two-pronged assault on the Japanese at Jining. Fierce fighting from 12 to 25 February, particularly by the 12th Corps, helped mitigate the reputational damage previously inflicted on Shandong units by Han Fuju. In response to Chinese counterattacks, the Japanese revised their strategy: they canceled their original plan to push directly westward from Nanjing toward Wuhan, freeing more troops for the push toward Xuzhou. On March 15, the Japanese 10th Division struck the Chinese 122nd Division, focusing the action around Tengxian and Lincheng. Chinese reinforcements from the 85th Corps arrived the following day but were driven back on March 17. With air support, tanks, and heavy artillery, the Japanese breached the Chinese lines on March 18. The remaining Chinese forces, bolstered by the 52nd Corps, withdrew to the town of Yixian. The Japanese attacked Yixian and overran an entire Chinese regiment in a brutal 24-hour engagement. By March 19, the Japanese began advancing on the walled town of Taierzhuang. To counter the Japanese advance, the Chinese 2nd Army Group under General Sun Lianzhong was deployed to Taierzhuang. The 31st Division, commanded by General Chi Fengcheng, reached Taierzhuang on March 22 and was ordered to delay the Japanese advance until the remainder of the Army Group could arrive. On March 23, the 31st Division sallied from Taierzhuang toward Yixian, where they were engaged by two Japanese battalions reinforced with three tanks and four armored cars. The Chinese troops occupied a series of hills and managed to defend against a Japanese regiment (~3,000 men) for the rest of the day. On March 24, a Japanese force of about 5,000 attacked the 31st Division. Another Japanese unit pressed the Chinese from Yixian, forcing them to withdraw back into Taierzhuang itself. The Japanese then assaulted the town, with a 300-strong contingent breaching the northeast gate at 20:00. They were subsequently driven back toward the Chenghuang temple, which the Chinese set on fire, annihilating the Japanese force. The next day, the Japanese renewed the assault through the breached gate and secured the eastern portion of the district, while also breaking through the northwest corner from the outside and capturing the Wenchang Pavilion. On March 25, a morning Japanese onslaught was repelled. The Japanese then shelled Chinese positions with artillery and air strikes. In the afternoon, the Chinese deployed an armored train toward Yixian, which ambushed a column of Japanese soldiers near a hamlet, killing or wounding several dozen before retreating back to Taierzhuang. By nightfall, three thousand Chinese troops launched a night assault, pushing the Japanese lines northeast to dawn. The following three days subjected the Chinese defenders to sustained aerial and artillery bombardment. The Chinese managed to repulse several successive Japanese assaults but sustained thousands of casualties in the process. On March 28, Chinese artillery support arrived, including two 155 mm and ten 75 mm pieces. On the night of March 29, the Japanese finally breached the wall. Setting out from the district’s southern outskirts, a Chinese assault squad stormed the Wenchang Pavilion from the south and east, killing nearly the entire Japanese garrison aside from four taken as prisoners of war. The Chinese then retook the northwest corner of the district. Even by the brutal standards already established in the war, the fighting at Taierzhuang was fierce, with combatants facing one another at close quarters. Sheng Cheng’s notes preserve the battlefield memories of Chi Fengcheng, one of the campaign’s standout officers “We had a battle for the little lanes [of the town], and unprecedentedly, not just streets and lanes, but even courtyards and houses. Neither side was willing to budge. Sometimes we’d capture a house, and dig a hole in the wall to approach the enemy. Sometimes the enemy would be digging a hole in the same wall at the same time. Sometimes we faced each other with hand grenades — or we might even bite each other. Or when we could hear that the enemy was in the house, then we’d climb the roof and drop bombs inside — and kill them all.” The battle raged for a week. On April 1, General Chi requested volunteers for a near-suicide mission to seize a building: among fifty-seven selected, only ten survived. A single soldier claimed to have fired on a Japanese bomber and succeeded in bringing it down; he and his comrades then set the aircraft ablaze before another plane could arrive to rescue the pilot. One participant described the brutal conditions of the battle “"The battle continued day and night. The flames lit up the sky. Often all that separated our forces was a single wall. The soldiers would beat holes in the masonry to snipe at each other. We would be fighting for days over a single building, causing dozens of fatalities." The conditions were so brutal that Chinese officers imposed severe measures to maintain discipline. Junior officers were repeatedly forbidden to retreat and were often ordered to personally replace casualties within their ranks. Li Zongren even warned Tang Enbo that failure to fulfill his duties would lead him to be “treated as Han Fuju had been.” In Taierzhuang’s cramped streets, Japan’s artillery and air superiority offered little advantage; whenever either service was employed amid the dense melee, casualties were roughly even on both sides. The fighting devolved into close-quarters combat carried out primarily by infantry, with rifles, pistols, hand grenades, bayonets, and knives forming the core of each side’s arsenal. The battle unfolded largely hand-to-hand, frequently in darkness. The stone buildings of Taierzhuang provided substantial cover from fire and shrapnel. It was precisely under these close-quarters conditions that Chinese soldiers could stand as equals, if not superior, to their Japanese opponents, mirroring, in some respects, the experiences seen in Luodian, Shanghai, the year before. On March 31, General Sun Lianzhong arrived to assume command of the 2nd Army Group. A Japanese assault later that day was repulsed, but a Chinese counterattack also stalled. At 04:00 on April 1, the Japanese attacked the Chinese lines with support from 11 tanks. The Chinese defenders, armed with German-made 37mm Pak-36 antitank guns, destroyed eight of the armored vehicles at point-blank range. Similar incidents recurred throughout the battle, with numerous Japanese tanks knocked out by Chinese artillery and by suicide squads. In one engagement, Chinese suicide bombers...
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3.169 Fall and Rise of China: Nanjing has Fallen, the War is not Over
10/06/2025
3.169 Fall and Rise of China: Nanjing has Fallen, the War is not Over
Last time we spoke about the Nanjing Massacre. Japanese forces breached Nanjing as Chinese defenders retreated under heavy bombardment, and the city fell on December 13. In the following weeks, civilians and disarmed soldiers endured systematic slaughter, mass executions, rapes, looting, and arson, with casualties mounting rapidly. Among the most brutal episodes were hundreds of executions near the Safety Zone, mass shootings along the Yangtze River, and killings at improvised sites and “killing fields.” The massacre involved tens of thousands of prisoners, with estimates up to 300,000 victims. Women and children were subjected to widespread rape, mutilation, and terror intended to crush morale and resistance. Although the Safety Zone saved many lives, it could not shield all refugees from harm, and looting and arson devastated large parts of the city. Foreign witnesses, missionaries, and diary entries documented the extensive brutality and the apparent premeditated nature of many acts, noting the collapse of discipline among troops and orders that shaped the violence. #169 Nanjing has Fallen, the War is not Over Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Directly after the fall of Nanjing, rumors circulated among the city’s foreigners that Tang Shengzhi had been executed for his inability to hold the city against the Japanese onslaught. In fact, unlike many of his subordinates who fought in the defense, he survived. On December 12, he slipped through Yijiang Gate, where bullets from the 36th Division had claimed numerous victims, and sailed across the Yangtze to safety. Chiang Kai-shek protected him from bearing direct consequences for Nanjing’s collapse. Tang was not unscathed, however. After the conquest of Nanjing, a dejected Tang met General Li Zongren at Xuzhou Railway Station. In a brief 20-minute conversation, Tang lamented, “Sir, Nanjing’s fall has been unexpectedly rapid. How can I face the world?” Li, who had previously taunted Tang for over-eagerness, offered sympathy. “Don’t be discouraged. Victory or defeat comes every day for the soldier. Our war of resistance is a long-term proposition. The loss of one city is not decisive.” By December 1937, the outlook for Chiang Kai-shek’s regime remained bleak. Despite his public pledges, he had failed to defend the capital. Its sturdy walls, which had withstood earlier sieges, were breached in less than 100 hours. Foreign observers remained pessimistic about the prospects of continuing the fight against Japan. The New York Times wrote “The capture of Nanking was the most overwhelming defeat suffered by the Chinese and one of the most tragic military debacles in modern warfare. In defending Nanking, the Chinese allowed themselves to be surrounded and then slaughtered… The graveyard of tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers may also be the graveyard of all Chinese hopes of resisting conquest by Japan.” Foreign diplomats doubted Chiang’s ability to sustain the war, shrinking the question to whether he would stubbornly continue a losing fight or seek peace. US Ambassador Nelson Johnson wrote in a letter to Admiral Yarnell, then commander of the US Asicatic Fleet “There is little left now for the Chinese to do except to carry on a desultory warfare in the country, or to negotiate for the best terms they can get”. The Japanese, too, acted as if Chiang Kai-shek had already lost the war. They assumed the generalissimo was a spent force in Chinese politics as well, and that a gentle push would suffice to topple his regime like a house of cards. On December 14, Prime Minister Konoe announced that Chiang’s losses of Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai, and now Nanjing, had created a new situation. “The National Government has become but a shadow of its former self. If a new Chinese regime emerged to replace Chiang’s government, Japan would deal with it, provided it is a regime headed in the right direction.” Konoe spoke the same day as a Liaison Conference in Tokyo, where civilian and military leaders debated how to treat China now that it had been thoroughly beaten on the battlefield. Japanese demands had grown significantly: beyond recognizing Manchukuo, Japan pressed for the creation of pro-Japanese regimes in Inner Mongolia and the north China area. The same day, a puppet government was established in Japanese-occupied Beijing. While these demands aimed to end China as a unitary state, Japanese policy was moving toward the same goal. The transmissions of these demands via German diplomatic channels caused shock and consternation in Chinese government circles, and the Chinese engaged in what many regarded as stalling tactics. Even at this late stage, there was division among Japan’s top decision makers. Tada, deputy chief of the Army General Staff, feared a protracted war in China and urged keeping negotiations alive. He faced strong opposition from the cabinet, including the foreign minister and the ministers of the army and navy, and ultimately he relented. Tada stated “In this state of emergency, it is necessary to avoid any political upheaval that might arise from a struggle between the Cabinet and the Army General Staff.” Although he disagreed, he no longer challenged the uncompromising stance toward China. On January 16, 1938, Japan publicly stated that it would “cease henceforth to deal with” Chiang Kai-shek. This was a line that could not be uncrossed. War was the only option. Germany, the mediator between China and Japan, also considered Chiang a losing bet. In late January 1938, von Dirksen, the German ambassador in Tokyo, urged a fundamental shift in German diplomacy and advocated abandoning China in favor of Japan. He warned that this was a matter of urgency, since Japan harbored grudges against Germany for its half-hearted peace efforts. In a report, von Dirksen wrote that Japan, “in her deep ill humor, will confront us with unpleasant decisions at an inopportune moment.” Von Dirksen’s view carried the day in Berlin. Nazi Germany and Hirohito’s Japan were on a trajectory that, within three years, would forge the Axis and place Berlin and Tokyo in the same camp in a conflict that would eventually span the globe. Rabe, who returned to Germany in 1938, found that his account of Japanese atrocities in Nanjing largely fell on deaf ears. He was even visited by the Gestapo, which apparently pressed him to keep quiet about what he had seen. Ambassador von Dirksen also argued in his January 1938 report that China should be abandoned because of its increasingly friendly ties with the Soviet Union. There was some merit to this claim. Soviet aid to China was substantial: by the end of 1937, 450 Soviet aviators were serving in China. Without them, Japan likely would have enjoyed air superiority. Chiang Kai-shek, it seemed, did not fully understand the Russians’ motives. They were supplying aircraft and pilots to keep China in the war while keeping themselves out. After Nanjing’s fall, Chiang nevertheless reached out to Joseph Stalin, inviting direct Soviet participation in the war. Stalin politely declined, noting that if the Soviet Union joined the conflict, “the world would say the Soviet Union was an aggressor, and sympathy for Japan around the world would immediately increase.” In a rare moment of candor a few months later, the Soviet deputy commissar for foreign affairs spoke with the French ambassador, describing the situation in China as “splendid.” He expected China to continue fighting for several more years, after which Japan would be too weakened to undertake major operations against the Soviet Union. It was clear that China was being used. Whatever the motive, China was receiving vital help from Stalin’s Russia while the rest of the world stood on the sidelines, reluctant to upset Japan. Until Operation Barbarossa, when the Soviet Union was forced to the brink by the German Army and could no longer sustain extensive overseas aid, it supplied China with 904 planes, 1,516 trucks, 1,140 artillery pieces, 9,720 machine guns, 50,000 rifles, 31,600 bombs, and more. Despite all of this, all in all, China’s position proved less disastrous than many observers had feared. Chinese officials later argued that the battle of Nanjing was not the unmitigated fiasco it appeared to be. Tang Shengzhi had this to say in his memoirs“I think the main purpose of defending Nanjing was to buy time, to allow troops that had just been pulled out of battle to rest and regroup. It wasn’t simply because it was the capital or the site of Sun Yat-sen’s mausoleum.” Tan Daoping, an officer in Nanjing, described the battle “as a moderate success because it drew the Japanese in land”. This of course was a strategy anticipated by interwar military thinker Jiang Baili. It also allowed dozens of Chinese divisions to escape Shanghai, since the Japanese forces that could have pursued them were tied down with the task of taking Nanjing. Tan Daoping wrote after the war “They erred in believing they could wage a quick war and decide victory immediately. Instead, their dream was shattered; parts of their forces were worn out, and they were hindered from achieving a swift end”. Even so, it was a steep price was paid in Chinese lives. As in Shanghai, the commanders in Nanjing thought they could fight on the basis of sheer willpower. Chinese officer Qin Guo Qi wrote in his memoirs “In modern war, you can’t just rely on the spirit of the troops. You can’t merely rely on physical courage and stamina. The battle of Nanjing explains that better than anything”. As for the Brigade commander of the 87th division, Chen Yiding, who emerged from Nanjing with only a few hundred survivors, was enraged. “During the five days of the battle for Nanjing, my superiors didn’t see me even once. They didn’t do their duty. They also did not explain the overall deployments in the Nanjing area. What’s worse, they didn’t give us any order to retreat. And afterwards I didn’t hear of any commander being disciplined for failing to do his job.” Now back in November of 1937, Chiang Kai-shek had moved his command to the great trinity of Wuhan. For the Nationalists, Wuhan was a symbolically potent stronghold: three municipalities in one, Hankou, Wuchang, and Hanyang. They had all grown prosperous as gateways between coastal China and the interior. But the autumn disasters of 1937 thrust Wuhan into new prominence, and, a decade after it had ceased to be the temporary capital, it again became the seat of military command and resistance. Leading Nationalist politicians had been seen in the city in the months before the war, fueling suspicions that Wuhan would play a major role in any imminent conflict. By the end of the year, the generals and their staffs, along with most of the foreign embassies, had moved upriver. Yet as 1937 slipped into 1938, the Japanese advance seemed practically unstoppable. From the destruction of Shanghai, to the massacre in Nanjing, to the growing vulnerability of Wuhan, the NRA government appeared powerless against the onslaught. Now the Japanese government faced several options: expanding the scope of the war to force China into submission, which would risk further depletion of Japan’s military and economic resources; establishing an alternative regime in China as a bridge for reconciliation, thereby bypassing the Nationalist government for negotiations; and engaging in indirect or direct peace negotiations with the Nationalist Government, despite the failure of previous attempts, while still seeking new opportunities for negotiation. However, the Nanjing massacre did not compel the Chinese government and its people to submit. On January 2, Chiang Kai-shek wrote in his diary, “The conditions proposed by Japan are equivalent to the conquest and extinction of our country. Rather than submitting and perishing, it is better to perish in defeat,” choosing to refuse negotiations and continue resistance. In January 1938 there was a new escalation of hostilities. Up to that point, Japan had not officially declared war, even during the Shanghai campaign and the Nanjing massacre. However on January 11, an Imperial Conference was held in Tokyo in the presence of Emperor Hirohito. Prime Minister Konoe outlined a “Fundamental Policy to deal with the China Incident.”The Imperial Conference was attended by Prime Minister Fumimaro Konoe, Army Chief of Staff Prince Kan’in, Navy Minister Admiral Fushimi, and others to reassess its policy toward China. Citing the Nationalist Government’s delay and lack of sincerity, the Japanese leadership decided to terminate Trautmann’s mediation. At the conference, Japan articulated a dual strategy: if the Nationalist Government did not seek peace, Japan would no longer regard it as a viable negotiating partner, instead supporting emerging regimes, seeking to resolve issues through incidents, and aiming either to eliminate or incorporate the existing central government; if the Nationalist Government sought reconciliation, it would be required to cease resistance, cooperate with Japan against communism, and pursue economic cooperation, including officially recognizing Manchukuo and allowing Japanese troops in Inner Mongolia, North China, Central China, and co-governance of Shanghai. The Konoe cabinet relayed this proposal to the German ambassador in Japan on December 22, 1937: It called for: diplomatic recognition of Manchukuo; autonomy for Inner Mongolia; cessation of all anti-Japanese and anti-Manchukuo policies; cooperation between Japan, Manchukuo, and China against communism; war reparations; demilitarized zones in North China and Inner Mongolia; and a trade agreement among Japan, Manchukuo, and China. Its terms were too severe, including reparations payable to Japan and new political arrangements that would formalize the separation of north China under Japanese control. Chiang’s government would have seventy-two hours to accept; if they refused, Tokyo would no longer recognize the Nationalist government and would seek to destroy it. On January 13, 1938, the Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Chonghui informed Germany that China needed a fuller understanding of the additional conditions for peace talks to make a decision. The January 15 deadline for accepting Japan’s terms elapsed without Chinese acceptance. Six days after the deadline for a Chinese government reply, an Imperial Conference “Gozen Kaigi” was convened in Tokyo to consider how to handle Trautmann’s mediation. The navy, seeing the war as essentially an army matter, offered no strong position; the army pressed for ending the war through diplomatic means, arguing that they faced a far more formidable Far Eastern Soviet threat at the northern Manchukuo border and wished to avoid protracted attrition warfare. Foreign Minister Kōki Hirota, however, strongly disagreed with the army, insisting there was no viable path to Trautmann’s mediation given the vast gap between Chinese and Japanese positions. A second conference followed on January 15, 1938, attended by the empire’s principal cabinet members and military leaders, but without the emperor’s presence. The debate grew heated over whether to continue Trautmann’s mediation. Hayao Tada, Deputy Chief of Army General Staff, argued for continuation, while Konoe, Hirota, Navy Minister Mitsumasa Yonai, and War Minister Hajime Sugiyama opposed him. Ultimately, Tada acceded to the position of Konoe and Hirota. On the same day, Konoe conveyed the cabinet’s conclusion, termination of Trautmann’s mediation, to the emperor. The Japanese government then issued a statement on January 16 declaring that it would no longer treat the Nationalist Government as a bargaining partner, signaling the establishment of a new Chinese regime that would cooperate with Japan and a realignment of bilateral relations. This became known as the first Konoe statement, through which Tokyo formally ended Trautmann’s mediation attempt. The Chinese government was still weighing its response when, at noon on January 16, Konoe publicly declared, “Hereafter, the Imperial Government will not deal with the National Government.” In Japanese, this became the infamous aite ni sezu (“absolutely no dealing”). Over the following days, the Japanese government made it clear that this was a formal breach of relations, “stronger even than a declaration of war,” in the words of Foreign Minister Hirota Kōki. The Chinese ambassador to Japan, who had been in Tokyo for six months since hostilities began, was finally recalled. At the end of January, Chiang summoned a military conference and declared that the top strategic priority would be to defend the east-central Chinese city of Xuzhou, about 500 kilometers north of Wuhan. This decision, like the mobilization near Lugouqiao, was heavily influenced by the railway: Xuzhou sat at the midpoint of the Tianjin–Pukou Jinpu line, and its seizure would grant the Japanese mastery over north–south travel in central China. The Jinpu line also crossed the Longhai line, China’s main cross-country artery from Lanzhou to the port of Lianyungang, north of Shanghai. The Japanese military command marked the Jinpu line as a target in spring 1938. Control over Xuzhou and the rail lines threading through it were thus seen as vital to the defense of Wuhan, which lay to the city’s south. Chiang’s defense strategy fit into a larger plan evolving since the 1920s, when the military thinker Jiang Baili had first proposed a long war against Japan; Jiang’s foresight earned him a position as an adviser to Chiang in 1938. Jiang had previously run the Baoding military academy, a predecessor of the Whampoa academy, which had trained many of China’s finest young officers in the early republic 1912–1922. Now, many of the generals who had trained under Jiang gathered in Wuhan and would play crucial roles in defending the city: Chen Cheng, Bai Chongxi, Tang Shengzhi, and Xue Yue. They remained loyal to Chiang but sought to avoid his tendency to micromanage every aspect of strategy. Nobody could say with certainty whether Wuhan would endure the Japanese onslaught, and outsiders’ predictions were gloomy. As Wuhan’s inhabitants tasted their unexpected new freedoms, the Japanese pressed on with their conquest of central China. After taking Nanjing, the IJA 13th Division crossed the Yangtze River to the north and advanced to the Outang and Mingguang lines on the east bank of the Chihe River in Anhui Province, while the 2nd Army of the North China Front crossed the Yellow River to the south between Qingcheng and Jiyang in Shandong, occupied Jinan, and pressed toward Jining, Mengyin, and Qingdao. To open the Jinpu Railway and connect the northern and southern battlefields, the Japanese headquarters mobilized eight divisions, three brigades, and two detachments , totaling about 240,000 men. They were commanded by General Hata Shunroku, commander of the Central China Expeditionary Army, and Terauchi Hisaichi, commander of the North China Front Army. Their...
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3.168 Fall and Rise of China: Nanjing Massacre
09/22/2025
3.168 Fall and Rise of China: Nanjing Massacre
Last time we spoke about the battle of Nanjing. In December 1937, as the battle for Nanjing unfolded, terror inundated its residents, seeking safety amid the turmoil. General Tang Shengzhi rallied the Chinese forces, determined to defend against the advancing Japanese army. Fierce fighting erupted at the Gate of Enlightenment, where the determined Chinese soldiers resisted merciless assaults while tragedy loomed. By mid-December, the Japanese made substantial advances, employing relentless artillery fire to breach Nanjing's defenses. Leaders called for strategic retreats, yet amid chaos and despair, many young Chinese soldiers, driven by nationalism, continued to resist. By December 13, Nanjing succumbed to the invaders, marking a tragic chapter in history. As destruction enveloped the city, the resilience of its defenders became a poignant tale of courage amidst the horrors of war, forever marking Nanjing as a symbol of enduring hope in the face of despair. #168 The Nanjing Massacre Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. So obvious disclaimer, today we will be talking about, arguably one of if not the most horrific war atrocities ever committed. To be blunt, it may have been worse than some of the things we talked about back during the fall of the Ming Dynasty, when bandit armies raped and pillaged cities. The Nanjing Massacre as its become known is well documented by both Chinese and foreign sources. There is an abundance of primary sources, many well verified. Its going to be extremely graphic, I am going to try and tell it to the fullest. So if you got a weak stomach perhaps sit this one out, you have been warned. Chen Yiding began evacuating his troops from the area surrounding the Gate of Enlightenment before dawn on December 13. En route to Xiaguan, he took the time to visit a dozen of his soldiers housed in a makeshift hospital located in an old cemetery. These men were too severely injured to participate in the evacuation, and Chen had to leave them with only a few words of encouragement. Little did he know, within days, they would all perish in their beds, victims of the Japanese forces. Upon arriving in Xiaguan later that morning, Chen was met with grim news: his divisional commander had crossed the Yangtze River with his chief of staff the previous afternoon. Now, he was on his own. He didn't linger near the riverside chaos, quickly realizing there was nothing he could do there. Instead, he chose to move downstream, hoping to find a secure spot for himself and his soldiers to wait out the next few days before devising an escape from the war zone. He was fortunate, for soon the Japanese would live up to their notorious reputation developed during their advance from Shanghai; they were not inclined to take prisoners. That afternoon, several hundred Chinese soldiers arrived at the northern end of the Safety Zone. The committee responsible for the area stated that they could offer no assistance. In a misguided attempt to boost morale, they suggested that if the soldiers surrendered and promised not to engage in combat, the Japanese would likely show them "merciful treatment." This optimism was woefully misplaced. Later that same day, Japanese troops entered the zone, dragging out 200 Chinese men, the majority of them soldiers, for execution just outside the city. On December 13, Japanese soldiers started patrolling the riverbank, shooting at anything and anyone floating downstream. Their comrades aboard naval vessels in the river cheered them on, applauding each time they struck another helpless victim in the water. Civilians were not spared either. While traveling through downtown Nanjing as the battle concluded, Rabe observed dead men and women every 100 to 200 yards, most of them shot in the back. A long line of Chinese men marched down the street, numbering in the hundreds, all destined for death. In a cruel twist, they were compelled to carry a large Japanese flag. They were herded into a vacant lot by a couple of Japanese soldiers and as recalled by American correspondent Archibald Steele "There, they were brutally shot dead in small groups. One Japanese soldier stood over the growing pile of corpses, firing into any bodies that showed movement." The killings commenced almost immediately after the fall of Nanjing. The victorious Japanese spread out into the city streets, seeking victims. Those unfortunate enough to be captured faced instant execution or were taken to larger killing fields to meet a grim fate alongside other Chinese prisoners. Initially, the Japanese targeted former soldiers, whether real or imagined, but within hours, the scope of victims expanded to include individuals of all age groups and genders. By the end of the first day of occupation, civilian bodies littered the streets of downtown Nanjing at a rate of roughly one per block. The defenseless and innocent were subjected to murder, torture, and humiliation in a relentless spree of violence that persisted for six harrowing weeks. At the time of the attack, Nanjing felt eerily abandoned, houses stood boarded up, vehicles lay toppled in the streets, and the once-ubiquitous rickshaws had vanished. However, hundreds of thousands remained hidden indoors, seeking refuge. The most visible sign of the city's new rulers was the display of the Japanese flag. On the morning of December 14, the Rising Sun flag was hoisted across the city, seen in front of private homes, businesses, and public buildings. Many of these flags were hastily made, often a simple white sheet with a red rag affixed, hoping to be spared. As the days progressed, horrifying accounts of violence began to emerge. A barber, the sole survivor among eight people in his shop when the Japanese arrived, was admitted to a hospital with a stab wound that had nearly severed his head from his body, damaging all muscles at the back of his neck down to his spinal canal. A woman suffered a brutal throat wound, while another pregnant woman was bayoneted in the abdomen, resulting in the death of her unborn child. A man witnessed his wife being stabbed through the heart and then saw his child hurled from a window to the street several floors below. These are but a few stories of individual atrocities committed. Alongside this there were mass executions, predominantly targeting young able-bodied men, in an effort to weaken Nanjing and deprive it of any potential resistance in the future. American professor, Lewis Smythe recalled “The disarmed soldier problem was our most serious one for the first three days, but it was soon resolved, as the Japanese shot all of them.” On the evening of December 15, the Japanese rounded up 1,300 former soldiers from the Safety Zone, binding them in groups of about 100 and marching them away in silence. A group of foreigners, permitted to leave Nanjing on a Japanese gunboat, accidentally became witnesses to the ensuing slaughter. While waiting for their vessel, they took a brief walk along the riverbank and stumbled upon a scene of mass execution, observing the Japanese shooting the men one by one in the back of the neck. “We observed about 100 such executions until the Japanese officer in charge noticed us and ordered us to leave immediately”. Not all killings were premeditated; many occurred impulsively. A common example was when Japanese soldiers led lines of Chinese POWs to holding points, tightly bound together with ropes. Every few yards, a Japanese soldier would stand guard with a fixed bayonet aimed at the prisoners as they trudged forward. Suddenly, one of the prisoners slipped, causing a domino effect as he fell, dragging down the men in front of and behind him. The entire group soon found themselves collapsed on the ground, struggling to stand. The Japanese guards lost their patience, jabbing their bayonets into the writhing bodies until none remained alive. In one of the largest massacres, Japanese troops from the Yamada Detachment, including the 65th Infantry Regiment, systematically executed between 17,000 and 20,000 Chinese prisoners from December 15 to 17. These prisoners were taken to the banks of the Yangtze River near Mufushan, where they were machine-gunned to death. The bodies were then disposed of by either burning or flushing them downstream. Recent research by Ono Kenji has revealed that these mass killings were premeditated and carried out systematically, in accordance with orders issued directly by Prince Asaka. A soldier from the IJA's 13th Division described killing wounded survivors of the Mufushan massacre in his diary “I figured that I'd never get another chance like this, so I stabbed thirty of the damned Chinks. Climbing atop the mountain of corpses, I felt like a real devil-slayer, stabbing again and again, with all my might. 'Ugh, ugh,' the Chinks groaned. There were old folks as well as kids, but we killed them lock, stock, and barrel. I also borrowed a buddy's sword and tried to decapitate some. I've never experienced anything so unusual”. Frequently, the Japanese just left their victims wherever they fell. Corpses began to accumulate in the streets, exposed to the elements and onlookers. Cars constantly were forced to run over corpses. Corpses were scavenged by stray dogs, which, in turn, were consumed by starving people. The water became toxic; workers in the Safety Zone discovered ponds clogged with human remains. In other instances, the Japanese gathered their machine-gunned or bayoneted victims into large heaps, doused them in kerosene, and set them ablaze. Archibald Steele wrote for the Chicago Daily News on December 17th “I saw a grisly scene at the north gate, where what was once a group of 200 men had become a smoldering mass of flesh and bones, so severely burned around the neck and head that it was difficult to believe he was still human.” During the chaos in the beginning, whereupon the Japanese had not yet fully conquered the city, its defenders scrambled desperately to escape before it was too late. Individually or in small groups, they sought vulnerabilities in the enemy lines, acutely aware that their survival hinged on their success. Months of conflict had trained them to expect no mercy if captured; previous experiences had instilled in them the belief that a swift death at the hands of the Japanese would be a fortunate outcome. On December 12, amid intense artillery fire and aerial bombardment, General Tang Sheng-chi issued the order for his troops to retreat. However, conflicting directives and a breakdown in discipline transformed the ensuing events into a disaster. While some Chinese units successfully crossed the river, a far greater number were ensnared in the widespread chaos that engulfed the city. In their desperation to evade capture, some Chinese soldiers resorted to stripping civilians of their clothing to disguise themselves, while many others were shot by their own supervisory units as they attempted to flee.Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of individual escape stories emerged from this period. In some rare instances, entire units, even up to divisional strength, successfully infiltrated Japanese lines to reach safety. For others, such as the 156th Division, there were detailed plans outlining escape routes from Nanjing. Several soldiers and officers adhered to this three-day trek, skillfully evading Japanese patrols until they reached Ningguo, located south of the capital. Nonetheless, these cases were exceptions. The vast majority of soldiers from China’s defeated army faced significant risk and were more likely to be captured than to escape. Some of Chiang Kai-shek’s most elite units suffered near total annihilation. Only about a thousand soldiers from the 88th Division managed to cross the Yangtze safely, as did another thousand from the Training Division, while a mere 300 from the 87th Division survived. Even for units like the 156th Division, the escape plans were only effective for those who learned of them. These plans were hurriedly disseminated through the ranks as defeat loomed, leaving mere chance to determine who received the information. Many stayed trapped in Nanjing, which had become a fatal snare. One day, Japanese soldiers visited schools within Nanjing’s Safety Zone, aware that these locations sheltered many refugees. They called for all former soldiers to step forward, promising safety in exchange for labor. Many believed that the long days of hiding were finally coming to an end and complied with the request. However, they were led to an abandoned house, where they were stripped naked and bound together in groups of five. Outside, a large bonfire had been ignited. They were then bayoneted and, while still alive, thrown onto the flames. Only a few managed to escape and share the horrifying tale. The Japanese were of course well aware that numerous soldiers were hiding in Nanjing, disguised as locals, evidenced by the piles of military uniforms and equipment accumulating in the streets. Consequently, they initiated a systematic search for soldiers within hours of taking control. The Safety Zone was not spared, as the Japanese Army suspected that Chinese soldiers had sought refuge there. On December 16, they raided Ginling College, despite a policy prohibiting the admission of men, except for elderly residents in a designated dining room. The soldiers brought axes to force open doors that were not immediately complied with and positioned six machine guns on the campus, prepared to fire at anyone attempting to escape. Ultimately, they found nothing. In cases where they did encounter young men of military age, the soldiers lined them up, scrutinizing for distinct telltale features such as close-cropped hair, helmet marks, or shoulder blisters from carrying a rifle. Many men, who had never served in the military but bore callouses from hard manual labor, were captured based on the assumption that such marks indicated military experience. As noted by Goerge Fitch the head of Nanjing’s YMCA “Rickshaw coolies, carpenters, and other laborers are frequently taken”. The Japanese employed additional, more cunning tactics to root out soldiers. During an inspection of a camp within the Safety Zone, they struggled to get the approximately 6,000 men and women to surrender. Before leaving, they resorted to one last trick. “Attention!” a voice commanded in flawless Chinese. Many young men, conditioned by months or years of military training, instinctively responded. Even though most realized their mistake almost immediately, it was too late; the Japanese herded them away. Given the scale of the slaughter, efforts were soon organized to facilitate the killing and disposal of as many individuals as possible in the shortest time. Rows of prisoners were mowed down by machine-gun fire, while those injured were finished off with single bullets or bayonets. Much of the mass murder occurred near the Yangtze River, where victims could be disposed of easily by being pushed into the water, hoping the current would carry them away.As the weeks progressed and the Japanese grew increasingly concerned about the possibility of former soldiers still at large, the dragnet tightened. Beginning in late December, Japanese authorities implemented a registration system for all residents of Nanjing. At Ginling College, this process lasted about a week and resulted in scenes of almost indescribable chaos, as the Japanese also decided to register residents from the surrounding areas on campus. First, the men were registered, followed by the women. Often, women attended the registration to help save their husbands and sons, who would otherwise have been taken as suspected former soldiers. Despite these efforts, a total of 28 men were ultimately seized during the registration process at Ginling College. Each individual who registered received a document from the authorities. However, it soon became clear that this paper provided little protection against the caprices of the Japanese military. That winter in Nanjing, everyone was a potential victim. While systematic mass killings primarily targeted young men of military age, every category of people faced death in the days and weeks following the Japanese conquest of Nanjing. Reports indicated that fifty police officers from the Safety Zone were executed for permitting Chinese soldiers to enter the area. The city’s firefighters were taken away to meet an uncertain fate, and six street sweepers were killed inside their dwelling. Like an uncontrollable epidemic, the victors’ bloodlust seemed to escalate continuously, seeking out new victims. When the Japanese ordered the Safety Zone committee to supply workers for the electricity plant in Xiaguan to restore its operations, they provided 54 individuals. Within days, 43 of them were dead. Although young men were especially targeted, the Japanese made no distinctions based on age or sex. American missionary John G. Magee documented numerous instances of indiscriminate killings, including the chilling account of two families nearly exterminated. Stabbings, shootings, and rapes marked the slaughter of three generations of innocents, including toddlers aged four and two; the older child was bayoneted, while the younger was struck in the head with a sword. The only survivors were a badly injured eight-year-old girl and her four-year-old sister, who spent the following fortnight beside their mother’s decaying body. The violence was often accompanied by various forms of humiliation, as if to utterly break the spirit of the conquered people. One woman lost her parents and three children. When she purchased a coffin for her father, a Japanese soldier tore the lid off and discarded the old man’s body in the street. Another soldier, in a drunken stupor, raped a Chinese woman and then vomited on her. In yet another incident, a soldier encountered a family of six huddled over a pot of thin rice soup; he stepped over them and urinated into their pot before continuing on his way, laughing heartlessly. The atrocities committed at Nanjing were not akin to something like the Holocaust. Within places like Auschwitz killings became industrialized and often took on an impersonal, unemotional character. The murders in Nanjing had an almost intimate quality, with each individual perpetrator bearing the blood of their victims on their hands, sometimes literally. In this sense, the Nanjing atrocities resemble the early Holocaust killings executed by German Einsatzgruppen in Eastern Europe, prior to the implementation of gas chambers. How many died during the Nanjing Massacre? Eyewitnesses at the time recognized that the Japanese behavior had few immediate precedents. Missionary John Magee compared the situation to the Turkish genocide of the Armenians during World War I, which was still fresh in memory. Despite this, no consensus emerged regarding the exact number of fatalities, a state of affairs that would persist for nearly eight decades. In his first comprehensive account of the atrocities following the conquest of the capital, New York Times correspondent Tillman Durdin reported that 33,000 Chinese soldiers lost their lives in...
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3.167 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Nanjing
09/15/2025
3.167 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Nanjing
Last time we spoke about the beginning of the battle of Nanjing. As the relentless tide of war approached Nanjing in December 1937, fear gripped its residents. As atrocities unfolded in the countryside, civilians flocked toward safety zones, desperate for refuge. Under the command of General Tang Shengzhi, the Chinese forces prepared for a fierce defense, determined to hold their ground against the technologically superior invaders. Despite heavy losses and internal strife, hopes flickered among the defenders, fueled by the valor of their troops. Key positions like Old Tiger’s Cave became battlegrounds, exemplifying the fierce resistance against the Japanese advance. On December 9, as artillery fire enveloped the city, a battle for the Gate of Enlightenment commenced. Both sides suffered grievously, with the Chinese soldiers fighting to the last, unwilling to yield an inch of their soil. Each assault from Japan met with relentless counterattacks, turning Nanjing into a symbol of perseverance amidst impending doom, as the siege marked a critical chapter in the conflict, foreshadowing the brutal events that would follow. #167 The Battle of Nanjing Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. By mid-December, the landscape surrounding Nanjing was eerily quiet. The Japanese Army marched through what seemed to be desolate fields and mountains, but they were not truly empty. Civilians were scarce, with most having fled, but a few remained in their homes, hiding in cellars and barns, clinging to the hope that the war would bypass them. Meanwhile, thousands of Chinese soldiers, left behind and unable to keep pace with their units, still posed a significant danger to the Japanese forces. The Japanese Army had not truly conquered the territory east and south of Nanjing; they had merely passed through. Mopping-up operations became a top priority. Soldiers from the 16th Infantry Division, stationed near Purple Mountain, spent early December conducting these missions far from the city’s walls. “Chinese stragglers may be hiding in this area, and they must be flushed out. Any small structure of no strategic value to the Japanese Army must be burned!” This command rang out to the division’s soldiers as they spread across the countryside around Unicorn Gate. Soon, isolated fires began to illuminate the horizon, one for each home. Soldiers from the 9th Infantry Division, who were not directly engaged in combat south of the Gate of Enlightenment, were also conducting similar mopping-up operations. On December 11 at noon, one squad received orders to investigate a suspicious farm building. Although it had been searched previously, movement inside prompted renewed caution. The Japanese entered carefully, moving from room to room. In the basement, they discovered eight Chinese soldiers who offered no resistance, immediately raising their hands in surrender. Bound together, they were brought outside. Using a few Chinese words supplemented by sign language, the Japanese gathered that the Chinese had been in the vicinity where one of their comrades had been killed days earlier. Unanimously, they decided the prisoners should be executed in front of their comrade’s grave. Some of the older soldiers hesitated, reluctant to partake in the killings, leaving it to the younger ones to carry out the order. Soon, eight headless bodies lay sprawled before a solitary Japanese grave. On the morning of December 11, the first soldiers of the 6th Japanese Infantry Division finally spotted the distant city wall of Nanjing. They had been engaged in fierce combat for nearly two days, attempting to dislodge the tenacious defenders of the Yuhuatai plateau, the elite soldiers of the 88th Division. In a desperate bid to maintain their foothold on Yuhuatai, the 88th Division deployed its reserved 528th Regiment along with a battalion of engineers. Despite their efforts, the regiment's ranks had been depleted, filled with inexperienced recruits, and their leadership nearly obliterated, limiting their effectiveness. Under the relentless assaults from the Japanese forces, their defenses began to falter almost immediately. Faced with the stiff resistance at the Gate of Enlightenment, the Japanese shifted their focus to the Chinese Gate on December 11. Japanese aircraft were summoned for tactical air support, forcing the 88th Division's defenders to retreat behind the wall. This withdrawal occurred swiftly and somewhat chaotically, allowing the Japanese to pursue closely. Before the Chinese could regroup, 300 Japanese soldiers had breached the wall. Only the mobilization of all available forces enabled the Chinese to push the attackers back outside. Meanwhile, the left flank of the 88th Division, stationed east of Chinese Gate, remained outside the wall. Here, they clashed with elements of the 9th Japanese Division but faced intense pressure and were compelled to fall back. By the end of the day, the Chinese division had shortened its defensive line, regrouping in front of the city wall. Plans for a nighttime counterattack were ultimately abandoned, as it became clear that the division’s soldiers were too fatigued to mount an effective offensive. Overall, it proved to be a successful day for the Japanese 10th Army. Further south, the Kunisaki Detachment successfully crossed the Yangtze River at Cihu village, beginning their advance toward Pukou. Its special amphibious training made the detachment ideally suited for the operation, but its limited numbers, essentially a reinforced infantry regiment, raised concerns at field headquarters about whether it could accomplish the task alone. Prince Asaka proposed transporting part of the 13th Division across the Yangtze further north to sever the railway connecting Tianjin to Pukou, cutting off a potential retreat route for Chinese forces that had escaped Nanjing. On December 11, Japanese artillery shells rained down relentlessly, targeting both the interior and exterior of Nanjing's city walls. Administrators of the Safety Zone were alarmed to witness several shells landing perilously close to its southern edge. In a bid to provide some semblance of security, American and foreign flags were raised around the zone's perimeter, though their protective influence against artillery fire from miles away was negligible. The leaders of the Safety Zone faced an unexpected dilemma: how to handle lawbreakers with the city courts now out of operation. That day, they encountered a thief caught in the act. As Rabe noted in his diary “We sentence the thief to death, then pardon him and reduce his punishment to 24 hours in jail, and ultimately, due to the absence of a jail, we simply let him go”. Refugees continued to pour in, with a total of 850 having found shelter at Ginling College. Vautrin and her colleagues began to feel that their initial estimate of 2,700 women and children seeking refuge on the campus was overly optimistic. They were soon proven wrong. On the banks of the Yangtze River, hundreds of injured soldiers and civilians were lining up to be ferried across to Pukou, where trains awaited to transport them further inland and away from danger. Many had been waiting for days without food. While ferries made continuous trips across the river to rescue as many as possible, the process was painfully slow. As of late December 10, approximately 1,500 wounded civilians remained stranded on the south bank of the Yangtze. The Japanese forces were confronted by a fiercely determined enemy composed largely of young soldiers from the Training Division. These soldiers had the advantage of having been stationed near Purple Mountain for several years, making them familiar with the terrain. Additionally, they were part of an elite unit, groomed not just in equipment and training but also instilled with a sense of nationalism rooted in Chiang Kai-shek’s ideology. Li Xikai, the commander of the division’s 3rd Regiment, had set up his command post directly in the path of the primary Japanese advance, yet his regiment continued to resist. Despite the fierce resistance, the Japanese gradually gained control over the Purple Mountain area. General Nakajima Kesago, commander of the 16th Division, visited an artillery observation post early in the day and was pleased to receive reports that his troops had captured two peaks of Purple Mountain and were poised to take the main peak. Yet there loomed a problem on Nakajima’s right flank. A widening gap was emerging between the 16th Division and the 13th Division, which had advanced along the southern bank of the Yangtze. There was a risk that Chinese forces could escape through this lightly guarded area. The 13th Division was stationed in the strategically important river port city of Zhenjiang, preparing to cross the Yangtze. The Central China Area Army ordered the 13th Division to mobilize three infantry battalions and one artillery battalion. This new formation, known as the Yamada Detachment after its commander, Yamada Senji, was tasked with remaining on the Yangtze's south bank and advancing westward to capture two Chinese fortresses on the river: Mt. Wulong and Mt. Mufu. This redeployment alleviated concerns about the gap, allowing the 16th Division to focus on the city wall. As the sun dipped towards the horizon, one Captain Akao Junzo prepared for what he believed would be his final assault. He had been ordered to seize a hill northeast of Sun Yat-sen Gate that overlooked the city entrance. His commander told him “The attack on Nanjing will likely be the last battle of this war, and I hope your company can be at the front when the enemy’s lines are breached”. The hill was fortified with numerous machine gun positions, reinforced with mud, bricks, and tiles, and connected by an intricate network of trenches. Dense rows of barbed wire lay before the positions, designed to halt attackers and expose them to machine-gun fire. Additionally, the area was likely heavily mined, and Chinese soldiers maintained a high level of alertness. Akao knew this all too well; when he crawled forward and slightly lifted his head to survey the landscape, he triggered a hail of bullets, one of which grazed his helmet. Around late afternoon, four mountain guns from the regimental artillery began firing on the Chinese positions, sustaining the bombardment for over an hour. By 5:00 pm, as the winter sky darkened, Akao decided it was time to launch the attack. Expecting close-quarters combat, he instructed his men to carry only their rifles and small entrenchment tools. With the entire company poised to move, he dispatched a small group of soldiers ahead to cut openings in the barbed wire while receiving covering fire from the mountain guns and the rifles and machine guns of their comrades. The remainder of the company advanced with swords raised and bayonets fixed. As they approached within about 700 feet of the enemy positions, the artillery bombardment ceased as planned. The enemy, still reeling from the ferocity of the earlier assault, scrambled in a panic from their trenches, retreating in disarray. Akao and his fellow soldiers pressed forward, cutting down any opposition in their path. Seizing the momentum, Akao charged to occupy the hill that had been his target. He found it deserted upon his arrival and sent a triumphant message back to command, reporting that the objective had been achieved. However, the reply he received left him baffled: he was ordered to withdraw with his company and return to their lines. Apparently, the regimental command deemed the position too precarious. Sensing that a precious advantage was being squandered, Akao disregarded the order. Before his company could establish a defensive position on the hill, the Chinese launched a counterattack. Lying down, the Japanese soldiers returned fire while frantically digging into the earth to fortify their position. Gradually, they began to form a rudimentary perimeter at the summit. The fighting continued into the night. Exhausted from days without sleep, many soldiers rotated between guard duty and rest, dozing off intermittently in their shallow trenches, reassuring one another that everything would be alright before drifting back to sleep. They successfully repelled all attempts by the Chinese to reclaim the hill and were eventually relieved. On December 11, after leaving his capital, Chiang Kai-shek took time to reflect on everything that had happened in his diary. He reassured himself that his nationalist revolution would persist, regardless of whether he held Nanjing, “Temporary defeat can be turned into eventual victory.” Yet he did not fear so much the Japanese invasion itself, but rather how the weakening of his nationalist government might allow the Communists to rise. He wrote about how his nation was on the brink of becoming a second Spain. While foreign invasions were undoubtedly disastrous, they could eventually be overcome, if not immediately, then over years or decades. Sometimes, this could be achieved merely by absorbing the outmatched invader and assimilating them into Chinese society. In contrast, internal unrest posed a far more fundamental threat to the survival of any regime. As we have seen in this series, going back to the mid 19th century, was it the foreign empires of Britain, France and Russia that threatened to destroy the Qing dynasty, or was it the internal civil war brought on by the Taiping? As Chiang famously put it “the Japanese were a treatable disease of the skin. Communism however was a disease of the heart”. Chiang could accept a humiliating but rapid retreat from Nanjing. In his view, it would be far more difficult to recover from a bloody yet futile struggle for the city that might cost him what remained of his best troops. A prolonged defensive battle, he reasoned, would be a tragic waste and could shift the balance of power decisively in favor of the Communists. This new mindset was reflected in a telegram he sent late on December 11 to Tang Shengzhi: “If the situation becomes untenable, it is permissible to find the opportune moment to retreat to regroup in the rear in anticipation of future counterattacks.” On December 12, tankettes cautiously plunged into the Yuhuatai plateau. Unexpectedly the Chinese defenders abandoned their positions and rushed down the hillside toward Nanjing’s walls. Upon discovering this, the Japanese tankettes opened fire on the retreating Chinese, cutting swathes through the masses and sending bodies tumbling down the slope. Some Japanese infantry caught up, joining in the slaughter and laughing boisterously as they reveled in the chaos. A tankette column escorted a group of engineers to the Nanjing wall and then drove east along the moat until they reached a large gate, flanked by two smaller openings, all securely shut. A chilling message, painted in blue, adorned the gate’s surface. Written in Chinese characters, it conveyed a stark warning: “We Swear Revenge on the Enemy.” The wall itself loomed three stories high, but Japanese artillery was already targeting it, this was known as the Chinese Gate. Now that Yuhuatai was virtually in Japanese hands, capturing the gate had become the primary objective. At this location, the wall stood 70 feet tall, protected by a 100-foot moat to the outside. All bridges spanning the moat had been destroyed. The area around the gate was heavily defended, with approximately one machine gun positioned every 50 yards atop the wall. Inside, the gate was reinforced with a formidable barrier of sandbags. Chinese infantry armed with mortars and small arms could fire down on the Japanese attackers while others had established isolated positions in nearby buildings that had survived the “scorched earth” policy. Taking the gate and the heavily fortified southwestern corner of the wall was the responsibility of the 6th Division. The division was deploying its regiments: the 13th, the 47th, and the 23rd from east to west. The 45th Regiment, the final unit of the division, was tasked with skirting the western side of the wall and advancing northward, aiming for the Yangtze docks at Xiaguan. The soldiers of the division had already formed a rough understanding of the formidable defenses they were facing. During the night between December 11 and 12, they had advanced nearly to the wall, gathering intelligence to prepare for an assault at dawn. As planned, the assault commenced. Field artillery fired round after round at the gate, but the wall sustained minimal damage. A Japanese tank rolled up, firing point-blank at the gate but producing no visible effect. Next, it was the engineers' turn. A “dare-to-die” squad, equipped with long ladders, crept as close to the wall as possible without exposing themselves and then sprinted the final distance. The moment they broke into the open, a Chinese machine gun opened fire, cutting them down to the last man. At noon, three Japanese planes soared overhead, dropping bombs near a Chinese-held building outside the gate. The smoke from the resulting fire briefly obscured the area. Seizing the opportunity presented by the reduced visibility, a large group of Chinese soldiers holed up inside attempted to dash back to the wall. The Japanese spotted their movement instantly, and every soldier in the line opened fire. The fleeing Chinese were mowed down like ripe grass, collapsing in heaps. Meanwhile the battle for the Gate of Enlightenment was drawing to a close. On the Chinese side of the wall, confusion reigned regarding the overall situation on December 12. Chen Yiding, brigade commander of the 87th Division, had been warned that heads would roll if the Gate of Enlightenment fell to the Japanese. Hearing the sounds of fierce fighting on the edges of Yuhuatai and seeing the smoke rise from numerous fires on Purple Mountain, he was left in the dark about their implications, surrounded by the fog of war. Chen’s troops had finally managed to establish a telephone link to the rear, but by mid-afternoon, it was cut off, likely due to a stray artillery shell. After dark, Chen sent an officer to his left flank to make contact with the Chinese forces there. The report that followed was far from reassuring. A unit from Guangdong Province was abandoning its positions and retreating north, attempting to exit the capital through one of the gates in the city wall. The officer had attempted to inquire about their destination, but the retreating soldiers ignored him. With neighboring units evacuating autonomously, a significant gap was opening in the Chinese line atop the wall between the Gate of Enlightenment and Sun Yat-sen Gate. A frightening possibility emerged: the Japanese could walk right in across the undefended southeastern corner of the city wall and surround Chen Yiding’s troops before they had a chance to withdraw. The situation was becoming untenable, a fact underscored by the artillery fire raining down on Chen’s position. Despite this, retreat was not a simple decision for Chen and the other commanders of the 87th Division. They had been garrisoned in Nanjing before the war, and...
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3.166 Fall and Rise of China: Enemy at the Gates of Nanjing
09/08/2025
3.166 Fall and Rise of China: Enemy at the Gates of Nanjing
Last time we spoke about the Japanese encirclement of Nanjing. As battles erupted around Lake Tai, the Chinese troops used guerrilla tactics and artillery to resist the technologically superior Japanese. However, internal strife and logistical issues began to weaken their defense. On December 1st, Japan's Central China Area Army was ordered to assault Nanjing, and despite heavy resistance, the Japanese forces swiftly captured key towns. By December 7th, with Japanese troops closing in, Chiang Kai-Shek prepared to evacuate the capital. Anxiety and fear gripped the city as civilians witnessed horrific atrocities in the countryside, where Japanese soldiers unleashed violence against unarmed populations. The defense of Nanjing became symbolic of Chinese perseverance against oppression. As the city faced inevitable destruction, hope rested on the courage of its defenders and the belief that they could rally against the relentless tide of attack, knowing their plight was drawing the world’s attention amidst a brutal conflict. #166 Enemy at the Gates of Nanjing Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. War was steadily creeping toward Nanjing, and the remaining residents understood this grim reality. Starting December 8, the distant sounds of artillery began to echo through the city. The following day, the first shell from a Japanese battery struck downtown, detonating at Xinjiekou square. Amid the chaos and anarchy engulfing much of Nanjing as the population dwindled, looting became rampant. Chinese soldiers were reportedly seen stealing from abandoned stores. Daily life had largely ground to a halt. To this desolate and partially lawless city, refugees from the war continued to arrive. However, on December 8, the influx of refugees came to an abrupt halt. All gates in the city wall were locked, only to be opened for urgent military needs. Even soldiers injured in battles near the city were reportedly denied entry, left to perish just minutes away from desperately needed medical care. As the Japanese forces tightened their grip around Nanjing, more civilians sought refuge in the safety zone. American missionary Ernest Forster wrote in a letter to his wife “I wish you could witness the influx of people into this area from other parts of the city. All the roads leading here are lined with groups transporting whatever possessions they can carry, tireless rickshaws, some even pulled by students, wheelbarrows, trucks, baby carriages, anything with wheels.” On the evening of December 7, bonfires lit by soldiers of Japan’s 16th Infantry Division near Unicorn Gate were clearly visible from Purple Mountain, which was defended by the elite Training Division of the Chinese Army. The bonfires presented an enticing target for this division, established as a model to inspire the rest of the Chinese forces, who remained eager to prove themselves even as defeat loomed. Commander Zhou Zhenqiang of the Training Division’s 1st Brigade suggested a counterattack and had a plan in place. His brigade would launch a frontal assault while the 3rd Brigade, stationed to his left, would execute a flanking maneuver to encircle the unsuspecting adversary. Although this strategy had potential, it was never put into action. The Nanjing garrison dismissed the proposal, citing that “too many of our troops are already worn down,” according to Tang Shengzhi’s staff. They warned that if the counterattack failed, there wouldn’t be enough soldiers left to defend Nanjing. Consequently, the Training Division was compelled to dig in and await the enemy's arrival. While Chinese defenders were ordered to hold their ground, the 16th Japanese Infantry Division approached Purple Mountain. The slopes of the mountain were cloaked in conifers, interspersed with dense bamboo thickets that created almost jungle-like combat conditions. As one Japanese soldier of the 20th regiment noted “Just a few paces ahead, you couldn’t see anything. Even worse, you didn’t know where the enemy was. When we heard gunfire, we shot back at random. Bullets were flying everywhere.” As the Japanese soldiers ascended the slope, they were halfway to the mountain’s summit when they encountered white smoke and the characteristic cracking of burning bamboo. The Chinese troops, benefiting from a favorable wind, had set fire to the bamboo. Swiftly, the Japanese soldiers drew their swords and bayonets, cutting a wide firebreak through the bamboo to halt the flames. At the forefront of Purple Mountain was a key defensive position known as Old Tiger’s Cave, located just east of the mountain. As long as this location remained in Chinese control, the Japanese could not capture the mountain itself. Understanding its significance, Chinese commanders stationed a battalion of well-equipped and highly motivated soldiers from the Training Division’s 5th Regiment there. Fighting erupted in the afternoon of December 8, when the Japanese commenced a fierce artillery barrage on Old Tiger’s Cave, followed by an infantry assault aimed at taking the hill. Under the cold-blooded command of their leaders, the Chinese battalion employed disciplined and concentrated fire, inflicting heavy casualties on the advancing Japanese troops, who were unable to advance that day. The following morning, the Japanese intensified their assault, combining artillery fire and aerial bombardment on Old Tiger’s Cave. Their infantry again attempted the treacherous climb, hoping smoke grenades would obscure the defenders’ line of sight. Once more, they were thwarted, facing additional pressure as a neighboring Chinese unit launched a counterattack against the Japanese right flank. The successful defense came at a significant cost; by the afternoon, over half of the battalion defending Old Tiger’s Cave had become casualties. Given the hill’s exposed position and difficulties in resupply, the officers of the Training Division reluctantly decided to abandon the position. The battered battalion, now without its commander, retreated to the second-highest peak of Purple Mountain. While the loss of Old Tiger’s Cave was a setback for the Training Division, it also conferred certain advantages. The Chinese soldiers withdrew to a series of prepared defensive lines through terrain they knew intimately. This stronghold centered on Xiaolingwei, a town where the Training Division had moved into new barracks over four years prior. The battalion’s soldiers were familiar with every creek, hamlet, bamboo grove, and pond in the region. The Japanese faced a daunting challenge ahead. Due south of Nanjing, the 6th Japanese Division had finally caught up with the 114th Division and was deployed to its left for the final push toward Nanjing. Between the division and the city wall lay a terrain of hills and low mountains dominated by two prominent features known as General’s Peak and Ox Head Peak. The task fell to the division’s 13th Regiment to proceed north along the highway, while the 23rd Regiment maneuvered left around the mountains before advancing north along the Yangtze River. The division’s artillery regiment, functioning at only half its typical strength due to two of its four battalions remaining in the Hangzhou Bay area, was ordered to concentrate its firepower in support of the 13th Regiment as it navigated the terrain beneath the mountain peaks. Unfortunately, the regiment's advance became mired in unexpected Chinese resistance, and with the artillery deployed too far behind to provide adequate support, divisional command decided to halt the advance until the following day, December 9. Under the cover of darkness, the artillery units were repositioned closer to the front, and the artillery commanders established their command on a hill nearby. At dawn, they began firing at the Chinese positions with much greater precision than the previous day. Meanwhile, a column of tankettes rolled down the road between General’s Peak and Ox Head Peak in support of the 13th Regiment. The first tank when it came under attack from hidden mountain guns. The enemy scored several hits on the tank, forcing the driver to crawl out of the burning vehicle. The driver’s pants were engulfed in flames, and as men attempted to extinguish the fire, enemy machine gun fire ripped into the driver’s chest, killing him instantly. The second vehicle also came under fire from shells and burst into flames. The commander and his driver attempted to escape the turret but were trapped when another shell hit, engulfing them in flames. Unaware of the unfolding disaster, the column continued its advance, and two more tankettes were destroyed. This skirmish proved costly, resulting in the loss of four vehicles and seven men. Despite the heavy losses, the coordinated operations involving infantry, armored vehicles, and artillery gradually succeeded in dislodging the Chinese from their positions. By nightfall on December 9, the first Japanese soldiers arrived in the town of Tiexinqiao, just south of Nanjing. Meanwhile, the 23rd Regiment continued its advance north along routes west of the mountain range. This maneuver required the regiment to abandon the relatively solid road it had used thus far, opting instead for primitive trails ill-suited for wheeled transport. The major drawback of this shift was the slow transportation of artillery. The consequences became evident when one of the regiment’s battalions was ordered to dislodge enemy positions on a low peak known as Hill 154, situated astride the main route of advancement. With no artillery support available, half the battalion's strength, two companies remained in the rear to safeguard the artillery pieces as they were being repositioned. The battalion ordered the remaining two infantry companies to mount an assault on Hill 154. In place of artillery, they were instructed to utilize small-caliber knee mortars. As the Japanese forces advanced towards Hill 154, the Chinese defenders opened fire with everything at their disposal, heavy and light machine guns, rifles, and mortars. The Japanese were quickly pinned down, moving slowly toward the summit under the cover of fire from the knee mortars. A breakthrough occurred when a Japanese light machine gun crew spotted a large group of Chinese soldiers repositioning on the hill. A sustained burst of fire from their weapon struck true, sending dead and wounded Chinese soldiers tumbling down the slope. Seizing the opportunity, the Japanese platoon commander sprang to his feet and charged up the hill, followed closely by the machine gunner, with the rest of the platoon trailing 10 to 20 yards behind. As they advanced, they encountered four Chinese soldiers raising their rifles to shoot. The Japanese machine gunner was quicker, firing from the hip and killing all four in an instant. The remainder of the skirmish descended into chaos. The Japanese soldiers captured the hill and took aim, firing carefully and lethally at the backs of the defeated Chinese as they fled northward. Other Japanese troops swept through the trenches with fixed bayonets, mercilessly killing all Chinese soldiers present, those who were injured, those who attempted to surrender, and even those feigning death. As Japan’s 10th Army advanced on Nanjing from the south, the Shanghai Expeditionary Force was making its way in from the east. The tactical situation was fluid, fast-changing, and unpredictable, with Japanese spearheads penetrating deep into Chinese-held territory, often bypassing large enemy troop formations that would then courageously launch counterattacks from the rear. On December 8th, the 16th Division was advancing into some mountainous terrain north of Jurang where their vanguard ran into an ambush. 200 Japanese soldiers were having lunch over a 300 foot hilltop position when suddenly Captain Akao Junzo heard his comrade shout “Thousands of enemies are coming up from behind! They are heading right towards you!” Rushing outside, Akao witnessed what appeared to be a wall of Chinese soldiers marching down the valley from the rear. He dashed to the next building, bursting through the door to find his soldiers preparing lunch, he shouted at them “The enemy is here! Come with me!” The soldiers dropped their cooking utensils, grabbed their rifles, and followed Akao up the hillside behind the farm buildings. Initially, the fighting seemed evenly matched. However, the Japanese quickly brought up their two heavy machine guns, set up just 50 yards apart. Firing at a rate of 500 rounds per minute, they caught the Chinese troops in a devastating crossfire. Nine light machine guns soon joined the fray. Within moments, the cohesion of the Chinese formation collapsed, and as some soldiers broke ranks and began to retreat, Akao’s men eagerly pursued them with fixed bayonets. A young, aggressive officer led the charge, wildly swinging his sword until it snapped in two. Akao watched with satisfaction. This was the kind of warfare he and his men had trained for tirelessly, month after month, and they executed their tactics with precision. However, his attention soon shifted to the hill across the valley where he had previously posted the observation squad. The entire hill was now crawling with Chinese soldiers, all firing at the peak where the small group of Japanese soldiers was entrenched in what appeared to be a desperate battle. Determined to reclaim the hill, Akao led part of his men in a charge uphill but found themselves pinned down by Chinese gunfire halfway up. A force of three squads had arrived, bringing with them what was urgently needed: knee mortars. They were accompanied by the officer with the broken sword. Akao directed the mortar fire towards the top of the hill, watching as each explosive shell detonated among the dense cluster of Chinese soldiers. Taking advantage of this momentary confusion and disarray, Akao and his men rapidly climbed the hill with swords drawn. Upon reaching the peak, they found only a few Chinese soldiers remaining. One of them pointed a handgun at the officer with the broken sword. Realizing he had no means of defending himself, the officer could only shout, “Bastard!” This unexpected outburst caused the Chinese soldier to hesitate for a brief moment before pulling the trigger. That split second marked the difference between life and death. Another Japanese officer, whose sword remained intact, lunged forward and cut down the would-be shooter. Following this, Akao and his men discovered the beleaguered Japanese squad. The soldiers’ bodies had been mutilated almost beyond recognition. Some had their eyes gouged out, others had their noses or ears sliced off, and many were missing hands and feet. There were no survivors. In the early hours of December 9, just before dawn, advance units of the Japanese Army’s 36th Regiment, consisting of infantry and light tanks, encountered fierce resistance from a battalion of the Chinese Training Division stationed at Hongmaoshan Hill, located southeast of the Nanjing city wall. A prolonged exchange of fire ensued, forcing the Chinese defenders to withdraw after sustaining heavy casualties. The Japanese, eager to capitalize on their advantage, followed closely. As the first light of dawn cut the horizon, they faced the imposing silhouette of the Nanjing city wall, which appeared more like a natural formation than a man-made structure. Despite their exhaustion, the soldiers erupted in victorious cries of "Banzai" and advanced energetically toward an enormous gate in the wall, this was the “Guanghua Men” or “the Gate of Enlightenment”. The Chinese defenders reigned fire, and artillery upon the Japanese columns. At that time, the gate remained shut; the moat surrounding the city was 500 feet wide and up to 15 feet deep, while the city wall towered 40 feet high. The approach to the gate was obstructed by an antitank ditch and five rows of Spanish riders, these are portable wooden frames wrapped in barbed wire. Along the road from the gate to the moat, additional rows of barbed wire further fortified the defenses. Two mountain guns, hastily transported through the rugged terrain during the 36th regiment’s rapid advance to Nanjing, were positioned at the Antiaircraft Academy and commenced firing directly at the gate. While they succeeded in damaging the heavy wooden doors, it quickly became apparent that the gate had been reinforced from behind with solid beams and densely packed sandbags, so robust that, as one Japanese soldier noted, “even a row of ants wouldn’t be able to make it through.” Shelling alone would not suffice to break through the defenses, prompting the call for engineers to venture into the open, exposed to enemy fire from the top of the wall, to attempt clearing the obstacles and detonating explosives at the base of the gate. While their comrades provided cover fire to keep the defenders suppressed, the engineers maneuvered past the Spanish riders to plant their explosives at the foot of the gates. An ear-splitting explosion shattered the morning air, but when the dust settled, the gate remained largely intact. To the Japanese attackers, the Chinese defenders appeared firmly entrenched; however, the reality was that they were nearing a breaking point. The artillery shelling, coupled with several Japanese air raids earlier in the day, had resulted in over 100 casualties surrounding the gate. Reinforcements were hastily summoned from nearby city sectors, including a platoon of military police cadets led by Lieutenant Xiang Hongyuan. Armed with six ZB vz 26 machine guns, the cadets commandeered a series of buses and made their way to the Gate of Enlightenment. The hours before sunset dragged on with a tense stalemate around the Gate of Enlightenment, as neither side managed to achieve a decisive advantage. The Japanese engineers made two more perilous attempts to blow up the gate, only to find their explosives insufficient to breach the strong defenses. In a bold move, the Chinese defenders launched a risky assault outside the wall to incinerate a flour mill taller than the city wall, which, if captured, could provide the Japanese with an excellent observation point. The Chinese infantry, sprinting towards the building with jerry cans and wood, became easy targets for the Japanese fire. Despite suffering heavy losses, enough soldiers managed to reach the mill and set it ablaze. As the battle for the gate intensified on December 9, the elite 88th Division of the Chinese military became increasingly involved. The division’s 262nd Brigade, comprising the 523rd and 524th Regiments, was tasked with defending the city wall between the Gate of Enlightenment and the Chinese Gate. One battalion from the 524th Regiment was dispatched to bolster the defenses at the Gate of Enlightenment. As the Japanese attacks escalated, this battalion incurred around 300 casualties. One notable instance saw 17 surviving members of a company withdraw from the battlefield, led by a platoon commander after both the company commander and his deputy had been killed. The 36th Japanese Regiment had two...
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3.165 Fall and Rise of China: Nanjing Surrounded
09/02/2025
3.165 Fall and Rise of China: Nanjing Surrounded
Last time we spoke about the battle of Lake Tai. In November 1937, as Japanese forces advanced, Nanjing's fate hung in the balance. Commander Tang Shengzhi led the desperate defense amidst disarray among Chinese generals, many advocating retreat. Despite political strife, civilians rallied, fortifying the city, knowing its fall could destroy Chiang Kai-Shek’s government. On November 19, Japanese Commander Yanagawa seized the moment, directing his troops towards Nanjing, igniting panic in Tokyo. As fierce battles erupted around Lake Tai, the Chinese forces, though outmatched in technology, employed guerilla tactics and stubborn resistance. Chinese artillery delivered devastating blows, and bold counterattacks kept Japanese momentum in check. However, as the month closed, the tide turned, logistical challenges and internal chaos hampered communication. The stage was set for one of the darkest chapters of modern Chinese history, where the battle for Nanjing would symbolize the struggle against oppression. #165 Nanjing Surrounded Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On December 1st, Jiangyin fell. That same day Japanese Army General Staff Deputy Chief Tada Hayao arrived to the Shanghai region to conduct an inspection of the front lines and personally deliver Tokyo’s orders authorizing an assault upon Nanjing. The directive was exceptionally brief: “The Central China Area Army is to attack Nanjing in coordination with the Navy.” Later that same day, at 7:00 pm more detailed instructions were issued by the Central China Area Army. The 10th Army was set to begin its decisive assault on Nanjing on December 3, advancing along two primary routes toward the capital. The left flank was to advance through Wuhu, while the right flank would move via the city of Lishui. The Shanghai Expeditionary Force, having endured more strain than the 10th Army due to its longer tenure at the front, was scheduled to launch its attack two days later, concentrating its forces around Danyang and Jurong. On December 2nd, Matsui received a promotion, given overall command of the Central China Area Army. The responsibility for the Shanghai Expeditionary Force was entrusted to a recent appointee in the Shanghai theater, Prince Asaka Yasuhiko, a member of the Imperial family. As Matsui noted in his diary that day "It’s a great honor”. He promptly issued orders to ensure the prince's comfort and safety by all available means. At the age of 55, Prince Asaka, Emperor Hirohito’s uncle, boasted a successful military background, including a tenure at the Japanese embassy in Paris. However, this experience had left its mark on him in two significant ways: he walked with a limp due to a car accident in France and spoke French fluently. Despite his talents and efforts, he did not earn the highest regard from Hirohito. He had not demonstrated the loyalty expected of him during the February 26th Coup attempt in 1936 and had since been met with a cold shoulder from the emperor Command in China presented a crucial opportunity for him to restore his standing in the eyes of Hirohito. Meanwhile over in the capital a war for air supremacy raged. More and more soviet pilots were arriving alongside their Polikarpov I-16 fighters. Exhausted from the long distance travel to Nanjing, the Soviet pilots were given no respite and tossed into the fray, performing 5 sorties in their first day. The Soviets were kept very busy as the Japanese increasingly unleashed raids against the airfields in the Nanjing region. The raids became so intense, the Chinese had to relocate their aircraft to bases hundreds of miles behind the front. While the Polikarpov I-16’s were severely hampering the Japanese, suddenly a new adversary emerged. The Mitsubishi A5M fighter, still a prototype was rushed into service to help escort the bombers. This was the predecessor to the legendary A6M Zero fighter. Like I mentioned previously I wrote the Kings and Generals episode on the A6M Zero Fighter’s history and over at my patreon I have a hour long podcast on it. Needless to say the A5M changed everything in the theater, taking away the advantage the Soviet fighters had wielded for a brief window of time. At 9:00 am on December 2, a small customs cruiser waving a swastika flag docked at the Nanjing waterfront after making an overnight journey down the Yangtze River from Wuhan. German Ambassador Oskar Trautmann quickly disembarked, accompanied by embassy councilor Heinz Lautenschlager and Chinese Vice Foreign Minister Xu Mo. Trautmann’s mission was so secretive that although he had dined with a secretary from the Italian embassy, an Axis partner just hours before departing from Wuhan, he made no mention of his impending trip. Despite the secrecy surrounding his visit, news of Trautmann's arrival in Nanjing spread rapidly within the German community. Businessman John Rabe, noted in his diary that day “I assume his return has something to do with Germany's attempt to act as a mediator”. Just before Trautmann's arrival, Chiang Kai-shek had a meeting with his closest advisers, primarily military generals. Vice Foreign Minister Xu briefed those present on the peace conditions proposed by the Japanese nearly a month prior. Many in attendance were hearing these terms for the first time and were startled to discover that Japan did not require reductions in Chinese armaments. Bai Chongxi was the first to speak “If these are the only terms, then why should there be war?” Given that the Japanese proposal seemed to allow for the continuity of the Kuomintang led Chinese nation, the generals present, including Tang Shengzhi, agreed to use it as a basis for negotiations. Later, at 5:00 pm Chiang met with Trautmann. The German diplomat said “I believe it is necessary for China to declare its willingness to discuss the Japanese terms in a conciliatory spirit.” Chiang replied, “I intend to do so, but I also expect the same from Japan.” Chiang then explained that they needed to be addressed for peace talks with Japan to proceed, explicitly stating that he would not accept Japanese control over northern China and that he was unwilling to sacrifice his recent friendship with the Soviet Union to achieve peace with Japan. Having secured Chiang’s agreement to initiate talks with Japan, Trautmann promptly returned to the German embassy to report to his superiors in Berlin. He then headed back to the docks, boarding the same vessel that had brought him to Nanjing, traveling back up the dark Yangtze River. One particular concern weighed heavily on Trautmann’s mind: a request from Chiang to maintain absolute secrecy regarding the upcoming Sino-Japanese negotiations. Trautmann believed that Germany should support this request. He was convinced that if news leaked about Chiang's willingness to engage with the despised Japanese, it could spell the end of his government in China, allowing the Soviets to take charge. At this time, both the Germans and Japanese feared fragmenting China further. Both wanted the Kuomintang to remain in charge and maintain the status quo as they benefitted from it greatly. Staff officer Kawabe Torashiro after a recent tour of the front lines had this to say, “To dismantle the Chiang regime would leave it in a dire situation, giving it the desperate tenacity of a cornered rat in its struggle against Japan. Whether we destroy it or not, we would ultimately contribute to a fragmented China for many years, one that would be a significant drain on the Empire’s resources well into the future.” Meanwhile, the city of Changzhou fell on December 2nd, without any resistance. Private Azuma Shiro landed at Changzhou and was ordered alongside his 20th regiment to prepare an assault upon Danyang, a walled city located about 25 miles northwest of Changzhou. The road between the two locations was nearly straight, running parallel to the railway connecting Shanghai and Nanjing, allowing the 20th Regiment to make swift progress. Upon arriving at Danyang, Azuma’s platoon cautiously approached a bamboo grove concealing a Chinese position. Suddenly, a ZB vz 26 machine gun opened fire. Taking cover, the Japanese soldiers entered a nearby cemetery, where the small grave mounds offered some protection. The platoon’s knee mortars responded, firing shells that silenced the machine gun. Seizing the opportunity, they launched their assault, swords raised and bayonets fixed, shouting at the top of their lungs. As they closed the distance to the bamboo grove, the machine gun sliced them down. When they finally reached the trench, they discovered it was already abandoned; the occupants had fled mere moments before. Danyang also fell on December 2, clearing one of the significant obstacles in the 16th Division’s path to Jurong. Meanwhile to the south, the 9th Division was advancing from Tianwangsi towards Chunhua village, just miles from the capital, while elements of the 3rd Division were also making significant headway. At the northern end of the front, the Amaya Detachment was approaching the Yangtze port city of Zhenjiang, preparing to cross the river and sweep west along the opposite bank. As Matsui noted in his diary that day “The enemy’s entire defensive line has been breached, and their morale has declined sharply. I believe there won’t be much fight left in them moving forward”. Although the Shanghai Expeditionary Force had yet to launch its final assault on the capital, the soldiers were managing to advance at an impressive pace. Matsui noted in his diary on December 4th “I plan for an orderly occupation of Nanjing. Before entering the city, we must offer Chiang Kai-shek or the garrison commander the opportunity to surrender. While occupying Nanjing, I hope we can avoid unnecessary damage to the city and harm to the population.” Over in Nanjing, Henri Johan Diederick de Fremery, a Dutch officer serving as an advisor to the Chinese army, had assessed the city’s fortifications prior to the war and found them lacking. He noted that coastal batteries had been installed to the north and northeast of the city, including outdated muzzle-loaders. In his report he stated “They might serve against warship attacks, but who would think of attacking this city with warships?” Although some artillery pieces were positioned along the city wall, they were insufficient in number. Some locations were poorly constructed due to material shortages. For instance, a portion of the wall between Sun Yat-sen Gate and the Gate of Enlightenment had been reinforced with makeshift structures, concrete on the outside and a fragile network of bamboo within. It was a façade that would collapse upon the impact of the first Japanese shell. Natural obstacles like Purple Mountain to the east and the Yuhuatai hills to the south existed, but little was done to incorporate these features into the defensive network. The river, which served as a natural moat, became shallower on the eastern side, allowing for relatively easy crossing. As further noted by de Fremery “Nanking cannot be justifiably termed a heavily defended city”. Meanwhile the Chinese Army was engaged in a frantic effort to prepare for the anticipated Japanese onslaught. Engineers readied to demolish strategic bridges, and in many cases, entire villages were set ablaze, blackening the horizon with thick smoke. Heart-wrenching scenes unfolded as farmers were evicted from homes that had been in their families for generations. By the end of the first week of winter, distant bombings echoed through the air, with explosions powerful enough to rattle windows within the city. The front lines were alarmingly close, leading to a steady influx of injured Chinese soldiers into Nanjing on foot. A pervasive sense of foreboding enveloped the city. Amidst the gloom, there lingered a belief that despite impending challenges, life would somehow continue. On the morning of December 3, a ship departed from Nanjing, loaded with treasures that represented three millennia of Chinese history. Thousands of crates filled with irreplaceable bronzes, porcelain, paintings, and other art objects were sent upriver. These invaluable items had been moved from Beijing four years earlier and stored in vaults in Nanjing. It was evident that the situation could deteriorate rapidly, leaving little time to respond. On December 5, all US citizens in Nanjing were urged to pack their essential belongings and be prepared to leave the city on short notice. The following day, a final order was issued: all American passport holders were directed to make their way to the Yangtze docks and board a river gunboat awaiting them, the USS Panay. As the Japanese Army advanced westward toward Nanjing, it left behind a horrifying trail of arson, rape, and murder. Helpless civilians who fell into the hands of the victorious soldiers endured brutal treatment that often defied comprehension. Now similar to other episodes I have done on my own channel or Pacific War Week by Week, this is a disclaimer, I am about to talk about some gut wrenching horrifying stuff. We are reaching Nanjing, and yes the infamous massacre is going to be told to the fullest. So warning, its about to get graphic. At the hamlet of Nanqiantou 38 residents were met with atrocities that would become more and more common. The Japanese Army set fire to the twelve homes that comprised the hamlet, forcing the captives to witness the destruction. When some of the residents attempted to escape and salvage their belongings, the soldiers trapped them inside, locking the doors and sealing their fate as the roofs collapsed in flames. Among the victims, two women, one of whom was pregnant, were subjected to repeated rapes. In a particularly gruesome act, the soldiers “cut open the belly of the pregnant woman and gouged out the fetus.” Amid the chaos, a 2 year old boy cried out, and a soldier seized him from his mother’s arms, throwing him into the flames. The frantic mother was bayoneted and discarded into a nearby creek. The remaining captives met a similar fate, dragged to the water’s edge, stabbed, and pushed into the stream. The 170 miles between Shanghai and Nanjing transformed into a nightmarish wasteland of death and destruction. For miles, the only living beings visible were the deceased. The reputation of the Japanese soldiers preceded them, leading many Chinese civilians to prefer a swift death at their own hands rather than the prospect of a slow demise at the hands of the Japanese. While passing through the town of Pinghu on their way to Nanjing, First Lieutenant Nishizawa Benkichi and his men from the 114th Division spotted two Chinese girls across a river. They appeared to be strolling hand in hand, possibly sisters. As they stepped onto a bridge, the girls began to walk towards the Japanese soldiers but suddenly stopped. Still clasping hands, they jumped into the river, disappearing into the swift current. Military efficiency was accompanied by a staggering brutality, where victories against armed opponents were often followed by the massacre of unarmed women and children. This pattern parallels the incomprehensible behavior of German soldiers on the Eastern Front, though there are significant differences. The Germans viewed themselves as a superior race compared to their Slavic adversaries, labeling them as "untermensch." In contrast, the Japanese could not deny their connections to the Chinese. Japan's historical role as a major influence on Chinese civilization was undeniable, as reflected in aspects as basic as the shared writing system. To many Japanese, their nation's relationship with China resembled that of two brothers, one younger and righteous, the other older and misguided, in need of redemption. Matsui Iwane embodied this perspective. Alongside his military duties, he held a deep interest in fostering cooperation among the peoples of Asia, who he believed remained under the yoke of Western imperialism. Since his youth, Matsui had been captivated by China, and while other ambitious officers sought postings in Western capitals like Paris or London, he applied to serve in China, remaining there for nearly a decade as part of Japan's diplomatic representation. By the 1930s, Matsui’s commitment to this pan-Asian vision had gained a political dimension, leading him to become a prominent founder of the Greater Asia Association in 1933. This of course was created mostly through the work of Kanji Ishiwara. What was once a exclusive on my patreon can be found over at Echoes of War or my youtube channel, its a four part series on the life of Ishiwara and it goes into the history of how he tried to forge pan asianism, but ultimately failed against his adversaries like Hideki Tojo. Its fascinating stuff, please if you are interested check it out on youtube and comment where you came from. This organization, though dominated by Japan, has been described as "probably the single most influential organization propagating Pan-Asianism during the 15 year war. During a visit to China in late 1935, Matsui helped establish the Chinese Greater Asia Association in the northern port city of Tianjin. For individuals like Matsui, Japan's actions on the Asian mainland were akin to liberating its peoples. They viewed the establishment of the Japanese-controlled puppet state, Manchukuo, in northeast China in 1932, as a bold experiment in nation-building, hoping the rest of China would benefit similarly. As Matsui wrote in 1933 “Next, we must also extend to the 400 million people of China the same help and deep sympathy that we provided to Manchuria, relieving them of their miserable condition of political, economic, and intellectual subjugation by various countries of the world.” The violence perpetrated by the Japanese Army stemmed from numerous variables. One was a grotesque belief they were actually liberators to what they deemed, ungrateful Chinese. The Japanese believed their presence in China was partly for the benefit of the Chinese people and felt a messianic obligation to save them. This led to frustration akin to that of a father confronting a disobedient son, compelling them to punish what they perceived as disobedience. While the rank-and-file soldiers might not have reflected deeply on these issues, such philosophies filtered down from their leaders. Of course there is a lot more to it, and sorry again for shamelessly plugging it, but on my patreon I specifically did an episode titled “why the Japanese army was so brutal” where I went through everything involved. It ran from cultural issues, to the brutal system of abuse in the military, to racism, radicalization of male youth in Japan, its a very complicated matter. Because again, most of the atrocities were committed by 20-30 year old grunts who had families back home. This was not like the traditional “I was following orders” type of situation, these were atrocities committed by the lowest ranks upwards. The safety zone, created by Rabe and a handful of other foreigners, began to take shape in the first week of December. It...
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3.164 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Lake Tai
08/25/2025
3.164 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Lake Tai
Last time we spoke about the crossing of Nanjing’s Rubicon. By November 1, Shanghai had become a lost cause, the Chinese were forced to retreat. In the wake of this turmoil, the Japanese set their sights on Nanjing, keenly aware that its fall would spell disaster for Chiang Kai-Shek's government. Despite the desperate situation, guerrilla fighters began fortifying the city as civilians rallied to support the defense, preparing for the inevitable assault that loomed. However, political divisions plagued the Chinese leadership, with some generals advocating for abandoning the city. After intense discussions, it was decided that Nanjing would be a hill worth dying on, driven largely by propaganda needs. As November 12 approached, Japanese troops rapidly advanced west, capturing towns along the way and inflicting unimaginable brutality. On November 19, Yanagawa, a commander, took the initiative, decreeing that pursuing the retreating Chinese forces toward Nanjing was paramount. #164 The Battle of Lake Tai Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. As the Chinese troops fled westwards, at 7:00 am on November 19th, Yanagawa issued instructions to his troops in the field. “The enemy’s command system is in disarray, and a mood of defeat has descended over their entire army. They have lost the will to fight. We must not miss the opportunity to pursue the enemy to Nanjing.” The order went out to the 10th Army, sending, the 6th, 18th, and 114th Divisions west along the southern shore of Lake Tai, passing through Huzhou before turning right towards Nanjing. The Kunisaki Detachment, trained for rapid movement by water and land, was ordered east along the Yangtze River near Wuhu city and, if possible, cross the river to cut off the Chinese Army’s retreat from Nanjing. Yanagawa envisioned an operation unlike any other conducted by the Japanese Army in recent history. He believed this could not only end the war but also surpass previous victories, such as the defeat of tsarist Russia more than three decades earlier. Confident in a swift victory, he wrote in a follow-up message to his commanders, “The day is near when the banner of the Rising Sun will fly over Nanjing’s city wall.” However, Yanagawa's order elicited panic in Tokyo once it became known. His superiors viewed it as an outrageous attempt to entirely change the war focus away from the north. They understood that taking Nanjing was primarily a political decision rather than a strategic one. There was still hopes of finding terms through the Germans to end the conflict, thus carving up more of China. The Japanese did not want to become bogged down in a real war. Major General Tada was particularly opposed to increasing efforts on the Shanghai front. He belonged to a faction that believed the best way to avoid a quagmire in China was to deliver a swift, decisive blow to the Chinese Army. This mindset had turned him into a major advocate for landing a strong force in Hangzhou Bay in early November. Nevertheless, he had initially resisted expanding operations to the Suzhou-Jiaxing line, only relenting on the condition that this line would not be crossed under any circumstances. Tada’s immediate response was to halt the 10th Army’s offensive. Shimomura Sadamu, Ishiwara Kanji's hardline successor as chief of operations, strongly disagreed, arguing that field commanders should have the authority to make significant decisions. Undeterred, Tada insisted on restraining the field commanders, and at 6:00 pm on November 20th, the Army General Staff sent a cable to the Central China Area Army reprimanding them for advancing beyond Order No. 600, which had established the Suzhou-Jiaxing line. The response from the Central China Area Army arrived two days later whereupon the field commanders argued that Nanjing needed to be captured to bring the war to an early conclusion. To do otherwise, they argued, would provide the enemy with an opportunity to regain the will to fight. Moreover, the officers claimed that delaying the decisive battle would not sit well with the Japanese public, potentially jeopardizing national unity. On the same day it responded to Tokyo, the Central China Area Army instructed the 10th Army to proceed cautiously: “The pursuit to Nanjing is to be halted, although you may still send an advance force towards Huzhou. Each division is to select four or five battalions to pursue the enemy rapidly”. The remainder of the troops were instructed to advance towards Huzhou and prepare to join the pursuit “at any time.” Meanwhile Chiang Kai-shek officially appointed Tang Shengzhi as the commandant of Nanjing’s garrison. Born in 1889, Tang embodied the era of officers leading China into war with Japan. They straddled the line between old and new China. During their youth, they lived in a society that had seen little change for centuries, where young men immersed themselves in 2,000-year-old classics to prepare for life. Like their ancestors across countless generations, they were governed by an emperor residing in a distant capital. Following the 1911 revolution, they embraced the new republic and received modern military training, Tang, for instance, at the esteemed Baoding Academy in northern China. Yet, they struggled to fully relinquish their traditional mindsets. These traditional beliefs often included a significant distrust of foreigners. Before his appointment as garrison commander, Tang had led the garrison’s operations section. During this time, Chiang Kai-shek suggested that he permit the German chief advisor, General Alexander von Falkenhausen, to attend staff meetings. Tang hesitated, expressing concern due to Falkenhausen’s past as a military official in Japan and the current alliance between Germany, Italy, and Japan. “That’s not good, is it?” he asked. Chiang reassured him that Falkenhausen was an experienced officer who remembered earlier loyalties despite political shifts in Berlin. “It’s all right,” Chiang insisted, “we can trust him.” Reluctantly, Tang acquiesced but never fully trusted the German officer. Tang also faced issues with morale. He was Hunanese, the majority of his troops were locals, many from Nanjing. Tang also suffered from many ongoing illnesses. While he put on a bravado face, its unlikely he expected to be able to defend the capital for very long. On November 19th, the IJA 16th division and Shigeto Detachment conquered Changshu, a crucial point along the Wufu defense line, spanning from Fushan on the Yangtze to Suzhou and then to Wujiang sitting on the shores of Lake Tai. The fight for Changshu had surprised the Japanese. As they approached they ran into a network of interlocking cement pillboxes that had to be taken individually, resulting in heavy casualties. Frequently, when the Japanese believed they had finally destroyed a position and advanced, they were dismayed to discover that some defenders remained alive, continuing to fire at their flanks. Another obstacle facing them was Chinese artillery. During the night's capture of the city, the Japanese makeshift camps were hit relentlessly by bombardment. That same day further south, the IJA 9th division captured Suzhou , reporting to the press they did so without firing a single shot. General Matsui wrote in his diary “The enemy troops near Suzhou have completely lost their morale. Some soldiers are discarding their equipment and surrendering, while others flee westward in utter chaos. Our forces have not encountered the resistance we anticipated. So far, the Shanghai Expeditionary Force has achieved all its objectives. I am thrilled by this.” In reality, this was mere propaganda. The IJA 9th Division actually had to overpower a series of Chinese pillboxes outside the city. Once they entered through the medieval walls, they faced the task of eliminating pockets of resistance one by one. According to Japanese sources, over 1,000 Chinese soldiers were killed during these clearing operations. The Japanese found a wealth of spoils in Suzhou. Among the booty were 100 artillery pieces and other military equipment. Historically known as one of China's wealthiest cities, Suzhou still contained an abundance of loot even after months of conflict. Many Japanese soldiers had their pockets filled with cigarettes after raiding a tobacco factory, while others transported barrels filled with coins after robbing a bank. Meanwhile the government had officially moved from Nanjing to Chongqing. Chongqing was an unusual choice for the new capital as it was historically something of a backwater, not very cosmopolitan such as the great coastal cities in the east. However it was distant enough to be out of reach from the Japanese land forces, but not so distant that it would make governing China impossible. Not all the governmental agencies moved to Chongqing at once. The foreign ministry first moved to Wuhan, as did most of the foreign diplomats. Yet out of some several hundred foreign nationals, 30 American and 19 British did stay behind in Nanjing. Tang Shengzhi met with the remaining foreign community and began promising them guarantees of their lives and property would be protected to the fullest. In turn the foreign community were thinking up ways to help defend the city's civilian population. They formed a special demilitarized district, akin to the one in Shanghai. They named it the Jacquinot Safety Zone after its founder, French Jesuit Robert Jacquinot de Besange. An international committee for establishing a neutral zone for noncombatants in Nanjing was formed on November 19th and famously John Rabe chaired it. The committee knew their neutral zone depended solely upon Japan respecting it, thus Rabe was an ideal pick for chairman. Meanwhile Chiang Kai-Shek was determined to stay for as long as possible in Nanjing, and remain in the public view to maintain morale. Song Meiling also went around touring the capital by automobile to raise public spirit. Preparations for battle were being dished out in haste. Du Yuming, the commander of Nanjing’s armored regiment was called up to the headquarters of He Yingqin, then chief of staff. There Du was briefed on Chiang Kai-Shek’s war plans and how his tiny armored force would fit in. He Yingqin said “It has been decided that Tang Shengzhi is to defend Nanjing. Chairman Chiang wants the German vehicles to stay in Nanjing and fight.” This was referring to their Leichter Panzerspahwagen or “sd KFZ 221” armored cars. These were recent purchases from Germany. Du questioned using them however “The German vehicles are the best armor we have at the moment, but they have no cannon, only machine guns, so their firepower is limited. We just have 15 of them. And they are not suited for the terrain around Nanjing, with all its rivers and lakes.” Du instead argued for using the British-made Vickers Carden Lloyd tanks. Of these China had recently purchased the amphibious variants. Du said “Those tanks both have machine guns and cannon, and they can float. They are much more useful for the Nanjing area.” He further suggested the tanks might even make it to the other side of the Yangtze once all hope was out. To this He replied “No, don’t even think about crossing the Yangtze. The chairman wants the tank crews to fight to the death.” As far as war strategy was concerned, China had actually developed one against Japan decades prior. Ever since the nasty conflicts between the two nations had broken out back during the Great War days, China sought an answer to Japan’s aggression. One man rose to the occasion, a young officer named Jiang Baili. In 1922 Jiang wrote “The only way to prevail over the enemy, will be to do the opposite of what he does in every respect. It will be to his advantage to seek a quick resolution; we should aim for protracted warfare. He will try to focus on a decisive blow at the front line; we should move to the second line of defense and rob him of the opportunity to concentrate his forces in one place.” Soon Jiang became the forefather in China for theories involving protracted war. One could also call it a war of attrition, and it was the type of war suited to China. In the words of Jiang “We should thank our ancestors. China is blessed with two major advantages, a vast land area and a huge population. Abstaining from fighting will be enough. And if we do fight, we should drag it out. We should force the front to move west, and turn our weakness into strength, while allowing the enemy to overstretch himself”. China’s geography significantly influenced Jiang’s military strategy. In his works titled Organization of Mechanized Forces, Jiang wrote “The flat North Chinese plain offers ideal conditions for a large mechanized army. In contrast, the agricultural regions further south, characterized by their mix of rice paddies and waterways, are far less suitable.” Faced with a technologically superior enemy, China had no option but to draw the opponent away from the north, where their armored units would dominate the battlefield, to the Yangtze River area, where their mobility would be severely restricted. Jiang served as the director of the prestigious military academy at Baoding, near Beijing, where he could instill his philosophies in the minds of upcoming leaders of the Chinese armed forces, including Tang Shengzhi. Tang was able to put Jiang’s theories into practice. In the autumn of 1935, he played a crucial role in planning and executing the decade's largest military maneuver. Conducted south of the Yangtze, between Nanjing and Shanghai, this drill involved over 20,000 troops, allowing for a realistic simulation of battle conditions. Its primary objective was to test the strategy of "luring the enemy in deep." Upon concluding the maneuver, Tang described the location as exceptionally well chosen, a tank commander’s nightmare. The area consisted of steep hills alongside rivers, with very few robust roads and virtually no bridges capable of supporting tanks. Countless small paddy fields were divided by dikes that rarely exceeded a few feet in width, perfectly suited for swift infantry movements but utterly inadequate for tracked vehicles. It appeared to be a graveyard for any mechanized army. As the war broke out with Japan, Jiang’s ideas initially seemed validated. Chiang Kai-shek deliberately refrained from deploying his best troops to the northern Beijing area. Instead, he chose to instigate a significant battle in and around Shanghai, where the terrain presented the exact disadvantages for Japanese armor that Jiang had anticipated. Although the Japanese gradually introduced tactical innovations that allowed them to navigate the partly submerged paddy fields north and west of Shanghai, their tanks often found themselves forced along elevated roads, making them vulnerable targets for hidden Chinese infantry. For several weeks during September and October, the Shanghai area indeed resembled a quagmire, seemingly poised to ensnare the Japanese forces until they were utterly depleted. However, the successful Japanese landings in early November, first in Hangzhou Bay and then on the south bank of the Yangtze, dramatically changed things. The stalemate was broken, allowing the Japanese Army to advance despite the persistent challenges posed by the local geography. What would happen next would determine whether Jiang’s theories from a decade earlier could work or if Japan’s tanks would ultimately triumph even in the river terrain south of the Yangtze. The Japanese field commanders' decision to shift their focus from defeating Chinese forces near Shanghai to pursuing them all the way to Nanjing, sent ripples throughout the ranks. Every unit had to reconsider their plans, but none felt the impact more acutely than the 6th Division. As one of the first contingents of the 10th Army to come ashore in Hangzhou Bay in early November, its soldiers had advanced with remarkable ease, cutting through the defenses like a knife through butter. Now, with orders to drive west towards Nanjing, they were required to make a huge U-turn and head south. Geography hurt them greatly, specifically the presence of Lake Tai. The original Shanghai Expeditionary Force, bolstered by the 16th Division and other newly arrived units, was set to advance north of the lake, while the 10th Army was tasked with operations to the south of it. This situation implied that the 6th Division had to hurry to catch up with the rest of the 10th Army. Upon turning south, they reached Jiashan on November 21, only to face a brutal outbreak of cholera among their ranks, which delayed their advance by three days. Meanwhile the other elements of the 10th Army, including the Kunisaki Detachment and the 18th and 114th Divisions advanced rapidly, entering Huzhou on November 23. To speed up their advance they had commandeered every vessel they could grab and tossed men in piece meal across the southern bank of Lake Tai to its western shore. However the 10th army was unaware that they would soon face a brutal fight. As the Chinese government evacuated Nanjing, fresh troops from Sichuan province in southwest China were being unloaded at the city’s docks and marched toward imminent danger. Starting to disembark on November 20, these soldiers formed the Chinese 23rd Group Army. They presented an exotic sight, sporting broad straw hats typical of southern China, often adorned with yellow and green camouflage patterns. While some appeared freshly uniformed, many were ill-prepared for the colder central Chinese winter, dressed in thin cotton better suited for subtropical climates. A number looked as ragged as the most destitute coolie. Nearly all wore straw shoes that required repairs every evening after a long day of marching. Their equipment was rudimentary and often quite primitive. The most common weapon among the newly arrived soldiers was a locally produced rifle from Sichuan, yet many had no firearms at all, carrying only “stout sticks and packs” into battle. Each division had a maximum of a dozen light machine guns, and radio communication was available only at the brigade level and above. The absence of any artillery or heavy equipment was quite alarming. It was as if they expected to be facing a warlord army of the 1920s. They were organized into five divisions and two brigades, supplied by Liu Xiang, a notable southern warlord. Remarkably, Liu Xiang had been one of Chiang Kai-shek’s worst enemies less than a year prior. Now, Liu’s troops fought alongside Chiang’s against Japan, yet their loyalties remained fiercely provincial, listening to Liu Xiang rather than Chiang Kai-shek. China’s warlord era never really ended. Chiang Kai-Shek was actually doing two things at once, meeting the enemy but also getting warlord troops away from their provincial powerbase. This in turn would reduce the influence of regional warlords. Now the Chinese recognized the had to stop the Japanese from reaching Wuhu, a Yangtze port city due south of Nanjing, basically the last escape route from the capital. If it was...
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3.163 Fall and Rise of China: Crossing Nanjing's Rubicon
08/18/2025
3.163 Fall and Rise of China: Crossing Nanjing's Rubicon
Last time we spoke about the fall of Shanghai. In October 1937 a small battalion led by Colonel Xie Jinyuan transformed the Sihang Warehouse into a fortress against the advancing Japanese army. These men, known as the "800 Heroes," became symbols of hope, rallying local citizens who provided vital support. Despite heavy casualties, they held out against overwhelming odds until a strategic retreat was ordered on November 1. As Japanese forces intensified their assaults, they breached the Chinese defenses and captured strategic positions along Suzhou Creek. The fighting was fierce, marked by desperate counterattacks from the besieged Chinese soldiers, who faced an unyielding enemy. By November 9, the Chinese faced a full retreat, their organized defenses collapsing into chaos as they fled the city. Desperate civilians sought refuge in the International Settlement but were met with hostility, exacerbating the terror of the moment. Amidst the turmoil, remaining forces continued to resist in pockets, holding out as long as possible. By November 11, Japanese troops raised their flag in the last stronghold, marking a grim victory. #163 Crossing Nanjing's Rubicon Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. As the Japanese were mopping up Shanghai, Chiang Kai-Shek wrote in his diary on November 11th “I fear that they could threaten Nanjing”. Over In Shanghai, General Matsui Iwane was dealing with foreign correspondents, eager to learn what Japan’s next move would be and to this he simply stated “For future developments, you had better ask Generalissimo Chiang Kai-Shek”. The correspondents were surprised by this response and pressed him further. He replied . “Chiang Kai-shek was reported to have predicted a five-year war, well, it might be that long. We don’t know whether we will go to Nanjing or not. It all depends on Chiang.” At this point Shanghai was falling under Japanese control and now Matsui and his fellow field commanders were thinking, what's next? Nanjing was certainly the next objective. It was a common understanding amongst the Japanese leadership, that if the four main eastern cities of Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai and Nanjing were lost, Chiang Kai-Shek’s government would collapse. Three of these cities had been taken, Nanjing was dangling like fresh fruit. Matsui’s staff believed the Chinese units departing Shanghai would mount a stand immediately west of the city, probably a defensive line running from Jiading to Huangduzhen. On the night of November 11th, Matsui issued a command to all units in the Shanghai area to advance west along the railway towards Nanjing. Their first objective would be a line extending from Taicang to Kunshan. Chiang Kai-Shek was not only reeling from military defeats, but also the gradual loss of his German allies. The Germans were increasingly aligning with the Japanese. Chiang Kai-Shek was looking for new external help, so he turned to the Soviets. It was a marriage of convenience, Chiang Kai-Shek signed a non-aggression pact with the USSR that year and wasted no time pleading for aircraft and pilots. Moscow began sending them before the ink touched the paper. 200 aircraft and pilots in return for some essential minerals, wolfram and tungsten. The Sino-Soviet friendship even drew in an unlikely source of support, Sir Winston Churchill. The Soviet envoy to the UK described how during a meeting with Churchill “he greatly praised our tactics in the Far East: maintenance of neutrality and simultaneous aid to China in weaponry.” Soviet pilots found themselves dispatched to Nanjing where they were briefed by Yakov Vladimirovich Smushkevich, the deputy commander of the Soviet Air Force. “The Japanese armed forces are technically superior to the Chinese. The Chinese Air Force is a particular concern. Soviet pilots who have rushed to China’s aid are currently in Nanjing. They are fighting valiantly.” Meanwhile back at Shanghai discipline and order that had characterized previous Chinese withdrawal had collapsed. Simply put, there were hundreds of thousands of men trying to retreat across the lower Yangtze region, it was a shitstorm. Many units had to disengage during combat with the enemy and scramble to pull out. Huang Qixiang, the deputy commander of the Chinese right flank in Shanghai, executed a strategic withdrawal moments before his command post succumbed to the advancing enemy forces. Just fifteen minutes after his departure, the area was overrun by Japanese troops. In a desperate bid to avoid capture, another general had to cross a creek, nearly drowning in the process. Rescued while barely clinging to life and drenched in icy water, he was welcomed by a peasant family who aided in his recovery before he resumed his arduous journey westward. The scale of this withdrawal, occurring both day and night, could hardly escape the enemy’s notice, and its complexity made the operation increasingly difficult. The execution of the withdrawal exacerbated the situation significantly. Orders to abandon their positions started to trickle down immediately after the upper command made the decision. However, these orders reached the units in a disorganized manner. Many telephone lines had been sabotaged, and when soldiers were sent to relay the orders in person, they faced severe disruptions in the transportation network. Consequently, many units only became aware of the withdrawal when they witnessed the mass movements of their comrades heading westward. Upon realizing what was happening, many soldiers fled in a state of panic. There were no comprehensive plans outlining the retreat, no designated routes for the various units, nor any established timetables. The outcome was a chaotic scramble for survival. Soldiers who had fought side by side for three months suddenly found themselves competing against one another in a desperate race to escape. At bridges and other chokepoints, weary soldiers exhausted their last reserves of strength, brawling with their fellow troops to be the first to cross. Meanwhile, officers traveling in chauffeur-driven cars attempted to assert their rank to gain priority access to the roads, adding to the growing disorder that ensued. The massive army was hindered by its sheer size, resulting in miles of congested roads filled with men unable to move in any direction. This made them easy targets for Japanese aircraft, leading to a bloody cycle of repeated attacks. Planes adorned with the red Rising Sun insignia would emerge from the horizon, swooping down to strike at these vulnerable formations. As commander Chen Yiding recalled “The lack of organization and the gridlocked roads resulted in far more casualties than could have been avoided,”. On November 12th, the newspaper Zhaongyang Ribao, published an editorial addressing the citizens of Nanjing, to remind them that tough times lay ahead now that Shanghai had fallen. The article stipulated they needed to prepare the city for the upcoming battle, “Now, all the citizenry of the capital must fulfill their duty in a way that can serve as a model for the entire nation.” Nanjing in 1937 was a city touched by the war, but not enough to change the social fabric just yet. Cinema’s remained open, the shopping arcade was crowded as usual, traffic was heavy along Zhongshan Road, order remained. Telephones remained on, except during air raids. Connections to the outside world functioned as they should, given this was the capital. The region had seen a good harvest in 1937, no one was going hungry. However as the front 200 miles away drew closer, bombing raids more frequent, fear of the enemy increased. Contact with the outside world gradually declined. By mid November the train link from Nanjing to Shanghai was severed. While the fear amongst the populace increased, so did a newfound sense of common purpose against a common enemy. Poster calling for the Chinese to unite against the Japanese invaders were found throughout Nanjing. Residents were conscripted for various fortification efforts, with some receiving basic military training to help defend the city. Those who refused to cooperate faced severe penalties as “traitors,” while the majority willingly participated. Both military and civilian police were deployed throughout the city, diligently checking identities in an ongoing effort to root out spies and traitors. The authorities enforced a strict prohibition against discussing military matters in restaurants and other public venues. Then all the high ranking military officials and politicians families gradually began departing the city in secrecy. This was followed by said politicians and military officials. Twas not a good look. Nanjing soon saw its population decline from 1 million to half a million. Those who stayed behind were mainly the poor, or those anchored, like shopkeepers. Every day saw a steady stream of Nanjing citizens leaving the city over her main roads, fleeing into the countryside with carts full of belongings. On November 12th at 10am orders were issued for the Japanese to advance west. What had been a war of attrition, where inches of land were claimed with blood, suddenly it was a war of movement. As one Japanese soldier recalled “In the course of 50 days, I had moved only two miles. Now suddenly we were experiencing rapid advance”. As the Japanese came across small towns, they found large posters plastered on all the walls. These were all anti-japanese with some nationalist propaganda. The Japanese soldiers would tear them down and paint up their own messages “down with Chiang Kai-Shek!”. Towns and cities west of Shanghai fell rapidly one after another, each succumbing to a grim pattern: swift conquest followed by widespread devastation. Jiading, a county seat with a population of approximately 30,000, succumbed to a prolonged siege. When the 10st division captured Jiading on November 13, after relentless shelling had leveled a third of the city, they began a massacre, indiscriminately killing nearly everyone in their path, men, women, and children alike. The battle and its aftermath resulted in over 8,000 casualties among the city’s residents and surrounding countryside. One Japanese soldier referred to Jiading as “A city of death, in a mysteriously silent world in which the only sound was the tap of our own footsteps”. On November 14, soldiers from the 9th Division reached Taicang, an ancient walled city designed to withstand lengthy sieges. As they crossed the 70-foot moat amid heavy fire, the Japanese troops confronted the formidable 20-foot-high city wall. After breaching the wall, their infantry swiftly entered the city and seized control. The destruction persisted long after the fighting ceased, with half of the city being devastated, including significant cultural institutions like the library, and salt and grain reserves were looted. It was as if the Japanese aimed to obliterate not just the material existence of the people but their spiritual foundation as well. Casual cruelty marked the nature of warfare along the entire front, with few prisoners being taken. Ishii Seitaro, a soldier in the 13th Division’s 26th Brigade, encountered a mass execution while marching alongside the Yangtze River. Several headless corpses floated nearby, yet three Chinese prisoners remained alive. A Japanese officer, personally overseeing the execution, wore a simple uniform, but the two ornate swords at his belt indicated his wealthy background. Approaching one prisoner, the officer dramatically drew one of the swords and brandished it through the air with exaggerated flair. In an almost theatrical display, he held it aloft, the blade trembling as if he were nervous. The prisoner, in stark contrast, exhibited an unnerving calmness as he knelt, awaiting his inevitable fate. The officer swung the sword down but failed to deliver a clean strike. Although he inflicted a deep gash to the prisoner’s skull, it was not fatal. The prisoner collapsed, thrashing and emitting a prolonged scream that sent chills through those present. The officer, seemingly exhilarated by the anguish he caused, began wildly slashing at the figure until the screams subsided. Ishii turned away in horror, his mind swirling with confusion. Why were the Chinese being executed? Had they not surrendered? Three months into the war's expansion to the Yangtze region, air raids had become an all too frequent menace in Nanjing. The first major raid came on August 15th and increased each week. On the night of August 27, approximately 30 bombs were dropped on Purple Mountain, specifically targeting the Memorial Park for Sun Yat-sen, aiming to hurt the morale of Nanjing’s residents. As days melted into weeks and weeks stretched into months, the landscape of Nanjing transformed under the weight of war. Residents began constructing dugouts in courtyards, gardens, public squares, and even on streets. Foreigners painted their national flags on top of buildings and vehicles, attempting to avoid the risk of being machine-gunned by strafing aircraft. Each raid followed a predictable routine: sirens wailed loudly 20 to 30 minutes before the attack, signaling pedestrians to seek shelter and drivers to stop their engines. By the time a shorter warning sounded, the streets had to be cleared, leaving nothing to do but await the arrival of Japanese planes. Initially, the part-US-trained Chinese Air Force posed a considerable threat to Japanese bombers. The 4th and 5th Chinese Squadrons, stationed near Nanjing to defend the capital, achieved early success, reportedly downing six bombers during the first air raid on Nanjing. Much of the credit for these aerial victories belonged to Claire Chennault, a retired American Army Air Corps captain who had become an advisor to the Chinese Air Force, overseeing Nanjing's air defense. Chennault taught his pilots tactics he had developed in the US but had never fully implemented. His strategy was straightforward: three fighters would focus on one enemy bomber at a time. One would attack from above, another from below, while a third would hover in reserve to deliver the final blow if necessary. He instructed the Chinese pilots to target the engines rather than the fuselage, reasoning that any missed shots could hit the gas tanks located in the wing roots. This approach proved successful, leading to the loss of 54 Japanese planes within three days. For Chennault, it validated his belief that air superiority required a diverse range of aircraft, not just bombers. Nighttime raids, however, posed a greater challenge. Chennault, along with other commanders, sought solutions. Chinese General C.C. Wong, a German-trained artillery officer overseeing the country's anti-aircraft defenses, ensured that dozens of large Sperry searchlights were positioned throughout Nanjing in a grid pattern. This setup had a dual purpose: it would dazzle the Japanese bomber crews and highlight their planes in silhouette for Chinese fighters above to target. The bravery of the most skilled Chinese pilots occasionally gained media attention, making them local celebrities amidst an otherwise grim war environment. However, this bright moment faded quickly when the Japanese command decided to provide escorts for their bombers. Consequently, the elite of China’s air force, its finest pilots and aircraft, were lost within weeks that fall. All air raids were brutal, but the worst assaults occurred at the end of September. As a radio broadcaster reported on September 25th “Gallons of civilian blood flowed today as Nanking endured three ferocious air raids”. In total, 96 Japanese sorties were launched on that day. Witnesses observed around a dozen Chinese aircraft retreating north across the Yangtze, initially believing they were fleeing, but some returned to confront the enemy. When Chinese fighters managed to down a Japanese bomber, the streets erupted in cheers as civilians momentarily forgot their fear. The primary aim of the September 25 attack appeared to be spreading terror among the civilian population. Chiang Kai-Shek wrote in his diary that day “The repeated Japanese air raids over the past several days have had no impact on our military installations. Instead, civilian property has sustained significant damage.” Around 20 bombs struck the Central Hospital, one of Nanjing’s largest medical facilities, causing extensive destruction and prompting the evacuation of its staff. Two 1,000-pound bombs exploded nearby, leaving large craters. Had these bombs landed slightly closer, they could have resulted in mass casualties among the hospital’s 100 patients, including a Japanese pilot who had been shot down earlier that month. The air raids at the end of September prompted protests from the Americans, British, and French governments to Japan. In response, Tokyo issued a statement on September 30, asserting that while they were not intentionally targeting non-combatants, it was “unavoidable” for achieving military objectives that military airfields and installations in and around Nanjing be bombed. The battle for Jiashan was among the fiercest in the southern Yangtze delta campaign in November 1937. Although Jiashan was a moderately sized town straddling a crucial railway connecting Shanghai to Hangzhou, the capital of Zhejiang province. For the Japanese, seizing Jiashan was imperative for their westward advance; without it, their military progress would be severely hampered. Jiashan had endured three days of relentless bombing by the Japanese Air Force, driving most residents to flee into the surrounding countryside. Only about 100 remained, those who were too old or too sick to escape, abandoned by family or friends who lacked the means to assist them. The Japanese troops brutally bayoneted nearly all of these individuals and buried them in a mass grave just outside the town's northern gate. Jiashan was captured by the 10th Army, a division fresh from victories and eager to engage in combat, unlike the weary forces of the Shanghai Expeditionary Force further north. With less than a week of combat experience, the 10th Army's soldiers were hungry for a fight. The martial spirit of the 10th Army was exemplified by its commander, Yanagawa Heisuke. Born near Nagasaki in 1879, he was among a group of retired officers called back to active service as the war in China escalated unexpectedly. Having served in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905 and taught at the Beijing Army College in 1918, Yanagawa had considerable experience in military affairs. However, his past exposure to China did not cultivate any empathy for the enemy. He was determined to push all the way to Nanjing, and once there, he intended to blanket the city in mustard gas and incendiaries until it capitulated. While Japanese commanders debated the value of capturing Nanjing, the Chinese were equally preoccupied with whether it was worth defending. Most military professionals viewed the situation as a lost cause from the start. After the fall of Shanghai, Chiang Kai-shek summoned one of his top commanders, Chen Cheng,...
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3.162 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #7
08/11/2025
3.162 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #7
Last time we spoke about the 800 heroes who defended the Sihang Warehouse. In the fall of Shanghai during October 1937, amidst overwhelming odds, a small battalion under Colonel Xie Jinyuan took a stand inside the Sihang Warehouse, transforming it into a fortress against the invading Japanese army. As word spread of their stand, local citizens rallied, providing vital supplies and cheers of encouragement from across the Suzhou Creek. The defenders, dubbed the "800 Heroes," symbolized hope and determination. Despite suffering heavy casualties, they held firm, embodying the spirit of resistance against aggression. As dawn broke on November 1, 1937, a strategic retreat was ordered, allowing Xie's remaining troops to escape safely into the International Settlement. Their legacy endured, highlighting the courage of those who fought against overwhelming odds. The saga of the "800 Heroes" became a beacon of hope for future generations, immortalizing their determination to protect their homeland during one of its darkest hours. #162 The Battle of Shanghai #7: The Fall of Shanghai Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. The fall of the Sihang Warehouse and withdrawal from Zhabei and Jiangwan doomed the Chinese defense of Shanghai. The army shifted to a fortified defensive line along the southern bank of Suzhou Creek, extending north towards the city of Nanxiang. Suzhou Creek provided an advantageous defensive position, acting as a natural barrier measuring up to 150 feet wide, with steep banks rising seven feet on either side. However, once this line was abandoned, there would be no fallback position remaining. Losing control of Suzhou Creek would be the loss of Shanghai. As German advisor Borchardt noted, “the Chinese command was therefore putting all its efforts into holding the position for as long as possible, without risking the annihilation of units crucial for continuing the war.” The Japanese planned their main assault directly south across Suzhou Creek to encircle the troops stationed in Shanghai. However, they first needed to create sufficient space for maneuvering. To achieve this and to secure their right flank, they launched a significant attack on Nanxiang on October 28, advancing along the railway from Shanghai. With the benefit of extensive support from aircraft and artillery, the Japanese were able to breach the Chinese frontline with relative ease. Nevertheless, they failed to capture Nanxiang, and the outcome was less of a victory than it initially appeared, as the Chinese had established a robust defense, preparing a two-mile stretch of obstacles and barriers east of the city. In a subsequent advance that shifted to the south, the Japanese engaged in a brief battle before seizing the town of Zhenru, which was strategically important due to its radio station that facilitated much of Shanghai’s telephone and telegraphic communications with the outside world. In preparation for crossing Suzhou Creek, the Japanese had spent several days assembling a small fleet of vessels commandeered from Shanghai's civilian population, which included motorboats, sampans, and basic bamboo barges. On October 31, the 3rd Japanese Infantry Division, positioned at the eastern end of the Suzhou Creek front, initiated several crossings. During one of these attacks in the late afternoon near the village of Zhoujiaqiao, Japanese soldiers managed to reach the southern bank but were immediately met with enfilading fire from Chinese machine guns, resulting in significant casualties. They also faced counterattacks from Chinese reserves, who had been quickly summoned to neutralize the threat. Despite these challenges, the Japanese were able to maintain a narrow foothold. A parallel attempt by the same division further downstream, closer to the International Settlement, ended in failure, despite the evident superiority of Japanese equipment. Engineers deployed a mile-long smokescreen across the creek, while a dozen three-engine bombers, protected by fighter planes, hovered over the battlefield, actively scouting for targets. Although a small landing party successfully crossed the creek, they were quickly met with a fierce artillery barrage, and a Chinese counterattack forced them back into the water. Foreign military observers speculated that this operation was more a reconnaissance mission than a serious attempt to cross in that sector, as engaging in battle so close to the International Settlement would have required operations in heavily built-up areas. On November 1, three battalions of the 9th Japanese Division attacked in small boats across Suzhou Creek at the point where the Chinese frontline bent northward, successfully establishing a bridgehead on the other side. Over the next two days, the division managed to deploy a substantial number of troops across, eventually controlling an area that stretched about half a mile along the south bank of the creek. The following day, the Chinese launched a determined effort to eliminate this growing threat. While they made significant gains, they ultimately failed to eradicate the Japanese landing party, partly due to their inability to fully utilize their considerable artillery resources. At the beginning of the day's battle, just 60 feet separated the trenches of the opposing forces, meaning any barrage aimed at the Japanese was equally likely to hit Chinese lines. At dawn on November 3rd, the exhausted Tax Police Division were taking horrible losses trying to hold the Japanese back. Men began to scream “poison gas” as white clouds drifted across the Suzhou creek towards their trenches. Despite this the Japanese had not managed to carve out a bridgehead, but did built a pontoon bridge and sent a small force over to occupy a two story building near the bank, designated as “the red house”. Huang Jie, commander of the Tax Police Division, was a nervous wreck, feeling overwhelmed by fatalism after Chiang Kai-shek threatened to court-martial any officer who permitted the Japanese to cross to the southern bank of the creek. The appearance of an ominous cloud was the final straw. Although the cloud was later confirmed to be just a smoke screen and not poisonous gas, Huang was already defeated. With another Japanese assault imminent, he felt incapable of leading the defense. “It’s over. It’s all over,” he said matter-of-factly, raising his sidearm to his temple. Nearby, senior officer Sun Liren intervened, urging him, “General, please go back. We’ll take care of this.” The battle continued until 4:00 p.m., but the battalion that faced the brunt of the Japanese onslaught had disintegrated. Its commander was dead, along with all but one company commander and over half of the platoon leaders. Of the original 600 men, only 200 remained. This was not what the Tax Police Division had anticipated when they were pulled from the area south of Wusong Creek the previous month; they believed the strong defenses at Dachang could hold for at least a month or two, providing sufficient time for the exhausted troops in the rear to recover. On the evening of November 3, following the latest Japanese attempt to cross the creek, the Tax Police Division’s commander ordered Sun Liren to rest. However, Sun felt the need to complete one last task: destroying the pontoon bridge the Japanese had constructed across Suzhou Creek, which remained largely intact despite repeated Chinese efforts to demolish it. Previous attempts, including frontal attacks and sending swimmers downstream with explosives, had failed. Finally, they prepared large rolls of cotton soaked in gasoline to roll downhill toward the bridge, but these efforts were halted by Japanese barbed wire. For his final attempt, Sun requisitioned sea mines to float them downstream and detonate them near the bridge. To ensure the success of this plan, he required the cooperation of engineers. Unfortunately, the engineers he ordered for the late-night mission had not been trained by him, and despite being of lower rank, they were disinclined to put in extra effort for an unfamiliar officer. They worked slowly, and by dawn, the mines had yet to be pushed into the water. In the early morning light, they became visible targets along the bank, attracting Japanese fire. Sun was hit, but he was among the fortunate; later, soldiers from the Tax Police Division found him beneath a pile of dead bodies, with doctors later discovering 13 bullet wounds in his body. His participation in the battle of Shanghai had come to an end. According to German advisors, the Chinese repeatedly made the same mistake in the struggle for Suzhou Creek: a lack of independent thinking among junior Chinese commanders prevented them from reacting aggressively to Japanese crossings. This delay allowed the Japanese to entrench themselves, and subsequent Chinese counterattacks often succeeded only after several costly failures. Moreover, Chinese artillery lacked the flexibility to adapt quickly and lacked training in selecting the appropriate ordnance for the situation. The Germans argued that this allowed the enemy “sufficient time to set up a good defense,” and even when later Chinese attacks achieved some significant successes, they failed to completely annihilate the enemy forces that had crossed the creek. Conversely, the Japanese were also frustrated, particularly their commander, Matsui Iwane. Although the 9th Division had made significant advances, the 3rd Division remained confined to a narrow strip of land south of the creek, thwarting hopes for a quick, decisive push southeast to trap the remaining troops in Shanghai and Pudong. On November 3, the birthday of Emperor Meiji, who was instrumental in modernizing Japan, Matsui reflected on his initial hopes of celebrating as the conqueror of Shanghai. Instead, he found himself disappointed, writing, “Now we’ve finally won a small piece of land south of Suzhou Creek, but the south of Shanghai and all of Pudong remains in enemy hands. That the festival is happening under conditions such as these is a source of boundless humiliation.” Japanese planners in Tokyo had been increasingly concerned that operations in the Shanghai area were not progressing as anticipated since the troop deployments began in August. Despite sending three additional divisions, the advances remained limited, prompting the Army General Staff to consider a more fundamental strategic shift in China. The core question revolved around whether to prioritize the northern campaign or the battles around Shanghai, as Japan lacked the resources to effectively pursue both. In early October, Japanese officers concluded that addressing the situation in Shanghai must take precedence. A large reason for this decision rested on fears of a potential soviet attack in the northeast before the New Year. With so many divisions stuck in Shanghai Manchukuo was quite vulnerable. On October 9, the Army General Staff established the 10th Army, specifically designed to shift the balance in Shanghai. This new force included the 6th Infantry Division, currently deployed in northern China, a brigade from the 5th Infantry Division known as the Kunizaki Detachment, and the 18th and 114th Infantry Divisions from the home islands. Command of the 10th Army was entrusted to General Yanagawa Heisuke, a 58-year-old veteran of the Russo-Japanese War who had recently retired but was recalled to service due to his suitability for the role; he had previously served as a military attaché in Beijing and as an instructor at the city’s army college. The 10th Army was to be landed behind Chinese lines. There were two possible landing sites: the south bank of the Yangtze River, where earlier landings had occurred in late August, or the north bank of Hangzhou Bay. Hangzhou Bay provided the element of surprise thus it was selected. However when reconnaissance was performed, the area was found to be heavily fortified with many terrain issues that would complicate logistics. Matsui Iwane expressed his concerns in his diary, noting, “It would probably be much easier if they landed on the banks of the Huangpu and Yangtze Rivers. This plan gives me the impression of a bunch of young people at play”. The 10th Army was set to land before dawn on November 5. The Kunizaki Detachment would lead the assault, capturing a stretch of coastline east of Jinshanwei in the middle of the night. This would be followed by the 6th Division, with the 18th Division on its right flank and the 114th Division on its left. All units were to advance briskly north to the Huangpu River and cross it. A major objective north of the river was the city of Songjiang, a key transportation hub for both rail and road. Ultimately, the goal was to link up with Japanese units advancing south in the flat countryside west of Shanghai to encircle as many Chinese soldiers as possible. Secrecy was vital for the 10th Army in its preparations. The commanders recalled an old saying: “If you want to cheat the enemy, first you must fool your own men,” and decided to adhere to it. To mislead their forces before the embarkation of the 6th Division, they distributed maps of Qingdao, a northern Chinese port city, to create the illusion that it was the operation's target. This way, if any information leaked, it would mislead the recipient. On November 1, the convoy carrying the 6th Division departed the waters off the Korean Peninsula, heading south. The following day, it merged with another convoy transporting the 18th and 114th Divisions from Japan. Together, they formed a substantial fleet of nearly 200 vessels, necessitating heightened caution to avoid detection. Strict orders prohibited the use of lights, and radio silence was enforced at all times. As the ships neared Shanghai, they sailed in a wide arc offshore, only redirecting toward land when they were aligned with Hangzhou Bay. Upon learning their true objective, the soldiers felt a mix of excitement and apprehension as they crowded the dark decks, catching sight of the vague silhouette of the continent they were about to conquer. The advance unit, the Kunizaki Detachment, boarded its landing craft as planned at 3:00 am on November 5, heading towards its designated section of the coastline. Meanwhile, the rest of the 10th Army waited anxiously aboard ships anchored two miles offshore. The silence from the shore indicated that the detachment had encountered no resistance, although the ongoing radio silence left uncertainty. Eventually, the detachment signaled with light projectors that the landing had gone as planned. With this confirmation, the soldiers of the second wave began their approach. The 10th Army had intended for the invasion force to move swiftly from the landing zone to secure the area before the Chinese could mount a counterattack. Each soldier was equipped with a week’s supply of rice and as much ammunition as he could carry to avoid being hindered by a lengthy supply train; mobility was essential. On the first day of the landing, the Chinese launched only two minor counterattacks. One occurred on the left flank but failed to hinder the advance north, while the other on the right flank also had limited success, forcing the Chinese to retreat ahead of the advancing Japanese troops. By mid-morning on November 5, over 3,000 Japanese soldiers had successfully landed, and this number continued to rise rapidly. The urgency of the situation was evident, and only swift and decisive actions could offer the Chinese generals a chance to avert catastrophe. However, instead of mounting an all-out effort to push the Japanese back into the sea, they chose to play a waiting game. The consensus among the command center of the 3rd War Zone in Suzhou during the early hours was that the landing forces were weak and intended to distract from more critical operations planned for the near future. Enemy resistance was weak and sporadic, allowing the Japanese divisions to make rapid progress despite encountering natural obstacles along their route. By the evening of November 5, less than 24 hours after the initial unit landed, they had advanced three miles inland. Before noon the following day, they reached a ferry port on the Huangpu River, where a group of over 100 soldiers managed to cross, clearing the way for the continued push toward Songjiang. Meanwhile, the left flank of the Japanese landing force engaged in more intense fighting for the first time but still managed to gain ground. The Japanese momentum appeared unstoppable.In desperation, the Chinese resorted to scorched earth tactics reminiscent of the Napoleonic Wars, similar to their earlier actions in Zhabei. They destroyed every building and field, burned crops, killed livestock, and poisoned wells, leaving nothing for the victors. It was the local population that ultimately paid the price, witnessing their ancestral homes reduced to ashes. Once the Chinese command was convinced that the invasion at Hangzhou Bay was a genuine main effort rather than a deceptive act, it directed all available forces south to contain the escalating threat. However, the Chinese had very few troops to spare. The Chinese dispatched a total of seven divisions and one independent brigade to the landing area. While this force appeared to be roughly twice the size of the Japanese, in reality, it was much weaker. Many of these units had endured extended battles and were not at full combat strength. They were sent south without adequate preparation, and their morale suffered due to the continuous stream of negative news from the front. Additionally, the same poor road network that hindered the Japanese slowed the Chinese reinforcements, resulting in many arriving too late to influence the conflict significantly. Once the opportunity to push the Japanese back into the sea was lost, the next best option was to halt their advance at the Huangpu River. Although this was a significant natural barrier, there were no fortifications prepared along its banks. Compounding the issue, a large number of civilian vessels were left on the south bank, providing the Japanese with an easy means of crossing. Confronted with a steady stream of better-equipped and experienced Japanese soldiers, many Chinese defenders occasionally retreated without a fight. In response to the threat from the south, the Chinese commanders repeated a costly mistake from previous crises: they deployed newly arrived troops in Shanghai directly into battle. This disregard for the exhausted condition of those troops, who had just completed a long trek from Henan province, left them ill-prepared for effective engagement. The 107th and 108th Divisions, part of the 67th Army, had only recently arrived in the Shanghai area when they were ordered on November 8 to move south to defend the strategic city of Songjiang at least until November 11. Though the commanders may have had no other choice but to deploy the 67th, the outcome was predictable. Despite their efforts to hold Songjiang, the two divisions could not stand against the Japanese, and by November 9, they had begun withdrawing from the nearly surrounded city....
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3.161 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #6
08/04/2025
3.161 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #6
Last time we spoke about the battle along the Wusong Creek. The situation was dire for the Chinese defenders, who faced overwhelming odds. Among them was Ogishima, a Japanese soldier who experienced the brutal reality of war firsthand. Amidst the chaos, battles erupted along the Wusong Creek, where both sides suffered heavy casualties. Chinese forces, despite being greatly outnumbered in terms of tactical superiority, demonstrated extraordinary resilience, fighting bravely even when retreat was necessary. As the battle raged on, tactics evolved; Chinese troops fortified defenses and implemented guerrilla warfare strategies. The soldiers transformed the landscape into a fortification, turning abandoned buildings into strongholds. October brought a fresh wave of violence. The Japanese pressed their attack, unleashing superior firepower that gradually saw them conquer Dachang. #161 The Battle of Shanghai #6: the 800 heroes who defended the Sihang Warehouse Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Before the fall of Dachang, despite the threat of court-martial for anyone abandoning their posts, a general withdrawal of all Chinese forces in the Jiangwan salient was already in progress. As early as the night between October 24 and 25, the divisions within the salient had been ordered to move their baggage trains and support services back southwest across Suzhou Creek, utilizing the Zhongshan Bridge and Jessfield Railway Bridge. As the fighting intensified north of Zhabei in the subsequent days, the flow of soldiers, vehicles, and pack animals continued. By the night between October 26 and 27, the Chinese completely vacated metropolitan Shanghai north of Suzhou Creek. A foreign journalist wrot “The enormous Chinese army simply melted away and at dawn the Japanese found themselves facing empty positions. The two armies were no longer in contact.” During their retreat from Zhabei, the Chinese systematically set fire to thousands of shops and homes, implementing a scorched earth policy. At 7:00 am on October 27, eight narrow columns of smoke cut across the horizon from one end of Zhabei to the other. Two hours later, these columns had transformed into “huge black pillars stretching towards the azure sky.” By afternoon, a massive wall of smoke stretched four miles long, rising thousands of feet into the air. In the words of a German advisor, it was a fire “of unimaginable extent” that raged out of control for several days, repeatedly threatening to spill into the International Settlement. Refugees who had left Zhabei weeks or months earlier, hoping to return now that the fighting seemed to be over, were devastated to see their homes consumed by an immense sea of flames. The Japanese Army, or more specifically the doctrine guiding it in the field, failed in two significant ways by allowing some of China’s best divisions to escape the trap they had set for them. First, on the evening of October 26, after taking Dachang, the Japanese columns could have advanced across Zhabei right to the edge of the International Settlement. Instead, they followed orders and ceased their advance at the line they had reached at sunset. German advisor Borchardt wrote “The only explanation for this is the lack of independent thinking among junior Japanese commanders and their fear of deviating even slightly from a meticulously detailed attack plan. Since the Japanese focused on rallying and reorganizing their forces after the fall of Dachang, they missed an opportunity for a victory so decisive that the Chinese would have been forced to give up their continued resistance in Shanghai.” If the Japanese made their first mistake by leaving a door open for the enemy to escape, they committed a second error by failing to notice that the enemy was using that door. Although Japanese reconnaissance planes monitored the two main bridges utilized by the Chinese to retreat and even deployed parachute flares to detect movements at night, they inexplicably failed to observe the Chinese withdrawal. The retreat was executed precisely as planned, with every piece of artillery withdrawn. This allowed the Chinese to occupy prepared positions south of Suzhou Creek and around Nanxiang, enabling them to continue the fight another day. Despite their missteps, the Japanese initially celebrated their conquest of Zhabei as a victory, placing thousands of small Rising Sun flags throughout the district’s ruins. Amid this sea of white and red, the only relatively intact structure, the Four Banks’ Warehouse, starkly reminded them that the Chinese still maintained a foothold north of Suzhou Creek. Rumors began to circulate that the soldiers inside had vowed to fight to the death. The Japanese came to realize that their triumph in Zhabei would be perceived as flawed and would even resemble a defeat as long as the warehouse remained in Chinese hands. It was back on October 26, Chiang Kai-shek ordered all forces in Shanghai to withdraw to the western rural region. To facilitate a safe retreat, a rearguard was necessary, as is standard in military withdrawals. Chiang issued orders to General Gu Zhutong, the acting commander of the 3rd Military Region, to leave the 88th Division behind, not only to buy time for the retreating forces but also to stage a final grand stand in front of the Shanghai International Settlement. This was a last-ditch effort to gain international support, as the nine Great Powers were set to convene on November 6. However, General Gu Zhutong was personally attached to the 88th Division, and thus reluctant to abandon them. It’s worth noting that he was acting commander in this position because his next post was to lead the 88th Division. Therefore, he telegrammed the divisional commander at the time, General Sun Yuanliang, who also opposed the plan to leave the 88th Division behind. While neither Gu Zhutong nor Sun Yuanliang were willing to disobey orders from the Generalissimo, Sun proposed a solution: They could leave a portion of the troops behind, just not the entire 88th Division. In his words, “How many people we sacrifice would not make a difference; it would achieve the same purpose.” Sun suggested leaving behind a single regiment from the 88th Division to defend one or two heavily fortified positions. Gu Zhutong agreed to this plan, and at that time, the 88th Divisional Headquarters was located at the Sihang Warehouse. The Sihang Warehouse is a six-story concrete building situated in the Zhabei district, just north of Suzhou Creek, at the northwestern edge of the New Lese Bridge. The warehouse was constructed collaboratively by four banks, hence the name "Sihang," which translates to "four banks." Directly across Suzhou Creek lies the Shanghai International Settlement, a neutral territory where Western foreigners resided. The fighting would occur literally just across the creek, forcing Western observers to witness the heroic last stand that China would make in Shanghai up close. For those who might not be aware, there is an outstanding film titled “The Eight Hundred.” I even reviewed the movie on my channel, the Pacific War Channel, on YouTube. The film excellently captures the remarkable situation, depicting an extravagant city on one side of a river, filled with entertainment, casinos, bars, and restaurants. The international community enjoys their vibrant lives, full of colors and lights, while on the other side lies a literal warzone. The Sihang Warehouse stands there, bullet-ridden, as the Japanese continuously attempt to storm it against the Chinese defenders. It’s a compelling film worth checking out, feel free to take a look at my review as well! Returning to the story, Sun Yuanliang reconsidered and believed that leaving an entire regiment was excessive. Instead, he opted to leave behind an over-strength battalion. The 1st Battalion of the 524th Regiment was chosen for this task. A young colonel, Xie Jinyuan, who was also new to the 88th Division, volunteered to lead the battalion. No one who had met Xie Jinyuan could doubt that he was the ideal choice to lead the battalion that would stay behind, holed up inside the Sihang Warehouse in a corner of Zhabei, demonstrating to both the domestic and international audience that China remained resolute in its resistance against Japanese aggression. The 32-year-old graduate of the elite Central Military Academy, who had been stationed in Shanghai with the 88th Division since hostilities began in August, was a soldier to the core. He stood as straight as a bayonet, and according to a foreign correspondent who met him, even while wearing a mask, he was unmistakably a military man. In the correspondent’s words, he represented “modern China stripped for action.” Upon receiving his assignment on the night of October 26, Xie Jinyuan went directly to the warehouse and was pleased with what he found. It resembled a virtual fortress. Each of its walls was pockmarked with numerous rifle slots, ensuring that attacking infantry would face a barrage of fire from the building’s well-defended positions. It was evident that once the Japanese arrived, they would surround the structure on three sides; however, a link remained to the International Settlement to the south across Lese Bridge. British forward positions were as close as 40 feet away, and with careful maneuvering and a bit of luck, it was likely that the injured could be evacuated under the cover of darkness. From a tactical standpoint, it was an ideal location. Still, improvements were possible, and Xie ordered the soldiers already present to work through the night to enhance their defenses. They had an ample supply of large bags filled with wheat and corn at their disposal, which served as excellent substitutes for sandbags. Xie Jinyuan’s first challenge was to rally the soldiers of the 524th Regiment’s 1st Battalion to occupy the warehouse positions. This was a complex task, given the short notice, as the companies and platoons were scattered throughout Zhabei, and some had unknowingly begun moving west with the rest of the Chinese Army, unaware of the orders their battalion had received. Throughout the night, Xie and his second-in-command, Yang Ruifu, dispatched orderlies through the blazing streets in search of their men amidst the throng of retreating soldiers. Eventually, their efforts bore fruit. By 9:00 a.m. on October 27, the last remaining soldiers of the battalion arrived at the warehouse. By then, Xie Jinyuan's force consisted of just over 400 officers and soldiers. This was a minuscule number compared to the might of the Japanese military, and they were immediately put to the test. Xie was unfamiliar with the men under his command, effectively being thrown into the deep end, so to speak. The location chosen for their stand was, of course, the Sihang Warehouse. The 1st Battalion originally comprised eight hundred men, but casualties incurred during the Battle of Shanghai had reduced their numbers to just 452 soldiers before the defense of the Sihang Warehouse began. Each soldier was armed with either a Hanyang 88 or Chiang Kai-shek rifle, an 8mm Mauser, grenades, a German M1935 Stahlhelm, a gas mask, and they also had some Czech ZB vz.26 light machine guns, along with four Type 24 Maxim guns. They would face off against the forces of the 3rd IJA Division, commanded by General Iwane Matsui, as well as the 10th Battalion, 8th, and 9th Companies of the Shanghai Special Naval Landing Force under Captain Okochi Denshichi. The Japanese forces were further bolstered by approximately 260 sailors from the Yokosuka 2nd Independent SNLF Company and another 200 sailors from the Kure 1st SNLF 2nd Company. Additionally, the 8th and 9th Companies of the Shanghai SNLF, originally attached to the 4th Artillery Battalion, would provide support with howitzers and mountain guns. In total, around 980 infantrymen from the reinforced 10th Battalion of the Shanghai SNLF, along with another 200 artillerymen from the 8th and 9th Companies, were involved in the Japanese assault on the Sihang Warehouse. Xie Jinyuan consolidated his battalion’s defenses inside the Sihang Warehouse, believing it would provide his men the highest chance of holding out for as long as possible. He correctly assessed that the Imperial Japanese Army would be unable to use their heaviest artillery, aerial bombardment, gas attacks, or naval guns for fear of accidentally striking the International Settlement. It’s important to remember that this was 1937, and the Empire of Japan was not willing to risk open warfare with Western nations until 1941. What the Japanese did have access to were armored vehicles, such as the Type 94 tankettes. The Japanese infantry were equipped with various weapons, including the Arisaka Type 38 rifle, Type 11 and Type 96 light machine guns, the Nambu Type 14 pistol, Type 92 heavy machine gun, Type 97 grenade, Type 89 grenade discharger, and the Type 93 flamethrower. On October 27, various companies of the battalion reached the Sihang Warehouse after a fighting withdrawal. By this point, they numbered 414 men, who essentially volunteered for a suicide mission and were later acknowledged by Chiang Kai-shek for their “exemplary soldierly conduct.” The 1st Battalion was commanded by Army Major Yang Ruifu, and their forces included the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Companies, as well as a Machine Gun Company, totaling 452 men once the remaining soldiers arrived. Due to two months of intense fighting in Shanghai, many of the German-trained elite troops had been killed or wounded, leaving the majority of the reinforcements at the Sihang Warehouse to be garrison troops from the surrounding provinces. Many of these soldiers came from the 5th Regiment of the Hubei Province Garrison, which meant that many were also inexperienced recruits. On October 27, news began to circulate throughout Shanghai that Chinese forces were still resisting the Japanese in the Zhabei district at the Sihang Warehouse. At 4 a.m., a Girl Guide named Yang Huimin approached a British guard at a post at the Chinese end of the New Lese Bridge, where she noticed a British soldier tossing a pack of cigarettes into the warehouse. Yang asked the soldier what he was doing, and he informed her that there was a battalion of Chinese soldiers inside. She then wrote a message and requested that the soldier place it inside a cigarette box and toss it over. Soon, the Chinese tossed back the cigarette box with a message indicating they needed food, ammunition, and lubricant for their weapons. Yang then left the bridge and began pleading for help at the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce, but no one believed her story. Xie Jinyuan deployed the 1st Company, led by Captain Tao Xingchun, on the right side of the warehouse along Tibet Road. The 3rd Company, led by Shi Meihao, was stationed on the left across from the Bank of Communications building, while the 2nd Company, commanded by Deng Ying, held the other sides. Two heavy Type 24 Maxim machine guns were mounted on the roof of the Sihang Warehouse, with additional machine guns distributed among each company. A forward platoon from each company was sent out to provide early warning of any enemy attack. Furthermore, Xie ordered his combat engineers to place remote-detonated charges in front of the warehouse. His units were strategically dispersed with rifles and machine guns throughout the warehouse and on the rooftop. They reinforced the building with bags of sand, corn, and beans, and razed surrounding structures to create a deadly killing field. At 7:30 am an advance outpost reported seeing Japanese marines near the North Train Station, and 45 minutes later, it confirmed that the enemy's flag was flying over that building. The Chinese soldiers were ordered to engage the advancing IJA 3rd division, and over the next two hours, they executed a fighting retreat back toward the warehouse. A brief pause ensued, during which the Chinese defenders prepared themselves, with some taking up positions on the various floors of the warehouse and others crouching behind an outer wall surrounding the building. At 1:00 pm a Japanese column approached the warehouse, confidently marching down the middle of the road behind a large Rising Sun banner. It appeared more like a victory parade than a tactical maneuver. Once they were in range, the Chinese officers ordered their men to fire. Five Japanese soldiers fell, causing the rest of the column to scramble for cover. Within an hour, the Japanese had amassed enough troops to attempt a storming assault on the warehouse. A sizable force surrounded the building, unleashing so much firepower that the Chinese were forced to abandon the outer wall and retreat to the warehouse itself. Although the defenses remained solid, the crisis was far from over, and the attackers appeared to have gained dangerous momentum The first bloodshed occurred when ten IJA soldiers were killed while attempting to secure fortifications around the warehouse that had been rigged with explosives. At 2 p.m., a National Revolutionary Army platoon led by Yin Qiucheng exchanged fire with approximately fifty IJA troops. By 3 pm, an IJA company consisting of around 194 men launched an attack on the warehouse from the west. During this engagement, the 3rd Company commander, Shi Meihao, was shot in the face but continued to lead the defense until he was shot again in the leg. Meanwhile, about seventy IJA soldiers took cover in a blind spot just southwest of the warehouse. In response, the NRA climbed to the rooftop and threw grenades at the IJA, killing seven and wounding twenty. The initial assault by the IJA was a failure, prompting them to set fire to the northwestern section of the warehouse, where fuel and lumber were stored. By 5 pm., firefighter efforts had extinguished the blaze, as the IJA were preoccupied with looting the Zhabei area. At this point, Yang Ruifu, the second-in-command, commanded a dozen soldiers to rush to the roof and lob hand grenades at the Japanese forces below. This counterattack halted the Japanese advance. As the Japanese withdrew, they left behind seven dead. Much of the fighting was closely watched by excited Chinese on the other side of the 60-yard Suzhou Creek. Each time news spread of another Japanese soldier being killed, a triumphant cheer erupted from the crowd. At 9 pm, battalion commander Yang Ruifu assessed that there would likely be no further IJA attacks that day and ordered the NRA to repair their fortifications and eat their meals. However, no one slept that night. The NRA suffered two deaths and four wounded, while the IJA reported seventeen dead and twenty wounded. Foreign correspondents witnessed the battle from the safety of Suzhou Creek, enjoying a front-row seat to the harsh reality of urban combat. One reporter observed a small group of Japanese soldiers cautiously approaching the warehouse, navigating through the broken masonry and twisted metal. Crawling from cover to cover, it took them 50 minutes to traverse just 50 yards. The Chinese defenders, watching from concealed vantage points, had been...
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3.160 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #5
07/28/2025
3.160 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #5
Last time we spoke about the battle of Luodian. Following a significant counter-offensive, the initial optimism waned as casualties escalated and morale plummeted. The strategically vital town of Luodian became a pivotal battleground, with the Chinese determined to defend it at all costs. Despite heroic efforts, including a daring nighttime assault, the overwhelming Japanese forces employed superior tactics and artillery, steadily gaining ground. As September progressed, Japanese reinforcements flooded the frontline, exacerbating the already dire situation for the Chinese defenders. By late September, the fierce struggle to control Luodian culminated in a forced retreat by the Chinese forces, marking a significant turning point in the fight for Shanghai. Though they withdrew, the Chinese army earned newfound respect, having showcased their tenacity against a formidable adversary. The battle became a testament to their resilience amid overwhelming odds, setting the stage for the tumultuous conflict that lay ahead in their fight for sovereignty. #160 The Battle of Shanghai Part 5: Fighting along the Wusong Creek Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. The tides of warfare had shifted in Shanghai. In late September, the Japanese high command dispatched three divisions to the Shanghai area, starting with the 101st Division landing on September 22. This was followed by the 9th and 13th Divisions, bolstering Japan's military presence to five divisions in the city, despite the Chinese forces numbering over 25 divisions. However, the true dynamics of the confrontation revealed a complex picture: while the Chinese boasted numerical superiority, the Japanese divisions, each comprising around 15,000 soldiers, were supported by nearly 90,000 troops when including marines and infantry. China's units, often as small as 5,000 men, made their effective deployment difficult. The Japanese forces also leveraged their advantages in materials, aircraft, and naval artillery, which could effectively target critical positions along the Chinese front. With these reinforcements in place, Japanese commanders, including Matsui, devised a bold strategy: to execute a powerful thrust across Wusong Creek and advance toward Suzhou Creek. The goal was to encircle and annihilate the main Chinese force in a maneuver they had envisioned since their arrival in China. Ogishima Shizuo, a reservist of the 101st division had just been through his first night at the front. Within his trench, soldiers leapt up from their slumber to a hail of bullets. Ogishima looked over the edge of the trench. It was still dark, making it hard to discern what was happening, but he thought he saw a flash of a helmet in a foxhole near the creek's edge. It wasn’t a Japanese helmet. Suddenly, it hit him that the gunfire wasn’t a mistake. “It’s the enemy! The enemy!” he yelled. Others began to shout as well. “The enemy! They’re behind us! Turn around!” Under the cloak of darkness, a Chinese unit had managed to bypass the Japanese lines and launch an attack from the rear. The sound of aggressive gunfire erupted, and a Japanese heavy machine gun joined in the fray. However, most of the bullets were fired haphazardly into the night. A force of 50 Chinese were firing on them. Japanese officers ordered the men to storm their positions, seeing infantrymen leap over their trench into the barrage. The Japanese and Chinese fired at each other and tossed grenades when close enough. The Japanese jumped into the Chinese foxholes and stabbed at them with bayonets. Ogishima thrust his bayonet into the belly of a Chinese soldiers, marking his first kill. He felt no emotion. Within minutes the little battle was over, every Chinese soldier lay dead, it was a suicide mission. Ogishima saw countless comrades dead around him, it was a scene of carnage. It was the morning of October 7, the 101st Division had crossed Wusong Creek from the north in the early hours of October 6, specifically, only half of the division had made it across. The other half remained on the far side, unable to get their boats past the 300 feet of water protected by unseen Chinese machine guns and mortar crews that would open fire at the slightest hint of movement on the northern bank. Dozens of corpses floated in the murky water, serving as grim evidence of the carnage from the previous 24 hours. Ogishima, alongside tens of thousands of Japanese soldiers were entering the most brutal part of the Shanghai campaign. Matsui’s vision of a quick and decisive end to the Shanghai campaign, would not come to be. Matsui detailed his plans in an order issued on September 29. The attack was to be conducted from west to east by the 9th, 3rd, and 101st Infantry Divisions. The 11th Infantry Division was assigned to follow the 9th Division, securing the right flank against potential Chinese counterattacks from the west. The 13th Infantry Division would serve as the reserve. The objective was to capture Dachang, an ancient town encircled by a medieval-style wall, and then advance as quickly as possible to breach the Chinese lines north of Suzhou Creek. Matsui had arranged an unusually high concentration of troops; the three divisions were aligned along a front that spanned only three miles. This meant that each division had less than half the front length that the Japanese field manual typically recommended. The decision to compress the divisions into such a narrow front was partly to compensate for the artillery shortcomings that were still hindering the Japanese offensive. The Japanese attackers confronted a formidable and well-prepared enemy. After extensive discussions, the Chinese commanders ultimately recognized that they had no choice but to shorten their front line. Defending Liuhang, a town situated along the route from Luodian to Dachang, had proven too costly, offering no prospect of victory. Chen Cheng, the commander of the Chinese left wing, had often visited Liuhang and understood how dire the situation was. He repeatedly urged that the unwinnable battle be abandoned and that valuable troops be withdrawn to stronger positions. However, his pleas initially went unheeded. Chiang Kai-shek was primarily driven by the belief that war was about securing territory, and he insisted on maintaining control over Liuhang at all costs. Meanwhile the Chinese positions north of Wusong Creek had been breached in numerous places during late September and this caused Chiang Kai-Shek to finally relent. A fighting retreat began on the night of October 1st and would be completed by dawn of the 3rd. The new defensive line extended just over a mile west of the road from Luodian to Dachang, providing the Chinese defenders with excellent opportunities to harass the advancing Japanese Army with flanking fire for several miles as they moved south. At Wusong Creek, the Chinese line curved eastward and followed the southern bank for several miles. The creek provided a significant advantage to the Chinese defenders; despite its name, it would be more accurate to describe it as a river. It reached widths of up to 300 feet in some areas, and in several spots, the southern bank formed a steep six-foot wall. Anyone attempting to scale this barrier under intense mortar fire would be met at the top by rows of barbed wire and heavy machine gun fire. For a full mile south of the creek, the Chinese had spent weeks constructing a dense network of defenses, transforming farm buildings into formidable fortifications linked by deep trenches. They had learned valuable lessons from their German mentors, many veterans of the battles of Somme and Verdun, and they applied these lessons effectively. The Japanese took Liuhang on the 3rd and were met with counterattacks, but these were easily repelled. More confident, Matsui issued new orders on the 4th for the 3rd, 9th and 101 divisions to cross the Wusong Creek and advance a mile south. Beginning on the 5th, the 3 divisions crossed and carved out a narrow bridgehead under heavy resistance. The Chinese were frantic now, as after the Wusong Creek, the last remaining natural obstacle was the Suzhou Creek. Two miles west of the key road from Luodian to Dachang, battalion commander Yan Yinggao of the 78th Division’s 467th Regiment awaited the anticipated Japanese assault. The regiment had fortified three villages near a creek, reinforced with sandbags, barbed wire, and cleared fields of fire, along with deep trenches for troop movement. The 1st Battalion occupied the westernmost village, the 3rd Battalion held the other two, while the 2nd Battalion remained in reserve. The initial Japanese attack began with a heavy artillery bombardment. Despite facing significant casualties, their infantry was forced to withdraw from all three villages. They returned later in the afternoon with an even fiercer artillery assault. The 1st Battalion suffered devastating losses, including its commander, leading to the loss of the village to the Japanese. Yan Yinggao, observing from the rear, dispatched a reinforcement company, but it was quickly annihilated within ten minutes. Simultaneously the Chinese 3rd battalion at Tangbeizhai were nearly encircled. Yan received orders for his regiment to advance over to relieve them, but as they did a Japanese column of 60 soldiers approached from the opposite direction. A battle ensued over the smoking rubbled of the bombed out village. The few survivors of the 3rd battalion made a last stand, allowing the 2nd battle to fight their way in to take up their position. It was a small and temporary victory. Units arriving to the Shanghai theater were being tossed right into the front lines, such as the Tax Police Division. Despite its name they were a fully equipped military formation and quite well training consisting of 6 regiments, roughly 25,000 armed men. Their officers had previously served under the young marshal, Zhang Xueliang. They were rushed to Tangqiaozhan, lying on the road from Luodian to Dachang, bridged by the Wusong Creek. The bridge was crucial to the entire operation, as holding it would enhance the Chinese's chances of delaying the Japanese advance. The Tax Police, stationed at the northern end of the bridge, became surrounded on three sides. Intense fighting ensued, occasionally escalating to hand-to-hand combat. By the second day after their arrival, casualties had escalated significantly, forcing the Tax Police units to retreat south across the bridge, which ultimately fell to the advancing Japanese forces. A crisis atmosphere surrounded the meeting of the 3rd War Zone staff, chaired by Chiang Kai-shek, in Suzhou on October 11. Everyone agreed the previous efforts to halt the Japanese advance south across Wusong Creek had utterly failed. Each engagement resulted in Chinese troops being repelled without regaining significant territory. Chen Cheng proposed an attack in his sector, specifically targeting the area around Luodian. However, most felt that such an operation would not effectively influence the Japanese advance at Wusong Creek and ultimately dismissed the suggestion. Bai Chongxi, whom at this point held an informal advisory role, called for simultaneous attacks along both banks of Wusong Creek, thrusting into the right flank of the advancing Japanese. This would require an enormous amount of troops if there was to be any chance of success. Bai Chongxi was pushing to take 4 divisions from Guangxi, already in transit to Shanghai for the task. Chiang Kai-Shek liked the idea of a single decisive blow and agreed to Bai’s idea. The German advisors were not so keen on this one. In fact the Germans were getting depressed over a concerning issue. It seemed the Chinese staff simply talked too much, taking far too long to produce very few decisions. There were a lot of reasons for this, a lot of these figures held to many positions. For example Gu Zhuong, Chiang Kai-Sheks deputy in Suzhou, was a chief of staff and also held two advisory roles. Then there were these informal generals, such as Bai Chongxi. A man such as Bai had no formal command here, yet he was providing views on operational issues. To the Germans who held clear military hierarchies as the bible, it looked obviously chaotic. There was notable hope though. The Germans acknowledged the Chinese were improving their artillery situation. For the first time since the battle for Shanghai began, 6 artillery battalions were moved into positions in the vicinity of Nanxiang, under the unified command of the headmaster of the Tangshan artillery school near Nanjing. From there they could coordinate barrages in the area south of the Wusong Creek. Sun Liren got off at Nanxiang railway station on October 7th. At 36 he was leading one of China’s best units, the 4th regiment of the Tax Police. Within confusion he was assigned to the 88th division, who were fighting the heaviest battles in the campaign. By noon of the next day, nearly all of Sun Liren’s regiment were cannibalized, sent as reinforcements to the 88ths front lines. Afterwards all the was left was Sun and a group of 20 orderlies and clerks. At 2pm he got a call from th division, they needed more reinforcements at the front or else a small bridge north of Zhabei would be taken, collapsing their lines. Sun replied he had no troops left only to be told “its an order. If you disobey, you’ll be courtmartialed”. Without any choice, Sun hastily organized dozens of soldiers and marched them to the bridge. As they arrived, his men saw Chinese troops withdrawing away from the bridge. He asked one man what was going on “the officers have all left, we also don’t want to die”. To this Sun said he was an officer and would stay and fight with them. The Japanese in pursuit were shocked to see the Chinese turn around attack them. In general the Japanese were surprised by the sudden resilience of the Chinese around the Wusong Creek. Many assaults were being beaten back. In the Zhabei district, much more urbanized, foreigners were watching in awe. A war correspondent wrote “Every street was a defense line and every house a pocket fort. Thousands of holes had been knocked through walls, linking the labyrinth of lanes into a vast system of defense in depth. Every intersection had been made into a miniature fortress of steel and concrete. Even the stubs of bomb-battered walls had been slotted at ground level for machine guns and rifles. No wonder the Japanese Army was months behind its boasts”. East of the Huangpu River at Pudong, Sun Shengzhi commanded an artillery regiment whom began launching a barrage across the river upon the Gongda airfield, that had been allowing the Japanese air forces to support their infantry. Meanwhile Chinese soldiers rolled a battery of 8 bofor guns 300 yards from the riverbank and at dawn began firing upon aircraft taking off. They reported 4 downed Japanese aircraft and 7 damaged. By mid-October the 88th division took advantage of a lull in the fighting and prepared a ambitious attack aimed at cutting off the Sichuan North road, which the Japanese were using to as a supply line from the docks to units north of the city. The German advisors developed this attack using Stosstruppen tactics taken from WW1. For stosstruppen, the main means of weakening the enemy line was via infiltration, rather than a massive frontal attack. The attack was unleashed on the 18th after a bombardment by artillery and mortars as lightly armed Chinese stormed down the streets near the North railway station and took the Japanese there by complete surprise. They quickly occupied a segment of the Sichuan North Road cutting the Japanese supply chain for many days. Back on the 13th, Kuse Hisao led a company of the Japanese 9th division to perform an attack on Chenjiahang, located due north of Wusong Creek. It was a strategic and heavily fortified stronghold that obstructed the southward advance. As Kuse’s men reached its vicinity they stopped to rest with orders to begin the assault at 1pm. The Japanese artillery kicked off the fight and was soon met with much larger Chinese artillery. This was an unpleasant surprise for the Japanese, whom to this point had always had superiority in artillery. Regardless the assault went ahead seeing wave upon wave of attackers fighting through cotton fields and bullets. Kuse’s men were forced to crawl through the field. Kuse crawled his way to a small creek to discover with horror it was full of Japanese and Chinese corpses at various stages of decomposition. The assault on Chenjiahang bogged down quickly. Kuse and his men spent a night amongst the rotting dead. The following day orders arrived for two neighbouring units to renew the assault as Kuse’s fell back into the reserve. That day’s attempt fared no better, simply piling more bodies upon the field and waterways. The next day Kuse watched Japanese flamethrower units enter the fray as they led an attack over a creek. Men jumped into waist deep water, waded across to fight up slopes through mazes of Chinese trenches. Then to all of their surprise they stormed and unoccupied Chenjiahang without firing a shot. Kuse and his men suddenly saw a grenade come flying at them. Kuse was injured and taken out by comrades to the rear. Chenjiahang and been bitterly fought over for weeks. Alongside Yanghang it was considered two key points necessary for the Japanese to be able to advance against Dachang further south. Meanwhile Sichuanese troops were being pulled back for the fresh 4 Guangxi divisions to come in. They wore lighter brown uniforms with British styled tin hat helmets. One of their divisions, the 173rd was sent straight to Chenjiahang, arriving before dawn of the 16th. While the handover of positions was taking place, the Japanese launched an intense aerial and artillery bombardment causing significant casualties before the 173rd could even deploy. Later that day, one of their regiments engaged the Japanese and were slaughtered on the spot. Two-thirds of their men became casualties. The battle raged for four days as the 3 other Guangxi divisions moved to the front. There was no break on either side, as one Guanxi officer recalled, “I had heard the expression ‘storm o f steel’ before, but never really understood what it meant. Now I do.” By mid October, Matsui’s optimism about his southern push was waning. Heavy rain over the past week had slowed his men down considerably. Supplies were taking much longer to reach the front. Intelligence indicated the senior Chinese commanders had moved from Suzhou to Nanxiang, with some in Shanghai proper. To Matsui this meant they were nowhere near close to abandoning Shanghai. Matsui wrote in his diary “It’s obvious that earlier views that the Chinese front was shaken had been premature. Now is definitely not the time to rashly push the offensive.” During this rainy time, both sides received some rest as a no-mans land formed. Winter uniforms were arriving for the Japanese 3rd and 11th divisions, causing some encouragement. The 3rd division had already taken 6000 casualties, but received 6500...
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3.159 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #4
07/21/2025
3.159 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #4
Last time we spoke about a major Chinese counter offensive at Shanghai. "Black Saturday," saw over a thousand civilians killed. In response, Chinese leader Chiang Kai-shek launched Operation Iron Fist on August 17, aiming to exploit weaknesses in Japanese defenses but failing due to disarray and entrenched opposition. Amid mounting pressure, Chinese commanders redirected their strategy toward Yangshupu, seeking to breach Japanese lines along the Huangpu River. The 36th Infantry Division, newly trained by German advisers, launched a surprise assault on August 19, but inexperienced troops faced relentless Japanese fire, struggling to hold their positions. As casualties mounted, the Japanese executed strategic landings at Chuanshakou and Wusong, capturing key points with minimal resistance. The battle at Baoshan became emblematic of their resistance, where a handful of defenders vowed to fight to the last man, encapsulating the desperation and bravery of those battling under the shadow of impending defeat. #159 The Battle of Shanghai Part 4: The Battle for Luodian Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. In the early days of September, a profound sense of resignation descended upon the senior Chinese commanders as the Japanese troops captured stronghold after stronghold along the riverbank, first Shizilin, then Wusong, and finally Baoshan. Despite the resignation among their leaders, the rank and file remained resolute in their determination to defend every inch of Chinese soil. The fighting along Wusong Creek, extending west from Wusong, became particularly brutal. “There were huge numbers of deaths on both sides, and the water of the creek turned red,” wrote Chinese official Wang Jieshi in his diary. “The saying about ‘rivers of blood’ became a grim reality.” Meanwhile the Japanese were landing more reinforcements, such as the Tida detachment on September 6. The next day Tokyo HQ authorized the dispatch of the 9th, 13th and 101st divisions and the Shigeto Detachment to Shanghai. That same day over 10 Japanese infantry battalions were ordered to advance from Northeast China to Shanghai. The situation was dire for the Chinese. Not only were their frontline units struggling in battle, but they were also sustaining exceptionally high casualties. By early September, Yao Ziqing's 98th Infantry Division had suffered 4,960 casualties, including a regimental commander killed and another wounded. Throughout the battle for Shanghai, various units within the division received reinforcements up to four times. Upon arrival, these reinforcements were quickly armed and sent directly to the front lines. As recalled by Fang Jing “Some were injured almost immediately after arriving. When they reached the hospital, they had no idea which unit they belonged to.” The string of defeats and setbacks significantly affected morale within the Chinese Army, particularly among senior officers. While the lower ranks generally showed a willingness to continue the fight, high-ranking officials exhibited waning resolve. “All my soldiers have been sacrificed. There’s nobody left,” Xia Chuzhong, commander of the 79th Division, lamented in a phone call to Luo Zhuoying, head of the 18th Army, part of the 15th Army Group. In response, Luo Zhuoying urged, “Aren’t you still standing? Hold your ground and fight.” Having lost Baoshan the next defensive position was the small town of Luodian, the transportation center connecting Baoshan, downtown Shanghai, Jiading, Songjiang and several other towns via highways. The successful defense of Luodian was crucial for the security of Suzhou and Shanghai. On August 29, German adviser Alexander von Falkenhausen warned Chiang Kai-shek that the town needed to be held at all costs, describing it as "the most crucial strategic point.”. Chiang Kai-shek was determined to hold on to Luodian. He personally summoned senior commanders to the 3rd War Zone headquarters in Suzhou, emphasizing that the town must be retaken at all costs. In response, the commanders deployed entire divisions to the battle for Luodian. During one of several Chinese assaults, Qiu Weida, a regimental commander in the 51st Infantry Division, led a night attack on the southern part of Luodian. Moving quietly through the darkness, the Chinese force, about two companies strong, approached a Japanese camp, most of whose soldiers were asleep. The Chinese launched a swift attack, giving the Japanese no chance to react. They shot and bayoneted soldiers while they were still lying down, successfully taking over the camp and preparing for a counterattack. When the Japanese responded, the Chinese staged a fighting retreat, deliberately luring the enemy into an open area where well-armed soldiers lay in ambush. As the Japanese advanced, Qiu Weida signaled with a flare, a pre-arranged signal to open fire. Infantry weapons of various calibers joined in the assault. As dawn broke, Qiu raised his binoculars to survey the scene, which was a disturbing sight, covered with a tangled mass of dead and dying bodies. The Japanese commanders launched what they hoped would be the decisive blow to break out from the Baoshan perimeter. Elements of the 3rd Division were tasked with moving down the road toward Liuhang and occupying Yanghang. Meanwhile, the 11th Division’s Amaya Detachment, which had arrived in Wusong on September 2, was to seize Yuepu, a village on the other strategic road leading west from Baoshan that blocked access to Luodian and the opportunity to link up with other units of the 11th Division fighting in the area. This operation aimed to create the necessary space for a full assault on Shanghai, and the Japanese dedicated every available resource to the effort. The artillery barrage began before dawn on September 1, with Japanese guns of all calibers participating. For more than two weeks, the Japanese had been able to disembark supplies at landing sites along the Yangtze and Huangpu Rivers. After daybreak, air raids intensified unusually, with the Japanese seemingly deploying all available aircraft in this narrow part of the front. Eventually, the Japanese infantry prepared to launch their attack. While this was simply the latest in a series of Japanese assaults, the sheer tenacity displayed indicated to the Chinese that this time was different. However, after an entire day of fighting, little territorial gain was made. The defenders fought with a determination bordering on fanaticism, despite a total lack of air and artillery support, effectively utilizing the obstacles created by canals that cut through the heavily cultivated area. By sunset, the Japanese had advanced no further than the eastern edge of Yuepu, although the village had been completely destroyed by artillery fire. Yanghang remained firmly in Chinese hands. In the countryside between the two western roads leading from Baoshan, Japanese units had only managed to occupy territory where their artillery and aircraft had utterly obliterated the defenders. To an outsider, it might seem that the Chinese could breathe a sigh of relief. However, from the perspective of Chinese commanders, the situation was vastly different. Their primary concern was the Japanese superiority in artillery. The contested area north of Shanghai consisted mainly of low-lying rice and cotton fields with relatively few trees, offering insufficient camouflage for all but the smallest units. This allowed Japanese naval gunners on the elevated waters of the Yangtze and Huangpu to sometimes directly observe Chinese troops. Even when there was no direct line of sight from the ships in the rivers, they were aided by the directions of observers patrolling in aircraft or hovering in balloons over the horizon. The Chinese had long realized that exposing their units to continuous attack from naval guns played directly into the Japanese hands. They understood that they needed to move away from the riverbank and the lethal fire of the IJN Although the decision to withdraw would have been made sooner or later, it was hastened by the relentless Japanese pressure on the two roads from Baoshan, as their loss would create a breach between Zhang Zhizhong’s 9th Army Group in the Shanghai area and Chen Cheng’s 15th Army Group to the left. General Gu Zhutong, a member of Chiang Kai-shek’s inner circle who had recently been appointed deputy commander of the 3rd War Zone, witnessed how some of the best divisions were being decimated in the defense of Yuepu and Yanghang. Meanwhile, Zhang Zhizhong was pushing for the withdrawal of troops in Yangshupu, which risked becoming a dangerously exposed salient if a breach occurred. The order for the two Chinese army groups to withdraw came late on September 11. Under the cover of darkness, the bulk of the divisions pulled back to positions reinforced by reserves in the preceding days. As thousands of soldiers moved several miles to the rear, the Japanese remained unaware that anything unusual was occurring, and the entire movement took place without enemy harassment. Only skeleton crews remained in the original Chinese positions. By the morning of September 12, the new frontline stretched from the North Railway Station to the eastern edge of Jiangwan, bent west of Yanghang and Luodian, and extended north to the banks of the Yangtze. Unbeknownst to them, the Japanese had become masters of heavily contested areas from Yangshupu in the south to Yuepu in the north. The Chinese military leadership attempted to explain to the public that it had no choice but to withdraw and had never seriously expected to be able to push the Japanese back into the Yangtze, given the hundreds of naval guns at their disposal. A military spokesman said “The objective of the Chinese command was to delay and harass the landing. It was never hoped that we would permanently repel the landing.” The Chinese expressed confidence in their new positions, even comparing them to the Maginot Line along the French border with Germany, which of course would become rather ironic. The Japanese now controlled the entire left bank of the Huangpu River from Yangshupu to the mouth of the Yangtze. They had access to several good roads, some interconnected, which could serve as supply lines for future attacks. Additionally, they could exploit a large number of modern Chinese wharfs and docks, setting the stage for a steady flow of reinforcements. On the 12th, Matsui received word from the Amaya Detachment that it had finally captured Yuepu. After driving the Chinese out of the village, the detachment established a defensive perimeter in a semicircle 500 yards around the western edge. Nearly simultaneously, the Ueno Detachment, a unit attached to the 3rd Division, reported that it had occupied Yanghang and pursued the enemy to a position about two miles west of the village. In both cases, it appeared that the enemy had abandoned their positions under the cover of night. Yet despite the victories Matsui desperately needed more men. In the three weeks leading up to September 11, the Japanese had managed to land 40,000 soldiers and establish a bridgehead measuring roughly 25 miles in length and over five miles in depth. Together with the troops already present in Shanghai, Japan had about 50,000 soldiers in the area. While this was a significant force, it was still insufficient to ensure the conquest of Shanghai, especially given the rapid attrition faced. As of September 9, the 3rd Division had reported losses of 589 killed and 1,539 injured, while the 11th Division recorded 616 dead and 1,336 wounded. But Tokyo was very reluctant to dispatch troops to Shanghai. From the viewpoint of the IJA leadership, Shanghai and Central China were a sideshow to the north china theater, which they alongside the Kwantung Army argued was more essential, given the proximity of the USSR. This belief was strongly reinforced when the Sino-Soviet agreement was signed in late August. Shanghai also heavily favored the Chinese terrain wise, it was basically like the battle of Thermopylae, instead of a mountain pass it was an extremely concentrated urban area. Then there was one of the main advocates opposing the China War altogether, Kanji Ishiwara. The entire time he was screaming and lecturing non-expansion and advised diplomacy and to even form an alliance with China against the USSR. Concentrating on China and ignoring the Soviet menace was, in his eyes, like “chasing the dogs away from the front door while forgetting the wolves approaching the back door.” However, Ishiwara’s reluctance to send more troops to Shanghai was overruled. On September 4, a meeting of officers in Tokyo concluded that the battle in the Shanghai area should be completed by late October or early November, and to that end, sufficient troops should be deployed. Three days later, Emperor Hirohito approved reinforcements for the Shanghai front, including the dispatch of three additional infantry divisions from the home islands, along with units from the garrison forces in Taiwan. Ishiwara was so upset by this decision that he submitted his resignation, although he was later appointed to a position in the army in northeastern China. There was little doubt among Japanese leaders that the deployment of these reinforcements marked a significant escalation in the war. The situation was unlike anything Japan had ever experienced before. Army Minister Sugiyama Hajime remarked in a statement to his commanders, “This war has become total war.” A junior Japanese officer inspecting the Shanghai front reported upon his return to Tokyo “The enemy resistance is undeniably strong. Whether they are bombed out or surrounded, they do not retreat.” Luodian had remained under Japanese control since late August, but the surrounding countryside largely remained Chinese territory. Despite increasing pressure after the Chinese withdrawal to the south on September 12, the Japanese advanced only slowly and hesitantly. Taken aback by the sudden gains at Yuepu and Yanghang, and revealing their typical tardiness in responding to unforeseen events, it took them several days to even dispatch patrols for probing attacks against the new Chinese defenses. This delay provided Chinese commanders with extra time to reinforce their positions near Luodian, particularly on both sides of the road from Yuepu, which they correctly assumed would be the primary route for the Japanese attackers. Chinese preparations were just one reason Japan's mid-September assault was only moderately successful. Like the Chinese, the Japanese had yet to develop much skill in coordinating infantry and armor operations. The road connecting Yuepu and Luodian was of relatively good quality, enabling the Japanese to deploy about 25 tanks as the spearhead of their thrust. These armored vehicles quickly eliminated the Chinese positions closest to the road and advanced rapidly toward Luodian. However, the accompanying infantry from the Amaya Detachment was unable to keep pace. The Japanese only held a few yards of terrain on either side of the road. Beyond that narrow strip, the area was swarming with Chinese soldiers, making the advancing Japanese infantry easy targets. The Japanese infantry became bogged down, and it was only after dark, when the Chinese defenders north of the road chose to withdraw westward, that the Japanese had a chance to reach Luodian. The debacle on the road to Luodian was not solely a result of flawed training within the Japanese ranks. The area around Shanghai, a patchwork of small farm plots divided by creeks and canals, was ill-suited for tank warfare. This terrain had previously been a key argument against large-scale deployments by the Japanese Army. Nevertheless, once the decision was made in Tokyo to send enough troops to win the battle for the city, the generals had to strategize ways to overcome these terrain challenges. One proposed solution was to deploy amphibious tanks. However, the tactics employed called for using the tanks in a supportive role rather than leading the attacks across waterways. If a creek needed to be crossed, Japanese commanders would first order a small infantry unit to wade or swim to the opposite bank and prepare it for the tanks to land under the cover of darkness. While it was still dark, the tanks would cross and provide support to the infantry by daybreak. This cumbersome procedure often felt like putting the cart before the horse, but the Japanese executed it precisely as prescribed, time and again. This predictability allowed their Chinese opponents to acclimate to Japanese tactics to such an extent that they could usually anticipate what the Japanese would do next. While flawed tactics prevented either side from breaking the stalemate at the Luodian front, both continued to pour in reinforcements. The Shigeto Detachment arrived from Taiwan and was attached to the 11th Division on September 14, the same day the Amaya Detachment made its way up the road from Yuepu to return to the division’s direct command. By mid-September, the division had grown into a sizeable fighting force. However, the enemy it faced around Luodian was also growing stronger by the day, posing a significant threat to the division’s right flank if it were to rush south toward Dachang to link up with the 3rd Division. Therefore, on September 18, the Shanghai commanders ordered the division to focus initially on eliminating the Chinese troops amassed around Luodian. By this time, heavy rain had already fallen in the Shanghai region for three days, gradually slowing the fighting. The Japanese disliked the rain, as it turned the roads into muddy rivers, making transportation difficult, if not impossible, while also grounding most of their aircraft. In contrast, the Chinese welcomed the lull, as it provided them with an opportunity to improve their positions. The challenge of breaking through the Chinese defenses was only becoming more difficult as time passed. The Chinese Army’s performance during the initial stage of the fighting in Shanghai altered the world's perception of the nation’s military capabilities. China, which had lost every war over the past century, invariably to nations much smaller than itself, had suddenly taken a stand. At Shanghai, the Chinese Army experienced more intense fighting than anyone could have anticipated, suffering losses that had taken years to build up. However, it had gained prestige and respect, even among its Japanese adversaries. Even the withdrawal on September 12 was met with sympathy and admiration in capitals around the world. Every journalist in Shanghai during the fall of 1937 had a story to tell about the remarkable Chinese soldier. American journalist Carroll Alcott spent many hours in dugouts in Zhabei. “While Japanese shells pelted down over their heads, the Chinese soldiers sat unfazed in their self-made caves, cooking rice, vegetables, and occasionally a small bit of pork over a charcoal brazier. They dispelled the inevitable boredom with games of checkers and mahjong and wrote letters home to their families. In the Chinese trenches, there was a sense of...
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3.158 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #3
07/14/2025
3.158 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #3
Last time we spoke about Black Saterday and Operation Iron Fist. Conflict erupted in Shanghai on August 13, when Japanese marines disguised as civilians provoked Chinese guards, resulting in fierce gunfire and urban warfare. Both sides engaged in skirmishes around vital locations, with the Eight Character Bridge becoming a focal point. On August 14, air raids misfired catastrophically, killing over a thousand civilians in what became known as "Black Saturday." In an attempt to regain control, Chiang Kai-shek authorized Operation Iron Fist, a bold offensive targeting Japanese strongholds. The attack commenced early on August 17, involving coordinated assaults aimed at exploiting weak points in the enemy defenses. However, poor coordination, entrenched opposition, and the complexity of urban combat resulted in further devastating losses for the Chinese troops. By August 18, Operation Iron Fist had failed, with the Japanese reinforcing their positions and announcing a strategic shift towards expanded military engagement. #158 The Battle of Shanghai Part 3: The Chinese Counteroffensive “Drive them into the Sea!” Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On August 18, the Japanese military reinforced their presence in Shanghai, shipping an additional 1,400 marines from Manchuria to bolster the ranks of the Japanese Shanghai Special Naval Landing Force or “SNLF”. Yes, all of you who don’t listen to my Pacific War week by week podcast are going to get a lot of acronym lessons soon. And yes, they are not quote en quote real marines, but like most telling these stories its easier to refer to them this way. This influx of troops was a significant escalation in the ongoing conflict, heightening tensions as the battle for control intensified. As the battle in Shanghai raged on, a growing sentiment emerged among Chinese leaders that crucial chances had been squandered. On August 18, Chiang Kai-shek sent his trusted aide, Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng, to confer with General Zhang Zhizhong at the front lines. They assessed the situation and agreed that instead of attacking the heavily fortified Hongkou area, they should redirect their focus to the Yangshupu district. The aim was to breach the defenses and split the Japanese forces along the Huangpu River. This strategic shift was precisely what the German military advisers and frontline commanders had anticipated, signaling a decisive move away from their earlier hesitance to engage within settlement boundaries. As attrition took its toll on the Chinese troops already committed in Shanghai, the responsibility for the offensive was placed on the newly arrived 36th Infantry Division, a unit highly trained by German forces. They were positioned to advance from the eastern edge of Hongkou, with two regiments tasked to march south toward the Huangpu. In the early hours of the 19th, two regiments of the 36th launched their long-planned attack, moving swiftly towards the front lines. The night was illuminated by the flames of sabotage and incendiary bombs, aiding visibility amid the chaos. However, the assault quickly faced significant challenges. Many of the Chinese soldiers were inexperienced, becoming easy targets for Japanese infantry positioned in rooftops and upper-story windows. In the absence of cover, some troops were forced to take shelter behind the fallen bodies of their comrades. For a moment, the Chinese troops felt a surge of hope, believing they could push the Japanese into the Huangpu River. General Zhang Fakui, observing from the opposite bank, envisioned a breakthrough. However, upon reaching Broadway, parallel to the river, they confronted a formidable barrier. High walls guarded the wharves, and even the largest artillery pieces struggled to breach the defenses. Attempts to scale the steel gate resulted in devastating fire from entrenched Japanese machine gunners, while fortified factories like the Gong Da Cotton Mill proved equally impenetrable. As the Chinese forces suffered under relentless bombardment, their momentum diminished. The 88th Infantry Division, previously effective, showed signs of disarray and hesitated to engage. Compounding their woes, Japanese reinforcements arrived, swelling their ranks to 6,300 well equipped marines. Despite these challenges, the Chinese committed to deploying their newly acquired British built Vickers tanks, a symbol of their efforts to modernize their military over the years. But with each hour, the balance of power tilted further in favor of the Japanese forces. Meanwhile the 87th Infantry Division was assigned two armored companies, yet it suffered catastrophic losses. The tanks, recently shipped from Nanjing, had crews untrained in coordinated assaults, and many were left without infantry support. The Chinese forces struggled to secure adjacent streets, allowing Japanese armor to outflank and destroy their tanks. The Japanese, too, faced coordination challenges between their armor and infantry, resulting in some of their tanks being annihilated by Chinese anti-tank weapons. On the 20th, General Zhang Zhizhong inspected the Yangshupu front and encountered a former student leading a tank company ready to attack the wharves. The tanks, hastily repaired and ill equipped for battle, faced fierce enemy fire, and the young officer expressed concern about the infantry's ability to keep pace. Despite Zhang's insistence that the assault must proceed, the attack ended in disaster as the tank company was decimated by shells from anchored vessels. The battle blended modern warfare with tactics reminiscent of earlier centuries. An officer named Wu Yujun managed a position during a Japanese cavalry attack on the 18th. After two unsuccessful assaults, Wu set an ambush that resulted in the annihilation of the Japanese riders. This incident illustrated the stark contrast on the battlefield where Chinese soldiers often confronted a technologically superior enemy while grappling with their own inexperience. Many of the Chinese units arriving in Shanghai were very green, countless having never faced battle before, and their lack of experience proved costly in the initial days of fighting. Brigade Commander Fang Jing of the 98th Division observed that his soldiers constructed inadequate fortifications that crumbled under the Japanese 150mm howitzers. He lamented, “Often, the positions they built were too weak and couldn’t withstand the enemy’s artillery,”. On the 20th, 5 Chinese aircraft returned after yet another unsuccessful attack on the Japanese battleship Izumo, which remained anchored in the Huangpu. During their flight over western Zhabei, they encountered two Japanese seaplanes. One Chinese pilot broke formation, diving steeply to fire a brief machine-gun salvo, but his plane was quickly shot down, bursting into flames before crashing. The Chinese attacks had posed a significant threat to Japanese bombers, particularly the vulnerable Mitsubishi G3M medium aircraft targeting Shanghai and central China. Japan's First Combined Air Group suffered heavy losses, with half of its medium attack planes damaged or destroyed within the first three days of fighting. However, the Chinese pilots, largely inexperienced and inadequately trained, began to falter against the superior Japanese fighters, eventually withdrawing from the skies over Shanghai. Ground troops expressed frustration over the lack of effective air support, as they rarely saw their planes after the 20th, instead carrying out major troop movements only under the cover of darkness. The Japanese air superiority drastically affected operations on the ground, dictating when Chinese soldiers could eat and transport supplies. Without effective fighter protection and limited anti-aircraft capabilities, the Chinese troops were left exposed. Most of their anti-aircraft weaponry consisted of 20mm Solothurn guns that were ineffective against aircraft and were more often used against infantry. Officers hesitated to use these guns for fear of revealing their positions to the enemy. By the morning of the 21st, the 36th Division had been relentlessly attacking the wharf area for over 48 hours, yet victory remained elusive. Although some tanks had infiltrated the wharf, they were met with dishearteningly strong Japanese defenses and a well-manned enemy presence. The commanders recognized that they had advanced too quickly without securing their flanks, and their reserves, which could have provided crucial support, remained in the rear. Reluctantly, they concluded that a withdrawal was necessary. The retreat was a painful acknowledgment that pushing the Japanese into the Huangpu River would not be as straightforward as hoped. Part of the Chinese failure stemmed from an inability to execute joint operations across different military branches. German advisors noted that artillery support for the forces in Yangshupu from the Pudong side was limited. In contrast, Japanese naval guns were actively providing support, significantly relieving the pressure on their marines. This imbalance resulted in heavy losses for the Chinese, with the 36th Division suffering over 2,000 casualties by the late 22nd. Meanwhile, Japanese naval aircraft attempted to impede the movement of additional Chinese troops to Shanghai by bombing the railway from Suzhou. Although several bridges were destroyed and railway stations sustained damage, the delays were minimal, offering some reassurance to Chinese commanders who understood that reinforcements were essential for a successful continuation of the battle. The light cruiser Jintsu, carrying the 3rd Division, set to land six miles north of Shanghai, while the 11th Division would disembark a dozen miles further up the Yangtze River. By the evening of the 21st, the task force arrived at the Yangtze River and the Saddle Islands off the river estuary. The soldiers had to transfer to smaller vessels capable of navigating the shallow waters of the Huangpu River. On the 23rd, Matsui Iwane got aboard the light cruiser Yura and was greeted by Rear Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, then the commander of the 8th cruiser division. Yes, the same man who would be blamed for losing at Midway in 1942. The Japanese fleet had made a strategic sweep as far south as Hangzhou Bay the previous day to disrupt Chinese troop movements and force them to spread thin along the coast. However, with the landings imminent, it was clear the assault would happen at Wusong and Chuanshakou. Initially, Matsui preferred landing both divisions at Chuanshakou for a sweeping advance into the lightly defended countryside west of Shanghai, which would encircle tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers. The 3rd Fleet, however, proposed a bolder strategy: the 11th Infantry Division would proceed with the landing at Chuanshakou, while the 3rd Infantry Division would land at Wusong, directly confronting the heavily concentrated Chinese forces around Shanghai. This plan aimed to exert pressure from both the front and the rear, a tactic that could yield success but risked high casualties if faced with stiff Chinese resistance. Aware of the operation's risks, the naval officers sought to ease potential tensions with their army counterparts by offering over 500 elite marines to support the assault, preparing for what could be a pivotal moment in the campaign. Shortly after midnight on the 23rd, the marines designated as the primary assault wave at Wusong arrived in a convoy of steamers from Shanghai. Their arrival was eagerly anticipated, as they would spare the 3rd Division from being the first to land. As the naval artillery barrage reached a deafening climax, the boats glided across the smooth water towards the shore. Any time a Chinese machine gun opened fire, it drew immediate response from the Japanese gunners, swiftly silencing the threat. Meanwhile, trench mortars onshore targeted the advancing vessels, but their rounds fell harmlessly into the water without causing any damage. At 3:00 am, the first landing craft reached the bank, dropped anchor, and lowered its ramp. The marines waded ashore, climbing the 15 foot high dike to survey the terrain. Suddenly, machine gun fire erupted from a Chinese position just 50 yards away, cutting down several marines. Undeterred, the marines charged with fixed bayonets across the open field. An explosion marked the spot where a soldier had triggered a landmine, followed by more detonations, but there was no retreat; they pressed on, swarming over the Chinese trench and engaging in a brief yet fierce hand-to-hand struggle. Within moments, they had taken the position. The marines quickly cleared the area, paving a path to their immediate objective, a military road running parallel to the Huangpu River. While setting up defensive positions, the 3rd Division began to disembark at the water’s edge. By 8:00 a.m, the divisional command stepped ashore as the last unit to arrive. Meanwhile, naval pilots were busy bombing and strafing roads further inland to impede any enemy reinforcements. The landing had unfolded with remarkable success, marking a significant moment in the operation and setting the stage for greater advances by Japanese forces. Meanwhile the 11th division began setting foot on the beach north of Chuanshakou at 3:50 am. As the soldiers advanced towards the town's outskirts, they encountered only minimal resistance as Chuanshakou was defended by a single Chinese company. Matsui was pleased with the outcome; everything had unfolded according to plan and, in fact, better than he had dared to hope. Casualties in both divisions were surprisingly low, amounting to little more than 40 soldiers. At 5:30 am, Zhang Zhizhong received an urgent phone call at his new headquarters in a small village near Nanxiang. On the line was Liu Heding, commander of the 56th Infantry Division, reporting that an enemy force of unknown size had landed near Chuanshakou. With heavy bombardment disrupting communications, details were scarce, but Zhang immediately recognized the gravity of the situation: a new front was opening, complicating his command significantly. Realizing he could not effectively manage the situation from Nanxiang with communications down, Zhang decided to head to the command post of the 87th Infantry Division in Jiangwan, a town closer to the landing area. By the time he arrived at the 87th Division's base, it was nearly 9:00 am. He was informed that the Japanese had not only landed at Chuanshakou but also at Wusong. Recognizing the urgency, he quickly dispatched half of the 87th Infantry Division and a regiment from the recently arrived Training Brigade, an elite unit fresh from Nanjing, to respond to the threat. Given that the 56th Infantry Division alone could not secure the area around Chuanshakou, Zhang assigned the 98th Infantry Division to defend most of the Yangtze riverbank under threat. He also dispatched the 11th Division, which had just arrived in the Shanghai area with Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng to move toward Luodian, a town just a few miles from the landing zone at Chuanshakou. Meanwhile, the Japanese forces were advancing swiftly. While the main landing contingent engaged in fierce fighting for control of Chuanshakou, a small unit of a few hundred soldiers was dispatched down the road to Luodian. Marching under the scorching August sun, the reservists, weary from the trek, found little resistance upon reaching Luodian. They hastily set up camp without adequately preparing defenses, making them vulnerable targets. Later that afternoon, advance units of the 11th Infantry Division reached Luodian, shaken but determined to attack even after facing air raids on their journey. The ensuing skirmish was swift; within an hour, the Japanese were repelled. Back over at Wusong Hu Guobing received orders to push back the Japanese on August 21st. He led his regiment towards the Japanese lines, as his platoons dispersed further, dividing into smaller squads. Soon, the sharp crack and rattle of small arms fire resonated along the regiment's front. Battalion Commander Qin Shiquan, a graduate of the Central Military Academy, led two companies toward the enemy positions, taking care to remain unnoticed. When they drew close enough, he ordered his bugler to sound the charge. Then, raising his Mauser pistol, he turned to face his men and shouted, “Attack! Attack!” This sudden noise revealed his position, making it vulnerable. Japanese observers hidden nearby quickly relayed his coordinates to warships offshore. Within minutes, shells began to rain down on the unit with alarming accuracy. Amidst the storm of fire unleashed by the Japanese, all semblance of order disintegrated, and chaos ensued as each unit fought to survive. Hu Guobing spent most of the day dodging Japanese aircraft that circled overhead, waiting for targets to emerge. As Hu Guobing recalled “It felt as though the enemy could see everything. It was crucial not to act rashly. Our only real options were to take cover in a hole or hide behind a ridge”. The gunfire continued throughout the afternoon and did not relent until darkness began to fall. Only then could the soldiers breathe a little easier, grab a few bites of their field rations, and quench their parched throats with sips from their water canteens. Seizing the relative safety of night, they hurried to improve their positions, knowing that once dawn arrived, it would be too late; a shallow trench or inadequate camouflage could spell doom. Although it had been Chiang Kai-Shek’s decision to place Zhang Zhizhong and Feng Yuxiang in charge of Shanghai, now designated the 3rd War Zone, he was having regrets. In a telephone conversation with Feng Yuxiang shortly after the Japanese landings, Chiang emphasized the importance of monitoring the younger front-line commanders. He urged “Don’t hesitate to give them advice,”. Feng assured him that he would not hold back. He then recounted an anecdote about General Nogi Maresuke, who, during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905, allegedly delegated all major decisions to his chief of staff. Feng told him “The frontline commanders possess courage and a fighting spirit. Their role is to take orders and engage in battle. Mine is to stay back, like Nogi, write a few poems, and wait for the inevitable,”. Chiang persistently insisted, “Regardless of the situation, don’t be shy. Share your insights with them.” “Of course,” Feng responded. “If I notice something amiss, I’ll address it without hesitation. You can count on me.” However, this assurance did little to calm Chiang’s concerns. A great concern was Zhang Zhizhong. Much of his rhetoric about fighting the Japanese seemed to lack substance. Zhang had not demonstrated the necessary resolve to launch attacks against the small Japanese forces in the city when decisive action could have turned the tide of the battle. With Japanese reinforcements firmly entrenched in two locations within the greater Shanghai area, it was now too late to pursue a quick victory over the enemy. Compounding the issue, Zhang appeared to spend an excessive amount of time...
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3.157 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #2
07/04/2025
3.157 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #2
Last time we spoke about the Oyama Incident and decision to fight at Shanghai. In July 1937, escalating tensions between Japan and China erupted into war after the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. As conflict spread, Chinese leader Chiang Kai-shek, believing in his nation's resilience, called for unity to resist Japanese aggression. A pivotal moment occurred on August 9 at Hongqiao Airport, where a violent confrontation left several Japanese soldiers dead. The circumstances remained murky, with both sides blaming each other, further inflaming hostilities. Despite attempts at negotiation, the military standoff intensified, leading to a consensus that war was imminent. Chiang mobilized troops to Shanghai, a crucial city for both strategic and symbolic reasons, determined to demonstrate that China could defend its sovereignty. The Chinese forces, under Generals Zhang Fukai and Zhang Zhizhong, faced logistical challenges but aimed to strike first against the increasingly aggressive Japanese military. On August 12, both nations prepared for conflict, leading to a drastic escalation. #157 The Battle of Shanghai Part 2: Black Saturday and Operation Iron Fist Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On Friday, August 13 of 1937, the residents of Shanghai began enduring the sounds of rifle fire and machine gun salvos, punctuated by the distant booms of artillery. Members of the Japanese marines, disguised in civilian clothes and posing as rowdy thugs, boisterous ronin, arrived at barricades manned by the Peace Preservation Corps at the northern edge of Yangshupu around 9:15 a.m. They began to provoke the Chinese guards with loud taunts and jeers. When the Chinese fired a warning shot into the air, the Japanese retaliated with deadly intent. The Chinese responded in kind, resulting in a lethal exchange. From that moment on, the situation was beyond control. As the day progressed, nervous skirmishes continued throughout the northern part of Shanghai. Chinese commanders dispatched patrols to conduct probing attacks, hoping to identify weak points in the Japanese defenses and push them back wherever possible. Meanwhile, their Japanese counterparts rushed to occupy key positions outside their main line of defense, aiming to gain an advantageous position should their adversaries launch a larger offensive. Small bands of soldiers from both sides maneuvered along narrow alleys to minimize the risk of detection; however, whenever they encountered each other, the results were deadly. In the western sector of the front line, where the Chinese Army's newly arrived 88th Infantry Division was preparing its positions, the center of activity was the headquarters of the Japanese marines near Hongkou Park. This location resembled a fortress, featuring a massive four-story structure shielded from air and artillery bombardment by a double roof of reinforced concrete. The building, which encompassed a large inner courtyard, occupied two city blocks and could accommodate thousands of troops at once. Highly visible, it represented both a significant military threat and a symbol of Japan’s presence in Shanghai. The Chinese were acutely aware of their objective: they had to eradicate it. The Sichuan North road lies south between the marine headquarters and the Japanese section of the International Settlement. This road became the scene of frantic activity from the first day of battle. Japanese armored cars and motorcycle patrols, with machine guns mounted on sidecars, sped up and down the otherwise deserted street, while trench mortars positioned along the pavement lobbed grenades into Zhabei to the west. As columns of smoke rose into the sky from buildings in the Chinese district, Japanese officers squeezed into a narrow conning tower atop the marine headquarters, watching the bombardment's results through field glasses. Reports of Chinese snipers stationed in the upper floors of buildings along the road prompted Japanese squads, led by sword-wielding officers, to carry out door-to-door searches. Suspects were unceremoniously dragged away to an uncertain fate. Not a single civilian was visible in the area; everyone stayed indoors, behind closed windows and drawn curtains. On the afternoon of August 13, the Eight Character Bridge, located west of the marine headquarters, became the site of one of the battle's first major engagements. The bridge, measuring just 60 feet in length and spanning a minor creek, was deemed by both sides to have significant tactical importance. The Chinese commanders viewed it as a crucial route for advancing into the Hongkou area, believing that if the bridge fell into Japanese hands, it would be like a "piece of bone stuck in the throat." At around noon, Major Yi Jin, a battalion commander of the 88th Infantry Division, led a couple of hundred men from around the North Railway Station toward Eight Character Bridge. When the soldiers reached their objective at about 3:00 p.m., they spotted a small Japanese unit that had just arrived across the creek and was setting up defensive positions. The Chinese opened fire and managed to secure the bridge, prompting the Japanese to launch a brief artillery bombardment that resulted in several Chinese casualties. Gunfire near the bridge continued intermittently until 9:00 p.m., when a fragile silence fell over the area. Further to the east, in the 87th Infantry Division's sector, the day was also characterized by frantic maneuvering, punctuated by lengthy bursts of violence. Chinese reconnaissance parties infiltrated enemy-held areas, making their way to the Japanese Golf Club near the Huangpu River, where they began shooting at workers busy preparing the makeshift airfield. As the first volleys from the Chinese snipers rang out, clouds of dust filled the air, causing the workers to hastily seek cover. Japanese soldiers stationed in the clubhouse immediately returned fire, throwing off the snipers' aim. After about an hour, two Japanese vessels moored in the Huangpu River, the destroyer Run and the gunboat Seta were called in to assist the Japanese marines facing the 87th Infantry Division on land. Four- and six-inch shells screamed across the sky, exploding in the Chinese districts to the north. Shanghai University was also shelled, as the Japanese troops on land believed it had been occupied by Chinese soldiers. Ultimately, the last remaining staff members, two Americans, were forced to flee the campus. The naval artillery had come to the aid of the beleaguered infantry onshore, a scene that would be repeated continually in the days and weeks to come. Late that evening, Chiang Kai-shek finally ordered his military commanders to “divert the enemy at sea, block off the coast, and resist landings at Shanghai” Even before the mobilization of troops began, panic swept through Shanghai. Meanwhile, the city’s waterfront took on an increasingly ominous tone. The China Daily News wrote “Arms, ammunition, and supplies streamed from several Japanese cruisers and destroyers onto the O.S.K. wharf in what appeared to be an unending flow. Additionally, a large detachment of soldiers in full marching gear disembarked, while a cruiser, the Idzumo, two destroyers, and nine gunboats arrived shortly before.” Zhang Zhizhong, the commander of the left wing, finally received the orders he wished to hear. Zhang intended to deploy all available troops in a bold effort to eliminate the Japanese presence once and for all, following the strategy recommended by the Germans. However, the plan had a significant weakness. The assault was to focus on the marine headquarters and the rest of the Hongkou salient while deliberately avoiding combat within the formal borders of the International Settlement. This decision was made as a concession to international public opinion and was politically sound. However, from a military perspective, it was nearly suicidal and greatly increased the risks associated with the entire operation. The Hongkou area represented the most heavily fortified position along the entire front. The marine headquarters was at the center of a dense network of heavy machine gun positions, protected by barbed wire, concrete emplacements, and walls of sandbags. On Saturday, August 14th, the Nationalist military command decided to target one of the most significant Japanese naval assets in Shanghai: the Izumo, anchored with support ships on the Huangpu River in the city center. Shortly before 11:00 a.m., five Chinese planes appeared over the rooftops, flying toward the river and the Japanese vessels. The aircraft released their bombs, but all missed their target, with several detonating on the wharves, demolishing buildings and sending shrapnel flying through the air. In response, the Japanese battleships unleashed a massive barrage, further endangering those unfortunate enough to live or work in the area as shell fragments rained down with deadly force. At 11:20 a.m., another Chinese air raid occurred, this time involving three planes, once again targeting the Izumo. However, for two of the pilots, something went horribly wrong. “From one of the four monoplanes, four aerial torpedoes were seen to drop as they passed over the Bund, far from their intended target... Two others fell on Nanking Road.” Either the pilot misjudged the target, or there was a malfunction with the release mechanism. Regardless of the cause, the bombs landed in one of the city’s busiest civilian areas, where thousands were walking, shopping, and enjoying a hot August Saturday. At 4:46 p.m., the public health department’s work diary noted, “Palace Hotel hit! Many injured and dead in street! Nanking Road opposite Cathay Hotel.” A reporter vividly captured the horror of the scene: “A bomb arced through the air, struck the Palace Hotel with a glancing blow, and unleashed indescribable carnage. As the high explosive fumes slowly lifted, a scene of dreadful death emerged. Flames from a blazing car danced over distorted bodies. Bodies wrapped in coolie cloth lay in shapeless heaps at the entrances to the main doorways and arcades of the Palace and Cathay hotels, their heads, legs, and arms separated from smashed masses of flesh. The corpse of a Chinese policeman lay dead in his tracks, shrapnel lodged in his head, and a disemboweled child was nearby.” To make matters worse, another pilot mistakenly released his bomb over Avenue Edward VII, another major shopping street. When the numbers were finally tallied, over 1,000 people, both Chinese and foreign had been killed. The bombs struck the International Settlement, a zone that was politically neutral and presumed safe. Hundreds of civilians were killed culminating in what would soon be referred to as “Black Saturday” or “Bloody Saturday.” By the time these tragedies unfolded, the Battle of Shanghai had already entered its second day. Zhang Zhizhong’s men prepared their positions for most of the day, then launched their attack late in the afternoon. Intense fighting erupted in the few hours before sunset, and it quickly became clear that the 88th Infantry Division was encountering resistance that was tougher than expected. In addition to the direct fire from entrenched Japanese positions, the attackers were bombarded by the Third Fleet's powerful artillery, which was awe-inspiring even when it employed only a fraction of its total strength of 700 pieces. However, the Chinese infantry lacked proper training in the use of heavy weaponry against fortified enemy positions. Their heavier guns, which could have made a significant difference, were held too far in the rear and missed their targets too easily, as inexperienced crews used flawed coordinates from observers who were not close enough to the action. Additionally, some of the Japanese positions had such thick defensive walls that it was questionable whether even the most powerful weaponry in the Chinese arsenal, the 150 mm howitzers, could do more than merely dent them. These tactics resulted in extraordinarily heavy losses for the Chinese, including among senior ranks. Around 5:00 p.m., Major General Huang Meixing, the 41-year-old commander of the 88th Infantry Division's 264th Brigade, was leading an attack near the marine headquarters. His divisional commander, Sun Yuanliang, attempted to reach him via field phone, but he was forced to wait. When he finally managed to get through to Huang, he cracked a rare joke: “It took so long, I thought you were dead.” Just minutes later, as if fate wanted to punish Sun Yuanliang for his black humor, Huang Meixing's command post was struck by an artillery shell, killing him instantly. Shock spread through the ranks as the news circulated, recalled Wu Ganliao, a machine gunner in the 88th Division. “Brigade Commander Huang was a fair-minded person, and he showed real affection for his troops. It was sad new”. Huang was by no means an exceptional case; Chinese officers died in large numbers from the very first day. One regiment lost seven company commanders in a single short attack. Several factors contributed to the high incidence of death among senior ranks. One reason was the ethos among some officers to lead from the front in an effort to instill courage in their men. However, leading from the rear could also be highly risky in urban combat, where opposing forces were often just yards apart, and the maze-like environment created by multi-story buildings and narrow alleys led to a fluid situation where the enemy could be just as likely behind as in front. Moreover, soldiers on both sides deliberately targeted enemy officers, perhaps more so than in other conflicts, because rigid leadership hierarchies placed a premium on decapitating the opposing unit's command. However, the massive fatality rates among officers, and even more so among the rank and file, were primarily the result of Chinese forces employing frontal assaults against a well-armed, entrenched enemy.The men who were dying by the hundreds were China’s elite soldiers, the product of years of effort to build a modern military. They represented the nation’s best hope for resisting Japan in a protracted war. Nevertheless, on the very first day of battle, they were being squandered at an alarming and unsustainable rate. After just a few hours of offensive operations with minimal gains, Chiang Kai-shek decided to cut his losses. In a telegram, he commanded Zhang Zhizhong: “Do not carry out attacks this evening. Await further orders.”In the weeks leading up to the outbreak of the battle of Shanghai, Chiang Kai-shek received a parade of leaders from various provinces eager to participate in the upcoming fight. After years of the Warlord nonsense , a new sense of unity began to emerge among them for the first time. All of these factions proclaimed they would lend their troops to his leadership if he pledged them against Japan. As a sign of his sincerity, Chiang decided to appoint the position of overall commander in Shanghai to one of his longest-standing rivals, our old friend, the finger nails inspector, Feng Yuxiang. This was a political savvy move directed at the Communists, trying to earn their favor. Feng Yuxiang did not hesitate when offered the command. “As long as it serves the purpose of fighting Japan, I’ll say yes, no matter what it is.” His appointment was announced just as the first shots were fired in Shanghai. Feng was about a decade older than his direct subordinates, which Chiang considered an advantage. He desired someone who was both composed and prudent to counterbalance the fiery tempers of the frontline commanders, as Chiang put it“ The frontline commanders are too young. They’ve got a lot of courage, but they lack experience.” Feng moved his command post to a temple outside Suzhou in mid August. Almost immediately afterward, he visited Zhang Zhizhong, who had established his command near the Suzhou city wall. At that time, Zhang was just beginning to realize how formidable the Japanese resistance in Shanghai truly was. His staff started to notice troubling signs of his deteriorating health, sensing that sickness and exhaustion were taking a toll on his ability to stay upright and effectively lead the battle. Perhaps this feeling of being overwhelmed was why he failed to undertake basic tasks, such as providing adequate protection from air attacks. Meanwhile, Shanghai society responded to the sudden outbreak of war. In July, the city’s residents worked, ate, drank, and played as they had for decades. Beginning in August, however, they had to entirely remake their lives. Local institutions began to relocate; by late September, it was announced that four local universities would open joint colleges with institutions in China’s interior. In the country’s premier commercial city, business was being devastated. “Like a nightmare octopus flinging cruel tentacles around its helpless victims,” the North-China Daily News reported, “the local hostilities are slowly strangling Shanghai’s trade.” A shopkeeper lamented, “We obtain a lot of business, of course, from tourists who visit Shanghai. What tourists are there these days?” For the foreigners in Shanghai, the war was seen as a violent diversion, but nothing truly dangerous, at least, that’s what they thought. For the Chinese, however, life was unraveling. As the fighting intensified around the Japanese district, thousands of refugees poured into the streets, heading for Suzhou Creek and the Garden Bridge, the only link to the International Settlement that remained open. It was a chaotic and merciless stampede, where the weak were at a severe disadvantage. “My feet were slipping… in blood and flesh,” recalled Rhodes Farmer, a journalist for the North China Daily News, as he found himself in a sea of people struggling to escape Hongkou. “Half a dozen times, I knew I was walking on the bodies of children or old people sucked under by the torrent, trampled flat by countless feet.” Near the creek, the mass of sweating and panting humanity was nearly uncontrollable as it funneled toward the bridge, which was a mere 55 feet wide. Two Japanese sentries were almost overwhelmed by the crowd and reacted as they had been trained, with immediate, reflexive brutality. One of them bayoneted an old man and threw the lifeless body into the filthy creek below. This act of violence did not deter the other refugees, who continued to push toward the bridge, believing they were heading toward the safety of the International Settlement. Little did they know, they were moving in the wrong direction, towards the horrific slaughter of innocent civilians that would mark the entire Shanghai campaign. The American advisor Claire Chennault had been in the air since the early hours of August 14. After only a few hours of sleep at his base in Nanjing, he jumped into a lone, unarmed fighter to observe the Chinese air raid as a neutral party. The night before, he had been at the Nanjing Military Academy, in the company of Chiang Kai-shek and his wife Soong Mei-ling. That night, as war loomed, Soong Mei-ling in tears said “They are killing our people!” Chennault...
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3.156 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #1
06/24/2025
3.156 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #1
Last time we spoke about Operation Chahar. In July 1937, the tensions between Japan and China erupted into a full-scale conflict, ignited by the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. Following a series of aggressive Japanese military maneuvers, Chiang Kai-shek, then enjoying a brief respite at Kuling, learned of the escalating clashes and prepared for battle. Confident that China was primed for resistance, he rallied his nation, demanding that Japan accept responsibility and respect China’s sovereignty. The Japanese launched their offensive, rapidly capturing key positions in Northern China. Notably, fierce battle ensued in Jinghai, where Chinese soldiers, led by Brigade Commander Li Zhiyuan, valiantly defended against overwhelming forces using guerrilla tactics and direct assaults. Their spirit was symbolized by a courageous “death squad” that charged the enemy, inflicting serious casualties despite facing dire odds. As weeks passed, the conflict intensified with brutal assaults on Nankou. Chinese defenses, though valiant, were ultimately overwhelmed, leading to heavy casualties on both sides. Despite losing Nankou, the indomitable Chinese spirit inspired continued resistance against the Japanese invaders, foreshadowing a long, brutal war that would reshape East Asia. #156 The Battle of Shanghai Part 1: The Beginning of the Battle of Shanghai Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On August 9, a bullet riddled sedan screeched to an abrupt halt at the entrance to the Hongqiao airport along Monument Road. The gruesome scene on the dashboard revealed that one of the victims had died in the car. He had been dragged out and subjected to brutal slashing, kicking, and beating until his body was a mangled mess. Half of his face was missing, and his stomach had been cut open, exposing the sickly pallor of his intestines, faintly glimmering in the night. The other man had managed to escape the vehicle but only got a few paces away before he was gunned down. A short distance away lay a third body, dressed in a Chinese uniform. Investigators swiftly identified the badly mangled body as belonging to 27-year-old Sub-Lieutenant Oyama Isao, while the other deceased Japanese man was his driver, First Class Seaman Saito Yozo. The identity of the Chinese victim remained a mystery. At first glance, the scene appeared to be the aftermath of a straightforward shootout. However, numerous questions lingered: What were the Japanese doing at a military airfield miles from their barracks? Who had fired the first shot, and what had prompted that decision? The Chinese investigators and their Japanese counterparts were at odds over the answers to these questions. As they walked the crime scene, searching for evidence, loud arguments erupted repeatedly. By the time the sun began to rise, they concluded their investigation without reaching any consensus on what had transpired. They climbed into their cars and made their way back to the city. The investigators were acutely aware of the repercussions if they failed to handle their delicate task with the necessary finesse. Despite their hopes for peace, it was evident that Shanghai was a city bracing for war. As they drove through the dimly lit suburbs on their way from Hongqiao back to their downtown offices, their headlights illuminated whitewashed trees, interspersed with sandbag defenses and the silhouettes of solitary Chinese sentries. Officially, these sentries were part of the Peace Preservation Corps, a paramilitary unit that, due to an international agreement reached a few years earlier, was the only Chinese force allowed to remain in the Shanghai area. In the hours that followed, both sides presented their versions of the incident. According to the Chinese account, the Japanese vehicle attempted to force its way through the airport gate. When members of the Peace Preservation Corps stationed at the entrance signaled for Saito, the driver, to stop, he abruptly turned the car around. Sub-Lieutenant Oyama then fired at the Chinese guards with an automatic pistol. Only then did the Chinese return fire, killing Oyama in a hail of bullets. Saito managed to jump out before he, too, was gunned down. The commander of the Chinese guards told a Western reporter that this wasn’t the first time someone Japanese had attempted to enter the airport. Such incidents had occurred repeatedly in the past two months, leading them to believe that the Japanese were “obviously undertaking espionage.” The Japanese account, predictably, placed the blame for the entire incident squarely on China. It asserted that Oyama had been driving along a road bordering the airfield with no intention of entering. Suddenly, the vehicle was stopped and surrounded by Peace Preservation Corps troops, who opened fire with rifles and machine guns without warning. Oyama had no opportunity to return fire. The Japanese statement argued that the two men had every right to use the road, which was part of the International Settlement, and labeled the incident a clear violation of the 1932 peace agreement. “We demand that the Chinese bear responsibility for this illegal act,”. Regardless of either side, it seemed likely to everyone in the region, war would soon engulf Shanghai. Meanwhile, as the Marco Polo Bridge Incident escalated into a full blown in the far north, General Zhang Fakui was attending a routine training mission at Mount Lu in southeastern Jiangxi. A short and small man, not considered too handsome either, Zhang had earned his place in China’s leadership through physical courage, once taking a stand on a bridge and single handedly facing down an enemy army. He was 41 years old in 1937, having spent half his life fighting Warlords, Communists and sometimes even Nationalists. In the recent years he had tossed his lot in with a rebel campaign against Chiang Kai-Shek, who surprisingly went on the forgive him and placed him in charge of anti communist operations in the area due south of Shanghai. However now the enemy seemed to have changed. As the war spread to Beijing, on July 16th, Zhang was sent to Chiang Kai-Shek’s summer residence at Mount Lu alongside 150 members of China’s political and military elites. They were all there to brainstorm how to fight the Japanese. Years prior the Generalissimo had made it doctrine to appease the Japanese but now he made grandiose statements such as “this time we must fight to the end”. Afterwards Chiang dealt missions to all his commanders and Zhang Fakui was told to prepare for operations in the Shanghai area. It had been apparent for weeks that both China and Japan were preparing for war in central China. The Japanese had been diverting naval troops from the north to strengthen their forces in Shanghai, and by early August, they had assembled over 8,000 troops. A few days later, approximately thirty-two naval vessels arrived. On July 31, Chiang declared that “all hope for peace has been lost.” Chiang had been reluctant to commit his best forces to defend northern China, an area he had never truly controlled. In contrast, Shanghai was central to his strategy for the war against Japan. Chiang decided to deploy his finest troops, the 87th and 88th Divisions, which were trained by generals under the guidance of the German advisor von Falkenhausen, who had high hopes for their performance against the Japanese. In doing so, Chiang aimed to demonstrate to both his own people and the wider world that the Chinese could and would resist the invader. Meanwhile, Chiang’s spy chief, Dai Li, was busy gathering intelligence on Japanese intentions regarding Shanghai, a challenging task given his focus in recent years. Dai, one of the most sinister figures in modern Chinese history, had devoted far more energy and resources to suppressing the Communists than to countering the Japanese. As a result, by the critical summer of 1937, he had built only a sparse network of agents in “Little Tokyo,” the Hongkou area of Shanghai dominated by Japanese businesses. One agent was a pawnshop owner, while the rest were double agents employed as local staff within the Japanese security apparatus. Unfortunately, they could provide little more than snippets, rumors, and hearsay. While some of this information sounded alarmingly dire, there was almost no actionable intelligence. Chiang did not take the decision to open a new front in Shanghai lightly. Built on both banks of the Huangpu River, the city served as the junction between the Pacific Ocean to the east and the great Yangtze River, which wound thousands of kilometers inland to the west. Shanghai embodied everything that represented modern China, from its industry and labor relations to its connections with the outside world. While foreign diplomatic presence was concentrated in nearby Nanjing, the capital, it was in Shanghai that the foreign community gauged the country’s mood. Foreigners in the city’s two “concession” areas nthe French Concession and the British-affiliated International Settlement often dismissed towns beyond Shanghai as mere “outstations.” Chiang Kai-shek would throw 650,000 troops into the battle for the city and its environs as well as his modest air force of 200 aircraft. Chiang, whose forces were being advised by German officers led by General Alexander von Falkenhausen, was finally confident that his forces could take on the Japanese. A German officer told a British diplomat, “If the Chinese Army follows the advice of the German advisers, it is capable of driving the Japanese over the Great Wall.” While Chiang was groping in the dark, deprived of the eyes and ears of an efficient intelligence service, he did have at his disposal an army that was better prepared for battle than it had been in 1932. Stung by the experience of previous conflicts with the Japanese, Chiang had initiated a modernization program aimed at equipping the armed forces not only to suppress Communist rebels but also to confront a modern fighting force equipped with tanks, artillery, and aircraft. He had made progress, but it was insufficient. Serious weaknesses persisted, and now there was no time for any remedial action. While China appeared to be a formidable power in sheer numbers, the figures were misleading. On the eve of war, the Chinese military was comprised of a total of 176 divisions, which were theoretically organized into two brigades of two regiments each. However, only about 20 divisions maintained full peacetime strength of 10,000 soldiers and officers; the rest typically held around 5,000 men. Moreover, Chiang controlled only 31 divisions personally, and he could not count on the loyalty of the others. To successfully resist Japan, Chiang would need to rely not only on his military command skills but also on his ability to forge fragile coalitions among Warlord generals with strong local loyalties. Equipment posed another significant challenge. The modernization drive was not set to complete until late 1938, and the impact of this delay was evident. In every category of weaponry, from rifles to field artillery, the Chinese were outmatched by their Japanese adversaries, both quantitatively and qualitatively. Domestically manufactured artillery pieces had shorter ranges, and substandard steel-making technology caused gun barrels to overheat, increasing the risk of explosions. Some arms even dated back to imperial times. A large proportion of the Chinese infantry had received no proper training in basic tactics, let alone in coordinated operations involving armor and artillery. The chief of the German advisory corps was General Alexander von Falkenhausen, a figure hard to rival in terms of qualifications for the role. Although the 58-year-old’s narrow shoulders, curved back, and bald, vulture-like head gave him an unmilitary, almost avian appearance, his exterior belied a tough character. In 1918, he had earned his nation’s highest military honor, the Pour le Mérite, while assisting Germany’s Ottoman allies against the British in Palestine. Few, if any, German officers knew Asia as well as he did. His experience in the region dated back to the turn of the century. As a young lieutenant in the Third East Asian Infantry Regiment, he participated in the international coalition of colonial powers that quelled the Boxer Rebellion in 1900. A decade later, he traveled through Korea, Manchuria, and northern China with his wife, keenly observing and learning as a curious tourist. From 1912 to 1914, he served as the German Kaiser’s military attaché in Tokyo. He was poised to put his extensive knowledge to good use in the months ahead. Chiang believed that Shanghai should be the location of the first battle. This decision was heavily influenced by Falkenhausen and was strategically sound. Chiang Kai-shek could not hope to win a war against Japan unless he could unify the nation behind him, particularly the many fractious warlords who had battled his forces repeatedly over the past decade. Everyone understood that the territory Japan was demanding in the far north did not need to be held for any genuine military necessity; it was land that could be negotiated. The warlords occupying that territory were unpredictable and all too willing to engage in bargaining. In contrast, China’s economic heartland held different significance. By choosing to fight for the center of the country and deploying his strongest military units, Chiang Kai-shek signaled to both China’s warlords and potential foreign allies that he had a vested interest in the outcome. There were also several operational reasons for preferring a conflict in the Yangtze River basin over a campaign in northern China. The rivers, lakes, and rice paddies of the Yangtze delta were much better suited for defensive warfare against Japan’s mechanized forces than the flat plains of North China. By forcing the Japanese to commit troops to central China, the Nationalists bought themselves the time needed to rally and reinforce their faltering defenses in the north. By initiating hostilities in the Shanghai area, Japan would be forced to divert its attention from the northern front, thereby stalling a potential Japanese advance toward the crucial city of Wuhan. It would also help safeguard potential supply routes from the Soviet Union, the most likely source of material assistance due to Moscow’s own animosity toward Japan. It was a clever plan, and surprisingly, the Japanese did not anticipate it. Intelligence officers in Tokyo were convinced that Chiang would send his troops northward instead. Again in late July, Chiang convened his commanders, and here he gave Zhang Fukai more detailed instructions for his operation. Fukai was placed in charge of the right wing of the army which was currently preparing for action in the metropolitan area. Fukai would oversee the forces east of the Huangpu River in the area known as Pudong. Pudong was full of warehouses, factories and rice fields, quite precarious to fight in. Meanwhile General Zhang Zhizhong, a quiet and sickly looking man who had previously led the Central Military Academy was to command the left wing of the Huangpu. All of the officers agreed the plan to force the battle to the Shanghai area was logical as the northern region near Beijing was far too open, giving the advantage to tank warfare, which they could not hope to contest Japan upon. The Shanghai area, full of rivers, creaks and urban environments favored them much more. Zhang Zhizhong seemed an ideal pick to lead troops in downtown Shanghai where most of the fighting would take place. His position of commandant of the military academy allowed him to establish connections with junior officers earmarked for rapid promotion. This meant that he personally knew the generals of both the 87th and 88th Divisions, which were to form the core of Zhang Zhizhong’s newly established 9th Army Group and become his primary assets in the early phases of the Shanghai campaign. Moreover, Zhang Zhizhong had the right aggressive instincts. He believed that China’s confrontation with Japan had evolved through three stages: in the first stage, the Japanese invaded the northeast in 1931, and China remained passive; in the second stage, during the first battle of Shanghai in 1932, Japan struck, but China fought back. Zhang argued that this would be the third stage, where Japan was preparing to attack, but China would strike first. It seems that Zhang Zhizhong did not expect to survive this final showdown with his Japanese adversary. He took the fight very personally, even ordering his daughter to interrupt her education in England and return home to serve her country in the war. However, he was not the strong commander he appeared to be, as he was seriously ill. Although he never disclosed the true extent of his condition, it seemed he was on the verge of a physical and mental breakdown after years in high-stress positions. In fact, he had recently taken a leave of absence from his role at the military academy in the spring of 1937. When the war broke out, he was at a hospital in the northern port city of Qingdao, preparing to go abroad for convalescence. He canceled those plans to contribute to the struggle against Japan. When his daughter returned from England and saw him on the eve of battle, she was alarmed by how emaciated he had become. From the outset, doubts about his physical fitness to command loomed large. At 8:30 a.m. on Tuesday, August 10, a group of officers emerged from the Japanese Consulate along the banks of the Huangpu River. This team was a hastily assembled Sino-Japanese joint investigation unit tasked with quickly resolving the shooting incident at the Hongqiao Aerodrome of the previous night. They understood the urgency of reaching an agreement swiftly to prevent any escalation. As they drove to the airport, they passed armed guards of the Chinese Peace Preservation Corps stationed behind sandbag barricades that had been erected only hours earlier. Upon arriving at Hongqiao, the officers walked up and down the scene of the incident under the scorching sun, attempting to piece together a shared understanding of what had transpired. However, this proved to be nearly impossible, as the evidence failed to align into a coherent account acceptable to both parties. The Japanese were unconvinced that any shootout had occurred at all. Oyama, the officer who had been in the car, had left his pistol at the marine headquarters in Hongkou and had been unarmed the night before. They insisted that whoever shot and killed the man in the Chinese uniform could not have been him. By 6:00 pm the investigators returned to the city. Foreign correspondents, eager for information, knew exactly whom to approach. The newly appointed Shanghai Mayor, Yu Hongjun, with a quick wit and proficiency in English, Yu represented the city’s cosmopolitan image. However, that evening, he had little to offer the reporters, except for a plea directed at both the Japanese and Chinese factions “Both sides should maintain a calm demeanor to prevent the situation from...
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3.155 Fall and Rise of China: Operation Chahar 1937
06/16/2025
3.155 Fall and Rise of China: Operation Chahar 1937
Last time we spoke about the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. On July 7, 1937, tensions escalated between Japan and China as the Japanese military conducted a training exercise near the Marco Polo Bridge. During the exercise, gunfire erupted, sowing confusion and leading to the unexplained disappearance of one soldier. This incident prompted Japan to demand permission to search the nearby city of Wanping, which was denied by Chinese forces, escalating tensions further. By the next day, Japanese troops attacked, resulting in fierce fighting at the bridge. Under heavy assault, Chinese defenders fought valiantly but faced overwhelming force. As the conflict intensified, both sides struggled with heavy casualties, leading to the full-scale Sino-Japanese War. The Japanese military's aggressive maneuvers and the determined Chinese resistance marked the beginning of a brutal conflict, forever altering the landscape of East Asia. The profound toll on both nations foreshadowed the horrors of war that were to come, as China prepared to defend its sovereignty against a relentless enemy. #155 Operation Chahar 1937 Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. By the end of July of 1937 the Japanese had overwhelmed the Beiping-Tianjin region. It's pretty understandable as to how this came so fast. As we have discussed thoroughly in this series, the Japanese had gradually seized control over Northern China going back to Operation Nekka in 1933. Little by little they had carved it out. Typically when you pull out a map of a war between two nations, one nation pierces into the other and gradually seizes control of key locations until it archives victory. However with the case of the outset of the Second Sino-Japanese War its more like the Japanese are starting at multiple key locations where they have concessions, treaties or where there are autonomous regions. Thus its honestly a huge headache to follow. When the Marco Polo Bridge Incident broke out, Chiang Kai-Shek had been in Kuling, a mountain top resort where he spent his summer vacations. He received the news with composure, but his message to the nation conveyed a sense of optimism and anticipation. The embarrassment of the Sian mutiny was a thing of the past. Although he wasn't overly confident, he believed that this was the pivotal moment China had been preparing for, more so than at any time in recent years. For nearly three weeks, efforts were made to resolve the situation through diplomatic means. For the first time, Chiang was in a position to make demands. He understood they would likely be rejected, but that wasn't the main point. He asked Japan to acknowledge its responsibility for the recent turmoil, to issue an apology, and to provide compensation. After making that request, he addressed his nation with a formal commitment: China would not accept any settlement that compromised its sovereign rights or territorial integrity. No changes would be permitted regarding the status of the Hubei-Chahar Council, and local officials would not be reassigned at the request of any foreign government. Any restrictions on the Twenty-ninth Army's positions would be unacceptable. He declared that the era of Japanese expansion in North China had come to a definitive end. The Japanese army achieved significant victories on the battlefield in China, leading to the inevitable expansion of the conflict. The first major campaign following the Nanyuan victory unfolded along the mountainous border marked by the inner Great Wall, separating northern Hubei from Chahar. On the Jinpu Railway, just south of Tianjin, lies a small station known as Jinghai. Adjacent to this station is the Jian River, which had swollen to a width of 20 meters due to intermittent heavy rains in northern China after the Japanese army's occupation of Tianjin. The embankments on either side of the river were overgrown with dense reeds and grass, and a wooden arch bridge spanned the river. After landing at Dagukou in Tianjin, the 10th Division, commanded by Lieutenant General Rensuke Isogai, advanced south along the Jinpu Railway. However, as the vanguard, the 10th Regiment of the 33rd Brigade made its way through the muddy terrain towards the Jian River's wooden bridge, they were suddenly taken aback. A group of Chinese soldiers appeared, their faces vividly painted red and armed with long-handled broadswords, a sight reminiscent of the legendary Chinese figure Guan Yu, as depicted in many traditional portraits. These soldiers belonged to the 26th Independent Brigade of the 38th Division of the 29th Army, who were in retreat from Tianjin. Following the city’s fall, they had retreated southward to Jinghai Station, where they prepared to make a stand. Brigade Commander Li Zhiyuan recognized their inferior numbers and weaponry compared to the Japanese forces. Drawing from painful lessons learned during the positional battles in Tianjin, he decided to divide his troops strategically: one battalion would defend the station, another would protect the county town, and a third would engage in guerrilla tactics along the Jinpu Road. If faced with a small number of Japanese soldiers, they would fight fiercely; if overwhelmed, they would attempt to encircle the attackers to prevent a direct assault on their main position. Despite the Japanese army's attempts to advance, including efforts to send an armored train into Jinghai Station, the Chinese soldiers cleverly laid straw on the tracks and buried mines, thwarting the train's progress. Once Japanese troops disembarked to mount an offensive, they were ambushed by the battalion executing guerrilla tactics, resulting in a chaotic retreat that left behind several dozen casualties. Over the course of weeks, the divisional headquarters ordered a battalion of Japanese troops to move south along the Jinpu Road, requiring them to cross the Jian River at the wooden bridge. The 26th Independent Brigade was assigned to halt this advance, and they managed to hold their ground for over 20 days. Recognizing the gravity of their situation, Brigade Commander Li Zhiyuan gathered his group and battalion commanders to emphasize the necessity of pushing back the Japanese forces. He passionately rallied them, declaring, “We must defend this river to the death. Each regiment will select a death squad. Each member will carry a long-handled broadsword and four grenades, paint their faces red and rush across the bridge to engage in melee combat!” When Li asked for volunteers to lead the death squad, the regiment commander, Zhu, eagerly stepped forward, quickly gathering a group that followed him, uniting passionately in their cause. The death squad charged across the bridge, catching the Japanese off guard with their war paint and weapons. The sudden attack left the Japanese soldiers dazed, leading to a chaotic retreat as they struggled through the muddy terrain. In the tumult, more than 200 long-handled swords struck down a significant number of Japanese troops. Those advancing from behind panicked at the sight of their retreating comrades. An officer, dismounted during the chaos, was left behind, and the Chinese soldiers, filled with zeal, pressed forward, ignoring the orders from Brigade Commander Li Zhiyuan to fall back for their own safety. Despite moments of heroism, many fell that day by the Jian River, as the officers and soldiers burned their boats and set fire to the wooden bridge, rendering retreat impossible. As the Japanese military consolidated its power in the Pingjin region, many leaders underestimated the tenacity of Chinese resistance. Plans were made to defeat the Chinese army and air force swiftly, aiming to resolve the issue in North China decisively, with no diplomatic negotiations or external interventions allowed during military operations. Now, in late July to early August, Chiang Kai-shek issued orders to improve defenses at Nankou. He mobilized Tang Enbo's 13th Army in Suidong for battle readiness, tasked Liu Ruming to sabotage railways, and directed Fu Zuoyi and Yan Xishan in Suiyuan to prepare for conflict. Troops were reorganized rapidly, with divisions merging to strengthen the 17th Army under Liu Ruming's command. Chiang insisted that Nankou's defenses be deep and wide to thwart enemy cavalry and tank assaults, rendering Japanese mechanized advantages ineffective. He called for close cooperation among commanders and a resolute defense. Tang Enbo's 13th Army, consisted of the 4th and 89th Divisions, whom established defensive positions along the Peiping-Suiyuan Railway at Nankou, with additional units positioned further back at Juyongguan. The 13th Army, was 20,000 men strong, all motivated soldiers committed to fighting the Japanese, but their equipment was woefully inadequate. The 89th Division had a few outdated artillery pieces, whilst other units were in even worse condition, hampering their effectiveness against the well-armed Japanese forces. Liu’s 17th Army stationed its 84th Division at Chihcheng, Yanqing, and Longguan, effectively securing the flank of the 13th Army against potential Japanese advances from Chahar. The 21st Division was deployed in Huailai, situated along the railway to the rear of Tang's forces. Additionally, Zhao Chengshou's 1st Cavalry Army, Liu 's 143rd Division, and two Peace Preservation Brigades commenced an offensive against Mongol forces in northern Chahar. As the Japanese launched initial assaults on Nankou on August 4, fierce fighting erupted. The Chinese defenders fought valiantly, but heavy bombardments by artillery and air raids took a toll. The Japanese began using tanks to support their infantry, yet the 530th Regiment successfully repelled an attack at Deshengkou. Meanwhile, the Japanese intensified their efforts, culminating in poison gas assaults that overwhelmed Chinese positions on Longhutai, leading to significant losses. Despite the escalating pressure and casualties, the determination to hold Nankou was unwavering. On August 5, the Kwantung Army requested permission for the advance guard to move to Changpei, arguing that the Central Army's invasion of Chahar had jeopardized the security of Manchukuo. This request was denied, yet the advance guard proceeded to Changpei on August 8. This unauthorized movement by the Kwantung Army was a serious act of defiance, as Tolun lay outside Manchukuo's borders, and troop deployments required imperial authorization. Although imperial sanction had been obtained for the move to Tolun on July 28, permission for the advance guard to proceed was only granted retroactively, with the stipulation that they would not advance further into Inner Mongolia. Nevertheless, this unauthorized action ultimately compelled the high command to approve the advance to Changpei. On August 7, the Japanese army launched a large assault on Nankou with its three main divisions, aiming to breach the Great Wall and advance westward along the Pingsui Railway to flank the strategic city of Shanxi. By August 8, the Japanese forces that had captured Beiping and Tianjin deployed the entire 20th Division, commanded by Lieutenant General Kawagishi Fumisaburo, and supplemented their efforts with the 5th and 10th Divisions, along with the Sakai Brigade, to attack Nankou along the Pingsui Railway. On August 8, the Japanese 11th Independent Mixed Brigade, led by General Shigiyasu Suzuki, initiated an attack on the left flank of the 13th Corps' position at Nankou. However, their efforts were halted after three days due to challenging terrain and the determined resistance from Chinese forces. On the same day, Chiang Kai-shek ordered the activation of the 14th Group Army, comprising the 10th, 83rd, and 85th Divisions, under General Wei Lihuang. Elements of the 14th Group Army traveled by rail from Yingchia-chuang to Yi County and then embarked on a ten-day march through the plains west of Beiping to flank and support Tang Enbo's forces. Meanwhile, the Chinese 1st Army Region launched attacks against the Japanese in Liangxiang and Chaili to divert their attention and dispatched a detachment to Heilung Pass to cover the advance of the 14th Group Army. On August 9, the central high command ordered the China Garrison Army to eliminate resistance in the area and instructed Kwantung Army Commander Ueda Kenkichi to send reinforcements from Jehol and Inner Mongolia to support the operation. The China Garrison Army deployed its 11th Independent Mixed Brigade and the 5th Division, recently arrived from Hiroshima under Lieutenant-General Itagaki Seishirö, to launch an attack on the mountainous regions around Nankou and Pataling within the Great Wall. Following intense fighting, they succeeded in crossing into Chahar. The Kwantung Army aimed to conquer Chahar and, upon receiving approval from the Japanese General Staff, established an expeditionary headquarters on August 14, led by its chief of staff, Lieutenant General Tojo Hideki. Yes that Tojo. Tokyo’s objective was to secure the strategic flank of Manchukuo, while the Kwantung Army sought to create puppet regimes in northern China and integrate the occupied territories into a Japanese sphere of influence. The Chahar Expeditionary Force comprised three mixed brigades, including Japan's only fully mechanized unit, which was equipped with medium tanks, heavy and light armored vehicles, and light tanks. The Japanese troops shifted their main attack toward Zhangjiakou via the Pingsui Railway due to pressures from the Kwantung Army eager to occupy Inner Mongolia, Suiyuan, and Chahar. They sought to eliminate threats from the rear before launching further operations along the Pinghan Line and Jinpu Line. The 11th Independent Mixed Brigade of the 20th Division of the Chinese Garrison Army was ordered to assault Chinese defenders in the Nankou area, with the goal of capturing key locations on the Great Wall, like Badaling, to facilitate the Fifth Division's advance. The Chinese assessed the Japanese strategy, believing they would first secure critical points along the Pingsui route to facilitate further incursions into Shanxi and Zhengding. They understood that holding the Nankou line was vital for both logistical support and tactical maneuvering. Nankou, a key town on the Pingsui Railway connecting Beijing to Zhangjiakou and Baotou, was surrounded by mountains and the Great Wall, marking it a significant natural defense line. As the Japanese army aimed to capture Zhangjiakou and divide their forces into Shanxi and Suiyuan, the Chinese army's control over Nankou became crucial. A renewed assault on August 11, bolstered by tanks and aircraft, successfully captured Nankou Station, allowing General Suzuki's brigade to advance toward Juyong Pass. On August 12, Tang Enbo's army launched a counterattack, encircling the Japanese forces and severing their supply and communication lines. That day, Tang Enbo sent a telegram to Luo Fanggui: “Brother Fanggui, Commander Luo of the 529th Regiment, I have received your telegram. Your regiment has recently defeated formidable enemies, laying the groundwork for our army’s future victories. Your efforts bring me great relief! The Nankou position is critical to our nation's war of resistance. Despite the enemy's numerical superiority and fierce artillery fire, we cannot surrender this area. It is our fighting spirit, not our numbers or advanced weaponry, that will help us withstand these powerful foes. We vow never to abandon our positions. Life is transient, and we must embrace our fate. A hero perishing on the battlefield is the glorious destiny of a soldier.” On the same day, he also sent a telegram to Wang Zhonglian: “Brother Jieren Wang, commander of the 89th Division, I have read your telegram. Brigade Li has triumphed against formidable foes, establishing a precedent for our army’s victory. Your successes bring me much comfort! The Nankou position is our glorious objective. If I perish, the country lives on. If I survive, the country perishes. We would rather die defending this position than live in disgrace. Please convey to all the officers and soldiers of your division, who share in this struggle, the importance of striving for victory!” On August 13, Tang Enbo ordered the defensive positions at Nankou to be abandoned as the remaining troops pulled back to stronger positions at Badaling and Juyongguan. Renowned journalist Fan Changjiang noted Tang Enbo's physical and emotional toll, describing him as a mere shadow of his former self after enduring relentless battles without rest. His subsequent thoughts and fears reflected the despair of facing insurmountable odds, with the Japanese army overwhelming the Nankou defenses. Casualty reports from the Battle of Nankou reveal stark discrepancies; average estimates suggest Chinese losses neared 26,000, while Japanese casualties were around 2,600,an alarming ratio of 10 to 1. Despite the devastating defeat, Tang Enbo’s leadership gained national recognition for his efforts, though he viewed the loss of Nankou as a blemish on an otherwise honorable defense. The indomitable spirit displayed during the relentless struggle at Nankou, despite the defeat and challenges faced, inspired a sense of resilience among the Chinese people, reminding them that even in dire circumstances, they would not yield to oppression. Meanwhile in response to having their supply and communication lines severed, on August 14, Seishirō Itagaki dispatched the 5th Division to relieve the 11th Independent Mixed Brigade at Juyonggua. Fu Zuoyi's troops attacked Chahar from Suidong. Dong Qiwu 's troops attacked Shangdu and recaptured it on the 14th, while Shi Yushan 's troops attacked Dehua and recaptured it on the 16th. By the 16, Itagaki had arrived at Nankou and initiated an enveloping assault targeting the right flank of the 13th Army, executing a five-pronged attack at Huanglaoyuan. In anticipation, the 7th Brigade of the 4th Division, commanded by Shi Jue, was positioned to counter this maneuver. Reinforcements, including Li Xianzhou's 21st Division and Zhu Huaibing's 94th Division, were brought in, resulting in several days of intense fighting. On August 17, General Yan Xishan, Director of the Taiyuan Pacification Headquarters, ordered the 7th Group Army, commanded by Fu Zuoyi, to move the 72nd Division and three additional brigades by rail from Datong to Huailai to support Tang Enbo's forces. Chiang Kai-shek urged steadfastness in the face of adversity, emphasizing that retreat was not an option. But with communication breakdowns and logistical challenges, Tang Enbo faced dilemmas that would lead him to issue the order for his troops to break out on August 26. As the Japanese army occupied Huailai and Yanqing, Tang Enbo’s forces executed a withdrawal, retreating via various routes before suffering further losses. Meanwhile Liu Ruming's troops of the 143rd Division of the 29th Army took Zhangbei from Zhangjiakou . Proceed to Wanquan Dam , the junction of Wanquan and Zhangbei. The members of the pseudo-Mongolian military government fled to Duolun under the leadership of King De . In order to relieve the danger in Zhangjiakou,...
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3.154 Fall and Rise of China: Marco Polo Bridge Incident
06/09/2025
3.154 Fall and Rise of China: Marco Polo Bridge Incident
Last time we spoke about Japan’s preparations for War. In late 1936, tensions soared in China as Nationalist General Chiang Kai-shek was detained by dissenting commanders who were frustrated with his focus on communism instead of the growing Japanese threat. Faced with escalating Japanese aggression, these leaders forced Chiang into a reluctant alliance with the Chinese Communist Party, marking a pivotal shift in China's strategy. Despite this union, China remained unprepared, lacking sufficient military supplies and modern equipment. Conversely, Japan, wary of Chinese modernization efforts, pushed for a preemptive strike to dismantle Chiang's regime before it could pose a serious threat. As aggressive military exercises intensified, Japan underestimated Chinese resilience. By spring 1937, both nations found themselves on the brink of war, with Japan’s divided military leadership struggling to formulate a coherent strategy. Ultimately, these miscalculations would lead to the full-scale Sino-Japanese War, altering the course of history in East Asia. #154 The Marco Polo Bridge Incident Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Here we are at last, the beginning of the absolute cataclysm between China and Japan. Now as many of you know I run the Pacific War week by week podcast, which technically covers the second sino-japanese war, nearly to a T. So for this podcast I want to try and portray the event from the Chinese and Japanese point of view, but not in the rather dry manner of the other podcast. In the other podcast I am hampered by the week by week format and can never dig deep into the nitty gritty as they say. On the same hand I don’t want to simply regurgitate every single battle of this conflict, it would be absolutely nuts. So bear with me friends as we fall down in the rabbit hole of madness together, who knows how long it will take to get out. On the night of July 7, 1937, at approximately 19:30, the 8th Squadron of the 3rd Battalion of the 1st Regiment of the Hebian Brigade of the Japanese Army, stationed in Fengtai and led by Squadron Leader Shimizu Seiro, conducted a military exercise, heading toward Lungwangmiao, approximately just under a mile northwest of the Marco Polo Bridge The exercise simulated an operation to capture the bridge. As you may have guessed it was named after the Italian explorer Marco Polo, who described it in his travels, the bridge is renowned for its intricate carvings of lions and other sculptures. However after 1937, the Marco Polo Bridge would be far less known for its history dealing with the venetian explorer and more so with an event that many would contend to be the start of WW2. At that time, troops from Japan, Britain, France, and Italy were stationed near Peiping in accordance with the Boxer Protocol of 1901. The Japanese China Garrison Army, comprising around 4,000 soldiers and commanded by Lieutenant-General Tashiro Kan'ichirō, was based in Tientsin. Its mission was to "maintain communication lines between Peiping and the seaports in the Gulf of Chihli and to protect Japanese citizens living in key areas of North China." The protocol also permitted the garrison forces of the signatory nations to conduct field drills and rifle practice without notifying the Chinese authorities, with the exception of cases involving live fire. During this period, Japanese troops were conducting nightly exercises in anticipation of a scheduled review on July 9. The night maneuver was within the army's rights under the Boxer Protocol and was not an illegal act, as later claimed by the Chinese. However, the Japanese army had courteously informed the Chinese authorities about its training plans in advance. Despite this, the atmosphere was charged with tension, and the Japanese decision to use blank ammunition during their night exercise further escalated the already volatile situation. Earlier that evening, Captain Shimizu Setsurö, a company commander, arrived at the banks of the Yungting River, where the maneuver was to take place. He noticed that the site looked different since the last exercise had occurred; Chinese troops had recently constructed new trenches and parapets from the embankment to the Lungwangmiao shelter. While eating his dinner and surveying the area, Shimizu felt a sense of unease, harboring a premonition that “something might happen that night.” After completing the first stage of the maneuver around 10:30 PM, several live rounds were fired into the assembled company from the direction of the riverbank. Shimizu immediately conducted a roll call and found one soldier missing. He promptly sent a messenger to inform the battalion commander. The exercise was then called off, and the company moved eastward to await further orders at Hsiwulitien. Battalion Commander Itsuki Kiyonaho, upon receiving the report, deemed the situation serious. Aside from the gunfire heard in the darkness from an unknown source, he expressed concern over the soldier’s disappearance and sought permission from Regiment Commander Mutaguchi Renya, an absolute moron, if you listen to the pacific war podcast, well you know. Anyways to relocate the battalion to the area where the shots had been fired and to establish surveillance. As dawn approached, the troops heard several more gunshots. Within twenty minutes of the soldier's disappearance, he returned to his ranks, but Shimizu did not report this update until four hours later. Meanwhile, midnight negotiations included a Japanese request for permission to search the city of Wanping, leading both sides to believe the incident was significant. Around 11:00 PM, the Japanese forces falsely reported that one of their soldiers had gone missing during the drill and demanded permission to enter the city for a search. This request was firmly denied by Ji Xingwen, the commander of the 219th Regiment of the 37th Division of the Chinese Army. In response, Japanese troops swiftly surrounded Wanping County. To prevent further escalation, at 2:00 AM the following morning, Qin Dechun, deputy commander of the 29th Army and mayor of Beiping, agreed with the Japanese to allow both sides to send personnel for an investigation. While Matsui, the head of the Japanese secret service in Peiping, was negotiating with North Chinese authorities based on unverified reports from Japanese troops in Fengtai, Ikki Kiyonao, the battalion commander of the Japanese garrison in Fengtai, had already reported to his regiment commander, Mutaguchi Lianya. The latter approved orders for the Japanese troops in Fengtai to “immediately move out” to the Marco Polo Bridge. On July 8, a large contingent of Japanese troops appeared at Lugou Bridge. Shen Zhongming, the platoon leader of the 10th Company of the Reserve Force of the 3rd Battalion of the 219th Regiment of the 37th Division of the 29th Army, was assisting in guarding the bridgehead. He jumped out of the trench, stood in front of the bunker, and raised his right hand to halt the advancing Japanese troops. However, the Japanese military threatened to search for their missing soldiers, pushed forward, and opened fire. Shen Zhongming was shot and died on the spot. At 4:50 AM, the Japanese army launched a fierce assault on Wanping County, capturing Shagang in the northeast of Wanping and firing the first shot of the siege. Unable to withstand the aggression, the Chinese defenders mounted a counterattack. That day, the Japanese army assaulted Wanping City three times, targeting the Pinghan Railway Bridge and the Chinese defenders at the Huilong Temple position on the left. He Jifeng, the commander of the 110th Brigade of the Chinese defenders, issued a resolute order to “live and die with the bridge” and personally commanded the front-line battle. The Chinese defenders engaged in fierce combat, fighting valiantly despite exhausting their ammunition and resorting to hand-to-hand combat with swords against the Japanese soldiers. Tragically, over 80 Chinese defenders from two platoons were killed at the bridgehead. On the same day, the Beijing authorities instructed the garrison to hold firm at the Marco Polo Bridge. Song Queyuan sent a telegram to Chiang Kai-shek to report the true events of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. The National Government's Ministry of Foreign Affairs lodged a verbal protest with the Japanese ambassador regarding the incident. Additionally, the CPC Central Committee issued a telegram urging all Chinese soldiers and civilians to unite and resist Japanese aggression. The Japanese cabinet, in a bid to mislead global public opinion, proposed a so-called policy of “resolving the incident locally without escalating it,” aiming to paralyze the KMT authorities and buy time to mobilize additional forces. In the wake of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, generals of the 29th Army, including Qin Dechun, Feng Zhian, and Zhang Zizhong, convened an emergency meeting. Following their discussions, they issued a statement demanding that their troops withdraw from the Marco Polo Bridge to de-escalate tensions. However, they expressed deep concerns about national sovereignty, stating, “We cannot simply back down. If they continue to oppress us, we will do our utmost to defend ourselves.” Concurrently, the 29th Army commanded the troops defending the Marco Polo Bridge: “The Marco Polo Bridge is your grave. You must live and die with the bridge and must not retreat.” Brigade Commander He Jifeng reinforced three directives for the defenders: 1. Do not allow the Japanese army to enter the city; 2. Firmly counterattack if the Japanese invade; 3. You are responsible for defending the territory and will never yield. If you abandon your position, you will face military law. On July 9, the 29th Army successfully eliminated a Japanese squadron and reclaimed control of the railway bridge and Longwang Temple. A temporary lull settled over the Marco Polo Bridge battlefield, during which the Japanese military made false claims that "missing Japanese soldiers had returned to their units" and described the situation as a misunderstanding that could be resolved peacefully. Subsequently, Chinese and Japanese representatives in Beijing and Tianjin engaged in negotiations. The Beijing authorities reached an agreement with the Japanese forces, which included: (1) an immediate cessation of hostilities by both parties; (2) the Japanese army withdrawing to the left bank of the Yongding River while the Chinese army retreated to the right bank; and (3) the defense of Lugou Bridge being assigned to Shi Yousan's unit of the Hebei Security Team. However, the following day, while the Chinese army withdrew as agreed, the Japanese army not only failed to uphold its commitments but also dispatched a significant number of troops to launch an offensive against the Chinese forces. Reports on July 10 indicated that the Japanese army had arrived from Tianjin, Gubeikou, Yuguan, and other locations, advancing toward the Lugou Bridge with artillery and tanks, and had occupied Dajing Village and Wulidian, signaling that another outbreak of conflict was imminent. On July 11, the Japanese Cabinet decided to deploy seven divisions from the Kwantung Army, the Korean Army, and Japan to North China. On the same day, the Beiping-Tianjin authorities reached a localized agreement with the Japanese army, which entailed: (1) a formal apology from a representative of the 29th Army to the Japanese forces, along with assurances that those responsible for the initial conflict would be held accountable; (2) a ban on anti-Japanese activities conducted by the Communist Party, the Blue Shirts Society, and other resistance groups; and (3) an agreement ensuring that no Chinese troops would be stationed east of the Yongding River. Concurrently, the Japanese army positioned their forces at strategic points in Wuqing, Fengtai, Wanping, and Changping, effectively encircling the city of Beijing and continuing to advance troops into its surrounding suburbs. Starting on July 11, the Japanese army began bombarding Wanping City and its surrounding areas with artillery, resulting in numerous casualties among the local population. Following the injury of regiment commander Ji Xingwen, residents were evacuated to safer locations outside the city. The conflict then spread to Babaoshan, Changxindian, Langfang, Yangcun, and other areas, with the 29th Army being deployed to various locations to confront the enemy. The Japanese military also dispatched aircraft for reconnaissance and strafing missions, leading to intermittent fighting. On July 13, Mao Zedong urged "every Communist Party member and anti-Japanese revolutionary to be prepared to mobilize to the frontline of the anti-Japanese war at any time" from Yan'an. By July 15, a CPC representative presented the "Communist Party Declaration on Cooperation between the Kuomintang and the Communist Party" to Chiang Kai-shek, proposing that this declaration serve as the political foundation for cooperation between the two parties and be publicly issued by the Kuomintang. Zhou Enlai, Qin Bangxian, and Lin Boqu continued negotiations with Chiang Kai-shek, Shao Lizi, and Zhang Chong in Lushan. Although Chiang Kai-shek recognized the Shaanxi-Gansu-Ningxia Border Region, disagreements remained regarding the reorganization of the Red Army. On July 16, the Five Ministers Conference in Tokyo resolved to mobilize 400,000 Japanese troops to invade China and to enforce a policy aimed at rapidly destroying the entire country. The following day, more than 100 Japanese soldiers arrived in Shunyi and Changping, where they reinforced fortifications on the city wall of Changping. On July 18, the Japanese army invaded Changping, Tongzhou, and other counties in the pseudo-border areas by maneuvering through various passes of the Great Wall. Japanese plainclothes teams were reported to be active in the Xiaotangshan area of Changping, raising alert levels within the Chinese army. On July 20, the Kuomintang Military and Political Department became aware that the Japanese army intended to first occupy strategic locations such as the Indigo Factory, Wanshou Mountain, and Balizhuang in the Pingxi area, before cutting off the Pingsui Road and controlling the route from Beiping to Changping. On July 21, the Japanese army violated the agreement by bombarding Wanping County and the garrison at Changxindian. On the night of July 25, a confrontation took place at the railway station in Langfang, located between Peiping and Tientsin. The clash involved Chinese troops and a Japanese company dispatched to repair telegraph lines. General Kazuki promptly sought Tokyo's permission to respond with military force, believing that the situation required immediate action. Without waiting for authorization, he ordered a regiment from Tientsin to engage the Chinese forces and issued an ultimatum to Sung Che-yuan, stating that if the 37th Division did not completely withdraw from Peiping by noon on July 28, the Garrison Army would take unilateral action. The 77th Infantry Regiment of the 20th Division was dispatched with the Gonoi Squadron to escort a repair team to Langfang Station. Stationed near Langfang were the headquarters of the 113th Brigade of the 38th Division, along with the main force of the 226th Regiment, led by Brigade Commander Liu Zhensan and Regiment Commander Cui Zhenlun. Although the leadership of the 29th Army adopted a passive stance in the war of resistance, the forces in Langfang prepared for conflict in an organized manner. They not only evacuated the families of servicemen and relocated the regiment headquarters, but also built fortifications and deployed plainclothes teams at Wanzhuang Station, Luofa Station, and Langfang Station to swiftly destroy the railway if necessary. Despite their preparations, the commanders of the 38th Division adhered to Song Queyuan's directives. When the 5th Company, stationed at Yangcun, observed Japanese supply units continually moving toward Lugou Bridge, they sought permission to engage the enemy. However, the 38th Division later reassigned this company. The Bac Ninh Line, established after the Boxer Protocol, had granted the Japanese the right to station troops, placing the 38th Division in a vulnerable position and preventing them from stopping the Japanese before they reached Langfang. Upon the arrival of Japanese forces at Langfang Station, Chinese guards initiated negotiations, requesting the Japanese to withdraw quickly after completing their mission. The Japanese, however, insisted on establishing camps outside the station, leading to repeated arguments. As tensions mounted, the Japanese began constructing positions near the station, ultimately forcing Chinese troops to retreat and escalating the conflict. The situation reached a boiling point around 11:10 pm, when fierce gunfire and explosions erupted near Langfang Station. The Japanese army claimed they were defending the station from an attack by Chinese forces armed with rifles, machine guns, and mortars throughout the night. According to Cui Zhenlun, the head of the 226th Regiment, it was the 9th and 10th companies that could no longer tolerate the Japanese provocation and fired first, catching the enemy off guard. As the battle intensified, reinforcements from the main force of the 77th Infantry Regiment “Li Deng Unit” arrived at the scene after receiving reports of the skirmish and gradually joined the fight after 6:30 am on July 26. When dawn broke, Japanese troops stationed at Langfang began to rush out to counterattack, seeing their reinforcements arrive. Recognizing they could not eliminate the Japanese presence at the station quickly, the 226th Regiment faced heavy bombardment from the Japanese Air Force later that morning. Consequently, the headquarters of the 113th Brigade and the primary forces of the 226th Regiment hastily retreated to Tongbai Town, suffering significant losses in equipment during their withdrawal. That night, Kazuki made the unilateral decision to abandon the policy of restraint and decided to use force on July 28 "to punish the Chinese troops in the Peiping-Tientsin area." On the morning of July 27, the army high command endorsed his decision and submitted a plan to the cabinet for mobilizing divisions in Japan. The cabinet agreed, and imperial approval was sought. At that time, the Chinese army was gathering in significant numbers in Baoding and Shijiazhuang in southern Hebei, as well as in Datong, Shanxi. They had effectively surrounded the Japanese army on all sides in the Fengtai District. Meanwhile, newly mobilized units of the Kwantung Army and the Japanese Korean Army were en route to the Tianjin and Beiping areas. The 2nd Battalion of the 2nd China Garrison Infantry Regiment, commanded by Major Hirobe, was dispatched with 26 trucks to the Japanese barracks within the walls of Beiping to ensure the protection of Japanese residents. Prior discussions had taken place between Takuro Matsui, head of the Special Service Agency, and officials from the Hebei–Chahar...
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3.153 Fall and Rise of China: Japan Prepares for War
06/02/2025
3.153 Fall and Rise of China: Japan Prepares for War
Last time we spoke about China’s preparations for War. In December 1936, the tension in China reached a boiling point as Nationalist General Chiang Kai-shek was captured by his own commanders, Zhang Xueliang and Yang Hucheng. Disillusioned by Chiang's focus on fighting communists instead of the encroaching Japanese forces, the generals sought a unified response to Japanese aggression. After being held in Xi'an, Chiang reluctantly agreed to collaborate with the Chinese Communist Party, marking a significant shift in strategy against Japan. Amidst the rising chaos, Chiang's government reviewed historical military strategies and prepared for a prolonged conflict. However, they faced challenges, including inadequate supplies and a lack of modern equipment compared to the Japanese. By 1937, China was ill-prepared for war, with Chiang later expressing regret about their military readiness. Despite these setbacks, the alliance formed with the communists laid a foundation for a united Chinese front against the brutalities of the Sino-Japanese War that would follow. #153 Japan Prepares for War Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. So in the last episode we talked about how China was preparing itself for war, now its time for Japan. Since Japan’s invasion of North China, Japanese field armies had promoted a series of autonomous zones in northern China. Officers from the Kwantung Army, skeptical of China's capacity to modernize, believed that the vast region would inevitably fragment into regional factions. This policy effectively maintained a weak and divided China, which served Japan's to defend Manchukuo. However many Japanese military leaders frequently pointed to the threat posed by the KMT’s five-year plan, initiated in 1933 with assistance from German military advisors, aimed at modernizing and expanding the national army. To counter what they perceived as a Chinese threat, the field armies advocated for a preemptive war to dismantle Chiang Kai-shek's regime. Any attempt by Tokyo to alter the military's China policy faced vigorous opposition from the Kwantung Army, which, in February 1937, pushed for intensified covert actions to expel the KMT from northern China and supported a preemptive war to secure strategic areas for future operations against the Soviet Union. At a March meeting in Tokyo, staff officers from the China Garrison and Kwantung armies insisted that any concessions to China would be a grave mistake and would likely yield only temporary outcomes. In early spring 1937, Prince Konoe Fumimaro inherited a China policy fraught with competing views, however, there was consensus that China must not distract the empire from its preparations against the USSR. The end goal was clear, but the means to achieve it remained uncertain. The cabinet's approval of the "Fundamentals of National Policy" in August 1936 indicated a need for stability as the army and navy reconfigured Japan's war machine. The challenge lay in aligning long-term strategic goals with practical short-term interests in northern China without upsetting the existing balance of power. Expanding demands propelled the army's contingency planning, which had traditionally focused on safeguarding Japanese interests and the approximately 13,000 Japanese citizens residing in the region. Tokyo typically responded to serious incidents by deploying troops from homeland garrisons to address localized emergencies and then withdrawing them. However, by the mid-1930s, the growing Soviet threat to Manchukuo rendered this doctrine obsolete. Incidents in northern China gained strategic importance as they diverted resources from the Kwantung Army's preparations against the Soviet Union. Disruptions in northern China hindered access to essential raw materials necessary for army modernization and rearmament, while hostile Chinese forces threatened the Kwantung Army's strategic left flank in the event of war with the Soviets. With these considerations in mind, the army revised its operational war plans, assuming that northern China would serve as Japan's strategic rear area for operations against the USSR. In 1911 Japan's plan for general war mandated thirteen divisions to occupy southern Manchuria, capture Beijing, and subsequently occupy Zhejiang and Fujian. Limited contingency operations in northern China required two divisions to secure rail communications from Beijing to the coast. In the weeks following the 1931 Manchurian Incident, the General Staff in Tokyo drafted plans to counter a Sino-Soviet alliance, anticipating a 2 month campaign involving 15-16 divisions, with the majority engaged against the Soviet Red Army. 2 divisions were designated to secure northern China, while smaller units would monitor the Inner Mongolian front to protect Japan's western flank in Manchuria. After further refinement, the General Staff identified three contingencies for China in early 1932: maintaining the traditional mission of safeguarding Japanese interests and citizens with a standard two-division force; ensuring a secure line of communication between the Chinese capital and the sea with the China Garrison Army, which consisted of approximately 1,700 officers and men, reinforced by one division; and, in a worst-case scenario of all-out war, deploying three divisions to reinforce the Kwantung Army, along with 7 additional divisions and 3 cavalry brigades to suppress resistance in northern China and the Shandong Peninsula, while two additional divisions secured key areas in central China. Between 1932-1936, China received less attention as the General Staff focused on the Soviet military buildup in the Far East. Anxiety, stemming from the Soviet buildup in the Far East, was a pervasive concern reflected in the draft rearmament plan submitted to the throne on May 21, 1936, as part of the national budget formulation process. The army proposed countering the Soviet threat by enhancing Japanese strategic mobility in Manchukuo through the renovation and expansion of airfields, ports, roads, and rail infrastructure, and by constructing army air force arsenals, storage depots, and medical facilities. The positioning of Japanese divisions in eastern Manchuria suggested their wartime objectives, with the Kwantung Army relying on a mobile independent mixed brigade composed of armored car and mounted cavalry units stationed in Gongzhuling, central Manchuria, as its immediate response force for contingencies in northern China. Major units were not concentrated in western Manchuria, where they would be expected to deploy before any planned invasion of northern China. Nevertheless, General Staff planners remained vigilant regarding developments in China, where the resurgence of nationalism, Communist movements advancing north of the Yellow River in February 1936, and the spread of anti-Japanese sentiments across northern China raised the specter of limited military operations escalating into full-scale warfare. China's improving military capabilities would likely hinder Japanese forces from accomplishing their objectives. For example, around Shanghai, Chinese defenses were bolstered by extensive, in-depth, and permanent fortifications. In mid-September 1936, the General Staff in Tokyo issued orders to preempt significant outbreaks in northern China by repositioning a division in Manchukuo closer to the boundary. If hostilities broke out, the China Garrison Army, supported by Kwantung Army units, would launch punitive operations against Chinese forces as necessary. Higher headquarters expected local commanders to act swiftly and decisively, employing rapid maneuvers and shock tactics to address outbreaks with minimal force. Given that no alternative responses were considered, Japanese operational planning for northern China relied on an all-or-nothing approach to force deployment, even for minor incidents. Yet, the senior leadership of the army remained deeply divided over its China policy. Influenced by Ishiwara, the General Staff wanted to avoid military actions that could lead to a full-scale war with China, focusing instead on advancing the army's extensive rearmament and modernization program. In contrast, a majority of high-ranking officers in the Army Ministry and General Staff, particularly within the 2nd Operations Section and the Kwantung Army, favored forceful action against China, believing it necessary to quell rising anti-Japanese sentiments. Drawing from past experiences, these officers anticipated that the Chinese would quickly capitulate once hostilities commenced. This lack of a unified military strategy reflected broader disagreements among the army’s leadership regarding operations in China. While operational planning called for the permanent occupation of large regions in northern and central China, the General Staff aimed to contain outbreaks to maintain focus on Soviet threats. There was a clear absence of long-term operational planning; instead, the army concentrated on initial battles while relegating planning for prolonged combat operations to contingent circumstances. In summary, the Japanese army preferred to avoid military force to address Chinese issues whenever feasible but was equally unwilling to concede to Chinese demands. Since 1914, Tosui Koryo or “Principles of Command” had served as the foundational doctrine for senior Japanese army commanders and staff officers engaged in combined arms warfare at the corps and army levels. The advent of new weapons, tactics, and organizational changes during World War I compelled all major military forces to reassess their existing military doctrines across strategic, operational, and tactical dimensions. In response, Japan modified the Principles of Command to blend its traditional post-Russo-Japanese War focus on the intangible factors in battle with the newest concepts of modern total war. A revision in 1918 recognized the significance of “recent great advances in materiel” for total warfare, yet it maintained that ultimate victory in battle relied on dedication, patriotism, and selfless service. In the 1920s, the General Staff’s Operations Section, led by Major General Araki Sadao, who would become the leader of the Kodoha faction, had produced the most significant and impactful revision of the Principles. A staunch anti-communist and ideologue who valued the intangible elements of combat, Araki appointed Lieutenant Colonel Obata Toshishiro and Captain Suzuki Yorimichi as the principal authors of the manual's rewrite. Obata, a Soviet expert, was strongly influenced by German General Count Alfred von Schlieffen’s classic theories of a “war of annihilation,” while Suzuki, the top graduate of the thirtieth Staff College class, shared Araki’s focus on “spiritual” or intangible advantages in warfare. Both men were brilliant yet arrogant, working in secrecy to create a doctrine based on what Leonard Humphreys describes as “intense spiritual training” and bayonet-led assaults to counter the opponent’s material superiority. The latest version of the Principles of Command preserved the operational concept of rapid Japanese mobile offensive operations, aiming to induce a decisive battle or “kaisen” early in the campaign. It reaffirmed the sokusen sokketsu or “rapid victory’ principle of rapid warfare. Attaining these goals relied exclusively on offensive action, with the army expecting commanders at all levels to press forward, defeat enemy units, and capture key territories. The troops were indoctrinated with a spirit of aggression and trained to anticipate certain victory. The emphasis on offensive action was so pronounced that Araki eliminated terms like surrender, retreat, and defense from the manual, believing they negatively affected troop morale. This aggressive mindset also infused the Sento Koryo or “Principles of Operations”, first published in 1929 as a handbook for combined arms warfare tailored for division and regimental commanders. The manual emphasized hand-to-hand combat as the culminating stage of battle, a principle regarded as unchanging in Japanese military doctrine since 1910. Senior commanders were expected to demonstrate initiative in skillfully maneuvering their units to encircle the enemy, setting the stage for climactic assaults with cold steel. Infantry was deemed the primary maneuver force, supported by artillery. To complement rapid infantry advances, the army developed light and mobile artillery. Operationally, encirclement and night attacks were vital components of victory, and even outnumbered units were expected to aggressively envelop enemy flanks. In assaults against fortified positions, units would advance under the cover of darkness, avoiding enemy artillery fire and positioning themselves for dawn attacks that combined firepower with shock action to overwhelm enemy defenses. In encounters with opposing forces, commanders would maneuver to flank the enemy, surround their units, and destroy them. If forced onto the defensive, commanders were expected to seize opportunities for decisive counterattacks to regain the initiative. These high-level operational doctrines were distilled into tactical guidelines in the January 1928 edition of the Infantry Manual or “Hohei Soten”, which saw a provisional revision in May 1937 . Both editions opened with identical introductions emphasizing the necessity for a rapid victory through the overpowering and destruction of enemy forces. Infantry was identified as the primary arm in combined arms warfare, and soldiers were taught to rely on cold steel as fundamental to their attacking spirit. The 1928 Infantry Manual underscored the commander’s role in instilling a faith in certain victory or “hissho shinnen”, drawing from the glorious traditions of Japanese military history. The 1928 infantry tactics employed an extended skirmish line with four paces between soldiers. Individual initiative in combat was generally discouraged, except under exceptional circumstances, as success relied on concentrating firepower and manpower on narrow frontages to overwhelm defenders. An infantry company would create a skirmish line featuring two light machine gun squads and four rifle squads, preparing for a bayonet-driven breakthrough of enemy defenses. For the final assault, the infantry company would line up along a 150-yard front, likely facing casualties of up to 50% while breaching the enemy’s main defensive line. Historical analysis reveals the shortcomings of these tactics. During World War I, armies constructed extensive, multi-layered defenses, trenches, pillboxes, and strong points, each independent yet all covered by artillery. If assaulting infantry suffered heavy losses breaching the first line, how could they successfully prosecute their assault against multiple defense lines? The 1937 revision elaborated on new tactics to overcome entrenched Soviet defenses, drafted in anticipation of arms and equipment that were either in development or production but not yet available for deployment. This became official doctrine in 1940, but as early as summer 1937, units from the China Garrison Army were field-testing these new tactics. The provisional manual adopted combat team tactics, forming an umbrella-like skirmish formation. This involved a light machine gun team at the forefront with two ammunition bearers flanking it to the rear. Behind the machine gun team were riflemen arranged in a column formation, maintaining six paces between each. The light machine gun provided cover fire as the formation closed in on the enemy for hand-to-hand combat. Increased firepower expanded the assault front to 200 yards. The combination of wider dispersion and night movement aimed to reduce losses from enemy artillery fire while the infantry advanced through successive lines of resistance. Commanders at the platoon level were responsible for leading the final assault into enemy lines, with increased tactical responsibility shifting from platoon to squad leaders, allowing for greater initiative from junior officers and non-commissioned officers. This emphasis on broader dispersal and fluidity on the battlefield required frontline infantry to exhibit aggressiveness and initiative. Contrary to popular belief, the Japanese military did not solely rely on the bayonet or an offensive spirit during engagements with Chinese forces. They effectively employed superior firepower and modern equipment within their combined arms framework, using heavy weapons and artillery to soften enemy positions before launching infantry attacks. Without such firepower, unsupported infantry attacks would have struggled to achieve their objectives. In January 1937, the Imperial Japanese Army consisted of approximately 247,000 officers and men, organized in a structure comprising seventeen standing infantry divisions, four tank regiments, and fifty-four air squadrons equipped with a total of 549 aircraft. The China Garrison Army and the Taiwan Garrison Army each included two infantry regiments, while a separate independent mixed brigade was stationed in Manchuria. Two divisions were permanently based in Korea, with four more assigned on a rotating basis to the Kwantung Army in Manchukuo. The remainder of the forces were stationed in the Japanese home islands. A substantial pool of reservists and partially trained replacements was available to mobilize, enabling the expansion of peacetime units to their wartime strength as needed. Conscription provided the primary source of enlisted manpower for the army, though a handful of young men volunteered for active duty. For conscription purposes, Japan was divided into divisional areas, which were further subdivided into regimental districts responsible for conscription, mobilization, individual activations, and veteran affairs within their jurisdictions. Typically, conscripts served with the regiment associated with their region or prefecture. However, the Imperial Guards regiments in Tokyo selected conscripts from across the nation, as did the Seventh Infantry Division, which recruited from the sparsely populated Hokkaido area and from regular army units stationed in Korea, China, and Taiwan. Draftees from Okinawa Prefecture usually served with Kyushu-based regiments. All males reaching the age of 20 underwent an army-administered pre-induction physical examination conducted between December 1 and January 30 of the following year. This evaluation classified potential conscripts into three categories: A “suitable for active duty”, B1, and B2, while others were deemed unfit for the demands of military life. In 1935, 29.7% of those examined received A classifications, while 41.2% were graded as B1 or B2. Among the 742,422 individuals eligible for conscription in 1937, approximately 170,000 were drafted, amounting to 22.9% of the cohort; this figure had remained relatively consistent since the post-Russo-Japanese War years. Within the conscripted group, 153,000 men were classified as A and an additional 17,000 as B. Conscripts served for two years of active duty, with variations based on their military specialty and any prior...
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3.152 Fall and Rise of China: China Prepares for War
05/26/2025
3.152 Fall and Rise of China: China Prepares for War
Last time we spoke about the Xi’an Incident. In December 1936, tensions in China erupted as Nationalist General Chiang Kai-shek faced a revolt led by his commanders, Zhang Xueliang and Yang Hucheng. Disillusioned by Chiang's focus on battling communists instead of the Japanese invaders, the generals swiftly captured him in a coup. Confined in Xi'an, Chiang initially resisted their demands for a united front against Japan but eventually engaged in negotiation with Zhang and the Chinese Communist Party. As public sentiment shifted against him, Chiang's predicament led to urgent discussions, culminating in an unexpected alliance with the communists. This pact aimed to consolidate Chinese resistance against Japanese aggression, marking a critical turning point in the Second Sino-Japanese War. By December 26, Chiang was released, and this uneasy collaboration set the stage for a more unified front against a common enemy, though underlying tensions remained between the factions. #152 China Prepares for War Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Before we jump into the Second Sino-Japanese War of 1937-1945, which I honestly have no idea how long will take us, I thought it would be a good idea to dedicate two episodes to how both China and Japan prepared themselves for war. Going all the way back to the 1910s, Chinese intellectuals began to view an outright conflict between Japan and China was inevitable. In the discussions about China's strategic options, Jiang Fangzhen pioneered a strategy of protracted warfare, a concept that would later shape China’s approach during the Sino-Japanese War. Having studied in Japan during his youth, Jiang developed a keen understanding of the Japanese government and military. As early as 1917, he predicted that China and Japan would become embroiled in a long-term conflict, with the battleground likely to be west of the Peiping–Wuhan and Guangzhou–Wuhan railways. In his work titled "Guofang Lun" or “On National Defense”, Jiang reiterated the importance of protracted warfare as a means to thwart Japan's aspirations for a swift victory. He argued that China should leverage its vast population and extensive territory to extend the conflict, gradually wearing down Japanese strength and turning the situation to its advantage. Jiang recommended that China not focus on defending its coastal regions but instead confront the enemy west of the Peking–Wuhan Railway. Chiang Kai-shek would eventually come to share Jiang’s belief that “the longer the war drags on, the more advantageous it will be for China.” Despite significant public criticism, both the Nationalist government and General Zhang Xueliang, decided against military resistance when Japan invaded Manchuria in September 1931 and attacked Shanghai in 1932. Chiang was particularly hesitant to engage Japan directly, as he was also dealing with a Communist insurgency in central China. He feared that Chinese forces would suffer quick defeat, predicting that Japan would capture key coastal areas and critical infrastructure within just three days, crippling China by dismantling its military and economic lifelines. Following the invasion of North China Chiang was forced to adopt a firmer stance. The Nationalist government proposed a dual strategy of pursuing peace and security while simultaneously preparing for war. If peace proved impossible, China would mobilize its resources for ultimate victory through prolonged conflict. This approach was formalized in the National Defense Plan, which China adopted by prioritizing protracted warfare as its core strategy. After the Sino-Japanese clash in Shanghai on January 28, 1932, the Military Affairs Commission devised a plan that divided China into four defense areas along with a preparation area. While some troops were assigned local security, commanders were directed to concentrate their remaining forces for potential confrontations with Japan. That year, the Military Affairs Commission issued General Defense Guidelines that outlined two strategic responses to a potential Japanese invasion. The first, conservative approach focused on maintaining key positions and utilizing protracted warfare to impede the enemy. The second strategy advocated for decisive battles in key regions to thwart Japan’s ambitions and protect China’s territorial integrity, prioritizing disengagement from Japanese forces along the Yangtze River and coastline. In August 1935, German military adviser General Alexander von Falkenhausen provided recommendations to Chiang Kai-shek based on his predictions of Japanese advance routes into China. He identified three main routes: one from northern Hebei to Zhengzhou, the second from Shandong toward Xuzhou, and the third crossing the Yangtze River to Nanjing and onwards to Wuhan. He suggested treating the Yangtze River as the primary combat zone and highlighted Sichuan as a possible retreat area. Taking all of this into consideration. in 1936, a draft of a new National Defense Plan divided the country into four zones: a war zone, a defense zone, an internal security zone, and a preparation area. The war zone encompassed ten provinces and established strategies for retreating to predetermined defensive positions when necessary, with Sichuan designated as the main base for the war. In January 1937, the Chinese General Staff Department introduced its annual War Plan, outlining three possible military conflict regions between China and Japan. It proposed two main strategies: Proposal A emphasized sustained combat and retreat to fortified positions if the situation became unfavorable, aiming to eventually go on the offensive against Japan. Proposal B focused on repelling Japanese invasions along the coast and from the north, prioritizing counter offensives against Japanese units stationed near key locations. To prepare, the NRA completed several critical projects outlined in its plans, establishing military supply depots in Nanjing, Bengbu, Xinyang, Huayin, Nanchang, and Wuchang to manage logistics for supplies across various strategic railways. These depots were equipped to sustain the military, with ample ammunition and provisions, including 60 million rounds of small-arms ammunition and food for hundreds of thousands. Despite these preparations, not all projects were completed by the time war broke out in July 1937. In contrast to the Japanese military's tactics, Chinese forces prioritized defensive strategies. For example, at the Mount Lushan Military Officer Training Camp in July 1934, Chiang Kai-shek outlined four possible approaches against Japan, favoring a defense-as-offense strategy. Other options included building fortifications, tenaciously defending key positions, and employing guerrilla warfare through irregular forces to constrain enemy advances. Chiang stressed the importance of national mobilization for the war effort. There was a significant disparity in equipment between the Japanese and Chinese armies. To give you an idea, each Japanese division included a mechanized group featuring thirty-nine light military vehicles and 21 light armored cars, supplemented by 6,000–7,000 horses, 200–300 automobiles, and specialized troops such as poison gas teams. In contrast, Nationalist divisions lacked any of these capabilities, a typical nationalist division theoretically had an armored regiment, but this unit was equipped with fewer than 72 armored vehicles. Another major weakness of the Nationalist forces was their insufficient artillery. In 1936, a division was officially assigned one artillery battalion, which was divided into three batteries totaling twelve guns. It also included a mechanized cannon company with four direct-fire weapons. By comparison, a Japanese division boasted four infantry regiments and one mountain artillery or field artillery regiment, with each artillery regiment comprising three field artillery battalions and one howitzer battalion. The infantry regiment itself included a mountain artillery section with four mountain guns, while the infantry battalion had one Type 70 mountain gun section with two guns. In total, a Japanese division possessed sixty-four artillery pieces of various calibers, four times the number of a Chinese division and of significantly higher quality. In reality, in 1936, twelve of the twenty elite Chinese “reformed divisions” still lacked artillery battalions. The ordnance available in the “reformed divisions” mostly consisted of the outdated Type 60 mountain gun. Nationwide, very few of the 200 divisions were equipped with any artillery, and those that did often used obsolete field artillery pieces or mountain artillery provided to local forces. Some units even relied on trench mortars as a makeshift solution. The artillery weapons came from various countries, but they frequently lacked necessary observation and signal components, and were often low on ammunition. The majority of mountain guns and field artillery were of the Type 75, which, while capable of providing fire support, had limited range and inflicted minimal damage. To give you an idea of the striking inadequacy of the Chinese artillery, during the Shanghai fighting in 1937, the mountain artillery of the Guangxi 21st Army Group could only reach targets within 1,200 yards, while Japanese field artillery had an effective range of 8,000 yards. Chinese-made mountain artillery suffered due to inferior steel-making technology; the gun shields were constructed from low-quality steel, and the barrels often overheated after firing just a few rounds, increasing the risk of explosions. Additionally, the equipment of local forces varied greatly in quality. In fact, some local units had superior equipment compared to Nationalist units. For example, before the Sino-Japanese War, troops from Yunnan were equipped with French antitank guns and heavy machine guns, which were better than the German water-cooled machine guns used by the Nationalist forces. However, the majority of local troops relied on inferior equipment; the 122nd Division under Wang Mingzhang from Sichuan, noted for its brave defense of Tengxian County during the Xuzhou Battle, was armed with locally produced light and heavy machine guns that frequently malfunctioned, and their Type 79 rifles, also made in Sichuan, were often outdated, with some dating back to the Qing Dynasty. These weapons had limited range and sometimes malfunctioned after fewer than one hundred rounds. Now before the war, both Nationalist and local forces acquired weaponry from diverse foreign and domestic sources. Even domestically produced weapons lacked standardization, with those made in Hanyang and Manchuria differing in design and specifications. Arms manufactured in Germany, France, Russia, Japan, and Italy were similarly inconsistent. Consequently, even within a single unit, the lack of uniformity created significant logistical challenges, undermining combat effectiveness, particularly in the early stages of the war. Despite Nationalist ordnance factories producing over three million rounds of small-arms ammunition daily, the incompatibility of ammunition and weapons diminished the usable quantity of ammunition. Chinese communications infrastructure was inadequate. In the Nationalist army, signal units were integrated into engineering units, leading to low-quality radio communications. In emergencies, telegrams could remain undelivered for days, and orders often had to be dispatched via postal services. By 1937, the entire country boasted only 3,000 military vehicles, necessitating heavy reliance on horses and mules for transport. To effectively equip twenty Nationalist divisions, 10,647 horses and 20,688 mules were needed, but by the end of 1935, only 6,206 horses and 4,351 mules were available. A statistic from 1936 indicated a 5 percent mortality rate among military horses, with some units experiencing a rate as high as 10 percent. The distribution of weaponry led to disputes during army reorganization efforts following the Northern Expedition. Although Chiang Kai-shek's forces were part of the regular army, the quality of their equipment varied significantly. Domestic production of weapons was limited, and imports could not close the gap. Priority was given to small arms; through army reorganization, Chiang aimed to diminish the influence of forces less loyal to him. Nationalist army staff officers observed that troops loyal to Chiang received the best weapons. Northwest and Northeast forces, having cultivated good relations with the KMT, were similarly better equipped, while Shanxi troops received inferior supplies. Troops associated with the Guangxi Clique were given even poorer quality weapons due to their leaders' stronger political ambitions. Troops regarded as “bandit forces,” such as those led by Shi Yousan, Li Hongchang, and Sun Dianying, were naturally assigned the least effective weaponry. This unequal distribution of arms increased some local forces’ inclination to align with the KMT while alienating others, which inadvertently led to additional turmoil in the aftermath of the Northern Expedition. Logistical accounting within the Nationalist military was severely lacking. Military expenditures accounted for a significant portion of government spending, roughly 65.48 % in 1937, with personnel costs being the largest component. However, military units prioritized boosting their own resources over accurate accounting. Surpluses were not returned but rather utilized to reward military officers and soldiers for merits in battle, care for the wounded, or to create a reserve. Conversely, if deficits arose, troops would resort to “living off vacancies,” a practice in which they would fail to report desertions promptly and would falsely claim new soldiers had arrived. Military leaders typically appointed their most trusted subordinates to serve as accountants and logistic officers. As the war commenced, these issues became readily apparent. During the Battle of Shanghai in 1937, frontline soldiers sometimes went days without food and went months without pay. Wounded soldiers and civilians had to search tirelessly for medical treatment, and when main forces relocated, they often abandoned grain, ammunition, weapons, and petroleum along the way. General Chen Cheng, the commander in chief during the Battle of Shanghai, noted, “This phenomenon clearly revealed our inability to supply frontline troops, indicating that China remains a backward country with poor management.” Many logistical shortcomings severely impacted troop morale and combat effectiveness. In a 1933 speech, Chiang Kai-shek acknowledged that poor food, inadequate clothing, and ineffective logistics contributed to widespread desertion. Soldiers were further demoralized by reduced or embezzled salaries. A lack of professional medical staff and equipment hampered healthcare efforts, leading to high disease and mortality rates. According to official statistics from 1936, approximately 10 percent of soldiers fell ill annually, with a mortality rate as high as 5 percent. Japanese military authorities reported that one in three wounded Japanese soldiers died, while a Dutch military officer present during the early stages of the Sino-Japanese War observed that one in every two wounded Nationalist soldiers perished. Due to inadequate equipment and limited transport options, Nationalist forces were compelled to recruit farmers and rent vehicles, as they lacked essential facilities such as tents. This reliance on local resources inevitably led to frequent conflicts between military personnel and civilians. China is clearly a vast nation with an extensive coastline, requiring the construction of several significant fortresses during the modern era. These included Wusong, Jiangyin, Zhenjiang, Jiangning, and Wuhan along the Yangtze River, as well as Zhenhai, Humen, and Changzhou along the seacoast. Except for the Wuhan fortress, built in 1929-1930, all other fortifications were established during the late Qing Dynasty and featured uncovered cannon batteries. These fortresses suffered from inadequate maintenance, and many of their components had become outdated and irreplaceable, rendering them militarily negligible. Following the January 1932 Shanghai Incident, the Japanese military destroyed the Wusong forts, leaving the entrance to the Yangtze River completely unfortified. Consequently, there were no defenses along the coastline from Jiangsu to Shandong, allowing the Japanese to land freely. In December 1932, the Military Affairs Commission established a fortress group tasked with constructing fortresses and defensive installations, seeking assistance from German military advisers. After the North China Incident in 1935, the Nationalist government accelerated the construction of defensive structures in line with national war planning, focusing particularly on Nanjing. The Nationalists prioritized building fortifications along the seacoast and the Yellow River, followed by key regions north of the Yellow River. The government also ordered a significant quantity of heavy artillery from Germany. This included several dozen pieces of flat-fire antiaircraft and dual-purpose heavy artillery, which were installed at fortifications in Jiangyin, Zhenjiang, Nanjing, and Wuhan. By the summer of 1937, the construction of nine fortified positions was complete: Nanjing, Zhenjiang, Jiangyin, Ningbo, Humen, Mawei, Xiamen , Nantong, and Lianyungang. In total, China had established 41 forts and equipped them with 273 fortress cannons. Some defensive installations were poorly managed, with many units assigned to their perimeters lacking training and access to proper maps. The barbette positions in the fortresses were not well concealed and could hardly store sufficient ammunition. Troops stationed at these fortresses received little training. Despite these shortcomings, the fortresses and fortifications were not entirely ineffective. They bolstered Chinese positions along the defense line stretching from Cangxian County to Baoding and from Dexian County to Shijiazhuang, as well as in southern Shandong. Before the war, China's political and economic center was situated along the seacoast and the Yangtze River. As Japanese influence expanded, the Nationalist government was compelled to establish bases in China's inner regions, very similar to how the USSR pulled back its industry further west after Operation barbarossa.The Japanese attack on Shanghai in 1932 prompted the Nationalists to relocate their capital to Luoyang. On March 5, during the Second Plenary Session of the KMT's Fourth Congress, the Western Capital Preparation Committee was formed to plan for the potential relocation of all governmental bodies to Xi'an in the event of full-scale war. In February 1933, the Central Political Conference approved the Northwest Development Bill, and in February 1934, the National Economic Commission set up a northwestern branch to oversee development projects in the region. On October 18, 1934, Chiang Kai-shek traveled to Lanzhou, recording in his diary that “Northwest...
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