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Joseph John Vigiano is a former U.S. Marine and presently serves as a Detective with the NYPD's Emergency Service Unit where he is assigned to Squad 7 in Brooklyn. Joe is a 2015 graduate of SUNY Maritime College where he earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Marine Transportation with a Third Mates License Unlimited Tonnage. Upon his college graduation, Joe enlisted in the United States Marine Corps Reserve as an 0352 Antitank Missileman. He served as a Sergeant in Weapons Company 2nd Battalion, 25th Marines. While serving with 2/25, Joe he deployed to Afghanistan in 2018 as part of the Georgian Liaison Team. Joe joined the rank of the NYPD in 2017 and was assigned to the 7-5 Precinct in East New, Brooklyn. The same command where both of his parents started their careers with the NYPD.  While assigned to the 75th Precinct, Joe performed duties as a patrol officer and a member of the Midnight Public 13 Safety Team, the predecessor to Anti-Crime.  Joe graduated from the Emergency Service Unit's Specialized Training School in 2023.  ESU is the NYPDs tactical and technical rescue team which covers down a variety of responsibilities that include high-risk search warrants, barricaded perpetrators, barricaded emotional disturbed persons, rope rescue, weapons of mass destruction/Hazmat, and extrication.  Joe is currently assigned to ESU Squad 7 and was promoted to Detective Specialist 3rd Grade in 2025.  Joe and his wife Jenny, are the parents of Joseph Vincent Vigiano II, named after Joe's father, 9/11 hero Detective Joseph Vincent Vigiano. Joe has two brothers, James and John.  James is also a member of the NYPD, assigned to Brooklyn North's Community Response Team and is a Marine Corps veteran who served with Weapons Company 2nd Battalion, 6th Marines. Younger brother John is currently serving as a Corporal of Marines with the 3rd Littoral Regiment in Hawaii. Joe is the grandson of the late Captain John Vigiano, FDNY and Mrs. Jan Vigiano who actively honored their sons' sacrifice through tireless advocacy for our nation's post-9/11 military veterans. Captain Vigiano served as the principal mentor for Leadership Under Fire from its inception until his passing from 9/11 related cancer in 2018.  This conversation about leadership, risk, and resilience is from an LUF online emerging leaders' development course. Fall Leadership Development Course on the Farm  

Last time we spoke about the second phase of the One Hundred Regiment Offensive.  During the second phase of the Hundred Regiments offensive, CCP forces emphasized strongpoint and transportation warfare across the Taihang/Jizhong area. Units were organized with wings containing Japanese positions while a central force struck deeper, as in the Renhe Dasu fighting in early October 1940. Night raids seized strongholds, while engineers and sabotage teams disrupted roads, bridges, and mobility, and ambushes targeted Japanese foraging and supply routes. Across these theaters, the strategy was consistent: make Japanese control porous by destroying or capturing local nodes and forcing constant repairs, re-routing, escorts, and slowed reinforcement, so occupation logistics and strongpoint networks could not function reliably. This approach supported wider offensives by isolating strongpoints, draining enemy strength, and giving Communist base areas room to endure and expand.   #204 The One Hundred Regiment Offensive Phase Three 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 the two large-scale offensives carried out over wide areas of North China, the Japanese army did what it always did when control started to slip: it tried to turn mobile pressure back into something it could "manage" again. The Eighth Route Army's continued fighting had shown that Japanese-occupied space was not secure, and that base areas could still resist, strike, and persist even while under counterpressure. That was dangerous for occupation. If the enemy could keep operations going, Japanese lines of movement stayed uncertain and "stabilization" became a temporary illusion. To prevent the situation from worsening and to re-stabilize the occupied areas as quickly as possible, the Japanese mobilized heavy forces and launched retaliatory counter–"mopping-up" operations against anti-Japanese base areas in North China beginning October 6. The Japanese attempt wasn't only to punish; it was designed to take advantage of an asymmetry: the Eighth Route Army was striking and fighting continuously, and it did not have the luxury of resting, replenishing, and re-cohering as neatly as a garrison army might. Japanese commanders hoped that if they struck hard enough in enough places, the Communist main forces could be isolated, destroyed, or at least forced into a defensive posture that would break their operational tempo. At Liaodong and Yulin, Japanese reinforcements also created a second political-military stake. After the Yuliao Campaign ended, the Eighth Route Army headquarters issued instructions on October 1 to major regions, warning that enemy reinforcements in Liaodong and Yulin might use the opening to "sweep" the Taibei region. In the Communist operational mind, this wasn't just one threat; it was a pattern. A "sweep" could come as a wave that pushed inward, burned villages, destroyed supplies, and tried to force Communist forces out of their protected networks. Even if the offensive couldn't win a conventional decisive battle, it could aim to strip the base areas of people, food, and mobility—things that make guerrilla and strongpoint warfare possible. By October 19, 1940, the Eighth Route Army headquarters issued a counter–"mopping-up" operation plan, and civilian and military authorities in various regions launched counter-"mopping-up" operations accordingly. This is important background: in these campaigns, "mopping-up" was not only an army activity. The Japanese were attempting to break the base system itself—its logistics, its local administration, and the relationship between armed units and civilians who hid, moved, fed, and replaced them. So the counter-operations had to be just as systemic. The Communists needed to keep people alive, keep movement possible, and keep the enemy from consolidating inside a cleared space. In southeastern Shanxi's Taihang and Taiyue regions, the Japanese 1st Army aimed to strike the main force of the 129th Division and destroy anti-Japanese base areas by running a series of mopping operations from October 6 to December 5. The plan had a typical occupation logic: push through strongholds gradually, clear pockets methodically, and rely on local superiority—especially in manpower, logistics, and the ability to reinforce by road. And because the Communist main force had been operating without meaningful rest after the earlier offensives, the Japanese believed they could catch formations while they were still "in between battles." On October 6, in the Taihang region, more than 800 enemy troops from Wu'an in western Hebei began a "mopping-up" operation in the Yangyi area. By October 11, the Japanese posture escalated. Part of the Japanese Independent Mixed 4th Brigade departed from Liaoxian and Wuxiang, while part of the 36th Division departed from Lucheng and Xiangyuan; together they totaled over 3,000 troops. Coordinating from north and south, they carried out operations to "mop up" both banks of the Zhuozhang River between Yulin, Liaoxian, and Wuxiang, encircling and clearing the south side of the Yulin–Liaoxian highway. This emphasis on riverbanks and highway corridors reveals the Japanese method: move along terrain that controls movement, then compress enemy options until the defenders have to fight inside a narrowing space. The counter to that method required more than bravery. The Eighth Route Army's 385th and 386th Brigades, along with the 1st Column of the Decisive Battle, fought on inner lines—where they could move more rapidly between known local positions and threaten the enemy's flanks or supply behavior. Meanwhile the New 10th Brigade fought on outer lines, where it could intercept, delay, and force the enemy to spend time reacting instead of clearing. By the morning of October 15, the New 10th Brigade delivered a concrete example of that interception strategy. Two regiments ambushed an enemy motor-transport convoy at Gongjiagou on the Heliao Highway, destroying more than 40 vehicles and annihilating more than 100 Japanese soldiers escorting the convoy. The meaning of a convoy ambush is strategic even when the numbers are modest: vehicles represent speed, logistics, and reinforcement. If the enemy loses vehicles repeatedly, "mopping" becomes slower, and slower clearing creates openings for the defenders to reorganize, disperse, or shift main effort. After that, on October 17, the enemy forces that had been mopping up the convoy withdrew in different directions. Withdrawal in multiple directions is a sign that the Japanese clearing operation, meant to compress a space, had instead been forced into a reactive mode. It also hints at a recurring pattern in these years: Japanese units could clear what was already weak, but when defenders hit their movement corridors, the occupiers had to spend time and combat power simply to recover mobility. The next major sweep began October 20, 1940, and it was much larger. Nearly 10,000 troops—from the 36th Division and Independent Mixed Brigade No. 4—set off from multiple locations, including Wu'an, Liaoxian, Wuxiang, and Lucheng, to sweep the area east and west of the Qingzhang River, focusing on land between Matian and Zuohui. Crucially, that was not random ground. The Japanese sought to strike the CCP Central Committee Northern Bureau, the Eighth Route Army headquarters, and the 129th Division headquarters, along with party and government organs of the Jin-Ji-Yu Border Region, located together with Shexian and Piancheng. In other words, the Japanese targeted not just armed units but the political-administrative heart that makes base areas function. Once in the attack area, the Japanese carried out "mopping-up" operations paired with burning and killing for several days. That brutality wasn't only cruelty; it served a purpose. Burning villages, destroying crops, and killing civilians could deny the base area food and shelter while making local cooperation more difficult. Then, on October 26, the Japanese began to withdraw and carried out mopping-up in different areas on the way back. The base area was "severely damaged and destroyed," indicating that even when the Japanese didn't annihilate the main Communist force, they could still achieve degradation—hurting the system they needed to keep operating. But the Communists were not simply absorbing damage. On October 29, a force of over 500 men from the 36th Division, plus over 400 supply and laborers, was mopping up Huangyandong and advanced through Zuohui to Guanjia'nao east of Panlong, preparing to return to Wuxiang. This is where counter-mopping becomes operationally dangerous for the occupier. Supply and labor detachments move differently from combat formations, and they represent an enemy's assumption that the base area is being "cleared." The Eighth Route Army headquarters ordered, at 1:00 p.m., for the 129th Division to concentrate its main force to annihilate the enemy. That night, the 129th Division—uniting the main forces of the 385th and 386th Brigades, parts of the New 10th Brigade, and the First Column of the Death Squad—surrounded the enemy at Guanjia'nao with a plan to launch a general offensive at 4:00 a.m. The besieged enemy, besides quickly building fortifications, seized Fengkengding high ground southwest of Guanjia'nao under cover of darkness. The two high points helped defenders support one another and resist stubbornly. The battle lasted until dawn on October 31, when most of the enemy had been annihilated, leaving only more than 60 men to hold positions. Then reinforcements arrived—over 1,500 from Huangyandong—supported by more than 10 aircraft. The 129th Division withdrew, and the remaining enemy fled toward the flood, leaving behind more than 280 corpses. By then, most Japanese troops had withdrawn from the central base area. The background stake is clear: "mopping-up" could damage and burn, but if defenders could convert the Japanese attempt into a trap—especially when enemy units had become separated from their core and committed to clearing—they could turn a destructive operation into a costly one for the occupier. In early November, the Japanese continued. In Licheng south of Taihang, Japanese forces invaded Nanweiquan and Beiweiquan and then Xijing. Elsewhere, Japanese forces in Xiangyuan invaded Panlong via Xiying, attempting to attack Dongtian and the area around Zhuanbi, where the Eighth Route Army headquarters was located. In that moment, the 386th Brigade was ordered to rush to the north–south line of Damocun, east of Panlong, block the invading enemy, and cover the transfer of the Eighth Route Army headquarters. At 9:00 a.m. on November 3, 1940, fierce fighting broke out as the troops finished deploying near Damocun. The Japanese launched continuous attacks and captured some positions. The 386th Brigade held until 4:00 a.m. on November 4, then withdrew after the headquarters successfully moved. The Japanese attempt to launch a pincer attack failed, and they retreated to the Baijin Line on November 5. Even when Japanese action couldn't be fully blocked, the counter's aim was not only tactical survival but prevention of strategic encirclement—protecting the central institutions and preserving the ability to fight again. In the northern Taihang region, more than 2,500 enemy troops from Heshun arrived in Yushe on November 3 via Hanwang Town and Changcheng Town, reinforcing Japanese forces in the Yu, Liao, and Wu areas. Then they carried out repeated mopping operations south of the Yuliao Highway, including Jiangtang, Lingshang, Songjiazhuang, Guojiao, and Dayouyi. Harassment and attacks by military and civilians forced Japanese troops back into their strongholds by the 13th. A "40-day" counter-mopping operation in Taihang came to an end. The term "40-day" isn't only calendar time; it suggests that these were not one-off battles but sustained campaigns of movement, dispersal, and repeated harassment meant to drain the enemy's capacity. Starting November 17, the Japanese launched a multi-pronged attack on Qinyuan and the area north of Guodao Town. The attack involved part of the 37th Division from Qin County and Nanguan Town, part of the Independent Mixed Brigade from Pingyao, Jiexiu, and Huo County, and a battalion of the 41st Division from Hongdong—more than 7,000 troops deployed to attack Qinyuan and the north area. But the Taiyue Military Region response shows how the Communist counter-mopping wasn't always to meet force with force. To avoid the enemy's "sharp edge," the Taiyue Military Region formed two detachments—Qin East and Qin West—with leadership and main force moving to both sides of the Qin River outside the Japanese attack zone, targeting scattered Japanese troops instead of being fixed into a single killing field. By November 23, due to harassment by local armed forces, the Japanese reached the attack zone and then carried out dispersed mopping operations. Qinyuan County was the most severely damaged, with more than 5,000 people killed (about one-tenth of its population), nearly 10,000 livestock killed and over 7,000 stolen, and 30,000 to 40,000 houses destroyed. Those details are brutal, but they explain why background stakes mattered: "mopping-up" was meant to break the social base. If civilians died or fled, the guerrilla system became harder to sustain. The response from the Dayue Military Region seized the opportunity created by Japanese dispersal. On November 23, the 42nd Regiment of the Qinxi Detachment annihilated more than 100 Japanese soldiers in Guantan. On November 27, parts of the 42nd and 59th Regiments killed or wounded more than 160 in Huhanping and Mabei. The Qindong Detachment's 17th and 57th Regiments inflicted serious damage in a series of places—Guang'ao, Chenjiagou, Longfosi, Wuyuanzhen, Nanweicun, Nanli, and more. The 17th Regiment's battle at Longfosi annihilated more than 100 Japanese. Additional heavy losses were inflicted by the 212th Brigade in Jiaokou. By December 5, the Japanese were forced to withdraw from the Taiyue area in separate routes. Strategically, dispersal punished the occupier because scattered units are harder to protect and easier to ambush. Across the Jin-Cha-Ji Border Region, anti-"mopping-up" operations unfolded gradually, beginning with the Pingxi area, the first target of the Japanese on the path toward the Japanese-held headquarters and rail lines. Pingxi mattered because it directly threatened the headquarters of the Japanese North China Area Army and Beiping—the puppet regime's center—and also threatened the Pinghan and Pingsui railways, North China's main transportation lines. So Pingxi became an operational priority: if the occupier couldn't keep the rail network secure, their ability to reinforce and supply their own strongpoints suffered. On October 13, 1940, more than 10,000 Japanese and puppet troops attacked Sanpo, the central area of the Pingxi base area, in 10 routes. This attack used a methodical, steady approach: advance gradually, rely on strongholds, and cover 5 to 10 kilometers each day. In response, the Pingxi Military Sub-district countered using timely maneuvers of its main forces and extensive guerrilla warfare. Over more than a week of fighting, the enemy was constantly harassed and attacked, wearing them down. Although Japanese troops penetrated deep, they failed to identify the main force's movements. By November 21, when the encirclement tightened further, the Pingxi main force jumped out from the Sanpo area and moved southwest. Encountering the enemy at Pengtou, it then moved to the Yegu and Datai line east of Bancheng. After the Japanese entered the Sanpo area, they conducted widespread burning and killing and looted grain. Starting from the 23rd, the Japanese retreated in different routes. By the end of October, the main force had withdrawn from Pingxi, but more than 2,000 troops remained in the Pingxi anti-Japanese base area to build strongholds and roads. Strongholds were added in places like Changping and Wanping—14 strongholds alone—and villages such as Dongzhaitang and Dujiazhuang came under their control. The base area began to shrink and shrink. That shrinkage is the other background stake: even when guerrilla forces avoid annihilation, the occupier may still carve away space through fortification. On October 19, 1940, the Eighth Route Army headquarters instructed that enemy attacks in Pingxi and Taihang might turn around and attack the Beiyue area. The Jin-Cha-Ji Border Region needed to prepare quickly to crush these "mopping-up" operations, coordinating Party, government, military, and civilians and conducting in-depth combat mobilization. The main force should assemble in appropriate positions and prepare to annihilate one or two enemy forces decisively. The headquarters also instructed the 129th and 120th Divisions to cooperate actively. By November 9, 1940, the Japanese struck again in a massive sweep. The 110th Division, along with other units and more than 14,000 puppet troops, launched a "mopping-up" operation in the jurisdiction of the 1st Military Sub-district. The Japanese and puppet troops moved in coordinated lines: along the line of Yi County, Dalonghua, Wang'an Town, Laiyuan, and Chajianling from north to south, while those in Baoding and Mancheng moved east to west. The intent was to squeeze Communist sub-district forces into a narrow area for a decisive battle. On November 10, the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region issued operational guidelines and deployments for countering "mopping-up" operations. By the 12th, in response to Japanese widespread burning and killing, it further instructed that without hindering mobility, the main force could disperse a portion of troops—no more than one-third—to strike resolutely at attempts to burn and kill. That instruction captures the balance commanders tried to strike: disperse too much and you lose power; disperse too little and you become trapped by the occupier's brutality. The Japanese then attempted to pressure multiple places. On November 9, more than 6,000 enemy troops from Laiyuan, Yixian, and Baoding attacked Guantou, Yinfang, Huangtuling, and Shenbei. On the 12th, their attack failed; they burned and killed people before retreating in different routes. At that time, the 1st Military Sub-district assembled the 1st and 25th Regiments to intercept them. One enemy force of more than 800 was intercepted on the 14th as it retreated from Wujiazhuang to Yuangang; some were killed or wounded. Even so, the enemy broke through under aircraft cover and retreated to Guantou. On the way, it was intercepted again by the 20th Regiment, suffering heavy casualties, and it fled back to Mancheng. Then on November 13, more than 2,700 Japanese and puppet troops attacked the 3rd Military Sub-district; on November 14, about 2,600 advanced from Dingxiang, Dongye, and Wutai toward Fuping and its southwest area in two routes. The Japanese attacked with east-west coordination, launching joint attacks on Taiyu north of Fuping. The Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region headquarters and the command organs of the 3rd and 5th military sub-districts, along with the 2nd, 3rd, and 6th regiments and other troops, transferred to the outer line before the enemy encirclement formed. On the 16th, the Japanese launched a joint attack again on Taiyu and Zhangjiayu, and the guerrillas who failed to transfer fought hard. Commander Wang Pu and Deputy Director of the Political Department Hao Yuming were killed, and troops suffered more than 100 casualties. On November 18, the enemy from Taiyu quickly occupied Hanping City. By the 21st, enemy forces from Daying via Shentangbao and Wuwangkou, and from Wutai via Taihuai, Shizui, Longquanguan, and Xiaguan, also gathered in Fuping City. After occupying Fuping, the Japanese launched repeated attacks "sweeping" areas under the jurisdiction of the 3rd Military Sub-district from both inward and outward strongholds, conducting brutal burning and killing and destruction. On the night of November 21, the 2nd Regiment dispatched more than 30 men to raid Dangcheng and attack Japanese barracks with grenades. The Japanese panicked and fired guns and cannons all night. On the 26th, four plainclothes officers infiltrated Baoding and attacked a theater where the Japanese army was holding a meeting, causing panic among the Japanese. The enemy that had invaded the base area withdrew in different routes on the 25th. By December 3, 1940, most Japanese troops had withdrawn from the Beiyue area, but more than 1,000 remained along lines including Fuping, Wangkuai, Dangcheng, and Quyang to continue building points and roads in an attempt to occupy the area long-term. To force the enemy back, eliminate occupied points, and completely crush Japanese and puppet "mopping-up," the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region organized the Fuping–Wangkuai Campaign starting December 9, with the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 6th regiments participating. At 21:00 on December 14, the 6th Regiment attacked enemy forces in Dongzhuang. The 1st Battalion captured three fortified positions on the north mountain of Dongzhuang and rushed into the village, only for Japanese counterattacks to recapture fortified positions and kill or wound more than 170 Japanese during the counterfight. The 4th Regiment attacked the enemy in Fuping; the 2nd Regiment and guerrilla forces entered Dangcheng and Lingshan. On the 21st, more than 130 enemy soldiers escorting more than 100 pack animals carrying military supplies reached Wangkuai and were completely annihilated when they reached Wanglinkou. By December 26, an ambush in the Xuancun area of the Pinghan Railway destroyed 14 Japanese trains and their vehicles as well as three heavy artillery pieces. On the 27th, more than 1,200 enemy troops advancing from Dongzhuang in Fuping were attacked in Luoyu and Tumen, suffering more than 140 casualties. The remaining Japanese withdrew from Fuping, Dongzhuang, and Wangkuai starting New Year's Day 1941. By January 4, the 55-day anti-"mopping-up" campaign had basically ended, with the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region killing and wounding more than 2,000 Japanese and puppet troops while suffering 1,382 casualties itself. These numbers and dates show why background and stakes matter: the counter-mopping effort wasn't short. It was sustained, operationally demanding, and required continued offensive action even while facing superior Japanese resources. The pressure didn't end there. From October 25 to early November, about 4,000 Japanese troops, including the 16th Independent Mixed Brigade, launched a mopping operation in the Miyu and Loufan areas of the 8th and 3rd military sub-districts in northwestern Shanxi, but they were attacked by local soldiers and civilians. In mid-December, Japanese forces transferred additional strength: parts of the 37th Division from southern Shanxi and the 41st Division from southeastern Shanxi, along with parts of the 3rd, 9th, and 16th Independent Mixed Brigades and the 26th Division from northwestern Shanxi—totaling more than 20,000 troops—to prepare for a full-scale mopping operation in northwestern Shanxi. After the second phase of the Hundred Regiments Offensive ended, the 120th Division anticipated retaliation and actively prepared for counter-mopping. On October 30, the division was ordered to establish the Jin-Northwest Military Region, and on November 7, the military region was established in Lijiawan, Xing County. The Jin-Northwest Military Region had direct military sub-districts and six military sub-districts: the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 8th, and Yanbei. Then the occupier escalated. Starting December 14, 1940, the Japanese launched a full-scale mopping operation against the Jin-Northwest region. More than 5,000 enemy troops invaded the Mi-Yu Town area of the 8th Military Sub-district, more than 4,000 invaded Lin-Xian, and more than 6,000 attacked Xing-Xian and the area south of Bao-De from strongholds such as Lan-Xian and Qi-Lan. By December 23, Japanese forces had occupied all county towns, most market towns, and Yellow River crossings in the Jin-Northwest region except for Bao-De and He-Qu counties, and began to implement a systematic policy commonly described as the "Three Alls" policy. The "Three Alls" emphasis is the clearest expression of stakes turning lethal. Japanese troops and traitors disguised themselves as the Eighth Route Army to lure and kill masses. They sent out core detachments to attack and repeatedly sweep the area, seeking to annihilate party, government, and military leadership organs—focusing on destroying the rear organs and facilities that made Communist endurance possible. According to incomplete statistics, more than 5,000 people were brutally killed during these sweeps. In Xingxian County alone, 150,000 catties of grain were looted and burned; in the 4th Military Sub-district, more than 5,000 head of livestock were looted and killed; and more than 19,000 houses and cave dwellings were burned down. In the early stage of this anti-mopping campaign, the Jin-Sui Military Region mainly used a portion of its forces to cooperate with local troops and guerrillas in widespread guerrilla warfare. They harassed and contained the attacking enemy, disrupted enemy transportation, and covered the transfer of the masses. The main force avoided the enemy's sharp edge and moved to the outer line to seek opportunities to attack the Japanese army. This describes the classic guerrilla operational pattern: avoid being fixed into a single decisive trap, but create enough friction that enemy operations degrade into a struggle they can't sustain. repeated attacks and ambushes during the mopping period across Miyu Town and other areas—units striking repeatedly, destroying roads, cutting off enemy transportation, and attacking enemy strongholds north of Dawu. To thwart the Japanese army's plans to build roads and fortifications—plans that would make future sweeps easier—the Jin-Sui Military Region instructed, on December 27, all sub-districts to mobilize forces to disrupt Japanese road construction and fortification. The 358th Brigade attacked enemy road construction from Lanxian to Dashetou and from Puming to Chijianling; the Independent 1st Brigade sabotaged the Dawu–Linxian highway; and the 4th Column of the Death Squad sabotaged the Dawu–Fangshan highway. Part of the Independent 1st Brigade's 2nd Regiment organized over 2,000 civilians to sabotage the Dawu–Sanjiao highway twice, forcing the enemy in Linxian to detour through Fangshan to contact Lishi. The Lishi guerrillas led civilians in two sabotage attacks on the Lishi–Jundu highway, destroying over 30 "li" of road. Other units attacked strongholds along key highways and destroyed or disrupted the "maintenance committees" that surrounded newly built enemy strongholds. There were also direct raids—storming into Linxian County and capturing representatives of enemy maintenance organizations. Meanwhile, the Workers' and Patriots' Brigade carried out continuous sabotage on the Taifen Highway. As the enemy plans ran into persistent disruption, Japanese and puppet forces began to retreat in different routes starting January 2, 1941, and by January 24 they returned to their original strongholds. The Jin-Sui winter counter-mopping operation lasted 40 days, annihilated more than 2,500 enemy troops, destroyed 125 kilometers of roads and 23 bridges, and recovered all towns occupied by the enemy during the campaign. Here the stakes show through most clearly: the campaign was not merely about killing enemy troops. It was about preventing the occupier from building a durable, road-connected grid that would allow future sweeps to be faster, larger, and more decisive. At the wider campaign level, the Eighth Route Army also recorded its total effects from August 20 to December 5, covering roughly three and a half months. During that period, the Eighth Route Army fought 1,824 battles of varying sizes, killing or wounding 20,645 Japanese soldiers (including senior officers), killing or wounding 5,155 puppet troops, and capturing 281 Japanese soldiers and 18,407 puppet troops. 47 Japanese soldiers surrendered voluntarily, and 1,845 puppet troops defected, totaling 46,380 people. The Communists captured 5,942 guns and 53 artillery pieces, and destroyed extensive transportation infrastructure: 474 kilometers of railway, 1,502 kilometers of highway, 213 bridges, 37 railway stations, 11 tunnels, more than 217,000 rails, more than 1,549,000 sleepers, more than 109,000 telephone poles, and more than 424,000 kilograms of telephone wire. Five coal mines and 11 warehouses were destroyed. The narrative further adds that when including casualties of Japanese and puppet forces across related engagements—such as Fuwang and the anti–mopping operations in northwest Shanxi—the total number of casualties reached more than 50,880. Japanese statistics were also cited for damage assessment, noting destruction of track and bridges across key railways (Zhengtai, Tongpu, Pinghan), telegraph pole damage, power line cuts, and effects on coal production—such as the Jingxing New Mine being unable to produce coal for at least six months. These details underline a broader background stake: infrastructure damage was meant to weaken the occupier's ability to keep its occupation apparatus working, even after the direct battles ended. The price of that multi-month struggle was high for the Eighth Route Army as well. Over the three and a half months leading up to the Hundred Regiments Offensive, the Eighth Route Army suffered 17,000 casualties, and more than 20,000 were poisoned. During the Hundred Regiments Offensive itself, post-war statistics state that the 129th Division suffered 7,362 casualties and 450 missing persons, and the entire division suffered 7,812 casualties. When you connect these lines—offensive sabotage, counter-offensives, Japanese mopping-ups, and anti-mopping resistance—you see why this second wave of fighting mattered. It wasn't only about whether the Japanese could respond to the offensive. It was about whether both sides could sustain their operational logic: the Japanese trying to stabilize occupation through "mopping," and the Communists trying to preserve base systems through dispersal, harassment, and counter-moves that convert the occupier's clearing effort into something too costly to maintain. The background of the Hundred Regiments offensive, who authorized it, who planned it, and why, remains unclear. The Japanese response was so severe that, in retrospect, it appeared to some as if the offensive had been a mistake. Some leaders, especially Mao, may have wanted to disavow it. Indirect hints in Mao's writings in subsequent months and years suggest he may have viewed it critically or harbored misgivings from the start. It was not the kind of strategy Mao preferred. More than twenty years later, during the Cultural Revolution, Red Guards charged that Mao had not even known of the plan in advance because of Peng Dehuai's alleged duplicity, at the time, Peng was being denounced. While this seems unlikely, it may contain some substance. In his own defense against these charges, Peng stated that after the 8RA headquarters—located not in Yan'an but in Jin-Cha-Ji—planned the operation, it sent mobilization orders downward to each regional command and also notified the Central Military Affairs Commission headed by Mao. In the original plan, the action would begin in early September. But, Peng wrote, to prevent enemy discovery and to ensure simultaneous surprise assaults—thereby inflicting an even greater blow to the enemy and the puppets—they began about ten days earlier than scheduled, during the last week of August. "So we did not wait for approval from the Military Affairs Commission (this was wrong), but went right into combat earlier than planned." There is also the issue of the "spontaneous" participation of more than eighty regiments without authorization from the Eighth Route Army headquarters, and not from Yan'an as well. If Peng Dehuai's account is accepted (written in 1970, shortly before his death), then Mao and Party Central had no role in conceiving or planning the Hundred Regiments campaign. In that case, the "grand strategy" motivations for undertaking it largely vanish—except perhaps insofar as they were considered by Peng and his colleagues. One alleged motive was to counter any tendency toward capitulation by Chiang Kai-shek and the Chongqing regime: if the war heated up and the CCP threw itself into fighting, any accommodation between Chiang and Japan would look like cowardly surrender. A related consideration was the Communist leadership's sensitivity to the charge that they were simply exploiting the war to expand their influence—avoiding Japanese combat while letting KMT armies bear the real burden of fighting. The Nationalists gave major publicity to the accusation that CCP policy devoted 70 percent of effort to expansion, 20 percent to coping with the KMT, and only 10 percent to opposing Japan. A third suggested motive was to divert attention from the New Fourth Army's offensives against Nationalist forces in Central China, which were peaking around the same time. Peng Dehuai acknowledged the campaign was "too protracted," yet he defended its importance in maintaining the CCP's anti-Japanese image in the wake of anti-friction conflicts, in demonstrating the failure of the cage-and-silkworm policy, in returning at least twenty-six county seats to base control, and in keeping "wavering" elements in line. Even if these reasons mattered less than regional and tactical calculations in launching the campaign, they could always be used for propaganda afterward. Whatever misgivings Mao and Party Central may have had, the Party kept them to itself. Mao radioed congratulations to Peng after his victory, and in public statements the Hundred Regiments were turned into legend. Even if the Hundred Regiments campaign aimed to defeat Japanese pacification efforts, it did not succeed in a decisive way. Shocked and stung by the 8RA's action, the North China Area Army intensified its efforts to bring North China under tighter control. Under General Tada and then his successor, General Okamura Yasuji (July 1941–November 1944), the Japanese inflicted brutal, sustained violence against all North China bases. Between 1941 and 1944, about 150,000 Japanese troops were assigned full-time to pacification duty, supported by roughly 100,000 Chinese auxiliaries of widely varying description and effectiveness. The remainder of the NCAA (about 150,000–200,000 men) was assigned to other tasks such as garrisoning major cities and containing Nationalist forces. Communist regulars were estimated at around 250,000 within base areas and 40,000 in SKN. The Japanese and their Chinese auxiliaries invested even more heavily than before in constructing moats, ditches, palisades, and blockhouses. Japanese sources claimed that by 1942 their forces had built 11,860 kilometers of blockade line and 7,700 fortified posts, mostly in the Hebei plains and the foothills of the Taihang mountains. A massive trench ran for 500 kilometers along the western side of the Pinghan railway line, with a depopulated and constantly patrolled zone on either side. The 250 Japanese outposts established in southern Hebei by December 1940 were more than quadrupled by mid-1942. These became the key means of controlling plains areas; by the end of 1941, all Communist bases in such terrain had been reduced to guerrilla status. Many main force units—such as those under Liu Cheng'ao and Yang Xiufeng—were compelled to move westward into mountains to survive. What distinguished the new Tada–Okamura approach from earlier tactics was the much larger and more protracted search-and-destroy thrust into the core mountain-base areas. They also replaced selective repression with indiscriminate, generalized violence. These infamous "Three-All" mop-up campaigns meant: kill all, burn all, loot all. Unable to distinguish ordinary peasants from Communists, the Japanese waged war on everyone. After attempting to seal off major consolidated regions in the base areas, they sent in very large detachments to search for Communist forces, civilian cadres, and activists. They also tried to destroy base facilities and war material stockpiles; to disrupt agriculture by burning crops or interfering with planting and harvesting; and to seize grain stores. Entire villages were razed, and everything alive found there was killed. Unlike earlier mop-ups that swept through an area and then departed, these campaigns left troops in the targeted zones for extended periods, "combing" the area back and forth and building at least temporary strongpoints in more accessible parts of mountain bases. These mop-up operations took a heavy and painful toll on rural populations. No doubt the harsh tactics and atrocities frequently committed during these actions did cause many peasants, rich and poor alike, to harbor deep hatred of the Japanese and to commit more fully to the Communist side. But intra-party sources also portray cases in which repression worked even more effectively than earlier attempts to drive a wedge between party and peasantry. As one internal assessment put it: If we only stress concealment… we are bound to be divorced from the masses. The morale of the masses cannot be sustained for long either. On the other hand, if we only seek fleeting gratification in careless fighting, we may also invite still more cruel enemy suppression. That will also alienate the masses. Communist spokesmen acknowledged that, in North China base areas, the population under Party control fell from 44 million to 25 million, while the Eighth Route Army declined from 400,000 to 300,000. Local records present an even grimmer picture. By 1942, 90 percent of the plains bases had been reduced to guerrilla zones or outright enemy control. In the mountainous Taiyue district within the Jin-Cha-Lu-Yi base, one cadre admitted that "not a single county was kept intact and the government offices of all its twelve counties were exiled in Jin-yuan." All twenty-six county seats occupied following the Hundred Regiments fighting were lost. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go 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 after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. Japan tried to regain control through retaliatory "mopping-up" operations starting in October 1940. In response, the Eighth Route Army and its commanders issued counter-measures: coordinate party, government, military, and civilians; keep mobility while dispersing forces when possible; and focus on annihilating incoming enemy units decisively. Counter-sweeps and anti-pacification actions continued through December, involving repeated ambushes and sabotage of roads, highways, and fortification efforts. 

For this episode of the Old Front Line podcast, we open the virtual mailbag once again for another Questions & Answers special covering some fascinating and lesser-known aspects of the First World War. From observation balloons hanging silently over the trenches to trench foot, white feathers and booby traps in No Man's Land, this episode explores the realities of life on the Western Front beyond the better-known battles.We begin by looking at the observation balloons - the so-called Balloonatics - that became such a familiar feature of the wartime landscape. Who manned these vulnerable aerial observation posts? What was life like for the crews suspended high above the battlefield? How many balloons lined the front by 1916, and were they more effective over the flat plains of Flanders than the broken ground of the Somme?We also examine the infamous White Feather campaign and the pressure placed on young men to enlist, alongside the Derby Scheme which allowed men to attest for service before being called up later. How widespread was the practice, and what impact did it have on those who experienced it?Inspired by an episode of Blackadder Goes Forth, we then investigate whether anti-personnel minefields really existed in the trenches of the Great War, and explore the grim world of booby traps and explosive devices hidden one the battlefield.Finally, we answer a question from Australia concerning trench foot and the long-term effects suffered by soldiers who returned to duty after treatment. How badly could damaged feet affect a man's ability to march, and what happened when he rejoined his battalion?Join us for another deep dive into the forgotten details and human stories of the First World War.The book mentioned in the introduction is Jon Woolcott's Tattooed Hills: Journeys to Chalk Figures published in 2026. Main Image: The Medical Officer of the 12th Battalion ,East Yorkshire Regiment conducts a foot inspection in a support trench near Roclincourt, 9 January 1918. (IWM Q10622). Image by Thomas Keith Aitken.Sign up for the free podcast newsletter here: Old Front Line Bulletin.You can order Old Front Line Merch via The Old Front Line Shop.Got a question about this episode or any others? Drop your question into the Old Front Line Discord Server or email the podcast.Send us Fan MailSupport the show

Last time we spoke about the first phase of the One Hundred Regiment Offensive. On 20 August 1940, forces launched the Zhengtai Campaign, part of the "Hundred Regiments Offensive," aiming to disrupt Japan's transport network and thus weaken its "cage-and-strongpoint" defense. Orders from the Eighth Route Army split tasks: the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region attacked the eastern Zheng–Tai line, the 129th Division struck the western section , and the 120th Division hit the Tongpu Railway and the Fen–Li Highway. Success was to be judged by the damage inflicted on the Zheng–Tai line. Preparations were conducted under strict secrecy: reconnaissance teams mapped Japanese strongholds with help from villagers; communities stockpiled grain, ammunition, and tools, and trained for demolition, including heating and bending rails. At night, units infiltrated stations and villages, seized positions, and destroyed bridges, power lines, roads, and mines across multiple columns; rain slowed movement and shaped the fighting. By early September, the Zheng–Tai line and related transport routes were severed, isolating strongpoints and hindering reinforcement.    #203 The One Hundred Regiment Offensive Phase Two 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. During the second phase, the Hundred Regiments Offensive stopped being a single burst of action and became a sustained attempt to keep the Japanese occupation system off-balance. More regiments entered the fighting until, by the scale of commitment on the map, 104 regiments were involved. This matters because it changes what the campaign was: not merely a set of raids, but an effort to broaden pressure so that the enemy could not concentrate everything in one place at one time. Years later, Peng Dehuai—the commander closely associated with the Hundred Regiments offensive—described how the entry of these units felt as "spontaneous." That word can sound mysterious, so it helps to interpret it in operational terms. "Spontaneous" here does not mean unplanned chaos; it means that once the offensive logic took hold—once units saw that Japanese movement and control were being disrupted—local commanders and regiments felt empowered to join the fight without always waiting for the Eighth Route Army headquarters to issue fresh, detailed instructions for each smaller step. In other words, the campaign became something like an expanding network: local success and shared strategic perception fed into more participation across regions. Strategically, the campaign was guided by political and military guidance issued on September 10, 1940 by the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party. That instruction tied current operations to the earlier political-military framework of the July 7 Declaration and the July 7 Decision. The instruction argued that the moment mattered: it called for focusing "main efforts" on striking the Japanese army during a period when unity was being strengthened. It specifically urged that, based on the experience of the North China Hundred Regiments Offensive, Communist forces should organize one or more planned large-scale offensive operations in Shandong and Central China. In North China, the instruction pushed for expansion into Japanese army areas that had not yet been attacked—because the battlefield effect of the campaign was not only measured in immediate battlefield outcomes, but in reducing enemy-occupied space, enlarging base areas, breaking through blockade lines, and improving combat effectiveness. That last phrase—"Striking the enemy and attacking our allies is the general policy of military operations at present"—was the harsh shorthand for the operational reality: the campaign had to prevent Japanese occupation from appearing stable and manageable. If the occupation system could treat insurgency as "localized trouble," it would recover quickly. If, instead, occupation became dangerous in multiple places at once—requiring constant defense, constant movement, constant reinforcement—then the Japanese would be forced into a defensive posture that undermined their ability to exploit control. On September 16, 1940, the headquarters issued the second phase plan with a clear aim: expand results from the first phase. The headquarters explained the second phase would continue with an emphasis on disrupting Japanese transportation and destroying some strongholds that had penetrated deep into the base areas. This reveals the campaign's real "background and stakes": the offensive wasn't built around capturing territory in the traditional sense alone. It was built around breaking the system that makes occupation work. In the enemy's logic, occupation relies on movement: soldiers need to move, supplies need to be shipped, and reinforcement must be routed quickly to where trouble appears. Transportation infrastructure—roads, railways, bridges, power lines—forms the skeleton of control. Strongholds and outposts are the organs that occupy space, but they depend on that skeleton. If transportation becomes unreliable, strongholds become isolated islands. If strongholds become isolated, the Japanese must decide between (1) defending each island and spreading themselves thin, or (2) leaving some islands to contain the rest—either way, control weakens. Strongpoints—whether forts, fortified villages, gatehouses, or road blocks—also function as a "cage-and-silkworm" system: they are placed so Japanese forces can consolidate inside them, while routes outside are controlled or denied. In that model, even a small disruption can trigger a major ripple effect. When highways or key segments of rail are repeatedly broken, Japanese units cannot move "cleanly." They must detour, slow down, repair under threat, or escort repairs with larger forces than they prefer. Every extra hour spent repairing is an hour not spent consolidating. Every detour is a chance for ambush or for further sabotage. The second phase sought to exploit that dependency deliberately. That strategic framing explains why, even as the campaign broadened, different regions emphasized different battles. The Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region mainly fought the Lai-Ling Campaign, the 129th Division mainly fought the Yu-Liao Campaign, and the 120th Division focused on attacking the Tong-Pu Railway. They were not separate stories. They were different methods of attacking the same underlying vulnerability: the occupier's ability to move, reinforce, and coordinate. In Jin-Cha-Ji's sector, the stakes were especially sharp around Laiyuan and Lingqiu. The Japanese forces stationed in Mongolia had occupied those areas and penetrated deeply into the northwestern parts of the Jin-Cha-Ji Border Region. Japanese strength around these positions included elements of the 2nd Independent Mixed Brigade and the 26th Division, totaling more than 1,500 men, plus more than 1,000 puppet troops. The presence of puppet forces mattered not only for manpower, but because puppet troops supported the occupier's local control apparatus: they served as locally sourced enforcers, scouts, guards, and "administration-adjacent" security. Removing or weakening them was part of disrupting occupation credibility and local stability. Because the Japanese had been attacked in the first phase, they did not respond by retreating into passivity. They increased troops at each stronghold. Laiyuan City alone was reinforced to around 500 men, and the Japanese strengthened fortifications and stockpiled food and ammunition. This meant the defenders were preparing for a second round: not a sudden surprise raid, but a sustained threat that would test their ability to endure isolation and keep their network intact. Under these conditions, the Jin-Cha-Ji leadership decided to mobilize forces for the Lai-Ling Campaign, beginning at 22:00 on September 22, 1940. Here the background and stakes show up in the campaign's timing and tactics. The objective was not to "beat the defenders in open battle" only; it was to attack in ways that would prevent consolidation. By pushing on county areas and surrounding strongholds immediately, the attackers aimed to force the defenders into reactive mode—closing gates, shifting forces into defensive positions, and preparing for fights that would consume time and ammunition. The right wing launched a fierce attack on Laiyuan County and surrounding strongholds. After a night of hard fighting, the east, west, and south gates were taken, and the Japanese troops retreated into the city. Taking gates matters because it compresses space. It turns a wider defensive perimeter into a narrower, more concentrated posture. It also creates a psychological and operational trap: defenders who retreat into the city may survive longer as a fortified concentration, but their ability to conduct aggressive movement outside their walls—and their ability to receive reinforcements through many approaches—becomes more limited. In the night of September 23, the 2nd Regiment, supported by a battalion of the 1st Regiment and artillery, attacked Sanjia Village, described as an important enemy stronghold on the Laiyuan–Yixian highway, roughly 10 kilometers east of Laiyuan City. Highways are not just routes; they are corridors that connect strongholds to each other and to supply lines. By capturing a stronghold on a highway, the campaign attempted to break a portion of the corridor network feeding the city. The attackers annihilated most of the enemy and captured the village. At the same time, the 3rd Regiment attacked Dongtuanbao, northeast of Laiyuan City, and by the night of September 24, they had taken surrounding fortifications and forced remaining enemies into only a few houses inside the village. Then, on September 25, the enemy burned weapons, supplies, and food stored at the stronghold, preparing for a breakout. That detail reveals a key stake of stronghold warfare: if defenders believe they cannot hold and cannot escape, they may destroy supplies rather than let attackers seize them intact. It's a grim tactical psychology—destroying stores can deny the enemy immediate benefit, even if it reduces defenders' chances of future endurance. When the attackers launched another fierce assault and the remaining defenders, with no hope of escape, threw themselves into the flames and perished, the event underscored the "closed-options" nature of the battle: the stronghold system was being compressed until breakout became impossible. On September 26, other right-wing units, together with the 9th Regiment of the Pingxi Military Sub-district, captured 13 strongholds including Taohuabao, Bailebao, Jijiazhuang, Xinzhuang, Beikou, Xiabeitou, Baishikou, Zhongzhuang, Wangxidong, Liujiazui, Zhangjiayu, Beishifo, and Jinjiajing. Capturing strongholds in clusters has a strategic function. It doesn't just remove personnel; it interrupts local control geography. It makes it harder for defenders inside the city to extend influence outward and harder for them to create new safe points for movement. But the Japanese did what well-prepared occupiers can do: reinforce at the most important time and the most important place. On the second day after the start, Japanese reinforcement began from Zhangjiakou and other locations. Roads had not been completely destroyed, so the Japanese could advance rapidly. This becomes a major background lesson of the second phase. The first phase had demonstrated the power of sabotage to disrupt Japanese movement. But by the time second-phase campaigns began, the Japanese were not ignorant—they were learning. Where sabotage had fully severed roads, reinforcement could be delayed or routed into danger. Where sabotage remained incomplete, reinforcement could arrive quickly, changing the battle's character from attack-dominant to defense-dominant. By noon on September 28, over 3,000 Japanese and puppet troops arrived in Laiyuan City by car, supported by 20 tanks and 4 aircraft. This mechanized support was not just "extra firepower." It was a statement about how the Japanese aimed to retain control: tanks and aircraft increase defenders' ability to resist assault and keep morale from collapsing. Under these conditions, the right wing found it difficult to launch a favorable offensive. So the Jin-Cha-Ji leadership shifted offensive focus to the Lingqiu area, rather than forcing the original plan to continue against reinforced mechanized defense. The first step was to eliminate enemy strongholds between Lingqiu and Hunyuan. The second step was to seize enemy strongholds along a line from southeast of Daying to Shentangbao, and in mountainous areas north of Daying and Shahe. This shift highlights a core strategic principle: when a target becomes too fortified, the offensive can still succeed by moving the pressure elsewhere—aiming to break the enemy's network of strongpoints and keep forcing them to respond across space. On October 2, the headquarters ordered the main force of the right wing to concentrate in the area east and southeast of Laiyuan. Part of the force was assigned to monitor and contain the enemy in Laiyuan, while the 1st and 2nd Regiments were placed under the left wing's command and joined the left wing in combat. This reallocation reflects operational adaptability. If a city becomes a fortress, smaller units may be better employed as containment—tying down defenders—while the main effort moves to seize other stronghold lines where the Japanese might still be vulnerable. The fighting continued with tactical attacks that show how strongpoint warfare unfolded in the field. On the night of October 8, the 1st Battalion of the 1st Regiment launched an attack on the 2nd Regiment while a portion of the Japanese army in Nanpotou was attacking it. The attackers broke into enemy lines, annihilated most of the enemy, and drove the rest off. At the same time, the 1st Battalion of the 6th Regiment captured Qiangfengling, and the Japanese forces in Qingciyao fled in panic. The campaign also included actions such as attacks on Jinfengdian by the 3rd Battalion of the 6th Regiment on the night of September 9, and mention that the 26th Regiment entered Huangtai Temple on the night of October 8 while attacking between Lingqiu and Guangling. By understanding the background and stakes, you can see what these actions were really doing. They weren't random. They were repeated attempts to keep dismantling the enemy's ability to maintain a functioning strongpoint chain. Each captured stronghold reduces the enemy's ability to create secure corridors. Each panic-driven retreat increases their time burden and may cause breakdown in communication between local nodes. Even when the battle remains fierce and deadly, these changes in tempo can accumulate into operational outcomes. The Lai-Ling Campaign lasted 18 days, producing concrete results: killing and wounding over 1,000 Japanese and puppet troops, capturing 49 Japanese and 237 puppet troops, and leaving 1,419 casualties for the Eighth Route Army. The losses show the campaign was not a "clean victory." It was expensive. But the operational logic—disrupting a strengthened occupation zone, capturing strongholds, and forcing enemy reinforcements to concentrate—was consistent with the second phase's broader mission. Support for Lai-Ling came from the Jizhong Military Region through the Renqiu–Hejian–Dacheng–Suning Campaign from October 1 to October 20, simultaneously sabotaging the Cangshi, Deshi, Beining, and Jinpu railways. This is where "background and stakes" become especially clear. The Japanese, even when they defend in one area, have to move elsewhere to respond. When you attack multiple transportation lines and strongpoint zones at once, you prevent the enemy from solving one problem cleanly before moving to the next. You make the enemy chase multiple fires. After the Hundred Regiments Offensive began, Japanese forces in Jizhong moved west to reinforce in some cases, but most were tied down on important transportation lines. That relative weakening meant defenses in Jizhong's interior became weaker—creating space where a larger contest could occur. Jizhong decided to deploy 10 battalions totaling more than 8,500 men from the 18th, 23rd, and 30th Regiments across left wing, center, and right wing roles, fighting in the area. The plan was not only to attack; it was to manipulate where the Japanese had to respond. The two wing units would contain and draw Japanese forces away from the central Renhe Dasu zone, and then the central unit would break into that central area to open the situation. In other words: wings would pull; center would punch. The Renhe Dasu battle began on October 1, 1940. On the left wing, the 18th Regiment entered an area east of the Zhulong River and west of Hejian and Renqiu, capturing Lianjiazhuang, Dongguxian, and Liangcun between October 2 and October 6. By the night of October 7, Japanese troops at strongholds including Yuhuangmiao, Fenglebao, and Liushansi fled in panic—another reminder that once stronghold cohesion fractures, the enemy's ability to endure a second phase of pressure drops. On the right wing, the 30th Regiment operated with four battalions east of Dacheng and east of the Ziya River, capturing a series of strongholds including Liminju, Dengzhuangzi, Shigeju, Xiliuzhuang, Zangzhuangzi, and Chencun, while engaging in road-breaking and ditch digging. These actions show the campaign's "method," not just its target. Even when the opponent could be fought directly, sabotage and engineering measures could amplify the damage by reducing mobility and forcing time-consuming repairs. The central unit, the 23rd Regiment, had two battalions crossing the Hutuo River northward. On October 1, it ambushed more than 100 Japanese troops coming from Shangjialin to seize grain, killing more than 90 and capturing all their weapons. On October 9, it ambushed the enemy from Liugezhuang to Litan at Baimatang, annihilating 20 Japanese and puppet troops. These ambushes illustrate a second background principle: occupiers need sustenance and extraction operations, and those operations follow routes and patterns. By striking troops during foraging or supply-related movement, the offensive attacks not only the army but also the logic that keeps occupation armies fed and maintained. From October 15 to October 20, the second stage of those operations targeted the east and west banks of the Ziya River, leaving only a small force in the central Renhe River Great Suppression area. On the night of October 19, the central force captured Banjiehe and destroyed a bridge over the nearby Guyang River. On the night of October 16, the left wing captured Daqudi and the Renqiu Shimen Bridge, and on October 18 it captured the stronghold at Wangpan. A note in the operational description also indicates that the right wing faced a serious enemy situation and could not take major action during one segment—another reminder that even a planned operation cannot control all battlefield variables. What matters is whether the operation still meets its strategic purpose, not whether every segment goes perfectly. In the Battle of Renhe Dasu, Japanese and puppet losses were heavy: 805 killed or wounded, and 3 Japanese and 326 puppet troops captured. The campaign took 29 strongholds. The Jizhong Military Region suffered 573 casualties. Strategically, this battle contained enemy forces and effectively supported the Battle of Lai-Ling. Again, support here is not just "help in the same region," but redistribution of pressure: by forcing the enemy to allocate troops to Jizhong, Japanese defenders around Lai-Ling face more difficulty maintaining overall operational coherence. While Jin-Cha-Ji and Jizhong fought around Laiyuan and Lingqiu, a deeper pressure developed in the Taihang base region—through the Yuliao (Yu-Liao) Campaign, fought mainly by the 129th Division. The background stakes in the Yu-Liao theater were the highway route from Yangquan through Pingding, Heshun, Liaoxian to Yushe, described as the deepest penetration route through which the Japanese penetrated the Taihang base area. The Japanese tried to extend this road southwestward and connect it with the Baijin Railway through Wuxiang, aiming to split the Dahang area and deploy forces flexibly along the Zhengtai and Baijin lines. This was about strategic mobility and operational geometry. A road connection isn't only "transport"; it reshapes where the enemy can exert pressure and how quickly they can shift forces from one axis to another. The Yuliao section measured 45 kilometers and included eight strongholds: Yushe, Yanbi, Wangjing, Guantou, Pushang, Xiaolingdi, Shixia, and Liaoxian. These were guarded by the 13th Battalion of the Japanese 4th Independent Mixed Brigade. A line of strongholds along a highway is the occupier's version of a corridor defense: it enables them to keep movement inside a protected chain. If that chain is cut, movement becomes vulnerable and the "deep penetration route" turns into a dangerous liability. On September 22, 1940, the 129th Division issued basic orders: launch a surprise attack to eliminate the enemy from Yushe to Xiaolingdi, recapture strongholds, destroy the highway, and then press forward toward Liaoxian to recapture it when the opportunity arose. This is a textbook example of how the offensive combined surprise, seizure, and destruction. Surprise prevents the defenders from organizing a coordinated response. Seizure eliminates their nodes. Highway destruction prevents them from restoring their corridor quickly, forcing time and labor—exactly what the second phase wanted. The assault began on the night of September 23. On September 24, the left wing captured Yanbi and Wangjing, while the right wing captured Pushang and Xiaolingdi. By September 25, Yushe and Jucheng had also fallen, leaving only the enemy at Guantou on the Xiaolingdi–Yushe line still resisting. Concurrently, detachments attacked on related axes: the Pingliao Detachment captured Hanwang Town north of Liaoxian; the Qinbei Detachment sabotaged roads and attacked frequently, pinning Japanese forces on the Wuxiang and Baijin routes. On September 26, the 129th Division ordered part of the right wing to continue besieging the enemy at Guantou, while the main force and the left wing moved east to recapture Liaoxian and eliminate reinforcements. At dawn on September 27, the right wing attacked Shixia west of Liaoxian and captured it that night. On September 28, the left wing reached near Majiu in preparation for an attack on Liaoxian that night. Then battlefield logic reasserted itself: the Japanese did not sit idle once their corridor was threatened. Troops from Heshun and Wuxiang reinforced Liaoxian and Guantou respectively. The Eighth Route Army headquarters ordered the Liaoxian attack halted. Some forces were to contain the enemy advancing south from Heshun, while the main force moved to the Hongyatou and Guandinao areas to prepare to annihilate enemy reinforcements arriving from Wuxiang. This decision reveals a deeper stake: even if an army can seize targets, it must avoid exhaustion and must avoid allowing the enemy to convert a partial tactical loss into a larger opportunity. Headquarters essentially chose the operation's "survival path": shift from capturing more nodes to annihilating the reinforcements that would otherwise restore the corridor. Following these orders, the 129th Division attacked Guantou and took it at 24:00 on September 29. In the narrative description that follows, the enemy reinforcements moving through ambush terrain clashed with Communist formations in an engagement where aircraft coverage and terrain allowed the enemy to seize high ground and resist stubbornly. The battle lasted two days and one night, with heavy casualties on both sides. That is an important background lesson: the offensive could still destroy corridor nodes, but the enemy's ability to bring aircraft support and seize terrain meant that the "destroy and move on" approach wasn't always enough. Sometimes, momentum had to be re-channeled into another kind of contest—one closer to a blocking ambush and a battle of endurance. By the evening of October 1, more than 500 Japanese troops from Liaoxian broke through the right wing's blockade and approached near the left wing's command post. The left wing was ordered to withdraw from the battle. Headquarters then assessed that Japanese troops from Liaoxian and Wuxiang had joined and that more than 1,000 Japanese troops from Yangquan had reached Hanwang Town north of Liaoxian. Combined with the 129th Division's exhaustion and heavy casualties, headquarters decided to end the Yulin–Liaoxian Campaign—not because the offensive had no value, but because the risk of allowing the enemy to "sweep" the Taibei area could outweigh further gains. This termination decision illustrates a stake that is often overlooked: in insurgency-style campaigns, operational survival is part of success. The second phase did not merely chase targets; it sought to transform conditions so that the enemy would have to spend strength defending a failing network. If continuing a battle risks letting the enemy regroup into a larger counter-offensive that clears base zones, then ending becomes strategic. While the 129th Division wrestled with corridor defense around Liaoxian and Guantou, the 120th Division pursued a transport-centered strategy against the Tong-Pu Railway—because rail disruption was not a supporting detail; it was a main axis of pressure. On September 12, 1940, the 120th Division issued an action plan for the northern section of the Tongpu Railway, deciding to attack the Ningwu and Xinxian sections (with emphasis on the section between Ningwu and Daniudian) starting September 20. This timing shows planning designed to synchronize with broader operational pressure. Rail sabotage required engineering preparation and coordination across units, and the campaign sought to create disruption when the enemy would be most vulnerable to delayed reinforcement. On September 14, the 358th Brigade left its base west of Loufan and crossed the Jingle–Lanxian Highway to the north. It assembled at Majiagou on the 16th, then launched an attack on Toumaying using its 3rd Detachment (comprising the 7th and 8th Regiments and the special service battalion). At 24:00 on September 18, that detachment attacked Touma Camp, while the 7th and 8th Regiments attacked reinforcements. Fighting continued until the following morning when more than 40 Japanese soldiers from Ninghuabao reinforced Touma Camp. Once reinforcements reached Shanzhai Village, they were surrounded and annihilated. On September 20, around 200 Japanese soldiers from Yangquanling went to Liyan Village to counterattack. The 716th Regiment attacked at 14:00, and by dawn the next day, the enemy fled back to Yangquanling. These battles are more than local clashes. They serve the background logic of sabotage campaigns: before destroying rail infrastructure, you need to reduce the enemy's ability to respond instantly. Fighting reinforcements and counterattacks clears windows of time. Those windows can then be used to sabotage tracks, bridges, and related installations. If sabotage occurs under active reinforcement pressure, the enemy can repair quickly or trap the sabotage teams. If sabotage occurs after the enemy's response capacity is disrupted, repair becomes slower and the operational effects last longer. Parallel operations reinforced this logic. On the night of September 16, the Independent 1st Brigade crossed the Fen River east. On September 18, it was learned that more than 400 Japanese troops had attacked the Yanbei Detachment at Yangquanling but returned to Shangzhuang after failing to find them. The brigade then chose to encircle and annihilate the enemy rather than chase endlessly. The attack began at 13:00 on September 18 and lasted until early morning on September 19. The main force withdrew to sabotage the railway, while the remaining enemy retreated to Yangquanling. The engagement inflicted 105 casualties on the Independent 1st Brigade, while killing or wounding about 200 Japanese. Once the blocking threat was removed, units quickly moved into sabotage actions on the Tongpu Railway. Then sabotage itself proceeded systematically. On the night of September 22, the 4th Regiment of the 358th Brigade—attached to the division's engineering company—and the division's special service regiment advanced to the area between Duanjialing and Xuangang to sabotage several sections of the Tongpu Railway. At the same time, the 2nd Regiment attacked Qicun, and the 715th Regiment attacked Xinkou and Loubanzhai. On the night of September 23, the 2nd Regiment sabotaged the railway south of Xinkou while the 715th Regiment sabotaged it north of Xinkou. On the night of September 25, the 715th Regiment sabotaged between Daniudian and Xuangang. The Independent 2nd Brigade also sabotaged several railway sections between Shuoxian and Ningwu. After six days of sabotage operations, the 120th Division again caused the Tongpu Railway to be interrupted. The background stakes here are straightforward but huge: a rail interruption forces the occupier into repair work, escorts, and re-routing. During the second phase—when the Japanese were already under pressure across multiple theaters—the need to continuously handle repair reduces the capacity for offensive operations and for rapid reinforcement to any single contested point. It also slows their ability to respond to new threats as quickly as they would like. By connecting all these threads—Laiyuan and Lingqiu strongholds, Renhe Dasu containment and roadbreaking, the Yuliao highway corridor fight, and repeated Tongpu railway sabotage—you can see the deeper logic of the second phase. The campaign aimed to create a battlefield environment where Japanese forces could not enjoy stable mobility and where strongpoints could not function as a reliable cage. Transportation disruption isolated strongholds. Stronghold destruction and capture shrank the enemy's local control points. Highway and rail sabotage forced the Japanese to defend not only troops and walls, but also the infrastructure that enabled their coordination. That's why the second phase emphasizes disrupting transportation and destroying some strongholds penetrated deep into base areas. It wasn't simply "hit more places." It was a deliberate attempt to force the Japanese to abandon their preferred operational pattern: a networked system of strongpoints supported by transportation reliability. If that reliability breaks down, the occupier's "cage" becomes porous and unstable, and Communist base areas gain room to expand and persist. By early October, the second phase was winding down, while a third phase was developing: reinforced Japanese columns sought to engage and destroy 8RA units. Over the next two months, several fierce counterattacks occurred, and after that the Hundred Regiments campaign was considered to be finished. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go 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 after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. After earlier setbacks in the 1930s, the CCP sought national leadership in resistance while maintaining political room to maneuver within an uneasy arrangement with the KMT. By early 1940–1941, the strategy shifted toward "strongpoint" and transportation warfare: guerrilla actions were used to fracture Japanese defensive networks and sabotage logistics. Japanese attempts to consolidate territory, through local administration and security practices—often provoked the CCP's dual struggle, militarily and politically. As Japanese sweeps temporarily gave the CCP advantages, the situation forced rapid adaptation.

Ryan Ackerman did three combat tours with 1st Battalion 5th Marines, the invasion of Iraq in 2003, the first push into Fallujah in 2004, and a return to Ramadi. Then he came home. "It was a roller coaster ride without a seatbelt." In this conversation, Ryan tells Jeremy Stalnecker, his brother from the same battalion, what it took to come back from absolute rock bottom. The lying to himself. The running. The career on paper that was hiding everything underneath. And the moment he finally stopped. This is a conversation about what every man avoids until he can't anymore: the truth about who he is when the uniform comes off, the title fades, or the season of life ends. And why the only way back is through. LEARN MOREFirst Battalion 5th Marines Association: www.firstbattalionfifthmarinesassociation.org Hit Subscribe, share this episode with your community, and drop a comment on what landed hardest for you. Want more reinforcement? Subscribe to our newsletter, The Forward Edge, to go beyond the podcast and dig deeper into these topics and more: https://marchordie.substack.com Join us daily for encouragement and biblical truth with the Mighty Oaks Daily Devotional, you can sign up for reminders: https://mightyoaksprograms.org/daily-devotional or text JOIN to (832) 333-8794 Follow March or Die:https://instagram.com/MarchOrDie https://Facebook.com/MarchOrDieShow https://TikTok.com/March_or_Die Follow Jeremy:https://instagram.com/jeremystalnecker https://jeremystalnecker.com Follow Sean:https://instagram.com/seantopgunkennard https://youtube.com/@SeanTopGunKennard Discover more Christian podcasts at lifeaudio.com and inquire about advertising opportunities at lifeaudio.com/contact-us.

This week on The Rocky Road, Kevin sits down with Limerick's 15-1 southpaw Lee Reeves ahead of his May 30 return at Leopardstown Racecourse on a JB Promotions show.From the streets of Limerick to the lights of Madison Square Garden, Reeves' journey has been anything but ordinary. In a deeply honest conversation, he opens up about personal grief, finding purpose and the experiences that have shaped him inside and outside the ring.A right-hander who switched to southpaw as a teenager, Reeves has never taken the obvious route. He speaks about the night he spent 28 minutes in the dark waters of the River Shannon trying to save a life, his service with the 12th Battalion, his work as a mental health ambassador in suicide prevention and his drive to climb the professional ranks.Now managed by Jamie Conlan and David McGinley, Reeves is targeting big domestic clashes this August — and if Irish contenders stand between him and a world title shot, he is ready to go through them. An absorbing conversation with Irish boxing's ‘Mr Worldwide'.“I hope my opponents don't take me seriously... because they'll find out.”If you have been affected by anything discussed on this podcast, please contact the Samaritans on 1850 609 090 or Pieta House on 01 6010000. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Unfiltered Audio hat die beliebten Send-Effekte aus Battalion ausgekoppelt und als eigenständiges PlugIn veröffentlicht. Das Beste daran: BattleFX ist aktuell komplett gratis! Aber taugt das Tool auch abseits von Drums für harmonisches Material wie ein Piano? In diesem Hands-on-Test machen wir den Realitätscheck. Ich habe ein Piano-Riff eingespielt und teste jeden einzelnen Regler live im Video. https://www.unfilteredaudio.com/collections/plug-ins/products/battlefx Wenn ich Dir helfen konnte, freue ich mich über einen virtuellen Kaffee ;-) https://ko-fi.com/timheinrich Zum kostenlosen Cubase-Stammtisch anmelden: subscribepage.io/1D69jt Podcast: https://sounthcast.podbean.com/ https://sounth.de https://www.facebook.com/tim.heinrich.524/ https://www.instagram.com/tim_heinrich/ Facebook Gruppe 'Filmmusik komponieren & Sounddesign': https://www.facebook.com/groups/309751689699537 Perfekte Orchester-Mockup-Balance: Orchestra Guide https://www.sounth.de/orchestra-guide/ Dieses Video ist auch auf YouTube zu sehen: https://youtu.be/gRDN7NOVCqs

AJ Pasciuti grew up in Sunnyvale, California, the son of Italian and Argentine immigrants. After 9/11 reshaped his sense of purpose, he enlisted in the Marine Corps and was assigned to 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines, 1st Marine Division — one of the most storied units in the Corps — where he served as a rifleman and team leader. Over twenty-one years of service, he deployed three times to Iraq in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom, including the Battle of Fallujah. He led a Scout Sniper team that tracked and killed the most lethal enemy sniper in Iraq — a figure known as "Juba" — and recovered a stolen Marine sniper rifle in what was the first mission of its kind by an American service member since Vietnam. He went on to serve with 3rd Reconnaissance Battalion and 2nd Force Reconnaissance Company, deploying to Helmand Province, Afghanistan, during Operation Enduring Freedom and later with the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit. As an instructor, he taught at the Scout Sniper School at Camp Pendleton, created the Recon Team Leaders Course, and helped develop the Infantry Marine Course at School of Infantry–West, modernizing foundational training for enlisted Marines. Selected for the highly competitive Marine Gunner program, he became an Infantry Weapons Officer and rose to Chief Warrant Officer 3 before retiring from the Marine Corps in 2023. He holds a Master of Business for Veterans from the University of Southern California and a Master of Public Leadership from the University of San Francisco, and is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in Leadership Studies at the University of San Diego. He is the host of the Combat Story podcast and the author of Darkhorse: Harnessing Hidden Potential in War and Life, releasing May 19, 2026. Shawn Ryan Show Sponsors: Go to https://helixsleep.com/SRS for 27% Off Sitewide Find candidates who really want YOUR job on ZipRecruiter. Try it FOR FREE at https://ziprecruiter.com/SRS Our listeners get the Harry's Plus Trial Set for only $10 at https://www.Harrys.com/srs #Harryspod For a limited time, our listeners get 50% off FOR LIFE, Free Shipping, AND 3 Free Gifts at Mars Men at https://Mengotomars.com New customers can save 35% on your first month of Dose for Cholesterol by going to https://dosedaily.co/SRS or entering SRS at checkout. Go to https://meetfabric.com/SHAWN and apply today, risk-free. AJ Pasciuti Links: WEB - https://ajpasciuti.com/about IG - https://www.instagram.com/ajpasciuti YT - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCyApoJr-mNmdMNwdk22xEQ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Last time we spoke about the New Fourth Army Incident. Across the Second Sino-Japanese War, the CCP entered after the setbacks of the 1930s, seeking to become a national leader in resistance while remaining cautious toward the Nationalist government. The 1936 Xi'an Incident reshaped politics, and by August 1937 KMT–CCP agreements defined a working arrangement: the CCP acknowledged KMT leadership and integrated its forces, while still pursuing political space and autonomy. As the war progressed, the CCP focused on defining its relationship with the KMT and keeping operational independence during cooperation. Mao Zedong managed this alliance by promoting a united front against Japan, yet protecting CCP revolutionary goals and internal control. The establishment of the Eighth Route Army and New Fourth Army marked this military reorganization. Throughout, the CCP feared that KMT collaboration with Japan could enable a peace settlement that would undermine communist legitimacy and restrict the party's future authority thereafter.   #202 The One Hundred Regiment Offensive Phase One 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. Simultaneously with the friction between the Kuomintang (KMT) and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), the Japanese were also working to take control of—and extract value from—most of the territory they had nominally conquered. Treating these two processes separately—"friction" on the one hand and "consolidation" on the other—does violence to the real difficulty of the CCP's dilemma: the Party often had to confront both problems at the same time. At certain moments, the CCP was effectively forced to wage a two-front struggle. Even so, if the worst of the KMT–CCP friction had already eased by 1941, the most serious and painful challenges posed by Japanese consolidation were still ahead. To recover anything close to reality, the two timelines have to be read together and placed on top of one another. The Japanese understood that consolidation could not be postponed, because much of the land behind the furthest reaches of their army was still only weakly under their actual control. In some places, order could be restored by relatively direct methods: rebuilding local administration and policy authority; repairing transportation and communications; enrolling Chinese personnel—usually, as it turned out, people of dubious reliability—as police or militia under puppet regimes; registering the local population; and requiring identity cards. In true old-style Chinese fashion, collective security practices were used widely. One form was the familiar bao-jia system, in one variant or another. Another was the so-called "railway-cherishing village": a village would be assigned a nearby stretch of track, and if residents failed to "cherish" it, they were held collectively responsible. Yet early Japanese weakness in northern China is vividly illustrated by an incident in the summer of 1938. Three young foreigners—vacationing from teaching in Peiping (Beijing)—were curious about events and about what people were doing. They loaded their bicycles on a southbound train, got off at Baoding, and rode west until they ran into Eighth Route Army detachments. In the early period of the war, commanders generally wanted to rely on more mobile forms of warfare. Mao, however, insisted on a strategy of de-escalation and dispersion: breaking the 8RA and New Fourth Army into small units as nuclei for combat, recruitment, political work, and base-area construction. Under this approach, few engagements could be truly dramatic in scale, and most were constrained by the need to survive. Each skirmish had to be carefully planned. The CCP would use local intelligence and the element of surprise so that a detachment could strike and withdraw before its limited ammunition ran out or before enemy reinforcements arrived. Small Japanese patrols and puppet units could be ambushed not only to seize weapons and other material, but also to inflict casualties. Active collaborators, or Japanese-sponsored administrative personnel, could be assassinated. Above all, Communist action aimed to disrupt transportation: mining roads; cutting down telegraph poles, stealing wire, and cutting rail lines; sabotaging rolling stock; and, at times, carrying off steel rails so that primitive arsenals could be supplied. Attempting derailments was also part of the effort. Destroying a bridge or a locomotive counted as a major achievement. Both the Communists and the Japanese understood that these tactics did not decisively shift the overall strategic balance. Still, they worked at other levels. For the Japanese, the result was a constant series of small wounds—painful, bleeding, and potentially infectious. Few areas in the countryside felt truly safe. Japanese field commanders documented growing frustration as they tried to eliminate resistance, restore administration, collect taxes, and prepare for more systematic and effective economic exploitation of conquered territory. Guerrilla warfare against the Japanese cannot be judged only in conventional battle terms—numbers of engagements, casualties, or territory occupied. It had to be evaluated politically and psychologically as well, exactly as Mao repeatedly emphasized. Since the CCP's wartime legitimacy depended on its patriotic claims, enough fighting had to be carried out to maintain credibility. Moreover, military success mattered for mobilizing the "basic masses," persuading wavering people to keep an open mind, and neutralizing opposition. As the logic put it, it was not that people always chose the side that was winning, but that few would ever join a side they believed was losing. One experienced cadre described the effect this way: Among the guerrilla units… there is a saying that "victory decides everything." No matter how hard it has been to recruit troops, supply the army, raise the masses' anti-Japanese fervor or win over the masses' sympathy, after a victory in battle the masses fall all over themselves to send us flour, steamed bread, meat, and vegetables. The masses' pessimistic and defeatist psychology is broken down, and many new guerrilla soldiers swarm in. But once the Japanese began to demand a heavy price for every engagement—whether the Communists won or not—this attitude began to change. In North and Central China, the Japanese earliest pacification sweeps created comparatively little trouble for the CCP. At first, the Japanese made few distinctions among Chinese forces. They simply tried to mop up or disperse them without regard to character. Over time, however, they realized that these sweeps actually made it easier for the CCP to expand. By the second half of 1939, Japanese methods became more discriminating. Chinese non-Communist forces would step aside while the Japanese hunted specifically for the 8RA, the N4A, and their local affiliates. The Japanese also made more direct appeals to non-Communist forces. According to Japanese army statistics, during the eighteen months from mid-1939 to late 1940, around 70,000 men from more or less regular Nationalist units in North China alone went over to the Japanese. The Japanese also reached informal "understandings" with several regional commanders whose forces together might have totaled as many as 300,000 men. This, of course, corresponded to what the CCP denounced as "crooked-line patriotism"—the "crooked-line" collaboration that preserved certain units so they could be used in future anti-Communist operations. When pacification efforts were intensified from late 1939 and throughout 1940, differences also appeared in the strategies Japanese armies used in North versus Central China. In North China, the approach relied heavily on military means, with political tactics limited largely to recruiting collaborators. In Central China, Japanese authorities did not hesitate to use military force, but they also attempted to supplement it with more comprehensive political and economic solutions by setting up tightly controlled "model peace zones." Although both approaches ultimately failed, they created enormous difficulties for Chinese Communists—until, in 1943, the Japanese were forced to ease off because the Pacific War against the United States became too burdensome. Careful reading of detailed intra-party documents suggests that repression also demobilized peasant support and terrorized populations into apathy, grudging acquiescence, or even active collaboration with the Japanese. In a locality already reduced from consolidated base status to guerrilla status, capacity and will were often too weak to administer complex reforms in systematic fashion. In other words, passive survival—defensive survival—was at least as important as what lay behind the heroic public images the Party projected. Systematic pacification in North China in late 1939 and 1940 radiated outward. It moved from areas held more or less firmly by the Japanese and their puppets into guerrilla and contested zones. The ultimate objective was to crush resistance or render it ineffective. The method was first to sweep the area clear of anti-Japanese elements, and then to establish a chain of interconnected strongpoints that could quickly reinforce one another. After that, puppet government would be expanded so it could take increasing responsibility for civil administration and "pacification maintenance," while Japanese forces repeated the initial steps further outward into contested territory. Violence was used selectively against individuals, groups, or villages accused of acts of resistance. This selective violence aimed to deter active participation in CCP-led programs, deprive Communist forces of a population willing to shelter them, and persuade informers to come forward. That was, at least, the theory of the strategy. In practice, the basic framework of the strategy depended on the main transport lines. Railways and roads—if properly fortified and protected—could separate resistance forces from one another and deny them one of their most effective weapons: mobility. These "cage" tactics (chiyu-lung, "jiu-lung") made it possible to enlarge pacified areas by "nibbling" outward, "as a silkworm feeds on mulberry leaves" (ts'an-shih). At the same time, the approach aimed to exploit North China's economy more effectively. To this end, the Japanese worked to improve and extend both railway and road networks. When the war began, in Shanxi the Cheng-Tai (Shijiazhuang–Taiyuan) and Tong-Pu (Datong–Tongguan) lines were metre-gauge, incompatible with the standard-gauge lines elsewhere in China—part of Yan Xishan's design to prevent deeper penetration into his province. By the end of 1939, the Japanese used forced labor to convert both lines to standard gauge. One benefit was the easier transportation of high-quality anthracite coal from the Qingxing mines (on the Cheng-Tai line) to industrial users in North China and Manchukuo. Of the newly constructed roads and railway lines, the most important was the Te-Shih line—from Dezhou in northeastern Shandong to Shijiazhuang. Construction began in June 1940 and finished in November, connecting the Tianjin–Pukou, Beiping–Hankou, and Cheng-Tai lines. This made it easier to move troops and transport raw cotton. Once the Te–Shih link was completed, the Japanese had direct connections between the point of their furthest advance at the elbow of the Yellow River and all major cities of North China, and beyond to Manchukuo. Communist sources began to speak of a "transportation war," noting with concern the moats and ditches, the blockhouses, and the frequent patrols protecting the lines. Both militarily and economically, these measures weighed heavily on forces led by the Communists in North China and on the populations under their control—especially the plains of central and eastern Hebei. One indicator of effectiveness was the rapid decline in "acts of sabotage" against North China railways in 1939 and the first half of 1940. A cadre in Jin-Cha-Ji reported in mid-1940: "The enemy has adopted a blockhouse policy, like that of the Jiangxi Soviet. They are spread like a constellation. In central Hebei alone, there are about 500, separated by one to three miles." Normal trading patterns were disrupted as Japanese or puppet occupiers took over administrative and commercial centers, and peasants found themselves caught between regulations imposed by the Communists on one side and those enforced by the other side. Finally, landlords, moneylenders, loafers, bandits—everyone who felt damaged by the new order inside base areas—could use pacification programs to try to recover influence or simply take revenge. Some became informers. After 8RA and local units were driven away, they could kill remaining cadres or activists and settle scores with the peasants who had supported them. Until the "first anti-Communist upsurge" was defeated, local elites and other disaffected elements might also seek support from Nationalists. It was even possible for an armed band to operate for several months inside consolidated regions of the CCP base, killing cadres as it went. Peng Dehuai later recalled this period in a way that underscored how pressure translated into wavering and collapse. Under the enemy's brutal pressure, in some districts the masses even hesitated or capitulated. From March to July 1940, large areas of the North China base were reduced to guerrilla regions. Before the "Cage-bursting battle",, they controlled only two county seats: Pingxun in the Taihang mountains and Pien-kuan in northwest Shanxi. Masses who previously had one set of obligations now had two—one toward the anti-Japanese regime and one toward the puppet regime. The situation in North China had not yet become a full crisis, but it was certainly serious. Action was needed to regain initiative. On 22 July 1940, Zhu De, Commander-in-Chief of the Eighth Route Army, Peng Dehuai Deputy Commander-in-Chief, and Zuo Quan Deputy Chief of Staff jointly issued the Preliminary Battle Order, laying out the strategic goals for the coming operation. The order stated: "To respond to the enemy's 'prison cage policy,' obstruct its advance toward Xi'an, create favorable conditions in the North China theater, and strike at the national resistance initiative, we have decided to take advantage of the concealment provided by tall summer millet and the rainy season to carry out a large-scale sabotage operation on the Shijiazhuang–Taiyuan railway (Zheng–Tai Line)." It required the participation of at least 22 regiments from the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region, the 129th Division, and the 120th Division. The main objective was to "completely destroy key points along the Zheng–Tai Line" and to "cut the railway for a prolonged period." On 8 August, the headquarters of the Eighth Route Army issued the Operational Battle Order, further clarifying how forces would be deployed. The Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region was assigned to attack the eastern section of the Zheng–Tai Railway (from Niangzi Pass to Shijiazhuang). The 129th Division was assigned the western section (from Niangzi Pass to Yuci). The 120th Division was tasked with targeting the northern segment of the Tongpu Railway and the Fen–Li Highway. The order also required all troops to begin combat operations on 20 August, and emphasized that "the success of the campaign should be assessed primarily by the extent of damage inflicted on the Zheng–Tai Line." The operation was prepared under strict secrecy. Various elements of the Eighth Route Army conducted thorough preparations before the campaign. Reconnaissance teams, hidden and protected with the help of local villagers, penetrated deep into areas near the Shijiazhuang–Taiyuan railway to carefully map Japanese strongholds, enemy troop dispositions, and local terrain. At the same time, both military and civilian communities mobilized to stockpile grain, ammunition, and tools needed for railway sabotage; blacksmiths were organized to manufacture crowbars, pickaxes, and other essential equipment. Specialized military training covered demolition methods and techniques for dismantling railways, including tactics such as heating and bending steel rails. Civilian mobilization played a crucial role: militia and support teams took on tasks such as transport, medical aid, and coordination with military units. In Central Shanxi alone, more than 10,000 militia members were mobilized. The Eighth Route Army headquarters repeatedly stressed the need for operational confidentiality, stating: "Before the battle begins, the plan must remain strictly classified; until preparations are completed, the campaign objective may be disclosed only to brigade-level commanders." With the cover of dense summer millet, troops secretly assembled within their designated operational areas. Before the battle, the Japanese North China Area Army estimated the strength of the communist regular forces at about 88,000 men in December 1939. Two years later, they revised the estimate to 140,000. On the eve of the battle, communist forces had grown to between 200,000 and 400,000 men, organized in 105 regiments. By 1940, the growth had become so significant that Zhu De ordered a coordinated offensive by most of the communist regular units—46 regiments from the 115th Division, 47 from the 129th, and 22 from the 120th—against Japanese-held cities and the railway lines that connected them. According to the Communist Party's official statement, the battle began on 20 August.  On August 20, 1940, the rain didn't stop the campaign—it changed the battlefield. It slowed movement, blurred distance, and turned rivers and muddy roads into obstacles that could just as easily trap your own men as your enemy's. Along the districts bordering the Zhengtai Railway, the Eighth Route Army still moved, slipping through valleys and river crossings, bypassing Japanese posts, and positioning forces on both sides of the line as night settled in. By dark, the plan became a coordinated strike meant to hit the enemy before they could properly react. Across the entire Zhengtai Railway, attacks went out with timing designed to disorient Japanese defenders—so that their "first realization" arrived only after the railway itself was already being attacked and the window to respond effectively had slipped away.   A key portion of that strike fell to the right column of the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region, centered on the 5th and 19th Regiments, with the mission of sabotaging the Niangziguan to Luanliu section. At 20:00 on August 20, part of the 5th Regiment infiltrated Niangziguan Village for the first time, overwhelmed the puppet troops stationed there, and seized the village by dawn. After that opening cut, the main force moved in to cover the engineers, destroy enemy fortifications, and blow up the Guandong Railway Bridge. When the sabotage was done, they withdrew from Niangziguan on their own initiative, leaving the enemy to deal with the destruction rather than being pulled into a long, grinding engagement.   That same night, at Mohe Beach along the Zhengtai line, another action unfolded. The 1st Company of the 1st Battalion of the 5th Regiment attacked the station and was immediately met with a counterattack by Japanese forces. By dawn on August 21, the company withdrew—an adjustment, not defeat—and then attacked again the same night after crossing the Mian River. This time the enemy retreated into barracks to resist more stubbornly, with nearly 1,000 Japanese troops holding Mohe Beach. Heavy rain had swollen the river and made foot crossing nearly impossible, but the attackers seized the village west of the station and held it. On August 22 afternoon, more than 400 Japanese troops counterattacked; the main force of the 5th Regiment hit from the north bank of the Mian River in a fire assault, killing more than 50 before withdrawing the 1st Company out of the fighting. The 19th Regiment, meanwhile, took Jucheng and Irrang stations, tightening the pressure on the railway corridor.   On August 23, 1940, the 5th Regiment recaptured Niangziguan and blew up the stone bridge east of the village, destroying the railway segment between Chengjialongdi and Mohetan. That night the 19th Regiment stormed Yirang Station and blew up the water tower and the railway, ensuring the disruption would not be temporary. From August 24 to 27, bridges near Yanhui—stone and wooden—were destroyed again and again. Under that continuous pressure, beginning on August 25, Japanese transportation along the Niangziguan to Luanliu section of the Zhengtai Road was cut off completely. Strongholds were left to fight more or less alone, unable to coordinate or move supplies the way they normally would.   While the right column worked the railway, other forces hit the system from different angles. The Central Column of the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region—comprised of the 2nd, 3rd, and 16th Regiments—took responsibility for sabotaging the Zhengtai Road segment from Niangziguan to Weishui and for striking the Jingxing Coal Mine area. On the night of August 20, the 3rd Regiment launched coordinated attacks on the Gangtou old mine and the Dongwangshe new mine of Jingxing, and with miners assisting, the 1st Battalion quickly stormed the new mine and annihilated part of the enemy garrison. The rest withdrew into bunkers, resisting as best they could. By the afternoon of the next day, the entire enemy force had been wiped out. Afterward, major buildings in the mining area were destroyed and most materials were removed so that the mine could not resume production for more than six months. The 3rd Regiment also captured Jiazhuang, reinforcing the idea that sabotage here meant disabling not just lines of movement, but also the flow of resources.   Elsewhere, Japanese positions were disrupted in smaller, targeted strikes that still added up. After the Japanese stronghold at Nanzheng destroyed the railway between Nanzheng and Weishui, the 2nd Regiment took the eastern end fortress of the Faluling Railway Bridge, covered the engineers as they blew up a section of the bridge, and briefly occupied Caizhuang. The 2nd Battalion of the 16th Regiment attacked Beiyu on the night of August 20, annihilating most defenders, and on August 21 it covered the engineers to destroy the Beiyu Stone Bridge. Other units struck Didu and annihilated most defenders in Nanyu. By August 24, the Central Column had learned that more than 1,000 Japanese troops were stationed in Jingxing County, with additional reinforcements moving toward Nanyu and Didu. Their response was practical: detachments were assigned to watch and harass along the railway while the main force gathered in mobile positions—waiting for the next opening rather than charging blindly into concentrated strength.   Meanwhile, the left column of the Jin-Cha-Ji effort—from the 2nd Regiment of the Jizhong Garrison Brigade, the Military Region Special Service Regiment, and the Pingjinghuo Detachment—focused on sabotage from Weishui to Shijiazhuang. On the night of August 20, the Pingjinghuo Detachment attacked Yanfeng and blew up the railway. The Special Service Regiment moved with massed efforts as they destroyed power lines and highways from Yanfeng to Weizhou. On the night of August 22, the Special Service Regiment attacked Shang'an Station. On August 23, the 2nd Regiment stormed Touquan Station, captured two fortresses, then withdrew from the railway line; from August 25 to 27, they destroyed the highway connecting Pingshan, Huolu, Weishui, and Yanfeng.   While the main blow was falling along the Zhengtai Railway, the 129th Division was assigned raids on the western section. That area included the Japanese Independent Mixed Brigade No. 4 headquarters, a coal mine base at Yangquan, and support from Independent Mixed Brigade No. 9 from Yuci. These raids weren't only about destruction—they were meant to disorient, to create confusion over where the main pressure truly was. After the general offensive began at 20:00 on August 20, five companies of the 16th Regiment attacked Lujiazhuang Station and captured bunkers. Two guerrilla-operating companies in Yuci worked with engineers to destroy bridges between Lujiazhuang and Duanting. The 38th Regiment surprised Shanghu and Heshangzu stations, while the 25th Regiment captured Mashou Station and pushed Japanese troops toward Shouyang. The division's right-wing sabotage unit—28th and 30th Regiments of the newly formed 10th Brigade—took on sabotage on the Yangquan–Shouyang section, splitting routes on the night of August 20 to attack stations like Langyu, Zhangjing, Qinquan, and then striking additional positions with the 30th Regiment. Across that window, stations and strongholds such as Sangzhang, Yanzigou, Langyu, and Qinquan were taken, iron bridges were destroyed, and additional stations including Potou, Xinzhuang, Saiyu, Tielugou, Xiaozhuang, and Zhangzhuang were seized or disrupted.   As the western sabotage deepened, Japanese response hardened—but the ability to coordinate weakened. With the Zhengtai line sabotaged, the western section came under the 129th Division's control except for a few places such as Shouyang. Fierce assaults forced Japanese forces to lose contact with each other within days. Strongholds were attacked, besieged, and then annihilated as communication and coordination broke down. The 129th Division mobilized local people to destroy railway facilities, stations, and installations using demolition, burning, and flooding, moving materials so the railway and related infrastructure were effectively erased rather than merely damaged.   To cover these operations, the division occupied Shinaoshan with the 14th Regiment of the general reserve. Starting the morning of August 21, Japanese forces concentrated in Yangquan and attacked Shinaoshan daily. Enemy strength reportedly rose from more than 200 to more than 600, supported by bombing and strafing and the release of poison. The 14th Regiment held out until August 25, repelling repeated attacks, and by August 26 additional pressure came again as reinforcements increased. After six days and nights—and the annihilation of more than 400 enemy soldiers—the 14th Regiment withdrew from the main peak of Shinaoshan, continuing to contain the Japanese with smaller detachments while the main force shifted to another mission.   The first phase of sabotage had succeeded, but the campaign did not allow complacency. The Japanese strengthened their presence along the railway and launched frequent counterattacks, and Japanese divisions in southern Shanxi—including the 36th, 37th, and 41st—prepared to reinforce from the north. On August 26, the Eighth Route Army Headquarters issued instructions for a second phase: continue breaking through the road, concentrate superior forces, and annihilate Japanese units smaller than a battalion that were attacking or reinforcing. In line with that guidance, the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region ordered the Jin-You Column to keep breaking through the road on August 27 for one or two days, while the 129th Division alternated daily in breaking through. Under sustained pressure, the western section of the Zhengtai Road was basically destroyed; transportation was effectively cut off except for a few towns such as Shouyang and Yangquan.   On September 2, orders were issued to conclude the Zhengtai Campaign starting from the 3rd and shift forces according to the second-step plan. As the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region launched the Mengbei Campaign, the 129th Division shifted toward attacking invading Japanese forces, while other tasks—such as attacking the He-Liao Highway and recovering cities of He and Liao—were left for later. Beginning September 2, the Military Region deployed the 2nd, 5th, 16th, and 19th Regiments toward areas north of Meng County and Shouyang to recapture enemy strongholds. With the railway sabotaged, the Japanese main force north of Meng County shifted south to reinforce, weakening garrisons and spreading panic among the strongholds. As fierce offensives intensified, garrison troops began to waver. By the afternoon of September 5, Japanese troops at Xiashe, supported by troops from Shangshe, retreated to Shangshe and fled toward Meng County overnight. That night, the 19th Regiment arrived near Shangshe and, together with the Special Service Battalion of the 2nd Military Sub-district, pursued. The 1st Battalion of the 19th Regiment advanced into Shenquan and Putian to cut off the retreat route. By 9:00 AM on September 6 the enemy was surrounded in Xingdao Village, and after five hours of intense fighting most forces were annihilated. Survivors fled east to Luolizhang Mountain, only to be surrounded again by the 19th, 5th, and 16th Regiments. By the night of September 9, most Japanese forces had been wiped out, though more than 40 men broke through in dense fog and escaped into Meng County.   The siege continued through bitter episodes involving attacks and withdrawals under poison, with both sides paying heavily for every moment of progress. Eventually, on September 11, Japanese troops in Xiyan escaped back to Meng County, helped by more than 200 Japanese already present there. Meanwhile, the Japanese attempted to counter the pressure: on September 4 they sent more than 2,000 troops to reinforce Meng County and began a counterattack. On September 10, the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region ordered the 19th and 5th Regiments to remain east and north of Meng County to coordinate with the 129th and 120th Divisions, while the rest prepared for new missions.   As fighting intensified around Zhengtai and Meng County, a parallel pressure campaign unfolded. To contain Eighth Route Army sabotage along Zhengtai, the Japanese assembled battalions from Independent Mixed 4th and 9th Brigades to strike the 129th Division. In response, the 120th Division began large-scale sabotage against the Tongpu Railway and major highways in northwestern Shanxi starting 20:00 on August 20. They captured enemy strongholds along rail and road lines, striking major bases such as Kangjiahui on the Xinjing Highway, where more than 50 Japanese and puppet troops were stationed, and also attacking other areas like Shishen, Lizhen, and Jingle. Ambushes were set to annihilate reinforcements arriving from different directions, and at 00:30 on August 21 the 2nd Battalion of the 4th Regiment attacked Kangjiahui and annihilated the defenders by dawn. Reinforcements arriving in cars were destroyed, and subsequent actions continued to expand the disruption.   Over more than 180 battles in northwestern Shanxi, the 120th Division annihilated more than 800 Japanese and puppet troops and captured or destroyed stations and strongholds including Kangjiahui, Yangfangkou, Pingshe, and Longquan. By disrupting the Tongpu Railway and transportation along the Xinjing, Taifen, and Fenli highways, they tied down Japanese forces and made it harder to reinforce Zhengtai. In practical terms, this meant the first phase of the Hundred Regiments Offensive—lasting about three weeks—ended on September 10 with major railway lines and motor roads attacked repeatedly. Roadbeds, bridges, switching yards, and installations were hit heavily; at the Qingxing coal mines, facilities were destroyed and production was halted for nearly a year.   By the end of that first phase, the campaign's logic had become clearer: once the Japanese leaned more heavily on a "cage-and-strongpoint" defense system, the same transport network that had supported their defense became less secure. When rail and road were repeatedly disrupted, strongpoints became more vulnerable—especially if Japanese units pulled out nearby detachments to respond to sabotage. So the campaign shifted from breaking transportation to attacking blockhouses and other strongpoints in contested areas, aiming to force Japanese forces back into well-defended garrisons and leave the countryside again contested by Communist forces. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go 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 after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. From 20 August 1940, under secrecy and rain, units of the 8th Route Army infiltrated stations, captured villages, destroyed bridges, power lines, roads, mines, and stations across multiple columns. By early September the Zhengtai and related Tongpu transport routes were repeatedly severed, forcing Japanese troops to fight isolated strongpoints and hindering reinforcement. 

In this episode, Kenneth Riddle from the FMCSA breaks down the massive shift from legacy frameworks to the brand-new MOTUS registration system and the steps you need to take to protect your business from the rising tide of freight fraud! We're talking straight about how identity verification through IDEMIA and enhanced business validation are leveling the playing field for legitimate carriers and brokers. Whether you're navigating cargo securement audits or trying to outpace chameleon carriers, this session is packed with the straightforward insights you need to keep your fleet moving and protected! To learn more about the new MOTUS registration system, visit https://www.fmcsa.dot.gov/registration/resources-hub.     About Kenneth Riddle Ken Riddle was commissioned in the Army as a second lieutenant of Armor in 1985 from The Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina.  From 1985 to 2015, he served at just about every echelon in the United States Army, achieving the rank of Colonel and commanding at the Company, Battalion, and Brigade levels.  His assignments included 3 overseas tours and combat deployments to Bosnia, Iraq, and Afghanistan.  Ken is currently serving as the Director for the Office of Registration for the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration (FMCSA) within the Department of Transportation.  Ken has been with FMCSA for the past 11 years. His civilian education includes a Bachelor of Science Degree in Business Administration from The Citadel, a Master's Degree in Business Administration from Syracuse University, and a Master of Science Degree in National Security Strategy from the National War College.  

To meet the demands of modern, high-intensity warfare, the U.S. Army Reserve must remake itself --"Army Reserve 4.0"-- is the finding of an Army War College integrated research project. Steve Trynosky discussed this study with authors Kiona Pritchard, Brandon Collins, and Colleen Vermeulen. They found the Army Reserve is in a "readiness trap" caused by spreading insufficient infrastructure and budget across too many formations. To address this, the team proposes a tiered readiness model: "Ready Now" for immediate response, "Expand Tomorrow" for operational depth, and "Endure Always" for a long-term strategic reserve. Beyond structural changes, the authors advocate for a "unified culture" through increased cross-pollination, such as embedding Reserve officers in active-duty units and vice versa. By offering flexible service options tailored to diverse civilian lifestyles, the Army Reserve can better retain top talent and remain an indispensable partner to the joint force in future peer conflicts. One of the things that we see here at the Army War College and out across the broader force—it's considered okay as an active duty officer to not be familiar with the reserve component. And that's a problem because the reserve components, plural, make up roughly 50% of the force. Brandon Collins is an Army lieutenant colonel and was commissioned as a Military Intelligence Officer in 2006 from Officer Candidate School and has held an array of assignments in both the Regular Army and Army Reserve, to include, most recently, CJ2X Director for Combined Joint Task Force-OIR in Baghdad, Iraq. LTC Collins holds a Juris Doctor from South Texas College of Law – Houston; a Master's Degree in Global and International Studies from the University of Kansas, and a Bachelor's Degree in Communications from Stephen F. Austin State University. He is a member of the AY26 Resident Course at the U.S. Army War College. Kiona Pritchard is a colonel and an Army Nurse Corps Officer commissioned in 2005 through the Army ROTC Green to Gold Program following several years of active duty enlisted service. She began her career in the Regular Army and later transferred to the Army Reserve becoming a Nurse Practitioner. COL Pritchard has held a variety of command, clinical, and staff assignments, most recently as Commander of the 10th Battalion, 108th Regiment, an Army Reserve instructor unit for medical non-commissioned officer professional military education and enlisted medical MOS qualification courses. Kiona holds a Master of Science in Nursing from the University of Cincinnati and Bachelor of Science in Nursing from the University of Portland. She is a member of the AY26 Resident Course at the U.S. Army War College. Colleen Vermeulen is a colonel who earned her commission as an Army Engineer Officer from ROTC in 2004. She has held a diverse range of command and staff assignments in both the Regular Army and Army Reserve, to include, Reserve Command Engineer for Special Operations Command South and Commander, 3rd Battalion, 330th Infantry Regiment, a unique Army Reserve unit missioned to deliver Infantry One Station Unit Training. COL Vermeulen holds both a Master of Divinity and Master of Nonprofit Administration from the University of Notre Dame as well as a Bachelor of Arts in Government from Cornell University. She is a member of the AY26 Resident Course at the U.S. Army War College. Stephen Trynosky is the John Parker Chair of Reserve Component Studies at the U.S. Army War College and earned his commission as a Medical Service Corps Officer from ROTC in 1998.  He has held a diverse range of command and staff assignments in both the Regular Army and Army Reserve, to include, most recently, Senior Advisor, Professional Military Education, Office of the Secretary of War; and Commander, 993rd Medical Detachment (Veterinary Service Support). COL Trynosky holds both Juris Doctor and Master of Public Health degrees from the State University of New York at Buffalo, as well as a Master of Military Art and Science from the U.S. Army School of Advanced Military Studies and a BA in history from Saint Peter's College. He is a graduate of the AY23 Resident Course at the U.S. Army War College. Photo Credit: Created by Gemini

Jeremy Zakis describes a sinister "battalion" of over one hundred cockatoos that have occupied the pine trees around his home in a formation reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. These large, white-crested birds are portrayed as destructive villains that show dominance by stripping tree branches and staring down residents. Jeremy recounts how they used their powerful beaks to snap brass cables on his bird feeder and expresses concern they may begin pulling nails out of his roof. Unlike other birds, these cockatoos appear to be calling for reinforcements to conduct a "full frontal assault" on the yard. (4/4)

Step into one of the most chaotic and little-known battles of the First World War in 1916 with this episode of The Old Front Line, as we explore the Battle of the St Eloi Craters (March–April 1916).Fought in the shattered landscape south of Ypres, this battle saw the devastating use of underground mines transform the battlefield into a nightmarish maze of mud-filled craters. We examine how British tunnelling companies detonated massive charges beneath German lines, and how the newly arrived Canadian Corps struggled to hold and understand the ground they had inherited.At the heart of this episode are powerful first-hand accounts. We hear the experiences of Donald Fraser, whose vivid testimony captures the confusion and brutality of crater fighting, and Harold McGill, medical officer with the 31st Battalion, who provides a harrowing insight into the challenges of treating the wounded in such extreme conditions.Main Image: Actions of St. Eloi Craters. Troops of the Northumberland Fusiliers, 3rd Division, wearing German helmets and gas masks captured at St. Eloi, 27th March 1916. Image taken by Ernest Brooks (IWM Q494)Sign up for the free podcast newsletter here: Old Front Line Bulletin.You can order Old Front Line Merch via The Old Front Line Shop.Got a question about this episode or any others? Drop your question into the Old Front Line Discord Server or email the podcast.Send us Fan MailSupport the show

In this episode of Raven Conversations, we sit down with Chief Warrant Officer 3 Jarin Trakel and 1st Sgt. Sandy Brainard, 1st Battalion, 168th General Support Aviation, Washington Army National Guard. Jarin and Sandy share their story about serving together for 17 years in the Aviation community from active duty to the Washington National Guard.

The Joint Readiness Training Center is pleased to present the one-hundredth-and-fifty-third episode to air on ‘The Crucible - The JRTC Experience.' Hosted by MAJ Amy Beatty, the G-4 Senior Sustainment Planner from Plans / Exercise Maneuver Control Task Force on behalf of the Commander of Ops Group (COG). Today's guest is the Battalion Commander for the 626th Light Support Battalion, LTC Adam DiGiovanni.   The 626th Light Support Battalion (LSB), formerly the 626th Brigade Support Battalion (BSB), serves as the sustainment backbone of the 3rd Mobile Brigade Combat Team “Rakkasan,” 101st Airborne Division (Air Assault). Carrying the Hollywood call-sign “Assurgam”—Latin for “I Rise Up”—the battalion traces its lineage through decades of airborne and air assault sustainment operations supporting the division across combat deployments, contingency operations, and large-scale training exercises. As part of the Army's transition from the legacy BSB structure to the modern LSB construct, the battalion now synchronizes sustainment operations across dispersed formations through combat logistics companies (CLCs), while remaining directly integrated with the brigade's maneuver fight and closely linked with division sustainment assets. Today, the 626th LSB continues to adapt for large scale combat operations, providing the Rakkasans with the logistics, maintenance, medical, and distribution support necessary to fight and win in contested, multi-domain environments.   This episode focuses on how the light support battalion (LSB) operates within the mobile brigade combat team under the Army's new mobile brigade force structure, and the opportunities and challenges that come with replacing the legacy brigade support battalion (BSB) and forward support companies (FSCs). The discussion highlights how the transition to CLCs fundamentally changes sustainment relationships inside the brigade, requiring sustainers to balance centralized control with direct support to maneuver battalions. Leaders emphasize that the LSB is no longer simply a logistics provider in the rear, but a command-and-control headquarters responsible for synchronizing sustainment, protection, maintenance, distribution, and operational reach across dispersed formations in a contested environment. The episode explores how sustainers must now integrate more deliberately into MDMP, LOGSYNCs, targeting cycles, and current operations while managing significantly smaller formations and reduced manpower.    The conversation also examines how the new CLC construct changes the relationship between maneuver and sustainment units at echelon. Rather than functioning as permanently tied FSCs, the CLCs remain part of the LSB and operate in direct support relationships that allow the battalion commander to mass sustainment capability where needed most. Leaders discuss the cultural adjustments required on both the maneuver and sustainment sides, the importance of building trust between battalion commanders and logisticians, and the difficulty of sustaining operations with extremely small distribution platoons. Additional topics include sustainment at distance, sustainment culmination, base cluster operations, and the challenge of maintaining command and control while supporting deep and distributed operations. Ultimately, the episode reinforces that the success of the modern brigade depends on an LSB capable of synchronizing sustainment across the battlefield while remaining agile, survivable, and fully integrated into brigade operations.    Part of S05 “Beans, Bullets, Band-Aids, Batteries, Water, & Fuel” series.   For additional information and insights from this episode, please check-out our Instagram page @the_jrtc_crucible_podcast.   Be sure to follow us on social media to keep up with the latest warfighting TTPs learned through the crucible that is the Joint Readiness Training Center.   Follow us by going to: https://linktr.ee/jrtc and then selecting your preferred podcast format.   Again, we'd like to thank our guests for participating. Don't forget to like, subscribe, and review us wherever you listen or watch your podcasts — and be sure to stay tuned for more in the near future.   “The Crucible – The JRTC Experience” is a product of the Joint Readiness Training Center.

On this Zero Limits Podcast host Matty Morris chats with Eddie Robertson 2nd Commando Regiment & Private Security Contractor Born in Albury in 1979, Eddie Robertson forged a career through some of the most demanding environments in modern military history. From joining the Australian Army Reserve in 1997 and serving with the 2nd Commando Company and later 4th Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment (Commando), Eddie deployed to East Timor and multiple tours in Afghanistan with the Special Operations Task Group, including service with TAG-East and as part of a personal security detail for senior ISAF leadership. Between military postings, he operated on the private security circuit throughout Iraq during the height of the conflict, working for major international security firms in hostile environments.Send us a text however note we cannot reply through these means. Please message the instagram or email if you are wanting a response. Support the showWebsite - www.zerolimitspodcast.comInstagram - https://www.instagram.com/zero.limits.podcast/?hl=enHost - Matty Morris www.instagram.com/matty.m.morrisSponsorsInstagram - @gatorzaustraliawww.gatorzaustralia.com15% Discount Code - ZERO15(former/current military & first responders 20% discount to order please email orders@gatorzaustralia.com.auInstagram - @3zeroscoffee3 Zeros Coffee - www.3zeroscoffee.com.au10% Discount Code - 3ZLimitsInstagram - @getsome_auGetSome Jocko Fuel - www.getsome.com.au10% Discount Code - ZEROLIMITS

What happens when the uniform comes off and the identity you built underneath it goes with it? Marine Scout Sniper Dagan Van Oosten sat down with Jeremy Stalnecker, his platoon commander from the 2003 push into Iraq, and opened up about the moment a counselor asked him a question that hit "like a bolt of lightning" "If you died tomorrow, what would your tombstone say?" In this episode of The March or Die Show, Dagan walks through his journey as a Marine sniper in 1st Battalion, 5th Marines, three-plus years instructing at Quantico Sniper School, 14 years in federal contracting, training the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team, and the painful realization that the institution he'd given everything to was never going to love him back the way he loved it. He gets honest about the marriage he almost wrecked chasing the mission, the brother-in-law (Justice Bartelt) the family lost in Afghanistan, the fear of leaving the uniform behind, and what it took to reset his identity around three words: husband, father, friend. Whether you're an active-duty service member, a first responder, a veteran in transition, or anyone whose job has become their identity, this conversation will give you a roadmap for the chapter after the chapter you can't imagine ending. Connect with Dagan Van Oosten:Nomadic Research: https://nomadicresearch.com Instagram: https://instagram.com/@daganvanoosten Hit Subscribe, share this episode with your community, and drop a comment on what landed hardest for you. Want more reinforcement? Subscribe to our newsletter, The Forward Edge, to go beyond the podcast and dig deeper into these topics and more: https://marchordie.substack.com! Join us daily for encouragement and biblical truth with the Mighty Oaks Daily Devotional, you can sign up for reminders: https://mightyoaksprograms.org/daily-devotional or text JOIN to (832) 333-8794 Follow March or Die:https://instagram.com/MarchOrDie https://Facebook.com/MarchOrDieShow https://TikTok.com/March_or_Die Follow Jeremy:https://instagram.com/jeremystalnecker https://jeremystalnecker.com Follow Sean:https://instagram.com/seantopgunkennard https://youtube.com/@SeanTopGunKennard Discover more Christian podcasts at lifeaudio.com and inquire about advertising opportunities at lifeaudio.com/contact-us.

Matters of Conscience, Part 2: In Part 2 of this two-part series, CH(CPT) Chris Erickson and West Point professor LTC Lee Robinson join host Josh Jackson to continue their candid conversation on matters of conscience for Christian military leaders.  Together, they unpack a practical three-step framework for navigating the gray areas where faith and military service intersect—know your boundaries, check your motives, discern your impact.  Drawing from their own experiences serving together, including a deployed Easter sunrise service and counseling soldiers from different faith backgrounds, Erickson and Robinson offer honest, sometimes disagreeing perspectives on prayer in formation, sharing faith with subordinates, and what it means to develop a personal "theology of approach."  This episode is essential listening for any Christian officer wrestling with how to faithfully and effectively lead in a pluralistic military environment. ICYMI: Listen to Part 1 of this conversation here or on your favorite podcast app.    Questions answered and themes covered in this interview include:   What is a practical framework Christian military leaders can use when navigating gray areas of faith and profession? Robinson and Erickson offer a three-step process for Christian military leaders facing situations where the rules don't give a clear answer.  Step one: know your boundaries—understand what's legally and professionally allowed, but recognize that many situations fall in a gray area where the legal framework won't resolve the question.  Step two: check your motives—ask honestly why you're doing what you're doing. Is it springing authentically from your faith, or is there pride or another agenda mixed in?  Step three: discern the impact—consider how your action might affect others, including whether it could be perceived as using your position to compel religious participation or as giving subordinates a green light to impose their own beliefs. As Robinson summarized: "It is permissible, but should I?"   How should a Christian officer think about praying with or in front of subordinates? This question surfaces real, productive disagreement between the two guests. Robinson, reflecting on his time as a battalion commander, chose not to pray publicly with his unit—not because it was forbidden, but because of the weight of authority the position carries.  "Battalion commander in the Army is just a monster position," Erickson noted, affirming the delicacy required.  Robinson also shared a counterexample: he led a prayer with his team on a flight line in Iraq and said it was motivated by love and a desire to share comfort, not to signal his faith or compel agreement.  Erickson, as chaplain, pushes back gently, arguing that commanders have just as much right to pray as chaplains do, but he also challenges chaplains themselves to stop and ask what they're trying to accomplish before praying.  Both agree: the motive behind the prayer matters enormously.   How should Christian officers approach praying at official military events like a change of command? Erickson draws a sharp distinction between the invocation he gave at a recent change of command and the prayer he led at a Christian worship service the next morning: "Those were two very different approaches."  At the change of command, more than 60 soldiers were required to attend. He deliberately did not offer an exclusively Christian prayer. His reasoning: soldiers are compelled to be present, and a chaplain's effectiveness across an entire battalion depends on being seen as someone who serves the spiritual fitness of all soldiers—not only those who share his faith.  This doesn't compromise his personal beliefs; it reflects a considered theology of approach to a setting where the context is institutional, not devotional.   What does it mean for a Christian military leader to develop a "theology of approach"? At its core, it means going back to what you actually believe about God and what you believe God is directing, especially before entering complex situations involving faith and leadership.  Erickson references Romans 14, which he argues reminds Christians that each person "will give an account of himself to God"—meaning subordinates are ultimately accountable to God, not to their commander's faith convictions.  For Erickson, this shapes everything: it frees him to minister to soldiers of all backgrounds by engaging universal human needs, such as comfort, wisdom, counsel, leadership, without leading first with his denominational perspective.  He describes counseling a Muslim soldier and a Jewish family both from his Christian faith, and both expressed genuine gratitude. "All truth is God's truth," he said, "and so I can share truth with you when the time is right."   How can Christian military leaders check whether they're sharing faith out of genuine love versus pride or self-promotion? Both guests return repeatedly to the question of motive, and both connect it to authenticity. Erickson references the account of Jesus and the woman at the well in John 4, noting that her testimony was compelling because it was personal and genuinely transformational: "She went back and told others about that."  The contrast he draws is a faith expression that's forced—slamming a Bible on a desk, tacking a gospel message onto a wedding—versus one that flows naturally from who you are.  Robinson frames it as a binary: "Is that motive out of pride or is it out of love?" He applies it directly to his own flight line prayer in Iraq: "That was out of love."  Erickson's challenge to listeners: "If your religious belief is something worth anything, then it should come out in those personal moments. It should be a part of who you are and why you live."   OCF Crosspoint is produced by Officers' Christian Fellowship and is a podcast for Christian military officers at every stage of service. Learn more about OCF at www.ocfusa.org/learnmore.

Send us Fan MailOur guest this week is Battalion Chief Ryan Eldridge, Blue Card Lead InstructorRyan Eldridge is a dedicated fire service professional with a career spanning over three decades. He began his journey in 1995 when he joined the Las Vegas Fire and Rescue Explorer Program. Directly out of high school, he worked for the Las Vegas Bureau of Land Management office as a wildland firefighter on a hand crew. From 1997 to 2002, he served as a reserve firefighter in Boulder City, Nev. Ryan joined Las Vegas Fire and Rescue as a firefighter in 2002. Throughout his career, he pursued further education and training, becoming an Honor Guard member in 2003 and serving as co-commander; an LVF&R Technical Rescue Team member in 2005; and a certified paramedic in 2006. He served as an Executive Board member for Local 1285 and chaired the EMS Committee for over 10 years. In 2014, Ryan was promoted to captain, serving Battalion 1 at Station 10. Ryan was promoted to battalion chief in January 2024 and serves LVF&R Battalion 10, B-Shift. He considers being a Blue Card lead instructor an honor and is proud to represent Big Al's legacy. Ryan has been married for 28 years and has two awesome young adult children.We break down how firefighter air management actually works  from a morning bottle check to the moment you decide it's time to leave. Ryan  shares practical ways to measure real SCBA work times and shows how company officers and incident commanders can build a rotation system that prevents low-air alarms inside IDLH.• treating air management as a Mayday prevention skill • starting the shift with maximum cylinder pressure and consistent SCBA checks • setting clear low-air communication methods between firefighters and officers • understanding personal air consumption and the round-trip ticket mindset • running realistic air consumption drills and tracking amber-to-vibra time • company officer ownership of crew air and exit timing • IC tools like elapsed-time “pokes” and CAN reports to catch problems early • using on-deck and three-deep layering to keep crews cycling safely • reinforcing the rule that there is no harmless smokeDownload the Air Consumption Drill Here: https://bshifter.com/download/air-consumption-exercise/Order the 3rd Edition of Fire Command here: https://bshifter.myshopify.com/products/new-fire-command-3rd-editionThis episode was recorded at the Alan V. Bruncini Command Training Center in Phoenix, AZ on April 16, 2026For Waldorf University Blue Card credit and discounts: https://www.waldorf.edu/blue-card/For free command and leadership support, check out bshifter.comSign up for the B Shifter Buckslip, our free weekly newsletter here: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/fmgs92N/BuckslipShop B Shifter here: https://bshifter.myshopify.comAll of our links here: https://linktr.ee/BShifterPlease remember to share with a friend. Like and subscribe if you can. That helps us out!

  Last time we spoke about the battle of south Guangxi. In late 1939, amid the Sino-Japanese War stalemate, Japan aimed to sever China's vital supply lines from French Indochina by invading southern Guangxi. The 21st Army, including the 5th Division and Taiwan Mixed Brigade landed at Qinzhou Bay on November 15, capturing Nanning by November 24 after feinting at Beihai and overcoming scattered Chinese defenses under the 16th Army Group. Chinese forces, commanded by Bai Chongxi and reinforced by the elite 5th Army launched a counteroffensive in December. The brutal Battle of Kunlun Pass saw repeated assaults. However, Japanese counterattacks in January 1940, bolstered by the 18th Division and Konoye Brigade, recaptured Kunlun Pass and Binyang by February, inflicting over 10,000 Chinese losses and forcing retreats. A stalemate ensued until September 1940, when Japan pressured Indochina. Overextended Japanese forces withdrew south, allowing Chinese to recapture Nanning on October 30 and clear Guangxi by November 17.   #199 The battle of West Suiyuan  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. Back in 1936,  the Xi'an Incident had forced a fragile alliance between the Nationalists under Chiang Kai-shek and the Communists, forming a united front against Japan. This front extended to regional warlords like the Ma Clique, who controlled Ningxia, Gansu, and Qinghai. The Ma family, descendants of Muslim generals loyal to the Qing Dynasty, navigated complex loyalties but ultimately aligned with the Nationalist cause, driven by patriotism and self-preservation.   The stakes in West Suiyuan were high. Control of the region meant access to the Suiyuan-Xinjiang Highway, a lifeline for Soviet aid to China. Japanese occupation could threaten the Shaanxi-Gansu-Ningxia Border Region, a Communist stronghold, and open paths to Lanzhou and beyond. The battles here, though overshadowed by larger theaters like Shanghai or Wuhan, demonstrated how peripheral fronts contributed to the national resistance. Over 70 years later, the sacrifices of more than 2,000 Ningxia soldiers remain a poignant reminder of the human cost of resistance, their anti-Japanese merits etched forever in the annals of Chinese history.   The seeds of the Battle of West Suiyuan were sown in the turbulent years following the Xi'an Incident. This event in December 1936 led to the initial formation of a national united front against Japanese aggression. The Communist Party of China (CPC) mobilized masses in the Shaanxi-Gansu-Ningxia Border Region, strengthening anti-Japanese forces and exerting pressure on the Ma Clique. Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalist government also influenced the Mas, solidifying their resolve to resist Japan.   The Ma Clique, a powerful Muslim warlord faction in Northwest China, was led by figures like Ma Hongkui (governor of Ningxia) and his cousin Ma Hongbin. They controlled a semi-autonomous region with a mix of Hui, Han, and Mongolian populations. Japan, seeking to exploit ethnic divisions, attempted to woo the Mas. Even after the July 7, 1937, outbreak of war, Japan persisted. On October 17, 1937, after occupying Baotou, the Japanese established the "Baotou Hui Muslim Branch" and appointed Jiang Wenhuan, a former Hui commander, to court Ma Hongkui. They sent envoys, including an imam from Northeast China, and even airdropped letters from "Manchukuo." In a dramatic move, Japanese commander Itagaki Seishiro flew to Alashan Banner to invite Ma Hongkui for talks. Ma sent Zhou Baihuang, who rebuffed Itagaki by invoking historical grievances: the Japanese role in the Eight-Nation Alliance's 1900 invasion, where Ma family members died at Zhengyang Gate. "The family feud remains unresolved, and the national humiliation is yet to be avenged; they are irreconcilable enemies," Zhou declared.   Japan's plot to persuade surrender failed, leading to a major offensive against Suiyuan and Ningxia. Large numbers of troops reinforced Baotou, and bombings targeted Ningxia. In response, Ma Hongkui began building fortifications in places like Shizuishan and Dengkou. Starting in the winter of 1937, he constructed defense fortifications in the Shizuishan area in four phases. In the Shizuishan Weizha area, trenches several meters wide and deep were dug, covered with branches, straw, and loose soil for camouflage, to prevent the passage of Japanese armored vehicles and heavy weapons. Within a hundred li north of Dengkou and Sanshenggong, all major roads were cut off, and deep trenches were dug to destroy the Japanese army's access to Ningxia. The banks of the Yellow River ferry crossings in northern Ningxia and the Helan Mountain passages were all cut into steep cliffs. Important passageways were fortified with blocking positions and hidden artillery to repel invading Japanese troops.   Among the various military commanders in Northwest China, Ma Hongbin possessed the strongest anti-Japanese spirit. Having joined the army at a young age, Ma Hongbin placed great emphasis on cultural learning and the cultivation of his personal character. Outside of military service, he was always seen with a book in hand, resembling a scholar. His long-term study fostered his upright character and patriotism. After the Japanese invasion of China, deeply moved by the nation's peril, he resolved to lead his troops to the battlefield to save the country from its crisis. In the spring of 1938, at the opening ceremony of an officer training course held in Wanghongbao, Yongning, Ma Hongbin addressed his subordinates from the podium: "Always remember that the nation comes first, the people come first, defend the land and country, and fulfill your duties. On the battlefield, you must be able to both attack and defend, and be prepared to live and die with the position, with the determination to fight to the end."   The Ma forces were reorganized into the Nationalist structure. Ma Hongkui's 15th Route Army and Ma Hongbin's 35th Division (later expanded to the 81st Army) formed the 17th Army Group, with Ma Hongkui as Commander-in-Chief and Ma Hongbin as Deputy Commander-in-Chief and Commander of the 81st Army. The officer training of the 81st Army improved the anti-Japanese consciousness and combat quality of the entire army, preparing for the counterattack against the Japanese invasion. In May 1938, due to the weakened defenses of Suiyuan (at that time, the troops of Fu Zuoyi, the chairman of Suiyuan Province, had retreated to Shanxi), most of the area was occupied by Japanese and puppet troops. The Kuomintang Central Committee appointed Ma Hongbin as the commander of the Suiyuan West Defense Command. Ma Hongbin led his 81st Army and two cavalry brigades and one infantry brigade of Ma Hongkui's troops to Wuyuan (now Wuyuan County, Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region) to unify the command of the various anti-Japanese forces that had retreated into Suiyuan West. His mission was to prevent the Japanese army from advancing westward.   After arriving in Wuyuan, Ma Hongbin convened a meeting of commanders from various forces to discuss the defense against the Japanese. The various armies in western Suiyuan were of different factions and not affiliated with each other, and most adopted a policy of seeking safety and avoiding danger in their defenses. Ma Hongbin deployed the main force of his 81st Army, the 35th Division, at key passes in the Wubu Langshan area northeast of Wuyuan to serve as the first line of defense, while deploying three brigades of Ma Hongkui's troops along the line from Wuyuan to Langshan as reinforcements.   The terrain was challenging: vast deserts, mountains like Yinshan and Langshan, and the Yellow River's bends. Wubulangkou, a narrow pass between Erlang and Chashitai Mountains, was strategically vital. Defenses included anti-tank trenches and mines. These preparations reflected the Ningxia Army's blend of traditional cavalry tactics and modern training. The troops, many Hui Muslims, brought cultural cohesion and resilience, but faced equipment shortages—outdated mortars and rifles versus Japanese mechanization.   In May 1938, Ma Hongbin arrived in Linhe (now part of Bayannur, Inner Mongolia) to establish his command post. After inspecting the situation of the friendly forces in the defense zone and designating the defense zone of his subordinate 81st Army, he ordered Ma Tengjiao, commander of the 35th Division, to lead four infantry regiments, namely the 103rd and 104th Brigades, to Suiyuan Western Defense Command to fight against the Japanese. Ma Hongbin established a command post in Linhe, where he and his son, Ma Dunjing, the chief of staff of the 81st Army, deployed their troops in areas such as Wuzhen and Siyitang. Ma Dunjing directed his troops to conduct exercises in the Wuzhen and Siyitang area, and invited Soviet military advisors to provide guidance, preparing for combat with an extremely serious attitude.   To show his support for Ma Hongbin's leadership of the Suiyuan Western Defense Command, Ma Hongkui dispatched two cavalry brigades to Suiyuan Western Defense Command. The main reason why the Ma Clique army from Ningxia went to Suiyuan to fight against the Japanese was that the defense of Suiyuan was directly related to the safety of Ningxia. At the same time, after the Ma Clique army was incorporated into the anti-Japanese army, its primary task was to fight against the Japanese invaders and defend the country. In addition, the anti-Japanese enthusiasm of the people in the Northwest continued to rise. Under the impetus of the situation, it was inevitable that the Ningxia army would join the anti-Japanese war in Suiyuan.   The initial engagement came in the late summer and early autumn of 1939, as Japanese troops, driving cars, armored vehicles, and tanks, advanced from Baotou towards the defenses of the 81st Army in western Suiyuan, attempting to annihilate the main force of the 81st Army. Ma Dunjing (the third son of Ma Hongbin), Chief of Staff of the 81st Army, personally commanded the operation at the front line in Wuda Town. The Japanese advanced to the defensive positions of the 35th Division and bombarded Ma's position with heavy artillery fire. The 35th Division returned fire with 82mm mortars. Because Ma's mortars were old-fashioned, they emitted smoke upon firing, revealing their positions. The Japanese immediately unleashed over 200 shells on the 35th Division's artillery positions, silencing them and rendering them incapable of retaliating. Taking advantage of this, the Japanese, under the powerful cover of artillery and machine gun fire, swarmed in by car, tank, and armored vehicle. The 35th Division held their ground, waiting for the Japanese troops to enter effective firing range and disembark from their vehicles. Suddenly, soldiers of the 1st Battalion of the 206th Regiment jumped out of their fortifications and charged into the enemy lines, engaging the Japanese in hand-to-hand combat. The Japanese were thrown into disarray, some killed before they could even disembark. Those who did disembark suffered heavy casualties, with the remaining soldiers turning back to their vehicles and fleeing in panic. Forced to retreat after suffering a decisive blow, the 35th Division captured two Japanese vehicles, over a hundred artillery shells, dozens of boxes of ammunition, as well as firearms and officer's swords. This marked the first victory in the Suiyuan-Western Anti-Japanese War. This victory boosted morale and public spirit. When the captured vehicles entered Wuyuan County, the people cheered enthusiastically, plastering the vehicles with various celebratory slogans. An elderly local artist even composed a song to celebrate the victory and sang it on the street: "Our old Western Army (referring to Ma Hongbin's 81st Army) is really good at fighting. We drove away the Japanese soldiers, captured cars and brought them into Wuyuan City, where the whole city celebrated and welcomed them. Relying on our old Western Army, we defeated the Japanese soldiers, and the people have peace." The campaign's defining battle occurred at Wubulangkou in early 1940, following the Chinese raid on Baotou in December 1939. In the autumn of 1939, the situation in Shanxi stabilized, and Fu Zuoyi, the chairman of Suiyuan Province who had retreated to Shanxi, led his troops back to western Suiyuan, establishing the Deputy Commander's Headquarters of the Eighth War Zone to unify command of military and political affairs in western Suiyuan and actively preparing for a counter-offensive. To coordinate with the nationwide winter offensive, Fu Zuoyi decided to attack Baotou, a key Japanese stronghold, to contain the Japanese forces in North China. The Battle of Baotou was spearheaded by the newly formed 31st Division of Fu Zuoyi's 35th Army, with the 35th Division of Ma Hongbin's 81st Army providing support. Under meticulous planning, on December 20th, Sun Lanfeng's newly formed 31st Division of Fu Zuoyi's army stormed into Baotou. The Japanese army, caught off guard, panicked and suffered over a thousand casualties, scattering in all directions, losing all their supplies within the city. Fu Zuoyi then directed his troops to withdraw to the rear of western Suiyuan, luring the enemy deeper into the territory for a later battle.   The Battle of Baotou greatly angered the Japanese army. Therefore, more than 30,000 Japanese troops were mobilized from Zhangjiakou, Taiyuan, Datong, and other places, along with more than 1,500 military vehicles, armored vehicles, tanks, dozens of aircraft, and six divisions of puppet Mongolian troops, totaling more than 40,000 men. Under the command of Division Commander Kuroda, they launched a major offensive into western Suiyuan in early 1940, attempting to seize western and southern Inner Mongolia in one fell swoop. Facing the superior Japanese forces, the people and soldiers of western Suiyuan adopted a scorched-earth policy and mobile warfare to maneuver against the enemy. The specific deployment was as follows: the 7th Cavalry Division of Men Bingyue's troops blocked the Japanese troops in the Xishanzui and Maqidukou areas, and then turned to the right bank of the Yellow River to threaten the enemy's left flank; the 35th Division of Ma Hongbin's troops and the 1st Cavalry Brigade of Ma Hongkui's troops constructed positions in the Wubulangkou and Wuzhen areas, blocked the enemy, and then moved into Langshan to threaten the Japanese right flank; the 35th Army of Fu Zuoyi's troops assembled northwest of Wuyuan to launch mobile attacks on the enemy; other units chose favorable terrain to harass the exhausted enemy at any time; and the logistics personnel were transferred to the Dengkou and Shizuishan areas. Before Langshan Mountain, where the Yang family generals once fought against the Jin dynasty, a thousand-mile-long battlefield against the Japanese was set up.   Wubulangkou is located in the western part of the Yinshan Mountains. Nestled between the eastern and western ends of the rugged and precipitous Erlang Mountain and Chashitai Mountain, it forms a strategically vital location. After Fu Zuoyi returned to western Suiyuan in 1939 to serve as deputy commander of the Eighth War Zone, the Ningxia army was placed under his command. At the end of December, Fu Zuoyi's troops stormed Baotou, inflicting over a thousand casualties on the Japanese. Okabe, commander of the Japanese Mengjiang Garrison, considered the defeat at Baotou a great humiliation and declared, "We must sweep through the Hetao region and completely annihilate Fu Zuoyi's army." To eliminate future troubles, the Japanese, "determined to decisively crush the enemy's base in the Hetao region with their main force," began in January 1940, mobilizing over 30,000 Japanese and puppet troops from Zhangjiakou, Datong, and other places, along with over a thousand vehicles, aircraft, artillery, and tanks. Under the command of Division Commander Kuroda Shigetoku, they launched a three-pronged, menacing invasion of western Suiyuan.   On January 31, Kuroda led the main force of the Japanese central route, consisting of over 780 vehicles, armored vehicles, and tanks, and launched an attack at 4:30 PM on the positions of the 35th Division of the 81st Army in the area of Wubulangkou, Siyitang, and Wuzhen.    Ubulangkou, where Ma Hongbin's 35th Division was stationed, is a transliteration of the Mongolian word "Ubulak," meaning "mouth of large and small springs." Located in the southern part of present-day Urad Middle Banner, it lies at the junction of Wuliangsutai, Delingshan Township, and Wengeng Sumu, a strategically important location nestled between two mountains. When the Battle of Ubulangkou began, Ma Hongbin was in Chongqing attending a high-level military conference convened by Chiang Kai-shek, and his troops were commanded by Ma Tengjiao, commander of the 35th Division. At approximately 8:00 AM on January 31, 1940, the Japanese army amassed its forces in the Zaoshulinzi desert area, directly north of Siyitang and directly east of Ubulangkou. Their vanguard first used three aircraft to circling and bombard the positions of Ma's 205th Regiment, followed by artillery bombardment. Under the cover of aircraft and artillery, Japanese tanks, armored vehicles, and hundreds of military vehicles carrying Japanese troops launched an attack on the Siyitang and Ubulangkou positions. Following Ma Hongbin's orders, a defensive trench, 3 meters wide and 3 meters deep, had been dug in front of the 81st Army's position, stretching approximately 10 kilometers from the foot of Wubulang Pass to the north bank of the Yellow River. A 50-meter-wide pit zone preceded the trench. The two sides fought fiercely until nightfall, suffering heavy casualties and remaining evenly matched. At the Siyitang position, Ding Liangyu, the company commander of the 1st Company, 1st Battalion, 205th Regiment, was wounded and died the following day; more than 30 platoon leaders, squad leaders, and soldiers were killed. Xue Wanyou, the battalion clerk, was hit by an artillery shell, his body torn apart and his head severed. Although the officers and soldiers of Ma's 35th Division suffered heavy casualties, they held their ground. Unable to break through, the Japanese used aircraft to continuously release poison gas with the wind at their backs. Although Ma's troops had prepared simple gas masks made of gauze wrapped in sawdust, the concentration of the gas was too high, causing many to experience headaches, chest tightness, and vomiting, greatly weakening their fighting capacity and making the situation increasingly critical. Around 10 PM, Division Commander Ma Tengjiao ordered Ma Jiangong, deputy battalion commander of the 2nd Battalion of the 206th Regiment, to lead two companies from Wulanaobao to reinforce the 208th Regiment via Siyitang. Ma Jiangong was killed by a grenade in the fierce fighting. The two companies fought desperately to break free from the enemy and finally joined up with the 208th Regiment. The enemy, realizing this, reinforced their forces and intensified their attack. At 11:30 PM, the 208th Regiment's position was breached, but the enemy dared not advance rashly. The battle resumed at dawn the next day, and the fighting at the Siyitang position remained extremely fierce. Ma Tengjiao ordered the 1st Battalion of the 206th Regiment to reinforce the Siyitang position. While traversing a seven- or eight-mile stretch of open land, the reinforcements were subjected to heavy artillery fire from the Japanese, suffering heavy casualties. However, the troops braved the artillery fire, bullets, and thick smoke, breaking through the enemy's fire blockade and reaching the position. The combined forces of the Wubulangkou and Siyitang positions continued to inflict powerful blows on the Japanese army. The 205th Regiment, holding the fortified Siyitang, engaged in bayonet fighting with the Japanese army. When their bayonets bent, the soldiers would grab the enemy and bite them, or detonate grenades to die alongside them. The troops had gone two days and two nights without food or water, and coupled with the bitter cold, they were exhausted and suffering heavy casualties. The battle was exceptionally fierce, tragic, and arduous. Ma Hongbin later recalled this battle, saying, "Even the world-famous battles of Taierzhuang and Changsha, where the National Revolutionary Army fought with such heroic spirit, were no more than this."   In the early morning of February 1st, the Japanese army first bombarded the defensive positions at Wubulangkou and Siyitang with heavy artillery, and then used aircraft to dive-bomb the open area in front of Wubulangkou. Under the attack of enemy artillery and tanks combined with infantry, the 208th Regiment suffered heavy casualties, and the front-line positions at Wubulangkou were breached by the enemy. The 205th and 206th Regiments sent reinforcements, using bunkers and high ground fortifications to stubbornly resist the enemy, resulting in heavy casualties on both sides. Seeing that they could not capture the positions defended by the Ningxia army, the Japanese army released tear gas and sneezing gas. While attacking from the front, the Japanese army sent puppet Mongolian troops to flank and attack Wubulangkou from the rear of the mountain. Although the Ma troops resisted bravely, they were ultimately outnumbered, and their positions were successively breached by the enemy, forcing the remaining defenders to withdraw. In this battle, more than 1,000 officers and soldiers of the Ningxia Ma troops shed their blood in western Suiyuan, using their lives to block the enemy's advance.   Ma's troops retreated, pursued by Japanese ground forces and strafed by aircraft, suffering over a thousand casualties and forced to retreat into the desert. They continued to fight the Japanese in the quicksand, killing another 200 enemy soldiers. After a grueling six-day, six-night march, the troops successfully returned to their Dengkou base for rest. Post-war statistics show that Ma's 35th Division originally had over 5,000 men; in the battle of Wubulangkou, over 1,000 were killed and 2,000 wounded, including 700 suffering from frostbite. This battle exemplified sacrificial defense, buying time for counteroffensives.   Upon learning of the defeat of his troops in Chongqing, Ma Hongbin immediately flew back to Ningxia and rushed to Dengkou. After regrouping the troops and investigating officers who had failed in their command, he reorganized two regiments, replenished their equipment, and after a brief rest, led by Brigade Commander Ma Peiqing, returned to western Suiyuan. To cooperate with Fu Zuoyi's troops in continuing the fight against the Japanese invaders, the Ningxia army, mainly composed of the 35th Division, entered the Dala Banner area of Yimeng to fight the enemy. After occupying Wuyuan, the Japanese army believed that the Chinese army in western Suiyuan was in disarray and would be unable to recover its fighting capacity in a short time. Furthermore, due to its overextended battle lines and supply difficulties, the Japanese army had no spare troops to expand the war. Therefore, they centered their forces on Wuyuan, leaving a Japanese regiment and four divisions of puppet Mongolian troops, totaling over 15,000 men, to garrison the Hetao region, while the rest of their forces retreated eastward. After the main Japanese force withdrew, Fu Zuoyi decided to organize a campaign to recapture Wuyuan. In March 1940, he ordered his 35th Army to lead the attack on Wuyuan, while Ma's 81st Army moved from western Suiyuan to the Dalad Banner area on the south bank of the Yellow River in the Ordos League to construct fortifications and block Japanese reinforcements from Baotou. At midnight on March 20, Fu's 35th Army simultaneously launched attacks on Japanese strongholds in Wuyuan, Meilingmiao, and Xingongzhong. After two days of fierce fighting, our army finally recaptured Linhe and Wuyuan, killing Lieutenant General Mizukawa, the division commander of the Japanese army, and several thousand of his puppet troops.    Upon hearing the news, the Japanese troops in Baotou crossed the Yellow River, attempting to outflank the 35th Army from the south. However, their westward advance was met with resistance from the positions of Ma's 81st Army. During the defensive battle, Ma's troops were bombarded by more than 30 Japanese artillery pieces. Due to outdated weaponry and lack of artillery counterattack, Ma's right flank was destroyed, allowing the enemy to encircle them from the rear. To avoid being outflanked, Ma's troops retreated north to the Shawo area to regroup. Ma Hongbin ordered each regiment to exploit the enemy's difficulty in vehicular movement in the desert, employing mobile warfare tactics, advancing when the enemy advanced and retreating when the enemy retreated, maintaining a distance of five or six li from the enemy, and choosing opportune moments to attack and exhaust them. Ma's troops also frequently formed assault teams to harass the enemy at night, keeping them constantly on edge. After maneuvering with the Japanese in the desert for several days using mobile warfare, Ma Hongbin's troops occupied a hilltop southwest of Xinminbao and laid an ambush. When the enemy approached, they unleashed a sudden barrage of fire, inflicting hundreds of casualties. This blow forced the Japanese army to abandon its southern reinforcement plan and retreat north across the Yellow River near Zhaojunfen. After the Japanese retreat, the 81st Army immediately launched an attack on the puppet Mongolian cavalry south of the Yellow River. After more than a month of battles, large and small, except for Chaidengtai, which was captured by Fu Zuoyi's troops, all other puppet strongholds were wiped out by Ma Hongbin's troops, and "the entire Damian Beach area in the northeast of the Ih Ju League was recovered."   During the Qingming Festival in 1940, the 35th Division, returning to western Suiyuan, buried the officers and soldiers who died in the battle at Wubulangkou. With tears in their eyes, people buried the remains of 148 officers and soldiers at the Cemetery for Fallen Soldiers on the west side of Wubulangkou, and erected brick monuments in front of the graves according to the names on the surviving shoulder insignia of the fallen officers and soldiers' uniforms.    Casualties on all sides were significant, reflecting the intensity of the fighting. For the Japanese, two brigades and the 72nd Cavalry Regiment took heavy hits, though official reports admitted only about 1,000 losses. Given that these units were sidelined from combat for an extended period afterward, the true figure was likely far higher. Battle reports from the 26th Division alone recorded over 3,000 casualties, nearly 20% of its strength,pushing the total Japanese toll, including other units, to between 4,000 and 5,000. Puppet forces fared even worse. The "Suiyuan-Western Autonomous Allied Army" proved utterly ineffective, collapsing almost immediately against the superior Ma Clique cavalry of the Nationalist 81st Army. While the puppet Mongolian cavalry had some combat capability, their reluctance to fight for the Japanese—often against their own kin, led to half-hearted engagements and quick retreats. Combined puppet casualties and prisoners numbered around 5,000 to 6,000, bringing the overall Japanese and puppet losses to 10,000–12,000 killed or wounded. The Chinese forces, vastly outmatched in equipment and relying on brave but undertrained local security units, endured heavy sacrifices. Domestic sources estimate their casualties at 15,000–20,000.   This campaign marked the only major anti-Japanese engagement involving people from Ningxia, where over 10,000 Hui and Han fighters, under Ma Hongbin and Ma Hongkui, battled fiercely in what is now Linhe and Wuyuan in Inner Mongolia. Thousands perished, buried far from home, embodying the unyielding spirit of the Chinese nation. It stood as Northwest China's sole battlefield in the war, a point of pride for its people. Victory was hard-won, despite the Chinese having slightly more troops but far inferior weaponry. Success stemmed from the soldiers' bravery, tactical use of cavalry mobility, and crucially, the puppet Mongolians' unwillingness to fully commit. The campaign not only repelled the Japanese westward and southward advances, securing Northwest China's northern gateway and blocking incursions into Ningxia, Shaanxi, and Gansu, but also safeguarded key supply routes like the Suiyuan-Xinjiang Highway and connections to Lanzhou. This ensured a steady influx of Soviet aid, bolstering the national resistance and indirectly supporting efforts in Southwest China.   I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go 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 after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. After a Chinese raid seized Baotou, Japan launched a major 1940 offensive with tens of thousands of troops, vehicles, armor, aircraft, and puppet Mongolian forces. Chinese defenders used scorched earth, fortifications at Wubulangkou, and mobile cavalry/desert tactics, ambushes, and night harassment. Fu Zuoyi later recaptured Wuyuan/Linhe. Casualties were heavy—Chinese estimates 15,000–20,000; Japanese/puppet losses possibly 10,000–12,000.

Weather, some say, is fickle. Of course nature is just nature but when you're on high ground, the mountains, and the weather moves in, the temperature drops in minutes and wind shifts. It is a dangerous place and that's during mid-summer. Perhaps summer is the most dangerous time to be caught in a mountain storm, particularly in South Africa because there's more moisture and freezing sleet and snow sweeps over the summit, overwhelming hikers in shorts and T-shirts. During January and February 1881, the weather along the Natal escarpment near Volksrust and Majuba was characterized by high rainfall, frequent thunderstorms, thick mist, and cold nights. This period was at the height of the summer rainy season, creating wet, muddy conditions that significantly impacted military operations during the First Boer War. The weather at times was bitter, just like the Boer sentiment. Laing's Nek gravesite was desecrated in 1969 when Afrikaner Nationalists under cover of dark, blew up a large Cross that had been erected over the graves of Royal Navy sailors who'd perished during the Battle of Laing's Nek in February 1881. Such was the depth of historical bitterness. Memories run deep. The last known Boer of the First Anglo-Boer war, Jacob "Jaap" Coetzer died in the same year as the exploding cross — 1969 - showing just how long veterans of war can live amongst a population that has no clue about their past. A vet of the first Anglo-Boer War had lived to hear Beatles music. Coetzer was 15 year's old when he joined Commandant Piet Joubert's commandos in the area of Laings Nek, and was a survivor of the next major clash, Majuba. Not that Jaap Coetzer was in any way linked to the desecration. Laing's Nek lies on the N11, a quick 20 minute drive through this pass and you ascend from the rolling hills of KZN into the highground of Mpumalanga — or the Transvaal as it was in 1881. In January 1881, the British force under Major General Sir George Pomeroy Colley moved off from Newcastle after his ultimatum to the Boers had been ignored. Despite his intelligence and administrative competence, his battlefield record would reveal a critical weakness: a tendency to apply textbook European tactics in environments where they were increasingly obsolete. The Boers, by contrast, were armed with modern Westley Richards breech-loading rifles and other similar breech-loading firearms, which allowed for faster and more accurate fire than the older muzzle-loading weapons that had shaped earlier British tactics. Many Boers were also skilled marksmen, accustomed to hunting and irregular warfare, and they fought from concealed positions—rocks, ridges, and scrub—rather than in formal lines. This combination of mobility, cover, and firepower was going to be devastating. Colley led 1216 officers and men including five companies of the 58th Regiment, 5 companies of the 3rd Battalion of the 60th Rifles, 150 cavalrymen, a party of Royal Navy sailors with two 7 pound guns, and a mounted unit of Royal Artillery with four 9 pound guns. Major General Colley was determined to revenge the previous month's debacle at Bronkhorstpruit. The Boers setup four main laagers on the escarpment north east of Majuba. Their main camp was based at a point south of the Standerton Road, about 10 kilometers from Wakkerstroom. From here, flanking the two roads which approached from Newcastle, their patrols could ride out to watch the Buffalo River fords, as well as Laing's Nek. Colley had moved off from Newcastle on the 24th January, after two days of heavy rain held up his wagons. On the 25th they struggled across the Imbazane River, and on the 26th, crossed the Ingogo River. British patrols saw Boers moving on the pass, and on the evening of the 27th, noted that Laings Nek was occupied in force. More heavy rain fell that day, and a thick mist drifted across the landscape. On the morning of the 28th, Colley led his force out of the laager.

With a special edition for ANZAC Day, in this insightful interview, playwright Arthur Meek discusses his project to bring to life the voices of Gallipoli veterans through oral histories and verbatim theatre. The conversation explores the power of personal stories, memory, remembrance, and the impact of war on individuals and collective memory.A bonus for TOFL pod listeners - 50% off for the first 50 TOFL listeners with coupon: TOFL50The Bad Luck Battalion | A Verbatim Anzac War Story - get the full story in audio + ebook formats here https://payhip.com/b/C9B6sWebsite where folks can keep up to date about the projectwww.vog.carewww.facebook.com/voicesofgallipoliMain Image: The Otago Regiment landing at Gallipoli 1915.Sign up for the free podcast newsletter here: Old Front Line Bulletin.You can order Old Front Line Merch via The Old Front Line Shop.Got a question about this episode or any others? Drop your question into the Old Front Line Discord Server or email the podcast.Send us Fan MailSupport the show

Send a Message to the TeamIn this episode, team returns the Nicaragua Canal arc..to Nicaragua, or at least the Western Hemisphere. Panel:Evan and Chris.Previous Episode in this Arc-Ep 282- WW- Friends of the PodYou can follow and interact with A Fork In Time on….Discord: https://discord.com/invite/xhZEmZMKFSFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/aforkintimeTwitter: @AFITPodcastOur YouTube ChannelIf you enjoy the podcast and want to support it financially, you can help by:Supporting us monthly via Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/aforkintime....or, make a one-time donation via Podfan to A Fork In TimeE-Mail: aforkintimepodcast@gmail.comSupport the show

Michael The story of pop superstar Michael Jackson -- from his extraordinary early days in the Jackson 5 to the visionary artist whose creative ambition fuels a relentless pursuit to become the biggest entertainer in the world. Sgt. Haane In April 1943, during World War II, Sergeant Haane Manahi (Te Arawa, Ngāti Raukawa) of the 28th Māori Battalion led a small group of soldiers united by whakapapa in a daring assault on a fortified position in Takrouna, Tunisia. Their objective was to secure the sheer-faced pinnacle, defended by over 300 enemy troops. Directed by Tearepa Kahi (Muru, Mt. Zion), this feature-length documentary weaves dramatic reenactments with interviews from descendants of the Māori Battalion to explore Manahi's extraordinary life and service. LISTEN ABOVE See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The memory of the 28th Maori Battalion is being carried on by whanau, who say their sacrifices must not be forgotten. Maori news journalist Layla Bailey-McDowell reports.

Harvey C, "Barney" Barnum, Jr. arrived in Vietnam in late 1965 with 2nd Battalion, 12th Marines in the 3rd Infantry Division. In the final days of Operation Harvest Moon, Barnum served as a forward observer for H Company, 2nd Battalion, 9th Marines. On December 18, 1965, the company was ambushed by North Vietnamese forces. The company commander was mortally wounded and Barnum soon found himself commanding Marines he really didn't know.In this edition of Veterans Chronicles, Barnum takes us through the beginning of the ambush and rescuing fallen company commander Captain Paul Gormley just moments before Gormley died in Barnum's arms.Barnum also recounts his first decisions as new company commander, and how he risked his life to pinpoint enemy positions for American pilots. He also describes the difficult decisions he made and orders he gave to give his men the best chance for survival.Finally, Barnum reveals how he learned he was recommended for the Medal of Honor and tells us about his medal ceremony.

In this engaging episode of Tomorrow Needs You, Richard Fleek sits down with veteran Darrell, who shares his unique journey from growing up in Detroit to serving in the Army and eventually transitioning into an IT career. This conversation is a testament to the power of embracing change and finding one's path in life.Main Content:1. **Early Life and Decision to Join the Army** Darrell grew up in the home county area of Detroit, Michigan, where he attended Dakota High School. Uncertain about his future and feeling that college wasn't the right fit for him, he made the bold decision to enlist in the Army. "I just wanted to get the hell out of there and figure out something different," he recalls. His journey began at Fort Benning, Georgia, where he completed basic training and was then assigned to Fort Stewart with the 3rd Battalion, 69th Armored Division.2. **Experiences in the Military** Darrell's military career was filled with diverse experiences, including deployments in Germany and various other locations. He reflects fondly on his time in service, mentioning, "It was fun. Did a tour out in Germany... and went on some deployments." After about 12 years in the military, he recognized the need to pivot his career, leading him to reclassify into IT and technology.3. **Transitioning to IT** Transitioning from infantry to IT was a pivotal moment for Darrell. He notes that the opportunities available within the Army made the switch relatively easy, as they were in need of personnel in various fields. He emphasizes, "It really helped me out," showcasing the importance of adaptability and the willingness to embrace new challenges.4. **The Importance of Relationships** Throughout his military journey, Darrell highlights the significance of the relationships he built. "I miss the clowns, but I don't miss the circus," he says, indicating that while the experiences can be chaotic, the camaraderie and friendships formed are invaluable. This sentiment resonates with many veterans who cherish the bonds created during service.5. **Life After the Army** Now residing in the Panhandle of Florida with his wife Tara and their two daughters, Darrell has successfully transitioned into civilian life while maintaining connections with his military roots. His story serves as an inspiration for those considering a similar path, demonstrating that with courage and adaptability, one can carve out a fulfilling life after service.Conclusion: Darrell's journey from Detroit to the Army, and then into a successful IT career, exemplifies the power of embracing change and pursuing one's passions. His experiences emphasize the importance of adaptability, the value of relationships, and the courage to seek new opportunities. Key takeaways include the significance of finding the right path for oneself, the benefits of changing careers, and the lasting friendships forged in the military.Tags: #MilitaryCareer #VeteranStories #TransitionToCivilianLife #ITCareer #EmbracingChange #ArmyVeteran #Camaraderie #LifeAfterService

Last time we spoke about the first battle of Changsha. Japanese forces under General Okamura Yasuji, including the 6th, 13th, and 33rd Divisions, launched a multi-pronged offensive, crossing the Xin Qiang River and capturing Yingtian amid brutal fighting. Chinese defenses, commanded by Xue Yue in the Ninth War Zone, employed gradual resistance strategies, with units like the 195th Division under Qin Yizhi holding key positions such as Bijia Mountain and Fulinpu, inflicting heavy losses. Battalion Commander Luo Wenlang recaptured Dongtang in a midnight assault, grieving his fallen brother amid Mid-Autumn moonlight. Chiang Kai-shek, from Chongqing, oversaw operations while hosting a festive banquet, buoyed by international support like U.S. loans. By October, Japanese advances stalled; Okamura ordered a retreat on October 2, exposed by a downed plane yielding critical documents. Chinese forces pursued, reclaiming lines by October 8, annihilating over half the invaders per Chiang's commendation.   #198 The Battle of South Guangxi 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 January 1939, the Japanese General Headquarters, responding to naval needs, ordered the 21st Corps to seize Hainan Island. The goal was to establish a base for air operations against southwestern China and to enforce blockade measures. Supported by the Japanese Navy, the Corps deployed the Taiwan Brigade, which landed at Haikou on February 10. After initial defeats, Chinese peace preservation units withdrew to the island's interior and conducted harassment operations. Japanese troops soon occupied northern counties including Qiongshan, Wenchang, Ding'an, Qionghai, and Chengmai, followed by the port of Yulin, which positioned them for southward advances toward Guangxi.   This invasion was part of a broader strategy to disrupt Chinese supply lines and secure a foothold in southern China. Although Chinese resistance on Hainan ultimately failed to repel the invaders, it highlighted the resilience that would define regional fighting.   After the costly Battle of Wuhan, the Sino-Japanese War reached a stalemate in central China, despite ongoing large-scale conflicts and Japanese strategic bombings that caused heavy casualties without breaking the deadlock. Politically, Japan's alignment with the Axis powers and the start of World War II in Western Europe led European nations to bolster ties with China. With major coastal ports under Japanese control, the Nationalist government's main overseas supply route became the Haiphong-Kunming railway in French Indochina, which transported four times more war materials in 1938 than in 1937, including heavy equipment purchased abroad.   The Hainan occupation negatively impacted Japan's war efforts, though diplomatic pressure on Britain and France proved ineffective. Meanwhile, the Imperial Japanese Navy proposed a southward advance: invading from Nanning to Longzhou County in Guangxi by sea to establish an airfield for strategic bombing. An April 15, 1939, Navy Department assessment deemed large-scale inland army operations challenging, recommending instead that the army and navy collaborate to occupy Shantou—the largest trading port on the South China coast—before pushing into Guangxi to seize Nanning and sever China's vital Indochina supply line.   In June, the Japanese General Staff's "Military Geography" emphasized that occupying Nanning would provide convenient transportation in all directions, reaching Guangdong, Hunan, Guizhou, and Yunnan. The Nanning-Lang Son road had become a major artery for Chiang Kai-shek's regime to connect with the southwest. To cut it off directly, Nanning must be captured first. Once occupied, heavy troops near Tokyo Bay would not be needed to achieve the operation's purpose. This idea gained considerable support both politically and tactically. The Army's northward policy had been defeated by the Soviet Union in the Battle of Khalkhin Gol in September 1939. Major General Tominaga Kyoji, the newly appointed head of the First Department of the General Staff, sought to avoid further embarrassments. Supporting the proposal involved transferring the 5th Division of the Kwantung Army, originally intended for Khalkhin Gol, to the south. This prevented front-line units from misjudging higher-ups' positions and allowed implementation without affecting existing troops.   In September, the European war broke out. The Japanese General Headquarters ordered the 21st Army to capture the vicinity of Nanning, cut off the international passage between Guangxi and Vietnam, and obtain a base for air operations in southwest China. Japan aimed to completely sever China's most important supply route. According to Japanese intelligence, the French Indochina line accounted for 85% of China's foreign aid in late 1939, with 12,500 tons transported in September alone.   On September 1, 1939, Germany attacked Poland; on September 3, Britain and France declared war on Germany, igniting World War II. Japan, eager to resolve the China issue and free up troops to seize Western colonies in Asia and the Pacific, stated through Prime Minister Nobuyuki Abe on September 4: "At the outbreak of the European war, the Empire will not intervene and has decided to focus on resolving the China Incident." In Nanjing, the China Expeditionary Army Headquarters was established, with General Nishio Hisazo as Commander-in-Chief and Lieutenant General Itagaki Seishiro as Chief of Staff, overseeing the North China Area Army, the 11th Army, the 13th Army, and the 21st Army.   On September 23, the Japanese General Headquarters issued an order to prepare for a swift response to the China Incident. On October 16, "Continental Order No. 375" directed the Commander-in-Chief of the China Expeditionary Army to swiftly cut off enemy supply routes from Nanning to Longzhou with a portion of the navy. Also on October 16, "Continental Order No. 582," a central Army-Navy agreement, aimed to cut off enemy routes along the Nanning-Longzhou line and strengthen naval air operations against the Yunnan-Vietnam Railway and the Burma Road. The operation was scheduled for mid-November. On October 19, Nishio Juzo issued orders for the Guangxi operation, involving the 5th Division, Taiwan Mixed Brigade, supporting units, the 5th Fleet (renamed the 2nd Expeditionary Fleet in mid-November), and the 3rd Combined Naval Air Group. Total strength: about 30,000 men, over 70 warships, 2 aircraft carriers, and about 100 aircraft. Tominaga Kyoji announced: "This is the last battle of the China Incident."   Politically, the Guangxi Army was a key pillar of the National Government after retreating to Sichuan. Attacking Guangxi could impact the Guangxi clique's stance on continuing the war. Cutting off the Nanning-Longzhou line would affect Vietnam-China transportation security and allow actions against French Indochina amid Europe's distractions. With tactical and political alignment, the plan was approved.   In September 1939, the Chinese repelled the Japanese attack on Changsha. In October, the National Government held the Second Nanyue Military Conference in Hengshan, summarizing the First Changsha Campaign and deciding on a new offensive. On October 29, Chiang Kai-shek announced: "Our future strategic application and the mentality of officers and soldiers must be completely transformed. We must start to turn defense into offense, turn stillness into movement, and actively take offensive measures." On November 5, after the meeting, intelligence indicated Japan's intention to invade the south. U.S. and British agencies reported the Japanese fleet gathering in Tokyo Bay, signaling an imminent operation against Nanning. Chiang flew from Hengshan to Guilin to arrange defenses.   At this time, coastal defense was guarded by the 16th Army Group under Xia Wei (transferred, with Cai Tingkai taking over), a Guangxi clique force comprising the 46th and 31st Armies. Bai Chongxi, director of the Guilin Headquarters, was in Chongqing for the Sixth Plenary Session of the Fifth National Congress of the Kuomintang, while Chief of Staff Lin Wei was in Rong County mourning Xia Wei's mother. The headquarters was essentially deserted. Zhang Fakui, commander of the Fourth War Zone, and Chief of Staff Wu Shiyuan were in Shaoguan, Guangdong. The three-tiered command structure—headquarters, war zone, army group—was practically non-existent.   The Chinese forces north of the pass were commanded by Bai Chongxi's Guilin Headquarters, with Lin Wei as Chief of Staff; they included the Fourth War Zone under Zhang Fakui and the 16th Army Group under Xia Wei. They commanded: the 31st Army (Commander Wei Yunsong; 131st Division under He Weizhen; 135th Division under Su Zuxin; 188th Division under Wei Zhen); the 46th Army (Commander He Xuan; 170th Division under Li Xingshu; 175th Division under Feng Huang; New 19th Division under Huang Gu); and a portion of the 200th Division of the 5th Army (Commander Dai Anlan). Together with the 1st-4th Independent Infantry Regiments of the Guangxi Training Corps, total strength was approximately 60,000 men.   After the Japanese landing, Bai Chongxi was stationed in Qianjiang, while the 16th Army Group headquarters in Xiawei was at Heishiyan near Binyang.   In early November 1939, the Japanese 5th Fleet and the aircraft carrier Kaga escorted the 5th Division and the Taiwan Brigade to concentrate in Haikou. Japanese aircraft bombed important cities in Guangxi. At that time, the Chinese army defended the coast from Nanning to Qinzhou Bay and Fangcheng with part of the 16th Army Group of the Fourth War Zone. The 46th Army was responsible for the coastline of Fangcheng, Qinxian, Hepu, and Liankou, and the 31st Army for key points along the Xijiang River.   On November 9, Japanese troops assembled at Sanya Bay on Hainan Island. Lieutenant General Ando Rikichi, commander of the 21st Army, personally commanded from Sanya. On the 13th, the fleet set sail. On the 14th, vanguard ships feinted at Beihai with over ten ships. A battalion of the 175th Division retaliated and was ordered to destroy Beihai, but Commander Chao Wei of the 524th Regiment believed no landing was intended, avoiding complete destruction. That night, Japanese ships turned toward Qinzhou.   To safeguard the international communications link between Guangxi and Indochina, the Chinese Generalissimo's Headquarters in Guilin assigned defensive missions. The 46th Corps of the 16th Army Group was tasked with defending the coastline from Fangcheng to Qinzhou, Hepu, and Lianjiang. The 31st Corps was responsible for key positions along the Xi River. Defensive positions were prepared in advance, and communications infrastructure was sabotaged to facilitate gradual resistance, aiming to attrition Japanese forces before a decisive engagement along the Yong River.   On November 15, under air and naval fire support, the Japanese 5th Division and Taiwan Brigade executed a forced landing on the west coast of Qinzhou Bay. Following intense resistance, the Chinese New 19th Division withdrew to Pancheng and Shangsi. After capturing Qinzhou, the Japanese 5th Division advanced north along the Yong-Qin Highway, while the Taiwan Brigade moved along Xiaodong–Baiji–Bujin Road. On November 17, the Japanese army captured Qinzhou and Fangcheng. The 5th Division immediately split into three routes along the Yongqin Highway, while the Taiwan Brigade advanced north along Xiaodong-Baekje-Pujin. On the 18th, they attacked Xiaodong, the headquarters of the New 19th Division. Division Commander Huang Gu fled alone in the face of battle. His troops were routed, and the Japanese continued northward. Meanwhile, bandits from the Shiwan Mountains formed numerous plainclothes teams to lead the Japanese advance, accelerating their northward movement. By November 21, they approached the south bank of the Yu River. On December 1, they occupied Gaofeng Pass. On December 4, they occupied Kunlun Pass and then adopted a defensive posture.   On November 16, Chiang Kai-shek summoned Bai Chongxi in Chongqing, ordering him to return to Guilin immediately to command the battle, without attending the plenary session. Bai requested full command without intervention from Zhang Fakui, and that all armies obey the Headquarters directly. Chiang approved and transferred his elite Fifth Army and other units to Bai's command. Bai telegraphed Du Yuming to lead troops by train from Hengyang to southern Guilin and reinstated Xia Wei as commander of the 16th Army Group, with Cai Tingkai awaiting orders. The 16th Army Group assembled, and Deputy Commander-in-Chief Wei Yunsong arrived in Nanning on the 19th. Units rushed to block Japanese advances. Bai flew to Guilin on the 19th and Qianjiang on the 21st, establishing the command post. Thus, as Japanese arrived in Nanning, Chinese reinforcements like the 170th Division reached Yongning on the 22nd, two regiments of the 135th Division entered Nanning on the 23rd, and the 600th Regiment of the 200th Division arrived at Ertang on the afternoon of the 24th. Other armies assembled in Liuzhou and Binyang.   On November 21, Japanese troops approached the south bank of the Yu River. Wu Zongjun, commander of the 405th Regiment of the 135th Division, arbitrarily ordered his regiments to abandon positions and retreat. Wei Yunsong ordered Su Zuxin to intercept, but Wu disobeyed. No troops defended Nanning's front lines. At dawn on the 24th, the 170th Division fought fiercely in Yongning. In the morning, the Japanese 21st Regiment crossed the river. By afternoon, Nanning had fallen. Over the next two days, they swept surrounding positions. On the morning of the 25th, the 600th Regiment of the 200th Division fought alone against Japanese regiments at Ertang. Under air cover, Japanese attacked, but Chinese resisted stubbornly. Regiment Commander Shao Yizhi and Adjutant Wu Qisheng were killed. Given the situation, Division Commanders Li Xingshu and Dai Anlan retreated to Gaofeng Pass after dusk. Though they failed to stop the advance, this was the fiercest resistance since the landing, lasting two days and nights. On November 25, Japanese attacked the 175th Division near Luwu from Xiaodong and the highway. The division moved to Nalong, assembling in villages there. The 175th attacked key points along the Yongqin Highway, including Datang, Naxiao, Dongya, Nabian, Xincheng, Xiaodong, Dadong, and Bancheng.   On November 20, the 21st Army opened its headquarters in Qinzhou. On November 26, Ando Rikichi announced the formation of the Yongqin Corps under Imamura Hitoshi. Ando left for Guangzhou on the 27th. Starting on the 26th, Japanese attacked Gaofeng Pass with aircraft cover. Despite fierce resistance, Chinese lost Gaofeng Pass on December 1. On the 4th, Japanese occupied Kunlun Pass, then adjusted deployment. The two sides confronted each other along the Kunlun Pass mountainous boundary. According to statistics up to December 1, Japanese suffered 145 dead and 315 wounded; Chinese had 6,125 dead bodies and 664 prisoners (but Japanese casualties were underreported; the 41st Infantry Regiment received 727 replacements on January 19, likely matching killed and wounded sent back). Seized in Nanning: 300 tons lead, 200 tons coal, 500 bundles cotton, 321 tons cotton thread, 30 tons iron, 60 tons tin. On December 2, the Japanese 5th Cavalry Regiment and Morimoto Battalion were attacked by about 1,500 Chinese with four tanks at Batang. Japanese dispatched the 21st Brigade (Nakamura Detachment), repelling a mixed force of the 200th and 188th Divisions. Japanese occupied Kunlun Pass but left only a battalion to defend it, withdrawing the rest to Nanning.   Bai Chongxi, director of the Guilin Headquarters and deputy chief of staff, proposed a counter-offensive plan, which was approved by Chiang Kai-shek.   On November 24, when Japanese had just occupied Nanning, Bai Chongxi demanded an immediate counterattack while Japanese were unstable and weak. After failing to gain approval, Bai asked Du Yuming to submit a request. Du sent a telegram on December 1: "The enemy occupying Nanning is less than two divisions. They succeeded by exploiting our dispersed forces, but lack heavy weapons and supplies. Our army should gather superior forces and launch a counter-offensive quickly (before December 10) to defeat them and restore international transportation." Chiang decided on a counter-offensive on December 7. On the 8th, Bai conveyed the objective: "capturing Kunlun Pass and then recovering Nanning." By mid-December, assembly was complete. Chiang dispatched Chen Cheng and Li Jishen to supervise, and Zhang Fakui arrived in Qianjiang.   In the early stages, Guangxi lacked heavy armored forces for counterattacking beyond Guangxi clique troops. The fall of Kunlun Pass prompted Chongqing to deploy the reorganized Fifth Army and its armored corps for a strong attack. The Fifth Army was the main force at Kunlun Pass, with the National Revolutionary Army providing cover while launching a full-scale counterattack in Nanning.   To recapture Kunlun Pass and Nanning, Bai Chongxi dispatched approximately nine armies and twenty-seven divisions, totaling 300,000 troops: Xia Wei of the 16th Army Group, Ye Zhao of the 37th Army Group, Deng Longguang of the 35th Army Group, and Cai Tingkai of the 26th Army Group (31st, 5th, 64th, 46th, and 43rd Armies, etc.) to attack Kunlun Pass. The Japanese, with the Nakamura Brigade as main force and special forces, had strong fortifications. Xu Tingyao of the 38th Army Group, with Li Yannian of the 2nd Army, Gan Lichu of the 6th Army, Yao Chun of the 36th Army, and Fu Zhongfang of the 99th Army. The 5th Army, plus the 1st Honorary Division (Zheng Dongguo), New 22nd Division (Qiu Qingquan), and all armored, cavalry, artillery, and engineer regiments, arrived.   The Japanese forces consisted of the 5th Division (Lieutenant General Hitoshi Imamura; 9th Brigade under Major General Genichiro Ogawa; 21st Brigade under Major General Masao Nakamura; Taiwan Mixed Brigade under Major General Sadashiro Shiota), Marine Corps (over 70 warships), and Air Force (100 aircraft), totaling about 30,000. Later reinforcements: Imperial Guard Division and a brigade from the 18th Division. Total about 100,000, but only 45,000 fought. After a traitor reported over 100,000 Nationalist troops north of Kunlun Pass, Imamura dismissed it as "impossible." Higher Japanese ranks hoped to instigate rebellion by the Guangxi clique. On December 10, Imamura issued a telegram "Letter to Generals Li and Bai," expressing respect and stating the attack on Nanning was to cut off Chiang's lines, hoping for Japan-China cooperation. If insisted, the Japanese garrison would win. Finally: "The more than 4,200 brave soldiers who died in Nanning have been buried in Zhongshan Park and solemnly offered sacrifices. Please rest assured."   On December 15, Bai Chongxi took a decisive step in the escalating conflict by issuing the first counter-offensive order, setting the stage for a coordinated push against enemy positions. He organized the forces into three main route armies, with additional reserves held back for support.   The Northern Route Army, under Xu Tingyao's command, focused its efforts on Kunlun Pass. The 5th Army led the direct assault there, while the 92nd Division from the 99th Army skirted around Lingliwei to strike at Qitang, effectively flanking the pass and adding pressure from the side.   Meanwhile, the Western Route Army, led by Xia Wei, split into two columns to cover multiple fronts. The First Column, commanded by Zhou Zuhuang, targeted Gaofeng Pass in a bold advance. The Second Column, under Wei Yunsong, positioned itself at Suwei to block any reinforcements heading toward Nanning, cutting off potential enemy supply lines.   On the eastern flank, Cai Tingkai's Eastern Route Army aimed to disrupt key logistics. The 46th Army moved against Luwu and Lingshan, intent on severing the vital Yongqin Highway. At the same time, the 66th Army joined the assault on Kunlun Pass before pushing onward to Gula and Gantang. To bolster these efforts, the remaining two divisions of the 99th Army were kept in reserve, ready to reinforce wherever needed.   The very next day, on December 16, Du Yuming—now serving as army commander—gathered his officers for a critical conference within the 5th Army. There, they crafted a clever encirclement strategy dubbed "close the gate and fight the tiger," designed to trap and overwhelm the opposition. The plan's core involved the 200th Division, led by Dai Anlan, and the 1st Honorary Division under Zheng Dongguo launching the primary attack on Kunlun Pass. Flanking from the right, Qiu Qingquan's New 22nd Division would seize Wutang and Liutang, then turn to intercept any incoming reinforcements. On the left wing, Peng Bisheng commanded two regiments in a daring bypass of Gantang and Chang'an, aiming to strike at Qitang and Batang and seal off the enemy's retreat routes.   The enemy at Kunlun Pass was the Matsumoto Sozaburo Battalion of the 21st Brigade. Its 42nd and 21st Regiments were along Jiutang-Nanning. On December 16, Imamura ordered Major General Kawai Genshichi of the 9th Brigade to lead thousands in a surprise attack on Longzhou and Zhennan Pass, departing on the 17th.   At 8 p.m. on December 17, the Battle of Kunlun Pass began.   On December 18, Chinese forces began their attack and captured Kunlun Pass and Jiutang on the same day. On December 19, it captured Gaofeng Pass. On December 20, Gaofeng Pass, Jiutang, and Kunlun Pass fell into the hands of the Japanese army again. At dawn on December 18, the artillery of the 5th Army opened fire. After extension, the 200th and 1st Honorary Divisions attacked. Hundreds of Japanese planes bombed. By night, the 1st Honorary captured Fairy Mountain, Laomaoling, Wanfu Village, Luotang, and Hill 411; 200th captured Hills 653 and 600, taking Kunlun Pass. At noon on the 19th, massive Japanese air raid. Imamura dispatched the 21st Regiment under Colonel Miki Yoshinosuke, recapturing it. Positions were contested repeatedly. The New 22nd occupied Wutang and Liutang; Wutang recaptured by Japanese, but Liutang held, blocking reinforcements. When Imamura ordered Taiwan Mixed Brigade reinforcement, they were blocked at Liutang by Qiu Qingquan. Du Yuming ordered Zheng Dongguo to send Zheng Tingji's 3rd Regiment to encircle Jiutang from the right. They captured high ground west of Jiutang at night. On December 20, enemy at Kunlun Pass weakened, sending urgent reports. Imamura ordered Nakamura Masao with 42nd Regiment to reinforce, but blocked at Wutang for two days, reaching Qitang on the 22nd, blocked again. Nakamura was wounded on the 23rd morning. At 1:30 pm, Miki reported: "If the brigade cannot arrive before dusk, the front line will be difficult to secure."   Imamura ordered Colonel Lin Yixiong's 1st Regiment and Colonel Watanabe Nobuyoshi's 2nd Regiment of the Taiwan Mixed Brigade to reinforce, but blocked by 175th Division on Yongqin Road. Watanabe's regiment blocked at Luwu by 524th Regiment (Chao Wei), and after three days, couldn't pass. Watanabe was killed, remnants fled to Qin County. On the 20th, Imamura ordered the 9th Brigade's 3rd Battalion of Ito's unit back in 105 vehicles to reinforce.   The Japanese confirmed the attack and Imamura ordered Nakamura Detachment rescue. Over two weeks, encirclement and breakout battles occurred on the Nanning-Kunlun Pass highway.   On the 18th, the 170th Division launched the Battle of Gaofeng Pass, capturing a hill on the 19th but ambushed that night. On the 20th, the pass fell, retreating to Gewei. Bai inspected but no improvement; failed to capture Gaofeng Pass or block reinforcements. Ito's unit on Yonglong Road intercepted by 131st at Xichangwei. On the 22nd, Imamura sent two companies from Nanning, intercepted by 188th near Suwei. Ito's battalion besieged in Xichangwei for three days, spared because 131st avoided close combat. Under air cover, both broke through to Nanning on the 26th.   On November 21, Chiang was dissatisfied with Kunlun Pass progress, ordering: "If front-line troops and artillery fail to attack or complete tasks, they shall be punished for cowardice."   By the 23rd, two divisions of 5th Army had over 2,000 casualties; Japanese over 1,000. Six days yielded no results, with reinforcements arriving. Du changed tactics to concentrate forces, tightening encirclement.   On the 24th, Oikawa Detachment ordered back to Nanning, destroying captured materials and withdrawing from Longzhou and Zhennanguan. Bai learned some escaped, telegraphing Wei Yunsong: "If the second batch escapes, it affects the main force. The deputy commander-in-chief should be punished." Main force still escaped; local troops preserved strength, benefiting Japanese.   On the main position, Zheng Tingji spotted Japanese officers meeting and ordered fire, inflicting heavy casualties, requiring airdropped officers.   On the 25th, Second Regiment of First Division captured Luotang South Heights, annihilating over 200. From December 25, Fifth Army and 159th and 92nd Divisions occupied key high grounds. Fierce battle until December 31, capturing Kunlun Pass and Tianyin, killing Nakamura Masao, annihilating over 5,000.   Following the intense clashes at Kunlun Pass, the battle's toll on the Japanese forces became starkly evident in the weeks that followed. On January 19, just a month after the fighting peaked, the Japanese rushed in 3,389 fresh replacements to replenish their battered 5th Division. This influx was distributed unevenly: 1,848 went to the 21st Infantry Regiment and 814 to the 42nd, figures that likely corresponded directly to the number of dead and seriously wounded who had been evacuated back home—though those with minor injuries weren't factored into these counts. The ferocity of the engagement was further underscored by the capture of numerous Japanese strongholds, where Chinese forces found that every defender had been killed, leaving no survivors behind.   In many ways, this outcome represented a stunning annihilation for the Japanese, particularly the 21st Brigade, which was effectively wiped out. Key figures fell in the fray, including Brigade Commander Masao Nakamura, Acting Commander Sakata Genichi, Miki Yoshinosuke, along with various deputies and battalion commanders. The leadership losses were catastrophic: over 85% of officers above the squad leader level were killed. Japanese records themselves acknowledged more than 4,000 soldiers dead, painting a grim picture that their own war histories later described as "the darkest era for the army." On the Chinese side, the victory came at a heavy price, with over 10,000 casualties suffered, yet remarkably, the core officer corps remained largely intact, preserving command structure for future operations.   Zooming out to the broader theater in December 1939, the Japanese 5th Division and the Taiwan Mixed Brigade found themselves holding the line against an overwhelming force of more than 150,000 Nationalist troops. At the same time, the Japanese 21st Army was shifting its focus to Guangdong Province in preparation for Operation Weng Ying, while the Oikawa Detachment—primarily composed of the 11th Infantry Regiment—pushed forward to Longzhou. They captured Zhennanguan on November 21, securing valuable stocks of fuel and arms in the process. However, these stretched deployments and insufficient troop numbers left the Japanese without adequate reserves when encirclement loomed at Kunlun Pass. Ultimately, they were forced to abandon their offensive plans in Guangdong, pulling back to consolidate defenses around Nanning. Meanwhile, from their base in Chongqing, Chinese commanders had meticulously planned the recapture, turning the tide through careful strategy and sheer determination. Shocked, Japanese dispatched Vice Chief of Staff Sawada Shigeru to Guangzhou. On December 29, 21st Army sent staff to Nanning. Failed to change 21st Brigade's defeat. Imamura planned personal charge for revenge on January 1, but Ando ordered holding Nanning for reinforcements: "The 21st Army is transferring powerful force to annihilate enemy. 5th Division secure Nanning and key locations."   After capturing Kunlun Pass and annihilating two regiments of 21st Brigade, 5th Army thought to recapture Nanning. Remaining 21st Brigade and Taiwan regiments between Jiutang and Batang. At noon January 1, 1940, Oikawa's thousands arrived at Batang; Imamura ordered Oikawa replace killed Sakata. First battle on Hill 441. 1st Division held north side; Japanese south. On January 1, Japanese bombed and attacked; 1st Division reduced to hundred but held. At dawn 2nd, counterattack all day, no progress. On 3rd, Du mobilized 200th and part New 22nd; brutal fighting, heavy casualties. At nightfall, Japanese retreated to Jiutang. On 4th, Japanese abandoned Jiutang to Batang. New 22nd moved into Jiutang. 5th Army attacked Batang; by 12th, no progress. Exhausted with heavy casualties, 5th Army ordered to Silong for rest. Mission transferred to 36th Army. 5th Army withdrew.   On January 7, Chiang flew to Guilin, visiting Qianjiang on 10th to discuss plans with Bai, Chen, Zhang, Xu, Lin. Bai proposed offensive with new armies to recapture Nanning. Chiang approved. On 11th, as Bai issued orders, Chiang overturned, changing to defensive. Japanese gained time for counter-offensive.   To salvage defeat, Japanese transferred 18th Division and Konoye Brigade from Guangdong. Combined with existing, formed 22nd Corps under Seiichi Kuno, under South China Front Army commanded by Reikichi Ando, preparing counteroffensive.   On January 25, a brigade from the Japanese 18th Division and elements of the 15th Division attacked frontally along Yongbin Road, while Konoye Brigade flanked toward Guizhou via Yongyong Road, in Binyang Campaign. Konoye crossed at Tingziwei, then Yongchun County, via Gantang, Luwei, Gula, Wuling to Binyang, cutting rear. Bai Chongxi rushed 175th Division of 46th Army north to tail Konoye. After reinforcements, 21st Army launched offensive to drive and encircle south of Binyang; accumulated supplies in Nanning. On January 22, 18th and Konoye reached attack points. 38th Army Group HQ in Binyang bombed, communications cut, independent combat.   On January 28, Japanese launched offensive (Binyang Operation). On February 3, 41st Infantry of 5th Division occupied Kunlun Pass. On February 4, Ando reached captured Binyang. Nationalists lost Kunlun Pass, lines collapsed, many encircled. Battle ended with withdrawal; February 13, Japanese withdrew to Nanning, lines stalemated.   In the wake of the Binyang clashes, the 18th Division was indeed shifted to Guangzhou. Japanese records from January 28 to February 13 painted a picture of their spoils: they claimed to have captured 19 tanks, 5 light armored vehicles, 30 automobiles, 20 field or mountain guns, 13 rapid-fire guns, and 41 mortars. Additionally, they reported counting 27,041 Chinese bodies on the battlefield and taking 1,167 prisoners. The Chinese forces, for their part, regrouped with their main strength positioned east of the Yongqin Highway, while some elements maneuvered west to harass Japanese rear lines and coordinate actions from the north bank.   On February 21, 1940, Chiang arrived in Liuzhou, residing at Yangjiao Mountain. From February 22, he convened over 100 generals for a four-day Liuzhou Military Conference to review Guinan operations. Chiang demoted Bai Chongxi for poor supervision and Chen Cheng for poor guidance from first- to second-class generals. He also punished and rewarded other senior officers. The 46th Army and 175th Division were commended for discipline. On February 26, Fourth War Zone Commander Zhang Fakui announced: "No need for counterattack on Nanning currently." The entire Guinan Campaign ended.   The defeat embarrassed Chongqing; not only disrupted Guangxi-Vietnam traffic, but massive effort ended in rout. Pre-battle, Guilin Headquarters misjudged Japanese intentions; during, both Guangxi and Huangpu clique leaders showed poor performance, infuriating Chiang. Post-battle punishments were unprecedented in the war.   I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go 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 after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. In November 1939, Japanese forces, including the 5th Division and Taiwan Brigade, landed at Qinzhou Bay, captured Nanning, and advanced to Kunlun Pass. Chinese troops, under Bai Chongxi and reinforced by the elite 5th Army, launched fierce counteroffensives, recapturing Kunlun Pass in December with heavy casualties. 

Joshua Shores served in the United States Marine Corps from 2004 to 2008 and deployed to Ramadi during some of the deadliest fighting of the Iraq War. In this interview, Joshua shares what it was like going from a small-town upbringing in Wisconsin to becoming an infantry Marine, attending recon training, joining 1st Battalion 5th Marines, deploying to Iraq, combat in Ramadi, serving with the first MARSOC Bravo Comiany, and fighting in Afghanistan.  He talks about Marine boot camp, School of Infantry, the culture shock of joining the military, combat patrols, intense firefights, clearing mosques, capturing insurgents, and surviving devastating IED explosions. Joshua also reflects on the realities of war, the chaos of urban combat, losing friends, and the lasting memories that come with serving in Iraq during the height of the insurgency.Joshua discusses:- Growing up in Wisconsin in a military family- Joining the Marines at 17- Marine Corps boot camp and SOI- Recon training and dropping to 1/5 Marines- Deploying to Ramadi in 2005- The reality of combat in Iraq- Firefights, raids, and insurgent tactics- Capturing enemy fighters- Surviving an IED blast- Losing friends and dealing with trauma after war

Thinking Inside the Box – The Gauntlet, part of the NTC Warrior Chronicles, brings you interviews with the United States Army's experts in combined arms maneuver, the Observer Coach Trainers (OC/Ts) of Operations Group, at the National Training Center (NTC), Fort Irwin, California. In this episode, host Lt. Col. Trinidad Chavez, Senior Trainer of Operations Group sits down with the Capt. Abreu, Capt. Hansen and Sgt. First Class Essig to discuss applying fundamentals to the planning and preparing process to enable maneuver battalions' success at the National Training Center. They talk about the Planning Process, Military Decision-Making Process (MDMP), Mission Analysis, Courses of Action (COA) Development the Rapid-Making and Synchronization Process (RDSP), staff synchronization, fighting products, rehearsals, and recommendations before coming to NTC. To stay updated with the latest video from Operations Group, NTC Observer, Coach / Trainers, be sure to like, subscribe, and review us wherever you listen or watch. Stay tuned for more episodes in the future. Thinking Inside the Box Podcast at Thinking Inside the Box on Apple Podcasts Thinking Inside the Box | Podcast on Spotify Thinking Inside the Box | Podcasts on Audible | Audible.com We encourage you to watch our TAC Talk series on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/@tactalks-operationsgroupntc. Follow us on Facebook to see more from Operations Group, NTC https://www.facebook.com/operationsgroupntc Visit us on our Official Unit Webpage: https://home.army.mil/irwin/units-tenants/ntc-operations-group “Thinking Inside the Box - The Gauntlet and TAC Talks” are a product of the Operations Group, National Training Center, part of the NTC Warrior Chronicles. Episode hosted by Lt. Col. Trinidad Chavez and edited by Annette Pritt

On this episode we're diving into the Russia-Ukraine conflict. Inevitably that conversation involves a little bit of drone technology talk, but we focus mostly on the human demands of this kind of warfare. When every single piece of equipment, food, etc. has to travel the last several miles on foot, what does that require of the individual soldier? When there is near constant visual and thermal surveillance, how do operations have to adapt? We break down all that and more, with some time saved at the end to talk about the ACFT implementation, since our guest played a key role in that as well. Major General Kline graduated from Shippensburg University, Pennsylvania in 1992 and was commissioned as a Field Artillery officer where he served three years as a Fire Support Officer and later a MLRS platoon leader before transferring to the Aviation branch until his promotion to Major General.Major General Kline commanded tactical aviation units at the company, battalion, and brigade levels. His aviation command assignments include A Company, 5th Battalion, 158th Aviation Regiment in Germany; 5th Battalion, 101st Aviation Regiment (Task Force Eagle Assault) in Fort Campbell, Kentucky and the 3rd Combat Aviation Brigade located at Hunter Army Airfield in Savannah, Georgia. In combat, Major General Kline served as the Executive Officer for 5th Battalion, 101st Aviation Regiment in Tikrit, Iraq from 2005-2006; Deputy Brigade Commander for 101st Combat Aviation Brigade in Bagram, Afghanistan in 2008; Battalion Commander of 5th Battalion, 101st Aviation Regiment at FOB Wolverine near Qalat, Afghanistan from 2010-2011; and Commander of Task Force Forge in Helmand, Afghanistan from 2015-2016. Uniquely, he also represented the United States in direct communication with the Taliban Political Commission (TPC) in Doha, Qatar in 2021. Specific to this podcast, he was Alex's commander at CIMT as his final command, overseeing the implementation of the ACFT and H2F. After leaving command but before retiring, he was the Army lead for the Ukraine/Russia Lessons study focused on capturing the lessons from that conflict, which is what we'll be focusing most of today's conversation on.

Eighty-five years ago, 14,000 Australian soldiers were surrounded in a dusty Libyan port by Erwin Rommel's Afrika Korps. They were outnumbered, outgunned and cut off from the world. Nazi propaganda called them rats caught in a trap. They took the name and made it their own.In this episode, Mat McLachlan tells the story of the Siege of Tobruk — 242 days that proved the German blitzkrieg could be stopped. Through the voices of the men who were there, we go inside the perimeter: the terror of a first night patrol, the nine-inch trenches of the Salient, the flies in the stew, the dust that turned sleeping men into waxed mummies, and the destroyers that slipped in through the darkness to keep them alive."Anybody that wasn't frightened was either a liar or a fool. We were all frightened, naturally. But we had a job to do and we did it." — Harley Brooks, 2/12th BattalionFrom Corporal Jack Edmondson's Victoria Cross action on Easter Sunday to the bond between a mother and her fallen son, from General Morshead's red hat to Bob Semple — the last Rat of Tobruk, who died in 2024 aged 102 — this is the story of ordinary men who refused to be beaten.And when it was over, the men who had conquered Europe had not conquered them.Episode Length: 27 minutesFeatures: First-person accounts from the AWM Keith Murdoch Sound Archive including Eric Brough MM (2/24th Battalion), Harley Brooks (2/12th Battalion), Max Thow (2/12th Battalion), Owen Curtis (2/12th Battalion), Alf Miller (2/4th Australian General Hospital), Jack Hawkes (2/28th Battalion) and General Sir Thomas Daly (18th Brigade HQ).Presenter: Mat McLachlanProducer: Jess StebnickiSail through history with Mat McLachlan! Join a 2027 history cruise: https://battlefields.com.au/history-cruises-2027Find out everything Mat is doing with books, tours and media at https://linktr.ee/matmclachlanFor more great history content, visit www.LivingHistoryTV.com, or subscribe to our YouTube channel at https://www.youtube.com/@MatMcLachlanHistory Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Last time we spoke about the beginning of the first battle of Changsha. From Chongqing, Chiang debated defensive strategies for Hunan, ultimately adopting Plan B after Xue Yue's pleas, focusing on successive resistance north of Changsha to thwart Japanese advances. Japanese forces, under Okamura Yasuji, launched assaults in Jiangxi and Hunan. In Jiangxi, the 106th and 101st Divisions attacked Huibu and Gao'an, where Chinese troops under Luo Zhuoying and Song Kentang fiercely resisted. Gao'an fell briefly but was recaptured by the 32nd Army and the elite 74th Army, with heavy casualties on both sides, as recounted by soldier Liu Qihuai. In Hunan, Japanese units crossed the Xin Qiang River and landed at Yingtian, facing brutal opposition. At Bijia Mountain, Qin Yizhi's 195th Division held for four days; Battalion Commander Shi Enhua's reinforced unit perished entirely, their fragmented remains mourned by locals. Along the Miluo River, Chen Pei's 37th Army fortified positions, repelling waves of Japanese attacks, including suicide squads disguised as civilians. Recruit Yang Peyao's unit endured bombardments, inflicting significant enemy losses before withdrawing at dusk.   #197 The First Battle of Changsha 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. Major Luo Wenlang, battalion commander of the 3rd Battalion, 55th Regiment, 19th Division of the 28th Army, harbored a peculiar quirk: he couldn't sleep soundly without unwrapping his leg bindings, a small ritual that anchored him in the chaos of war. Since the war's eruption, such luxuries were rare, and unwrapping his bindings every night became an impossibility, leaving him to endure restless slumbers. Tonight, however, sleep eluded him entirely; he tossed and turned on his makeshift bed, his mind a whirlwind of unrest. Two days after the northern Hunan battle ignited like a powder keg, the 55th Regiment received urgent orders from Division Commander Tang Boyin to race to Wukou in Pingjiang County. Their path wound through Luo Wenlang's hometown of Fulinpu, a twist of fate that stirred conflicting emotions. Entering the village under the cover of night, the entire battalion encamped in the commander's modest family village, with battalion headquarters naturally established in his ancestral home.   Luo yearned to step across that familiar threshold but dreaded it, for his parents remained oblivious to a devastating truth. They slaughtered chickens and prepared meat, hosting the battalion staff with drinks and hospitality, after all, this was their son's unit gracing their home. Luo orchestrated door planks and straw for bedding, posted sentries, and deftly evaded his parents until they retired. Before dawn broke, he mustered the troops, ensured they were fed, and led them onward, slipping away like a shadow. By noon on the 22nd, they reached Wukou, only to receive fresh directives: rush to Yingtian to bolster the 95th Division against the enemy's audacious landings. The 3rd Battalion spearheaded the division's reinforcements, marching relentlessly through day and night, arriving at Dongtang, over 30 kilometers southeast of Yingtian—on the 23rd, hearts sinking upon learning Yingtian had already fallen into enemy clutches.   Luo Wenlang sought out the retreating 95th Division Commander Luo Qi to beg for a mission, his resolve unyielding. Luo Qi, anticipating his arrival, relayed Commander Guan Linzheng's ironclad instructions: The 19th Division's reinforcements would assume Dongtang's defenses. With the main force still en route, Luo Qi tasked Luo's battalion with relieving a segment held by a replacement regiment. He handed over a map, sketching a line with a pencil, a simple stroke that thrust Luo Wenlang and his men onto the front lines of fate. An operations staff was dispatched to guide them to the position and oversee the handover.   As the troops advanced, they encountered scattered soldiers fleeing like startled rabbits; seizing a platoon leader revealed they were indeed from the replacement regiment. Mere minutes from division HQ, the enemy was already closing in, a predator's breath hot on their necks. Luo Wenlang and Deputy Battalion Commander Wu Yacui split the battalion, launching a counterattack on Dongtang from dual routes. Fortune favored them; the Japanese held only an exhausted company, crumbling under a single, ferocious charge. They swiftly deployed two companies to the positions, reserving one as a bulwark. By dusk, the full 55th Regiment arrived, accompanied by the rest of the 19th Division's reinforcements, allowing the battered 95th Division, ravaged at Yingtian, to withdraw for desperate reorganization. The regimental commander positioned Luo's 3rd Battalion on the regiment's vulnerable left wing. In the blink of an eye, it was the 27th, aligning with the 15th of the eighth lunar month. Amid the relentless great battle, few noted the calendar, and the skies hung heavy with clouds. Luo Wenlang twisted on his straw bed, his thoughts a snarled knot of anxiety and memory.   At 11 p.m., gunfire shattered the night; a barrage of machine gun bullets riddled the battalion HQ house, raining thatch and dust upon Luo like fallout from a storm. Catastrophe had struck! Luo surged toward the positions with the bugler—his battalion signal chief—and the reserve force, ascending the hilltop in a frenzy. Halfway up, he spotted 8th Company's Lieutenant Platoon Leader Rong Fayu leading over 20 soldiers in retreat. Bellowing "Why unauthorized retreat?" while brandishing his pistol, he compelled Rong to rally and turn back. The Japanese had launched a nocturnal assault; 8th Company Commander Yi Zuitao lay slain by a fatal shot, over a dozen comrades felled in brutal close combat, the survivors scattered like leaves in the wind; the high ground now belonged to the enemy.   Upon learning of Dongtang's loss, the regimental commander personally led the regimental reserve, his face etched with urgency. Under flickering lantern light, poring over the map with Luo, Division Commander Tang Boyin telephoned, his voice a whipcrack of command: Recapture it before dawn, or both would face the merciless hand of military justice. After seizing the high ground, the enemy hesitated to press further; Luo surmised the darkness concealed paths, and their numbers were not overwhelming. Forgoing the regimental reserve, he led 7th Company's 4 squads and remnants of the routed 8th Company in a stealthy ascent. Near the position, a ravine concealed over 20 8th Company soldiers, rallied by Sergeant Squad Leader Tan Tianrong, who had lurked in wait for reinforcements, dreading exposure at dawn under the enemy's gaze.   Spotting the battalion commander personally spearheading the counterattack, Tan Tianrong's face lit with fierce joy; his men, armed with grenades, surged as the vanguard. Intimate with the terrain even in blindness, they hurled explosives into bunkers, trenches, and works. The commander orchestrated the charge; the Japanese force of 40-50 men crumbled, over half slain or maimed, the remnants fleeing northward to their village stronghold. It was past 4 a.m.; the moon pierced the clouds, bathing the earth in a silvery glow. With positions reclaimed, the night revealed its secret: tonight was Mid-Autumn. Moonlight unraveled the tangled threads of his past; Luo draped his clothes over his shoulders, sat beneath the luminous orb, and wept in solitary anguish.   Before the war, devastating news had arrived: his brother Luo Yinong had been killed in Jiangxi. Luo had three brothers; the eldest shouldered half the family's burdens, their bond unbreakable. The brother had enlisted first in the 50th Army, climbing to battalion commander through sheer valor. He and his younger brother had followed suit, inspired by that call to arms.   Wartime conscription demanded only one per family, but battling the devils was a duty for the nation and its people. His brother had risen to deputy regimental commander before his end. The 50th Army notified him first. Engulfed in battle, there had been no time to console his grieving parents or tend to the funeral; it weighed on his heart like an unyielding stone. His sister-in-law, diligent and unassuming, cared for a young boy and carried another child; the long, arduous days ahead loomed like an endless shadow. The night dew brought a biting chill, the moon an icy sentinel; Luo shivered uncontrollably, his tears mingling with the frost.   The sky hung heavy with overcast gloom, yet the moon lurked beyond the clouds, casting a faint, ethereal light that warded off utter darkness. Along the road, a unit's elongated black shadow snaked southward in hurried silence, a serpent of weary resolve pressing through the night. Qin Yizhi reined in his horse, pausing to gaze back: the queue stretched onward, silent and impeccably orderly, belying the exhaustion of a force scarred by days of ferocious combat, their spirits unbroken amid the shadows. After the Japanese seized the 195th Division's defiant outpost at Bijia Mountain, they surged across the Xin Qiang River in a merciless onslaught. The river, shallow enough to wade knee-deep, offered no true impediment; the real barrier was forged from the defenders' scorching blood, a crimson testament to their unyielding stand. The 195th Division clashed in a maelstrom of cruelty; positions were heaped with corpses time and again, the Xin Qiang's waters churning blood-red in relentless cycles of carnage. From the night of the 23rd to the dawn of the 25th, respite was a forgotten dream; Okamura Yasuji, in a gesture of grim respect, inscribed Qin's name in elegant calligraphy and hung it within his command tent, a haunting trophy of the foe's tenacity.   Following their triumphant landing at Yingtian, the Japanese entangled the Ninth War Zone's left-wing defenders in a protracted snare, their advances grinding slowly like a predator toying with prey, menacing the flanks of the frontal troops with insidious intent. On the evening of the 27th, Xue Yue issued the fateful order for the 15th Army Group to withdraw to the precarious ground between the Miluo River and Shangshan City, ushering this blood-soaked force into an all-night march toward the next defensive crucible. Late into the night, a brief halt was called. Soldiers slumped to the ground, adjusting leg wraps and gear with mechanical precision; logistics teams darted through the ranks, distributing rations like lifelines; cooks, having forged ahead, arrived with steaming pots of rice soup, infusing the air with a rare warmth. Though no clamor broke the hush, a quiet camaraderie enveloped the queue, a fleeting balm against the war's chill.   The division staff claimed a flat expanse beside a farmhouse yard for their respite. Qin settled onto a stone roller used for grinding grain, nibbling at his meager ration and sipping the hot soup that steamed in the cool air. Suddenly, moonlight pierced the clouds, cascading down in silvery streams; the familiar contours of the farmhouse stirred a flood of warmth in his heart, evoking memories of home.   Chongqing, Huangshan Villa. Every window was shrouded in double layers of thick curtains, sealing out any sliver of betraying light, as if the very walls conspired to guard secrets from the encroaching night. Tonight's ethereal protagonist rose languidly from the eastern valley, its orange-red moonlight casting an aura of drowsy reluctance, as though it had not fully shaken off the slumber of the day. The feeble glow dappled the building's roof, balcony, and the surrounding hillsides, intersections, and thickets, where armed shadows lurked, capturing every rustle in the oppressive silence. Only upon close inspection could one discern the faint specks of moonlight glinting off steel helmets. Yet, beyond those fortified walls, another realm pulsed with life, a vibrant contrast to the shadowed vigilance outside. The front hall, living room, and dining room blazed with brilliant light. Vibrant flowers, dominated by chrysanthemums in full, defiant bloom, infused the air with color and fragrance; a phonograph murmured a cheerful Guangdong melody, weaving an atmosphere thick with festive joy, a deliberate illusion amid the storm of war.   Chiang Kai-shek, clad in a flowing black silk gown, strode ahead with poised grace, escorting his guests into the dining room alongside the elegantly attired Soong May-ling, their conversation laced with laughter and warmth. At the table, Soong May-ling's smile was a beacon of diplomacy, as she artfully arranged the seating to suit hierarchies and alliances, while servers in crisp white uniforms moved with nimble precision. This was Chiang Kai-shek's intimate Mid-Autumn family banquet; beyond a handful of pivotal military and political figures, the gathering brimmed with relatives. Guests and kin alike noted Chiang's buoyant spirits tonight; his smiles were wide and genuine, his discourse light and expansive, delving into casual topics with uncharacteristic ease.   In September 1939, China's War of Resistance Against Japan had entered its grueling third year. After the initial cataclysm of turmoil and disarray, the government and military had clawed their way to stability, adapting to this unprecedented historical crucible, with operations finally aligning into a semblance of order. According to figures proclaimed by Minister of Military Affairs He Yingqin to Chinese and foreign reporters on the 13th of this month, Japanese invaders had seized 521 counties across 12 provinces, a vast swath of conquest. Yet, the Japanese imperialists had exacted this toll at a staggering cost. Just prior, on August 30, the Hirannuma Cabinet, installed a mere eight months earlier, had collapsed in mass resignation. Hirannuma Kiichiro's predecessor, Konoe Fumimaro, had similarly bowed out amid governmental failures, chiefly the unmet ambitions in the Sino-Japanese War that he had boldly promised to parliament, exacerbating domestic political and economic woes. Days ago, when Wang Pengsheng briefed Chiang on Japan's turbulent politics, he quipped: "Konoe said three months to destroy China; three months didn't work, nor three years, who knows about 30 or 300. Hirannuma had no solutions, down in eight months. Does Abe have good ideas? How long can he be prime minister?" Indeed, Abe Nobuyuki, Hirannuma's successor, would endure a mere four and a half months before resigning in ignominy. Tonight's feast showcased Chiang's favored cuisines: delicate Jiangsu-Zhejiang dishes mingled with robust Sichuan flavors. Chiang abstained from alcohol, raising his cup in mere symbolic toasts to his guests. During the meal, as if by unspoken accord, no one broached the raging domestic battles or the volatile international landscape; conversations meandered through trivialities, skirting anything heavy or discordant, a fragile bubble of normalcy.   On September 3, Britain and France had declared war on Germany, shattering the global order in a seismic shift. Foreign newspapers already bandied the term "Second World War," a phrase that evoked freshness, exhilaration, and sheer terror in equal measure. China's diplomacy surged with newfound vigor. In April, Ambassador to the US Wang Zhengting had negotiated a $20 million loan with American banks on China's behalf. In May, Stalin responded to Chiang's overtures, agreeing to exchange arms for Chinese tea, wool, raw hides, and more. A month later, the first consignment of light and heavy weapons—including artillery and heavy machine guns—arrived via clandestine routes through Xinjiang and Mongolia, bolstering the central army's frontlines. In August, Hu Shih, Wellington Koo, and Chien Tai represented the Nationalist Government at the 19th League of Nations Assembly, laying bare the Japanese imperialists' atrocities in China before the world and rallying global forces for peace to support China's defiant stand. Soon after, British and American civic groups ignited "China Week" campaigns, pressing their governments to aid the beleaguered nation. Waves of foreign volunteers streamed in from distant shores: doctors, journalists, ordnance engineers, even retired soldiers clamoring to join the fray on the frontlines.   "If we could pull America into this war..." Through Soong May-ling's subtle, persuasive influence, Chiang allowed himself to daydream of that prosperous, dynamic young powerhouse across the vast ocean. Thus, on this Mid-Autumn night, his talk turned to America, to his correspondence with President Roosevelt regarding the "tung oil loan." That saga had unfolded the previous October; T.V. Soong had jetted to America, securing a loan with China's tung oil, a commodity scarce in the US, as collateral. China had boldly requested $400 million; America countered with $25 million, a classic tale of "ask high, settle low." Yet, the funds were secured. One success paved the way for many. Soong May-ling had once confided to Chiang: "In mobilizing US aid for China's resistance, I'll make a difference." When Chiang responded with a smile, "Thank you, Madam," he could scarcely foresee how his beautiful wife's extraordinary prowess in fulfilling this solemn vow would astonish him, etching eternal glory for Chinese women worldwide and elevating Soong May-ling to the zenith of her life's achievements.   The most direct echo of the First Battle of Changsha's thunderous saga resides in the Ninth War Zone's meticulous report on the northern Hunan and southern Hubei operations, submitted to the Chongqing Military Committee and Chiang Kai-shek himself, a faded relic now entombed amid the vast ocean of Nationalist Government military and political archives in Nanjing's Second Historical Archives of China. This document, a painstaking compilation of combat dispatches from divisions, armies, and army groups, stands as a testament to valor and sacrifice. Tragically, time's relentless march and human folly have ravaged this priceless artifact, leaving only shards and whispers to conjure the heart-wrenching inferno of that bloody clash.   "October 24, Year 28. Urgent. To Chongqing. Chairman Chiang. Secret. Submitted by Commander Xue on orders." The rice paper has yellowed to a deep, somber hue, brittle and parched; a careless touch could reduce it to dust. Some pages lie fractured, their remnants affixed to white paper, forever unable to reclaim their original wholeness. Leafing through page by page unleashes a pungent miasma, a scorched, acrid, decayed blend that assaults the senses. Traces of fire and water mar the original rice paper sheets, with countless fragments glued haphazardly to white backings, their sequences lost to eternity.   "...The Xin Qiang River spanning from Lujiao to Leishi Mountain, defending a front of over 110 li..." "Enemy 13th and 33rd Divisions, parts of the Hata Detachment, naval units, and artillery, cavalry, engineers totaling..." "...Began attacking us first with artillery... fortifications completely destroyed, then infantry charged; relying on our officers and men all resolved to coexist with the homeland..." "...And launched balloons to direct artillery... our army braved the cannons... repelled them, corpses filling the river, turning the water red..." "Division casualties also reached over a thousand... failed to inflict greater strikes and annihilate... deep inner guilt, besides vigorously training troops awaiting orders to kill the enemy..." "...Attack casualties heavy, then concentrated large forces... artillery fire so dense like continuous firecrackers for hours... released poison gas, Wang Street garrison all heroically sacrificed, then breached... Zhao Gongwu kowtows, October 15"   Zhao Gongwu commanded the 2nd Division under Zhang Yaoming's 52nd Army. This unit first held the line along the Xin Qiang River, then fell back to northeast of Fengjiang Bridge to staunch the enemy tide once more; after October 6, it hammered southward-marching Japanese from the west in the Yanglin Street and Dajing Street regions. Through these crucibles, the division bled over half its strength. A fragment of an envelope clings to a sheet of white paper, its words faintly visible: "Changsha 126-3 Zhang Yaoming," "Hunan Jinjing Air Mail," "Combat Process by..." and the like. The stamp remains remarkably intact—a philatelic gem now. Measuring 1.5 cm square, it features Sun Yat-sen's portrait at its center, inscribed "Republic of China Post" below, with "5" in the upper right, "fen" to the left, and "5" in each lower corner. I sat at the long table in the spacious, brightly lit reading room, staring vacantly, my thoughts grinding to a halt. These remnants are all that endure for posterity, of that monumental battle, of the scorching blood and vanished lives of countless unnamed Chinese soldiers. With hands that once gripped a rifle, I gently caressed those pages from a bygone era; they were cold, devoid of any lingering breath.   As the full moon of the 15th of the eighth month dissolved into the golden-red blaze of sunrise, Qin Yizhi's 195th Division had already plunged into the rugged mountains and dense forests encircling Fulinpu. Per directives from 15th Army Group Commander Guan Linzheng, the 195th was to forge a new defensive bastion centered on Fulinpu, 40 to 70 kilometers from Changsha. Their mandate: stall the Japanese southward juggernaut, granting precious time for allied forces to muster and fortify around the city. Despite the grueling all-night march, morale soared undimmed. The advance chief of staff doled out positions to each regiment, and the troops dove into fortification labors with fervent zeal. The 195th Division's unyielding stand along the Xin Qiang River had already etched preliminary glory upon this unit in its baptism of fire. "Fame in one battle" echoed as a battle cry throughout the division, where collective honor intertwined with personal valor. Honor and triumph formed the bedrock for soldiers and armies alike. Yet, another fire fueled their resolve.   On September 23, amid the Japanese forcing the Xin Qiang River, Guan Linzheng's voice crackled over the phone to Qin Yizhi: "Facing you is the 6th Division." The 6th Division, a name that ignited fury in Chinese troops and civilians, forever linked to the demonic specter of Tani Hisao. Moments later, the whisper spread like wildfire through every trench: "The Japanese army that perpetrated the Nanjing Massacre is right in front." Agitation rippled through the ranks; some donned fresh uniforms and shoes from their packs, casting aside the worn; others flouted discipline to bid farewells to hometown comrades: "Today we fight to the death here; see you in the next life." "Tell my mother I died fighting the Nanjing Massacre enemies."   Some company commanders commanded their mess sergeants to expend all funds on hearty feasts. All Japanese were foes, but the 6th Division embodied a blood debt, an unforgivable vendetta; the Chinese nation does not lightly forget its tormentors. In the Xin Qiang River maelstrom, the 195th Division battled with heroic ferocity. Some soldiers, in their final breaths, murmured: "Die then; it's worth it." Others lamented slaying too few devils, gritting teeth, eyes refusing to close in eternal regret. Now under Inaba Shiro's command, the 6th Division splintered southward after breaching the Xin Qiang; roughly a thousand hounded the 195th to Fulinpu. On the morning of September 29, the Japanese blundered into the 195th's meticulously laid ambush. Qin Yizhi, pulse racing with excitement and tension, fumbled the binoculars from his guard's hand. His command sliced the air: "Begin." War history chronicles: "The 6th Division advanced south from the Miluo River along the Xinshi-Liqiao road and Xinshi-Fulinpu routes. The over a thousand reaching Fulinpu were ambushed by the Nationalist 195th Division, suffering heavy losses." As Japanese artillery and aircraft unleashed hell upon the 195th's positions, Qin orchestrated a swift southward withdrawal to the environs of Shangshan City. Again, without pause, they erected fortifications and set deadly traps.   On the morning of September 30, the pursuers from Fulinpu closed in on Shangshan, their numbers swollen to over 1,500. Qin Yizhi clenched his jaw, his demeanor icy calm, allowing the Japanese to creep into the kill zone before barking: "Hit them hard!" Combat raged from dawn to dusk, obliterating over 700 foes. Qin ascended a hill, surveying through binoculars, then erupted: "Bad! The enemy is retreating." Upon receiving Qin's telegram, Guan Linzheng scrutinized the map, momentarily stunned, then replied: "Enemy shows no retreat signs yet; proceed per original plan. Your unit to block at Shangshan City line until October 2." Xianning, Okamura Yasuji's 11th Army HQ.   Combat maps bristled with markings, staff officers darting amid ringing phones and clattering telegrams. The colossal red arrow in northern Hunan had fractured into tributaries, surging over 100 km southward from the outset; one tendril pierced to Yong'an City, a mere 30 km from Changsha. Vast swaths of northern Hunan lay conquered, yet Okamura sensed the tide turning, it was time to retreat. The Chinese employed their time-honored gradual resistance, battling while retreating with cunning grace. Some units fell back directly, others amassed on flanks—what portent did that hold? In Okamura's shrewd mind loomed an equally shrewd Xue Yue; he envisioned his adversary methodically weaving a snare.   Post-Yingtian landing, the 15th Army Group's timely evasion had unraveled his "Xiang-Gan Operation Plan" like fragile thread. If encircling and annihilating the Chinese main force proved unattainable, what purpose in pressing onward? Telegrams from 3rd Division's Fujita Susumu, 6th's Inaba Shiro, and 13th's Tanaka Seiichi piled on his desk, pleading to assault Changsha—for headlines and Imperial accolades, perhaps, but blind to their exposed supply lines vulnerable to enemy thrusts? Ground logistics teetered on collapse; the air force resorted to airdrops for isolated regiments. Venturing further south would stretch lines to breaking; a severed artery spelled doom for the vanguard. When would these commanders mature into true stewards of the Imperial Army? Okamura fretted and pitied them in equal measure.   At 4 p.m. on September 30, Okamura decreed a halt to advances at Shangshan and Yong'an. He commenced orchestrating the retreat. Changsha, Yuelu Mountain, Ninth War Zone Command Forward HQ. October 1. Xue Yue stood before the map, Guan's latest telegram clutched in hand. Qin's second missive insisted on Japanese withdrawal, corroborated by 15th Army Group scouts from Yingtian: This morning (October 1), Japanese transports unloaded artillery stowed the previous night, hauling it back to Yueyang; intercepted wires revealed a regiment aborting its southward push, standing idle. Guan assessed the mosaic and commanded counteroffensives: intercept if feasible, pursue relentlessly, deny the Japanese escape; he relayed retreat indicators to Xue. Xue paced the chamber, head bowed in contemplation. Chief of Staff Wu Yizhi, Staff Director Zhao Zili, and their cadre tracked his every step with expectant eyes, awaiting the verdict. Xue's thoughts whirled through military stratagems and beyond.   Pre-war, Xue had segmented the war zone's forces into tripartite blocs: Northern Hunan under Guan Linzheng's 15th, Yang Sen's 27th, and Shang Zhen's 20th Army Groups as "A Cluster"; Northern Jiangxi Nanchang with Yunnan Army Lu Han's 1st Army Group and the 74th Army as "B Cluster"; the Wuning, Xiushui, Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi border guarded by Sichuan Army Wang Lingji's 30th Army Corps, Fan Songpu's Border Advance Army, and 8th Army; augmented by 3 armies' 7 divisions in general reserve. Before the storm broke, Xue pored over maps, tracing every mountain, river, road, and bridge, envisioning burial grounds for the invaders.   Now, beneath Changsha, 200,000 troops formed a tightening net. The "decisive battle in Changsha suburbs" blueprint had been wired to Chongqing. Chiang and the nation yearned for a resounding triumph as the resistance pivoted into a new epoch?! A masterful drama, honed over half a month's toil, neared its crescendo; yet that cunning fox appeared to sniff the trap's metallic tang, freezing in place. "Commander, phone from Minister Chen." "Brother Boling, good news." Chen Cheng's voice brimmed with levity, "Your formal appointment published. What? Ninth War Zone Commander! First to congratulate; document tomorrow." Shedding the "acting" prefix was inevitable; Chiang had intimated as much long ago. But for a man and general, true worth lay not in titles, but in forging indelible feats. Splendor was judged not by underlings, colleagues, or superiors, but by peers in the craft of war.   Unmoved by the promotion, Xue exhaled a profound sigh. Though the 15th's intelligence couldn't confirm a wholesale retreat, preparations for dual contingencies were imperative. Victories came hard; a splendid battle, harder still. He summoned Wu Yizhi and Zhao Zili to devise countermeasures for the enemy's potential flight. October 2, Sichuan Army Yang Sen's 27th Army Group, Yang Gancai's 134th Division special service company, under Company Commander Wan Mingyu, slogged through the profound mountains and forests on the northern Mufu Mountains' flanks. The 134th's covert mandate: infiltrate enemy rear via treacherous terrain, sabotage supply arteries in the Chongyang-Xianning sector, and deliver a dagger to the Japanese spine when opportunity struck, bolstering frontal defenses.   Past 3 p.m., a crystalline mountain stream materialized. Wan decreed a respite. Over 100 soldiers, drained from a half-day's ascent, collapsed like puppets with severed strings. Most propped their torsos with rifles in one hand, fanning hats to ward off the relentless forest mosquitoes with the other. Regaining breath, they devoured rations washed down with stream water. Some unfurled towels and ventured downstream, letting the cool flow rinse away layers of sweat. Then, a muted engine drone encroached from the heavens. Wan peered through the foliage: a low-flying plane vectored southward, its wings emblazoned with the Rising Sun.   A transport; Wan recognized the temporary Japanese airfield near Xianning. With lines overextended, airdrops sustained isolated units. Wan was prying open a can with his bayonet, the tip etching a cross on the lid before levering along the edge; paired with a rice ball, it promised a savory repast. His orderly proffered a cup of fresh stream water; 2nd Platoon Leader Hu Yaozong perched nearby on a rock, smirking, poised to pilfer from the opened tin. Wan warded off this Sichuan Pixian compatriot. The plane droned overhead then.   Both glanced skyward; the platoon quipped: "Open quick, damn, I'll repay two cans later." Commander: "Want cans? Sky has; shoot plane down, enough for two lifetimes, bloat your mother-in-law first." The can hailed from a prior supply raid. Platoon: "You want me to shoot the plane?" Commander: "Bastard! You shooting or not?" The platoon snatched the light machine gun from a tree fork, jamming the butt against his belly, one hand on the grip, aiming crudely: "Come down, you turtle son!" The other hand squeezed the trigger. Wan assumed jest, resuming his task. "Da-da-da..." Wan jolted; the half-opened can tumbled to his feet, spilling Japanese fish onto Chinese soil. Recoil floored the platoon; he hurled the gun like a branding iron, face ashen. Inspecting the trigger, he snarled: "Whose damn fault, why no safety?!" The gunner dashed over; tall and even-tempered: "Safety was on; how'd it fire without pulling?" Wan's initial panic: "Damn! Position exposed."   The company spearheaded the division's reinforced regiment to raze a recent Japanese depot, guarded by a mere company—but exposure doomed the regiment deep in hostile territory. The assault had been plotted for days; pre-departure, Yang Gancai had toasted them. Wan had sworn a blood oath: No return to Sichuan without success. Hu had jested then: "No Sichuan return means wanting Hunan girl as concubine." Banter was fine in peace, but in war's grip, this was no trifling errand. Wan unleashed a torrent of curses, rising to survey the environs. The main force lagged 15 km behind; advance or abort post-blunder? Enemy rear was a labyrinth; this isolated band teetered on a razor's edge. As if to compel a choice, the radio operator approached; Wan itched to lash out. In his fury and indecision, a miracle unfolded.   The transport's engines hacked like a consumptive invalid, then a witness spied the plane banking left, plummeting, its nose inexorably toward a colossal rock 3-4 km distant. It rebounded twice on the stone, nose and left wing crumpling; the fuselage, fragile as parchment, tumbled gently, skewing onto the slope amid splintered trees. Wan gaped, then bellowed: "Assemble!" The men snapped from reverie, charging downhill in a frenzied cascade. One hour later, 134th Deputy Commander and Reinforced Regiment Commander Liu decoded Wan's vanguard transmission via radio. Another hour passed before Liu received Yang Gancai's directive: Abort Mountain Leopard operation; return with documents expeditiously. One day hence, October 3, Okamura Yasuji's original retreat order from October 2 dawn, addressed to northern Hunan's 6th, 33rd Divisions, Nara and Uemura Detachments, plus its Chinese translation, landed on Xue Yue's desk.   Fifteen days later, at the Changsha Victory Celebration, unit accolades were proclaimed; for "shooting down enemy plane, obtaining vital enemy documents," meritorious honors went to 134th Commander Yang Gancai and Deputy Liu. Each received 1000 yuan and one 3rd Class Baoding Medal. Okamura's October 2 order original: Chinese forces retreated to Miluo and Xiushui Rivers banks assembling; to avoid disadvantage, this army should quickly withdraw to original positions, restore combat strength.   Withdrawal plan as follows: … Xue's October 3 order original:   "Northern Hunan frontal units with current posture immediately pursue facing enemy fiercely, must capture in Chongyang-Yueyang south area. ... Pursuit units may detach part to monitor and sweep enemy collection troops; main force execute overtaking pursuit... Already deep behind enemy advance units vigorously destroy enemy transport lines, cut escape routes."   From October 3, Chinese forces unleashed ferocious counteroffensives against the Japanese on three fronts: northern Hunan, southern Hubei, and the Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi border; the invaders receded like a vanishing tide, never to reclaim their ground. The 25th and 195th Divisions hounded the 6th Division and Nara Detachment from Fulinpu back to the Miluo River, then to the Xin Qiang River. On October 8, the Japanese fled across the Xin Qiang; the 195th's 566th Brigade surged in pursuit, launching a nocturnal raid on Xitang-Jianshan. Gains were modest, but the enemy, entrenched in their den, resisted with feral tenacity. Qin commanded the brigade's withdrawal southward; northern Hunan operations concluded.   In southern Hubei, the 79th Army chased remnants of the 33rd Division from Sanyan Bridge to Pingjiang, across Nanjiang Bridge, hounding them back to their Tongcheng lair. On the Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi border, 30th Army Group Commander Wang Lingji orchestrated a pincer against Japanese at Xiushui. The foes retreated to Sandu, mounting a stubborn defense. Chinese assaults faltered for three days; on the fourth night's blitz, victory crowned their efforts, expelling the invaders to their original Wuning stronghold. With both armies reclaiming pre-war lines, the First Battle of Changsha drew to its resounding close.   Over days, Xue Yue received a deluge of congratulatory telegrams and letters from the Nationalist Government, Military Committee, National Assembly, myriad civic groups, party officials, and social luminaries. As hoped, among them was Chiang Kai-shek's effusive missive, brimming with joy. For Xue Yue, this one sufficed. Chiang Kai-shek's telegram to Xue Yue:   "In this northern Hunan campaign, over half the enemy was annihilated. The triumphant news has invigorated the nation, all due to effective command and soldiers' valor; I commend without reservation. Thoroughly investigate and report meritorious personnel from this battle; also report the dead and wounded for awards and relief. With this initial victory foundation laid, our officers and men's responsibilities grow heavier; urge your subordinates to extra vigilance, redoubled effort, avoiding arrogance or complacency, to amass great achievements, my deepest hopes."   As if countering Chongqing's high-powered broadcasts, Japanese radios in Wuhan, Nanjing, Beiping, and Manchukuo blared at full volume: "In this Xiang-Gan operation, valiant Imperial forces penetrated over 100 km into northern Hunan, sweeping anti-peace elements, routing Chinese central main forces, inflicting over 40,000 enemy casualties, a pivotal triumph advancing the holy war. Having achieved objectives, Imperial troops have victoriously withdrawn..."   In the aftermath of the First Battle of Changsha, the Japanese high command spun a tale of calculated restraint, insisting their assault was merely a spoiling raid, a calculated jab never intended to seize and hold the city indefinitely. With brazen confidence, they downplayed their toll, claiming a mere 850 souls lost to death and 2,700 wounded in the fray, while boastfully asserting they had slain 44,000 Chinese defenders and taken 4,000 captive, painting a picture of overwhelming triumph amid the smoke and ruin. Yet, foreign military observers, peering through the fog of propaganda with detached scrutiny, painted a starkly different canvas. They gauged Chinese losses at a far more tempered 20,000 killed and wounded, a heavy but bearable scar on the nation's resolve, while estimating Japanese casualties soared to around 30,000, a grievous hemorrhage that belied the invaders' claims of minimal sacrifice. Military historian Michael Clodfelter, sifting through the annals of conflict, ventured an even grimmer tally: a staggering 50,000 Japanese casualties endured in the relentless clash, a testament to the ferocity of Chinese resistance and the high price of imperial ambition. In the battle's locale, neither side claimed clear victory, but globally for the resistance, it favored China. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go 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 after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. The First Battle of Changsha unfolded in September 1939 during China's War of Resistance Against Japan. Japanese forces under Okamura Yasuji advanced into Hunan and Jiangxi, crossing rivers and capturing key positions like Yingtian amid fierce Chinese defenses led by Xue Yue. 

Last time we spoke about the Xiang-Gan Operation. In 1939, during the Second Sino-Japanese War's stalemate phase, Chiang Kai-shek received intelligence from Wang Pengsheng about Japan's "Xiang-Gan Operation," a plan to pressure Chongqing by advancing on Hunan and supporting Wang Jingwei's puppet regime in Nanjing. Chiang, based in Chongqing's Huangshan Villa, coordinated defenses in the Ninth War Zone. Deputy Chief Bai Chongxi proposed Plan A, luring Japanese forces deep to Hengyang for annihilation, minimizing movements and exploiting supply vulnerabilities. Chen Cheng and acting commander Xue Yue favored Plan B, emphasizing successive resistance north of Changsha to prevent its fall and counter propaganda.Initially approving Plan A, Chiang switched to Plan B after Xue's insistent telegrams highlighted risks like pincer attacks from Guangzhou and political fallout. Xue, haunted by past failures like Lanfeng and Nanchang, sought redemption. Troops under generals like Guan Linzheng fortified positions along the Xin Qiang and Miluo Rivers, with slogans invoking Taierzhuang's prestige.   #196 The Road to Changsha: Rivers of Carnage at Miluo and Bijia 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. At 7 a.m. on September 14, over 2,000 troops from Nakai Ryotaro's 106th Division launched a fierce attack on the positions of Wan Baobang's 184th Division in Huibu. When this telegram crackled into the command centers of Chongqing, Guilin, and Changsha simultaneously, a hush fell over those who read it, each uttering the same grave words: "It has begun." Huibu, a forgotten speck in Jiangxi Province, clung precariously close to the Hunan border. It was here, in this unassuming town, that the curtain rose on a brutal symphony of war, the opening act of a larger tragedy. The Japanese 106th and 101st Divisions, fresh from their iron grip on Nanchang, clashed once more with the beleaguered units under General Luo Zhuoying, the front-line commander whose failed bid to reclaim Nanchang still burned like an open wound after five agonizing months of tense standoff, where every shadow hid a potential ambush.   This was the calculated first thrust of Okamura Yasuji's insidious "Xiang-Gan Operation" plan: unleash an assault in Jiangxi to draw and pin down Chinese forces, forging the anvil for the hammer blow soon to fall in northern Hunan. The Japanese horde splintered into two relentless routes, surging toward Gao'an and Xiu Shui like twin serpents through the mist-shrouded hills and tangled jungles. Against them stood the Chinese 1st and 19th Army Groups, arrayed in ironclad formation, igniting a ferocious battle that echoed through the valleys with the thunder of gunfire and the cries of the fallen.   When Luo Zhuoying received the urgent telephone report from the front lines, not even a flicker of the expected tension crossed his steely facade. The map of the battlefield was etched into his mind, vivid as a fresh scar, with no need to consult paper when strategy pulsed in his veins. His voice remained calm, almost detached, as he issued orders that carried the weight of life and death. The confidential staff scribbling down the commands couldn't help but notice the eerie mismatch between General Luo's serene tone and the savage directives spilling forth. "Order all units to strictly hold their positions, use their own reserves to reinforce critical areas, do not expect the general reserve, retake lost positions on their own. Anyone whose defense zone is breached by the enemy, affecting the overall operation, will be executed without mercy!" After dictating this decree of unyielding resolve, he summoned Deputy Chief of Staff Yang Xiuqi with a pointed command: "Don't handle anything else; just keep an eye on Gao'an for me."   As the focus shifted to this critical stronghold, Gao'an stood as the town nearest Nanchang still clutched in Chinese hands, a stubborn thorn in the Japanese side, one they were hell-bent on yanking out with overwhelming fury. On September 15, 1939, the invaders shattered several forward positions of Song Kentang's 32nd Army encircling Gao'an, advancing like a tidal wave from east, west, and north. The soldiers of Li Zhaoying's 139th Division and Tang Yongliang's 141st Division clung desperately to their increasingly pulverized fortifications, enduring a hellstorm of Japanese aircraft and artillery that rained death from the skies. Wave after wave of wounded and martyred heroes were hauled from the lines, their blood staining the earth, while swathes of Japanese troops crumpled at the front in heaps of defeat. Army Commander Song Kentang, his brows furrowed in grim calculation, pondered pulling his forces back from Gao'an to blunt the enemy's razor-sharp advance. But as night cloaked the battlefield, Yang Xiuqi arrived under direct orders to oversee the fray, bearing Luo Zhuoying's unshakeable edict: Hold Gao'an firmly; no withdrawal allowed.   The onslaught intensified the next day, September 16, as the Japanese unleashed a frenzy of continuous assaults, their bombs reducing front-line positions to smoking craters. By dusk, each unit had bled over half its strength, yet they held amid the rubble, defiant ghosts in a landscape of ruin. That night, Song Kentang and Yang Xiuqi faced each other with expressions etched in worry, shadows dancing across their faces in the dim light. Song implored Yang to relay to Commander Luo that without reinforcements to hammer the enemy's flanks, clinging on until tomorrow's eve would be impossible—he urged a tactical withdrawal. Yang dispatched the dire situation and Song's plea via overnight telegram to Luo Zhuoying, but by noon on the 17th, silence reigned, no reply pierced the growing dread.   Yang Xiuqi recalled that on the afternoon of the 17th, a relentless drizzle fell like tears from the heavens. He accompanied a reception team to a crossroads, witnessing a heartbreaking procession from the front to a makeshift hospital south of Gao'an city. Severely wounded streamed in on stretchers, the lightly injured limped on their own, porters whispered of abandoned guns littering the positions, and military police reported a surge of deserters. In the cold calculus of combat statistics, there lurked a "missing" category—most were those who had fled the carnage.   On the 18th, combat erupted at dawn's first light. Japanese planes obliterated Gao'an city into a flattened wasteland, their infantry charging with unprecedented savagery. At noon, Song Kentang issued the fateful order: withdraw from the city and seize the hillsides to the south. Gao'an thus slipped into enemy clutches, a bitter loss that echoed like a death knell. That evening, Operations Section Chief Ji informed Yang Xiuqi of urgent directives from Guilin Office Director Bai Chongxi and War Zone Commander Xue Yue: the 32nd Army must orchestrate an immediate counterattack on Gao'an, with the "ace army" en route. The "ace army" was none other than Wang Yaowu's 74th Army, the Ninth War Zone's prized general reserve. Yang's orderly, fetching water past Song Kentang's quarters, overheard the commander's resigned growl: "If they say fight, then fight; at worst, we'll lose all our men."   That night, Army Commander Song Kentang descended to Tang Yongliang's 139th Division to personally oversee the assault, striking from south to north. The 141st Division, bolstered by Li Tianxia's 51st Division and Shi Zhongcheng's 57th Division of the 74th Army, flanked like wolves from both sides, weaving an encirclement around the Japanese in and around Gao'an city. "The 51st Division's code name was 'Vanguard.' This was truly a formidable unit; that night, with a fierce charge, they recaptured Cunqian Street, then built fortifications and stabilized the position," Yang Xiuqi said.   Liu Qihuai, an elderly man who was a squad leader in the 4th Company of the 3rd Regiment of the 51st Division during the Gao'an battle, where his thigh was pierced, recalled: "At that time, I was young and remembered one phrase passed down by veterans: The fearful die first, the fearless die later. In the first few battles, I gritted my teeth and charged head-on. Later, I grew bolder, became flexible in battle, calm-headed, quick-eyed and -handed. Once, right after a skirmish, the company commander punched me in the chest and said, 'Good kid, you know how to fight!' and made me squad leader. On the battlefield, bullets don't care if you're afraid or not; those unafraid of sacrifice, brave and tenacious, often seize the initiative for our army but also bear the brunt, suffering the heaviest casualties. On the third day of fighting Gao'an, the wound ticket said Republic Year 28 (1939) September 21. That day, we charged into the city for street fighting with the little devils, all mixed up. I was closely following the deputy company commander, but lost him; no one could find anyone, it was all about who had the quickest eyes. Watching front, left, right, rooftops, and fearing the ones lying on the ground were feigning death to get up and shoot—wished I had more eyes. I killed a devil poking out from a broken wall, thought that wall section could be a cover for observation and shooting, so I rushed toward it. As I got closer to that dead devil, suddenly my thigh felt stabbed; I ran a few more steps before realizing I was hit, and seeing blood, I couldn't stand. The bullet came at an angle; later I thought it might have been friendly fire, since I was charging ahead and there were no devils on the sides. But I didn't dare say that then; admitting it wouldn't count as a combat wound. I was carried by stretcher bearers to the aid station in a Gu clan's ancestral hall. Next to my stretcher was a Henan soldier from the 32nd Army with a through-and-through calf wound; he was quite cheerful, friendly right away. He said our 74th Army could fight because our helmets were special, all bought from the old Russians (Soviets), bulletproof, bullets would spin on the head. I said great, next battle let's swap. Being wounded, I feared disability most; death wasn't scary—die early, reincarnate early. Lying on the stretcher, still joking; we were truly young then. Later, I met a platoon leader surnamed Dang from my company who was wounded around the same time; he said that Henan soldier was transferred to a rear hospital, got gangrene, had his leg amputated, and died a few days later..."   According to war history records: At dawn on September 22, with the cooperation of the 74th Army, the 32nd Army's "139th and 141st Divisions fiercely attacked Gao'an city. Since the city walls had been destroyed by the unit before withdrawing, the Japanese could not hold firm and began retreating." By 8 a.m., the entire city was recaptured, "pursuing north in victory. A portion of the 141st Division advanced to Huangpo Bridge." The next day, they recaptured Xiangfuguan, Sigong Mountain, and other places northeast of Gao'an, "restoring the pre-war positions."   September 18 was a date the Japanese favored for their grim expeditions, a cursed numeral etched into the annals of invasion and strife. At dawn's first whisper, the Japanese 6th and 33rd Divisions, the Nara Detachment, Uemura Detachment, and their attached artillery, armored, engineer, aviation, and naval units gathered in their respective starting zones, adhering to the precise timings decreed by Okamura Yasuji. They held silent prayer ceremonies, an eerie ritual amid the gathering storm. Over 50,000 Japanese officers and soldiers turned their faces eastward, their hands momentarily abandoning weapons to clasp before their chests, peering through the dense, rain-laden clouds blanketing China toward an imagined sun ascending from a blood-red sea.   As the silent prayers dissolved into the mist, hands seized weapons once more. General Okamura Yasuji, prowling the lines of the 6th Division to inspect and ignite the assault, drew his command sword with a savage flourish and barked a short, guttural command in the tongue of his island nation to his fervent compatriots. In response, tens of thousands of military boots thundered in unison upon this foreign soil, so distant from the homeland that flickered in their devotional visions. The offensive in northern Hunan had erupted, a cataclysm of steel and fury.   On Okamura Yasuji's military map, three bold red arrows aligned menacingly along the Xin Qiang River, like lethal shafts poised to pierce the south bank. The scattered Chinese forward positions on a handful of high points north of the river appeared as mere pebbles before an inexorable tidal wave. Among these fragile defenses, the one thrust farthest into the jaws of peril was the Bijia Mountain position, held by Qin Yizhi's 195th Division under Zhang Yaoming's 52nd Army—a protruding bastion shaped like an oval with twin camel-like peaks. On Okamura's map, this defiant outpost bore no unit designation or commander's name, perhaps dismissed as inconsequential in the shadow of the massive onslaught.   Qin Yizhi recalled: "The enemy broke through the left-wing Songjiawan position on the north bank on the 19th. From dawn on the 20th, they attacked Shi Enhua's battalion at Bijia Mountain from the north and west. Besides artillery, they used planes for repeated bombings. This battalion was the most forward in our division; my attention was always here. The 195th Division was newly added to the 52nd Army after Yueyang's fall in late 1938, based on Henan security forces with poor military quality. I was transferred from army chief of staff to division commander and immediately focused on rigorous military training. First train company commanders, then platoon leaders, finally squad leaders. Marksmanship, bayoneting, grenade throwing—everyone passes; fail and get demoted. This is fighting the devils; personal death is minor, but who takes responsibility for failing the mission? Shi Enhua was my old subordinate from the 25th Division, Huangpu 8th Class graduate as platoon leader. He was upright, brave in combat; I promoted him to company and battalion commander. Shi Enhua had an older brother, Shi Enrong, Huangpu 7th Class, also in my unit, killed at Taierzhuang. Army Commander Zhang Yaoming said holding Bijia Mountain for 3 days completes the task; strive for more to blunt the enemy's edge, consume them heavily before they cross the river, making later battles easier. I barely slept those days. Shi Enhua led a reinforced battalion, over 500 men; this time it was truly bitter. By the second day, fortifications were basically blasted away; by the third day, September 22, the battalion had over half casualties. At dusk, visibility good, I went to a high ground by the river and looked across with binoculars. Shells flipped up patches of yellow earth on the mountain; fortifications in ruins. The chief of staff said the friendly position on Bijia Mountain's right wing was also lost. I called Shi Enhua: 'You've held for three days and nights, meeting army requirements. Troops have heavy casualties, surrounded on three sides; if unable to hold, withdraw if necessary.' Shi Enhua said only: 'A soldier has no "if necessary."' From dawn the next day, intense gunfire at Bijia Mountain; operations officer reported over a dozen tanks supporting infantry. I called for Shi Enhua; the orderly said the battalion commander was at the front. I asked how many troops left; the orderly cried. I ordered him to immediately convey: Withdraw to south bank at once, no delay! Shi Enhua and his brother Shi Enrong were both my subordinates. After Enrong's death, his father visited the troops; the old man tearfully shook my hand: 'Enrong died for the country, in his rightful place.' Enhua's family was affluent; his father educated, deeply principled. Around 3 p.m., I called again, finally reached Shi Enhua. I yelled angrily why not withdraw; Shi said: 'Division Commander, not that we won't; the enemy has us surrounded, we can't.' I ordered him to organize remaining forces for breakout; I'd assign artillery to suppress and send troops on south bank for support. Shi Enhua was silent for a while, finally said: 'Division Commander, see you in the next life!' A reinforced battalion, over 500 men: battalion commander, company commanders, platoon leaders, squad leaders, soldiers. A complete, orderly unit… After the battle, Japanese soldiers made locals collect bodies on the mountain; thousands from nearby villages went, all wanting to see these Chinese soldiers who fought for 4 days. On the mountain, everyone knelt; the hill was covered in fragmented corpses, not one intact for burial; the people wailed loudly."   On the night of September 22, under the dim, ethereal glow of the moonlight, the Xiang River flowed in silent mystery, its gentle waves lapping against the shore like whispered secrets of impending doom. Amid this serene rhythm, a faint, ominous hum of engines pierced the air. Upon the river's surface, shadowy vessels glided, not a mere handful, but a colossal fleet, a dark armada poised for conquest! The right wing of the Japanese attacking formation was the 5th Brigade, commanded by Major General Uemura Mikio under Fujita Susumu's 3rd Division. This formidable force—comprising 4 infantry battalions, 1 mountain artillery battalion, two engineer regiments, and two transport companies—bore a perilous mission: "After the frontal offensive begins, advance up the Xiang River to land at Yingtian in Xiangyin County, detour to the area of Daniqiao, Xinkaishi, Qingshansi, and Malinshi south of the Miluo River, cut off the retreat of the Chinese forces, and support the 6th Division, 33rd Division, and 26th Brigade in attacking the area north of Changsha."   The Yingtian landing occupied a pivotal, treacherous role in Okamura Yasuji's grand operational scheme, a devastating thrust aimed at the left wing of the Chinese defenses, designed to sever the southern retreat of troops entrenched along the Xin Qiang River and Miluo River lines, while plunging a lethal dagger into their exposed flanks. Among the Japanese soldiers charged with this grim duty was Yoshida Yujin, who in the 1970s resided in Higashi Ward, Osaka, Valley Town 3-chome, once a private first class in the 5th Brigade's 7th Infantry Battalion, 5th Company. He recalled: "It was a few days before the Mid-Autumn Festival, and we were on the 'Xiang-Gan Operation' mission. One night, the troops assembled and boarded naval speedboats near Yueyang. I remember the mission involved our brigade plus attached units, totaling over 3,000 men. The speedboats formed a long line on the river; the one I was on seemed to be near the front. The speedboats ran without lights or whistles for concealment. We headed upstream along the Xiang River. That night, there was a not-quite-full, dark red moon in the sky, with dim reflections on the water; other boats and the land were black. We sat tightly packed in the cabins or on deck, rifles against shoulders, no talking allowed, only hearing the rumble of engines and soft water sounds. Around 1 or 2 a.m., Squad Leader Aota whispered: 'Entering combat zone.' We all instinctively grabbed our rifles, staring at the dark shoreline. About two hours before dawn, we finally reached the landing site. As we disembarked, gunfire erupted from a nearby hillside; the Chinese army had spotted us. Machine guns fired from the boats ahead; urged by the squad leader, we jumped off, wading knee-deep water to run from the shore. The company commander ordered several squads to deploy in battle formation, seize the hill attacking us, and cover the following boats' landing. After the attack began, it drew enemy fire; bullets whistled overhead and around us. Soon, enemy direct-fire cannons bombarded the fleet fiercely. Turning back in the explosion's flash, I saw our boat and an adjacent one hit and sinking, plus a few not yet ashore hit—those on board must have suffered heavy casualties. Because of the fierce enemy fire, our progress was slow. It was dark, targets unclear; 'Follow up, follow up' commands came constantly. Advancing in darkness, uneven ground caused frequent falls, impossible to move fast. Per plan, our battalion was to land at Tuxing Port between Yingtian and Xiongzui, then immediately occupy a place called Liuxing Mountain south of Yingtian as a foothold, before cutting southeast into the main battlefield. Landing led to immediate combat; everyone was momentarily at a loss. Along the riverbank, many spots fired guns and cannons toward the river, making our intent to seize that hill meaningless. When I and another soldier carried a wounded to the company's aid station, I saw officers studying maps with flashlights, probably unsure of position and attack direction. Soon came the order: Conceal in place. At dawn's first light, our planes bombed enemy positions; seven or eight planes dropped bombs and strafed several high grounds controlling the riverbank. By full daylight, we received orders to capture a village. The squad leader ordered us to advance in battle formation. This village, whose name I now forget, was on a hillside not far from the riverbank, with a simple trench in front. We rushed to the trench, threw a few grenades, and jumped in; my foot softly stepped on an enemy soldier's corpse. I jumped in fright, looked down, and saw two bullet holes side by side in his head—from a machine gun. Though I'd been in several battles, I was still afraid; before each, I'd pray inwardly, making a small wish. This time, my wish was to live through the Mid-Autumn Festival. Around 9 a.m., several more battalions landed at another crossing near Yingtian and soon linked with us. After our battalion occupied the empty small village, we turned to attack Yingtian Town. Around noon, we reached a kilometer outside the town, eating in a dry ditch. I heard the company commander say the company had over a dozen killed and wounded each. After eating, we joined the final assault on Yingtian Town. Bayonets fixed on rifles, per tactics, in groups of three or four, alternating cover, advancing stepwise. Enemy fire was quite fierce; we could only rush to forward advantageous positions when planes bombed, then conceal immediately after they left, pushing forward step by step. At 4 p.m., we attacked into the bombed-out ruins of Yingtian streets, engaging in street-by-street fighting with the enemy. My combat group had four; before entering the streets, Oyama-kun was unfortunately killed. After entering, the three of us stayed close. Rushing into a small temple in the town's northwest corner, one of us, my good friend Kurata, was hit in the abdomen and fell. I quickly dropped, took out bandages to wrap him. His expression was pained, holding breath in his lungs, face flushed red. I forcefully pried his hands from his belly; blood surged out. I stuffed gauze in, shouting: 'Medic, medic!' Kurata was my middle school classmate, same grade different class; we met on the school baseball team. His mother was a very kind woman, always smiling beautifully. Sometimes after extended practice, she'd bring water and snacks, wait by the field until done, and share with the team. The medic was nowhere; I was so anxious tears flowed. Kurata teared up too, wanted to say something but dared not breathe, suffering greatly. I picked him up to retreat; after a few steps, a shell exploded nearby, my head boomed, and I knew nothing. When I woke, Company Commander Miki was slapping my face hard; my mouth tasted salty. I got up, felt myself—no injuries; realized I'd been stunned. The commander, seeing me awake, patted my shoulder and handed my gun. Seeing people walking upright, I knew the battle was over. I asked: 'Where's Kurata-kun?' He said: 'He did his duty.' Not far, over thirty bodies lay side by side awaiting transport; I recognized them one by one and found Kurata. No longer curled, he lay flat, comfortably. His face waxy yellow, an arm blown off, abdominal blood soaking his uniform. I knelt beside him, tears unending. My mind kept thinking: I can't live either, because back home, I couldn't face that kind, always beautifully smiling woman; I can't live. Our unit advanced southeast; the column lacked many familiar faces. Before the unit crossed a mountain, I looked back once. Yingtian, a small town on the Xiang River's east bank..."   According to war history records: "On the morning of September 23, the Japanese Nara Detachment at Yanglin Street and the 6th Division near Qibutang west of Xin Qiang forcibly crossed the Xin Qiang River (shallow enough to wade). A portion of the Uemura Detachment, supported by naval vessels, assaulted landings at Lujiao and Jiumazui on the left flank of Chinese positions. The Chinese 2nd Division and 195th Division bravely resisted the facing enemy. At this time, the Japanese used over a hundred small boats to carry the main Uemura Detachment force, supported by naval guns and air fire, detouring via Heyehu and Guhu to land south of the Miluo River mouth, at Yingtian, Tuxing Port, Duigongzui, etc., with about 1,500 troops. The Chinese 95th Division immediately counterattacked. Around 10 a.m., the Japanese reinforced landings toward Qingshan, Yanjia Mountain, and Liuxing Mountain south of Yingtian. Chinese counterattacks in these areas failed, and the Japanese captured the line from Yingtian to Qianqiuping."   After triumphing at the Xin Qiang River and securing their perilous landing at Yingtian, Okamura Yasuji, adhering to his meticulously crafted deployment, drove his forces relentlessly toward the second defensive bulwark in northern Hunan, the formidable Miluo River, a line that could spell the difference between survival and annihilation. The Miluo River, snaking midway but northward between Yueyang and Changsha, stood as a natural fortress, a gift from the earth that Chinese forces could wield as a shield against the invaders. Chen Pei's 37th Army, under the 15th Army Group, had arrayed Liang Zhongjiang's 60th Division and Luo Qi's 95th Division along its southern bank, a wall of determination forged in the face of encroaching doom. With the Xin Qiang River defenses shattered and the Changsha region pulsing with tension, precious time was needed to fortify further, so Xue Yue issued a draconian order: do not abandon the Miluo River line under any circumstances. Over 20,000 officers and men of the 37th Army toiled ceaselessly through day and night, bolstering fortifications with sweat and resolve, their hearts heavy with the dread of the inferno soon to descend.   The 2nd Company of the 1st Battalion, 3rd Regiment of the 37th Army's 60th Division had been entrenched at Xinshi for a full three months, a vigil that turned the town into a pressure cooker of anticipation. Since the eruption of battle at the Xin Qiang River on September 18, the nerves of this riverside outpost had been strung taut, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Yang Peyao, who would later endure a crippling foot wound that left him disabled, was then a fresh-faced one-year recruit, his innocence yet to be scorched by the fires of war. He harbored a naive conviction that combat was preferable to the drudgery of peacetime; training and fortification labor were exhausting, meals meager and uninspiring, but in the heat of battle, hardships seemed to vanish, and rations improved with each passing day. This notion stemmed from his unit's lack of real action since his enlistment, just endless standbys and guard duties where the enemy remained a phantom, never materializing.   That day marked the 13th of the eighth lunar month; Yang Peyao and his entire regiment stood on high alert at their positions beside the dock, as routine as the river's flow. The Xin Qiang River line had held for five grueling days and nights; since two days prior, front-line troops had been streaming southward in retreat, their weary forms a harbinger of the storm to come. Xinshi served as the vital crossroads of east-west and north-south highways, a choke point for withdrawals from the Xin Qiang River, and the precarious junction between the 60th and 95th Divisions of the 37th Army. Army Commander Chen Pei had personally inspected the defenses multiple times, his eyes scanning for any weakness that could unravel their stand. One fateful day, as Yang Peyao's battalion labored to thicken fortification covers, the commander and Division Commander Liang Zhongjiang strode by; Yang overheard the commander's voice, sharp as a blade, declaring to the division commander: "No words; execute on the spot!" After the officers vanished from sight, Yang turned to a grizzled 40-something veteran in his squad: "Uncle Zhao, don't know who the commander is so fierce about executing?" Old Zhao replied with the weary wisdom of one who had seen too much: "Once fighting starts, people die, some by devils' hands, some by officers'; that's a soldier's fate."   Around 10 a.m., regimental orders crackled through: Battle was imminent today; front-line troops would withdraw by noon, with Japanese hounds nipping at their heels; all positions must vigilantly scan the north bank; lunch would not be rotated, meals delivered straight to the lines. Yang Peyao positioned himself outside the fortification, peering intently across the water. The Miluo River stretched about 600 meters wide here, bridged by a military pontoon for vehicles linking the north-south highways. Not far upstream on the south bank loomed Xinshi Town; the highway skirted west of it, arrowing straight south to Changsha. With the town as a dividing line, the east fell under the 60th Division's domain, the west to the 95th; Yang's battalion clung to the division's edge, perilously adjacent to the town. Since assuming their post, he had heard tales of the south bank fortifications, erected over a full year: clusters of reinforced concrete bunkers interlinked in a defiant network. With reports of Japanese heavy artillery and aerial onslaughts at the Xin Qiang River, the commander had demanded further reinforcements, ensuring they could withstand multiple direct hits from the sky's fury.   At 11:30 a.m., the company phone buzzed with instructions to fetch lunch from the kitchen. As Yang Peyao and another recruit emerged, they beheld another unit trudging across the bridge, a grim procession of battered souls. These brothers had fought through hell itself, their forms caked in grime and soot, the Republic of China flag at their vanguard tattered and filthy like a discarded rag. Stretcher bearers hauled an endless line of wounded and lifeless bodies; Yang caught sight of one injured soldier sitting rigidly on his litter, his upper body and head swathed in bandages, only his wide, haunted eyes visible, staring blankly in his direction. The unit took nearly an hour to cross, a somber parade of exhaustion. Returning with empty bowls after their meal, Yang spotted two collection vehicles groaning under loads of supplies and stragglers rumbling over the bridge. Trailing not far behind were clusters of three to five refugees, burdened with children, their faces etched with desperation. Since taking position, Yang had witnessed such southward streams daily on this crucial route, ghosts fleeing the advancing nightmare.   Then the squad leader bellowed his name, jolting him back into the fortification. The company relayed urgent word: Japanese forces were tailing the 79th Army southward, poised to reach the Miluo River imminently. Before the squad leader could finish, the sharp "da-da-da" of machine gun fire erupted nearby. Yang's head buzzed with adrenaline; this was his first true taste of combat since enlisting. Though he had thumped his chest in pre-battle rallies, the real crackle of gunfire twisted his guts, nearly overwhelming him with fear. He dove to his assigned spot: assisting machine gunner Old Zhao by swapping ammo drums. Peering through the narrow firing slit, a vivid, stereoscopic tableau unfolded before him, forever seared into his memory.   A thin man in a blue gown, bespectacled like a rural teacher, hoisted a light machine gun, firing wildly as he charged; behind him, a woman clutched a child, racing northward from the bridge's center. Several farmer-like figures miraculously produced machine guns, blasting away while advancing; beside them, women, elders, and old crones, some crouched with hands over heads on the bridge, others fled back, a few leaped into the churning river. The chaos erupted so abruptly that even these battle-ready soldiers froze in shock. Two disguised Japanese assailants stormed the nearest semi-underground permanent fortification by the bridge, circling it while unleashing fire, likely hunting for an entry. One yanked a grenade pin with his teeth, jamming it through the slit; the air quivered silently before exploding, and they lunged toward another target.   Several Chinese soldiers, not yet hunkered in their bunkers, stood frozen, as if the pandemonium were a distant spectacle unrelated to them. In that surreal moment, Japanese machine guns spared these bystanders, fixating instead on the bridgehead bunkers. Then, a soldier erupted from a bunker with a primal yell, bayoneted rifle in hand, charging the armed intruders. As the Japanese wheeled around, he closed in, thrusting before bullets felled him, but his stab missed as they evaded; his cry was silenced mid-roar. Over a dozen members of this Japanese suicide squad, masquerading as fleeing Chinese civilians, surged toward the bridge's southern end; our machine guns finally thundered to life, dropping the invaders one by one on the span, yet the survivors pressed on in a desperate sprint.   Yang's machine gun roared to life; he watched battle-hardened Old Zhao, sweat streaming, eyes narrowed in fury, teeth gritted, lips pulled back in a savage grimace. They sealed the bridge with a hail of lead; amid the deafening cacophony, Yang caught a frantic shout: "Blow the bridge! Damn it, blow the bridge!" Yang braced for the nightmare of a Japanese bursting in, raking their backs with fire. But then, the bridgehead and the entire river defenses shuddered under a barrage of shells. From the first shot to now, mere minutes had elapsed; yet the opposite bank already bristled with khaki uniforms and the glaring Rising Sun flags fluttering like omens of death. What followed was a relentless alternation of aerial and artillery bombardments, a symphony of destruction. Later, Yang queried Old Zhao: Many in the suicide squad had crossed, so weren't they afraid of bombing their own? Old Zhao pondered deeply, then sighed with bitter resignation: "No matter the country, soldiers' lives are cheap."   As the bombing ceased, Japanese forces, now in plain sight and within lethal range, charged in waves from the bridge and through the water toward the south bank; one wave crumpled, only for another to rise, an unyielding, inexhaustible horde. Ammunition was plentiful in the fortification; Old Zhao mentioned three "bases" had been issued—Yang couldn't recall the exact rounds per base. Hours blurred into a frenzy, the ground carpeted with gleaming brass casings; this, Yang realized, was the commander's invocation of the "Art of War: 'Strike when half crossed'", a tactical masterstroke amid the carnage. Japanese blood stained this ancient, storied river crimson; Yang's reinforced concrete bastion cracked wide under the onslaught. In the cataclysmic blast of a heavy bomb from above, the other gunner bled from every orifice, collapsing unconscious and being dragged away. Old Zhao, eyes bloodshot and nose trickling red, paused during a drum swap: "Might not make it this time; don't forget me." Then, with grim pride: "Remember, killed 8 enemy, 1 horse."   At dusk, the Japanese assault faltered, granting a fleeting respite. The fortification's survivors scrambled out, frantically repairing and piling more soil. The company commander passed by, eyeing the fissure: "You guys are lucky; this is the best in the company." The squad leader inquired: "Heavy casualties?" The commander paused, his response evasive: "Depends how higher-ups say to fight." Soon after, orders circulated: Two per squad to retrieve ammo and rations from the company; prepare for nocturnal warfare. The squad leader dispatched Yang for rations, handling bullets himself. While distributing the meager sustenance, fresh word arrived: Immediate withdrawal.   As darkness enveloped the battlefield, our mortars and small mountain guns hammered the opposite Japanese positions. In column formation, Yang stole one last glance at this place of grueling training, endless drills, and now, brutal initiation. Fortifications erected over a year, inhabited for three months, defended for half a day. At the Xinshi positions on the Miluo River's south bank, recruit Yang Peyao had fought his first battle in his personal saga of the War of Resistance Against Japan. He emerged unscathed, no death or wound; alongside Old Zhao, they had felled 11 enemies and two horses. In a quiet revelation, he discovered Old Zhao wasn't the unflinching hero he proclaimed, trudging onward, Yang secretly tallied his insights. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go 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 after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. After debating Plans A and B, Chiang adopted Plan B, emphasizing resistance north of Changsha. Japanese forces assaulted Jiangxi and Hunan, capturing Gao'an briefly before Chinese troops, including the 74th Army, recaptured it. At Bijia Mountain, Shi Enhua's battalion held for four days, perishing entirely. The Uemura Detachment landed at Yingtian amid fierce resistance, suffering heavy losses. Defenders at the Miluo River repelled waves of attacks, with suicide squads and bombardments inflicting carnage before a tactical withdrawal.

In the spring of 1918, Germany launched its greatest offensive of the war. The British Fifth Army collapsed under the weight of it. And somewhere in the chaos of that retreat, on a railway embankment west of a small French village called Dernancourt, four thousand Australians were told to hold the line against twenty-five thousand Germans.In this episode, Mat McLachlan tells the story of the Battles of Dernancourt, the 28th of March and the 5th of April, 1918, officially the strongest attacks faced by Australian troops in the entire war. Almost no one has heard of them.Through the words of the men who were there, we follow the desperate defence of the railway embankment that linked two vital French towns. We meet Sergeant Stan McDougall, a Tasmanian blacksmith who single-handedly repelled a German breakthrough, burning his hands on the barrel of a Lewis gun before picking up a bayonet and charging — earning the Victoria Cross and then, eight days later at the same spot, the Military Medal. We hear Lieutenant George Mitchell's devastating account of watching his comrades retreat down a bullet-swept slope, tears running down his face. We read the letter of a German soldier, intercepted by Australian intelligence, describing the enemy opposite as men who "glide about in the night like cats." And we discover the story of two wooden crosses, found months after the battle, where German soldiers had buried Australian dead and written above them: "Here lies a brave English warrior."Why is Villers-Bretonneux remembered while Dernancourt is forgotten? How did a handful of under-strength Australian battalions hold off multiple German divisions in the heaviest attack Australian forces ever faced? And what happened to the men of the 47th Battalion — who fought so hard at Dernancourt, only to be told two months later that their battalion no longer existed?A powerful and long-overdue tribute to the Australians who held the line at Dernancourt. In a battle their country forgot."The battle of Dernancourt will live long in the annals of military history as an example of dogged and successful defence." — General Sir John MonashEpisode Length: 30 minutesFeatures: First-person accounts from Lieutenant George Mitchell (Backs to the Wall), Private Ted Lynch (Somme Mud), Private Edmund Liddell, and Private James O'Rourke; the Victoria Cross and Military Medal citations of Sergeant Stanley McDougall; a captured German letter; and the remarkable story of the Dernancourt Cross, held today in the Australian War Memorial.Presenter: Mat McLachlanProducer: Jess StebnickiSail through history with Mat McLachlan! Join a 2027 history cruise: https://battlefields.com.au/history-cruises-2027Find out everything Mat is doing with books, tours and media at https://linktr.ee/matmclachlanFor more great history content, visit www.LivingHistoryTV.com, or subscribe to our YouTube channel at https://www.youtube.com/@MatMcLachlanHistory Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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President Donald Trump is escalating threats against Iran, warning strikes if a deal to end the war isn't reached. Airport waiting times are finally easing, as TSA workers start to get paid again. A Russian oil tanker has reached Cuba, despite a US fuel blockade. An Israeli battalion has been suspended after detaining CNN journalists in the West Bank. Plus, a new California law now requires a key prenatal nutrient in a staple food long overlooked. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Last time we spoke about the Wang Jingwei Regime. During the Second Sino-Japanese War, tensions between Chiang Kai-shek and Wang Jingwei escalated amid Japan's aggressive invasion. Disillusioned by Chiang's scorched-earth tactics, such as the Yellow River flood and Changsha fire, Wang defected from Chongqing in December 1938, fleeing to Hanoi to negotiate peace with Japan. An assassination attempt, likely ordered by Chiang, killed Wang's secretary Zeng Zhongming, deepening the rift and sparking retaliatory violence. Wang's group, aided by Japanese agents like Kagesa Sadaaki, navigated scandals and leaks, including a forged agreement exposed in the press. After grueling negotiations in Shanghai and Tokyo, Wang conceded to harsh Japanese terms, including limited sovereignty and economic controls. On March 30, 1940, he established the Reorganized National Government (RNG) in Nanjing, adopting the nationalist flag with a controversial yellow pennant symbolizing "peace, anticommunism, nation-building." Despite Wang's vision of constitutional democracy, the RNG functioned as a wartime puppet, isolated from Chongqing and resented as traitorous. Wang died in 1944, and the regime collapsed in 1945.   #195 The Xiang-Gan Operation 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 sweltering grip of August 1939, Chongqing languished under an unbearably hot summer, the air thick with humidity and the weight of impending doom. Perched on a sun-baked hillside along the southern bank of the Jialing River, roughly 10 kilometers from the chaotic heart of the city, loomed a two-story Western-style building. This fortress of stone and resolve, known as the "Huangshan Villa," stood as Chiang Kai-shek's official residence in Chongqing, a sanctuary amid the storm of war. Unless urgent meetings or crises at the Military Affairs Commission demanded his presence, it was here that Chiang orchestrated the fate of a nation on the brink.   One fateful evening, as shadows lengthened across the villa, the Bureau of Investigation and Statistics delivered a chilling report from Wang Pengsheng, the director of the Military Affairs Commission's Institute for International Affairs. Wang was no ordinary operative; he was a knowledgeable, experienced, and sharp-minded intellectual, a master of Japanese affairs, and one of Chiang's most trusted aides, his insights cutting like a blade through the fog of deception. In this urgent dispatch, Wang distilled the latest machinations from Japan. After the traitor Wang Jingwei defected to the enemy, Japan glimpsed a sinister new path to conquer China: ramping up political inducements for surrender, with brutal military offensives reduced to mere supporting roles. On June 20, the Japanese Imperial General Headquarters unleashed "strategy" tasks upon its troops in China—to incite local armies, those ragtag "miscellaneous troops," to betray their own, isolating and pulverizing the central army units. Wang Pengsheng saw through the ruse; this "attacking the heart" and "subduing strategies," drawn from the ancient wisdom of China's military sage Sun Tzu, betrayed the Japanese army's desperate straits, manpower stretched thin, supplies dwindling to the point of desperation.   Chiang Kai-shek's eyes narrowed as he gripped his red pencil, underlining a passage in the report with deliberate strokes, marking it as a thunderclap of importance or urgency: To cooperate with the establishment of the Wang puppet regime and exert military pressure on the Chongqing government, under the direction of the Imperial General Headquarters, the commander of the Japanese 11th Army, Okamura Yasuji, had formulated the "Xiang-Gan Operation Plan" targeting the main forces of the central army in the Ninth War Zone and was intensifying preparations for its implementation. The words hung heavy in the air like a gathering storm. Chiang Kai-shek rose abruptly, his body protesting with a stiff ache from hours of unyielding vigilance. He stretched his weary waist and legs, then pushed open the wooden door beside the vast sun-facing window, stepping out onto the balcony as if seeking solace from the encroaching night.   The balcony commanded a sweeping vista, a momentary escape from the suffocating confines of strategy and betrayal. Gazing downward, the "Fog Capital" Chongqing emerged in rare clarity, serene and layered beneath the fiery embrace of the evening glow. The distant murmur of the Jialing River, flowing ceaselessly like the pulse of a defiant heart, whispered a fleeting sense of ease amid the turmoil. Yet even this pause carried the echoes of war's relentless march. After the Japanese horde seized Wuhan and surged onward to claim Yueyang—only to halt their southward thrust—both Mao Zedong in his Yan'an stronghold and Chiang Kai-shek in Chongqing etched this moment as a pivotal divide in China's War of Resistance Against Japan. Mao proclaimed the war had plunged into the "stalemate phase," a grinding impasse. Chiang, ever the resolute leader, declared the "second phase of the war of resistance" ignited from this very point.   But across the vast national battlefield, the first half of 1939 roared with unquenched fury, the air thick with the acrid smoke of gunpowder. From the year's dawn, the Japanese army, bolstered by five divisions and eight mixed brigades, launched ruthless "security consolidation" operations in North China to fortify their blood-soaked conquests, only to be harried and bloodied by the Communist Eighth Route Army slipping behind enemy lines and the valiant troops of the First and Second War Zones. In late March, the Japanese 11th Army stormed Nanchang, clashing in a maelstrom of fire with the four group armies of the Ninth War Zone under the iron command of front-line commander Luo Zhuoying. For a grueling month and a half, the battle raged, the Japanese claiming the city at a staggering cost in lives. Chiang Kai-shek, his fury mounting, demanded a counterattack from the Ninth War Zone, but it crumbled into tragedy, over 20,000 souls lost, including Lieutenant General Chen Anbao, the indomitable commander of the 29th Army. Nanchang remained in enemy hands, fueling Chiang's rage like an inferno unchecked.   Then, in May, the Japanese Kwantung Army clashed with Soviet and Mongolian forces in the epic conflagration at Nomonhan. What ignited a spark of grim satisfaction in Chiang was not merely the Japanese rout, with nearly 20,000 of their ranks obliterated, but the broader ripple: this Japan-Soviet inferno would heap pressure upon the invaders in China, weakening their grasp. As the war sank into its stalemate phase, Chiang turned his gaze inward, fiercely guarding his military strength while awaiting the winds of change. He clung to a core conviction: the essence of the War of Resistance boiled down to that single, unbreakable word—"resist." Troops could be sacrificed, territories forsaken, retreats endured when battles turned dire, but surrender was unthinkable. As long as resistance endured, the nation would hold its place among the world's powers, and its leaders their rightful thrones. In time, the tides of international intrigue would shift; the imperialist giants, driven by their own insatiable interests, would not stand idly by as China fell to Japan's maw.   With resolve hardening like steel, Chiang Kai-shek strode back to his imposing desk and seized the telephone, dialing Xu Yongchang, the Minister of Military Orders. His voice cut through the line with unyielding command: instruct Deputy Chief of Staff Bai Chongxi, currently in the Ninth War Zone dissecting the bitter lessons of the Nanchang debacle, to hasten and aid Chen Cheng in crafting ironclad military deployments against the looming Japanese "Xiang-Gan Operation" and submit them without delay.   As the last defiant ray of sunlight plunged below the horizon, the sprawl of Chongqing's urban expanse succumbed to an enveloping darkness, a shroud of uncertainty. Since the government had fled southward, Chongqing had become a relentless target for Japanese bombers, their payloads raining death and devastation in waves of tragedy. By night, the city enforced ironclad blackout controls, its citizens huddling in fear behind heavy curtains, their lives reduced to whispers in the shadows. Chiang Kai-shek's mind drifted to the pre-war nights of the mountain city, when thousands of lights danced like stars upon the river's rippling waves. A deep, weary sigh escaped him, carrying the burden of a leader who refused to yield.   Far from the shadowed balconies of Chongqing, as China's War of Resistance Against Japan plunged into its harrowing third year, the misty haven of Guilin clung to its gentle, rain-soaked serenity, a fragile oasis amid the chaos of a nation torn asunder. Farmers, oblivious to the headlines screaming from distant newspapers, trudged barefoot through the lush fields, guiding massive water buffaloes with their backward-curving horns and deceptively gentle temperaments. Verdant tea groves blanketed the undulating hills, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind, while breezes carried the haunting, sweet-and-sour melodies of mountain songs that seemed to defy the encroaching shadows of war. Those weary souls fleeing the bloodied front lines stumbled into this paradise, their eyes widening in awe, as if they had crossed into a dream untouched by the nightmare raging beyond.   Nestled in the northwestern suburbs of the city, the Guilin Office pulsed with the raw energy of command, its operations post concealed within a colossal karst cave, a labyrinth of nature's own fortifications. Amid the jagged stalagmites and dripping stalactites, wires snaked like veins, cables coiled in tense anticipation, and radio antennas reached out like desperate fingers grasping for signals. These were the nerves of war, linking this hidden nerve center to the smoke-choked, blood-drenched front lines where heroes and horrors collided in the unyielding struggle for resistance.   Deputy Chief of Staff of the Military Affairs Commission and Director of the Guilin Office—Bai Chongxi—unfolded the telegram folder thrust into his hands by his confidential staff, his heart pounding with the weight of destiny:   "To Director Bai in Guilin: Telegram received. Deploy operations according to Plan A.   Zhongzheng"   Before departing Changsha, the Second Department had already whispered warnings of the Japanese horde's intent to strike southward, and fatefully, an urgent call from Xu Yongchang had demanded the swift forging of a battle plan to confront the enemy. As Bai Chongxi devoured the enemy intelligence, a bold strategy ignited in his mind like a flare in the darkness. Chen Cheng, the steadfast Commander of the Ninth War Zone, championed the tried-and-true tactic of successive resistance, but with a grim twist: retreat would be capped north of Changsha. Front-line troops would grind down the Japanese invaders, bleeding them dry before slipping to the east and west flanks. There, they would pounce on the enemy's exposed sides as the foes pressed southward, culminating in a devastating annihilation beneath the walls of Changsha with the aid of the garrison. This blueprint minimized troop movements and promised a swift, brutal clash. Yet Chen Cheng, burdened by his dual role as Minister of the Political Department of the Military Affairs Commission, had delegated command to Xue Yue as acting Ninth War Zone Commander. In heated deliberations, Xue Yue tilted toward Chen's vision, his resolve echoing the caution of survival.   But Bai Chongxi, his strategic mind a whirlwind of innovation, saw a bolder path through the storm. The Japanese forces lurking in the Wuhan area were fractured, split between the Yangtze's north and south, facing off against China's formidable heavy troops. Though intelligence on the scale of their assault remained shrouded in mystery, Bai knew their drawable forces couldn't exceed half their might, and their endurance in sustained combat would falter like a dying flame. "To swallow the attackers whole, the battlefield must be vast and unforgiving, our forces luring them deeper while retreating to the Hengyang area, stretching the enemy thin across a sprawling 200-kilometer wasteland." There, the invaders would wither in passivity, their food and ammunition lines stretched to breaking. Then, in a masterful stroke, troops from the Jiuling and Mufu Mountains would surge westward, while those west of the Xiang River drove eastward, severing every land and water escape route in a vise of total annihilation. Both plans stood as ironclad fortresses of logic, each unassailable in its reasoning, and were dispatched simultaneously to Chiang Kai-shek, the arbiter of China's fate.   By rank and protocol, Bai's vision claimed the mantle of Plan A, while Chen's bore the label of Plan B. Bai Chongxi had voiced his conviction and released it to the winds, content to let Chiang's judgment prevail. Bai Chongxi was a master of strategy, whispered among allies as the "Little Zhuge," his intellect a weapon as sharp as any blade. Yet Chen Cheng shared Chiang's Zhejiang roots and the unbreakable bonds of Huangpu camaraderie, drawing him even closer in the inner circle of trust. On such pivotal matters, Bai Chongxi often chose the path of restraint, yielding rather than clashing in futile strife. Five agonizing days after the plans vanished into the ether, Chiang's telegram pierced the tension, affirming the adoption of Plan A. A surge of quiet triumph coursed through Bai Chongxi as he signed the missive and strode toward the operations map, his steps echoing with purpose.   While strategic minds clashed in hidden caves and distant villas, the front lines pulsed with the raw grit of soldiers readying for battle. Guan Linzheng had been assigned a mount since 1930, when he became commander of the 1st Regiment of the 2nd Training Division, during the Central Plains War between Chiang, Feng, and Yan. He led the regiment to cover the retreat of the division's main force under Zhang Zhizhong. Pursued by several times their number of Feng-Yan troops, they fought while retreating in dire straits. From night to dawn, heavy fog descended, obscuring visibility beyond dozens of paces. Guan Linzheng's chestnut horse suddenly neighed loudly and charged back toward the pursuers. After trying to rein it in unsuccessfully, Guan simply ordered the troops to countercharge into the fog. Shouts of killing filled the air, gunfire intense. The Feng-Yan troops, unclear of the situation in the fog, thought Chiang reinforcements had arrived and ordered a retreat. By the time the fog cleared, they were gone. Guan's bold cunning successfully completed the cover mission, and he was promoted to brigade commander of the division's 2nd Brigade after the war.   In July 1932, during Chiang Kai-shek's fourth encirclement of the Hubei-Henan-Anhui Soviet, Guan Linzheng was brigade commander of the 4th Army's Independent Brigade. In battle, he was surrounded by Red Army troops led by Chen Geng and Cai Shenyi of the Red 25th Army Corps in the Anhui town of Zhuanfo Temple. His unit suffered heavy casualties, and a beloved horse was killed, leaving him distressed for a long time. With the outbreak of the War of Resistance, Guan Linzheng's military career entered its golden age. He believed this was truly raising an army of justice, fighting for the people and the nation. After promotions, though equipped with cars, he always kept a warhorse, often riding to survey terrain, inspect work, and command battles. In spare moments, he personally exercised and groomed the horse. That day, he led several staff on horseback to the Xin Qiang River front line, dismounting on the southern bank. 52nd Army Commander Zhang Yaoming and 195th Division Commander Qin Yizhi were waiting.   According to the Ninth War Zone deployment, the 15th Army Group had positioned Zhang Yaoming's 52nd Army and Xia Chuzhong's 79th Army, a formidable force of six divisions along the southern bank of the Xin Qiang River, stretching from Xin Qiang to Maishi beyond the provincial border. This ironclad first line of defense spanned over 100 kilometers, a vast bulwark against the gathering storm of invasion. Fifty kilometers to the south, Chen Pei's 37th Army, with its Divisions 60 and 95, held the Miluo River from Miluo to Pingjiang as the unyielding second line, ready to absorb any breach. Meanwhile, Li Jue's 70th Army, commanding Divisions 19 and 107 along the eastern bank of the Xiang River, was deployed north and south of Xiangyin, fiercely guarding the critical landing points like Yingtian, points that could spell victory or catastrophe.   195th Division Commander Qin Yizhi reported to Guan Linzheng with a voice charged with resolve: troop morale soared like a battle cry, fortifications stood complete and impenetrable, and the army's slogan for this fateful clash thundered: "Fight with the prestige of Taierzhuang!" The division's mobilization slogan echoed even fiercer: "Win fame in one battle!" Guan Linzheng nodded with grim satisfaction toward Zhang Yaoming, his eyes gleaming with the fire of shared history. Guan had once commanded the 52nd Army himself, leading it through a gauntlet of brilliant, blood-soaked battles on the anti-Japanese front. As the Japanese hordes prepared to surge across the Xin Qiang River southward, this was the first, most perilous barrier, a crucible where legends would be forged or shattered. He had entrusted his most loyal unit to the point of greatest impact, knowing full well the stakes. Zhang Yaoming and the division commanders, who had marched at his side for years through hellfire, understood the gravity: Commander Guan was setting an unassailable example, issuing orders that rippled through the ranks, no one could afford the slightest lapse, or face the merciless blade of military law!   "Who's on the north bank?" Guan Linzheng and the others sat on the hard earth, the weight of impending war pressing down; he pointed to the map's symbols for forward positions across the river, his finger tracing lines of fate. "Guarding the Bijia Mountain position is the reinforced 3rd Battalion of the 195th Division's 131st Regiment under Qin Yizhi," Zhang Yaoming replied without hesitation, his tone steady as stone. "Who's on the north bank?" Guan Linzheng repeated as if he hadn't heard, his voice a low rumble, demanding precision in the face of chaos.   Zhang Yaoming hesitated slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face, and Qin Yizhi stepped in: "3rd Battalion Commander Shi Enhua, Huangpu 8th Class."   The Central Military Academy had held its first five classes in Guangzhou's Huangpu, commonly called Huangpu Military Academy. Afterward, the school moved several times, but students continued using the Huangpu name, partly to inherit the revolutionary spirit against imperialism and feudalism from Huangpu's founding, and partly to indicate their central orthodoxy. Army generals, especially the "old Huangpu" big brothers, approved this practice, calling it Huangpu no matter where the school was.   Guan Linzheng glared at Zhang Yaoming, his gaze like sharpened steel, then pressed his knee and rose to his feet. Guan's left knee had been shattered by a bullet in 1925 during the Eastern Expedition against Chen Jiongming, a wound that had nearly claimed his leg and his future. Doctors had decreed amputation to save his life, but Liao Zhongkai, the party representative, had visited the wounded and intervened strenuously, preventing it. Otherwise, there would be no later glory for Guan Linzheng. After careful treatment and diligent exercise, the leg's function mostly recovered, though rising from a squat was slightly difficult. Zhang Yaoming reached out to help, but Guan pushed him away with a fierce independence born of countless battles. The group descended to the riverbank and stood in heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. The horses either stood patiently with heads held high, vigilant sentinels, or lowered them to sniff the grass, casually plucking some to hold in their lips, oblivious to the human storm brewing.   The Xin Qiang River, an unnamed small river that had flowed quietly for countless years, had no great turbid waves in flood seasons and still shallow clear ripples in dry periods. It flowed peacefully from its source to Dongting Lake over dozens of kilometers. At this moment, it reflected the figures and thoughts of several soldiers, utterly unaware that in a dozen days, its name would leap to the front pages of newspapers nationwide, baptized in blood and etched into history.   Amid these preparations on the front lines, deeper internal conflicts simmered among the high command. Xue Yue regretted taking the position of provincial chairman, a decision that now haunted him like a specter from the battlefield's edge.   After the nationwide shock of the "Great Fire of Changsha," Zhang Zhizhong was punished with "suspension with retention," continuing to handle daily affairs amid the ashes. He sent several telegrams requesting resignation from the provincial chairmanship, expressing to the Executive Yuan his "shameless guilt and deep pain." On January 17, 1939, the Chongqing Executive Yuan passed a resolution to reorganize the Hunan Provincial Government. That night, Zhang Zhizhong received Chiang Kai-shek's telegram instructing him to hand over work and report to Chongqing.   In December 1938, when the Military Affairs Commission issued the order for Xue Yue to act as Ninth War Zone Commander, Chiang Kai-shek personally spoke with Xue, asking: "Brother Boling, do you think this arrangement is acceptable?" Boling was Xue Yue's courtesy name. Chiang, nine years older, addressed him as brother in private. Xue Yue said: "With Changsha in such a state, I truly lack the ability to handle such a major war zone task." Chiang Kai-shek understood Xue's implication about the disunity of military and political affairs making military work difficult. He said: "You go first; we can consider unifying military and political affairs later." According to He Yaozu, then director of the Military Affairs Commission Office who witnessed this: "My impression was that Xue Yue didn't want to avoid the acting commander role, but wanted to combine military and political powers. Chiang knew this, telling me 'If he's willing, let him do it,' words Chiang said to many seeking positions."   On February 1, 1939, the Nationalist Government officially appointed Xue Yue as Chairman of the Hunan Provincial Committee of the Kuomintang and Chairman of Hunan Province. With party, government, and military powers combined, troubles followed incessantly, piling upon him like relentless enemy fire. As war zone commander, he first thought of the troops. Upon taking office, Xue implemented a policy to restrict market rice prices for military grain procurement, proposing "flat prices" to acquire grain cheaply, forcing merchants underground. Upon hearing this, Xue angrily summoned major rice merchants, reprimanded them, and ordered them to deliver quotas. The result: insufficient low-price rice, with black market prices rising daily. After half a year, sharp-tongued Hunanese nicknamed him "Xue Pinggui," a name that became household, a mocking whisper that cut deeper than any blade.   Coincidentally, his father passed away. Whether Xue instructed it or subordinates "handled it," obituaries flew everywhere, sent to county-level units across the province. Each county had at least 20 units sending condolences, and higher-level cities and provincial units all sent, leading some to secretly calculate. After Xue Yue took charge in Hunan, his family members were transferred from other provinces, and arranging work according to their abilities was reasonable in that old society. His uncle-in-law Fang Xuefen became head of the Provincial Grain Bureau, brother-in-law Qiu Weiyi head of the Provincial Bank. His brother continued business, transporting Hunan rice to Guangdong for barter.   Xue Yue's talents shone not in officialdom. Only before military maps, on battlefields of gunfire and flying shells, could one find the general-like Xue Yue; "heaven-born talent" was for warfare. This descendant of an ordinary farming family in Lechang County, Guangdong, who entered Huangpu Army Primary School at 10, became commander of Sun Yat-sen's bodyguard regiment's 1st Battalion at 24, and once carried a machine gun through hails of bullets to protect Madame Sun Soong Ching-ling from rebel encirclement, earned the nickname "Tiger Cub" in blood and fire. What propelled him to life's peak was the Battle of Changsha.   On August 21, 1939, with war clouds over Changsha thickening like a noose, Xue Yue received telegrams and calls from Chiang Kai-shek, Bai Chongxi, and Chen Cheng. Chiang's telegram required immediate deployment according to "Plan A." Bai and Chen urged resolute implementation of the Chairman's instructions. Xue Yue stood motionless before the map, his mind a whirlwind of strategy and defiance.   Many articles recalling Xue Yue mentioned his daily habit, or hobby, of studying maps; he could do so all day. With battles, he looked; without, he still studied avidly. Perhaps map-reading had evolved from a commander's work need to a professional soldier's spiritual requirement, a way to express emotions, dispel worries, a soldier's way of existence. After Chiang's order to execute "Plan A," rather than comparing plans on the map for stronger bases for his preferred view, he was organizing thoughts, adjusting emotions, and gathering courage in this soul's sanctuary. Hours later, he turned and called Chief of Staff Zhao Zili, dictating three reasons to persist with "Plan B," instructing him to draft a telegram directly to Chiang Kai-shek.   He reminded Zhao that the wording should be forceful yet resilient, making the Chairman clearly feel his firm determination. The Ninth War Zone has sufficient forces and confidence to annihilate the Japanese north of Changsha. If our forces retreat to Hengyang, the Japanese 21st Army under Ando Toshikichi in Guangzhou (with 18th and 104th Divisions, Taiwan Brigade, and attached air units) might advance north along the Yue-Han Railway in support, forming a pincer on us, making the battle hard to control. Following Plan A and allowing the Japanese south would lead to Changsha's fall, exploited by enemy propaganda, causing adverse effects domestically and internationally. These three points presented the potential military and political disadvantages of Plan A as tangible, imminent dangers, more argumentative and unyieldingly firm than his original inclination toward "Plan B."   Zhao Zili quickly noted the points, his pen flying across the page with the precision of a seasoned warrior, before retreating to the staff office to draft the telegram that could alter the course of battle. A top student of Huangpu's 6th Class, quick-witted and resourceful, Zhao had risen like a comet through the ranks after a few blistering campaigns, pinning the insignia of major general to his shoulders at the tender age of 31, a feat that stirred envy among his classmates like a storm in their hearts. Zhao Zili, of course, understood Xue Yue's true intent, piercing through the layers of strategy to the raw undercurrent of determination and unresolved fury.   In May 1938, to avenge the stinging triumph at Taierzhuang, the Japanese had massed their forces in a vengeful storm, aiming to encircle and annihilate the Chinese main forces east of the Longhai Railway, striking from both east and north with ruthless precision. The northern route's 14th Division, under the cunning Dobashi Kenji, found itself surrounded in Lanfeng by a pantheon of fierce Chinese generals, Song Xilian, Yu Jishi, Hu Zongnan, Qiu Qingquan, Wang Yaowu, Li Hanlun, Gui Yongqing, Sun Tongxuan, and Shang Zhen, warriors whose names echoed like thunder across the battlefields. Chiang Kai-shek himself descended upon Zhengzhou to supervise the carnage, appointing Xue Yue as 1st Corps Commander to orchestrate the generals in a full-throttle offensive on the morning of May 25, with the ironclad goal of obliterating that longtime scourge of China and his 14th Division before the dawn of the 26th shattered the night.   The odds were a gambler's dream: 150,000 elite Chinese troops against a mere 20,000 second-rate Japanese soldiers. Victory seemed not just possible, but inevitable; Chiang invited journalists to the front lines for live dispatches, while the Wuhan Political Department feverishly prepared celebrations for the "second great Taierzhuang victory." Chiang Kai-shek was exceptionally angry, his rage boiling over in orders that scorched the ranks, reprimanding army commanders for "inept command, cowardly actions, leading to low morale and hesitation," and that "most army, division, and brigade commanders lacked courage and self-motivation, prolonging the battle." After the Lanfeng Battle, Chiang ordered the dismissal and investigation of future Nationalist Navy Commander Gui Yongqing and 1950s Taiwan Army Commander and Provincial Chairman Huang Jie, and executed 88th Division Commander Long Muhan. But he did not hold Xue Yue accountable for leadership responsibility. For a highly self-respecting person, self-blame is more painful than others' blame. Thereafter, Xue Yue spent more time buried in maps, his eyes tracing lines of terrain like a man possessed, seeking a monumental battle to avenge his wounded pride and redeem his tarnished honor.   On March 8, 1939, shortly after Xue Yue assumed the mantle of acting Ninth War Zone Commander, Chiang telegraphed him with urgent resolve: "To secure Nanchang and its rear lines, decide to strike first, take the offensive to thwart the enemy's intentions." Chiang valued Nanchang's strategic position, as did Okamura Yasuji, but Chiang was a step slow, his hesitation a fatal crack. The Japanese, wielding two divisions bolstered by the bulk of their army's tanks and artillery, seized the initiative like predators in the night, storming Nanchang before the Chinese heavy forces could muster. Chen Cheng remained the nominal Ninth War Zone Commander, relegating Xue Yue to a watchful perch in Changsha while entrusting the Nanchang front to his confidant Luo Zhuoying. Xue Yue haunted the command room day and night, monitoring the inferno through frantic phone calls and telegrams, his discomfort gnawing at him like an unhealed wound. He bore witness to Nanchang's fall and the counterattack's agonizing collapse.   The Nanchang Battle loss was not Xue's fault, but it scarred the Ninth War Zone under his watch, with generals' whispers spreading like venom, knotting his heart in a tangle of regret and resolve. Months of intense map study and on-site inspections had etched Hunan's terrain into Xue Yue's very soul, birthing a strategy that was bold, unique, and brimming with promise—a phoenix rising from the ashes of defeat. But as Zhao Zili understood with crystal clarity, Commander Xue's telegram to Chiang, a forceful plea to reverse the decision, sprang less from cold military "strategy" than from the seething "resentment" accumulated through repeated failures and humiliations, a fire that demanded reckoning. With Chen Cheng's help, Chiang finally agreed to change the plan, bending to the tide of persuasion. Xue Yue was delighted, his spirit soaring like a liberated eagle; Bai Chongxi was angry, his frustration simmering like a storm held at bay. After the battle erupted, Bai, dispatched by Chiang to assist Xue Yue, arrived at the war zone headquarters on Yuelu Mountain atop the Xiang River's west bank in Changsha but remained silent like a mute bodhisattva, his words locked away in disapproval. Even decades later, in his Memoirs of Bai Chongxi, discussing the First Battle of Changsha, he still did not consider it a victory, saying the Japanese "conducted a planned retreat without much loss, which is a fact."   I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go 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 after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. In 1939, amid the Second Sino-Japanese War's stalemate phase, Chiang Kai-shek received intelligence on Japan's Xiang-Gan Operation, aimed at pressuring Chongqing through military advances in Hunan. Deputy Chief Bai Chongxi proposed Plan A for a deep-lure annihilation south of Changsha, while Chen Cheng and Xue Yue favored Plan B for resistance north of the city. After tense debates, Chiang approved Plan B, influenced by Xue's insistence to avoid Changsha's fall and counter Japanese propaganda.   

Welcome to The Times of Israel's Daily Briefing, your 20-minute audio update on what's happening in Israel, the Middle East and the Jewish world. Military correspondent Emanuel Fabian joins host Amanda Borschel-Dan for today's episode. Like all Israelis, Fabian is experiencing the ongoing US-Israel war against Iran first-hand. We hear that his area of the country has been more battered of late, and that his onsite reporting from a crater caused by a several-hundred-kilogram warhead yesterday. We turn to the IDF's airstrikes on Iran and what it is targeting now that the vast majority of military targets have been struck. Who turned out the lights in Iran yesterday? Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu announced on Sunday that Israel would capture additional territory in southern Lebanon to expand a security zone on Israel’s northern border, as the Israel Defense Forces expanded its ground operation against the Hezbollah terror group. Fabian explains what this could look like. We learn about the IDF's Alipinist Unit -- IDF soldiers on skis -- who conducted a rare border crossing in snowy mountains from Syria to Lebanon. The IDF is pulling out the Menashe Regional Brigade’s 941st “Netzah Israel” Battalion, a reserve unit made up mostly of former soldiers of the Kfir Brigade’s ultra-Orthodox Netzah Yehuda Battalion, from the West Bank. We learn why. And finally, we hear what is happening on the ground in Gaza as operations continue there. Check out The Times of Israel's ongoing liveblog for more updates. For further reading: Iranian missile attack sparks blaze in chemical plant, fears of hazardous leak Blackouts hit parts of Tehran as Israel conducts strikes in Iran amid peace talks PM says Israel to expand south Lebanon buffer zone as IDF pushes deeper into territory IDF chief: Detention, alleged assault of CNN crew in West Bank ‘grave ethical incident’ IDF pulls entire battalion from West Bank action after alleged assault of CNN crew Subscribe to The Times of Israel Daily Briefing on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. This episode was produced by Gabriella Jacobs and edited by Ari Schlacht. IMAGE: A poster shows former Hezbollah leader Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah, at the site of a destroyed house that was hit in an Israeli airstrike in Sarafand village, south Lebanon, March 27, 2026. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

It was released for publication on Sunday morning that Sgt. Moshe Yitzchak Hacohen Katz, 22, was killed during combat in southern Lebanon on Friday, from Hizbullah rocket fire. Katz, originally from New Haven, Connecticut, served in the 890th Battalion, Paratroopers Brigade. Five Israeli soldiers have been killed since the start of Israel's ground incursion in southern Lebanon. Mendy, the father of Moshe, wrote a Facebook post expressing his grief. "My heart is shattered and the wound is open," he wrote. "My firstborn son with a zest for life and jokes. May he be an advocate only for good things." KAN's Mark Weiss spoke with Chabad Rabbi Eli Riskin from New Haven. (Photo: IDF Spokesperson)See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Part 2 of 2. With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa Disk 11. https://youtu.be/wNWsSVTGQZc?si=rZ0Gwu6Z966_de7r Chicago Piano 1.17K subscribers 30,425 views Jan 15, 2024 Listen to the entire book for free on YouTube- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrTXeh1hjuLd91Tw495Si3K8qPWoZuftL   With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa Disk 11. by E.B. Sledge (Author) See all formats and editions NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • “Of all the books about the ground war in the Pacific, [this] is the closest to a masterpiece.”—The New York Review of Books “Eugene Sledge became more than a legend with his memoir, With the Old Breed. He became a chronicler, a historian, a storyteller who turns the extremes of the war in the Pacific—the terror, the camaraderie, the banal and the extraordinary—into terms we mortals can grasp.”—Tom Hanks In The Wall Street Journal, Victor Davis Hanson named With the Old Breed one of the top five books on epic twentieth-century battles after its original publication in 1981. Studs Terkel interviewed the author for his definitive oral history, The Good War. Now E. B. Sledge's acclaimed first-person account of fighting at Peleliu and Okinawa returns to thrill, edify, and inspire a new generation. An Alabama boy steeped in American history and enamored of such heroes as George Washington and Daniel Boone, Eugene B. Sledge became part of the war's famous 1st Marine Division—3rd Battalion, 5th Marines. Even after intense training, he was shocked to be thrown into the battle of Peleliu, where “the world was a nightmare of flashes, explosions, and snapping bullets.” By the time Sledge hit the hell of Okinawa, he was a combat vet, still filled with fear but no longer with panic. Based on notes Sledge secretly kept in a copy of the New Testament, With the Old Breed captures with utter simplicity and searing honesty the experience of a soldier in the fierce Pacific Theater. Here is what saved, threatened, and changed his life. Here, too, is the story of how he learned to hate and kill—and came to love—his fellow man. “In all the literature on the Second World War, there is not a more honest, realistic or moving memoir than Eugene Sledge's. This is the real deal, the real war: unvarnished, brutal, without a shred of sentimentality or false patriotism, a profound primer on what it actually was like to be in that war. It is a classic that will outlive all the armchair generals' safe accounts of—not the ‘good war'—but the worst war ever.”—Ken Burns   Listen to the entire book for free on Youtube- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrTXeh1hjuLd91Tw495Si3K8qPWoZuftL

With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa Disk 10. https://youtu.be/wNWsSVTGQZc?si=rZ0Gwu6Z966_de7r Chicago Piano 1.17K subscribers 30,425 views Jan 15, 2024 Listen to the entire book for free on YouTube- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrTXeh1hjuLd91Tw495Si3K8qPWoZuftL   With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa Disk 10. by E.B. Sledge (Author) See all formats and editions NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • “Of all the books about the ground war in the Pacific, [this] is the closest to a masterpiece.”—The New York Review of Books “Eugene Sledge became more than a legend with his memoir, With the Old Breed. He became a chronicler, a historian, a storyteller who turns the extremes of the war in the Pacific—the terror, the camaraderie, the banal and the extraordinary—into terms we mortals can grasp.”—Tom Hanks In The Wall Street Journal, Victor Davis Hanson named With the Old Breed one of the top five books on epic twentieth-century battles after its original publication in 1981. Studs Terkel interviewed the author for his definitive oral history, The Good War. Now E. B. Sledge's acclaimed first-person account of fighting at Peleliu and Okinawa returns to thrill, edify, and inspire a new generation. An Alabama boy steeped in American history and enamored of such heroes as George Washington and Daniel Boone, Eugene B. Sledge became part of the war's famous 1st Marine Division—3rd Battalion, 5th Marines. Even after intense training, he was shocked to be thrown into the battle of Peleliu, where “the world was a nightmare of flashes, explosions, and snapping bullets.” By the time Sledge hit the hell of Okinawa, he was a combat vet, still filled with fear but no longer with panic. Based on notes Sledge secretly kept in a copy of the New Testament, With the Old Breed captures with utter simplicity and searing honesty the experience of a soldier in the fierce Pacific Theater. Here is what saved, threatened, and changed his life. Here, too, is the story of how he learned to hate and kill—and came to love—his fellow man. “In all the literature on the Second World War, there is not a more honest, realistic or moving memoir than Eugene Sledge's. This is the real deal, the real war: unvarnished, brutal, without a shred of sentimentality or false patriotism, a profound primer on what it actually was like to be in that war. It is a classic that will outlive all the armchair generals' safe accounts of—not the ‘good war'—but the worst war ever.”—Ken Burns   Listen to the entire book for free on YouTube- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrTXeh1hjuLd91Tw495Si3K8qPWoZuftL

True Faith: Trusting in God's Plan 'But If Not'. ACU Sunday Series. The Most Inspiring General Conference Talk on Faith You'll Ever Hear! True Faith: Trusting in God's Plan 'But If Not' In this inspirational video, Elder Dennis E. Simmons reflects on his youthful misunderstanding of faith through a story from his eighth-grade basketball tournament. He emphasizes that true faith is more than wishful thinking—it's a deep trust in Jesus Christ. Using the biblical story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, Elder Simmons illustrates how true faith means trusting God even when outcomes don't align with our desires. He explores how figures such as Abraham, Daniel, and Paul displayed unwavering faith under trials, demonstrating that great challenges can cultivate greater spiritual strength. The address underlines that the world is a test of faith, administered by a loving Heavenly Father, and highlights the importance of maintaining faith in God's plan, even amidst suffering and uncertainty. Watch this video at- https://youtu.be/NSZbc7SvP4M?si=PgOtPgS7VFzSIolv The Words of Christ 53.7K subscribers 47,389 views Oct 20, 2024

On August 26, 2021, an ISIS-K terrorist attack killed 13 American service members and wounded many others at Abbey Gate outside Kabul International Airport in Afghanistan. Scores of Afghan civilians were also killed and wounded. Nine of the American service members killed that day were U.S. Marines from G Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines. Their company commander was then-Captain Geoffrey Ball.In this edition of Veterans Chronicles, Major Ball takes us through the chaos the company found when it arrived in Afghanistan on August 19. He tells about the heroic efforts of his unit and many others to establish as much order as possible among the many thousands of people desperate to reach the airport and leave Afghanistan before U.S. forces withdrew.Major Ball then walks us through the terrorist attack and the horrific toll it inflicted upon his company. He also shares what impact the explosion had on him and the details the amazing work of his company's Navy corpsman and other medics to save and stabilize those who were badly hurt.Finally, Ball tells us, in detail, about the service members who made the ultimate sacrifice at Abbey Gate, who they were, and what he appreciated about each one of them.

Patrick responds to calls about funeral rites, Catholic teaching on Mary, reverence in church, and the emotional struggles that follow loss. He connects the struggles of real people to faith, sometimes pausing to discuss moments from history, like the Saint Patrick's Battalion, other times pausing to comfort, or to unpack theological puzzles like how joy exists beside suffering in heaven. Julie - Do we have to do a Memorial Mass for my deceased father? (00:36) Joe - Regarding the Trump caller, I think our country, church and world won't see a true revival until they come to know and love the Blessed Virgin Mary. (06:20) Pamela - Jesus gave Mary to St. John and wouldn't have needed to do that had St. Joseph been there. (10:27) Joe - I observed a Deacon talking with a lay person in the sanctuary in front of the tabernacle. What is your take? (11:42) Jose - Do you know about the St. Patrick's Battalion? (19:33) Maria - My husband was cremated. Can I inter him during Lent? (23:03) Dave - I was praying the Creed and was overwhelmed by God's goodness. Could God ever have been different? (31:07) Rydan - If I died, will I be sad in heaven if I see a family member on earth sin? (35:46) Leo - What is the Church's teaching on what God intended nature to be? (40:55)

Be sure and join us live Thursday night, March 5th at 8pm on our Youtube Channel with our special guest, 34-year FDNY veteran, Battalion Chief George Gierer. Chief Gierer was appointed to the FDNY in 1969 and retired in 2003. With three and a half decades of service to the FDNY, he has had an outstanding career. Once appointed to the FDNY he went on to: Assigned 1970 to Engine 46 / Ladder 27 both of which would have 2nd sections (No Fires) Sept 1979 promoted to Lieut. assigned Battalion 13 R group (E93,TL45,R3,E95,L36)- covering in these companies Sept 1981 assigned to Ladder 36 April 1984 promoted to Captain assigned to Ladder 41 March 1990 promoted to Battalion Chief B27 Jan 21, 2003 retired Going to be another great show. We will get the whole skinny. You don't want to miss this one. Join us at the kitchen table on the BEST FIREFIGHTER PODCAST ON THE INTERNET! You can also Listen to our podcast ...we are on all the players #lovethisjob #GiveBackMoreThanYouTake #Oldschool #Tradition #FDNYBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/gettin-salty-experience-firefighter-podcast--4218265/support.

They marched peacefully. They were fired on. They sang anyway. This week on the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast #749, sixteen artists remind us that protest songs aren't history — they're a mirror. Dropkick Murphys, Wild Colonial Bhoys, Medusa's Wake, House of Hamill and more. From Diggers of 1649, to Bloody Sunday 1972, to Minneapolis 2026. Some songs don't age. They just find new reasons to matter. -- Subscribe now at CelticMusicPodcast.com! Amelia Hogan, Dropkick Murphys, Bealtaine, Ed Miller, Black 47, David Rovics, Wild Colonial Bhoys, Eddie Biggins, The Haar, Marc Gunn & The Dubliners' Tabby Cats, The Secret Commonwealth, Redhill Rats, Scythian, House Of Hamill, Medusa's Wake, Melanie Gruben GET CELTIC MUSIC NEWS IN YOUR INBOX The Celtic Music Magazine is a quick and easy way to plug yourself into more great Celtic culture. Enjoy seven weekly news items with what's happening with Celtic music and culture online. Subscribe now and get 34 Celtic MP3s for Free. VOTE IN THE CELTIC TOP 20 FOR 2026 This is our way of finding the best songs and artists each year. You can vote for as many songs and tunes that inspire you in each episode. Your vote helps me create this year's Best Celtic music episode. You have just three weeks to vote this year. Vote Now! You can follow our playlist on YouTube to listen to those top voted tracks as they are added every 2-3 weeks. THIS WEEK IN CELTIC MUSIC 0:09 - Amelia Hogan "No Irish Need Apply" from Transplants: From the Old to the New 5:02 - WELCOME 8:14 - Dropkick Murphys "Who'll Stand With Us?" from For The People (Expanded Edition) 12:03 - Bealtaine "Worker's Song" from Factories & Mills, Shipyards & Mines Written by Ed Pickford in the mid-1970s as a direct response to arguments blaming Britain's economic woes on workers rather than the wealthy. That's a typical tactic that continues today. If we want free and fair elections, we will stop letting billionaires buy our politicians. The was first recorded by Scottish legend Dick Gaughan in 1981, it's been taken up by everyone from the Dropkick Murphys to The Longest Johns. 16:22 - Ed Miller "Blood upon the Grass" from Generations of Change In 1977, Scotland traveled to Chile to play a friendly match at the very stadium where, just four years earlier, Pinochet's regime had tortured and killed political prisoners after the 1973 coup. Back in Scotland, a powerful solidarity campaign urged the Scottish Football Association to pull their team from what would become known as the 'Match of Shame.' Folk singer Adam McNaughtan captured that outrage in his song 'Blood Upon the Grass,' and Edinburgh-born singer Ed Miller later recorded it on his album Generations of Change — keeping this powerful story alive for new generations. 19:16 - Black 47 "San Patricio Brigade" from Rise Up and The Secret World of Celtic Rock 24:18 - FEEDBACK The Great Hunger in Ireland took place from 1845 to 1852. Irish immigrants migrated to the U.S. They were treated as second-class citizens. There are still newspapers that refer to them as lazy and criminals, thus the "No Irish Need Apply" song at the start of the show. These were hungry people. They were just looking for opportunities in a new land. Much like the immigrants of today. But they too were treated inhumanely. They were demonized. So when the Mexican-American War broke out from 1846-1848, many Irish looked at how poorly they were treated in America. They found greater kinship to their Catholic cousins in Mexico. That's why the Saint Patrick's Battalion was formed. Interestingly, it wasn't just Irish Catholics. There were Catholics from throughout Europe in the battalion including: German, Canadian, English, French, Italian, Polish, Scottish, Spanish, Swiss and Mexican. These were people who were attacked and belittled for their culture and their faith. It should serve as a warning and a reminder for all of us today. 30:04 - David Rovics "St. Patrick Battalion" from Historic Times 32:58 - Wild Colonial Bhoys "Dying Rebel" from Century A song that reflects on the human cost of rebellion rather than the glorification of the conflict and the martyrdom of its leaders. Here's what history keeps teaching us. People don't start out wanting to fight. They start out wanting to be heard. On January 30, 1972, in Derry, Northern Ireland, somewhere between ten and fifteen thousand people joined a peaceful civil rights march. They weren't armed. They were protesting the British government's policy of locking people up without trial. Sort of like what's happening in America now. British paratroopers opened fire. Thirteen people were killed. Fourteen others were wounded. The incident caused widespread anger and led to a surge in IRA recruitment. The argument was simple and devastating: peaceful protest could no longer achieve change. I hope to God America never comes to that. But peaceful protesters were murdered in Minneapolis. I lost a fan because I took my kids to a peaceful No Kings Protest last summer. When the state fires on and demonizes its own people, it doesn't end the resistance. It just changes its shape. That's the lesson history keeps trying to teach us. I hope we don't need to learn that the hard way. So please keep peacefully protesting 37:46 - BREAK 39:10 - Eddie Biggins "The Rising of the Moon" from Hey, I'm Singing Over Here! 41:29 - The Haar "Óró Sé Do Bheatha' Bhaile" from The Lost Day "Óró sé do bheatha abhaile" sounds like a joyful welcome song — and once, it was. The original Irish tune dates back centuries, used to greet returning chieftains and even Bonnie Prince Charlie. But the version we know today is something altogether fiercer. Around 1910, Patrick Pearse — poet, teacher, and revolutionary — rewrote the lyrics. He replaced the old imagery with a new vision: Gráinne Mhaol, the legendary 16th century pirate queen, sailing home with soldiers to drive the English from Ireland. Pearse was executed after the 1916 Easter Rising. And his words lived on. The song became a rallying cry, a promise that resistance wasn't finished, that Ireland would be free. That's why it's still sung today. Not as nostalgia, but as defiance. Every generation that lifts their voice in this song is answering Pearse's call across more than a hundred years. 48:04 - Marc Gunn & The Dubliners' Tabby Cats "Patriot Game" from Irish Drinking Songs: The Cat Lover's Companion In my opinion, "Patriot Game" is one of the best Irish rebel songs ever written. It cuts deeper than most rebel songs because it doesn't glorify. It questions. It was written by Dominic Behan in 1961. The song is based on the true story of Fergal O'Hanlon, an IRA volunteer killed during a 1957 border raid in County Fermanagh. He was just nineteen years old. But Behan wasn't writing a hero's ballad. He was writing a warning. The song is sung in the voice of a young man who died for a cause he barely understood. Seduced by romantic notions of patriotism before he had the wisdom to weigh the cost. That's the same as putting the party over the country. Our politicians have fallen into that trap. So I want to ask you to reach out to your representatives. Tell them you've had enough of this insanity. 51:12 - THANKS Back in December, I got an email from Troy of The Secret Commonwealth. He was letting me know about a man who's been part of his community for over 40 years. His friend is being held by ICE for nearly a year. His friend is hospitalized with a serious infection and awaiting heart surgery, all while being denied adequate medical care and due process. He suffers from a cracked vertebra and a history of cardiac issues, yet remains in unsanitary conditions with limited access to clean water or medical attention. My friend said, 'I'm feeling pretty damn rebellious right now,' and honestly, I am too. I'm also sad that I didn't bring this to your attention sooner, especially in the wake of the murders of Renee Good and Alex Pretti by ICE agents in Minneapolis back in Janaury. These are not abstract political issues. These are real people, real families, real communities torn apart. This next song feels like the right response. 'Till Jamie Comes Hame' features traditional words sometimes credited to Robert Burns, with music written by Rob Campbell of the band. And today, it's for everyone waiting for someone to come home. 58:35 - The Secret Commonwealth "Til Jamie Comes Hame" from Last Call 1:02:45 - Redhill Rats "White, Orange and Green" from Some Heroes 1:06:37 - Scythian "Follow Me Up to Carlow" from Immigrant Road Show 1:10:06 - House Of Hamill "Pound A Week Rise" from MARCH THROUGH STORMS 1:14:12 - Medusa's Wake "War of Independence" from War of Independence 1:17:37 - CLOSING "The World Turned Upside Down" was written in 1975, but it reaches back to 1649 — and maybe even further than that. Leon Rosselson based the song on the Diggers, a radical movement in England led by Gerrard Winstanley. After the English Civil War, they began farming common land, declaring simply that the earth belonged to everyone. Not to kings. Not to landlords. Not to those who had seized it by force and called it theirs. They were destroyed for that idea. But here's something worth sitting with. The Irish language doesn't have a word for "to have." You cannot own anything in Irish. Instead, things exist in relationship with you. A book is at you. Hunger is on you. Joy is on you. Even land. Not mine. Just... with me for now. That's not just a quirk of grammar. It's a completely different way of seeing the world. One where ownership itself is the strange idea. The foreign concept. This the idea that declaring land your private property is an act of violence against everyone else. The Diggers lost. The language nearly did too. But both survived. And this song is proof that the idea refuses to die. 1:20:18 - Melanie Gruben "The World Turned Upside Down" from Like a Tide Upon the Land 1:22:37 - CREDITS Support for this program comes from International speaker, Joseph Dumond, teaching the ancient roots of the Gaelic people. Learn more about their origins at Sightedmoon.com Support for this program comes from Cascadia Cross Border Law Group, Creating Transparent Borders for more than twenty five years, serving Alaska and the world. Find out more at   www.CascadiaLawAlaska.com Support for this program comes from Hank Woodward. Support for this program comes from Dr. Annie Lorkowski of Centennial Animal Hospital in Corona, California. The Executive Producer for St Patrick's Month is John Sharkey White, II. The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast was produced by Marc Gunn, The Celtfather and our Patrons on Patreon. The show was edited by Mitchell Petersen with Graphics by Miranda Nelson Designs. Visit our website to follow the show. You'll find links to all of the artists played in this episode. Todd Wiley is the editor of the Celtic Music Magazine. Subscribe to get 34 Celtic MP3s for Free. Plus, you'll get 7 weekly news items about what's happening with Celtic music and culture online. Best of all, you will connect with your Celtic heritage. Please tell one friend about this podcast. Word of mouth is the absolute best way to support any creative endeavor. Finally, remember. Clean energy isn't just good for the planet, it's good for your wallet. Solar and wind are now the cheapest power sources in history. But too many politicians would rather protect billionaires than help working families save on their bills. Real change starts when we stop allowing the ultra-rich to write our energy policy and run our government. Let's choose affordable, renewable power. Clean energy means lower costs, more freedom, and a planet that can actually breathe. Promote Celtic culture through music at http://celticmusicpodcast.com/. WELCOME THE IRISH & CELTIC MUSIC PODCAST * Helping you celebrate Celtic culture through music. I am Marc Gunn. I'm a Celtic musician and also host of Pub Songs & Stories. This podcast is for fans of Celtic music. It's about diversity of thoughts and beliefs and about helping indie celtic musicians. So if you find music you love, support the artists financially. You can find a link to all of the artists in the shownotes, along with show times, when you visit our website at celticmusicpodcast.com. IRISH & CELTIC MUSIC PODFEST AND ARTS MARKET Join us Sunday, March 8, 2026, from 12 to 6 PM at The Lost Druid Brewery in Avondale Estates, Georgia. Enjoy an afternoon of Celtic and folk music from Kinnfolk, The Muckers, May Will Bloom, and Marc Gunn. Bring your family. Grab a pint. Enjoy the music, and share the energy of a true Celtic gathering. It is free to attend. While the music plays, explore our Arts Market filled with handmade crafts, art, and unique gifts from local creators. It's a celebration of music, creativity, and community — all in one place. Come for the songs. Stay for the spirit. We'll see you at The Lost Druid on March 8.