Podcasts about infantry division

Standards set the foundation for any professional organization. The baseline for professionalism in the US Army is Army Regulation 670-1; Wear and Appearance of Army Uniforms and Insignia. This regulation dictates the standard for every Soldier, regardless of rank or position. AR 670-1 has long been a hot topic of discussion among Soldiers and leaders at every level; and too often left open to interpretation. Until now…At the direction of senior Army leadership, Army Directive 670-1 has been released to clarify these standards and provide shared understanding between Soldiers and leaders to know what ‘right' looks like.To explain the changes and how they will affect every member of the Army, Fran Racioppi sat down with Sergeant Major of the Army Mike Weimer, SGM Laurin Nabors and SGM Alex Kupratty. The SMA shares the “why” behind personal grooming standards and the importance of doing the little things that develop a culture of commitment from compliance. SGM Kupratty breaks down the definition of professional soldier from the experienced warriors of 75th Ranger Regiment to the new Privates of 4th Infantry Division. SGM Nabors provides the details on what's changing, when and how the new standards are expected to be enforced. She also shares her journey from an Army Reserve heavy equipment operator to the halls of the Pentagon. This episode is about redefining what it means to serve in the greatest fighting force the world has ever seen and why development of a war fighting culture starts with how a Soldier presents themself each and every day.Highlights0:00 Welcome to the Jedburgh Podcast3:26 Army Directive vs Regulation in 670-15:30 Why Now8:49 Closing Gaps12:55 Changes to 670-121:08 Why Standards Matter28:25 Analyzing Data29:42 Beards34:30 Preparing soldiers38:10 Active Guard Reserve44:30 Joining the Ranger Battalion49:42 The Grace Period50:33 Daily HabitsQuotes“Part of the problem is our process is too slow.”“The first thing I had to figure out is are they educated?”“Do they understand the standards as they are written?”“Once you are emplaced in a leadership position, that's where the commitment piece has to be rock solid.”"If you can't do the simple things I'm asking you to do, how are you going to do the hard things in combat?”“We had to come in and really define “What is military appearance?”“It's a direct reflection of your willingness to be compliant to a standard in your leaders.”“The why reinforces one uniformity.”“We're part of something bigger than all of us."“Really understanding the generational differences that exist is arguably the most challenging thing that I found as a senior leader in the Army.”“I don't think anybody knows what large scale combat will look like.”“The camaraderie that exists in that formation is unlike anything I've seen before.”“Leadership's not about 'What did I do here today?' It's 'What did I do for everyone else here to be successful?'"“You're only as good as the time you put in.”The Jedburgh Podcast is brought to you by University of Health & Performance, providing our Veterans world-class education and training as fitness and nutrition entrepreneurs.Follow the Jedburgh Podcast and the Green Beret Foundation on social media. Listen on your favorite podcast platform, read on our website, and watch the full video version on YouTube as we show why America must continue to lead from the front, no matter the challenge.

Last time we spoke about the beginning of the battle of Nanjing. As the relentless tide of war approached Nanjing in December 1937, fear gripped its residents. As atrocities unfolded in the countryside, civilians flocked toward safety zones, desperate for refuge. Under the command of General Tang Shengzhi, the Chinese forces prepared for a fierce defense, determined to hold their ground against the technologically superior invaders. Despite heavy losses and internal strife, hopes flickered among the defenders, fueled by the valor of their troops. Key positions like Old Tiger's Cave became battlegrounds, exemplifying the fierce resistance against the Japanese advance. On December 9, as artillery fire enveloped the city, a battle for the Gate of Enlightenment commenced. Both sides suffered grievously, with the Chinese soldiers fighting to the last, unwilling to yield an inch of their soil. Each assault from Japan met with relentless counterattacks, turning Nanjing into a symbol of perseverance amidst impending doom, as the siege marked a critical chapter in the conflict, foreshadowing the brutal events that would follow.   #167 The Battle of Nanjing Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. By mid-December, the landscape surrounding Nanjing was eerily quiet. The Japanese Army marched through what seemed to be desolate fields and mountains, but they were not truly empty. Civilians were scarce, with most having fled, but a few remained in their homes, hiding in cellars and barns, clinging to the hope that the war would bypass them. Meanwhile, thousands of Chinese soldiers, left behind and unable to keep pace with their units, still posed a significant danger to the Japanese forces. The Japanese Army had not truly conquered the territory east and south of Nanjing; they had merely passed through. Mopping-up operations became a top priority. Soldiers from the 16th Infantry Division, stationed near Purple Mountain, spent early December conducting these missions far from the city's walls. “Chinese stragglers may be hiding in this area, and they must be flushed out. Any small structure of no strategic value to the Japanese Army must be burned!” This command rang out to the division's soldiers as they spread across the countryside around Unicorn Gate. Soon, isolated fires began to illuminate the horizon, one for each home. Soldiers from the 9th Infantry Division, who were not directly engaged in combat south of the Gate of Enlightenment, were also conducting similar mopping-up operations. On December 11 at noon, one squad received orders to investigate a suspicious farm building. Although it had been searched previously, movement inside prompted renewed caution. The Japanese entered carefully, moving from room to room. In the basement, they discovered eight Chinese soldiers who offered no resistance, immediately raising their hands in surrender. Bound together, they were brought outside. Using a few Chinese words supplemented by sign language, the Japanese gathered that the Chinese had been in the vicinity where one of their comrades had been killed days earlier. Unanimously, they decided the prisoners should be executed in front of their comrade's grave. Some of the older soldiers hesitated, reluctant to partake in the killings, leaving it to the younger ones to carry out the order. Soon, eight headless bodies lay sprawled before a solitary Japanese grave.  On the morning of December 11, the first soldiers of the 6th Japanese Infantry Division finally spotted the distant city wall of Nanjing. They had been engaged in fierce combat for nearly two days, attempting to dislodge the tenacious defenders of the Yuhuatai plateau, the elite soldiers of the 88th Division. In a desperate bid to maintain their foothold on Yuhuatai, the 88th Division deployed its reserved 528th Regiment along with a battalion of engineers. Despite their efforts, the regiment's ranks had been depleted, filled with inexperienced recruits, and their leadership nearly obliterated, limiting their effectiveness. Under the relentless assaults from the Japanese forces, their defenses began to falter almost immediately. Faced with the stiff resistance at the Gate of Enlightenment, the Japanese shifted their focus to the Chinese Gate on December 11. Japanese aircraft were summoned for tactical air support, forcing the 88th Division's defenders to retreat behind the wall. This withdrawal occurred swiftly and somewhat chaotically, allowing the Japanese to pursue closely. Before the Chinese could regroup, 300 Japanese soldiers had breached the wall. Only the mobilization of all available forces enabled the Chinese to push the attackers back outside. Meanwhile, the left flank of the 88th Division, stationed east of Chinese Gate, remained outside the wall. Here, they clashed with elements of the 9th Japanese Division but faced intense pressure and were compelled to fall back. By the end of the day, the Chinese division had shortened its defensive line, regrouping in front of the city wall. Plans for a nighttime counterattack were ultimately abandoned, as it became clear that the division's soldiers were too fatigued to mount an effective offensive. Overall, it proved to be a successful day for the Japanese 10th Army. Further south, the Kunisaki Detachment successfully crossed the Yangtze River at Cihu village, beginning their advance toward Pukou. Its special amphibious training made the detachment ideally suited for the operation, but its limited numbers, essentially a reinforced infantry regiment, raised concerns at field headquarters about whether it could accomplish the task alone. Prince Asaka proposed transporting part of the 13th Division across the Yangtze further north to sever the railway connecting Tianjin to Pukou, cutting off a potential retreat route for Chinese forces that had escaped Nanjing.  On December 11, Japanese artillery shells rained down relentlessly, targeting both the interior and exterior of Nanjing's city walls. Administrators of the Safety Zone were alarmed to witness several shells landing perilously close to its southern edge. In a bid to provide some semblance of security, American and foreign flags were raised around the zone's perimeter, though their protective influence against artillery fire from miles away was negligible. The leaders of the Safety Zone faced an unexpected dilemma: how to handle lawbreakers with the city courts now out of operation. That day, they encountered a thief caught in the act. As Rabe noted in his diary “We sentence the thief to death, then pardon him and reduce his punishment to 24 hours in jail, and ultimately, due to the absence of a jail, we simply let him go”. Refugees continued to pour in, with a total of 850 having found shelter at Ginling College. Vautrin and her colleagues began to feel that their initial estimate of 2,700 women and children seeking refuge on the campus was overly optimistic. They were soon proven wrong. On the banks of the Yangtze River, hundreds of injured soldiers and civilians were lining up to be ferried across to Pukou, where trains awaited to transport them further inland and away from danger. Many had been waiting for days without food. While ferries made continuous trips across the river to rescue as many as possible, the process was painfully slow. As of late December 10, approximately 1,500 wounded civilians remained stranded on the south bank of the Yangtze. The Japanese forces were confronted by a fiercely determined enemy composed largely of young soldiers from the Training Division. These soldiers had the advantage of having been stationed near Purple Mountain for several years, making them familiar with the terrain. Additionally, they were part of an elite unit, groomed not just in equipment and training but also instilled with a sense of nationalism rooted in Chiang Kai-shek's ideology. Li Xikai, the commander of the division's 3rd Regiment, had set up his command post directly in the path of the primary Japanese advance, yet his regiment continued to resist. Despite the fierce resistance, the Japanese gradually gained control over the Purple Mountain area. General Nakajima Kesago, commander of the 16th Division, visited an artillery observation post early in the day and was pleased to receive reports that his troops had captured two peaks of Purple Mountain and were poised to take the main peak.  Yet there loomed a problem on Nakajima's right flank. A widening gap was emerging between the 16th Division and the 13th Division, which had advanced along the southern bank of the Yangtze. There was a risk that Chinese forces could escape through this lightly guarded area. The 13th Division was stationed in the strategically important river port city of Zhenjiang, preparing to cross the Yangtze. The Central China Area Army ordered the 13th Division to mobilize three infantry battalions and one artillery battalion. This new formation, known as the Yamada Detachment after its commander, Yamada Senji, was tasked with remaining on the Yangtze's south bank and advancing westward to capture two Chinese fortresses on the river: Mt. Wulong and Mt. Mufu. This redeployment alleviated concerns about the gap, allowing the 16th Division to focus on the city wall. As the sun dipped towards the horizon, one Captain Akao Junzo prepared for what he believed would be his final assault. He had been ordered to seize a hill northeast of Sun Yat-sen Gate that overlooked the city entrance. His commander told him “The attack on Nanjing will likely be the last battle of this war, and I hope your company can be at the front when the enemy's lines are breached”. The hill was fortified with numerous machine gun positions, reinforced with mud, bricks, and tiles, and connected by an intricate network of trenches. Dense rows of barbed wire lay before the positions, designed to halt attackers and expose them to machine-gun fire. Additionally, the area was likely heavily mined, and Chinese soldiers maintained a high level of alertness. Akao knew this all too well; when he crawled forward and slightly lifted his head to survey the landscape, he triggered a hail of bullets, one of which grazed his helmet. Around late afternoon, four mountain guns from the regimental artillery began firing on the Chinese positions, sustaining the bombardment for over an hour. By 5:00 pm, as the winter sky darkened, Akao decided it was time to launch the attack. Expecting close-quarters combat, he instructed his men to carry only their rifles and small entrenchment tools. With the entire company poised to move, he dispatched a small group of soldiers ahead to cut openings in the barbed wire while receiving covering fire from the mountain guns and the rifles and machine guns of their comrades. The remainder of the company advanced with swords raised and bayonets fixed. As they approached within about 700 feet of the enemy positions, the artillery bombardment ceased as planned. The enemy, still reeling from the ferocity of the earlier assault, scrambled in a panic from their trenches, retreating in disarray. Akao and his fellow soldiers pressed forward, cutting down any opposition in their path. Seizing the momentum, Akao charged to occupy the hill that had been his target. He found it deserted upon his arrival and sent a triumphant message back to command, reporting that the objective had been achieved. However, the reply he received left him baffled: he was ordered to withdraw with his company and return to their lines. Apparently, the regimental command deemed the position too precarious. Sensing that a precious advantage was being squandered, Akao disregarded the order. Before his company could establish a defensive position on the hill, the Chinese launched a counterattack. Lying down, the Japanese soldiers returned fire while frantically digging into the earth to fortify their position. Gradually, they began to form a rudimentary perimeter at the summit. The fighting continued into the night. Exhausted from days without sleep, many soldiers rotated between guard duty and rest, dozing off intermittently in their shallow trenches, reassuring one another that everything would be alright before drifting back to sleep. They successfully repelled all attempts by the Chinese to reclaim the hill and were eventually relieved. On December 11, after leaving his capital, Chiang Kai-shek took time to reflect on everything that had happened in his diary. He reassured himself that his nationalist revolution would persist, regardless of whether he held Nanjing, “Temporary defeat can be turned into eventual victory.” Yet he did not fear so much the Japanese invasion itself, but rather how the weakening of his nationalist government might allow the Communists to rise. He wrote about how his nation was on the brink of becoming a second Spain. While foreign invasions were undoubtedly disastrous, they could eventually be overcome, if not immediately, then over years or decades. Sometimes, this could be achieved merely by absorbing the outmatched invader and assimilating them into Chinese society. In contrast, internal unrest posed a far more fundamental threat to the survival of any regime. As we have seen in this series, going back to the mid 19th century, was it the foreign empires of Britain, France and Russia that threatened to destroy the Qing dynasty, or was it the internal civil war brought on by the Taiping? As Chiang famously put it “the Japanese were a treatable disease of the skin. Communism however was a disease of the heart”. Chiang could accept a humiliating but rapid retreat from Nanjing. In his view, it would be far more difficult to recover from a bloody yet futile struggle for the city that might cost him what remained of his best troops. A prolonged defensive battle, he reasoned, would be a tragic waste and could shift the balance of power decisively in favor of the Communists. This new mindset was reflected in a telegram he sent late on December 11 to Tang Shengzhi: “If the situation becomes untenable, it is permissible to find the opportune moment to retreat to regroup in the rear in anticipation of future counterattacks.” On December 12, tankettes cautiously plunged into the Yuhuatai plateau. Unexpectedly the Chinese defenders abandoned their positions and rushed down the hillside toward Nanjing's walls. Upon discovering this, the Japanese tankettes opened fire on the retreating Chinese, cutting swathes through the masses and sending bodies tumbling down the slope. Some Japanese infantry caught up, joining in the slaughter and laughing boisterously as they reveled in the chaos. A tankette column escorted a group of engineers to the Nanjing wall and then drove east along the moat until they reached a large gate, flanked by two smaller openings, all securely shut. A chilling message, painted in blue, adorned the gate's surface. Written in Chinese characters, it conveyed a stark warning: “We Swear Revenge on the Enemy.” The wall itself loomed three stories high, but Japanese artillery was already targeting it, this was known as the Chinese Gate. Now that Yuhuatai was virtually in Japanese hands, capturing the gate had become the primary objective. At this location, the wall stood 70 feet tall, protected by a 100-foot moat to the outside. All bridges spanning the moat had been destroyed. The area around the gate was heavily defended, with approximately one machine gun positioned every 50 yards atop the wall. Inside, the gate was reinforced with a formidable barrier of sandbags. Chinese infantry armed with mortars and small arms could fire down on the Japanese attackers while others had established isolated positions in nearby buildings that had survived the “scorched earth” policy. Taking the gate and the heavily fortified southwestern corner of the wall was the responsibility of the 6th Division. The division was deploying its regiments: the 13th, the 47th, and the 23rd from east to west. The 45th Regiment, the final unit of the division, was tasked with skirting the western side of the wall and advancing northward, aiming for the Yangtze docks at Xiaguan. The soldiers of the division had already formed a rough understanding of the formidable defenses they were facing. During the night between December 11 and 12, they had advanced nearly to the wall, gathering intelligence to prepare for an assault at dawn. As planned, the assault commenced. Field artillery fired round after round at the gate, but the wall sustained minimal damage. A Japanese tank rolled up, firing point-blank at the gate but producing no visible effect. Next, it was the engineers' turn. A “dare-to-die” squad, equipped with long ladders, crept as close to the wall as possible without exposing themselves and then sprinted the final distance. The moment they broke into the open, a Chinese machine gun opened fire, cutting them down to the last man. At noon, three Japanese planes soared overhead, dropping bombs near a Chinese-held building outside the gate. The smoke from the resulting fire briefly obscured the area. Seizing the opportunity presented by the reduced visibility, a large group of Chinese soldiers holed up inside attempted to dash back to the wall. The Japanese spotted their movement instantly, and every soldier in the line opened fire. The fleeing Chinese were mowed down like ripe grass, collapsing in heaps.  Meanwhile the battle for the Gate of Enlightenment was drawing to a close. On the Chinese side of the wall, confusion reigned regarding the overall situation on December 12. Chen Yiding, brigade commander of the 87th Division, had been warned that heads would roll if the Gate of Enlightenment fell to the Japanese. Hearing the sounds of fierce fighting on the edges of Yuhuatai and seeing the smoke rise from numerous fires on Purple Mountain, he was left in the dark about their implications, surrounded by the fog of war. Chen's troops had finally managed to establish a telephone link to the rear, but by mid-afternoon, it was cut off, likely due to a stray artillery shell. After dark, Chen sent an officer to his left flank to make contact with the Chinese forces there. The report that followed was far from reassuring. A unit from Guangdong Province was abandoning its positions and retreating north, attempting to exit the capital through one of the gates in the city wall. The officer had attempted to inquire about their destination, but the retreating soldiers ignored him. With neighboring units evacuating autonomously, a significant gap was opening in the Chinese line atop the wall between the Gate of Enlightenment and Sun Yat-sen Gate. A frightening possibility emerged: the Japanese could walk right in across the undefended southeastern corner of the city wall and surround Chen Yiding's troops before they had a chance to withdraw. The situation was becoming untenable, a fact underscored by the artillery fire raining down on Chen's position. Despite this, retreat was not a simple decision for Chen and the other commanders of the 87th Division. They had been garrisoned in Nanjing before the war, and the city had become home to many of the soldiers. Shortly after midnight, Chen called a meeting with his senior officers. After considerable discussion, they concluded that they had no choice but to withdraw. Nonetheless, Chen insisted that everyone sign a document confirming their support for this decision, recognizing the potential danger of taking such a significant step without consensus. After all, his own life had been threatened if the situation deteriorated further. Soon after, the Chinese began to move out of their positions. The Japanese were initially unaware of the retreat; all they noticed during the night between December 12 and 13 was that the Chinese artillery fire began to grow increasingly distant. By 4:00 am it had stopped completely. The few remaining Chinese were quickly overwhelmed and killed. In the end, the gate, which had cost so many lives during the seemingly endless battle, was taken almost effortlessly by the Japanese. Soldiers of the 9th Division, stationed outside the wall, scrambled up the slope created by the previous days' shelling. Once at the top, they thrust their hands into the air, shouting “Banzai!” so loudly that they believed their families back home in Japan might hear them. Tears streamed down their faces as soldiers embraced and shook hands, reflecting on the friends they had lost throughout the months of fighting, from Shanghai to their current position. They reassured each other that their sacrifices had been worth it for this very moment. On December 12,  the slopes of Purple Mountain  were ablaze. Zhou Zhenqiang, commander of the Training Division's 1st Brigade, led his men in a desperate struggle to maintain control of the mountain's forested peaks. However, they were being overwhelmed by the better-equipped Japanese troops, and Zhou knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to relinquish his position. Zhou found himself unable to obtain any information from his superiors about the overall situation, despite repeated attempts to contact the Training Division's headquarters. He dispatched a runner, who returned a few hours later with disheartening news: the divisional commander had left late in the afternoon. Other reports indicated a general breakdown in command. The elite 88th Division was in disarray, and an entire division of Guangdong troops, that being the same force that had abandoned the wall near the Gate of Enlightenment, had been spotted marching out of the Gate of Great Peace, seemingly intent on returning home. With indications of collapse all around him, Zhou decided to execute an orderly withdrawal from Purple Mountain, leaving a small contingent behind to cover the retreat. His troops entered through the city wall at Sun Yat-sen Gate and marched in disciplined columns through the streets of Nanjing, where signs of imminent anarchy were evident. Chinese soldiers were scattered everywhere, speaking a cacophony of dialects, yet they appeared to lack any coherent command. Tang Shengzhi's grip on the situation was weakening. Meanwhile Japan's 13th Air Group had been busy with the final stages of the battle for Nanjing.  In the morning of December 12, after raiding Chinese positions at Sun Yat-sen Gate, they  received new orders. Intelligence indicated that Chinese ships, laden with troops, were moving up the Yangtze from Nanjing. Japanese infantry on the ground could only watch as this prize slipped through their fingers, and the army requested air support. All available planes at Changzhou, a mix of A4N fighters and Yokosuka B4Y bombers, totaling 24 aircraft, were assembled for the crucial mission. The day was clear, providing excellent visibility as the pilots headed toward the section of the Yangtze where they believed the vessels would be, based on reasonable assumptions about their speed. At 1:30 p.m., 28 nautical miles upriver from Nanjing, the pilots sighted four ships. Trusting their military intelligence, they saw no need for further identification. Initially, the B4Ys bombed the vessels from a considerable height. One bomb struck the lead ship, a military vessel, disabling its forward gun and snapping the foremast. Then, a first wave of six A4Ns dove down over the line of ships, attacking individually. In total, they dropped about 20 bombs. Several exploded close enough to the lead vessel to damage its hull and injure crew members on deck. A 30-caliber machine gun on board was manned, with gunners stripped to the waist firing at the Japanese planes but failing to score a hit. Several of the A4Ns strafed the ship with machine-gun fire. After 20 minutes of sustained bombing and strafing, the result was utter devastation. The lead vessel was stuck in mid-river, riddled with bullets, aflame, and listing to starboard. Two other ships were beached on the right bank, while another sat stranded on the left. Satisfied with their mission, the Japanese aviators broke off and returned to their temporary base. Upon their landing in Changzhou, instead of receiving accolades, the pilots were met with reprimands. Why hadn't they sunk all the vessels? They were ordered to return immediately to finish the job. Though they didn't find the original targets, they stumbled upon four other vessels closer to Nanjing. One aircraft dove toward the ships, releasing a 60-kilogram bomb that struck one vessel. As the pilot pulled up, he caught sight of the Union Jack on the hull and realized his mistake; he had inadvertently targeted neutral ships. The other pilots recognized the significance of the markings as well and withheld their bombs. The vessel was identified as the SS Wantung. Soon after, the Japanese pilots understood that the ships they had attacked earlier upriver from Nanjing were also Western; three of them were Standard Oil tankers. The last vessel, which had sustained the most damage, was the USS Panay, a lightly armed flat-bottomed gunboat,  tasked with protecting American lives and property along China's longest river. The Panay had been instrumental in evacuating American citizens from the war zone in November and December. On the day it was attacked, the Panay was carrying four American embassy personnel and ten American and foreign journalists to safety. The ship's doctor converted the engine room into a makeshift sick bay, treating a steady stream of injured personnel. By the end, he was tending to 45 patients. The soldiers and passengers were evacuated in two small boats to a nearby marshy island covered in reeds, where they hid, fearful of further strafing. From their hiding place, they watched as a Japanese powerboat filled with soldiers approached the Panay. After firing more volleys at the vessel, the soldiers boarded it, remaining for only five minutes before departing. The American flag still flew from the bow at that time. At 3:54 pm, the Panay rolled over to starboard and sank in seven to ten fathoms of water. Cold and frightened, the survivors waded through knee-deep mud to a nearby village, assisting those too severely wounded to walk.  Meanwhile back at Chinese Gate, the mutual slaughter continued into the afternoon of December 12. The Japanese made no significant progress, although their failure was not for lack of trying. The commanders of the 6th Division had strategically placed the boundary between the 13th and 47th Regiments exactly at the gate, encouraging both units to compete to be the first to seize the position. Yet, despite their efforts, it became clear that willpower alone was not enough to breach the Chinese defenses at Chinese Gate. In peacetime, Nanjing's city gates served as entry points into a bustling capital, but in wartime, they transformed into heavily fortified and nearly impregnable strongholds. Any Japanese officer hoping for a swift victory would soon be disappointed; by early afternoon, the situation at the gate had devolved into a stalemate. The section of the wall manned by the 47th Infantry Regiment, located east of the gate, also saw little meaningful movement as the day wore on. Japanese soldiers, pinned down by Chinese fire from atop the wall, could do little more than take pride in a symbolic triumph. A small group of soldiers had managed to reach the wall and place a ladder against it, but it fell nearly ten feet short of the top. One soldier skillfully scaled the last portion, gripping protruding bricks and crevices of the nearly vertical surface. The entire Japanese front watched him with bated breath. He reached the top and unfurled a Japanese flag, but it immediately drew intense Chinese fire, forcing him to duck for cover. Soon, he vanished from sight, raising concerns among his compatriots about his fate. Later, it was revealed that he had taken refuge in a depression in the wall, waiting out the battle. The real breakthrough of the day would occur west of the gate. The 23rd Regiment was deployed there with orders to capture sections of the wall near the southwestern corner. It became evident that the wall could not be scaled without first bringing up artillery to create gaps in its solid masonry. A significant portion of the divisional fire support, 36 small-caliber mountain guns, four 100mm howitzers, and four 150mm howitzers, was assigned to this section. Artillery observers were also sent to the 23rd Regiment's forward command post to coordinate with the infantry and assess the effects of the shelling. By mid-afternoon, the artillery bombardment had created a ravine-like hole in the wall large enough for an assault. The 23rd Regiment positioned its 2nd and 3rd Battalions at the front, with the 1st Battalion held in reserve. First, the engineers undertook the challenging task. As the assault commenced, the rest of the regiment provided covering fire to force the Chinese defenders to seek shelter while the engineers charged into the 70-foot-wide moat. Once a human chain formed, they held up ladders as a makeshift bridge, allowing a company from the 3rd Battalion to rush across and into the gap in the wall. As the batteries switched to close infantry support, they laid down a barrage around the breach to prevent Chinese interference as the attack entered its decisive phase. The Japanese soldiers scrambled up the rubble, created by the artillery fire, which rose several dozen feet high. Shortly before 5:00 p.m., the Japanese seized control of the southwestern segment of the wall. The Chinese launched several counterattacks to reclaim the position, but none were successful. This action ultimately sealed Nanjing's fate; beyond the wall, there was nothing left to save the ancient city and its inhabitants. As defeat appeared imminent, more and more civilians sought safety in foreign-controlled areas, though danger still loomed large. Bits of shrapnel narrowly missed Dr. Robert Wilson while he operated in the Safety Zone. Every square foot of John Rabe's property became filled with families, many camping in the open with their own blankets. Some sought refuge under his large swastika flag, believing that this would make the area especially “bomb-proof” given the growing friendship between Tokyo and Berlin; they assumed Japanese aviators would think twice before targeting a region seemingly under German protection. With just hours left before the Japanese Army was expected to gain control, the residents of Nanjing made their last preparations, prioritizing personal survival. The brutal behavior of Japanese troops in conquered territories fueled intense concern over the possible fate of injured soldiers who might fall into enemy hands. As Nanjing's last hours as a free city unfolded, it became imperative for local hospitals to evacuate as many wounded soldiers as possible across the Yangtze. On December 12, doctors found a motorboat stranded on the riverbank, having apparently broken down. They managed to repair it and ferried several hundred patients to safety throughout the day. Throughout December 12, the citizens of Nanjing were subjected to the unsettling cacophony of heavy shelling, mixed with the roar of bombers overhead. By evening, the entire horizon south of the city glowed with flames. The sound of fighting emanated from all directions, continuing long after sunset. However, in the middle of the night, activity began to wan. Every few minutes, the muffled thuds of shells could still be heard, though their origin was unclear. For the most part, an eerie silence prevailed, as if the city was holding its breath in anticipation of the final onslaught. Chiang Kai-shek had indicated he would understand if Tang chose to abandon the capital. However, on December 12, he reversed his stance, sending a telegram to Tang expressing optimism that the Nanjing garrison could hold out significantly longer. In his words “If you do not shy away from sacrifices, you will be able to hold high the banner of our nation and our army, and this could transform defeat into victory. If you can hold out one more day, you will add to the pride of the Chinese nation. If you can hold out for half a month or more, the domestic and international situation could see a substantial change.” Tang adopted a hardline approach toward any signs of defeatism among his troops. When he learned that General Sun Yuanliang, commander of the formerly elite 88th Division, was leading approximately 2,000 men from the Gate of Enlightenment to the dock area, Tang acted swiftly. He dispatched Song Xilian, the commanding general of the 36th Division, to halt the retreat. When the two units met, a fratricidal clash nearly occurred. Fortunately, the 88th Division agreed to return to the gate and continue fighting. Whatever Tang's plans, they were rendered irrelevant at 3:00 pm,  when he received another telegram from Chiang, this time ordering a full retreat. Rumors that the Chinese Army had started evacuating Nanjing triggerec panic among many units. Thousands abandoned their positions and joined the throngs of soldiers and civilians moving slowly down the city's main avenues. The crowd seemed to have collectively decided that getting a boat out of Nanjing was the best option, and by late afternoon, a solid mass of humanity stretched for miles through the city toward the dock areas at Xiaguan. To reach Xiaguan, everyone had to pass through Yijiang Gate. This relatively modern structure had served as the main entry point for visitors arriving in Nanjing by boat in recent decades and now only half of the main entrance was open. A crowd of that size trying to get through such a narrow bottleneck was a recipe for disaster. Those unfortunate enough to be right at the front felt the crushing pressure of tens of thousands of individuals pushing from behind. In that densely packed throng, stumbling and falling to the ground was akin to a death sentence; anyone who went down was inevitably crushed by the oncoming waves of terrified civilians and soldiers. As chaos erupted, discipline evaporated entirely. Officers lost control over their men, leading to infighting among the soldiers. Pushing and shoving escalated into fistfights, and trucks drove directly into the mass of people to force their way through. Tanks, emitting sounds akin to prehistoric beasts, rolled through the mob, crushing many under their weight. Amid the madness, some soldiers, driven by frustration over the lack of movement, began shooting into the crowd at random. To relieve the pressure at Yijiang Gate, some units were ordered to exit Nanjing via the Gate of Great Peace at the northeastern corner of the city wall. Upon arrival, they found the entrance nearly sealed shut. Thick walls of sandbags had been erected around it, leaving only a narrow opening through which one person could pass at a time. Massive crowds fought among themselves to get through; even under perfect order and discipline, it would have taken the entire night and most of the following day for everyone to pass. In the midst of the frantic chaos, it could take a week or more. During the night of the 12th, a select group of Japanese soldiers, chosen for the offensive, stripped their equipment down to the bare essentials: rifles, bayonets, and helmets. They avoided any gear that could produce a metallic noise, alerting the Chinese defenders to their approach. Stealthily, they moved up to the wall, carrying bamboo ladders tied together in threes for added height. Ascending the rungs, they ensured not to make a sound that could betray their position to an alert Chinese sentry. Everything hinged on remaining undetected; even a couple of hand grenades tossed down the wall could halt the attack in its tracks. Reaching the top without being noticed, the soldiers quickly fanned out. Chinese soldiers stationed on the wall saw the swift dark figures and opened fire, but it was too late to thwart the assault. A brief fight ensued; most Japanese soldiers were too close to use their rifles and immediately resorted to their bayonets. The stunned defenders were pushed back, and the successful assault team established a perimeter, awaiting reinforcements from outside the wall. They didn't have to wait long. A massive assault along the length of the 6th Division's front line commenced at dawn on December 13. Japanese artillery concentrated its fire on a narrow section of the city wall, progressively working its way from the bottom up. Gradually, the shells formed a slope of debris that soldiers could use to scale the wall. A short air raid was executed, and after the planes had weakened the remaining resistance, a group of soldiers rushed up the slope. While their comrades provided covering fire, they climbed the last stretch, rolling down a rope ladder. Within minutes, 40 other Japanese soldiers had joined them. By 10:30 am, the Rising Sun flag was flying over the wall. The Japanese invaders were met with a horrific sight at the top of the wall. Beyond lay the grim aftermath of days of shelling. Some houses were leveled, while others burned. The ground was littered with bodies, some decapitated or disemboweled, and pools of blood surrounded them. As Chiang Kai-shek's order to abandon the city gradually filtered down to the troops manning the wall around Nanjing, things began to move rapidly.  By late morning on December 13, all the major entry points into the city had fallen to the Japanese. These included Chinese Gate in the southwest, the Gate of Enlightenment in the south, and Sun Yat-sen Gate in the east. The first thing that struck the Japanese soldiers upon ascending the wall was how starkly different it was from their expectations. They had anticipated a bustling city teeming with people, but instead, the area adjacent to the wall was characterized by farm plots, resembling countryside more than an urban center. The second notable observation was the complete absence of inhabitants. Cautiously, the Japanese soldiers entered the city they had just conquered, their bayonets fixed and rifles at the ready. Yet, surprisingly, very few shots were fired. After weeks of fearing death and injury, once the immediate danger receded, a certain stupor settled in. For most civilians in Nanjing, their initial encounter with the city's new rulers was uneventful. It took several hours for the Japanese to move from the wall into the urban parts of the capital. It was not until around noon that residents noticed the first groups of Japanese soldiers marching down the streets in clusters of six to twelve men. Initially, many met the conquerors with relief, hoping they would be treated fairly. Their optimism was bolstered by Japanese planes dropping leaflets over the city, reassuring residents of humane treatment. 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. On December 9, fierce battles erupted, especially at the Gate of Enlightenment. Despite heavy fighting, the Chinese showed remarkable resilience, turning Nanjing into a symbol of determination. However, the tide shifted as overwhelming Japanese artillery and tactics began to breach defenses. By December 13, as chaos engulfed the city, the invaders claimed victory, but not without significant loss. Civilians, caught amid the destruction, clung to hope amid despair.

In Part 2 of our crossover with MovieRob Minute WWII veteran Ceo Bauer (95th Infantry Division, “Iron Men of Metz”) continues his powerful story. At 102 years old, Ceo reflects on forgiveness, receiving his Purple Heart, and returning decades later to the battlefields of Metz and Luxembourg.He explains the mystery of WWII “invasion money,” shares how he first met Christian Taylor—sparking the journey that became The Girl Who Wore Freedom—and reads an unforgettable letter of gratitude written by French citizen Elizabeth Gosso for the 50th anniversary of Metz's liberation.This conversation captures Ceo's humor, candor, and resilience, while reminding us why keeping these stories alive matters.

Last time we spoke about the Japanese encirclement of Nanjing. As battles erupted around Lake Tai, the Chinese troops used guerrilla tactics and artillery to resist the technologically superior Japanese. However, internal strife and logistical issues began to weaken their defense. On December 1st, Japan's Central China Area Army was ordered to assault Nanjing, and despite heavy resistance, the Japanese forces swiftly captured key towns. By December 7th, with Japanese troops closing in, Chiang Kai-Shek prepared to evacuate the capital. Anxiety and fear gripped the city as civilians witnessed horrific atrocities in the countryside, where Japanese soldiers unleashed violence against unarmed populations. The defense of Nanjing became symbolic of Chinese perseverance against oppression. As the city faced inevitable destruction, hope rested on the courage of its defenders and the belief that they could rally against the relentless tide of attack, knowing their plight was drawing the world's attention amidst a brutal conflict.   #166 Enemy at the Gates of Nanjing  Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. War was steadily creeping toward Nanjing, and the remaining residents understood this grim reality. Starting December 8, the distant sounds of artillery began to echo through the city. The following day, the first shell from a Japanese battery struck downtown, detonating at Xinjiekou square. Amid the chaos and anarchy engulfing much of Nanjing as the population dwindled, looting became rampant. Chinese soldiers were reportedly seen stealing from abandoned stores. Daily life had largely ground to a halt. To this desolate and partially lawless city, refugees from the war continued to arrive. However, on December 8, the influx of refugees came to an abrupt halt. All gates in the city wall were locked, only to be opened for urgent military needs. Even soldiers injured in battles near the city were reportedly denied entry, left to perish just minutes away from desperately needed medical care. As the Japanese forces tightened their grip around Nanjing, more civilians sought refuge in the safety zone. American missionary Ernest Forster wrote in a letter to his wife “I wish you could witness the influx of people into this area from other parts of the city. All the roads leading here are lined with groups transporting whatever possessions they can carry, tireless rickshaws, some even pulled by students, wheelbarrows, trucks, baby carriages, anything with wheels.” On the evening of December 7, bonfires lit by soldiers of Japan's 16th Infantry Division near Unicorn Gate were clearly visible from Purple Mountain, which was defended by the elite Training Division of the Chinese Army. The bonfires presented an enticing target for this division, established as a model to inspire the rest of the Chinese forces, who remained eager to prove themselves even as defeat loomed. Commander Zhou Zhenqiang of the Training Division's 1st Brigade suggested a counterattack and had a plan in place. His brigade would launch a frontal assault while the 3rd Brigade, stationed to his left, would execute a flanking maneuver to encircle the unsuspecting adversary. Although this strategy had potential, it was never put into action. The Nanjing garrison dismissed the proposal, citing that “too many of our troops are already worn down,” according to Tang Shengzhi's staff. They warned that if the counterattack failed, there wouldn't be enough soldiers left to defend Nanjing. Consequently, the Training Division was compelled to dig in and await the enemy's arrival. While Chinese defenders were ordered to hold their ground, the 16th Japanese Infantry Division approached Purple Mountain. The slopes of the mountain were cloaked in conifers, interspersed with dense bamboo thickets that created almost jungle-like combat conditions. As one Japanese soldier of the 20th regiment noted  “Just a few paces ahead, you couldn't see anything. Even worse, you didn't know where the enemy was. When we heard gunfire, we shot back at random. Bullets were flying everywhere.” As the Japanese soldiers ascended the slope, they were halfway to the mountain's summit when they encountered white smoke and the characteristic cracking of burning bamboo. The Chinese troops, benefiting from a favorable wind, had set fire to the bamboo. Swiftly, the Japanese soldiers drew their swords and bayonets, cutting a wide firebreak through the bamboo to halt the flames. At the forefront of Purple Mountain was a key defensive position known as Old Tiger's Cave, located just east of the mountain. As long as this location remained in Chinese control, the Japanese could not capture the mountain itself. Understanding its significance, Chinese commanders stationed a battalion of well-equipped and highly motivated soldiers from the Training Division's 5th Regiment there. Fighting erupted in the afternoon of December 8, when the Japanese commenced a fierce artillery barrage on Old Tiger's Cave, followed by an infantry assault aimed at taking the hill. Under the cold-blooded command of their leaders, the Chinese battalion employed disciplined and concentrated fire, inflicting heavy casualties on the advancing Japanese troops, who were unable to advance that day. The following morning, the Japanese intensified their assault, combining artillery fire and aerial bombardment on Old Tiger's Cave. Their infantry again attempted the treacherous climb, hoping smoke grenades would obscure the defenders' line of sight. Once more, they were thwarted, facing additional pressure as a neighboring Chinese unit launched a counterattack against the Japanese right flank. The successful defense came at a significant cost; by the afternoon, over half of the battalion defending Old Tiger's Cave had become casualties. Given the hill's exposed position and difficulties in resupply, the officers of the Training Division reluctantly decided to abandon the position. The battered battalion, now without its commander, retreated to the second-highest peak of Purple Mountain. While the loss of Old Tiger's Cave was a setback for the Training Division, it also conferred certain advantages. The Chinese soldiers withdrew to a series of prepared defensive lines through terrain they knew intimately. This stronghold centered on Xiaolingwei, a town where the Training Division had moved into new barracks over four years prior. The battalion's soldiers were familiar with every creek, hamlet, bamboo grove, and pond in the region. The Japanese faced a daunting challenge ahead. Due south of Nanjing, the 6th Japanese Division had finally caught up with the 114th Division and was deployed to its left for the final push toward Nanjing. Between the division and the city wall lay a terrain of hills and low mountains dominated by two prominent features known as General's Peak and Ox Head Peak. The task fell to the division's 13th Regiment to proceed north along the highway, while the 23rd Regiment maneuvered left around the mountains before advancing north along the Yangtze River. The division's artillery regiment, functioning at only half its typical strength due to two of its four battalions remaining in the Hangzhou Bay area, was ordered to concentrate its firepower in support of the 13th Regiment as it navigated the terrain beneath the mountain peaks. Unfortunately, the regiment's advance became mired in unexpected Chinese resistance, and with the artillery deployed too far behind to provide adequate support, divisional command decided to halt the advance until the following day, December 9. Under the cover of darkness, the artillery units were repositioned closer to the front, and the artillery commanders established their command on a hill nearby. At dawn, they began firing at the Chinese positions with much greater precision than the previous day. Meanwhile, a column of tankettes rolled down the road between General's Peak and Ox Head Peak in support of the 13th Regiment. The first tank when it came under attack from hidden mountain guns. The enemy scored several hits on the tank, forcing the driver to crawl out of the burning vehicle. The driver's pants were engulfed in flames, and as men attempted to extinguish the fire, enemy machine gun fire ripped into the driver's chest, killing him instantly. The second vehicle also came under fire from shells and burst into flames. The commander and his driver attempted to escape the turret but were trapped when another shell hit, engulfing them in flames. Unaware of the unfolding disaster, the column continued its advance, and two more tankettes were destroyed. This skirmish proved costly, resulting in the loss of four vehicles and seven men. Despite the heavy losses, the coordinated operations involving infantry, armored vehicles, and artillery gradually succeeded in dislodging the Chinese from their positions. By nightfall on December 9, the first Japanese soldiers arrived in the town of Tiexinqiao, just south of Nanjing. Meanwhile, the 23rd Regiment continued its advance north along routes west of the mountain range. This maneuver required the regiment to abandon the relatively solid road it had used thus far, opting instead for primitive trails ill-suited for wheeled transport. The major drawback of this shift was the slow transportation of artillery. The consequences became evident when one of the regiment's battalions was ordered to dislodge enemy positions on a low peak known as Hill 154, situated astride the main route of advancement. With no artillery support available, half the battalion's strength, two companies remained in the rear to safeguard the artillery pieces as they were being repositioned. The battalion ordered the remaining two infantry companies to mount an assault on Hill 154. In place of artillery, they were instructed to utilize small-caliber knee mortars. As the Japanese forces advanced towards Hill 154, the Chinese defenders opened fire with everything at their disposal, heavy and light machine guns, rifles, and mortars. The Japanese were quickly pinned down, moving slowly toward the summit under the cover of fire from the knee mortars. A breakthrough occurred when a Japanese light machine gun crew spotted a large group of Chinese soldiers repositioning on the hill. A sustained burst of fire from their weapon struck true, sending dead and wounded Chinese soldiers tumbling down the slope. Seizing the opportunity, the Japanese platoon commander sprang to his feet and charged up the hill, followed closely by the machine gunner, with the rest of the platoon trailing 10 to 20 yards behind. As they advanced, they encountered four Chinese soldiers raising their rifles to shoot. The Japanese machine gunner was quicker, firing from the hip and killing all four in an instant. The remainder of the skirmish descended into chaos. The Japanese soldiers captured the hill and took aim, firing carefully and lethally at the backs of the defeated Chinese as they fled northward. Other Japanese troops swept through the trenches with fixed bayonets, mercilessly killing all Chinese soldiers present, those who were injured, those who attempted to surrender, and even those feigning death. As Japan's 10th Army advanced on Nanjing from the south, the Shanghai Expeditionary Force was making its way in from the east. The tactical situation was fluid, fast-changing, and unpredictable, with Japanese spearheads penetrating deep into Chinese-held territory, often bypassing large enemy troop formations that would then courageously launch counterattacks from the rear. On December 8th, the 16th Division was advancing into some mountainous terrain north of Jurang where their vanguard ran into an ambush. 200 Japanese soldiers were having lunch over a 300 foot hilltop position when suddenly Captain Akao Junzo heard his comrade shout “Thousands of enemies are coming up from behind! They are heading right towards you!” Rushing outside, Akao witnessed what appeared to be a wall of Chinese soldiers marching down the valley from the rear. He dashed to the next building, bursting through the door to find his soldiers preparing lunch, he shouted at them “The enemy is here! Come with me!” The soldiers dropped their cooking utensils, grabbed their rifles, and followed Akao up the hillside behind the farm buildings. Initially, the fighting seemed evenly matched. However, the Japanese quickly brought up their two heavy machine guns, set up just 50 yards apart. Firing at a rate of 500 rounds per minute, they caught the Chinese troops in a devastating crossfire. Nine light machine guns soon joined the fray. Within moments, the cohesion of the Chinese formation collapsed, and as some soldiers broke ranks and began to retreat, Akao's men eagerly pursued them with fixed bayonets. A young, aggressive officer led the charge, wildly swinging his sword until it snapped in two. Akao watched with satisfaction. This was the kind of warfare he and his men had trained for tirelessly, month after month, and they executed their tactics with precision. However, his attention soon shifted to the hill across the valley where he had previously posted the observation squad. The entire hill was now crawling with Chinese soldiers, all firing at the peak where the small group of Japanese soldiers was entrenched in what appeared to be a desperate battle. Determined to reclaim the hill, Akao led part of his men in a charge uphill but found themselves pinned down by Chinese gunfire halfway up. A force of three squads had arrived, bringing with them what was urgently needed: knee mortars. They were accompanied by the officer with the broken sword. Akao directed the mortar fire towards the top of the hill, watching as each explosive shell detonated among the dense cluster of Chinese soldiers. Taking advantage of this momentary confusion and disarray, Akao and his men rapidly climbed the hill with swords drawn. Upon reaching the peak, they found only a few Chinese soldiers remaining. One of them pointed a handgun at the officer with the broken sword. Realizing he had no means of defending himself, the officer could only shout, “Bastard!” This unexpected outburst caused the Chinese soldier to hesitate for a brief moment before pulling the trigger. That split second marked the difference between life and death. Another Japanese officer, whose sword remained intact, lunged forward and cut down the would-be shooter. Following this, Akao and his men discovered the beleaguered Japanese squad. The soldiers' bodies had been mutilated almost beyond recognition. Some had their eyes gouged out, others had their noses or ears sliced off, and many were missing hands and feet. There were no survivors. In the early hours of December 9, just before dawn, advance units of the Japanese Army's 36th Regiment, consisting of infantry and light tanks, encountered fierce resistance from a battalion of the Chinese Training Division stationed at Hongmaoshan Hill, located southeast of the Nanjing city wall. A prolonged exchange of fire ensued, forcing the Chinese defenders to withdraw after sustaining heavy casualties. The Japanese, eager to capitalize on their advantage, followed closely. As the first light of dawn cut the horizon, they faced the imposing silhouette of the Nanjing city wall, which appeared more like a natural formation than a man-made structure. Despite their exhaustion, the soldiers erupted in victorious cries of "Banzai" and advanced energetically toward an enormous gate in the wall, this was the “Guanghua Men” or “the Gate of Enlightenment”. The Chinese defenders reigned fire, and artillery upon the Japanese columns. At that time, the gate remained shut; the moat surrounding the city was 500 feet wide and up to 15 feet deep, while the city wall towered 40 feet high. The approach to the gate was obstructed by an antitank ditch and five rows of Spanish riders, these are portable wooden frames wrapped in barbed wire. Along the road from the gate to the moat, additional rows of barbed wire further fortified the defenses. Two mountain guns, hastily transported through the rugged terrain during the 36th regiment's rapid advance to Nanjing, were positioned at the Antiaircraft Academy and commenced firing directly at the gate. While they succeeded in damaging the heavy wooden doors, it quickly became apparent that the gate had been reinforced from behind with solid beams and densely packed sandbags, so robust that, as one Japanese soldier noted, “even a row of ants wouldn't be able to make it through.” Shelling alone would not suffice to break through the defenses, prompting the call for engineers to venture into the open, exposed to enemy fire from the top of the wall, to attempt clearing the obstacles and detonating explosives at the base of the gate. While their comrades provided cover fire to keep the defenders suppressed, the engineers maneuvered past the Spanish riders to plant their explosives at the foot of the gates. An ear-splitting explosion shattered the morning air, but when the dust settled, the gate remained largely intact. To the Japanese attackers, the Chinese defenders appeared firmly entrenched; however, the reality was that they were nearing a breaking point. The artillery shelling, coupled with several Japanese air raids earlier in the day, had resulted in over 100 casualties surrounding the gate. Reinforcements were hastily summoned from nearby city sectors, including a platoon of military police cadets led by Lieutenant Xiang Hongyuan. Armed with six ZB vz 26 machine guns, the cadets commandeered a series of buses and made their way to the Gate of Enlightenment.  The hours before sunset dragged on with a tense stalemate around the Gate of Enlightenment, as neither side managed to achieve a decisive advantage. The Japanese engineers made two more perilous attempts to blow up the gate, only to find their explosives insufficient to breach the strong defenses. In a bold move, the Chinese defenders launched a risky assault outside the wall to incinerate a flour mill taller than the city wall, which, if captured, could provide the Japanese with an excellent observation point. The Chinese infantry, sprinting towards the building with jerry cans and wood, became easy targets for the Japanese fire. Despite suffering heavy losses, enough soldiers managed to reach the mill and set it ablaze. As the battle for the gate intensified on December 9, the elite 88th Division of the Chinese military became increasingly involved. The division's 262nd Brigade, comprising the 523rd and 524th Regiments, was tasked with defending the city wall between the Gate of Enlightenment and the Chinese Gate. One battalion from the 524th Regiment was dispatched to bolster the defenses at the Gate of Enlightenment. As the Japanese attacks escalated, this battalion incurred around 300 casualties. One notable instance saw 17 surviving members of a company withdraw from the battlefield, led by a platoon commander after both the company commander and his deputy had been killed. The 36th Japanese Regiment had two battalions positioned on either side of the gate, with a third held in reserve. However, that reserve battalion soon uncovered that their rear was just as perilous as the front. They were consistently attacked by Chinese stragglers from the countryside, who aimed to break through to the city gate. A Chinese unit also maintained control of a hill southwest of the Antiaircraft Academy, directing fire at Japanese soldiers within the campus. This ongoing threat from Chinese stragglers made it extremely challenging for the forward regimental positions to communicate with brigade headquarters at Qiweng Bridge farther behind. Several messengers lost their lives while trying. Ultimately, all communication shifted to wireless methods. On December 9 at noon, a solitary Japanese bomber appeared above Nanjing, but rather than its usual payload of bombs, it carried leaflets. Signed by General Matsui, the leaflets boldly declared the futility of resistance for the Chinese defenders. With Nanjing surrounded, the message conveyed that the Japanese had the power to bring the conflict directly to the Chinese. Instead, the leaflet urged surrender, stating, “The deadline for a response is tomorrow, that is the 10th”.. The Chinese were instructed to submit their response by noon to the Japanese lines near Sun Yat-sen Gate. The leaflet warned that if the Chinese did not comply, the Japanese would have no choice but to launch an assault. The tone was stern and intimidating: “The Japanese Army shall show no mercy toward those who offer resistance, treating them with extreme severity, but shall harm neither innocent civilians nor Chinese military personnel who manifest no hostility.” It emphasized the dire consequences that awaited anyone who did not lay down their arms. In response, Chinese General Tang Shengzhi reiterated his order for all troops under his command to fight to the last drop of blood. At around noon on December 10, a lone car approached Nanjing's city wall along the road from Jurong. Inside was Muto Akira, the vice chief of staff for the Central China Area Army, accompanied by another senior officer and an interpreter fluent in Chinese. Upon reaching the Japanese line near Sun Yat-sen Gate, they halted and waited. Their mission was to meet with representatives of the encircled Chinese garrison and receive their response to the previous day's request for surrender. As the minutes ticked by, there was no movement from the other side. After an hour of waiting, the three Japanese officials concluded their visit had been in vain. The vehicle turned around and retraced its path. Earlier that  morning, the Japanese had deployed a large balloon over the city wall, carrying a large white banner with a simple message in Chinese: “Give up this hopeless fight. Open the city gates and surrender!” However, this effort seemed to prove useless. As the morning progressed, Chinese shelling intensified, confirming that there was no intention among the defenders to surrender. The absence of a formal reply by the established deadline served as confirmation that the Japanese had no choice but to prepare for a massive frontal assault on the fortified city walls. Matsui wrote in his diary that day “Today at noon, we still hadn't received a reply from the Chinese to my offer of surrender. So I issued an order for the two armies to launch the attack on Nanjing beginning this afternoon. The resistance put up by the enemy is almost symbolic at this stage. It will certainly have no real effect.” The Japanese advance was set to occur along the entire front, targeting Chinese positions at Yuhuatai, the Gate of Enlightenment, Tongji Gate, and the heights of Purple Mountain. Still, one final option remained: the proposal for a three-day truce sent to both the Chinese and Japanese governments by Rabe and other foreign representatives from the day before might still be acceptable. However, this hope was dashed later that afternoon. Tang issued an order at 7:00 pm, calling for a fight to the bitter end. He warned that anyone leaving their post without permission would face severe punishment, and those failing to prevent others from withdrawing would also be penalized. Additionally, he dispatched Song Xilian and his 36th Division, his closest equivalent to a Praetorian Guard, to patrol the Yangtze docks and thwart any attempts to escape across the river. “We must defend the city with all our strength. We cannot give up an inch of our soil.” The battle for the Gate of Enlightenment remained fiercely contested. Soldiers of the 9th Japanese Infantry Division, surrounded by Chinese forces, found themselves questioning whether they were the ones laying siege or if it was the other way around. The division's 36th Regiment, entrenched directly in front of the gate, was effectively cut off from the rest of the division, lacking even a telephone line to the 18th Infantry Brigade's headquarters at Qiweng Bridge in the rear. The area was swarming with Chinese stragglers trying to return to their units. Japanese infantrymen who exposed themselves in the open risked being fired upon from all directions by unseen adversaries. Things changed at 8:00 am when the brigade's deputy commander climbed into an armored vehicle at Qiweng Bridge and led a supply column through terrain that was only partially under Japanese control. The column, carrying 500 artillery shells and machine gun ammunition, arrived without incident, replenishing the 36th Regiment, which was dangerously low on supplies. Soon after, signal troops established a telephone link to the regiment, enabling communication to flow freely. B 4:00 pm a breach had finally appeared in the outer gate. The Japanese artillery units could now see well-fortified sandbag positions inside the gate, which would also need to be destroyed, but for now, they had overcome their first obstacle. Cheers erupted among the batteries. Tang Shengzhi understood the significance of the Gate of Enlightenment in the battle for Nanjing. He had entrusted its defense to remnants of the elite German-trained 87th Infantry Division. He also deployed survivors from the 156th Division and dispatched armored cars to the section of the city wall and rolled artillery near the gate to provide close tactical support. Then suddenly cries of banzai rang out as a Rising Sun flag hoisted above the city gate. Major Ito Yoshimitsu, the commander of the 1st Battalion positioned near the Gate of Enlightenment had ordered his 1st Company to ascend the debris-laden slopes flanking the gate that had accumulated during hours of shelling. As the soldiers of the 1st Company infiltrated the gate, Ito quickly instructed the 4th Company to follow closely behind. By the time the Chinese forces recognized the critical breach in their defenses, it was too late. The two Japanese companies secured the gate and moved up to 100 yards inside the city, establishing positions in several buildings. They had created a foothold. A few miles southwest of the Gate of Enlightenment, the elite german trained 88th Chinese Infantry Division, was embroiled in fierce combat. They were defending the rugged hills in front of the Chinese Gate known as Yuhuatai, which were crucial to holding Nanjing. As General Sun Yuanliang, the division's commander, succinctly put it, “The enemy won't die by himself!” The division deployed its 527th Regiment to Yuhuatai alongside two artillery companies, while keeping the 528th Regiment in reserve. Although the 88th Division had once been part of the pre-war elite, it had suffered significant losses during months of grueling fighting, first in and around Shanghai and then during the retreat to Nanjing. The division now comprised only 6,000 to 7,000 soldiers, of which 3,000 were newcomers brought in to replenish their depleted ranks.  The division did possess one notable advantage over its opponents: the terrain. Yuhuatai was a nightmare for attackers. Military planners had long assumed invaders would assault from the south, leading to the fortification of the area. Consequently, the defenses included extensive antitank ditches, concrete-reinforced pillboxes, and rows of barbed wire, all designed to thwart an invasion. Moreover, Yuhuatai had frequently served as a training ground, allowing the 88th Division's soldiers to jump into prepared trenches during maneuvers. When the 6th Japanese Division arrived at Yuhuatai on December 10, it became immediately clear to its officers that the Chinese had transformed the area into a formidable stronghold. Strategically placed Chinese machine gun nests pinned down Japanese infantry, rendering them unable to advance or retreat. To counter this, the 6th Division set up its artillery to provide close tactical support, even at great risk. A battery commander was killed while maneuvering his guns to target a heavily fortified Chinese position. Despite the added firepower, the Japanese forces advanced slowly through the hilly landscape and sustained heavy casualties. They faced repeated obstacles from barbed wire barricades, which could only be dismantled by soldiers exposing themselves to pinpoint enemy fire. The Chinese defenders often fought to the last man; one Japanese officer noted that a pillbox had been locked from the outside, leaving the soldiers inside with no chance to escape. The experience of a company from the 6th Division's 23rd Regiment was typical. They found themselves pinned down in an antitank ditch, barely able to move. At the slightest motion, a vigilant Chinese machine gunner from a pillbox 50 yards away unleashed carefully aimed bursts of fire. Gradually, however, Japanese shelling began to weaken the Chinese positions, prompting the defenders to retreat one by one, even forcing the machine gunner to withdraw. When the Japanese troops finally emerged from cover, they spotted the fleeing gunner in the distance. Eager for revenge, they fired at him as he crossed a low ridge. He initially collapsed, only to rise again and continue fleeing. This cat-and-mouse chase occurred several times, and the Japanese soldiers couldn't tell whether they had hit him. Later that day, as they advanced further, they discovered him dead, still clutching his machine gun. The 6th Division faced the familiar issue of advancing too rapidly and bypassing Chinese units that still posed a threat. A 1,600-foot hill in the path of the 47th Regiment remained occupied by Chinese soldiers, who continued firing into the backs of the advancing Japanese troops. The Japanese forces managed to take the hill in the evening of December 10 and held it throughout the night despite repeated Chinese counterattacks. On the Chinese side, the 88th Division's 527th Regiment was engaged in particularly heavy fighting, but unlike their Japanese counterparts, they struggled with inadequate artillery support. Reluctant to risk valuable materiel, a concern that was rarely matched by a similar regard for personnel, Chinese commanders had positioned their artillery behind a low hill for protection against direct Japanese fire. However, this placement also meant they had no clear view of the enemy. Equipment lost in battle could not be replaced, but men lost were another matter. By the evening, the battle for the Gate of Enlightenment was reaching a critical point. Chinese commanders deployed every available unit to close the gap in their defenses created by the Japanese 36th Infantry Regiment, which had managed to establish a tenuous foothold near the gate. The pressure was immense, as there was no doubt that dire consequences awaited if the gate were lost. By midnight, a squad of southern Chinese soldiers from the 156th Division devised a ruthless plan to eliminate the remaining Japanese defenders, they intended to burn them out. Climbing the wall overlooking the Japanese positions with timber and cans of gasoline, they dropped burning logs onto the Japanese troops below at 1:00 am, trapping them under the heavy, flaming debris and inflicting devastating injuries. This cruel assault may have been driven by revenge, as many in the 156th Division had witnessed their comrades burned alive on the hilltop outside Nanjing just days earlier. By the morning the fight for the Gate of Enlightenment devolved into a stalemate. Nanjing was facing a siege. 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. General Tang Shengzhi led a defiant defense of Nanjing and  despite despair, civilians fortified the city, aware that its fall could shatter Chiang Kai-Shek's government. By early December, the Japanese were gradually surrounding the capital. Assaults were made against her walls and now it seemed the capital was about to face a brutal siege.

Last time we spoke about the battle of Lake Tai. In November 1937, as Japanese forces advanced, Nanjing's fate hung in the balance. Commander Tang Shengzhi led the desperate defense amidst disarray among Chinese generals, many advocating retreat. Despite political strife, civilians rallied, fortifying the city, knowing its fall could destroy Chiang Kai-Shek's government. On November 19, Japanese Commander Yanagawa seized the moment, directing his troops towards Nanjing, igniting panic in Tokyo.  As fierce battles erupted around Lake Tai, the Chinese forces, though outmatched in technology, employed guerilla tactics and stubborn resistance. Chinese artillery delivered devastating blows, and bold counterattacks kept Japanese momentum in check. However, as the month closed, the tide turned, logistical challenges and internal chaos hampered communication. The stage was set for one of the darkest chapters of modern Chinese history, where the battle for Nanjing would symbolize the struggle against oppression.   #165 Nanjing Surrounded Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On December 1st, Jiangyin fell. That same day Japanese Army General Staff Deputy Chief Tada Hayao arrived to the Shanghai region to conduct an inspection of the front lines and personally deliver Tokyo's orders authorizing an assault upon Nanjing. The directive was exceptionally brief: “The Central China Area Army is to attack Nanjing in coordination with the Navy.”  Later that same day, at 7:00 pm more detailed instructions were issued by the Central China Area Army. The 10th Army was set to begin its decisive assault on Nanjing on December 3, advancing along two primary routes toward the capital. The left flank was to advance through Wuhu, while the right flank would move via the city of Lishui. The Shanghai Expeditionary Force, having endured more strain than the 10th Army due to its longer tenure at the front, was scheduled to launch its attack two days later, concentrating its forces around Danyang and Jurong. On December 2nd, Matsui received a promotion, given overall command of the Central China Area Army. The responsibility for the Shanghai Expeditionary Force was entrusted to a recent appointee in the Shanghai theater, Prince Asaka Yasuhiko, a member of the Imperial family. As Matsui noted in his diary that day "It's a great honor”. He promptly issued orders to ensure the prince's comfort and safety by all available means. At the age of 55, Prince Asaka, Emperor Hirohito's uncle, boasted a successful military background, including a tenure at the Japanese embassy in Paris. However, this experience had left its mark on him in two significant ways: he walked with a limp due to a car accident in France and spoke French fluently. Despite his talents and efforts, he did not earn the highest regard from Hirohito. He had not demonstrated the loyalty expected of him during the February 26th Coup attempt in 1936 and had since been met with a cold shoulder from the emperor Command in China presented a crucial opportunity for him to restore his standing in the eyes of Hirohito. Meanwhile over in the capital a war for air supremacy raged. More and more soviet pilots were arriving alongside their Polikarpov I-16 fighters. Exhausted from the long distance travel to Nanjing, the Soviet pilots were given no respite and tossed into the fray, performing 5 sorties in their first day. The Soviets were kept very busy as the Japanese increasingly unleashed raids against the airfields in the Nanjing region. The raids became so intense, the Chinese had to relocate their aircraft to bases hundreds of miles behind the front. While the Polikarpov I-16's were severely hampering the Japanese, suddenly a new adversary emerged. The Mitsubishi A5M fighter, still a prototype was rushed into service to help escort the bombers. This was the predecessor to the legendary A6M Zero fighter. Like I mentioned previously I wrote the Kings and Generals episode on the A6M Zero Fighter's history and over at my patreon I have a hour long podcast on it. Needless to say the A5M changed everything in the theater, taking away the advantage the Soviet fighters had wielded for a brief window of time.  At 9:00 am on December 2, a small customs cruiser waving a swastika flag docked at the Nanjing waterfront after making an overnight journey down the Yangtze River from Wuhan. German Ambassador Oskar Trautmann quickly disembarked, accompanied by embassy councilor Heinz Lautenschlager and Chinese Vice Foreign Minister Xu Mo. Trautmann's mission was so secretive that although he had dined with a secretary from the Italian embassy, an Axis partner just hours before departing from Wuhan, he made no mention of his impending trip.  Despite the secrecy surrounding his visit, news of Trautmann's arrival in Nanjing spread rapidly within the German community. Businessman John Rabe, noted in his diary that day “I assume his return has something to do with Germany's attempt to act as a mediator”. Just before Trautmann's arrival, Chiang Kai-shek had a meeting with his closest advisers, primarily military generals. Vice Foreign Minister Xu briefed those present on the peace conditions proposed by the Japanese nearly a month prior. Many in attendance were hearing these terms for the first time and were startled to discover that Japan did not require reductions in Chinese armaments. Bai Chongxi was the first to speak “If these are the only terms, then why should there be war?” Given that the Japanese proposal seemed to allow for the continuity of the Kuomintang led Chinese nation, the generals present, including Tang Shengzhi, agreed to use it as a basis for negotiations. Later, at 5:00 pm Chiang met with Trautmann. The German diplomat said “I believe it is necessary for China to declare its willingness to discuss the Japanese terms in a conciliatory spirit.” Chiang replied, “I intend to do so, but I also expect the same from Japan.” Chiang then explained that they needed to be addressed for peace talks with Japan to proceed, explicitly stating that he would not accept Japanese control over northern China and that he was unwilling to sacrifice his recent friendship with the Soviet Union to achieve peace with Japan. Having secured Chiang's agreement to initiate talks with Japan, Trautmann promptly returned to the German embassy to report to his superiors in Berlin. He then headed back to the docks, boarding the same vessel that had brought him to Nanjing, traveling back up the dark Yangtze River. One particular concern weighed heavily on Trautmann's mind: a request from Chiang to maintain absolute secrecy regarding the upcoming Sino-Japanese negotiations. Trautmann believed that Germany should support this request. He was convinced that if news leaked about Chiang's willingness to engage with the despised Japanese, it could spell the end of his government in China, allowing the Soviets to take charge. At this time, both the Germans and Japanese feared fragmenting China further. Both wanted the Kuomintang to remain in charge and maintain the status quo as they benefitted from it greatly. Staff officer Kawabe Torashiro after a recent tour of the front lines had this to say, “To dismantle the Chiang regime would leave it in a dire situation, giving it the desperate tenacity of a cornered rat in its struggle against Japan. Whether we destroy it or not, we would ultimately contribute to a fragmented China for many years, one that would be a significant drain on the Empire's resources well into the future.” Meanwhile, the city of Changzhou fell on December 2nd, without any resistance. Private Azuma Shiro landed at Changzhou and was ordered alongside his 20th regiment to prepare an assault upon Danyang,  a walled city located about 25 miles northwest of Changzhou. The road between the two locations was nearly straight, running parallel to the railway connecting Shanghai and Nanjing, allowing the 20th Regiment to make swift progress. Upon arriving at Danyang, Azuma's platoon cautiously approached a bamboo grove concealing a Chinese position. Suddenly, a ZB vz 26 machine gun opened fire. Taking cover, the Japanese soldiers entered a nearby cemetery, where the small grave mounds offered some protection. The platoon's knee mortars responded, firing shells that silenced the machine gun. Seizing the opportunity, they launched their assault, swords raised and bayonets fixed, shouting at the top of their lungs. As they closed the distance to the bamboo grove, the machine gun sliced them down. When they finally reached the trench, they discovered it was already abandoned; the occupants had fled mere moments before. Danyang also fell on December 2, clearing one of the significant obstacles in the 16th Division's path to Jurong. Meanwhile to the south, the 9th Division was advancing from Tianwangsi towards Chunhua village, just miles from the capital, while elements of the 3rd Division were also making significant headway. At the northern end of the front, the Amaya Detachment was approaching the Yangtze port city of Zhenjiang, preparing to cross the river and sweep west along the opposite bank. As Matsui noted in his diary that day “The enemy's entire defensive line has been breached, and their morale has declined sharply. I believe there won't be much fight left in them moving forward”. Although the Shanghai Expeditionary Force had yet to launch its final assault on the capital, the soldiers were managing to advance at an impressive pace. Matsui noted in his diary on December 4th “I plan for an orderly occupation of Nanjing. Before entering the city, we must offer Chiang Kai-shek or the garrison commander the opportunity to surrender. While occupying Nanjing, I hope we can avoid unnecessary damage to the city and harm to the population.” Over in Nanjing, Henri Johan Diederick de Fremery, a Dutch officer serving as an advisor to the Chinese army, had assessed the city's fortifications prior to the war and found them lacking. He noted that coastal batteries had been installed to the north and northeast of the city, including outdated muzzle-loaders. In his report he stated  “They might serve against warship attacks, but who would think of attacking this city with warships?” Although some artillery pieces were positioned along the city wall, they were insufficient in number. Some locations were poorly constructed due to material shortages. For instance, a portion of the wall between Sun Yat-sen Gate and the Gate of Enlightenment had been reinforced with makeshift structures, concrete on the outside and a fragile network of bamboo within. It was a façade that would collapse upon the impact of the first Japanese shell. Natural obstacles like Purple Mountain to the east and the Yuhuatai hills to the south existed, but little was done to incorporate these features into the defensive network. The river, which served as a natural moat, became shallower on the eastern side, allowing for relatively easy crossing. As further noted by de Fremery “Nanking cannot be justifiably termed a heavily defended city”. Meanwhile the Chinese Army was engaged in a frantic effort to prepare for the anticipated Japanese onslaught. Engineers readied to demolish strategic bridges, and in many cases, entire villages were set ablaze, blackening the horizon with thick smoke. Heart-wrenching scenes unfolded as farmers were evicted from homes that had been in their families for generations.  By the end of the first week of winter, distant bombings echoed through the air, with explosions powerful enough to rattle windows within the city. The front lines were alarmingly close, leading to a steady influx of injured Chinese soldiers into Nanjing on foot. A pervasive sense of foreboding enveloped the city. Amidst the gloom, there lingered a belief that despite impending challenges, life would somehow continue. On the morning of December 3, a ship departed from Nanjing, loaded with treasures that represented three millennia of Chinese history. Thousands of crates filled with irreplaceable bronzes, porcelain, paintings, and other art objects were sent upriver. These invaluable items had been moved from Beijing four years earlier and stored in vaults in Nanjing. It was evident that the situation could deteriorate rapidly, leaving little time to respond. On December 5, all US citizens in Nanjing were urged to pack their essential belongings and be prepared to leave the city on short notice. The following day, a final order was issued: all American passport holders were directed to make their way to the Yangtze docks and board a river gunboat awaiting them, the USS Panay. As the Japanese Army advanced westward toward Nanjing, it left behind a horrifying trail of arson, rape, and murder. Helpless civilians who fell into the hands of the victorious soldiers endured brutal treatment that often defied comprehension. Now similar to other episodes I have done on my own channel or Pacific War Week by Week, this is a disclaimer, I am about to talk about some gut wrenching horrifying stuff. We are reaching Nanjing, and yes the infamous massacre is going to be told to the fullest. So warning, its about to get graphic. At the hamlet of Nanqiantou 38 residents were met with atrocities that would become more and more common. The Japanese Army set fire to the twelve homes that comprised the hamlet, forcing the captives to witness the destruction. When some of the residents attempted to escape and salvage their belongings, the soldiers trapped them inside, locking the doors and sealing their fate as the roofs collapsed in flames. Among the victims, two women, one of whom was pregnant, were subjected to repeated rapes. In a particularly gruesome act, the soldiers “cut open the belly of the pregnant woman and gouged out the fetus.” Amid the chaos, a 2 year old boy cried out, and a soldier seized him from his mother's arms, throwing him into the flames. The frantic mother was bayoneted and discarded into a nearby creek. The remaining captives met a similar fate, dragged to the water's edge, stabbed, and pushed into the stream. The 170 miles between Shanghai and Nanjing transformed into a nightmarish wasteland of death and destruction. For miles, the only living beings visible were the deceased. The reputation of the Japanese soldiers preceded them, leading many Chinese civilians to prefer a swift death at their own hands rather than the prospect of a slow demise at the hands of the Japanese. While passing through the town of Pinghu on their way to Nanjing, First Lieutenant Nishizawa Benkichi and his men from the 114th Division spotted two Chinese girls across a river. They appeared to be strolling hand in hand, possibly sisters. As they stepped onto a bridge, the girls began to walk towards the Japanese soldiers but suddenly stopped. Still clasping hands, they jumped into the river, disappearing into the swift current. Military efficiency was accompanied by a staggering brutality, where victories against armed opponents were often followed by the massacre of unarmed women and children. This pattern parallels the incomprehensible behavior of German soldiers on the Eastern Front, though there are significant differences. The Germans viewed themselves as a superior race compared to their Slavic adversaries, labeling them as "untermensch." In contrast, the Japanese could not deny their connections to the Chinese. Japan's historical role as a major influence on Chinese civilization was undeniable, as reflected in aspects as basic as the shared writing system. To many Japanese, their nation's relationship with China resembled that of two brothers, one younger and righteous, the other older and misguided, in need of redemption. Matsui Iwane embodied this perspective. Alongside his military duties, he held a deep interest in fostering cooperation among the peoples of Asia, who he believed remained under the yoke of Western imperialism. Since his youth, Matsui had been captivated by China, and while other ambitious officers sought postings in Western capitals like Paris or London, he applied to serve in China, remaining there for nearly a decade as part of Japan's diplomatic representation. By the 1930s, Matsui's commitment to this pan-Asian vision had gained a political dimension, leading him to become a prominent founder of the Greater Asia Association in 1933. This of course was created mostly through the work of Kanji Ishiwara. What was once a exclusive on my patreon can be found over at Echoes of War or my youtube channel, its a four part series on the life of Ishiwara and it goes into the history of how he tried to forge pan asianism, but ultimately failed against his adversaries like Hideki Tojo. Its fascinating stuff, please if you are interested check it out on youtube and comment where you came from.  This organization, though dominated by Japan, has been described as "probably the single most influential organization propagating Pan-Asianism during the 15 year war. During a visit to China in late 1935, Matsui helped establish the Chinese Greater Asia Association in the northern port city of Tianjin. For individuals like Matsui, Japan's actions on the Asian mainland were akin to liberating its peoples. They viewed the establishment of the Japanese-controlled puppet state, Manchukuo, in northeast China in 1932, as a bold experiment in nation-building, hoping the rest of China would benefit similarly. As Matsui wrote in 1933 “Next, we must also extend to the 400 million people of China the same help and deep sympathy that we provided to Manchuria, relieving them of their miserable condition of political, economic, and intellectual subjugation by various countries of the world.” The violence perpetrated by the Japanese Army stemmed from numerous variables. One was a grotesque belief they were actually liberators to what they deemed, ungrateful Chinese. The Japanese believed their presence in China was partly for the benefit of the Chinese people and felt a messianic obligation to save them. This led to frustration akin to that of a father confronting a disobedient son, compelling them to punish what they perceived as disobedience. While the rank-and-file soldiers might not have reflected deeply on these issues, such philosophies filtered down from their leaders. Of course there is a lot more to it, and sorry again for shamelessly plugging it, but on my patreon I specifically did an episode titled “why the Japanese army was so brutal” where I went through everything involved. It ran from cultural issues, to the brutal system of abuse in the military, to racism, radicalization of male youth in Japan, its a very complicated matter. Because again, most of the atrocities were committed by 20-30 year old grunts who had families back home. This was not like the traditional “I was following orders” type of situation, these were atrocities committed by the lowest ranks upwards.  The safety zone, created by Rabe and a handful of other foreigners, began to take shape in the first week of December. It was officially announced, and four committees were established to manage food, housing, finances, and sanitation. Once the plans for the zone were publicized in local newspapers, scared Chinese civilians flocked to it by the hundreds. From its inception, the zone faced numerous problems. Thousands of bags of rice and flour intended for the future residents of the zone were left unguarded and quickly looted, leading many to assume they had been stolen by military personnel. More troubling were the issues that arose when Chinese military units began digging trenches and setting up field telephones within the safety zone, putting it at heightened risk of a Japanese attack. Chinese officers assured organizers that they would vacate the area, but the delay led to growing frustration among those overseeing the zone. Until all Chinese soldiers withdrew, the organizers could not erect flags to formally designate the area as demilitarized. Although the Japanese refused to officially recognize the safety zone, they pledged to respect it.    Following the outbreak of the battle for Shanghai, the Chinese Red Cross stepped in where military medicine had faltered, establishing first-aid teams and emergency hospitals while ensuring that wounded soldiers were accommodated in existing medical facilities. In October, they opened a 3,000-bed hospital on the campus of the National Central University, staffed by 300 doctors, nurses, and 400 orderlies. By the end of October, the hospital had admitted 1,200 patients and performed over 50 operations daily, primarily amputations. However, as the Japanese forces advanced toward Nanjing, doctors and nurses were evacuated westward along the Yangtze River. The entire Red Cross hospital was dismantled, and at the American Mission Hospital, the staff, which had initially numbered nearly 200 doctors, nurses, and trained personnel, dwindled to just 11 by the onset of winter.  With medical facilities on the brink of collapse, a group of foreigners took the initiative to improve conditions, achieving small victories along the way.  Back at the front, the 10th Army continued their march to Nanjing. On the right flank, the 114th Division had marched through Liyang within hours, covering 40 miles over the next two days to reach Lishui on December 4. Behind them, the 6th Division was still lagging somewhat, struggling to catch up after making a large detour east of Lake Tai. The Kunisaki Detachment was tasked with reaching the Yangtze at Taiping, crossing the river, and heading for Pukou, directly opposite Nanjing, to cut off any retreating Chinese forces. To the left of the 6th and 114th Divisions, the 18th Division received orders on December 2 to march northwest from the Guangde area toward Nanjing. However, when intelligence reports indicated that large numbers of Chinese troops were withdrawing south toward Ningguo, trying to escape encirclement, thus the 18th Division had its mission altered. On December 4, they were instructed to change course and press straight west, aiming to trap as many Chinese soldiers as possible. The residents of Nanjing were jolted awake by the roar of airplanes shortly before 6:00 am on December 7. It was the sound of Chiang Kai-shek and Song Meiling departing the capital. Three days before his departure, Japanese forces had advanced dangerously close, and their shelling had intensified to the point that he was forced to move from his residence on Purple Mountain to a villa belonging to a famous scholar who had since passed away, located within the city walls. While organizing his departure, Chiang kept the morale of the troops and civilians trapped in Nanjing at the forefront of his mind. In his diary, Chiang noted, “Staying in Nanjing until the last moment has not only enabled us to complete military preparations, but it has also boosted the morale of soldiers and civilians alike. The evacuation of necessary material has been carried out without disorder. I cannot imagine what might have happened if I had left ten days earlier.” On one of his last nights in Nanjing, Chiang gathered all officers of major general rank and above at Tang Shengzhi's headquarters in the Railroad Ministry. With the First Lady by his side, he delivered an inspiring pep talk ahead of the impending battle, emphasizing that although the Chinese had faced temporary setbacks, they had managed to strike back at the Japanese forces, thwarting their plans for a swift victory. Additionally, he noted that China had garnered the sympathy and support of the international community. “You're being watched by the entire nation, indeed by the whole world. We cannot abandon Nanjing!” He then formally handed overall responsibility for the defense of the capital to Tang Shengzhi, urging the officers to obey him as they would obey Chiang himself. He insisted that this would not be merely a symbolic fight; a sustained defense of Nanjing could tie down Japanese forces, giving the bulk of the Chinese Army the opportunity to regroup and strengthen. He promised that three divisions, fully equipped and at peak strength, would soon arrive from the southwestern province of Yunnan. He pledged to personally lead them back to Nanjing to break the siege.  Meanwhile on the front of the Shanghai Expeditionary Force, the 16th Division had broken through Chinese lines at the crucial town of Jurong, located 30 miles east of the Nanjing city wall, and was now advancing toward the village of Tangshui. To the south, the 9th Division had reached Chunhua, another strategic town straddling the approaches to the capital. Meanwhile, to the north, soldiers from the 13th Division were crossing the Yangtze River at Zhenjiang to establish a foothold on the other side. Progress was similarly swift in the 10th Army's sector. The 114th Division had advanced all the way to Molingguan, a town less than 20 miles south of Nanjing. The 6th Division, having rushed to the front since the order to capture China's capital had been issued in early December, was expected to arrive later that day. To the south of these two divisions, the 18th Division was set to capture the city of Ningguo while continuing its push toward the Yangtze, effectively completing the encirclement of Nanjing. By December 5th, Matsui and his staff completed its transfer from Shanghai to Suzhou, they issued a general directive for the attack on Nanjing. This order outlined two possible scenarios. In the best-case outcome, the Chinese defenders would surrender and open the city gates. In that event, each Japanese division would send in one battalion to complete the pacification of the city and eliminate any remaining pockets of resistance from soldiers unwilling to capitulate. In the worst-case scenario, if the Chinese commanders disregarded Japanese offers to surrender and prepared for a prolonged defense of their capital, Japan would unleash the full force of its artillery on the city. Each division would then send in one regiment to breach the city gates and engage in a fierce battle, fighting street by street and house by house. It quickly became evident to the Japanese, the Chinese had no intention to simply hand over their capital. New York times correspondent, F Tillman Durdin witnessed action between the recently arrived 154th and 156th divisions from southern China who were quickly encircled atop a cone-shaped peak. “The Japanese set a ring of fire around the peak. The flames, consuming trees and grass, gradually crept closer and closer to the summit, forcing the Chinese upward until, huddled together, they were mercilessly machine-gunned to death.” As the Japanese troops closed in on Nanjing, the level of destruction left in the wake of the Chinese defenders became increasingly apparent. Near the capital, hardly a bridge remained intact as efforts intensified to hinder the invaders. The rush to reach Nanjing heightened rivalries within the Japanese Army. In early December, soldiers from the 16th Infantry Division traversed hilly terrain at what they believed was a vigorous pace. Suddenly, to their left, they spotted a parallel column of Japanese soldiers, quickly identifying them as members of the 9th Infantry Division's 35th Regiment. The company commander shouted “Don't let the 35th beat us to Nanjing! Get moving!”  Cities, towns, villages, and hamlets lay in the path of Japan's multifaceted advance on Nanjing. Some areas fell without much resistance, while others were fiercely defended by Chinese soldiers determined to hold their ground until the end. Chunhua, a town located roughly 15 miles southeast of Nanjing, was among the latter. The town was defended by troops from the Chinese 51st Infantry Division, who had participated in some of the toughest battles around Shanghai during the autumn months. The 51st Division found its withdrawal to Nanjing cut off by fast-moving Japanese columns. Only with the assistance of local civilians were various units able to sneak back to the capital, filtering through enemy lines. Upon arrival, the division's soldiers had hoped for a chance to cross the Yangtze for much-needed rest. Instead, Chiang Kai-shek ordered them to immediately reinforce the defenses at Chunhua. As the troops arrived in Chunhua village in early December, they were dismayed to find the pillboxes in disrepair. Some bunkers had been buried too deep to function effectively as defensive structures, while others had excessively large embrasures that offered little to no protection from enemy fire. Most frustratingly, keys to the bunkers were often missing, making entry problematic. The division worked tirelessly to improve their positions using whatever materials could be requisitioned from the area, but time was too short to bring the defenses up to the standard the commanders desired. Nonetheless, they achieved significant upgrades: three lines of defenses in front of Chunhua, centered around several pillboxes; two rows of barbed wire; and an antitank ditch to complicate any advance. Hidden machine gun nests also provided surprises for the Japanese infantry. On December 4, the Japanese vanguard, a column of about 500 soldiers from the 9th Division, was spotted, and over the next two days, the solitary company at Shuhu endured intense assaults. The Chinese dispatched an armored platoon as temporary reinforcements, marking one of the rare instances when Chinese tanks confronted Japanese infantry directly. The Chinese lost three armored vehicles, while the Japanese reported around 40 casualties among their infantry. By the afternoon of December 6, the surviving Chinese soldiers at Shuhu, numbering fewer than 30, abandoned their positions and fought their way back to Chunhua, leaving their fallen comrades behind. Advancing units of Japan's 9th Division closely followed, initially avoiding contact with the Chinese defenses to conduct reconnaissance. Based on their observations, the Japanese concluded that although the Chinese defenses appeared well-prepared, they were thinly manned. Costly fighting resulted in the Japanese gaining control over only the first of the three Chinese defense lines. Determined to capture the next two lines, they once again depended heavily on their artillery.  In several sectors along the front, soldiers of the 9th Japanese Division found themselves caught in the deadly crossfire of Chinese machine guns, creating a virtual kill zone from which there was no escape. For the Chinese defenders, the conditions were equally horrific. As recalled by the commander of the Chinese 51st division, Wang Yaowu “The shelling was incessant. Body parts were flying through the air. Some men lost legs, others arms. Brains were splattered everywhere”. The division's 301st Regiment, which bore the brunt of the battle, suffered approximately 1,500 casualties among its officers and soldiers. On the second day of the battle for Chunhua, December 7, their left flank made some gains, penetrating the area behind the village. The breakthrough, however, came in the afternoon of December 8 when an entire regiment that had been lagging behind the rest of the 9th Division arrived just in time to join the fight. This bolstered the morale of the Japanese troops and provided momentum to their attack. By the end of that day, Chunhua was firmly under Japanese control. 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. As the Japanese forces advanced, Nanjing's fate teetered on the brink. Commander Tang Shengzhi led a beleaguered defense amidst chaos, while civilians fortified the city, aware of its significance. On December 1, General Matsui officially ordered an assault on Nanjing. As Japanese troops closed in, brutality loomed on the horizon, heralding one of China's darkest chapters in its fight against oppression.

9:05 – 9:22 (15mins) Weekly: Missouri State Senator - Nick Schroer @NickBSchroer 9:25 – 9:37 (12mins) Weekly Feature: “I HEARD IT ON THE X!!” 9:41 – 9:56 (15mins) Dr. George Despotis introduces WWII Veterans: Petty Officer George “Curt” Davison (USN)(99 years old) served as an Electrician’s Mate on the Destroyer Escort U.S.S. Rudderow that travelled to nearly 30 locations in the Pacific Theatre of Operations from 1943 to 1946.Cpl Tom Lacey grew up on Wheaton, IL and enlisted into the Army on July 15, 1943. After completing Basic at Camp Fannin, Tom volunteered and completed Radio School (FM SCR 300s) at Camp Maxey and was then assigned Company C, 99th Infantry Division. WWII commemoration event in honor of the 80th anniversary of the end of the war (V-J Day). We’ll be celebrating our WWII veterans—five of whom are expected to attend. The evening will feature an all-American fried chicken dinner from Porter’s Chicken, a fascinating talk by WWII expert Dr. George Despotis including introductions and stories about our WWII vests in attendance, and a lively 1940s-style musical tribute. Proceeds will support St. Louis Honor Flight, with additional funds raised through a raffle and silent auction benefiting the Gateway WWII Museum Foundation, founded and directed by Dr. Despotis. He was also instrumental in creating the WWII memorial in Sunset Hills See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Petty Officer George “Curt” Davison (USN) and Cpl Tom Lacey Cpl Tom LaceyTom grew up on Wheaton, IL and enlisted into the Army on July 15, 1943. After completing Basic at Camp Fannin, Tom volunteered and completed Radio School (FM SCR 300s) at Camp Maxey and was then assigned Company C, 99th Infantry Division. After arriving in Liverpool Oct 1944, Tom was deployed to the ETO 3 weeks later and was trucked to the Siegfried line near Krinkelt and then battled in the Hurtgen Forest Campaign. On Dec 16, 1944, Tom was awoken to heavy barrage at the start of the Battle of the Bulge. The 99th defensive positions were overrun by several German companies after a rolling barrage. While Tom was engaged in several small arms skirmishes, air to air combat raged overhead. Tom lived through relentless artillery barrages from both the enemy and US 105s and helped evacuate one of his buddie’s (Red Netter) who had been hit. The 99th withdrew to an advantageous strategic position on the Elsenborn Ridge. Tom spent the next 3-4 days along with Sgt Baker (C Co) within foxholes on this infamous ridge, defending their position from the onslaught of German forces. The 99th assisted with a counterattack led by Shermans in the 9th Armored. Tom and his comrades in the 99th were the 1st to cross the Rhine at the bridge at Remagen in March 1944 despite being shelled by devastating 88 mm artillery fire. Tom was discharged at Ft Lewis on Feb 2, 1946. Tom leaves us with the following pearls: There is little correlation between rank and leadership, basic training is effective, the GI was not only a good soldier, but a good innovator, medics were brave, well-trained and effective, the Red Ball Express was instrumental in US victory, never hate your enemy, everyone has something good to offer to the world, you never know where the next hero will come from and pray daily to your guardian angel. Petty Officer George “Curt” Davison (USN)PO Davison (99 years old) served as an Electrician’s Mate on the Destroyer Escort U.S.S. Rudderow that travelled to nearly 30 locations in the Pacific Theatre of Operations from 1943 to 1946. The USS Rudderow participated in submarine hunter-killer patrols, escort of resupply and troop reinforcement convoys and oversaw landings of landing crafts. Curt observed the suicide attacks on US ships by enemy pilots and the impact of a severe typhoon on his ship to the extent that the deck was under water. Curt’s ship also carried some of the soldiers who had survived the Battaan Death March after their release from prison camps. Curt was honorably discharged from the Navy in the summer of 1946. Curt believes that being in the Navy was an adventure and enabled him to see many places and become good friends with many sailors throughout the US. Curt recommends that no matter what your age, that you should stay active as he has been awarded thousands of medals and holds several state, five national and one world record as a Senior Olympian.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

10:05 – 10:22 (17mins) Dr. George Despotis introduces WWII Veterans: (Continued)Petty Officer George “Curt” Davison (USN) (99 years old) served as an Electrician’s Mate on the Destroyer Escort U.S.S. Rudderow that travelled to nearly 30 locations in the Pacific Theatre of Operations from 1943 to 1946. Cpl Tom Lacey grew up on Wheaton, IL and enlisted into the Army on July 15, 1943. After completing Basic at Camp Fannin, Tom volunteered and completed Radio School (FM SCR 300s) at Camp Maxey and was then assigned Company C, 99th Infantry Division. WWII commemoration event “We’ll Meet Again” in honor of the 80th anniversary of the end of the war (V-J Day). We’ll be celebrating our WWII veterans—five of whom are expected to attend. The evening will feature an all-American fried chicken dinner from Porter’s Chicken, a fascinating talk by WWII expert Dr. George Despotis including introductions and stories about our WWII vests in attendance, and a lively 1940s-style musical tribute. Proceeds will support St. Louis Honor Flight, with additional funds raised through a raffle and silent auction benefiting the Gateway WWII Museum Foundation, founded and directed by Dr. Despotis. He was also instrumental in creating the WWII memorial in Sunset Hills 10:25 – 10:37 (17mins) Ward Clark Ward Clark: @TheGreatLander RedState.com @RedStateMonumentalMedia Malpractice: CBS Deceptively Edits Sec. Kristi Noem Interview By Ward Clark | 6:32 PM on August 31, 2025 Sometimes, the legacy media's bias is so open, so shameless, that it's jaw-dropping. It's been this way since the Nixon years, when we watched on cumbersome tube televisions (as the youngest, I was always the kid who had to get up and change the channel) as the news programs took an almost gleeful tone at President Nixon's troubles. The rise of the internet just made matters worse; while we got some balance with the rise of the alternative media, like this site, the legacy media abandoned any pretext of objectivity. 10:41 – 10:56 (15mins) Weekly: Drew Thomas Allen We call Drew-214-695-8480 @DrewThomasAllenAuthor, America's Last Stand: Will You Vote to Save or Destroy America in 2024Host of ‘The Drew Allen Show’ podcast VP of client development at Publius PR & Editor of the Publius National Post. columnistSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Petty Officer George “Curt” Davison (USN) and Cpl Tom Lacey Cpl Tom LaceyTom grew up on Wheaton, IL and enlisted into the Army on July 15, 1943. After completing Basic at Camp Fannin, Tom volunteered and completed Radio School (FM SCR 300s) at Camp Maxey and was then assigned Company C, 99th Infantry Division. After arriving in Liverpool Oct 1944, Tom was deployed to the ETO 3 weeks later and was trucked to the Siegfried line near Krinkelt and then battled in the Hurtgen Forest Campaign. On Dec 16, 1944, Tom was awoken to heavy barrage at the start of the Battle of the Bulge. The 99th defensive positions were overrun by several German companies after a rolling barrage. While Tom was engaged in several small arms skirmishes, air to air combat raged overhead. Tom lived through relentless artillery barrages from both the enemy and US 105s and helped evacuate one of his buddie’s (Red Netter) who had been hit. The 99th withdrew to an advantageous strategic position on the Elsenborn Ridge. Tom spent the next 3-4 days along with Sgt Baker (C Co) within foxholes on this infamous ridge, defending their position from the onslaught of German forces. The 99th assisted with a counterattack led by Shermans in the 9th Armored. Tom and his comrades in the 99th were the 1st to cross the Rhine at the bridge at Remagen in March 1944 despite being shelled by devastating 88 mm artillery fire. Tom was discharged at Ft Lewis on Feb 2, 1946. Tom leaves us with the following pearls: There is little correlation between rank and leadership, basic training is effective, the GI was not only a good soldier, but a good innovator, medics were brave, well-trained and effective, the Red Ball Express was instrumental in US victory, never hate your enemy, everyone has something good to offer to the world, you never know where the next hero will come from and pray daily to your guardian angel. Petty Officer George “Curt” Davison (USN)PO Davison (99 years old) served as an Electrician’s Mate on the Destroyer Escort U.S.S. Rudderow that travelled to nearly 30 locations in the Pacific Theatre of Operations from 1943 to 1946. The USS Rudderow participated in submarine hunter-killer patrols, escort of resupply and troop reinforcement convoys and oversaw landings of landing crafts. Curt observed the suicide attacks on US ships by enemy pilots and the impact of a severe typhoon on his ship to the extent that the deck was under water. Curt’s ship also carried some of the soldiers who had survived the Battaan Death March after their release from prison camps. Curt was honorably discharged from the Navy in the summer of 1946. Curt believes that being in the Navy was an adventure and enabled him to see many places and become good friends with many sailors throughout the US. Curt recommends that no matter what your age, that you should stay active as he has been awarded thousands of medals and holds several state, five national and one world record as a Senior Olympian.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

9:05 – 9:22 (15mins) Weekly: Missouri State Senator - Nick Schroer @NickBSchroer 9:25 – 9:37 (12mins) Weekly Feature: “I HEARD IT ON THE X!!” 9:41 – 9:56 (15mins) Dr. George Despotis introduces WWII Veterans: Petty Officer George “Curt” Davison (USN)(99 years old) served as an Electrician’s Mate on the Destroyer Escort U.S.S. Rudderow that travelled to nearly 30 locations in the Pacific Theatre of Operations from 1943 to 1946.Cpl Tom Lacey grew up on Wheaton, IL and enlisted into the Army on July 15, 1943. After completing Basic at Camp Fannin, Tom volunteered and completed Radio School (FM SCR 300s) at Camp Maxey and was then assigned Company C, 99th Infantry Division. WWII commemoration event in honor of the 80th anniversary of the end of the war (V-J Day). We’ll be celebrating our WWII veterans—five of whom are expected to attend. The evening will feature an all-American fried chicken dinner from Porter’s Chicken, a fascinating talk by WWII expert Dr. George Despotis including introductions and stories about our WWII vests in attendance, and a lively 1940s-style musical tribute. Proceeds will support St. Louis Honor Flight, with additional funds raised through a raffle and silent auction benefiting the Gateway WWII Museum Foundation, founded and directed by Dr. Despotis. He was also instrumental in creating the WWII memorial in Sunset Hills See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

10:05 – 10:22 (17mins) Dr. George Despotis introduces WWII Veterans: (Continued)Petty Officer George “Curt” Davison (USN) (99 years old) served as an Electrician’s Mate on the Destroyer Escort U.S.S. Rudderow that travelled to nearly 30 locations in the Pacific Theatre of Operations from 1943 to 1946. Cpl Tom Lacey grew up on Wheaton, IL and enlisted into the Army on July 15, 1943. After completing Basic at Camp Fannin, Tom volunteered and completed Radio School (FM SCR 300s) at Camp Maxey and was then assigned Company C, 99th Infantry Division. WWII commemoration event “We’ll Meet Again” in honor of the 80th anniversary of the end of the war (V-J Day). We’ll be celebrating our WWII veterans—five of whom are expected to attend. The evening will feature an all-American fried chicken dinner from Porter’s Chicken, a fascinating talk by WWII expert Dr. George Despotis including introductions and stories about our WWII vests in attendance, and a lively 1940s-style musical tribute. Proceeds will support St. Louis Honor Flight, with additional funds raised through a raffle and silent auction benefiting the Gateway WWII Museum Foundation, founded and directed by Dr. Despotis. He was also instrumental in creating the WWII memorial in Sunset Hills 10:25 – 10:37 (17mins) Ward Clark Ward Clark: @TheGreatLander RedState.com @RedStateMonumentalMedia Malpractice: CBS Deceptively Edits Sec. Kristi Noem Interview By Ward Clark | 6:32 PM on August 31, 2025 Sometimes, the legacy media's bias is so open, so shameless, that it's jaw-dropping. It's been this way since the Nixon years, when we watched on cumbersome tube televisions (as the youngest, I was always the kid who had to get up and change the channel) as the news programs took an almost gleeful tone at President Nixon's troubles. The rise of the internet just made matters worse; while we got some balance with the rise of the alternative media, like this site, the legacy media abandoned any pretext of objectivity. 10:41 – 10:56 (15mins) Weekly: Drew Thomas Allen We call Drew-214-695-8480 @DrewThomasAllenAuthor, America's Last Stand: Will You Vote to Save or Destroy America in 2024Host of ‘The Drew Allen Show’ podcast VP of client development at Publius PR & Editor of the Publius National Post. columnistSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this week's edition of The Marne Report, Tech Sgt. Matthew Fenner who is the division weather support NCOIC, and Tech Sgt. Amanda Nelson, share information about a POW/MIA Memorial run, walk, ruck event. They discuss bringing an Air Force tradition to the 3rd Infantry Division. Take a listen now by searching for 'The Marne Report' wherever you get your podcasts.

In this powerful crossover episode, Christian Taylor joins Rob of MovieRob Minute to introduce a very special guest: Ceo Bauer, a 102-year-old WWII veteran of the 95th Infantry Division, 377th Infantry Regiment, I Company—better known as the “Iron Men of Metz.”Rob begins by asking Ceo about Saving Private Ryan: what he thought of its accuracy, whether it stirred memories, and how Hollywood compares to the realities of war. From there, Ceo opens up about his experiences in Normandy in 1944, his injury at Metz, and the reasons many veterans choose not to share their stories.For one of the first times, Ceo speaks candidly about what it was like landing at Omaha Beach 100 days after D-Day, the sign that moved him to tears, and the symbolic “pump handle dance” he's performed across the world. His reflections are raw, sometimes emotional, and always full of wisdom.This episode also captures something unique: guests in the room listening in—reminding us that these conversations are not just about history, but about keeping memory alive for future generations.

This is the VIC 4 VETS, Weekly Honored Veteran. SUBMITTED BY: Neal Westhoff Charles H. Gnade, Pronounced-(Ga nade ee) Vic and Ken, There’s a man in our parish, his name is Charlie Gnade. He turned 101 yesterday, August 26. He fought in World War II under General Patton. He came into the area where the battle of the bulge was when that battle was over. He’s still pretty sharp. Military Service: He served in the United States Army with the 90th Infantry Division during World War II. Award Recognition: He is reported to have received the Silver Star, one of the U.S. military’s highest decorations for gallantry under fire, awarded under General Orders No. 571 (1945). The Silver Star is awarded for “gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States,” marking Charles H. Gnade as someone who likely exhibited extraordinary bravery during combat. Being tied to the 90th Infantry Division connects him to some of the most intense fighting in the European Theater—operations in Normandy, France, and into the heart of Germany.At the age of 19, Charles was drafted into the Army and served 22 months un General George S. Patton. He was a private, first class in the 90th division of the 359th Texas/Oklahoma infantry of the Battle of The Bulge during WWII. He was awarded the Silver Star for single handed capture of prisoners. Grateful for the opportunity to serve his country, he says the world is much different now than when he enlisted. I was proud to serve my country during WWII but I did not go to war to see my country in such divide and turmoil as it is today. It makes me very sad. I didn’t go to war to fight for this he said. For the past 77 years, Gnade has been a member of American Legion in Old Monroe as well as a member of the VFW. In 2022, he was awarded the Unsung Hero Award from the Old Monroe American Legion. Among his top achievements in life, he says being a farmer and making his first communion as well as his married life count for some of his proudest life accomplishments. Charlie has been widowed two times, Marita Hoelting Gnade and second wife Dorothy (Dot) McGee Gnade. ________________________________________________________________ This Week’s VIC 4 VETS, Honored Veteran on NewsTalkSTL.With support from our friends at:Alamo Military Collectables, H.E.R.O.E.S. Care, Monical’s PizzaSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is the VIC 4 VETS, Weekly Honored Veteran. SUBMITTED BY: Neal Westhoff Charles H. Gnade, Pronounced-(Ga nade ee) Vic and Ken, There’s a man in our parish, his name is Charlie Gnade. He turned 101 yesterday, August 26. He fought in World War II under General Patton. He came into the area where the battle of the bulge was when that battle was over. He’s still pretty sharp. Military Service: He served in the United States Army with the 90th Infantry Division during World War II. Award Recognition: He is reported to have received the Silver Star, one of the U.S. military’s highest decorations for gallantry under fire, awarded under General Orders No. 571 (1945). The Silver Star is awarded for “gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States,” marking Charles H. Gnade as someone who likely exhibited extraordinary bravery during combat. Being tied to the 90th Infantry Division connects him to some of the most intense fighting in the European Theater—operations in Normandy, France, and into the heart of Germany.At the age of 19, Charles was drafted into the Army and served 22 months un General George S. Patton. He was a private, first class in the 90th division of the 359th Texas/Oklahoma infantry of the Battle of The Bulge during WWII. He was awarded the Silver Star for single handed capture of prisoners. Grateful for the opportunity to serve his country, he says the world is much different now than when he enlisted. I was proud to serve my country during WWII but I did not go to war to see my country in such divide and turmoil as it is today. It makes me very sad. I didn’t go to war to fight for this he said. For the past 77 years, Gnade has been a member of American Legion in Old Monroe as well as a member of the VFW. In 2022, he was awarded the Unsung Hero Award from the Old Monroe American Legion. Among his top achievements in life, he says being a farmer and making his first communion as well as his married life count for some of his proudest life accomplishments. Charlie has been widowed two times, Marita Hoelting Gnade and second wife Dorothy (Dot) McGee Gnade. ________________________________________________________________ This Week’s VIC 4 VETS, Honored Veteran on NewsTalkSTL.With support from our friends at:Alamo Military Collectables, H.E.R.O.E.S. Care, Monical’s PizzaSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

A new film tells the story of the U.S. Army's 4th Battalion, 9th Infantry Regiment, 25th Infantry Division. We speak with a Vietnam War vet and the filmmaker.

Last time we spoke about the Soviet invasion of Manchuria. Following the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki amidst relentless Allied aerial campaigns, chaos engulfed Japan. Prime Minister Suzuki's cabinet debated surrendering to avoid annihilation while fearing for the imperial family's future. Meanwhile, the Soviet Union launched an unexpected invasion of Manchuria, rapidly advancing and catching Japanese forces off guard. As negotiations unfolded, a group of military conspirators, led by Major Hatanaka, attempted a coup to halt the surrender, believing they could rally support. They seized the Imperial Palace but failed to find the Emperor's recorded surrender speech amid the chaos. In a decisive moment, Emperor Hirohito accepted the Potsdam Declaration, stipulating the emperor's continuation, thus sealing Japan's fate. That same day, the world learned of Japan's capitulation, marking the end of the Pacific War. The once powerful nation now lay in ruins, yet the Emperor's decision bore the weight of a nation saved from further destruction, embodying a fragile hope for the future amidst the horrors of war. This episode is the Battle for South Sakhalin and the Kurile Islands Welcome to the Pacific War Podcast Week by Week, 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 world war two? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on world war two 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 you can find a few videos all the way from the Opium Wars of the 1800's until the end of the Pacific War in 1945.  As we previously discussed, the Japanese Empire made the difficult decision to surrender on August 14, amid the turmoil of the Soviet invasion of Manchuria and South Sakhalin. The following day, this decision was announced to the world. However, in Manchuria, General Yamada's Kwantung Army chose to continue fighting until they received a clear ceasefire order. At this moment, several developments unfolded. General Hongo's 44th Army was on a forced retreat toward the Hsinking-Mukden line under General Ushiroku's command, leaving their 107th Division trapped behind Soviet lines. Meanwhile, General Iida's 30th Army was redeploying to Hsinking, which was starting to be evacuated, while General Uemura's 4th Army had orders to withdraw to Meihokou, taking over positions left by the 30th Army.  The advance of enemy armored columns in the west was severely hindering the evacuation of Japanese nationals. On the 10th, the Kwantung Army requested the Manchukuoan Government to facilitate the evacuation of Japanese residents in Hainking and its surroundings. They directed the Continental Railway Command to prepare ten trains for this purpose, with the first train scheduled to depart from Hsinking that same day. However, the Manchukuoan Government found it nearly impossible to carry out the withdrawal swiftly. They managed to transport only the families of officers and civilians linked to the army, and these families had to flee with just a few hours' notice, taking almost nothing but the clothes on their backs. By the 12th, Hsinking was in a state of chaos. The advance of enemy armored units, coupled with the retreat of the main force of the 44th Army, led to the evacuation of the capital by the Kwantung Army General Headquarters. This turmoil coincided with the arrival of the first refugee trains, carrying Japanese evacuees from the western border areas, causing widespread panic among local residents. Many hurried to the already overcrowded train station, desperate to escape the unfolding crisis. In the face of enemy pressure, the 80th Independent Mixed Brigade and the 119th Division continued to resist assaults at Hailar and Pokotu, respectively. The 123rd Division and the 135th Independent Mixed Brigade were heavily engaged in the fortified regions of Sunwu and Aihun, and the 136th Independent Mixed Brigade was directed to reinforce Tsitsihar, while the 134th Division retreated to Fangcheng. General Shimizu's 5th Army prepared for a last stand at Mutanchiang, while the isolated 124th Division made plans to withdraw. The 132nd Independent Mixed Brigade had already retreated to Tachienchang, and the 128th Division was getting ready to confront the enemy advance at Lotzokou, with General Murakami's 3rd Army holding strong in the Tumen fortified region. Meanwhile, the Nanam Divisional District Unit successfully repelled an amphibious invasion in Chongjin, and the 88th Division's 125th Regiment staunchly defended Furuton on South Sakhalin. In a desperate bid to avoid further disaster, Yamada finally instructed Ushiroku to adhere to their original plan and prepare for a withdrawal to the Hunjen area, even if it meant leaving Japanese citizens and their cities vulnerable to the approaching Soviets. Ushiroku hesitantly agreed to the order but never got the chance to act on it. On August 15, Marshal Vasilevsky's offensive advanced much like the previous days, facing an enemy that continued to resist fiercely. To counter this, orders came to intensify the assault to gain control of key operational and strategic points as quickly as possible. In Marshal Malinovsky's Transbaikal Front, General Pliyev's cavalry-mechanized units encountered heavy opposition from the Inner Mongolian 3rd, 5th, and 7th Cavalry Divisions at Kanbao. Meanwhile, General Danilov's 17th Army pressed toward Chihfeng but was hindered by water shortages, intense heat, and challenging sandy terrain. General Managarov's 53rd Army began its advance toward Kailu, while General Kravchenko's 6th Guards Tank Army continued its march along two fronts. The 7th Guards Mechanized Corps moved east toward Changchun, while both the 9th Guards Mechanized Corps and the 5th Guards Tank Corps advanced southeast toward Mukden. Notably, General Lyudnikov's 39th Army finally captured Tepossi and Wangyemiao.  Heavy Japanese resistance persisted in the sector of the 36th Army, notably in the Hailar Fortified Region and along the road and rail line through the Grand Khingan Mountains leading to Pokotu. The Japanese 119th Infantry Division put up a determined defense of Pokotu, successfully delaying the Soviet forces of the 2nd Rifle Corps from August 15 to 17, despite heavy rainfall. Meanwhile, in the rear of the 36th Army, the fighting in Hailar remained intense. The 86th Rifle Corps employed heavy artillery to systematically dismantle enemy strongholds in the hills to the northwest and southwest of the city. Position after position fell to relentless artillery bombardments, combined with sapper and infantry assaults. Ultimately, the Soviets extinguished the last vestiges of Japanese resistance in Hailar on August 18 when the remaining garrison of 3,827 men surrendered. Concurrently, in Marshal Meretskov's 1st Far Eastern Front, forward detachments of General Zakhvatayev's 35th Army secured Poli. General Beloborodov's 1st Red Banner Army broke through the frontline of the 135th Division and initiated an assault on the last Japanese positions just outside Yehho. Meanwhile, General Krylov's 5th Army, having successfully breached the Ssutaoling heights the previous evening, launched attacks against the 126th Division's positions at Aiho but was ultimately repelled by the defenders. In light of these developments, Generals Kita and Shimizu decided to order a withdrawal toward Hengtaohotzu, which they executed successfully after sunset, leaving behind some units to cover the retreat. Further south, General Chistyakov's 25th Army split into two columns at Heitosai. The 17th Rifle Corps and the 72nd Mechanized Brigade advanced west toward the Taipingling Pass, while the 39th Rifle Corps, along with the 72nd and 257th Tank Brigades, headed southwest toward Wangching. The 17th Rifle Corps effectively breached the main defenses of the Japanese 128th Division, forcing it to retreat to second-line positions southwest of Taipingling. On the morning of August 15, enemy air activity against Army Headquarters intensified significantly. Meanwhile, the Army Commander and several staff officers set out via Pataohotzu to inspect the defenses in the Hoeryong area, where the 101st Regiment was retreating from the Chonghak sector. At noon, while at the headquarters of the 127th Division in Pataohotzu, General Murakami and his accompanying staff listened to the Emperor's broadcast announcing the termination of the war. Opinions among the officers were divided regarding the veracity of this broadcast. After a brief discussion, they decided to continue military operations as per existing instructions until they received a formal cessation order. Later that night, a formal order arrived from First Area Army Headquarters, directing that all active resistance be halted, though self-defense measures were still to be implemented if necessary. Around the same time, a report came in from the 1st Mobile Brigade indicating that their positions in the Wangching area, about 25 miles northeast of Army Headquarters at Yenchi, were under attack by a sizable Soviet tank force. In response, a counterattack force was hastily assembled, consisting of two infantry battalions from the 127th Division. They were directed to advance to Wangching along the Yenchi-Chiulungping road to confront the enemy tanks. These battalions likely included the 3rd Battalion of the 280th Regiment and the 3rd Battalion of the 281st Regiment. Additionally, the 88th Rifle Corps took control of Hunchun and crossed the Inanho River, where they encountered well-entrenched Japanese forces from the 112th Division. To further pressure the enemy, the 258th Rifle Division crossed the Tumen River at Hunyong to attack the Japanese right flank. In General Purkayev's 2nd Far Eastern Front, General Mamonov's 15th Army continued its two-pronged advance toward Chiamussu, while General Pashkov's 5th Rifle Corps pushed forward to Poli. Meanwhile, General Teryokhin's 2nd Red Banner Army assigned some elements to maintain the siege of Sunwu and Aihun while forward detachments bypassed these fortified regions, moving south toward Nencheng and Peian. In South Sakhalin, General Cheremisov's 16th Army faced fierce resistance from Japanese forces at Furuton. Admiral Andreyev's Northern Pacific Flotilla prepared for an amphibious landing at Toro, while the Pacific Fleet, under Admiral Yumashev, successfully landed Major-General Vasily Trushin's 13th Naval Infantry Brigade at Chongjin in the early hours of August 15. This effort aimed to relieve the besieged Soviet naval units and gradually push back against the defending Japanese forces. On August 16, the entire Soviet force, commanded by Lieutenant-General Sergey Kabanov, secured Chongjin city and its port after overcoming strong resistance, just as the 393rd Rifle Division was arriving in the area. Simultaneously, Andreyev's fleet departed from Sovetskaya Gavan and approached Toro in the early hours of the day. At 05:17, 141 marines from the initial reconnaissance detachment successfully landed ashore quietly, and by 06:00, they had taken the port with virtually no opposition. The reconnaissance group then advanced about three kilometers east, where they encountered heavy resistance; meanwhile, the rest of the marine battalion landed successfully by 10:00. After securing Shakhtyorsk at midday, the Soviet marines began their push south toward Esutoru, their main objective, while a supporting infantry battalion landed behind them. To the north, the 56th Rifle Corps managed to break through and capture Furuton, though it failed to seize the strategically significant Happo Mountain. In Manchuria, the 88th Rifle Corps continued its attacks on the 112th and 79th Divisions but was unsuccessful. The 39th Rifle Corps column advanced toward Tumen and Yenchi, while the 17th Rifle Corps column effectively expelled Japanese forces from the Taipingling area to secure the pass. By evening, units from the 1st Red Banner Army cleared Mutanchiang, and the 5th Army units moved south of the city to continue their southwest advance toward Ningan. The 15th Army executed a coordinated amphibious assault, successfully capturing Chiamussu. The 39th Army advanced along the railroad from Wangyemiao to Changchun, with its main force ultimately securing Taonan by the end of the day, while other units reduced the Halung-Arshaan fortified region. Finally, forward detachments of the 5th Guards Tank Corps and the 9th Guards Mechanized Corps secured Tungliao and Kaitung, respectively. On August 17, Prince Takeda Tsuneyoshi, on behalf of the Emperor, arrived at Hsinking to deliver the official ceasefire order. However, this did not cancel ongoing operational missions, as the order stipulated that the cessation of hostilities did not apply to unavoidable acts of self-defense during enemy attacks made before the completion of armistice negotiations. Tokyo's orders demonstrated that Yamada was authorized to conduct on-the-spot negotiations for an armistice with the Soviets. Consequently, the Manchurian Campaign continued amidst the negotiations. Pliyev's Soviet-Mongolian units successfully defeated the Inner Mongolians at Kanbao; the 17th Army overcame light opposition from the 108th Division to occupy Chihfeng; the 39th Army concentrated its forces at Taonan while the 94th Rifle Corps mopped up rear areas; and the 36th Army defeated the 119th Division to capture Pokotu. Simultaneously, the 2nd Red Banner Army directed heavy artillery and air strikes to reduce the Aihun and Sunwu Fortified Regions, while the 15th Army initiated a push south along the Sungari River toward Sansing. The 363rd Rifle Division passed through Chihsi, with the 66th Rifle Division focusing on Poli. Units from the 1st Red Banner Army advanced northwest toward Harbin, and the 72nd Rifle Corps marched southward along the east bank of the Mutan River, attempting unsuccessfully to cross the river north of Ningan. The 17th Rifle Corps pursued the 128th Division, and forward elements of the 10th Mechanized Corps moved sixty kilometers from the Taipingling Pass to secure the critical rail and road junction at Tahsingkou. Additionally, the reinforced 72nd Tank Brigade intercepted the counterattacking force of the 127th Division at Nianyantsun. The 39th Rifle Corps broke through the northern defenses of the 79th Division to seize the outskirts of Tumen, while the 88th Rifle Corps successfully pushed aside enemy defenders at Mayusan to occupy Onsang. At South Sakhalin, as the marine force surrounded Esutoru, the 22nd Independent Machinegun Company was deployed to support the marine assault, which quickly penetrated the urban area and secured the city by midday. Meanwhile, fighting continued around Mount Happo, where the 214th Tank Brigade was dispatched south toward the ultimate objective of Toyohara. However, given the distance involved, it was decided to conduct a second amphibious assault on the port of Maoka. On August 18, Yamada finally issued the ceasefire orders to the 1st, 3rd, and 17th Area Armies, as well as to the 4th Army and the 2nd Air Army. His chief of staff, Lieutenant-General Hata Hikosaburo, met with Marshal Vasilevsky in Harbin to discuss procedures for disarmament, the protection of Japanese nationals in Manchuria, and related matters. Meanwhile, the Kwantung Army Headquarters made extensive efforts to relay as much information as possible about the termination of hostilities and disarmament to its subordinate commands using all available communication methods. However, these efforts were hindered by the wide dispersal of forces, many of which initially refused to surrender. General Higuchi's 5th Area Army received the ceasefire orders on August 17. Although he quickly notified his units—particularly those in Sakhalin and the Kuriles, war continued in these islands for a short period as he sought to prevent a potential invasion of Hokkaido. In Sakhalin, Major Yoshio Suzuki, the Chief of Staff of the 88th Division, received Higuchi's combat order on the afternoon of August 16, preparations for ceasefire were already underway, such as the disbandment of mobilized units, the discharge of some troops, and the disposal of the regimental flag. The division had no tanks or aircraft, and certainly no anti-tank or anti-aircraft weapons that could withstand Soviet forces. In light of this, Suzuki quickly ordered the re-arming of units and the occupation of positions, in accordance with the desire of Mineki and Higuchi to prevent the fall of South Sakhalin and a possible invasion of Hokkaido. Civilians, at this point, were already voicing complaints, wondering if the military was still going to continue fighting. After the surrender of the 125th Infantry Regiment, the Japanese command in the Northern District was effectively assumed by the staff of the 88th Division stationed at Kamishikika. During the fighting on the central military road, by the morning of August 17, evacuation of the civilian population from Kamishikika had been completed, and the town was burned to the ground by Japanese forces' scorched earth tactics, along with an air raid by 20 Soviet aircraft. Kamishikika was abandoned on August 20, marking the start of a full retreat. The construction of a defensive line involving the destruction of the Uro Bridge and the Chidori River Bridge was considered but ultimately abandoned due to the presence of evacuees. Meanwhile, in the Kuriles, a new operation was unfolding. According to Vasilevsky's orders, once operations against Manchuria and South Sakhalin were sufficiently advanced, a small force from the Kamchatka Defense Region, supported by naval units from the Petropavlovsk Naval Base, was to conduct amphibious assaults on the Kuril Islands in preparation for a future landing at the port of Rumoi on Hokkaido's west coast On August 15, President Truman and Soviet Premier Stalin agreed that Japanese forces north of the 38th Parallel would surrender to the Soviets, while those to the south would surrender to the Americans. Stalin's agreement surprised the US, as there was little chance of American forces landing on the Korean peninsula at that time. In what many scholars interpret as an attempt to achieve reciprocal generosity from Truman, Stalin proposed amending the order to include the northern half of Hokkaido and all of the Kuril Islands in the region of surrender to Soviet forces. This northern portion, he stated, should be demarcated by a line drawn ‘from the town of Kushiro on the eastern coast . . . to the town of Rumoe (Rumoi) on the western coast . . .', with both towns included in the occupation area However, Truman only acquiesced concerning the Kuriles, honoring the pact reached at Yalta, while specifying that all the islands of mainland Japan were to surrender to General MacArthur. Nonetheless, concerned by the exclusion of the Kuriles from the original agreement, Stalin instructed Vasilevsky to organize landings to occupy the islands. This mission was assigned to Purkayev's 2nd Far Eastern Front and Yumashev's Pacific Fleet, which, in turn, designated Major-General Aleksei Gnechko's Kamchatka Defense Region and Captain Dmitri Ponomarev's Petropavlovsk Naval Base to execute the first landings on Shumshu and Paramushir, followed by a subsequent amphibious assault on Onekotan. These inexperienced commanders had limited time to plan for their operations, assemble the necessary commercial vessels for transportation, and hurriedly gather the army units dispersed across Kamchatka. Ultimately, the primary unit chosen for the landings was Major-General Porfiry Dyakov's 101st Rifle Division, supplemented by a battalion of marines. Meanwhile, Ponomarev managed to gather an invasion flotilla of 64 vessels. Although the Soviets had air superiority, it was unreliable due to the peculiar climatic conditions. “There were very peculiar climatic conditions in the Far East and Sakhalin; almost every airfield had its own special microclimate. In the coastal zone, frequent outbursts of moist sea air, forming a curtain of thick fog, caused a lot of trouble.”. The limited firepower of Ponomarev's flotilla forced the Soviets to land on the northeast corner of Shumshu, which could be targeted by the coastal guns at Cape Lopatka. Additionally, Gnechko planned a diversionary landing on the southeast side of the island. Opposing the Soviets, Higuchi had Lieutenant-General Tsutsumi Fusaki's 91st Division garrisoning the northern islands of Shumshu and Paramushir, the 41st Independent Mixed Regiment on Matsuwa Island, the 129th Independent Mixed Brigade on Uruppu Island, and Lieutenant-General Ogawa Gonosuke's 89th Division stationed on the southern islands of Etorofu, Shikotan, and Kunashiri.  Shumshu is the northernmost island in the Kuril chain, separated from Cape Lopatka, the southernmost tip of the Kamchatka Peninsula, by the 11-kilometer-wide First Kuril Strait. Covering an area of approximately 388 square kilometers and roughly oval in shape , Shumshu's proximity to Soviet territory, similar to its larger neighbor to the south, Paramushir, ensured that it was strongly defended. The garrison on Shumshu comprised about 8,500 troops, whereas the larger island boasted a garrison of approximately 14,500. The strait between the two islands narrows to about 2.5 kilometers at its smallest point, thus allowing these garrisons to provide mutual support. As Slavinsky notes: “Shumshu and Paramushir, with their naval bases located opposite each other on both sides of the Second Kuril Strait, were, in essence, a single key position.” The capture of Shumshu was crucial to the success of subsequent island operations. While there were several airfields on these islands, they housed very few aircraft, which had been withdrawn earlier to the Japanese main islands in preparation for the anticipated “final battle” with the Americans. However, Shumshu was defended by a tank force from the 11th Tank Regiment, commanded by Colonel Sueo Ikeda. This force consisted of thirty-nine medium tanks, including nineteen Type-97 Chi-Ha tanks and twenty Type-97 ShinHoTo Chi-Ha (improved Type-97) tanks, alongside twenty-five Type-95 Ha-Go light tanks. Both Shumshu and Paramushir were equipped with permanent defensive works along the coast and inland. On Shumshu, these defenses included 34 bunkers and 24 pillboxes within several powerful strongpoints, featuring around 100 guns of varying calibers, some reaching up to 100mm. Approximately 300 prepared firing points were established for both heavy and light machine guns. Most of Shumshu's coast is bordered by cliffs, leading to a concentration of the strongest defenses in areas deemed vulnerable to amphibious assault. Notably, a battery was installed in the wreck of the Soviet tanker Mariupol, which had become stranded on the beach between Cape Kokutan and Cape Kotomari in 1943. Although the island is relatively flat, it possesses several hills with sides that are nearly bare of trees, and these heights also housed additional strongpoints. Shumshu features 120 kilometers of roads, which facilitated terrestrial communication between various points. Additionally, the garrison constructed numerous dummy installations to mislead reconnaissance efforts. Nevertheless, Ponomarev's flotilla departed from Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky at approximately 05:00 on August 17, moving slowly and stealthily toward their objective in foggy conditions. This weather ultimately forced Gnechko to cancel the planned diversionary landing. In any event, the first landing craft approached the beach at 04:22 hours on 18 August still hidden in the murk, but were forced to halt some 100–150m from shore in water up to 2m deep; they had been overloaded which prevented them getting closer in. The troops of the advanced detachment (two companies of marines, a maritime border guard company, and a submachine gun company) had then to wade, heavily burdened, to dry land. This went on undisturbed until personnel on one of the landing craft opened fire; this, spreading to the other ships, alerted the defenders, who replied with ‘promiscuous' machine-gun fire. Nevertheless, by 05:00 hours, and having suffered only ‘insignificant' losses, the advanced detachment was ashore and its main force, under Major Pyotr Shutov, was moving off the beach into the interior of the island. Two groups of marines moved left and right to deal with enemy positions on the capes flanking the landing ground. They managed to destroy several firing points, but were too few to overcome the stronger resistance nests protecting the gun positions. A series of hills inland formed the initial objective of the advance. Behind them, Dyatlov's first wave faced heavy bombardment from Japanese artillery, suffering significant casualties as the troops struggled to scramble ashore by 09:00. The second wave experienced a similar fate but managed to disembark by 13:00, joining the first wave in advancing on the high ground to the southwest. This second wave successfully repelled a series of Japanese tank counterattacks, resulting in the loss of Colonel Sueo. Despite being pushed back somewhat, the Soviets held their position while their aircraft targeted the naval bases on the island's southern side, aiming to hinder reinforcements from Paramushir. By nightfall, Gnechko's forces had secured a beachhead approximately 4 kilometers wide and 5 kilometers deep, while assault groups successfully destroyed Japanese artillery positions on Cape Kokutan and Cape Kotomari. Meanwhile, Kabanov's new Southern Defense Region command was ordered to quickly land naval units at Odaejin and Gensan to prevent the Japanese from evacuating their forces from Korea to the Home Islands. Consequently, a small naval force from the 13th Naval Infantry Brigade departed from Chongjin, successfully landing unopposed at Odaejin at 08:00 on August 18. Elsewhere in eastern Manchuria, the 25th Army consolidated its hold on northeastern Korea, dispatching the 10th Mechanized Corps west toward Tunhua and Kirin and northwest toward Tungchingcheng amidst the surrender of Murakami's 3rd Army. The 72nd Rifle Corps successfully crossed the Mutan River north of Ningan, while units from the 1st Red Banner Army and the 5th Army were deployed to receive and process surrendering Japanese units of Shimizu's 5th Army. To the north, the 2nd Red Banner Army maintained pressure on the Aihun and Sunwu Fortified Regions, leading to the surrender of the 123rd Division, although the 135th Independent Mixed Brigade continued to resist at Aihun. Be that as it may, the Japanese artillery positioned at Cape Kokutan and Cape Kotomari wreaked havoc on the second echelon, which was comprised of the 373rd Rifle Regiment. During this engagement, a patrol boat and four landing craft were lost, while eight others sustained serious damage. Once again, Soviet troops were forced to improvise ways to reach dry land; however, this time, the echelon's commander, Colonel P.A. Artyushen, along with his headquarters, managed to land via a torpedo boat. It took until 13:00 hours to fully disembark the second echelon, by which point its forward units had linked up with those forces advancing on the high ground to the southwest. By then, Artyushen had assumed command of all the forces ashore. While the number of troops was considerable, they still lacked heavy weapons, with only four 45mm anti-tank guns having been landed. Unsurprisingly, the Japanese counterattacked as soon as possible, with the advanced forward units under Shutov bearing the brunt of the assault. In a reversal of the combat situations previously encountered throughout the war with Japan, Soviet infantry now found themselves facing several tank attacks from the Japanese. One of these assaults was personally led by Colonel Sueo Ikeda, the commander of the 11th Tank Regiment, who was reported to be waving a samurai sword and Japanese flag from the turret, according to some accounts. Fortunately for the Soviets, these Japanese tanks were relatively weak compared to the T-34. While they posed a threat to unsupported infantry, they proved vulnerable to Degtyarev PTRD-41 anti-tank rifles and RPG-43 anti-tank grenades. The tank-led attacks were ultimately repelled, with Colonel Sueo perishing in the fighting. Despite being pushed back somewhat, the Soviets managed to withstand the onslaught. For his heroism during this challenging combat situation, in which he was wounded three times, Shutov was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union, along with the Order of Lenin and the Golden Star medal. Despite being somewhat pushed back, the Soviets held their ground while their aircraft targeted the naval bases on the southern side of the island to hinder reinforcements from Paramushir. The weather cleared sufficiently in the late morning, allowing Soviet air strikes to commence that afternoon. These strikes involved groups of eight to sixteen aircraft and were primarily directed at the Kataoka and Kashiwabar naval bases, successfully preventing the transfer of Japanese reinforcements from Paramushir. However, the sky remained cloudy enough to hinder any close battlefield support. As Zakharov et al. described it, the situation on the ground “remained tense.” The thinning fog later allowed seven Japanese aircraft to appear at 10:30 hours, attempting to strike at the shipping gathered off the landing beach. Their first strike targeted the Kirov, but it was unsuccessful, and the attackers were driven off by anti-aircraft fire. A second attempt at 12:00 hours focused on the minesweeper T-525, which also failed, resulting in two of the attacking aircraft being shot down by gunfire.  By nightfall on 18 August, it was evident that the Soviet landing had succeeded to the point where the forces would not be driven back into the sea. The invasion force had established a beachhead approximately 4 kilometers wide and 5 kilometers deep, and they were capable of defending this position against any immediate Japanese counterattacks, despite most of their artillery still being stuck offshore. Gnechko, stationed at Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, ordered that enough artillery be transported ashore overnight to resume the offensive, with the goal of occupying the island by the end of 19 August. He also dispatched several self-propelled barges and kungas (shallow-draft boats used for fishing or transport) to assist with the unloading, although these vessels could not arrive until the following morning. To eliminate further artillery attacks on shipping, assault groups were formed to attack and destroy the Japanese strongpoints on Cape Kokutan and Cape Kotomari during the hours of darkness. Shortly after midnight on 17 August, a second order regarding the cessation of hostilities was received from the First Area Army, directing that all fighting be stopped. At daybreak, General Murakami dispatched his intelligence chief, Lt. Col. Fujimoto, to Chiulungping to inform the Soviet tank battalion commander of the end of hostilities. Simultaneously, he ordered all divisions under his command to cease all combat operations. At approximately 16:00 hours, the Soviet tank battalion commander arrived at the Army Officers Club in Yenchi, where he conferred with Major General Hanjiro Iketani, the Army Chief of Staff. The following day, General Iketani traveled to Wangching to conduct armistice negotiations. The 72nd Rifle Corps finally crossed the Mutan River north of Ningan, while units from the 1st Red Banner Army and the 5th Army were deployed to receive and process the surrendering Japanese units of Shimizu's 5th Army. Since the Army began its withdrawal, communications with Area Army Headquarters in Tunhua had been completely disrupted. On the morning of the 17th, a member of the Manchurian Telegraph and Telephone Company's Harbin office sent a message via railway telephone concerning disarmament, stating that he had been asked by the First Area Army Headquarters to relay the information. The Army Commander and his staff, however, suspected it might be another ruse from the enemy's fifth column. They agreed to exercise caution in addressing the matter and decided to send Staff Officer Maeda to Area Army Headquarters in Tunhua by railway gasoline engine car to verify the truth. Colonel Maeda proceeded to the railway station, and while preparing to depart, he received a railway telephone call from Staff Officer Tsumori at Area Army Headquarters regarding the cease-fire order. Subsequently, around 14:00 hours, the Army convened a meeting with representatives from each unit to announce the cease-fire orders. That evening, Soviet forces began entering Hengtaohotzu and immediately started disarming Japanese forces.  Looking west, the bulk of the 36th Army advanced southward and seized the railroad station at Chalantun amid the surrender of the 119th Division. The 86th Rifle Corps, after several days of intense artillery bombardment, finally extinguished the last remnants of Japanese resistance at Hailar, forcing the 80th Independent Mixed Brigade to surrender. Meanwhile, the 39th Army forces prepared for transport to Changchun and then on to the Liaotung Peninsula. The 17th Army moved toward the coast, capturing Pingchuan and Linguan before reaching the coastline at Shanhaiguan, directly across from the Liaotung Peninsula. Additionally, Pliyev's Soviet-Mongolian forces approached the outskirts of Kalgan, where they encountered a small contingent of the China Expeditionary Army. Indeed, with the surrender of the Kwantung Army, the war was coming to an end. However, several independent units, including the one mentioned, would continue to resist into the last days of August, thereby prolonging the Pacific War by another week. 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 August 1945, amidst Japan's turmoil, the Soviet Union surprisingly invaded Manchuria. As chaos ensued, Japanese forces in South Sakhalin faced robust Soviet resistance. Ultimately, Japan's surrender shattered its imperial power, marking a historic end to the Pacific War, leaving a nation in ruins yet igniting a fragile hope for the future beyond the horrors of conflict.

Last time we spoke about the 800 heroes who defended the Sihang Warehouse. In the fall of Shanghai during October 1937, amidst overwhelming odds, a small battalion under Colonel Xie Jinyuan took a stand inside the Sihang Warehouse, transforming it into a fortress against the invading Japanese army. As word spread of their stand, local citizens rallied, providing vital supplies and cheers of encouragement from across the Suzhou Creek. The defenders, dubbed the "800 Heroes," symbolized hope and determination. Despite suffering heavy casualties, they held firm, embodying the spirit of resistance against aggression. As dawn broke on November 1, 1937, a strategic retreat was ordered, allowing Xie's remaining troops to escape safely into the International Settlement. Their legacy endured, highlighting the courage of those who fought against overwhelming odds. The saga of the "800 Heroes" became a beacon of hope for future generations, immortalizing their determination to protect their homeland during one of its darkest hours.   #162 The Battle of Shanghai #7: The Fall of Shanghai Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. The fall of the Sihang Warehouse and withdrawal from Zhabei and Jiangwan doomed the Chinese defense of Shanghai. The army shifted to a fortified defensive line along the southern bank of Suzhou Creek, extending north towards the city of Nanxiang. Suzhou Creek provided an advantageous defensive position, acting as a natural barrier measuring up to 150 feet wide, with steep banks rising seven feet on either side. However, once this line was abandoned, there would be no fallback position remaining. Losing control of Suzhou Creek would be the loss of Shanghai. As German advisor Borchardt noted, “the Chinese command was therefore putting all its efforts into holding the position for as long as possible, without risking the annihilation of units crucial for continuing the war.” The Japanese planned their main assault directly south across Suzhou Creek to encircle the troops stationed in Shanghai. However, they first needed to create sufficient space for maneuvering. To achieve this and to secure their right flank, they launched a significant attack on Nanxiang on October 28, advancing along the railway from Shanghai. With the benefit of extensive support from aircraft and artillery, the Japanese were able to breach the Chinese frontline with relative ease. Nevertheless, they failed to capture Nanxiang, and the outcome was less of a victory than it initially appeared, as the Chinese had established a robust defense, preparing a two-mile stretch of obstacles and barriers east of the city. In a subsequent advance that shifted to the south, the Japanese engaged in a brief battle before seizing the town of Zhenru, which was strategically important due to its radio station that facilitated much of Shanghai's telephone and telegraphic communications with the outside world. In preparation for crossing Suzhou Creek, the Japanese had spent several days assembling a small fleet of vessels commandeered from Shanghai's civilian population, which included motorboats, sampans, and basic bamboo barges. On October 31, the 3rd Japanese Infantry Division, positioned at the eastern end of the Suzhou Creek front, initiated several crossings. During one of these attacks in the late afternoon near the village of Zhoujiaqiao, Japanese soldiers managed to reach the southern bank but were immediately met with enfilading fire from Chinese machine guns, resulting in significant casualties. They also faced counterattacks from Chinese reserves, who had been quickly summoned to neutralize the threat. Despite these challenges, the Japanese were able to maintain a narrow foothold. A parallel attempt by the same division further downstream, closer to the International Settlement, ended in failure, despite the evident superiority of Japanese equipment. Engineers deployed a mile-long smokescreen across the creek, while a dozen three-engine bombers, protected by fighter planes, hovered over the battlefield, actively scouting for targets. Although a small landing party successfully crossed the creek, they were quickly met with a fierce artillery barrage, and a Chinese counterattack forced them back into the water. Foreign military observers speculated that this operation was more a reconnaissance mission than a serious attempt to cross in that sector, as engaging in battle so close to the International Settlement would have required operations in heavily built-up areas. On November 1, three battalions of the 9th Japanese Division attacked in small boats across Suzhou Creek at the point where the Chinese frontline bent northward, successfully establishing a bridgehead on the other side. Over the next two days, the division managed to deploy a substantial number of troops across, eventually controlling an area that stretched about half a mile along the south bank of the creek. The following day, the Chinese launched a determined effort to eliminate this growing threat. While they made significant gains, they ultimately failed to eradicate the Japanese landing party, partly due to their inability to fully utilize their considerable artillery resources. At the beginning of the day's battle, just 60 feet separated the trenches of the opposing forces, meaning any barrage aimed at the Japanese was equally likely to hit Chinese lines. At dawn on November 3rd, the exhausted Tax Police Division were taking horrible losses trying to hold the Japanese back. Men began to scream “poison gas” as white clouds drifted across the Suzhou creek towards their trenches. Despite this the Japanese had not managed to carve out a bridgehead, but did built a pontoon bridge and sent a small force over to occupy a two story building near the bank, designated as “the red house”. Huang Jie, commander of the Tax Police Division, was a nervous wreck, feeling overwhelmed by fatalism after Chiang Kai-shek threatened to court-martial any officer who permitted the Japanese to cross to the southern bank of the creek. The appearance of an ominous cloud was the final straw. Although the cloud was later confirmed to be just a smoke screen and not poisonous gas, Huang was already defeated. With another Japanese assault imminent, he felt incapable of leading the defense. “It's over. It's all over,” he said matter-of-factly, raising his sidearm to his temple. Nearby, senior officer Sun Liren intervened, urging him, “General, please go back. We'll take care of this.” The battle continued until 4:00 p.m., but the battalion that faced the brunt of the Japanese onslaught had disintegrated. Its commander was dead, along with all but one company commander and over half of the platoon leaders. Of the original 600 men, only 200 remained. This was not what the Tax Police Division had anticipated when they were pulled from the area south of Wusong Creek the previous month; they believed the strong defenses at Dachang could hold for at least a month or two, providing sufficient time for the exhausted troops in the rear to recover. On the evening of November 3, following the latest Japanese attempt to cross the creek, the Tax Police Division's commander ordered Sun Liren to rest. However, Sun felt the need to complete one last task: destroying the pontoon bridge the Japanese had constructed across Suzhou Creek, which remained largely intact despite repeated Chinese efforts to demolish it. Previous attempts, including frontal attacks and sending swimmers downstream with explosives, had failed. Finally, they prepared large rolls of cotton soaked in gasoline to roll downhill toward the bridge, but these efforts were halted by Japanese barbed wire. For his final attempt, Sun requisitioned sea mines to float them downstream and detonate them near the bridge. To ensure the success of this plan, he required the cooperation of engineers. Unfortunately, the engineers he ordered for the late-night mission had not been trained by him, and despite being of lower rank, they were disinclined to put in extra effort for an unfamiliar officer. They worked slowly, and by dawn, the mines had yet to be pushed into the water. In the early morning light, they became visible targets along the bank, attracting Japanese fire. Sun was hit, but he was among the fortunate; later, soldiers from the Tax Police Division found him beneath a pile of dead bodies, with doctors later discovering 13 bullet wounds in his body. His participation in the battle of Shanghai had come to an end. According to German advisors, the Chinese repeatedly made the same mistake in the struggle for Suzhou Creek: a lack of independent thinking among junior Chinese commanders prevented them from reacting aggressively to Japanese crossings. This delay allowed the Japanese to entrench themselves, and subsequent Chinese counterattacks often succeeded only after several costly failures. Moreover, Chinese artillery lacked the flexibility to adapt quickly and lacked training in selecting the appropriate ordnance for the situation. The Germans argued that this allowed the enemy “sufficient time to set up a good defense,” and even when later Chinese attacks achieved some significant successes, they failed to completely annihilate the enemy forces that had crossed the creek. Conversely, the Japanese were also frustrated, particularly their commander, Matsui Iwane. Although the 9th Division had made significant advances, the 3rd Division remained confined to a narrow strip of land south of the creek, thwarting hopes for a quick, decisive push southeast to trap the remaining troops in Shanghai and Pudong. On November 3, the birthday of Emperor Meiji, who was instrumental in modernizing Japan, Matsui reflected on his initial hopes of celebrating as the conqueror of Shanghai. Instead, he found himself disappointed, writing, “Now we've finally won a small piece of land south of Suzhou Creek, but the south of Shanghai and all of Pudong remains in enemy hands. That the festival is happening under conditions such as these is a source of boundless humiliation.” Japanese planners in Tokyo had been increasingly concerned that operations in the Shanghai area were not progressing as anticipated since the troop deployments began in August. Despite sending three additional divisions, the advances remained limited, prompting the Army General Staff to consider a more fundamental strategic shift in China. The core question revolved around whether to prioritize the northern campaign or the battles around Shanghai, as Japan lacked the resources to effectively pursue both. In early October, Japanese officers concluded that addressing the situation in Shanghai must take precedence. A large reason for this decision rested on fears of a potential soviet attack in the northeast before the New Year. With so many divisions stuck in Shanghai Manchukuo was quite vulnerable. On October 9, the Army General Staff established the 10th Army, specifically designed to shift the balance in Shanghai. This new force included the 6th Infantry Division, currently deployed in northern China, a brigade from the 5th Infantry Division known as the Kunizaki Detachment, and the 18th and 114th Infantry Divisions from the home islands. Command of the 10th Army was entrusted to General Yanagawa Heisuke, a 58-year-old veteran of the Russo-Japanese War who had recently retired but was recalled to service due to his suitability for the role; he had previously served as a military attaché in Beijing and as an instructor at the city's army college. The 10th Army was to be landed behind Chinese lines. There were two possible landing sites: the south bank of the Yangtze River, where earlier landings had occurred in late August, or the north bank of Hangzhou Bay. Hangzhou Bay provided the element of surprise thus it was selected. However when reconnaissance was performed, the area was found to be heavily fortified with many terrain issues that would complicate logistics. Matsui Iwane expressed his concerns in his diary, noting, “It would probably be much easier if they landed on the banks of the Huangpu and Yangtze Rivers. This plan gives me the impression of a bunch of young people at play”. The 10th Army was set to land before dawn on November 5. The Kunizaki Detachment would lead the assault, capturing a stretch of coastline east of Jinshanwei in the middle of the night. This would be followed by the 6th Division, with the 18th Division on its right flank and the 114th Division on its left. All units were to advance briskly north to the Huangpu River and cross it. A major objective north of the river was the city of Songjiang, a key transportation hub for both rail and road. Ultimately, the goal was to link up with Japanese units advancing south in the flat countryside west of Shanghai to encircle as many Chinese soldiers as possible. Secrecy was vital for the 10th Army in its preparations. The commanders recalled an old saying: “If you want to cheat the enemy, first you must fool your own men,” and decided to adhere to it. To mislead their forces before the embarkation of the 6th Division, they distributed maps of Qingdao, a northern Chinese port city, to create the illusion that it was the operation's target. This way, if any information leaked, it would mislead the recipient. On November 1, the convoy carrying the 6th Division departed the waters off the Korean Peninsula, heading south. The following day, it merged with another convoy transporting the 18th and 114th Divisions from Japan. Together, they formed a substantial fleet of nearly 200 vessels, necessitating heightened caution to avoid detection. Strict orders prohibited the use of lights, and radio silence was enforced at all times. As the ships neared Shanghai, they sailed in a wide arc offshore, only redirecting toward land when they were aligned with Hangzhou Bay. Upon learning their true objective, the soldiers felt a mix of excitement and apprehension as they crowded the dark decks, catching sight of the vague silhouette of the continent they were about to conquer. The advance unit, the Kunizaki Detachment, boarded its landing craft as planned at 3:00 am on November 5, heading towards its designated section of the coastline. Meanwhile, the rest of the 10th Army waited anxiously aboard ships anchored two miles offshore. The silence from the shore indicated that the detachment had encountered no resistance, although the ongoing radio silence left uncertainty. Eventually, the detachment signaled with light projectors that the landing had gone as planned. With this confirmation, the soldiers of the second wave began their approach. The 10th Army had intended for the invasion force to move swiftly from the landing zone to secure the area before the Chinese could mount a counterattack. Each soldier was equipped with a week's supply of rice and as much ammunition as he could carry to avoid being hindered by a lengthy supply train; mobility was essential. On the first day of the landing, the Chinese launched only two minor counterattacks. One occurred on the left flank but failed to hinder the advance north, while the other on the right flank also had limited success, forcing the Chinese to retreat ahead of the advancing Japanese troops. By mid-morning on November 5, over 3,000 Japanese soldiers had successfully landed, and this number continued to rise rapidly. The urgency of the situation was evident, and only swift and decisive actions could offer the Chinese generals a chance to avert catastrophe. However, instead of mounting an all-out effort to push the Japanese back into the sea, they chose to play a waiting game. The consensus among the command center of the 3rd War Zone in Suzhou during the early hours was that the landing forces were weak and intended to distract from more critical operations planned for the near future. Enemy resistance was weak and sporadic, allowing the Japanese divisions to make rapid progress despite encountering natural obstacles along their route. By the evening of November 5, less than 24 hours after the initial unit landed, they had advanced three miles inland. Before noon the following day, they reached a ferry port on the Huangpu River, where a group of over 100 soldiers managed to cross, clearing the way for the continued push toward Songjiang. Meanwhile, the left flank of the Japanese landing force engaged in more intense fighting for the first time but still managed to gain ground. The Japanese momentum appeared unstoppable.In desperation, the Chinese resorted to scorched earth tactics reminiscent of the Napoleonic Wars, similar to their earlier actions in Zhabei. They destroyed every building and field, burned crops, killed livestock, and poisoned wells, leaving nothing for the victors. It was the local population that ultimately paid the price, witnessing their ancestral homes reduced to ashes.  Once the Chinese command was convinced that the invasion at Hangzhou Bay was a genuine main effort rather than a deceptive act, it directed all available forces south to contain the escalating threat. However, the Chinese had very few troops to spare. The Chinese dispatched a total of seven divisions and one independent brigade to the landing area. While this force appeared to be roughly twice the size of the Japanese, in reality, it was much weaker. Many of these units had endured extended battles and were not at full combat strength. They were sent south without adequate preparation, and their morale suffered due to the continuous stream of negative news from the front. Additionally, the same poor road network that hindered the Japanese slowed the Chinese reinforcements, resulting in many arriving too late to influence the conflict significantly. Once the opportunity to push the Japanese back into the sea was lost, the next best option was to halt their advance at the Huangpu River. Although this was a significant natural barrier, there were no fortifications prepared along its banks. Compounding the issue, a large number of civilian vessels were left on the south bank, providing the Japanese with an easy means of crossing. Confronted with a steady stream of better-equipped and experienced Japanese soldiers, many Chinese defenders occasionally retreated without a fight. In response to the threat from the south, the Chinese commanders repeated a costly mistake from previous crises: they deployed newly arrived troops in Shanghai directly into battle. This disregard for the exhausted condition of those troops, who had just completed a long trek from Henan province, left them ill-prepared for effective engagement. The 107th and 108th Divisions, part of the 67th Army, had only recently arrived in the Shanghai area when they were ordered on November 8 to move south to defend the strategic city of Songjiang at least until November 11. Though the commanders may have had no other choice but to deploy the 67th, the outcome was predictable. Despite their efforts to hold Songjiang, the two divisions could not stand against the Japanese, and by November 9, they had begun withdrawing from the nearly surrounded city. During the retreat, army commander Wu Keren was assassinated by a group of plainclothes men. Whether these were Japanese soldiers or local traitors hired for the task was never determined, making him the only general to lose his life in the entire Shanghai campaign. This setback rendered the 67th Army ineffective as a fighting force, leading to a complete retreat from the battlefield. Like many other lower-quality units in the Chinese military, the rank-and-file soldiers had never been encouraged to take the initiative, and the corps ultimately disintegrated after losing their commander. Amid the chaos and confusion at the landing zone, many Chinese officers concluded that the battle for Shanghai was lost and focused on salvaging whatever equipment they could before it was too late. On the morning of November 5, three artillery batteries stationed along the north shore of Hangzhou Bay attempted to resist the Japanese forces. As the Chinese front along Hangzhou Bay collapsed, even a successful retreat could be seen as a modest victory. Chiang Kai-shek was on the brink of a nervous breakdown as the full scale of the Japanese landing at Hangzhou Bay became evident. On the evening of November 5, he had over 20 anxious telephone conversations with Gu Zhutong, asking repeatedly, “Is there a fight?” Gu confirmed, “The artillery is bombarding us heavily. There are airplanes, warships.” That night, Chiang met with Chen Cheng and appeared to accept that it was time to abandon positions south of Suzhou Creek. However, political considerations prevented him from immediately communicating this decision to his commanders. He wished to see the Brussels Conference get underway without having China appear defeated and seemed to hope to hold out until November 13, aiming for a minor propaganda victory by demonstrating that China had endured for three months. On the night of November 8, Chiang issued a fateful command to Shanghai police chief Cai Jianjun, instructing him to hold Nanshi while the rest of the army withdrew west, a directive that sounded like a suicide mission. When Cai refused, Chiang's response was swift: “Shoot him.” Luckily for Cai, he escaped being shot.  The Chinese retreat from Shanghai commenced in an orderly manner. At 10:00 am on November 9, the last soldiers organized their march southwest past St. Ignatius Cathedral, where thousands of refugees waited, leaving the city they had defended for nearly three months. As they departed, they burned significant properties, including factories and coal yards, to deny the Japanese valuable resources. Among the structures targeted was the Toyoda Cotton Mills, a prominent symbol of Japan's influence in the Yangtze Delta. Initially, the withdrawal seemed disciplined, reminiscent of earlier successful withdrawals that had surprised the Japanese. However, the situation quickly deteriorated as the Japanese pursued them relentlessly. By noon, they had secured Hongqiao Airfield, the site of earlier conflict, and aimed to inflict maximum damage on the retreating Chinese army. Japanese planes launched attacks from carriers offshore, machine-gunning the congested roads filled with retreating soldiers. Additionally, they bombed bridges and train stations, destroyed communication lines, and shelled already weakened transportation networks. With communications largely disrupted and scattered units receiving no coordination, chaos ensued. Soldiers became consumed by the instinct for personal survival, leading to a disorganized stampede as panic spread. Desperate to escape, many soldiers tried to access designated foreign zones. Some forced their way across checkpoints at gunpoint, while others disguised themselves as civilians to gain entry. A foreign correspondent observed a Chinese soldier throw away his rifle and jump into the polluted Siccawei Creek, wading across in just his underwear, to escape Japanese capture. Similarly, senior officers realized that rank would not protect them from Japanese retribution. General Ye Zhao, retreating with his staff, donned peasant clothes after encountering an abandoned farmhouse and was later captured by the advancing Japanese, who mistook him for a common laborer. As the Japanese approached Nanshi, the mostly Chinese area of Shanghai, the situation grew dire. A group of individuals accused of spying for the Japanese was executed by firing squad in public view, sparking terror among onlookers. As the government prepared to evacuate, officials urged the remaining residents to continue resisting, warning against traitors.  The swift retreat of the Chinese Army shocked many Shanghai residents, who had believed the city could withstand the siege indefinitely. As the city fell in just a few hectic days, thousands of desperate civilians, burdened with their belongings, flocked to the bridges leading to the French Concession, pleading to be let in. However, they were met with hostility from French police, reinforced with tanks, who ordered them to turn away. When they resisted, local Chinese employees were forced to help drive them back, resulting in horrific scenes of violence. The New York Times correspondent Hallet Abend reported how the crowd was ruthlessly beaten back, with some falling into Siccawei Creek, where several drowned amid the chaos. Chinese resistance in Nanshi persisted, as pockets of soldiers were determined to make the conquest challenging for the Japanese. After three days of fighting, between 5,000 and 6,000 Chinese soldiers remained in Nanshi when the Japanese launched their final assault on the morning of November 11. They began a relentless artillery bombardment of the densely populated area. Foreign correspondents, including American journalist Edgar Snow, observed the battle from the French Concession across Siccawei Creek. Japanese tanks advanced cautiously through narrow streets, pausing to fire before retreating, while infantry moved carefully to avoid Chinese snipers hiding among the buildings. While most residents had fled, some civilians continued their daily lives amidst gunfire and explosions. An incident was reported where a group of Chinese were eating rice in a sampan when a machine gun opened fire, causing them to seek cover under the mat. The Japanese forces encountered familiar challenges as they advanced through Nanshi, struggling to set up pontoon bridges across canals, which slowed their progress. In a last stand visible to onlookers in the French Concession, the Chinese soldiers faced an unequal confrontation. The Japanese tanks fired upon them from only 60 yards away, and the defenders were subjected to intense air raids before being driven back. At a desperate moment, one Chinese soldier carried a wounded comrade across Siccawei Creek, dodging bullets, and received assistance from French guards. This encouraged more Chinese soldiers to cross into the French sector, surrendering their weapons to avoid certain death. They became internees, protected from the Japanese, although they felt betrayed by the circumstances that forced such a decision. Not all soldiers managed to escape in this manner; some relocated to a new position closer to the southern edge of the French Concession, near a water tower. This location offered even less protection than their previous one and quickly turned into a deadly encounter. Realizing they were losing, the Chinese troops fled toward the French sector, abandoning their equipment and weapons as they scrambled over barbed wire. The French commander commended their bravery and assured them they would not be returned to the Japanese. As the battle across Siccawei Creek drew to a close, victorious Japanese troops swept through the remaining unoccupied streets of Chinese Shanghai, eliminating the last pockets of resistance. Similar to previous encounters in Zhabei, defenders attempted to set fire to buildings to leave little for the occupying army. Thick smoke billowed over the district, limiting visibility, so onlookers in the French Concession relied on sound to gauge the battle's progress. As gunfire waned, cheers of “Banzai!” filled the air. At 3:34 pm, the Rising Sun flag was raised over the last Chinese stronghold in Nanshi, officially marking the end of the battle of Shanghai. In a city ravaged by war, the district of Zhabei became the epicenter of destruction, resembling a bleak lunar landscape. The area around the North Train Station was devastated, with gutted buildings standing like rugged cliffs and the asphalt roads marred by deep fissures resembling earthquake damage. As Chinese officials prepared to leave Shanghai for Nanjing, they tried to present a positive narrative about the battle, emphasizing that the sacrifices made were not in vain. Mayor Yu proclaimed that the lessons learned in Shanghai during the past 90 days could benefit the entire nation in the war against Japanese aggression, instilling confidence in the people that victory would eventually come. He spoke as if the war was over in Shanghai, which was true in a sense, as the major conflict had concluded.  In late 1937, the Japanese believed they had achieved victory. On December 3, Matsui Iwane's army held a victory parade through the unoccupied International Settlement, a right they claimed as one of the governing powers. It was a serious miscalculation. Japanese civilians and ronin were recruited to act as rallying crowds, waving national flags, which triggered confrontations with foreign residents. The parade passed the Great World Amusement Center, where hundreds had died during "Black Saturday," prompting a Chinese man to leap from a building, declaring “Long Live China!” as he fell. As the parade continued down Nanjing Road, tensions grew among the accompanying police. Suddenly, a grenade was thrown from a window, injuring four Japanese soldiers and one British police officer. Matsui's veterans fanned out to apprehend the assailant, but it was a Chinese police officer who shot him dead. What was meant to be a triumph turned into a fiasco that confirmed the Japanese would struggle to secure even this small corner of China, let alone the vast territory of the country as a whole. The battle for Shanghai became the bloodiest international conflict in Asia since the Russo-Japanese War. By late October, the Japanese estimated that China had suffered 250,000 military losses in the fight for the city. In the months following the battle, Chinese sources reported casualties ranging from 187,200 to as high as 300,000. Regardless of the exact figure, the aftermath of the battle was catastrophic, severely impacting Chiang Kai-shek's best German-trained divisions. China faced a blow from which it would not recover until 1944, aided by significant American support. The high casualty rates stemmed from several factors. Many Chinese soldiers entered the battle expecting to sacrifice their lives, which led to a higher incidence of fatality due to their willingness to launch suicidal attacks against heavily fortified positions. Chinese tactics, which relied on numerical superiority to counter Japan's material advantages, essentially turned the conflict into a struggle of manpower against machinery. While this approach had a grim logic, it starkly contrasted with the reluctance of Chinese commanders to sacrifice valuable imported equipment. They were quick to expend their best divisions in intense fighting yet hesitated to utilize their key weaponry for fear of Japanese air raids. The elite 87th and 88th Divisions faced near depletion within days, while the Pudong artillery operated minimally over three months to avoid drawing enemy fire. One might question what Chiang Kai-shek achieved from such immense sacrifices. If his primary goal was to divert Japanese forces from the north, where they enjoyed easy victories, then the battle in Shanghai could be viewed as a success for China. As autumn 1937 progressed, Japanese commanders were increasingly forced to redirect their focus and resources to the more complex and tactically challenging terrain around Shanghai, where their technical superiority was less effective than on the northern plains. However, shifting the war to central China also posed risks, threatening the economic hub and political capital in Nanjing, ultimately resulting in a Japanese occupation that would last nearly eight years. If Chiang also wished to attract foreign attention, it is unclear how successful he was. The battle unfolded in front of thousands in the International Settlement and French Concession and garnered international media coverage, with many foreign correspondents arriving to report on the conflict. For three months, Shanghai dominated the front pages of major newspapers, and the Chinese effectively utilized propaganda to highlight events such as the desperate “Lost Battalions” fight in Zhabei. Yet, none of the major powers felt compelled to offer substantial support to China, and even the Brussels Conference failed to provide any useful assistance. Both Western powers and the Soviet Union were closely watching the conflict. Chiang hoped for Soviet support, and historical records suggest that Soviet diplomats encouraged him with vague assurances. China aimed to provoke Soviet entry into the war against Japan; however, the outcome may have been counterproductive. By engaging Japan, China effectively diminished the likelihood of a Japanese assault on the Soviet Union, as Japan needed to subdue China first. The Soviets eventually started providing material aid, including the arrival of nearly 300 Russian attack and bomber aircraft in mid-October, but this assistance was a poor substitute for a genuine ally. Additionally, while the Soviet Union emerged as a hesitant partner for China, China lost the substantial support it had previously received from Germany. The Germans played a crucial role in Shanghai during the 1937 conflict, with every major Chinese unit having at least one German advisor. Chiang Kai-shek's strategic decision to make a stand in Shanghai appears to have been significantly influenced by General Falkenhausen's opinions. Chiang had initially welcomed the German proposal to fight for Shanghai and was resolved to see it through, regardless of the cost to his troops. By 1938, German advisors began departing China, coinciding with the outbreak of war in Europe. Unfortunately, their experiences in China did not translate into lessons for their future military engagements, particularly regarding urban warfare, which might have been beneficial in battles such as Stalingrad during the winter of 1942–1943. Instead, they returned to more conventional military roles in Europe.  Despite enduring the most suffering in and around Shanghai during 1937, the battle proved to be far more costly for the Japanese than their commanders had anticipated. By November 8, Japanese military casualties totaled 9,115 dead and 31,257 injured. Although the Japanese forces enjoyed overwhelming advantages in artillery and air power, they could not compensate for their leaders' consistent underestimation of Chinese resilience and fighting spirit. The flow of reinforcements was disorganized, leading General Matsui and his commanders to feel they never had enough troops to achieve a swift and decisive victory. As the Shanghai battle neared its conclusion, Matsui became increasingly confident that he could inflict a blow on Chiang Kai-shek from which he would never recover. In an interview with a German reporter in late October, Matsui stated that after capturing Shanghai, the Japanese Army would march on to Nanjing if necessary. He had a keen political sense and believed it better to act independently than wait for orders from Tokyo, declaring, "Everything that is happening here is taking place under my entire responsibility." Without an aggressive general like Matsui, it's questionable whether the Japanese would have proceeded to Nanjing. Initially, they focused on pursuing retreating Chinese forces, a sound tactical decision that did not imply an expansive strategy to advance to Nanjing. However, after another surprise amphibious landing on November 13 on the south bank of the Yangtze River, the Japanese commanders felt positioned to push for Nanjing and bring the war to a conclusive end.  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. Thus with that the battle for Shanghai, known to some as China's Stalingrad had come to a brutal end. Chiang Kai-Shek gambled the cream of his army to gain international sympathy for his nation, but had it worked? Japan was taking the northeast, and now with Shanghai conquered, the path to Nanjing and unimaginable horror remained. 

Hilbert Margol was the first of twin boys born to his parents in February 1924. He was nearly finished with high school when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Soon, Margol and his brother, Howard, were in the Army, training on 105 mm howitzers with the 42nd Infantry Division. They saw their first combat in southern France in January 1945. After that, they fought into Germany, crossed the Rhine River, and helped liberate the Dachau concentration camp near Munich.In this edition of Veterans Chronicles, Margol explains how his Jewish family was very concerned about the advancement of Nazi forces and ideas long before the U.S. was at war with Germany. He shares the concerns his family had for loved ones in Lithuania and how he learned decades later about the horrible fate they suffered.He also tells us how his mother's letter to President Roosevelt kept him and his brother in the same unit. He also describes his training on the howitzers and what his first combat experience was like.Finally, Margol goes into great detail about how he and others discovered the Dachau concentration camp in April 1945, what he saw there, his tireless efforts to share the truth about the Holocaust, and how it deeply impacts him 80 years later.

The Joint Readiness Training Center is pleased to present the one-hundredth-and-eighth episode to air on ‘The Crucible - The JRTC Experience.' Hosted by COL Ricky Taylor, the Commander of Ops Group (COG) and CSM Bill Gallant, the Command Sergeant Major of Ops Group (CSMOG). Today's guest is the Commander of 2nd Infantry Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry Division, COL Eric Soults.   The 2nd Infantry Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry Division, is the premier infantry formation of the Iowa Army National Guard, headquartered in Boone, Iowa. As part of the storied “Red Bull” Division, the brigade carries forward a legacy of combat excellence dating back to North Africa and Italy in World War II and extensive deployments in the Global War on Terror. The division's official motto, “Attack, Attack, Attack,” captures the offensive spirit ingrained in its culture. The brigade's Hollywood call-sign is “Ryder.”   This episode dives deep into the realities of modern warfare from the perspective of the Army National Guard, drawing on the experience of a recent JRTC rotation and upcoming deployment to the CENTCOM AOR. Topics include joint interoperability with international partners such as Kosovo and Jordan, the complexity of managing a brigade built from 19 states, and the use of tools like the “Ryder Way” to enforce standards and discipline. The conversation emphasizes the need to establish early relationships with partner forces, ruthlessly enforce battle rhythm and reporting discipline, and adapt to rapidly changing mission sets across operational phases from training to mobilization.   Other key points include the challenges of sustainment and the innovative use of a sustainment common operating picture or “SUSCOP” to enable proactive logistics. The brigade's leadership emphasizes empowering NCOs, enforcing standards across dispersed units, and maximizing limited training time by focusing on the fundamentals—especially at the squad and platoon level. The episode concludes with insights on the importance of effective commander-to-commander and staff dialogue, clear expectations, and synchronization of drill periods, all critical to preparing an Army National Guard brigade for LSCO and deployment abroad.   Part of S02 “If I Would Have Only Known” 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.

Last time we spoke about the battle of Luodian. Following a significant counter-offensive, the initial optimism waned as casualties escalated and morale plummeted. The strategically vital town of Luodian became a pivotal battleground, with the Chinese determined to defend it at all costs. Despite heroic efforts, including a daring nighttime assault, the overwhelming Japanese forces employed superior tactics and artillery, steadily gaining ground.  As September progressed, Japanese reinforcements flooded the frontline, exacerbating the already dire situation for the Chinese defenders. By late September, the fierce struggle to control Luodian culminated in a forced retreat by the Chinese forces, marking a significant turning point in the fight for Shanghai. Though they withdrew, the Chinese army earned newfound respect, having showcased their tenacity against a formidable adversary. The battle became a testament to their resilience amid overwhelming odds, setting the stage for the tumultuous conflict that lay ahead in their fight for sovereignty.   #160 The Battle of Shanghai Part 5: Fighting along the Wusong Creek Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. The tides of warfare had shifted in Shanghai. In late September, the Japanese high command dispatched three divisions to the Shanghai area, starting with the 101st Division landing on September 22. This was followed by the 9th and 13th Divisions, bolstering Japan's military presence to five divisions in the city, despite the Chinese forces numbering over 25 divisions. However, the true dynamics of the confrontation revealed a complex picture: while the Chinese boasted numerical superiority, the Japanese divisions, each comprising around 15,000 soldiers, were supported by nearly 90,000 troops when including marines and infantry. China's units, often as small as 5,000 men, made their effective deployment difficult. The Japanese forces also leveraged their advantages in materials, aircraft, and naval artillery, which could effectively target critical positions along the Chinese front. With these reinforcements in place, Japanese commanders, including Matsui, devised a bold strategy: to execute a powerful thrust across Wusong Creek and advance toward Suzhou Creek. The goal was to encircle and annihilate the main Chinese force in a maneuver they had envisioned since their arrival in China.  Ogishima Shizuo, a reservist of the 101st division had just been through his first night at the front. Within his trench, soldiers leapt up from their slumber to a hail of bullets. Ogishima looked over the edge of the trench. It was still dark, making it hard to discern what was happening, but he thought he saw a flash of a helmet in a foxhole near the creek's edge. It wasn't a Japanese helmet. Suddenly, it hit him that the gunfire wasn't a mistake. “It's the enemy! The enemy!” he yelled. Others began to shout as well. “The enemy! They're behind us! Turn around!” Under the cloak of darkness, a Chinese unit had managed to bypass the Japanese lines and launch an attack from the rear. The sound of aggressive gunfire erupted, and a Japanese heavy machine gun joined in the fray. However, most of the bullets were fired haphazardly into the night. A force of 50 Chinese were firing on them. Japanese officers ordered the men to storm their positions, seeing infantrymen leap over their trench into the barrage. The Japanese and Chinese fired at each other and tossed grenades when close enough. The Japanese jumped into the Chinese foxholes and stabbed at them with bayonets. Ogishima thrust his bayonet into the belly of a Chinese soldiers, marking his first kill. He felt no emotion. Within minutes the little battle was over, every Chinese soldier lay dead, it was a suicide mission. Ogishima saw countless comrades dead around him, it was a scene of carnage. It was the morning of October 7, the 101st Division had crossed Wusong Creek from the north in the early hours of October 6, specifically, only half of the division had made it across. The other half remained on the far side, unable to get their boats past the 300 feet of water protected by unseen Chinese machine guns and mortar crews that would open fire at the slightest hint of movement on the northern bank. Dozens of corpses floated in the murky water, serving as grim evidence of the carnage from the previous 24 hours. Ogishima, alongside tens of thousands of Japanese soldiers were entering the most brutal part of the Shanghai campaign. Matsui's vision of a quick and decisive end to the Shanghai campaign, would not come to be. Matsui detailed his plans in an order issued on September 29. The attack was to be conducted from west to east by the 9th, 3rd, and 101st Infantry Divisions. The 11th Infantry Division was assigned to follow the 9th Division, securing the right flank against potential Chinese counterattacks from the west. The 13th Infantry Division would serve as the reserve. The objective was to capture Dachang, an ancient town encircled by a medieval-style wall, and then advance as quickly as possible to breach the Chinese lines north of Suzhou Creek. Matsui had arranged an unusually high concentration of troops; the three divisions were aligned along a front that spanned only three miles. This meant that each division had less than half the front length that the Japanese field manual typically recommended. The decision to compress the divisions into such a narrow front was partly to compensate for the artillery shortcomings that were still hindering the Japanese offensive. The Japanese attackers confronted a formidable and well-prepared enemy. After extensive discussions, the Chinese commanders ultimately recognized that they had no choice but to shorten their front line. Defending Liuhang, a town situated along the route from Luodian to Dachang, had proven too costly, offering no prospect of victory. Chen Cheng, the commander of the Chinese left wing, had often visited Liuhang and understood how dire the situation was. He repeatedly urged that the unwinnable battle be abandoned and that valuable troops be withdrawn to stronger positions. However, his pleas initially went unheeded. Chiang Kai-shek was primarily driven by the belief that war was about securing territory, and he insisted on maintaining control over Liuhang at all costs. Meanwhile the Chinese positions north of Wusong Creek had been breached in numerous places during late September and this caused Chiang Kai-Shek to finally relent. A fighting retreat began on the night of October 1st and would be completed by dawn of the 3rd. The new defensive line extended just over a mile west of the road from Luodian to Dachang, providing the Chinese defenders with excellent opportunities to harass the advancing Japanese Army with flanking fire for several miles as they moved south. At Wusong Creek, the Chinese line curved eastward and followed the southern bank for several miles. The creek provided a significant advantage to the Chinese defenders; despite its name, it would be more accurate to describe it as a river. It reached widths of up to 300 feet in some areas, and in several spots, the southern bank formed a steep six-foot wall. Anyone attempting to scale this barrier under intense mortar fire would be met at the top by rows of barbed wire and heavy machine gun fire. For a full mile south of the creek, the Chinese had spent weeks constructing a dense network of defenses, transforming farm buildings into formidable fortifications linked by deep trenches. They had learned valuable lessons from their German mentors, many veterans of the battles of Somme and Verdun, and they applied these lessons effectively. The Japanese took Liuhang on the 3rd and were met with counterattacks, but these were easily repelled. More confident, Matsui issued new orders on the 4th for the 3rd, 9th and 101 divisions to cross the Wusong Creek and advance a mile south. Beginning on the 5th, the 3 divisions crossed and carved out a narrow bridgehead under heavy resistance. The Chinese were frantic now, as after the Wusong Creek, the last remaining natural obstacle was the Suzhou Creek. Two miles west of the key road from Luodian to Dachang,  battalion commander Yan Yinggao of the 78th Division's 467th Regiment awaited the anticipated Japanese assault. The regiment had fortified three villages near a creek, reinforced with sandbags, barbed wire, and cleared fields of fire, along with deep trenches for troop movement. The 1st Battalion occupied the westernmost village, the 3rd Battalion held the other two, while the 2nd Battalion remained in reserve. The initial Japanese attack began with a heavy artillery bombardment. Despite facing significant casualties, their infantry was forced to withdraw from all three villages. They returned later in the afternoon with an even fiercer artillery assault. The 1st Battalion suffered devastating losses, including its commander, leading to the loss of the village to the Japanese. Yan Yinggao, observing from the rear, dispatched a reinforcement company, but it was quickly annihilated within ten minutes. Simultaneously the Chinese 3rd battalion at Tangbeizhai were nearly encircled. Yan received orders for his regiment to advance over to relieve them, but as they did a Japanese column of 60 soldiers approached from the opposite direction. A battle ensued over the smoking rubbled of the bombed out village. The few survivors of the 3rd battalion made a last stand, allowing the 2nd battle to fight their way in to take up their position. It was a small and temporary victory. Units arriving to the Shanghai theater were being tossed right into the front lines, such as the Tax Police Division. Despite its name they were a fully equipped military formation and quite well training consisting of 6 regiments, roughly 25,000 armed men. Their officers had previously served under the young marshal, Zhang Xueliang. They were rushed to Tangqiaozhan, lying on the road from Luodian to Dachang, bridged by the Wusong Creek. The bridge was crucial to the entire operation, as holding it would enhance the Chinese's chances of delaying the Japanese advance. The Tax Police, stationed at the northern end of the bridge, became surrounded on three sides. Intense fighting ensued, occasionally escalating to hand-to-hand combat. By the second day after their arrival, casualties had escalated significantly, forcing the Tax Police units to retreat south across the bridge, which ultimately fell to the advancing Japanese forces. A crisis atmosphere surrounded the meeting of the 3rd War Zone staff, chaired by Chiang Kai-shek, in Suzhou on October 11. Everyone agreed the previous efforts to halt the Japanese advance south across Wusong Creek had utterly failed. Each engagement resulted in Chinese troops being repelled without regaining significant territory. Chen Cheng proposed an attack in his sector, specifically targeting the area around Luodian. However, most felt that such an operation would not effectively influence the Japanese advance at Wusong Creek and ultimately dismissed the suggestion. Bai Chongxi, whom at this point held an informal advisory role, called for simultaneous attacks along both banks of Wusong Creek, thrusting into the right flank of the advancing Japanese. This would require an enormous amount of troops if there was to be any chance of success. Bai Chongxi was pushing to take 4 divisions from Guangxi, already in transit to Shanghai for the task. Chiang Kai-Shek liked the idea of a single decisive blow and agreed to Bai's idea. The German advisors were not so keen on this one. In fact the Germans were getting depressed over a concerning issue. It seemed the Chinese staff simply talked too much, taking far too long to produce very few decisions. There were a lot of reasons for this, a lot of these figures held to many positions. For example Gu Zhuong, Chiang Kai-Sheks deputy in Suzhou, was a chief of staff and also held two advisory roles. Then there were these informal generals, such as Bai Chongxi. A man such as Bai had no formal command here, yet he was providing views on operational issues. To the Germans who held clear military hierarchies as the bible, it looked obviously chaotic. There was notable hope though. The Germans acknowledged the Chinese were improving their artillery situation. For the first time since the battle for Shanghai began, 6 artillery battalions were moved into positions in the vicinity of Nanxiang, under the unified command of the headmaster of the Tangshan artillery school near Nanjing. From there they could coordinate barrages in the area south of the Wusong Creek.  Sun Liren got off at Nanxiang railway station on October 7th. At 36 he was leading one of China's best units, the 4th regiment of the Tax Police. Within confusion he was assigned to the 88th division, who were fighting the heaviest battles in the campaign. By noon of the next day, nearly all of Sun Liren's regiment were cannibalized, sent as reinforcements to the 88ths front lines. Afterwards all the was left was Sun and a group of 20 orderlies and clerks. At 2pm he got a call from th division, they needed more reinforcements at the front or else a small bridge north of Zhabei would be taken, collapsing their lines. Sun replied he had no troops left only to be told “its an order. If you disobey, you'll be courtmartialed”.  Without any choice, Sun hastily organized dozens of soldiers and marched them to the bridge. As they arrived, his men saw Chinese troops withdrawing away from the bridge. He asked one man what was going on “the officers have all left, we also don't want to die”. To this Sun said he was an officer and would stay and fight with them. The Japanese in pursuit were shocked to see the Chinese turn around attack them. In general the Japanese were surprised by the sudden resilience of the Chinese around the Wusong Creek. Many assaults were being beaten back. In the Zhabei district, much more urbanized, foreigners were watching in awe. A war correspondent wrote “Every street was a defense line and every house a pocket fort. Thousands of holes had been knocked through walls, linking the labyrinth of lanes into a vast system of defense in depth. Every intersection had been made into a miniature fortress of steel and concrete. Even the stubs of bomb-battered walls had been slotted at ground level for machine guns and rifles. No wonder the Japanese Army was months behind its boasts”.  East of the Huangpu River at Pudong, Sun Shengzhi commanded an artillery regiment whom began launching a barrage across the river upon the Gongda airfield, that had been allowing the Japanese air forces to support their infantry. Meanwhile Chinese soldiers rolled a battery of 8 bofor guns 300 yards from the riverbank and at dawn began firing upon aircraft taking off. They reported 4 downed Japanese aircraft and 7 damaged. By mid-October the 88th division took advantage of a lull in the fighting and prepared a ambitious attack aimed at cutting off the Sichuan North road, which the Japanese were using to as a supply line from the docks to units north of the city. The German advisors developed this attack using Stosstruppen tactics taken from WW1. For stosstruppen, the main means of weakening the enemy line was via infiltration, rather than a massive frontal attack. The attack was unleashed on the 18th after a bombardment by artillery and mortars as lightly armed Chinese stormed down the streets near the North railway station and took the Japanese there by complete surprise. They quickly occupied a segment of the Sichuan North Road cutting the Japanese supply chain for many days. Back on the 13th, Kuse Hisao led a company of the Japanese 9th division to perform an attack on Chenjiahang, located due north of Wusong Creek. It was a strategic and heavily fortified stronghold that obstructed the southward advance. As Kuse's men reached its vicinity they stopped to rest with orders to begin the assault at 1pm. The Japanese artillery kicked off the fight and was soon met with much larger Chinese artillery. This was an unpleasant surprise for the Japanese, whom to this point had always had superiority in artillery. Regardless the assault went ahead seeing wave upon wave of attackers fighting through cotton fields and bullets. Kuse's men were forced to crawl through the field. Kuse crawled his way to a small creek to discover with horror it was full of Japanese and Chinese corpses at various stages of decomposition.  The assault on Chenjiahang bogged down quickly. Kuse and his men spent a night amongst the rotting dead. The following day orders arrived for two neighbouring units to renew the assault as Kuse's fell back into the reserve. That day's attempt fared no better, simply piling more bodies upon the field and waterways. The next day Kuse watched Japanese flamethrower units enter the fray as they led an attack over a creek. Men jumped into waist deep water, waded across to fight up slopes through mazes of Chinese trenches. Then to all of their surprise they stormed and unoccupied Chenjiahang without firing a shot. Kuse and his men suddenly saw a grenade come flying at them. Kuse was injured and taken out by comrades to the rear. Chenjiahang and been bitterly fought over for weeks. Alongside Yanghang it was considered two key points necessary for the Japanese to be able to advance against Dachang further south.  Meanwhile Sichuanese troops were being pulled back for the fresh 4 Guangxi divisions to come in. They wore lighter brown uniforms with British styled tin hat helmets. One of their divisions, the 173rd was sent straight to Chenjiahang, arriving before dawn of the 16th. While the handover of positions was taking place, the Japanese launched an intense aerial and artillery bombardment causing significant casualties before the 173rd could even deploy. Later that day, one of their regiments engaged the Japanese and were slaughtered on the spot. Two-thirds of their men became casualties. The battle raged for four days as the 3 other Guangxi divisions moved to the front. There was no break on either side, as one Guanxi officer recalled, “I had heard the expression ‘storm o f steel' before, but never really understood what it meant. Now I do.” By mid October, Matsui's optimism about his southern push was waning. Heavy rain over the past week had slowed his men down considerably. Supplies were taking much longer to reach the front. Intelligence indicated the senior Chinese commanders had moved from Suzhou to Nanxiang, with some in Shanghai proper. To Matsui this meant they were nowhere near close to abandoning Shanghai. Matsui wrote in his diary “It's obvious that earlier views that the Chinese front was shaken had been premature. Now is definitely not the time to rashly push the offensive.” During this rainy time, both sides received some rest as a no-mans land formed. Winter uniforms were arriving for the Japanese 3rd and 11th divisions, causing some encouragement. The 3rd division had already taken 6000 casualties, but received 6500 reinforcements. Matsui estimated their combat strength to only by one-sixth of its original level.  On the 19th Matsui received reports that soldiers from Guangxi were arriving in Shanghai and deploying around Wusong Creek. To relieve some pressure the IJN sent a mock invasion force up the Yangtze to perform a 3 day diversion mission. 8 destroyers and 20 transport vessels anchored 10 miles upriver from Chuanshakou. They bombarded the area to make it seem like a amphibious invasion was imminent. Meanwhile both nations were fighting a propaganda war. On October 14th, China filed a complaint at the League of Nations accusing Japan of using poison gas in Shanghai. To this the Japanese accused them of using gas, specifically mentioning at the battle for Chenjiahang. Early in the campaign they accused the Chinese of using sneezing gas, a chemical adopted during WW1. To this accusation, Shanghai's mayor Yu Hongjun stated to reporters ‘The Japanese sneeze because they've got cold feet.” Back to our friend Ogishima with the 101st. His unit crossed the Wusong Creek early on. Afterwards the fighting became confused as the Chinese and Japanese started across 150 yards of no man's land. Every now and then the Japanese would leap out of trenches and charge into Chinese lines, but the attacks all ended the same. Rows of the dead cut down by machine guns. It was just like the western front of WW1. The incessant rain kept the trenches drenched like knee-deep bogs. Officers who had read about the western front routinely had their men line up for health checks. Anyone trying to fake a disease risked being branded a deserter, and deserters were shot. As Ogishima recalled “The soldiers in the frondine only have one thought on their minds. They want to escape to the rear. Everyone envies those who, with light injuries, are evacuated. The ones who unexpectedly get a ticket back in this way find it hard to conceal their joy. As for those left in the frontline, they have no idea if their death warrant has already been signed, and how much longer they have to live.” Nohara Teishin with the 9th division experienced pure hell fighting entrenched Chinese firing through holes in walls of abandoned farm buildings. Japanese officers urged their men to charge over open fields. Out of 200 men he fought with, 10 were able to fight after the battle. As Nohara recalled “All my friends died there. You can't begin to describe the wretchedness and misery of war.” Watanabe Wushichi, an officer in the 9th division was given orders to secure water supplies for the front line troops. A task that seemed simple enough given the sheer amount of creeks and ponds in the area. However they were all filled with corpses now. For many troops dying of thirst, it became so unbearable when anyone came across an unpolluted well, they would crown around it like zombies turning into a mud pool. Officers were forced to post guards at all discovered water sources. Watanabe was shocked by the Chinese fierceness in battle. At one point he was attacked pillboxes and upon inspecting the captured ones he was horrified to see how many Chinese bodies lay inside still clutching their rifles.  International outcry mounted over the invasion. On October 5th, president Franklin Roosevelt made a speech in Chicago calling for concrete steps to be taken against Japan. “It would seem to be unfortunately true that the epidemic of world lawlessness is spreading. When an epidemic of physical disease starts to spread the community approves and joins in a quarantine of the patients in order to protect the community against the spread of the disease.” Meanwhile Chiang Kai-Shek pushed the international community to sanction Japan and deprive her of oil, iron, steal, all materials needed for waging her illegal war. The League of Nations proved completely inept. On October 21st, Japanese foreign minister Hirota Koki approached the German ambassador in Tokyo, Herbert von Dirksen, asking if China was willing to negotiate. Germany declared she was willing to act as mediator, and to this Japan sent demands. Japan sought for Chinese concessions in north China and a demilitarized zone around Shanghai. Germany's ambassador to Nanjing, Oskar Trautmann conveyed this to Chiang Kai-Shek. Instead of replying Chiang asked the German what he thought. Trautmann said he considered the demands a basis for further talks and gave the example of what happened to his nation at the negotiating table during WW1. To this Chiang scoffed and made it clear he intended to restore the situation to its pre-hostile state before any talks.  Back at the front, Bai Chongxi planned his counterattack into the right flank of the Japanese. The attack was set for the 21st. The Guangxi troops at Chenjiahang were extricated and sent to assembly points. Matsui wrote in his diary on the 23rd “The enemy will launch a counterattack along the entire front tonight. It seems the planned attack is mainly targeted at the area south of Wusong Creek. It will give us an opportunity to catch the enemy outside of his prepared defenses, and kill him there. At 7pm the Chinese artillery began, an hour later troops were advancing east. The left wing of the Chinese attack, led by the 176th Guangxi Division north of Wusong Creek, initially advanced swiftly. However, it soon encountered significant obstacles, including numerous creeks and canals that disrupted progress. Concerned about supply trains lagging behind, the vanguard decided to relinquish much of the ground it had gained as dawn approached, hoping to reclaim it later that night. Meanwhile, the 174th Guangxi Division's assault south of Wusong Creek also struggled. It met unexpectedly strong resistance and had difficulty crossing the canals due to insufficient bridge-building materials. Fearing artillery and air attacks before dawn, this division retreated to its starting line, abandoning the hard-won territory from the previous night. Both divisions then dug in, preparing to withstand a counterattack during the daylight hours, when the Japanese forces could fully leverage their air superiority. As anticipated, the counterattack occurred after sunrise on October 22. In the 176th Division's sector, Japanese forces surrounded an entire battalion by noon, resulting in its complete destruction, including the battalion commander. The main success for the day came from a Guangxi unit that, despite facing an attack from Japanese infantry supported by five tanks, managed to hold its ground. Initially on the verge of collapse, they organized a rapid defense that repelled the Japanese assault. One tank was destroyed, two became stuck in a canal, and two others retreated, highlighting the challenges of tank warfare in the riverine terrain around Shanghai. An after-action report from the Guangxi troops read  “The Japanese enemy's army and air force employed every kind of weapon, from artillery to tanks and poison gas,” it said. “It hit the Chinese front like a hurricane, and resulted in the most horrific losses yet for the army group since it entered the battle.” As the sun rose on the 23rd, Japanese airplanes took to the skies. At 9:00 a.m., they targeted the already battered 174th Guangxi Division south of Wusong Creek. A Guangxi general who survived the assault recounted the devastation: “The troops were either blown to pieces or buried in their dugouts. The 174th disintegrated into a state of chaos.” Other units suffered similarly catastrophic losses. By the end of October 23, the Chinese operation had incurred heavy casualties, including two brigade commanders, six regimental commanders, and around 2,000 soldiers, with three out of every five troops in the first wave either killed or injured. Consequently, the assault had to be called off. Bai Chongxi's counterattack was a complete disaster. Many Guangxi veterans would hold grudges for years for what was seen as a senseless and hopeless battle.  Meanwhile in Zhabei Zhang Boting, the 27th year old chief of staff of the 88th division came to the headquarters of General Gu Zhutong, urging him to move to a safer location, only to be told “Chiang Kai-shek wants your division to stay in Zhabei and fight. Every company, every platoon, every squad is to defend key buildings in the city area, and villages in the suburbs. You must fight for every inch of land and make the enemy pay a high price. You should launch guerrilla warfare, to win time and gain sympathy among our friends abroad.” The command had more to do with diplomacy than any battlefield strategy. The Nine-Powers Conference was set for Brussels the following week and it was important China kept a spectacle going on in Shanghai for the foreigners. If the war advanced into lesser known hamlets in the countryside there would be no talk amongst the great powers. To this explanation Zhang Boting replied “Outside o f the streets of Zhabei, the suburbs consist o f flat land with little opportunity for cover. It's not suitable for guerrilla warfare. The idea o f defending small key points is also difficult. The 88th Division has so far had reinforcements and replacements six times, and the original core of officers and soldiers now make up only 20 to 30 percent. It's like a cup o f tea. If you keep adding water, it becomes thinner and thinner. Some of the new soldiers we receive have never been in a battle, or never even fired a shot. At the moment we rely on the backbone o f old soldiers to train them while fighting. As long as the command system is in place and we can use the old hands to provide leadership, we'll be able to maintain the division as a fighting force. But if we divide up the unit, the coherence will be lost. Letting every unit fight its own fight will just add to the trouble.” Zhang Boting then rushed east to the 88th divisional HQ inside the Sihang Warehouse laying just across from the International settlement. Here a final stand would be made and whose participants would be known as the 800 heroes, but that's a story for a later podcast.  Zhang Boting had returned to his HQ on October 26th, by then the Shanghai situation had deteriorated dramatically. The stalemate around Wusong Creek had suddenly collapsed. The IJA 9th division broke the Guangxi forces and now Matsui planned for a major drive south against Dachang. Before he even had time to meet with his colleagues the 3rd and 9th divisions reached Zoumatang Creek, which ran west to east two miles south of Wusong Creek. In preparation for the continued advance, the Japanese began dropping leaflets over the Chinese positions. Each one offered the soldiers who laid down their arms 5 Chinese yuan each, roughly half a US dollar each at the time. This did not meet much results, as the Chinese knew the Japanese rarely took prisoners. Instead the Guangxi troops continued to retreat after a brutal week of combat. Most of them were moving to prepared positions north and south of the Suzhou Creek, the last remaining natural obstacle to stop the Japanese conquest of Shanghai. In the early hours of the 25th the Japanese gradually realized the Chinese were withdrawing. The Japanese unleashed hundreds of aircraft and employed creeping barrages with their artillery. This may have been the first instance they employed such WW1 tactics during the campaign. The barrage was kept 700 yards in front of the advancing Japanese forces, giving the Chinese ample time to emerge from cover and re-man positions they had abandoned under artillery fire. Despite a general withdrawal, the Chinese also mounted a strong defense around Dachang.  Two strategic bridges across Zoumatang Creek, located west of Dachang, were defended by one division each. The 33rd Division, a recent arrival in Shanghai, was tasked with securing the westernmost bridge, Old Man Bridge, while the 18th Division, also newly arrived, was stationed near Little Stone Bridge, closer to Dachang. However, neither division was capable of stopping the advancing Japanese forces. On October 25, a Japanese column, led by more than 20 tanks, overwhelmed the 33rd Division's defenses and captured Old Man Bridge. As the Chinese division attempted a fighting retreat toward Dachang, it suffered severe casualties due to superior Japanese firepower. By mid-afternoon, only one in ten of its officers and soldiers remained fit for combat, and even the division commander had been wounded. The Japanese force then advanced to Little Stone Bridge, and after intense fighting with the 18th Division that lasted until sunset, they captured the bridge as well. Meanwhile, the 18th Division fell back into Dachang, where their commander, Zhu Yaohua, received a blunt order from Gu Zhutong to hold Dachang at all costs, warning that disobedience would lead to court-martial. Concerned that losing Little Stone Bridge might already jeopardize his position, Zhu Yaohua quickly organized a nighttime counterattack to reclaim it. However, the Japanese had anticipated this move and fortified their defenses near the bridge, leading to a disastrous failure for the Chinese. On October 26, the Japanese unleashed all available resources in an all-out assault on Dachang. The town had been nearly reduced to rubble, with only the ancient wall remaining as evidence of its former population. Up to 400 airplanes, including heavy bombers, targeted Chinese troops in and around Dachang, causing significant casualties among both soldiers and pack animals. A Western correspondent watching from afar described it as the “fiercest battle ever waged in Asia up to that time. A tempest of steel unleashed by Japanese planes, which flew leisurely overhead while observation balloons guided them to their targets. The curtain of fire never lifted for a moment from the Chinese trenches”. Following the aerial assault, more than 40 Japanese tanks emerged west of Dachang. The Chinese forces found themselves defenseless against this formidable armored column, as they had already relocated their artillery to safer positions behind the front lines. Left to fend for themselves, the Chinese infantry was quickly overwhelmed by the advancing wall of enemy tanks. The defending divisions, including Zhu Yaohua's 18th Division, stood no chance against such material superiority and were swiftly crushed. After a brief skirmish, the victorious Japanese forces marched in to claim Dachang, which had become a sea of flames. Matsui observed the scene with deep satisfaction as the Rising Sun banner flew over the smoldering ruins of the town. “After a month of bitter fighting, today we have finally seen the pay-off,”. In stark contrast, Zhu Yaohua faced immediate criticism from his superiors and peers, many of whom believed he could have done more to resist the Japanese onslaught. The weight of this humiliation became unbearable for him. Just two days after his defeat at Dachang, he shot himself in the chest ending his life. 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 late September, the Battle of Shanghai intensified as Japanese forces surged with reinforcements, pressing against Chinese defenses in Luodian. Amidst chaos, Japanese soldiers like Ogishima fought bravely in the trenches, witnessing unimaginable carnage. As October began, the battle's brutality escalated, with waves of attacks resulting in devastating casualties on both sides. However, the Chinese forces showcased remarkable resilience, adapting their strategies and fortifying defenses, marking a significant chapter in their struggle for sovereignty against overwhelming odds.  

Last time we spoke about a major Chinese counter offensive at Shanghai. "Black Saturday," saw over a thousand civilians killed. In response, Chinese leader Chiang Kai-shek launched Operation Iron Fist on August 17, aiming to exploit weaknesses in Japanese defenses but failing due to disarray and entrenched opposition. Amid mounting pressure, Chinese commanders redirected their strategy toward Yangshupu, seeking to breach Japanese lines along the Huangpu River. The 36th Infantry Division, newly trained by German advisers, launched a surprise assault on August 19, but inexperienced troops faced relentless Japanese fire, struggling to hold their positions. As casualties mounted, the Japanese executed strategic landings at Chuanshakou and Wusong, capturing key points with minimal resistance. The battle at Baoshan became emblematic of their resistance, where a handful of defenders vowed to fight to the last man, encapsulating the desperation and bravery of those battling under the shadow of impending defeat.    #159 The Battle of Shanghai Part 4: The Battle for Luodian Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. In the early days of September, a profound sense of resignation descended upon the senior Chinese commanders as the Japanese troops captured stronghold after stronghold along the riverbank, first Shizilin, then Wusong, and finally Baoshan. Despite the resignation among their leaders, the rank and file remained resolute in their determination to defend every inch of Chinese soil. The fighting along Wusong Creek, extending west from Wusong, became particularly brutal. “There were huge numbers of deaths on both sides, and the water of the creek turned red,” wrote Chinese official Wang Jieshi in his diary. “The saying about ‘rivers of blood' became a grim reality.” Meanwhile the Japanese were landing more reinforcements, such as the Tida detachment on September 6. The next day Tokyo HQ authorized the dispatch of the 9th, 13th and 101st divisions and the Shigeto Detachment to Shanghai. That same day over 10 Japanese infantry battalions were ordered to advance from Northeast China to Shanghai. The situation was dire for the Chinese. Not only were their frontline units struggling in battle, but they were also sustaining exceptionally high casualties. By early September, Yao Ziqing's 98th Infantry Division had suffered 4,960 casualties, including a regimental commander killed and another wounded. Throughout the battle for Shanghai, various units within the division received reinforcements up to four times. Upon arrival, these reinforcements were quickly armed and sent directly to the front lines. As recalled by Fang Jing “Some were injured almost immediately after arriving. When they reached the hospital, they had no idea which unit they belonged to.” The string of defeats and setbacks significantly affected morale within the Chinese Army, particularly among senior officers. While the lower ranks generally showed a willingness to continue the fight, high-ranking officials exhibited waning resolve. “All my soldiers have been sacrificed. There's nobody left,” Xia Chuzhong, commander of the 79th Division, lamented in a phone call to Luo Zhuoying, head of the 18th Army, part of the 15th Army Group. In response, Luo Zhuoying urged, “Aren't you still standing? Hold your ground and fight.” Having lost Baoshan the next defensive position was the small town of Luodian, the transportation center connecting Baoshan, downtown Shanghai, Jiading, Songjiang and several other towns via highways. The successful defense of Luodian was crucial for the security of Suzhou and Shanghai. On August 29, German adviser Alexander von Falkenhausen warned Chiang Kai-shek that the town needed to be held at all costs, describing it as "the most crucial strategic point.”. Chiang Kai-shek was determined to hold on to Luodian. He personally summoned senior commanders to the 3rd War Zone headquarters in Suzhou, emphasizing that the town must be retaken at all costs. In response, the commanders deployed entire divisions to the battle for Luodian. During one of several Chinese assaults, Qiu Weida, a regimental commander in the 51st Infantry Division, led a night attack on the southern part of Luodian. Moving quietly through the darkness, the Chinese force, about two companies strong, approached a Japanese camp, most of whose soldiers were asleep. The Chinese launched a swift attack, giving the Japanese no chance to react. They shot and bayoneted soldiers while they were still lying down, successfully taking over the camp and preparing for a counterattack. When the Japanese responded, the Chinese staged a fighting retreat, deliberately luring the enemy into an open area where well-armed soldiers lay in ambush. As the Japanese advanced, Qiu Weida signaled with a flare, a pre-arranged signal to open fire. Infantry weapons of various calibers joined in the assault. As dawn broke, Qiu raised his binoculars to survey the scene, which was a disturbing sight, covered with a tangled mass of dead and dying bodies. The Japanese commanders launched what they hoped would be the decisive blow to break out from the Baoshan perimeter. Elements of the 3rd Division were tasked with moving down the road toward Liuhang and occupying Yanghang. Meanwhile, the 11th Division's Amaya Detachment, which had arrived in Wusong on September 2, was to seize Yuepu, a village on the other strategic road leading west from Baoshan that blocked access to Luodian and the opportunity to link up with other units of the 11th Division fighting in the area. This operation aimed to create the necessary space for a full assault on Shanghai, and the Japanese dedicated every available resource to the effort. The artillery barrage began before dawn on September 1, with Japanese guns of all calibers participating. For more than two weeks, the Japanese had been able to disembark supplies at landing sites along the Yangtze and Huangpu Rivers. After daybreak, air raids intensified unusually, with the Japanese seemingly deploying all available aircraft in this narrow part of the front. Eventually, the Japanese infantry prepared to launch their attack. While this was simply the latest in a series of Japanese assaults, the sheer tenacity displayed indicated to the Chinese that this time was different. However, after an entire day of fighting, little territorial gain was made. The defenders fought with a determination bordering on fanaticism, despite a total lack of air and artillery support, effectively utilizing the obstacles created by canals that cut through the heavily cultivated area. By sunset, the Japanese had advanced no further than the eastern edge of Yuepu, although the village had been completely destroyed by artillery fire. Yanghang remained firmly in Chinese hands. In the countryside between the two western roads leading from Baoshan, Japanese units had only managed to occupy territory where their artillery and aircraft had utterly obliterated the defenders. To an outsider, it might seem that the Chinese could breathe a sigh of relief. However, from the perspective of Chinese commanders, the situation was vastly different. Their primary concern was the Japanese superiority in artillery. The contested area north of Shanghai consisted mainly of low-lying rice and cotton fields with relatively few trees, offering insufficient camouflage for all but the smallest units. This allowed Japanese naval gunners on the elevated waters of the Yangtze and Huangpu to sometimes directly observe Chinese troops. Even when there was no direct line of sight from the ships in the rivers, they were aided by the directions of observers patrolling in aircraft or hovering in balloons over the horizon. The Chinese had long realized that exposing their units to continuous attack from naval guns played directly into the Japanese hands. They understood that they needed to move away from the riverbank and the lethal fire of the IJN Although the decision to withdraw would have been made sooner or later, it was hastened by the relentless Japanese pressure on the two roads from Baoshan, as their loss would create a breach between Zhang Zhizhong's 9th Army Group in the Shanghai area and Chen Cheng's 15th Army Group to the left. General Gu Zhutong, a member of Chiang Kai-shek's inner circle who had recently been appointed deputy commander of the 3rd War Zone, witnessed how some of the best divisions were being decimated in the defense of Yuepu and Yanghang. Meanwhile, Zhang Zhizhong was pushing for the withdrawal of troops in Yangshupu, which risked becoming a dangerously exposed salient if a breach occurred. The order for the two Chinese army groups to withdraw came late on September 11. Under the cover of darkness, the bulk of the divisions pulled back to positions reinforced by reserves in the preceding days. As thousands of soldiers moved several miles to the rear, the Japanese remained unaware that anything unusual was occurring, and the entire movement took place without enemy harassment. Only skeleton crews remained in the original Chinese positions. By the morning of September 12, the new frontline stretched from the North Railway Station to the eastern edge of Jiangwan, bent west of Yanghang and Luodian, and extended north to the banks of the Yangtze. Unbeknownst to them, the Japanese had become masters of heavily contested areas from Yangshupu in the south to Yuepu in the north. The Chinese military leadership attempted to explain to the public that it had no choice but to withdraw and had never seriously expected to be able to push the Japanese back into the Yangtze, given the hundreds of naval guns at their disposal. A military spokesman said “The objective of the Chinese command was to delay and harass the landing. It was never hoped that we would permanently repel the landing.” The Chinese expressed confidence in their new positions, even comparing them to the Maginot Line along the French border with Germany, which of course would become rather ironic. The Japanese now controlled the entire left bank of the Huangpu River from Yangshupu to the mouth of the Yangtze. They had access to several good roads, some interconnected, which could serve as supply lines for future attacks. Additionally, they could exploit a large number of modern Chinese wharfs and docks, setting the stage for a steady flow of reinforcements.  On the 12th, Matsui received word from the Amaya Detachment that it had finally captured Yuepu. After driving the Chinese out of the village, the detachment established a defensive perimeter in a semicircle 500 yards around the western edge. Nearly simultaneously, the Ueno Detachment, a unit attached to the 3rd Division, reported that it had occupied Yanghang and pursued the enemy to a position about two miles west of the village. In both cases, it appeared that the enemy had abandoned their positions under the cover of night. Yet despite the victories Matsui desperately needed more men. In the three weeks leading up to September 11, the Japanese had managed to land 40,000 soldiers and establish a bridgehead measuring roughly 25 miles in length and over five miles in depth. Together with the troops already present in Shanghai, Japan had about 50,000 soldiers in the area. While this was a significant force, it was still insufficient to ensure the conquest of Shanghai, especially given the rapid attrition faced. As of September 9, the 3rd Division had reported losses of 589 killed and 1,539 injured, while the 11th Division recorded 616 dead and 1,336 wounded. But Tokyo was very reluctant to dispatch troops to Shanghai. From the viewpoint of the IJA leadership, Shanghai and Central China were a sideshow to the north china theater, which they alongside the Kwantung Army argued was more essential, given the proximity of the USSR. This belief was strongly reinforced when the Sino-Soviet agreement was signed in late August. Shanghai also heavily favored the Chinese terrain wise, it was basically like the battle of Thermopylae, instead of a mountain pass it was an extremely concentrated urban area. Then there was one of the main advocates opposing the China War altogether, Kanji Ishiwara. The entire time he was screaming and lecturing non-expansion and advised diplomacy and to even form an alliance with China against the USSR. Concentrating on China and ignoring the Soviet menace was, in his eyes, like “chasing the dogs away from the front door while forgetting the wolves approaching the back door.” However, Ishiwara's reluctance to send more troops to Shanghai was overruled. On September 4, a meeting of officers in Tokyo concluded that the battle in the Shanghai area should be completed by late October or early November, and to that end, sufficient troops should be deployed. Three days later, Emperor Hirohito approved reinforcements for the Shanghai front, including the dispatch of three additional infantry divisions from the home islands, along with units from the garrison forces in Taiwan. Ishiwara was so upset by this decision that he submitted his resignation, although he was later appointed to a position in the army in northeastern China. There was little doubt among Japanese leaders that the deployment of these reinforcements marked a significant escalation in the war. The situation was unlike anything Japan had ever experienced before. Army Minister Sugiyama Hajime remarked in a statement to his commanders, “This war has become total war.” A junior Japanese officer inspecting the Shanghai front reported upon his return to Tokyo “The enemy resistance is undeniably strong. Whether they are bombed out or surrounded, they do not retreat.” Luodian had remained under Japanese control since late August, but the surrounding countryside largely remained Chinese territory. Despite increasing pressure after the Chinese withdrawal to the south on September 12, the Japanese advanced only slowly and hesitantly. Taken aback by the sudden gains at Yuepu and Yanghang, and revealing their typical tardiness in responding to unforeseen events, it took them several days to even dispatch patrols for probing attacks against the new Chinese defenses. This delay provided Chinese commanders with extra time to reinforce their positions near Luodian, particularly on both sides of the road from Yuepu, which they correctly assumed would be the primary route for the Japanese attackers. Chinese preparations were just one reason Japan's mid-September assault was only moderately successful. Like the Chinese, the Japanese had yet to develop much skill in coordinating infantry and armor operations. The road connecting Yuepu and Luodian was of relatively good quality, enabling the Japanese to deploy about 25 tanks as the spearhead of their thrust. These armored vehicles quickly eliminated the Chinese positions closest to the road and advanced rapidly toward Luodian. However, the accompanying infantry from the Amaya Detachment was unable to keep pace. The Japanese only held a few yards of terrain on either side of the road. Beyond that narrow strip, the area was swarming with Chinese soldiers, making the advancing Japanese infantry easy targets. The Japanese infantry became bogged down, and it was only after dark, when the Chinese defenders north of the road chose to withdraw westward, that the Japanese had a chance to reach Luodian. The debacle on the road to Luodian was not solely a result of flawed training within the Japanese ranks. The area around Shanghai, a patchwork of small farm plots divided by creeks and canals, was ill-suited for tank warfare. This terrain had previously been a key argument against large-scale deployments by the Japanese Army. Nevertheless, once the decision was made in Tokyo to send enough troops to win the battle for the city, the generals had to strategize ways to overcome these terrain challenges. One proposed solution was to deploy amphibious tanks. However, the tactics employed called for using the tanks in a supportive role rather than leading the attacks across waterways. If a creek needed to be crossed, Japanese commanders would first order a small infantry unit to wade or swim to the opposite bank and prepare it for the tanks to land under the cover of darkness. While it was still dark, the tanks would cross and provide support to the infantry by daybreak. This cumbersome procedure often felt like putting the cart before the horse, but the Japanese executed it precisely as prescribed, time and again. This predictability allowed their Chinese opponents to acclimate to Japanese tactics to such an extent that they could usually anticipate what the Japanese would do next. While flawed tactics prevented either side from breaking the stalemate at the Luodian front, both continued to pour in reinforcements. The Shigeto Detachment arrived from Taiwan and was attached to the 11th Division on September 14, the same day the Amaya Detachment made its way up the road from Yuepu to return to the division's direct command. By mid-September, the division had grown into a sizeable fighting force. However, the enemy it faced around Luodian was also growing stronger by the day, posing a significant threat to the division's right flank if it were to rush south toward Dachang to link up with the 3rd Division. Therefore, on September 18, the Shanghai commanders ordered the division to focus initially on eliminating the Chinese troops amassed around Luodian. By this time, heavy rain had already fallen in the Shanghai region for three days, gradually slowing the fighting. The Japanese disliked the rain, as it turned the roads into muddy rivers, making transportation difficult, if not impossible, while also grounding most of their aircraft. In contrast, the Chinese welcomed the lull, as it provided them with an opportunity to improve their positions. The challenge of breaking through the Chinese defenses was only becoming more difficult as time passed. The Chinese Army's performance during the initial stage of the fighting in Shanghai altered the world's perception of the nation's military capabilities. China, which had lost every war over the past century, invariably to nations much smaller than itself, had suddenly taken a stand. At Shanghai, the Chinese Army experienced more intense fighting than anyone could have anticipated, suffering losses that had taken years to build up. However, it had gained prestige and respect, even among its Japanese adversaries. Even the withdrawal on September 12 was met with sympathy and admiration in capitals around the world. Every journalist in Shanghai during the fall of 1937 had a story to tell about the remarkable Chinese soldier. American journalist Carroll Alcott spent many hours in dugouts in Zhabei. “While Japanese shells pelted down over their heads, the Chinese soldiers sat unfazed in their self-made caves, cooking rice, vegetables, and occasionally a small bit of pork over a charcoal brazier. They dispelled the inevitable boredom with games of checkers and mahjong and wrote letters home to their families. In the Chinese trenches, there was a sense of safety and a primitive kind of comfort”. Chiang Kai-shek had decided as early as September 15 that changes were needed at the top of the command in the 3rd War Zone. What this meant became clear six days later when Chiang sent two separate cables to the zone's senior officers. In the first cable, he announced that he would take over command of the 3rd War Zone from Feng Yuxiang, and dispatched him to the 6th War Zone further north. This was a sideways move rather than a direct demotion, but it undeniably removed Feng Yuxiang from the most crucial theater at the time. Despite this, the decision seemed logical to most senior officers in Suzhou. Feng Yuxiang had never effectively managed the 3rd War Zone during his time in command. None of his direct subordinates truly considered him to be in charge; instead, they continued to view Chiang as their actual commander. In the second cable of the day, Chiang Kai-shek went a step further by relieving Zhang Zhizhong of his duties as commander of the 9th Army Group. He replaced him with General Zhu Shaoliang, a staunch ally and, if possible, an even more vehement opponent of communism than himself. For Zhang Zhizhong, the decision was no major surprise, as he had faced Chiang Kai-shek's constant reproaches since the early days of the battle. Although Chiang initially selected Zhang due to his close connections with the divisional commanders he led, he grew increasingly disenchanted with Zhang's style of command characterized by “much talk and little action” and expressed his irritation both publicly and privately. There may have been an additional reason for this. Disagreements among the top echelons of the 3rd War Zone threatened to bring about paralysis. Zhang Zhizhong had not gotten along well with Chen Cheng, the commander of the neighboring 11th Army Group. Zhang had told anyone who would listen, “Chen Cheng isn't capable enough,”to which Chen retorted, “Zhang Zhizhong loves to show off.”  The strain that Shanghai was under also had an economic aspect. Although it had been a bumper year for both rice and cotton,  the two most popular crops in the area and many farmers were unable to harvest due to the continued heavy fighting around the city. Labor disputes simmered and occasionally erupted into open conflict. On September 14, a group of workers hired on short-term contracts by the Fou Foong Flour Mill in the western part of the International Settlement locked themselves inside and refused to leave until their demand for ten months' salary was met. Police and members of the Reserve Unit, a special anti-riot outfit, attacked the premises with tear gas and managed to disperse the protesters. Subsequently, ambulances transported 25 injured individuals to various hospitals from the mill. As if the city was not already suffering enough hardship, a cholera epidemic broke out, taking a particularly heavy toll on the poorest inhabitants. As of September 13, the outbreak had lasted for a month, with 119 confirmed cases and nine deaths. Less than a fortnight later, it had infected 646 people and resulted in 97 deaths. By early October, when the outbreak peaked, it had claimed a total of 355 lives. These statistics marked only the tip of the iceberg, as they accounted only for patients at hospitals in the International Settlement, excluding the likely much larger numbers in the Chinese part of the city. In a way, these individuals were collateral damage. A doctor who worked with the patients stated with a high degree of certainty that the disease had likely been brought to Shanghai by troops from the south. There existed a large villa overlooking Luodian they Japanese termed “the white house”. The Chinese forces had held the white house for four weeks, demonstrating fierce resistance. Encamped outside, the Japanese Army's 44th Regiment, known as the Kochi Regiment, was gradually being worn down, as their repeated attempts to storm the stronghold had failed. During their time at Luodian, the regiment had made numerous unsuccessful attempts to seize the villa. Limited artillery support hampered their efforts; logistical challenges meant each artillery piece received only one-fifth of its normal daily ammunition supply. On September 19, engineers began digging a tunnel from the trenches toward the White House. Four days later, they had excavated exactly 35 yards, effectively halving the distance the infantry would need to cross exposed ground before reaching the villa's defenses. A new attack was launched on the 23rd, beginning with an artillery bombardment, followed by air raids. Next, tanks advanced toward the walls, with small clusters of soldiers trailing behind. This attack included a surprise element for the Chinese defenders: as the offensive unfolded, a tunnel's entrance erupted open, allowing soldiers to emerge in single file close to the wall too quickly for the Chinese machine gunners to adjust their aim. The soldiers rushed forward, bearing heavy satchels of explosives. Pressing against the wall, they ignited the fuses and sought cover as loud explosions rang out. When the dust settled, the Japanese surged through the new openings in the walls, spreading out within the compound. After a fierce battle lasting two and a half hours, the building was captured by the Japanese troops. Despite losing the "White House," Lin Yindong, the commander of the 1st Battalion, was awarded an A-2 grade for the "Medal of the Armed Forces." He was also promoted to lieutenant colonel and appointed as the regimental attaché of the 66th Regiment for successfully defending the "White House" against a numerically superior enemy for nearly a month. The capture of the White House was part of a significant offensive launched by the 11th Division in the Luodian area. Initially scheduled for September 20, the operation faced delays of several days due to prolonged preparations, a common issue in the challenging countryside surrounding Shanghai. The division chose to attack south of the town with a narrow front to concentrate enough forces to deliver a powerful, unified strike against Chinese positions. The Japanese employed massed armor in their assault, deploying aircraft to neutralize any anti-tank weapons that emerged. These tactics proved effective, as the Chinese were pushed back in multiple sections of the front. To marshal sufficient troops for the attack, the division assigned the Shigeto Detachment to cover its right flank north and west of Luodian. However, the newly arrived detachment, full of morale, exceeded its mandate by launching a vigorous counterattack against the Chinese in its sector. Unfortunately, their efforts yielded little significant progress, and they suffered heavy casualties. As Matsui would report "The detachment has already had 200 casualties. They can't keep attacking blindly like this."  Further south, the 3rd Japanese Division also mounted attacks against Chinese forces, primarily around Liuhang. The fighting revealed Japan's material superiority, which was so pronounced that the Chinese refrained from deploying heavy artillery, even when available. Anti-aircraft guns were strategically positioned near artillery batteries, but the Chinese were reluctant to use them for fear of revealing their locations. Consequently, the Chinese Army found itself with virtually no air defense. Overall, local Chinese reserves struggled to repel the Japanese advances, leading to a shift from the see-saw battles that had characterized the front since early September. The Japanese gradually maintained their positions even after nightfall.  Despite their numerical superiority, defending Luodian proved nearly impossible for the Chinese forces. The Japanese's overwhelming firepower forced the Chinese into a defensive posture, preventing them from launching counterattacks until the enemy was almost upon them. Consequently, the decision was made to hold the entire town at all costs, a tactic that significantly increased the attrition rate within Chinese ranks. General Chen Cheng's army group experienced a casualty rate exceeding fifty percent, resulting in more than 15,000 losses. Additionally, units from Xue Yue's 19th Army Group participated in the combat southwest of Luodian and suffered severe casualties. The 59th and 90th divisions of the 4th Corps endured seventy to eighty percent losses within just five days. The training brigade of the 66th Corps reported 3,003 casualties after several days of fighting. Faced with these circumstances, Chinese commanders decided to execute another major retreat along the entire front north of Shanghai. They took advantage of a lull in Japanese assaults on September 25 to withdraw approximately one mile to a new defensive line. As before, this retreat was conducted with great discipline, and it took the Japanese two more days to fully comprehend that the Chinese forces had disappeared from their positions.  In the wake of these Japanese successes, significant changes began to unfold. The three divisions that the Japanese high command had dispatched to the Shanghai area in early September gradually arrived. First to land was the 101st Division, which started disembarking on September 22 and was ordered to position itself on the left flank of the 3rd Division. The 9th Division arrived in the same area on September 27, followed by the 13th Division on October 1. With these reinforcements, Japan now had five divisions stationed in Shanghai, compared to more than 25 divisions fielded by the Chinese. While China's numerical superiority was undeniable, the disparity was not as stark as it appeared. A typical Japanese division consisted of 15,000 men. Combined with the marines and infantry defending Hongkou, Japan had approximately 90,000 soldiers at its disposal in and around the city. In contrast, Chinese divisions often had as few as 5,000 men, making it unlikely that China deployed more than 200,000 soldiers in Shanghai at that time. Furthermore, the Japanese compensated for their numerical disadvantage with significant superiority in materials, aircraft, and naval artillery, which could still reach key areas within the Chinese front. Overall, the addition of the three new divisions significantly bolstered the Japanese forces, prompting Matsui and his staff to begin preparations for what they hoped would be the decisive strike against the Chinese defenders. Their plan was straightforward: they intended to execute a powerful thrust across Wusong Creek and advance toward Suzhou Creek. The goal was to encircle and annihilate the main Chinese force in a maneuver they had envisioned since their arrival in China. After all, encirclement was the cornerstone of Japanese military doctrine. 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 August 1937, the Battle of Luodian raged as Chinese forces faced relentless Japanese attacks. After initial successes, the Chinese struggled under heavy casualties and dwindling morale. They fought fiercely to retain the critical town of Luodian, a vital transportation hub. Despite courageous defensive efforts, including a surprise night assault, the Japanese overwhelmed the Chinese with superior numbers and artillery. Encounters turned devastating, with both sides suffering severe losses. By late September, as the Japanese received reinforcements, the situation forced the Chinese to retreat, marking the beginning of a dire struggle for Shanghai's control.

Anduril has scored a nearly $100 million contract to continue experimentation on the Army's Next Generation Command and Control program, the service said Friday. NGC2, one of the Army's top priorities, is a clean-slate design for how the service communicates on the battlefield and passes data for operations, providing commanders and units a new approach to information sharing and C2 through agile and software-based architectures. The Army plans to spend almost $3 billion on the effort over the next fiscal year across procurement and research and development funds. The $99.6 million other transaction authority agreement will span 11 months and cover Anduril's work to prototype a system for 4th Infantry Division, which will scale the capability all the way up to the division level. The notoriously slow federal permitting process would get a technological jumpstart under a bill introduced last week by a bipartisan pair of House lawmakers. The ePermit Act from Reps. Dusty Johnson, R-S.D., and Scott Peters, D-Calif., calls for the digitization of federal permitting, pushing the government to improve environmental reviews and authorizations through the embrace of interactive, digital and cloud-based platforms. Aimed at reducing processing times for federally mandated National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) reviews, the ePermit Act aligns with an April executive order from President Donald Trump to modernize permitting technology and the subsequent launch of a permitting technology action plan. The bill calls on the chair of the Council on Environmental Quality (CEQ) to consult with the Chief Information Officers Council, the Office of Management and Budget, the Permitting Improvement Steering Council and other relevant stakeholders and agencies on new data standards to inform environmental reviews and authorizations. The Daily Scoop Podcast is available every Monday-Friday afternoon. If you want to hear more of the latest from Washington, subscribe to The Daily Scoop Podcast  on Apple Podcasts, Soundcloud, Spotify and YouTube.

Ryan McDermott, Army veteran of the 2003 invasion of Iraq and author of Downriver: Memoir of a Warrior Poet,  joins the show to talk about his combat experiences. ▪️ Times      •      01:13 Introduction     •      01:55 Seeking purpose      •      04:11 West Point       •      06:48 9/11      •      08:41 3rd Infantry Division            •      10:12 Platoon tactics         •      14:51 “Crossing tonight”     •      18:08 Preparing for combat     •      23:40 Tired       •      29:37 Baghdad     •      35:51 Thunder Runs Follow along on Instagram, X @schoolofwarpod, and YouTube @SchoolofWarPodcast Find a transcript of today's episode on our School of War Substack

Send us a text We follow 19-year-old Private James Howard Smith from Liberty, Utah to the second wave landing on Utah Beach during the D-Day invasion. Born in Arkansas but settled in Utah by 1934, Smith registered for the draft the day after turning 18 and was in uniform just months later. His brief but valiant service with the 90th Infantry Division's 357th Regiment ended on June 19, 1944, amid the brutal hedgerow fighting that characterized the Normandy campaign. The regiment's own journal described it as "one of the worst baptisms of fire ever undergone by an American infantry unit." Smith's remains wouldn't return home until April 1949, nearly five years after his sacrifice, when he received final military honors at Ogden City Cemetery. His story represents thousands of similar narratives that would be lost without deliberate preservation.Discover these powerful stories yourself at webercountysgreatestgeneration.com where you'll find books, podcasts, and blog posts dedicated to ensuring Weber County's wartime contributions are never forgotten. Join us next week as we cross the globe to the Pacific Theater to honor Marine PFC Neil F. Dudman, who fell during the Battle of Saipan.

Last time we spoke about Black Saterday and Operation Iron Fist. Conflict erupted in Shanghai on August 13, when Japanese marines disguised as civilians provoked Chinese guards, resulting in fierce gunfire and urban warfare. Both sides engaged in skirmishes around vital locations, with the Eight Character Bridge becoming a focal point. On August 14, air raids misfired catastrophically, killing over a thousand civilians in what became known as "Black Saturday." In an attempt to regain control, Chiang Kai-shek authorized Operation Iron Fist, a bold offensive targeting Japanese strongholds. The attack commenced early on August 17, involving coordinated assaults aimed at exploiting weak points in the enemy defenses. However, poor coordination, entrenched opposition, and the complexity of urban combat resulted in further devastating losses for the Chinese troops. By August 18, Operation Iron Fist had failed, with the Japanese reinforcing their positions and announcing a strategic shift towards expanded military engagement.   #158 The Battle of Shanghai Part 3: The Chinese Counteroffensive “Drive them into the Sea!” Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On August 18, the Japanese military reinforced their presence in Shanghai, shipping an additional 1,400 marines from Manchuria to bolster the ranks of the Japanese Shanghai Special Naval Landing Force or “SNLF”. Yes, all of you who don't listen to my Pacific War week by week podcast are going to get a lot of acronym lessons soon. And yes, they are not quote en quote real marines, but like most telling these stories its easier to refer to them this way. This influx of troops was a significant escalation in the ongoing conflict, heightening tensions as the battle for control intensified. As the battle in Shanghai raged on, a growing sentiment emerged among Chinese leaders that crucial chances had been squandered. On August 18, Chiang Kai-shek sent his trusted aide, Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng, to confer with General Zhang Zhizhong at the front lines. They assessed the situation and agreed that instead of attacking the heavily fortified Hongkou area, they should redirect their focus to the Yangshupu district. The aim was to breach the defenses and split the Japanese forces along the Huangpu River. This strategic shift was precisely what the German military advisers and frontline commanders had anticipated, signaling a decisive move away from their earlier hesitance to engage within settlement boundaries. As attrition took its toll on the Chinese troops already committed in Shanghai, the responsibility for the offensive was placed on the newly arrived 36th Infantry Division, a unit highly trained by German forces. They were positioned to advance from the eastern edge of Hongkou, with two regiments tasked to march south toward the Huangpu. In the early hours of the 19th, two regiments of the 36th launched their long-planned attack, moving swiftly towards the front lines. The night was illuminated by the flames of sabotage and incendiary bombs, aiding visibility amid the chaos. However, the assault quickly faced significant challenges. Many of the Chinese soldiers were inexperienced, becoming easy targets for Japanese infantry positioned in rooftops and upper-story windows. In the absence of cover, some troops were forced to take shelter behind the fallen bodies of their comrades. For a moment, the Chinese troops felt a surge of hope, believing they could push the Japanese into the Huangpu River. General Zhang Fakui, observing from the opposite bank, envisioned a breakthrough. However, upon reaching Broadway, parallel to the river, they confronted a formidable barrier. High walls guarded the wharves, and even the largest artillery pieces struggled to breach the defenses. Attempts to scale the steel gate resulted in devastating fire from entrenched Japanese machine gunners, while fortified factories like the Gong Da Cotton Mill proved equally impenetrable. As the Chinese forces suffered under relentless bombardment, their momentum diminished. The 88th Infantry Division, previously effective, showed signs of disarray and hesitated to engage. Compounding their woes, Japanese reinforcements arrived, swelling their ranks to 6,300 well equipped marines. Despite these challenges, the Chinese committed to deploying their newly acquired British built Vickers tanks, a symbol of their efforts to modernize their military over the years. But with each hour, the balance of power tilted further in favor of the Japanese forces. Meanwhile the 87th Infantry Division was assigned two armored companies, yet it suffered catastrophic losses. The tanks, recently shipped from Nanjing, had crews untrained in coordinated assaults, and many were left without infantry support. The Chinese forces struggled to secure adjacent streets, allowing Japanese armor to outflank and destroy their tanks. The Japanese, too, faced coordination challenges between their armor and infantry, resulting in some of their tanks being annihilated by Chinese anti-tank weapons. On the 20th, General Zhang Zhizhong inspected the Yangshupu front and encountered a former student leading a tank company ready to attack the wharves. The tanks, hastily repaired and ill equipped for battle, faced fierce enemy fire, and the young officer expressed concern about the infantry's ability to keep pace. Despite Zhang's insistence that the assault must proceed, the attack ended in disaster as the tank company was decimated by shells from anchored vessels. The battle blended modern warfare with tactics reminiscent of earlier centuries. An officer named Wu Yujun managed a position during a Japanese cavalry attack on the 18th. After two unsuccessful assaults, Wu set an ambush that resulted in the annihilation of the Japanese riders. This incident illustrated the stark contrast on the battlefield where Chinese soldiers often confronted a technologically superior enemy while grappling with their own inexperience.  Many of the Chinese units arriving in Shanghai were very green, countless having never faced battle before, and their lack of experience proved costly in the initial days of fighting. Brigade Commander Fang Jing of the 98th Division observed that his soldiers constructed inadequate fortifications that crumbled under the Japanese 150mm howitzers. He lamented, “Often, the positions they built were too weak and couldn't withstand the enemy's artillery,”. On the 20th, 5 Chinese aircraft returned after yet another unsuccessful attack on the Japanese battleship Izumo, which remained anchored in the Huangpu. During their flight over western Zhabei, they encountered two Japanese seaplanes. One Chinese pilot broke formation, diving steeply to fire a brief machine-gun salvo, but his plane was quickly shot down, bursting into flames before crashing. The Chinese attacks had posed a significant threat to Japanese bombers, particularly the vulnerable Mitsubishi G3M medium aircraft targeting Shanghai and central China. Japan's First Combined Air Group suffered heavy losses, with half of its medium attack planes damaged or destroyed within the first three days of fighting. However, the Chinese pilots, largely inexperienced and inadequately trained, began to falter against the superior Japanese fighters, eventually withdrawing from the skies over Shanghai. Ground troops expressed frustration over the lack of effective air support, as they rarely saw their planes after the 20th, instead carrying out major troop movements only under the cover of darkness. The Japanese air superiority drastically affected operations on the ground, dictating when Chinese soldiers could eat and transport supplies. Without effective fighter protection and limited anti-aircraft capabilities, the Chinese troops were left exposed. Most of their anti-aircraft weaponry consisted of 20mm Solothurn guns that were ineffective against aircraft and were more often used against infantry. Officers hesitated to use these guns for fear of revealing their positions to the enemy.  By the morning of the 21st, the 36th Division had been relentlessly attacking the wharf area for over 48 hours, yet victory remained elusive. Although some tanks had infiltrated the wharf, they were met with dishearteningly strong Japanese defenses and a well-manned enemy presence. The commanders recognized that they had advanced too quickly without securing their flanks, and their reserves, which could have provided crucial support, remained in the rear. Reluctantly, they concluded that a withdrawal was necessary. The retreat was a painful acknowledgment that pushing the Japanese into the Huangpu River would not be as straightforward as hoped. Part of the Chinese failure stemmed from an inability to execute joint operations across different military branches. German advisors noted that artillery support for the forces in Yangshupu from the Pudong side was limited. In contrast, Japanese naval guns were actively providing support, significantly relieving the pressure on their marines. This imbalance resulted in heavy losses for the Chinese, with the 36th Division suffering over 2,000 casualties by the late 22nd. Meanwhile, Japanese naval aircraft attempted to impede the movement of additional Chinese troops to Shanghai by bombing the railway from Suzhou. Although several bridges were destroyed and railway stations sustained damage, the delays were minimal, offering some reassurance to Chinese commanders who understood that reinforcements were essential for a successful continuation of the battle. The light cruiser Jintsu, carrying the 3rd Division, set to land six miles north of Shanghai, while the 11th Division would disembark a dozen miles further up the Yangtze River. By the evening of the 21st, the task force arrived at the Yangtze River and the Saddle Islands off the river estuary. The soldiers had to transfer to smaller vessels capable of navigating the shallow waters of the Huangpu River.  On the 23rd, Matsui Iwane got aboard the light cruiser Yura and was greeted by Rear Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, then the commander of the 8th cruiser division. Yes, the same man who would be blamed for losing at Midway in 1942. The Japanese fleet had made a strategic sweep as far south as Hangzhou Bay the previous day to disrupt Chinese troop movements and force them to spread thin along the coast. However, with the landings imminent, it was clear the assault would happen at Wusong and Chuanshakou. Initially, Matsui preferred landing both divisions at Chuanshakou for a sweeping advance into the lightly defended countryside west of Shanghai, which would encircle tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers. The 3rd Fleet, however, proposed a bolder strategy: the 11th Infantry Division would proceed with the landing at Chuanshakou, while the 3rd Infantry Division would land at Wusong, directly confronting the heavily concentrated Chinese forces around Shanghai. This plan aimed to exert pressure from both the front and the rear, a tactic that could yield success but risked high casualties if faced with stiff Chinese resistance. Aware of the operation's risks, the naval officers sought to ease potential tensions with their army counterparts by offering over 500 elite marines to support the assault, preparing for what could be a pivotal moment in the campaign. Shortly after midnight on the 23rd, the marines designated as the primary assault wave at Wusong arrived in a convoy of steamers from Shanghai. Their arrival was eagerly anticipated, as they would spare the 3rd Division from being the first to land. As the naval artillery barrage reached a deafening climax, the boats glided across the smooth water towards the shore. Any time a Chinese machine gun opened fire, it drew immediate response from the Japanese gunners, swiftly silencing the threat. Meanwhile, trench mortars onshore targeted the advancing vessels, but their rounds fell harmlessly into the water without causing any damage. At 3:00 am, the first landing craft reached the bank, dropped anchor, and lowered its ramp. The marines waded ashore, climbing the 15 foot high dike to survey the terrain. Suddenly, machine gun fire erupted from a Chinese position just 50 yards away, cutting down several marines. Undeterred, the marines charged with fixed bayonets across the open field. An explosion marked the spot where a soldier had triggered a landmine, followed by more detonations, but there was no retreat; they pressed on, swarming over the Chinese trench and engaging in a brief yet fierce hand-to-hand struggle. Within moments, they had taken the position. The marines quickly cleared the area, paving a path to their immediate objective, a military road running parallel to the Huangpu River. While setting up defensive positions, the 3rd Division began to disembark at the water's edge. By 8:00 a.m, the divisional command stepped ashore as the last unit to arrive. Meanwhile, naval pilots were busy bombing and strafing roads further inland to impede any enemy reinforcements. The landing had unfolded with remarkable success, marking a significant moment in the operation and setting the stage for greater advances by Japanese forces. Meanwhile the 11th division began setting foot on the beach north of Chuanshakou at 3:50 am. As the soldiers advanced towards the town's outskirts, they encountered only minimal resistance as Chuanshakou was defended by a single Chinese company.  Matsui was pleased with the outcome; everything had unfolded according to plan and, in fact, better than he had dared to hope. Casualties in both divisions were surprisingly low, amounting to little more than 40 soldiers. At 5:30 am, Zhang Zhizhong received an urgent phone call at his new headquarters in a small village near Nanxiang. On the line was Liu Heding, commander of the 56th Infantry Division, reporting that an enemy force of unknown size had landed near Chuanshakou. With heavy bombardment disrupting communications, details were scarce, but Zhang immediately recognized the gravity of the situation: a new front was opening, complicating his command significantly. Realizing he could not effectively manage the situation from Nanxiang with communications down, Zhang decided to head to the command post of the 87th Infantry Division in Jiangwan, a town closer to the landing area. By the time he arrived at the 87th Division's base, it was nearly 9:00 am. He was informed that the Japanese had not only landed at Chuanshakou but also at Wusong. Recognizing the urgency, he quickly dispatched half of the 87th Infantry Division and a regiment from the recently arrived Training Brigade, an elite unit fresh from Nanjing, to respond to the threat. Given that the 56th Infantry Division alone could not secure the area around Chuanshakou, Zhang assigned the 98th Infantry Division to defend most of the Yangtze riverbank under threat. He also dispatched the 11th Division, which had just arrived in the Shanghai area with Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng to move toward Luodian, a town just a few miles from the landing zone at Chuanshakou.  Meanwhile, the Japanese forces were advancing swiftly. While the main landing contingent engaged in fierce fighting for control of Chuanshakou, a small unit of a few hundred soldiers was dispatched down the road to Luodian. Marching under the scorching August sun, the reservists, weary from the trek, found little resistance upon reaching Luodian. They hastily set up camp without adequately preparing defenses, making them vulnerable targets. Later that afternoon, advance units of the 11th Infantry Division reached Luodian, shaken but determined to attack even after facing air raids on their journey. The ensuing skirmish was swift; within an hour, the Japanese were repelled. Back over at Wusong Hu Guobing received orders to push back the Japanese on August 21st. He led his regiment towards the Japanese lines, as his platoons dispersed further, dividing into smaller squads. Soon, the sharp crack and rattle of small arms fire resonated along the regiment's front. Battalion Commander Qin Shiquan, a graduate of the Central Military Academy, led two companies toward the enemy positions, taking care to remain unnoticed. When they drew close enough, he ordered his bugler to sound the charge. Then, raising his Mauser pistol, he turned to face his men and shouted, “Attack! Attack!” This sudden noise revealed his position, making it vulnerable. Japanese observers hidden nearby quickly relayed his coordinates to warships offshore. Within minutes, shells began to rain down on the unit with alarming accuracy. Amidst the storm of fire unleashed by the Japanese, all semblance of order disintegrated, and chaos ensued as each unit fought to survive. Hu Guobing spent most of the day dodging Japanese aircraft that circled overhead, waiting for targets to emerge. As Hu Guobing recalled “It felt as though the enemy could see everything. It was crucial not to act rashly. Our only real options were to take cover in a hole or hide behind a ridge”. The gunfire continued throughout the afternoon and did not relent until darkness began to fall. Only then could the soldiers breathe a little easier, grab a few bites of their field rations, and quench their parched throats with sips from their water canteens. Seizing the relative safety of night, they hurried to improve their positions, knowing that once dawn arrived, it would be too late; a shallow trench or inadequate camouflage could spell doom. Although it had been Chiang Kai-Shek's decision to place Zhang Zhizhong and Feng Yuxiang in charge of Shanghai, now designated the 3rd War Zone, he was having regrets. In a telephone conversation with Feng Yuxiang shortly after the Japanese landings, Chiang emphasized the importance of monitoring the younger front-line commanders. He urged “Don't hesitate to give them advice,”. Feng assured him that he would not hold back. He then recounted an anecdote about General Nogi Maresuke, who, during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905, allegedly delegated all major decisions to his chief of staff. Feng told him “The frontline commanders possess courage and a fighting spirit. Their role is to take orders and engage in battle. Mine is to stay back, like Nogi, write a few poems, and wait for the inevitable,”. Chiang persistently insisted, “Regardless of the situation, don't be shy. Share your insights with them.” “Of course,” Feng responded. “If I notice something amiss, I'll address it without hesitation. You can count on me.” However, this assurance did little to calm Chiang's concerns. A great concern was Zhang Zhizhong. Much of his rhetoric about fighting the Japanese seemed to lack substance. Zhang had not demonstrated the necessary resolve to launch attacks against the small Japanese forces in the city when decisive action could have turned the tide of the battle. With Japanese reinforcements firmly entrenched in two locations within the greater Shanghai area, it was now too late to pursue a quick victory over the enemy. Compounding the issue, Zhang appeared to spend an excessive amount of time making grandiose statements to the newspapers rather than focusing on the ground situation. Chiang's frustration was palpable, and it was shared by his German advisors, who concurred that Zhang lacked the requisite “toughness” to confront Japanese resistance effectively. The decision to send Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng to the front was an early indication that Chiang was considering replacing Zhang. In a particularly humiliating twist, Zhang was not even informed of Chen Cheng's appointment and learned about it indirectly through other field commanders. Fearing that he was being sidelined, Zhang Zhizhong hurried to the 3rd War Zone headquarters in Suzhou to assess the situation. While in Suzhou, called Chiang, whom began harshly criticizing him for being so far behind the front lines. “What are you doing in Suzhou? What are you doing in Suzhou?”. Zhang Zhizhong replied “Mr. Chairman, I'm back in Suzhou to discuss important strategic matters. Otherwise, I'm constantly at the front What's the matter with you?” Chiang was incensed by this perceived disrespect. “What's the matter with me? You ask me what's the matter with me!” His voice rising to a hoarse shriek, Chiang Kai-shek abruptly hung up. At this point, Zhang must have had little doubt that his days as the chief field commander were numbered. The Japanese landings had accomplished their immediate objective of relieving pressure on the small marine forces holed up in Shanghai. As a result, the Chinese were forced to halt their attacks on Hongkou and Yangshupu and had to reconsider how to allocate their resources across various fronts. If the Japanese landing party grew large enough, the Chinese forces could risk becoming the target of a Japanese pincer movement. In essence, within a few days, they had shifted from an offensive posture to a defensive one. Against this backdrop, Chen Cheng,  leading the 15th Army Group, arrived in Suzhou on August 24th. His presence aimed to bolster resistance, and he was also there to familiarize himself with local conditions, as he was expected to take on a greater role at the front shortly. Chen's confident demeanor and readiness to overrule local commanders indicated that real authority already resided with him. While he agreed with Zhang Zhizhong's plans from the previous day to counter the landings, he deemed them insufficient given the threat posed by the fresh Japanese troops. Consequently, he ordered that more soldiers be redeployed from Shanghai proper to the landing zones. To counter the dire situation, Falkenhausen devised a plan aimed at reigniting enthusiasm for the offensive among the Chinese forces. During a meeting on the 25th, he proposed rallying all troops in the Luodian area to mount a coordinated attack from all sides against the Japanese landing force. Emphasizing the German preference for a decisive strike, he aimed to push the invaders back into the Yangtze. The assembled officers expressed their agreement with the plan. However, as dawn broke, the optimism from the night's discussions began to wane. It had been 48 hours since the landings, and the Japanese army had solidified its foothold at Chuanshakou, rapidly approaching a point of strength that would make it nearly impossible to dislodge them. Tanks and artillery were assembled along the riverbank, while engineers constructed a pier to facilitate the faster unloading of troops and supplies. They had already established a bridgehead that extended 10 miles in length and reached a depth of five miles, initiating the construction of a road heading inland, an evident preparation for a major offensive. In a secret report to Chiang Kai-shek, Falkenhausen outlined the challenging situation as the Japanese consolidated their material advantages. “It should be noted that the enemy's army and navy operate in close coordination. Although their land-based artillery is still relatively weak, this is offset by their robust naval artillery and ship-based aircraft,”. He further noted that the airfields on Chongming Island contributed to Japan's now “complete air superiority, as a result, the main operations on our side should be executed after dark.”  From late August onward, most Chinese movements occurred after sunset. Only then could Chinese and Japanese infantry engage on more equal footing, without the overwhelming advantage provided by air support. Night became the great equalizer in the uneven battle for Shanghai. During the day, the relentlessly active Japanese forces seemed to be everywhere. They deployed rubber boats up small rivers to scout and disrupt. Their observation balloons hovered on the horizon, keeping a vigilant watch on the Chinese and swiftly scrambling aircraft upon detecting any movement. They combined technological superiority with a bravery that bordered on the suicidal; when faced with the prospect of capture, many Japanese soldiers preferred death. Following a fierce battle in the vicinity of Luodian, the Chinese retrieved the body of a sergeant major who had committed hara-kiri, while a gravely injured private was found attempting to slit his own throat with his bayonet. Luodian remained the immediate target for nearly all the Japanese forces in the area, facing the same Chinese units that had driven them out on August 23rd. The Chinese were well entrenched in and around the town, but they lacked the numbers to consider launching offensive operations against the Japanese at Chuanshakou. Instead, their priority was to strengthen their defenses. While waiting for the Japanese to resume the assault, they endured massive and sustained bombardment. Among the Chinese officers, there was a growing sense of crisis and a palpable fear that their defensive line could collapse at any moment. From their perspective, the Japanese appeared to be gaining momentum. However, the situation looked quite different from the Japanese invaders' point of view. Japanese casualties began to rise as the Chinese reinforcements sent to the Luodian area started to make an impact. Two days after the landings, the number of dead and injured from the 11th Division had exceeded 400, and the toll continued to climb. Among the casualties was a senior staff officer who was killed moments after stepping off his landing craft at Chuanshakou, struck down by a Chinese aircraft that had evaded Japanese fighter cover. The death toll escalated so quickly that not all bodies could be cremated, as was customary for the Japanese; privates and junior officers were hastily buried instead. For an army that prided itself on honoring its fallen soldiers more than those left alive, this was a significant blow to morale. The 3rd Division faced different challenges in its sector. It was subjected to relentless attacks on the first day of the landing and had to repel two further major enemy assaults on the second day. Additionally, it experienced occasional shelling from Chinese artillery located on the Pudong side. The greatest threat, however, came from the division's right flank. North of the landing zone lay Wusong Fortress, which had been guarding the approach to Shanghai since the wars against British and French forces in the mid-19th century. From their fortifications, Chinese infantry and artillery continuously targeted the Japanese as they disembarked from their boats and advanced inland. They also fired upon small vessels navigating up the Huangpu River, delivering supplies to the division. As the 3rd Division expanded its bridgehead in the days following the landing, Wusong Fortress remained a persistent threat, impeding the buildup of Japanese forces on shore. Compounding the Japanese sense of being encircled, the village of Yinhang to the south was also under Chinese control. This, combined with the steadily increasing number of Chinese defenders in front of the landing zone, created a challenging tactical situation for the Japanese. Although initial casualties had been lighter than the planners had feared, the number of Japanese losses began to rise. By the 25th, the 3rd Division, often referred to as the “Lucky” Division, reported over 300 accumulated casualties. Two days later, that number had escalated to 500, the majority of whom were killed in action. On the 28th, the 3rd Division was finally able to capture the village of Yinhang, freeing itself somewhat from the tactical constraints it had faced up to that point. On the same day, following an intense naval bombardment, the 11th Division launched an assault on Luodian. Leading the charge was Wachi Takaji, a 44-year-old regimental commander who surged forward with his sword drawn, personally dispatching several enemies along the way. The Chinese defenders were driven out of the town and fled down the roads leading inland. By noon, Luodian was firmly under Japanese control.  However August 29th marked a significant triumph for Chinese diplomacy, as Chiang Kai-shek's signed a non-aggression treaty with the Soviet Union. The pact between Nanjing and Moscow laid the political and diplomatic groundwork for Soviet military aid to China while ensuring that the Soviet Union would not reach an agreement with Japan as long as hostilities continued. Initially, Chiang Kai-shek had been wary of Soviet intentions, expressing concerns in his diary on August 1st, when the diplomats were preparing the treaty, that he feared the Kremlin might use the agreement to pressure Japan into signing a similar pact with Moscow. However, following the signing, skepticism gave way to optimism. Three days after announcing the treaty, Chiang confidently predicted in a speech that the Soviet Union would eventually enter the war against Japan. Chiang would not be wrong about that, but it would only come in 1945, officially. Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin had a clear reason to encourage China to engage in a full-scale war with Japan: it would secure Russia's western flank while he focused on the strategic challenges posed by a Europe dominated by Hitler. A conflict with China could drain Japanese resources, thereby reducing the threat from Asia in the long term. Exasperated British diplomats attempted to warn Chiang Kai-shek about what they perceived as a Soviet ruse, advising that the Russians “only have their own interests in mind.” Nevertheless, this did little to undermine the Chinese leader's belief in the Soviet Union's willingness to help. At a deeper cognitive level, there was a reason why Chiang Kai-shek and his associates clung to the belief that not only Soviet aid but also direct Soviet participation in the hostilities was imminent. This aligned with their expectations of how a war with Japan would unfold. The Chinese General Staff's War Plan A, drafted in 1937, was based on the premise that a conflict with Japan would soon trigger a larger conflict involving either the Soviet Union or the United States. Thus, the key objective for China was to withstand the superior Japanese forces until relief could arrive from a more powerful ally, whether that be Russian or American. This strategy was not as naive as it might seem; it was based on the understanding that neither Moscow nor Washington would want to see Japanese power grow too strong on the Asian mainland. Despite the capture of Luodian and Yinhang, the Japanese continued to face significant challenges. Their grip on the Shanghai region remained highly precarious, relying on control of two isolated pockets north of Shanghai and a beleaguered garrison within the city. Due to their numerical inferiority, they were under intense pressure from Chinese forces. The landings at Wusong and Chuanshakou had initially bolstered the manpower in the Shanghai area by fewer than 8,000 troops, and although reinforcements were gradually arriving, the pace was slow. Matsui Iwane recognized the need for a more radical increase in troop levels to achieve a decisive outcome. By the end of August, he cabled Tokyo, arguing that to complete the operation successfully, he required a total of five divisions or at a minimum the release of the 11th Division's Amaya Detachment, currently stationed in northeast China, to reunite with the division at Chuanshakou. The Japanese imperial staff and navy command responded mostly favorably, agreeing to redirect the detachment to Shanghai alongside several units of the elite marines. One week after the landings, Wusong Fort continued to pose a significant problem for the 3rd Division and the navy, which was responsible for supplying the division. Chinese artillery fire made anchoring near the landing zone a perilous endeavor, resulting in several naval officers being killed when caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. At times, the shelling was so severe that vessels had to interrupt their operations and retreat to a berth in the middle of the Huangpu River, unloading only part of their supplies. Matsui now planned for the 3rd Division to launch a frontal assault on Wusong, while the 11th Division would maintain a support role, dispatching only one regiment to assist. The attack commenced at 10:00 am on August 31rd. Following an intensive naval and aerial bombardment involving 30 planes, a regiment from the 3rd Division boarded landing craft, sailed down the Huangpu River, and landed on the riverbank north of Wusong. Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, the soldiers engaged in fierce skirmishes with scattered Chinese units in front of Wusong in preparation for a final entry into the city. Meanwhile, the Asama Detachment from the 11th Division initiated its part of the offensive by marching along the bank of the Yangtze toward Shizilin. On the morning of September 1st, the Japanese tightened their grip on Wusong. The regiment from the 3rd Division seized a hamlet west of Wusong and readied for an assault on the town itself. The defending Chinese forces put up strong resistance, and it was not until late afternoon that the Japanese made any significant progress, aided by artillery fire from their ships. The Asama Detachment experienced somewhat greater success that day, successfully capturing the fort at Shizilin in the afternoon. The Japanese launched their final offensive against Wusong at dawn on the 2nd. To their surprise, the fort fell with relative ease. By 10:00 am, Matsui saw the Rising Sun flag hoisted over Wusong. “I felt boundless gratification,” he noted in his diary.  With the fall of Wusong, the town of Baoshan became the last major obstacle to uninterrupted Japanese control of the riverbank, stretching from Chuanshakou to the outskirts of Shanghai. The fort at Baoshan also posed a significant threat to Japanese naval operations due to its strategic location at the confluence of the Yangtze and Huangpu rivers. Chiang Kai-shek fully recognized the importance of Baoshan and ordered a battalion of the 98th Infantry Division to hold the town at all costs. Baoshan had one notable advantage: like many ancient Chinese towns, it was encircled by a thick city wall that had historically helped fend off invaders and still served its defensive purpose well. The Japanese were acutely aware that Baoshan favored defense, and even a small contingent of Chinese forces could potentially hold out for an extended period.  On the 4th, the 3rd Division sluggishly advanced toward Baoshan. Around mid-afternoon, an artillery unit arrived to assist by bombarding the city wall. Despite this support, the Japanese soldiers, sent in waves to scale the wall, suffered significant casualties and failed to penetrate the defenses by nightfall. At noon on September 5, Japanese bombers launched an air raid on Baoshan, while naval artillery rained shells indiscriminately over the town's gray roofs. The land attack began an hour later when Japanese tanks advanced toward the town gates. The Japanese pressed the Chinese defenders into a shrinking perimeter. By sunset, the defenders were left with only 100 soldiers. The night passed without incident, as the Japanese refrained from attacking without air support, but everyone knew that dawn would herald the end. Just as the sun rose above the horizon, the assault resumed. As the city neared its fall, the defending commander Yao Ziqing ordered a soldier to escape and report the situation to his superiors. Unnoticed by the Japanese, the soldier scaled a wall and fled into the surrounding countryside, becoming the sole survivor of the battle. He carried with him a message from the battalion: “We are determined to stay at our posts and to continue fighting the enemy until each and every one of us is killed.” 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. Despite initial Chinese hopes for a counteroffensive by the newly arrived 36th Infantry Division, their inexperience and poor coordination led to heavy losses. As the Japanese gained reinforcements, they executed strategic landings at Chuanshakou and Wusong, overwhelming Chinese defenses. Amidst escalating casualties, Chinese troops struggled to maintain morale. However, their resolve to fight persisted, even as defeat loomed over the besieged city and its defenders.

Last time we spoke about the Oyama Incident and decision to fight at Shanghai. In July 1937, escalating tensions between Japan and China erupted into war after the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. As conflict spread, Chinese leader Chiang Kai-shek, believing in his nation's resilience, called for unity to resist Japanese aggression. A pivotal moment occurred on August 9 at Hongqiao Airport, where a violent confrontation left several Japanese soldiers dead. The circumstances remained murky, with both sides blaming each other, further inflaming hostilities. Despite attempts at negotiation, the military standoff intensified, leading to a consensus that war was imminent. Chiang mobilized troops to Shanghai, a crucial city for both strategic and symbolic reasons, determined to demonstrate that China could defend its sovereignty. The Chinese forces, under Generals Zhang Fukai and Zhang Zhizhong, faced logistical challenges but aimed to strike first against the increasingly aggressive Japanese military. On August 12, both nations prepared for conflict, leading to a drastic escalation.  #157 The Battle of Shanghai Part 2: Black Saturday and Operation Iron Fist Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On Friday, August 13 of 1937, the residents of Shanghai began enduring the sounds of rifle fire and machine gun salvos, punctuated by the distant booms of artillery.  Members of the Japanese marines, disguised in civilian clothes and posing as rowdy thugs, boisterous ronin, arrived at barricades manned by the Peace Preservation Corps at the northern edge of Yangshupu around 9:15 a.m. They began to provoke the Chinese guards with loud taunts and jeers. When the Chinese fired a warning shot into the air, the Japanese retaliated with deadly intent. The Chinese responded in kind, resulting in a lethal exchange. From that moment on, the situation was beyond control. As the day progressed, nervous skirmishes continued throughout the northern part of Shanghai. Chinese commanders dispatched patrols to conduct probing attacks, hoping to identify weak points in the Japanese defenses and push them back wherever possible. Meanwhile, their Japanese counterparts rushed to occupy key positions outside their main line of defense, aiming to gain an advantageous position should their adversaries launch a larger offensive. Small bands of soldiers from both sides maneuvered along narrow alleys to minimize the risk of detection; however, whenever they encountered each other, the results were deadly. In the western sector of the front line, where the Chinese Army's newly arrived 88th Infantry Division was preparing its positions, the center of activity was the headquarters of the Japanese marines near Hongkou Park. This location resembled a fortress, featuring a massive four-story structure shielded from air and artillery bombardment by a double roof of reinforced concrete. The building, which encompassed a large inner courtyard, occupied two city blocks and could accommodate thousands of troops at once. Highly visible, it represented both a significant military threat and a symbol of Japan's presence in Shanghai. The Chinese were acutely aware of their objective: they had to eradicate it. The Sichuan North road lies south between the marine headquarters and the Japanese section of the International Settlement. This road became the scene of frantic activity from the first day of battle. Japanese armored cars and motorcycle patrols, with machine guns mounted on sidecars, sped up and down the otherwise deserted street, while trench mortars positioned along the pavement lobbed grenades into Zhabei to the west. As columns of smoke rose into the sky from buildings in the Chinese district, Japanese officers squeezed into a narrow conning tower atop the marine headquarters, watching the bombardment's results through field glasses. Reports of Chinese snipers stationed in the upper floors of buildings along the road prompted Japanese squads, led by sword-wielding officers, to carry out door-to-door searches. Suspects were unceremoniously dragged away to an uncertain fate. Not a single civilian was visible in the area; everyone stayed indoors, behind closed windows and drawn curtains. On the afternoon of August 13, the Eight Character Bridge, located west of the marine headquarters, became the site of one of the battle's first major engagements. The bridge, measuring just 60 feet in length and spanning a minor creek, was deemed by both sides to have significant tactical importance. The Chinese commanders viewed it as a crucial route for advancing into the Hongkou area, believing that if the bridge fell into Japanese hands, it would be like a "piece of bone stuck in the throat." At around noon, Major Yi Jin, a battalion commander of the 88th Infantry Division, led a couple of hundred men from around the North Railway Station toward Eight Character Bridge. When the soldiers reached their objective at about 3:00 p.m., they spotted a small Japanese unit that had just arrived across the creek and was setting up defensive positions. The Chinese opened fire and managed to secure the bridge, prompting the Japanese to launch a brief artillery bombardment that resulted in several Chinese casualties. Gunfire near the bridge continued intermittently until 9:00 p.m., when a fragile silence fell over the area. Further to the east, in the 87th Infantry Division's sector, the day was also characterized by frantic maneuvering, punctuated by lengthy bursts of violence. Chinese reconnaissance parties infiltrated enemy-held areas, making their way to the Japanese Golf Club near the Huangpu River, where they began shooting at workers busy preparing the makeshift airfield. As the first volleys from the Chinese snipers rang out, clouds of dust filled the air, causing the workers to hastily seek cover. Japanese soldiers stationed in the clubhouse immediately returned fire, throwing off the snipers' aim. After about an hour, two Japanese vessels moored in the Huangpu River, the destroyer Run and the gunboat Seta were called in to assist the Japanese marines facing the 87th Infantry Division on land. Four- and six-inch shells screamed across the sky, exploding in the Chinese districts to the north. Shanghai University was also shelled, as the Japanese troops on land believed it had been occupied by Chinese soldiers. Ultimately, the last remaining staff members, two Americans, were forced to flee the campus. The naval artillery had come to the aid of the beleaguered infantry onshore, a scene that would be repeated continually in the days and weeks to come. Late that evening, Chiang Kai-shek finally ordered his military commanders to “divert the enemy at sea, block off the coast, and resist landings at Shanghai” Even before the mobilization of troops began, panic swept through Shanghai. Meanwhile, the city's waterfront took on an increasingly ominous tone. The China Daily News wrote “Arms, ammunition, and supplies streamed from several Japanese cruisers and destroyers onto the O.S.K. wharf in what appeared to be an unending flow. Additionally, a large detachment of soldiers in full marching gear disembarked, while a cruiser, the Idzumo, two destroyers, and nine gunboats arrived shortly before.” Zhang Zhizhong, the commander of the left wing, finally received the orders he wished to hear. Zhang intended to deploy all available troops in a bold effort to eliminate the Japanese presence once and for all, following the strategy recommended by the Germans. However, the plan had a significant weakness. The assault was to focus on the marine headquarters and the rest of the Hongkou salient while deliberately avoiding combat within the formal borders of the International Settlement. This decision was made as a concession to international public opinion and was politically sound. However, from a military perspective, it was nearly suicidal and greatly increased the risks associated with the entire operation. The Hongkou area represented the most heavily fortified position along the entire front. The marine headquarters was at the center of a dense network of heavy machine gun positions, protected by barbed wire, concrete emplacements, and walls of sandbags. On Saturday, August 14th, the Nationalist military command decided to target one of the most significant Japanese naval assets in Shanghai: the Izumo, anchored with support ships on the Huangpu River in the city center. Shortly before 11:00 a.m., five Chinese planes appeared over the rooftops, flying toward the river and the Japanese vessels. The aircraft released their bombs, but all missed their target, with several detonating on the wharves, demolishing buildings and sending shrapnel flying through the air. In response, the Japanese battleships unleashed a massive barrage, further endangering those unfortunate enough to live or work in the area as shell fragments rained down with deadly force. At 11:20 a.m., another Chinese air raid occurred, this time involving three planes, once again targeting the Izumo. However, for two of the pilots, something went horribly wrong. “From one of the four monoplanes, four aerial torpedoes were seen to drop as they passed over the Bund, far from their intended target... Two others fell on Nanking Road.” Either the pilot misjudged the target, or there was a malfunction with the release mechanism. Regardless of the cause, the bombs landed in one of the city's busiest civilian areas, where thousands were walking, shopping, and enjoying a hot August Saturday. At 4:46 p.m., the public health department's work diary noted, “Palace Hotel hit! Many injured and dead in street! Nanking Road opposite Cathay Hotel.” A reporter vividly captured the horror of the scene: “A bomb arced through the air, struck the Palace Hotel with a glancing blow, and unleashed indescribable carnage. As the high explosive fumes slowly lifted, a scene of dreadful death emerged. Flames from a blazing car danced over distorted bodies. Bodies wrapped in coolie cloth lay in shapeless heaps at the entrances to the main doorways and arcades of the Palace and Cathay hotels, their heads, legs, and arms separated from smashed masses of flesh. The corpse of a Chinese policeman lay dead in his tracks, shrapnel lodged in his head, and a disemboweled child was nearby.” To make matters worse, another pilot mistakenly released his bomb over Avenue Edward VII, another major shopping street. When the numbers were finally tallied, over 1,000 people, both Chinese and foreign had been killed. The bombs struck the International Settlement, a zone that was politically neutral and presumed safe. Hundreds of civilians were killed culminating in what would soon be referred to as “Black Saturday” or “Bloody Saturday.” By the time these tragedies unfolded, the Battle of Shanghai had already entered its second day.  Zhang Zhizhong's men prepared their positions for most of the day, then launched their attack late in the afternoon. Intense fighting erupted in the few hours before sunset, and it quickly became clear that the 88th Infantry Division was encountering resistance that was tougher than expected. In addition to the direct fire from entrenched Japanese positions, the attackers were bombarded by the Third Fleet's powerful artillery, which was awe-inspiring even when it employed only a fraction of its total strength of 700 pieces. However, the Chinese infantry lacked proper training in the use of heavy weaponry against fortified enemy positions. Their heavier guns, which could have made a significant difference, were held too far in the rear and missed their targets too easily, as inexperienced crews used flawed coordinates from observers who were not close enough to the action. Additionally, some of the Japanese positions had such thick defensive walls that it was questionable whether even the most powerful weaponry in the Chinese arsenal, the 150 mm howitzers, could do more than merely dent them. These tactics resulted in extraordinarily heavy losses for the Chinese, including among senior ranks. Around 5:00 p.m., Major General Huang Meixing, the 41-year-old commander of the 88th Infantry Division's 264th Brigade, was leading an attack near the marine headquarters. His divisional commander, Sun Yuanliang, attempted to reach him via field phone, but he was forced to wait. When he finally managed to get through to Huang, he cracked a rare joke: “It took so long, I thought you were dead.” Just minutes later, as if fate wanted to punish Sun Yuanliang for his black humor, Huang Meixing's command post was struck by an artillery shell, killing him instantly. Shock spread through the ranks as the news circulated, recalled Wu Ganliao, a machine gunner in the 88th Division. “Brigade Commander Huang was a fair-minded person, and he showed real affection for his troops. It was sad new”. Huang was by no means an exceptional case; Chinese officers died in large numbers from the very first day. One regiment lost seven company commanders in a single short attack. Several factors contributed to the high incidence of death among senior ranks. One reason was the ethos among some officers to lead from the front in an effort to instill courage in their men. However, leading from the rear could also be highly risky in urban combat, where opposing forces were often just yards apart, and the maze-like environment created by multi-story buildings and narrow alleys led to a fluid situation where the enemy could be just as likely behind as in front. Moreover, soldiers on both sides deliberately targeted enemy officers, perhaps more so than in other conflicts, because rigid leadership hierarchies placed a premium on decapitating the opposing unit's command. However, the massive fatality rates among officers, and even more so among the rank and file, were primarily the result of Chinese forces employing frontal assaults against a well-armed, entrenched enemy.The men who were dying by the hundreds were China's elite soldiers, the product of years of effort to build a modern military. They represented the nation's best hope for resisting Japan in a protracted war. Nevertheless, on the very first day of battle, they were being squandered at an alarming and unsustainable rate. After just a few hours of offensive operations with minimal gains, Chiang Kai-shek decided to cut his losses. In a telegram, he commanded Zhang Zhizhong: “Do not carry out attacks this evening. Await further orders.”In the weeks leading up to the outbreak of the battle of Shanghai, Chiang Kai-shek received a parade of leaders from various provinces eager to participate in the upcoming fight. After years of the Warlord nonsense , a new sense of unity began to emerge among them for the first time. All of these factions proclaimed they would lend their troops to his leadership if he pledged them against Japan. As a sign of his sincerity, Chiang decided to appoint the position of overall commander in Shanghai to one of his longest-standing rivals, our old friend, the finger nails inspector, Feng Yuxiang. This was a political savvy move directed at the Communists, trying to earn their favor.  Feng Yuxiang did not hesitate when offered the command. “As long as it serves the purpose of fighting Japan, I'll say yes, no matter what it is.” His appointment was announced just as the first shots were fired in Shanghai. Feng was about a decade older than his direct subordinates, which Chiang considered an advantage. He desired someone who was both composed and prudent to counterbalance the fiery tempers of the frontline commanders, as Chiang put it“ The frontline commanders are too young. They've got a lot of courage, but they lack experience.” Feng moved his command post to a temple outside Suzhou in mid August. Almost immediately afterward, he visited Zhang Zhizhong, who had established his command near the Suzhou city wall. At that time, Zhang was just beginning to realize how formidable the Japanese resistance in Shanghai truly was. His staff started to notice troubling signs of his deteriorating health, sensing that sickness and exhaustion were taking a toll on his ability to stay upright and effectively lead the battle. Perhaps this feeling of being overwhelmed was why he failed to undertake basic tasks, such as providing adequate protection from air attacks. Meanwhile, Shanghai society responded to the sudden outbreak of war. In July, the city's residents worked, ate, drank, and played as they had for decades. Beginning in August, however, they had to entirely remake their lives. Local institutions began to relocate; by late September, it was announced that four local universities would open joint colleges with institutions in China's interior. In the country's premier commercial city, business was being devastated. “Like a nightmare octopus flinging cruel tentacles around its helpless victims,” the North-China Daily News reported, “the local hostilities are slowly strangling Shanghai's trade.” A shopkeeper lamented, “We obtain a lot of business, of course, from tourists who visit Shanghai. What tourists are there these days?” For the foreigners in Shanghai, the war was seen as a violent diversion, but nothing truly dangerous, at least, that's what they thought. For the Chinese, however, life was unraveling. As the fighting intensified around the Japanese district, thousands of refugees poured into the streets, heading for Suzhou Creek and the Garden Bridge, the only link to the International Settlement that remained open. It was a chaotic and merciless stampede, where the weak were at a severe disadvantage. “My feet were slipping… in blood and flesh,” recalled Rhodes Farmer, a journalist for the North China Daily News, as he found himself in a sea of people struggling to escape Hongkou. “Half a dozen times, I knew I was walking on the bodies of children or old people sucked under by the torrent, trampled flat by countless feet.” Near the creek, the mass of sweating and panting humanity was nearly uncontrollable as it funneled toward the bridge, which was a mere 55 feet wide. Two Japanese sentries were almost overwhelmed by the crowd and reacted as they had been trained, with immediate, reflexive brutality. One of them bayoneted an old man and threw the lifeless body into the filthy creek below. This act of violence did not deter the other refugees, who continued to push toward the bridge, believing they were heading toward the safety of the International Settlement. Little did they know, they were moving in the wrong direction, towards the horrific slaughter of innocent civilians that would mark the entire Shanghai campaign. The American advisor Claire Chennault had been in the air since the early hours of August 14. After only a few hours of sleep at his base in Nanjing, he jumped into a lone, unarmed fighter to observe the Chinese air raid as a neutral party. The night before, he had been at the Nanjing Military Academy, in the company of Chiang Kai-shek and his wife Soong Mei-ling. That night, as war loomed, Soong Mei-ling in tears said “They are killing our people!” Chennault asked “what will you do now?”. She replied “We will fight,”. Chennault was the one who suggested bombing the ships on the Huangpu River because of the artillery support they provided to the Japanese infantry. Since there was no Chinese officer with the expertise to prepare such an operation, Soong Mei-ling had asked Chennault to take over. Although he was completely unprepared for this new role, he felt a growing affinity for China, fueled by excitement at the prospect of contributing to their fight. Eleanor B. Roosevelt, the wife of US President Franklin D. Roosevelt, was in Shanghai at the time of the bombing and was horrified by the loss of innocent life. She sent a letter to Japan's premier, Prince Konoye, urging him to seek ways to minimize the risk of Chinese air raids, which she argued were caused by the presence of Japan's military in the Shanghai area. The Japanese did not respond. However, the day after her letter, the Izumo was moved from its anchorage near the Japanese Consulate to the middle of the Huangpu River. The cruiser remained close enough to contribute its artillery to the fighting inland, but far enough away to significantly reduce the danger to civilians in the city. The 15th was surreal, even after thousands had been killed in battle, the fighting in China remained an undeclared war as far as the Japanese government was concerned, and it committed forces only in a piecemeal fashion. The Japanese Cabinet continued to refer to events in Shanghai and further north near Beijing as “the China Incident.” However, euphemisms were not enough to disguise the reality that Shanghai was becoming a significant problem. In the early hours of the 15th, a Japanese Cabinet meeting decided to send army reinforcements to the hard-pressed marines in Shanghai, leading to the deployment of the 3rd and 11th Divisions. The two divisions were to form the Shanghai Expeditionary Force, a unit resurrected from the hostilities of 1932. Many of the soldiers sent to war were reservists in their late twenties and early thirties who had long since returned to civilian life and were poorly disciplined. In their habitual disdain for the Chinese, Japanese leaders figured that this would be more than enough to deal with them. Underestimating the foe would soon prove to be a mistake they would repeat again and again in the coming weeks and months. To lead the force, the Japanese leaders brought out of retirement 59-year-old General Matsui Iwane, a veteran of the 1904-1905 Russo-Japanese War. Matsui was a slight man, weighing no more than 100 pounds, with a large 19th century mustache and a palsy affecting his right side. He was not an accidental choice; he knew China well and had been an acquaintance of Sun Yat-sen.  Hongkou or “Little Tokyo” had become an area under siege. Surrounded by hostile Chinese troops on three sides, its only link to the outside world was the dock district along the Huangpu River. From the first day of the battle, the area was bombarded with Chinese mortar shells, prompting an exodus among Japanese residents, some of whom had lived in Shanghai for years. An increasingly common sight was kimono-clad women carrying heavy loads as they made their way to the wharfs to board ferries taking them back to Japan. Hongkou, said visiting Japanese correspondent Hayashi Fusao, “was a dark town. It was an exhausted town.” Those who remained in “Little Tokyo,” mostly men forced to stay behind to look after their businesses, tried to continue their lives with as little disruption to their normal routines as possible. However, this was difficult, given the constant reminders of war surrounding them: rows of barbed wire and piles of sandbags, soldiers marching from one engagement to another, and the sounds of battle often occurring just a few blocks away. “Every building was bullet-marked, and the haze of gunpowder hung over the town,” wrote Hayashi. “It was a town at war. It was the August sun and an eerie silence, burning asphalt, and most of all, the swarm of blue flies hovering around the feet.” It seemed Vice Admiral Hasegawa Kiyoshi, the commander of the Japanese 3rd Fleet, had bitten off more than he could chew in aggressively expanding operations in the Shanghai area. August 16th saw repeated Chinese attacks, placing the Japanese defenders under severe pressure, stretching their resources to the limit. Rear Admiral Okawachi Denshichi, who headed the Shanghai marines, had to hastily commit reserves, including irreplaceable tanks, to prevent a Chinese breakthrough. That day Hasegawa sent three telegrams to his superiors, each sounding more desperate than the last. After his second telegram, sent around 7:00 pm,  warning that his troops could probably hold out for only 6 more days, the Naval Command ordered the marine barracks at Sasebo Naval Base in southern Japan to dispatch two units of 500 marines each to Shanghai. Following Hasegawa's 3rd telegram later that night, the navy decided to send even more reinforcements. Two additional marine units, consisting of a total of 1,400 soldiers waiting in Manchuria for deployment at Qingdao, were ordered to embark for Shanghai immediately. The Chinese, however, did not feel that things were going their way. The battle continued to be much bloodier than anyone had anticipated. Throwing infantry en masse against fortified positions was the only feasible tactic available to an army rich in manpower confronting an adversary with a clear technological advantage. Yet, this approach turned the battle into a contest of flesh against steel, resulting in tremendous loss of life. Chiang Kai-shek was losing patience. After several days of fighting, his troops had still not succeeded in dislodging the Japanese from the streets of Shanghai. The Japanese marines entrenched in the Hongkou and Yangshupu areas proved to be a harder nut to crack than he or his generals had expected. At a meeting with his divisional commanders, Chiang ordered a massive attack to be launched in the early morning of August 17. The troops were to utilize more firepower and be better prepared than they had been for the assault three days earlier. Codenamed Operation Iron Fist, it was the most ambitious Chinese offensive in the first critical week of the Shanghai campaign. Colonel Hans Vetter, the advisor assigned to the 88th Division, played a key role in planning the offensive. He aimed to employ “Stosstrupp” or “stormtrooper” shock troop tactics that the Germans had effectively used during the Great War. After an intense artillery bombardment, a small, elite group of determined, well-armed men was to punch through the Japanese lines and fight their way deep into the enemy camp before the defenders had a chance to recover from the initial surprise. This procedure was to be followed by both the 88th Division moving in from the west, targeting the area south of Hongkou Park, and the 87th Division conducting a parallel operation from the east. Zhang Zhizhong recognized a window of opportunity while he still enjoyed a significant, but likely temporary, advantage against the Japanese. This opportunity had to be seized before reinforcements arrived. However, the odds were not favorable. Urban combat with modern weaponry of unprecedented lethality was a costly affair, especially when the enemy had the upper hand in the sky. Japanese airplanes constantly threatened the Chinese positions, carrying out relentless sorties throughout the day. The Chinese Air Force remained a factor, but it was uncertain how much longer it would hold out against the more experienced Japanese pilots and their superior, more maneuverable aircraft. The growing Japanese presence overhead, supported by both shipborne planes and aircraft based on airstrips on Chongming Island in the Yangtze Delta, greatly complicated any major movements on the ground. Despite these challenges, the Chinese Army continued its troop build-up in the Shanghai area. The 98th Infantry Division arrived on August 15 and placed one brigade, half its strength, at the disposal of the 87th Infantry Division, ensuring that the division's rear area was covered during Operation Iron Fist. Operation Iron Fist kicked off as planned at 5:00 am on the 17th. Utilizing all available firepower, the 87th and 88th Infantry Divisions launched simultaneous assaults against stunned and bewildered Japanese defenders. In line with the Stosstrupp approach of rapid penetration, Zhang Zhizhong introduced a new tactical principle, prompted by the severe losses during the first few days of fighting. Forces under his command were to identify gaps in the Japanese defenses and exploit them, rather than launch massive, costly, and most likely futile attacks on heavily fortified positions. Once an enemy stronghold was spotted, the main forces would circumvent it and leave just enough troops to keep it pinned down. Chen Yiding, a regimental commander of the 87th Infantry Division, played a pivotal role in the assault. His soldiers, each equipped with provisions for two days, made good progress during the first hours of Iron Fist, leveraging their local knowledge and moving with the slippery dexterity of alley cats. They would enter a building on one street, knock down the wall inside, and exit onto the next street, or they would throw down beams from rooftop to rooftop, sneaking as quietly as possible from one block to another without being noticed by those on the ground. They proved elusive targets for the Japanese, who expected them to come from one direction, only to be attacked from another. Nevertheless, changing the tactical situation from the previous days was not enough. The attackers encountered well-prepared defenses that sometimes could not be circumvented, resulting in significant losses from the outset of the assault. An entire battalion of the 88th Division was wiped out while trying to take a single building. Despite their sacrifices, there was no major breakthrough anywhere along the Japanese defense lines. This was partly due to strong support from Japanese naval artillery stationed along the Huangpu River and partly a reflection of poor coordination between Chinese infantry and artillery.Equally detrimental to the Chinese cause was their careful avoidance, during the first days of combat in Shanghai, of fighting inside the International Settlement or even in the predominantly Japanese part of the settlement, in order to avoid angering the outside world and swaying international opinion against them. This approach frustrated their German advisors. “It was obvious that the attacking troops had been told to engage only enemies standing on Chinese territory, not the ones inside the international areas,” the Germans wrote, with an almost audible sigh of regret in their after-action report. This frustration was shared by several Chinese officers at the frontline. “We are much handicapped by the demarcation of the foreign areas,” the adjutant to a divisional commander told a Western reporter. “We could have wiped out the enemy if it had not been for orders from the Central Government and our commander to avoid causing damage to foreign lives and to give them adequate protection.” The presence of the large foreign community primarily played into Japanese hands. Many of Chiang Kai-shek's officers believed that if the Chinese had been able to move through the French Concession and the International Settlement to attack the Japanese from the rear, they could have won easily. Zhang Fakui would later say “Without the protection provided by the foreign concessions, they would have been wiped out,”. At the end of the day, the Japanese emerged victorious. Their defense proved stronger, as it had for four long years on the Western Front during the Great War. The challenge facing the Japanese was tough, but at least it was straightforward and uncomplicated: they had to hold on to Hongkou and Yangshupu while waiting for reinforcements to arrive. They proved adept at this task. In many cases, Chinese soldiers found themselves fighting for the same objectives they had targeted when the battle for Shanghai began several days earlier. By August 18, the Chinese attack had been called off. Operation Iron Fist had proven to be a costly endeavor for the Chinese, who endured heavy casualties in the vicious urban fighting. The Japanese, on the other hand, suffered approximately 600 casualties, of which 134 were fatalities, according to the Official Gazette. The Japanese marine units dispatched from Manchuria on August 16, the day of crisis for their compatriots in Shanghai, arrived in the city during the morning of August 18 and were immediately thrown into battle. A few hours later, the Japanese Cabinet announced the formal end of its policy of non-expansion in China, which, by that time, had already been a hollow shell for several weeks. “The empire, having reached the limit of its patience, has been forced to take resolute measures,” it stated. “Henceforth, it will punish the outrages of the Chinese Army, thereby spurring the Chinese government to self-reflect.” 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. On August 13, Japanese marines, disguised as civilians, provoked Chinese guards, leading to mutual gunfire. The fierce urban fighting escalated, especially at the strategically vital Eight Character Bridge. Despite determined Chinese assaults, heavy losses ensued as they struggled against well-fortified Japanese positions. As artillery and air strikes rained down, civilian casualties soared, culminating in the infamous "Black Saturday," followed by the failed Operation Iron Fist.    

This is the VIC 4 VETS, Honored Veteran, during Veterans Month in America. SUBMITTED BY: TIM CHILDS _____________________________________________________________ ARMY MASTER SGT. ERNEST R. KOUMA / SGT MAJOR TONY B. KOUMA Vic and Ken, I would like to share the names of two brothers who both enlisted in the military to fight for our freedom in the buildup to and after our declaration of war in World War ll. I never had the opportunity to meet Earnest but Tony was married to my 2nd cousin Mary Henehan. I had the pleasure of spending time with him and his family in California , while I was stationed at Camp Pendleton from 1983-1985. He was a great big man with just as big a heart. Earnest was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor and Tony earned the Navy Cross, which is one step below the Medal of Honor. Hearing Tony describe the details of what his brother went through, and after much prodding on my part, what he went through to earn their respective medals was chilling and awe inspiring at the same time. It was amazing to me, initially, that brothers would both earn such honors and neither posthumously. After spending time with him and his family I came to understand the type of character it takes to be these men. I know you plan to honor 1 veteran each day. I would appreciate it if you could take the time to mention them both at the same time so listeners can understand the level of courage, honor and devotion to country demonstrated by these two young men, brothers from 1 family. If I may, I would like to also give a mention for Ashli Babbit.Ashli Babbitt had a 12-year military career in the Air Force, primarily serving as an enlisted security forces controller. She enlisted after high school and served from 2004 to 2016, including deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq. During her active duty, she met her first husband, Staff Sargent Timothy McEntee. Babbitt also served in the Air National Guard, including a six-year stint with the Capital Guardians, a unit responsible for defending the Washington D.C. region. She reached the rank of Senior Airman. Thanks, Tim ________________________________________________________________ This is today’s VIC 4 VETS, Honored Veteran, during Veterans Month in America on NewsTalkSTL. With support from our friends at: DG FIREARMS - PATRIOT HEATING AND COOLING - BEST BUY FLOORING Sgt. Maj. Anthony B. Kouma (Retired) was born in Dwight, NE, May 30, 1922. He enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1942. His distinguished military career included service in WWII, Korea and Vietnam. Among his many decorations, he was awarded the Navy Cross in 1944 for extraordinary heroism. In 1951 he married Marjorie Dixon, mother of his nine children. After her death, he retired and worked as a school bus driver to care for their children. He was joined by his beloved wife Mary Henehan, who sadly preceded him in death by a year. He passed away at his home in Encinitas on Sept. 12, 2004. He will be remembered for his lively sense of humor and his constant love of God, family, friends, country, and the U.S. Marine Corps. His frequent letters often ended with a phrase he personified in life - Semper fidelis (Always faithful.) Navy Cross Citation: The President of the United States of America takes pleasure in presenting the Navy Cross to Corporal Anthony B. Kouma (MCSN: 485555), United States Marine Corps Reserve, for extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty while serving with Headquarters and Service Battery, Third Battalion, Tenth Marines, SECOND Marine Division, in action against enemy Japanese forces on Saipan, Marianas Islands, 7 July 1944. Investigating suspicious movement in the vicinity of his Battery's position, Corporal Kouma worked his way forward from his foxhole and, discovering the enemy in force to his front, alerted the listening posts and directed accurate and effective automatic fire against the Japanese. Doggedly continuing his advance into the enemy lines under intense machinegun and rifle fire, he located and destroyed two hostile machine guns which were firing into his Battery. He then returned to his own area and, discovering that the position was becoming untenable, efficiently directed the withdrawal of the men and assisted in the evacuation of the wounded. His leadership, courageous devotion to duty and gallant fighting spirit reflect the highest credit upon Corporal Kouma and the United States Naval Service. Medal of Honor Monday: Army Master Sgt. Ernest R. Kouma Army Master Sgt. Ernest R. Kouma was credited with killing an astonishing 250 enemy soldiers to protect retreating U.S. infantrymen during an hours-long battle at the beginning of the Korean War. It's no surprise that his efforts earned him the Medal of Honor. Kouma was born Nov. 23, 1919, in Dwight, Nebraska, and grew up on a family farm. In 1940, as war was building in Europe, he decided to enlist in the Army. Kouma served with the 9th Infantry Division during World War II. He fought his way across Germany and helped relieve the people of Bastone, Belgium, after a long siege during the famed Battle of the Bulge in the winter of 1944-45. After the war, he served as part of the occupation force in South Korea and Japan. But shortly after the Korean War began in the summer of 1950, Kouma was again sent to the front lines as an M26 Pershing tank commander of Company A, 72nd Tank Battalion, 2nd Infantry Division. Kouma's unit was part of the defensive perimeter around the port city of Pusan along the Naktong River. Near midnight on Aug. 31, 1950, about 500 enemy troops crossed the river and launched an attack against infantry units the tanks were supporting. The infantry units were ordered to withdraw, and Kouma's armored unit was tasked with covering them until another defensive position could be set up. But the enemy's assault was heavy, and it overran two tanks, destroyed another and forced a fourth to withdraw. That's when Kouma realized his tank was the only one left to defend the fleeing infantry units. His company desperately needed to hold their ground. Kouma ordered his crew to fire on the attackers, fighting them off repeatedly throughout the night. During one assault, insurgents surrounded Kouma's tank, so he jumped from the armored turret despite a hail of gunfire coming at him. He made it to the .50-caliber machine gun mounted on the rear deck of the tank and fired at point-blank range into the enemy. After the machine gun ran out of ammunition, he shot his pistol and threw grenades to keep them off the tank. For nine hours, Kouma's tank unit battled the enemy nonstop at close range until they were finally forced to move to safety, withdrawing through eight miles of hostile territory. The whole journey, Kouma kept firing and was able to take out three hostile machine gun positions. During the retreat, Kouma injured numerous insurgents and killed an estimated 250 enemy soldiers. It was an intense display of heroics that allowed the infantry to get to safety and reestablish their defensive positions. Kouma was injured during the ordeal, but once he rejoined his company, he tried to resupply the tank and get back to the battle. His superiors made him get medical treatment, and his request to return to the front lines was again shot down. A few days later, Kouma returned to his unit. He was promoted to master sergeant and evacuated back to the U.S. His leadership, heroism and intense devotion to the mission first led to the Distinguished Service Cross being awarded to him. That was quickly upgraded, however, to the Medal of Honor. He was one of the first men to receive it for actions taken in Korea and received it during a ceremony held by President Harry S. Truman on May 10, 1951. After the war, the distinguished soldier remained in the Army and served as a recruiter, a tank gunnery instructor and a tank commander, but he never again saw combat. He retired in 1971 after 31 years of service and went on to work as a game warden at Fort Knox. Kouma lived a quiet life in McDaniels, Kentucky, until his death on Dec. 19, 1993. He is the only Medal of Honor recipient buried in Fort Knox Cemetery. Kouma received many honors after leaving the service. The 194th Brigade Dining Facility at Fort Benning, Georgia, is named in his honor. In 2016, just outside of Fort Knox, officials in Radcliff, Kentucky, renamed a road Ernest R. Kouma Boulevard in his memory. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Kicking off Season #6 of Your Next Mission® video podcast,SMA Tilley welcomes the 3rd Infantry Division Command Team, MG Christopher R. Norrie, Commanding General, and CSM Jonathan Reffeor, Division Command SergeantMajor. Together, they celebrate the Army's 250th Birthday, reflecting on the significance of this milestone, the esteemed history of the 3rd Infantry Division, and the pride of being a Dogface Soldier.

Historian and author Brian Bruce vividly describes an often neglected but important aspect of the Pacific Theater in WWII: The campaign to liberate New Guinea from the Japanese and thwart their planned invasion of Australia. In his book MacArthur's Bloody Butchers: Company G, 163rd Regiment, Bruce follows the path of four men from the 41st Infantry Division – including Bruce's great uncle Doyle – as they fought their way from New Guinea, to the Philippines and prepared to invade Japan. Along the way they experienced brutal jungle warfare, hand-to-hand combat with Japanese commandos dug into caves, romance with Australian women, and even the devastation of Hiroshima. Assisting the US war effort in New Guinea were the indigenous peoples, known to the Americans as angels, who helped carry supplies and wounded soldiers from the field. Heroes Behind HeadlinesExecutive Producer Ralph PezzulloProduced & Engineered by Mike DawsonMusic provided by ExtremeMusic.com

We have published 120 episodes since 2019. For this new season, we thought it would be a good idea to look back on some of the highlights of our conversations and select 20 episodes that resonated with veterans, service members, military families, and the civilians who support them.But first up, you'll hear from some of the folks at Home Base who wake up every day with the same mission in mind, no matter what they do at the Center of Excellence in the Navy Yard and beyond. For this episode, you will hear a brief conversation with Marc Moyer, a U.S. Army Veteran who served with the 3rd Infantry Division in Iraq and is now a Veteran Outreach Coordinator at Home Base. Following my conversation with Marc, you'll hear an episode featuring Bonnie Carroll, a retired major in the Air Force Reserve and founder of the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, also known as TAPS. This organization has created a vital support network for those mourning the loss of a military loved one.Many thanks to Marc Moyer for all his work at Home Base in support of this mission to stomp stigma and treat the invisible wounds of veterans and military families.Run To Home Base: Join Ron and his team and sign up individually or on another team at the 16th annual Run To Home Base on July 26th, 2025, at Fenway Park! Go to runtohomebase.orgPlease visit homebase.org for updates, programming, and resources if you or someone you know is struggling. Home Base Nation is the official podcast for the Home Base Program for Veterans and Military Families. Our team sees veterans, service members, and their families addressing the invisible wounds of war at no cost. This is all made possible thanks to a grateful nation. To learn more about how to help, visit us at www.homebase.org. If you or anyone you know would like to connect to care, you can also reach us at 617-724-5202.Follow Home Base on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, LinkedInThe Home Base Nation Team is Steve Monaco, Army Veteran Kelly Field, Justin Scheinert, Chuck Clough, with COO Michael Allard, Brigadier General Jack Hammond, and Peter Smyth.Producer and Host: Dr. Ron HirschbergAssistant Producer, Editor: Chuck CloughChairman, Home Base Media Lab: Peter SmythThe views expressed by guests on the Home Base Nation podcast are their own, and their appearance on the program does not imply an endorsement of them or any entity they represent. Views and opinions expressed by guests are those of the guests and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Massachusetts General Hospital, Home Base, the Red Sox Foundation, or any of its officials.

In this episode, American forces on Saipan face intense Japanese resistance as they push northward toward Marpi Point. On July 6, soldiers from the Army's 27th Infantry Division find themselves trapped in brutal combat near Tanapag and Harakiri Gulch, encountering relentless fire from deeply entrenched enemy positions. As tanks struggle against mines and ambushes, the division's momentum stalls, prompting desperate tactical decisions. Meanwhile, the 4th Marine Division continues advancing steadily eastward, capturing crucial high ground that places further pressure on the Japanese defenders. But as darkness falls, gaps emerge in American lines, leaving troops vulnerable to infiltration. With the Japanese preparing for one last, desperate counterattack, the battle for Saipan reaches a critical turning point. ************* Visit HistoryoftheMarineCorps.com to subscribe to our newsletter, explore episode notes and images, and see our references. Follow us on social media for updates and bonus content: Facebook and Twitter (@marinehistory) and Instagram (@historyofthemarines). Visit AudibleTrial.com/marinehistory for a free audiobook and a 30-day trial.

Last time we spoke about the breakthrough on Okinawa. Despite relentless attacks on critical positions like Sugar Loaf Hill and Wana Ridge, American Marines encountered heavy casualties. Yet, they persisted, inching forward against tenacious resistance. As mid-May approached, the situation for Japanese commanders deteriorated. Encircled and suffering significant losses, they began plotting a retreat to more defensible positions. On the ground, Marines battled through mud and enemy fire, showcasing incredible resolve amidst dire circumstances. Communication crumbled, supplies dwindled, and morale waned, yet the determination of both sides was undeniable. By late May, the tides shifted further in favor of the Allies, marking pivotal breakthroughs despite the challenges. Amidst ruin and chaos, the relentless struggle for control over Okinawa symbolized the brutal nature of war and the unwavering spirit of those fighting on both sides, setting the stage for an eventual Allied victory.  This episode is the Fall of Shuri Welcome to the Pacific War Podcast Week by Week, 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 world war two? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on world war two 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 you can find a few videos all the way from the Opium Wars of the 1800's until the end of the Pacific War in 1945.  As we last left off, the battle for Okinawa was reaching a critical juncture. General Buckner's 10th Army had made significant gains, successfully breaking through the fortified Japanese defenses on both flanks. The 6th Marine Division, under General Shepherd, had effectively established control over the Naha area, while General Arnold's 7th Division achieved an impressive penetration at Yonabaru. However, despite these advancements, the remainder of the American forces faced formidable obstacles. They were grappling with relentless rain, fierce enemy resistance, and severe supply shortages, which left them effectively stalled in front of Shuri. In response to the encroaching American forces, General Ushijima had dispatched General Fujioka's 62nd Division to launch a counter-offensive aimed at driving the invaders out of Yonabaru. Meanwhile, Ushijima was preparing his 32nd Army for a strategic withdrawal south to the Kiyamu Peninsula. Fortunately for the Americans, they had caught wind of the defenders' intentions. Recognizing the urgency of the situation, on May 27, General Buckner ordered his troops to apply strong and unrelenting pressure on the enemy. The goal was clear: keep the Japanese forces off balance and prevent an easy transition to new defensive positions. Although the continuing downpour hindered the possibility of a large-scale, coordinated army-wide attack, it did not deter Buckner's strategy. Instead, he initiated a series of strong combat patrols along the front lines, which immediately encountered stiff resistance from Japanese troops that had not yet begun their withdrawal. On the west coast, as patrols from Colonel Roberts' 22nd Marines scouted the area, they discovered that the Japanese had largely abandoned Naha. This news spurred the 2nd Battalion into action. They crossed the Asato River, moved through the lines established by Shepherd's Reconnaissance Company, and pressed deeper into the western part of Naha. Simultaneously, Colonel Shapley's 4th Marines made their last desperate push to extend American control into eastern Naha, fighting valiantly against the entrenched enemy. Farther east, Colonel Finn's 32nd Regiment once again faced fierce resistance from the hastily committed 62nd Division, which staunchly defended its position. However, not all was lost; patrols from Colonel Green's 184th Regiment managed to reach Inasomi, meeting only scattered resistance. This breakthrough provided a crucial indication that the enemy had no intention of withdrawing into the Chinen Peninsula. As the clocks struck midnight, a significant yet largely unnoticed transition occurred in the waters off Okinawa: Admiral Halsey's 3rd Fleet relieved Admiral Spruance's 5th Fleet. For the troops ashore, this change in command went by without a hint of recognition. The same ships and task groups continued their crucial support for ground operations, now operating under new numerical designations and leadership. However, Halsey faced an immediate challenge as Admiral Ugaki launched an extensive Kikisui attack, a large-scale kamikaze assault involving 110 enemy aircraft. The day of May 27 proved costly, with three destroyers, one destroyer minesweeper, two transports, one subchaser, and two auxiliary ships all suffering damage. The following morning brought clear skies, which only heightened the danger for American naval forces. Several kamikaze aircraft succeeded in sinking the destroyer USS Drexler, while also inflicting damage on a transport ship, three freighters, and a landing craft throughout the day. Meanwhile, on land, Colonel Whaling's rehabilitated 29th Marines took over from the battered 4th Marines along the west coast. The 1st Battalion executed a concerted attack alongside the 22nd Marines, advancing successfully by 250 yards through the rubble-strewn city of Naha. In an impressive display of momentum, Roberts' men pushed forward unopposed toward the Kokuba estuary, eventually encountering resistance near Ono-Yama Island. To the east, the improvement in weather allowed Colonel Mason's 1st Marines to launch a coordinated offensive. The 2nd Battalion fought valiantly, climbing to the peak of 110 Meter Hill. The forward elements of Company E gained the hill crest but were forced to withdraw by vicious enemy fire which raked their positions. Lieutenant Colonel Magee felt that his depleted battalion, down to a total strength of 277 men in the rifle companies, might recapture the hill, but "it could not possibly hold it against a strong enemy counterattack." Although new replacements were available to regiments for training or other use, a division order prevented their being sent to front line units during a battle situation that called for the utmost in skill and knowledge of veterans. Throughout most of the morning and all of the afternoon, 2/1 concentrated the fire of its supporting weapons on the reverse slopes of 110 Meter Hill and engaged the Japanese in a fierce and continuous fire fight. Nightfall brought no cessation of enemy resistance, and many infiltrators were killed in the battalion's lines. In contrast, the 3rd Battalion experienced relatively little opposition, allowing some patrols to penetrate into Wana Draw. At the same time, Colonel Griebel's 3rd Battalion effectively moved its front line to the Asato River, while his 1st Battalion achieved a significant milestone by capturing Beehive Hill. However, despite the break in the rain, the conditions on the ground rendered large-scale movements impractical, stalling further advances across the battlefield. Despite Arnold's determined efforts to push west through Fujioka's blocking positions, progress was minimal. Nevertheless, he was able to consolidate his grip on the Ozato hill mass as Green's 2nd Battalion advanced to a position within 1,000 yards of Shinazato, strategically located at the neck of the Chinen Peninsula. The lack of success from the 62nd Division in driving back the breaching American forces reinforced General Ushijima's resolve to evacuate Shuri while the opportunity still existed. In light of this, he ordered the withdrawal to commence the following evening. On May 29, while the 7th Reconnaissance Troop managed to scout a significant portion of the Chinen Peninsula without incident, the 7th and 96th Divisions faced fierce resistance as they attacked toward the road network south of Shuri. The enemy's resolute defense resulted in only minimal gains for the American assault units. General Bruce's 77th Division, after what can be described as "a day almost entirely spent in hand-to-hand combat," found itself unable to penetrate the intense cordon of defensive fire that protected the Japanese positions. In stark contrast, to the west, Griebel's 1st Battalion made a rapid advance, quickly gaining the crest of Shuri Ridge. They launched a bold assault on Shuri Castle. On May 25, as part of the final stages of the Okinawa campaign, the American battleship USS Mississippi bombarded the castle for three days, and by May 27, it was engulfed in flames. That night, the Japanese forces retreated, abandoning Shuri while US troops pursued them southward. The 1st Battalion of the 5th Marines had started its attack on 29 May with Companies B and C in assault and Company A following in trace of Company C. The Marines quickly gained the crest of Shuri Ridge and Lieutenant Colonel Shelburne requested permission for one of his companies to storm Shuri Castle which commanded his position. Although the castle was in the zone of action of the 77th Infantry Division, General del Valle gave his assent to the request in view of the great danger of enemy action from the strong point. The 1st Marine Division commander felt that "at that time the position of the 77th Division was such that it would have taken several hard day's fighting through enemy resistance" before the castle could be taken. Company A drove east along the muddy ridge line, overwhelming the few Japanese in its path, and by 1015 the castle, core of the Shuri bastion, had been secured. The Marine unit entered Shuri through a gap in the covering forces caused by the withdrawal of the 3d Battalion, 15th Independent Mixed Regiment of the 44th Independent Mixed Brigade, in the course of the Japanese retreat from Shuri. This seems to have been the only notable instance of confusion and mistake in the Japanese withdrawal operation as a whole. Everywhere else around Shuri the Japanese still held their covering positions in the front lines. The 77th Division, which had scheduled air strikes and a heavy artillery bombardment on the castle heights for 29 May, received little prior warning of the Marines' assault and "was barely able to avert [its] called strikes in time." Without taking any credit away from Company A of the 5th Marines for its feat of capturing Shuri Castle, its success was clearly the result of the combined effort of all the assault and support troops of Tenth Army which had maintained relentless pressure on the enemy defenses and paved the way for the breakthrough.  Capitalizing on this momentum, General Del Valle swiftly reorganized his forces to bypass Wana Draw and consolidate these crucial gains. Meanwhile, Griebel's 3rd Battalion maneuvered down the division boundary, reaching a position just 2,000 yards from the village of Kokuba, prompting Whaling's 3rd Battalion to push their lines forward by approximately 600 yards. In a coordinated effort, the 29th Marines executed a wheeling assault on 29 May with 1/29 pivoting on 3/29 and attacking south and then east to bring the regiment on line with the 22d Marines. The ultimate objective of the 1st Battalion's attack was the high ground northwest of Shichina. The approach to the objective was over low and open terrain which drew the comment from regiment that it was "about as suitable to fighting as a billiard table." Fire from strong points in tombs and caves on the small hills and ridges to the front kept the advance to a slow pace, and the assault companies, A and C, dug in slightly to the left rear of the positions of the 22d Marines at nightfall. On another front, Roberts' 1st Battalion successfully crossed the Kokuba River and advanced toward Telegraph Hill in east Naha. However, despite their efforts, intense fighting erupted throughout the day without yielding any significant gains. Back at sea, the threat of kamikaze attacks returned with ferocity, yet this time, American defenses held strong, resulting in only a single destroyer and one transport sustaining damage. As night fell, the Japanese began their long-anticipated withdrawal. General Amamiya's 24th Division commenced disengagement, moving southward while leaving a small force, including the 22nd Independent Battalion, to cover their retreat at Shuri. Meanwhile, General Suzuki's 44th Independent Mixed Brigade held their defensive lines outside Naha, and the 62nd Division maintained its positions near Chan and Karadera. By dawn on May 30, the bulk of the 32nd Army had successfully evacuated the Shuri lines, slipping away from the flanking maneuvers of Buckner's 10th Army. Thanks to a continuous curtain of rain, General Ushijima executed a meticulously planned "properly deft withdrawal." His covering forces were strategically positioned to provide him with the necessary time to organize a defensive stance on the Kiyamu Peninsula. However, the Americans, ever vigilant, were quick to capitalize on the enemy's disarray, maintaining relentless pressure on the faltering Japanese front. On the west coast, Roberts' 2nd and 3rd Battalions crossed the canal, seamlessly moving through the 1st Battalion to take up the assault. They pushed forward tenaciously until they captured the entire area encompassing Telegraph Hill and Hill 27. A network of Japanese machine gun positions hidden in the clusters of tombs on the low hills to the Marines' front made progress slow and costly. Enemy machine guns emplaced in burial tombs on Hill 27 in east Naha temporarily checked the infantry. Heavy sniper fire whipped the lines and killed Lieutenant Colonel Woodhouse of 2/22 who was forward controlling his battalion's attack. Major John G. Johnson, the executive officer, took command immediately and continued a steady pressure. During most of the day tanks were unable to reach the position, but in the afternoon three worked their way along the road north of the hill, and their direct fire enabled the marines to seize it. The advance consisted of a series of local assaults and mop-up actions that brought the battalion to secure hill positions overlooking the Kokuba Estuary and the rail line leading to the north by nightfall. Lieutenant Colonel Shisler's 3d Battalion passed through 1/22 during the morning's attack and behind a screen of artillery, mortars, naval gunfire, and rockets drove onto the high ground at the eastern outskirts of Naha. By means of a series of holding attacks and flank assaults, Shisler was able to move his companies into the maze of enemy defenses where close quarter grenade and small-arms exchanges decided the issue. Once the dominating ground was won, the battalion was subjected to intense artillery and mortar fire. At the same time, Whaling's 1st Battalion joined the offensive, encountering fierce resistance as they pressed through 600 yards of enemy territory. To the east, the Marines under Del Valle shifted their focus to vigorous patrolling, as the supply situation gradually improved thanks to dedicated carrying parties and aerial air drops. Despite their efforts, the 306th Regiment's assault on 110 Meter Hill encountered heavy opposition once again. However, Colonel Hamilton's 307th Regiment finally achieved a breakthrough, seizing the strategic Three Sisters. Dorothy Hill, a fortress directly east of Shuri and a tower of strength in the enemy's inner line for the past two weeks, was attacked by the 3d Battalion, 307th Infantry, 77th Division. The first platoon to reach the base of the hill was pinned down by heavy fire, the platoon leader and all noncommissioned officers being wounded. Other platoons maneuvered into position and finally one squad reached the crest at the right end. This entering wedge enabled two companies to reach the top, from which they discovered three levels of caves on the reverse slope. They went to work methodically, moving from right to left along the top level, burning and blasting each cave and dugout, the flame-thrower and satchel-charge men covered by riflemen. When work on the top level was finished, the second level of caves and tunnels received similar treatment, and then the third and lowest level. That night fifteen Japanese who had survived the day's fighting crawled out of the blasted caves and were killed by Americans from their foxholes. A great amount of enemy equipment, including ten destroyed 150-mm- guns and twenty-five trucks, was found on the south (reverse) side of Dorothy Hill, testifying to the enemy fire power at this strong point. On 30 May, the 77th Division also took Jane Hill on its left flank and then almost unopposed took Tom Hill, the highest point of ground in the Shuri area, by 1700. This critical victory paved the way for Colonel Smith's forces to advance into the northern outskirts of Shuri through Ishimmi. In a remarkable display of coordination, Colonel Dill's 382nd Regiment finally secured the strategic Hen Hill and Oboe Hill areas, while also capturing Hector Hill on their left flank. For nine days elements of the 96th Division had been stalemated at the base of Hen Hill, just northeast of Shuri. On the 30th, Company F and one platoon of Company G, 382d Infantry, resumed the attack on Hen Hill. Pfc. Clarence B. Craft, a rifleman from Company G, was sent out ahead with five companions to test the Japanese positions. As he and his small group started up the slope, they were brought under heavy fire from Japanese just over the crest, and a shower of grenades fell on them. Three of the men were wounded and the other two were stopped. Craft, although a new replacement and in his first action, kept on going, tossing grenades at the crest. From just below the crest he threw two cases of grenades that were passed up to him from the bottom, those of the enemy going over his head or exploding near him. He then leaped to the crest and fired at point-blank range into the Japanese in a trench a few feet below him. Spurred by Craft's example, other men now came to his aid. Reloading, Craft pursued the Japanese down the trench, wiped out a machine gun nest, and satchel-charged the cave into which the remaining Japanese had retreated. Altogether, in the taking of Hen Hill as a result of Craft's action, about seventy Japanese were killed, at least twenty-five of whom were credited to Craft himself. This daring action won him the Congressional Medal of Honor. To the left (east), Company F at the same time engaged in a grenade battle for Hector Hill, using ten cases of grenades in the assault on the crest. It was finally won after a satchel charge was hurled over the top and lit in the enemy trench on the other side, parts of Japanese bodies and pieces of enemy equipment hurtling into the sky in the blast. Hen and Hector Hills had fallen by 1400. Southeast of their position, Colonel May's 2d Battalion, 383d Infantry, reached Love Hill and dug in, although scattered fire was still received from a machine gun in a nook of Charlie Hill and there were a few live Japanese on Love itself. In the afternoon the 3d Battalion, 383d Infantry, left its foxholes on Oboe, where it had experienced so great an ordeal, and proceeded down the reverse slope of the hill, finding only a few scattered Japanese. That night the 383d Infantry expressed a heartfelt sentiment when it reported "infinite relief to have Conical Hill behind us." Although there had been suicidal stands in a few places by the last of the holding force, the advances had been rapid. Simultaneously, Colonel Halloran's 381st Regiment effectively reduced the Conical Hill-Cutaway area and seized Roger Hill, both regiments then advancing toward the vital Naha-Yonabaru road. At the same time, the 32nd Regiment launched a coordinated offensive that allowed them to successfully capture Oak, Ella, and June Hills. This advance brought Finn's troops directly into confrontation with Mabel and Hetty Hills, facing the formidable defenses of Chan. Meanwhile, strong patrols from the 184th Regiment ventured into the Chinen Peninsula's strongholds, encountering only light enemy resistance, a turn of events that buoyed American morale. As night fell, the 44th Independent Mixed Brigade and the 24th Division began their long-anticipated evacuation from Shuri. They pulled back behind the second line of blocking positions north of Tsukasan, executing their withdrawal amidst a progressively decreasing barrage of artillery and mortar fire. Consequently, when Buckner's assault troops launched their offensive against the Shuri positions on the morning of May 31, they were met with an eerie silence, the stillness only interrupted by sporadic sniper fire and the distant crack of machine guns.The 77th Division swiftly took 110 Meter Hill and advanced into Shuri with little to no resistance. Concurrently, Mason's units surrounding Shuri Castle moved north unopposed, aiding in the occupation of the battered ruins and the troublesome Wana Draw.  Shuri, the second town of Okinawa, lay in utter ruin. There was no other city, town, or village in the Ryukyus that had been destroyed so completely. Naha too had been laid waste. Certain villages which had been strong points in the enemy's defense, such as Kakazu, Dakeshi, Kochi, Arakachi, and Kunishi, had been fought over and leveled to the ground. But none of these compared with the ancient capital of the Ryukyus. It was estimated that about 200000 rounds of artillery and naval gunfire had struck Shuri. Numerous air strikes had dropped 1000-pound bombs on it. Mortar shells by the thousands had arched their way into the town area. Only two structures, both of concrete, the big normal school at the southwestern corner and the little Methodist church, built in 1937, in the center of Shuri, had enough of their walls standing to form silhouettes on the skyline. The rest was flattened rubble. The narrow paved and dirt streets, churned by high explosives and pitted with shell craters, were impassable to any vehicle. The stone walls of the numerous little terraces were battered down. The rubble and broken red tile of the houses lay in heaps. The frame portion of buildings had been reduced to kindling wood. Tattered bits of Japanese military clothing, gas masks, and tropical helmets-the most frequently seen items-and the dark-colored Okinawan civilian dress lay about in wild confusion. Over all this crater of the moon landscape hung the unforgettable stench of rotting human flesh. To  the west, Griebel's 1st Battalion built upon Mason's gains, but it was the 3rd Battalion that led the main effort, successfully pushing to the hills just north of Shichina.Meanwhile, General Bradley's advancing battalions moved rapidly toward their assigned objectives, spending much of the day mopping up isolated enemy holdouts. This relentless advance effectively pinched off the 77th Division, further consolidating American control in the region. On the extreme left flank, Halloran's 1st Battalion faced enemy forces defending the Tsukasan line, marking the only area where the 96th Division failed to reach the corps boundary. However, the Shuri area had now been completely secured, and contact was made with Del Valle's Marines in the center. On the flanks, though, Buckner's units continued to encounter fierce resistance from the tenacious Japanese defenders. The 32nd Regiment, battling bravely through a series of heavily fortified strongpoints held stubbornly by Fujioka's troops, managed to seize Duck Hill, consolidate its positions on Turkey Hill, and capture the forward face of Mabel. Ultimately, they halted their advance just short of Chan. Meanwhile, on the west coast, Shepherd's Marines pushed forward with support from tanks and artillery, targeting the strategic high ground west of Shichina and Kokuba. However, their advance was stalled by intense enemy fire emanating from Hill 46. During the night, the battered 44th Independent Mixed Brigade executed a withdrawal southeast towards the Kiyamu Peninsula, covered by the 62nd Division, which quickly established a new defensive line along the Kokuba River and around Tsukasan. With the fall of Shuri and the withdrawal of Japanese forces, Buckner's troops had emerged victorious in one of the most difficult and bloody battles of the Pacific War. By the end of May, reports indicated that approximately 62,548 Japanese soldiers had been confirmed killed, with another estimated 9,529 thought to have perished, 64,000 of whom were believed to have fallen in the fierce fighting within the Shuri fortified zone alone. While these casualty figures may be somewhat exaggerated, there is little doubt that Japanese forces, especially their infantry combat units, had suffered severe depletion. In contrast, General Geiger's 3rd Amphibious Corps recorded significant losses of its own, with 1,718 killed, 8,852 wounded, and 101 missing during the fighting around Shuri. Additionally, the losses for General Hodge's 24th Corps over two months of combat totaled an alarming 26,044 casualties. On June 1, the American forces faced surprisingly little opposition from the enemy. A frustrated General Buckner, who had hoped to trap the defenders at Shuri, ordered his troops to advance rapidly in pursuit of the retreating Japanese units. With the 77th Division methodically mopping up remnants in the Shuri zone, General Hodge made a strategic decision. He shifted the 7th Division toward the east and ordered the 96th Division to move south to relieve the 32nd Regiment, taking up the western end of the Corps line. This strategic relief enabled Arnold to immediately push south with both the 17th and 184th Regiments in assault, managing to advance approximately 1,100 yards toward Okota and Batan despite increasingly stiff resistance from smaller enemy units. To the northwest, a coordinated attack by the Marine divisions successfully secured all high ground overlooking the primary east-west road in the Kokuba Valley. The 5th Marines anchored their position on the hills east of Shichina, while Shepherd's regiments seized the dominating heights north of Kokuba. Recognizing the strategic importance of the Oroku Peninsula, General Geiger planned a shore-to-shore landing there. To gather intelligence, Shepherd dispatched his Reconnaissance Company to conduct an amphibious reconnaissance of the peninsula that evening. Their findings confirmed that the peninsula was not fortified with significant enemy strength. The following day, Colonel Snedeker's 7th Marines advanced to relieve the 6th Marine Division on the west coast. The 2nd Battalion continued the momentum by crossing the Kokuba River, moving into the hills on the south bank. Meanwhile, to the east, the 5th Marines also crossed the upper branch of the river and pressed forward to secure the ridgeline that controlled the approaches to Tsukasan. This maneuver effectively placed the entire Naha-Yonabaru road firmly in American hands, further tightening their grip on the battlefield. That evening, Shepherd dispatched his Reconnaissance Company to conduct an amphibious reconnaissance of the Oroku Peninsula. Their mission revealed that the peninsula was not heavily defended, opening up opportunities for American forces. Further east, the 383rd Regiment successfully cleared out Chan and seized the high ground just north of Tera and Kamizato. Meanwhile, the 381st Regiment conducted repeated assaults on hill positions that impeded its advance, ultimately managing to penetrate to Karadera. The 7th Division maintained relentless pressure on the retreating garrison of the Chinen Peninsula, advancing its lines by 2,400 yards toward Itokazu and Kerabaru. Now, it's time to shift our focus away from Okinawa and examine the latest operations of General LeMay's 21st Bomber Command. Since the invasion of Okinawa, Admiral Nimitz had requested that the B-29 Superfortress heavy bombers assist his naval forces in countering the deadly kamikaze attacks. In response, LeMay dispatched 53 bombers to target airfields at Kanoya on April 8, although the city of Kagoshima ended up being bombed instead. On April 17, 134 B-29s were sent against Kyushu, successfully neutralizing enemy airfield operations for 18 hours. However, as we've observed, the Japanese continued to launch both scattered and mass kamikaze attacks. To address this ongoing threat, the 21st Bomber Command, bolstered by the arrival of Brigadier General Roger Ramey's 58th Bombardment Wing, dedicated 75% of its combat effort to providing direct tactical support for the Okinawa campaign up to May 11. During this period, they flew a total of 2,104 sorties against 17 airfields in Kyushu and Shikoku. Although they did not fully neutralize these targets, significant damage was inflicted on enemy storage, maintenance, and repair facilities. The bombers also served to keep the Japanese off balance, significantly disrupting their ability to plan and execute large, coordinated attacks. In total, 24 B-29s were destroyed and 233 damaged during these operations, while 134 enemy interceptors were shot down. Between the strikes on Kyushu, General LeMay managed to fit in several medium-strength precision attacks against the Japanese aircraft industry, along with two large-scale night incendiary missions in the Tokyo Bay area. The first of these missions took place on April 13, when 327 B-29s dropped an impressive 2,139 tons of ordnance on the arsenal district of Tokyo, located northwest of the Imperial Palace. The resulting fires consumed 11.4 square miles of this crucial industrial zone, destroying arsenal plants responsible for manufacturing and storing small arms, machine guns, artillery, bombs, gunpowder, and fire-control mechanisms. Just two nights later, on April 15, 303 bombers executed another incendiary attack, dropping 1,930 tons of explosives with equal success. This raid devastated 6 square miles in Tokyo, 3.6 square miles in Kawasaki, and 1.5 square miles in Yokohama, which suffered collateral damage from the fire spills. Cumulatively, these two raids resulted in the destruction of 217,130 buildings in Tokyo and Yokohama and 31,603 in Kawasaki. On April 24, 131 B-29s conducted a highly successful precision strike against the Tachikawa plant of the Hitachi Aircraft Corporation. Although the next planned attack was thwarted by inclement weather, 148 B-29s struck Kure on May 5, delivering devastating damage. After being relieved from support for the Okinawa operation on May 11, LeMay initiated a month of heavy fire raids to complete the campaign that had begun in March, while also addressing top-priority precision targets as opportunities arose. Accordingly, on May 14, 529 B-29s were dispatched to strike northern Nagoya, with 472 successfully dropping 2,515 tons of munitions, resulting in the burning of 3.15 square miles and inflicting significant damage to Mitsubishi's No. 10 engine works. Just two nights later, 522 bombers returned to Nagoya, with 457 of them effectively delivering 3,609 tons over the dock and industrial areas in the southern part of the city, burning 3.82 square miles and causing extensive damage to Mitsubishi's No. 5 aircraft works. These two incendiary attacks finished Nagoya as an objective for area attacks. Good targets remained in the city, and the command was to return six more times for precision attacks before V-J Day. But the industrial fabric of the city had been ruined in the earlier precision attacks and in the fire raids that had burned out twelve square miles of a total built-up urban area of about forty square miles. In all, 113460 buildings had been destroyed, 3866 persons had been killed and 472701 rendered homeless. The displacement of workers aggravated the difficulties caused by physical damage and had an important effect on civilian morale.  After a week of respite, temporarily interrupted by a 318-plane precision attack on the Tachikawa Aircraft Company, 562 B-29s were dispatched to strike Tokyo once more on May 23. Out of these, 520 bombers reached their target, dropping an impressive 3,646 tons of explosives over the district stretching southward from the Imperial Palace along the west side of Tokyo Harbor. Despite encountering strong opposition, this attack resulted in the destruction of 5.3 square miles of area. Two nights later, 502 B-29s returned to Tokyo, targeting the area just north of their previous hit. They faced heavy resistance again, dropping 3,262 tons of incendiaries on the city, which resulted in the destruction of 16.8 square miles, marking the largest area devastated in a single Tokyo raid. In light of the heavy casualties suffered during these last two strikes, General LeMay decided to assign P-51s from Iwo Jima to escort future attacks. As a result, on May 29, 517 B-29s were escorted by 101 P-51 fighters during an assault on Yokohama. These bombers successfully dropped 2,570 tons of munitions, burning out 6.9 square miles while the escorting fighters engaged in fierce battles against about 150 aggressive interceptors. Meanwhile, General Whitehead's 5th Air Force was conducting an extensive program of area bombing against Formosa, experimenting with various types of bombs and tactics in preparation for future attacks on the Japanese mainland. Taihoku, the capital and political and financial center of Taiwan, was subjected to constant aerial bombardment. The largest strike against modern-day Taipei, known as the Taihoku Air Raid, occurred on May 31, when units of the Fifth Air Force consisting of 117 Consolidated B-24 Liberator heavy bombers were sent to conduct the largest air raid ever on Taiwan. The bombing began from around ten o'clock in the morning and lasted until one o'clock in the afternoon, during which the attack was non-stop. The Americans met virtually no resistance from the Japanese, mainly due to the attrition the Japanese air forces had suffered in the Aerial Battle of Taiwan-Okinawa, which completely exhausted Japan's fighter units in Taiwan. They successfully dropped approximately 3,800 bombs targeting military units and governmental facilities. The Office of the Governor-General of Taiwan suffered a direct hit, in spite of the building being heavily camouflaged to avoid being targeted. The building suffered extensive damage from fire caused by the bombs and almost collapsed on itself; it was rendered unoccupiable and was not repaired until the Nationalist Chinese takeover. Other facilities hit during the bombing included the residence of the Assistant Governor-General, Taiwan Railway Hotel, Office of Governor-General Library, Army Headquarters, Taihoku Imperial University, Taihoku Station, Bank of Taiwan, Taihoku High Court, Taihoku New Park, and many other facilities. Many civilian installations were damaged, including Taihoku Prefectural Taihoku First Girls' High School, Huashan Catholic Church of Taihoku, and the famous Lungshan Temple of Manka, which was hit in the main building and the left corridor; many precious artifacts and art works in the temple were lost in the ensuing fire. As a result of the extensive bombing campaigns, more than 3,000 civilians lost their lives. Tens of thousands were displaced or left homeless, and countless buildings were destroyed, either directly by the attacks or by the fires they ignited. This devastation left a profound impact on the local population and infrastructure, marking yet another tragic chapter in the toll of 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 the midst of the brutal Battle of Okinawa, American Marines faced relentless resistance as they pushed towards Shuri. Despite heavy casualties and daunting conditions, the tide turned when General Buckner ordered aggressive assaults that outmaneuvered the encircled Japanese forces. After days of relentless combat, they captured the stronghold, leading to the collapse of Japanese defenses. As the dust settled, Shuri lay in ruins, marking a pivotal moment in the Pacific War and showcasing the indomitable spirit of both American and Japanese soldiers.

Show SummaryOn today's episode, we're featuring a conversation with Retired Command Sergeant Major Julia Kelly of the Crow Nation from Pryor, Montana. We talk about Julia's Native heritage and her membership of an advisory group to PsychArmor for content related to Native and Tribal veterans. Provide FeedbackAs a dedicated member of the audience, we would like to hear from you about the show. Please take a few minutes to share your thoughts about the show in this short feedback survey. By doing so, you will be entered to receive a signed copy of one of our host's three books on military and veteran mental health. About Today's GuestJulia Kelly “Baassáannee Xiassaa” (One Who is in Front)” is of the Ties The Bundle / Piegan Clans of the Apsáalooke (Crow) Nation, from Pryor, Montana.  Julia brings experience of military service and working with non-profit organizations across the Nation.  Julia entered the US Army July 31, 1981, as an Ammunition Specialist, PVT/E1. She retired October 31, 2010, as a Command Sergeant Major with over 28 years of service. She has two combat tours to Iraq and had many assignments in leadership positions, culminating with her last military career assignment as the Command Sergeant Major for the 299th Brigade Support Battalion, 2ndBrigade Combat Team, 1st Infantry Division, Fort Riley, Kansas.  Julia spends much of her time helping Native Veterans/Veterans across the United States in connecting them with resources that serve Veterans.  She currently resides in Huntsville, Alabama. She has five children, 11 grandchildren, and three great grandchildren.  PsychArmor Resource of the WeekThis week's resource of the week is the recently released podcast episode with another member of PsychArmor's Native and Tribal Advisory group, Dr. Chepa Rank in episode 214. In that episode, we talk about Chepa's experience as a military family member and member of the Húŋkpati Dakota Tribe as well as her work as a a dedicated social worker whose mission centers around holistic wellness and well-being within Tribal and Indigenous communities. You can find the resource here:  https://psycharmor.org/podcast/dr-melita-chepa-rank Episode Partner: This week's episode is brought to you by Humana, a leading health and well-being company that has joined forces with PsychArmor to develop campaigns and courses that support veterans and their families in achieving their best health. To learn more about how Humana honors and serves veterans visit healthequity.humana.com/veterans Contact Us and Join Us on Social Media Email PsychArmorPsychArmor on TwitterPsychArmor on FacebookPsychArmor on YouTubePsychArmor on LinkedInPsychArmor on InstagramTheme MusicOur theme music Don't Kill the Messenger was written and performed by Navy Veteran Jerry Maniscalco, in cooperation with Operation Encore, a non profit committed to supporting singer/songwriter and musicians across the military and Veteran communities.Producer and Host Duane France is a retired Army Noncommissioned Officer, combat veteran, and clinical mental health counselor for service members, veterans, and their families.  You can find more about the work that he is doing at www.veteranmentalhealth.com  

Send us a textThis series features John E. Little, a rifleman in the United States 34th Infantry Division, 135th infantry Regiment, Company C who fought at Monte Cassino, Anzio and the Gothic Line during the Italian Campaign in World War Two. Listen in as John, who was 100 years old when this was recorded, talks about these lesser known but brutal battles that took so many lives during the war and were underreported as the landings at Normandy pulled attention away from these brave soldiers who fought in conditions more akin to the Pacific theatre.Support the show

Join us for a conversation with MG Christopher Norrie, 3rd Infantry Division, commanding general. We talk about how the armor mission is essential to winning the future fight.

Major General William M. Matz, Jr, U.S. Army (Ret), was appointed as the eighth Secretary of the American Battle Monuments Commission in January 2018 by President Donald Trump, a position he held until March 2021. General Matz is a highly decorated combat veteran of the United States
Army with a distinguished military career spanning four decades. As an
infantryman, he served in Korea and Panama, and as a company commander with the 9th Infantry Division in Vietnam, where he was wounded in action in the 1968 Tet offensive. He served multiple tours in the 82d and 101st Airborne Divisions and was executive secretary to two secretaries of defense, Caspar Weinberger and Frank Carlucci. During the Vietnam War, he served two years with the Navy/Marine amphibious forces in the Pacific and deployed with the 7th Infantry Division to Panama during Operation JUST CAUSE in 1989. Upon retirement from the Army in 1995, General Matz worked nine years in the defense industry. He was first employed by Raytheon Company as vice president, Army Programs; and later as general manager for Vinnell/Northrop Grumman’s Saudi Arabian National Guard Modernization Program in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, returning to the United States in June 2004. In 2005, President Bush appointed him to the Veterans Disability Benefits Commission, where he served until the commission rendered its report to the Congress in 2008. He is also past President of the National Association for Uniformed Services (NAUS), a national veteran’s organization that advocates in Congress for service members, veterans and their families. He is on the Eisenhower Institute National Advisory Council and a member of the Board of Directors of the American Armed Forces Mutual Aid Association. He is a graduate of the Infantry Officer Basic and Advanced Courses, the Airborne and Ranger Schools, the Command and General Staff College and the Army War College and received a Bachelor of Arts degree in Political Science from Gettysburg College and a Master of Arts degree in Political Science from the University of San Diego. He is also a graduate of Harvard University’s Program for Senior Executives in National and International Security. Among his military service awards and decorations are the Distinguished Service Cross (second highest award our nation bestows for valor on the battlefield), Silver Star, Bronze Star for Valor, Purple Heart and the Combat Infantryman Badge. General Matz was born in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania. He and his wife, Linda, reside in Naples, FL, and have three children and seven grandsons. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

We welcome two people who have devoted themselves to educating the nation about the long Korean War and those who served and sacrificed for South Korea's freedom. The first is Susan Kee whose “Honoring Korean War Veterans” project has documented the stories of over 500 Korean War veterans and advocated for the families of those still MIA since the war. Joining Susan is Army Korean War veteran Ron Twentey, who served in Korea in 1955-1957. Ron grew up in a small farm community near Frederick, Maryland, and worked on local farms from the age of ten, performing hard labor without modern mechanized equipment. Earning 25 cents an hour, he gained an appreciation for the value of work. A strong childhood memory from 1944 was collecting milkweed pods for the war effort, which were used as a substitute for kapok in life jackets. This initiative made him feel like he was contributing to the war. During high school, Twentey watched the Korean War unfold. He was awarded a scholarship to the University of Maryland for his track and field abilities but was uncertain about his future. Ultimately, he decided to enlist in the U.S. Army for three years, intending to return to school afterward. His military service began with basic training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, with the 101st Airborne Division. He then attended the Engineer School at Fort Belvoir, Virginia, specializing in military drafting. Upon completing his training, Twentey and his entire class of 22 men were assigned to Korea. Departing from Seattle, Washington, on a troop ship, he arrived in Inchon after a 20-day journey. From there, they took an old steam train north toward the DMZ. Unaware of their exact destination, they were dropped off and left alone until a convoy of trucks transported them to a replacement tent compound. That night, local Korean boys raided the camp, stealing Army blankets and supplies—a common occurrence due to poverty and shortages following the war. The next day, Twentey was assigned to Headquarters, 24th Infantry Division, G-3 Combat Operations, south of Munsan-Ni. The division had recently returned from Japan to safeguard the DMZ following the Korean War armistice. The fragile peace was frequently challenged by North Korean infiltrators. Twentey served as an Infantry Operations Specialist and Platoon Sergeant, maintaining records of minefield locations above the Imjin River, overseeing maps in the bunker and mobile war rooms, and tracking U.S. and UN troop movements within the DMZ. His work was classified, reflecting the sensitive nature of operations at the time. Additionally, he was tasked with plotting potential nuclear targets throughout North Korea. Using the “Atomic Annie” cannon as a potential delivery method, his job required pinpointing key targets—a task so secretive that he was ordered to forget about it once completed. Twentey served in Korea for 16 months before returning to the U.S. and becoming an engineering instructor. After leaving the military, he worked as a draftsman, eventually transitioning into marketing and communications. His contributions highlight the intricate and often perilous roles played by soldiers in the Korean War and its aftermath, emphasizing the enduring challenges of peacekeeping in a volatile region.

Send us a textThis series features John E. Little, a rifleman in the United States 34th Infantry Division, 135th infantry Regiment, Company C who fought at Monte Cassino, Anzio and the Gothic Line during the Italian Campaign in World War Two. Listen in as John, who was 100 years old when this was recorded, talks about these lesser known but brutal battles that took so many lives during the war and were underreported as the landings at Normandy pulled attention away from these brave soldiers who fought in conditions more akin to the Pacific theatre.Support the show

ORIGINAL AIR DATE: JAN 29, 2014People in the world often reject Christianity simply because they can't distinguish it from mere morality. The world needs morality--oppression thrives when consciences are abandoned--but we need more than that alone. We need the gospel of grace. A gospel that has largely been lost amid the dos and don'ts and preoccupations of religious culture.  People often pit grace against moralism. And they should. Moralism circumvents heart-changed morality. We need moral men and women, but moralism damages the foundation of heart-change.  It's okay to pit grace against moralism, but let's not pit grace against morality. Grace is the source of real morality, and grace--thank God!--breaks the bars of moralism that imprison us.Is Sunday School Destroying Our Kids? by author Samuel C. Williamson, exposes moralism for its false pretensions--the sham that it is--and it moves our hearts to believe the gospel, for the first, or the hundred-and-first, time.BRUCE COLLINS is a former pro wrestling promoter, an author of three published books (one of them with Brett Wagner, the host of The Speed Channel's PASS TIME and voice of Monster Garage and another book with Ric Drasin, the middle Hulk in the 1970's Incredible Hulk tv show with Bill Bixby and the creator of the Gold's Gym logo) and the former book reviewer of Monster Radio, which was nationally syndicated in 84 radio markets. Bruce has hosted The Bruce Collins Show (and its' genesis known as The Big Finale) since January, 2006. The Bruce Collins Show graduated to AM radio in 2009 and spent two years broadcasting at WSMN 1590 AM in Nashua, New Hampshire and WWZN 1510 AM in Boston, MA. Currently, the program resides online at www.fringeradionetwork.com . Based on the AM radio exposure, he was approached by the History Channel's Decoded TV (with bestselling author Brad Meltzer) to audition for their program. After learning he would have to interview occultists and numerologists without expressing his own opinions, he turned down the invitation. Bruce's grandfather was a Pastor in various locations in the United States for over 50 years.  Bruce is the self-proclaimed Baron of Broadcasting and the ‘Clown Prince of Doom'.CHAD MILES is the co-host of The Bruce Collins Show. He is also a former contributing editor for Defense Watch Magazine and former contributor to The Michigan Journal. In 2006 Chad ran for a seat in the U.S. House of Representatives in Michigan's 14th Congressional District. He served seven years on active duty with the 82nd Airborne Division, 2nd Infantry Division and the 5th Special Forces Group. His Military service as an infantryman and intelligence analyst took him around the world with service in the countries of Jordan, Egypt, South Korea and Panama.  Chad is a member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the American Legion. He was the creator and founder of the wildly popular Hearken the Watchmen website which featured articles from Chuck Missler, L.A. Marzulli, Michael Hoggard and many others. Miles appeared on Coast to Coast AM with George Noory to talk about drones over Miami, Florida. Chad is known as “The Odometer” and “Captain Doomsday.”

Send us a textThis series features John E. Little, a rifleman in the United States 34th Infantry Division, 135th infantry Regiment, Company C who fought at Monte Cassino, Anzio and the Gothic Line during the Italian Campaign in World War Two. Listen in as John, who was 100 years old when this was recorded, talks about these lesser known but brutal battles that took so many lives during the war and were underreported as the landings at Normandy pulled attention away from these brave soldiers who fought in conditions more akin to the Pacific theatre.Support the show

Send us a textThis series features John E. Little, a rifleman in the United States 34th Infantry Division, 135th infantry Regiment, Company C who fought at Monte Cassino, Anzio and the Gothic Line during the Italian Campaign in World War Two. Listen in as John, who was 100 years old when this was recorded, talks about these lesser known but brutal battles that took so many lives during the war and were underreported as the landings at Normandy pulled attention away from these brave soldiers who fought in conditions more akin to the Pacific theatre.Support the show

On Monday the Army announced some major fitness testing changes that include removing the Standing Power Throw (SPT) and introducing sex-neutral standards for 21 "close combat" military occupational specialties (MOSs). These changes are marked with a shift from Army Combat Fitness Test (ACFT) to the new name: Army Fitness Test (AFT). In this episode we break down the changes and some of the most frequently asked questions with CSM Raymond Harris, the Command Sergeant Major of Training and Doctrine Command (TRADOC), the command responsible for ACFT/AFT and H2F. Command Sgt. Maj. Raymond S. Harris assumed the responsibilities as Command Sergeant Major, U.S. Army Training and Doctrine Command, Fort Eustis, Virginia on Sept 29, 2023.He enlisted into the Army on March 20, 1996, as an Infantryman. He attended One-Station Unit Training at Fort Benning, Georgia. He has served as a rifleman, machine gunner, automatic rifleman, Bradley gunner, team leader, squad leader, platoon sergeant, first sergeant, and command sergeantmajor.Some highlights from his extensive bio:He has served in infantry battalions across Fort Riley, Vilseck Germany, Fort Cavazos, Fort Benning, Hawaii, and Fort Campbell. He was a member of The Old Guard. His Brigade and higher level assignments have been with 165th Infantry Brigade at Fort Jackson so basic training, 3rd SFAB, 1st Infantry Division, and V Corps. He has deployed in support of the Kosovo Campaign, Operations Enduring Freedom Cuba and Afghanistan, Operation Iraqi Freedom, and Operation EADR (European Assure, Deter, and Reinforce) ISO Ukraine. CSM Harris is a graduate of all levels of the NCO Education System, U. S. Army Sergeants Major Academy Class 64.His awards and decorations include the Legion of Merit with three oak leaf clusters, Bronze Star Medal with one OLC, Meritorious Service Medal, and all of the campaign medals and chest candy badges you would expect based on his assignments and deployments. CSM Harris is married and has two children.

In this week's edition of The Marne Report, Sgt. Anthony Herrera, 3rd Infantry Division public affairs specialist, joins us to discuss the American Kennel Club's Salutes the Troops event broadcast by ESPN. Learn about three pawsome days of action with the Fastest Dog Competition, Agility Premier Cup, and the Diving Dog Competition. Take a listen now by searching "The Marne Report" wherever you get your podcasts.

Send us a textThis series features John E. Little, a rifleman in the United States 34th Infantry Division, 135th infantry Regiment, Company C who fought at Monte Cassino, Anzio and the Gothic Line during the Italian Campaign in World War Two. Listen in as John, who was 100 years old when this was recorded, talks about these lesser known but brutal battles that took so many lives during the war and were underreported as the landings at Normandy pulled attention away from these brave soldiers who fought in conditions more akin to the Pacific theatre.Support the show

Subscriber-only episodeSend us a textThis series features John E. Little, a rifleman in the United States 34th Infantry Division, 135th infantry Regiment, Company C who fought at Monte Cassino, Anzio and the Gothic Line during the Italian Campaign in World War Two. Listen in as John, who was 100 years old when this was recorded, talks about these lesser known but brutal battles that took so many lives during the war and were underreported as the landings at Normandy pulled attention away from these brave soldiers who fought in conditions more akin to the Pacific theatre.

In this episode, Rob Shaul speaks with Command Sgt. Maj. Brandon Riley, currently serving as the senior enlisted leader for 3-66 Armor Battalion, 1st Armored Brigade Combat Team, 1st Infantry Division. Riley discusses the real work of a battalion CSM—managing standards and discipline, mentoring company-level leaders, and maintaining unit readiness. He explains the dynamic between officers and NCOs, the balance between garrison and field responsibilities, and the internal pressures of holding a formation together. Riley also reflects on his combat deployments, leadership mistakes, and what two decades in the Army have taught him about accountability, influence, and the role of the senior enlisted. ----more---- Mountain Tactical Institute Home Check out the MTI Athlete Team Apply to be a Paid MTI Athlete MTI's Daily Programming Streams

Mauri DiMeo is an Infantry officer in the US Army currently serving as an Assistant Professor of Military Science (APMS) at the University of Nevada, Reno (UNR). He attended Ranger, Airborne, SFAS, the SFQC, and the Austrian High Alpine School. Mauri was a platoon leader in the 4th Infantry Division and Rifle Company Commander in the 10th Mountain Division. His career took a turn in the final Robin Sage stage of the SF Q course, which we discuss early in our conversation. The lessons he learned there are important for any officer going through the SF qualification process. Outside of the military, Mauri founded Tactical Alpinism in 2022 with the mission to expand the capability of individuals to go bigger in the mountains by teaching mountain navigation and planning best practices. Enabling people to go bigger in the mountains expands the military's capability in this environment by focusing on the expertise of the individual within mountain and arctic units. He professionally guides in the mountains in the ski, rock, and alpine disciplines.His mountain experience includes two decades of climbing across much of the world and multiple ski-based ascents and descents, including Mount Shasta, Mount Rainier, and Denali, all by multiple routes. His civilian mountain certifications include AIARE Avalanche Professional Level 2, AIARE Avalanche Instructor, AMGA Assistant Ski Guide, and AMGA Assistant Rock Guide.More about Mauri:Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tacticalalpinism/Timestamps:00:00:23 Introduction to Mauri DiMeo00:01:49 Mauri DiMeo's Career 00:03:20 Final Year at West Point00:04:26 Preparing for the Course00:05:32 Junior West Point Cadet00:08:45 Doing Too Much00:10:54 10th Mountain Warfare Training00:15:56 Ready in a Month00:18:13 Conventional Units in Cold Environments00:21:48 The Gap Between What Soldiers Are Taught and Tying Knots 00:26:09 Practicing Skills Where They Matter00:28:20 Tactical Avalanche Education00:32:13 Avalanche Bell Curve Management00:36:20 Speed is Safety00:42:00 Time Recommended to Build Aerobic Capacity00:46:50 Balancing Volume Training00:51:03 Zone 2 Running vs Rucking00:55:34 Getting the Body to Do What It's Meant to Do00:58:48 Effective Mental Frameworks in the Mountains01:02:27 Filling Gaps in Military Training01:05:34 Tactical Core Skills for Operating in the Snowy Mountains01:10:25 What Does Mauri DiMeo Do with Tactical Alpinism?01:12:20 Best and Worst Advice Ever Received01:14:44 Outro

In this episode, Sean and James discuss the 1959 film Pork Chop Hill, which stars Gregory Peck, Woody Strode, Rip Torn, George Peppard, and many other future stars of the big and small screens. Based upon the 1956 book by U.S. military historian Brigadier General S. L. A. Marshall, Pork Chop Hill depicts the fierce First Battle of Pork Chop Hill between the U.S. Army's 7th Infantry Division and Chinese and North Korean forces in April 1953.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

A special Veterans Day edition of The Moth Radio Hour. After returning from active duty in the Middle East, a marine searches for new meaning; a 97 year old woman describes training young men for WWII combat as a WASP; a father being deployed to Iraq must find a way to explain it to his children; and a WWII soldier from Wisconsin serves with the segregated 93rd Infantry Division in the South Pacific. This special hour is hosted by The Moth's Producing Director, Sarah Austin Jenness. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by The Moth and Jay Allison of Atlantic Public Media.Storytellers:Mike Scotti finds new meaning after returning from active duty in the Middle East.Dawn Seymour becomes part of the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP), training young men stateside to enter WWII overseas.Bill Krieger tucks his daughter in at night before being deployed to Iraq. William Cole serves as a radio operator in the 93rd Infantry Division, a segregated unit, in the South Pacific.Podcast # 356