Podcasts about Mao Zedong

7 HoursPG-13Back in the beginning of 2021, as Pete was transitioning out of libertarianism, he and Bird got together to do a series on the Four Swords of Marxism: Vladimir Lenin, Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong, Abimael Guzman, and added in post-Marxist, Hans-Hermann Hoppe.Here is the complete audio.Timeline Earth PodcastPete and Thomas777 'At the Movies'Support Pete on His WebsitePete's PatreonPete's SubstackPete's SubscribestarPete's GUMROADPete's VenmoPete's Buy Me a CoffeePete on FacebookPete on Twitter

In this episode of Explaining History, Nick continues his exploration of the Chinese Cultural Revolution through the lens of Tania Branigan's Red Memory. We examine Mao Zedong's complex relationship with the youth of China—how he mobilized them as revolutionary shock troops, only to discard them when they became a threat to order.We delve into the "Down to the Countryside" movement, where 17 million urban teenagers were sent to remote villages to "learn from the peasants." Nick explores the ideological motivations behind this mass displacement: Mao's belief that the younger generation was being softened by "sugar-coated bullets" of bourgeois comfort and needed to be re-forged through hard labour.From the boredom that followed the initial revolutionary fervour to the lasting trauma (and surprising nostalgia) of the "sent-down youth," this episode unpacks the human cost of Mao's permanent revolution.Plus: A recap of our first masterclass and details on the upcoming session on Post-War America (1945-74) on February 15th!For Ad free episodes:Join us on PatreonKey Topics:The Red Guards: From revolutionary zeal to boredom and disillusionment.Down to the Countryside: Why Mao sent 17 million teenagers to live with peasants.Ideological purity: The fear of "revisionism" and the need for constant struggle.Memory and Trauma: How the "lost generation" reconciles their past with modern China.Explaining History helps you understand the 20th Century through critical conversations and expert interviews. We connect the past to the present. If you enjoy the show, please subscribe and share.▸ Support the Show & Get Exclusive ContentBecome a Patron: patreon.com/explaininghistory▸ Join the Community & Continue the ConversationFacebook Group: facebook.com/groups/ExplainingHistoryPodcastSubstack: theexplaininghistorypodcast.substack.com▸ Read Articles & Go DeeperWebsite: explaininghistory.org Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Jesse Kelly announces his new FREE book, which uses sharp commentary and historical contrast to critique Mao Zedong’s ideology and its lasting influence. China expert Steven Mosher joins as guest to provide insight into Mao’s policies, the human cost of his rule, and the ways communist tactics continue to appear in contemporary politics. Together they examine key events from Mao’s era, compare them to modern ideological trends in the West, and explain why understanding this history remains relevant today.I'm Right with Jesse Kelly on The First TVMasa Chips: Ready to give MASA a try? Get 25% off your first order by going to http://masachips.com/JESSETV and using code JESSETV.Beam: Visit https://shopbeam.com/JESSEKELLY and use code JESSEKELLY to get our exclusive discount of up to 40% off.American Financing: Call American Financing today to find out how customers are saving an average of $800/mo. NMLS 182334, https://nmlsconsumeraccess.org APR for rates in the 5s start at 6.196% for well qualified borrowers. Call 866-891-2821 for details about credit costs and terms. Visit http://www.AmericanFinancing.net/Jesse.Follow The Jesse Kelly Show on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@TheJesseKellyShowSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Last time we spoke about the battle of Nanchang. After securing Hainan and targeting Zhejiang–Jiangxi Railway corridors, Japan's 11th Army, backed by armor, air power, and riverine operations, sought a rapid, surgical seizure of Nanchang to sever eastern Chinese logistics and coerce Chongqing. China, reorganizing under Chiang Kai-shek, concentrated over 200,000 troops across 52 divisions in the Ninth and Third War Zones, with Xue Yue commanding the 9th War Zone in defense of Wuhan-Nanchang corridors. The fighting began with German-style, combined-arms river operations along the Xiushui and Gan rivers, including feints, river crossings, and heavy artillery, sometimes using poison gas. From March 20–23, Japanese forces established a beachhead and advanced into Fengxin, Shengmi, and later Nanchang, despite stiff Chinese resistance and bridges being destroyed. Chiang's strategic shift toward attrition pushed for broader offensives to disrupt railways and rear areas, though Chinese plans for a counteroffensive repeatedly stalled due to logistics and coordination issues. By early May, Japanese forces encircled and captured Nanchang, albeit at heavy cost, with Chinese casualties surpassing 43,000 dead and Japanese losses over 2,200 dead.    #187 The Battle of Suixian–Zaoyang-Shatow 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. Having seized Wuhan in a brutal offensive the previous year, the Japanese sought not just to hold their ground but to solidify their grip on this vital hub. Wuhan, a bustling metropolis at the confluence of the Yangtze and Han Rivers, had become a linchpin in their strategy, a base from which they could project power across central China. Yet, the city was far from secure, Chinese troops in northern Hubei and southern Henan, perched above the mighty Yangtze, posed an unrelenting threat. To relieve the mounting pressure on their newfound stronghold, the Japanese high command orchestrated a bold offensive against the towns of Suixian and Zaoyang. They aimed to annihilate the main force of the Chinese 5th War Zone, a move that would crush the Nationalist resistance in the region and secure their flanks. This theater of war, freshly designated as the 5th War Zone after the grueling Battle of Wuhan, encompassed a vast expanse west of Shashi in the upper Yangtze basin. It stretched across northern Hubei, southern Henan, and the rugged Dabie Mountains in eastern Anhui, forming a strategic bulwark that guarded the eastern approaches to Sichuan, the very heartland of the Nationalist government's central institutions. Historian Rana Mitter in Forgotten Ally described this zone as "a gateway of immense importance, a natural fortress that could either serve as a launchpad for offensives against Japanese-held territories or a defensive redoubt protecting the rear areas of Sichuan and Shaanxi". The terrain itself was a defender's dream and an attacker's nightmare: to the east rose the imposing Dabie Mountains, their peaks cloaked in mist and folklore; the Tongbai Mountains sliced across the north like a jagged spine; the Jing Mountains guarded the west; the Yangtze River snaked southward, its waters a formidable barrier; the Dahong Mountains dominated the center, offering hidden valleys for ambushes; and the Han River (also known as the Xiang River) carved a north-south path through it all. Two critical transport arteries—the Hanyi Road linking Hankou to Yichang in Hubei, and the Xianghua Road connecting Xiangyang to Huayuan near Hankou—crisscrossed this landscape, integrating the war zone into a web of mobility. From here, Chinese forces could menace the vital Pinghan Railway, that iron lifeline running from Beiping (modern Beijing) to Hankou, while also threatening the Wuhan region itself. In retreat, it provided a sanctuary to shield the Nationalist heartlands. As military strategist Sun Tzu might have appreciated, this area had long been a magnet for generals, its contours shaping the fates of empires since ancient times. Despite the 5th War Zone's intricate troop deployments, marked by units of varying combat prowess and a glaring shortage of heavy weapons, the Chinese forces made masterful use of the terrain to harass their invaders. Drawing from accounts in Li Zongren's memoirs, he noted how these defenders, often outgunned but never outmaneuvered, turned hills into fortresses and rivers into moats. In early April 1939, as spring rains turned paths to mud, Chinese troops ramped up their disruptions along the southern stretches of the Pinghan Railway, striking from both eastern and western flanks with guerrilla precision. What truly rattled the Japanese garrison in Wuhan was the arrival of reinforcements: six full divisions redeployed to Zaoyang, bolstering the Chinese capacity to launch flanking assaults that could unravel Japanese supply lines. Alarmed by this buildup, the Japanese 11th Army, ensconced in the Wuhan area under the command of General Yasuji Okamura, a figure whose tactical acumen would later earn him notoriety in the Pacific War, devised a daring plan. They intended to plunge deep into the 5th War Zone, smashing the core of the Chinese forces and rendering them impotent, thereby neutralizing the northwestern threat to Wuhan once and for all. From April onward, the Japanese mobilized with meticulous preparation, amassing troops equipped with formidable artillery, rumbling tanks, and squadrons of aircraft that darkened the skies. Historians estimate they committed roughly three and a half divisions to this endeavor, as detailed in Edward J. Drea's In the Service of the Emperor: Essays on the Imperial Japanese Army. Employing a classic pincer movement, a two-flank encirclement coupled with a central breakthrough, they aimed for a swift, decisive strike to obliterate the main Chinese force in the narrow Suixian-Zaoyang corridor, squeezed between the Tongbai and Dahong Mountains. The offensive erupted in full fury on May 1, 1939, as Japanese columns surged forward like a tidal wave, their engines roaring and banners fluttering in the dust-choked air. General Li Zongren, the commander of the 5th War Zone, a man whose leadership had already shone in earlier campaigns like the defense of Tai'erzhuang in 1938, issued urgent orders to cease offensive actions against the Japanese and pivot to a defensive stance. Based on intelligence about the enemy's dispositions, Li orchestrated a comprehensive campaign structure, assigning precise defensive roles and battle plans to each unit. This was no haphazard scramble; it was a symphony of strategy, as Li himself recounted in his memoirs, emphasizing the need to exploit the terrain's natural advantages. While various Chinese war zones executed the "April Offensive" from late April to mid-May, actively harrying and containing Japanese forces, the 5th War Zone focused its energies on the southern segment of the Pinghan Railway, assaulting it from both sides in a bid to disrupt logistics. The main force of the 31st Army Group, under the command of Tang Enbo, a general known for his aggressive tactics and later criticized for corruption, shifted from elsewhere in Hubei to Zaoyang, fortifying the zone and posing a dire threat to the Japanese flanks and rear areas. To counter this peril and safeguard transportation along the Wuhan-Pinghan Railway, the Japanese, led by the formidable Okamura, unleashed their assault from the line stretching through Xinyang, Yingshan, and Zhongxiang. Mobilizing the 3rd, 13th, and 16th Divisions alongside the 2nd and 4th Cavalry Brigades, they charged toward the Suixian-Zaoyang region in western Hubei, intent on eradicating the Chinese main force and alleviating the siege-like pressure on Wuhan. In a masterful reorganization, Li Zongren divided his forces into two army groups, the left and right, plus a dedicated river defense army. His strategy was a blend of attrition and opportunism: harnessing the Tongbai and Dahong Mountains, clinging to key towns like lifelines, and grinding down the Japanese through prolonged warfare while biding time for a counterstroke. This approach echoed the Fabian tactics of ancient Rome, wearing the enemy thin before delivering the coup de grâce. The storm broke at dawn on May 1, when the main contingents of the Japanese 16th and 13th Divisions, bolstered by the 4th Cavalry Brigade from their bases in Zhongxiang and Jingshan, hurled themselves against the Chinese 37th and 180th Divisions of the Right Army Group. Supported by droning aircraft that strafed from above and tanks that churned the earth below, the Japanese advanced with mechanical precision. By May 4, they had shattered the defensive lines flanking Changshoudian, then surged along the east bank of the Xiang River toward Zaoyang in a massive offensive. Fierce combat raged through May 5, as described in Japanese war diaries compiled in Senshi Sōsho (the official Japanese war history series), where soldiers recounted the relentless Chinese resistance amid the smoke and clamor. The Japanese finally breached the defenses, turning their fury on the 122nd Division of the 41st Army. In a heroic stand, the 180th Division clung to Changshoudian, providing cover for the main force's retreat along the east-west Huangqi'an line. The 37th Division fell back to the Yaojiahe line, while elements of the 38th Division repositioned into Liushuigou. On May 6, the Japanese seized Changshoudian, punched through Huangqi'an, and drove northward, unleashing a devastating assault on the 122nd Division's positions near Wenjiamiao. Undeterred, Chinese defenders executed daring flanking maneuvers in the Fenglehe, Yaojiahe, Liushuihe, Shuanghe, and Zhangjiaji areas, turning the landscape into a labyrinth of ambushes. May 7 saw the Japanese pressing on, capturing Zhangjiaji and Shuanghe. By May 8, they assaulted Maozifan and Xinji, where ferocious battles erupted, soldiers clashing in hand-to-hand combat amid the ruins. By May 10, the Japanese had overrun Huyang Town and Xinye, advancing toward Tanghe and the northeastern fringes of Zaoyang. Yet, the Tanghe River front witnessed partial Chinese recoveries: remnants of the Right Army Group, alongside troops from east of the Xianghe, reclaimed Xinye. The 122nd and 180th Divisions withdrew north of Tanghe and Fancheng, while the 37th, 38th, and 132nd Divisions steadfastly held the east bank of the Xianghe River. Concurrently, the main force of the Japanese 3rd Division launched from Yingshan against the 84th and 13th Armies of the 11th Group Army in the Suixian sector. After a whirlwind of combat, the Chinese 84th Army retreated to the Taerwan position. On May 2, the 3rd Division targeted the Gaocheng position of the 13th Army within the 31st Group Army; the ensuing clashes in Taerwan and Gaocheng were a maelstrom of fire, with the Taerwan position exchanging hands multiple times like a deadly game of tug-of-war. By May 4, in a grim escalation, Japanese forces deployed poison gas, a violation of international norms that drew condemnation and is documented in Allied reports from the era, inflicting horrific casualties and compelling the Chinese to relinquish Gaocheng, which fell into enemy hands. On May 5, backed by aerial bombardments, tank charges, and artillery barrages, the Japanese renewed their onslaught along the Gaocheng River and the Lishan-Jiangjiahe line. By May 6, the beleaguered Chinese were forced back to the Tianhekou and Gaocheng line. Suixian succumbed on May 7. On May 8, the Japanese shattered the second line of the 84th Army, capturing Zaoyang and advancing on the Jiangtoudian position of the 85th Army. To evade encirclement, the defenders mounted a valiant resistance before withdrawing from Jiangtoudian; the 84th Army relocated to the Tanghe and Baihe areas, while the 39th Army embedded itself in the Dahongshan for guerrilla operations—a tactic that would bleed the Japanese through hit-and-run warfare, as noted in guerrilla warfare studies by Mao Zedong himself. By May 10, the bulk of the 31st Army Group maneuvered toward Tanghe, reaching north of Biyang by May 15. From Xinyang, Japanese forces struck at Tongbai on May 8; by May 10, elements from Zaoyang advanced to Zhangdian Town and Shangtun Town. In response, the 68th Army of the 1st War Zone dispatched the 143rd Division to defend Queshan and Minggang, and the 119th Division to hold Tongbai. After staunchly blocking the Japanese, they withdrew on May 11 to positions northwest and southwest of Tongbai, shielding the retreat of 5th War Zone units. The Japanese 4th Cavalry Brigade drove toward Tanghe, seizing Tanghe County on May 12. But the tide was turning. In a brilliant reversal, the Fifth War Zone commanded the 31st Army Group, in concert with the 2nd Army Group from the 1st War Zone, to advance from southwestern Henan. Their mission: encircle the bulk of Japanese forces on the Xiangdong Plain and deliver a crushing blow. The main force of the 33rd Army Group targeted Zaoyang, while other units pinned down Japanese rear guards in Zhongxiang. The Chinese counteroffensive erupted with swift successes, Tanghe County was recaptured on May 14, and Tongbai liberated on May 16, shattering the Japanese encirclement scheme. On May 19, after four grueling days of combat, Chinese forces mauled the retreating Japanese, reclaiming Zaoyang and leaving the fields strewn with enemy dead. The 39th Army of the Left Army Group dispersed into the mountains for guerrilla warfare, a shadowy campaign of sabotage and surprise. Forces of the Right Army Group east of the river, along with river defense units, conducted relentless raids on Japanese rears and supply lines over multiple days, sowing chaos before withdrawing to the west bank of the Xiang River on May 21. On May 22, they pressed toward Suixian, recapturing it on May 23. The Japanese, battered and depleted, retreated to their original garrisons in Zhongxiang and Yingshan, restoring the pre-war lines as the battle drew to a close. Throughout this clash, the Chinese held a marked superiority in manpower and coordination, though their deployments lacked full flexibility, briefly placing them on the defensive. After protracted, blood-soaked fighting, they restored the original equilibrium. Despite grievous losses, the Chinese thwarted the Japanese encirclement and exacted a heavy toll, reports from the time, corroborated by Japanese records in Senshi Sōsho, indicate over 13,000 Japanese killed or wounded, with more than 5,000 corpses abandoned on the battlefield. This fulfilled the strategic goal of containing and eroding Japanese strength. Chinese casualties surpassed 25,000, a testament to the ferocity of the struggle. The 5th War Zone seized the initiative in advances and retreats, deftly shifting to outer lines and maintaining positional advantages. As Japanese forces withdrew, Chinese pursuers harried and obstructed them, yielding substantial victories. The Battle of Suizao spanned less than three weeks. The Japanese main force pierced defenses on the east bank of the Han River, advancing to encircle one flank as planned. However, the other two formations met fierce opposition near Suixian and northward, stalling their progress. Adapting to the battlefield's ebb and flow, the Fifth War Zone transformed its tactics: the main force escaped encirclement, maneuvered to outer lines for offensives, and exploited terrain to hammer the Japanese. The pivotal order to flip from defense to offense doomed the encirclement; with the counterattack triumphant, the Japanese declined to hold and retreated. The Chinese pursued with unyielding vigor. By May 24, they had reclaimed Zaoyang, Tongbai, and other locales. Save for Suixian County, the Japanese had fallen back to pre-war positions, reinstating the regional status quo. Thus, the battle concluded, a chapter of resilience etched into the chronicles of China's defiance. In the sweltering heat of southern China, where the humid air clung to every breath like a persistent fog, the Japanese General Staff basked in what they called a triumphant offensive and defensive campaign in Guangdong. But victory, as history so often teaches, is a double-edged sword. By early 1939, the strain was palpable. Their secret supply line snaking from the British colony of Hong Kong to the Chinese mainland was under constant disruption, raids by shadowy guerrilla bands, opportunistic smugglers, and the sheer unpredictability of wartime logistics turning what should have been a lifeline into a leaky sieve. Blockading the entire coastline? A pipe dream, given the vast, jagged shores of Guangdong, dotted with hidden coves and fishing villages that had evaded imperial edicts for centuries. Yet, the General Staff's priorities were unyielding, laser-focused on strangling the Nationalist capital of Chongqing through a relentless blockade. This meant the 21st Army, that workhorse of the Japanese invasion force, had to stay in the fight—no rest for the weary. Drawing from historical records like the Senshi Sōsho (War History Series) compiled by Japan's National Institute for Defense Studies, we know that after the 21st Army reported severing what they dubbed the "secret transport line" at Xinhui, a gritty, hard-fought skirmish that left the local landscape scarred with craters and abandoned supply crates, the General Staff circled back to the idea of a full coastal blockade. It was a classic case of military opportunism: staff officers, poring over maps in dimly lit war rooms in Tokyo, suddenly "discovered" Shantou as a major port. Not just any port, mind you, but a bustling hub tied to the heartstrings of Guangdong's overseas Chinese communities. Shantou and nearby Chao'an weren't mere dots on a map; they were the ancestral hometowns of countless Chaoshan people who had ventured abroad to Southeast Asia, sending back remittances that flowed like lifeblood into the region. Historical economic studies, such as those in The Overseas Chinese in the People's Republic of China by Stephen Fitzgerald, highlight how these funds from the Chaoshan diaspora, often funneled through family networks in places like Singapore and Thailand, were substantial, indirectly fueling China's war effort by sustaining local economies and even purchasing arms on the black market. The Chao-Shao Highway, that dusty artery running near Shantou, was pinpointed as a critical vein connecting Hong Kong's ports to the mainland's interior. So, in early June 1939, the die was cast: Army Order No. 310 thundered from headquarters, commanding the 21st Army to seize Shantou. The Chief of the General Staff himself provided the strategic blueprint, a personal touch that underscored the operation's gravity. The Army Department christened the Chaoshan push "Operation Hua," a nod perhaps to the flowery illusions of easy conquest, while instructing the Navy Department to tag along for the ride. In naval parlance, it became "Operation J," a cryptic label that masked the sheer scale unfolding. Under the Headquarters' watchful eye, what started as a modest blockade morphed into a massive amphibious assault, conjured seemingly out of thin air like a magician's trick, but one with deadly props. The 5th Fleet's orders mobilized an impressive lineup: the 9th Squadron for heavy hitting, the 5th Mine Boat Squadron to clear watery hazards, the 12th and 21st Sweeper Squadrons sweeping for mines like diligent janitors of the sea, the 45th Destroyer Squadron adding destroyer muscle, and air power from the 3rd Combined Air Group (boasting 24 land-based attack aircraft and 9 reconnaissance planes that could spot a fishing boat from miles away). Then there was the Chiyoda Air Group with its 9 reconnaissance aircraft, the Guangdong Air Group contributing a quirky airship and one more recon plane, the 9th Special Landing Squadron from Sasebo trained for beach assaults, and a flotilla of special ships for logistics. On the ground, the 21st Army threw in the 132nd Brigade from the 104th Division, beefed up with the 76th Infantry Battalion, two mountain artillery battalions for lobbing shells over rugged terrain, two engineer battalions to bridge rivers and clear paths, a light armored vehicle platoon rumbling with mechanized menace, and a river-crossing supplies company to keep the troops fed and armed. All under the command of Brigade Commander Juro Goto, a stern officer whose tactical acumen was forged in earlier Manchurian campaigns. The convoy's size demanded rehearsals; the 132nd Brigade trained for boat transfers at Magong in the Penghu Islands, practicing the precarious dance of loading men and gear onto rocking vessels under simulated fire. Secrecy shrouded the whole affair, many officers and soldiers, boarding ships in the dead of night, whispered among themselves that they were finally heading home to Japan, a cruel ruse to maintain operational security. For extra punch, the 21st Army tacked on the 31st Air Squadron for air support, their planes droning like angry hornets ready to sting. This overkill didn't sit well with everyone. Lieutenant General Ando Rikichi, the pragmatic commander overseeing Japanese forces in the region, must have fumed in his Guangzhou headquarters. His intelligence staff, drawing from intercepted radio chatter and local spies as noted in postwar analyses like The Japanese Army in World War II by Gordon L. Rottman, reported that the Chongqing forces in Chaozhou were laughably thin: just the 9th Independent Brigade, a couple of security regiments, and ragtag "self-defense groups" of armed civilians. Why unleash such a sledgehammer on a fly? The mobilization's magnitude even forced a reshuffling of defenses around Guangzhou, pulling resources from the 12th Army's front lines and overburdening the already stretched 18th Division. It was bureaucratic overreach at its finest, a testament to the Imperial Staff's penchant for grand gestures over tactical efficiency. Meanwhile, on the Nationalist side, the winds of war carried whispers of impending doom. The National Revolutionary Army's war histories, such as those compiled in the Zhongguo Kangri Zhanzheng Shi (History of China's War of Resistance Against Japan), note that Chiang Kai-shek's Military Commission had snagged intelligence as early as February 1939 about Japan's plans for a large-scale invasion of Shantou. The efficiency of the Military Command's Second Bureau and the Military Intelligence Bureau was nothing short of astonishing, networks of agents, double agents, and radio intercepts piercing the veil of Japanese secrecy. Even as the convoy slipped out of Penghu, a detailed report outlining operational orders landed on Commander Zhang Fakui's desk, the ink still fresh. Zhang, a battle-hardened strategist whose career spanned the Northern Expedition and beyond , had four months to prepare for what would be dubbed the decisive battle of Chaoshan. Yet, in a move that baffled some contemporaries, he chose not to fortify and defend it tooth and nail. After the Fourth War Zone submitted its opinions, likely heated debates in smoke-filled command posts, Chiang Kai-shek greenlit the plan. By March, the Military Commission issued its strategic policy: when the enemy hit Chaoshan, a sliver of regular troops would team up with civilian armed forces for mobile and guerrilla warfare, grinding down the invaders like sandpaper on steel. The orders specified guerrilla zones in Chaozhou, Jiaxing, and Huizhou, unifying local militias under a banner of "extensive guerrilla warfare" to coordinate with regular army maneuvers, gradually eroding the Japanese thrust. In essence, the 4th War Zone wasn't tasked with holding Chao'an and Shantou at all costs; instead, they'd strike hard during the landing, then let guerrillas harry the occupiers post-capture. It was a doctrine of attrition in a "confined battlefield," honing skills through maneuver and ambush. Remarkably, the fall of these cities was preordained by the Military Commission three months before the Japanese even issued their orders, a strategic feint that echoed ancient Sun Tzu tactics of yielding ground to preserve strength. To execute this, the 4th War Zone birthed the Chao-Jia-Hui Guerrilla Command after meticulous preparation, with General Zou Hong, head of Guangdong's Security Bureau and a no-nonsense administrator known for his anti-smuggling campaigns, taking the helm. In just three months, Zhang Fakui scraped together the Independent 9th Brigade, the 2nd, 4th, and 5th Guangdong Provincial Security Regiments, and the Security Training Regiment. Even with the 9th Army Group lurking nearby, he handed the reins of the Chao-Shan operation to the 12th Army Group's planners. Their March guidelines sketched three lines of resistance from the coast to the mountains, a staged withdrawal that allowed frontline defenders to melt away like ghosts. This blueprint mirrored Chiang Kai-shek's post-Wuhan reassessment, where the loss of that key city in 1938 prompted a shift to protracted warfare. A Xinhua News Agency columnist later summed it up scathingly: "The Chongqing government, having lost its will to resist, colludes with the Japanese and seeks to eliminate the Communists, adopting a policy of passive resistance." This narrative, propagated by Communist sources, dogged Chiang and the National Revolutionary Army for decades, painting them as defeatists even as they bled the Japanese dry through attrition. February 1939 saw Commander Zhang kicking off a reorganization of the 12th Army Group, transforming it from a patchwork force into something resembling a modern army. He could have hunkered down, assigning troops to a desperate defense of Chaoshan, but that would have handed the initiative to the overcautious Japanese General Staff, whose activism often bordered on paranoia. Zhang, with the wisdom of a seasoned general who had navigated the treacherous politics of pre-war China, weighed the scales carefully. His vision? Forge the 12th Army Group into a nimble field army, not squander tens of thousands on a secondary port. Japan's naval and air dominance—evident in the devastation of Shanghai in 1937, meant Guangdong's forces could be pulverized in Shantou just as easily. Losing Chaozhou and Shantou? Acceptable, if it preserved core strength for the long haul. Post-Xinhui, Zhang doubled down on resistance, channeling efforts into live-fire exercises for the 12th Army, turning green recruits into battle-ready soldiers amid the Guangdong hills. The war's trajectory after 1939 would vindicate him: his forces became pivotal in later counteroffensives, proving that a living army trumped dead cities. Opting out of a static defense, Zhang pivoted to guerrilla warfare to bleed the Japanese while clutching strategic initiative. He ordered local governments to whip up coastal guerrilla forces from Chao'an to Huizhou—melding militias, national guards, police, and private armed groups into official folds. These weren't elite shock troops, but in wartime's chaos, they controlled locales effectively, disrupting supply lines and gathering intel. For surprises, he unleashed two mobile units: the 9th Independent Brigade and the 20th Independent Brigade. Formed fresh after the War of Resistance erupted, these brigades shone for their efficiency within the cumbersome Guangdong Army structure. Division-level units were too bulky for spotty communications, so Yu Hanmou's command birthed these independent outfits, staffed with crack officers. The 9th, packing direct-fire artillery for punch, and the 20th, dubbed semi-mechanized for its truck-borne speed, prowled the Chaoshan–Huizhou coast from 1939. Zhang retained their three-regiment setup, naming Hua Zhenzhong and Zhang Shou as commanders, granting them autonomy to command in the field like roving wolves. As the 9th Independent Brigade shifted to Shantou, its 627th Regiment was still reorganizing in Heyuan, a logistical hiccup amid the scramble. Hua Zhenzhong, a commander noted for his tactical flexibility in regional annals, deployed the 625th Regiment and 5th Security Regiment along the coast, with the 626th as reserve in Chao'an. Though the Fourth War Zone had written off Chaoshan, Zhang yearned to showcase Guangdong grit before the pullback. Dawn broke on June 21, 1939, at 4:30 a.m., with Japanese reconnaissance planes slicing through the fog over Shantou, Anbu, and Nanbeigang, ghostly silhouettes against the gray sky. By 5:30, the mist lifted, revealing a nightmare armada: over 40 destroyers and 70–80 landing craft churning toward the coast on multiple vectors, their hulls cutting the waves like knives. The 626th Regiment's 3rd Battalion at Donghushan met the first wave with a hail of fire from six light machine guns, repelling the initial boats in a frenzy of splashes and shouts. But the brigade's long-range guns couldn't stem the tide; Hua focused on key chokepoints, aiming to bloody the invaders rather than obliterate them. By morning, the 3rd Battalion of the 625th Regiment charged into Shantou City, joined by the local police corps digging in amid urban sprawl. Combat raged at Xinjin Port and the airport's fringes, where Nationalist troops traded shots with advancing Japanese under the absent shadow of a Chinese navy. Japanese naval guns, massed offshore, pounded the outskirts like thunder gods in fury. By 2:00 a.m. on the 22nd, Shantou crumpled as defenders' ammo ran dry, the city falling in a haze of smoke and echoes. Before the loss, Hua had positioned the 1st Battalion of the 5th Security Regiment at Anbu, guarding the road to Chao'an. Local lore, preserved in oral histories collected by the Chaozhou Historical Society, recalls Battalion Commander Du Ruo leading from the front, rifle in hand, but Japanese barrages, bolstered by superior firepower—forced a retreat. Post-capture, Tokyo's forces paused to consolidate, unleashing massacres on fleeing civilians in the outskirts. A flotilla of civilian boats, intercepted at sea, became a grim training ground for bayonet drills, a barbarity echoed in survivor testimonies compiled in The Rape of Nanking and Beyond extensions to Guangdong atrocities. With Shantou gone, Hua pivoted to flank defense, orchestrating night raids on Japanese positions around Anbu and Meixi. On June 24th, Major Du Ruo spearheaded an assault into Anbu but fell gravely wounded amid the chaos. Later, the 2nd Battalion of the 626th overran spots near Meixi. A Japanese sea-flanking maneuver targeted Anbu, but Nationalists held at Liulong, sparking nocturnal clashes, grenade volleys, bayonet charges, and hand-to-hand brawls that drained both sides like a slow bleed. June 26th saw the 132nd Brigade lumber toward Chao'an. Hua weighed options: all-out assault or guerrilla fade? He chose to dig in on the outskirts, reserving two companies of the 625th and a special ops battalion in the city. The 27th brought a day-long Japanese onslaught, culminating in Chao'an's fall after fierce rear-guard actions by the 9th Independent Brigade. Evacuations preceded the collapse, with Japanese propaganda banners fluttering falsely, claiming Nationalists had abandoned defense. Yet Hua's call preserved his brigade for future fights; the Japanese claimed an empty prize. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. The Japanese operations had yet again plugged up supply leaks into Nationalist China. The fall of Suixian, Zaoyang and Shantou were heavy losses for the Chinese war effort. However the Chinese were also able to exact heavy casualties on the invaders and thwarted their encirclement attempts. China was still in the fight for her life.

Sean McMeekin explains how the Allies abandoned anti-communist forces like Mihailovic in Yugoslavia and Chiang Kai-shek in China, while Stalin armed Mao Zedong with Japanese weapons, concluding that massive US Lend-Leaseaid enabled communism's expansion into Europe and Asia.1945

It's Tuesday, January 27th, A.D. 2026. This is The Worldview in 5 Minutes heard on 140 radio stations and at www.TheWorldview.com.  I'm Adam McManus. (Adam@TheWorldview.com) By Kevin Swanson Iran Int'l News reports 36,500 protestors killed by Islamic regime As The Worldview reported yesterday, the latest report of the death count for the recent Iranian protests is now at 36,500, according to Iran International News.   (audio of Iranian officials shooting unarmed protestors) This information reportedly comes from Interior Ministry documents. The government carried out 4,000 clashes at various locations around the country over a two-day period earlier in the month. Iran's Health Ministry also revealed that the hospitals in the country performed 13,000 surgeries following the protests. Iran's internet blackout is going into its 19th day today.  Iran International also reports that government officials are still carrying out “extrajudicial killings, deaths under torture, and the systematic mistreatment of detainees and their families.” Several of our sources have reported multiple Christians killed in the conflict.  Communist Chinese president purged military generals China's President and Communist Party General Secretary Xi Jinping has completed his purge of military generals, beginning with top brass Zhang Youxia and at least 17 other generals, reports NTDTV.com. The Economist called this “the largest political purge of the military's top ranks since Mao Zedong's death in 1976.” Assaults on ICE officers increased by 1,300% in 2025 over 2024 Public protests are increasing in the United States. Last year, the Crowd Counting Consortium counted 10,700 protests in the U.S. That's a 133% increase over 2024. So far this month, there have been 628 protests, the largest of which have centered in Minnesota, Illinois, and California. Disturbingly, the protests have increased in violence. The Department of Homeland Security recently reported a 1,300% increase in assaults against I.C.E. officers in 2025 (over the previous year), and a 3,200% increase in vehicular attacks. Rest assured, where human justice may fail, Ecclesiastes 12:14 assures us that “God shall bring every work into judgment, including every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.” Shooting death of Minneapolis man sparks gun control debate The January 24th fatal shooting of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis by law enforcement has sparked a debate on gun control. Apparently, the protester was armed at the time of his encounter with the I.C.E. agent. Assistant U.S. Attorney Bill Essayli took to X, commenting that, "If you approach law enforcement with a gun, there is a high likelihood they will be legally justified in shooting you."  However, the pro-gun group, the National Rifle Association, said, "Responsible public voices should be awaiting a full investigation, not making generalizations and demonizing law-abiding citizens.” Plus, Gun Owners for America noted, "The Second Amendment protects Americans' right to bear arms while protesting ‒ a right the federal government must not infringe upon." GOP Rep. Thomas Massie and Barack Obama weigh in on ICE killing GOP U.S. Rep. Thomas Massie of Kentucky also jumped into the fray. He said, ”Carrying a firearm is not a death sentence;  it's a Constitutionally-protected, God-given right. And, if you don't understand this, you have no business in law enforcement or government." No comment from the liberal media on Mr. Pretti's choice to carry a gun to the protest. Then, former President Barack Obama took to X on Sunday to encourage the American public to “support and draw inspiration from” what he calls “the peaceful protests in Minneapolis.” Satan worshippers thank Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz Speaking of Minnesota, Republican State Representative Pam Altendorf revealed on video a disturbing display recognizing Satan in the state Capitol. ALTENDORF: “As I was leaving my committee meeting today here earlier, I noticed that there is a new display here at the State Capitol, and it's for Governor [Tim] Walz.” The inscription says, “The Democratic Coalition of Satan Worshippers thanks Gov. Tim Walz for not standing in the way of spreading Satanism in the state Capitol building.” Rep. Altendorf concluded with this. ALTENDORF: “Yes, everyone, this is true. I am live, not making this up. You can't make this up. (laughs) I don't know why a governor of a state would want this plaque, but there it is. “The Satan worshipers have thanked Governor Tim Walz, and let me repeat this.  The last line says, ‘Satan has a special place for you.' I'm speechless.” In Exodus 20:3, God revealed to Moses atop Mt. Sinai, “You shall have no other gods before Me.” Charismatic leader accused of “fabricated” prophecies and sexual sin The charismatic church is taking more hits from reports concerning alleged scandalous activities of a homosexual nature. Shawn Bolz was platformed by Bethel over a period of ten years.  Bethel leadership now admits to have continued platforming Bolz despite their knowing of his “fabricated” prophecies and alleged sexual sin, reports CBN News. Multiple Christian news organizations have headlined this new revelation in an ongoing series of scandals in the evangelical/charismatic church involving Bill Hybels, Carl Lentz, Mike Bickel, Brian Houston, T.D. Jakes, Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, and Jimmy Swaggart.  The deluge of scandals has taken its toll on the nation. Public trust in pastors here is now the lowest in recorded history. According to Lifeway Research, only 27% of Americans say they have a high trust in pastors, down from an average of 56% between 2000 and 2009. Here's a reminder from 1 Corinthians 11:31 and 32. “If we would judge ourselves, we would not be judged.  But when we are judged, we are chastened by the Lord, that we may not be condemned with the world.” Gold and silver prices soar Gold and silver prices continue to soar. Now, $5,100 per ounce for gold, up from $2,600 just a year ago, reports Reuters. And silver today is $110 per pounce, up from $30 a year ago. 36 states consider anti-transgender bills And finally, at last count, 36 state governments are floating 366 bills which would put the brakes on the advance of “transgender rights,” limit the public display of drag queens, and allow religious exemptions for churches, schools, and businesses that are morally opposed to homosexuality and transgenderism. Close And that's The Worldview on this Tuesday, January 27th, in the year of our Lord 2026. Follow us on X or subscribe for free by Spotify, Amazon Music, or by iTunes or email to our unique Christian newscast at www.TheWorldview.com.  I'm Adam McManus (Adam@TheWorldview.com). Seize the day for Jesus Christ.

Last time we spoke about the climax of the battle of Lake Khasan. In August, the Lake Khasan region became a tense theater of combat as Soviet and Japanese forces clashed around Changkufeng and Hill 52. The Soviets pushed a multi-front offensive, bolstered by artillery, tanks, and air power, yet the Japanese defenders held firm, aided by engineers, machine guns, and heavy guns. By the ninth and tenth, a stubborn Japanese resilience kept Hill 52 and Changkufeng in Japanese hands, though the price was steep and the field was littered with the costs of battle. Diplomatically, both sides aimed to confine the fighting and avoid a larger war. Negotiations trudged on, culminating in a tentative cease-fire draft for August eleventh: a halt to hostilities, positions to be held as of midnight on the tenth, and the creation of a border-demarcation commission. Moscow pressed for a neutral umpire; Tokyo resisted, accepting a Japanese participant but rejecting a neutral referee. The cease-fire was imperfect, with miscommunications and differing interpretations persisting.    #185 Operation Hainan Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. After what seemed like a lifetime over in the northern border between the USSR and Japan, today we are returning to the Second Sino-Japanese War. Now I thought it might be a bit jarring to dive into it, so let me do a brief summary of where we are at, in the year of 1939. As the calendar turned to 1939, the Second Sino-Japanese War, which had erupted in July 1937 with the Marco Polo Bridge Incident and escalated into full-scale conflict, had evolved into a protracted quagmire for the Empire of Japan. What began as a swift campaign to subjugate the Republic of China under Chiang Kai-shek had, by the close of 1938, transformed into a war of attrition. Japanese forces, under the command of generals like Shunroku Hata and Yasuji Okamura, had achieved stunning territorial gains: the fall of Shanghai in November 1937 after a brutal three-month battle that cost over 200,000 Chinese lives; the infamous capture of Nanjing in December 1937, marked by the Nanjing Massacre where an estimated 300,000 civilians and disarmed soldiers were killed in a six-week orgy of violence; and the sequential occupations of Xuzhou in May 1938, Wuhan in October 1938, and Guangzhou that same month.  These victories secured Japan's control over China's eastern seaboard, major riverine arteries like the Yangtze, and key industrial centers, effectively stripping the Nationalists of much of their economic base. Yet, despite these advances, China refused to capitulate. Chiang's government had retreated inland to the mountainous stronghold of Chongqing in Sichuan province, where it regrouped amid the fog-laden gorges, drawing on the vast human reserves of China's interior and the resilient spirit of its people. By late 1938, Japanese casualties had mounted to approximately 50,000 killed and 200,000 wounded annually, straining the Imperial Japanese Army's resources and exposing the vulnerabilities of overextended supply lines deep into hostile territory. In Tokyo, the corridors of the Imperial General Headquarters and the Army Ministry buzzed with urgent deliberations during the winter of 1938-1939. The initial doctrine of "quick victory" through decisive battles, epitomized by the massive offensives of 1937 and 1938, had proven illusory. Japan's military planners, influenced by the Kwantung Army's experiences in Manchuria and the ongoing stalemate, recognized that China's sheer size, with its 4 million square miles and over 400 million inhabitants, rendered total conquest unfeasible without unacceptable costs. Intelligence reports highlighted the persistence of Chinese guerrilla warfare, particularly in the north where Communist forces under Mao Zedong's Eighth Route Army conducted hit-and-run operations from bases in Shanxi and Shaanxi, sabotaging railways and ambushing convoys. The Japanese response included brutal pacification campaigns, such as the early iterations of what would later formalize as the "Three Alls Policy" (kill all, burn all, loot all), aimed at devastating rural economies and isolating resistance pockets. But these measures only fueled further defiance. By early 1939, a strategic pivot was formalized: away from direct annihilation of Chinese armies toward a policy of economic strangulation. This "blockade and interdiction" approach sought to sever China's lifelines to external aid, choking off the flow of weapons, fuel, and materiel that sustained the Nationalist war effort. As one Japanese staff officer noted in internal memos, the goal was to "starve the dragon in its lair," acknowledging the limits of Japanese manpower, total forces in China numbered around 1 million by 1939, against China's inexhaustible reserves. Central to this new strategy were the three primary overland supply corridors that had emerged as China's backdoors to the world, compensating for the Japanese naval blockade that had sealed off most coastal ports since late 1937. The first and most iconic was the Burma Road, a 717-mile engineering marvel hastily constructed between 1937 and 1938 by over 200,000 Chinese and Burmese laborers under the direction of engineers like Chih-Ping Chen. Stretching from the railhead at Lashio in British Burma (modern Myanmar) through treacherous mountain passes and dense jungles to Kunming in Yunnan province, the road navigated elevations up to 7,000 feet with hundreds of hairpin turns and precarious bridges. By early 1939, it was operational, albeit plagued by monsoonal mudslides, banditry, and mechanical breakdowns of the imported trucks, many Ford and Chevrolet models supplied via British Rangoon. Despite these challenges, it funneled an increasing volume of aid: in 1939 alone, estimates suggest up to 10,000 tons per month of munitions, gasoline, and aircraft parts from Allied sources, including early Lend-Lease precursors from the United States. The road's completion in 1938 had been a direct response to the loss of southern ports, and its vulnerability to aerial interdiction made it a prime target in Japanese planning documents. The second lifeline was the Indochina route, centered on the French-built Yunnan-Vietnam Railway (also known as the Hanoi-Kunming Railway), a 465-mile narrow-gauge line completed in 1910 that linked the port of Haiphong in French Indochina to Kunming via Hanoi and Lao Cai. This colonial artery, supplemented by parallel roads and river transport along the Red River, became China's most efficient supply conduit in 1938-1939, exploiting France's uneasy neutrality. French authorities, under Governor-General Pierre Pasquier and later Georges Catroux, turned a blind eye to transshipments, allowing an average of 15,000 to 20,000 tons monthly in early 1939, far surpassing the Burma Road's initial capacity. Cargoes included Soviet arms rerouted via Vladivostok and American oil, with French complicity driven by anti-Japanese sentiment and profitable tolls. However, Japanese reconnaissance flights from bases in Guangdong noted the vulnerability of bridges and rail yards, leading to initial bombing raids by mid-1939. Diplomatic pressure mounted, with Tokyo issuing protests to Paris, foreshadowing the 1940 closure under Vichy France after the fall of France in Europe. The route's proximity to the South China Sea made it a focal point for Japanese naval strategists, who viewed it as a "leak in the blockade." The third corridor, often overlooked but critical, was the Northwest Highway through Soviet Central Asia and Xinjiang province. This overland network, upgraded between 1937 and 1941 with Soviet assistance, connected the Turkestan-Siberian Railway at Almaty (then Alma-Ata) to Lanzhou in Gansu via Urumqi, utilizing a mix of trucks, camel caravans, and rudimentary roads across the Gobi Desert and Tian Shan mountains. Under the Sino-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact of August 1937 and subsequent aid agreements, Moscow supplied China with over 900 aircraft, 82 tanks, 1,300 artillery pieces, and vast quantities of ammunition and fuel between 1937 and 1941—much of it traversing this route. In 1938-1939, volumes peaked, with Soviet pilots and advisors even establishing air bases in Lanzhou. The highway's construction involved tens of thousands of Chinese laborers, facing harsh winters and logistical hurdles, but it delivered up to 2,000 tons monthly, including entire fighter squadrons like the Polikarpov I-16. Japanese intelligence, aware of this "Red lifeline," planned disruptions but were constrained by the ongoing Nomonhan Incident on the Manchurian-Soviet border in 1939, which diverted resources and highlighted the risks of provoking Moscow. These routes collectively sustained China's resistance, prompting Japan's high command to prioritize their severance. In March 1939, the South China Area Army was established under General Rikichi Andō (later succeeded by Field Marshal Hisaichi Terauchi), headquartered in Guangzhou, with explicit orders to disrupt southern communications. Aerial campaigns intensified, with Mitsubishi G3M "Nell" bombers from Wuhan and Guangzhou targeting Kunming's airfields and the Red River bridges, while diplomatic maneuvers pressured colonial powers: Britain faced demands during the June 1939 Tientsin Crisis to close the Burma Road, and France received ultimatums that culminated in the 1940 occupation of northern Indochina. Yet, direct assaults on Yunnan or Guangxi were deemed too arduous due to rugged terrain and disease risks. Instead, planners eyed peripheral objectives to encircle these arteries. This strategic calculus set the stage for the invasion of Hainan Island, a 13,000-square-mile landmass off Guangdong's southern coast, rich in iron and copper but strategically priceless for its position astride the Indochina route and proximity to Hong Kong. By February 1939, Japanese admirals like Nobutake Kondō of the 5th Fleet advocated seizure to establish air and naval bases, plugging blockade gaps and enabling raids on Haiphong and Kunming, a prelude to broader southern expansion that would echo into the Pacific War. Now after the fall campaign around Canton in autumn 1938, the Japanese 21st Army found itself embedded in a relentless effort to sever the enemy's lifelines. Its primary objective shifted from mere battlefield engagements to tightening the choke points of enemy supply, especially along the Canton–Hankou railway. Recognizing that war materiel continued to flow into the enemy's hands, the Imperial General Headquarters ordered the 21st Army to strike at every other supply route, one by one, until the arteries of logistics were stifled. The 21st Army undertook a series of decisive occupations to disrupt transport and provisioning from multiple directions. To sustain these difficult campaigns, Imperial General Headquarters reinforced the south China command, enabling greater operational depth and endurance. The 21st Army benefited from a series of reinforcements during 1939, which allowed a reorganization of assignments and missions: In late January, the Iida Detachment was reorganized into the Formosa Mixed Brigade and took part in the invasion of Hainan Island.  Hainan, just 15 miles across the Qiongzhou Strait from the mainland, represented a critical "loophole": it lay astride the Gulf of Tonkin, enabling smuggling of arms and materiel from Haiphong to Kunming, and offered potential airfields for bombing raids deep into Yunnan. Japanese interest in Hainan dated to the 1920s, driven by the Taiwan Governor-General's Office, which eyed the island's tropical resources (rubber, iron, copper) and naval potential at ports like Sanya (Samah). Prewar surveys by Japanese firms, such as those documented in Ide Kiwata's Minami Shina no Sangyō to Keizai (1939), highlighted mineral wealth and strategic harbors. The fall of Guangzhou in October 1938 provided the perfect launchpad, but direct invasion was delayed until early 1939 amid debates between the IJA (favoring mainland advances) and IJN (prioritizing naval encirclement). The operation would also heavily align with broader "southward advance" (Nanshin-ron) doctrine foreshadowing invasions of French Indochina (1940) and the Pacific War. On the Chinese side, Hainan was lightly defended as part of Guangdong's "peace preservation" under General Yu Hanmou. Two security regiments, six guard battalions, and a self-defense corps, totaling around 7,000–10,000 poorly equipped troops guarded the island, supplemented by roughly 300 Communist guerrillas under Feng Baiju, who operated independently in the interior. The indigenous Li (Hlai) people in the mountainous south, alienated by Nationalist taxes, provided uneven support but later allied with Communists. The Imperial General Headquarters ordered the 21st Army, in cooperation with the Navy, to occupy and hold strategic points on the island near Haikou-Shih. The 21st Army commander assigned the Formosa Mixed Brigade to carry out this mission. Planning began in late 1938 under the IJN's Fifth Fleet, with IJA support from the 21st Army. The objective: secure northern and southern landing sites to bisect the island, establish air/naval bases, and exploit resources. Vice Admiral Nobutake Kondō, commanding the fleet, emphasized surprise and air superiority. The invasion began under the cover of darkness on February 9, 1939, when Kondō's convoy entered Tsinghai Bay on the northern shore of Hainan and anchored at midnight. Japanese troops swiftly disembarked, encountering minimal initial resistance from the surprised Chinese defenders, and secured a beachhead in the northern zone. At 0300 hours on 10 February, the Formosa Mixed Brigade, operating in close cooperation with naval units, executed a surprise landing at the northeastern point of Tengmai Bay in north Hainan. By 04:30, the right flank reached the main road leading to Fengyingshih, while the left flank reached a position two kilometers south of Tienwei. By 07:00, the right flank unit had overcome light enemy resistance near Yehli and occupied Chiungshan. At that moment there were approximately 1,000 elements of the enemy's 5th Infantry Brigade (militia) at Chiungshan; about half of these troops were destroyed, and the remainder fled into the hills south of Tengmai in a state of disarray. Around 08:30 that same day, the left flank unit advanced to the vicinity of Shuchang and seized Hsiuying Heights. By 12:00, it occupied Haikou, the island's northern port city and administrative center, beginning around noon. Army and navy forces coordinated to mop up remaining pockets of resistance in the northern areas, overwhelming the scattered Chinese security units through superior firepower and organization. No large-scale battles are recorded in primary accounts; instead, the engagements were characterized by rapid advances and localized skirmishes, as the Chinese forces, lacking heavy artillery or air support, could not mount a sustained defense. By the end of the day, Japanese control over the north was consolidating, with Haikou falling under their occupation.Also on 10 February, the Brigade pushed forward to seize Cingang. Wenchang would be taken on the 22nd, followed by Chinglan Port on the 23rd. On February 11, the operation expanded southward when land combat units amphibiously assaulted Samah (now Sanya) at the island's southern tip. This landing allowed them to quickly seize key positions, including the port of Yulin (Yulinkang) and the town of Yai-Hsien (Yaxian, now part of Sanya). With these southern footholds secured, Japanese forces fanned out to subjugate the rest of the island, capturing inland areas and infrastructure with little organized opposition. Meanwhile, the landing party of the South China Navy Expeditionary Force, which had joined with the Army to secure Haikou, began landing on the island's southern shore at dawn on 14 February. They operated under the protection of naval and air units. By the same morning, the landing force had advanced to Sa-Riya and, by 12:00 hours, had captured Yulin Port. Chinese casualties were significant in the brief fighting; from January to May 1939, reports indicate the 11th security regiment alone suffered 8 officers and 162 soldiers killed, 3 officers and 16 wounded, and 5 officers and 68 missing, though figures for other units are unclear. Japanese losses were not publicly detailed but appear to have been light.  When crisis pressed upon them, Nationalist forces withdrew from coastal Haikou, shepherding the last civilians toward the sheltering embrace of the Wuzhi mountain range that bands the central spine of Hainan. From that high ground they sought to endure the storm, praying that the rugged hills might shield their families from the reach of war. Yet the Li country's mountains did not deliver a sanctuary free of conflict. Later in August of 1943, an uprising erupted among the Li,Wang Guoxing, a figure of local authority and stubborn resolve. His rebellion was swiftly crushed; in reprisal, the Nationalists executed a seizure of vengeance that extended far beyond the moment of defeat, claiming seven thousand members of Wang Guoxing's kin in his village. The episode was grim testimony to the brutal calculus of war, where retaliation and fear indelibly etched the landscape of family histories. Against this backdrop, the Communists under Feng Baiju and the native Li communities forged a vigorous guerrilla war against the occupiers. The struggle was not confined to partisan skirmishes alone; it unfolded as a broader contest of survival and resistance. The Japanese response was relentless and punitive, and it fell upon Li communities in western Hainan with particular ferocity, Sanya and Danzhou bore the brunt of violence, as did the many foreign laborers conscripted into service by the occupying power. The toll of these reprisals was stark: among hundreds of thousands of slave laborers pressed into service, tens of thousands perished. Of the 100,000 laborers drawn from Hong Kong, only about 20,000 survived the war's trials, a haunting reminder of the human cost embedded in the occupation. Strategically, the island of Hainan took on a new if coercive purpose. Portions of the island were designated as a naval administrative district, with the Hainan Guard District Headquarters established at Samah, signaling its role as a forward air base and as an operational flank for broader anti-Chiang Kai-shek efforts. In parallel, the island's rich iron and copper resources were exploited to sustain the war economy of the occupiers. The control of certain areas on Hainan provided a base of operations for incursions into Guangdong and French Indochina, while the airbases that dotted the island enabled long-range air raids that threaded routes from French Indochina and Burma into the heart of China. The island thus assumed a grim dual character: a frontier fortress for the occupiers and a ground for the prolonged suffering of its inhabitants. Hainan then served as a launchpad for later incursions into Guangdong and Indochina. Meanwhile after Wuhan's collapse, the Nationalist government's frontline strength remained formidable, even as attrition gnawed at its edges. By the winter of 1938–1939, the front line had swelled to 261 divisions of infantry and cavalry, complemented by 50 independent brigades. Yet the political and military fissures within the Kuomintang suggested fragility beneath the apparent depth of manpower. The most conspicuous rupture came with Wang Jingwei's defection, the vice president and chairman of the National Political Council, who fled to Hanoi on December 18, 1938, leading a procession of more than ten other KMT officials, including Chen Gongbo, Zhou Fohai, Chu Minqi, and Zeng Zhongming. In the harsh arithmetic of war, defections could not erase the country's common resolve to resist Japanese aggression, and the anti-Japanese national united front still served as a powerful instrument, rallying the Chinese populace to "face the national crisis together." Amid this political drama, Japan's strategy moved into a phase that sought to convert battlefield endurance into political consolidation. As early as January 11, 1938, Tokyo had convened an Imperial Conference and issued a framework for handling the China Incident that would shape the theater for years. The "Outline of Army Operations Guidance" and "Continental Order No. 241" designated the occupied territories as strategic assets to be held with minimal expansion beyond essential needs. The instruction mapped an operational zone that compressed action to a corridor between Anqing, Xinyang, Yuezhou, and Nanchang, while the broader line of occupation east of a line tracing West Sunit, Baotou, and the major river basins would be treated as pacified space. This was a doctrine of attrition, patience, and selective pressure—enough to hold ground, deny resources to the Chinese, and await a more opportune political rupture. Yet even as Japan sought political attrition, the war's tactical center of gravity drifted toward consolidation around Wuhan and the pathways that fed the Yangtze. In October 1938, after reducing Wuhan to a fortressed crescent of contested ground, the Japanese General Headquarters acknowledged the imperative to adapt to a protracted war. The new calculus prioritized political strategy alongside military operations: "We should attach importance to the offensive of political strategy, cultivate and strengthen the new regime, and make the National Government decline, which will be effective." If the National Government trembled under coercive pressure, it risked collapse, and if not immediately, then gradually through a staged series of operations. In practice, this meant reinforcing a centralized center while allowing peripheral fronts to be leveraged against Chongqing's grip on the war's moral economy. In the immediate post-Wuhan period, Japan divided its responsibilities and aimed at a standoff that would enable future offensives. The 11th Army Group, stationed in the Wuhan theater, became the spearhead of field attacks on China's interior, occupying a strategic triangle that included Hunan, Jiangxi, and Guangxi, and protecting the rear of southwest China's line of defense. The central objective was not merely to seize territory, but to deny Chinese forces the capacity to maneuver along the critical rail and river corridors that fed the Nanjing–Jiujiang line and the Zhejiang–Jiangxi Railway. Central to this plan was Wuhan's security and the ability to constrain Jiujiang's access to the Yangtze, preserving a corridor for air power and logistics. The pre-war arrangement in early 1939 was a tableau of layered defenses and multiple war zones, designed to anticipate and blunt Japanese maneuver. By February 1939, the Ninth War Zone under Xue Yue stood in a tense standoff with the Japanese 11th Army along the Jiangxi and Hubei front south of the Yangtze. The Ninth War Zone's order of battle, Luo Zhuoying's 19th Army Group defending the northern Nanchang front, Wang Lingji's 30th Army Group near Wuning, Fan Songfu's 8th and 73rd Armies along Henglu, Tang Enbo's 31st Army Group guarding southern Hubei and northern Hunan, and Lu Han's 1st Army Group in reserve near Changsha and Liuyang, was a carefully calibrated attempt to absorb, delay, and disrupt any Xiushui major Japanese thrust toward Nanchang, a city whose strategic significance stretched beyond its own bounds. In the spring of 1939, Nanchang was the one city in southern China that Tokyo could not leave in Chinese hands. It was not simply another provincial capital; it was the beating heart of whatever remained of China's war effort south of the Yangtze, and the Japanese knew it. High above the Gan River, on the flat plains west of Poyang Lake, lay three of the finest airfields China had ever built: Qingyunpu, Daxiaochang, and Xiangtang. Constructed only a few years earlier with Soviet engineers and American loans, they were long, hard-surfaced, and ringed with hangars and fuel dumps. Here the Chinese Air Force had pulled back after the fall of Wuhan, and here the red-starred fighters and bombers of the Soviet volunteer groups still flew. From Nanchang's runways a determined pilot could reach Japanese-held Wuhan in twenty minutes, Guangzhou in less than an hour, and even strike the docks at Hong Kong if he pushed his range. Every week Japanese reconnaissance planes returned with photographs of fresh craters patched, new aircraft parked wing-to-wing, and Soviet pilots sunning themselves beside their I-16s. As long as those fields remained Chinese, Japan could never claim the sky. The city was more than airfields. It sat exactly where the Zhejiang–Jiangxi Railway met the line running north to Jiujiang and the Yangtze, a knot that tied together three provinces. Barges crowded Poyang Lake's western shore, unloading crates of Soviet ammunition and aviation fuel that had come up the river from the Indochina railway. Warehouses along the tracks bulged with shells and rice. To the Japanese staff officers plotting in Wuhan and Guangzhou, Nanchang looked less like a city and more like a loaded spring: if Chiang Kai-shek ever found the strength for a counteroffensive to retake the middle Yangtze, this would be the place from which it would leap. And so, in the cold March of 1939, the Imperial General Headquarters marked Nanchang in red on every map and gave General Okamura the order he had been waiting for: take it, whatever the cost. Capturing the city would do three things at once. It would blind the Chinese Air Force in the south by seizing or destroying the only bases from which it could still seriously operate. It would tear a hole in the last east–west rail line still feeding Free China. And it would shove the Nationalist armies another two hundred kilometers farther into the interior, buying Japan precious time to digest its earlier conquests and tighten the blockade. Above all, Nanchang was the final piece in a great aerial ring Japan was closing around southern China. Hainan had fallen in February, giving the navy its southern airfields. Wuhan and Guangzhou already belonged to the army. Once Nanchang was taken, Japanese aircraft would sit on a continuous arc of bases from the tropical beaches of the South China Sea to the banks of the Yangtze, and nothing (neither the Burma Road convoys nor the French railway from Hanoi) would move without their permission. Chiang Kai-shek's decision to strike first in the Nanchang region in March 1939 reflected both urgency and a desire to seize initiative before Japanese modernization of the battlefield could fully consolidate. On March 8, Chiang directed Xue Yue to prepare a preemptive attack intended to seize the offensive by March 15, focusing the Ninth War Zone's efforts on preventing a river-crossing assault and pinning Japanese forces in place. The plan called for a sequence of coordinated actions: the 19th Army Group to hold the northern front of Nanchang; the Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi Border Advance Army (the 8th and 73rd Armies) to strike the enemy's left flank from Wuning toward De'an and Ruichang; the 30th and 27th Army Groups to consolidate near Wuning; and the 1st Army Group to push toward Xiushui and Sandu, opening routes for subsequent operations. Yet even as Xue Yue pressed for action, the weather of logistics and training reminded observers that no victory could be taken for granted. By March 9–10, Xue Yue warned Chiang that troops were not adequately trained, supplies were scarce, and preparations were insufficient, requesting a postponement to March 24. Chiang's reply was resolute: the attack must commence no later than the 24th, for the aim was preemption and the desire to tether the enemy's forces before they could consolidate. When the moment of decision arrived, the Chinese army began to tense, and the Japanese, no strangers to rapid shifts in tempo—moved to exploit any hesitation or fog of mobilization. The Ninth War Zone's response crystallized into a defensive posture as the Japanese pressed forward, marking a transition from preemption to standoff as both sides tested the limits of resilience. The Japanese plan for what would become known as Operation Ren, aimed at severing the Zhejiang–Jiangxi Railway, breaking the enemy's line of communication, and isolating Nanchang, reflected a calculated synthesis of air power, armored mobility, and canalized ground offensives. On February 6, 1939, the Central China Expeditionary Army issued a set of precise directives: capture Nanchang to cut the Zhejiang–Jiangxi Railway and disrupt the southern reach of Anhui and Zhejiang provinces; seize Nanchang along the Nanchang–Xunyi axis to split enemy lines and "crush" Chinese resistance south of that zone; secure rear lines immediately after the city's fall; coordinate with naval air support to threaten Chinese logistics and airfields beyond the rear lines. The plan anticipated contingencies by pre-positioning heavy artillery and tanks in formations that could strike with speed and depth, a tactical evolution from previous frontal assaults. Okamura Yasuji, commander of the 11th Army, undertook a comprehensive program of reconnaissance, refining the assault plan with a renewed emphasis on speed and surprise. Aerial reconnaissance underlined the terrain, fortifications, and the disposition of Chinese forces, informing the selection of the Xiushui River crossing and the route of the main axis of attack. Okamura's decision to reorganize artillery and armor into concentrated tank groups, flanked by air support and advanced by long-range maneuver, marked a departure from the earlier method of distributing heavy weapons along the infantry front. Sumita Laishiro commanded the 6th Field Heavy Artillery Brigade, with more than 300 artillery pieces, while Hirokichi Ishii directed a force of 135 tanks and armored vehicles. This blended arms approach promised a breakthrough that would outpace the Chinese defenders and open routes for the main force. By mid-February 1939, Japanese preparations had taken on a high tempo. The 101st and 106th Divisions, along with attached artillery, assembled south of De'an, while tank contingents gathered north of De'an. The 6th Division began moving toward Ruoxi and Wuning, the Inoue Detachment took aim at the waterways of Poyang Lake, and the 16th and 9th Divisions conducted feints on the Han River's left bank. The orchestration of these movements—feints, riverine actions, and armored flanking, was designed to reduce the Chinese capacity to concentrate forces around Nanchang and to force the defenders into a less secure posture along the Nanchang–Jiujiang axis. Japan's southward strategy reframed the war: no longer a sprint to reduce Chinese forces in open fields, but a patient siege of lifelines, railways, and airbases. Hainan's seizure, the control of Nanchang's airfields, and the disruption of the Zhejiang–Jiangxi Railway exemplified a shift from large-scale battles to coercive pressure that sought to cripple Nationalist mobilization and erode Chongqing's capacity to sustain resistance. For China, the spring of 1939 underscored resilience amid mounting attrition. Chiang Kai-shek's insistence on offensive means to seize the initiative demonstrated strategic audacity, even as shortages and uneven training slowed tempo. The Ninth War Zone's defense, bolstered by makeshift airpower from Soviet and Allied lendings, kept open critical corridors and delayed Japan's consolidation. The war's human cost—massive casualties, forced labor, and the Li uprising on Hainan—illuminates the brutality that fueled both sides' resolve. In retrospect, the period around Canton, Wuhan, and Nanchang crystallizes a grim truth: the Sino-Japanese war was less a single crescendo of battles than a protracted contest of endurance, logistics, and political stamina. The early 1940s would widen these fault lines, but the groundwork laid in 1939, competition over supply routes, air control, and strategic rail nodes, would shape the war's pace and, ultimately, its outcome. The conflict's memory lies not only in the clashes' flash but in the stubborn persistence of a nation fighting to outlast a formidable adversary. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. The Japanese invasion of Hainan and proceeding operations to stop logistical leaks into Nationalist China, showcased the complexity and scale of the growing Second Sino-Japanese War. It would not merely be a war of territorial conquest, Japan would have to strangle the colossus using every means necessary.  

Talking with former Marine signals intelligence operator and security consultant Matthew John Heath, decorated for valor in Iraq and detained in Venezuela for 752 days, on intercepting morse code and decrypting the invisible, on doing hard things because they're hard, on being in Kuwait when the towers fell, on Nasiriyah with 33 Marines wounded in a single firefight, on thirteen years of boots on the ground in Iraq, on war as sacred and force as last resort, on accusations of explosives and phantom planes, on Venezuelan military counterintelligence, on torture and God's grace, on prisoner swaps, on oil, on Maduro, on biometric IDs and surveillance states, on the internet being free and speech being anonymous, on Mao Zedong, on living like a fish in water, on operational and personal security, on trauma and coming home, on helping others get free.ExcerptsOn Being Detained by the Venezuelan State They start screaming at me, pointing guns at me, order me to take off all my clothes. Where are the explosives? Where is the plane? Where's the CIA base.And I'm in shock. I'm handed over over to the military counterintelligence, and that's where things got pretty rough.”On Being I liked the idea of doing something hard just because it's hard.On The Battle of NasiriyahIn one firefight we had 33 Marines. Seriously wounded. Gunshots and shrapnel, and that's out of about 120 guys. So we had a 25% casualty in, in one firefight. So when I say we had a pretty, pretty stiff resistance.On War I don't believe in using war just as any other policy tool. I believe that the use of force is almost sacred. I think that, if you break the glass and you pull the lever, that should be a big deal. I'm very supportive of the United States… If you cut my finger, I bleed red, white, and blue.On Propaganda These are all propaganda tools for internal political purposes. Many dictatorships they need an external enemy to unify the domestic political situation. I don't know, I can't speak to how many people believe this, but I can tell you that it's a very common tool in these dictatorships Connect with Matthew @ https://matthewjohnheath.com/ Get full access to Leafbox at leafbox.substack.com/subscribe

"MY MOTHER SURVIVED WITH NOTHING WITH FOUR DAUGHTERS AND NOT KNOWING WHERE HER HUSBAND WAS IN PRISONED. QIN WAS HER PARTNER IN TRYING TO PROVIDE FOR THE FOUR CHILDREN. QIN'S OLDER SISTER WAS VISUALLY DISABLED SO QIN TOOK ON THE RESPONSIBILITY OF BEING THE ELDEST.YAN, WAS BEING TUTORED IN EDUCATIONAL LESSONS INITIALLY BY HER ADOPTED GRANDFATHER.  EVENTUALLY SHE BROKE AWAY FROM HER CONSERVATIVE GRANDFATHER AND WENT TO A PERFORMING ARTS SCHOOL BEHIND HER GRANDFATHER'S BACK AND BECAME A CLASSICAL OPERA SINGER. SHE CHOSE THE  NAME "YAN" WHICH TRANSLATES TO "SWALLOW" AS IN THE BIRD, BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO BE FREE AND FLY AWAY FROM THE CONSERVATIVE RESTRAINTS OF HER FAMILY. "SHE WAS YOUNG AND A SPUNKY WOMAN" SHARES STUBIS, "THE CHINESE GOVERNMENT WAS CALLING FOR THE YOUNGER GENERATIONS TO GO TO WESTERN CHINA. THIS WAS DURING THE GREAT FAMINE. VERY HARD TO FIND WORK AND FEED YOUR FAMILY. CHINA WAS STILL A VERY YOUNG COUNTRY AND VERY UNORGANIZED.YAN WAS IN SHANGHAI AND HAD TO WORK IN A FACTORY DURING THE DAY AND LEAVE QIN AND HER OLDER SISTER ALONE IN SHANTI TOWN BY THEMSELVES WHEN QIN WAS TWO YEARS OLD. QUITE THE DELEMA FOR A SINGLE MOTHER. SHE WAS VERY RESOURCEFUL AND PAWNED MORE OF HER POSSESSIONS IN ORDER TO FEED HER DAUGHTERS.YAN PASSED AT 69 YEARS OLD IN CHINA BUT SHE DID GET TO HOLD HER GRAN DAUGHTER A FEW TIMES BEFORE PASSING."ONCE OUR LIVES" IS A FASCINATING READ. SOCIAL MEDIA INFORMATION:FACEBOOK:  https://www.facebook.com/qinsun.stubisINSTAGRAM:  instagram.com/qinstubis/LINKEDIN:      linkedin.com/in/qin-sun-stubis-5977011a/ WEBSITE:       www.QinSunStubis.com  AMAZON:        https://www.amazon.com/Once-Lives-Creative-Non-Fiction-Book-ebook/dp/B0C542F2QC/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=YOUTUBE:      https://www.youtube.com/@QinSunStubis/featuredQIN SUN STUBIS: "ONCE OUR LIVES"MS. MAGAZINE's choice for "Reads for the Rest of Us"GLAMOUR UK Best New Books for June2023 Gold Winner - Nonfiction Book Awards2023 First Place Winner - Chanticleer International Book Awards' (CIBAs)Nellie Bly Awards for Journalistic Nonfiction2023 Readers' Favorite Book Awards2023 PenCraft Book Awards #1 winner for literary excellence in culture/history2023 Best Book Awards winner in cross-genre nonfiction    "Should Have Listened To My Mother" is an ongoing conversation about mothers/female role models and the roles they play in our lives. Jackie's guests are open and honest and answer the question, are you who you are today because of, or in spite of, your mother and so much more. You'll be amazed at what the responses are.Gina Kunadian wrote this 5 Star review on Apple Podcast:SHLTMM TESTIMONIAL GINA KUNADIAN JUNE 18, 2024“A Heartfelt and Insightful Exploration of Maternal Love”Jackie Tantillo's “Should Have Listened To My Mother” Podcast is a treasure and it's clear why it's a 2023 People's Choice Podcast Award Nominee. This show delves into the profound impact mother and maternal role models have on our lives through personal stories and reflections.Each episode offers a chance to learn how different individuals have been shaped by their mothers' actions and words. Jackie skillfully guides these conversations, revealing why guests with similar backgrounds have forged different paths.This podcast is a collection of timeless stories that highlight the powerful role of maternal figures in our society. Whether your mother influenced you positively or you thrived despite challenges, this show resonates deeply.I highly recommend “Should Have Listened To My Mother” Podcast for its insightful, heartfelt and enriching content.Gina Kunadian"Should Have Listened To My Mother" would not be possible without the generosity, sincerity and insight from my guests. In 2018/2019, in getting ready to launch my podcast, so many were willing to give their time and share their personal stories of their relationship with their mother, for better or worse and what they learned from that maternal relationship. Some of my guests include Nationally and Internationally recognized authors, Journalists, Columbia University Professors, Health Practitioners, Scientists, Artists, Attorneys, Baritone Singer, Pulitzer Prize Winning Journalist, Activists, Freighter Sea Captain, Film Production Manager, Professor of Writing Montclair State University, Attorney and family advocate @CUNY Law; NYC First Responder/NYC Firefighter, Child and Adult Special Needs Activist, Property Manager, Chefs, Self Help Advocates, therapists and so many more talented and insightful women and men.Jackie has worked in the broadcasting industry for over four decades. She has interviewed many fascinating people including musicians, celebrities, authors, activists, entrepreneurs, politicians and more.A big thank you goes to Ricky Soto, NYC based Graphic Designer, who created the logo for "Should Have Listened To My Mother".Check out the SHLTMM Podcast website for more background information:https://shltmm.simplecast.com/ and https://www.jackietantillo.com/Or more demos of what's to come at https://soundcloud.com/jackie-tantilloLink to website and show notes: https://shltmm.simplecast.com/Or Find SHLTMM Website here: https://shltmm.simplecast.com/Listen wherever you find podcasts: https://www.facebook.com/ShouldHaveListenedToMyMotherhttps://www.facebook.com/jackietantilloInstagram:https://www.instagram.com/shouldhavelistenedtomymother/https://www.instagram.com/jackietantillo7/LinkedIn:https://www.linkedin.com/in/jackie-tantillo/YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/@ShouldHaveListenedToMyMother

The first Concorde supersonic jet took flight, Mao Zedong died, and the VHS player made its debut in Japan. What was going on in horror cinema? Psychokinetic teenagers, unconvincing crocodiles, and a devil cult bringing about the end of the world. It's films of 1976 with Eaten Alive, To The Devil...A Daughter, and Carrie on this episode of Attack of the Killer Podcast! Listen & subscribe wherever you get your podcasts or go to http://www.aotkp.com Connect with the show: Become an Official Attacker: http://jointheattackers.com/ Visit our website: http://www.attackofthekillerpodcast.com/ Like us on https://www.facebook.com/attackofthekillerpodcast Follow us on https://twitter.com/AotKP Follow us on https://tiktok.com/@attackofthekiller  Follow us on https://www.instagram.com/attackofthekillerpodcast/ Follow us on https://www.threads.net/@attackofthekillerpodcast Subscribe on https://www.youtube.com/attackofthekillerpodcast Join us on https://www.aotkp.com/discord  Support the show at https://www.patreon.com/aotkp/posts Lastly, check out all the amazing shows at http://thepfpn.com

Episode Summary:In this episode of Explaining History, Nick explores the complex and often suppressed memory of China's recent past. Drawing on Tania Branigan's Red Memory, we delve into the heart of Beijing—Tiananmen Square—and unpack its layers of history, from the May Fourth Movement of 1919 to the founding of the People's Republic in 1949 and the tragedy of 1989.Why does the portrait of Mao Zedong still gaze over the square, despite the catastrophes of the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution? How does the Chinese Communist Party use "Red Tourism" and curated museums to construct a narrative of national rejuvenation while burying the trauma of its own making? From the "Century of Humiliation" to Xi Jinping's "Chinese Dream," we examine how memory is not just history, but a tool of state legitimacy.Plus: A reminder for students! Tickets are selling fast for our live masterclass on the Russian Revolution and Stalinism on January 26th.and you can access advert free episodes here on PatreonKey Topics:Tiananmen Square: A site of revolution, celebration, and massacre.The Cult of Mao: Why the Chairman remains the "vigilant eye" over modern China.Red Tourism: How the party commodifies its revolutionary past.Historical Amnesia: The erasure of the Cultural Revolution and the Great Famine from public discourse.Books Mentioned:Red Memory: Living, Remembering and Forgetting China's Cultural Revolution by Tania BraniganThe Age of Extremes by Eric Hobsbawm (referenced contextually)Explaining History helps you understand the 20th Century through critical conversations and expert interviews. We connect the past to the present. If you enjoy the show, please subscribe and share.▸ Support the Show & Get Exclusive ContentBecome a Patron: patreon.com/explaininghistory▸ Join the Community & Continue the ConversationFacebook Group: facebook.com/groups/ExplainingHistoryPodcastSubstack: theexplaininghistorypodcast.substack.com▸ Read Articles & Go DeeperWebsite: explaininghistory.org Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Savage exposes the truth about "Democratic Socialism" as Zohran Mamdani becomes the mayor of New York City. He explains why he labeled Bernie Sanders the most dangerous man in American politics. He then traces the historical roots of socialism back to figures like Lenin, Trotsky, and Mao Zedong. He discusses the concept of rugged individualism versus collectivism, warning of potential threats to American freedom and individualism. Savage concludes with a call for vigilance against the perceived socialist threat.

XI ZHONGXUN'S 1935 IMPRISONMENT AND EARLY CCP INFIGHTING Colleague Joseph Torigian. Torigiandiscusses his book, The Party Interests Come First, focusing on Xi Zhongxun, Xi Jinping's father. The segment details Xi's 1935 imprisonment by rival communists who accused him of "mountainism" and "rightism," only to be saved by Mao Zedong's arrival. It explores the vicious ideological infighting within the early CCP, Xi's role in the Sino-Japanese War, and the disastrous failure of radical land reform policies. NUMBER 11

Cosa si dice di Mao? Macilento, leggermente curvo, capelli neri lunghi, occhi grandi, inquisitori, naso pronunciato, zigomi sporgenti. E poi: intelligenza acuta, letale nell'ira, letale nell'astuzia, lettore onnivoro, lavoratore instancabile, una memoria di ferro. Un rivoluzionario. Quello che prima si è preso il Partito.  Poi si è preso la Cina.  Poi, si è preso il mito. Puntata speciale di fine anno: la vita di Mao, raccontata dagli altri e liberamente ispirato a Mao Zedong di Jonathan Spence e a Stella Rossa sulla Cina di Edgar Snow. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

MAO'S XENOPHOBIC REVOLUTION AND THE GREAT LEAP FORWARD Colleague Professor Sean McMeekin. Moving to China, McMeekin explains that Mao Zedong's ideology was a "bizarre melange" of Marxism, class envy, and intense xenophobia. Unlike European communists, Chinese communism was driven by a deep resentment of foreign imperialism. The conversation analyzes the catastrophe of the Great Leap Forward, where Maoattempted to surpass British economic output by collectivizing agriculture and creating "industrial armies"—an idea taken directly from the Communist Manifesto and Stalin's Five-Year Plans. This experiment resulted in the death of 40 to 45 million people. McMeekin notes that Mao ignored warnings from Soviet advisors to avoid their past mistakes, driven instead by a competitive desire to outdo the Soviets and a "fantasmagorical" hatred of foreign influence. NUMBER 5

We used to have a pretty clear idea of what an autocrat was. History is full of examples: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong, along with Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping today. The list goes on.So, where does Donald Trump fit in?In this six-part podcast series, The Making of an Autocrat, we are asking six experts on authoritarianism and US politics to explain how exactly an autocrat is made – and whether Trump is on his way to becoming one.This episode was written by Justin Bergman and produced and edited by Isabella Podwinski and Ashlynne McGhee. Sound design by Michelle Macklem.

We used to have a pretty clear idea of what an autocrat was. History is full of examples: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong, along with Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping today. The list goes on.So, where does Donald Trump fit in?In this six-part podcast series, The Making of an Autocrat, we are asking six experts on authoritarianism and US politics to explain how exactly an autocrat is made – and whether Trump is on his way to becoming one.This episode was written by Justin Bergman and produced and edited by Isabella Podwinski and Ashlynne McGhee. Sound design by Michelle Macklem.Mentioned in this episode:Your support mattersSupport non-profit journalism you can trust. Donations 2025

In this special edition of the PDB Afternoon Bulletin--We take a step back from the daily headlines to explore one of the strangest political fault lines in modern China: Xi Jinping's war on the game of golf. We explain how golf became associated with corruption, elite privilege, and unwanted Western influence inside the Chinese Communist Party—and why Party officials learned to treat it as politically radioactive. We trace the story from Mao Zedong's condemnation of the sport, through China's underground golf boom, to Xi's sweeping anti-corruption campaign that turned golf clubs into targets. To listen to the show ad-free, become a premium member of The President's Daily Brief by visiting https://PDBPremium.com. Please remember to subscribe if you enjoyed this episode of The President's Daily Brief. YouTube: youtube.com/@presidentsdailybrief Birch Gold: Text PDB to 989898 and get your free info kit on gold Stash Financial: Don't Let your money sit around. Go to https://get.stash.com/PDB to see how you can receive $25 towards your first stock purchase. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Party's Interests Come First is the first English-language biography of Xi Zhongxun, the father of China's current leader, Xi Jinping. It is both a story of the Chinese revolution and the first several decades of the People's Republic of China and a personal account of developing one's own sense of identity within a larger political context. Drawing on an array of documents, interviews, diaries, and periodicals, Joseph Torigian introduces Xi Zhongxun. He helped build the Communist base area that saved Mao Zedong in 1935, worked closely with top leaders Zhou Enlai and Hu Yaobang, and oversaw the Special Economic Zones that launched China's reform era.  In an interview conducted on August 21, 2025, Joseph Torigian, in conversation with Victor Shih, explores the organizational, ideological, and coercive power of the Chinese Communist Party through the life of Xi Zhongxun – and the huge cost in human suffering that accompanies it. About this program

Founder of the People's Republic of China, Mao Zedong is currently being white washed for a new generation of "socialists". The record however, speaks for it's self.  Let's look into who Mao was, what his philosophy was and how he carried it out. This is not what is being taught in the colleges and universities!Email us at: downtherh@protonmail.com

We used to have a pretty clear idea of what an autocrat was. History is full of examples: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong, along with Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping today. The list goes on.So, where does Donald Trump fit in?In this six-part podcast series, The Making of an Autocrat, we ask six experts on authoritarianism and US politics to explain how exactly an autocrat is made – and whether Trump is on his way to becoming one.

This week, we're bringing you an episode from the award-winning podcast Face-Off: The U.S. vs China.  China's leader, Mao Zedong famously said that “Women hold up half the sky.” But these days it doesn't feel that way in China. Unfair marriage rules, difficulties getting a divorce, barriers to owning property and many more restrictions are challenging women to speak out, and act. On this episode, “Feminist Rebels,” we'll hear about the Chinese “leftover women” who are veering from the traditional path and about the Chinese feminists of today. Guest: Leta Hong Fincher, author, Left Over Women. Recommended Books: Left Over Women: The Resurgence of Gender Inequality in China by Leta Hong Fincher Tiananmen Square by Lai Wen Sound design, original score, mixing and mastering by Rowhome Productions. Rowhome's Creative Director is Alex Lewis. John Myers is Rowhome's Executive Producer. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Listen to the full episode here Hasan Piker just spent two weeks in The People's Republic of China. The famous streamer is often invoked as being a potential “Joe Rogan of The Left,” who might bring young voters, especially working class men, back into the Democratic Party.  But Piker's livestreams from China raise controversial questions. Is he whitewashing Chinese human rights abuses? Was he paid by their government to propagandize his combined 5 million viewers? How else to explain first-class plane tickets, ultra-luxury hotel rooms, privileged access to forbidden Western social media, and carefully avoiding criticisms of the authoritarian state while waxing poetic about their country and Mao Zedong? Julian digs into Piker's politics in the context of China's tumultuous history. First stop: Tiananmen Square. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

7 HoursPG-13Back in the beginning of 2021, as Pete was transitioning out of libertarianism, he and Bird got together to do a series on the Four Swords of Marxism: Vladimir Lenin, Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong, Abimael Guzman, and added in post-Marxist, Hans-Hermann Hoppe.Here is the complete audio.Timeline Earth PodcastPete and Thomas777 'At the Movies'Support Pete on His WebsitePete's PatreonPete's SubstackPete's SubscribestarPete's GUMROADPete's VenmoPete's Buy Me a CoffeePete on FacebookPete on Twitter

Founder of the People's Republic of China, Mao Zedong is currently being white washed for a new generation of "socialist".The record however, speaks for it's self.Let's look into who Mao was, what his philosophy was and how he carried it out.This is not what is being taught in the colleges and universities!Email us at: downtherh@protonmail.com

#170: As we ease into the holiday season, we're revisiting a beautiful conversation with scholar Xuelei Huang about her book Scents of China: A Modern History of Smell. You'll definitely want to gift this aromatic treasure to yourself, or someone you love!In this episode, Frauke sits down with University of Edinburgh Senior Lecturer and author Xuelei Huang to discuss her new book Scents of China: A Modern History of Smell. In the conversation she reveals a unique perspective on the smellscapes that permeated Chinese life from the eighteenth through mid-twentieth century. Xuelei explains the concept of "smell as the stranger" and shares some of the rich olfactory imagery of 18th century China through references in the novel Dream of the Red Chamber. She then tells how nineteenth century Shanghai shows an exemplary depiction of deodorization, which started to happen at that time. And how a subsequent (re)perfuming changed the olfactory smellscape of China once again. Xuelei furthermore showcases the unique way Mao Zedong used olfactory tactics to transform politics in the early twentieth century. Whether you know a lot about Chinese history or not, this conversation will give you new perspectives and leave you longing to explore more.Learn more about Xuelei Huang here: ⁠https://www.ed.ac.uk/profile/xuelei-huang⁠Check out her book Scents of China: A Modern History of Smell.Follow Frauke on Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@an_aromatic_life ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Visit Frauke's website ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.anaromaticlife.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Learn about Frauke's ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Scent*Tattoo Project⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

3/8 Red August and the Idealism of Teenage Red Guards — Tanya Branigan — Yu Zhangzhen, who became a Red Guard at age thirteen, recalls "Red August" 1966, when Mao Zedong summoned millions of young people to massive rallies, explicitly endorsing the movement and exhorting them to destroy the "four olds." Despite witnessing horrific violence, including corpse-filled athletic fields, Yu maintained genuine ideological commitment to the revolutionary cause. For many participants, the CR represented a liberating experience, offering unprecedented personal autonomy, free nationwide travel privileges, and intoxicating liberation from parental and institutional discipline. 1966

7/8 The Unfilial Son and the Trauma of Informing — Tanya Branigan — This segment recounts the 1970 execution of Fu Zhong Mo, a devoted Communist Party member who was denounced following her criticism of Mao. Her seventeen-year-old son, Jiang Hong Bing, informed state authorities against his mother, subordinating filial obligation to worship of Mao Zedong. Fu was publicly executed, and her corpse was subsequently moved multiple times by authorities. Jiang lives with severe guilt, characterizing himself as an "unfilial son" and tormented by the knowledge that he and his father directly facilitated her judicial murder. 1967 SHANGHAI

En este video exploramos una de las prácticas más extrañas y cargadas de simbolismo político del siglo XX: la momificación de líderes. ¿Por qué regímenes como la Unión Soviética o la China comunista decidieron conservar los cuerpos de Stalin y Mao Zedong como si fueran figuras eternas? ¿Qué mensajes buscaban enviar con estos cuerpos convertidos en reliquias políticas? https://youtu.be/-yjhVPH8duQ 🎩 Conviertete en Patreon ► http://www.patreon.com/bullymagnets 👌 Conviértete en miembro del canal ► https://bit.ly/3bkey7Z ⚡ Sigue las novedades de Bully Magnets en WhatsApp ► https://bit.ly/48lMpKJ 📷 Sigue las novedades de Bully Magnets en Instagram ► https://ig.me/j/AbaYGiTH3By3ux9t/📲 Sigue las novedades de Bully Magnets en Telegram ► https://t.me/BullyMagnets 📖 Nuestro nuevo libro lo puedes conseguir AQUÍ► https://amzn.to/2YLs95d También en librerías principales de todo el país. 🎤 Spotify podcast ► https://spoti.fi/2F5f914 🎤 iTunes podcast ► https://apple.co/3jHwV9O 🎤 Google Podcast ► http://bit.ly/2GeMY0z 😎 ¡Únete a nuestro Discord! ► https://discord.gg/vyV46zs Facebook ► http://on.fb.me/eun1tA Twitter ► http://bit.ly/gD0BP2 Tumblr ► http://bullymagnets.tumblr.com/ Visita nuestro sitio oficial ► http://www.bullymagnets.net 🔴 En la producción de este video: Enrique López: @Reijard Andrés Alba: @Andres_BMs Luis Felipe Ángeles: @Luisfelipe_ang

Mao Zedong rief 1949 die Volksrepublik China aus. Für den kommunistischen Umbau des riesigen Landes nahm er Millionen Todesopfer in Kauf. Doch der Mao-Kult ist in China noch immer lebendig und prägt die Politik des heutigen Präsidenten Xi Jinping. Biesler, Jörg

In lieu of a typical Tuesday episode this week, we are releasing the first episode of our new miniseries Chinese Prestige. Annual subscribers already have access, while everyone else can get the 8 episodes for a whopping $5 for two weeks only. Enjoy! In this first episode of Chinese Prestige, Yidi, Danny, and Derek trace the origins of the Chinese Communist Party from the May Fourth Movement to the civil war with the Nationalists. They explore the party's strategic shift from cities to the countryside, the role of land reform and mass mobilization, the impact of the Japanese invasion and World War II, and the rise of Mao Zedong. The episode follows the party through its victory in 1949, the founding of the People's Republic of China, early state-building, and China's entry into the Korean War. The group concludes in 1953 with the launch of the first five-year plan and its push for rapid industrial development. Theme music by Jake Aron, based on the song “The East is Red.”

In lieu of a typical Tuesday episode this week, we are releasing the first episode of our new miniseries Chinese Prestige. Annual subscribers already have access, while everyone else can get the 8 episodes for a whopping $5 for two weeks only. Enjoy!In this first episode of Chinese Prestige, Yidi, Danny, and Derek trace the origins of the Chinese Communist Party from the May Fourth Movement to the civil war with the Nationalists. They explore the party's strategic shift from cities to the countryside, the role of land reform and mass mobilization, the impact of the Japanese invasion and World War II, and the rise of Mao Zedong. The episode follows the party through its victory in 1949, the founding of the People's Republic of China, early state-building, and China's entry into the Korean War. The group concludes in 1953 with the launch of the first five-year plan and its push for rapid industrial development.Theme music performed by Jake Aron, based on the song “The East is Red.”Our Sponsors:* Check out Avocado Green Mattress: https://avocadogreenmattress.comAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

HEADLINE: Mao Zedong, Xenophobia, and the Failure of the Great Leap Forward GUEST AUTHOR: Professor Sean McMeekin 50-WORD SUMMARY: Mao Zedong blended Marxism with fierce anti-imperialism and xenophobia, targeting the "global imperialistic system" and foreign influence. The Great Leap Forward combined elements from The Communist Manifesto, Stalin's collectivization, and competition with Khrushchev. This disastrous experiment, aiming to surpass Britain, led to chaos, famine, and the deaths of 40 to 45 million people.

The focus shifts to Mao Zedong and Chinese communism, which was highly influenced by sharp anti-imperialism and xenophobia, blending the Marxist binary struggle with resentment of foreign exploitation. After Stalin's death, Mao began to "experiment," resulting in the Great Leap Forward, which aimed to rapidly "catch up and surpass the West" by radically overturning agriculture and simultaneously industrializing. This chaotic effort, including the collectivization of agriculture and communal organization, led to a vast famine that caused the deaths of tens of millions of people.

For nearly 60 years, the Indian government has been fighting a violent group of Maoists in the country. They are followers of the late Chinese leader, Mao Zedong and have carried out bombings and killings in different parts of India. Now, the Indian authorities claim to be on the brink of defeating these insurgents and has said that they will be fully removed by March 2026. There is one group that has been attributed with the recent success against the Maoists, known as the DRG or District Reserve Guard. They are part of the police, with the sole purpose of defeating the Maoists. But although they have successfully reduced Maoist attacks in recent years, critics have questioned the use of force by the DRG. Jugal Purohit, who reports for the BBC in India, recently travelled to the frontline of this nearly 60 year war, to meet the DRG and the locals who have been affected by the violence.Rare access: Inside India's claims to eliminate Maoist insurgency https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=848zVNZV7ssIn Thailand, for the past 154 years, people have come together for the annual Buffalo Racing Festival. The festival honors the vital role of buffaloes in Thai agriculture, offering thanks for their hard work throughout the year. BBC's Thuong Le is based in Bangkok and she recently traveled to Chonburi province where the festival takes place to grab a front row seat. This episode of The Documentary comes to you from The Fifth Floor, the show at the heart of global storytelling, with BBC journalists from all around the world. Presented by Faranak Amidi. Produced by Laura Thomas, Caroline Ferguson and Hannah Dean. This is an EcoAudio certified production. (Photo: Faranak Amidi. Credit: Tricia Yourkevich.)

The Purge by a Novel and Mao's Fear of Revisionism. Joseph Turigian explains that Xi Zhongxun's 1962 downfall stemmed from supporting the publication of a fictionalized biography of his deceased mentor, Liu Zhidan. Mao Zedong saw the novel as a counter-revolutionary plot and a manifestation of revisionism, fearing that others would claim credit for leading the revolution. Mao aimed to transform persecuted individuals through humiliation and torment, unlike Stalinist purges, which emphasized execution. Xi Zhongxun was brutally kidnapped by Red Guards in 1967 and subjected to struggle sessions as Mao sought to continuously "rebaptize" the party in revolutionary spirit. Guest: Joseph Turigian. 2906 PEKING NORTH

Mao, Purges, and Ideological Jargon. Joseph Turigian explores Mao Zedong's description of Xi Zhongxun: "The Party Interests Come First." The segment recounts Xi Zhongxun's detention in 1935, nearly facing execution before Mao's Long Marchers arrived. The discussion clarifies the legend that Mao personally saved him versus the complex facts of his eventual release and incomplete rehabilitation. Turigian defines confusing Chinese Communist Party jargon, explaining "leftist" as too ambitious and "rightist" as not serious enough about revolution. It concludes by detailing Mao's development of Marxism through sinicization. Guest: Joseph Turigian. 1901

Last time we spoke about the Changsha fire. Chiang Kai-shek faced a brutal choice: defend Wuhan to the last man or flood the land to slow the invaders. He chose both, pushing rivers and rallying a fractured army as Japanese forces pressed along the Yangtze. Fortresses at Madang held long, but the cost was high—troops lost, civilians displaced, a city's heart burning in the night. Wuhan fell after months of brutal fighting, yet the battle did not break China's will. Mao Zedong urged strategy over martyrdom, preferring to drain the enemy and buy time for a broader struggle. The Japanese, though victorious tactically, found their strength ebbing, resource strains, supply gaps, and a war that felt endless. In the wake of Wuhan, Changsha stood next in the Japanese crosshairs, its evacuation and a devastating fire leaving ash and memory in its wake. Behind these prices, political currents swirled. Wang Jingwei defected again, seeking power beyond Chiang's grasp, while Chongqing rose as a western bastion of resistance. The war hardened into a protracted stalemate, turning Japan from an aggressive assailant into a wary occupier, and leaving China to endure, persist, and fight on.   #175  The Soviet-Japanese Border Conflicts Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. So based on the title of this one, you probably can see we are taking a bit of a detour. For quite some time we have focused on the Japanese campaigns into China proper 1937-1938. Now the way the second sino-japanese war is traditionally broken down is in phases. 1937-1938, 1939-1942 and 1942-1945. However there is actually even more going on in China aside from the war with Japan. In Xinjiang province a large full blown Islamic revolution breaks out in 1937. We will be covering that story at a later date, but another significant event is escalating border skirmishes in Manchukuo. Now these border skirmishes had been raging ever since the USSR consolidated its hold over the far east. We talked about some of those skirmishes prior to the Sino-Soviet war in 1929. However when Japan created the puppet government of Manchukuo, this was a significant escalation in tensions with the reds. Today we are going to talk about the escalating border conflicts between the Soviets and Japan. A tongue of poorly demarcated land extends southeast from Hunchun, hugging the east bank of the Tumen River between Lake Khasan to the east and Korea to the west. Within this tongue stands Changkufeng Hill, one of a long chain of highlands sweeping from upstream along the rivers and moors toward the sea. The twin-peaked hill sits at the confluence area several miles northwest of the point where Manchuria, Korea, and the Russian Far East meet. The hill's shape reminded Koreans of their changgo, which is a long snare drum constricted at the center and tapped with the hands at each end. When the Manchus came to the Tumen, they rendered the phonetic sounds into three ideographic characters meaning "taut drum peaks" or Chang-ku-feng. The Japanese admired the imagery and preserved the Chinese readings, which they pronounce Cho-ko-ho. From their eastern vantage, the Russians called it Zaozernaya, "hill behind the lake." Soviet troops referred to it as a sugar-loaf hill. For many years, natives and a handful of officials in the region cultivated a relaxed attitude toward borders and sovereignty. Even after the Japanese seized Manchuria in 1931, the issue did not immediately come to a head. With the expansion of Manchukuo and the Soviet Far East under Stalin's Five-Year plans, both sides began to attend more closely to frontier delimitation. Whenever either party acted aggressively, force majeure was invoked to justify the unexpected and disruptive events recognized in international law. Most often, these incidents erupted along the eastern Manchurian borders with the USSR or along the 350-mile frontier south of Lake Khanka, each skirmish carrying the seeds of all-out warfare. Now we need to talk a little bit about border history. The borders in question essentially dated to pacts concluded by the Qing dynasty and the Tsardom. Between the first Sino-Russian Treaty of Nerchinsk in 1689 and the Mukden Agreement of 1924, there were over a dozen accords governing the borders. Relevant to Changkufeng were the basic 15-article Convention of Peking, supplementing the Tientsin Treaties of November 1860, some maps made in 1861, and the eight-article Hunchun Border Protocol of 1886. By the 1860 treaty, the Qing ceded to Tsarist Russia the entire maritime province of Siberia, but the meaning of "lands south of Lake Khanka" remained rather vague. Consequently, a further border agreement was negotiated in June 1861 known as "the Lake Khanka Border Pact", by which demarcations were drawn on maps and eight wooden markers erected. The border was to run from Khanka along ridgelines between the Hunchun River and the sea, past Suifenho and Tungning, terminating about 6 miles from the mouth of the Tumen. Then a Russo-Chinese commission established in 1886 drew up the Hunchun Border Pact, proposing new or modified markers along the 1860–1861 lines and arranging a Russian resurvey. However, for the Japanese, in 1938, the Chinese or Manchu texts of the 1886 Hunchun agreement were considered controlling. The Soviets argued the border ran along every summit west of Khasan, thereby granting them jurisdiction over at least the eastern slopes of all elevations, including Changkufeng and Shachaofeng.  Since the Qing dynasty and the house of Romanov were already defunct, the new sovereignties publicly appealed to opposing texts, and the Soviet side would not concede that the Russian-language version had never been deemed binding by the Qing commissioners. Yet, even in 1938, the Japanese knew that only the Chinese text had survived or could be located.    Now both the Chinese and Russian military maps generally drew the frontier along the watershed east of Khasan; this aligned with the 1861 readings based on the Khanka agreement. The Chinese Republican Army conducted new surveys sometime between 1915 and 1920. The latest Chinese military map of the Changkufeng area drew the border considerably closer to the old "red line" of 1886, running west of Khasan but near the shore rather than traversing the highland crests. None of the military delimitations of the border was sanctified by an official agreement. Hence, the Hunchun Protocol, whether well known or not, invaluable or worthless, remained the only government-to-government pact dealing with the frontiers.  Before we jump into it, how about a little summary of what became known as the Soviet-Japanese border conflicts. The first major conflict would obviously be the Russo-Japanese war of 1904-1905. Following years of conflict between the Russian Empire and Japan culminating in the costly Battle of Tsushima, Tsar Nicholas II's government sought peace, recognizing Japan's claims to Korea and agreeing to evacuate Manchuria.  From 1918 to 1920, the Imperial Japanese Army, under Emperor Taishō after the death of Meiji, assisted the White Army and Alexander Kerensky against the Bolshevik Red Army. They also aided the Czechoslovak Legion in Siberia to facilitate its return to Europe after an Austrian-Hungarian armoured train purportedly went astray. By 1920, with Austria-Hungary dissolved and Czechoslovakia established two years earlier, the Czechoslovak Legion reached Europe. Japan withdrew from the Russian Revolution and the Civil War in 1922. Following Japan's 1919-1920 occupations and the Soviet intervention in Mongolia in 1921, the Republic of China also withdrew from Outer Mongolia in 1921. In 1922, after capturing Vladivostok in 1918 to halt Bolshevik advances, Japanese forces retreated to Japan as Bolshevik power grew and the postwar fatigue among combatants increased. After Hirohito's invasion of Manchuria in 1931–1932, following Taishō's death in 1926, border disputes between Manchukuo, the Mongolian People's Republic, and the Soviet Union increased. Many clashes stemmed from poorly defined borders, though some involved espionage. Between 1932 and 1934, the Imperial Japanese Army reported 152 border disputes, largely tied to Soviet intelligence activity in Manchuria, while the Soviets accused Japan of 15 border violations, six air intrusions, and 20 cases of "spy smuggling" in 1933 alone. Numerous additional violations followed in the ensuing years. By the mid-1930s, Soviet-Japanese diplomacy and trust had deteriorated further, with the Japanese being openly labeled "fascist enemies" at the Seventh Comintern Congress in July 1935. Beginning in 1935, conflicts significantly escalated. On 8 January 1935, the first armed clash, known as the Halhamiao incident, took place on the border between Mongolia and Manchukuo. Several dozen cavalrymen of the Mongolian People's Army crossed into Manchuria near disputed fishing grounds and engaged an 11‑man Manchukuo Imperial Army patrol near the Buddhist temple at Halhamiao, led by a Japanese military advisor. The Manchukuo Army sustained 6 wounded and 2 dead, including the Japanese officer; the Mongols suffered no casualties and withdrew after the Japanese sent a punitive expedition to reclaim the area. Two motorized cavalry companies, a machine‑gun company, and a tankette platoon occupied the position for three weeks without resistance. In June 1935, the first direct exchange of fire between the Japanese and Soviets occurred when an 11‑man Japanese patrol west of Lake Khanka was attacked by six Soviet horsemen, reportedly inside Manchukuo territory. In the firefight, one Soviet soldier was killed and two horses were captured. The Japanese requested a joint investigation, but the Soviets rejected the proposal. In October 1935, nine Japanese and 32 Manchukuoan border guards were establishing a post about 20 kilometers north of Suifenho when they were attacked by 50 Soviet soldiers. The Soviets opened fire with rifles and five heavy machine guns. Two Japanese and four Manchukuoan soldiers were killed, and another five were wounded. The Manchukuoan foreign affairs representative lodged a verbal protest with the Soviet consul at Suifenho. The Kwantung Army of Japan also sent an intelligence officer to investigate the clash. On 19 December 1935, a Manchukuoan unit reconnoitering southwest of Buir Lake clashed with a Mongolian party, reportedly capturing 10 soldiers. Five days later, 60 truck‑borne Mongolian troops assaulted the Manchukuoans and were repulsed, at the cost of three Manchukuoan dead. On the same day, at Brunders, Mongolian forces attempted three times to drive out Manchukuoan outposts, and again at night, but all attempts failed. Further small attempts occurred in January, with Mongolians using airplanes for reconnaissance. The arrival of a small Japanese force in three trucks helped foil these attempts; casualties occurred on both sides, though Mongolian casualties are unknown aside from 10 prisoners taken. In February 1936, Lieutenant-Colonel Sugimoto Yasuo was ordered to form a detachment from the 14th Cavalry Regiment to "drive the Outer Mongol intruders from the Olankhuduk region," a directive attributed to Lieutenant-General Kasai Heijuro. Sugimoto's detachment included cavalry guns, heavy machine guns, and tankettes. They faced a force of about 140 Mongolians equipped with heavy machine guns and light artillery. On February 12, Sugimoto's men drove the Mongolians south, at the cost of eight Japanese killed, four wounded, and one tankette destroyed. The Japanese began to withdraw, but were attacked by 5–6 Mongolian armored cars and two bombers, which briefly disrupted the column. The situation was stabilized when the Japanese unit received artillery support, allowing them to destroy or repel the armored cars. In March 1936, the Tauran incident occurred. In this clash, both the Japanese Army and the Mongolian Army deployed a small number of armored fighting vehicles and aircraft. The incident began when 100 Mongolian and six Soviet troops attacked and occupied the disputed village of Tauran, Mongolia, driving off the small Manchurian garrison. They were supported by light bombers and armored cars, though the bombing sorties failed to inflict damage on the Japanese, and three bombers were shot down by Japanese heavy machine guns. Local Japanese forces counter-attacked, conducting dozens of bombing sorties and finally assaulting Tauran with 400 men and 10 tankettes. The result was a Mongolian rout, with 56 Mongolian soldiers killed, including three Soviet advisors, and an unknown number wounded. Japanese losses were 27 killed and 9 wounded. Later in March 1936, another border clash occurred between Japanese and Soviet forces. Reports of border violations prompted the Japanese Korean Army to send ten men by truck to investigate, but the patrol was ambushed by 20 Soviet NKVD soldiers deployed about 300 meters inside territory claimed by Japan. After suffering several casualties, the Japanese patrol withdrew and was reinforced with 100 men, who then drove off the Soviets. Fighting resumed later that day when the NKVD brought reinforcements. By nightfall, the fighting had ceased and both sides had pulled back. The Soviets agreed to return the bodies of two Japanese soldiers who had died in the fighting, a development viewed by the Japanese government as encouraging. In early April 1936, three Japanese soldiers were killed near Suifenho in another minor affray. This incident was notable because the Soviets again returned the bodies of the fallen servicemen. In June 1937, the Kanchazu Island incident occurred on the Amur River along the Soviet–Manchukuo border. Three Soviet gunboats crossed the river's center line, disembarked troops, and occupied Kanchazu Island. Japanese forces from the IJA 1st Division, equipped with two horse-drawn 37 mm artillery pieces, quickly established improvised firing positions and loaded their guns with both high-explosive and armor-piercing shells. They shelled the Soviet vessels, sinking the lead gunboat, crippling the second, and driving off the third. Japanese troops subsequently fired on the swimming crewmen from the sunken ships using machine guns. Thirty-seven Soviet soldiers were killed, while Japanese casualties were zero. The Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs protested and demanded the Soviet forces withdraw from the island. The Soviet leadership, apparently shocked by the incident and reluctant to escalate, agreed to evacuate their troops. By 1938 the border situation had deteriorated. The tangled terrain features, mountain, bog, stream, forest, and valley, would have complicated even careful observers' discernment of the old red line drawn in 1886. Fifty years later, the markers themselves had undergone a metamorphosis. Japanese investigators could find, at most, only 14 to 17 markers standing fairly intact between the Tumen estuary and Khanka—roughly one every 25 miles at best. The remainder were missing or ruined; five were found in new locations. Marker "K," for example, was 40 meters deeper inside Manchuria, away from Khanka. Japanese military experts noted that of the 20 markers originally set along the boundaries of Hunchun Prefecture alone, only four could be found by the summer of 1938. The rest had either been wrecked or arbitrarily moved and discarded by Russian or Chinese officials and inhabitants. It is even said that one missing marker could be seen on display in Khabarovsk. The Chinese had generally interpreted the boundary as the road line just west of Khasan, at least in practice. Free road movement, however, had become a problem even 20 years before the Japanese overran Manchuria in 1931–1932 during the so-called Manchurian Incident. The Japanese adopted, or inherited, the Chinese interpretation, which was based on the 1886 agreement on border roads; the key clause held that the frontier west of Khasan would be the road along the lake. Japanese sources emphasize that local residents' anger toward gradual Soviet oppression and penetrations westward into Manchurian territory fueled the conflict. Many natives believed the original boundaries lay east of the lake, but the Soviets adjusted the situation to suit their own convenience. In practice, the Russians were restricting road use just west of Khasan by Manchurian and Korean residents. There was speculation that this was a prelude to taking over the ridgelines, depending on the reaction of the Manchukuoan–Japanese side. Villagers who went to streams or the lake to launder clothing found themselves subjected to sniper fire. Along a 25-mile stretch of road near Shachaofeng, farmers reported coming under fire from new Soviet positions as early as November 1935. Nevertheless, Japanese and Koreans familiar with the Tumen area noted agrarian, seasonal Korean religious rites atop Changkufeng Hill, including fattened pigs sacrificed and changgo drums beaten. Village elders told Japanese visitors in 1938 that, until early the preceding year, no Russians had come as far as Changkufeng Hill. Looking only at the border sector around Changkufeng, the easy days were clearly behind us. In the summer of 1938, Gaimusho "Foreign Ministry" observers described the explosive situation along the Korea–Manchuria–USSR borders as a matter of de facto frontiers. Both sides pressed against each other, and their trigger-happy posture was summed up in the colloquial refrain: "Take another step and we'll let you have it." Near dawn on 13 June 1938, a Manchurian patrol detected a suspicious figure in the fog swirling over Changlingtzu Hill on the Siberian–Manchurian frontier. Challenged at 15 feet, the suspect hurled two pistols to the ground and raised his hands in surrender. At headquarters, the police soon realized this was no routine border-trespassing case. The man was a defector and he was a Russian general, in fact he was the director of all NKVD forces in the Soviet Far East. Beneath a mufti of spring coat and hunting cap, he wore a full uniform with medals. His identification card No. 83 designated him as G. S. Lyushkov, Commissar 3rd Class, countersigned by Nikolai Yezhov, NKVD head in Moscow. Lyushkov was promptly turned over to the Japanese military authorities, who transferred him to Seoul and then to Tokyo under close escort. On 1 July, the Japanese press was permitted to disclose that Lyushkov had sought refuge in Japan. Ten days later, to capitalize on the commissar's notoriety and to confound skeptics, the Japanese produced Lyushkov at a press conference in Tokyo. For the Japanese and foreign correspondents, who met separately with him, Lyushkov described Soviet Far East strength and the turmoil wracking the USSR, because for those of you unfamiliar this was during the Stalinist purges. Clearly, the Japanese had gained a unique reservoir of high-level intelligence and a wealth of materials, including notes scratched in blood by suspects incarcerated at Khabarovsk. A general tightening of Russian frontier security had recently been reported. Natives of Fangchuanting asserted that a Soviet cavalry patrol appeared in June, seemingly for the first time. Contact with Yangkuanping, northwest of Khasan, was severed. More importantly, Japanese Army Signal Corps intelligence detected a surge of Soviet message traffic from the Posyet Bay district. After Lyushkov's defection, a drastic reshuffle in the local Russian command apparently occurred, and responsibility for border surveillance seems to have been reallocated. Japanese records indicate that the Novokievsk security force commander was relieved and the sector garrison replaced by troops from Vladivostok. Gaimusho intelligence also received reports that a border garrison unit had been transferred from Khabarovsk or Chita to the Tumen sector. The Kwantung Army signal monitors also intercepted two significant frontline messages on 6 July from the new Russian local commander in the Posyet region, addressed to Lieutenant General Sokolov in Khabarovsk. Decoded, the messages suggested (1) that ammunition for infantry mortars amounted to less than half the required supply; and  (2) a recommendation that higher headquarters authorize Russian elements to secure certain unoccupied high ground west of Khasan.  The commander noted terrain advantages and the contemplated construction of emplacements that would command Najin and the Korean railway. As a start, at least one Russian platoon should be authorized to dig in on the highest ground (presumably Changkufeng) and deploy four tons of entanglements to stake out the Soviet claim. Korea Army Headquarters received a telegram from the Kwantung Army on 7 July conveying the deciphered messages. On the same day, the 19th Division in North Korea telephoned Seoul that, on 6 July, three or four Soviet horsemen had been observed reconnoitering Manchurian territory from atop a hill called Changkufeng. The alarming intelligence from the Kwantung Army and the front warranted immediate attention by the Korea Army. Some Kwantung Army officers doubted the significance of the developments, with one intelligence official even suggesting the Russian messages might be a deliberate ploy designed to entrap the Japanese at Changkufeng. On 7–8 July, all staff officers in Seoul convened at army headquarters. The name of Changkufeng Hill was not well known, but maps and other data suggested that neither the Japanese nor the Russians had previously stationed border units in the ridge complex west of Khasan. As early as March 1936, Army Commander Koiso Kuniaki had distributed maps to subordinate units, indicating which sectors were in dispute. No patrol was to enter zones lacking definitive demarcation. Until then, the only Japanese element east of the Tumen was a Manchurian policeman at Fangchuanting. Ownership of the high ground emerged as an early issue. A number of other points were raised by  the Kwantung Army: At present, Soviet elements in the area were negligible. The intrusion must not be overlooked. The Russians could be expected to exploit any weakness, and half-measures would not suffice, especially regarding the Japanese defense mission along a 125-mile frontier. In Japanese hands, Changkufeng Hill would be useful, but two excellent observation posts already existed in the neighboring sector of the Manchurian tongue. With dissidence and purges underway, the Russians may have judged it necessary to seal border gaps, particularly after Lyushkov's defection. They may also have sought to control Changkufeng to offset Japanese dominance of the high ground to the north. Soviet seizure of Changkufeng would upset the delicate status quo and could provoke a contest for equivalent observation posts. In broader terms, it mattered little whether the Russians sought a permanent observation post on Changkufeng Hill, which was of relatively minor strategic value. Japan's primary concern lay in the China theater; Changkufeng was peripheral. The Japanese should not expend limited resources or become distracted. The matter required consultation with the high command in Tokyo. In the absence of more comprehensive intelligence, the assembled staff officers concluded that the Korea Army should, at a minimum, ignore or disregard Soviet actions for the time being, while maintaining vigilant observation of the area. The consensus was communicated to Major General Kitano Kenzo, the Korea Army chief of staff, who concurred, and to Koiso. Upon learning that the recommendation advocated a low posture, Koiso inquired only whether the opinion reflected the unanimous view of the staff. Having been assured that it did, he approved the policy. Koiso, then 58, was at the threshold of the routine personnel changes occurring around 15 July. He had just been informed that he would retire and that General Nakamura Kotaro would succeed him. Those acquainted with Koiso perceived him as treating the border difficulties as a minor anticlimax in the course of his command tour. He appeared unemphatic or relaxed as he prepared to depart from a post he had held for twenty-one years. Although neither Koiso nor his staff welcomed the Soviet activities that appeared under way, his reaction likely reflected a reluctance to make decisions that could constrain his soon-to-arrive successor. On 8 July Koiso authorized the dispatch of warnings to the 19th Division at Nanam, to the Hunchun garrison, and to the intelligence branch at Hunchun. These units were instructed to exercise maximum precautions and to tighten frontier security north of Shuiliufeng. In response to the initial appearance of Soviet horsemen at Changkufeng, the Kucheng Border Garrison Unit of the 76th Infantry Regiment maintained close surveillance across the Tumen. By about noon on 9 July, patrols detected approximately a dozen Russian troops commencing construction atop Changkufeng. Between 11 and 13 July, the number of soldiers on the slopes increased to forty; there were also thirty horses and eleven camouflaged tents. Operating in shifts on the western side, thirty meters from the crest, the Russians erected barbed wire and firing trenches; fifty meters forward, they excavated observation trenches. In addition to existing telephone lines between Changkufeng, Lake Khasan, and Kozando, the Russians installed a portable telephone net. Logistical support was provided by three boats on the lake. Approximately twenty kilometers to the east, well within Soviet territory, large forces were being mobilized, and steamship traffic into Posyet Bay intensified. Upon learning of the "intrusion" at Changkufeng on 9 July, Lt. General Suetaka Kamezo, the commander of the 19th Division, dispatched staff officers to the front and prepared to send elements to reinforce border units.  The special significance of Suetaka and his division stemmed from a series of unusual circumstances. Chientao Province, the same zone into which Lyushkov had fled and the sector where Soviet horsemen had appeared, fell within Manchukuo geographically and administratively. Yet, in terms of defense, the configuration of the frontier, the terrain, and the transportation network more closely connected the region with North Korea than with southeastern Manchuria. Approximately 80% of the population was of Korean origin, which implied Japanese rather than Manchukuoan allegiance. Consequently, the Korea Army had been made operationally responsible for the defense of Chientao and controlled not only the three-battalion garrison at Hunchun but also the intelligence detachment located there. In the event of war, the Korea Army's mission was defined as mobilization and execution of subsidiary operational tasks against the USSR, under the control and in support of the Kwantung Army.  The Korea Army ordinarily possessed two infantry divisions, the 19th in North Korea and the 20th stationed at Seoul, but the 20th Division had already departed for China, leaving only the 20th Depot Division in the capital. Beyond sparse ground units, devoid of armor and with weak heavy artillery, there were only two air regiments in Korea, the nearest being the unit at Hoeryong. The Korea Army was designed to maintain public security within Korea as well as fulfill minimal defensive responsibilities. Such an army did not require a full-time operations officer, and none was maintained. When needed, as in mid-1938, the task fell to the senior staff officer, in this case Colonel Iwasaki Tamio. In peacetime, training constituted the primary focus.  Thus, the 19th Division was entrusted with defending northeastern Korea. Its commander, Suetaka, a seasoned infantryman, resented the fact that his elite force had never engaged in combat in China. He intensified training with zeal, emphasizing strict discipline, bravery, aggressiveness, and thorough preparation. Japanese veterans characterized him as severe, bullish, short-tempered, hot-blooded, highly strung, unbending, and stubborn. Nonetheless, there was widespread respect for his realistic training program, maintained under firm, even violent, personal supervision. His men regarded Suetaka as a professional, a modern samurai who forged the division into superb condition. Privately, he was reputed for sensitivity and warmth; a Japanese phrase "yakamashii oyaji" captures the dual sense of stern father and martinet in his character. At the outset, however, Suetaka displayed little aggression. Although not widely known, he did not welcome the orders from army headquarters to deploy to the Tumen. Until late July, he remained somewhat opposed to the notion of dislodging the Soviets from the crest, a proposition arising from neither the division staff nor, initially, Suetaka himself. Colonel Sato noted that, for a week after reports of Soviet excavation at Changkufeng, the division's response was limited to preparations for a possible emergency, as they perceived the matter as a local issue best settled through diplomacy. Korea Army officers acknowledged that, around the time the Soviets consolidated their outpost strength at Changkufeng, an informal and personal telegram arrived in Seoul from a Kwantung Army Intelligence field-grade officer who specialized in Soviet affairs. If the Korea Army hesitated, the Kwantung Army would be obliged to eject the Russians; the matter could not be ignored. While the telegram did not demand a reply and struck several officers as presumptuous and implausible, the message was promptly shown to Koiso. Koiso was driven to immediate action, he wired Tokyo asserting that only the Korea Army could and would handle the incident. One staff officer recalled "We felt we had to act, out of a sense of responsibility. But we resented the Kwantung Army's interference." The Korea Army staff convened shortly after receipt of the unofficial telegram from Hsinking. Based on the latest intelligence from the division dated 13 July, the officers prepared an assessment for submission to the army commander. The hypotheses were distilled into three scenarios: The USSR, or the Far East authorities, desires hostilities. Conclusion: Slightly possible. The USSR seeks to restrain Japan on the eve of the pivotal operations in China: the major Japanese offensive to seize Hankow. Conclusion: Highly probable. The Posyet district commander is new in his post; by occupying the Changkufeng ridges, he would demonstrate loyalty, impress superiors, and seek glory. Conclusion: Possible. Late on 13 July or early on 14 July, Koiso approved the dispatch of a message to the vice minister of war, and the Kwantung Army chief of staff:  "Lake Khasan area lies in troublesome sector USSR has been claiming . . . in accordance with treaties [said Secret Message No. 913], but we interpret it to be Manchukuoan territory, evident even from maps published by Soviet side. Russian actions are patently illegal, but, considering that area does not exert major or immediate influence on operations [Japan] is intending and that China Incident is in full swing, we are not going to conduct counterattack measures immediately. This army is thinking of reasoning with Soviets and requesting pullback, directly on spot. . . . In case Russians do not accede in long run, we have intention to drive Soviet soldiers out of area east of Khasan firmly by use of force."  The message concluded with a request that the Tokyo authorities lodge a formal protest with the USSR, on behalf of Manchukuo and Japan, and guide matters so that the Russians would withdraw quickly. Dominant in Japanese high command thinking in 1938 was the China theater; the Changkufeng episode constituted a mere digression. A sequence of Japanese tactical victories had preceded the summer: Tsingtao fell in January; the Yellow River was reached in March; a "reformed government of the Republic of China" was installed at Nanking several weeks later; Amoy fell in early May; Suchow fell on the 20th. With these gains, northern and central fronts could be linked by the Japanese. Yet Chinese resistance persisted, and while public statements anticipated imminent Chinese dissension, private admissions acknowledged that the partial effects of Suchow's fall were ominous: control might pass from Chiang Kai-shek to the Communists, Chinese defiance might intensify, and Soviet involvement could ensue. A Hankow drive appeared desirable to symbolize the conclusion of the military phase of hostilities. The Japanese and their adversaries were in accord regarding the importance of the summer and autumn campaigns. Even after Suchow's fall, the government discouraged public insinuations that enemy resistance was collapsing; when Chiang addressed the nation on the first anniversary of hostilities, Premier Konoe prophetically proclaimed, "The war has just begun." Colonel Inada Masazum served as the Army General Staff's principal figure for the Changkufeng affair, occupying the position of chief of the 2nd Operations Section within the Operations Bureau in March 1938. A distinguished graduate of the Military Academy, Inada completed the War College program and held a combination of line, instructional, and staff assignments at the War College, the Army General Staff, and the War Ministry. He was recognized as a sharp, highly capable, and driveful personality, though some regarded him as enigmatic. Following the capture of Suchow, Imperial General Headquarters on 18 June ordered field forces to undertake operational preparations for a drive to seize the Wuhan complex. Inada favored a decisive move aimed at achieving a rapid political settlement. He acknowledged that Soviet intervention in 1938, during Japan's involvement in China, would have been critical. Although Japanese forces could still defeat the Chinese, an overextended Japanese Army might be fatally compromised against the Russians. Soviet assistance to China was already pronouncedly unwelcome. The Soviets were reported to possess roughly 20 rifle divisions, four to five cavalry divisions, 1,500 tanks, and 1,560 aircraft, including 300 bombers with a range of approximately 3,000 kilometers, enabling reach from Vladivostok to Tokyo. Soviet manpower in Siberia was likely near 370,000. In response, Japanese central authorities stressed a no-trouble policy toward the USSR while seeking to "wall off" the border and bolster the Kwantung Army as quickly as possible. Nevertheless, the envisaged correction of the strategic imbalance could not occur before 1943, given shortages in ammunition, manpower, and materiel across existing theaters in China. By the end of 1937 Japan had committed 16 of its 24 divisions to China, bringing the standing force to roughly 700,000. Army General Staff planners reallocated three ground divisions, intended for a northern contingency, from north to central China, even as the Kwantung Army operated from a less favorable posture. Attitudes toward the northern problem varied within senior military circles. While concern persisted, it was not universal. As campaigns in China widened, planning at the high command level deteriorated, propagating confusion and anxiety to field armies in China. The Japanese Navy suspected that the Army general staff was invoking the USSR as a pretext for broader strategic aims—namely, to provoke a more consequential confrontation with the USSR while the Navy contended with its own strategic rivalries with the Army, centered on the United States and Britain. Army leaders, however, denied aggressive intent against the USSR at that time. The Hankow plan encountered substantial internal opposition at high levels. Private assessments among army planners suggested that a two-front war would be premature given operational readiness and troop strength. Not only were new War Ministry officials cautious, but many high-ranking Army general staff officers and court circles shared doubts.  Aggressive tendencies, influenced by subordinates and the Kwantung Army, were evident in Inada, who repeatedly pressed Tada Shun, the deputy army chief of staff, to endorse the Wuhan drive as both necessary and feasible, arguing that the USSR would gain from Japan's weakening without incurring substantial losses. Inada contended that Stalin was rational and that time favored the USSR in the Far East, where industrial buildup and military modernization were ongoing. He argued that the Soviet purges impeded opportunistic ventures with Japan. He posited that Nazi Germany posed a growing threat on the western front, and thus the USSR should be avoided by both Japan, due to China and Russia, due to Germany. While most of the army remained engaged in China, Tada did not initially share Inada's views; only after inspecting the Manchurian borders in April 1938 did he finally align with Inada's broader vision, which encompassed both northern and Chinese considerations. During this period, Inada studied daily intelligence from the Kwantung Army, and after Lyushkov's defection in June, reports suggested the Soviets were following their sector commander's recommendations. Russian troops appeared at Changkufeng, seemingly prepared to dig in. Inada recollects his reaction: "That's nice, my chance has come." I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. The simmering Soviet–Japanese border clashes centered on Changkufeng Hill near Lake Khanka, set within a broader history of contested frontiers dating to Qing and Tsarist treaties. Japan, prioritizing China, considered Changkufeng peripheral but ready to confront Soviet encroachment; Moscow aimed to consolidate border gains, with high-level war planning overlaying regional skirmishes. Conflict loomed over Manchuria.

Last time we spoke about the fall of Wuhan. In a country frayed by war, the Yangtze became a pulsing artery, carrying both hunger and hope. Chiang Kai-shek faced a brutal choice: defend Wuhan to the last man, or flood the rivers to buy time. He chose both, setting sullen floodwaters loose along the Yellow River to slow the invaders, a temporary mercy that spared some lives while ripping many from their homes. On the river's banks, a plethora of Chinese forces struggled to unite. The NRA, fractured into rival zones, clung to lines with stubborn grit as Japanese forces poured through Anqing, Jiujiang, and beyond, turning the Yangtze into a deadly corridor. Madang's fortifications withstood bombardment and gas, yet the price was paid in troops and civilians drowned or displaced. Commanders like Xue Yue wrestled stubbornly for every foothold, every bend in the river. The Battle of Wanjialing became a symbol: a desperate, months-long pincer where Chinese divisions finally tightened their cordon and halted the enemy's flow. By autumn, the Japanese pressed onward to seize Tianjiazhen and cut supply lines, while Guangzhou fell to a ruthless blockade. The Fall of Wuhan loomed inevitable, yet the story remained one of fierce endurance against overwhelming odds.   #174 The Changsha Fire Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. In the summer of 1938, amid the upheaval surrounding Chiang Kai-shek, one of his most important alliances came to an end. On June 22, all German advisers to the Nationalist government were summoned back; any who refused would be deemed guilty of high treason. Since World War I, a peculiar bond had tied the German Weimar Republic and China: two fledgling states, both weak and only partially sovereign. Under the Versailles Treaty of 1919, Germany had lost extraterritorial rights on Chinese soil, which paradoxically allowed Berlin to engage with China as an equal partner rather than a traditional colonizer. This made German interests more welcome in business and politics than those of other Western powers. Chiang's military reorganization depended on German officers such as von Seeckt and von Falkenhausen, and Hitler's rise in 1933 had not immediately severed the connection between the two countries. Chiang did not share Nazi ideology with Germany, but he viewed Berlin as a potential ally and pressed to persuade it to side with China rather than Japan as China's principal East Asian, anti-Communist partner. In June 1937, H. H. Kung led a delegation to Berlin, met Hitler, and argued for an alliance with China. Yet the outbreak of war and the Nationalists' retreat to Wuhan convinced Hitler's government to align with Japan, resulting in the recall of all German advisers. Chiang responded with a speech praising von Falkenhausen, insisting that "our friend's enemy is our enemy too," and lauding the German Army's loyalty and ethics as a model for the Chinese forces. He added, "After we have won the War of Resistance, I believe you'll want to come back to the Far East and advise our country again." Von Falkenhausen would later become the governor of Nazi-occupied Belgium, then be lauded after the war for secretly saving many Jewish lives. As the Germans departed, the roof of the train transporting them bore a prominent German flag with a swastika, a prudent precaution given Wuhan's vulnerability to air bombardment. The Japanese were tightening their grip on the city, even as Chinese forces, numbering around 800,000, made a stubborn stand. The Yellow River floods blocked northern access, so the Japanese chose to advance via the Yangtze, aided by roughly nine divisions and the might of the Imperial Navy. The Chinese fought bravely, but their defenses could not withstand the superior technology of the Japanese fleet. The only substantial external aid came from Soviet pilots flying aircraft bought from the USSR as part of Stalin's effort to keep China in the war; between 1938 and 1940, some 2,000 pilots offered their services. From June 24 to 27, Japanese bombers relentlessly pounded the Madang fortress along the Yangtze until it fell. A month later, on July 26, Chinese defenders abandoned Jiujiang, southeast of Wuhan, and its civilian population endured a wave of atrocities at the hands of the invaders. News of Jiujiang's fate stiffened resolve. Chiang delivered a pointed address to his troops on July 31, arguing that Wuhan's defense was essential and that losing the city would split the country into hostile halves, complicating logistics and movement. He warned that Wuhan's defense would also be a spiritual test: "the place has deep revolutionary ties," and public sympathy for China's plight was growing as Japanese atrocities became known. Yet Chiang worried about the behavior of Chinese soldiers. He condemned looting as a suicidal act that would destroy the citizens' trust in the military. Commanders, he warned, must stay at their posts; the memory of the Madang debacle underscored the consequences of cowardice. Unlike Shanghai, Wuhan had shelters, but he cautioned against retreating into them and leaving soldiers exposed. Officers who failed in loyalty could expect no support in return. This pep talk, combined with the belief that the army was making a last stand, may have slowed the Japanese advance along the Yangtze in August. Under General Xue Yue, about 100,000 Chinese troops pushed back the invaders at Huangmei. At Tianjiazhen, thousands fought until the end of September, with poison gas finally forcing Japanese victory. Yet even then, Chinese generals struggled to coordinate. In Xinyang, Li Zongren's Guangxi troops were exhausted; they expected relief from Hu Zongnan's forces, but Hu instead withdrew, allowing Japan to capture the city without a fight. The fall of Xinyang enabled Japanese control of the Ping-Han railway, signaling Wuhan's doom. Chiang again spoke to Wuhan's defenders, balancing encouragement with a grim realism about possible loss. Although Wuhan's international connections were substantial, foreign aid would be unlikely. If evacuation became necessary, the army should have a clear plan, including designated routes. He recalled the disastrous December retreat from Nanjing, where "foreigners and Chinese alike turned it into an empty city." Troops had been tired and outnumbered; Chiang defended the decision to defend Nanjing, insisting the army had sacrificed itself for the capital and Sun Yat-sen's tomb. Were the army to retreat again, he warned, it would be the greatest shame in five thousand years of Chinese history. The loss of Madang was another humiliation. By defending Wuhan, he argued, China could avenge its fallen comrades and cleanse its conscience; otherwise, it could not honor its martyrs. Mao Zedong, observing the situation from his far-off base at Yan'an, agreed strongly that Chiang should not defend Wuhan to the death. He warned in mid-October that if Wuhan could not be defended, the war's trajectory would shift, potentially strengthening the Nationalists–Communists cooperation, deepening popular mobilization, and expanding guerrilla warfare. The defense of Wuhan, Mao argued, should drain the enemy and buy time to advance the broader struggle, not become a doomed stalemate. In a protracted war, some strongholds might be abandoned temporarily to sustain the longer fight. The Japanese Army captured Wuchang and Hankou on 26 October and captured Hanyang on the 27th, which concluded the campaign in Wuhan. The battle had lasted four and a half months and ended with the Nationalist army's voluntary withdrawal. In the battle itself, the Japanese army captured Wuhan's three towns and held the heartland of China, achieving a tactical victory. Yet strategically, Japan failed to meet its objectives. Imperial Headquarters believed that "capturing Hankou and Guangzhou would allow them to dominate China." Consequently, the Imperial Conference planned the Battle of Wuhan to seize Wuhan quickly and compel the Chinese government to surrender. It also decreed that "national forces should be concentrated to achieve the war objectives within a year and end the war against China." According to Yoshiaki Yoshimi and Seiya Matsuno, Hirohito authorized the use of chemical weapons against China by specific orders known as rinsanmei. During the Battle of Wuhan, Prince Kan'in Kotohito transmitted the emperor's orders to deploy toxic gas 375 times between August and October 1938. Another memorandum uncovered by Yoshimi indicates that Prince Naruhiko Higashikuni authorized the use of poison gas against the Chinese on 16 August 1938. A League of Nations resolution adopted on 14 May condemned the Imperial Japanese Army's use of toxic gas. Japan's heavy use of chemical weapons against China was driven by manpower shortages and China's lack of poison gas stockpiles to retaliate. Poison gas was employed at Hankou in the Battle of Wuhan to break Chinese resistance after conventional assaults had failed. Rana Mitter notes that, under General Xue Yue, approximately 100,000 Chinese troops halted Japanese advances at Huangmei, and at the fortress of Tianjiazhen, thousands fought until the end of September, with Japanese victory secured only through the use of poison gas. Chinese generals also struggled with coordination at Xinyang; Li Zongren's Guangxi troops were exhausted, and Hu Zongnan's forces, believed to be coming to relieve them, instead withdrew. Japan subsequently used poison gas against Chinese Muslim forces at the Battle of Wuyuan and the Battle of West Suiyuan. However, the Chinese government did not surrender with the loss of Wuhan and Guangzhou, nor did Japan's invasion end with Wuhan and Guangzhou's capture. After Wuhan fell, the government issued a reaffirmation: "Temporary changes of advance and retreat will not shake our resolve to resist the Japanese invasion," and "the gain or loss of any city will not affect the overall situation of the war." It pledged to "fight with even greater sorrow, greater perseverance, greater steadfastness, greater diligence, and greater courage," dedicating itself to a long, comprehensive war of resistance. In the Japanese-occupied rear areas, large armed anti-Japanese forces grew, and substantial tracts of territory were recovered. As the Japanese army themselves acknowledged, "the restoration of public security in the occupied areas was actually limited to a few kilometers on both sides of the main transportation lines." Thus, the Battle of Wuhan did not merely inflict a further strategic defeat on Japan; it also marked a turning point in Japan's strategic posture, from offense to defense. Due to the Nationalist Army's resolute resistance, Japan mobilized its largest force to date for the attack, about 250,000 personnel, who were replenished four to five times over the battle, for a total of roughly 300,000. The invaders held clear advantages in land, sea, and air power and fought for four and a half months. Yet they failed to annihilate the Nationalist main force, nor did they break the will to resist or the army's combat effectiveness. Instead, the campaign dealt a severe blow to the Japanese Army's vitality. Japanese-cited casualties totaled 4,506 dead and 17,380 wounded for the 11th Army; the 2nd Army suffered 2,300 killed in action, 7,600 wounded, and 900 died of disease. Including casualties across the navy and the air force, the overall toll was about 35,500. By contrast, the Nationalist Government Military Commission's General Staff Department, drawing on unit-level reports, calculated Japanese casualties at 256,000. The discrepancy between Japanese and Nationalist tallies illustrates the inflationary tendencies of each side's reporting. Following Wuhan, a weakened Japanese force confronted an extended front. Unable to mount large-scale strategic offensives, unlike Shanghai, Xuzhou, or Wuhan itself, the Japanese to a greater extent adopted a defensive posture. This transition shifted China's War of Resistance from a strategic defensive phase into a strategic stalemate, while the invaders found themselves caught in a protracted war—a development they most disliked. Consequently, Japan's invasion strategy pivoted: away from primary frontal offensives toward a greater reliance on political inducements with secondary military action, and toward diverting forces to "security" operations behind enemy lines rather than pushing decisive frontal campaigns. Japan, an island nation with limited strategic resources, depended heavily on imports. By the time of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, Japan's gold reserves,including reserves for issuing banknotes, amounted to only about 1.35 billion yen. In effect, Japan's currency reserves constrained the scale of the war from the outset. The country launched its aggression while seeking an early solution to the conflict. To sustain its war of aggression against China, the total value of military supplies imported from overseas in 1937 reached approximately 960 million yen. By June of the following year, for the Battle of Wuhan, even rifles used in training were recalled to outfit the expanding army. The sustained increase in troops also strained domestic labor, food, and energy supplies. By 1939, after Wuhan, Japan's military expenditure had climbed to about 6.156 billion yen, far exceeding national reserves. This stark reality exposed Japan's economic fragility and its inability to guarantee a steady supply of military materiel, increasing pressure on the leadership at the Central Command. The Chief of Staff and the Minister of War lamented the mismatch between outward strength and underlying weakness: "Outwardly strong but weak is a reflection of our country today, and this will not last long." In sum, the Wuhan campaign coincided with a decline in the organization, equipment, and combat effectiveness of the Japanese army compared with before the battle. This erosion of capability helped drive Japan to alter its political and military strategy, shifting toward a method of inflicting pressure on China and attempting to "use China to control China", that is, fighting in ways designed to sustain the broader war effort. Tragically a major element of Chiang Kai-shek's retreat strategy was the age-old "scorched earth" policy. In fact, China originated the phrase and the practice. Shanghai escaped the last-minute torching because of foreigners whose property rights were protected. But in Nanjing, the burning and destruction began with increasing zeal. What could not be moved inland, such as remaining rice stocks, oil in tanks, and other facilities, was to be blown up or devastated. Civilians were told to follow the army inland, to rebuild later behind the natural barrier of Sichuan terrain. Many urban residents complied, but the peasantry did not embrace the plan. The scorched-earth policy served as powerful propaganda for the occupying Japanese army and, even more so, for the Reds. Yet they could hardly have foreseen the propaganda that Changsha would soon supply them. In June, the Changsha Evacuation Guidance Office was established to coordinate land and water evacuation routes. By the end of October, Wuhan's three towns had fallen, and on November 10 the Japanese army captured Yueyang, turning Changsha into the next primary invasion target. Beginning on October 9, Japanese aircraft intensified from sporadic raids on Changsha to large-scale bombing. On October 27, the Changsha Municipal Government urgently evacuated all residents, exempting only able-bodied men, the elderly, the weak, women, and children. The baojia system was mobilized to go door-to-door, enforcing compliance. On November 7, Chiang Kai-shek convened a military meeting at Rongyuan Garden to review the war plan and finalize a "scorched earth war of resistance." Xu Quan, Chief of Staff of the Security Command, drafted the detailed implementation plan. On November 10, Shi Guoji, Chief of Staff of the Security Command, presided over a joint meeting of Changsha's party, government, military, police, and civilian organizations to devise a strategy. The Changsha Destruction Command was immediately established, bringing together district commanders and several arson squads. The command actively prepared arson equipment and stacked flammable materials along major traffic arteries. Chiang decided that the city of Changsha was vulnerable and either gave the impression or the direct order, honestly really depends on the source your reading, to burn the city to the ground to prevent it falling to the enemy. At 9:00 AM on November 12, Chiang Kai-shek telegraphed Zhang Zhizhong: "One hour to arrive, Chairman Zhang, Changsha, confidential. If Changsha falls, the entire city must be burned. Please make thorough preparations in advance and do not delay." And here it seems a game of broken telephone sort of resulted in one of the worst fire disasters of all time. If your asking pro Chiang sources, the message was clearly, put up a defense, once thats fallen, burn the city down before the Japanese enter. Obviously this was to account for getting civilians out safely and so forth. If you read lets call it more modern CPP aligned sources, its the opposite. Chiang intentionally ordering the city to burn down as fast as possible, but in through my research, I think it was a colossal miscommunication. Regardless Zhongzheng Wen, Minister of the Interior, echoed the message. Simultaneously, Lin Wei, Deputy Director of Chiang Kai-shek's Secretariat, instructed Zhang Zhizhong by long-distance telephone: "If Changsha falls, the entire city must be burned." Zhang summoned Feng Ti, Commander of the Provincial Capital Garrison, and Xu Quan, Director of the Provincial Security Bureau, to outline arson procedures. He designated the Garrison Command to shoulder the preparations, with the Security Bureau assisting. At 4:00 PM, Zhang appointed Xu Kun, Commander of the Second Garrison Regiment, as chief commander of the arson operation, with Wang Weining, Captain of the Social Training Corps, and Xu Quan, Chief of Staff of the Garrison Command, as deputies. At 6:00 PM, the Garrison Command held an emergency meeting ordering all government agencies and organizations in the city to be ready for evacuation at any moment. By around 10:15 PM, all urban police posts had withdrawn. Around 2:00 AM (November 13), a false report circulated that "Japanese troops have reached Xinhe" . Firefighters stationed at various locations rushed out with kerosene-fueled devices, burning everything in sight, shops and houses alike. In an instant, Changsha became a sea of flames. The blaze raged for 72 hours. The Hunan Province Anti-Japanese War Loss Statistics, compiled by the Hunan Provincial Government Statistics Office of the Kuomintang, report that the fire inflicted economic losses of more than 1 billion yuan, a sum equivalent to about 1.7 trillion yuan after the victory in the war. This figure represented roughly 43% of Changsha's total economic value at the time. Regarding casualties, contemporary sources provide varying figures. A Xinhua Daily report from November 20, 1938 noted that authorities mobilized manpower to bury more than 600 bodies, though the total number of burned remains could not be precisely counted. A Central News Agency reporter on November 19 stated that in the Xiangyuan fire, more than 2,000 residents could not escape, and most of the bodies had already been buried. There are further claims that in the Changsha Fire, more than 20,000 residents were burned to death. In terms of displacement, Changsha's population before the fire was about 300,000, and by November 12, 90% had been evacuated. After the fire, authorities registered 124,000 victims, including 815 orphans sheltered in Lito and Maosgang.  Building damage constituted the other major dimension of the catastrophe, with the greatest losses occurring to residential houses, shops, schools, factories, government offices, banks, hospitals, newspaper offices, warehouses, and cultural and entertainment venues, as well as numerous historic buildings such as palaces, temples, private gardens, and the former residences of notable figures; among these, residential and commercial structures suffered the most, followed by factories and schools. Inspector Gao Yihan, who conducted a post-fire investigation, observed that the prosperous areas within Changsha's ring road, including Nanzheng Street and Bajiaoting, were almost completely destroyed, and in other major markets only a handful of shops remained, leading to an overall estimate that surviving or stalemated houses were likely less than 20%. Housing and street data from the early post-liberation period reveal that Changsha had more than 1,100 streets and alleys; of these, more than 690 were completely burned and more than 330 had fewer than five surviving houses, accounting for about 29%, with nearly 90% of the city's streets severely damaged. More than 440 streets were not completely destroyed, but among these, over 190 had only one or two houses remaining and over 130 had only three or four houses remaining; about 60 streets, roughly 6% had 30 to 40 surviving houses, around 30 streets, 3% had 11 to 20 houses, 10 streets, 1% had 21 to 30 houses, and three streets ) had more than 30 houses remaining. Housing statistics from 1952 show that 2,538 houses survived the fire, about 6.57% of the city's total housing stock, with private houses totaling 305,800 square meters and public houses 537,900 square meters. By 1956, the surviving area of both private and public housing totaled 843,700 square meters, roughly 12.3% of the city's total housing area at that time. Alongside these losses, all equipment, materials, funds, goods, books, archives, antiques, and cultural relics that had not been moved were also destroyed.  At the time of the Changsha Fire, Zhou Enlai, then Deputy Minister of the Political Department of the Nationalist Government's Military Commission, was in Changsha alongside Ye Jianying, Guo Moruo, and others. On November 12, 1938, Zhou Enlai attended a meeting held by Changsha cultural groups at Changsha Normal School to commemorate Sun Yat-sen's 72nd birthday. Guo Moruo later recalled that Zhou Enlai and Ye Jianying were awakened by the blaze that night; they each carried a suitcase and evacuated to Xiangtan, with Zhou reportedly displaying considerable indignation at the sudden, unprovoked fire. On the 16th, Zhou Enlai rushed back to Changsha and, together with Chen Cheng, Zhang Zhizhong, and others, inspected the disaster. He mobilized personnel from three departments, with Tian Han and Guo Moruo at the forefront, to form the Changsha Fire Aftermath Task Force, which began debris clearance, care for the injured, and the establishment of soup kitchens. A few days later, on the 22nd, the Hunan Provincial Government established the Changsha Fire Temporary Relief Committee to coordinate relief efforts.  On the night of November 16, 1938, Chiang Kai-shek arrived in Changsha and, the next day, ascended Tianxin Pavilion. Sha Wei, head of the Cultural Relics Section of the Changsha Tianxin Pavilion Park Management Office, and a long-time researcher of the pavilion, explained that documentation indicates Chiang Kai-shek, upon seeing the city largely reduced to scorched earth with little left intact, grew visibly angry. After descending from Tianxin Pavilion, Chiang immediately ordered the arrest of Changsha Garrison Commander Feng Ti, Changsha Police Chief Wen Chongfu, and Commander of the Second Garrison Regiment Xu Kun, and arranged a military trial with a two-day deadline. The interrogation began at 7:00 a.m. on November 18. Liang Xiaojin records that Xu Kun and Wen Chongfu insisted their actions followed orders from the Security Command, while Feng Ti admitted negligence and violations of procedure, calling his acts unforgivable. The trial found Feng Ti to be the principal offender, with Wen Chongfu and Xu Kun as accomplices, and sentenced all three to prison terms of varying lengths. The verdict was sent to Chiang Kai-shek for approval, who was deeply dissatisfied and personally annotated the drafts: he asserted that Feng Ti, as the city's security head, was negligent and must be shot immediately; Wen Chongfu, as police chief, disobeyed orders and fled, and must be shot immediately; Xu Kun, for neglect of duty, must be shot immediately. The court then altered the arson charge in the verdict to "insulting his duty and harming the people" in line with Chiang's instructions. Chiang Kai-shek, citing "failure to supervise personnel and precautions," dismissed Zhang from his post, though he remained in office to oversee aftermath operations. Zhang Zhizhong later recalled Chiang Kai-shek's response after addressing the Changsha fire: a pointed admission that the fundamental cause lay not with a single individual but with the collective leadership's mistakes, and that the error must be acknowledged as a collective failure. All eyes now shifted to the new center of resistance, Chongqing, the temporary capital. Chiang's "Free China" no longer meant the whole country; it now encompassed Sichuan, Hunan, and Henan, but not Jiangsu or Zhejiang. The eastern provinces were effectively lost, along with China's major customs revenues, the country's most fertile regions, and its most advanced infrastructure. The center of political gravity moved far to the west, into a country the Nationalists had never controlled, where everything was unfamiliar and unpredictable, from topography and dialects to diets. On the map, it might have seemed that Chiang still ruled much of China, but vast swaths of the north and northwest were sparsely populated; most of China's population lay in the east and south, where Nationalist control was either gone or held only precariously. The combined pressures of events and returning travelers were gradually shifting American attitudes toward the Japanese incident. Europe remained largely indifferent, with Hitler absorbing most attention, but the United States began to worry about developments in the Pacific. Roosevelt initiated a January 1939 appeal to raise a million dollars for Chinese civilians in distress, and the response quickly materialized. While the Chinese did not expect direct intervention, they hoped to deter further American economic cooperation with Japan and to halt Japan's purchases of scrap iron, oil, gasoline, shipping, and, above all, weapons from the United States. Public opinion in America was sufficiently stirred to sustain a campaign against silk stockings, a symbolic gesture of boycott that achieved limited effect; Japan nonetheless continued to procure strategic materials. Within this chorus, the left remained a persistent but often discordant ally to the Nationalists. The Institute of Pacific Relations, sympathetic to communist aims, urged America to act, pressuring policymakers and sounding alarms about China. Yet the party line remained firmly pro-Chiang Kai-shek: the Japanese advance seemed too rapid and threatening to the Reds' interests. Most oil and iron debates stalled; American businessmen resented British trade ties with Japan, and Britain refused to join any mutual cutoff, arguing that the Western powers were not at war with Japan. What occurred in China was still commonly referred to in Western diplomatic circles as "the Incident." Wang Jingwei's would make his final defection, yes in a long ass history of defections. Mr Wang Jingwei had been very busy traveling to Guangzhou, then Northwest to speak with Feng Yuxiang, many telegrams went back and forth. He returned to the Nationalist government showing his face to foreign presses and so forth. While other prominent rivals of Chiang, Li Zongren, Bai Chongxi, and others, rallied when they perceived Japan as a real threat; all did so except Wang Jingwei. Wang, who had long believed himself the natural heir to Sun Yat-sen and who had repeatedly sought to ascend to power, seemed willing to cooperate with Japan if it served his own aims. I will just say it, Wang Jingwei was a rat. He had always been a rat, never changed. Opinions on Chiang Kai-Shek vary, but I think almost everyone can agree Wang Jingwei was one of the worst characters of this time period. Now Wang Jingwei could not distinguish between allies and enemies and was prepared to accept help from whomever offered it, believing he could outmaneuver Tokyo when necessary. Friends in Shanghai and abroad whispered that it was not too late to influence events, arguing that the broader struggle was not merely China versus Japan but a clash between principled leaders and a tyrannical, self-serving clique, Western imperialism's apologists who needed Chiang removed. For a time Wang drifted within the Kuomintang, moving between Nanjing, Wuhan, Changsha, and Chongqing, maintaining discreet lines of communication with his confidants. The Japanese faced a governance problem typical of conquerors who possess conquered territory: how to rule effectively while continuing the war. They imagined Asia under Japanese-led leadership, an East Asia united by a shared Co-Prosperity Sphere but divided by traditional borders. To sustain this vision, they sought local leaders who could cooperate. The search yielded few viable options; would-be collaborators were soon assassinated, proved incompetent, or proved corrupt. The Japanese concluded it would require more time and education. In the end, Wang Jingwei emerged as a preferred figure. Chongqing, meanwhile, seemed surprised by Wang's ascent. He had moved west to Chengde, then to Kunming, attempted, and failed to win over Yunnan's warlords, and eventually proceeded to Hanoi in Indochina, arriving in Hong Kong by year's end. He sent Chiang Kai-shek a telegram suggesting acceptance of Konoe's terms for peace, which Chungking rejected. In time, Wang would establish his own Kuomintang faction in Shanghai, combining rigorous administration with pervasive secret-police activity characteristic of occupied regimes. By 1940, he would be formally installed as "Chairman of China." But that is a story for another episode.  In the north, the Japanese and the CCP were locked in an uneasy stalemate. Mao's army could make it impossible for the Japanese to hold deep countryside far from the railway lines that enabled mass troop movement into China's interior. Yet the Communists could not defeat the occupiers. In the dark days of October 1938—fifteen months after the war began—one constant remained. Observers (Chinese businessmen, British diplomats, Japanese generals) repeatedly predicted that each new disaster would signal the end of Chinese resistance and force a swift surrender, or at least a negotiated settlement in which the government would accept harsher terms from Tokyo. But even after defenders were expelled from Shanghai, Nanjing, and Wuhan, despite the terrifying might Japan had brought to bear on Chinese resistance, and despite the invader's manpower, technology, and resources, China continued to fight. Yet it fought alone. 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 a land shredded by war, Wuhan burned under brutal sieges, then Changsha followed, a cruel blaze born of orders and miscommunications. Leaders wrestled with retreat, scorched-earth vows, and moral debts as Japanese force and Chinese resilience clashed for months. Mao urged strategy over martyrdom, Wang Jingwei's scheming shadow loomed, and Chongqing rose as the westward beacon. Yet China endured, a stubborn flame refusing to surrender to the coming storm. The war stretched on, unfinished and unyielding.

7 HoursPG-13Back in the beginning of 2021, as Pete was transitioning out of libertarianism, he and Bird got together to do a series on the Four Swords of Marxism: Vladimir Lenin, Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong, Abimael Guzman, and added in post-Marxist, Hans-Hermann Hoppe.Here is the complete audio.Timeline Earth PodcastPete and Thomas777 'At the Movies'Support Pete on His WebsitePete's PatreonPete's SubstackPete's SubscribestarPete's GUMROADPete's VenmoPete's Buy Me a CoffeePete on FacebookPete on Twitter

Welcome to Battleground Korea: The Unfinished War. We begin by exploring how Korea, a nation scarred by decades of Japanese occupation, was suddenly and arbitrarily divided by the victorious Allies in 1945. The line was the 38th Parallel. This division birthed two fiercely opposing regimes and leaders: the Soviet-backed communist Kim Il Sung in the North, and the American-backed nationalist Syngman Rhee in the South. As the Cold War escalated, Korea rapidly became a volatile proxy battleground between East and West. "With American and Soviet forces withdrawing, the fragile peace along the 38th Parallel began to unravel. Skirmishes grew bloodier and more audacious. Both Kim Il Sung and Syngman Rhee openly spoke of unifying the peninsula—by force. The question wasn't if the two Koreas would clash, but whether their civil conflict would ignite a wider conflagration, pulling in the global superpowers. The stage was set, but who would make the first devastating move?" The episode concludes with the secret plotting that sealed Korea's fate. Kim Il Sung relentlessly lobbied Josef Stalin and Mao Zedong for the necessary support. After months of manoeuvring, the communist giants finally gave their approval, providing the crucial political green light. Next time: The Invasion. If you have any thoughts or questions, you can send them to - podbattleground@gmail.com Producer: James Hodgson X (Twitter): @PodBattleground Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

L'histoire semble absurde, presque inventée. Et pourtant, elle est vraie. En février 1973, le dirigeant chinois Mao Zedong fit à Henry Kissinger, conseiller diplomatique du président américain Richard Nixon, une proposition qui reste l'une des plus extravagantes de la diplomatie moderne : envoyer dix millions de femmes chinoises aux États-Unis.Une proposition déconcertanteLe contexte est crucial. En 1972, Nixon avait ouvert la voie à un rapprochement historique entre Washington et Pékin, mettant fin à plus de vingt ans d'hostilité. L'année suivante, Kissinger effectue une nouvelle visite en Chine pour consolider cette relation naissante. Lors d'une rencontre au ton parfois ironique, Mao, affaibli mais encore maître du verbe, lance cette idée :« Nous avons trop de femmes. Pourquoi ne pas vous en envoyer dix millions ? »Selon les notes de Kissinger, Mao disait cela avec un humour décalé, mais sur un fond de réflexion démographique réelle. À l'époque, la Chine comptait déjà plus de 800 millions d'habitants, et Mao voyait cette croissance comme un fardeau économique.Une blague… mais pas complètementCette proposition n'était évidemment pas sérieuse au sens diplomatique du terme. Kissinger l'a lui-même interprétée comme une plaisanterie politique, typique du style provocateur du dirigeant chinois. Mais elle révélait une préoccupation authentique : Mao redoutait l'explosion démographique de son pays, à une époque où la planification des naissances n'était pas encore mise en place.En même temps, l'idée contenait une pointe de calcul géopolitique. Mao suggérait, avec cynisme, que l'arrivée massive de femmes chinoises provoquerait aux États-Unis un désordre social et démographique comparable à celui que connaissait la Chine — une façon de rappeler à Kissinger la force de son pays et la complexité de sa gestion.Un symbole de la diplomatie maoïsteCette scène illustre le style unique de Mao : mélange d'ironie, de provocation et de stratégie. Il utilisait souvent l'humour pour tester ses interlocuteurs étrangers et mesurer leurs réactions. Derrière la boutade, il envoyait un message : la Chine, même isolée, était un acteur qu'il fallait prendre au sérieux.Cette anecdote, aujourd'hui encore, symbolise la transition du monde bipolaire de la Guerre froide vers une diplomatie plus subtile, où les mots – même les plus extravagants – servaient à redéfinir les rapports de force. Mao n'a jamais envoyé dix millions de Chinoises, mais il a bel et bien envoyé un signal retentissant : la Chine ne plaisantait jamais vraiment, même quand elle semblait le faire. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

Last time we spoke about the Battle of Taierzhuang. Following the fall of Nanjing in December 1937, the Second Sino-Japanese War entered a brutal phase of attrition as Japan sought to consolidate control and press toward central China. Chinese defense prioritized key rail corridors and urban strongholds, with Xuzhou, the JinPu and Longhai lines, and the Huai River system forming crucial lifelines. By early 1938, Japanese offensives aimed to link with forces around Beijing and Nanjing and encircle Chinese positions in the Central Yangtze region, threatening Wuhan. In response, Chiang Kai-shek fortified Xuzhou and expanded defenses to deter a pincer move, eventually amassing roughly 300,000 troops along strategic lines. Taierzhuang became a focal point when Japanese divisions attempted to press south and link with northern elements. Chinese commanders Li Zongren, Bai Chongxi, Tang Enbo, and Sun Lianzhong coordinated to complicate Japanese plans through offensive-defensive actions, counterattacks, and encirclement efforts. The victory, though numerically costly, thwarted immediate Japanese objectives and foreshadowed further attritional struggles ahead.   #171 The Flooding of the Yellow River Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. We last left off with a significant event during the Xuzhou campaign. Three Japanese divisions under General Itagaki Seishiro moved south to attack Taierzhuang and were met by forces commanded by Li Zongren, Sun Lianzhong, and Tang Enbo, whose units possessed a decent amount of artillery. In a two-week engagement from March 22 to April 7, the battle devolved into a costly urban warfare. Fighting was vicious, often conducted in close quarters and at night. The urban environment negated Japanese advantages in armor and artillery, allowing Chinese forces to contend on equal terms. The Chinese also disrupted Japanese logistics by resupplying their own troops and severing rear supply lines, draining Japanese ammunition, supplies, and reinforcements. By April 7, the Japanese were compelled to retreat, marking the first Chinese victory of the war. However both sides suffered heavy losses, with around 20,000 casualties on each side. In the aftermath of this rare victory, Chiang Kai-Shek pushed Tang Enbo and Li Zongren to capitalize on their success and increased deployments in the Taierzhuang theater to about 450,000 troops. Yet the Chinese Army remained hampered by fundamental problems. The parochialism that had crippled Chiang's forces over the preceding months resurfaced. Although the generals had agreed to coordinate in a war of resistance, each still prioritized the safety of his own troops, wary of Chiang's bid to consolidate power. Li Zongren, for example, did not deploy his top Guangxi provincial troops at Taierzhuang and sought to shift most of the fighting onto Tang Enbo's forces. Chiang's colleagues were mindful of the fates of Han Fuju of Shandong and Zhang Xueliang of Manchuria: Han was executed for refusing to fight, while Zhang, after allowing Chiang to reduce the size of his northeastern army, ended up under house arrest. They were right to distrust Chiang. He believed, after all, that provincial armies should come under a unified national command, which he would lead. From a national-unity perspective, his aspiration was not unreasonable. But it fed suspicion among other military leaders that participation in the anti-Japanese war would dilute their power. The divided nature of the command also hindered logistics, making ammunition and food supplies to the front unreliable and easy to cut off. By late April the Chinese had reinforced the Xuzhou area to between 450,000-600,000 to capitalize on their victory. However these armies were plagued with command and control issues. Likewise the Japanese licked their wounds and reinforced the area to roughly 400,000, with fresh troops and supplies flowing in from Tianjin and Nanjing. The Japanese continued with their objective of encircling Chinese forces. The North China Area Army comprised four divisions and two infantry brigades drawn from the Kwantung Army, while the Central China Expeditionary Army consisted of three divisions and the 1st and 2nd Tank Battalions along with motorized support units. The 5th Tank Battalion supported the 3rd Infantry Division as it advanced north along the railway toward Xuzhou. Fighting to the west, east, and north of Xuzhou was intense, resulting in heavy casualties on both sides. On 18 April, the Japanese advanced southward toward Pizhou. Tang Enbo's 20th Army Corps, together with the 2nd, 22nd, 46th, and 59th corps, resisted fiercely, culminating in a stalemate by the end of April. The 60th Corps of the Yunnan Army engaged the Japanese 10th Division at Yuwang Mountain for nearly a month, repelling multiple assaults. By the time it ceded its position to the Guizhou 140th Division and withdrew on 15 May, the corps had sustained losses exceeding half of its forces. Simultaneously, the Japanese conducted offensives along both banks of the Huai River, where Chinese defenders held out for several weeks. Nevertheless, Japanese artillery and aerial bombardment gradually tilted the balance, allowing the attackers to seize Mengcheng on 9 May and Hefei on 14 May. From there, the southern flank split into two parts: one force moved west and then north to cut off the Longhai Railway escape route from Xuzhou, while another division moved directly north along the railway toward Suxian, just outside Xuzhou. Simultaneously, to the north, Japanese units from north China massed at Jining and began moving south beyond Tengxian. Along the coast, an amphibious landing was made at Lianyungang to reinforce troops attacking from the east. The remaining portions of Taierzhuang were captured in May, a development symbolically significant to Tokyo. On 17 May, Japanese artillery further tightened the noose around Xuzhou, striking targets inside the city.  To preserve its strength, the Nationalist government ordered the abandonment of Xuzhou and directed its main forces to break out toward northern Jiangsu, northern Anhui, and eastern Henan. To deter the Japanese army's rapid westward advance and penetration into northern Henan and western Shandong, many leading military and political figures within the Nationalist government proposed breaching dams over the Yellow River to delay the offensive, a strategy that would have been highly advantageous to the Nationalist forces at the time. Chiang Kai-shek vetoed the proposal outright, insisting that the Nationalist army could still resist. He understood that with tens of millions of Chinese lives at stake and a sliver of hope remaining, the levee plan must not be undertaken. Then a significant battle broke out at Lanfeng. Chiang also recognized that defeat could allow the elite Japanese mechanized divisions, the 14th, 16th, and 10th, to advance directly toward Zhengzhou. If Zhengzhou fell, the Japanese mechanized forces on the plains could advance unimpeded toward Tongguan. Their southward push would threaten Xi'an, Xiangfan, and Nanyang, directly jeopardizing the southwest's rear defenses. Concurrently, the Japanese would advance along the Huai River north of the Dabie Mountains toward Wuhan, creating a pincer with operations along the Yangtze River.  Now what followed was arguably the most important and skillful Chinese maneuver of the Xuzhou campaign: a brilliantly executed strategic retreat to the south and west across the Jinpu railway line. On May 15, Li Zongren, in consultation with Chiang Kai-shek, decided to withdraw from Xuzhou and focus on an escape plan. The evacuation of civilians and military personnel began that day. Li ordered troops to melt into the countryside and move south and west at night, crossing the Jinpu Railway and splitting into four groups that would head west. The plan was to regroup in the rugged Dabie Mountains region to the south and prepare for the defense of Wuhan. Li's generals departed reluctantly, having held out for so long; Tang Enbo was said to have wept. Under cover of night, about forty divisions, over 200,000 men, marched out of Japanese reach in less than a week. A critical moment occurred on May 18, when fog and a sandstorm obscured the retreating troops as they crossed the Jinpu Railway. By May 21, Li wired Chiang Kai-shek to report that the withdrawal was complete. He mobilized nearly all of the Kuomintang Central Army's elite units, such as the 74th Army, withdrawn from Xuzhou and transferred directly to Lanfeng, with a resolute intent to “burn their boats.” The force engaged the Japanese in a decisive battle at Lanfeng, aiming to secure the last line of defense for the Yellow River, a position carrying the lives of millions of Chinese civilians. Yet Chiang Kai-shek's strategy was not universally understood by all participating generals, who regarded it as akin to striking a rock with an egg. For the battle of Lanfeng the Chinese mobilized nearly all of the Kuomintang Central Army's elite forces, comprising 14 divisions totaling over 150,000 men. Among these, the 46th Division of the 27th Army, formerly the Central Training Brigade and the 36th, 88th, and 87th Divisions of the 71st Army were German-equipped. Additionally, the 8th Army, the Tax Police Corps having been reorganized into the Ministry of Finance's Anti-Smuggling Corps, the 74th Army, and Hu Zongnan's 17th Corps, the new 1st Army, equipped with the 8th Division were elite Nationalist troops that had demonstrated strong performance in the battle of Shanghai and the battle of Nanjing, and were outfitted with advanced matériel. However, these so-called “elite” forces were heavily degraded during the campaigns in Shanghai and Nanjing. The 46th Division and Hu Zongnan's 17th Corps sustained casualties above 85% in Nanjing, while the 88th and 87th Divisions suffered losses of up to 90%. The 74th Army and the 36th Division also endured losses exceeding 75%. Their German-made equipment incurred substantial losses; although replenishment occurred, inventories resembled roughly a half-German and half-Chinese mix. With very limited heavy weapons and a severe shortage of anti-tank artillery, they could not effectively match the elite Japanese regiments. Hu Zongnan's 17th Corps maintained its national equipment via a close relationship with Chiang Kai-shek. In contrast, the 74th Army, after fighting in Shanghai, Nanjing, and Xuzhou, suffered heavy casualties, and the few German weapons it had were largely destroyed at Nanjing, leaving it to rely on a mix of domestically produced and Hanyang-made armaments. The new recruits added to each unit largely lacked combat experience, with nearly half of the intake having received basic training. The hardest hit was Li Hanhun's 64th Army, established less than a year prior and already unpopular within the Guangdong Army. Although classified as one of the three Type A divisions, the 155th, 156th, and 187th Divisions, it was equipped entirely with Hanyang-made firearms. Its direct artillery battalion possessed only about 20 older mortars and three Type 92 infantry guns, limiting its heavy firepower to roughly that of a Japanese battalion. The 195th Division and several miscellaneous units were even less prominent, reorganized from local militias and lacking Hanyang rifles. Additionally, three batches of artillery purchased from the Soviet Union arrived in Lanzhou via Xinjiang between March and June 1938. Except for the 52nd Artillery Regiment assigned to the 200th Division, the other artillery regiments had recently received their weapons and were still undergoing training. The 200th Division, had been fighting awhile for in the Xuzhou area and incurred heavy casualties, was still in training and could only deploy its remaining tank battalion and armored vehicle company. The tank battalion was equipped with T-26 light tanks and a small number of remaining British Vickers tanks, while the armored vehicle company consisted entirely of Italian Fiat CV33 armored cars. The disparity in numbers was substantial, and this tank unit did not participate in the battle.  As for the Japanese, the 14th Division was an elite Type A formation. Originally organized with four regiments totaling over 30,000 men, the division's strength was later augmented. Doihara's 14th Division received supplements, a full infantry regiment and three artillery regiments, to prevent it from being surrounded and annihilated, effectively transforming the unit into a mobile reinforced division. Consequently, the division's mounted strength expanded to more than 40,000 personnel, comprising five infantry regiments and four artillery regiments. The four artillery regiments, the 24th Artillery Regiment, the 3rd Independence Mountain Artillery Regiment, the 5th Field Heavy Artillery Regiment, and the 6th Field Heavy Artillery Regiment, possessed substantial heavy firepower, including 150mm heavy howitzers and 105mm long-range field cannons, placing them far in excess of the Nationalist forces at Lanfeng. In addition, both the 14th and later the 16th Divisions commanded tank regiments with nearly 200 light and medium tanks each, while Nationalist forces were markedly short of anti-tank artillery. At the same time, the Nationalist Air Force, though it had procured more than 200 aircraft of various types from the Soviet Union, remained heavily reliant on Soviet aid-to-China aircraft, amounting to over 100 machines, and could defend only a few cities such as Wuhan, Nanchang, and Chongqing. In this context, Japanese forces effectively dominated the Battle of Lanfeng. Moreover, reports indicate that the Japanese employed poison gas on the battlefield, while elite Nationalist troops possessed only a limited number of gas masks, creating a stark disparity in chemical warfare preparedness. Despite these disparities, Chiang Kai-shek and the Nationalist government were initially unaware of the updated strength and composition of the Doihara Division. Faced with constrained options, Chiang chose to press ahead with combat operations. On May 12, 1939, after crossing the Yellow River, the IJA 14th Division continued its southward advance toward Lanfeng. The division's objective was to sever the Longhai Railway, disrupt the main Nationalist retreat toward Zhengzhou, and seize Zhengzhou itself. By May 15, the division split into two columns at Caoxian and moved toward key nodes on the Longhai Line. Major General Toyotomi Fusatarou led two infantry regiments, one cavalry regiment, and one artillery regiment in the main assault toward Kaocheng with the aim of directly capturing Lanfeng. Doihara led three infantry regiments and three artillery regiments toward Neihuang and Minquan, threatening Guide. In response, the Nationalist forces concentrated along the railway from Lanfeng to Guide, uniting Song Xilian's 71st Army, Gui Yongqing's 27th Army, Yu Jishi's 74th Army, Li Hanhun's 64th Army, and Huang Jie's 8th Army. From May 15 to 17, the Fengjiu Brigade, advancing toward Lanfeng, met stubborn resistance near Kaocheng from roughly five divisions under Song Xilian and was forced to shift its effort toward Yejigang and Neihuang. The defense near Neihuang, including Shen Ke's 106th Division and Liang Kai's 195th Division, ultimately faltered, allowing Doihara's division to seize Neihuang, Yejigang, Mazhuangzhai, and Renheji. Nevertheless, the Nationalist forces managed to contain the Japanese advance east and west of the area, preventing a complete encirclement. Chiang Kai-shek ordered Cheng Qian, commander-in-chief of the 1st War Zone, to encircle and annihilate the Japanese 14th Division. The deployment plan mapped three routes: the Eastern Route Army, under Li Hanhun, would include the 74th Army, the 155th Division of the 64th Army, a brigade of the 88th Division, and a regiment of the 87th Division, advancing westward from Guide); the Western Route Army, commanded by Gui Yongqing, would comprise the 27th Army, the 71st Army, the 61st Division, and the 78th Division, advancing eastward from Lanfeng; and the Northern Route Army, formed by Sun Tongxuan's 3rd Army and Shang Zhen's 20th Army, was to cut off the enemy's retreat to the north bank of the Yellow River near Dingtao, Heze, Dongming, and Kaocheng, while attacking the Doihara Division from the east, west, and north to annihilate it in a single decisive operation.  On May 21, the Nationalist Army mounted a full-scale offensive. Yu Jishi's 74th Army, commanded by Wang Yaowu's 51st Division, joined a brigade of Song Xilian's 71st Army, led by the 88th Division, and drove the Japanese forces at Mazhuangzhai into retreat, capturing Neihuang and Renheji. The main Japanese force, more than 6,000 strong, withdrew southwest to Yangjiji and Shuangtaji. Song Xilian, commanding Shen Fazao's 87th Division, launched a sharp assault on Yejigang (Yifeng). The Japanese abandoned the stronghold, but their main body continued advancing toward Yangjiji, with some units retreating to Donggangtou and Maoguzhai. On May 23, Song Xilian's 71st Army and Yu Jishi's 74th Army enveloped and annihilated enemy forces at Donggangtou and Maoguzhai. That evening they seized Ximaoguzhai, Yangzhuang, and Helou, eliminating more than a thousand Japanese troops. The Japanese troops at Donggangtou fled toward Lanfeng. Meanwhile, Gui Yongqing's forces were retreating through Lanfeng. His superior strength, Jiang Fusheng's 36th Division, Li Liangrong's 46th Division, Zhong Song's 61st Division, Li Wen's 78th Division, Long Muhan's 88th Division, and Shen Ke's 106th Division—had held defensive positions along the Lanfeng–Yangji line. Equipped with a tank battalion and armored vehicle company commanded by Qiu Qingquan, they blocked the enemy's westward advance and awaited Japanese exhaustion. However, under the Japanese offensive, Gui Yongqing's poor command led to the loss of Maji and Mengjiaoji, forcing the 27th Army to retreat across its entire front. Its main force fled toward Qixian and Kaifeng. The Japanese seized the opportunity to capture Quxingji, Luowangzhai, and Luowang Railway Station west of Lanfeng. Before retreating, Gui Yongqing ordered Long Muhan to dispatch a brigade to replace the 106th Division in defending Lanfeng, while he directed the 106th Division to fall back to Shiyuan. Frightened by the enemy, Long Muhan unilaterally withdrew his troops on the night of the 23rd, leaving Lanfeng undefended. On the 24th, Japanese troops advancing westward from Donggangtou entered Lanfeng unopposed and, relying on well-fortified fortifications, held their ground until reinforcements arrived. In the initial four days, the Nationalist offensive failed to overwhelm the Japanese, who escaped encirclement and annihilation. The four infantry and artillery regiments and one cavalry regiment on the Japanese side managed to hold the line along Lanfeng, Luowangzhai, Sanyizhai, Lanfengkou, Quxingji, Yang'erzhai, and Chenliukou on the south bank of the Yellow River, offering stubborn resistance. The Longhai Railway was completely cut off. Chiang Kai-shek, furious upon hearing the news while stationed in Zhengzhou, ordered the execution of Long Muhan, commander of the 88th Division, to restore military morale. He also decided to consolidate Hu Zongnan's, Li Hanhun's, Yu Jishi's, Song Xilian's, and Gui Yongqing's troops into the 1st Corps, with Xue Yue as commander-in-chief. On the morning of May 25, they launched a determined counterattack on Doihara's 14th Division. Song Xilian personally led the front lines on May 24 to rally the defeated 88th Division.  Starting on May 25, after three days of intense combat, Li Hanhun's 64th Army advanced to seize Luowang Station and Luowangzhai, while Song Xilian's 71st Army retook Lanfeng City, temporarily reopening the Longhai Line to traffic. At Sanyi Village, Gui Yongqing's 27th Army and Yu Jishi's 74th Army captured a series of outlying positions, including Yang'eyao, Chailou, Cailou, Hezhai, Xuelou, and Baowangsi. Despite these gains, more than 6,000 Japanese troops offered stubborn resistance. During the fighting, Ji Hongru, commander of the 302nd Regiment, was seriously wounded but continued to fight, shouting, “Don't worry about my death! Brothers, fight on!” He ultimately died a heroic death from his wounds. By May 27, Chiang Kai-shek, concerned that the forces had not yet delivered a decisive victory at Lanfeng, personally reprimanded the participating generals and ordered them to completely encircle and annihilate the enemy west of Lanfeng by the following day. He warned that if the opportunity was missed and Japanese reinforcements arrived, the position could be endangered. The next day, Chiang Kai-shek issued another telegram, urging Cheng Qian's First War Zone and all participating units to press the offensive. The telegram allegedly had this in it “It will forever be a laughingstock in the history of warfare.” Meanwhile on the other side, to prevent the annihilation of Doihara's 14th Division, the elite Japanese 16th Division and the 3rd Mixed Brigade, totaling over 40,000 men, launched a westward assault from Dangshan, capturing Yucheng on May 26. They then began probing the outskirts of Guide. Huang Jie's Eighth Army, responsible for the defense, withdrew to the outskirts of Guide that evening. On May 28, Huang Jie again led his troops on his own initiative, retreating to Liuhe and Kaifeng, leaving only the 187th Division to defend Zhuji Station and Guide City. At dawn on May 29, Peng Linsheng, commander of the 187th Division, also withdrew his troops, leaving Guide a deserted city. The Japanese occupied Guide without a fight. The loss of Guide dramatically shifted the tide of the war. Threatened on the flanks by the Japanese 16th Division, the Nationalist forces were forced onto the defensive. On May 28, the Japanese 14th Division concentrated its forces to counterattack Gui Yongqing's troops, but they were defeated again, allowing the Japanese to stabilize their position. At the same time, the fall of Shangqiu compelled Xue Yue's corps to withdraw five divisions to block the enemy in Shangqiu, and the Nationalist Army shifted to a defensive posture with the 14th Division holding Sanyizhai and Quxingji. To the north of the battlefield, the Japanese 4th Mixed Brigade, numbering over 10,000 men, was preparing to force a crossing of the Yellow River in order to join with the nearby 14th Division. More seriously, the 10th Division, together with its 13th Mixed Brigade and totaling more than 40,000 men, had captured Woyang and Bozhou on the Henan-Anhui border and was rapidly encircling eastern Henan. By the time of the Battle of Lanfeng, Japanese forces had deployed more than 100,000 troops, effectively surrounding the Nationalist army. On May 31, the First War Zone decided to withdraw completely, and the Battle of Lanfeng ended in defeat for the Nationalists, forcing Chiang Kai-shek to authorize diverting the Yellow River embankment to relieve pressure. The consequence was a deteriorating strategic situation, as encirclement tightened and reinforcement options dwindled, driving a retreat from the Lanfeng front. The National Army suffered more than 67,000 casualties, killed and wounded more than 10,000 Japanese soldiers, Lanfeng was lost, and Zhengzhou was in danger.  As in Nanjing, this Chinese army might have lived to fight another day, but the effect on Xuzhou itself was horrific. The city had endured Japanese bombardment since August 1937, and the population's mood swung between cautious hope and utter despair. In March, Du Zhongyuan visited Xuzhou. Before he left Wuhan, friends told him that “the city was desolate and the people were terrified, all the inhabitants of Xuzhou were quietly getting on with their business … sometimes it was even calmer than Wuhan.” The Australian journalist Rhodes Farmer recalled a similar image in a book published at war's end, noting the “ordinary townsfolk who became wardens, fire-fighters and first-aid workers during the raid and then went back to their civil jobs.” Yet the mid-May departure of Nationalist troops left the city and its outskirts at the mercy of an angry Imperial Army. Bombing continued through the final days of battle, and a single raid on May 14, 1938 killed 700 people. Around Xuzhou, buildings and bridges were destroyed—some by retreating Chinese forces, some by advancing Japanese troops. Taierzhuang, the scene of the earlier iconic defense, was utterly destroyed. Canadian Jesuits who remained in Xuzhou after its fall recorded that more than a third of the houses were razed, and most of the local population had fled in terror. In rural areas around the city, massacres were repeatedly reported, many witnessed by missionaries. Beyond the atrocities of the Japanese, locals faced banditry in the absence of law enforcement, and vital agricultural work such as planting seed ground to a halt. The loss of Xuzhou was both strategic and symbolic. It dealt a severe blow to Chiang's attempt to hold central China and to control regional troop movements. Morale, which Taierzhuang had briefly boosted, was battered again though not extinguished. The fall signaled that the war would be long, and that swift victory against Japan was no longer likely. Mao Zedong's Yan'an base, far to the northwest, grasped the meaning of defeat there. In May 1938 he delivered one of his most celebrated lectures, “On Protracted War,” chiding those who had over-optimistically claimed the Xuzhou campaign could be a quasi-decisive victory and arguing that, after Taierzhuang, some had become “giddy.” Mao insisted that China would ultimately prevail, yet he warned that it could not be won quickly, and that the War of Resistance would be protracted. In the meantime, the development of guerrilla warfare remained an essential piece of the long-term strategy that the Communist armies would pursue in north China. Yet the loss of Xuzhou did not necessarily portend a long war; it could, instead, presage a war that would be terrifyingly short. By spring 1938 the Chinese defenders were desperate. There was a real danger that the entire war effort could collapse, and the Nationalist governments' notable success as protectors of a shrinking “Free China” lay in avoiding total disaster. Government propaganda had successfully portrayed a plan beyond retreat to foreign observers, yet had Tokyo captured Wuhan in the spring, the Chinese Army would have had to withdraw at speed, reinforcing perceptions of disintegration. Western governments were unlikely to intervene unless convinced it was in their interests. Within the Nationalist leadership, competing instincts persisted. The government pursued welfare measures for the people in the midst of a massive refugee relief effort, the state and local organizations, aided by the International Red Cross, housed large numbers of refugees in 1937–1938. Yet there was a harsher strain within policy circles, with some officials willing to sacrifice individual lives for strategic or political ends as the Japanese threat intensified. Throughout central China, the Yellow River, China's “Sorrow”, loomed as the dominant geographic force shaping history. The loess-laden river, notorious for floods and shifting channels, was banked by massive dikes near Zhengzhou, exactly along the line the Japanese would traverse toward Wuhan. Using the river as a military instrument was discussed as a drastic option: Chiang and Cheng Qian's First War Zone contemplated diverting or breaching the dikes to halt or slow the Japanese advance, a measure that could buy time but would unleash enormous civilian suffering. The idea dated back to 1887 floods that cost hundreds of thousands of lives, and even in 1935 Alexander von Falkenhausen had warned that the Yellow River could become the final line of defense. In 1938 Chiang, recognizing the futility of defeating the Japanese by conventional means at Zhengzhou, considered unleashing the river's force if necessary to impede the invaders. The political and strategic calculus was stark: protect central China and Wuhan, even if it required drastic and morally fraught measures. A more humane leader might have hesitated to break the dikes and spare the dams, allowing the Japanese to take Wuhan. But Chiang Kai-shek believed that if the dikes were not breached and Wuhan fell within days, the Nationalist government might be unable to relocate to Chongqing in time and would likely surrender, leaving Japan in control of almost all of China. Some have compared the choice to France's surrender in June 1940, underscoring that Chiang's decision came during the country's most terrifying assault, with Chinese forces much weaker and less trained than their European counterparts. The dilemma over whether to break the Yellow River dikes grew out of desperation. Chiang ultimately ordered General Wei Rulin to blow the dike that held the Yellow River in central Henan. There was no doubt about the consequences: floods would inundate vast areas of central China, creating a waterlogged barrier that would halt the Japanese advance. Yet for the plan to succeed, it had to be carried out quickly, and the government could offer no public warning in case the Japanese detected it and accelerated their movement. Xiong Xianyu, chief of staff in the 8th Division at the time, recorded the urgency of those hours in his diary. The Japanese were already on the north bank of the Yellow River, briefly delayed when the Chinese army blew up the railway bridge across the river. The destruction of the dikes was the next step: if the area became a sea of mud, there would be no way the Japanese could even attempt to reconstruct the bridge. Blasting the dikes proved easier in theory than in practice. Holding back such a massive body of water required substantial engineering, dams thick and well fortified. The army made its first attempts to blow the dike at the small town of Zhaokou between June 4 and 6, 1938, but the structure proved too durable; another nearby attempt failed as well. Hour by hour, the Japanese moved closer. Division commander Jiang Zaizhen asked Xiong Xianyu for his opinion on where they might breach the dams. Xiong wrote “I discussed the topography, and said that two places, Madukou and Huayuankou, were both possible.” But Madukou was too close to Zhaokou, where the breach had already failed, presenting a danger that the Japanese might reach it very soon. The village of Huayuankou, however, lay farther away and on a bend in the river: “To give ourselves enough time, Huayuankou would be best.” At first, the soldiers treated the task as a military engineering assignment, an “exciting” one in Xiong's words. Xiong and Wei Rulin conducted their first site inspection after dark, late on June 6. The surroundings offered a deceptive calm: Xiong recounted “The wind blew softly, and the river water trickled pleasantly.” Yet gauging the water level proved difficult, hampered by murky moonlight and burned-out flashlights. They spent the night in their car to determine precisely where to break the dike as soon as day broke. But daylight seemed to bring home the consequences of what they planned to do, and the soldiers grew increasingly anxious. Wang Songmei, commander of the 2nd Regiment, addressed the workers about to breach the dike: “My brothers, this plan will be of benefit to our country and our nation, and will lessen the harm that is being done to the people.In the future, you'll find good wives and have plenty of children.” Wang's words were meant to reassure the men of the political necessity of their actions and that fate would not, in the traditional Chinese sense, deny them a family because of the enormity of their deeds. General Wei confirmed that Huayuankou was the right spot, and on June 8 the work began, with about 2,000 men taking part. The Nationalist government was eager to ensure rapid progress. Xiong recorded that the “highest authorities”,, kept making telephone calls from Wuhan to check on progress. In addition, the party sent performers to sing and play music to bolster the workers' spirits. Senior General Shang Zhen announced to the laborers that if they breached the dam by midnight on June 8, each would receive 2,000 yuan; if they achieved it by six the next morning, they would still be paid 1,000 yuan. They needed encouragement, for the diggers had no artificial assistance. After the initial failures at Zhaokou, Wei's troops relied entirely on manual labor, with no explosives used. Yet the workers earned their payments, and the dike was breached in just a few hours. On the morning of June 9, Xiong recorded a rapid shift in mood: the atmosphere became tense and solemn. Initially, the river flow was modest, but by about 1:00 p.m. the water surged “fiercely,” flowing “like 10,000 horses.” Looking toward the distance, Xiong felt as though a sea had appeared before him. “My heart ached,” he wrote. The force of the water widened the breach, and a deadly stream hundreds of feet wide comprising about three-quarters of the river's volume—rushed southeast across the central Chinese plains. “We did this to stop the enemy,” Xiong reflected, “so we didn't regret the huge sacrifice, as it was for a greater victory.” Yet he and the other soldiers also saw a grim reality: the troops who had taken on the task of destroying the railway bridge and the dikes could not bear the flood's consequences alone. It would be up to the government and the people of the nation to provide relief for the countless households uprooted by the flood. In fact, the previous evening Commander Jiang had telephoned to request assistance for those flooded out of their homes.   Wei, Xiong, and their troops managed to escape by wooden boats. Hundreds of thousands of farmers trapped in the floods were far less fortunate. Time magazine's correspondent Theodore White reported on the devastation a few days later “Last week “The Ungovernable” [i.e. the Yellow River] lashed out with a flood which promised to change not only its own course but also the course of the whole Sino-Japanese War. Severe breaks in the dikes near Kaifeng sent a five-foot wall of water fanning out over a 500-squaremile area, spreading death. Toll from Yellow River floods is not so much from quick drowning as from gradual disease and starvation. The river's filth settles ankle-deep on the fields, mothering germs, smothering crops. Last week, about 500,000 peasants were driven from 2,000 communities to await rescue or death on whatever dry ground they could find”. Chiang's government had committed one of the grossest acts of violence against its own people, and he knew that the publicity could be a damaging blow to its reputation. He decided to divert blame by announcing that the dike had been broken, but blaming the breach on Japanese aerial bombing. The Japanese, in turn, fiercely denied having bombed the dikes. White's reporting reflected the immediate response of most foreigners; having heard about the atrocities at Nanjing and Xuzhou, he was disinclined to give the Japanese the benefit of the doubt. Furthermore, at the very time that the Yellow River was flooding central China, the Japanese were heavily bombing Guangzhou, causing thousands of casualties. To White, the Japanese counterargument—that the Chinese themselves were responsible, seemed unthinkable: “These accusations, foreign observers thought, were absurd. For the Chinese to check the Japanese advance at possible sacrifice of half a million lives would be a monstrous pyrrhic victory. Besides, dike-cutting is the blackest of Chinese crimes, and the Chinese Army would hardly risk universal censure for slight tactical gains.” But, of course, that is exactly what they had done. During the war the Nationalists never admitted that they, not the Japanese, had breached the dikes. But the truth quickly became widely known. Just a month later, on July 19, US Ambassador Johnson noted, in private communication, that the “Chinese blocked the advance on Chengchow [Zhengzhou] by breaching the Yellow River dikes.” Eventually some 54,000 square kilometers of central China were inundated by the floods. If the Japanese had committed such an act, it would have been remembered as the prime atrocity of the war, dwarfing even the Nanjing Massacre or the Chongqing air raids in terms of the number of people who suffered. Accurate statistics were impossible to obtain in the midst of wartime chaos and disaster, but in 1948 figures issued by the Nationalists themselves suggested enormous casualties: for the three affected provinces of Henan, Anhui, and Jiangsu, the number of dead was put at 844,489, with some 4.8 million becoming refugees. More recent studies place the numbers lower, but still estimate the dead at around 500,000, and 3–5 million refugees. In contrast, the devastating May 1939 air raids on Chongqing killed some thousands. Xiong reflected in his diary that the breaching of the Yellow River dikes was a sacrifice for a greater victory. Even to some Japanese it seemed that the tactic had been successful in the short term: the first secretary at the US Embassy in Wuhan reported that the flood had “completely checked the Japanese advance on Chengchow” and had prevented them taking Wuhan by rail. Instead, he predicted, the attack was likely to come by water and along the north shore of the Yangtze. Supporters of the dike breaches could argue that these acts saved central China and Chiang's headquarters in Wuhan for another five months. The Japanese were indeed prevented from advancing along the Long–Hai railway toward Wuhan. In the short term the floods did what the Nationalists wanted. But the flooding was a tactic, a breathing space, and did not solve the fundamental problem: China's armies needed strong leadership and rapid reform. Some historians suggest that Chiang's decision was pointless anyway, since it merely delayed the inevitable. Theodore White was right: no strategic advantage could make the deaths of 500,000 of China's own people a worthwhile price to pay. However, Chiang Kai-shek's decision can be partly explained, though not excused, by the context. We can now look back at the actions of the Nationalists and argue that they should not have held on to Wuhan, or that their actions in breaching the dam were unjustifiable in the extreme. But for Chiang, in the hot summer of 1938, it seemed his only hope was to deny Japan as much of China for as long as possible and create the best possible circumstances for a long war from China's interior, while keeping the world's attention on what Japan was doing. The short delay won by the flooding was itself part of the strategy. In the struggle raging within the soul of the Nationalist Party, the callous, calculating streak had won, for the time being. The breaking of the dikes marked a turning point as the Nationalists committed an act whose terrible consequences they would eventually have to expiate. 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 1937, China's frontline trembled as Japanese forces closed in on Wuhan. Chiang Kai-shek faced a brutal choice: endure costly defenses or unleash a desperate gamble. Chiangs' radical plan emerged: breach the Yellow River dikes at Huayuankou to flood central China, buying time. The flood roared, washing villages and futures away, yet slowing the enemy. The battlefield paused, while a nation weighed courage against civilian suffering, victory against devastating costs.

Dancing Through the Shadow by Agnes Bristow https://www.amazon.com/dp/106889430X Dancingthroughtheshadow.com The shocking true story of Communist China- and the woman it couldn't contain.As the Cultural Revolution sweeps across the nation, young ballerina Tia Zhang rises to the top of Mao Zedong's favorite dancers. Her success leads her to a forbidden love with a dashing military athlete - but it can not protect them from the brutality of the Communist regime.In a story that spans nearly half a century, Tia's family life is upended when her new husband is sent away to a labor camp, their baby son is taken from her, and her career as a dance teacher - her last hope of autonomy - is constantly threatened by government control.Yet, amid despair, Tia's unyielding spirit and love for her family illuminate the darkest corners of a country in turmoil - and fuels her inspiring bid for freedom.Dancing Through the Shadow is a testament to the enduring power of the human spirit and the fierceness of a mother's love. Set against the backdrop of one of politics's most repressive regimes, Agnes Bristow's vivid prose captures the heartache and triumph of a woman who danced not just for art - but for her very survival.

7 HoursPG-13Back in the beginning of 2021, as Pete was transitioning out of libertarianism, he and Bird got together to do a series on the Four Swords of Marxism: Vladimir Lenin, Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong, Abimael Guzman, and added in post-Marxist, Hans-Hermann Hoppe.Here is the complete audio.Timeline Earth PodcastPete and Thomas777 'At the Movies'Support Pete on His WebsitePete's PatreonPete's SubstackPete's SubscribestarPete's GUMROADPete's VenmoPete's Buy Me a CoffeePete on FacebookPete on Twitter

Book Title: Wild Ride: A Short History of the Opening and Closing of the Chinese Economy Author: Anne Stevenson Yang Headline: Deng Xiaoping's Reforms and the Rise of Red Capitalism Following Mao Zedong's death, Deng Xiaoping initiated economic reforms in 1979, driven by the need for hard currency for international travel. His solution was to create hermetically sealed export zones, like Shenzhen, to attract foreign companies and currency. This "red capitalism" led to an elite class, where Deng Xiaoping's daughter and Jiang Zemin's son, Jiang Mianheng (Mr. 10%), secured money and political power, often by taking equity in new companies. 1954

In his new book Coming Clean, Eric Heinze rejects the idea that we should be less woke. In fact, we need more wokeness, but of a new kind. Yes, we must teach about classism, racism, colonialism, patriarchy, and other gross injustices, but we must also educate the public about the left's own support for regimes that damaged and destroyed millions of lives for over a century—Stalin in the Soviet Union, Mao Zedong in China, Pol Pot in Cambodia, or the Kim dynasty in North Korea. Criticisms of Western wrongdoing are certainly important, yet Heinze explains that most on the political left have rarely engaged in the kinds of open and public self-scrutiny that they demand from others. Citing examples as different as the Ukraine war, LGBTQ+ people in Cuba, the concept of “hatred,” and the problem of leftwing antisemitism, Heinze explains why and how the left must change its memory politics if it is to claim any ethical high ground. Eric Heinze is Professor of Law and Humanities at Queen Mary University of London. He is the author of The Most Human Right: Why Free Speech is Everything (MIT Press), among other books, and has published over 100 articles and has been featured in radio and television and other media around the world. His new book is Coming Clean: The Rise of Critical Theory and the Future of the Left.

Continuamos con nuestras historias para el mundo de hoy. En esta ocasión hablaremos de la Revolución Cultural China, un movimiento impulsado por Mao Zedong que marcó la política, la sociedad y la cultura del país. Un tiempo de movilizaciones y profundas rupturas, cuyo impacto aún se estudia y que fue sucedido por las reformas que explican el ascenso de China en nuestros días. Notas del episodio:  Este episodio fue traído a ustedes gracias a Boston Scientific En “Brújula para el mundo Contemporáneo” hicimos un capítulo dedicado a China El “Siglo de la humillación”, un periodo para entender las apuestas y la historia contemporánea de China La Revolución comunista en China Los hechos del “Gran Salto Adelante' Una explicación sobre “La Revolución Cultural” Deng Xiaoping y China de nuestros días   Sigue mis proyectos en otros lugares:  YouTube ➔ youtube.com/@DianaUribefm  Instagram ➔ instagram.com/dianauribe.fm Facebook ➔ facebook.com/dianauribe.fm Sitio web ➔ dianauribe.fm Twitter ➔ x.com/DianaUribefm  LinkedIn ➔ www.linkedin.com/in/diana-uribe    Gracias de nuevo a nuestra comunidad de patreon por apoyar la producción de este episodio. Si quieres unirte, visita www.dianauribe.fm/comunidad

RUMOURS OF XI JINPING'S UPCOMING REBUKE JUST LIKE HIS FATHER: 1/8 The Party's Interests Come First: The Life of XI Zhongxun, Father of XI Jinping Hardcover – 3 June 2025 by  Joseph Torigian  (Author) https://www.amazon.com.au/Partys-Interests-Come-First-Zhongxun/dp/1503634752/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0 1949 XI ZHONGXUN China's leader, Xi Jinping, is one Cf the most powerful individuals inCtheCworld--and one of the least understood. Much can be learned, however, about both Xi Jinping and the nature of the party he leads from the memory and legacy of his father, the revolutionary Xi Zhongxun (1913-2002). The elder Xi served the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) for more than seven decades. He worked at the right hand of prominent leaders Zhou Enlai and Hu Yaobang. He helped build the Communist base area that saved Mao Zedong in 1935, and he initiated the Special Economic Zones that launched China into the reform era after Mao's death. He led the Party's United Front efforts toward Tibetans, Uyghurs, and Taiwanese. And though in 1989 he initially sought to avoid violence, he ultimately supported the Party's crackdown on the Tiananmen protesters. The Party's Interests Come First is the first biography of Xi Zhongxun written in English. This biography is at once a sweeping story of the Chinese revolution and the first several decades of the People's Republic of China and a deeply personal story about making sense of one's own identity within a larger political context. Drawing on an array of new documents, interviews, diaries, and periodicals, Joseph Torigian vividly tells the life story of Xi Zhongxun, a man who spent his entire life struggling to balance his own feelings with the Party's demands. Through the eyes of Xi Jinping's father, Torigian reveals the extraordinary organizational, ideological, and coercive power of the CCP--and the terrible cost in human suffering that comes with it.

In this episode of Red Menace, Breht and Alyson dive into Mao Zedong's pivotal 1957 speech On the Correct Handling of Contradictions Among the People. This foundational text offers insight into Mao's dialectical approach to politics, particularly in navigating the complex terrain of class struggle within socialist society. Together they explore Mao's crucial distinction between antagonistic and non-antagonistic contradictions, and how this distinction can guide revolutionary praxis. The discussion includes an analysis of the “unity–struggle–unity” dialectic, the historical context and lessons of the Hundred Flowers and Hundred Schools campaigns, and the subsequent Anti-Rightist backlash. They also examine Mao's critique of Han chauvinism and draw parallels to white chauvinism in the contemporary U.S., as well as Mao's position on Tibet and the historical legacy of how that conflict played out, and how it is still weaponized today. ---------------------------------------------------- Support Rev Left and get access to bonus episodes: www.patreon.com/revleftradio Make a one-time donation to Rev Left at BuyMeACoffee.com/revleftradio Follow, Subscribe, & Learn more about Rev Left Radio: https://revleftradio.com/