Podcasts about Nanjing

Das Finale der International Championship wird schottisch-chinesisch sein, denn mit Wu Yize gegen Zhao Xintong gibt es ein rein chinesisches bzw. bei John Higgins gegen Stephen Maguire ein rein schottisches Halbfinale. Wu überzeugte dabei erneut und machte beim 6:0 gegen Barry Hawkins kurzen Prozess. Zhao überlebte ein Matchplay-Duell über die volle Distanz gegen Mark Selby, während sich Maguire (gegen Zak Surety) und Higgins (gegen Shaun Murphy) jeweils souverän durchsetzen konnten. Noah und Chris fassen die Viertelfinals von Nanjing zusammen. Dieser Podcast wird vermarktet von der Podcastbude.www.podcastbu.de - Full-Service-Podcast-Agentur - Konzeption, Produktion, Vermarktung, Distribution und Hosting.Du möchtest deinen Podcast auch kostenlos hosten und damit Geld verdienen?Dann schaue auf www.kostenlos-hosten.de und informiere dich.Dort erhältst du alle Informationen zu unseren kostenlosen Podcast-Hosting-Angeboten. kostenlos-hosten.de ist ein Produkt der Podcastbude.

Es ist mal wieder ein tolles Viertelfinallineup, das uns diese Woche in Nanjing bevorsteht. Kathi und Chris sprechen über die Achtelfinals des hochdotierten Weltranglistenturniers in China. Wu Yize sorgte dabei für ein aufsehenerregendes Comeback gegen Judd Trump. Nach 0:4-Rückstand holte Wu nicht nur 6 Frames mit hohen Breaks in Folge, sondern gönnte seinem Gegner nur noch 18 Punkte nach dem Midsession Interval. Barry Hawkins stoppte den Lauf von Jack Lisowski, während Titelverteidiger Ding Junhui an Shaun Murphy scheiterte. John Higgins, Weltmeister Zhao Xintong und Mark Selby stehen ebenfalls im Viertelfinale. Komplettiert wird das Lineup von Zak Surety und Stephen Maguire. Dieser Podcast wird vermarktet von der Podcastbude.www.podcastbu.de - Full-Service-Podcast-Agentur - Konzeption, Produktion, Vermarktung, Distribution und Hosting.Du möchtest deinen Podcast auch kostenlos hosten und damit Geld verdienen?Dann schaue auf www.kostenlos-hosten.de und informiere dich.Dort erhältst du alle Informationen zu unseren kostenlosen Podcast-Hosting-Angeboten. kostenlos-hosten.de ist ein Produkt der Podcastbude.

Hey guys before you listen to this one, do realize this is part 3 on a series about General Kanji Ishiwara, so if you have not already done so I would recommend listening to Part 1 & 2.    This episode is General Kanji Ishiwara part 3: The gradual fall into War with China   I tried so hard this time to finish this up neatly in part 3 and utterly failed. I wrote pages and even deleted them to keep squeezing, but theres simply too much to the story. Part 3 will be focusing on the insane politics of the 1930's and how Ishiwara tried to prevent war with China.   Its rather ironic that the man who was the chief instigator that ushering in the conquest of Manchuria was unable to impose his will when it came to molding Manchukuo. Now while Ishiwara Kanji was the operations officer given official responsibility over the planning and conduct of military operations to seize Manchuria, the arrangements for that new state, being political in nature, were not in his sphere of influence. Regardless, Ishiwara was extremely vocal about his opinions on how Manchukuo should develop and he heavily emphasized racial harmony. He continuously hammered his colleagues that the economic development of Manchukuo should reflect the spirit of racial cooperation. Ishiwara assumed the economic interests of Manchukuo would simply coincide with that of the Kwantung army, by definition both's ultimate goals would be unity of Asia against the west. He was very wrong. Ishiwara was consumed by his theory of final war, everything he did was to prepare for it, thus his obsession of racial harmony was another part of the plan.    In 1932 the self government guidance board was abolished in march, leaving its functions and regional organizations to be tossed into brand new bureaus of the new government of Manchukuo. An organization emerged in April called the (Kyowakai / Concordia Association). It was brought together by Yamaguchi Juji and Ozawa Kaisaku, and its purpose was to promote racial harmony and it was backed by members of the Kwantung army, notably Ishiwara, Itagaki and Katakura. The Kwantung army flooded money into the organization and it grew rapidly…well amongst the Japanese anyways. General Honjo was a bit weary about how much the organization might have in the political sphere of Manchukuo, he did not want to see it become an official political party, he preferred it remain in a educative role. By educative role, I of course mean, to be a propaganda arm of the Kwantung army to exert influence over Manchukuo without having real skin in the game.    But to Ishiwara the Concordia Association was the logical means to unify the new nation, guiding its political destiny, to be blunt Ishiwara really saw it should have much more authority than his colleagues believed it should. Ishiwara complained in August of 1932, that Manchuria was a conglomerate of conflicting power centers such as the Kwantung army, the new Manchukuo government, the Kwantung government, the Mantetsu, consular office and so on. Under so many hats he believed Manchukuo would never become a truly unified modern state, and of course he was one of the few people that actually wanted it to be so. He began arguing the Kwantung army should turn over its political authority as soon as possible so “Japanese of high resolve should hasten to the great work of the Manchurian Concordia Association, for I am sure that we Japanese will be its leaders. In this way Manchukuo will not depend on political control from Japan, but will be an independent state, based on Japanese Manchurian cooperation. Guided by Japanese, it will be a mode of Sino-Japanese friendship, an indicator of the present trends of world civilization” Needless to say the Concordia Association made little headway with the Chinese and it began to annoy Japanese leaders. The association gradually was bent into a spiritless propaganda and intelligence arm of the IJA, staffed largely by elite Japanese working in the Manchukuo government.    Ishiwara began using the Concordia Association to promote things such as: returning leased territories like the Railway zone, abolition of extraterritoriality, equalizing payment between the races working in Manchukuo, the kind of stuff that would promote racial harmony. Such advocacy as you can imagine deviated heavily with the Japanese military, and Ishiwara's reputation would be hurt by this. The Kwantung Army staff began shifting dramatically, seeing Ishiwara isolated, aside from Itagaki and a few other followers being around. The upper brass as they say had had enough of the nuisance Concordia Association's and gradually took control of it and made sure to stop the talk of concessions. In August of 1932 Ishiwara received a new assignment and it seems he was only too happy to leave Manchuria.   Ishiwara returned to Japan, disgusted with the turn of direction Manchuria was going, and believing he would be blamed for its future failures he submitted his resignation. But the IJA knew how popular Ishiwara was and how dangerous he could become so they rejected his resignation. Instead they gave him a military decoration. He was in a very strange spot now, for the youthful officers of the Kodoha faction loved Ishiwara, but the senior top brass of the IJA were extremely suspicious of him and lets just say he was kept under close watch.   Now with Ishiwara back in Japan he would get himself involved in a bit of a war between two factions. As many of you probably already know, the Japanese military of the late 1920s and early 1930's saw the emergence of two factions: the Kodoha “imperial way” and Tosei “control” factions. The Kodoha sought what they called a “showa restoration” to give the emperor absolute power like the good olds days as they say. They were willing to even form a coup if necessary to make this happen. Another thing they believed was in the Hokushin-ron “northern strike” war plan. The idea behind this was that the USSR and communism as a whole was Japans largest threat and the IJA needed to invade the USSR. Now the Tosei faction believed in most of what the Kodoha did, but they differed on some issues. Number 1) they were not willing to perform a coup to usher in a showa restoration, no they thought they could work with the existing Zaibatsu elites and politicians to get things done. THe Kodoha hated the politicians and Zaibatsu to the point they wanted to murder them, so differing opinions. The Tosei also believed the next world war would require a total war strategy, to build up Japan to fight the USSR, but probably the US as well. They favored Nanshin-ron “the southern strike” policy, to target the resources of south east asia necessary to give Japan what it needed to be self sufficient. Another thing that separated these two factions, the Kodoha typically were younger officers.   Despite their differences, everyone in the Japanese military understood forceful expansion into Asia was going to happen and this meant collison with the USSR, America and Britain. Ishiwara's first assignment back in Japan was a temporary duty with the foreign ministry, he was a member of the Japanese legation to the league of nations under Matsuoka Yosuke. The league of nations at this time was performing the Lytton Commission which was investigating the Macnhurian problem, ie: Japan invading Manchuria. Upon returning to Japan in summer of 1933, Ishiwara sought a regimental command, but found it difficult to acquire because of his troublemaker like history. Then General Prince Higashikuni Naruhiko who commanded the 2nd sendai division gave him command over the 4th infantry regiment. Ishiwara went to work training the men under him to counter the latest soviet infantry tactics and of course he lectured extensively about his final war theories. During this time rumors emerged that Ishiwara supported the Nanshin-ron strategy. Many of his old colleagues who supported Hokushin-ron demanded he explain himself and Ishiwara did. These rumors were actually false, it was not that Ishiwara favored the Nanshin-ron strategy, it was simply that he did not back all aspects of the Hokushin-ron strategy.   Ishiwara believed to challenge the USSR, first Japan needed an Asian union, which he thought would take probably 30 years to create. But to usher such an Asian union, first Manchukuo needed to be hammered out properly, something Ishiwara thought Japan was failing to do. Also Japan's military strength was insufficient to overwhelm the multiple enemies before her, the war she would enter would be a protracted one. To win such a war she needed resources and allies, notably Manchukuo and China. To confront the USSR, Japan would need to subvert outer mongolia, but to confront the USA and Britain she would have to seize the Philippines, Singapore, Hong Kong and Guam. It was going to be a global clash.   Ishiwara was gravely concerned with how powerful the USSR was becoming in the early 1930s. In the 3 years since he had left Manchuria, the Soviet divisions in east asia had jumped from 8 to 14 by the end of 1935, while Japanese divisions in Manchuria were only 3. For aircraft the Soviets had 950 vs 220 for Japan. On top of that the Soviets had TB-5 long range bombers, capable of hitting Japan, but the Japanese had no comparable aircraft. A large reason for such build up's were literally because Kodoha leaders were publicly threatening the Soviets such as Generals Sadao Araki. The Kodoha faction faced a lot of challenges as to how they could hope to face off against the USSR. They figured out three main principles needed to be overcome: 1) Japan had to prevent the USSR from being able to defeat its enemies to the west and east one at a time, Japan should seek diplomatic aims in this like allying with Germany. 2) A devastating blow was necessary to the USSR far east, perhaps against the Trans-siberian railway and air bases in the maritime provinces. 3) If Japan was able to demolish Soviet resistance in the far east, Japan would need to take forward positions on the Manchurian border for a protracted war. Ishiwara tried to figure out ways to get by these principles. First he advocated for Japanese troops strength in Manchuria and Korea to be 80% equivalent to that of the Soviets east of Lake Baikal at the offset of hostilities. He also urged cooperation with Germany and to preserve friendly neutral relations with Britain and the US, that is until the soviets were dealt with of course. Ishiwara vigorously felt the Nanshin ron strategy to push into southeast asia and the pacific was far too ambitious for the time being and that all efforts should be made to consolidate Manchuria for resources. Ishiwara tried to win over some Naval support for his plans, but none would be found. When Ishiwara showed his formal plans for Asia to the war ministry, they told him his projections in Manchuria would cost at least 1 billion 300 million yen. They also notified Ishiwara the navy were asking for about the same amount for their programs. Now while Ishiwara spent years trying to produce a 6 year plan to build up Manchuria, other significant things were going on in Japan.   The Kodoha faction as I said had a lot of younger officer support and a lot of these were men who came from rural parts of Japan. A lot of these men came from poor families suffering, and it looked to them that Japan was a nation full of social injustice and spiritual disintegration. These young officers were becoming more and more vocal in the early 1930's about wanting a showa restoration. They thought Japan would be better off as a military state with the emperor on top. Ishiwara empathized with the desire for a showa restoration, and many of the young officers calling for it claimed he was one of their champions. He made some fiery speeches in 1935 linking the evils of capitalism to the destitution of rural japan. He argued farmers were bearing crushing burdens because of economic privation. In his words “if the clash between the exploiters (landlords and capitalists) and the exploited continues much longer the exploited will be ground to bits. The present system of free economic competition has produced a situation where there is a small number of fabulously rich and limitless number of desperately poor. The national has indeed reached a national crisis. Liberal capitalism must inevitably give way to a newer system". What that “newer system was” however differed from what the youthful officers saw as their Showa restoration. Ishiwara wanted the Japanese government to create plans and policy, the Kodoha hardliners wanted to form a violent coup.    Kodoha officers began to push Ishiwara to champion their cause more and more. However by late 1935 Ishiwara's name would actually begin to be connected to the Tosei faction. While Ishiwara supported much of the Kodoha ideology, he simply did not share their beliefs in the same Showa restoration, he was more akin to the Tosei in that regard. Now after the manchurian incident the two factions kind of went to war with another to dominate the military. The Kodoha faction was early on the most powerful, but in 1934 their leader Araki resigned from the army due to failing health and he was replaced by General Senjuro Hayashi who favored the Tosei. In November of 1934, a plot was discovered that involved Kodoha officers seeking to murder some top ranking politicians. The result of this saw the Tosei faction force the resignation of the Kodoha leader General Jinzaburo Masaki, who was serving as the inspector general of military education. In retaliation to this, the Kodoha officer Saburo Aizawa murdered the Toseiha leader General Tetsuzen Nagata. This caused a frenzy, things began to really escalate, and many looked at Ishiwara Kanji to prove which side he favored. While in prison awaiting trial, Aizawa asked Ishiwara to be his defense counsel, to which he promised he would consider it. At the same time other Kodoha officers began pressing Ishiwara to support their cause openly. It is really hard to see where exactly Ishiwara was in all of this as all of his speeches prior were purposely ambiguous. He looked like a fence sitter and after what will be the February coup of 1936, there was testimony that Ishiwara was a middle-echelon member involved in the coup, other testimony literally had him on the list of people to be assassinated. A few weeks before Aizawa's trial, Ishiwara refused his request.   On February 26th, Ishiwara was awakened at his Tokyo home by a telephone call from Colonel Suzuki Teiichi informing him a rebellion was underway. Ishiwara, though ill at the time rushed over to the Military police HQ in Kudan. There he was informed of what was going on and how the officers were now taking the side of the showa restorationists or to quell the rebellion. From there he rushed to meet War Minister Kawashima Yoshiyuki where he demanded a proclamation of martial law to cope with the rebellion. He then urged Vice Chief of staff Sugiyama to order units from garrisons around Tokyo to overwhelm the rebels. Within 24 hours of the event, Ishiwara was then named operations officer of the Martial Law headquarters and he began coordinating plans to deal with the crisis. Thus Ishiwara occupied a crucial position in quelling the coup. On the night of the 27th a bunch of officers who sympathized with the rebels came to the HQ to argue for delaying actions against them. To this Ishiwara rose up and announced “we shall immediately carry forward plans for an assault. All units will assemble for that purpose. The army will wait until noon of the 28th; then it will begin its assault and crush the rebellion”. The next day,  Ishiwara went to the main entrance of the War Ministers office, where a large number of the rebels occupied and he demanded to talk to their leaders face to face. He hoped the youthful officers who looked up to him would see reason. They let him in, after they had shot Captain Katakura Tadashi for trying to do the same thing. Ishiwara then told them he shared many of their goals, but condemned their use of force. With a pistol pointed at him Ishiwara declared this “If you don't listen to reason you will be crushed by the severest measures”. He delivered his ultimatum and just walked out the door.    By the 28th the tides turned on the rebels. Emperor Hirohito put his foot down, demanding an end to the mutiny, many of the top Kodoha leaders walked away because of this. The Navy brought all of its power to Tokyo bay including its SNLF marines, all guns were on the rebels. Some of the rebels held out, still hoping the Emperor would change his mind and order a showa restoration, but by the 29th it fell apart. The rebels surrendered, aided by Colonel Tomoyuki Yamashita (one of my favorite generals of WW2, fascinating character). In the words of Matsumura Shuitsu a member of the Martial law HQ “In the midst of all the confusion and commotion, Ishiwara never lost sight of his objective and dealt with the criss with cool efficiency. If ever there was a case of the right man in the right place it was Ishiwara at that time. No doubt, what brought about the ultimate surrender of the rebel forces, was, of course, the Imperial command. But I believe that in a large part the collapse of the rebellion was due to the decisiveness of Ishwara, who never swerved, never hesitated. In short, Tokyo was saved by Ishiwara's courage”. It is rather ironic, many would point out it was Ishiwara who instigated the insurrection, but when it came time for it, he was the largest one to stamp down upon it. One could argue, by suppressing the rebellion, Ishawara had exploited the crisis in order to earn the political power necessary to bring about his version of a Showa Restoration.   During the mutiny, after meeting the rebels, Ishiwara actually had a secret meeting with two Kodoha officers at the Imperial Hotel. They were Colonel Hashimoto Kingoro and Colonel Mitsui Sakichi. He spoke to them about the possibility of forming a new government. The 3 of them came to these conclusions to actually perform a real Showa restoration. The rebels needed to go back to their barracks; the emperor needed to endorse the showa restoration; and members of the cabinet and top military leaders had to support it. Ishiwara then went to the Martial Law HQ and demanded Army vice chief of staff Sugiyama that he submit to the emperor a petition “to establish a restoration which would make clear the spirit of the nation, realize the national defense, and stabilize the peoples livelihood”. Sugiyama wanted nothing to do with this and told him “its simply impossible to relay such a request from the army” Ishiwara knew Sugiyama's position was too strong to challenge directly so he backed off, this was his last attempt to alter the nation's course through confrontation. Because of his actions during the quelling of the rebellion, this little scene was forgotten, his reputation was not tarnished…well it was amongst the Kodoha hardliners who saw him as a traitor, but other than that. Yet again he seems to be a man of many contradictions.  After the February coup the Kodoha faction ceased to exist and the Toseiha's ideology grabbed most of the military, though they also faded heavily.     Ishiwara went back to planning and lecturing taking a heavy notice of how Germany and Italy's totalitarian models were looking like the most efficient ones that Japan should emulate. He pushed heavily for a national defense state. He kept advocating for a 5 year plan he had to push Japan into a total war economy, but the industrialists and economists kept telling him it was far too much. I could write pages on all the ideas he had, he covered every aspect of Japanese society. He wanted the whole of Japan to devote itself to becoming the hegemonic power in Asia and this required self-sufficiency, more territory, alliances, an overhaul of Japan's politics, economy, etc etc he worked on this for years. One thing I find amusing to note, Ishiwara's plans had the national defense state not run directly by the military. No instead the military would only focus on military affairs to maximize their efficiency, thus civilians would lead the government. In his words “the tactics and strategy of national defense in the narrow sense are unquestionably the responsibility of the military. But national defense in the widest sense, industry, economy, transportation, communications are clearly related to the field of politics. Of course, the military can naturally express their opinion on these matters in order to counsel some minister whose duties are political, but to go before the general public and discuss the detailed industrial and economic is an arrogation of authority”. So ye, Ishiwara actually sought to remove military officers from political positions.    In 1937 Ishiwara was promoted to the rank of major general and his duties were of the operations division of the general staff. Because of his popularity and now his rank, some began to see him almost as that of a rising dictator. In January of 1937, the government of Hirota Koki who had come to power largely because of the february coup were having problems. Politicians were unable to deal with the rising military budgets. Ishiwara was eager to press forward his national defense state idea. Alongside this Captain Fukutome Shigeru, his naval counterpart was angry at the cabinet for hindering funding and called for their dissolution. In one meeting Ishiwara blurted out “if there's any disturbance the military should proclaim martial law throughout the country until things were straightened out”. Well within days the cabinet fell on its own and now everyone looked to a successor.    The Army and Navy fought for their candidate. The Nazi favored Ugaki Kazushige, but the Army held grudges against him. Ishiwara also did not like his appointment stating he had a bad political past, by bad that meant he had advocated for military budget cuts. Ugaki refused the job because of the pressure and made a note about Ishiwara's remarks towards him. Seeing Ugaki pushed aside, Ishiwara and his followers pushed for 3 other candidates; Hayashi Senjuro, House President Konoe Fumumaro and President of the privy council Hiranuma Kiichiro. Ishiwara sent to each man his 5 year plan to test their enthusiasm for it. Hiranuma didn't like it, Konoe was neutral and Hayashi liked it. So Ishiwara backed Hayashi go figure. All of his Manchurian oriented followers pushed to get him into office. When Hayashi was given Imperial command to head a new government, Ishiwara met with his Manchurian faction friends to draw a list of people to put in the cabinet. Itagaki Seishiro was chosen as war minister; Admiral Suetsugu Nobumasa known to have radical reformist leanings for navy minister; Matsuoka Yosuke or SHiratori Toshio for foreign minister, industrialist Ikeda Seihin for finance, Tsuda Shingo for commerce and industry, Sogo Shinji as chief cabinet secretary and Miyazaki as chairman. Ishiwara himself stayed carefully in the background to make it seem like he was only attending military duties.    But rivals to Ishiwara began working against him, especially some of those Kodoha hardliners who felt he betrayed them. They pressed Hayashi to not accept many of Ishiwara's cabinet candidates such as Itagaki and Hayashi backed off the majority of them as a result. The effort to form a Macnhurian cabal failed and this further led to a lack of enthusiasm for Ishiwara's national defense plans. Hayashi's government which Ishiwara had placed his hopes upon became antagonistic towards him and his followers.    Now over in Manchuria, the Kwantung army was looking to seize territory in northern China and inner mongolia. This was something Ishiwara was flip floppy about. At first he began speaking about the need to simply develop Manchukuo so that China and Inner mongolia would follow suite, but gradually he began to warm up to schemes to invade. Though when he heard his former Kwantun colleagues were basically going to perform the exact same plan he had done with the Mukden incident he traveled back to Manchuria to dissuade them. Ishiwara landed at Dairen and within days of his arrival he learned that 15,000 troops under Prince Demchugdongrub, known also as Prince Teh of Mongolia, backed by Kwantung arms and aircraft were launching a full scale invasion of Suiyuan province. Ishiwara was furious and he screamed at the General staff “the next time I visit the Kwantung Army I'm going to piss on the floor of the commanders office!”    Within a month, the Warlord Yan Xishan, now fighting for the NRA turned back Prince Teh's forces. This angered the Kwantung army, fueling what Ishiwara always feared, a war between China and Japan. Ishiwara began lecturing left right and center about how Japan needed to curb her imperialist aggression against China. He advocated as always racial harmonization, about the East Asian League idea, cooperation between China and Japan. He thought perhaps China could be induced by joined a federation with Japan and to do all of this Japan should help develop Manchukuo as a positive model. Ishiwara warned any aggressive actions against China would waste valuable resources needed dearly to be directed against the USSR. In his words “China was an endless bog that would swallow men and materiel without prospect of victory and it would cripple the possibility of East Asian Union” Prophetic words to be sure.   Ishiwara was still influential and many in Hayashi's cabinet headed him, trying to push for more diplomacy with China. But by spring of 1937 Tokyo HQ had split over the issue. On one side were Ishiwara and those seeking to obtain a sort of treaty with China to form an alliance against the USSR. On the other hand the Nationalists and Communists were on the verge of forming a united front allied to the USSR, thus the invading China faction was gaining steam. This faction simply sought to get China out of the way, then focus on the USSR. As much as Ishiwara fought it, the China War would come nonetheless.   In June of 1937, a report from a Japanese civilian visiting China reached Colonel Kawabe Torashiro. The report stated that the China Garrison Army in the Peking area were planning an incident similar to what had occurred in Mukden in 1931. Kawabe took the report to Ishiwara who said he would investigate the matter. Ishiwara pressed the war ministry to send Colonel Okamoto Kiyotomi to the military administration section to north china to warn Generals Hashimoto Gun of the China Garrison Army and Kwabe Msakazu commander the brigade station in the Peking area that Tokyo would not tolerate provocation actions. Okamoto came back and stated they reassured him it was just rumors and nothing was occurring.   Two weeks later on July 7th, the infamous Marco Polo Bridge incident began WW2. When it began, Tokyo took it as a minor incident, just some skirmishes between minor forces, but the fighting grew and grew. The two factions in Tokyo who we can call the “expansionists and non expansionists” began arguing on what to do. The expansionists argued this was the time to deliver a quick and decisive blow, which meant mobilizing and dispatching divisions into northern China to overwhelm them. The non expansionists argued they needed to terminate hostilities immediately and seek diplomacy before the conflict got out of hand. From the offset of the conflict, Ishiwara led the doomed non expansionists. Ishiwara tried to localize the conflict to prevent more Japanese from getting involved. To do this he urged Prince Kan'in to send a cable on July 8th to the local Japanese forces to settle the issue locally. But they reported back that the Nanjing government was tossing 4 divisions of reinforcements to the area, prompting the Japanese to mobilize 3 divisions in response. For 3 days Ishiwara tried to halt the reinforcements, but the Nanjing report came true, the Chinese reinforcements arrived to the scene, pushing the Japanese to do the same. General Kawabe Masakazu argued 12,000 Japanese civilians were in the area and now under threat, thus Ishiwara had to stand down.   The conflict at the Marco Polo Bridge quickly got out of hand. Ishiwara was very indecisive, he tried to thwart the spread of the conflict, but he was continuously forced to stand down when reports false or true poured in about Chinese offensives. In fact, Ishiwara's efforts were getting him in a ton of trouble as his colleagues began to point out they were hindering the military operations which at the time were trying to end the conflict quickly. Ishiwara did not go down without a fight tossing one last attempt to stop the conflict. He urged Prime Minister Konoe to fly to Nanjing to speak directly with Chiang Kai Shek, it was a last ditch effort before the Japanese reinforcements arrived. When Konoe received requests to do this from multiple Japanese military leaders on urged on by Ishiwara, he was initially favorable to the idea and had a plane prepared for the trip. But within hours of the idea leaked out raising a storm of protests from the expansionists. Sugiyama then told Konoe it was Ishiwara pushing the idea and that his views represented a small minority in the military. Konoe ultimately back down and chose not to do it. Ishiwara was outraged when he found out screaming “tell the Prime minister that in 2000 years of our history no man will have done more to destroy Japan than he has by his indecisiveness in this crisis”.   Ishiwara began fighting with his colleagues as the situation worsened. He tabled a motion to press Nanjing to support Manchukuo in order for the Japanese to withdraw, but his colleagues blocked it. By August the conflict had spread as far as Shanghai and now even the IJN were getting involved. To this Ishiwara argued they should just evacuate Japanese civilians in Shanghai and pay them several hundred million yen in compensation as it would be cheaper than a war. He was quickly overruled. Thus the North China Incident simply became the China incident. In early september Ishiwara tried one last attempt to negotiate a settlement, trying to get Germany to mediate, but by mid september Ishiwara's influence had dropped considerably. By late september Ishiwara was removed from the General staff by General Tada. The remnants of Ishiwara's followers in the central army were defeated, particularly when Konoe declared in January of 1938 that Japan would not treat with Chiang Kai-shek. Ironically Konoe would quickly come around to believe Japan had made a grave mistake. By 1938 24 IJA divisions were tossed into China, the next year this became 34. 

Phil and Nick are back, and there's plenty to catch up on, including early news from the International Championship in Nanjing, more tournament glory for Bai Yulu and the latest from the Q Tour. We also catch up with your correspondence, including some predictions for the rest of the season. Please do keep it coming - tweet us @TalkingSnooker or email talkingsnooker@yahoo.com Our fifth birthday is now just two weeks away and we'd really appreciate your memories about our half a decade on the air. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Die Spieleranzahl der International Championship ist auf 16 reduziert. Heute gab es in der Runde der letzten 32 einige interessante Matches, über die Kathi und Chris sprechen können. Jack Lisowski brach innerhalb weniger Tage gleich den nächsten Fluch und schlug erstmals in seiner Karriere Ronnie O'Sullivan. Auch Judd Trump, Ding Junhui und Mark Selby feierten Erfolge, während Kyren Wilson und Gary Wilson ausschieden. Zak Surety gelang hingegen das bereits 14. Maximum Break der laufenden Saison. Einen kurzen Blick nach Doha zur IBSF-WM gibt es auch noch. Dieser Podcast wird vermarktet von der Podcastbude.www.podcastbu.de - Full-Service-Podcast-Agentur - Konzeption, Produktion, Vermarktung, Distribution und Hosting.Du möchtest deinen Podcast auch kostenlos hosten und damit Geld verdienen?Dann schaue auf www.kostenlos-hosten.de und informiere dich.Dort erhältst du alle Informationen zu unseren kostenlosen Podcast-Hosting-Angeboten. kostenlos-hosten.de ist ein Produkt der Podcastbude.

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.

Tag 2 der International Championship in Nanjing brachte erneut wenige echte Überraschungen hervor. Die Top-Stars setzten sich teils souverän, teils etwas umkämpft, durch. Shaun Murphy musste dabei gegen Top-Talent und Wildcard Wang Xinzhong über die volle Distanz gehen, Trump, Ding, Wilson und Higgins buchten deutliche Siege. Auch Nordirland-Gewinner Jack Lisowski konnte sich durchsetzen und trifft nun auf O'Sullivan, der diesmal gegen Sanderson Lam nicht so kämpfen musste wie noch an Tag 1. Kathi und Chris fassen das Geschehen in China zusammen und blicken auf die Runde der letzten 32 voraus. Dieser Podcast wird vermarktet von der Podcastbude.www.podcastbu.de - Full-Service-Podcast-Agentur - Konzeption, Produktion, Vermarktung, Distribution und Hosting.Du möchtest deinen Podcast auch kostenlos hosten und damit Geld verdienen?Dann schaue auf www.kostenlos-hosten.de und informiere dich.Dort erhältst du alle Informationen zu unseren kostenlosen Podcast-Hosting-Angeboten. kostenlos-hosten.de ist ein Produkt der Podcastbude.

Der Start in die International Championship verlieft ohne größere Überraschungen, auch wenn sich mit Wang  Xinzhong ein Wildcard-Spieler für die Runde der letzten 64 qualifizieren konnte. Bai Yulu spielte währenddessen das höchste Break einer Frau auf der Main Tour, Titelverteidiger Ding Junhui machte kurzen Prozess mit David Grace. Ronnie O'Sullivan und Mark Selby mussten sich hingegen in Decidern durchkämpfen, während viele weitere Favoriten souveräne Siege einfuhren. Kathi und Chris sprechen aber nicht nur über das Turnier in Nanjing, sondern freuen sich auch über nun 1.111 Folgen von Total Clearance. Dieser Podcast wird vermarktet von der Podcastbude.www.podcastbu.de - Full-Service-Podcast-Agentur - Konzeption, Produktion, Vermarktung, Distribution und Hosting.Du möchtest deinen Podcast auch kostenlos hosten und damit Geld verdienen?Dann schaue auf www.kostenlos-hosten.de und informiere dich.Dort erhältst du alle Informationen zu unseren kostenlosen Podcast-Hosting-Angeboten. kostenlos-hosten.de ist ein Produkt der Podcastbude.

Morgen startet in Nanjing die International Championship mit Ding Junhui als Titelverteidiger. Einige Absagen sorgen für Walkovers beim Weltranglistenturnier und einen entspannteren Zeitplan. Früh aufstehen ist beim Turnier in China trotzdem angesagt, worüber Kathi und Chris heute sprechen. Außerdem besprechen die beiden Snooker-Experten das nun vollständige Feld für das Champion of Champions, das dieses Jahr seit langem wieder vollständig aus Turniersiegern besteht und ohne Top-Ups auskommt. Auch über die Q-Tour in Leeds sprechen die Total-Clearance-Experten. Dieser Podcast wird vermarktet von der Podcastbude.www.podcastbu.de - Full-Service-Podcast-Agentur - Konzeption, Produktion, Vermarktung, Distribution und Hosting.Du möchtest deinen Podcast auch kostenlos hosten und damit Geld verdienen?Dann schaue auf www.kostenlos-hosten.de und informiere dich.Dort erhältst du alle Informationen zu unseren kostenlosen Podcast-Hosting-Angeboten. kostenlos-hosten.de ist ein Produkt der Podcastbude.

After the Marco Polo Bridge Incident which sparked the Second Sino-Japanese War, the Japanese Imperial Army and Navy would press on to take Shanghai, Nanjing, and Xuzhou, driving Chinese defenders back and committing horrific war crimes and atrocities along the way.Support the show My latest novel, "Califia's Crusade," is now available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple Books, Bookshop.org, and many other online platforms!

Last time we spoke about the beginning of the Wuhan Campaign. As Japanese forces pressed toward central China, Chiang Kai-shek faced a brutal choice: defend Wuhan with costly sieges or unleash a dangerous flood to buy time. The Yellow River breached its banks at Huayuankou, sending a wall of water racing toward villages, railways, and fields. The flood did not erase the enemy; it bought months of breathing room for a battered China, but at a terrible toll to civilians who lost homes, farms, and lives. Within Wuhan's orbit, a mosaic of Chinese forces struggled to unite. The NRA, split into competing war zones and factions, numbered about 1.3 million but fought with uneven equipment and training. The Japanese, deploying hundreds of thousands, ships, and air power, pressed from multiple angles: Anqing, Madang, Jiujiang, and beyond, using riverine forts and amphibious landings to turn the Yangtze into a deadly artery. Yet courage endured as troops held lines, pilots challenged the skies, and civilians, like Wang Guozhen, who refused to betray his country, chose defiance over surrender. The war for Wuhan was not a single battle but a testament to endurance in the face of overwhelming odds.   #173 The Fall of Wuhan Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. In the last episode we began the Battle of Wuhan. Japan captured Anqing and gained air access to Jiujiang, Chinese defenses around the Yangtze River were strained. The southern Yangtze's Ninth War Zone held two key garrisons: one west of Poyang Lake and another in Jiujiang. To deter Japanese assault on Jiujiang, China fortified Madang with artillery, mines, and bamboo booms. On June 24, Japan conducted a surprise Madang landing while pressing south along the Yangtze. Madang's fortress withstood four assaults but suffered heavy bombardment and poison gas. Chinese leadership failures contributed to the fall: Li Yunheng, overseeing Madang, was away at a ceremony, leaving only partial contingents, primarily three battalions from marine corps units and the 313th regiment of the 53rd division, participating, totaling under five battalions. Reinforcements from Pengze were misrouted by Li's orders, arriving too late. Madang fell after three days. Chiang Kai-shek retaliated with a counterattack and rewarded units that recaptured Xiangshan, but further progress was blocked. Li Yunheng was court-martialed, and Xue Weiying executed.   Madang's loss opened a corridor toward Jiujiang. The Japanese needed weeks to clear minefields, sacrificing several ships in the process. With roughly 200,000 Chinese troops in the Jiujiang–Ruichang zone under Xue Yue and Zhang Fukui, the Japanese captured Pengze and then Hukou, using poison gas again during the fighting. The Hukou evacuation cut off many non-combat troops, with over 1,800 of 3,100 soldiers successfully evacuated and more than 1,300 missing drowned in the lake. Two weeks after Hukou's fall, the Japanese reached Jiujiang and overtook it after a five-day battle. The retreat left civilians stranded, and the Jiujiang Massacre followed: about 90,000 civilians were killed, with mass executions of POWs, rapes, and widespread destruction of districts, factories, and transport. Subsequently, the Southern Riverline Campaign saw Japanese detachments along the river advance westward, capturing Ruichang, Ruoxi, and other areas through October, stretching Chinese defenses thin as Japan pressed toward Wuchang and beyond. On July 26, 1938, the Japanese occupied Jiujiang and immediately divided their forces into three routes: advancing toward De'an and Nanchang, then striking Changsha, severing the Yue-Han Railway, and surrounding Wuhan in an effort to annihilate the Chinese field army. The advance of the 101st and 106th Infantry Divisions slowed south of the Yangtze River, yet the Central China Expeditionary Army remained intent on seizing Ruichang and De'an to cut off Chinese forces around Mount Lu. To this end, the 9th and 27th Infantry Divisions were deployed to the sector, with the 9th regarded as an experienced unit that had fought in earlier campaigns, while the 27th was newly formed in the summer of 1938; this contrast underscored the rapidly expanding scope of the war in China as the Japanese Army General Staff continued mobilizing reservists and creating new formations. According to the operational plan, the 101st and 106th Divisions would push south toward De'an to pin Chinese defenders, while the 9th and 27th Divisions would envelop Chinese forces south of the river. Okamura Yasuji ordered five battalions from the 9th to move toward De'an via Ruichang, and the Hata Detachment was tasked with securing the area northwest of Ruichang to protect the 9th's flank. North of the Yangtze, the 6th Infantry Division was to move from Huangmei to Guangji, with Tianjiazhen as the ultimate objective; capturing Tianjiazhen would allow the 11th Army to converge on Wuhan from both north and south of the river.  The operation began when the 9th Division landed at Jiujiang, threatening the left flank of the Jinguanqiao line. The Chinese responded by deploying the 1st Corps to counter the 9th Division's left flank, which threatened the Maruyama Detachment's lines of communication. The Maruyama Detachment counterattacked successfully, enabling the rest of the 9th Division to seize Ruichang on August 24; on the same day, the 9th attacked the 30th Army defending Mount Min. The Chinese defense deteriorated on the mountain, and multiple counterattacks by Chinese divisions failed, forcing the 1st Corps to retreat to Mahuiling. The seizure of Ruichang and the surrounding area was followed by a wave of atrocities, with Japanese forces inflicting substantial casualties, destroying houses, and damaging property, and crimes including murder, rape, arson, torture, and looting devastating many villages and livelihoods in the Ruichang area. After Ruichang and Mount Min fell, the Maruyama Detachment and the 106th Infantry Division advanced on Mahuiling, seeking to encircle Chinese forces from the northwest, with the 106th forming the inner ring and the Maruyama Detachment the outer ring; this coordination led to Mahuiling's fall on September 3. The 27th Infantry Division, arriving in late August, landed east of Xiaochikou, providing the manpower to extend Japanese offensives beyond the Yangtze's banks and outflank Chinese defenders along the river. Its main objective was to seize the Rui-wu highway, a vital route for the continued advance toward Wuhan. After the fall of Mahuiling, Japanese command altered its strategy. The 11th Army ordered the Maruyama Detachment to rejoin the 9th Infantry Division and press westward, while the 101st Infantry Division was to remain at Mahuiling and push south toward De'an along with the 106th Infantry Division. This divergent or “eccentric” offensive aimed to advance on Wuhan while protecting the southern flank. The renewed offensive began on September 11, 1938, with the 9th Infantry Division and Hata Detachment advancing west along the Rui-yang and Rui-wu highways toward Wuhan, followed days later by the 27th Infantry Division. Initially, the Japanese made solid progress from Ruichang toward a line centered on Laowuge, but soon faced formidable Chinese defenses. The 9th and 27th Divisions confronted the Chinese 2nd Army Corps, which had prepared in-depth positions in the mountains west of Sanchikou and Xintanpu. The 27th Division encountered stiff resistance from the 18th and 30th Corps, and although it captured Xiaoao by September 24, its vanguard advancing west of Shujie came under heavy attack from the 91st, 142nd, 60th, and 6th Reserve Infantry Divisions, threatening to encircle it. Only the southward advance of the 101st and 106th Divisions relieved the pressure, forcing the Chinese to redeploy the 91st and 6th Reserve Divisions to the south and thereby loosening the 27th's grip. After the redeployment, the 9th and 27th Divisions resumed their push. The 9th crossed the Fu Shui on October 9 and took Sanjikou on October 16, while the 27th seized Xintanpu on October 18. The Hata Detachment followed, capturing Yangxin on October 18 and Ocheng on October 23, further tightening Japanese control over the highways toward Wuhan. By mid-October, 11th Army commander Okamura Yasuji resolved to sever the Guangzhou-Hankou railway to disrupt Chinese lines. On October 22, the 9th and 27th Divisions attacked toward Jinniu and Xianning. By October 27, the 9th had captured Jinniu and cut the railway; the 27th Division extended the disruption further south. These actions effectively isolated Wuchang from the south, giving the Imperial Japanese Army greater leverage over the southern approaches to Wuhan. The push south by the 101st and 106th Infantry Divisions pressed toward De'an, where they encountered the entrenched Chinese 1st Army Corps. The offensive began on September 16 and by the 24th, elements of the 27th Division penetrated deep into the area west of Baishui Street and De'an's environs. Recognizing the growing crisis, Xue Yue mobilized the nearby 91st and 142nd Divisions, who seized Nanping Mountain along the Ruiwu Line overnight, effectively cutting off the 27th Division's retreat. Fierce combat on the 25th and 26th saw Yang Jialiu, commander of the 360th Regiment of the 60th Division, die a heroic death. Zhang Zhihe, chief of staff of the 30th Group Army and an underground CCP member, commanded the newly formed 13th Division and the 6th Division to annihilate the Suzuki Regiment and recapture Qilin Peak. Learning of the 27th Division's trap, Okamura Yasuji panicked and, on the 25th, urgently ordered the 123rd, 145th, and 147th Infantry Regiments and mountain artillery of the 106th Division on the Nanxun Line, along with the 149th Regiment of the 101st Division on the Dexing Line, to rush to Mahuiling and Xingzi. To adapt to mountain warfare, some units were temporarily converted to packhorse formations. On the 27th, the 106th Division broke through the Wutailing position with force, splitting into two groups and pushing toward Erfangzheng and Lishan. By the 28th, the three regiments and mountain artillery of the 106th Division advanced into the mountain villages of Wanjialing, Leimingguliu, Shibaoshan, Nantianpu, Beixijie, and Dunshangguo, about 50 li west of De'an. On the same day, the 149th Regiment of the 101st Division entered the Wanjialing area and joined the 106th Division. Commanded by Lieutenant General Junrokuro Matsuura, the 106th Division sought to break out of Baicha and disrupt the Nanwu Highway to disrupt the Chinese retreat from De'an. At this juncture, Xue Yue's corps perceived the Japanese advance as a predatory, wolf-like maneuver and deemed it a strategic opportunity to counterattack. He resolved to pull forces from Dexing, Nanxun, and Ruiwu to envelop the enemy near Wanjialing, with the aim of annihilating them. Thus began a desperate, pivotal battle between China and Japan in northern Jiangxi, centered on the Wanjialing area. The Japanese 106th Division found its rear communications cut off around September 28, 1938, as the Chinese blockade tightened. Despite the 27th Division's severed rear and its earlier defeat at Qilin Peak, Okamura Yasuji ordered a renewed push to relieve the besieged 106th by directing the 27th Division to attack Qilin Peak and advance east of Baishui Street. In this phase, the 27th Division dispatched the remnants of its 3rd Regiment to press the assault on Qilin Peak, employing poison gas and briefly reaching the summit. On September 29, the 142nd Division of the 32nd Army, under Shang Zhen, coordinated with the 752nd Regiment of the same division to launch a fierce counterattack on Qilin Peak at Zenggai Mountain west of Xiaoao. After intense fighting, they reclaimed the peak, thwarting the 27th Division's bid to move eastward to aid the 106th. Concurrently, a portion of the 123rd Regiment of the 106th Division attempted a breakout west of Baishui Street. Our 6th and 91st Divisions responded with a determined assault from the east of Xiaoao, blocking the 123rd Regiment east of Baishui Street. The victories at Qilin Peak and Baishui Street halted any merger between the eastern and western Japanese forces, enabling the Chinese army to seal the pocket and create decisive conditions for encircling the 106th Division and securing victory in the Battle of Wanjialing. After the setback at Qilin Peak, Division Commander Masaharu Homma, defying Okamura Yasuji's orders to secure Baishui Street, redirected his focus to Tianhe Bridge under a pretext of broader operations. He neglected the heavily encircled 106th Division and pivoted toward Xintanpu. By September 30, Chinese forces attacked from both the east and west, with the 90th and 91st Divisions joining the assault on the Japanese positions. On October 1, the Japanese, disoriented and unable to pinpoint their own unit locations, telegrammed Okamura Yasuji for air support. On October 2, the First Corps received orders to tighten the encirclement and annihilate the enemy forces. Deployments were made to exploit a numerical advantage and bolster morale, placing the Japanese in a desperate position. On October 3, 1938, the 90th and 91st Divisions launched a concerted attack on Nantianpu, delivering heavy damage to the Japanese force and showering Leimingguliu with artillery fire that endangered the 106th Division headquarters. By October 5, Chinese forces reorganized: the 58th Division of the 74th Army advanced from the south, the 90th Division of the 4th Army from the east, portions of the 6th and 91st Divisions from the west, and the 159th and 160th Divisions of the 65th Army from the north, tightening the surrounding cordon from four directions. On October 6, Xue Yue ordered a counterattack, and by October 7 the Chinese army had effectively cut off all retreat routes. That evening, after fierce hand-to-hand combat, the 4th Army regained the hilltop, standing at a 100-meter-high position, and thwarted any Japanese plan to break through Baicha and sever Chinese retreat toward De'an. By October 8, Lieutenant Colonel Sakurada Ryozo, the 106th Division's staff officer, reported the division's deteriorating situation to headquarters. The telegram signaled the impending collapse of the 106th Division. On October 9, Kuomintang forces recaptured strategic positions such as Lishan, tightening encirclement to a small pocket of about three to four square kilometers in Nantianpu, Leimingguliu, and Panjia. That night, the vanguard attacked the Japanese 106th Division's headquarters at Leimingguliu, engaging in close combat with the Japanese. Matsuura and the division's staff then took up arms in defense. In the early hours of October 10, Japanese forces launched flares that illuminated only a narrow arc of movement, and a limited number of troops fled northwest toward Yangfang Street. The two and a half month battle inflicted tremendous casualties on the Japanese, particularly on the 101st and 106th divisions. These two formations began with a combined strength of over 47,000 troops and ultimately lost around 30,000 men in the fighting. The high casualty rate hit the Japanese officer corps especially hard, forcing General Shunroku Hata to frequently airdrop replacement officers onto the besieged units' bases throughout the engagement. For the Chinese, the successful defense of Wanjialing was pivotal to the Wuhan campaign.  Zooming out at a macro level a lot of action was occurring all over the place. Over in Shandong, 1,000 soldiers under Shi Yousan, who had defected multiple times between rival warlord cliques and operated as an independent faction, occupied Jinan and held it for a few days. Guerrillas briefly controlled Yantai. East of Changzhou extending to Shanghai, another non-government Chinese force, led by Dai Li, employed guerrilla tactics in the Shanghai suburbs and across the Huangpu River. This force included secret society members from the Green Gang and the Tiandihui, who conducted executions of spies and perceived traitors, losing more than 100 men in the course of operations. On August 13, members of this force clandestinely entered the Japanese air base at Hongqiao and raised a Chinese flag. Meanwhile, the Japanese Sixth Division breached the defensive lines of Chinese 31st and 68th Armies on July 24 and captured Taihu, Susong, and Huangmei Counties by August 3. As Japanese forces advanced westward, the Chinese Fourth Army of the Fifth War Zone deployed its main strength in Guangji, Hubei, and Tianjia Town to intercept the offensive. The 11th Army Group and the 68th Army were ordered to form a defensive line in Huangmei County, while the 21st and 29th Army Groups, along with the 26th Army, moved south to outflank the Japanese. The Chinese recaptured Taihu on August 27 and Susong on August 28. However, with Japanese reinforcements arriving on August 30, the Chinese 11th Army Group and the 68th Army were unable to sustain counteroffensives and retreated to Guangji County to continue resisting alongside the 26th, 55th, and 86th Armies. The Chinese Fourth Army Group directed the 21st and 29th Army Groups to flank the Japanese from the northeast of Huangmei, but they failed to halt the Japanese advance. Guangji fell on September 6, and while Guangji was recovered by the Chinese Fourth Corps on September 8, Wuxue was lost on the same day. Zooming back in on the Wuhan Front, the Japanese focus shifted to Tianjiazhen. The fortress of Tianjiazhen represented the 6th Infantry Division's most important objective. Its geographic position, where the Yangtze's two banks narrow to roughly 600 meters, with cliffs and high ground overlooking the river, allowed Chinese forces to deploy gun batteries that could control the river and surrounding terrain. Chinese control of Tianjiazhen thus posed a serious obstacle to Japan's amphibious and logistical operations on the Yangtze, and its seizure was deemed essential for Japan to advance toward Wuhan. Taking Tianjiazhen would not be easy: overland approaches were impeded by mountainous terrain on both sides of the fortress, while an amphibious assault faced fortified positions and minefields in the narrow river. Recognizing its strategic importance, Chinese forces reinforced Tianjiazhen with three divisions from central government troops, aiming to deter an overland assault. Chinese preparations included breaching several dykes and dams along the Yangtze to flood expanses of land and slow the Japanese advance; however, the resulting higher water levels widened the river and created a more accessible supply route for the Japanese. Instead of relying on a long overland route from Anqing to Susong, the Japanese could now move supplies directly up the Yangtze from Jiujiang to Huangmei, a distance of only about 40 kilometers, which boosted the 6th Division's logistics and manpower. In August 1938 the 6th Infantry Division resumed its northward push, facing determined resistance from the 4th Army Corps entrenched in a narrow defile south of the Dabie Mountains, with counterattacks from the 21st and 27th Army Groups affecting the 6th's flank. The Dabie Mountains are a major mountain range located in central China. Running northwest to southeast, they form the main watershed between the Huai and Yangtze rivers. The range also marks the boundary between Hubei Province and its neighboring provinces of Henan to the north and Anhui to the east. By early September the 6th had captured Guangji, providing a staging ground for the thrust toward Tianjiazhen, though this extended the division's long flank: after Guangji fell, it now faced a 30-kilometer front between Huangmei and Guangji, exposing it to renewed Chinese pressure from the 21st and 27th Army Groups. This constrained the number of troops available for the main objective at Tianjiazhen. Consequently, the Japanese dispatched only a small force, three battalions from the Imamura Detachment, to assault Tianjiazhen, betting that the fortress could be taken within a week. The KMT, learning from previous defeats, reinforced Tianjiazhen with a stronger infantry garrison and built obstacles, barbed wire, pillboxes, and trench networks, to slow the assault. These defenses, combined with limited Japanese logistics, six days of rations per soldier, made the operation costly and precarious. The final Japanese assault was postponed by poor weather, allowing Chinese forces to press counterattacks: three Chinese corps, the 26th, 48th, and 86th, attacked the Imamura Detachment's flank and rear, and by September 18 these attacks had begun to bite, though the floods of the Yangtze prevented a complete encirclement of the eastern flank. Despite these setbacks, Japanese riverine and ground operations continued, aided by naval support that moved up the Yangtze as Matouzhen's batteries were overtaken. After Matouzhen fell and enabled a secure riverine supply line from Shanghai to Guangji, 11th Army commander Okamura Yasuji quickly sent relief supplies upriver on September 23. These replenishments restored the besieged troops near Tianjiazhen and allowed the Japanese to resume the offensive, employing night assaults and poison gas to seize Tianjiazhen on September 29, 1938, thereby removing a major barrier to their advance toward Wuhan along the Yangtze. The 11th Army pressed north along the Yangtze while the 2nd Army, commanded by Prince Naruhiko Higashikuni, concentrated the 3rd, 10th, 13th, and 16th Infantry Divisions around Hefei with initial aims at Lu'an and Heshan and the broader objective of moving toward the northern foothills of the Dabie Mountains. When Chinese forces began destroying roads west of Lu'an, Naruhiko shifted the 2nd Army's plan. Rather than pushing along a line from Lu'an to Heshan, he redirected toward the Huangchuan–Shangcheng corridor, where more intact roads remained accessible, and Chinese withdrawals in the Huangchuan–Shangceng area to counter the 11th Army's Yangtze advance allowed the 2nd Army to gain speed in the early stage of its offensive. The 10th and 13th Infantry Divisions were ordered to begin their advance on August 27, facing roughly 25,000 Chinese troops from the Fifth War Zone's 51st and 77th Corps, and achieving notable early gains. The 10th captured Lu'an on August 28, followed by the 13th taking Heshan on August 29. The 10th then seized Kushi on September 7. Meanwhile, the 13th crossed the Shi River at night in an attempt to seize Changbailing, but encountered stiff resistance from multiple Chinese divisions that slowed its progress. To bolster the effort, Naruhiko ordered the Seiya Detachment from the 10th Division—three infantry battalions—to reinforce the 13th. Despite these reinforcements, momentum remained insufficient, so he deployed the 16th Infantry Division, which had arrived at Yenchiachi, to assault Shangcheng from the north. After crossing the Shi River at Yanjiachi, the 16th outflanked Shangcheng from the north, coordinating with the 13th from the south; the Chinese withdrew and Shangcheng fell. Following this success, Naruhiko ordered the 13th and 16th Divisions to push deeper into the Dabie Mountains toward Baikou and Songfu, while the 10th and 3rd Divisions moved toward Leshan and Xinyang, with Xinyang, a crucial Beijing–Wuhan Railway node, representing a particularly important objective. The Japanese advance progressed steadily through the Dabie Mountains, with the 10th executing bold maneuvers to outflank Leshan from the south and the 3rd penetrating toward the Beijing–Wuhan railway north of Xinyang, collectively disrupting and cutting the railway near Xinyang in October. An independent unit, the Okada Detachment, operated between these forces, advancing through Loshan before sealing Xinyang on October 12. The seizure of Xinyang effectively severed Wuhan's northern artery from external reinforcement and resupply, signaling a decisive turn against Wuhan as a Chinese stronghold. While the 2nd Army advanced in the Dabie Mountains, another critical development was taking place far to the south. By the end of 1937, southern China became more crucial to the Republic of China as a lifeline to the outside world. Guangzhou and Hong Kong served as some of the last vital transportation hubs and sources of international aid for Chiang Kai-Shek, with approximately 80 percent of supplies from abroad reaching Chinese forces in the interior through Guangzhou. Imperial General Headquarters believed that a blockade of Guangdong province would deprive China of essential war materiel and the ability to prolong the war. As I always liked to term it, the Japanese were trying to plug up the leaks of supplies coming into China, and Guangzhou was the largest one. In 1936 the Hankow-Canton railway was completed, and together with the Kowloon-Canton railway formed a rapid all-rail link from south China to central and northern China. For the first sixteen months of the war, about 60,000 tons of goods transited per month through the port of Hong Kong. The central government also reported the import of 1.5 million gallons of gasoline through Hong Kong in 1938, and more than 700,000 tons of goods would eventually reach Hankou using the new railway. In comparison, the Soviet Union in 1937 was sending war materiel through Xinjiang to Lanzhou using camels, with Chinese raw materials traveling back either the same route or via Hong Kong to Vladivostok. By 1940, 50,000 camels and hundreds of trucks were transporting 2,000–3,000 tons of Soviet war material per month into China. Japanese planning for operations began in early November 1937, with the blockade's objectives centered on seizing a portion of Daya Bay and conducting air operations from there. In December 1937, the 5th Army, including the 11th Division, the Formosa Mixed Brigade, and the 4th Air Brigade, were activated in Formosa under Lt. Gen. Motoo Furusho to achieve this objective. Due to the proximity of Daya Bay to Hong Kong, the Japanese government feared potential trouble with Britain, and the operation was subsequently suspended, leading to the deactivation of the 5th Army. By June 1938, the Battle of Wuhan convinced Imperial General Headquarters that the fighting could not be localized. The headquarters reversed policy and began preparations to capture Guangzhou and to expedite the settlement of the war. During the peak of the battles of Shanghai and Nanjing, urgent demands for aerial support at the Battle of Taiyuan in the north and at Canton in the south forced the Nationalist Air Force of China to split the 28th Pursuit Squadron and the 5th Pursuit Group , based at Jurong Airbase in the Nanking defense sector. The squadron was divided into two smaller units: Lt. Arthur Chin led one half toward Canton, while Capt. Chan Kee-Wong led the other half to Taiyuan. On September 27, 1937, the 28th PS under Lt. Arthur Chin dispatched four Hawk IIs from Shaoguan Airbase, and the 29th PS under Lt. Chen Shun-Nan deployed three Hawk IIIs from Tianhe Airbase. Their mission was to intercept Japanese IJNAF G3M bombers attempting to strike the Canton–Hankow railway infrastructure. The two flights engaged the Japanese bombers over Canton, claiming at least two kills; one G3M dumped fuel and ditching off the coast of Swatow, with its crew rescued by a British freighter, though one of the gunners died of battle injuries. In October 1937, amid mounting demands and combat losses, the Chinese government ordered 36 Gloster Gladiator Mk.I fighters, whose performance and firepower surpassed that of the Hawk IIs and IIIs, and most of these would become frontline fighters for the Canton defense sector as the war extended into 1938. On February 23, 1938, Capt. John Huang Xinrui, another Chinese-American volunteer pilot, took command of the renewed 29th PS, now equipped with the Gladiators. He led nine Gladiators from Nanxiong Airbase on their first active combat over Canton, supporting three Gladiators from the 28th PS as they intercepted thirteen Nakajima E8N fighter-attack seaplanes launched from the seaplane tenders Notoro Maru and Kinugasa Maru. The battle proved challenging: most of the Gladiators' machine guns jammed, severely reducing their firepower. Despite this, five of the E8Ns were shot down, confirmed by Capt. Huang and his fellow pilots who managed to strike the Japanese aircraft with only one, two, or three functioning guns per Gladiator. Chin later revealed that the gun jams were caused by defective Belgian-made ammunition. The combat nevertheless proved tragic and costly: Lt. Xie Chuanhe (Hsieh Chuan-ho) and his wingman Lt. Yang Rutong pursued the E8Ns but were stymied by inoperable weapons, with Lt. Yang killed in the counterattack, and Lt. Chen Qiwei lost under similar circumstances. The 4th War Area Army, commanded by He Yingqin, was assigned to the defense of south China in 1938. General Yu Hanmou led the 12th Army Group defending Guangdong province. The region's defense included about eight divisions and two brigades of regular army troops stationed around Guangzhou, with an additional five divisions of regular troops deployed in Fujian. The 4th War Area Army totaled roughly 110,000 regular army troops. By this time, most regular army units in Guangxi and four Guangdong divisions had been redirected north to participate in the Battle of Wuhan. Beyond the regular army, two militia divisions were deployed near Guangzhou, and the Guangxi militia comprised five divisions. Militia units were typically raised from local civilians and disbanded as the army moved through new areas. Their roles centered on security, supply transportation, and reconnaissance. Guangdong's main defensive strength was concentrated in Guangzhou and the immediate environs to the city's east. Other Chinese forces defended Chaozhou and western Guangdong. Defensive fortifications included the Humen fortress guarding the Pearl River mouth and three defensive lines near Daya Bay. Guangzhou housed three batteries of four three-inch guns, a battery of three 120mm guns, and Soviet-supplied 37mm anti-aircraft guns. The Imperial Japanese Navy conducted an aerial and naval interdiction campaign aimed at China's communication lines to neighboring regions. Japan believed that the blockade would hasten the end of the war, and disruption of the Chinese logistics network was the primary objective in Guangdong province from August 1937 until October 1938. The 5th Fleet's blockading actions extended along the coast from Haimenchen, Zhejiang to Shantou, with the 5th Destroyer Squadron patrolling the coast south of Shantou. At times, units from the Marianas were deployed to support coastal blockade operations in south China, usually consisting of cruisers accompanied by destroyer flotillas. One or two aircraft carriers and fleet auxiliaries would also be on station. Naval interdictions focused on stopping junks ferrying military supplies from Hong Kong to coastal China. The first recorded attack occurred in September 1937 when eleven junks were sunk by a Japanese submarine. Although Japan successfully blockaded Chinese shipping and ports, foreign shipping could still enter and depart from Hong Kong. The central government had established Hong Kong as a warehouse for munitions and supplies to pass through. Aerial interdictions targeted Chinese railway bridges and trains in Guangdong. Starting in October 1937, the Japanese launched air raids against the Sunning railway, focusing on government facilities and bridges in Jiangmen and towns along the railway. By 1938, airstrikes against the Kowloon–C Canton railway became common, with damaged trains periodically found along the line. An air-defense early warning system was created to divert trains during raids into forested areas that offered overhead concealment. In May 1938, the Colonial Office and the Foreign Office approved a Chinese request to construct and operate a locomotive repair yard within the New Territories to keep the railway operational. Airstrikes against rail facilities in Guangzhou were designed to interrupt rail supplies from Hong Kong so Japan would not need to commit to land operations in south China. However, the air raids did not severely impede railway operations or stop supplies moving through Hunan or Guangxi. The blockade in south China also targeted aircraft flying out of Hong Kong. In November 1937, a Royal Navy aircraft from HMS Eagle encountered Japanese naval anti-aircraft fire off the coast of Hong Kong. In December 1937, fifteen Japanese bombers overflew Lantau Island and the Taikoo docks. In August 1938, Japanese naval aircraft shot down a China National Aviation Corporation passenger plane, and two Eurasia Aviation Corporation passenger planes were shot down the following month. Beyond military targets, the Japanese conducted politically motivated terror bombing in Guangzhou. Bombing intensified from May to June 1938 with incendiary munitions and low-level strafing attacks against ships. The Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service, operating from Formosa and the carrier Kaga, conducted about 400 airstrikes during this period and continued into July. By the end of the summer, Guangzhou's population had dwindled to approximately 600,000 from an original 1.3 million. From August 1937 to October 1938, casualties in Guangzhou were estimated at 6,000 killed and 8,000 injured. On October 12, 1938, Japanese forces from the 21st Army, including the 5th, 18th, and 104th Infantry Divisions, landed in Guangzhou, launching the operation at 4:00 am with elements of the 5th and 18th Divisions hitting Aotou and elements of the 104th Division landing at Hachung in Bias Bay. Initially totaling about 30,000 men, they were soon reinforced by a further 20,000, and resistance was minimal because most of Yu Hanmou's 12th Army Group had been redeployed to central China to defend approaches to Wuhan, leaving only two regular Chinese divisions, the 151st and 153rd, to defend the region. By the night of October 12, the Japanese had established a 10-kilometer-deep beachhead and advanced inland; on October 13 they seized the towns of Pingshan and Tamshui with little opposition, and on October 15 they converged on Waichow and captured it. The fall of Pingshan, located on the Sai Kong River with a deep, broad river and only a flimsy crossing, and Waichow, where Chinese defenses included trenches and concrete pillboxes, surprised observers since these positions had been prepared to resist invasion; nonetheless, Chinese forces fled, opening the road to Guangzhou for the Japanese. Between October 16 and 19, three Japanese columns pushed inland, with the easternmost column crossing the East River on the 16th and the 5th Infantry Division capturing Sheklung on the 19th as Chinese forces retreated. By the night of October 20, Guangzhou's defenders withdrew and adopted a scorched-earth policy to deny resources to the invaders. On October 21, Japanese tanks entered Guangzhou without infantry support, and a regiment from the 5th Infantry Division captured the Bocca Tigris forts with no resistance. With Guangzhou secured, the Guangzhou–Wuhan railway and the Hong Kong–Guangzhou railway were severed, supplies to Wuhan were cut, Chiang Kai-Shek faced a daunting and depressing task, he had to abandon Wuhan. 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 Yangtze became a bloodied artery as Chinese and Japanese forces clashed from Anqing to Jiujiang, Madang to Tianjiazhen. A mosaic of Chinese troops, filled with grit and missteps, held lines while civilians like Wang Guozhen refused to surrender. The siege of Wanjialing crowned Chinese resilience, even as Guangzhou buckled under a relentless blockade. The Fall of Wuhan was all but inevitable.

🇫🇮En los bosques helados de Finlandia, bajo el cielo gris de la Guerra de Invierno, un hombre vestido de blanco cambió el curso del combate. Con más de 500 bajas acreditadas, Simo Häyhä, la “Muerte Blanca”, acechó al ejército soviético sin ser visto, sin usar mira telescópica, sin bajar la guardia ni un solo día. Una epopeya de nieve y cadencia, un retrato de precisión, sacrificio y sombra. ¿Héroe? ¿Asesino? ¿Leyenda? 👀🔎¿Quieres conocer otros héroes anónimos de la historia? Escucha también nuestro especial sobre "John Rabe: El ángel de Nanjing": https://go.ivoox.com/rf/133149075 ♥️¿Aún no eres fan premium? Suscríbete para apoyarnos y escucha nuestros episodios exclusivos:👇🏻👇🏻 https://www.ivoox.com/support/891264 Escucha el episodio completo en la app de iVoox, o descubre todo el catálogo de iVoox Originals

The mystery of the disappearing autumn has people living in northern China baffled. Only days ago, they were happily wearing T-shirts and skirts; but now, thick coats and down jackets are out in force. Fall was just a fleeting feeling, and indications are that this weather pattern could become the norm in the future.中国北方“秋日消失”的现象让当地民众感到困惑。就在几天前，人们还身着T恤短裙，如今却已纷纷穿上厚外套与羽绒服。秋天仿佛成了转瞬即逝的感觉，且有迹象表明，这种天气模式未来可能成为常态。According to available meteorological data, the transitional period between summer and winter is shrinking in China, with autumn arriving later than usual and ending sooner.现有气象数据显示，我国夏冬两季之间的过渡时段正不断缩短，秋季不仅来得更晚，结束得也更早。Delayed autumn秋季推迟While southwestern cities such as Guiyang in Guizhou province, Chengdu in Sichuan province, and Chongqing still enjoy around 70 to 80 days of cool autumn weather — with Guiyang topping the list at 79 days — people living in the north barely experience 50 days of autumn, said Weather China, a website under the China Meteorological Administration.中国气象局旗下“中国天气网”指出，贵阳（贵州）、成都（四川）、重庆等西南城市仍能享受70至80天左右的凉爽秋季（其中贵阳以79天位居榜首），而北方民众的秋季体验时长却不足50天。An analysis of long-term weather data from the website reveals that since 1991, autumn has been delayed across much of the country. Cities such as Zhengzhou in Henan province, Ningbo in Zhejiang province, and Shenzhen in Guangdong province now see autumn arrive more than 10 days late on average, while Nanjing in Jiangsu province, Fuzhou in Fujian province, and other places have recorded delays of five to nine days.该网站对长期气象数据的分析显示，1991年以来，我国多地秋季均出现推迟现象。河南郑州、浙江宁波、广东深圳等城市的秋季平均推迟超过10天，江苏南京、福建福州等地则推迟了5至9天。Studies show that across China, the duration of winter, spring and autumn is shrinking, and these shifts are more prominent in northern and eastern regions, the website said.中国天气网表示，研究发现我国冬季、春季、秋季的时长均在缩短，且这种变化在北方和东部地区更为显著。"Maybe there will be only three seasons in the future," a netizen said on social media platform Sina Weibo. "A trench coat feels like the most impractical outfit in Beijing, "another said, indicating the sharp transition from cool to cold weather in the capital.“未来或许只剩三个季节了。”一名网友在社交平台新浪微博上留言。另一名网友则调侃道：“风衣在北京成了最不实用的衣服”，暗指北京天气从凉爽到寒冷的急剧转变。Wang Weiyue, a meteorologist at Weather China, said that given global climate change, rising temperatures across various regions have become an indisputable fact, and this delays the onset of autumn, affecting agricultural production and people's daily lives.中国天气网气象专家王伟跃表示，在全球气候变化背景下，各地气温升高已成为不争的事实，这不仅导致秋季来临时间推迟，还对农业生产和民众日常生活产生了影响。Sudden chill寒潮突至This year's northern chill has arrived abruptly.今年北方的寒潮来得格外突然。Li Duo, a senior engineer at the National Climate Center, said that since October, several regions, including parts of Heilongjiang province, the Inner Mongolia autonomous region, Hebei province, and the Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region, were 1 C to 2 C colder than usual.国家气候中心高级工程师李多介绍，10月以来，黑龙江部分地区、内蒙古自治区、河北省、新疆维吾尔自治区等多地气温较常年偏低1至2摄氏度。The recent temperature drop in northern China was mainly due to two major cold-air events between Oct 9 and 10 and Oct 18 and 19, Li said.李多指出，近期我国北方降温主要受10月9日至10日、10月18日至19日两次强冷空气过程影响。The China Meteorological Administration forecasts that much of northern China will remain colder than average through Friday, while southern regions will also see temperatures drop by up to 5 C by the end of the month.中国气象局预报显示，截至周五，我国北方大部地区气温将持续低于常年同期；月底前，南方地区气温也将下降，降幅最高可达5摄氏度。Experts advised residents to dress warmly, stay alert to weather changes, and ventilate indoor spaces when using heating to avoid carbon monoxide-related risks.专家提醒，民众需注意添衣保暖，密切关注天气变化；使用取暖设备时，要注意室内通风，防范一氧化碳中毒风险。fleeting/ˈfliːtɪŋ/adj.短暂的；转瞬即逝的transitional/trænˈzɪʃənl/adj.过渡的；转变的indisputable/ˌɪndɪˈspjuːtəbl/adj.无可争辩的；不容置疑的

Marisa Adesman (b. 1991, Roslyn, NY) received her MFA from the Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, RI in 2018 and her BFA from Washington University, St. Louis, MO in 2013. Adesman had her first museum solo exhibition, The Birth of Flowers, at KMAC Contemporary Art Museum, Louisville, KY in 2023. She has exhibited work widely including at the Contemporary Art Museum (CAM), St. Louis, MO; Black Mountain College Museum, Ashville, NC; Mead Art Museum, Amherst College; Amherst, MA; Anat Ebgi, Los Angeles / New York; and Mrs. Gallery, Queens, NY. Adesman's work is in public collections including Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego, San Diego, CA; Deji Museum, Nanjing, China; and Museo d'Arte Moderna di Bologna (MAMbo), Bologna, Italy. Adesman lives and works in Chicago, IL.  Marisa Adesman's surreal and thought-provoking paintings often depict ordinary objects in bizarre contexts and striking states of mystical transformation. She composes tableware, candles, houseplants, flowers, linens, kitchen utensils, and furniture into strange and unusual arrangements that destabilize our notions about the proper order of a house and home. These settings are often centered around the female form and are guided by Adesman's visionary poetics of interior space. She examines the art historical meaning of the female figure as a pliable body designed for amorous desire and protection, but also sinister and capable of deception and corruption. Adesman's compositions mingle ethereal and phantasmagoric imagery of the surrealist period with Dutch still life and vanitas paintings from 16th and 17th century Europe. Likewise, she retains all the attendant technical mastery which defined those artistic styles. Smooth and luminous surfaces combined with a masterful use of chiaroscuro, the skillful contrastingof extreme light and dark, reveals the hand of a remarkably detailed painter whose work demands to be viewed in person. Marisa Adesman: Tug of War, Courtesy the artists and Anat Ebgi, Los Angeles / New York. Photos by: Marisa Adesman Marisa Adesman: Deadheading, 2025, Courtesy the artists and Anat Ebgi, Los Angeles / New York. Photos by: Marisa Adesman Marisa Adesman: The Turn, 2025, Courtesy the artists and Anat Ebgi, Los Angeles / New York. Photos by: Marisa Adesman

Last time we spoke about the flooding of the Yellow River. As Japanese forces pressed toward central China, Chiang Kai-shek weighed a desperate gamble: defend majestic Wuhan with costly sieges, or unleash a radical plan that would flood its heart. Across/Xuzhou, Taierzhuang, and the Yellow River's bend near Zhengzhou, commanders fought a brutal, grinding war. Chinese units, battered yet stubborn, executed strategic retreats and furious counteroffensives. But even as brave soldiers stalled the enemy, the longer fight threatened to drain a nation's will and leave millions unprotected. Then a striking idea surfaced: breach the dikes of the Yellow River at Huayuankou and flood central China to halt the Japanese advance. The plan was terrifying in its moral cost, yet it offered a temporary shield for Wuhan and time to regroup. Workers, farmers, soldiers, laborers—pushed aside fear and toiled through the night, water rising like a raging tide. The flood bought months, not victory. It punished civilians as much as it protected soldiers, leaving a nation to confront its own hard choices and the haunting question: was survival worth the price?   #172 The Road to Wuhan Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Following the Battle of Xuzhou and the breaching of the Yangtze dykes, Wuhan emerged as Japan's next military objective for political, economic, and strategic reasons. Wuhan served as the interim capital of the Kuomintang government, making it a crucial center of political authority. Its fall would deprive China of a vital rail and river hub, thereby further crippling the Chinese war effort. From a strategic perspective, Japanese control of a major rail and river junction on the Yangtze would enable westward expansion and provide a base for further advances into central and southern China. For these reasons, the Intelligence Division of the Army General Staff assessed that the capture of Wuhan would likely deliver the decisive blow needed to conclude the Second Sino-Japanese War.  Recognizing Wuhan's strategic importance, both the National Revolutionary Army and the Imperial Japanese Army committed substantial forces to the city and its approaches. The IJA deployed roughly 400,000 troops, while the NRA fielded at least 800,000. China began the war with an estimated regular force of 1.7 to 2.2 million men, organized into six broad loyalty-based categories around Chiang Kai-shek's command. Directly loyal troops formed the first group, followed by a second tier of soldiers who had previously supported Chiang but were less tightly controlled. The next category consisted of provincial troops that Chiang could ordinarily influence, while a fourth group included provincial units over which his sway was weaker. The fifth category comprised Communist forces, the Eighth Route Army in the northwest and the New Fourth Army forming in the central Yangtze region. The final category consisted of Northeastern or Manchurian units loyal to Zhang Xueliang, known as the “Young Marshal.” The first two categories together accounted for roughly 900,000 men, with about a million more in independent provincial armies, and roughly 300,000 in Communist and Manchurian forces. As commander-in-chief, Chiang could effectively command only about half of the mobilizable units at the outbreak of war in July 1937, which meant that military decisions were often slow, fraught with negotiation, and administratively cumbersome. Division-level coordination and communication proved particularly challenging, a stark contrast to the Japanese command structure, which remained clean and disciplined. Geographically, most of Chiang's loyal troops were located in the corridor between the Yangtze and the Yellow rivers at the start of 1938. Having participated heavily in the defense of Shanghai and Nanjing, they retreated to Wuhan at about half strength, with an already decimated officer corps. They then numbered around 400,000 and were commanded by generals Chen Cheng and Hu Zongnan. The northern regional armies, especially Han Fuju's forces in Shandong, had suffered severe losses; some units defected to the Japanese and later served as puppet troops. After six months of Japanese onslaught that cost the coastal and central regions—Peiping-Tianjin to Shanghai and inland toward Nanjing—much of the relatively autonomous, sizable armies remained from the southwest or northwest, under leaders such as Li Zongren, Bai Chongxi (Guangxi), Long Yun (Yunnan), and Yan Xishan (Shanxi and Suiyuan). Roughly 700,000 of these troops—predominantly from Guangxi under Li and Bai—were committed to the defense of Wuhan. The Communist forces, by contrast, numbered about 100,000 and remained relatively unscathed in bases north and east of Xi'an. In total, approximately 1.3 million men were under arms in defense of Wuhan. In December 1937, the Military Affairs Commission was established to determine Wuhan's defense strategy. Following the loss of Xuzhou, the National Revolutionary Army redeployed approximately 1.1 million troops across about 120 divisions. The commission organized the defense around three main fronts: the Dabie Mountains, Poyang Lake, and the Yangtze River, in response to an estimated 200,000 Japanese troops spread over 20 divisions of the Imperial Japanese Army. Li Zongren and Bai Chongxi, commanding the Fifth War Zone, were assigned to defend the north of the Yangtze, while Chen Cheng, commanding the Ninth War Zone, was tasked with defending the south. The First War Zone, situated to the west of the Zhengzhou–Xinyang segment of the Pinghan Railway, was responsible for halting Japanese forces advancing from the North China Plain, and the Third War Zone, located between Wuhu, Anqing, and Nanchang, was charged with protecting the Yuehan Railway. Following the Japanese occupation of Xuzhou in May 1938, they sought to expand the invasion. The IJA decided to dispatch a vanguard to occupy Anqing as a forward base for an assault on Wuhan. The main force would then advance north of the Dabie Mountains along the Huai River, with the objective of eventually capturing Wuhan via the Wusheng Pass. A second detachment would move west along the Yangtze. However, a flood from the Yellow River forced the IJA to abandon plans to advance along the Huai and instead to attack along both banks of the Yangtze. Despite Chinese numerical superiority on the Wuhan front, roughly a 2:1 advantage, the offensive faced several complicating factors. The NRA was a heterogeneous, fragmented force with a variety of tables of organization and equipment, and it lacked the unified command structure that characterized the IJA. Historian Richard Frank notes the broad diversity of Chinese forces at the outbreak of the war, which hindered cohesive mobile and strategic operations: “Chiang commanded armies of 2,029,000 troops of highly variegated capability and loyalty. His personal forces included an elite cadre of three hundred-thousand German-trained and eighty-thousand German armed men. A second stratum of the Chinese armies, numbering roughly 600,000 included various regional commands loyal to Chiang in the past that generally conformed to his directives. These troops were better armed and trained than the rest. The third category encompassed a million men who were neither loyal nor obedient to Chiang”. The NRA faced a significant disadvantage in both quantity and quality of equipment compared to the Japanese. The disparity was stark in artillery allocations. An IJA infantry division possessed 48 field and mountain guns, whereas a German-equipped Chinese division had only 16. In terms of regiment and battalion guns, a Japanese division had 56, while a German-equipped Chinese division possessed just 30. Of roughly 200 Chinese infantry divisions in 1937, only 20 were German-equipped, and merely eight of those met their paper-strength standards. Many Chinese divisions had no artillery at all, and those that did often lacked radios or forward-observation capabilities to ensure accurate fire. These deficiencies placed the NRA at a clear disadvantage in firepower when facing the Japanese. These equipment gaps were compounded by poor training and tactical doctrine. The NRA lacked adequate training facilities and did not incorporate sufficient field maneuvers, gun handling, or marksmanship into its program. Although the 1935 drill manual introduced small-group “open order” tactics, many formations continued to fight in close-order formations. In an era when increased firepower rendered close-order tactics obsolete, such formations became a liability. The NRA's failure to adapt dispersed assault formations limited its tactical effectiveness. Defensively, the NRA also faced serious shortcomings. Units were often ordered to create deep positions near key lines of communication, but Chinese forces became overly dependent on fixed fortifications, which immobilized their defense. Poor intelligence on Japanese movements and a lack of mobile reserves, there were only about 3,000 military vehicles in China in 1937, meant that Japanese infantry could easily outflank fixed NRA positions. Moreover, the Japanese enjoyed superiority in artillery, enabling them to suppress these fixed positions more effectively. These realities left Chinese defenses vulnerable, especially in the war's first year. The leadership deficit within the NRA, reflected in limited officer training, further constrained operational effectiveness. Chiang Kai-shek reportedly warned that Chinese commanders often equaled their counterparts in rank but did not outmatch them in competence. Only 2,000 commanders and staff officers had received training by 1937, and many staff officers had no military training at all. Overall, about 29.1 percent of NRA officers had no military education, severely limiting professional development and command capability. With the exception of the Guangxi divisions, Chinese units were hampered by an unnecessarily complex command structure. Orders from Chiang Kai-shek needed to pass through six tiers before action could be taken, slowing decision-making and responsiveness. In addition, Chiang favored central army units under direct control with loyal commanders from the Whampoa clique when distributing equipment, a pattern that bred discord and insubordination across levels of the Chinese field forces. Beyond structural issues, the Chinese force organization suffered from a lack of coherence due to competing influences. The forces had been reorganized along German-inspired lines, creating large field armies arranged as “war zones,” while Russian influence shaped strategic positioning through a division into “front” and “route” armies and separate rear-area service units. This mix yielded an incoherent force facing the Japanese. Troop placement and support procedures lacked rationalization: Chiang and his generals often sought to avoid decisive confrontation with Japan to minimize the risk of irreversible defeat, yet they also rejected a broad adoption of guerrilla warfare as a systematic tactic. The tendency to emphasize holding railway lines and other communications tied down the main fighting forces, around which the Japanese could maneuver more easily, reducing overall operational flexibility. Despite these deficiencies, NRA officers led roughly 800,000 Chinese troops deployed for the Battle of Wuhan. On the Wuhan approaches, four war zones were organized under capable if overextended leadership: 1st, 3rd, 5th, and 9th. The 5th War Zone, commanded by Li Zongren, defended north of the Yangtze to protect the Beijing–Wuhan railway. Chen Cheng's Ninth War Zone defended south of the Yangtze, aiming to prevent seizure of Jiujiang and other key cities on approaches to Wuhan. The 1st War Zone focused on stopping Japanese forces from the northern plains, while Gu Zhutong's 3rdWar Zone, deployed between Wuhu, Anqing, and Nanchang, defended the Yuehan railway and fortified the Yangtze River. Japan's Central China Expeditionary Army, commanded by Hata Shunroku, spearheaded the Wuhan advance. The CCEA consisted of two armies: the 2nd Army, which included several infantry divisions under Prince Naruhiko Higashikuni, and the 11th Army, advancing along the Yangtze's northern and southern banks under Okamura Yasuji. The 2nd Army aimed to push through the Dabie Mountains and sever Wuhan from the north, while the 11th Army would converge on Wuhan in a concentric operation to envelop the city. The Japanese forces were augmented by 120 ships from the 3rd Fleet of the Imperial Japanese Navy under Koshirō Oikawa, more than 500 aircraft from the Imperial Japanese Army Air Service, and five divisions from the Central China Area Army tasked with guarding Shanghai, Beijing, Hangzhou, and other key cities. These forces were intended to protect the back of the main Japanese thrust and complete the preparations for a major battle. The Kuomintang, led by Chiang Kai-shek, was acutely aware that Japan aimed to strike at Wuhan. Facing Japan's firepower and bold offensives, Chiang and his commanders pursued a strategy of attrition at the Wuchang conference in January 1938. Central China would be the primary theater of China's protracted struggle, distant from Japan's existing center of gravity in Manchuria. Chiang hoped Japan's manpower and resources would be exhausted as the empire pushed deeper into Central China. Eventually, Japan would be forced either to negotiate a settlement with China or to seek foreign assistance to obtain raw materials. The mountainous terrain to the north and south of the Yangtze presented natural obstacles that the Chinese believed would hinder large-scale concentration of Japanese forces. North of the Yangtze, the Dabie Mountains provided crucial flank protection; to the south, rugged, roadless terrain made expansive maneuvering difficult. In addition to these natural barriers, Chinese forces fortified the region with prepared, in-depth defenses, particularly in the mountains. The rugged terrain was expected to help hold back the Japanese offensive toward Wuhan and inflict substantial casualties on the attackers. The Yangtze itself was a critical defensive factor. Although the Chinese Navy was largely absent, they implemented several measures to impede amphibious operations. They constructed gun positions at key points where the river narrowed, notably around the strongholds at Madang and Tianjiazhen. Specialized units, such as the Riverine Defense Force, were deployed to defend these river fortifications against amphibious assaults. To reinforce the Riverine Defense Force, Chinese forces sank 79 ships in the Yangtze to create obstacles for potential Japanese naval advances. They also laid thousands of mines to constrain Japanese warships. These defensive measures were designed to slow the Japanese advance and complicate their logistics. The Chinese aimed to exploit stalled offensives to strike at exposed flanks and disrupted supply lines, leveraging terrain and fortified positions to offset Japan's superior firepower. On 18 February 1938, an Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service strike force comprising at least 11 A5M fighters of the 12th and 13th Kōkūtais, led by Lieutenant Takashi Kaneko, and 15 G3M bombers of the Kanoya Kokutai, led by Lieutenant Commander Sugahisa Tuneru, raided Wuhan and engaged 19 Chinese Air Force I-15 fighters from the 22nd and 23rd Pursuit Squadrons and 10 I-16 fighters from the 21st Pursuit Squadron, all under the overall command of the 4th Pursuit Group CO Captain Li Guidan. They faced a Soviet Volunteer Group mix of Polikarpov fighters as well. The 4th Group fighters claimed at least four A5Ms shot down, while the Soviet group claimed no fewer than three A5Ms. Both the Japanese fighter group commander, Lieutenant Kaneko, and the Chinese fighter group commander, Captain Li, were killed in action during the battle. A largely intact A5M downed in the engagement was recovered with a damaged engine; it was the second intact A5M to be recovered, repaired, and flight-tested in the war, following the first recovered-intact A5M credited to Colonel Gao Zhihang during an air battle over Nanjing on 12 October 1937. On 3 August 1938, 52 Chinese fighters, including 20 I-15s, 13 I-16s, 11 Gloster Gladiators, and 7 Hawk IIIs, intercepted at least 29 A5Ms and 18 G3Ms over Hankou. The Guangxi era pilots Zhu Jiaxun and He Jermin, along with Chinese-American fighter pilots Arthur Chin and Louie Yim-qun, all flying Gladiators, claimed at least four A5Ms shot down on that day. The Wuhan Campaign began in earnest when the Imperial Japanese Army's 3rd and 13th Infantry Divisions advanced north of the Yangtze River. Central China Expeditionary Army commander Hata Shunroku designated Shouxian, Zhengyangguan, and the Huainan coal mine as the objectives for the 3rd and 13th Infantry Divisions. Meanwhile, the 6th Infantry Division, part of the 11th Army, advanced toward Anqing from Hefei. The 6th Infantry Division coordinated with the Hata Detachment, which launched an amphibious assault from the river. The 2nd Army's sector saw immediate success. On June 3, the 3rd Infantry Division seized the Huainan coal mine; two days later, it captured Shouxian. The 13th Infantry Division also secured Zhengyangguan on that day. The 6th Infantry Division then made rapid progress immediately north of the Yangtze River, taking Shucheng on June 8 and Tongcheng on June 13. These advances forced the Chinese 77th Corps and the 21st and 26th Army Groups to withdraw to a line spanning Huoshan, Lu'an, and Fuyang. More critically, the Hata Detachment crossed the Yangtze River and landed behind the Chinese 27th Army Group's 20th Corps. The sudden appearance of Japanese forces in their rear forced the two Chinese divisions defending Anqing to withdraw. The fall of Anqing represented a major Japanese success, as they gained control of an airfield crucial for receiving close air support. After battles around Shucheng, Tongcheng, and Anqing, all three cities and their surrounding countryside suffered extensive damage. Much of this damage resulted from air raids that indiscriminately targeted soldiers and civilians alike. In Shucheng, the raids were reportedly aided by a Chinese traitor who displayed a red umbrella to guide daylight bombing on May 10, 1938. This air raid caused substantial destruction, killing or wounding at least 160 people and destroying more than a thousand homes. The town of Yimen also endured aerial destruction, with raids killing over 400 people and destroying 7,000 homes. Yimen and Shucheng were among many Chinese towns subjected to terror bombing, contributing to widespread civilian casualties and the destruction of livelihoods across China. The broader pattern of air raids was enabled by a lack of quality fighter aircraft and trained pilots, allowing Japanese bombers free rein against Chinese cities, towns, and villages. While the aerial assaults caused immense damage, the atrocities committed in these cities were even more severe. In Anhui, where Shucheng, Anqing, and Tongcheng were located, the Japanese brutality was on full display. The brutality can be partly understood as an attempt to destroy China's will and capacity to wage war, yet the extremity of some acts points to a warped martial culture within the Japanese Army, which appeared to encourage murder, torture, rape, and other crimes. Indeed, the Army eventually enshrined this brutality in its doctrine with the so-called “three alls”: kill all, burn all, loot all.  These acts, and more, were carried out in Anhui during the summer of 1938 as the Japanese advanced up the Yangtze River. In Anqing, the Hata Detachment killed at least 200 people without compunction. A further 36 civilians on a boat were detained and killed by Japanese marines, who claimed they were potentially Chinese soldiers. The countryside around Anqing, Shucheng, and Tongcheng witnessed continued atrocities. In Taoxi village of Shucheng County, the Japanese burned over 1,000 houses and killed more than 40 people. At Nangang, Japanese soldiers killed more than 200 people and committed numerous rapes, including many victims over 60 years old. Tongcheng also became a site of forced sexual slavery. The Japanese atrocities, intended to terrify the Chinese into submission, did not achieve their aim. Chinese resistance persisted. After a brief withdrawal, the 20th Army held stoutly at Jinshan for four days before retreating to Xiaochiyi and Taihu. These withdrawals, while costly, lured the Japanese deeper into the interior of China. As the Japanese advanced, their flanks became increasingly vulnerable to counterattack. On June 26, 1928, the Chinese 26th Army Group attacked the flanks of the 6th Infantry Division at Taihu. The 26th Army Group was supported by the 20th and 31st Armies, which attacked from the front to pin the 6th Infantry Division in place. The 6th Infantry Division was ill-prepared to respond, suffering a malaria outbreak that left about 2,000 soldiers unfit for combat. Fighting continued until June 29, when the Japanese withdrew. The focus of operations north of the Yangtze shifted to Madang, a key river fortress protected by obstacles and river batteries. Roughly 600 mines were laid in the Yangtze near Madang, and the fortress was largely manned by the Riverine Defense Force, with a small garrison; including stragglers from the 53rd Infantry Division, the Madang garrison totaled roughly 500 men. Initial expectations had Madang holding, since Japanese ships could not easily remove obstacles or suppress the batteries. On the dawn of June 24, however, news reached Madang that Xiangkou had fallen to the Japanese, enabling a land threat to Madang, and many Madang defenders, including most officers above the platoon level, were absent at a nearby ceremony when the attack began.  On 24 June, Japanese forces conducted a surprise landing at Madang, while the main body of the Japanese Eleventh Army advanced along the southern shore of the Yangtze. The Chinese garrison at the Madang river fortress repelled four assaults, yet suffered casualties from intense bombardment by Japanese ships on the Yangtze and from poison gas attacks. Compounding the difficulty, most of the Chinese officers responsible for Madang's defense were absent due to a ceremony at a local military school by Li Yunheng, the overseeing general. Consequently, only three battalions from the second and third Marine Corps and the 313th regiment of the 53rd Division took part in the defense, totaling no more than five battalions. When the 167th Division, stationed in Pengze, was ordered by War Zone commander Bai Chongxi to move swiftly along the highway to reinforce the defenders, divisional commander Xue Weiying instead sought instructions from his direct superior, Li Yunheng, who instructed him to take a longer, more navigationally challenging route to avoid Japanese bombers. Reinforcements arrived too late, and Madang fell after a three-day battle. Chiang Kai-shek promptly ordered a counterattack, offering a 50,000 yuan reward for the units that recaptured the fortress. On June 28, the 60th Division of the 18th Corps and the 105th Division of the 49th Corps retook Xiangshan and received 20,000 yuan, but made no further progress. As the Japanese army pressed the attack on Pengze, Chinese units shifted to a defensive posture. Chiang Kai-shek subsequently had Li Yunheng court-martialed and Xue Weiying executed. After the fall of Madang, the broader Wuhan campaign benefited from Madang as a foothold along the Yangtze, as the river continued to function as a dual-use corridor for transport and amphibious landings, aiding later operations and complicating Chinese defensive planning. The rapid capture of Madang demonstrated the effectiveness of combined arms, amphibious insertion, and secure supply routes along a major river, while Chinese defenses showed weaknesses such as reliance on rough terrain, underestimation of Japanese amphibious capabilities, and delayed reinforcement, which, coupled with gas warfare, produced a swift loss. The fall influenced subsequent Chinese fortifications and defensive doctrine along the Yangtze and affected decisions regarding garrison allocations and riverine operations. After Madang fell, Japan's 11th Army pressed toward its next major objectives, Jiujiang, Huangmei, and Xiaochikou. It took nearly three weeks for the Japanese to clear the waterway around Madang of mines, costing them five minesweepers, two warships, and a landing craft full of marines. Jiujiang stood out as the most important due to its status as a key river port and railway junction. To defend these targets, China deployed the 1st Army Corps to Jiujiang, the 2nd Army Corps to cover the area west of Jiujiang, and the 4th Army Corps to defend Xiaochikou. Despite these reinforcements, the Japanese continued their advance.  The Japanese initially captured Pengze but met strong resistance at Hukou, where they again deployed poison gas during a five-day battle. During the breakout, there were insufficient boats to evacuate the auxiliary troops of the defending 26th Division from Hukou, leaving only a little over 1,800 of the more than 3,100 non-combat soldiers able to be evacuated, and the majority of the more than 1,300 missing soldiers drowned while attempting to cross the Poyang Lake. On July 23, they conducted an amphibious operation at Gutang, with the Hata Detachment landing at Jiujiang shortly thereafter. These landings south of the Yangtze represented another step toward Wuhan, which lay about 240 kilometers away. The Chinese responses consisted of relentless counterattacks, but they failed to dislodge the Japanese from their bridgeheads. Consequently, the Japanese captured Xiaochikou by July 26 and Jiujiang by July 28, with a note that poison gas may have been used at Jiujiang. North of the Yangtze, the 6th Infantry Division moved forward and seized Huangmei on August 2. Despite stubborn Chinese resistance, the Japanese had gained considerable momentum toward Wuhan. Soon after the fall of Jiujiang and surrounding areas, the local population endured a renewed surge of war crimes. The Imperial Japanese Army sought to break China's will to resist and its capacity to endure the onslaught. Male civilians were executed indiscriminately, along with any POWs unable to retreat in time, while women and children were subjected to mass rape. In addition, numerous urban districts and suburban villages were deliberately razed, including the city's ceramics factories and its maritime transportation system. The widely documented “three alls” policy proved devastating in the Yangtze region: in Jiujiang alone, as many as 98,461 people were killed, 13,213 houses destroyed, and property losses reached 28.1 billion yuan. Yet numbers fail to convey the brutality unleashed in Jiujiang, Hukou, and Xiaochikou south of the Yangtze. On July 20, the Japanese confined 100 villagers in a large house in Zhouxi village, Hukou County, and erased them with machine guns and bayonets. Tangshan village witnessed similar brutality on July 31, when eight people were drowned in a pond and 26 houses burned. That September, learning that children and the elderly at Saiyang Township were taking refuge in caves on Mount Lushan, the Japanese proceeded to bayonet defenseless civilians, many beheaded, disemboweled, or amputated. These acts, among others, were carried out on a mass scale south of the Yangtze, resulting in tens of thousands of deaths around Jiujiang. Despite the enormity of these crimes, Chinese people did not surrender. Among those who resisted was Wang Guozhen of Wang Village in Pengze County. Upon learning of the Japanese approach to Pengze on July 1, Wang, a teacher, led women, children, and the elderly into mountains and forests to seek safety. However, Wang and his followers soon encountered Japanese troops who attacked them, instantly killing over 20 people. Wang denounced their actions as the Japanese took him captive and had him whipped for over an hour. They had hit him so hard his skin was peeling off and he had broken his left thigh. They then demanded he collaborate with them, but to this Wang responded “a common man cannot resist the enemy for his country and he will only die”. After hearing these words, the Japanese simply stabbed him with a bayonet in his left eye and in his chest area, ultimately killing him. Wang's small act of defiance would earn him a plaque from the KMT that states “Eternal Heroism”. Even though Wang's heroism was commendable, bravery alone could not halt the Japanese advance along the Yangtze. After securing Jiujiang, Xiaochikou, and Gutang, the 106th and 101st Infantry Divisions carried out amphibious operations further upriver. The 106th Infantry Division landed on the Yangtze's east bank, pushing south of Jili Hu. Concurrently, the Sato Detachment, two infantry battalions plus a field artillery battalion from the 101st Infantry Division, landed east of Xiaochikou and concentrated on the east side of Mount Lu. The Japanese advance soon faced firm Chinese resistance despite these early gains. The 106th Infantry Division encountered the in-depth defenses of Xue Yue's 1st Corps. These defenses formed an isosceles triangle with Jiujiang at the apex and the Jinguanqiao line at the base. Although Jiujiang was abandoned in late July, the triangle's base at Jinguanqiao remained strong, with the 8th, 74th, 18th, 32nd, 64th, 66th, 29th, 26th, 4th, and 70th Armies concentrated in the Jinguanqiao area. These forces inflicted heavy losses on the 106th Infantry Division, which saw nearly half of its captains killed or wounded during the fighting. To aid the 106th Division's breakthrough near Jinguanqiao, the 11th Army deployed the 101st Infantry Division to the area east of Xiaochikou in mid-August. From there, the division pushed toward the east side of Mount Lu, aiming to seize Xingzi in an amphibious assault via Lake Poyang. The objective was to outflank De'an and the nearby Nanxun Road. On August 19, the 101st Infantry Division executed the plan and landed at Xingzi, where they faced strong resistance from the 53rd Infantry Division. However, the division found itself isolated and thus vulnerable to being outflanked. By August 23, the 53rd Infantry Division had withdrawn to the east. 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 1938 Wuhan stood as China's fragile beacon. Wuhan's defense hinged on a patchwork of war zones and weary commanders, while Japan poured in hundreds of thousands of troops, ships, and air power. The Yangtze became a deadly artery, with river fortresses, brutal bombings, and mass casualties. Yet courage endured: individuals like Wang Guozhen chose defiance over surrender.

Tang Fulong, a survivor of the Nanjing Massacre, passed away at the age of 90 on Thursday, reducing the number of living registered survivors to 24, the Memorial Hall of the Victims in Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invaders said on Saturday.侵华日军南京大屠杀遇难同胞纪念馆于周六表示，南京大屠杀幸存者唐福龙于周四逝世，享年90岁，至此南京大屠杀在册在世幸存者人数降至24人。The Nanjing Massacre refers to a period of history that started when Japanese troops captured the then Chinese capital on Dec 13, 1937. In the space of six weeks, the Japanese invaders killed approximately 300,000 Chinese civilians and unarmed soldiers in one of the most barbaric episodes of World War II.南京大屠杀是指1937年12月13日日军攻占当时的中国首都南京后发生的一段历史。在随后的六周内，日本侵略者杀害了约30万中国平民和手无寸铁的士兵，这是二战中最野蛮的暴行之一。In 1937, Tang's father, cousin and three uncles were captured by the Japanese invaders. Except one of the uncles, who narrowly escaped, the other four were all shot dead by Japanese soldiers.1937年，唐福龙的父亲、堂兄及三位叔叔被日本侵略者抓获。除其中一位叔叔侥幸逃脱外，其余四人均被日军枪杀。Eight survivors, including Tang, have passed away since the beginning of 2025, according to the Memorial Hall in Nanjing, capital of east China's Jiangsu Province.据位于中国东部江苏省省会南京的侵华日军南京大屠杀遇难同胞纪念馆消息，自2025年初以来，包括唐福龙在内已有8位幸存者逝世。In 2014, China's national legislature designated Dec 13 as a national memorial day for the victims of the Nanjing Massacre.2014年，中国全国人大常委会将12月13日设立为南京大屠杀死难者国家公祭日。The Chinese government has preserved the testimonies of survivors, recorded in both written and video transcripts. These documents about the massacre were listed by UNESCO in the Memory of the World Register in 2015.中国政府保存了幸存者的证词，这些证词以文字和视频记录的形式留存。2015年，关于南京大屠杀的相关文献被联合国教科文组织列入《世界记忆名录》。registered Nanjing Massacre survivorsn.南京大屠杀在册幸存者/ˈredʒɪstəd ˈnænˈdʒɪŋ ˈmæsəkə ˈsərvaɪvəz/Memorial Hall of the Victims in Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invadersn.侵华日军南京大屠杀遇难同胞纪念馆

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.

Last time we spoke about the Nanjing Massacre. Japanese forces breached Nanjing as Chinese defenders retreated under heavy bombardment, and the city fell on December 13. In the following weeks, civilians and disarmed soldiers endured systematic slaughter, mass executions, rapes, looting, and arson, with casualties mounting rapidly. Among the most brutal episodes were hundreds of executions near the Safety Zone, mass shootings along the Yangtze River, and killings at improvised sites and “killing fields.” The massacre involved tens of thousands of prisoners, with estimates up to 300,000 victims. Women and children were subjected to widespread rape, mutilation, and terror intended to crush morale and resistance. Although the Safety Zone saved many lives, it could not shield all refugees from harm, and looting and arson devastated large parts of the city. Foreign witnesses, missionaries, and diary entries documented the extensive brutality and the apparent premeditated nature of many acts, noting the collapse of discipline among troops and orders that shaped the violence.    #169 Nanjing has Fallen, the War is not Over Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Directly after the fall of Nanjing, rumors circulated among the city's foreigners that Tang Shengzhi had been executed for his inability to hold the city against the Japanese onslaught. In fact, unlike many of his subordinates who fought in the defense, he survived. On December 12, he slipped through Yijiang Gate, where bullets from the 36th Division had claimed numerous victims, and sailed across the Yangtze to safety. Chiang Kai-shek protected him from bearing direct consequences for Nanjing's collapse. Tang was not unscathed, however. After the conquest of Nanjing, a dejected Tang met General Li Zongren at Xuzhou Railway Station. In a brief 20-minute conversation, Tang lamented, “Sir, Nanjing's fall has been unexpectedly rapid. How can I face the world?” Li, who had previously taunted Tang for over-eagerness, offered sympathy. “Don't be discouraged. Victory or defeat comes every day for the soldier. Our war of resistance is a long-term proposition. The loss of one city is not decisive.” By December 1937, the outlook for Chiang Kai-shek's regime remained bleak. Despite his public pledges, he had failed to defend the capital. Its sturdy walls, which had withstood earlier sieges, were breached in less than 100 hours. Foreign observers remained pessimistic about the prospects of continuing the fight against Japan. The New York Times wrote “The capture of Nanking was the most overwhelming defeat suffered by the Chinese and one of the most tragic military debacles in modern warfare. In defending Nanking, the Chinese allowed themselves to be surrounded and then slaughtered… The graveyard of tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers may also be the graveyard of all Chinese hopes of resisting conquest by Japan.” Foreign diplomats doubted Chiang's ability to sustain the war, shrinking the question to whether he would stubbornly continue a losing fight or seek peace. US Ambassador Nelson Johnson wrote in a letter to Admiral Yarnell, then commander of the US Asicatic Fleet “There is little left now for the Chinese to do except to carry on a desultory warfare in the country, or to negotiate for the best terms they can get”.  The Japanese, too, acted as if Chiang Kai-shek had already lost the war. They assumed the generalissimo was a spent force in Chinese politics as well, and that a gentle push would suffice to topple his regime like a house of cards. On December 14, Prime Minister Konoe announced that Chiang's losses of Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai, and now Nanjing, had created a new situation. “The National Government has become but a shadow of its former self. If a new Chinese regime emerged to replace Chiang's government, Japan would deal with it, provided it is a regime headed in the right direction.” Konoe spoke the same day as a Liaison Conference in Tokyo, where civilian and military leaders debated how to treat China now that it had been thoroughly beaten on the battlefield. Japanese demands had grown significantly: beyond recognizing Manchukuo, Japan pressed for the creation of pro-Japanese regimes in Inner Mongolia and the north China area. The same day, a puppet government was established in Japanese-occupied Beijing. While these demands aimed to end China as a unitary state, Japanese policy was moving toward the same goal. The transmissions of these demands via German diplomatic channels caused shock and consternation in Chinese government circles, and the Chinese engaged in what many regarded as stalling tactics. Even at this late stage, there was division among Japan's top decision makers. Tada, deputy chief of the Army General Staff, feared a protracted war in China and urged keeping negotiations alive. He faced strong opposition from the cabinet, including the foreign minister and the ministers of the army and navy, and ultimately he relented. Tada stated “In this state of emergency, it is necessary to avoid any political upheaval that might arise from a struggle between the Cabinet and the Army General Staff.” Although he disagreed, he no longer challenged the uncompromising stance toward China. On January 16, 1938, Japan publicly stated that it would “cease henceforth to deal with” Chiang Kai-shek. This was a line that could not be uncrossed. War was the only option. Germany, the mediator between China and Japan, also considered Chiang a losing bet. In late January 1938, von Dirksen, the German ambassador in Tokyo, urged a fundamental shift in German diplomacy and advocated abandoning China in favor of Japan. He warned that this was a matter of urgency, since Japan harbored grudges against Germany for its half-hearted peace efforts. In a report, von Dirksen wrote that Japan, “in her deep ill humor, will confront us with unpleasant decisions at an inopportune moment.” Von Dirksen's view carried the day in Berlin. Nazi Germany and Hirohito's Japan were on a trajectory that, within three years, would forge the Axis and place Berlin and Tokyo in the same camp in a conflict that would eventually span the globe. Rabe, who returned to Germany in 1938, found that his account of Japanese atrocities in Nanjing largely fell on deaf ears. He was even visited by the Gestapo, which apparently pressed him to keep quiet about what he had seen. Ambassador von Dirksen also argued in his January 1938 report that China should be abandoned because of its increasingly friendly ties with the Soviet Union. There was some merit to this claim. Soviet aid to China was substantial: by the end of 1937, 450 Soviet aviators were serving in China. Without them, Japan likely would have enjoyed air superiority. Chiang Kai-shek, it seemed, did not fully understand the Russians' motives. They were supplying aircraft and pilots to keep China in the war while keeping themselves out. After Nanjing's fall, Chiang nevertheless reached out to Joseph Stalin, inviting direct Soviet participation in the war. Stalin politely declined, noting that if the Soviet Union joined the conflict, “the world would say the Soviet Union was an aggressor, and sympathy for Japan around the world would immediately increase.” In a rare moment of candor a few months later, the Soviet deputy commissar for foreign affairs spoke with the French ambassador, describing the situation in China as “splendid.” He expected China to continue fighting for several more years, after which Japan would be too weakened to undertake major operations against the Soviet Union. It was clear that China was being used. Whatever the motive, China was receiving vital help from Stalin's Russia while the rest of the world stood on the sidelines, reluctant to upset Japan. Until Operation Barbarossa, when the Soviet Union was forced to the brink by the German Army and could no longer sustain extensive overseas aid, it supplied China with 904 planes, 1,516 trucks, 1,140 artillery pieces, 9,720 machine guns, 50,000 rifles, 31,600 bombs, and more. Despite all of this, all in all, China's position proved less disastrous than many observers had feared. Chinese officials later argued that the battle of Nanjing was not the unmitigated fiasco it appeared to be. Tang Shengzhi had this to say in his memoirs“I think the main purpose of defending Nanjing was to buy time, to allow troops that had just been pulled out of battle to rest and regroup. It wasn't simply because it was the capital or the site of Sun Yat-sen's mausoleum.” Tan Daoping, an officer in Nanjing, described the battle “as a moderate success because it drew the Japanese in land”. This of course was a strategy anticipated by interwar military thinker Jiang Baili. It also allowed dozens of Chinese divisions to escape Shanghai, since the Japanese forces that could have pursued them were tied down with the task of taking Nanjing. Tan Daoping wrote after the war “They erred in believing they could wage a quick war and decide victory immediately. Instead, their dream was shattered; parts of their forces were worn out, and they were hindered from achieving a swift end”. Even so, it was a steep price was paid in Chinese lives. As in Shanghai, the commanders in Nanjing thought they could fight on the basis of sheer willpower. Chinese officer Qin Guo Qi wrote in his memoirs “In modern war, you can't just rely on the spirit of the troops. You can't merely rely on physical courage and stamina. The battle of Nanjing explains that better than anything”. As for the Brigade commander of the 87th division, Chen Yiding, who emerged from Nanjing with only a few hundred survivors, was enraged. “During the five days of the battle for Nanjing, my superiors didn't see me even once. They didn't do their duty. They also did not explain the overall deployments in the Nanjing area. What's worse, they didn't give us any order to retreat. And afterwards I didn't hear of any commander being disciplined for failing to do his job.” Now back in November of 1937, Chiang Kai-shek had moved his command to the great trinity of Wuhan. For the Nationalists, Wuhan was a symbolically potent stronghold: three municipalities in one, Hankou, Wuchang, and Hanyang. They had all grown prosperous as gateways between coastal China and the interior. But the autumn disasters of 1937 thrust Wuhan into new prominence, and, a decade after it had ceased to be the temporary capital, it again became the seat of military command and resistance. Leading Nationalist politicians had been seen in the city in the months before the war, fueling suspicions that Wuhan would play a major role in any imminent conflict. By the end of the year, the generals and their staffs, along with most of the foreign embassies, had moved upriver. Yet as 1937 slipped into 1938, the Japanese advance seemed practically unstoppable. From the destruction of Shanghai, to the massacre in Nanjing, to the growing vulnerability of Wuhan, the NRA government appeared powerless against the onslaught.  Now the Japanese government faced several options: expanding the scope of the war to force China into submission, which would risk further depletion of Japan's military and economic resources; establishing an alternative regime in China as a bridge for reconciliation, thereby bypassing the Nationalist government for negotiations; and engaging in indirect or direct peace negotiations with the Nationalist Government, despite the failure of previous attempts, while still seeking new opportunities for negotiation. However, the Nanjing massacre did not compel the Chinese government and its people to submit. On January 2, Chiang Kai-shek wrote in his diary, “The conditions proposed by Japan are equivalent to the conquest and extinction of our country. Rather than submitting and perishing, it is better to perish in defeat,” choosing to refuse negotiations and continue resistance.  In January 1938 there was a new escalation of hostilities. Up to that point, Japan had not officially declared war, even during the Shanghai campaign and the Nanjing massacre. However on January 11, an Imperial Conference was held in Tokyo in the presence of Emperor Hirohito. Prime Minister Konoe outlined a “Fundamental Policy to deal with the China Incident.”The Imperial Conference was attended by Prime Minister Fumimaro Konoe, Army Chief of Staff Prince Kan'in, Navy Minister Admiral Fushimi, and others to reassess its policy toward China. Citing the Nationalist Government's delay and lack of sincerity, the Japanese leadership decided to terminate Trautmann's mediation. At the conference, Japan articulated a dual strategy: if the Nationalist Government did not seek peace, Japan would no longer regard it as a viable negotiating partner, instead supporting emerging regimes, seeking to resolve issues through incidents, and aiming either to eliminate or incorporate the existing central government; if the Nationalist Government sought reconciliation, it would be required to cease resistance, cooperate with Japan against communism, and pursue economic cooperation, including officially recognizing Manchukuo and allowing Japanese troops in Inner Mongolia, North China, Central China, and co-governance of Shanghai. The Konoe cabinet relayed this proposal to the German ambassador in Japan on December 22, 1937: It called for: diplomatic recognition of Manchukuo; autonomy for Inner Mongolia; cessation of all anti-Japanese and anti-Manchukuo policies; cooperation between Japan, Manchukuo, and China against communism; war reparations; demilitarized zones in North China and Inner Mongolia; and a trade agreement among Japan, Manchukuo, and China.  Its terms were too severe, including reparations payable to Japan and new political arrangements that would formalize the separation of north China under Japanese control. Chiang's government would have seventy-two hours to accept; if they refused, Tokyo would no longer recognize the Nationalist government and would seek to destroy it.  On January 13, 1938, the Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Chonghui informed Germany that China needed a fuller understanding of the additional conditions for peace talks to make a decision. The January 15 deadline for accepting Japan's terms elapsed without Chinese acceptance. Six days after the deadline for a Chinese government reply, an Imperial Conference “Gozen Kaigi” was convened in Tokyo to consider how to handle Trautmann's mediation. The navy, seeing the war as essentially an army matter, offered no strong position; the army pressed for ending the war through diplomatic means, arguing that they faced a far more formidable Far Eastern Soviet threat at the northern Manchukuo border and wished to avoid protracted attrition warfare. Foreign Minister Kōki Hirota, however, strongly disagreed with the army, insisting there was no viable path to Trautmann's mediation given the vast gap between Chinese and Japanese positions. A second conference followed on January 15, 1938, attended by the empire's principal cabinet members and military leaders, but without the emperor's presence. The debate grew heated over whether to continue Trautmann's mediation. Hayao Tada, Deputy Chief of Army General Staff, argued for continuation, while Konoe, Hirota, Navy Minister Mitsumasa Yonai, and War Minister Hajime Sugiyama opposed him. Ultimately, Tada acceded to the position of Konoe and Hirota. On the same day, Konoe conveyed the cabinet's conclusion, termination of Trautmann's mediation, to the emperor. The Japanese government then issued a statement on January 16 declaring that it would no longer treat the Nationalist Government as a bargaining partner, signaling the establishment of a new Chinese regime that would cooperate with Japan and a realignment of bilateral relations. This became known as the first Konoe statement, through which Tokyo formally ended Trautmann's mediation attempt. The Chinese government was still weighing its response when, at noon on January 16, Konoe publicly declared, “Hereafter, the Imperial Government will not deal with the National Government.” In Japanese, this became the infamous aite ni sezu (“absolutely no dealing”). Over the following days, the Japanese government made it clear that this was a formal breach of relations, “stronger even than a declaration of war,” in the words of Foreign Minister Hirota Kōki. The Chinese ambassador to Japan, who had been in Tokyo for six months since hostilities began, was finally recalled. At the end of January, Chiang summoned a military conference and declared that the top strategic priority would be to defend the east-central Chinese city of Xuzhou, about 500 kilometers north of Wuhan. This decision, like the mobilization near Lugouqiao, was heavily influenced by the railway: Xuzhou sat at the midpoint of the Tianjin–Pukou Jinpu line, and its seizure would grant the Japanese mastery over north–south travel in central China. The Jinpu line also crossed the Longhai line, China's main cross-country artery from Lanzhou to the port of Lianyungang, north of Shanghai. The Japanese military command marked the Jinpu line as a target in spring 1938. Control over Xuzhou and the rail lines threading through it were thus seen as vital to the defense of Wuhan, which lay to the city's south. Chiang's defense strategy fit into a larger plan evolving since the 1920s, when the military thinker Jiang Baili had first proposed a long war against Japan; Jiang's foresight earned him a position as an adviser to Chiang in 1938. Jiang had previously run the Baoding military academy, a predecessor of the Whampoa academy, which had trained many of China's finest young officers in the early republic 1912–1922. Now, many of the generals who had trained under Jiang gathered in Wuhan and would play crucial roles in defending the city: Chen Cheng, Bai Chongxi, Tang Shengzhi, and Xue Yue. They remained loyal to Chiang but sought to avoid his tendency to micromanage every aspect of strategy.  Nobody could say with certainty whether Wuhan would endure the Japanese onslaught, and outsiders' predictions were gloomy. As Wuhan's inhabitants tasted their unexpected new freedoms, the Japanese pressed on with their conquest of central China. After taking Nanjing, the IJA 13th Division crossed the Yangtze River to the north and advanced to the Outang and Mingguang lines on the east bank of the Chihe River in Anhui Province, while the 2nd Army of the North China Front crossed the Yellow River to the south between Qingcheng and Jiyang in Shandong, occupied Jinan, and pressed toward Jining, Mengyin, and Qingdao. To open the Jinpu Railway and connect the northern and southern battlefields, the Japanese headquarters mobilized eight divisions, three brigades, and two detachments , totaling about 240,000 men. They were commanded by General Hata Shunroku, commander of the Central China Expeditionary Army, and Terauchi Hisaichi, commander of the North China Front Army. Their plan was a north–south advance: first seize Xuzhou, a strategic city in east China; then take Zhengzhou in the west along the Longhai Railway connecting Lanzhou and Lianyungang; and finally push toward Wuhan in the south along the Pinghan Railway connecting Beijing and Hankou. At the beginning of 1938, Japan's domestic mobilization and military reorganization had not yet been completed, and there was a shortage of troops to expand the front. At the Emperor's Imperial Conference on February 16, 1938, the General Staff Headquarters argued against launching operations before the summer of 1938, preferring to consolidate the front in 1938 and undertake a large-scale battle in 1939. Although the Northern China Expeditionary Force and the Central China Expeditionary Force proposed a plan to open the Jinpu Line to connect the northern and southern battlefields, the proposal was not approved by the domestic General Staff Headquarters. The Chinese army, commanded by Li Zongren, commander-in-chief of the Fifth War Zone, mobilized about 64 divisions and three brigades, totaling roughly 600,000 men. The main force was positioned north of Xuzhou to resist the southern Japanese advance, with a portion deployed along the southern Jinpu Railway to block the southern push and secure Xuzhou. Early in the campaign, Chiang Kai-shek redeployed the heavy artillery brigade originally promised to Han Fuju to Tang Enbo's forces. To preserve his strength, Shandong Provincial Governor Han Fuju abandoned the longstanding Yellow River defenses in Shandong, allowing the Japanese to capture the Shandong capital of Jinan in early March 1938. This defection opened the Jinpu Railway to attack. The Japanese 10th Division, under Rensuke Isogai, seized Tai'an, Jining, and Dawenkou, ultimately placing northern Shandong under Japanese control. The aim was to crush the Chinese between the two halves of a pincer movement. At Yixian and Huaiyuan, north of Xuzhou, both sides fought to the death: the Chinese could not drive back the Japanese, but the Japanese could not scatter the defenders either. At Linyi, about 50 kilometers northeast of Xuzhou, Zhang Zizhong, who had previously disgraced himself by abandoning an earlier battlefield—became a national hero for his determined efforts to stop the Japanese troops led by Itagaki Seishirō, the conqueror of Manchuria. The Japanese hoped that they could pour in as many as 400,000 troops to destroy the Chinese forces holding eastern and central China. Chiang Kai-shek was determined that this should not happen, recognizing that the fall of Xuzhou would place Wuhan in extreme danger. On April 1, 1938, he addressed Nationalist Party delegates, linking the defense of Wuhan to the fate of the party itself. He noted that although the Japanese had invaded seven provinces, they had only captured provincial capitals and main transport routes, while villages and towns off those routes remained unconquered. The Japanese, he argued, might muster more than half a million soldiers, but after eight or nine months of hard fighting they had become bogged down. Chiang asserted that as long as Guangzhou (Canton) remained in Chinese hands, it would be of little significance if the Japanese invaded Wuhan, since Guangzhou would keep China's sea links open and Guangdong, Sun Yat-sen's homeland, would serve as a revolutionary base area. If the “woren” Japanese “dwarfs” attacked Wuhan and Guangzhou, it would cost them dearly and threaten their control over the occupied zones. He reiterated his plan: “the base area for our war will not be in the zones east of the Beiping–Wuhan or Wuhan–Guangdong railway lines, but to their west.” For this reason he authorized withdrawing Chinese troops behind the railway lines. Chiang's speech mixed defiance with an explanation of why regrouping was necessary; it was a bold public posture in the face of a developing military disaster, yet it reflected the impossible balance he faced between signaling resolve and avoiding overcommitment of a city that might still fall. Holding Xuzhou as the first priority required Chiang Kai-shek to place a great deal of trust in one of his rivals: the southwestern general Li Zongren. The relationship between Chiang and Li would become one of the most ambivalent in wartime China. Li hailed from Guangxi, a province in southwestern China long regarded by the eastern heartland as half civilized. Its people had rarely felt fully part of the empire ruled from Beijing or even Nanjing, and early in the republic there was a strong push for regional autonomy. Li was part of a cohort of young officers trained in regional academies who sought to bring Guangxi under national control; he joined the Nationalist Party in 1923, the year Sun Yat-sen announced his alliance with the Soviets. Li was not a Baoding Academy graduate but had trained at Yunnan's equivalent institution, which shared similar views on military professionalism. He enthusiastically took part in the Northern Expedition (1926–1928) and played a crucial role in the National Revolutionary Army's ascent to control over much of north China. Yet after the Nanjing government took power, Li grew wary of Chiang's bid to centralize authority in his own person. In 1930 Li's so‑called “Guangxi clique” participated in the Central Plains War, the failed effort by militarist leaders to topple Chiang; although the plot failed, Li retreated to his southwest base, ready to challenge Chiang again. The occupation of Manchuria in 1931 reinforced Li's belief that a Japanese threat posed a greater danger than Chiang's centralization. The tension between the two men was evident from the outset of the war. On October 10, 1937, Chiang appointed Li commander of the Fifth War Zone; Li agreed on the condition that Chiang refrain from issuing shouling—personal commands—to Li's subordinates. Chiang complied, a sign of the value he placed on Li's leadership and the caution with which he treated Li and his Guangxi ally Bai Chongxi. As Chiang sought any possible victory amid retreat and destruction, he needed Li to deliver results. As part of the public-relations front, journalists were given access to commanders on the Xuzhou front. Li and his circle sought to shape their image as capable leaders to visiting reporters, with Du Zhongyuan among the most active observers. Du praised the “formidable southwestern general, Li Zongren,” calling him “elegant and refined” and “vastly magnanimous.” In language echoing the era's soldiers' public presentation, Du suggested that Li's forces operated under strict, even disciplined, orders “The most important point in the people's war is that . . . troops do not harass the people of the country. If the people are the water, the soldiers are the fish, and if you have fish with no water, inevitably they're going to choke; worse still is to use our water to nurture the enemy's fish — that really is incomparably stupid”.  Within the southern front, on January 26, 1938, the Japanese 13th Division attacked Fengyang and Bengbu in Anhui Province, while Li Pinxian, Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the 5th War Zone, directed operations south of Xuzhou. The defending 31st Corps of the 11th Group Army, after resisting on the west bank of the Chi River, retreated to the west of Dingyuan and Fengyang. By February 3, the Japanese had captured Linhuai Pass and Bengbu. From the 9th to the 10th, the main force of the 13th Division forced a crossing of the Huai River at Bengbu and Linhuai Pass respectively, and began an offensive against the north bank. The 51st Corps, reorganized from the Central Plains Northeast Army and led by Commander Yu Xuezhong, engaged in fierce combat with the Japanese. Positions on both sides of the Huai shifted repeatedly, producing a riverine bloodbath through intense hand-to-hand fighting. After ten days of engagement, the Fifth War Zone, under Zhang Zizhong, commander of the 59th Army, rushed to the Guzhen area to reinforce the 51st Army, and the two forces stubbornly resisted the Japanese on the north bank of the Huai River. Meanwhile, on the south bank, the 48th Army of the 21st Group Army held the Luqiao area, while the 7th Army, in coordination with the 31st Army, executed a flanking attack on the flanks and rear of the Japanese forces in Dingyuan, compelling the main body of the 13th Division to redeploy to the north bank for support. Seizing the initiative, the 59th and 51st Armies launched a counteroffensive, reclaiming all positions north of the Huai River by early March. The 31st Army then moved from the south bank to the north, and the two sides faced across the river. Subsequently, the 51st and 59th Armies were ordered to reinforce the northern front, while the 31st Army continued to hold the Huai River to ensure that all Chinese forces covering the Battle of Xuzhou were safely withdrawn. Within the northern front, in late February, the Japanese Second Army began its southward push along multiple routes. The eastern axis saw the 5th Division moving south from Weixian present-day Weifang, in Shandong, capturing Yishui, Juxian, and Rizhao before pressing directly toward Linyi, as units of the Nationalist Third Corps' 40th Army and others mounted strenuous resistance. The 59th Army was ordered to reinforce and arrived on March 12 at the west bank of the Yi River in the northern suburbs of Linyi, joining the 40th Army in a counterattack that, after five days and nights of ferocious fighting, inflicted heavy losses on the Japanese and forced them to retreat toward Juxian. On the western route, the Seya Detachment (roughly a brigade) of the Japanese 10th Division crossed the Grand Canal from Jining and attacked Jiaxiang, meeting stiff resistance from the Third Army and being thwarted, while continuing to advance south along the Jinpu Railway. The Isogai Division, advancing on the northern route without awaiting help from the southeast and east, moved southward from Liangxiadian, south of Zouxian, on March 14, with the plan to strike Tengxian, present-day Tengzhou on March 15 and push south toward Xuzhou. The defending 22nd Army and the 41st Corps fought bravely and suffered heavy casualties in a hard battle that lasted until March 17, during which Wang Mingzhang, commander of the 122nd Division defending Teng County, was killed in action. Meanwhile, a separate Japanese thrust under Itagaki Seishirō landed on the Jiaodong Peninsula and occupied Qingdao, advancing along the Jiaoji Line to strike Linyi, a key military town in southern Shandong. Pang Bingxun's 40th Army engaged the invaders in fierce combat, and later, elements of Zhang Zizhong's 333rd Brigade of the 111th Division, reinforced by the 57th Army, joined Pang Bingxun's forces to launch a double-sided pincer that temporarily repelled the Japanese attack on Linyi. By late March 1938 a frightening reality loomed: the Japanese were close to prevailing on the Xuzhou front. The North China Area Army, commanded by Itagaki Seishirō, Nishio Toshizō, and Isogai Rensuke, was poised to link up with the Central China Expeditionary Force under Hata Shunroku in a united drive toward central China. Li Zongren, together with his senior lieutenants Bai Chongxi and Tang Enbo, decided to confront the invaders at Taierzhuang, the traditional stone-walled city that would become a focal point of their defense. 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. Nanjing falls after one of humanities worst atrocities. Chiang Kai-Shek's war command has been pushed to Wuhan, but the Japanese are not stopping their advance. Trautmann's mediation is over and now Japan has its sights on Xuzhou and its critical railway junctions. Japan does not realize it yet, but she is now entering a long war of attrition.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Last time we spoke about the continuation of the war after Nanjing's fall. The fall of Nanjing in December 1937 marked a pivotal juncture in the Second Sino-Japanese War, ushering in a brutal phase of attrition that shaped both strategy and diplomacy in early 1938. As Japanese forces sought to restructure China's political order, their strategy extended beyond battlefield victories to the establishment of puppet arrangements and coercive diplomacy. Soviet aid provided critical support, while German and broader Axis diplomacy wavered, shaping a nuanced backdrop for China's options. In response, Chinese command decisions focused on defending crucial rail corridors and urban strongholds, with Wuhan emerging as a strategic hub and the Jinpu and Longhai railways becoming lifelines of resistance. The defense around Xuzhou and the Huai River system illustrated Chinese determination to prolong resistance despite daunting odds. By early 1938, the war appeared as a drawn-out struggle, with China conserving core bases even as Japan pressed toward central China.   #170 The Battle of Taierzhuang Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Following their victory at Nanjing, the Japanese North China Area Army sought to push southward and link up with the Japanese Eleventh Army between Beijing and Nanjing. The two formations were intended to advance along the northern and southern ends of the JinPu railway, meet at Xuzhou, and then coordinate a pincer movement into Chinese strongholds in the Central Yangtze region, capturing Jiujiang first and then Wuhan. Recognizing Xuzhou's strategic importance, Chinese leadership made its defense a top priority. Xuzhou stood at the midpoint of the JinPu line and at the intersection with the Longhai Line, China's main east–west corridor from Lanzhou to Lianyungang. If seized, Japanese control of these routes would grant mobility for north–south movement across central China. At the end of January, Chiang Kai-shek convened a military conference in Wuchang and declared the defense of Xuzhou the highest strategic objective. Chinese preparations expanded from an initial core of 80,000 troops to about 300,000, deployed along the JinPu and Longhai lines to draw in and overstretch Japanese offensives. A frightening reality loomed by late March 1938: the Japanese were nearing victory on the Xuzhou front. The North China Area Army, led by Generals Itagaki Seishirô, Nishio Toshizô, and Isogai Rensuke, aimed to link up with the Central China Expeditionary Force under General Hata Shunroku for a coordinated drive into central China. Li Zongren and his senior colleagues, including Generals Bai Chongxi and Tang Enbo, resolved to meet the Japanese at the traditional stone-walled city of Taierzhuang. Taierzhuang was not large, but it held strategic significance. It sat along the Grand Canal, China's major north–south waterway, and on a rail line that connected the Jinpu and Longhai lines, thus bypassing Xuzhou. Chiang Kai-shek himself visited Xuzhou on March 24. While Xuzhou remained in Chinese hands, the Japanese forces to the north and south were still separated. Losing Xuzhou would close the pincer. By late March, Chinese troops seemed to be gaining ground at Taierzhuang, but the Japanese began reinforcing, pulling soldiers from General Isogai Rensuke's column. The defending commanders grew uncertain about their ability to hold the position, yet Chiang Kai-shek made his stance clear in an April 1, 1938 telegram: “the enemy at Taierzhuang must be destroyed.” Chiang Kai-shek dispatched his Vice Chief of Staff, Bai Chongxi, to Xuzhou in January 1938. Li Zongren and Bai Chongxi were old comrades from the New Guangxi Clique, and their collaboration dated back to the Northern Expedition, including the Battle of Longtan. Li also received the 21st Group Army from the 3rd War Area. This Guangxi unit, commanded by Liao Lei, comprised the 7th and 47th Armies. Around the same time, Sun Zhen's 22nd Group Army, another Sichuan clique unit, arrived in the Shanxi-Henan region, but was rebuffed by both Yan Xishan, then commander of the 2nd War Area and Shanxi's chairman and Cheng Qian, commander of the 1st War Area and Henan's chairman. Yan and Cheng harbored strong reservations about Sichuan units due to discipline issues, notably their rampant opium consumption. Under Sun Zhen's leadership, the 22nd Group Army deployed four of its six divisions to aid the Northern China effort. Organized under the 41st and 45th Armies, the contingent began a foot march toward Taiyuan on September 1, covering more than 50 days and approximately 1,400 kilometers. Upon reaching Shanxi, they faced a harsh, icy winter and had no winter uniforms or even a single map of the province. They nevertheless engaged the Japanese for ten days at Yangquan, suffering heavy casualties. Strapped for supplies, they broke into a Shanxi clique supply depot, which enraged Yan Xishan and led to their expulsion from the province. The 22nd withdrew westward into the 1st War Area, only to have its request for resupply rejected by Cheng Qian. Meanwhile to the south Colonel Rippei Ogisu led Japanese 13th Division to push westward from Nanjing in two columns during early February: the northern column targeted Mingguang, while the southern column aimed for Chuxian. Both routes were checked by Wei Yunsong's 31st Army, which had been assigned to defend the southern stretch of the Jinpu railway under Li Zongren. Despite facing a clearly inferior force, the Japanese could not gain ground after more than a month of sustained attacks. In response, Japan deployed armored and artillery reinforcements from Nanjing. The Chinese withdrew to the southwestern outskirts of Dingyuan to avoid a direct clash with their reinforced adversaries. By this point, Yu Xuezhong's 51st Army had taken up a defensive position on the northern banks of the Huai River, establishing a line between Bengbu and Huaiyuan. The Japanese then captured Mingguang, Dingyuan, and Bengbu in succession and pressed toward Huaiyuan. However, their supply lines were intercepted by the Chinese 31st Corps, which conducted flanking attacks from the southwest. The situation worsened when the Chinese 7th Army, commanded by Liao Lei, arrived at Hefei to reinforce the 31st Army. Facing three Chinese corps simultaneously, the Japanese were effectively boxed south of the Huai River and, despite air superiority and a superior overall firepower, could not advance further. As a result, the Chinese thwarted the Japanese plan to move the 13th Division north along the Jinpu railway and link up with the Isogai 10th Division to execute a pincer against Xuzhou. Meanwhile in the north, after amphibious landings at Qingdao, the Japanese 5th Division, commanded by Seishiro Itagaki, advanced southwest along the Taiwei Highway, spearheaded by its 21st Infantry Brigade. They faced Pang Bingxun's 3rd Group Army. Although labeled a Group Army, Pang's force actually comprised only the 40th Army, which itself consisted of the 39th Division from the Northwestern Army, commanded by Ma-Fawu. The 39th Division's five regiments delayed the Japanese advance toward Linyi for over a month. The Japanese captured Ju County on 22 February and moved toward Linyi by 2 March. The 59th Army, commanded by Zhang Zizhong, led its troops on a forced march day and night toward Linyi. Seizing the opportunity, the 59th Army did not rest after reaching Yishui. In the early morning of the 14th, Zhang Zizhong ordered the entire army to covertly cross the Yishui River and attack the right flank of the Japanese “Iron Army” 5th Division. They broke through enemy defenses at Tingzitou, Dataiping, Shenjia Taiping, Xujia Taiping, and Shalingzi. Initially caught off guard, the enemy sustained heavy losses, and over a night more than a thousand Japanese soldiers were annihilated. The 59th Army fought fiercely, engaging in brutal hand-to-hand combat. By 4:00 a.m. on the 17th, the 59th Army had secured all of the Japanese main positions. That same day, Pang Bingxun seized the moment to lead his troops in a fierce flank attack, effectively supporting the 59th Army's frontal assault. On the 18th, Zhang and Pang's forces attacked the Japanese from the east, south, and west. After three days and nights of bloody fighting, they finally defeated the 3rd Battalion of the 11th Regiment, which had crossed the river, and annihilated most of it. The 59th Army completed its counterattack but suffered over 6,000 casualties, with more than 2,000 Japanese killed or wounded. News of the Linyi victory prompted commendations from Chiang Kai-shek and Li Zongren. General Li Zongren, commander of the 5th War Zone, judged that the Japanese were temporarily unable to mount a large-scale offensive and that Linyi could be held for the time being. On March 20, he ordered the 59th Army westward to block the Japanese Seya Detachment. On March 21, the Japanese Sakamoto Detachment, after a brief reorganization and learning of the Linyi detachment, launched another offensive. The 3rd Corps, understrength and without reinforcements, was compelled to retreat steadily before the Japanese. General Pang Bingxun, commander of the 3rd Corps, urgently telegraphed Chiang Kai-shek, requesting reinforcements. Chiang Kai-shek received the telegram and, at approximately 9:00 AM on the 23rd, ordered the 59th Army to return to Linyi to join with the 3rd Corps in repelling the Sakamoto Detachment. Fierce fighting ensued with heavy Chinese losses, and the situation in Linyi again grew precarious. At a critical moment, the 333rd Brigade of the 111th Division and the Cavalry Regiment of the 13th Army were rushed to reinforce Linyi. Facing attacks from two directions, the Japanese withdrew, losing almost two battalions in the process. This engagement shattered the myth of Japanese invincibility and embarrassed commander Seishirō Itagaki, even startling IJA headquarters. Although the 5th Division later regrouped and attempted another push, it had lost the element of surprise. The defeat at Linyi at the hands of comparatively poorly equipped Chinese regional units set the stage for the eventual battle at Tai'erzhuang. Of the three Japanese divisions advancing into the Chinese 5th War Area, the 10th Division, commanded by Rensuke Isogai, achieved the greatest initial success. Departing from Hebei, it crossed the Yellow River and moved south along the Jinpu railway. With KMT General Han Fuju ordering his forces to desert their posts, the Japanese captured Zhoucun and reached Jinan with little resistance. They then pushed south along two columns from Tai'an. The eastern column captured Mengyin before driving west to seize Sishui; the western column moved southwest along the Jinpu railway, capturing Yanzhou, Zouxian, and Jining, before turning northwest to take Wenshang. Chiang Kai-shek subsequently ordered Li Zongren to employ “offensive defense”, seizing the initiative to strike rather than merely defend. Li deployed Sun Zhen's 22nd Group Army to attack Zouxian from the south, while Pang Bingxun's 40th Division advanced north along the 22nd's left flank to strike Mengyin and Sishui. Sun Tongxuan's 3rd Group Army also advanced from the south, delivering a two-pronged assault on the Japanese at Jining. Fierce fighting from 12 to 25 February, particularly by the 12th Corps, helped mitigate the reputational damage previously inflicted on Shandong units by Han Fuju. In response to Chinese counterattacks, the Japanese revised their strategy: they canceled their original plan to push directly westward from Nanjing toward Wuhan, freeing more troops for the push toward Xuzhou. On March 15, the Japanese 10th Division struck the Chinese 122nd Division, focusing the action around Tengxian and Lincheng. Chinese reinforcements from the 85th Corps arrived the following day but were driven back on March 17. With air support, tanks, and heavy artillery, the Japanese breached the Chinese lines on March 18. The remaining Chinese forces, bolstered by the 52nd Corps, withdrew to the town of Yixian. The Japanese attacked Yixian and overran an entire Chinese regiment in a brutal 24-hour engagement. By March 19, the Japanese began advancing on the walled town of Taierzhuang. To counter the Japanese advance, the Chinese 2nd Army Group under General Sun Lianzhong was deployed to Taierzhuang. The 31st Division, commanded by General Chi Fengcheng, reached Taierzhuang on March 22 and was ordered to delay the Japanese advance until the remainder of the Army Group could arrive. On March 23, the 31st Division sallied from Taierzhuang toward Yixian, where they were engaged by two Japanese battalions reinforced with three tanks and four armored cars. The Chinese troops occupied a series of hills and managed to defend against a Japanese regiment (~3,000 men) for the rest of the day. On March 24, a Japanese force of about 5,000 attacked the 31st Division. Another Japanese unit pressed the Chinese from Yixian, forcing them to withdraw back into Taierzhuang itself. The Japanese then assaulted the town, with a 300-strong contingent breaching the northeast gate at 20:00. They were subsequently driven back toward the Chenghuang temple, which the Chinese set on fire, annihilating the Japanese force. The next day, the Japanese renewed the assault through the breached gate and secured the eastern portion of the district, while also breaking through the northwest corner from the outside and capturing the Wenchang Pavilion. On March 25, a morning Japanese onslaught was repelled. The Japanese then shelled Chinese positions with artillery and air strikes. In the afternoon, the Chinese deployed an armored train toward Yixian, which ambushed a column of Japanese soldiers near a hamlet, killing or wounding several dozen before retreating back to Taierzhuang. By nightfall, three thousand Chinese troops launched a night assault, pushing the Japanese lines northeast to dawn. The following three days subjected the Chinese defenders to sustained aerial and artillery bombardment. The Chinese managed to repulse several successive Japanese assaults but sustained thousands of casualties in the process. On March 28, Chinese artillery support arrived, including two 155 mm and ten 75 mm pieces. On the night of March 29, the Japanese finally breached the wall. Setting out from the district's southern outskirts, a Chinese assault squad stormed the Wenchang Pavilion from the south and east, killing nearly the entire Japanese garrison aside from four taken as prisoners of war. The Chinese then retook the northwest corner of the district. Even by the brutal standards already established in the war, the fighting at Taierzhuang was fierce, with combatants facing one another at close quarters. Sheng Cheng's notes preserve the battlefield memories of Chi Fengcheng, one of the campaign's standout officers “We had a battle for the little lanes [of the town], and unprecedentedly, not just streets and lanes, but even courtyards and houses. Neither side was willing to budge. Sometimes we'd capture a house, and dig a hole in the wall to approach the enemy. Sometimes the enemy would be digging a hole in the same wall at the same time. Sometimes we faced each other with hand grenades — or we might even bite each other. Or when we could hear that the enemy was in the house, then we'd climb the roof and drop bombs inside — and kill them all.” The battle raged for a week. On April 1, General Chi requested volunteers for a near-suicide mission to seize a building: among fifty-seven selected, only ten survived. A single soldier claimed to have fired on a Japanese bomber and succeeded in bringing it down; he and his comrades then set the aircraft ablaze before another plane could arrive to rescue the pilot. One participant described the brutal conditions of the battle “"The battle continued day and night. The flames lit up the sky. Often all that separated our forces was a single wall. The soldiers would beat holes in the masonry to snipe at each other. We would be fighting for days over a single building, causing dozens of fatalities." The conditions were so brutal that Chinese officers imposed severe measures to maintain discipline. Junior officers were repeatedly forbidden to retreat and were often ordered to personally replace casualties within their ranks. Li Zongren even warned Tang Enbo that failure to fulfill his duties would lead him to be “treated as Han Fuju had been.” In Taierzhuang's cramped streets, Japan's artillery and air superiority offered little advantage; whenever either service was employed amid the dense melee, casualties were roughly even on both sides. The fighting devolved into close-quarters combat carried out primarily by infantry, with rifles, pistols, hand grenades, bayonets, and knives forming the core of each side's arsenal. The battle unfolded largely hand-to-hand, frequently in darkness. The stone buildings of Taierzhuang provided substantial cover from fire and shrapnel. It was precisely under these close-quarters conditions that Chinese soldiers could stand as equals, if not superior, to their Japanese opponents, mirroring, in some respects, the experiences seen in Luodian, Shanghai, the year before. On March 31, General Sun Lianzhong arrived to assume command of the 2nd Army Group. A Japanese assault later that day was repulsed, but a Chinese counterattack also stalled. At 04:00 on April 1, the Japanese attacked the Chinese lines with support from 11 tanks. The Chinese defenders, armed with German-made 37mm Pak-36 antitank guns, destroyed eight of the armored vehicles at point-blank range. Similar incidents recurred throughout the battle, with numerous Japanese tanks knocked out by Chinese artillery and by suicide squads. In one engagement, Chinese suicide bombers annihilated four Japanese tanks with bundles of grenades. On April 2 and 3, Chi urged the Chinese defenders around Taierzhuang's north station to assess the evolving situation. The troops reported distress, crying and sneezing, caused by tear gas deployed by the Japanese against Chinese positions at Taierzhuang's north station, but the defenders remained unmoved. They then launched a massive armored assault outside the city walls, with 30 tanks and 60 armored cars, yet managed only to drive the Chinese 27th Division back to the Grand Canal. The fighting continued to rage on April 4 and 5. By then, the Japanese had captured roughly two-thirds of Taierzhuang, though the Chinese still held the South Gate. It was through this entry point that the Chinese command managed to keep their troops supplied. The Chinese also thwarted Japanese efforts to replenish their dwindling stocks of arms and ammunition. In consequence, the Japanese attackers were worn down progressively. Although the Japanese possessed superior firepower, including cannon and heavy artillery, the cramped conditions within Taierzhuang nullified this advantage for the moment. The Chinese command succeeded in keeping their own supplies flowing, a recurring weakness in other engagements and also prevented the Japanese from replenishing their dwindling stock of arms and bullets. Gradually, the Japanese maneuvered into a state of attrition. The deadlock of the battle was broken by events unfolding outside Taierzhuang, where fresh Chinese divisions had encircled the Japanese forces in Taierzhuang from the flanks and rear. After consulting their German advisors earlier, the commanders of the 5th War Area prepared a double envelopment of the exposed Japanese forces in Taierzhuang. Between March and April 1938, the Nationalist Air Force deployed squadrons from the 3rd and 4th Pursuit Groups, fighter-attack aircraft, in long-distance air interdiction and close-air support of the Taierzhuang operations. Approximately 30 aircraft, mostly Soviet-made, were deployed in bombing raids against Japanese positions. On 26 March, Tang Enbo's 20th Army, equipped with artillery units, attacked Japanese forces at Yixian, inflicting heavy casualties and routing the survivors. Tang then swung south to strike the Japanese flank northeast of Taierzhuang. Simultaneously, the Chinese 55th Corps, comprised of two divisions, executed a surprise crossing of the Grand Canal and cut the railway line near Lincheng. As a result, Tang isolated the Japanese attackers from their rear and severed their supply lines. On 1 April, the Japanese 5th Division sent a brigade to relieve the encircled 10th Division. Tang countered by blocking the brigade's advance and then attacking from the rear, driving them south into the encirclement. On 3 April, the Chinese 2nd Group Army launched a counter-offensive, with the 30th and 110th Divisions pushing northward into Beiluo and Nigou, respectively. By 6 April, the Chinese 85th and 52nd Armies linked up at Taodun, just west of Lanling. The combined force then advanced north-westward, capturing Ganlugou. Two more Chinese divisions arrived a few days later. By April 5, Taierzhuang's Japanese units were fully surrounded, with seven Chinese divisions to the north and four to the south closing in. The Japanese divisions inside Taierzhuang had exhausted their supplies, running critically low on ammunition, fuel, and food, while many troops endured fatigue and dehydration after more than a week of brutal fighting. Sensing imminent victory, the Chinese forces surged with renewed fury and attacked the encircled Japanese, executing wounded soldiers where they lay with rifle and pistol shots. Chinese troops also deployed Soviet tanks against the defenders. Japanese artillery could not reply effectively due to a shortage of shells, and their tanks were immobilized by a lack of fuel. Attempts to drop supplies by air failed, with most packages falling into Chinese hands. Over time, Japanese infantry were progressively reduced to firing only their machine guns and mortars, then their rifles and machine guns, and ultimately resorted to bayonet charges. With the success of the Chinese counter-attacks, the Japanese line finally collapsed on April 7. The 10th and 5th Divisions, drained of personnel and ammunition, were forced to retreat. By this point, around 2,000 Japanese soldiers managed to break out of Taierzhuang, leaving thousands of their comrades dead behind. Some of the escapees reportedly committed hara-kiri. Chinese casualties were roughly comparable, marking a significant improvement over the heavier losses suffered in Shanghai and Nanjing. The Japanese had lost the battle for numerous reasons. Japanese efforts were hampered by the "offensive-defensive" operations carried out by various Chinese regional units, effectively preventing the three Japanese divisions from ever linking up with each other. Despite repeated use of heavy artillery, air strikes, and gas, the Japanese could not expel the Chinese 2nd Group Army from Taierzhuang and its surrounding areas, even as the defenders risked total annihilation. The Japanese also failed to block the Chinese 20th Group Army's maneuver around their rear positions, which severed retreat routes and enabled a Chinese counter-encirclement. After Han Fuju's insubordination and subsequent execution, the Chinese high command tightened discipline at the top, transmitting a stringent order flow down to the ranks. This atmosphere of strict discipline inspired even junior soldiers to risk their lives in executing orders. A “dare-to-die corps” was effectively employed against Japanese units. They used swords and wore suicide vests fashioned from grenades. Due to a lack of anti-armor weaponry, suicide bombing was also employed against the Japanese. Chinese troops, as part of the “dare-to-die” corps, strapped explosives such as grenade packs or dynamite to their bodies and charged at Japanese tanks to blow them up.  The Chinese later asserted that about 20,000 Japanese had perished, though the actual toll was likely closer to 8,000. The Japanese also sustained heavy material losses. Because of fuel shortages and their rapid retreat, many tanks, trucks, and artillery pieces were abandoned on the battlefield and subsequently captured by Chinese forces. Frank Dorn recorded losses of 40 tanks, over 70 armored cars, and 100 trucks of various sizes. In addition to vehicles, the Japanese lost dozens of artillery pieces and thousands of machine guns and rifles. Many of these weapons were collected by the Chinese for future use. The Chinese side also endured severe casualties, possibly up to 30,000, with Taierzhuang itself nearly razed. Yet for once, the Chinese achieved a decisive victory, sparking an outburst of joy across unoccupied China. Du Zhongyuan wrote of “the glorious killing of the enemy,” and even Katharine Hand, though isolated in Japanese-controlled Shandong, heard the news. The victory delivered a much-needed morale boost to both the army and the broader population. Sheng Cheng recorded evening conversations with soldiers from General Chi Fengcheng's division, who shared light-hearted banter with their senior officer. At one moment, the men recalled Chi as having given them “the secret of war. when you get food, eat it; when you can sleep, take it.” Such familiar, brisk maxims carried extra resonance now that the Nationalist forces had demonstrated their willingness and ability to stand their ground rather than retreat. The victors may have celebrated a glorious victory, but they did not forget that their enemies were human. Chi recalled a scene he encountered: he had picked up a Japanese officer's helmet, its left side scorched by gunpowder, with a trace of blood, the mark of a fatal wound taken from behind. Elsewhere in Taierzhuang, relics of the fallen were found: images of the Buddha, wooden fish, and flags bearing slogans. A makeshift crematorium in the north station had been interrupted mid-process: “Not all the bones had been completely burned.” After the battle, Li Zongren asked Sheng if he had found souvenirs on the battlefield. Sheng replied that he had discovered love letters on the corpses of Japanese soldiers, as well as a photograph of a girl, perhaps a hometown sweetheart labeled “19 years old, February 1938.” These details stood in stark contrast to news coverage that depicted the Japanese solely as demons, devils, and “dwarf bandits.” The foreign community noted the new, optimistic turn of events and the way it seemed to revive the resistance effort. US ambassador Nelson Johnson wrote to Secretary of State Cordell Hull from Wuhan just days after Taierzhuang, passing on reports from American military observers: one had spent time in Shanxi and been impressed by Communist success in mobilizing guerrilla fighters against the Japanese; another had spent three days observing the fighting at Taierzhuang and confirmed that “Chinese troops in the field there won a well-deserved victory over Japanese troops, administering the first defeat that Japanese troops have suffered in the field in modern times.” This reinforced Johnson's view that Japan would need to apply far more force than it had anticipated to pacify China. He noted that the mood in unoccupied China had likewise shifted. “Conditions here at Hankow have changed from an atmosphere of pessimism to one of dogged optimism. The Government is more united under Chiang and there is a feeling that the future is not entirely hopeless due to the recent failure of Japanese arms at Hsuchow [Xuzhou] . . . I find no evidence for a desire for a peace by compromise among  Chinese, and doubt whether the Government could persuade its army or its people to accept such a peace. The spirit of resistance is slowly spreading among the people who are awakening to a feeling that this is their war. Japanese air raids in the interior and atrocities by Japanese soldiers upon civilian populations are responsible for this stiffening of the people.”. The British had long been wary of Chiang Kai-shek, but Sir Archibald Clark Kerr, the British ambassador in China, wrote to the new British foreign secretary, Lord Halifax, on April 29, 1938, shortly after the Taierzhuang victory, and offered grudging credit to China's leader “[Chiang] has now become the symbol of Chinese unity, which he himself has so far failed to achieve, but which the Japanese are well on the way to achieving for him . . . The days when Chinese people did not care who governed them seem to have gone . . . my visit to Central China from out of the gloom and depression of Shanghai has left me stimulated and more than disposed to believe that provided the financial end can be kept up Chinese resistance may be so prolonged and effective that in the end the Japanese effort may be frustrated . . . Chiang Kai-shek is obstinate and difficult to deal with . . . Nonetheless [the Nationalists] are making in their muddlIn the exhilaration of a rare victory”. Chiang pressured Tang and Li to build on their success, increasing the area's troop strength to about 450,000. Yet the Chinese Army remained plagued by deeper structural issues. The parochialism that had repeatedly hampered Chiang's forces over the past six months resurfaced. Although the various generals had agreed to unite in a broader war of resistance, each prioritized the safety of his own troops, wary of any move by Chiang to centralize power. For example, Li Zongren refrained from utilizing his top Guangxi forces at Taierzhuang, attempting to shift the bulk of the fighting onto Tang Enbo's units. The generals were aware of the fates of two colleagues: Han Fuju of Shandong was executed for his refusal to fight, while Zhang Xueliang of Manchuria had allowed Chiang to reduce the size of his northeastern army and ended up under house arrest. They were justified in distrusting Chiang. He truly believed, after all, that provincial armies should come under a national military command led by himself. From a national-unity standpoint, Chiang's aim was not unreasonable. But it bred suspicion among other military leaders that participation in the anti-Japanese war would erode their own power. The fragmented command structure also hindered logistics, making ammunition and food supplies to the front unreliable and easy to cut off a good job of things in extremely difficult circumstances. 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 Chinese victory at the battle of Tairzhuang was a much needed morale boost after the long string of defeats to Japan. As incredible as it was however, it would amount to merely a bloody nose for the Imperial Japanese Army. Now Japan would unleash even more devastation to secure Xuzhou and ultimately march upon Wuhan.

Xeno Legendium Islamic Folklore Puisi Pujian Seratus Kata Bai Zizan Dari Kaisar China Hong Wu Dinasti Ming Kepada Nabi Muhammad SAW Podcast Edition oleh Muhammad Hamzah Sakura Ryuki.Pada masa Dinasti Ming awal, Kaisar Hongwu (Zhu Yuanzhang, 1328–1398 M), pendiri dinasti tersebut, dikenal sebagai penguasa yang sangat menghargai kebijaksanaan spiritual lintas bangsa. Setelah mendengar kabar tentang ajaran Islam dari para utusan Muslim Asia Tengah dan para pelaut Arab yang datang ke pelabuhan Quanzhou dan Guangzhou, Hongwu menunjukkan rasa hormat mendalam kepada Nabi Muhammad ﷺ. Dalam catatan kuno dari arsip istana dan naskah para ulama Hui (Muslim Tionghoa), disebutkan bahwa sang kaisar menulis sebuah puisi penghormatan untuk Rasulullah ﷺ. Puisi itu menggambarkan beliau sebagai “Cahaya dari Barat yang menerangi Timur”, dan menyebut Nabi sebagai “pemimpin umat yang membawa jalan lurus bagi seluruh bangsa di bawah langit.” Bait-bait puisi tersebut menyanjung akhlak Nabi sebagai lambang kesempurnaan moral dan keadilan yang menyeimbangkan langit dan bumi.Kaisar Hongwu kemudian memerintahkan penerjemahan ajaran Islam ke dalam bahasa Tionghoa klasik agar dapat dipelajari oleh rakyat dan pejabatnya. Ia memuji Nabi Muhammad ﷺ sebagai “Guru Besar dari Barat” yang diutus oleh Tian (Allah Yang Maha Esa) untuk mengajarkan keadilan, kasih sayang, dan kesucian hidup. Puisi penghormatan ini menjadi simbol awal dialog spiritual antara peradaban Islam dan Tiongkok, menggambarkan hubungan saling menghargai antara iman dan kebijaksanaan. Hingga kini, salinan dan interpretasi puisinya masih ditemukan di kalangan Muslim Hui di Yunnan dan Nanjing, sering dibacakan dalam acara keagamaan sebagai tanda kehormatan seorang kaisar besar yang mengakui kemuliaan Nabi terakhir ﷺ dengan penuh hormat dan cinta.

In dieser Folge blicke ich ein wenig auf meine bisherigen China-Aufenthalte 2025 zurück und mache in diesem Zuge klar, wo genau die Unterschiede liegen. Es ist essenziell, aus meiner Sicht, diese zu verstehen, denn nur so wird das Gesamtkonstrukt „China“ klar – und damit auch das gebündelte Potenzial dieses Landes.
 Erwähnte Namen:
 - Perflussdelta (Süden: Guangzhou, Shenzhen, Hongkong usw.)
 - Yangtze-Delta (Mitte: Shanghai, Hangzhou usw.)
 - Jing-Jin-Ji (Norden: Peking, Tianjin, Hebei)
 Städte: Guangzhou, Shenzhen, Hongkong, Shanghai, Hangzhou, Peking, Dalian, Tianjin, Nanjing, Ningbo
 Provinzen: Hainan, Guangdong, Fujian, Zhejiang, Hebei, Sichuan
 The Northern and Southern Dynasties (Mark Edward Lewis).
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 Zum Zeitpunkt der Erstellung dieses Beitrags war der Autor, Eric Nebe, in folgenden der besprochenen Finanzinstrumente selbst investiert: Alibaba, Baidu, JD. Geplante Änderungen: Keine. Weitere Informationen entnehmen Sie bitte unserem Transparenzhinweis zum Umgang mit Interessenskonflikten: Sie bitte unserem Transparenzhinweis zum Umgang mit Interessenskonflikten: https://www.china2invest.de/transparenz-und-rechtshinweise

Sverige spelade en mer aktiv diplomatisk roll i Japan och Kina än i Europa under andra världskriget. Eftersom Sverige aldrig hotades militärt av Japan kunde landet föra en självständig utrikespolitik gentemot Tokyo och upprätthöll aktiva diplomatiska relationer i regionen.Medan bomberna föll över Nanjing i Kina och striderna rasade i Stilla havet, växte Sveriges legation i Tokyo till ett av landets mest betydelsefulla diplomatiska uppdrag. Sveriges främsta intressen i Östasien under 1930-talet var ekonomiska och diplomatiska. Export, import och handelsförbindelser – med produkter som järnmalm, trävaror, industrivaror ‒ var viktiga motiv. Och Sverige fortsatte att upprätthålla goda diplomatiska förbindelser med Japan under hela kriget.Detta är det första av två avsnitt om Sverige och Östasien under andra världskriget i podden Historia Nu, där programledaren Urban Lindstedt samtalar med historikern Ingemar Ottosson, aktuell med boken Sverige och andra världskriget i Östasien.Trots att kriget mellan Japan och Kina hade pågått i flera år när andra världskriget bröt ut i Europa 1939, har det länge stått i skuggan av de europeiska och nordafrikanska krigsskådeplatserna. Detta trots att vissa forskare hävdar att andra världskriget i praktiken började redan 1931, med den så kallade Manchuriska krisen. Då iscensatte japanska officerare den så kallade Mukdenincidenten genom att spränga en del av järnvägen i Manchuriet och skylla på kinesiska trupper. Händelsen blev förevändningen för en snabb japansk ockupation av hela regionen, där man 1932 upprättade marionettstaten Manchukuo med den avsatte kejsaren Puyi som formell ledare.När Nationernas Förbund, med stöd från bland annat Sverige, fördömde Japans agerande, svarade Japan med att lämna organisationen. Detta blottlade det internationella samfundets oförmåga att stoppa aggressionspolitik och markerade början på ett skifte i världspolitiken där stormakter agerade alltmer ensidigt.Sex år senare, i juli 1937, utbröt strider vid Marco Polo-bron nära Peking efter en dispyt kring en försvunnen japansk soldat. Den inledande skottväxlingen mellan japanska och kinesiska trupper eskalerade snabbt och blev upptakten till det andra kinesisk-japanska kriget – en konflikt som skulle komma att bli en av 1900-talets mest förödande. Manchuriet blev därmed upptakten till Japans territoriella expansion, medan striderna vid Marco Polo-bron markerade övergången till ett öppet storkrig i Asien.Sveriges neutrala status under kriget gav dess diplomater ett unikt handlingsutrymme i Östasien. Legationen i Tokyo tjänade inte bara som förbindelsepunkt mellan Sverige och Japan, utan också som ett diplomatiskt nav för andra länder som saknade representation i området. Svenska diplomater vidarebefordrade exempelvis post och förhandlade om fångutväxlingar mellan stridande länder, vilket gav Sverige ett viktigt, om än diskret, inflytande i regionen.Bildtext: Japanska soldater ur 29:e regementet intar stridsställning vid Mukdens lilla västra port under Mukdenincidenten 1931 – en händelse som markerade början på Japans ockupation av Manchuriet. Källa: 勿忘历史：日本发动918事变东北沦丧(5) Fotograf: Okänd Licens: Public Domain.Musik: Japan Taiko av Boomer, Storyblock AudioKlippare: Emanuel Lehtonen Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In the mid-1930s, with the shadow of one great war still looming and the threat of another growing darker, Britain faced a vexing national crisis: should it rearm? This episode delves into the complex political, economic, and social debates that defined this critical period.We explore the profound public anxiety shaped by the memory of World War I and the terrifying new prospect of aerial warfare, as seen in newsreels from Guernica and Nanjing. Drawing on Daniel Todman's Britain's War, we unpack the immense financial cost of building a deterrent force and the fierce political arguments it ignited. Why was borrowing for defense seen as acceptable while spending on social welfare was not?Join us as we examine the clash between Winston Churchill's thunderous calls for urgent, state-led industrial mobilization and the Baldwin-Chamberlain government's cautious approach, which feared destroying Britain's export economy for a war that might never happen. From the inter-service rivalries and industrial bottlenecks to the ingenious "shadow factory" scheme that would prove vital in the Battle of Britain, this is the story of a democracy grappling with the monumental challenge of preparing for a war it desperately wanted to avoid.Go Deeper: Visit our website at www.explaininghistory.org for articles and detailed explorations of the topics discussed.▸ Join the Conversation: Our community of history enthusiasts discusses episodes, shares ideas, and continues the conversation. Find us on:Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ExplainingHistoryPodcast/Substack: https://theexplaininghistorypodcast.substack.com/▸ Support the Podcast: Explaining History is a listener-supported production. Your contribution helps us cover the costs of research and keep these conversations going. You can support the show and get access to exclusive content by becoming a patron.Support on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/explaininghistoryExplaining 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.

Hey guys, what you are about to listen to is an extremely graphic episode that will contain many scenes of gore, rape, human experimentation, honestly it will run the gambit. If you got a weak stomach, this episode might not be for you. You have been warned.  I just want to take a chance to say a big thanks to all of you guys who decided to join the patreon, you guys are awesome! Please leave a comment on this episode to let me know what more you want to hear about in the future. With all of that said and done lets jump right into it.   Where to begin with this one? Let start off with one of the major figures of Unit 731, Shiro Ishii. Born June 25th, 1892 in the village of Chiyoda Mura in Kamo District of Chiba Prefecture, Ishii was the product of his era. He came from a landowning class, had a very privileged childhood. His primary and secondary schoolmates described him to be brash, abrasive and arrogant. He was a teacher's pet, extremely intelligent, known to have excellent memory. He grew up during Japans ultra militarism/nationalism age, thus like any of his schoolmates was drawn towards the military. Less than a month after graduating from the Medical department of Kyoto Imperial University at the age of 28, he began military training as a probation officer in the 3rd regiment of the Imperial Guards division. Within 6 months he became a surgeon 1st Lt. During his postgraduate studies at Kyoto Imperial university he networked successfully to climb the career ladder. As a researcher he was sent out to help cure an epidemic that broke out in Japan. It was then he invented a water filter that could be carried alongside the troops.   He eventually came across a report of the Geneva Protocol and conference reports of Harada Toyoji as well as other military doctors. He became impressed with the potential of chemical and biological warfare. During WW1 chemical warfare had been highly explored, leading 44 nations to pass the Geneva Protocol or more specifically  “Protocol for the Prohibition of the Use in War of Asphyxiating, Poisonous or other Gases, and of Bacteriological Methods of Warfare”. Representatives from Japan were present at this conference and were involving in the drafting and signing of the Geneva Protocol, but it was not ratified in Japan at the time. Ishii's university mentor, Kiyano Kenji suggested he travel western countries and he did so for 2 years. Many nations were secretive about their research, but some places such as MIT were quite open. After his visit Ishii came to believe Japan was far behind everyone else in biological warfare research. After returning to Japan Ishii became an instructor at the Imperial Japanese Army Medical School. Japan of course lacked significant natural resources, thus it was a perfect nation to pursue biological weapons research. Ishii began lobbying the IJA, proposing to establish a military agency to develop biological weapons. One of his most compelling arguments was “that biological warfare must possess distinct possibilities, otherwise, it would not have been outlawed by the League of Nations.”   Ishii networked his way into good favor with the Minister of Health, Koizumi Chikahiko who lended his support in August of 1932 to allow Ishii to head an Epidemic Prevention Laboratory. Ishii secured a 1795 square meter complex at the Army Medical College. Yet this did not satisfy Ishii, it simply was not the type of work he wanted to do. The location of Tokyo allowed too many eyes on his work, he could not perform human experimentation. For what he wanted to do, he had to leave Japan, and in the 1930's Japan had a few colonies or sphere's of influence, the most appetizing one being Manchuria. In 1932 alongside his childhood friend Masuda Tomosada, Ishii took a tour of Harbin and he fell in love with the location.   During the 1930's Harbin was quite a cosmopolitan city, it was a major trading port and diverse in ethnicities and religions. Here there were Mongols, Russians, Chinese, Japanese, various other western groups in lesser numbers. Just about every religion was represented, it was a researcher's paradise for subjects. Ishii sought human experimentation and needed to find somewhere covert with maximum secrecy. He chose a place in the Nan Gang District of Beiyinhe village, roughly 70 kms southeast of Harbin. It was here and then he began human experimentation. One day in 1932, Ishii and the IJA entered the village and evacuated an entire block where Xuan Hua and Wu Miao intersected. They began occupying a multi-use structure that had been supporting 100 Chinese vendors who sold clothes and food to the locals. They then began drafting Chinese laborers to construct the Zhong Ma complex to house the “Togo Unit” named after the legendary admiral, Togo Heihachiro. The Chinese laborers were underpaid and under constant watch from Japanese guards, limiting their movement and preventing them from understanding what they were building, or what was occurring within the complex. The complex was built in under a year, it held 100 rooms, 3 meter high brick walls and had an electric fence surrounding the perimeter. One thousand captives at any given time could be imprisoned within the complex. To ensure absolute secrecy, security guards patrolled the complex 24/7. Saburo Endo, director of Operations for the Kwantung Army once inspected the Togo Unit and described it in his book “The Fifteen Years' Sino-Japanese War and Me”, as such:   [It was] converted from a rather large soy sauce workshop, surrounded by high rammed earth wall. All the attending military doctors had pseudonyms, and they were strictly regulated and were not allowed to communicate with the outsiders. The name of the unit was “Tōgō Unit.” One by one, the subjects of the experiments were imprisoned in a sturdy iron lattice and inoculated with various pathogenic bacteria to observe changes in their conditions. They used prisoners on death row in the prisons of Harbin for these experiments. It was said that it was for national defense purposes, but the experiments were performed with appalling brutality.The dead were burned in high-voltage electric furnaces, leaving no trace.    A local from the region added this about the complex “We heard rumors of people having blood drawn in there but we never went near the place. We were too afraid. When the construction started, there were about forty houses in our village, and a lot of people were driven out. About one person from each home was taken to work on the construction. People were gathered from villages from all around here, maybe about a thousand people in all. The only things we worked on were the surrounding wall and the earthen walls. The Chinese that worked on the buildings were brought in from somewhere, but we didn't know where. After everything was finished, those people were killed.”    Despite all the secrecy, it was soon discovered prisoners were being taken, primarily from the CCP and bandits who were being subjected to tests. One such test was to gradually drain a victim of blood to see at what point they would die. The unit drew 500 cc of blood from each prisoner every 3-5 days. As their bodies drew weaker, they were dissected for further research, the average prisoner lasted a maximum of a month. Due to the climate of Manchuria, it was soon established that finding methods to treat frostbite would benefit the Kwantung army. Ishii's team gathered human subjects and began freezing and unfreezing them. Sometimes these experiments included observing test subjects whose limbs had been frozen and severed. The Togo team reported to General Okamura Yasuji, the deputy commander in chief of the Kwantung army from 1933-1934 that the best way to treat frostbite was to soak a limb in 37 degree water. According to the testimony of a witness named Furuichi at trial done in Khabarovsk , “Experiments in freezing human beings were performed every year in the detachment, in the coldest months of the year—November, December, January and February. The experimental technique was as follows: the test subjects were taken out into the frost at about 11 o'clock at night, compelled to dip their hands into a barrel of cold water and forced to stand with wet hands in the frost for a long time. Alternatively, some were taken out dressed, but with bare feet and compelled to stand at night in the frost during the coldest period of the year. When frostbite had developed, the subjects were taken to a room and forced to put their feet in water of 5 degrees Celsius, after which the temperature was gradually increased.”   Sergeant Major Kurakazu who was with Unit 731 later on in 1940 and taken prisoner by the Soviets in 1945 stated during the Khabarovsk trial , “I saw experiments performed on living people for the first time in December 1940. I was shown these experiments by researcher Yoshimura, a member of the 1st Division. These experiments were performed in the prison laboratory. When I walked into the prison laboratory, ve Chinese experimentees were sitting there; two of these Chinese had no fingers at all, their hands were black; in those of three others the bones were visible. They had fingers, but they were only bones. Yoshimura told me that this was the result of freezing experiments.”   According to Major Karasawa during the same trial Ishii became curious about using plague as a weapon of war and captured plague infected mice to test on subjects in the Zhong Ma Complex “Ishii told me that he had experimented with cholera and plague on the mounted bandits of Manchuria during 1933-1934 and discovered that the plague was effective.”   According to Lt General Endo Saburo's diary entry on November 16th of 1933, at the Zhong Ma complex “The second squad which was responsible for poison gas, liquid poison; and the First Squad which was responsible for electrical experiments. Two bandits were used by each squad for the experiments.  Phosgene gas—5-minute injection of gas into a brick-lined room; the subject was still alive one day aer inhalation of gas; critically ill with pneumonia.  Potassium cyanide—the subject was injected with 15 mg.; subject lost consciousness approximately 20 minutes later.  20,000 volts—several jolts were not enough to kill the subject; injection of poison required to kill the subject.  5000 volts—several jolts were not enough; aer several minutes of continuous current, subject was burned to death.”    The Togo Unit established a strict security system to keep its research highly confidential. Yet in 1934, 16 Chinese prisoners escaped, compromising the Zhong Ma location. One of the guards had gotten drunk and a prisoner named Li smashed a bottle over his head and stole his keys. He freed 15 other prisoners and of them 4 died of cold, hunger and other ailments incurred by the Togo unit. 12 managed to flee to the 3rd route army of the Northeast Anti Japanese united Army. Upon hearing the horrifying report, the 3rd route army attacked the Togo unit at Beiyinhe and within a year, the Zhong Ma complex was exploded.    After the destruction of the Zhong Ma complex, Ishii needed a better structure. The Togo unit had impressed their superior and received a large budget. Then on May 30th of 1936 Emperor Hirohito authorized the creation of Unit 731. Thus Ishii and his colleagues were no longer part of the Epidemic Prevention Institute of the Army Medical School, now they were officially under the Kwantung Army as the Central Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department. Their new HQ was located in Pingfan, closer to Harbin. Their initial budget was 3 million yen for the personnel, 200-300 thousand yen per autonomous unit and 6 million yen for experimentation and research. Thus their new annual budget was over 10 million yen.    Pingfan was evacuated by the Kwantung army. Hundreds of families were forced to move out and sell their land at cheap prices. To increase security this time, people required a special pass to enter Pingfan. Then the airspace over the area became off-limits, excluding IJA aircraft, all violators would be shot down. The new Pingfan complex was within a walled city with more than 70 buildings over a 6 km tract of land. The complex's huge size drew some international attention, and when asked what the structure was, the scientists replied it was a lumber mill. Rather grotesquely, prisoners would be referred to as “maruta” or “logs” to keep up the charade. Suzuki, a Japanese construction company back then, worked day and night to construct the complex.    Now many of you probably know a bit about Unit 731, but did you know it's one of countless units?  The Army's Noborito Laboratory was established (1937) The Central Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department of the North China Army/ Unit 1855 was established (1938)  The Central Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department of Central China/ Unit 1644 (1939)  Thee Guangzhou Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department of South China Army/ Unit 8604 (1942)  The Central Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department of the Southern Expeditionary Army/ Unit 9620 (1942).    There were countless others, detachments included Unit 1855 in Beijing, Unit Ei 1644 in Nanjing, Unit 8604 in Guangzhou, and later Unit 9420 in Singapore. All of these units comprised Ishii's network, which, at its height in 1939, oversaw over 10,000 personnel.   Victims were normally brought to Pingfan during the dead of night within crammed freight cars with number logs on top. They were brought into the building via a secret tunnel. According to a witness named Fang Shen Yu, technicians in white lab coats handled the victims who were tied in bags. The victims included anyone charge with a crime, could be anti-japanese activity, opium smoking, espionage, being a communist, homelessness, being mentally handicap, etc. Victims included chinese, Mongolians, Koreans, White Russians, Harbin's jewish population and any Europeans accused of espionage. During the Khabarovsk trial, Major Iijima Yoshia admitted to personally subjecting 40 Soviet citizens to human experimentation. Harbin's diversity provided great research data. Each prisoner was assigned a number starting with 101 and ending at 1500. Onec 1500 was reached, they began again at 101, making it nearly impossible to estimate the total number of victims. Since the complex had been labeled a lumber mill to the locals, most did not worry about it or were too afraid to do so. The prison's warden was Ishii's brother Mitsuo who made sure to keep it all a secret.    Ethics did not exist within Ishii's network of horrors. Everything was done efficiently in the name of science. Pingfang was equipped for disposing the evidence of their work in 3 large incinerators. As a former member who worked with the incinerators recalled “the bodies always burned up fast because all the organ were gone; the bodies were empty”. Human experimentation allowed the researchers their first chance to actually examine the organs of a living person at will to see the progress of a disease. Yeah you heard me right, living person, a lot of the vivisections were done on live people. As one former researcher explained "the results of the effects of infection cannot be obtained accurately once the person dies because putrefactive bacteria set in. Putrefactive bacteria are stronger than plague germs. So, for obtaining accurate results, it is important whether the subject is alive or not." Another former researcher said this “"As soon as the symptoms were observed, the prisoner was taken from his cell and into the dissection room. He was stripped and placed on the table, screaming, trying to fight back. He was strapped down, still screaming frightfully. One of the doctors stuffed a towel into his mouth, then with one quick slice of the scalpel he was opened up." Witnesses of some of these vivisections reported that victims usually let out a horrible scream when the initial cuts were made, but that the voice stops soon after. The researchers often removed the organ of interest, leaving others in the body and the victims usually died of blood loss or because of the removed organ. There are accounts of experiments benign carried out on mothers and children, because yes children were in fact born in the facilities. Many human specimens were placed in jars to be viewed by Tokyo's army medical college. Sometimes these jars were filled with limbs or organs but some giant ones had entire bodies.   Vivisection was conducted on human beings to observe how disease affected each organ once a human dies. According to testimony given by a technician named Ogawa Fukumatsu “I participated in vivisections. I did them every day. I cannot remember the amount of people dissected. At first, I refused to do it. But then, they would not allow me to eat because it was an order; gradually I changed.” Another technician Masakuni Kuri testified  “I did vivisection at the time. Experiments were conducted on a Chinese woman with syphilis. Because she was alive, the blood poured out like water from a tap.”   A report done by Shozo Kondo studied the effects of bubonic plague on humans. The number of subjects was 57 with age ranging from toddlers to 80 years old with mixed gender. The study used fleas carrying plague that were dispersed upon the local population in June of 1940 at Changchun. 7 plague victims were Japanese residents. The report stated the plague spread because of lack of immunity by the townspeople. Subjects' survival time ranged from 2-5 days, with only 3 surviving 12, 18 and 21 days. The subjects were infected with Glandular, Cutaneous or Septicemic plague, but most had the Glandular variety.     In addition to the central units of Pingfang were others set up in Beijing, Nanjing, Guangzhou and Singapore. The total number of personnel was 20,000. These satellite facilities all had their own unique horror stories. One was located in Anda, 100km from Pingfang where outdoor tests for plague, cholera and other pathogens were down. They would expose human subjects to biological bombs, typically by putting 10-40 people in the path of a biological bomb. A lot of the research was done to see the effective radius of the bombs, so victims were placed at different distances. At Xinjing was Unit 100 and its research was done against domesticated animals, horses particularly. Unit 100 was a bacteria factory producing glanders, anthrax and other pathogens. They often ran tests by mixing poisons with food and studied its effects on animals, but they also researched chemical warfare against crops. At Guangzhou was unit 8604 with its HQ at Zhongshan medical university. It is believed starvation tests ran there, such as the water test I mentioned. They also performed typhoid tests and bred rats to spread plague. Witness testimony from a Chinese volunteer states they often dissolved the bodies of victims in acid. In Beijing was Unit 1855 which was a combination of a prison and experiment center. They ran plague, cholera and typhus tests. Prisoners were forced to ingest mixtures of germs and some were vaccinated against the ailments. In Singapore after its capture in February of 1942 there was a secret laboratory. One Mr. Othman Wok gave testimony in the 1990s that when he was 17 years old he was employed to work at this secret lab. He states 7 Chinese, Indian and Malay boys worked in the lab, picking fleas from rats and placing them in containers. Some 40 rat catchers, would haul rats to the lab for the boys to do their work. The containers with fleas went to Japanese researchers and Othman says he saw rats being injected with plague pathogens. The fleas were transferred to kerosene cans which contained dried horse blood and an unidentified chemical left to breed for weeks. Once they had plague infected fleas in large quantity Othman said "A driver who drove the trucks which transported the fleas to the railway station said that these bottles of fleas were sent off to Thailand." If this is true, it gives evidence to claims Unit 731 had a branch in Thailand as well. Othman stated he never understood or knew what was really going on at the lab, but when he read in 1944 about biological attacks on Chongqing using fleas, he decided to leave the lab. Othman states the unit was called Unit 9240.  As you can imagine rats and insects played a large role in all of this. They harvested Manchuria rat population and enlisted schoolchildren to raise them. In the 1990s the Asahi Broadcasting company made a documentary titled “the mystery of the rats that went to the continent”. It involved a small group of high school children in Saitama prefecture asked local farmers if they knew anything about rat farming during the war years. Many stated everybody back then was raising rats, it was a major source of income. One family said they had rat cages piled up in a shed, each cage built to carry 6 rat, but they had no idea what the rats were being used for. Now hear this, after the war, the US military kept these same families in business. The US army unit 406 which was established in Tokyo to research viruses wink wink, would often drive out to these farms in their american jeeps collecting rats.  Getting fleas was a much tricker task. One method was taking older Chinese prisoners and quarantining them with clothes carrying flea or flea eggs and allowing them to live in isolated rooms to cultivate more fleas. These poor guys had to live in filth and not shave for weeks to produce around 100 fleas a day. Now Unit 731 dealt with numerous diseases such as Cholera.  Some experiments used dogs to spread cholera to villages. They would steal dogs from villages, feed them pork laced with cholera germs and return them to the villages. When the disease finished incubating the dogs would vomit and other dogs would come and eat the vomit spread it more and more. The dogs were also stricken with diarrhea and the feces spread it to other dogs as well. 20% of the people in villages hit by this died of the disease. Former army captain Kojima Takeo was a unit member involved in a Cholera campaign and added this testimony "We were told that we were going out on a cholera campaign, and we were all given inoculations against cholera ten days before starting out. Our objective was to infect all the people in the area. The disease had already developed before we got there, and as we moved into the village everyone scattered. The only ones left were those who were too sick to move. The number of people coming down with the disease kept increasing. Cholera produces a face like a skeleton, vomiting, and diarrhea. And the vomiting and defecating of the people lying sick brought flies swarming around. One after the other, people died." I've mentioned it a lot, Plague was a staple of Unit 731. The IJA wanted a disease that was fast and fatal, Cholera for instance took about 20 days, plague on the other hand starts killing in 3 days. Plague also has a very long history of use going back to the medieval times. It was one of the very first diseases Ishii focused on. In october of 1940 a plague attack was conducted against the Kaimingjie area in the port city of Ningbo. This was a joint operation with Unit 731 and the Nanjing based Unit 1644. During this operation plague germs were mixed with wheat, corn, cloth scraps and cotton and dropped from the air. More than 100 people died within a few days of the attack and the affected area was sealed off from the public until the 1960s.  Another horrifying test was the frostbite experiments. Army Engineer Hisato Yoshimura conducted these types of experiments by taking prisoners outside, dipping various appendages into water of varying temperatures and allowing the limbs to freeze. Once frozen, Yoshimura would strike their affected limbs with a short stick and in his words “they would emit a sound resembling that which a board gives when it is struck”. Ice was then chipping away with the affected area being subjected to various treatments, such as being doused in water, exposed to heat and so on. I have to mentioned here, that to my shock there is film of these specific frostbite experiments and one of our animators at Kings and Generals found it, I have seen a lot of things in my day, but seeing this was absolute nightmare fuel. If you have seen the movie or series Snowpiercer, they pretty much nail what it looked like.  Members of Unit 731 referred to Yoshimura as a “scientific devil” and a “cold blooded animal” because he would conduct his work with strictness. Naoji Uezono another member of Unit 731, described in a 1980s interview a disgusting scene where Yoshimura had "two naked men put in an area 40–50 degrees below zero and researchers filmed the whole process until [the subjects] died. [The subjects] suffered such agony they were digging their nails into each other's flesh". Yoshimuras lack of any remorse was evident in an article he wrote for the Journal of Japanese Physiology in 1950 where he admitted to using 20 children and 3 day old infant in experiments which exposed them to zero degree celsius ice and salt water. The article drew criticism and no shit, but Yoshimura denied any guilt when contacted by a reporter from the Mainichi Shimbun. Yoshimura developed a “resistance index of frostbite” based on the mean temperature of 5 - 30 minutes after immersion in freezing water, the temperature of the first rise after immersion and the time until the temperature first rises after immersion. In a number of separate experiments he determined how these parameters depended on the time of day a victim's body part was immersed in freezing water, the surrounding temperature and humidity during immersion, how the victim had been treated before the immersion ("after keeping awake for a night", "after hunger for 24 hours", "after hunger for 48 hours", "immediately after heavy meal", "immediately after hot meal", "immediately after muscular exercise", "immediately after cold bath", "immediately after hot bath"), what type of food the victim had been fed over the five days preceding the immersions with regard to dietary nutrient intake ("high protein (of animal nature)", "high protein (of vegetable nature)", "low protein intake", and "standard diet"), and salt intake. Members of Unit 731 also worked with Syphilis, where they orchestrated forced sex acts between infected and noninfected prisoners to transmit the disease. One testimony given by a prisoner guard was as follows “Infection of venereal disease by injection was abandoned, and the researchers started forcing the prisoners into sexual acts with each other. Four or five unit members, dressed in white laboratory clothing completely covering the body with only eyes and mouth visible, rest covered, handled the tests. A male and female, one infected with syphilis, would be brought together in a cell and forced into sex with each other. It was made clear that anyone resisting would be shot.” After victims were infected, they would be vivisected at differing stages of infection so that the internal and external organs could be observed as the disease progressed. Testimony from multiple guards blamed the female victims as being hosts of the diseases, even as they were forcibly infected. Genitals of female prisoners were infected with syphilis and the guards would call them “jam filled buns”. Even some children were born or grew up in the walls of Unit 731, infected with syphilis. One researcher recalled “one was a Chinese women holding an infant, one was a white russian woman with a daughter of 4 or 5 years of age, and the last was a white russian women with a boy of about 6 or 7”. The children of these women were tested in ways similar to the adults.  There was also of course rape and forced pregnancies as you could guess. Female prisoners were forced to become pregnant for use in experiments. The hypothetical possibility of transmission from mother to child of diseases, particularly syphilis was the rationale for the experiments. Fetal survival and damage to the womans reproductive organs were objects of interest. A large number of babies were born in captivity and there had been no accounts of any survivor of Unit 731, children included. It is suspected that the children of the female prisoners were killed after birth or aborted. One guard gave a testimony “One of the former researchers I located told me that one day he had a human experiment scheduled, but there was still time to kill. So he and another unit member took the keys to the cells and opened one that housed a Chinese woman. One of the unit members raped her; the other member took the keys and opened another cell. There was a Chinese woman in there who had been used in a frostbite experiment. She had several fingers missing and her bones were black, with gangrene set in. He was about to rape her anyway, then he saw that her sex organ was festering, with pus oozing to the surface. He gave up the idea, left and locked the door, then later went on to his experimental work.” In a testimony given on December 28 by witness Furuichi during the Khabarovsk Trial, he described how “a Russian woman was infected with syphilis to allow the scientists to and out how to prevent the spread of the disease.  Many babies were born to women who had been captured and become experimental subjects. Some women were kidnapped while pregnant; others became pregnant aer forced sex acts in the prisons, enabling researchers to study the transmission of venereal disease   Initially Unit 731 and Unit 100 were going to support Japan's Kantokuen plan. The Kantokuen plan an operation plan to be carried out by the Kwantung army to invade the USSR far east, capitalizing on the success of operation barbarossa. Unit 731 and 100 were to prepare bacteriological weapons to help the invasion. The plan was created by the IJA general staff and approved by Emperor Hirohito. It would have involved three-steps to isolate and destroy the Soviet Army and occupy the eastern soviet cities over the course of 6 months. It would have involved heavy use of chemical and biological weapons. The Japanese planned to spread disease using three methods; direct spraying from aircraft, bacteria bombs and saboteurs on the ground. This would have included plague, cholera, typhus and other diseases against troops, civilian populations, livestocks, crops and water supplies. The main targets were Blagoveshchensk, Khabarovsk, Voroshilov, and Chita. If successful the Soviet Far East would be incorporated into Japan's greater east asia co-prosperity sphere. Within Kantokuen documents, Emperor Hirohtio instructed Ishii to increase production rate at the units, for those not convinced Hirohito was deeply involved in some of the worst actions of the war. Yet in the end both Emperor Hirohito and Hideki Tojo pulled their support for the invasion of the USSR and opted for the Nanshin-ron strategy instead.    On August 9th of 1945 the Soviet Union declared war on Japan and invaded Manchuria. In response, the Japanese government ordered all research facilities in Manchuria to be destroyed and to erase all incriminating materials. A skeleton crew began the liquidation of unit 731 on August 9th or 10th, while the rest of the unit evacuated. All test subjects were killed and cremated so no remains would be found. The design of the facilities however, made them hard to destroy via bombing, several parts of the buildings left standing when the Soviets arrived. While most of the unit's staff managed to escape, including Ishii, some were captured by the soviets. Some of these prisoners told the Soviets about the atrocities committed at Pingfang and Changchun. At first the claims seemed so outrageous, the Soviets sent their own Biological Weapons specialists to examine the ruins of Ping Fang. After a thorough investigation, the Soviet experts confirmed the experiments had been done there. The real soviet investigation into the secrets of Unit 731 and 100 began in early 1946, thus information was not readily available during the Tokyo Tribunal. Both the Americans and SOviets had collected evidence during the war that indicated the Japanese were in possession of bacteriological weapons though. Amongst the 600,000 Japanese prisoners of war in the USSR, Major General Kiyoshi Kawashima and Major Tomoio Karasawa would become essential to uncovering the Japanese bacteriological warfare secrets and opening the path to hold the Khabarovsk trial. The Soviets and Americans spent quite a few years performing investigations, many of which led to no arrests. The major reason for this was similar to Operation Paperclip. For those unaware, paperclip was a American secret intelligence program where 1600 German scientists were taken after the war and employed, many of whom were nazi party officials. The most famous of course was Wernher von Braun. When the Americans looked into the Japanese bacteriological work, they were surprised to find the Japanese were ahead of them in some specific areas, notably ones involving human experimentation. General Charles Willoughby of G-2 american intelligence called to attention that all the data extracted from live human testing was out of the reach of the USA. By the end of 1947, with the CCP looking like they might defeat Chiang Kai-Shek and the Soviet Union proving to be their new enemy, the US sought to form an alliance with Japan, and this included their Bacteriological specialists. From October to December, Drs Edwin Hill and Joseph Victor from Camp Detrick were sent to Tokyo to gather information from Ishii and his colleagues. Their final conclusion laid out the importance of continuing to learn from the Japanese teams, and grant them immunity. The British were also receiving some reports from the Americans about the Japanese Bacteriological research and human experimentation. The British agreed with the Americans that the information was invaluable due to the live human beings used in the tests. The UK and US formed some arrangements to retain the information and keep it secret. By late 1948 the Tokyo War Crimes Trial was coming to an end as the cold war tension was heating up in Korea, pushing the US more and more to want to retain the information and keep it all under wraps.  With formal acceptance, final steps were undertaken, much of which was overseen by General Douglas MacArthur. On May 6, 1947, Douglas MacArthur wrote to Washington that "additional data, possibly some statements from Ishii probably can be obtained by informing Japanese involved that information will be retained in intelligence channels and will not be employed as 'War Crimes' evidence.” Ishii and his colleagues received full immunity from the Tokyo War Crimes Trial. Ishii was hired by the US government to lecture American officers at Fort Detrick on bioweapons and the findings made by Unit 731. During the Korean War Ishii reportedly traveled to Korea to take part in alleged American biological warfare activities. On February 22nd of 1952, Ishiiwas explicitly named in a statement made by the North Korean FOreign Minister, claiming he along with other "Japanese bacteriological war criminals had been involved in systematically spreading large quantities of bacteria-carrying insects by aircraft in order to disseminate contagious diseases over our frontline positions and our rear". Ishii would eventually return to Japan, where he opened a clinic, performing examinations and treatments for free. He would die from laryngeal cancer in 1959 and according to his daughter became a Roman Catholic shortly before his death.  According to an investigation by The Guardian, after the war, former members of Unit 731 conducted human experiments on Japanese prisoners, babies, and mental patients under the guise of vaccine development, with covert funding from the U.S. government. Masami Kitaoka, a graduate of Unit 1644, continued performing experiments on unwilling Japanese subjects from 1947 to 1956 while working at Japan's National Institute of Health Sciences. He infected prisoners with rickettsia and mentally ill patients with typhus. Shiro Ishii, the chief of the unit, was granted immunity from prosecution for war crimes by American occupation authorities in exchange for providing them with human experimentation research materials. From 1948 to 1958, less than five percent of these documents were transferred to microfilm and stored in the U.S. National Archives before being shipped back to Japan.

Hello Youtube Members, Patreons and Pacific War week by week listeners. Yes this was intended to be an exclusive episode to join the 29 others over on my Youtube Membership and Patreon, but since we are drawing to the end of the Pacific War week by week series, I felt compelled to make some special episodes to answer some of the bigger questions.   Hey before I begin I just want to thank all of you who have joined the patreon, you guys are awesome. Please let me know what other figures, events or other things you want to hear about in the future and I will try to make it happen.   So as you can see the title of this episode is, Why did the Japanese perform so many Atrocities during the Pacific War. Phewww, its honestly a difficult one to tackle, for there are countless reasons. I had a university professor who taught; ancient and modern Japanese history, history of the Japanese empire and the Pacific War. He actually answered this very question in a single lecture and in many ways I found it to be one of the most illuminating things I ever learnt about the Pacific War. To truly understand the reasons why they did such horrible things, you actually need to learn the general history of Japan, particularly the changes from Tokugawa, to Meiji, to Showa. I am going to do my very best, but I know many of you might be asking “what were the worst things they did?”, not everyone takes a special interest into such a niche part of history. May I recommend for those with strong stomachs “the knights of Bushido” by Edward Russel that covers pretty much all the atrocities of the Asia-Pacific War. For those of you who like darker things, check out Unit 731: Japan's Secret Biological Warfare in World War II by David Wallace and Peter Williams, absolute nightmare fuel.   I can't go through the entire history of Japan, but I think it's important to start off with the first Sino-Japanese War of 1894-1895. This was the first time the Empire of Japan fought a true war with a foreign nation, that being the Qing dynasty. At this point in time, there really emerged a sort of, to be blunt, race war. The Chinese had historically referred to the Japanese as “woren”, a racist term meaning dwarf. Now historically the Japanese had always revered the Chinese, kind of like in the way a little brother looks up to his big brother. In tokugawa Japan they would learn from the Chinese, but as the Meiji restoration began this dramatically changed. Japan watched as the Chinese were humiliating and abused by the western powers and failed to modernize. Meanwhile Japan emulated the best of the west, to modernize and become a great power themselves. In many ways, Japan saw itself become big brother and now China was little brother. The Meiji restoration had an element of nationalism built into it that would explode come the Show era. Japan for its entire history had this belief they were the “Yamato Race” dating back to the 6th century. Now while the Meiji restoration sought to emulate the west, they also emulated racism and propaganda, which in the 19th century was kind of a big deal. The Japanese government gradually began a long term campaign promoting the idea the Japanese, or Yamato people were superior to that of the other asian races. Who was the next big asian boy on the block? China, so it was inevitable they would direct a lot of racist attitudes towards the Chinese. During the first sino-japanese war, the Chinese, particularly Manchu had a habit of performing atrocities upon the Japanese. They would often cut off body parts of Japanese soldiers in grotesque manners and leave them to be found by their comrades. This was honestly a pretty typical thing of war in the region, but it did also have a racist element to it, the Chinese certainly saw the Japanese as lesser people. Just before the battle of Port Arthur, the Japanese found mutilated remains of the comrades, here is a passage from Makio Okabe who was there:   As we entered the town of Port Arthur, we saw the head of a Japanese soldier displayed on a wooden stake. This filled us with rage and a desire to crush any Chinese soldier. Anyone we saw in the town, we killed. The streets were filled with corpses, so many they blocked our way. We killed people in their homes; by and large, there wasn't a single house without from three to six dead. Blood was flowing and the smell was awful. We sent out search parties. We shot some, hacked at others. The Chinese troops just dropped their arms and fled. Firing and slashing, it was unbounded joy. At this time, our artillery troops were at the rear, giving three cheers [banzai] for the emperor.   The Japanese performed a massacre at Port Arthur, butchering perhaps up to 3000 Chinese civilians, some claim 10's of thousands and in full few of western war correspondents. It became a huge controversy that destroyed the image of the IJA internationally and hurt the Japanese governments efforts at riding themselves of unequal treaties with the western powers. The Japanese learnt a hell of a lesson and an Imperial Proclamation was made in 1894 stating that Japanese soldiers should make every effort to win the war without violating international laws. According to Japanese historian Yuki Tanaka, Japanese forces during the First Sino-Japanese War released 1,790 Chinese prisoners without harm, once they signed an agreement not to take up arms against Japan if they were released.   During the next major war the Japanese performed a dramatic 180, well at least to their enemy. During the Russo-Japanese War, over 80,000 Russian POWs were held by the IJA who were treated in accordance with the Hague conventions of 1899. The Japanese paid them for labor, housed them in conventional POW camps, made sure they received good medical treatment, ironically better than the Russians were capable of. The Japanese did all of this, making sure the foreign war correspondents wrote about it. It was a massive PR stunt in many ways. The Japanese were emulating how a world power should act, because they sought to be one. Meanwhile the Japanese swallowed their pride at being called yellow monkeys, as the prevalent Yellow Peril ideology was being pushed by Kaiser Wilhehelm and Tsar Nicholas II heavily. The Japanese treated the entire war like gentlemen and suffered horrific higher casualties than necessary because of it. But something many people don't take much notice of, because the IJA made sure of it, was they horrible treatment of the Chinese during the war.   Now the Russians in Manchuria looted, killed and raped many Chinese, pushed quite a bit by the Yellow Peril. The Chinese, certainly the Honghuzi bandits were working for the Japanese to attack them, so its not like they had no reasons. The IJA was more professional and had orders not to molest the Chinese, as they were helping the war effort, but this did not prevent it. The Japanese also looted, killed and raped Chinese. The Japanese would often wave it off as reprisals against potential spies. I only bring this up as it was very apparent, the Japanese treated the Russians much different than the chinese.   Fast forward to WW1, the Japanese had a battle against the Germans and Austro-Hungarians known in the west as the Siege of Tsingtau. The Japanese took up an identical methodology to the Russo-Japanese war with their approach to the Germans, but even took it a step further. After winning the siege, the Japanese seized nearly 5000 German POW's who were treated with a surreal amount of respect. They were brought back to Japan and housed for the rest of the war in 12 cities around Tokyo and Kumamoto. The POW's enjoyed humane treatment and a rather famous event occurred at the Bando camp where a large orchestra was formed of German POW's who toured the nation performing 100 concerts, lectures and plays. Evidence the Germans were treated well can be seen in the fact 170 prisoners never left Japan and sought wives and lives there. Now is this all a feel good love story, no, just like during the Russo-Japanese War, Japan was playing up the PR, for during WW1 they wanted official recognition as a world power and that of being racially equal to the whites.    Japan was officially recognized as a world power during the treaty of Versailles, but when Japan gave its racial equality proposal, President Woodrow Wilson of the US and Australian Prime Minister Billy Hughes refused to allow it to pass, even though they received majority votes. Now The Japanese had been for a lack of better words, fucked over, during the first sino-japanese war when the triple intervention of France, Germany and Russia stole away their war earning of the Liaodong peninsula. During the Russo-Japanese war, Theodore Roosevelt limited the Japanese war gains and now here after WW1 the Japanese received another humiliation. To the Japanese, it was the last straw and it was a major reason they went to war with the west, who they viewed, and honestly rightfully so, would never see them as equals.   Ompf, lot of history there, but now we come to the Showa era, which was molded by the feelings of the past decades.   In 1937 Japan and China enter an unofficial war that saw one of the worst wartime atrocities in human history, the rape of Nanjing. It began on December 13th of 1937, lasting 6 or so weeks seeing the murder of possibly 300,000 civilians and pows, the mass rape of 20,000 and untold hardship upon the Chinese people. The Japanese followed this up with numerous other massacres in China such as the Changjiao Massacre claiming possibly 30,000 Chinese civilian lives, the Alexandra Hospital Massacre killing 200 patients and medical staff in Hong Kong, the Laha Massacre on Ambon island where 300 members of the Gull force were executed, the Bangka island massacre where 60 Australian and British soldiers and 22 Australian nurses were murdered, the Parit Sulong massacre in Malay where 150 wounded Australian and Indian POW's were executed, the Bataan Death march where negligence and brutality took the lives of 650 Americans and perhaps a possible 18,000 Filipinos, the Manila massacres claiming the lives of perhaps 54,000 filipinos including women and children in the Philippines, the Balikpapan massacre in the dutch east indies taking the lives of 78 Dutch Civilians, I can keep going and going. Where the Japanese went, massacres and horrors occurred.    Again if you really want to delve into these stories check out “the knights of Bushido”.   The Japanese also had the infamous special units like 731, who conducted horrifying experiments on civilians and POWs like vivisectioning live people without anesthesia, testing biological and chemical weapons on live people, the freezing peoples to study frostbite treatment and giving people sexually transmitted diseases to study. Lt General Shiro Ishii's unit 731 deployed plague infested fleas, cholera, bubonic plague and other nasty weapons upon Chinese civilians killing perhaps up to 500,000. This was seen during the battle of Changde and famously during operation Sei-go also known as the Zhejiang-Jiangxi campaign.    The Japanese also enacted the infamous “Sanko Sakusen / three all's policy : kill all, urn all, loot all” in retaliation to the Chinese communists Hundred regiments offensive in December of 1940. Sanctioned by Hirohito personally, it is thought this act resulted in the death of 2.7 million Chinese civilians. According to author Werner Gruhl 8 million Chinese civilian deaths could be attributable to the Japanese.     So then we come back to the big question, why? So now that I've covered the loose history for coherency sake I want to list here the largest reasons for the atrocities and by no means is this official categories or even all of them, I am simply stating kind of my top ones I guess you can say:   Treaties signed or not signed War strategy and indoctrination  Ultra-Nationalism and Racism Surrender & the Bastardization of the Bushido code The Brutality of the Japanese military Treaties signed or not signed   Yes its time to talk about treaties, yawn. Now I said previously Japan did sign the Hague Conventions of 1899 and would ratify them in 1907. The Hague conventions did contain laws for prisoners of war, protection of civilians. Alongside this, in 1894 an imperial proclamation was made stating Japanese soldiers should make every effort to win a war without violating international laws. More significantly Japan “signed” but unlike the majority of other world powers did not ratify the Geneva convention of 1929. Why? To be blunt, the geneva conventions did not really benefit the Japanese military from their point of view.   First the Japanese had a very specific perspective on surrendering, they simply did not do it, so they did not expect many of their soldiers to ever become POW's, so how would it benefit them to ratify such a thing? If they are not going to have many POW's, why would they burden themselves with upholding all the conventional laws for POW's they would obtain during war?  Another glaring reason involved aerial bombing. Many Japanese leaders, like Kanji Ishiwara, believed the home islands would be subjected to massive aerial bombing if a global war broke out. If Japan was subjected to aerial bombing and ratified the geneva convention, this meant they would have to take the pilots who were caught prisoner. The Japanese believed this would encourage further bombing. Lastly the convention had rules for POW treatment that literally contradicted how Japanese soldiers were treated by their own superiors. More about that in the last part about the military's brutality, but summarized, the Japanese army were abusive as hell and to sign such a thing would literally contradict how they did things.   Emperor Hirohito personally ratified a decision to remove certain constraints of the Hague Conventions when it came to the treatment of Chinese POW's in the directive of 5 August 1937. This notification advised staff officers to simply stop using the term "prisoners of war". They would refer to their enemy as bandits, guerillas and such, anything but soldiers so they would not have to take any prisoners, though they typically did not leave anyone alive in China regardless. The Geneva Convention exempted POWs of sergeant rank or higher from manual labor, and stipulated that prisoners performing work should be provided with extra rations and other essentials. The Japanese in the later half of the war would be starved of provisions and resources, thus its to no surprise they could not meet these demands, even if they sought to uphold them. I will note in 1942, Japan indicated they would “follow” the Geneva rules and would observe the Hague Convention of 1907 outlining the laws and customs of war. Yet this is like a verbal confirmation, it had no legal basis, something the Japanese particularly loved to do during the war.   According to Dr. William Skelton III, who produced a document entitled American Ex Prisoners of War for the U.S. Department of Veterans' Affairs, more POWs died at the hands of the Japanese in the Pacific theater and specifically in the Philippines than in any other conflict to date. For example in Germany, POWs died at a rate 1.2%. In the Pacific theater the rate was 37%. In the Philippines, POWs died at a rate of 40%.    Now these pieces of paper that were signed or not signed, what does this really matter when it comes to war, its obvious they were not upholding certain rules, but how did this quote en quote make them more brutal and perform more atrocities? Well here is the sticky thing, if you are part of the Japanese military and you know your nation did not ratify certain rules of war, this meant your enemy had no supposed legal basis to follow said rules against you either.    So I want you to think of two aspects of this. If your nation did not sign or ratify certain treaties, then you could not expect the enemy to respect such rules when it comes to you. But more importantly, what if the leader of your nation…just told you to believe that?    In early 1942, Great Britain, the United States of America and other great powers did officially let the Japanese know that they would, on their  part, observe all the provisions of the Convention and requested reciprocity. Japanese foreign minister at the time, Hideki Tojo gave a formal assurance that although Japan was not bound by the Geneva convention, the Japanese would apply it “mutatis mutandis” towards the Americans, British, Canadians, Australians and New Zealander POW's, note he most definitely did not extend this to the asiatic groups, nor the Dutch whom I guess he just forgot about. But this did morally bind Japan to comply with the convention. However the top brass of the Japanese military, notably Hideki Tojo in these cases, went out of his way to instill beliefs within the military as to what they should expect from the enemy. As you will see in the next points, this was basically a type of indoctrination.   War strategy and indoctrination    The leaders of Japan knew full well how unmatched they were in terms of resources and productivity before they began the war with the west. How could they possibly win the war? The IJN was dead set on a decisive naval battle, but for the IJA to compensate for their lack of resources, they believed their “spirit” would overcome the enemy. In many ways this spirit meant going above and beyond normal human endurance, to literally outperform the allies and notably to conduct the war with absolutely zero mercy. Once Japan lost the initiative in the war, after Guadalcanal, the IJA were forced to fight a war of attrition. Now they would prolong and exact maximum casualties upon the allies hoping to force them to the peace table. The idea was quite simple, the IJA would do everything possible to make the allies believe they would never give up and it would far too costly to defeat them. How does one go about achieving these aims? Well the IJA officers would tell you “by steeling your hearts”. To achieve all of this required extreme indoctrination.    Japanese children grew up in regimentation, they were desensitized to violence through tales of martial glory, and were taught that their purpose in life was to serve the emperor. Upon entering  military service, they were trained out of any individualistic spirit, and taught that compassion was a weakness and had no place in the field of war. The soldier's motto was faith equaled strength.  Faith being devotion to duty and service to the Divine Emperor. Apart from ideology and spiritual toughening, training in the Japanese Imperial Army was also extremely harsh and violent. This was not even particularly a special aspect of Showa Japan, it went all the way back to the Meiji era. From a young age children's education directed them, like a pipeline for military duty.   Now at the offset of the war, Hideki Tojo released the “Senjinkun” “instructions for the battlefield”. This was basically a manual for soldiers on how to conduct war. The document was used to establish standards of behavior for Japanese troops and improve discipline and morale within the Army, it also included things like a prohibition against being taken prisoner. It stated if you were captured by the enemy, because Japan did not sign or ratify certain treaties, you would be killed or tortured by the allies, and if you survived you and your family would face shame back home, and punishment resulting typically in 6 months of prison.   Here is a small excerpt from the document Those who know shame are weak. Always think of [preserving] the honor of your community and be a credit to yourself and your family. Redouble your efforts and respond to their expectations. Never live to experience shame as a prisoner. By dying you will avoid leaving a stain on your honor.   The purpose was basically psychological warfare, against their own army. Those like Hideki Tojo believed Japan could only defeat the resource rich Americans with spirit. Thus the manuals like Senjinkun demanded the forces not ever surrender, because the allies would do horrible things, it was shameful to do so and there were disciplinary actions for any who did. In 1942 the Army amended its criminal code to specify that officers who surrendered soldiers under their command faced at least six months imprisonment, regardless of the circumstances in which the surrender took place. This change attracted little attention, however, as the Senjinkun imposed more severe consequences and had greater moral force.   In a report dated June 1945, the U.S. Office of War Information noted that 84 percent of one group of interrogated Japanese prisoners, many of whom had been injured or unconscious when captured stated that they had expected to be killed or tortured by the Allies if taken prisoner. The OWI analysts described this as being typical, and concluded that fear of the consequences of surrender, “rather than Bushido,” was the motivation for many Japanese battle deaths in hopeless circumstances–as much as, and probably more than, the other two major considerations: fear of disgrace at home, and “the positive desire to die for one's nation, ancestors, and god-emperor.”   Something barely talked about in the west, was during the Pacific War, the Americans had a habit of taking human trophies. Human trophies were Japanese skulls, gold teeth, finger bones and such. The famous novel “With the Old Breed” by Eugene Sledge spoke of his personal accounts of these actions, its a rather gruesome and dark part of the war. Now some of these actions were publicized, despite the US military's efforts to quell and hush it down. Time magazine famously had an iconic photo of a woman whose enlisted boyfriend sent her home a Japanese skull. FDR also famously was given a letter opener carved out of Japanese bones. These stories were seized up greedily by the Japanese government who used them as propaganda to prove to their soldiers what would happen if they were captured. It had a profound effect as you can imagine. And this was not limited to Japanese soldiers. The propaganda machine would contribute at the end of the war to mass civilian suicides on Okinawa and Saipan.   Back to the POW subject. When it came to the treatment of POW's, Hideki Tojo began submitting in May of 1942 a series of memorandum, basic orders as to how POW's should be treated. “Prisoners of war can be used for the enlargement of our production and as military labor, white prisoners of war will be confined successively in Korea, Formosa and Manchuria. Superior technicians and high ranking officers -- Colonels and above -- will be included among the prisoners of war confined in Formosa. Those who are not suitable for use in enlargement of our production will be confined in prisoner of war camps which will be built immediately on the spot.Although the working of prisoner of war officers and warrant officers is forbidden by the Regulations of 1903, the policy of the control authorities is that under the situation of our country where not one person now eats without working they want them to set to work. It is desired that you give proper orders on this.The present situation of affairs in this country does not permit anyone to lie idle doing nothing but eating freely. With that in view, in dealing with prisoners of war, I hope you will see that they may be usefully employed. In Japan, we have our own ideology concerning prisoners of war, which should naturally make their treatment more or less different from that in Europe and America. In dealing with them, you should, of course, observe the various Regulations concerned, aim at an adequate application of them . . . At the same time, you must not allow them to lie idle doing nothing but eating freely for even a single day. Their labor and technical skill should be fully utilized for the replenishment of production, and contribution rendered toward the prosecution of the Greater East Asiatic War for which no effort ought to be spared."   Thus in the end as a grunt in the IJA you were led to believe: if I am captured I will be tortured, killed maybe turned into a letter opener, or someone will place my skull on their mantle. If I surrender and survive and make it back home, I will be severely punished and worst of all me and my family will be shamed. I could not expect any humanity from the enemy, because my nation did not sign or ratify treaties like the Geneva convention. More so, because my armies conduct was so unbelievably barbaric, I could only expect the very same from my enemy. It was a vicious cycle. You perform atrocities, expecting the enemy to do the same, and thus it just keeps perpetuating itself. Ultra-Nationalism and Racism   Now we spoke a little bit about the concept of the Yamato race, the Japanese were indoctrinated to believe they were a superior race and that their emperor was something akin to a living god. Until this war, the Japanese empire was on a hell of a winning streak going all the way back to the Meiji Era. For the first half of the Pacific war, the Japanese won nearly every battle. This led to something historians called “victory disease” that made them become somewhat arrogant and cocky, but it also made them feel “superhuman”. The allies' news reporting at the beginning of the war began to frantically refer to the Japanese as “supermen”or  “super jungle fighters”. Particularly because of the Malay campaign, the Japanese soldier just seemed to be tougher, could survive harsher jungle climates, even doing so with less food or war materials. The Japanese read the allied news reports and came to the conclusion that had been driven down their throats by their government, indeed the Japanese spirit was winning the war. The Japanese public ate this up in their propaganda and it perpetuated their ultra-nationalistic beliefs. The Japanese truly came to believe they were destined to rule the asia-pacific. Look at the results in China for example. Within a short amount of time they conquered much of China, though the public really had no idea how bad the China was bottled down by 1940. Then came the greater east asia co-prosperity sphere propaganda, which is an excellent example of their megalomania.    Yet alongside their ultra-nationalism, seen more strongly perpetuated against other Asian groups, the Japanese also indoctrinated their public with racism against them. The Yellow Peril of the 19th century and anti-japanese or anti-asian racism fueled the Japanese soldiers. The Japanese as a people had faced brutal racist hardships historically at the hands of the west, particularly from their point of view from America. There was the slights against them during the first sino-japanese war, the infamous triple intervention of france, germany and Russia stealing away their prize that was the liaodong peninsula. Then during the Boxer rebellion they faced racism, not being allowed to lead mutli national army formations, despite them being the lionshare of said military force. The Russo-Japanese war saw from their point of view, America stealing their war prizes. Last but not least, after WW1 they were told to their faces that they were a world power, but not racially equal. The Japanese faced anti-Japanese and anti-asian immigration laws when it came to America in the form of the gentleman's agreement and Australia's “great white Australia policy”. During the war, the American propaganda machine began pumping out racist caricatures of Japanese as rats, goggle eyed  bucktooth people, literal yellow monkey's.   For the IJA the pacific war in many was a holy war directed at the arrogant whites who had abused them for so long. This will probably sound controversial, but indeed, the pacific war was very much a race war. If you are not convinced of that, I recommend reading “War without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacific War” by John Dower. The human trophy taking, anti-japanese bucktooth, rat people cartoon propaganda, history of racial abuse like the japanese concentration camps, the gentleman's agreement, the stealing of victories during the first sino-japanese war, russo-japanese war and ww1 all plagued the mind of a Japanese soldier. To them in many ways, the “whites had it coming”. Which is rather ironic given how the Japanese would treat the other asian racial groups they came into contact with. But such is the contradictory nature of the Imperial Japanese military.    The Japanese also held racist beliefs about the westerners. The Japanese soldiers were taught the allies were akin to demons or beasts. They were described often as “the hairy ones” or “anglo-American demons”. Taught these men would rape women and girls, stample upon the civilians they captured with the treads of their tanks. The marines were especially dreaded.  According to a story circulated widely among the Japanese on Saipan, all Marine Corps recruits were compelled to murder their own parents before being inducted into service. It was said that Japanese soldiers taken prisoner would suffer hideous tortures—their ears, noses, and limbs would be cut off; they would be blinded and castrated; they could also be cooked and fed to dogs. As silly as this may sound, do remember the Americans were taking human trophies so the Japanese propaganda machine had its evidence. Tons of photos of skulls atop american tanks for example were displayed to the Japanese public. Another famous one was the cartoon appearing in an American servicemen's magazine, which was later reproduced and translated in the Japanese press. It suggested the existence of “Japanese hunting licenses, promising open season on the enemy, complete with free ammunition and equipment—with pay!    In terms of how the Japanese exacted their own racism towards their fellow asians. During the War the Japanese dragged into forced labor, Koreans, Chinese and southeast asians. 670,000 Koreans were brought to Japan to work mines and heavy industry, around 60,000 of them died to harsh conditions. Between April 1943 to May 1945, 41,862 Chinese were sent to Japan to work, 2800 died before even reaching the home islands. 6872 died in the work sites again from brutal conditions. When it comes to southeast asian numbers are hard to pinpoint but its safe to say at least 300,000 Javanese, Malay, Burmese, Tamil and other groups were mobilized to construct the Burma-Siam railroad between October 1942 to november 1943 and 60,000 perished. This all went for the men, for the women, all those racial groups would face the horrors of becoming comfort women, historians estimate there could have been 50-200,000 pressed into it. But for the Japanese, believing their were superior to these other asiatic groups, groups whom they would publicly say were like children, they as the father figure would guide, well they simply abused them.   So in a contradictive fashion, the Japanese believed they were superior and could do horrible things to their Asian neighbors while simultaneously decrying the racism cast towards them by western powers as justification for their brutal actions against them. These types of feelings and perspectives molded the mind of the average Japanese soldier, dehumanizing others has always been a standard military practice afterall.    Surrender & the Bastardization of the Bushido code   I think this is one the vast majority of WW2 history buffs know, the Japanese perspective on surrender and the bushido code. In the book “military trials of war criminals in the Netherlands east indies 1946-1949” Fred Borch had this to say about the variable of bushido for the brutality   As Japan continued its modernization in the early 20th century, her armed forces became convinced that success in battle would be assured if Japanese soldiers, sailors, and airmen had the "spirit" of Bushido. ... The result was that the Bushido code of behavior "was inculcated into the Japanese soldier as part of his basic training." Each soldier was indoctrinated to accept that it was the greatest honor to die for the Emperor and it was cowardly to surrender to the enemy. ... Bushido therefore explains why the Japanese soldiers who were stationed in the NEI so mistreated POWs in their custody. Those who had surrendered to the Japanese—regardless of how courageously or honorably they had fought—merited nothing but contempt; they had forfeited all honor and literally deserved nothing. Consequently, when the Japanese murdered POWs by shooting, beheading, and drowning, these acts were excused since they involved the killing of men who had forfeited all rights to be treated with dignity or respect. While civilian internees were certainly in a different category from POWs, it is reasonable to think that there was a "spill-over" effect from the tenets of Bushido.   It is very true, the Japanese soldiers and sailors were taught Japan was a sacred nation. Traditional samurai values of bushido were merged with modern training and weaponry. The government propagandized the figure of the Emperor as a living god who embodied the Japanese state, the Kokutai. Emperor Hirohito and his family were the spiritual essence of Japan. To even show your back to the enemy let alone surrender was deemed cowardly and brought dishonor upon your family. As written by Inouye Jukichi in 1910, something read by many Japanese “The Japanese warriors looked upon it as shame to themselves not to die when their Lord was hard pressed . . . their own shame was the shame upon their parents, their family, their house and their whole clan, and with this idea deeply impressed upon their minds, the Samurai, no matter of what rank, held their lives light as feathers when compared with the weight they attached to the maintenance of a spotless name”.    Young men of Japan were taught that "The greatest honor is to die for the Emperor" Additionally precept the Japanese were taught that it is an ignominy to surrender to the enemy. The combined effect of these two precepts was to inculcate in the Japanese soldier a spirit of contempt for Allied soldiers who surrendered, which, in defiance of the rules of war, was demonstrated in their ill-treatment of prisoners. They made no distinction between the soldier who fought honorably and courageously up to an inevitable surrender, and the soldier who surrendered without a fight. All enemy soldiers who surrendered under any circumstance were to be regarded as being disgraced and entitled to live only by the tolerance of their captors.   Surrender was unforgivable under their code, drilled into them through the Imperial Japanese education system and military. When the Japanese would come across vast swathes of the enemy surrendering, particularly if the enemy used up all their ammunition killing their comrades and then surrendered, well it added fuel to their brutality. One only needs to look at the deaths due to Banzai charges, take for example the incredibly massive one at the battle of Saipan seeing around 4000 dead Japanese. IJA officers brought ancestral katana's to the war, the Japanese cut off the heads of the enemies as it was seen to be honorable. When faced with death, many chose to commit seppuku, the bushido propaganda was intense.    A brutal practice emerged in the Pacific island hopping campaign, whereupon wounded Japanese would pretend to be dead or surrender only to explode grenades upon allied forces coming closer. This began to be noticed by US marines during the battle of Guadalcanal and Australians in New Guinea. This began a vicious cycle . There were of course Japanese who would surrender. Hell the Koreans forced into service often did try to surrender, but they would all be hampered by something. Because of the actions of those Japanese feinted death and taking down allied soldiers with them, the allied soldiers gradually began a practice of not bothering to accept surrender. It became a self fulfilling prophecy. Many Japanese made the allies believe all they could expect was a grenade death, thus the allies became more brutal to them. This simply led the Japanese to conclude their government was accurate about how the allies would treat them, so more and more did not surrender. An absolutely horrible cycle that went on to the very end of the war, though the allies did figure out means to get Japanese to surrender more in the last year.    The Brutality of the Japanese military   I think this is probably one of the most important factors, and its also one the “normies” would not know as much about. The Imperial Japanese military, more so the Army, had what I can only describe as a built in system of abuse. As described to me by the same university professor I keep bringing up in podcasts, picture a literal pecking order. Going from the highest ranked general to the very bottom grunt. Imagine each one who is higher than the other, routinely physically abuses them. For example, it was very typical for a colonel to slap a major across the face, the major would then strike one of his captains, and the abuse would continue through the ranks to the grunts who would have no one to abuse, thus they turned to POW's or civilian populations. This was not just an accepted part of the Japanese Imperial Army it was indoctrinated.    From day one of basic training, IJA officers taught their men, races like the Chinese were their blood enemies and racially inferior. These were people the Japanese would rule over one day. The trainers would toss the boys into rigorous training activities involving physical violence towards another alongside the notion any orders given by a higher ranking officer was infallible and to be treated as if the divine emperor himself, the living god was giving it.    The Japanese army even taught methods of torture that would be employed in all areas they occupied. Among these tortures were the water treatment, burning, electric shocks, the knee spread, suspension, kneeling on sharp instruments and flogging. The Kempetai, were the ones doing the lionshare of these tortures. Other Army and Navy units, however, used the same methods as the Kempetai. Camp guards performed similar methods, local police forces organized by the Kempetai in the occupied territories also applied the same methods of torture. The Kempetai were administered by the War Ministry, trained at specialized schools who were maintained and operated by the War Ministry in Japan. Thus the conduct of Kempetai and the camp guards directly reflected the policy of the War Ministry.    The Japanese army leadership made sure recruits were physically and mentally abused, they were given strenuously duty tasks and pushed to their absolute limit. During the war given where they were deployed, take guadalcanal for example, the Japanese soldiers would be facing starvation as well. Being half starved, beaten and suffering the effects of war would drive anyone to perform horrifying acts. The life of a Japanese solider was simply at the whims of an extremely toxic management culture. The lowest ranking echelons received the lionshare of abuse and they took out their frustration with whomever they could find deemed lower than them, ie: POW's, civilians, etc.   All of these variables combined contributed to the creation of a military willing to perform just about any atrocity they thought necessary to win the war. It was a war they could not hope to win, but many of them went to their deaths trying to defeat the hands of fate. There are countless other reasons of course for the atrocities committed in cold or hot blood. Countless books have been written on this subject, please do check out the few I mentioned. With that again, a big thanks to you patreons, you guys are awesome. Please let me know what you think in the comments, and what you want to hear more about in the future. This has been the pacific war channel over and out.

Last time we spoke about the battle of Nanjing. In December 1937, as the battle for Nanjing unfolded, terror inundated its residents, seeking safety amid the turmoil. General Tang Shengzhi rallied the Chinese forces, determined to defend against the advancing Japanese army. Fierce fighting erupted at the Gate of Enlightenment, where the determined Chinese soldiers resisted merciless assaults while tragedy loomed. By mid-December, the Japanese made substantial advances, employing relentless artillery fire to breach Nanjing's defenses. Leaders called for strategic retreats, yet amid chaos and despair, many young Chinese soldiers, driven by nationalism, continued to resist. By December 13, Nanjing succumbed to the invaders, marking a tragic chapter in history. As destruction enveloped the city, the resilience of its defenders became a poignant tale of courage amidst the horrors of war, forever marking Nanjing as a symbol of enduring hope in the face of despair.   #168 The Nanjing Massacre Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. So obvious disclaimer, today we will be talking about, arguably one of if not the most horrific war atrocities ever committed. To be blunt, it may have been worse than some of the things we talked about back during the fall of the Ming Dynasty, when bandit armies raped and pillaged cities. The Nanjing Massacre as its become known is well documented by both Chinese and foreign sources. There is an abundance of primary sources, many well verified. Its going to be extremely graphic, I am going to try and tell it to the fullest. So if you got a weak stomach perhaps sit this one out, you have been warned. Chen Yiding began evacuating his troops from the area surrounding the Gate of Enlightenment before dawn on December 13. En route to Xiaguan, he took the time to visit a dozen of his soldiers housed in a makeshift hospital located in an old cemetery. These men were too severely injured to participate in the evacuation, and Chen had to leave them with only a few words of encouragement. Little did he know, within days, they would all perish in their beds, victims of the Japanese forces. Upon arriving in Xiaguan later that morning, Chen was met with grim news: his divisional commander had crossed the Yangtze River with his chief of staff the previous afternoon. Now, he was on his own. He didn't linger near the riverside chaos, quickly realizing there was nothing he could do there. Instead, he chose to move downstream, hoping to find a secure spot for himself and his soldiers to wait out the next few days before devising an escape from the war zone.  He was fortunate, for soon the Japanese would live up to their notorious reputation developed during their advance from Shanghai; they were not inclined to take prisoners. That afternoon, several hundred Chinese soldiers arrived at the northern end of the Safety Zone. The committee responsible for the area stated that they could offer no assistance. In a misguided attempt to boost morale, they suggested that if the soldiers surrendered and promised not to engage in combat, the Japanese would likely show them "merciful treatment." This optimism was woefully misplaced. Later that same day, Japanese troops entered the zone, dragging out 200 Chinese men, the majority of them soldiers, for execution just outside the city. On December 13, Japanese soldiers started patrolling the riverbank, shooting at anything and anyone floating downstream. Their comrades aboard naval vessels in the river cheered them on, applauding each time they struck another helpless victim in the water. Civilians were not spared either. While traveling through downtown Nanjing as the battle concluded, Rabe observed dead men and women every 100 to 200 yards, most of them shot in the back. A long line of Chinese men marched down the street, numbering in the hundreds, all destined for death. In a cruel twist, they were compelled to carry a large Japanese flag. They were herded into a vacant lot by a couple of Japanese soldiers and as recalled by American correspondent Archibald Steele "There, they were brutally shot dead in small groups. One Japanese soldier stood over the growing pile of corpses, firing into any bodies that showed movement." The killings commenced almost immediately after the fall of Nanjing. The victorious Japanese spread out into the city streets, seeking victims. Those unfortunate enough to be captured faced instant execution or were taken to larger killing fields to meet a grim fate alongside other Chinese prisoners. Initially, the Japanese targeted former soldiers, whether real or imagined, but within hours, the scope of victims expanded to include individuals of all age groups and genders. By the end of the first day of occupation, civilian bodies littered the streets of downtown Nanjing at a rate of roughly one per block. The defenseless and innocent were subjected to murder, torture, and humiliation in a relentless spree of violence that persisted for six harrowing weeks. At the time of the attack, Nanjing felt eerily abandoned, houses stood boarded up, vehicles lay toppled in the streets, and the once-ubiquitous rickshaws had vanished. However, hundreds of thousands remained hidden indoors, seeking refuge. The most visible sign of the city's new rulers was the display of the Japanese flag. On the morning of December 14, the Rising Sun flag was hoisted across the city, seen in front of private homes, businesses, and public buildings. Many of these flags were hastily made, often a simple white sheet with a red rag affixed, hoping to be spared. As the days progressed, horrifying accounts of violence began to emerge. A barber, the sole survivor among eight people in his shop when the Japanese arrived, was admitted to a hospital with a stab wound that had nearly severed his head from his body, damaging all muscles at the back of his neck down to his spinal canal. A woman suffered a brutal throat wound, while another pregnant woman was bayoneted in the abdomen, resulting in the death of her unborn child. A man witnessed his wife being stabbed through the heart and then saw his child hurled from a window to the street several floors below. These are but a few stories of individual atrocities committed. Alongside this there were mass executions, predominantly targeting young able-bodied men, in an effort to weaken Nanjing and deprive it of any potential resistance in the future. American professor, Lewis Smythe recalled “The disarmed soldier problem was our most serious one for the first three days, but it was soon resolved, as the Japanese shot all of them.” On the evening of December 15, the Japanese rounded up 1,300 former soldiers from the Safety Zone, binding them in groups of about 100 and marching them away in silence. A group of foreigners, permitted to leave Nanjing on a Japanese gunboat, accidentally became witnesses to the ensuing slaughter. While waiting for their vessel, they took a brief walk along the riverbank and stumbled upon a scene of mass execution, observing the Japanese shooting the men one by one in the back of the neck. “We observed about 100 such executions until the Japanese officer in charge noticed us and ordered us to leave immediately”. Not all killings were premeditated; many occurred impulsively. A common example was when Japanese soldiers led lines of Chinese POWs to holding points, tightly bound together with ropes. Every few yards, a Japanese soldier would stand guard with a fixed bayonet aimed at the prisoners as they trudged forward. Suddenly, one of the prisoners slipped, causing a domino effect as he fell, dragging down the men in front of and behind him. The entire group soon found themselves collapsed on the ground, struggling to stand. The Japanese guards lost their patience, jabbing their bayonets into the writhing bodies until none remained alive. In one of the largest massacres, Japanese troops from the Yamada Detachment, including the 65th Infantry Regiment, systematically executed between 17,000 and 20,000 Chinese prisoners from December 15 to 17. These prisoners were taken to the banks of the Yangtze River near Mufushan, where they were machine-gunned to death. The bodies were then disposed of by either burning or flushing them downstream. Recent research by Ono Kenji has revealed that these mass killings were premeditated and carried out systematically, in accordance with orders issued directly by Prince Asaka. A soldier from the IJA's 13th Division described killing wounded survivors of the Mufushan massacre in his diary “I figured that I'd never get another chance like this, so I stabbed thirty of the damned Chinks. Climbing atop the mountain of corpses, I felt like a real devil-slayer, stabbing again and again, with all my might. 'Ugh, ugh,' the Chinks groaned. There were old folks as well as kids, but we killed them lock, stock, and barrel. I also borrowed a buddy's sword and tried to decapitate some. I've never experienced anything so unusual”. Frequently, the Japanese just left their victims wherever they fell. Corpses began to accumulate in the streets, exposed to the elements and onlookers. Cars constantly were forced to run over corpses. Corpses were scavenged by stray dogs, which, in turn, were consumed by starving people. The water became toxic; workers in the Safety Zone discovered ponds clogged with human remains. In other instances, the Japanese gathered their machine-gunned or bayoneted victims into large heaps, doused them in kerosene, and set them ablaze. Archibald Steele wrote for the Chicago Daily News on December 17th “I saw a grisly scene at the north gate, where what was once a group of 200 men had become a smoldering mass of flesh and bones, so severely burned around the neck and head that it was difficult to believe he was still human.” During the chaos in the beginning, whereupon the Japanese had not yet fully conquered the city, its defenders scrambled desperately to escape before it was too late. Individually or in small groups, they sought vulnerabilities in the enemy lines, acutely aware that their survival hinged on their success. Months of conflict had trained them to expect no mercy if captured; previous experiences had instilled in them the belief that a swift death at the hands of the Japanese would be a fortunate outcome. On December 12, amid intense artillery fire and aerial bombardment, General Tang Sheng-chi issued the order for his troops to retreat. However, conflicting directives and a breakdown in discipline transformed the ensuing events into a disaster. While some Chinese units successfully crossed the river, a far greater number were ensnared in the widespread chaos that engulfed the city. In their desperation to evade capture, some Chinese soldiers resorted to stripping civilians of their clothing to disguise themselves, while many others were shot by their own supervisory units as they attempted to flee.Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of individual escape stories emerged from this period. In some rare instances, entire units, even up to divisional strength, successfully infiltrated Japanese lines to reach safety. For others, such as the 156th Division, there were detailed plans outlining escape routes from Nanjing. Several soldiers and officers adhered to this three-day trek, skillfully evading Japanese patrols until they reached Ningguo, located south of the capital. Nonetheless, these cases were exceptions. The vast majority of soldiers from China's defeated army faced significant risk and were more likely to be captured than to escape. Some of Chiang Kai-shek's most elite units suffered near total annihilation. Only about a thousand soldiers from the 88th Division managed to cross the Yangtze safely, as did another thousand from the Training Division, while a mere 300 from the 87th Division survived. Even for units like the 156th Division, the escape plans were only effective for those who learned of them. These plans were hurriedly disseminated through the ranks as defeat loomed, leaving mere chance to determine who received the information. Many stayed trapped in Nanjing, which had become a fatal snare. One day, Japanese soldiers visited schools within Nanjing's Safety Zone, aware that these locations sheltered many refugees. They called for all former soldiers to step forward, promising safety in exchange for labor. Many believed that the long days of hiding were finally coming to an end and complied with the request. However, they were led to an abandoned house, where they were stripped naked and bound together in groups of five. Outside, a large bonfire had been ignited. They were then bayoneted and, while still alive, thrown onto the flames. Only a few managed to escape and share the horrifying tale. The Japanese were of course well aware that numerous soldiers were hiding in Nanjing, disguised as locals, evidenced by the piles of military uniforms and equipment accumulating in the streets. Consequently, they initiated a systematic search for soldiers within hours of taking control. The Safety Zone was not spared, as the Japanese Army suspected that Chinese soldiers had sought refuge there. On December 16, they raided Ginling College, despite a policy prohibiting the admission of men, except for elderly residents in a designated dining room. The soldiers brought axes to force open doors that were not immediately complied with and positioned six machine guns on the campus, prepared to fire at anyone attempting to escape. Ultimately, they found nothing. In cases where they did encounter young men of military age, the soldiers lined them up, scrutinizing for distinct telltale features such as close-cropped hair, helmet marks, or shoulder blisters from carrying a rifle. Many men, who had never served in the military but bore callouses from hard manual labor, were captured based on the assumption that such marks indicated military experience. As noted by Goerge Fitch the head of Nanjing's YMCA “Rickshaw coolies, carpenters, and other laborers are frequently taken”. The Japanese employed additional, more cunning tactics to root out soldiers. During an inspection of a camp within the Safety Zone, they struggled to get the approximately 6,000 men and women to surrender. Before leaving, they resorted to one last trick. “Attention!” a voice commanded in flawless Chinese. Many young men, conditioned by months or years of military training, instinctively responded. Even though most realized their mistake almost immediately, it was too late; the Japanese herded them away. Given the scale of the slaughter, efforts were soon organized to facilitate the killing and disposal of as many individuals as possible in the shortest time. Rows of prisoners were mowed down by machine-gun fire, while those injured were finished off with single bullets or bayonets. Much of the mass murder occurred near the Yangtze River, where victims could be disposed of easily by being pushed into the water, hoping the current would carry them away.As the weeks progressed and the Japanese grew increasingly concerned about the possibility of former soldiers still at large, the dragnet tightened. Beginning in late December, Japanese authorities implemented a registration system for all residents of Nanjing. At Ginling College, this process lasted about a week and resulted in scenes of almost indescribable chaos, as the Japanese also decided to register residents from the surrounding areas on campus. First, the men were registered, followed by the women. Often, women attended the registration to help save their husbands and sons, who would otherwise have been taken as suspected former soldiers. Despite these efforts, a total of 28 men were ultimately seized during the registration process at Ginling College. Each individual who registered received a document from the authorities. However, it soon became clear that this paper provided little protection against the caprices of the Japanese military. That winter in Nanjing, everyone was a potential victim. While systematic mass killings primarily targeted young men of military age, every category of people faced death in the days and weeks following the Japanese conquest of Nanjing. Reports indicated that fifty police officers from the Safety Zone were executed for permitting Chinese soldiers to enter the area. The city's firefighters were taken away to meet an uncertain fate, and six street sweepers were killed inside their dwelling. Like an uncontrollable epidemic, the victors' bloodlust seemed to escalate continuously, seeking out new victims. When the Japanese ordered the Safety Zone committee to supply workers for the electricity plant in Xiaguan to restore its operations, they provided 54 individuals. Within days, 43 of them were dead. Although young men were especially targeted, the Japanese made no distinctions based on age or sex. American missionary John G. Magee documented numerous instances of indiscriminate killings, including the chilling account of two families nearly exterminated. Stabbings, shootings, and rapes marked the slaughter of three generations of innocents, including toddlers aged four and two; the older child was bayoneted, while the younger was struck in the head with a sword. The only survivors were a badly injured eight-year-old girl and her four-year-old sister, who spent the following fortnight beside their mother's decaying body. The violence was often accompanied by various forms of humiliation, as if to utterly break the spirit of the conquered people. One woman lost her parents and three children. When she purchased a coffin for her father, a Japanese soldier tore the lid off and discarded the old man's body in the street. Another soldier, in a drunken stupor, raped a Chinese woman and then vomited on her. In yet another incident, a soldier encountered a family of six huddled over a pot of thin rice soup; he stepped over them and urinated into their pot before continuing on his way, laughing heartlessly. The atrocities committed at Nanjing were not akin to something like the Holocaust. Within places like Auschwitz killings became industrialized and often took on an impersonal, unemotional character. The murders in Nanjing had an almost intimate quality, with each individual perpetrator bearing the blood of their victims on their hands, sometimes literally. In this sense, the Nanjing atrocities resemble the early Holocaust killings executed by German Einsatzgruppen in Eastern Europe, prior to the implementation of gas chambers. How many died during the Nanjing Massacre? Eyewitnesses at the time recognized that the Japanese behavior had few immediate precedents. Missionary John Magee compared the situation to the Turkish genocide of the Armenians during World War I, which was still fresh in memory. Despite this, no consensus emerged regarding the exact number of fatalities, a state of affairs that would persist for nearly eight decades. In his first comprehensive account of the atrocities following the conquest of the capital, New York Times correspondent Tillman Durdin reported that 33,000 Chinese soldiers lost their lives in Nanjing, including 20,000 who were executed. Foreign correspondent Frank Oliver claimed in a 1939 publication that 24,000 men, women, and children were put to death during the first month of the city's occupation. As time progressed, much larger figures began to circulate. After returning to Germany in 1938, John Rabe held a lecture where he cited European estimates that between 50,000 and 60,000 people had died. In February 1942, Chiang Kai-shek stated that 200,000 were slaughtered within one week. The Nanjing tribunal established by Chiang's government to try Japanese war criminals in 1946 and 1947 reported that more than 300,000 lives had been lost following the city's fall. The highest estimate recorded comes from a Chinese military expert, who put the death toll at 430,000. Currently, the figure most commonly accepted in official Chinese media is 300,000, a number also cited by various authors sympathetic to China's contemporary regime. The debate over the Nanjing death toll has been a complex and extensive discussion, likely to remain unresolved to everyone's satisfaction. As missionary and Nanjing University teacher Miner Searle Bates remarked when he testified before the International Military Tribunal for the Far East in July 1946, “The scope of this killing was so extensive that no one can provide a complete picture of it.” On December 16, American missionary Minnie Vautrin witnessed a truck passing by Ginling College, loaded with eight to ten girls. When they saw the Western woman, they cried out, "Jiu ming! Jiu ming!" which means “Help! Help!” Vautrin felt powerless, fully aware of the fate that awaited them. As early as Tuesday of that week, she had documented rumors of girls being raped. The following night, women were taken in large numbers from their homes. Another missionary, John Magee wrote to his wife “The most horrible thing now is the raping of the women, which has been going on in the most shameless way I have ever known”. A tentative list compiled by Lewis Smythe detailed instances of rape occurring soon after the Japanese Army entered Nanjing: four girls at noon on December 14; four more women that evening; three female refugees on December 15; and a young wife around the same time. The accounts revealed chilling individual horrors. A 15-year-old girl was taken to a barracks housing 200 to 300 Japanese soldiers and locked in a room, where she was raped multiple times daily. Victims ranged from as young as 11 to over 80. American correspondent Edgar Snow recalled “Discards were often bayoneted by drunken soldiers,. Frequently, mothers had to witness their babies being beheaded, only to then be raped themselves.” Y.M.C.A. head George Fitch reported the case of a woman whose five-month-old infant was deliberately smothered by a soldier to silence its cries while he raped her. Such acts were a gruesome form of humiliation, designed to demonstrate that the vanquished were powerless to protect their own families. Japanese soldier Takokoro Kozo recalled “Women suffered most. No matter how young or old, they all could not escape the fate of being raped. We sent out coal trucks to the city streets and villages to seize a lot of women. And then each of them was allocated to fifteen to twenty soldiers for sexual intercourse and abuse. After raping we would also kill them”. Women were frequently killed immediately after being raped, often through horrific mutilations, such as being penetrated with bayonets, long bamboo sticks, or other objects. For instance, one six-months-pregnant woman was stabbed sixteen times in the face and body, with one stab penetrating her abdomen and killing her unborn child. In another case, a young woman had a beer bottle forcibly inserted into her vagina after being raped, and was subsequently shot.  On December 19, 1937, the Reverend James M. McCallum wrote in his diary “I know not where to end. Never I have heard or read such brutality. Rape! Rape! Rape! We estimate at least 1,000 cases a night and many by day. In case of resistance or anything that seems like disapproval, there is a bayonet stab or a bullet... People are hysterical... Women are being carried off every morning, afternoon and evening. The whole Japanese army seems to be free to go and come as it pleases, and to do whatever it pleases”.  Rabe wrote in his diary dated December 17 “wo Japanese soldiers have climbed over the garden wall and are about to break into our house. When I appear they give the excuse that they saw two Chinese soldiers climb over the wall. When I show them my party badge, they return the same way. In one of the houses in the narrow street behind my garden wall, a woman was raped, and then wounded in the neck with a bayonet. I managed to get an ambulance so we can take her to Kulou Hospital... Last night up to 1,000 women and girls are said to have been raped, about 100 girls at Ginling College...alone. You hear nothing but rape. If husbands or brothers intervene, they're shot. What you hear and see on all sides is the brutality and bestiality of the Japanese soldiers”. In a documentary film about the Nanjing Massacre, In the Name of the Emperor, a former Japanese soldier named Shiro Azuma spoke candidly about the process of rape and murder in Nanjing. “At first we used some kinky words like Pikankan. Pi means "hip", kankan means "look". Pikankan means, "Let's see a woman open up her legs." Chinese women didn't wear under-pants. Instead, they wore trousers tied with a string. There was no belt. As we pulled the string, the buttocks were exposed. We "pikankan". We looked. After a while we would say something like, "It's my day to take a bath," and we took turns raping them. It would be all right if we only raped them. I shouldn't say all right. But we always stabbed and killed them. Because dead bodies don't talk”. Without anyone to defend them, the women of Nanjing resorted to desperate measures for their safety. The young and attractive cut their hair and smeared soot on their faces to diminish their allure. Others donned boys' clothes or the garments of elderly women. However, the Japanese were well aware of these tactics and were not easily deceived. As American correspondent Snow described, it was an orgy of unprecedented debauchery, involving not only the lower ranks of the Japanese military but also officers who turned their quarters into harems, bedding a new captive each night. Open-air sexual assaults were common. During the first ten days of occupation, groups of Japanese soldiers entered the Ginling campus ten to twenty times daily, brandishing fixed bayonets stained with fresh blood. So overwhelmed, Vautrin decided to prioritize saving lives over salvaging possessions, spending those early days frantically moving across campus to prevent marauding soldiers from taking away women. A particularly tense situation unfolded on the evening of December 17, when Vautrin and other staff members at Ginling College were called to the front of the campus to confront a group of Japanese soldiers. Earlier, Vautrin had received documentation from another officer affirming that the area was a legitimate refugee camp. The soldiers torn up the document in front of her. For hours, with armed Japanese soldiers encircling them, Vautrin and her colleagues were left standing or kneeling, uncertain of what awaited them. Gradually, it became clear that they had been lured to the front gate so that other soldiers could enter through a side entrance and abduct twelve women. As Vautrin recalled “Never shall I forget the scene. The dried leaves rattling, the moaning of the wind, the cries of women being led away.” The staff remained at the entrance until 11:00 pm, fearing that hiding soldiers might fire on them if they moved. This was the only time that Vautrin was unable to prevent rape, a failure that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Some Japanese soldiers, seeking young girls, ordered a middle-aged Chinese woman to assist them in finding targets. When she either could not or would not comply, they shot a rifle across her abdomen, narrowly missing and taking away “three handbreadths of flesh.” When the Japanese Army entered Nanjing, little damage had been inflicted on the buildings, as noted by U.S. missionary James McCallum at the end of December. On the first day of their occupation, Japanese soldiers immediately dispersed into Nanjing in small groups, breaking shop windows and looting the goods within. They carried away their spoils in crates and stolen rickshaws. Initially, the looting was partly a makeshift response to the poor logistics of the Japanese Army. Combat soldiers had arrived well ahead of their supply lines and faced severe food shortages until the roads reopened and the Yangtze River became navigable.  Every building in Nanjing was looted and turned upside down. Everything not nailed down was stolen: doors and window frames were removed, safes opened with rifle shots or grenades. Japanese soldiers often pillaged property while the owners were present, threatening them with bayonets. Abandoned cars littered the streets, typically overturned and stripped of useful items, including batteries. Like Russian soldiers in Berlin seven and a half years later, the rank-and-file soldiers displayed a particular interest in watches. As the scale of plunder grew, transportation became scarce. By the end of December, looting was being conducted using trucks. When vehicles were unavailable, Japanese soldiers resorted to wheelbarrows and even children's prams. Mules, donkeys, and people were also commandeered. Just as during their advance from Shanghai to Nanjing, the Chinese were forced to assist in looting their own homes. A common sight was a Japanese soldier leading a group of Chinese down the street, laden with stolen goods. While Chinese soldiers had also engaged in some looting during their evacuation of Nanjing, it was nothing compared to the scale of the Japanese victors' plunder. The Chinese forces had deliberately avoided breaking into foreign buildings, a distinction that the Japanese disregarded. The American, British, and German embassies, along with the ambassadors' residences, were ransacked, stripped of everything from bedding and money to watches, rugs, and artwork. The American School was looted, and its wall breached to remove the piano. As the Japanese stripped the city, they also began to burn it. While the winter sky could have been sparkling, it was instead filled with smoke from thousands of fires across the city. Some fires resulted from carelessness, such as when soldiers cooked meat from a stolen cow over a bonfire, accidentally igniting an ancient building. Others were acts of mindless vandalism. The Nanking Music Shop saw all its instruments and sheets piled in the street and set ablaze. The extent of the massacre can, to some degree, be linked to a breakdown in discipline among Japanese soldiers. Released from weeks or months of hardship on the battlefield, many soldiers experienced an intoxicating sense of freedom, resembling misbehaving boys. The deterioration of order among Japanese soldiers astonished those familiar with the stories of the stringent discipline within Japan's armed forces. Observers commented on soldiers laughing at proclamations from their own officers or tearing up orders and tossing them to the ground. Some foreign witnesses speculated that this lack of discipline was exacerbated by the absence of visible individual numbers on soldiers, making it challenging to identify wrongdoers. The issue also stemmed from the quality of the Japanese officer corps and their ability to manage a large army of young men, many of whom were experiencing freedom from societal constraints for the first time. Not all officers rose to the occasion; Vautrin witnessed an officer almost fail to prevent a soldier from raping a girl. Even worse, some officers transitioned from passive bystanders, guilty by inaction, to active participants in prolonged rape sessions. While a few attempted to instill discipline among their troops, their efforts often fell short. A Japanese colonel, for instance, slapped a soldier attempting to rape a Chinese woman. Another general was seen striking a private who had bayoneted a Chinese man and threatened two Germans, raising questions about how much of this discipline was merely performative for the benefit of foreign observers. Ultimately, disciplinary measures had little impact. As Rabe noted in his diary dated December 18th “The soldiers have almost no regard for their officers”. The absence of effective higher leadership during this critical period likely exacerbated the problem. General Matsui had been suffering from malaria since November 3, which left him largely incapacitated from December 5 to 15. A subordinate later testified that he had been informed of "incidents of stealing, killing, assault, and rape and had become quite enraged.” Although Matsui may have been displeased by the unruly behavior of his soldiers, it is conceivable that his inaction led to even greater levels of atrocity than might have occurred otherwise. He insisted on holding a victory parade on December 17, immediately after recovering from his illness, which likely triggered a security frenzy among Japanese officers concerned about the safety of Prince Asaka, uncle to Emperor Hirohito. This reaction likely prompted a surge in searches for, and executions of, suspected former Chinese soldiers. The Japanese high command in Tokyo was also aware of the unraveling discipline. On January 4, 1938, Army Headquarters sent Matsui an unusually direct message ordering him to restore control among his troops: Our old friend Ishiwara Kanji bitterly criticized the situation and placed the blame on Matsui “We earnestly request enhancement of military discipline and public morals. The morale of the Japanese had never been at a lower level.” A detachment of military police eventually arrived in Nanjing, leading to some improvements, though their presence was mixed. Some officers stationed outside the Safety Zone ignored atrocities occurring before them and, in some cases, participated directly. At Ginling College, the experience with military police was decidedly uneven. The first group of about 25 men tasked with guarding the college ended up committing rape themselves.  Despite frequent visits from Japanese soldiers in search of loot and victims to assault, the Safety Zone was perceived as successful. Many believed that both the zone and the work of its managing committee were responsible for saving countless lives. W. Plumer Mills, vice chairman of the committee, noted that the zone “did give some protection during the fighting…but the chief usefulness of the Zone has been the measure of protection it has afforded to the people since the occupation.” Shortly after the Japanese conquest, the population of the Safety Zone swelled to a quarter million people. Around 70,000 of these were organized into 25 pre-arranged camps, while the majority sought accommodation wherever possible. Makeshift “mat-shed villages” sprang up in vacant areas throughout the zone. Nanjing quickly became informally divided into two distinct cities. Outside the Safety Zone, the atmosphere was ghostly, with a population dwindling to around 10,000, while within the zone, bustling activity thrived. Shanghai Road, which ran through the center of the zone and had once been a wide boulevard, transformed into a hub of barter and trade, resembling a festive market during Chinese New Year, overflowing with makeshift stalls, tea shops, and restaurants, making it nearly impossible to traverse by vehicle. The Japanese held a degree of respect for Westerners, although this sentiment was not universal and did not always offer protection. Many foreigners tried to safeguard their homes by displaying their national flags outside, but they often found that Japanese soldiers would break in regardless. To protect Ginling College, American flags were displayed at eight locations around the compound, and a large 30-foot American flag was spread out in the center. However, this proved to be “of absolutely no use” in preventing Japanese soldiers from entering the area. Despite this, there was some limited outright hostility towards Americans. Stronger negative sentiments were directed towards the Russians and the British, who were viewed as representatives of nations with competing interests against the Japanese Empire. The Japanese displayed particular reverence for one nationality, the Germans. Rabe would shout “Deutsch” or “Hitler” to command respect from unruly Japanese soldiers or show them his swastika armband, indicating his allegiance to the Nazi Party. Germany was seen as a rising power and rapidly becoming one of Japan's closest allies, a fellow outcast in global politics. However, as time passed, the limits of this respect became evident; individual soldiers began searching for women within the German embassy compound, and eventually, nearly all German buildings were broken into. Despite all the challenges, there was no doubting that foreigners offered a form of protection unavailable elsewhere. Within days of the Japanese conquest, women and children began appearing in large numbers outside Rabe's home, kneeling and knocking their heads on the ground as they begged to be let into his already overcrowded garden.  At 1:00 pm on January 1, the Chinese were proclaimed rulers of their own city, or at least this is what Japanese propaganda sought to convey. On the first day of the new year, a puppet government was established in a ceremony held just north of the Safety Zone. A new five-bar flag, the one associated with the early Chinese republic was raised, signaling a patriotic spirit in a gesture that felt unconvincing. As the new leaders took office, vowing to resurrect their city, buildings burned all around them. The ceremony marked the culmination of two weeks of preparatory work. As early as December 15, General Matsui met with a local Chinese leader, referred to in the Japanese commander's diary only as Chen, who had been selected to assist in forming this new puppet government. Chen had been present in the northern port city of Tianjin two years earlier when Matsui helped establish the Chinese chapter of the Greater Asia Association. He subscribed to Matsui's concepts of “Asia for Asians,” but cautioned that Chinese fears of the Japanese would complicate the governance of the conquered territories.   The new government aligned with the Japanese army to implement a system of indoctrination centered on conservatism, primarily targeting the youth, who were perceived as most likely to resist. The indoctrination included messages like, “You must follow the old custom in marriage, letting your parents make arrangements for you. You must not go to theaters or study English, etc. China and Japan must become one, and then the nation will be strong.” Few were deceived by these attempts to win hearts and minds. The government-sanctioned newspaper, the Xinshengbao, or New Life Journal, was immediately dismissed as a crude vehicle for propaganda. Additionally, the government made minimal progress in more urgent tasks, such as restoring peacetime conditions and revitalizing Nanjing's economy, a challenge made formidable by Japanese brutality. Given the fate of the first group of volunteers at the electricity plant after the conquest, no one could be found to fill the needed 40 to 45 worker slots. The same was true for firefighters. The predictable outcomes followed. Water and limited power were restored to parts of the city by January 2, but within two days, the city was plunged back into darkness. By January 13, the waterworks were still non-operational, and the power supply remained intermittent while fires continued to blaze well into January. The government was not taken seriously, struggling even with the Japanese. It quickly built a reputation for being venal and corrupt. One of its names was the Nanjing Autonomous Government, which a clever member of the foreign community humorously rebranded as the “Automatic Government,” reflecting its actual role as a puppet regime devoid of autonomy.  While Nanjing endured its own nightmarish reality, the city's inhabitants had little understanding of the events transpiring beyond its walls. The first radio news that reached foreign residents came on January 7, reporting Japanese air raids on Wuhan. There were also unconfirmed rumors suggesting that Hangzhou was experiencing similar horrors to those in Nanjing, but details were scarce. It was perhaps expected that reports from afar would be limited in wartime, yet information about situations closer to Nanjing was similarly scarce, and the horrific truth gradually dawned on the city's populace. A Westerner who managed to escape east from Nanjing in early January reported that all villages within a 20-mile radius had been burned to the ground. Outside the city, Japanese soldiers were randomly shooting civilians, including children. A German who drove an hour from Nanjing encountered no living souls. After the conquest, Chinese who managed to leave Nanjing reported that every pond between the city and Juyong was filled with the decaying corpses of people and animals. Many of the atrocities committed during this time appeared to stem from boredom and a search for cheap thrills. American missionary Magee witnessed a young farmer who had sustained severe burns on his upper body. After the soldiers demanded money from him and he failed to comply, they doused him in kerosene and set him ablaze. Similarly, a young boy suffered horrific burns after he failed to lead a group of soldiers to his “mama.” People in the rural areas surrounding Nanjing faced danger from numerous directions. Not only were they potential targets for marauding Japanese soldiers, but they were also at risk from bands of Chinese outlaws, who preyed on the large influx of refugees on the roads and the few souls who remained at home despite the fierce conflict raging nearby. Magee encountered a 49-year-old woman whose home was invaded by bandits looking for money. “When she and her husband said they had none they battered her head and breast with a stool and burned her feet until she revealed their savings of between four and five dollars.” In the absence of a formal government, informal authority was often wielded by secret societies. For instance, the “Big Sword Society” reportedly offered protection not only against Japanese soldiers and local bandits but also against small groups of Chinese troops seeking to escape back to their lines and resorting to theft for survival. What a blast from the past eh?   Rumors began to circulate in early January 1938 that the Chinese Army was preparing to retake Nanjing and that Chiang Kai-shek's soldiers had already been spotted inside the city walls. Many of the small makeshift Japanese flags that had appeared outside private homes in mid-December suddenly vanished, and some Chinese residents who had been wearing Japanese armbands hastily removed them. There was even talk of launching an attack on the Japanese embassy. Word spread that the Japanese were becoming frightened and were searching for Chinese clothing to disguise themselves as civilians in the event of a retreat. In reality, none of this was true. The Chinese Army was still reorganizing after the costly campaign that had forced it from Shanghai to Nanjing and then further into the interior. However, this did not imply that the Japanese had achieved complete control over the city. After six weeks of terror, Nanjing began to reassert itself. Japanese soldiers faced fatalities and injuries in skirmishes with members of secret organizations like the “Yellow Spears” and the “Big Sword Society.”  After the New Year, the population within the Safety Zone began to dwindle. A week into 1938, the number of refugees at Ginling College, which had peaked at more than 10,000, fell to around 5,000. Less than a month after the conquest, many former residents started returning to their homes during the day and then coming back to the college at night. Still, the city was far from safe, and even for those whose homes were located within the Safety Zone, Vautrin believed it was unwise to stray too far from her refugee camp. One month after Japanese forces had surged through its gates, Nanjing was a thoroughly devastated city, with fires still being set every day and night. By mid-January, estimates suggested that more than half the city had been burned down, with the main shopping district completely gone, as well as the entertainment area surrounding the Confucius Temple. Nevertheless, slowly but surely, the shell-shocked city began to pull itself together and started the long process of renewal. Vautrin considered opening an industrial school offering four-month courses for women to help compensate for the loss of labor resulting from the indiscriminate killing of men. Chinese New Year fell on January 31, 1938. Celebrated throughout Asia, it was also recognized by the Japanese. It was a “dismal, muddy” day, and as many feared, soldiers who appeared “too happy” from excessive drinking attempted to enter the Safety Zone in search of women but were stopped. The sound of thousands of firecrackers filled the air, fulfilling the age-old purpose of scaring away evil spirits. Refugees in Rabe's compound presented him with a large red silk banner adorned with a gold Chinese inscription. His Chinese friends translated the message for him “You are the living Buddha For a hundred thousand people”. 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 December 1937, the battle for Nanjing left its residents in terror as the Japanese army advanced. Following the invasion, a horrific massacre began, with thousands targeted in brutal killings, torture, and humiliation. Civilians and soldiers alike were indiscriminately slain, and the Japanese military showed no mercy. To this day the Nanjing Massacre stands as a testament to the unbelievable evil man holds within him.

In the early 2000s, the country had one of the biggest real estate booms seen anywhere in the world - at its peak accounting for 30% of GDP. But in 2020 that quickly started to unravel. Now, the largest Chinese companies are being taken to court and dismantled, and property bought by ordinary citizens who invested in real estate has plummeted in value.What went wrong, and how does the crisis affect the rest of the world?You can get in touch with the programme by emailing us at businessdaily@bbc.co.ukPresented and produced by Matt Lines(Picture: A China Evergrande property development is in Nanjing, Jiangsu Province, China, in August, 2025. Credit: Getty Images)

The Associate Agriculture Minister believes wool is making a comeback and New Zealand could double its exports over the next decade. Mark Patterson is in China for the country's largest wool conference, where he'll meet with industry representatives, wool growers, and processors. It's our largest trading partner for wool, with $176 million of $446 million in total exports heading there last year. Patterson told Mike Hosking farmers can be confident with how the market's moving. He says the price is at an eight year high and steadily increasing, and while supply has been declining, demand has been ramping up, which is what's really needed. LISTEN ABOVE See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

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

Last time we spoke about the surrender of Japan. Emperor Hirohito announced the surrender on August 15, prompting mixed public reactions: grief, shock, and sympathy for the Emperor, tempered by fear of hardship and occupation. The government's response included resignations and suicide as new leadership was brought in under Prime Minister Higashikuni, with Mamoru Shigemitsu as Foreign Minister and Kawabe Torashiro heading a delegation to Manila. General MacArthur directed the occupation plan, “Blacklist,” prioritizing rapid, phased entry into key Japanese areas and Korea, while demobilizing enemy forces. The surrender ceremony occurred aboard the Missouri in Tokyo Bay on September 2, with Wainwright, Percival, Nimitz, and UN representatives in attendance. Civilians and soldiers across Asia began surrendering, and postwar rehabilitation, Indochina and Vietnam's independence movements, and Southeast Asian transitions rapidly unfolded as Allied forces established control. This episode is the Aftermath of the Pacific War Welcome to the Pacific War Podcast Week by Week, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about world war two? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on world war two and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel you can find a few videos all the way from the Opium Wars of the 1800's until the end of the Pacific War in 1945.  The Pacific War has ended. Peace has been restored by the Allies and most of the places conquered by the Japanese Empire have been liberated. In this post-war period, new challenges would be faced for those who won the war; and from the ashes of an empire, a defeated nation was also seeking to rebuild. As the Japanese demobilized their armed forces, many young boys were set to return to their homeland, even if they had previously thought that they wouldn't survive the ordeal. And yet, there were some cases of isolated men that would continue to fight for decades even, unaware that the war had already ended.  As we last saw, after the Japanese surrender, General MacArthur's forces began the occupation of the Japanese home islands, while their overseas empire was being dismantled by the Allies. To handle civil administration, MacArthur established the Military Government Section, commanded by Brigadier-General William Crist, staffed by hundreds of US experts trained in civil governance who were reassigned from Okinawa and the Philippines. As the occupation began, Americans dispatched tactical units and Military Government Teams to each prefecture to ensure that policies were faithfully carried out. By mid-September, General Eichelberger's 8th Army had taken over the Tokyo Bay region and began deploying to occupy Hokkaido and the northern half of Honshu. Then General Krueger's 6th Army arrived in late September, taking southern Honshu and Shikoku, with its base in Kyoto. In December, 6th Army was relieved of its occupation duties; in January 1946, it was deactivated, leaving the 8th Army as the main garrison force. By late 1945, about 430,000 American soldiers were garrisoned across Japan. President Truman approved inviting Allied involvement on American terms, with occupation armies integrated into a US command structure. Yet with the Chinese civil war and Russia's reluctance to place its forces under MacArthur's control, only Australia, Britain, India, and New Zealand sent brigades, more than 40,000 troops in southwestern Japan. Japanese troops were gradually disarmed by order of their own commanders, so the stigma of surrender would be less keenly felt by the individual soldier. In the homeland, about 1.5 million men were discharged and returned home by the end of August. Demobilization overseas, however, proceeded, not quickly, but as a long, difficult process of repatriation. In compliance with General Order No. 1, the Japanese Imperial General Headquarters disbanded on September 13 and was superseded by the Japanese War Department to manage demobilization. By November 1, the homeland had demobilized 2,228,761 personnel, roughly 97% of the Homeland Army. Yet some 6,413,215 men remained to be repatriated from overseas. On December 1, the Japanese War Ministry dissolved, and the First Demobilization Ministry took its place. The Second Demobilization Ministry was established to handle IJN demobilization, with 1,299,868 sailors, 81% of the Navy, demobilized by December 17. Japanese warships and merchant ships had their weapons rendered inoperative, and suicide craft were destroyed. Forty percent of naval vessels were allocated to evacuations in the Philippines, and 60% to evacuations of other Pacific islands. This effort eventually repatriated about 823,984 men to Japan by February 15, 1946. As repatriation accelerated, by October 15 only 1,909,401 men remained to be repatriated, most of them in the Soviet Union. Meanwhile, the Higashikuni Cabinet and Foreign Minister Shigemitsu Mamoru managed to persuade MacArthur not to impose direct military rule or martial law over all of Japan. Instead, the occupation would be indirect, guided by the Japanese government under the Emperor's direction. An early decision to feed occupation forces from American supplies, and to allow the Japanese to use their own limited food stores, helped ease a core fear: that Imperial forces would impose forced deliveries on the people they conquered. On September 17, MacArthur transferred his headquarters from Yokohama to Tokyo, setting up primary offices on the sixth floor of the Dai-Ichi Mutual Life Insurance Building, an imposing edifice overlooking the moat and the Imperial palace grounds in Hibiya, a symbolic heart of the nation.  While the average soldier did not fit the rapacious image of wartime Japanese propagandists, occupation personnel often behaved like neo-colonial overlords. The conquerors claimed privileges unimaginable to most Japanese. Entire trains and train compartments, fitted with dining cars, were set aside for the exclusive use of occupation forces. These silenced, half-empty trains sped past crowded platforms, provoking ire as Japanese passengers were forced to enter and exit packed cars through punched-out windows, or perch on carriage roofs, couplings, and running boards, often with tragic consequences. The luxury express coaches became irresistible targets for anonymous stone-throwers. During the war, retrenchment measures had closed restaurants, cabarets, beer halls, geisha houses, and theatres in Tokyo and other large cities. Now, a vast leisure industry sprang up to cater to the needs of the foreign occupants. Reopened restaurants and theatres, along with train stations, buses, and streetcars, were sometimes kept off limits to Allied personnel, partly for security, partly to avoid burdening Japanese resources, but a costly service infrastructure was built to the occupiers' specifications. Facilities reserved for occupation troops bore large signs reading “Japanese Keep Out” or “For Allied Personnel Only.” In downtown Tokyo, important public buildings requisitioned for occupation use had separate entrances for Americans and Japanese. The effect? A subtle but clear colour bar between the predominantly white conquerors and the conquered “Asiatic” Japanese. Although MacArthur was ready to work through the Japanese government, he lacked the organizational infrastructure to administer a nation of 74 million. Consequently, on October 2, MacArthur dissolved the Military Government Section and inaugurated General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers, a separate headquarters focused on civil affairs and operating in tandem with the Army high command. SCAP immediately assumed responsibility for administering the Japanese home islands. It commandeered every large building not burned down to house thousands of civilians and requisitioned vast tracts of prime real estate to quarter several hundred thousand troops in the Tokyo–Yokohama area alone. Amidst the rise of American privilege, entire buildings were refurbished as officers' clubs, replete with slot machines and gambling parlours installed at occupation expense. The Stars and Stripes were hoisted over Tokyo, while the display of the Rising Sun was banned; and the downtown area, known as “Little America,” was transformed into a US enclave. The enclave mentality of this cocooned existence was reinforced by the arrival within the first six months of roughly 700 American families. At the peak of the occupation, about 14,800 families employed some 25,000 Japanese servants to ease the “rigours” of overseas duty. Even enlisted men in the sparse quonset-hut towns around the city lived like kings compared with ordinary Japanese. Japanese workers cleaned barracks, did kitchen chores, and handled other base duties. The lowest private earned a 25% hardship bonus until these special allotments were discontinued in 1949. Most military families quickly adjusted to a pampered lifestyle that went beyond maids and “boys,” including cooks, laundresses, babysitters, gardeners, and masseuses. Perks included spacious quarters with swimming pools, central heating, hot running water, and modern plumbing. Two observers compared GHQ to the British Raj at its height. George F. Kennan, head of the State Department's Policy Planning Staff, warned during his 1948 mission to Japan that Americans had monopolized “everything that smacks of comfort or elegance or luxury,” criticizing what he called the “American brand of philistinism” and the “monumental imperviousness” of MacArthur's staff to the Japanese suffering. This conqueror's mentality also showed in the bullying attitudes many top occupation officials displayed toward the Japanese with whom they dealt. Major Faubion Bowers, MacArthur's military secretary, later said, “I and nearly all the occupation people I knew were extremely conceited and extremely arrogant and used our power every inch of the way.” Initially, there were spasms of defiance against the occupation forces, such as anonymous stone-throwing, while armed robbery and minor assaults against occupation personnel were rife in the weeks and months after capitulation. Yet active resistance was neither widespread nor organized. The Americans successfully completed their initial deployment without violence, an astonishing feat given a heavily armed and vastly superior enemy operating on home terrain. The average citizen regarded the occupation as akin to force majeure, the unfortunate but inevitable aftermath of a natural calamity. Japan lay prostrate. Industrial output had fallen to about 10% of pre-war levels, and as late as 1946, more than 13 million remained unemployed. Nearly 40% of Japan's urban areas had been turned to rubble, and some 9 million people were homeless. The war-displaced, many of them orphans, slept in doorways and hallways, in bombed-out ruins, dugouts and packing crates, under bridges or on pavements, and crowded the hallways of train and subway stations. As winter 1945 descended, with food, fuel, and clothing scarce, people froze to death. Bonfires lit the streets to ward off the chill. "The only warm hands I have shaken thus far in Japan belonged to Americans," Mark Gayn noted in December 1945. "The Japanese do not have much of a chance to thaw out, and their hands are cold and red." Unable to afford shoes, many wore straw sandals; those with geta felt themselves privileged. The sight of a man wearing a woman's high-buttoned shoes in winter epitomized the daily struggle to stay dry and warm. Shantytowns built of scrap wood, rusted metal, and scavenged odds and ends sprang up everywhere, resembling vast junk yards. The poorest searched smouldering refuse heaps for castoffs that might be bartered for a scrap to eat or wear. Black markets (yami'ichi) run by Japanese, Koreans, and For-mosans mushroomed to replace collapsed distribution channels and cash in on inflated prices. Tokyo became "a world of scarcity in which every nail, every rag, and even a tangerine peel [had a] market value." Psychologically numbed, disoriented, and disillusioned with their leaders, demobilized veterans and civilians alike struggled to get their bearings, shed militaristic ideologies, and begin to embrace new values. In the vacuum of defeat, the Japanese people appeared ready to reject the past and grasp at the straw held out by the former enemy. Relations between occupier and occupied were not smooth, however. American troops comported themselves like conquerors, especially in the early weeks and months of occupation. Much of the violence was directed against women, with the first attacks beginning within hours after the landing of advance units. When US paratroopers landed in Sapporo, an orgy of looting, sexual violence, and drunken brawling ensued. Newspaper accounts reported 931 serious offences by GIs in the Yokohama area during the first week of occupation, including 487 armed robberies, 411 thefts of currency or goods, 9 rapes, 5 break-ins, 3 cases of assault and battery, and 16 other acts of lawlessness. In the first 10 days of occupation, there were 1,336 reported rapes by US soldiers in Kanagawa Prefecture alone. Americans were not the only perpetrators. A former prostitute recalled that when Australian troops arrived in Kure in early 1946, they “dragged young women into their jeeps, took them to the mountain, and then raped them. I heard them screaming for help nearly every night.” Such behaviour was commonplace, but news of criminal activity by occupation forces was quickly suppressed. On September 10, 1945, SCAP issued press and pre-censorship codes outlawing the publication of reports and statistics "inimical to the objectives of the occupation." In the sole instance of self-help General Eichelberger records in his memoirs, when locals formed a vigilante group and retaliated against off-duty GIs, 8th Army ordered armored vehicles into the streets and arrested the ringleaders, who received lengthy prison terms. Misbehavior ranged from black-market activity, petty theft, reckless driving, and disorderly conduct to vandalism, arson, murder, and rape. Soldiers and sailors often broke the law with impunity, and incidents of robbery, rape, and even murder were widely reported. Gang rapes and other sex atrocities were not infrequent; victims, shunned as outcasts, sometimes turned to prostitution in desperation, while others took their own lives to avoid bringing shame to their families. Military courts arrested relatively few soldiers for these offenses and convicted even fewer; Japanese attempts at self-defense were punished severely, and restitution for victims was rare. Fearing the worst, Japanese authorities had already prepared countermeasures against the supposed rapacity of foreign soldiers. Imperial troops in East Asia and the Pacific had behaved brutally toward women, so the government established “sexual comfort-stations” manned by geisha, bar hostesses, and prostitutes to “satisfy the lust of the Occupation forces,” as the Higashikuni Cabinet put it. A budget of 100 million yen was set aside for these Recreation and Amusement Associations, financed initially with public funds but run as private enterprises under police supervision. Through these, the government hoped to protect the daughters of the well-born and middle class by turning to lower-class women to satisfy the soldiers' sexual appetites. By the end of 1945, brothel operators had rounded up an estimated 20,000 young women and herded them into RAA establishments nationwide. Eventually, as many as 70,000 are said to have ended up in the state-run sex industry. Thankfully, as military discipline took hold and fresh troops replaced the Allied veterans responsible for the early crime wave, violence subsided and the occupier's patronising behavior and the ugly misdeeds of a lawless few were gradually overlooked. However, fraternisation was frowned upon by both sides, and segregation was practiced in principle, with the Japanese excluded from areas reserved for Allied personnel until September 1949, when MacArthur lifted virtually all restrictions on friendly association, stating that he was “establishing the same relations between occupation personnel and the Japanese population as exists between troops stationed in the United States and the American people.” In principle, the Occupation's administrative structure was highly complex. The Far Eastern Commission, based in Washington, included representatives from all 13 countries that had fought against Japan and was established in 1946 to formulate basic principles. The Allied Council for Japan was created in the same year to assist in developing and implementing surrender terms and in administering the country. It consisted of representatives from the USA, the USSR, Nationalist China, and the British Commonwealth. Although both bodies were active at first, they were largely ineffectual due to unwieldy decision-making, disagreements between the national delegations (especially the USA and USSR), and the obstructionism of General Douglas MacArthur. In practice, SCAP, the executive authority of the occupation, effectively ruled Japan from 1945 to 1952. And since it took orders only from the US government, the Occupation became primarily an American affair. The US occupation program, effectively carried out by SCAP, was revolutionary and rested on a two-pronged approach. To ensure Japan would never again become a menace to the United States or to world peace, SCAP pursued disarmament and demilitarization, with continuing control over Japan's capacity to make war. This involved destroying military supplies and installations, demobilizing more than five million Japanese soldiers, and thoroughly discrediting the military establishment. Accordingly, SCAP ordered the purge of tens of thousands of designated persons from public service positions, including accused war criminals, military officers, leaders of ultranationalist societies, leaders in the Imperial Rule Assistance Association, business leaders tied to overseas expansion, governors of former Japanese colonies, and national leaders who had steered Japan into war. In addition, MacArthur's International Military Tribunal for the Far East established a military court in Tokyo. It had jurisdiction over those charged with Class A crimes, top leaders who had planned and directed the war. Also considered were Class B charges, covering conventional war crimes, and Class C charges, covering crimes against humanity. Yet the military court in Tokyo wouldn't be the only one. More than 5,700 lower-ranking personnel were charged with conventional war crimes in separate trials convened by Australia, China, France, the Dutch East Indies, the Philippines, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Of the 5,700 Japanese individuals indicted for Class B war crimes, 984 were sentenced to death; 475 received life sentences; 2,944 were given more limited prison terms; 1,018 were acquitted; and 279 were never brought to trial or not sentenced. Among these, many, like General Ando Rikichi and Lieutenant-General Nomi Toshio, chose to commit suicide before facing prosecution. Notable cases include Lieutenant-General Tani Hisao, who was sentenced to death by the Nanjing War Crimes Tribunal for his role in the Nanjing Massacre; Lieutenant-General Sakai Takashi, who was executed in Nanjing for the murder of British and Chinese civilians during the occupation of Hong Kong. General Okamura Yasuji was convicted of war crimes by the Tribunal, yet he was immediately protected by the personal order of Nationalist leader Chiang Kai-Shek, who kept him as a military adviser for the Kuomintang. In the Manila trials, General Yamashita Tomoyuki was sentenced to death as he was in overall command during the Sook Ching massacre, the Rape of Manila, and other atrocities. Lieutenant-General Homma Masaharu was likewise executed in Manila for atrocities committed by troops under his command during the Bataan Death March. General Imamura Hitoshi was sentenced to ten years in prison, but he considered the punishment too light and even had a replica of the prison built in his garden, remaining there until his death in 1968. Lieutenant-General Kanda Masatane received a 14-year sentence for war crimes on Bougainville, though he served only four years. Lieutenant-General Adachi Hatazo was sentenced to life imprisonment for war crimes in New Guinea and subsequently committed suicide on September 10, 1947. Lieutenant-General Teshima Fusataro received three years of forced labour for using a hospital ship to transport troops. Lieutenant-General Baba Masao was sentenced to death for ordering the Sandakan Death Marches, during which over 2,200 Australian and British prisoners of war perished. Lieutenant-General Tanabe Moritake was sentenced to death by a Dutch military tribunal for unspecified war crimes. Rear-Admiral Sakaibara Shigematsu was executed in Guam for ordering the Wake Island massacre, in which 98 American civilians were murdered. Lieutenant-General Inoue Sadae was condemned to death in Guam for permitting subordinates to execute three downed American airmen captured in Palau, though his sentence was commuted to life imprisonment in 1951 and he was released in 1953. Lieutenant-General Tachibana Yoshio was sentenced to death in Guam for his role in the Chichijima Incident, in which eight American airmen were cannibalized. By mid-1945, due to the Allied naval blockade, the 25,000 Japanese troops on Chichijima had run low on supplies. However, although the daily rice ration had been reduced from 400 grams per person per day to 240 grams, the troops were not at risk of starvation. In February and March 1945, in what would later be called the Chichijima incident, Tachibana Yoshio's senior staff turned to cannibalism. Nine American airmen had escaped from their planes after being shot down during bombing raids on Chichijima, eight of whom were captured. The ninth, the only one to evade capture, was future US President George H. W. Bush, then a 20-year-old pilot. Over several months, the prisoners were executed, and reportedly by the order of Major Matoba Sueyo, their bodies were butchered by the division's medical orderlies, with the livers and other organs consumed by the senior staff, including Matoba's superior Tachibana. In the Yokohama War Crimes Trials, Lieutenant-Generals Inada Masazumi and Yokoyama Isamu were convicted for their complicity in vivisection and other human medical experiments performed at Kyushu Imperial University on downed Allied airmen. The Tokyo War Crimes Trial, which began in May 1946 and lasted two and a half years, resulted in the execution by hanging of Generals Doihara Kenji and Itagaki Seishiro, and former Prime Ministers Hirota Koki and Tojo Hideki, for war crimes, crimes against humanity, and crimes against peace, specifically for the escalation of the Pacific War and for permitting the inhumane treatment of prisoners of war. Also sentenced to death were Lieutenant-General Muto Akira for his role in the Nanjing and Manila massacres; General Kimura Heitaro for planning the war strategy in China and Southeast Asia and for laxity in preventing atrocities against prisoners of war in Burma; and General Matsui Iwane for his involvement in the Rape of Nanjing. The seven defendants who were sentenced to death were executed at Sugamo Prison in Ikebukuro on December 23, 1948. Sixteen others were sentenced to life imprisonment, including the last Field Marshal Hata Shunroku, Generals Araki Sadao, Minami Hiro, and Umezu Shojiro, Admiral Shimada Shigetaro, former Prime Ministers Hiranuma Kiichiro and Koiso Kuniaki, Marquis Kido Koichi, and Colonel Hashimoto Kingoro, a major instigator of the second Sino-Japanese War. Additionally, former Foreign Ministers Togo Shigenori and Shigemitsu Mamoru received seven- and twenty-year sentences, respectively. The Soviet Union and Chinese Communist forces also held trials of Japanese war criminals, including the Khabarovsk War Crime Trials, which tried and found guilty some members of Japan's bacteriological and chemical warfare unit known as Unit 731. However, those who surrendered to the Americans were never brought to trial, as MacArthur granted immunity to Lieutenant-General Ishii Shiro and all members of the bacteriological research units in exchange for germ-w warfare data derived from human experimentation. If you would like to learn more about what I like to call Japan's Operation Paper clip, whereupon the US grabbed many scientists from Unit 731, check out my exclusive podcast. The SCAP-turn to democratization began with the drafting of a new constitution in 1947, addressing Japan's enduring feudal social structure. In the charter, sovereignty was vested in the people, and the emperor was designated a “symbol of the state and the unity of the people, deriving his position from the will of the people in whom resides sovereign power.” Because the emperor now possessed fewer powers than European constitutional monarchs, some have gone so far as to say that Japan became “a republic in fact if not in name.” Yet the retention of the emperor was, in fact, a compromise that suited both those who wanted to preserve the essence of the nation for stability and those who demanded that the emperor system, though not necessarily the emperor, should be expunged. In line with the democratic spirit of the new constitution, the peerage was abolished and the two-chamber Diet, to which the cabinet was now responsible, became the highest organ of state. The judiciary was made independent and local autonomy was granted in vital areas of jurisdiction such as education and the police. Moreover, the constitution stipulated that “the people shall not be prevented from enjoying any of the fundamental human rights,” that they “shall be respected as individuals,” and that “their right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness shall … be the supreme consideration in legislation.” Its 29 articles guaranteed basic human rights: equality, freedom from discrimination on the basis of race, creed, sex, social status or family origin, freedom of thought and freedom of religion. Finally, in its most controversial section, Article 9, the “peace clause,” Japan “renounce[d] war as a sovereign right of the nation” and vowed not to maintain any military forces and “other war potential.” To instill a thoroughly democratic ethos, reforms touched every facet of society. The dissolution of the zaibatsu decentralised economic power; the 1945 Labour Union Law and the 1946 Labour Relations Act guaranteed workers the right to collective action; the 1947 Labour Standards Law established basic working standards for men and women; and the revised Civil Code of 1948 abolished the patriarchal household and enshrined sexual equality. Reflecting core American principles, SCAP introduced a 6-3-3 schooling system, six years of compulsory elementary education, three years of junior high, and an optional three years of senior high, along with the aim of secular, locally controlled education. More crucially, ideological reform followed: censorship of feudal material in media, revision of textbooks, and prohibition of ideas glorifying war, dying for the emperor, or venerating war heroes. With women enfranchised and young people shaped to counter militarism and ultranationalism, rural Japan was transformed to undermine lingering class divisions. The land reform program provided for the purchase of all land held by absentee landlords, allowed resident landlords and owner-farmers to retain a set amount of land, and required that the remaining land be sold to the government so it could be offered to existing tenants. In 1948, amid the intensifying tensions of the Cold War that would soon culminate in the Korean War, the occupation's focus shifted from demilitarization and democratization toward economic rehabilitation and, ultimately, the remilitarization of Japan, an shift now known as the “Reverse Course.” The country was thus rebuilt as the Pacific region's primary bulwark against the spread of Communism. An Economic Stabilisation Programme was introduced, including a five-year plan to coordinate production and target capital through the Reconstruction Finance Bank. In 1949, the anti-inflationary Dodge Plan was adopted, advocating balanced budgets, fixing the exchange rate at 360 yen to the dollar, and ending broad government intervention. Additionally, the Ministry of International Trade and Industry was formed and supported the formation of conglomerates centered around banks, which encouraged the reemergence of a somewhat weakened set of zaibatsu, including Mitsui and Mitsubishi. By the end of the Occupation era, Japan was on the verge of surpassing its 1934–1936 levels of economic growth. Equally important was Japan's rearmament in alignment with American foreign policy: a National Police Reserve of about 75,000 was created with the outbreak of the Korean War; by 1952 it had expanded to 110,000 and was renamed the Self-Defense Force after the inclusion of an air force. However, the Reverse Course also facilitated the reestablishment of conservative politics and the rollback of gains made by women and the reforms of local autonomy and education. As the Occupation progressed, the Americans permitted greater Japanese initiative, and power gradually shifted from the reformers to the moderates. By 1949, the purge of the right came under review, and many who had been condemned began returning to influence, if not to the Diet, then to behind-the-scenes power. At the same time, Japanese authorities, with MacArthur's support, began purging left-wing activists. In June 1950, for example, the central office of the Japan Communist Party and the editorial board of The Red Flag were purged. The gains made by women also seemed to be reversed. Women were elected to 8% of available seats in the first lower-house election in 1946, but to only 2% in 1952, a trend not reversed until the so-called Madonna Boom of the 1980s. Although the number of women voting continued to rise, female politicisation remained more superficial than might be imagined. Women's employment also appeared little affected by labour legislation: though women formed nearly 40% of the labor force in 1952, they earned only 45% as much as men. Indeed, women's attitudes toward labor were influenced less by the new ethos of fulfilling individual potential than by traditional views of family and workplace responsibilities. In the areas of local autonomy and education, substantial modifications were made to the reforms. Because local authorities lacked sufficient power to tax, they were unable to realise their extensive powers, and, as a result, key responsibilities were transferred back to national jurisdiction. In 1951, for example, 90% of villages and towns placed their police forces under the control of the newly formed National Police Agency. Central control over education was also gradually reasserted; in 1951, the Yoshida government attempted to reintroduce ethics classes, proposed tighter central oversight of textbooks, and recommended abolishing local school board elections. By the end of the decade, all these changes had been implemented. The Soviet occupation of the Kurile Islands and the Habomai Islets was completed with Russian troops fully deployed by September 5. Immediately after the onset of the occupation, amid a climate of insecurity and fear marked by reports of sporadic rape and physical assault and widespread looting by occupying troops, an estimated 4,000 islanders fled to Hokkaido rather than face an uncertain repatriation. As Soviet forces moved in, they seized or destroyed telephone and telegraph installations and halted ship movements into and out of the islands, leaving residents without adequate food and other winter provisions. Yet, unlike Manchuria, where Japanese civilians faced widespread sexual violence and pillage, systematic violence against the civilian population on the Kuriles appears to have been exceptional. A series of military government proclamations assured islanders of safety so long as they did not resist Soviet rule and carried on normally; however, these orders also prohibited activities not explicitly authorized by the Red Army, which imposed many hardships on civilians. Residents endured harsh conditions under Soviet rule until late 1948, when Japanese repatriation out of the Kurils was completed. The Kuriles posed a special diplomatic problem, as the occupation of the southernmost islands—the Northern Territories—ignited a long-standing dispute between Tokyo and Moscow that continues to impede the normalisation of relations today. Although the Kuriles were promised to the Soviet Union in the Yalta agreement, Japan and the United States argued that this did not apply to the Northern Territories, since they were not part of the Kurile Islands. A substantial dispute regarding the status of the Kurile Islands arose between the United States and the Soviet Union during the preparation of the Treaty of San Francisco, which was intended as a permanent peace treaty between Japan and the Allied Powers of World War II. The treaty was ultimately signed by 49 nations in San Francisco on September 8, 1951, and came into force on April 28, 1952. It ended Japan's role as an imperial power, allocated compensation to Allied nations and former prisoners of war who had suffered Japanese war crimes, ended the Allied post-war occupation of Japan, and returned full sovereignty to Japan. Effectively, the document officially renounced Japan's treaty rights derived from the Boxer Protocol of 1901 and its rights to Korea, Formosa and the Pescadores, the Kurile Islands, the Spratly Islands, Antarctica, and South Sakhalin. Japan's South Seas Mandate, namely the Mariana Islands, Marshall Islands, and Caroline Islands, had already been formally revoked by the United Nations on July 18, 1947, making the United States responsible for administration of those islands under a UN trusteeship agreement that established the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands. In turn, the Bonin, Volcano, and Ryukyu Islands were progressively restored to Japan between 1953 and 1972, along with the Senkaku Islands, which were disputed by both Communist and Nationalist China. In addition, alongside the Treaty of San Francisco, Japan and the United States signed a Security Treaty that established a long-lasting military alliance between them. Although Japan renounced its rights to the Kuriles, the U.S. State Department later clarified that “the Habomai Islands and Shikotan ... are properly part of Hokkaido and that Japan is entitled to sovereignty over them,” hence why the Soviets refused to sign the treaty. Britain and the United States agreed that territorial rights would not be granted to nations that did not sign the Treaty of San Francisco, and as a result the Kurile Islands were not formally recognized as Soviet territory. A separate peace treaty, the Treaty of Taipei (formally the Sino-Japanese Peace Treaty), was signed in Taipei on April 28, 1952 between Japan and the Kuomintang, and on June 9 of that year the Treaty of Peace Between Japan and India followed. Finally, Japan and the Soviet Union ended their formal state of war with the Soviet–Japanese Joint Declaration of 1956, though this did not settle the Kurile Islands dispute. Even after these formal steps, Japan as a nation was not in a formal state of war, and many Japanese continued to believe the war was ongoing; those who held out after the surrender came to be known as Japanese holdouts.  Captain Oba Sakae and his medical company participated in the Saipan campaign beginning on July 7, 1944, and took part in what would become the largest banzai charge of the Pacific War. After 15 hours of intense hand-to-hand combat, almost 4,300 Japanese soldiers were dead, and Oba and his men were presumed among them. In reality, however, he survived the battle and gradually assumed command of over a hundred additional soldiers. Only five men from his original unit survived the battle, two of whom died in the following months. Oba then led over 200 Japanese civilians deeper into the jungles to evade capture, organizing them into mountain caves and hidden jungle villages. When the soldiers were not assisting the civilians with survival tasks, Oba and his men continued their battle against the garrison of US Marines. He used the 1,552‑ft Mount Tapochau as their primary base, which offered an unobstructed 360-degree view of the island. From their base camp on the western slope of the mountain, Oba and his men occasionally conducted guerrilla-style raids on American positions. Due to the speed and stealth of these operations, and the Marines' frustrated attempts to find him, the Saipan Marines eventually referred to Oba as “The Fox.” Oba and his men held out on the island for 512 days, or about 16 months. On November 27, 1945, former Major-General Amo Umahachi was able to draw out some of the Japanese in hiding by singing the anthem of the Japanese infantry branch. Amo was then able to present documents from the defunct IGHQ to Oba ordering him and his 46 remaining men to surrender themselves to the Americans. On December 1, the Japanese soldiers gathered on Tapochau and sang a song of departure to the spirits of the war dead; Oba led his people out of the jungle and they presented themselves to the Marines of the 18th Anti-Aircraft Artillery Company. With great formality and commensurate dignity, Oba surrendered his sword to Lieutenant Colonel Howard G. Kirgis, and his men surrendered their arms and colors. On January 2, 1946, 20 Japanese soldiers hiding in a tunnel at Corregidor Island surrendered after learning the war had ended from a newspaper found while collecting water. In that same month, 120 Japanese were routed after a battle in the mountains 150 miles south of Manila. In April, during a seven-week campaign to clear Lubang Island, 41 more Japanese emerged from the jungle, unaware that the war had ended; however, a group of four Japanese continued to resist. In early 1947, Lieutenant Yamaguchi Ei and his band of 33 soldiers renewed fighting with the small Marine garrison on Peleliu, prompting reinforcements under Rear-Admiral Charles Pownall to be brought to the island to hunt down the guerrilla group. Along with them came former Rear-Admiral Sumikawa Michio, who ultimately convinced Yamaguchi to surrender in April after almost three years of guerrilla warfare. Also in April, seven Japanese emerged from Palawan Island and fifteen armed stragglers emerged from Luzon. In January 1948, 200 troops surrendered on Mindanao; and on May 12, the Associated Press reported that two unnamed Japanese soldiers had surrendered to civilian policemen in Guam the day before. On January 6, 1949, two former IJN soldiers, machine gunners Matsudo Rikio and Yamakage Kufuku, were discovered on Iwo Jima and surrendered peacefully. In March 1950, Private Akatsu Yūichi surrendered in the village of Looc, leaving only three Japanese still resisting on Lubang. By 1951 a group of Japanese on Anatahan Island refused to believe that the war was over and resisted every attempt by the Navy to remove them. This group was first discovered in February 1945, when several Chamorros from Saipan were sent to the island to recover the bodies of a Saipan-based B-29. The Chamorros reported that there were about thirty Japanese survivors from three ships sunk in June 1944, one of which was an Okinawan woman. Personal aggravations developed from the close confines of a small group on a small island and from tuba drinking; among the holdouts, 6 of 11 deaths were the result of violence, and one man displayed 13 knife wounds. The presence of only one woman, Higa Kazuko, caused considerable difficulty as she would transfer her affections among at least four men after each of them mysteriously disappeared, purportedly “swallowed by the waves while fishing.” According to the more sensational versions of the Anatahan tale, 11 of the 30 navy sailors stranded on the island died due to violent struggles over her affections. In July 1950, Higa went to the beach when an American vessel appeared offshore and finally asked to be removed from the island. She was taken to Saipan aboard the Miss Susie and, upon arrival, told authorities that the men on the island did not believe the war was over. As the Japanese government showed interest in the situation on Anatahan, the families of the holdouts were contacted in Japan and urged by the Navy to write letters stating that the war was over and that the holdouts should surrender. The letters were dropped by air on June 26 and ultimately convinced the holdouts to give themselves up. Thus, six years after the end of World War II, “Operation Removal” commenced from Saipan under the command of Lt. Commander James B. Johnson, USNR, aboard the Navy Tug USS Cocopa. Johnson and an interpreter went ashore by rubber boat and formally accepted the surrender on the morning of June 30, 1951. The Anatahan femme fatale story later inspired the 1953 Japanese film Anatahan and the 1998 novel Cage on the Sea. In 1953, Murata Susumu, the last holdout on Tinian, was finally captured. The next year, on May 7, Corporal Sumada Shoichi was killed in a clash with Filipino soldiers, leaving only two Japanese still resisting on Lubang. In November 1955, Seaman Kinoshita Noboru was captured in the Luzon jungle but soon after committed suicide rather than “return to Japan in defeat.” That same year, four Japanese airmen surrendered at Hollandia in Dutch New Guinea; and in 1956, nine soldiers were located and sent home from Morotai, while four men surrendered on Mindoro. In May 1960, Sergeant Ito Masashi became one of the last Japanese to surrender at Guam after the capture of his comrade Private Minagawa Bunzo, but the final surrender at Guam would come later with Sergeant Yokoi Shoichi. Sergeant Yokoi Shoichi survived in the jungles of Guam by living for years in an elaborately dug hole, subsisting on snails and lizards, a fate that, while undignified, showcased his ingenuity and resilience and earned him a warm welcome on his return to Japan. His capture was not heroic in the traditional sense: he was found half-starving by a group of villagers while foraging for shrimp in a stream, and the broader context included his awareness as early as 1952 that the war had ended. He explained that the wartime bushido code, emphasizing self-sacrifice or suicide rather than self-preservation, had left him fearing that repatriation would label him a deserter and likely lead to execution. Emerging from the jungle, Yokoi also became a vocal critic of Japan's wartime leadership, including Emperor Hirohito, which fits a view of him as a product of, and a prisoner within, his own education, military training, and the censorship and propaganda of the era. When asked by a young nephew how he survived so long on an island just a short distance from a major American airbase, he replied simply, “I was really good at hide and seek.”  That same year, Private Kozuka Kinshichi was killed in a shootout with Philippine police in October, leaving Lieutenant Onoda Hiroo still resisting on Lubang. Lieutenant Onoda Hiroo had been on Lubang since 1944, a few months before the Americans retook the Philippines. The last instructions he had received from his immediate superior ordered him to retreat to the interior of the island and harass the Allied occupying forces until the IJA eventually returned. Despite efforts by the Philippine Army, letters and newspapers left for him, radio broadcasts, and even a plea from Onoda's brother, he did not believe the war was over. On February 20, 1974, Onoda encountered a young Japanese university dropout named Suzuki Norio, who was traveling the world and had told friends that he planned to “look for Lieutenant Onoda, a panda, and the abominable snowman, in that order.” The two became friends, but Onoda stated that he was waiting for orders from one of his commanders. On March 9, 1974, Onoda went to an agreed-upon place and found a note left by Suzuki. Suzuki had brought along Onoda's former commander, Major Taniguchi, who delivered the oral orders for Onoda to surrender. Intelligence Officer 2nd Lt. Onoda Hiroo thus emerged from Lubang's jungle with his .25 caliber rifle, 500 rounds of ammunition, and several hand grenades. He surrendered 29 years after Japan's formal surrender, and 15 years after being declared legally dead in Japan. When he accepted that the war was over, he wept openly. He received a hero's welcome upon his return to Japan in 1974. The Japanese government offered him a large sum of money in back pay, which he refused. When money was pressed on him by well-wishers, he donated it to Yasukuni Shrine. Onoda was reportedly unhappy with the attention and what he saw as the withering of traditional Japanese values. He wrote No Surrender: My Thirty-Year War, a best-selling autobiography published in 1974. Yet the last Japanese to surrender would be Private Nakamura Teruo, an Amis aborigine from Formosa and a member of the Takasago Volunteers. Private Nakamura Teruo spent the tail end of World War II with a dwindling band on Morotai, repeatedly dispersing and reassembling in the jungle as they hunted for food. The group suffered continuous losses to starvation and disease, and survivors described Nakamura as highly self-sufficient. He left to live alone somewhere in the Morotai highlands between 1946 and 1947, rejoined the main group in 1950, and then disappeared again a few years later. Nakamura hinted in print that he fled into the jungle because he feared the other holdouts might murder him. He survives for decades beyond the war, eventually being found by 11 Indonesian soldiers. The emergence of an indigenous Taiwanese soldier among the search party embarrassed Japan as it sought to move past its imperial past. Many Japanese felt Nakamura deserved compensation for decades of loyalty, only to learn that his back pay for three decades of service amounted to 68,000 yen.   Nakamura's experience of peace was complex. When a journalist asked how he felt about “wasting” three decades of his life on Morotai, he replied that the years had not been wasted; he had been serving his country. Yet the country he returned to was Taiwan, and upon disembarking in Taipei in early January 1975, he learned that his wife had a son he had never met and that she had remarried a decade after his official death. Nakamura eventually lived with a daughter, and his story concluded with a bittersweet note when his wife reconsidered and reconciled with him. Several Japanese soldiers joined local Communist and insurgent groups after the war to avoid surrender. Notably, in 1956 and 1958, two soldiers returned to Japan after service in China's People's Liberation Army. Two others who defected with a larger group to the Malayan Communist Party around 1945 laid down their arms in 1989 and repatriated the next year, becoming among the last to return home. That is all for today, but fear not I will provide a few more goodies over the next few weeks. I will be releasing some of my exclusive podcast episodes from my youtube membership and patreon that are about pacific war subjects. Like I promised the first one will be on why Emperor Hirohito surrendered. Until then if you need your fix you know where to find me: eastern front week by week, fall and rise of china, echoes of war or on my Youtube membership of patreon at www.patreon.com/pacificwarchannel.

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

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

Participants: John Steppling, Jennifer Matsui, Hiroyuki Hamada, and Dennis Riches. Topics covered: Adult journalists lose their minds over Taylor Swift's engagement ring, US gunboats to Venezuela to do what exactly? China marks the end of WWII with a film about the Nanjing massacre as well as other memorials, Hirohito's lesson on how to lose a war: just don't call it surrender, “Kirishima Desu”—a film about a Japanese radical who came in from the cold, old style alternative media—magazines, radio, public access television, Canadian parliamentary committee wants to let “mature minors” receive medical assistance in dying. Music track: “Bemsha Swing” by Thelonius Monk (public domain).

Red tourism, visiting locations with historical significance to the Communist Party of China, is sweeping the nation as China celebrates the 80th anniversary of victory in the Chinese People's War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggressionfrom1931 to 1945 and the World Anti-Fascist War.在中国庆祝中国人民抗日战争（1931-45）和世界反法西斯战争胜利80周年之际，参观对中国共产党具有历史意义的地点的红色旅游正在席卷全国。Jinggangshan city in East China's Jiangxi province has seen bookings to its Red tourism scenic spots rise by 22 percent this summer, according to travel portal Qunar. The city is considered a cradle of the Chinese revolution where the CPC established its first rural revolutionary base in 1927.根据旅游门户网站去哪儿网的数据，今年夏天，中国东部江西省井冈山市红色旅游景点的预订量增长了22%。这座城市被认为是中国革命的摇篮，1927年中国共产党在这里建立了第一个农村革命根据地。Bookings to other renowned Red tourism spots such as Yan'an in Shaanxi province and Shaoshan in Hunan province have increased by 20 percent and 12 percent, respectively, year-on-year, according to Qunar.去哪儿网的数据显示，陕西省延安市和湖南省韶山市等其他著名红色旅游景点的预订量同比分别增长了20%和12%。"I'm deeply touched by the perseverance, upbeat and unyielding spirit of Chinese soldiers during their long and arduous fights against the Japanese invasion in the 1930s and 1940s," said Ye Mingsheng, 17, while visiting the Taihang Memorial Museum of the Eighth Route Army in late July with his parents.7月下旬，17岁的叶明生和父母一起参观太行八路军纪念馆时说：“中国士兵在20世纪三四十年代长期艰苦的抗日战争中表现出的毅力、乐观和不屈的精神让我深受感动。”。He said visiting the memorial hall was like attending an immersive history lesson, where he could feel the difficulties the Chinese soldiers had faced during the war, and their optimism and unyielding determination have also inspired him. "The trip has intensified my national ethos," he said.他说，参观纪念馆就像上了一堂身临其境的历史课，在那里他可以感受到中国士兵在战争期间面临的困难，他们的乐观和不屈不挠的决心也激励了他。他说：“这次旅行强化了我的民族精神。”。Cai Miao, a manager from travel agency Tuniu, said that some recently released movies have intensified people's desire for Red tourism this summer.途牛旅行社经理蔡淼表示，最近上映的一些电影加剧了人们对今年夏天红色旅游的渴望。Dead To Rights, for example, which is set during the Nanjing Massacre in 1937, tells the story of a group of Chinese civilians seeking refuge in a photo studio and risking their lives to expose atrocities committed by the Imperial Japanese Army. The film was released on July 25, and from that day to Aug 3, travel bookings to Nanjing increased by 16 percent from the period of July 15 to July 24 on Tuniu.以1937年南京大屠杀为背景，告诉了一群中国平民在照相馆避难，冒着生命危险揭露日本帝国军队暴行的故事。这部电影于7月25日上映，从那天到8月3日，途牛的南京旅游预订量比7月15日到7月24日增长了16%。"Tour products to Nanjing, capital city of East China's Jiangsu province, have been some of our bestsellers this summer. Many of our customers said the most important stop of their trips to the city is to visit the Memorial Hall for the Victims in Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invaders, which memorializes those killed in the Nanjing Massacre by the Imperial Japanese Army," Cai Miao said.蔡淼说：“今年夏天，前往中国东部江苏省省会南京的旅游产品一直是我们最畅销的产品之一。我们的许多客户表示，他们此行最重要的一站是参观日本侵略者南京大屠杀遇难者纪念馆，该纪念馆纪念在日本帝国军队南京大屠杀中遇难的人。”。She added that young Chinese people were the majority taking Red tourism trips this summer, either with their families or during company team building events.她补充说，今年夏天，大多数中国年轻人都会和家人一起或在公司团队建设活动中参加红色旅游。"Places including Beijing, Nanjing in Jiangsu, Guangzhou in Guangdong and Changsha in Hunan province have been the most popular destinations for Red tourism trip goers this summer," she said.她说：“今年夏天，北京、江苏南京、广东广州和湖南长沙等地一直是红色旅游者最受欢迎的目的地。”。Qunar said that several Red tourism destinations have launched theatrical performances or outdoor shows based on stories of the CPC's development to attract tourists.去哪儿网表示，一些红色旅游目的地已经根据中国共产党的发展故事推出了戏剧表演或户外表演，以吸引游客。It said that ticket bookings to the theatrical performance — The Great Turning Point in Zunyi, Guizhou province, had increased threefold this summer. The performance centers on the Zunyi Meeting in 1935, a landmark event in the history of the CPC, as it largely determined the fate of the Party at a critical juncture for its survival.据报道，今年夏天，贵州遵义《大转折》的门票预订量增加了两倍。这场演出以1935年遵义会议为中心，这是中国共产党历史上的一个里程碑事件，因为它在很大程度上决定了党在生死关头的命运。Zhang Jinshan, a tourism planning and development researcher at Beijing Union University, said that Red tourism is a combination of Red culture — a culture related to the CPC and its revolutionary history, and travel.北京联合大学旅游规划与发展研究员张金山表示，红色旅游是红色文化——一种与中国共产党及其革命历史有关的文化——和旅游的结合。"The increasing popularity of Red tourism among Chinese people, especially the young adults and children, enables the nation's younger generations to learn the values and ideals of the CPC, and the hardships Chinese people experienced to establish the People's Republic of China," he said, adding that visiting Red tourism spots can also remind people of safeguarding the homeland and cherishing the hard-won peace.他说：“红色旅游在中国人民，特别是年轻人和儿童中的日益普及，使国家的年轻一代能够了解中国共产党的价值观和理想，以及中国人民为建立中华人民共和国所经历的艰辛。”他补充说，参观红色旅游景点也可以提醒人们保卫家园，珍惜来之不易的和平。atrocitiesn.（尤指战争中的）残暴行为

Last time we spoke about the crossing of Nanjing's Rubicon. By November 1, Shanghai had become a lost cause, the Chinese were forced to retreat. In the wake of this turmoil, the Japanese set their sights on Nanjing, keenly aware that its fall would spell disaster for Chiang Kai-Shek's government. Despite the desperate situation, guerrilla fighters began fortifying the city as civilians rallied to support the defense, preparing for the inevitable assault that loomed. However, political divisions plagued the Chinese leadership, with some generals advocating for abandoning the city. After intense discussions, it was decided that Nanjing would be a hill worth dying on, driven largely by propaganda needs. As November 12 approached, Japanese troops rapidly advanced west, capturing towns along the way and inflicting unimaginable brutality. On November 19, Yanagawa, a commander, took the initiative, decreeing that pursuing the retreating Chinese forces toward Nanjing was paramount.    #164 The Battle of Lake Tai Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. As the Chinese troops fled westwards, at 7:00 am on November 19th, Yanagawa issued instructions to his troops in the field. “The enemy's command system is in disarray, and a mood of defeat has descended over their entire army. They have lost the will to fight. We must not miss the opportunity to pursue the enemy to Nanjing.” The order went out to the 10th Army, sending, the 6th, 18th, and 114th Divisions west along the southern shore of Lake Tai, passing through Huzhou before turning right towards Nanjing. The Kunisaki Detachment, trained for rapid movement by water and land, was ordered east along the Yangtze River near Wuhu city and, if possible, cross the river to cut off the Chinese Army's retreat from Nanjing. Yanagawa envisioned an operation unlike any other conducted by the Japanese Army in recent history. He believed this could not only end the war but also surpass previous victories, such as the defeat of tsarist Russia more than three decades earlier. Confident in a swift victory, he wrote in a follow-up message to his commanders, “The day is near when the banner of the Rising Sun will fly over Nanjing's city wall.” However, Yanagawa's order elicited panic in Tokyo once it became known. His superiors viewed it as an outrageous attempt to entirely change the war focus away from the north. They understood that taking Nanjing was primarily a political decision rather than a strategic one. There was still hopes of finding terms through the Germans to end the conflict, thus carving up more of China. The Japanese did not want to become bogged down in a real war. Major General Tada was particularly opposed to increasing efforts on the Shanghai front. He belonged to a faction that believed the best way to avoid a quagmire in China was to deliver a swift, decisive blow to the Chinese Army. This mindset had turned him into a major advocate for landing a strong force in Hangzhou Bay in early November. Nevertheless, he had initially resisted expanding operations to the Suzhou-Jiaxing line, only relenting on the condition that this line would not be crossed under any circumstances. Tada's immediate response was to halt the 10th Army's offensive. Shimomura Sadamu, Ishiwara Kanji's hardline successor as chief of operations, strongly disagreed, arguing that field commanders should have the authority to make significant decisions. Undeterred, Tada insisted on restraining the field commanders, and at 6:00 pm on November 20th, the Army General Staff sent a cable to the Central China Area Army reprimanding them for advancing beyond Order No. 600, which had established the Suzhou-Jiaxing line. The response from the Central China Area Army arrived two days later whereupon the field commanders argued that Nanjing needed to be captured to bring the war to an early conclusion. To do otherwise, they argued, would provide the enemy with an opportunity to regain the will to fight. Moreover, the officers claimed that delaying the decisive battle would not sit well with the Japanese public, potentially jeopardizing national unity. On the same day it responded to Tokyo, the Central China Area Army instructed the 10th Army to proceed cautiously: “The pursuit to Nanjing is to be halted, although you may still send an advance force towards Huzhou. Each division is to select four or five battalions to pursue the enemy rapidly”. The remainder of the troops were instructed to advance towards Huzhou and prepare to join the pursuit “at any time.” Meanwhile Chiang Kai-shek officially appointed Tang Shengzhi as the commandant of Nanjing's garrison. Born in 1889, Tang embodied the era of officers leading China into war with Japan. They straddled the line between old and new China. During their youth, they lived in a society that had seen little change for centuries, where young men immersed themselves in 2,000-year-old classics to prepare for life. Like their ancestors across countless generations, they were governed by an emperor residing in a distant capital. Following the 1911 revolution, they embraced the new republic and received modern military training, Tang, for instance, at the esteemed Baoding Academy in northern China. Yet, they struggled to fully relinquish their traditional mindsets. These traditional beliefs often included a significant distrust of foreigners. Before his appointment as garrison commander, Tang had led the garrison's operations section. During this time, Chiang Kai-shek suggested that he permit the German chief advisor, General Alexander von Falkenhausen, to attend staff meetings. Tang hesitated, expressing concern due to Falkenhausen's past as a military official in Japan and the current alliance between Germany, Italy, and Japan. “That's not good, is it?” he asked. Chiang reassured him that Falkenhausen was an experienced officer who remembered earlier loyalties despite political shifts in Berlin. “It's all right,” Chiang insisted, “we can trust him.” Reluctantly, Tang acquiesced but never fully trusted the German officer. Tang also faced issues with morale. He was Hunanese, the majority of his troops were locals, many from Nanjing. Tang also suffered from many ongoing illnesses. While he put on a bravado face, its unlikely he expected to be able to defend the capital for very long. On November 19th, the IJA 16th division and Shigeto Detachment conquered Changshu, a crucial point along the Wufu defense line, spanning from Fushan on the Yangtze to Suzhou and then to Wujiang sitting on the shores of Lake Tai. The fight for Changshu had surprised the Japanese. As they approached they ran into a network of interlocking cement pillboxes that had to be taken individually, resulting in heavy casualties. Frequently, when the Japanese believed they had finally destroyed a position and advanced, they were dismayed to discover that some defenders remained alive, continuing to fire at their flanks. Another obstacle facing them was Chinese artillery. During the night's capture of the city, the Japanese makeshift camps were hit relentlessly by bombardment. That same day further south, the IJA 9th division captured Suzhou , reporting to the press they did so without firing a single shot. General Matsui wrote in his diary “The enemy troops near Suzhou have completely lost their morale. Some soldiers are discarding their equipment and surrendering, while others flee westward in utter chaos. Our forces have not encountered the resistance we anticipated. So far, the Shanghai Expeditionary Force has achieved all its objectives. I am thrilled by this.” In reality, this was mere propaganda. The IJA 9th Division actually had to overpower a series of Chinese pillboxes outside the city. Once they entered through the medieval walls, they faced the task of eliminating pockets of resistance one by one. According to Japanese sources, over 1,000 Chinese soldiers were killed during these clearing operations. The Japanese found a wealth of spoils in Suzhou. Among the booty were 100 artillery pieces and other military equipment. Historically known as one of China's wealthiest cities, Suzhou still contained an abundance of loot even after months of conflict. Many Japanese soldiers had their pockets filled with cigarettes after raiding a tobacco factory, while others transported barrels filled with coins after robbing a bank. Meanwhile the government had officially moved from Nanjing to Chongqing. Chongqing was an unusual choice for the new capital as it was historically something of a backwater, not very cosmopolitan such as the great coastal cities in the east. However it was distant enough to be out of reach from the Japanese land forces, but not so distant that it would make governing China impossible. Not all the governmental agencies moved to Chongqing at once. The foreign ministry first moved to Wuhan, as did most of the foreign diplomats. Yet out of some several hundred foreign nationals, 30 American and 19 British did stay behind in Nanjing. Tang Shengzhi met with the remaining foreign community and began promising them guarantees of their lives and property would be protected to the fullest. In turn the foreign community were thinking up ways to help defend the city's civilian population. They formed a special demilitarized district, akin to the one in Shanghai. They named it the Jacquinot Safety Zone after its founder, French Jesuit Robert Jacquinot de Besange. An international committee for establishing a neutral zone for noncombatants in Nanjing was formed on November 19th and famously John Rabe chaired it. The committee knew their neutral zone depended solely upon Japan respecting it, thus Rabe was an ideal pick for chairman. Meanwhile Chiang Kai-Shek was determined to stay for as long as possible in Nanjing, and remain in the public view to maintain morale. Song Meiling also went around touring the capital by automobile to raise public spirit. Preparations for battle were being dished out in haste. Du Yuming, the commander of Nanjing's armored regiment was called up to the headquarters of He Yingqin, then chief of staff. There Du was briefed on Chiang Kai-Shek's war plans and how his tiny armored force would fit in. He Yingqin said “It has been decided that Tang Shengzhi is to defend Nanjing. Chairman Chiang wants the German vehicles to stay in Nanjing and fight.” This was referring to their Leichter Panzerspahwagen or “sd KFZ 221” armored cars. These were recent purchases from Germany. Du questioned using them however “The German vehicles are the best armor we have at the moment, but they have no cannon, only machine guns, so their firepower is limited. We just have 15 of them. And they are not suited for the terrain around Nanjing, with all its rivers and lakes.” Du instead argued for using the British-made Vickers Carden Lloyd tanks. Of these China had recently purchased the amphibious variants. Du said “Those tanks both have machine guns and cannon, and they can float. They are much more useful for the Nanjing area.” He further suggested the tanks might even make it to the other side of the Yangtze once all hope was out. To this He replied “No, don't even think about crossing the Yangtze. The chairman wants the tank crews to fight to the death.” As far as war strategy was concerned, China had actually developed one against Japan decades prior. Ever since the nasty conflicts between the two nations had broken out back during the Great War days, China sought an answer to Japan's aggression. One man rose to the occasion, a young officer named Jiang Baili. In 1922 Jiang wrote “The only way to prevail over the enemy, will be to do the opposite of what he does in every respect. It will be to his advantage to seek a quick resolution; we should aim for protracted warfare. He will try to focus on a decisive blow at the front line; we should move to the second line of defense and rob him of the opportunity to concentrate his forces in one place.” Soon Jiang became the forefather in China for theories involving protracted war. One could also call it a war of attrition, and it was the type of war suited to China. In the words of Jiang “We should thank our ancestors. China is blessed with two major advantages, a vast land area and a huge population. Abstaining from fighting will be enough. And if we do fight, we should drag it out. We should force the front to move west, and turn our weakness into strength, while allowing the enemy to overstretch himself”. China's geography significantly influenced Jiang's military strategy. In his works titled Organization of Mechanized Forces, Jiang wrote “The flat North Chinese plain offers ideal conditions for a large mechanized army. In contrast, the agricultural regions further south, characterized by their mix of rice paddies and waterways, are far less suitable.” Faced with a technologically superior enemy, China had no option but to draw the opponent away from the north, where their armored units would dominate the battlefield, to the Yangtze River area, where their mobility would be severely restricted. Jiang served as the director of the prestigious military academy at Baoding, near Beijing, where he could instill his philosophies in the minds of upcoming leaders of the Chinese armed forces, including Tang Shengzhi. Tang was able to put Jiang's theories into practice. In the autumn of 1935, he played a crucial role in planning and executing the decade's largest military maneuver. Conducted south of the Yangtze, between Nanjing and Shanghai, this drill involved over 20,000 troops, allowing for a realistic simulation of battle conditions. Its primary objective was to test the strategy of "luring the enemy in deep." Upon concluding the maneuver, Tang described the location as exceptionally well chosen, a tank commander's nightmare. The area consisted of steep hills alongside rivers, with very few robust roads and virtually no bridges capable of supporting tanks. Countless small paddy fields were divided by dikes that rarely exceeded a few feet in width, perfectly suited for swift infantry movements but utterly inadequate for tracked vehicles. It appeared to be a graveyard for any mechanized army. As the war broke out with Japan, Jiang's ideas initially seemed validated. Chiang Kai-shek deliberately refrained from deploying his best troops to the northern Beijing area. Instead, he chose to instigate a significant battle in and around Shanghai, where the terrain presented the exact disadvantages for Japanese armor that Jiang had anticipated. Although the Japanese gradually introduced tactical innovations that allowed them to navigate the partly submerged paddy fields north and west of Shanghai, their tanks often found themselves forced along elevated roads, making them vulnerable targets for hidden Chinese infantry. For several weeks during September and October, the Shanghai area indeed resembled a quagmire, seemingly poised to ensnare the Japanese forces until they were utterly depleted. However, the successful Japanese landings in early November, first in Hangzhou Bay and then on the south bank of the Yangtze, dramatically changed things. The stalemate was broken, allowing the Japanese Army to advance despite the persistent challenges posed by the local geography. What would happen next would determine whether Jiang's theories from a decade earlier could work or if Japan's tanks would ultimately triumph even in the river terrain south of the Yangtze.  The Japanese field commanders' decision to shift their focus from defeating Chinese forces near Shanghai to pursuing them all the way to Nanjing, sent ripples throughout the ranks. Every unit had to reconsider their plans, but none felt the impact more acutely than the 6th Division. As one of the first contingents of the 10th Army to come ashore in Hangzhou Bay in early November, its soldiers had advanced with remarkable ease, cutting through the defenses like a knife through butter. Now, with orders to drive west towards Nanjing, they were required to make a huge U-turn and head south. Geography hurt them greatly, specifically the presence of Lake Tai. The original Shanghai Expeditionary Force, bolstered by the 16th Division and other newly arrived units, was set to advance north of the lake, while the 10th Army was tasked with operations to the south of it. This situation implied that the 6th Division had to hurry to catch up with the rest of the 10th Army.   Upon turning south, they reached Jiashan on November 21, only to face a brutal outbreak of cholera among their ranks, which delayed their advance by three days. Meanwhile the other elements of the 10th Army, including the Kunisaki Detachment and the 18th and 114th Divisions advanced  rapidly, entering Huzhou on November 23. To speed up their advance they had commandeered every vessel they could grab and tossed men in piece meal across the southern bank of Lake Tai to its western shore.  However the 10th army was unaware that they would soon face a brutal fight. As the Chinese government evacuated Nanjing, fresh troops from Sichuan province in southwest China were being unloaded at the city's docks and marched toward imminent danger. Starting to disembark on November 20, these soldiers formed the Chinese 23rd Group Army. They presented an exotic sight, sporting broad straw hats typical of southern China, often adorned with yellow and green camouflage patterns. While some appeared freshly uniformed, many were ill-prepared for the colder central Chinese winter, dressed in thin cotton better suited for subtropical climates. A number looked as ragged as the most destitute coolie. Nearly all wore straw shoes that required repairs every evening after a long day of marching. Their equipment was rudimentary and often quite primitive. The most common weapon among the newly arrived soldiers was a locally produced rifle from Sichuan, yet many had no firearms at all, carrying only “stout sticks and packs” into battle. Each division had a maximum of a dozen light machine guns, and radio communication was available only at the brigade level and above. The absence of any artillery or heavy equipment was quite alarming. It was as if they expected to be facing a warlord army of the 1920s. They were organized into five divisions and two brigades, supplied by Liu Xiang, a notable southern warlord. Remarkably, Liu Xiang had been one of Chiang Kai-shek's worst enemies less than a year prior. Now, Liu's troops fought alongside Chiang's against Japan, yet their loyalties remained fiercely provincial, listening to Liu Xiang rather than Chiang Kai-shek. China's warlord era never really ended. Chiang Kai-Shek was actually doing two things at once, meeting the enemy but also getting warlord troops away from their provincial powerbase. This in turn would reduce the influence of regional warlords. Now the Chinese recognized the had to stop the Japanese from reaching Wuhu, a Yangtze port city due south of Nanjing, basically the last escape route from the capital. If it was captured, those in Nanjing would be effectively stuck. General Gu Zhutong, who personally witnessed the chaotic evacuation of Suzhou, had already dispatched two divisions from Guangxi province to block the Japanese advance. However, they were quickly routed. Liu Xiang's troops were then sent to fill the gap on the battlefield. By the last week of November, the Japanese 10th Army and the newly arrived Sichuan divisions, were converging on the same area southwest of Lake Tai. Marching as quickly as possible, they were fated to clash in one of the bloodiest battles of the entire Nanjing campaign. As the Sichuanese troops reached the battlefield at the end of November, they  quickly realized just how ill-equipped they were to confront the modern Japanese Army. The Sichuan divisions hurried towards Lake Tai, primarily marching after sunset to avoid harassment from Japanese aircraft. A significant challenge for the soldiers was the condition of the roads, which were paved with gravel that wore down their straw shoes. Despite their best efforts to repair their footwear late at night, many soldiers found themselves entering battle barefoot. Along their route, they encountered numerous Chinese soldiers retreating. One particular column caught their attention; these troops were better uniformed and equipped, appearing as though they had not seen battle at all. They looked rested and well-nourished, as if they had just emerged from their barracks. This prompted unspoken doubts among the Sichuanese soldiers. Upon arriving in Guangde, the 145th Division quickly began fortifying its positions, particularly around a strategic airfield near the city and dispatched units towards the town of Sian. On November 25, skirmishes erupted throughout the day, and on the following day, the Chinese soldiers began facing the full force of the advancing enemy. Japanese planes bombed the Chinese positions near Sian, followed by rapid tank assaults from the 18th Japanese Division. Unaccustomed to combat against armored vehicles, they quickly routed. The Japanese forces rolled over the shattered Chinese defenses and advanced to capture Sian with minimal resistance. To make matters worse, amidst this critical moment when the Sichuan troops were engaged in their first battle against a foreign enemy, Liu Xiang, fell seriously ill. In his place, Chiang Kai-shek assigned one of his most trusted commanders, Chen Cheng. The Sichuanese soldiers were not happy with the new alien commander. Meanwhile, the Nine Power Treaty Conference in Brussels held its final session. The delegates concluded three weeks of fruitless discussions with a declaration that immediately struck observers as lacking any real substance. The decree stated “Force by itself can provide no just and lasting solution for disputes between nations,”. This was met with approval from all participants except Italy, one of Japan's few allies in Europe. They strongly urged that hostilities be suspended and that peaceful processes be pursued, but offered zero consequences for either belligerent should they choose not to comply. As they say today in politics, a nothing burger. China found itself resorting to shaming the international community into action, with barely any success.  In Berlin, the evening following the conference's conclusion, diplomats gathered as the Japanese embassy hosted a dinner to mark the first anniversary of the Anti-Comintern Pact. Among the guests, though he probably really did not want to be there, was Adolf Hitler. The Japanese Communications Minister, Nagai Ryutaro, speaking via radio stated “The Sino-Japanese conflict is a holy struggle for us. The objective is to hold the Nanjing government accountable for its anti-Japanese stance, to liberate the Chinese people from the red menace, and to secure peace in the Far East.” By hosting such an event, Germany was basically signalling that she would abandon her old Chinese ally to forge a stronger partnership with Japan. This was driving the world into two camps that would emerge as the Axis and Allies. My favorite boardgame by the way, I make a lot of goofy videos on my youtube channel about it.  Back at the front, a city sat midway along the Yangtze River between Shanghai and Nanjing, Jiangyin. By Chinese standards, Jiangyin was not a large city; its population numbered just 50,000, most of whom had already fled by the end of November. The city's military significance had considerably diminished after a naval battle in late September resulted in the sinking of half the Chinese fleet, forcing the remainder to retreat upriver. Nevertheless, the Chinese still maintained control on land. This became a pressing concern for the Japanese after the fall of Suzhou and Changshu led to the collapse of the Wufu defensive line. Consequently, the next line of defense was the Xicheng line, of which Jiangyin formed the northern end. The city stood directly in the path of the 13th Japanese Division, positioned at the far right of the front line. Jiangyin featured 33 partially fortified hills, and like many other cities in the region, its primary defense was a robust 10-mile wall constructed of brick and stone. Standing 30 feet high, the wall was reinforced on the inside by an earthen embankment measuring up to 25 feet in diameter. Defending Jiangyin alone was the 112th Division, comprising approximately 5,000 soldiers. Only in November did it receive reinforcements from the 103rd Division, which had previously participated in the brutal fighting in Shanghai and withdrew westward after the Japanese victory there. Like the 112th, the 103rd also consisted of around 5,000 soldiers from former warlord armies, though they hailed from the hot and humid southwest of China rather than the cold and arid northeast. Both divisions faced an adversary with far superior equipment and training. Just hours after Japanese observation balloons appeared on the horizon, their artillery opened fire. The initial shells fell at approximately 30 second intervals, but the pace quickly accelerated. Most of the shells landed near the river, obliterating the buildings in that area. The explosions tore up telephone wires, severing communication between the scattered Chinese units. As the first shells began to fall over Jiangyin, Tang Shengzhi gathered with Chinese and foreign journalists in Nanjing, openly acknowledging the monumental challenge ahead but resolutely vowing to defend Nanjing to the bitter end. “Even though it is lagging behind in material terms, China has the will to fight. Since the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, we have suffered defeats in various theaters, but we will continue to fight until we achieve final victory.” Tang then promised that Nanjing would be fought to the last man. As early as November 14, the central government had ordered the evacuation of women and children from Nanjing, calling for all means of transportation available to be dedicated to this purpose. However, this directive proved to be an empty proclamation. Almost all resources were directed toward relocating government officials westward. Moving office furniture and filing cabinets took precedence over evacuating people. The government commandeered 600 trucks and 220 boats and ships to aid in this effort, but once those means of transportation were exhausted, little remained for the common people. In the final days of November, Nanjing's mayor, Ma Chaojun, attempted to rectify this dire situation. He sent a cable to the Ministry of Communications requesting that the ships used to relocate government agencies be returned to Nanjing as soon as possible to assist with the evacuation. For most vessels, there wasn't enough time to make the journey back. The people of Nanjing were left to fend for themselves. Meanwhile the battles south and west of the Lake Tai continued to rage in late November. While the 18th Japanese Division advanced toward Guangde, aiming eventually for Wuhu and the Yangtze River, the 114th Japanese Division received different orders. It turned right along the western bank of Lake Tai, clearly intending to push onward to Nanjing. Awaiting them was the 144th Chinese Division, consisting primarily of Sichuanese soldiers. They dug in across the one viable road running west of the lake, with a large body of water on one side and rugged terrain on the other. This terrain forced the Japanese to attack over a narrow front, constraining the advantage they held due to their technological superiority. The Chinese were able to concentrate their limited artillery, primarily mountain guns that could be disassembled and transported by mules or even men, on the advancing Japanese attackers, and utilized it effectively. They allowed the Japanese to shell their positions without immediate retaliation, waiting until the infantry was within 1,000 yards before ordering their mountain guns to open fire. The result was devastating; the Japanese column became disorganized, and their advance stalled. However, just as the Chinese artillery appeared on the verge of achieving a significant victory, the decision was made to withdraw. The officers responsible for the mountain guns argued that the Japanese would soon overrun their positions, and it was preferable to take preemptive measures to prevent their valuable equipment from falling into enemy hands. The commanders of the 144th Division reluctantly concurred. The Chinese did their best to maintain the facade that their artillery remained in position, but the Japanese quickly noticed the weakened defense and attacked with renewed fervor. Despite this setback, Chinese soldiers found their morale boosted as their division commander, Guo Junqi, led from the front, issuing orders from a stretcher after sustaining a leg injury. However, deprived of their artillery, the Chinese faced increasingly dire odds, and they were pushed back along the entire front. As the Chinese front neared collapse, the officers of the 144th Division faced yet another challenge: Japanese infantry approached across Lake Tai in boats commandeered in previous days. With no artillery to defend themselves, the Chinese could only direct small arms fire at the vessels, allowing the Japanese to make an almost unimpeded landing. This was the final straw. Under pressure from two sides, the 144th Division had no choice but to abandon its position, retreating westward toward the main Chinese force around Guangde. Jiangyin endured two days of continuous shelling before the Japanese infantry attack commenced, but the city was fortified to withstand such a bombardment of this magnitude and duration. The 33 hills in and around the city had long served as scenic viewpoints and natural strongholds. The tallest hill, known as Mount Ding, rose 900 feet above the area, providing a commanding view and boasted over 100 artillery pieces. By late November, when the Japanese Army reached the area, most civilians had fled, but their homes remained, and the Chinese defenders effectively utilized them, converting them into concealed strongholds. The attack by the Japanese 13th Division on November 29 was led by the 26th Brigade on its right flank and the 103rd Brigade on its left. The advance proved challenging, constantly disrupted by Chinese ambushes. As a row of Japanese soldiers cautiously crossed an empty field, gunshots would erupt, striking down one of their ranks while the others scrambled for cover, desperately trying to identify the source of the fire. The Chinese launched frequent counterattacks, and on several occasions, individual Japanese units found themselves cut off from the main body and had to be rescued. Despite some setbacks, the 13th Division made satisfactory progress, bolstered by both land and ship-based artillery, and soon nearly encircled Jiangyin, leaving only a narrow corridor to the west of the city. However, the Chinese artillery was well-prepared, effectively targeting Japanese vessels on the Yangtze River. This led to an artillery duel that lasted three hours, resulting in several hits on Japanese ships; however, the Chinese batteries also suffered considerable damage. In the sector of the 103rd Chinese Division, the defenders had taken time to construct deep antitank ditches, hindering the advance of Japanese armored units. During the night of November 29-30, the Chinese organized suicide missions behind enemy lines to level the playing field. Armed only with a belt, a combat knife, a rifle, and explosives, the soldiers infiltrated Japanese positions, targeting armored vehicles. They quietly climbed onto the tanks, dropping hand grenades into turrets or detonating explosives strapped to their bodies. Though reducing Japanese armored superiority granted the Chinese some time, the attackers' momentum simply could not be stopped. On November 30, the Japanese launched a relentless assault on Mount Ding, the dominant hill in the Jiangyin area. Supported by aircraft, artillery, and naval bombardments, Japanese infantry engaged the entrenched Chinese company at the summit. After a fierce and bloody battle, the Japanese succeeded in capturing the position. The Chinese company commander, Xia Min'an, withdrew with his troops toward Jiangyin to report the loss to the regimental command post. When the deputy commander of the 103rd Division, Dai Zhiqi, heard the news, he was furious and wanted to execute Xia on the spot. However, Xia's regimental commander intervened, saving him from a firing squad. Instead, he insisted that Xia redeem himself by recapturing the hill from the Japanese. Xia was put in command of a company that had previously been held in reserve. What followed was a fierce battle lasting over four hours. Eventually, the Japanese were forced to relinquish the hill, but the victory came at a steep price, with numerous casualties on both sides, including the death of Xia Min'an. The last days of November also witnessed chaotic fighting around Guangde, where the unfamiliar terrain added to the confusion for both sides. For the Chinese, this chaos was exacerbated by their upper command issuing contradictory orders, instructing troops to advance and retreat simultaneously. Pan Wenhua, the Sichuanese commander of the 23rd Army, prepared a pincer maneuver, directing the 13th Independent Brigade to launch a counterattack against the town of Sian, which was held by the Japanese, while the 146th Division would attack from the south. Both units set out immediately. However, due to a lack of radio equipment, a common issue among the Sichuanese forces, they did not receive the new orders to withdraw, which originated not from Pan Wenhua but from Chen Cheng, the Chiang Kai-shek loyalist who had taken command after Liu Xiang fell ill and was eager to assert his authority. Fortunately, the officers of the 13th Independent Brigade were alerted to the general order for withdrawal by neighboring units and managed to halt their advance on Sian in time. The 146th Division, however, had no such luck and continued its march toward the Japanese-occupied city. It was joined by the 14th Independent Brigade, which had just arrived from Wuhu and was also unaware of the general retreat order. Upon reaching Sian, these Chinese troops engaged in intense close combat with the Japanese. It was a familiar scenario of Japanese technological superiority pitted against Chinese determination. The Japanese brought armor up from the rear, while the Chinese lay in ambush, tossing hand grenades into tank turrets before jumping onto the burning vehicles to kill any surviving crew members. As the fighting around the flanks slowed, the area in front of Guangde became the focal point of the battle. Japanese soldiers advanced toward the city during the day, passing piles of dead Chinese and numerous houses set ablaze by retreating defenders. At night, the situation became perilous for the Japanese, as Chinese forces infiltrated their positions under the cover of darkness. In the confusion, small units from both sides often got lost and were just as likely to encounter hostile forces as friendly ones. Despite the chaos along the front lines, it was evident that the Japanese were gaining the upper hand primarily due to their material superiority. Japanese artillery bombarded Guangde, igniting many structures, while infantry approached the city from multiple directions. The Chinese 145th Division, led by Rao Guohua, was nearing its breaking point. In a desperate gamble, on November 30, Rao ordered one of his regiments to counterattack, but the regimental commander, sensing the futility of the move, simply refused. This refusal was a personal failure for Rao, one he could not accept. Deeply ashamed, Rao Guohua withdrew from Guangde. As darkness enveloped the battlefield, he and a small group of staff officers found a place to rest for the night in a house near a bamboo grove. Overwhelmed with anguish, he penned a letter to Liu Xiang, apparently unaware that Liu had been evacuated to the rear due to stomach issues. In the letter, he apologized for his inability to hold Guangde. Telling his bodyguard to get some rest, he stepped outside, disappearing into the bamboo grove. Shortly thereafter, his staff heard a single gunshot. When they rushed out and searched the dense bamboo, they found Rao sitting against a tree, his service weapon beside him. Blood streamed thickly from a wound to his temple. He was already dead. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. As the Japanese forces advanced on Nanjing, tensions escalated within the Chinese leadership. While Commander Tang Shengzhi fortified the city, some sought retreat. Japanese Commander Yanagawa, confident of victory, pushed his troops westward, disregarding high command's hesitations. Meanwhile, ill-equipped Sichuanese reinforcements hurried to defend Nanjing, braving cholera and disorganization. Intense battles unfolded around Lake Tai, marked by fierce ambushes and casualties. 

Last time we spoke about the fall of Shanghai. In October 1937 a small battalion led by Colonel Xie Jinyuan transformed the Sihang Warehouse into a fortress against the advancing Japanese army. These men, known as the "800 Heroes," became symbols of hope, rallying local citizens who provided vital support. Despite heavy casualties, they held out against overwhelming odds until a strategic retreat was ordered on November 1. As Japanese forces intensified their assaults, they breached the Chinese defenses and captured strategic positions along Suzhou Creek. The fighting was fierce, marked by desperate counterattacks from the besieged Chinese soldiers, who faced an unyielding enemy. By November 9, the Chinese faced a full retreat, their organized defenses collapsing into chaos as they fled the city. Desperate civilians sought refuge in the International Settlement but were met with hostility, exacerbating the terror of the moment. Amidst the turmoil, remaining forces continued to resist in pockets, holding out as long as possible. By November 11, Japanese troops raised their flag in the last stronghold, marking a grim victory.   #163 Crossing Nanjing's Rubicon Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. As the Japanese were mopping up Shanghai, Chiang Kai-Shek wrote in his diary on November 11th “I fear that they could threaten Nanjing”. Over In Shanghai, General Matsui Iwane was dealing with foreign correspondents, eager to learn what Japan's next move would be and to this he simply stated “For future developments, you had better ask Generalissimo Chiang Kai-Shek”. The correspondents were surprised by this response and pressed him further. He replied . “Chiang Kai-shek was reported to have predicted a five-year war, well, it might be that long. We don't know whether we will go to Nanjing or not. It all depends on Chiang.” At this point Shanghai was falling under Japanese control and now Matsui and his fellow field commanders were thinking, what's next? Nanjing was certainly the next objective. It was a common understanding amongst the Japanese leadership, that if the four main eastern cities of Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai and Nanjing were lost, Chiang Kai-Shek's government would collapse. Three of these cities had been taken, Nanjing was dangling like fresh fruit. Matsui's staff believed the Chinese units departing Shanghai would mount a stand immediately west of the city, probably a defensive line running from Jiading to Huangduzhen. On the night of November 11th, Matsui issued a command to all units in the Shanghai area to advance west along the railway towards Nanjing. Their first objective would be a line extending from Taicang to Kunshan. Chiang Kai-Shek was not only reeling from military defeats, but also the gradual loss of his German allies. The Germans were increasingly aligning with the Japanese. Chiang Kai-Shek was looking for new external help, so he turned to the Soviets. It was a marriage of convenience, Chiang Kai-Shek signed a non-aggression pact with the USSR that year and wasted no time pleading for aircraft and pilots. Moscow began sending them before the ink touched the paper. 200 aircraft and pilots in return for some essential minerals, wolfram and tungsten. The Sino-Soviet friendship even drew in an unlikely source of support, Sir Winston Churchill. The Soviet envoy to the UK described how during a meeting with Churchill “he greatly praised our tactics in the Far East: maintenance of neutrality and simultaneous aid to China in weaponry.” Soviet pilots found themselves dispatched to Nanjing where they were briefed by Yakov Vladimirovich Smushkevich, the deputy commander of the Soviet Air Force. “The Japanese armed forces are technically superior to the Chinese. The Chinese Air Force is a particular concern. Soviet pilots who have rushed to China's aid are currently in Nanjing. They are fighting valiantly.” Meanwhile back at Shanghai discipline and order that had characterized previous Chinese withdrawal had collapsed. Simply put, there were hundreds of thousands of men trying to retreat across the lower Yangtze region, it was a shitstorm. Many units had to disengage during combat with the enemy and scramble to pull out. Huang Qixiang, the deputy commander of the Chinese right flank in Shanghai, executed a strategic withdrawal moments before his command post succumbed to the advancing enemy forces. Just fifteen minutes after his departure, the area was overrun by Japanese troops. In a desperate bid to avoid capture, another general had to cross a creek, nearly drowning in the process. Rescued while barely clinging to life and drenched in icy water, he was welcomed by a peasant family who aided in his recovery before he resumed his arduous journey westward. The scale of this withdrawal, occurring both day and night, could hardly escape the enemy's notice, and its complexity made the operation increasingly difficult. The execution of the withdrawal exacerbated the situation significantly. Orders to abandon their positions started to trickle down immediately after the upper command made the decision. However, these orders reached the units in a disorganized manner. Many telephone lines had been sabotaged, and when soldiers were sent to relay the orders in person, they faced severe disruptions in the transportation network. Consequently, many units only became aware of the withdrawal when they witnessed the mass movements of their comrades heading westward. Upon realizing what was happening, many soldiers fled in a state of panic. There were no comprehensive plans outlining the retreat, no designated routes for the various units, nor any established timetables. The outcome was a chaotic scramble for survival. Soldiers who had fought side by side for three months suddenly found themselves competing against one another in a desperate race to escape. At bridges and other chokepoints, weary soldiers exhausted their last reserves of strength, brawling with their fellow troops to be the first to cross. Meanwhile, officers traveling in chauffeur-driven cars attempted to assert their rank to gain priority access to the roads, adding to the growing disorder that ensued. The massive army was hindered by its sheer size, resulting in miles of congested roads filled with men unable to move in any direction. This made them easy targets for Japanese aircraft, leading to a bloody cycle of repeated attacks. Planes adorned with the red Rising Sun insignia would emerge from the horizon, swooping down to strike at these vulnerable formations. As commander Chen Yiding recalled “The lack of organization and the gridlocked roads resulted in far more casualties than could have been avoided,”.  On November 12th, the newspaper Zhaongyang Ribao, published an editorial addressing the citizens of Nanjing, to remind them that tough times lay ahead now that Shanghai had fallen. The article stipulated they needed to prepare the city for the upcoming battle,  “Now, all the citizenry of the capital must fulfill their duty in a way that can serve as a model for the entire nation.” Nanjing in 1937 was a city touched by the war, but not enough to change the social fabric just yet. Cinema's remained open, the shopping arcade was crowded as usual, traffic was heavy along Zhongshan Road, order remained. Telephones remained on, except during air raids. Connections to the outside world functioned as they should, given this was the capital. The region had seen a good harvest in 1937, no one was going hungry. However as the front 200 miles away drew closer, bombing raids more frequent, fear of the enemy increased. Contact with the outside world gradually declined. By mid November the train link from Nanjing to Shanghai was severed.  While the fear amongst the populace increased, so did a newfound sense of common purpose against a common enemy. Poster calling for the Chinese to unite against the Japanese invaders were found throughout Nanjing. Residents were conscripted for various fortification efforts, with some receiving basic military training to help defend the city. Those who refused to cooperate faced severe penalties as “traitors,” while the majority willingly participated. Both military and civilian police were deployed throughout the city, diligently checking identities in an ongoing effort to root out spies and traitors. The authorities enforced a strict prohibition against discussing military matters in restaurants and other public venues. Then all the high ranking military officials and politicians families gradually began departing the city in secrecy. This was followed by said politicians and military officials. Twas not a good look. Nanjing soon saw its population decline from 1 million to half a million. Those who stayed behind were mainly the poor, or those anchored, like shopkeepers. Every day saw a steady stream of Nanjing citizens leaving the city over her main roads, fleeing into the countryside with carts full of belongings. On November 12th at 10am orders were issued for the Japanese to advance west. What had been a war of attrition, where inches of land were claimed with blood, suddenly it was a war of movement. As one Japanese soldier recalled “In the course of 50 days, I had moved only two miles. Now suddenly we were experiencing rapid advance”. As the Japanese came across small towns, they found large posters plastered on all the walls. These were all anti-japanese with some nationalist propaganda. The Japanese soldiers would tear them down and paint up their own messages “down with Chiang Kai-Shek!”.  Towns and cities west of Shanghai fell rapidly one after another, each succumbing to a grim pattern: swift conquest followed by widespread devastation. Jiading, a county seat with a population of approximately 30,000, succumbed to a prolonged siege. When the 10st division captured Jiading on November 13, after relentless shelling had leveled a third of the city, they began a massacre, indiscriminately killing nearly everyone in their path, men, women, and children alike. The battle and its aftermath resulted in over 8,000 casualties among the city's residents and surrounding countryside. One Japanese soldier referred to Jiading as “A city of death, in a mysteriously silent world in which the only sound was the tap of our own footsteps”.  On November 14, soldiers from the 9th Division reached Taicang, an ancient walled city designed to withstand lengthy sieges. As they crossed the 70-foot moat amid heavy fire, the Japanese troops confronted the formidable 20-foot-high city wall. After breaching the wall, their infantry swiftly entered the city and seized control. The destruction persisted long after the fighting ceased, with half of the city being devastated, including significant cultural institutions like the library, and salt and grain reserves were looted. It was as if the Japanese aimed to obliterate not just the material existence of the people but their spiritual foundation as well.  Casual cruelty marked the nature of warfare along the entire front, with few prisoners being taken. Ishii Seitaro, a soldier in the 13th Division's 26th Brigade, encountered a mass execution while marching alongside the Yangtze River. Several headless corpses floated nearby, yet three Chinese prisoners remained alive. A Japanese officer, personally overseeing the execution, wore a simple uniform, but the two ornate swords at his belt indicated his wealthy background. Approaching one prisoner, the officer dramatically drew one of the swords and brandished it through the air with exaggerated flair. In an almost theatrical display, he held it aloft, the blade trembling as if he were nervous. The prisoner, in stark contrast, exhibited an unnerving calmness as he knelt, awaiting his inevitable fate. The officer swung the sword down but failed to deliver a clean strike. Although he inflicted a deep gash to the prisoner's skull, it was not fatal. The prisoner collapsed, thrashing and emitting a prolonged scream that sent chills through those present. The officer, seemingly exhilarated by the anguish he caused, began wildly slashing at the figure until the screams subsided. Ishii turned away in horror, his mind swirling with confusion. Why were the Chinese being executed? Had they not surrendered?  Three months into the war's expansion to the Yangtze region, air raids had become an all too frequent menace in Nanjing. The first major raid came on August 15th and increased each week. On the night of August 27, approximately 30 bombs were dropped on Purple Mountain, specifically targeting the Memorial Park for Sun Yat-sen, aiming to hurt the morale of Nanjing's residents. As days melted into weeks and weeks stretched into months, the landscape of Nanjing transformed under the weight of war. Residents began constructing dugouts in courtyards, gardens, public squares, and even on streets. Foreigners painted their national flags on top of buildings and vehicles, attempting to avoid the risk of being machine-gunned by strafing aircraft. Each raid followed a predictable routine: sirens wailed loudly 20 to 30 minutes before the attack, signaling pedestrians to seek shelter and drivers to stop their engines. By the time a shorter warning sounded, the streets had to be cleared, leaving nothing to do but await the arrival of Japanese planes. Initially, the part-US-trained Chinese Air Force posed a considerable threat to Japanese bombers. The 4th and 5th Chinese Squadrons, stationed near Nanjing to defend the capital, achieved early success, reportedly downing six bombers during the first air raid on Nanjing. Much of the credit for these aerial victories belonged to Claire Chennault, a retired American Army Air Corps captain who had become an advisor to the Chinese Air Force, overseeing Nanjing's air defense. Chennault taught his pilots tactics he had developed in the US but had never fully implemented. His strategy was straightforward: three fighters would focus on one enemy bomber at a time. One would attack from above, another from below, while a third would hover in reserve to deliver the final blow if necessary. He instructed the Chinese pilots to target the engines rather than the fuselage, reasoning that any missed shots could hit the gas tanks located in the wing roots. This approach proved successful, leading to the loss of 54 Japanese planes within three days. For Chennault, it validated his belief that air superiority required a diverse range of aircraft, not just bombers. Nighttime raids, however, posed a greater challenge. Chennault, along with other commanders, sought solutions. Chinese General C.C. Wong, a German-trained artillery officer overseeing the country's anti-aircraft defenses, ensured that dozens of large Sperry searchlights were positioned throughout Nanjing in a grid pattern. This setup had a dual purpose: it would dazzle the Japanese bomber crews and highlight their planes in silhouette for Chinese fighters above to target. The bravery of the most skilled Chinese pilots occasionally gained media attention, making them local celebrities amidst an otherwise grim war environment. However, this bright moment faded quickly when the Japanese command decided to provide escorts for their bombers. Consequently, the elite of China's air force, its finest pilots and aircraft, were lost within weeks that fall. All air raids were brutal, but the worst assaults occurred at the end of September. As a radio broadcaster reported on September 25th “Gallons of civilian blood flowed today as Nanking endured three ferocious air raids”. In total, 96 Japanese sorties were launched on that day. Witnesses observed around a dozen Chinese aircraft retreating north across the Yangtze, initially believing they were fleeing, but some returned to confront the enemy. When Chinese fighters managed to down a Japanese bomber, the streets erupted in cheers as civilians momentarily forgot their fear. The primary aim of the September 25 attack appeared to be spreading terror among the civilian population. Chiang Kai-Shek wrote in his diary that day  “The repeated Japanese air raids over the past several days have had no impact on our military installations. Instead, civilian property has sustained significant damage.” Around 20 bombs struck the Central Hospital, one of Nanjing's largest medical facilities, causing extensive destruction and prompting the evacuation of its staff. Two 1,000-pound bombs exploded nearby, leaving large craters. Had these bombs landed slightly closer, they could have resulted in mass casualties among the hospital's 100 patients, including a Japanese pilot who had been shot down earlier that month. The air raids at the end of September prompted protests from the Americans, British, and French governments to Japan. In response, Tokyo issued a statement on September 30, asserting that while they were not intentionally targeting non-combatants, it was “unavoidable” for achieving military objectives that military airfields and installations in and around Nanjing be bombed.   The battle for Jiashan was among the fiercest in the southern Yangtze delta campaign in November 1937. Although Jiashan was a moderately sized town straddling a crucial railway connecting Shanghai to Hangzhou, the capital of Zhejiang province. For the Japanese, seizing Jiashan was imperative for their westward advance; without it, their military progress would be severely hampered. Jiashan had endured three days of relentless bombing by the Japanese Air Force, driving most residents to flee into the surrounding countryside. Only about 100 remained, those who were too old or too sick to escape, abandoned by family or friends who lacked the means to assist them. The Japanese troops brutally bayoneted nearly all of these individuals and buried them in a mass grave just outside the town's northern gate. Jiashan was captured by the 10th Army, a division fresh from victories and eager to engage in combat, unlike the weary forces of the Shanghai Expeditionary Force further north. With less than a week of combat experience, the 10th Army's soldiers were hungry for a fight. The martial spirit of the 10th Army was exemplified by its commander, Yanagawa Heisuke. Born near Nagasaki in 1879, he was among a group of retired officers called back to active service as the war in China escalated unexpectedly. Having served in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905 and taught at the Beijing Army College in 1918, Yanagawa had considerable experience in military affairs. However, his past exposure to China did not cultivate any empathy for the enemy. He was determined to push all the way to Nanjing, and once there, he intended to blanket the city in mustard gas and incendiaries until it capitulated. While Japanese commanders debated the value of capturing Nanjing, the Chinese were equally preoccupied with whether it was worth defending. Most military professionals viewed the situation as a lost cause from the start. After the fall of Shanghai, Chiang Kai-shek summoned one of his top commanders, Chen Cheng, to Nanjing for discussions. “How can Nanjing be held?” Chen Cheng shot back “Are you ordering me to hold Nanjing?” Chiang replied “I am not”. Chen Cheng stated frankly, “I believe Nanjing should not be held at all.” By mid-November, Bai Chongxi, one of China's most respected generals, advocated for declaring Nanjing an open city. He argued that defending it was not only unnecessary but also impossible. All available forces had been deployed to Shanghai and were now exhausted. Furthermore, no reinforcements would be forthcoming if they made a stand in Nanjing. Instead of stubbornly clinging to fixed positions, he preferred a more flexible defensive strategy. Zhang Qun, Chiang's secretary, supported Bai's stance, believing that while Nanjing should ultimately be abandoned, political considerations were paramount. If the Chinese simply withdrew and allowed the Japanese to occupy the city, it would undermine China's position in any future negotiations. The Japanese would not be able to present themselves as victors who had triumphed in battle. Similarly, Chiang's chief military advisor, General Alexander von Falkenhausen, was against attempting to hold Nanjing. He deemed it “useless from a military perspective, suggesting it would be madness.” He warned that if Chiang forced his army into a decisive battle with their backs to the Yangtze River, “a disaster would probably be unavoidable.” Chiang's head of the operations bureau Liu Fei argued Nanjing could not be abandoned without a fight as it would crush the NRA's morale. He believed that defending the city could be managed with as few as 12 regiments, although 18 would be feasible. Most at the meeting agreed and Chiang understood Nanjing's international recognition necessitated some form of defense, doomed or not. A second meeting was formed whereupon, Tang Shengzhi, a general staff officer whose loyalties were, lets be honest very flip floppy. During the warlord era, he routinely switched sides, especially against Chiang Kai-Shek. At the meeting Tang stated in regards to Nanjing's international prominence and being the final resting place of Dr Sun Yat-Sen “How can we face the spirit of the former president in heaven? We have no choice but to defend the capital to the death.” Chiang's commanders were all well aware of his intentions. The generalissimo was eager for a dramatic last stand in Nanjing to serve propaganda purposes, aiming to rally the nation and convey to the world that China was resolute in its fight against Japan. His commanders also recognized the rationale behind fighting for Nanjing; however, very few were inclined to embark on what seemed a likely suicide mission. The third meeting occurred the day after the second. Chiang opened by asking, as many anticipated, “Who is willing to shoulder the burden of defending Nanjing?” An awkward silence followed. Then Tang Shengzhi stepped forward. “Chairman, if no one else is willing, I will. I'm prepared to defend Nanjing and to hold it to the death.” Without hesitation, Chiang accepted his offer. “Good, the responsibility is yours.”A little refresher on Tang, he had played a role in Chiang Kai-shek's efforts to unify China by force in the 1920s, when the nation was a patchwork of fiefdoms. However, their relationship had soured on two occasions, forcing Tang into temporary exile, first to Japan and then to Hong Kong. The Japanese invasion of northeastern China in 1931 prompted a loose reconciliation, and since then, Tang had held several important positions, notably organizing war games simulating a Japanese assault on Nanjing. However Tang had often suffered from illness, and crucially, he had not led troops in the field against the Japanese since the onset of full-scale war that summer. Hailing from Hunan province, he was a typical provincial soldier and would likely face challenges commanding respect among elite divisions loyal solely to the central government in Nanjing. He was definitely not the first choice for such a significant task.  Amazingly, while tens of thousands of Chinese and Japanese were killing each other, while Japanese planes relentlessly bombarded Chinese cities including the capital, and while Japanese soldiers committed heinous atrocities against Chinese civilians, the two nations maintained diplomatic relations. China had a fully operational embassy in Tokyo, led by Xu Shiying, a 65-year-old diplomat. This surreal arrangement persisted because neither side was willing to officially declare war. In the fall of 1937, as Japanese armies were heavily engaged on two fronts within mainland China, Xu met with Japanese Foreign Minister Hirota Koki to propose a non-aggression treaty. The proposal was swiftly rejected in Nanjing. By November 1937, Xu was no longer at the forefront of events, and foreign observers shifted their focus from the capitals of the warring nations to Belgium. While large-scale battles raged along the lower Yangtze, representatives from 19 countries convened in Brussels to search for a way to end hostilities. Although China participated in the conference, Japan did not. Japan had received two invitations to join the talks, with its response to the second arriving in Brussels on November 12: a firm rejection. Japan asserted that it preferred direct bilateral negotiations with China, dismissing the Brussels conference held under the auspices of the Nine-Power Treaty, a pact signed in 1922 aimed at ensuring China's national sovereignty and territorial integrity. Japan argued that intervention by a collective body like the conference “would merely stir national sentiments in both countries and complicate efforts to reach a mutually satisfactory resolution.” The League of Nations had called for a Nine-Power conference a month earlier, which ultimately became a 19-power conference as other nations with interests in East Asia joined. From the outset, Japan opposed the assembly and was absent when the first plenary meeting commenced in Brussels on November 3. Japanese leaders feared that China might attempt to leverage the conference against Western powers, recalling how, in 1895, Japan had been denied its spoils following its first modern war with China due to the intervention of Russia, France, and Germany, who blocked Japan from claiming the strategic Liaodong Peninsula adjacent to Korea. China also exhibited a lukewarm attitude toward the conference. While Japan feared the potential outcomes, China was concerned about the lack of significant results. The proposal to transition discussions from the League of Nations, perceived as ineffective, to the even less authoritative Nine Powers, which lacked formal organization. Nonetheless, the Chinese chose to participate in Brussels, maintaining the pretense that something meaningful could be accomplished. Shortly after Japan's second rejection of the invitation, Wellington Koo made an impassioned plea in Brussels, stating, “Now that the door to conciliation and mediation has been slammed in your face by the latest reply of the Japanese Government, will you not decide to withhold supplies of war materials and credit to Japan and extend aid to China?” In reality, Koo understood that significant Western aid to China was highly unlikely, aside from token gestures. Previous international discussions had momentarily halted Japanese advances in the past; for instance, in 1932, Japanese troops had paused their movements in the Shanghai area just hours before the League of Nations General Assembly commenced. However, that was nearly six years earlier, and circumstances had changed dramatically since then. Rogue states had grown bolder, while democracies seemed increasingly timid. Thus, the Chinese agenda in Brussels was not primarily driven by hopes for substantial Western concessions. Instead, the delegates had been tasked by Nanjing to anticipate the post-conference landscape and to actively seek ways to encourage Europe and America to support Soviet military action against Japan.   China, long reliant on Germany as a diplomatic partner, increasingly felt betrayed, not just by Germany, but also by its fascist ally, Italy. Consequently, it began looking more favorably upon the Soviet Union, Japan's archrival in Northeast Asia, as its main source of international support. The Soviet Union exhibited a firmer stance than the Western democracies at the Brussels conference, joining China in advocating for collective security in Europe and Asia. On November 15th, a small group of officers from the 10th Army gathered for late-night discussions in an abandoned building north of Hangzhou Bay, where they would effectively decide the fate of China. Yanagawa Heisuke, the commander of the 10th Army, presided over the discussions. Fresh from the battlefield since the beginning of the month, he was eager to escalate the fight, a sentiment echoed among the others. It was an unusual meeting, where officers as low in rank as major were making decisions typically reserved for the highest echelons of political power. The agenda included a pivotal question: Should they adhere to Order No. 600 received from Tokyo a week prior, which instructed them to halt their advance along a line from Suzhou to Jiaxing? Or, should they disregard these explicit orders and push forward to seize Nanjing? While the Japanese Army had failed to completely annihilate the Chinese forces around Shanghai, there was a consensus that their adversary was now reeling from recent setbacks, presenting an opportune moment to strike decisively and secure a swift victory. The only remaining question was how aggressively to pursue this goal. Colonel Terada Masao, a senior staff officer within the 10th Army, spoke first. “The Chinese Army is currently retreating toward the capital. We should cross that line and pursue the enemy straight to Nanjing.” Major Iketani Hanjiro, a staff officer recently attached to the fast-moving 6th Division, then offered his input “From a tactical perspective, I completely agree with Terada that we should cross the line, but the decision to attack Nanjing should be considered not just tactically, but also politically. It's not that field commanders can't create a fait accompli to pressure our superiors in Tokyo. However, we must proceed with great caution”. A staff officer raised this question  “What if Tokyo orders us to pull back those smaller units?” Iketani responded “In that case, we will, of course, withdraw them to this side of the line”. Ultimately, Iketani's cautions were set aside, and Terada's aggressive approach prevailed. The majority agreed that the tactical circumstances presented a rare opportunity. Japanese troops in the Shanghai area were poised to advance west, not through small, individual skirmishes but with a substantial deployment of their forces. Officers estimated that if a decisive push was made immediately, Nanjing could fall into Japanese hands within 20 days. However Colonel Kawabe Torashiro, the newly appointed chief of the Army General Staff's Operations Section suddenly arrived at the theater. He was sent on a mission to assess whether the Central China Area Army should be granted greater operational freedom. It was well known in Tokyo that field officers were eager to capitalize on the momentum created by the collapse of Chinese defenses around Shanghai. Kawabe's task was to explore the possibility of allowing forces to cross the line from Suzhou to Jiaxing and move westward in pursuit of the retreating enemy. However, Kawabe was staunchly opposed to further military adventures in China. Kawabe was part of the dwindling faction of "China doves" within the Japanese military. As early as the summer of 1937, he had become alarmed by a letter from a civilian Japanese visitor to the Chinese mainland, warning that Japanese officers were attempting to engineer an “incident” with China to provoke open conflict. This would provide Japan with a pretext to expand its influence in northern China. Kawabe had attempted to alert his superiors, but his warnings fell on deaf ears. They had been lulled into a false sense of security by reports from China that dismissed all talk of war-mongering as baseless and alarmist. When he arrived to the front he stated “I am here to inspect conditions on the ground so that a final decision can be made on where to establish the operational restriction line”. Alongside him came General Akira Muto, recently appointed the commander of the Central China Area Army. He also happened to be one of the architects of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. Muto responded promptly: “The line currently stretches from Suzhou to Jiaxing, but we should consider crossing it. This will help us achieve our overall objectives in the theater.” Muto continued, arguing that the 10th Army should be permitted to advance to Huzhou, south of Lake Tai, effectively cutting off communications between Nanjing and the strategic city of Hangzhou. He further claimed that the Shanghai Expeditionary Force should be allowed to capture the vital city of Jiangyin, suggesting, perhaps overly optimistically, that its loss could lead to the fall of Chiang Kai-shek. Ultimately, Muto insisted, Nanjing should also be seized, which he asserted would bring an end to the war. Kawabe listened patiently, a practice he would repeat in the following days as other field officers echoed similar sentiments, eagerly expressing their desire to advance all the way to Nanjing. Yanagawa and his 10th Army exemplified this aggressive mindset. Nevertheless, just as the hawks within the Japanese military and the nation's political leadership appeared to be prevailing in the struggle over China policy, they faced unexpected challenges from a different direction. Germany, a power with ambiguous sympathies in East Asia, was quietly engaged in negotiations aimed at bringing peace. Oskar Trautmann, Germany's ambassador to China, had maintained an objective and neutral stance when he met with Chiang Kai-shek in early November to relay Japan's conditions for initiating peace talks. These conditions included extensive concessions in northern China, such as the withdrawal of all Chinese troops to a line south of Beijing and the establishment of a pro-Japanese regime in Inner Mongolia, bordering the Soviet-controlled Mongolian People's Republic. Chiang dismissed these demands outright, but Trautmann and his superiors in Beijing continued their top-secret efforts. Germany's motivation for seeking an end to the Sino-Japanese War was not rooted in a genuine love for peace, but rather in their embarrassment over witnessing their old Asian ally, China, fighting against their new partner, Japan. Herman Göring, president of the Reichstag and a leading figure in the Nazi party, told a Chinese visitor, “China and Japan are both friends of Germany. The Sino-Japanese War has put Germany between Scylla and Charybdis. That's why Germany is ready to seize the chance to become a mediator.” Germany also feared that a prolonged conflict in China could jeopardize its commercial interests in East Asia and weaken Japan's capacity to confront the Soviet Union, potentially freeing Moscow to allocate more resources to a fight in Europe. In essence, continued hostilities could significantly harm Germany. Japanese field commanders were frustrated by Germany's mediation efforts.  When news of Trautmann's mission leaked, the German diplomat faced severe criticism in the Chinese media, which deemed any negotiation with the "Japanese devils" unacceptable. Additionally, there was the matter of China's ties with the Soviet Union; employing a German mediator raised the possibility of cooperation among China, Japan, and Germany, potentially expanding the anti-Soviet bloc, which would, in turn, pressure Moscow to increase its support for China. By mid-November, however, the complexities of this diplomatic game started unraveling and then Japan took action. At 7:00 am on November 19, Yanagawa issued instructions to his troops in the field. “The enemy's command system is in disarray, and a mood of defeat has descended over their entire army. They have lost the will to fight. The main Chinese forces were retreating west of the line stretching from Suzhou to Jiaxing, and this withdrawal was soon likely to spiral into a full-scale retreat. We must not miss the opportunity to pursue the enemy to Nanjing.” 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. Shanghai had fallen, and the Japanese forces pursued their fleeing enemy further west. However they had orders to halt, but would they? Officers from top down deliberating on the issue, with the vast majority pushing for a drive to Nanjing. They thought it represented the end objective of the conflict. They would all be very wrong. 

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