Podcasts about Red Army

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Play Episode Listen Later May 18, 2026 7:54

Stalin strategically delayed Operation Bagration until two weeks after D-Day, ensuring that the Western Allies would exhaust German forces first. Using American steel, fuel, and Studebaker trucks, the Red Army emerged as a massive, mechanized force capable of expanding Soviet dominance from Berlin to Beijing. Sean McMeekin explains that after the war, the U.S. facilitated this rise by arming Stalin's far eastern armies while cutting off aid to the Chinese Nationalists in 1946. Ultimately, Lend-Lease provided the mobility and resources—including butter and sugar—that created the conditions for the Soviet Union to emerge as a global superpower. (8/8)1900

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Commemorating Victory Day - 81 Years Since WW2 Ended in Europe

Proletarian Radio

Play Episode Listen Later May 18, 2026 4:04

Our North West comrades commemorating Victory Day by honouring a Soviet sailor who gave his life in the struggle against fascism. Comrade Joe Moss delivers a speech paying tribute to the sailor, the Red Army, and the workers of the world's first proletarian state who sacrificed their lives in the fight against the Nazi blitzkrieg and the barbarity of fascism. ______________________________________________ Subscribe! Donate! Join us in building a bright future for humanity! http://www.thecommunists.org http://www.lalkar.org http://www.redyouth.org Telegram: https://t.me/thecommunists Twitter: / cpgbml Soundcloud: / proletarianradio Rumble: https://rumble.com/c/theCommunists Odysee: https://odysee.com/@proletariantv:2 Facebook: / cpgbml Online Shop: https://shop.thecommunists.org/ Education Program: Each one teach one! http://www.londonworker.org/education... Join the struggle! https://www.thecommunists.org/join/ Donate: https://www.thecommunists.org/donate/

306 - The Battle for Berlin

Play Episode Listen Later May 15, 2026 42:03

The final battle for Berlin in 1945 was not just the end of the war in Europe, it was the violent collapse of Nazi Germany, and the moment the shape of post-war Europe was decided. As the Red Army advanced from the River Oder, they faced one last major obstacle in the Seelow Heights. What followed was a brutal and costly assault that opened the road to Berlin, and then a savage fight through the city itself, street by street, building by building, until the German capital finally fell. To guide us through these final days, I'm joined once more by Prit Buttar, one of the leading historians of the Eastern Front, and author 'Berlin: Endgame 1945'. You can also find Berlin on Audible and Spotify. Patreonpatreon.com/ww2podcast

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3.201 Fall and Rise of China: New Fourth Army Incident and the Strained United Front

Explaining History (explaininghistory) (explaininghistory)

Play Episode Listen Later May 11, 2026 43:10

Last time we spoke about the battle Yaoyi. Japan pushed hard into Hubei with a plan: surround the main Chinese forces and seize Yichang, hoping to use it to strike at Chongqing. At first, the fighting was chaotic and punishing. The Chinese side tried to hold the line and disrupt the advance, and they even managed setbacks for the Japanese, pushing back, retaking key ground, and hitting supply and positioning weaknesses. But victory came with a cost: commanders were lost, and every gain was hard-won. Still, the battle didn't unfold as a clean Chinese retreat or a simple Japanese win. As Japanese units shifted and tested for openings, the Chinese forces adjusted—delaying, regrouping, and fighting to keep their formations from being completely trapped. Eventually, Japan managed to break through at critical moments, especially through crossings and maneuvers that the Chinese had not fully sealed off. In the end, Japan succeeded in taking Yichang, but it didn't achieve the decisive annihilation it wanted. #201 The New Fourth Army Incident and the Strained United Front Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. After the catastrophe of the early 1930s, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) entered the war against Japan in a political mood that was both hopeful and wary: it wanted to be seen as a genuine national leader of resistance, yet it also feared being absorbed—or destroyed—by the Guomindang (KMT) state it had spent years battling. That tension became the organizing principle of the war's early years. The turning point came from the Xi'an Incident in December 1936, which forced a new calculation in Nationalist politics. In the months that followed, agreements between KMT and CCP representatives were publicly proclaimed in August and September 1937, after the Shanghai fighting began. Under these arrangements, the CCP accepted constraints that in peacetime would have looked like surrender: it pledged to strive for Sun Yixian's "Three People's Principles," to end its former policies of armed revolt and sovietization, to abolish the soviet government, and to discontinue both the term "Red Army" and the expectation that its forces would operate outside central control. Communist troops would be treated as part of the national military under KMT command, and the revolution's old administrative structures were to be formally dismantled. In return, the KMT offered the CCP something just as important: space to exist publicly and politically. Liaison offices were permitted in key cities; the CCP was allowed to publish the New China Daily; and it could nominate representatives to KMT advisory bodies. Civil rights were extended—political prisoners were released—and subsidies were established to help cover administrative and military expenses in "reintegrated" areas and territories. The war thus transformed the tactical reality on the ground: the CCP could not treat the KMT as an immediate enemy, but it also could not afford to become politically passive. It had to learn how to fight Japan while building legitimacy fast enough to survive the next phase. In the first year and a half, the Party Center focused on three problems that kept returning in different forms: how the "united front" would be defined—especially what the CCP's relationship to the National government should be; how to coordinate military strategy and tactics with Nationalist units without losing control of its own operations; and how leadership should be consolidated, particularly for Mao Zedong in a party that still contained rival centers of authority. These disputes mattered not just for doctrine but for survival, because the CCP's autonomy was constantly being tested by the very alliance that was supposed to protect it. Mao's own approach to the united front combined cooperation with a refusal to surrender independence. Publicly, the CCP praised Jiang Jieshi and the KMT and promised unity, but it did so in language that was deliberately broad. In private (and in internal party debates), Mao treated unity as conditional: the CCP must not split the united front, but it also must not be "bound hand and foot." The strategic idea that emerged was political initiative under constraints—fighting when it could plausibly claim justification, keeping enough restraint that the CCP would not appear self-interested or anti-national, and deciding for itself when to engage and when to withdraw. This balance was reinforced through military reorganization. In August–September 1937, CCP forces were reorganized as the Eighth Route Army (8RA), with roughly 30,000 men drawn from Long March survivors, local forces, and new recruits. The 8RA was divided into three divisions: the 115th, 120th, and 129th, commanded by Lin Biao, He Long, and Liu Bocheng respectively. Shortly after the war began, the National government also authorized a second major Communist force: the New Fourth Army (N4A), to operate in central China. Its core came from those left behind when the Long March began in 1934—small groups surviving in difficult conditions against continuing KMT pressure. Officially authorized at 12,000, it took months to reach that strength. Nominally commanded by Ye Ting, actual military and political control rested with Xiang Ying and Chen Yi. From the start, then, the CCP's wartime "integration" with the National system coexisted with a clear effort to preserve internal control. Ideologically, the CCP worked to make its revolutionary program compatible—at least in appearance—with a national resistance coalition. On the New Democracy demonstrated how this strategy operated on two levels. In KMT-controlled spaces, its language could be read as aligning with liberal-democratic expectations: public participation, multi-party governance, legally protected civil rights. But in CCP-controlled areas, the same text could carry sharper class-based and authoritarian implications. The Party wanted a united front that broadened support without becoming committed to Nationalist limits on how society itself might be reorganized after victory. Meanwhile, even as the rhetoric of unity rose, the CCP worried about something more dangerous than military setbacks: the possibility that the KMT might accommodate Japan. Late 1939 and early 1940 made this fear harder to dismiss. Japan pursued collaboration with Wang Jingwei, culminating in the establishment of a "reorganized" government at Nanjing in March 1940. At the same time, Japanese intermediaries sought approaches to Chiang Kai-shek himself—an effort that the CCP tracked closely as a sign that peace negotiations might be possible even when battlefield conditions looked grim. Propaganda was involved, but the anxiety was real: if Japan and the Nationalists reached an arrangement, the CCP's whole wartime legitimacy-building effort could collapse overnight. As a result, the united front was interpreted inside the CCP not as a permanent coalition with the KMT, but as a flexible strategy with a cardinal purpose: to prevent peace between Japan and the Nationalists. Mao's position on the united front reflected this. For him, the alliance was meant to suspend the possibility of a China–Japan settlement, not to end the CCP's separate identity. The CCP could participate in a reconstituted national framework—possibly even a "democratic republic"—to gain legality and influence, but it should remain politically and, where possible, physically separate from the KMT. By 1939, however, the practical meaning of "flexibility" collided with reality. What had seemed, to some observers, like an unusually cordial entente began to fade. The KMT Central Committee adopted measures early in 1939 aimed at restricting Communist expansion, and armed clashes increased through the summer and continued into autumn and winter—especially around North China Communist bases. The period of rising conflict was later labeled by the CCP as the "first anti-Communist upsurge" (roughly spanning December 1939 into March 1940), but the crucial point was that both sides viewed each confrontation as a test of legal rights, moral legitimacy, and control over territory. Strategically, the CCP understood the KMT's effort as an attempt to check unauthorized growth of Communist armed power and to recover areas where influence had already slipped away—either to the Communists or, by indirect effect, to Japan. The KMT emphasized its traditional legal authority; the CCP countered with its claim to an "evolutionary" moral right to challenge the government's legitimacy. In practice, the conflict took the form of increasingly systematic military pressure, including a blockade around the Shen–Gan–Ning region. By this point, the blockade involved large numbers of troops (on the order of hundreds of thousands), halting Communist expansion and disrupting direct contact with other Communist forces farther afield, even as fighting flared along border zones and around vulnerable points in the Communist defensive perimeter. So, by the edge of the "middle years," the wartime alliance had not broken into open civil war—but it had also stopped being secure. The united front survived, yet it operated under strain: its language of cooperation continued, while "friction" between partners hardened into a central feature of the resistance struggle. Transition into the war's second phase began in early 1939, shaped by the stalemate Mao had already anticipated at the sixth plenum in late 1938. Mao argued that during this prolonged "new stage" the forces of resistance—above all, Communist-led forces—would strengthen. The overall result, however, was mixed. In Shandong and Central China, new Communist bases did take shape. But across much of North China, Japanese consolidation cost the resistance heavily in manpower and population. Base-area economies suffered serious strain, and the peasantry endured hardships more severe than at any earlier point. This stalemate had two main dimensions. The first was the growing resentment of the Nationalists toward Communist expansion—resentment made especially sharp by their own losses. As the Nationalists were driven out of regions that had previously provided them their greatest wealth and power in the central and lower Yangtze basin, they also lost the "cream" of their armies. In contrast, the CCP was spreading through the wider countryside behind Japanese lines, extending its influence and winning broader popular support. The second dimension was Japan's desire—and need—to consolidate territories it had only nominally conquered and to extract economic value from them. After all, the logic of the "China Incident" was to draw on China's labor and resources to strengthen Japan, not to bleed Japan's gains away by draining wealth into China's vast interior. A Japanese colonel, lamenting the situation, captured the frustration of this drift into deeper entanglement: he regretted that Japan had not ended the "China Incident" once its initial objectives were reached. Instead, Japan was drawn into the hinterland and became bogged down in endless attrition—leaving it with little more than "real estate" rather than the popular support it believed it would secure from those it claimed to "liberate." To improve their position, Japanese authorities—still fragmented by internal rivalry—pursued several strategies. One was a new peace offensive aimed simultaneously at Jiang Jieshi, alongside efforts to establish a "reformed" Nationalist government under Wang Jingwei, who had fled Chongqing in December 1938. Japan also recruited more collaborators and puppet officials. Finally, it carried out forceful military, political, and economic measures intended to establish effective territorial control and eliminate opposition. During the middle years of the war, the Communists described their conflicts with the Nationalists using the euphemism "friction". By 1939, what many observers—possibly incorrectly—had viewed as an unusually warm alliance began to break down. In early 1939, the KMT Central Committee adopted measures meant to restrict the CCP. From the summer onward, military clashes began and continued into autumn and winter with increasing frequency and intensity, most of them concentrated around and within the North China base areas. The Communists later labeled the period from December 1939 to March 1940 the "first anti-Communist upsurge." Naturally, each side accused the other of aggression and claimed self-defense against unjust attacks. Strategically, though, the North China "upsurge" functioned as a Nationalist attempt to limit the CCP's expansion beyond the areas assigned to it and to regain influence in regions the Communists—or the Japanese—had already taken from the KMT. Jiang Jieshi framed the matter as a defense of legal rights grounded in tradition, while the Communists asserted an "evolutionary" right to challenge the moral legitimacy of those legal claims. During 1939, the Nationalists began to blockade Shen–Gan–Ning around its southern and western perimeter. Within a year, this blockade grew to nearly 400,000 troops, including some of the last remaining Central Army units under the command of Hu Zongnan. The blockade stopped further Communist expansion, especially into Gansu and Suiyuan, and severed direct contact between SKN and Communists operating in Xinjiang (Chinese Turkestan) adjacent to Soviet Central Asia. The Xinjiang Communists—including Mao Zedong's brother—were eliminated in 1942. Meanwhile, fierce fighting erupted along the Gansu–Shaanxi border and in the north-eastern corner of SKN near the Great Wall at Suide, as the blockading forces probed for weak points. Elements of He Long's 120th Division were even pulled back from the Jin–Sui base across the Yellow River to strengthen SKN's regular defenses. Economically, the blockade was even more damaging. During 1939, central government subsidies to the Border Region budget were cut off. Trade between the Border Region and other parts of China nearly stopped, a devastating blow to a region unable to supply itself with many basic commodities. At the same time, Nationalist and regional forces also attempted to expand their military and administrative authority into Hebei, Shanxi, Henan, and Shandong—areas the CCP now considered its base zones. In resisting these efforts, the CCP predictable accused its rivals of harming resistance work and damaging the people's interests. The "experts in dissension" were said to cooperate with the Japanese and their puppets. Based on increasing collaboration by regional units with Japan, the CCP implied that this was a deliberate and cynical strategy—described as "crooked-line patriotism"—intended to preserve those units for future anti-Communist operations. Even so, the CCP tried to avoid an open break with the Nationalist regime in Chongqing. In public, it consistently portrayed these clashes as being initiated by local commanders acting beyond orders from higher authority—despite knowing this depiction was false. Jiang Jieshi, unable to refute the claim outright, effectively permitted it to serve as the justification for a firm Communist response. Mao Zedong outlined the general resistance policy as "justification, expedience, and restraint". The CCP was to fight when it could claim justification and when it could gain advantage, but not to press attacks beyond what the Nationalists would tolerate or in ways that could damage its image as selfless patriots. Communist forces were expected to keep initiative as much as possible in their own hands—deciding when to engage, whether to engage, and when to disengage. The most striking episode of the "first anti-Communist upsurge" was the rupture with Yan Xishan in December 1939. Tensions in Shanxi had been rising throughout the summer and autumn, as Yan and his conservative supporters—associated with the "Old Army"—linked the Sacrifice League and the Dare-to-die Corps of the "New Army" with Communist forces. When base areas and Japanese occupation eventually took over much of his province, Yan was forced into exile at Qiulin across the Yellow River in Shaanxi. In November, Yan ordered his Old Army to disarm the Dare-to-die forces with help from central units dispatched by Hu Zongnan. In the bloody fighting that followed, these elements gradually broke free of even nominal provincial control and fully completed their connection with Communist forces. More than 30,000 people went over to the Communists. One KMT intelligence agent described the process with bitterness and a sense of inevitability: the Communists were first "full of sweet words," flattery, and distortions designed to open things up and conceal their actions. But once they had fully entrenched themselves, and once the low-level base had been established, they turned and bit. The agent suggested they had suspected things might end this way, but were not aware how quickly events would move—or that it could happen precisely while Communist calls for "united front" and "maintenance of unity for resistance" filled the air. About a month later, in February and March 1940, elements of the 8RA beat back this so-called upsurge. Zhang Yinwu's forces were disarmed and dispersed across the plains of north Hebei. To the south, Chu Huaiping and Shi Yusan were pushed out of the base area, as was the KMT-appointed provincial governor Lu Zhonglin. Although some non-Communist forces remained in the region, the CCP's and CCLY bases were never again seriously threatened by forces affiliated with the central government. Reinforcing the CCP's accusations, Shi Yusan was later executed in 1940 by the central government for collaboration with the Japanese. By late 1939, CCP central authorities maintained that the areas where the CCP could expand its armed strength were mainly limited to Shandong and Central China. In those regions, the CCP continued trying to carve out bases where they could operate. The situation in Shandong was complicated. After the Japanese invasion, most Nationalist-affiliated forces stayed in the province, while Communist forces and bases were weaker and more scattered than further west. Only in late 1938 did major 8RA units from the 115th and 129th Divisions—led by Xu Xiangqian and Luo Ronghuan—enter Shandong to link up with the Shandong column and local guerrillas, including survivors of a large band recently decimated by the Japanese. Even with these efforts, Communist actions led to clashes not only with Japanese forces but also with various Nationalist-affiliated groups—groups that were stronger than the Communists at the time. Until late 1940, the CCP's clashes with Nationalist forces in Shandong were actually bloodier than clashes with the Japanese. The CCP understood that its Chinese rivals mistrusted one another, and that their attitudes toward the CCP varied widely. The main Nationalist forces were often not tightly affiliated with Chiang Kai-shek or the central government. Instead, they operated under independent—and at times disgruntled—regional commanders. Communist tactics were expressed through slogans emphasizing ways to win support and isolate hardliners: develop progressive forces and win over fence-sitters while isolating "die-hards"; flatter top echelons, enlist the middle ranks, and hit the rank and file; and win over Yi Xuezhong, isolate Shen Honglie, and eliminate Qin Qirong. Still, unlike other North China base areas, the Communists were unable for several years to neutralize Nationalist forces in Shandong. Even if Japanese mop-up campaigns had not weakened those Nationalists, the text suggests the Communists may still have struggled to do so. By November 1940, Xu Xiangqian claimed meaningful progress while admitting Shandong had not yet become a fully consolidated base. CCP successes were greatest along parts of the Shandong–Hebei border, around the Taishan massif in central Shandong, and near the tip of the peninsula far to the east. Elsewhere, "progressive forces" remained weak. Communist regular troops numbered about 70,000, which was far below the party center's goals of 150,000 regulars and between 1.5 and 2 million self-defense forces. Moreover, systematic economic reforms had barely begun. The CCP relied on familiar practices—confiscations, collections of "national salvation grain," contributions, and loans—alongside a conventional taxation system adjusted to favor poorer peasants. Communist expansion in Central China was even riskier, with a greater likelihood of large-scale conflict with central government forces than in the north. In much of North China, "friction" came primarily from rapid Communist expansion into areas with partial vacuums. In Central China, however, base-building required displacing an existing Nationalist military-administrative presence closely tied to Jiang Kai-shek and the Chongqing government. The burden of this expansion was carried mainly by the 6th Detachment (northern Anhui and Jiangsu) and the 5th Detachment, which was reinforced by 15,000 to 20,000 8RA troops under Huang K'o-ch'eng. As Chen Yi's 1st Detachment crossed from south to north through the corridor provided by Guan Wenwei's local forces, it became actively involved as well. This expansion—driven by increasingly urgent directives from Mao and Liu during the latter part of 1939 and into 1940—brought the N4A north of the river into ever more frequent and sharper clashes with Nationalist authorities in Anhui and Jiangsu, especially with units under Jiangsu governor Han Deqin. South of the river, though, Xiang Ying did not directly challenge Chongqing's commanders. Mao later charged that Xiang Ying may have been influenced by Wang Ming, or else he may simply have seen no realistic alternative. His forces—three detachments plus a headquarters unit—were heavily outnumbered by Qu Chutong's Nationalist units, not to mention Japanese forces and their puppets. Even if Mao insisted bases could be built "anywhere," the Shanghai–Hangzhou–Nanjing triangle was especially difficult terrain. Xiang Ying and his followers had survived with extraordinary tenacity in the mountains of South China between 1934 and 1937, enduring brutal search-and-destroy operations that were not lifted until the war began. It therefore seems unlikely that such survivors would suddenly become "right-wing capitulationists." Yet by spring 1940, Mao was pressing Xiang Ying more intensely. The Central Committee's message was explicit: expansion was necessary in all cases. It meant reaching into all enemy-occupied areas rather than being bound by the Kuomintang's restrictions—going beyond Kuomintang limits, not waiting for official appointments, not depending on higher-ups for financing, and instead expanding armed forces freely and independently. It also meant setting up base areas without hesitation, independently mobilizing the masses in those areas, and building united front organs of political power under Communist Party leadership. The struggle between Nationalists and Communists involved more than contests for control of territory behind Japanese lines. It also involved national-level politics, ideology, and leadership. One worrying development for the CCP was the campaign throughout 1939 to expand Jiang Kai-shek's prestige and formal power—adding more titles for him across major party, government, and military positions. In early 1939, the Central Executive Committee appointed him "director-general" of the Kuomintang, a title reminiscent of the one previously held by Sun Yat-sen. In addition, during the summer and autumn of 1939 there was talk of constitutional rule. In November, the KMT announced plans to convene a constitutional assembly the following year. If Jiang could fulfill these promises, he and his government could gain new legitimacy and wider popularity. Mao and his colleagues could not allow this to go unchallenged. If the Nationalists were to have a paramount leader and authoritative spokesperson, the CCP needed one as well. The timing of Mao's famous "On the new democracy"—written in late 1939 and published the next January—was therefore no accident. Its substance had been anticipated earlier, but its final timing and full development were shaped by the KMT's constitutional movement. The CCP's entry into this competition served as both a bid for support away from the KMT and a statement of the multi-class united front that the CCP wanted to lead. Although "On the new democracy" was written in a tone that seemed moderate, it persuaded many Chinese readers that the CCP had either diluted its revolutionary objectives or postponed them to a distant future. In Kuomintang-controlled areas, the work could be read through the liberal values associated with Anglo-American democracy—popular participation, multi-party government, legally protected civil rights. In CCP-controlled territories, the same language carried stronger authoritarian, class-based meanings. In internal documents meant for party audiences rather than public consumption, the ambiguity was removed, showing a tough but patient and flexible commitment not only to resistance but also to social control and social change. During this same period, the Communists expressed deep concern about Nationalist capitulation to Japan—not only on the battlefield behind Japanese lines but also at the highest levels. Some of this concern was propaganda, but beneath propaganda lay genuine anxiety. In late 1939 and early 1940, politically aware Chinese already knew that Japan was negotiating with the unpredictable Wang Jingwei, who had fled Chongqing a year earlier. A "reorganized national government" in Nanjing was finally established in March 1940, representing the most formidable collaboration with Japan to date. Less well known, but equally important, was that Japan was also seeking an understanding directly with Jiang Kai-shek through intermediaries in Hong Kong. This effort, called "Operation Kiri"—described as spreading a "feast for Chiang"—combined intrigue with a kind of dark comedy. Reports suggested Chiang's reported interest in peace could have been a stratagem designed to discredit Wang Jingwei by keeping him waiting. But even if Chiang had no intention of coming to terms with Japan, the Communists could not be sure what the outcome would be until after the multi-pronged peace offensive had failed. By the middle of 1940, China had never been so isolated. In Europe, the "phony war" ended in the spring when Germany launched a blitz across the Low Countries. France fell soon after, and England appeared likely to be next. Japan used this moment to press China to sever its last tenuous connections to the outside world: cutting the Burma Road, trade with neutral Hong Kong, and the rail link running from Hanoi to Kunming. At the same time, Russia was engaged in a difficult and embarrassing war with Finland and reduced military aid to the Nationalists. The United States was only gradually moving away from isolationism and clearly regarded England as more important than China. In Chongqing and elsewhere in "Free China," signs of war weariness, despair, and demoralization were visible. Under these circumstances, Mao's insistence on aggressive expansion was a calculated risk—either it would deter any Japanese advance, or it would place the Communists in the strongest possible position in case a split between the KMT and the CCP became unavoidable. In Central China, the size and pace of the fighting kept increasing, starting in the final months of 1939. One flashpoint was the clash between Luo Pinghui's 5th Detachment and units of Han Deqin's Jiangsu force near Lake Gaoyou. In the following months, Guan Wenwei's forces ranged along the left bank of the Yangtze, repeatedly running into Luo's troops as they operated farther north. Luo also began receiving some 8RA reinforcements, moving them south through areas controlled by the 6th Detachment. Clearly, a major showdown was taking shape across north and central Jiangsu. At the same time, the South Yangtze Command was doing poorly. Nationalist commanders Leng Xin and Qu Chutong restricted its activities so severely that Mao and Liu gradually abandoned the idea of building a unified, consolidated base in that region. During late spring and early summer, Chen Yi moved most of his 1st and 2nd Detachments north of the Yangtze. In September, the 3rd Detachment followed suit, crossing the river into the area around Lake Chaohu, where the 4th Detachment was already stationed. After these moves, only the Headquarters Detachment—under Ye Ting and Xiang Ying—remained south of the Yangtze, positioned at Qingxian in southern Anhui. As the military situation edged toward an open confrontation, negotiations began in June 1940 between representatives of the KMT and the CCP. The core issues were Communist operating zones and the authorized strength of the armies led by the CCP. Proposals were exchanged, followed by equally sharp and hostile counter-proposals, but no agreement was reached. The KMT viewed it as a concession to permit the CCP "free rein" north of the pre-1938 course of the Yellow River, with the exception of southern Shanxi, which was to remain under the influence of Yan Xishan. In exchange, the KMT demanded that all 8RA and N4A units evacuate Central China. In effect, the KMT was offering the CCP something it was already prepared to allow, in return for the CCP giving up what it might soon be able to obtain by force of arms. Nationalist authorities then issued a set of deadlines, but without clearly stating what would happen if those deadlines were violated. On the surface, the CCP appeared to be complying in part. The movements of Chen Yi and the South Yangtze Command could look like obedience, but in reality they were responses to orders coming from their own superior leadership rather than instructions issued by the Nationalists. Even so, Xiang Ying's continued delays and evasions during the autumn and winter of 1940 remained puzzling. One possibility is that he felt—quite reasonably—that Mao had already lost confidence in him and that once he crossed to the north bank of the river he would lose his command. Another complication was that directives from Yan'an were sometimes ambiguous and even contradictory. He may also have been trying to reach secure understandings with KMT commanders about evacuation routes and guaranteed safe conduct out of the area. For a period, Han Teqin kept most of his forces—estimated at about 70,000 men, far outnumbering the N4A—in north Jiangsu, thereby blocking the expansion of the 6th Detachment and slowing further southern intrusions by 8RA troops. But by mid-summer he realized he would have to counter the N4A build-up in central Jiangsu, or else risk writing that region off to the Communists. A confusing sequence of engagements then unfolded, culminating in a decisive battle in early October 1940 near the central Jiangsu town of Huangjiao. Over the course of four days, several of Han's main-force units belonging to the 89th Army were destroyed, while others were scattered. That battle also served as a signal for the 6th Detachment to advance more aggressively in the north. In the aftermath, one of Han's principal commanders entered collaboration with the CCP, while another defected to the Nanjing government under Wang Jingwei. Although Han Teqin managed to maintain a foothold in Jiangsu until 1943, his real power had been broken. Relatively little attention was paid to the battle of Huangjiao in the Chinese press. The KMT did not want to publicize what it considered a disastrous defeat, while the Communists were satisfied to stay silent about an episode that conflicted with their proclaimed policy of a united front. As could be expected, during the autumn—after Han Teqin's defeat—KMT-CCP negotiations deteriorated further. In early December, Jiang Kai-shek personally ordered that all N4A forces withdraw from southern Anhui and southern Jiangsu by 31 December. He also ordered that the entire 8RA be positioned north of the Yellow River by the same deadline, followed one month later by the N4A. Discussions then followed between Ye Ting and Qu Chutong's deputies concerning the route to be taken, safe conduct, and—astonishingly—the money and supplies that were to be provided to the N4A to help it move. On 25 December, Mao Zedong ordered Xiang Ying to begin evacuating immediately. Yet it was not until 4 January 1941 that Ye and Xiang actually started moving. Almost immediately, Qu Chutong's forces harassed and dispersed the N4A Headquarters Group, which included administrative personnel, wounded soldiers and dependents, as well as combat-ready troops. In an attempt to reorganize, they moved southwest toward Maolin, where they were surrounded by Nationalists and, over the next several days, were cut to pieces. Losses were heavy on both sides. The CCP suffered an estimated 9,000 casualties. Xiang Ying tried twice to break out of the blockade on his own, but failed. He was then denounced as a deserter by Ye Ting, who took over full command of the doomed forces. Xiang Ying eventually escaped, but he was killed a couple of months later by one of his own bodyguards, motivated by the N4A gold reserves that he had taken with him. Up to the very end, Xiang either failed or refused to seek refuge in Liu Shaoqi's domain north of the Yangtze. The unfortunate Ye Ting was arrested and spent the rest of the war in prison. He was finally released in 1946, only to die one month later in a plane crash, along with several other high-ranking party members. On 17 January, Jiang Kai-shek declared that the New Fourth Army was dissolved for insubordination. Direct contacts between Yan'an and Chongqing nearly came to an end, and CCP military liaison offices in several cities held by the Nationalists were closed. This is what became known as the New Fourth Army incident, also referred to as the South Anhui incident. Clearly, it functioned as an act of retaliation for the defeats suffered by Han Teqin in north and central Jiangsu. It ended any realistic prospect of establishing a consolidated Communist base south of the Yangtze. Still, from a strategic perspective, these losses were ultimately more than offset by the gains achieved farther north. In fact, only a few months later, the reorganized N4A quietly began reintroducing some units into this region, where they carried out guerrilla activities without possessing a secure territorial base. Unlike the relative silence surrounding the fighting at Huangjiao, the New Fourth Army incident sparked bitter, prolonged controversy. The CCP argued that it was a second "anti-Communist upsurge," even more serious than the first. Presenting themselves as martyred patriots, they depicted their opponents as people who wanted to end the War of Resistance through what they called "Sino-Japanese cooperation" aimed at "suppressing the Communists." In their account, the Nationalists wanted to replace the war of resistance with civil war, substitute capitulation for independence, trade unity for a split, and replace light with darkness. People were telling each other the news and were horrified. Indeed, they claimed that the situation had never been as critical as it was at that moment. The Nationalist response, of course, was that provocations had been numerous and serious, and that violations of military discipline could not be tolerated. But the KMT's unwillingness to describe in detail its own defeats at the CCP's hands left it speaking in broad generalities. In the propaganda battle, the CCP clearly gained the better position and won more political capital. If it was politically valuable to be regarded as a national hero, it was even more valuable to be seen as a national martyr. Many Chinese—and some outside—observers were genuinely alarmed and feared that civil war might openly resume. Yet, with a few exceptions, the events that culminated in the New Fourth Army incident have generally been interpreted as marking the breakdown of the second united front. That interpretation, however, is described as being wrong in two respects. First, the CCP understood the united front not as a narrow arrangement limited to a few major partners, but as a strategy that could be applied flexibly to all political, military, and social forces in China—from the highest levels of the central government down to the smallest village. Relations with Jiang Jieshi and the Guomindang regime mattered, but they did not, by themselves, constitute the whole of the united front. Even regarding Jiang and the Nationalists specifically, the common reading is said to be misguided. Throughout the war, a cardinal objective of the united front was to prevent peace between Japan and the Nationalists. Therefore, if clashes between CCP forces and those of the central government on such a large scale as at Huangjiao and Maolin could occur without leading to peace with Japan and without triggering a full-scale resumption of civil war, then this should not be understood as the end of the united front—it should be seen as its fundamental vindication. If friction at that scale could nevertheless be tolerated by Jiang Jieshi, then fears about his future accommodation with Japan were greatly reduced. Following the New Fourth Army incident, the CCP reorganized its political and military presence in Central China. The Central Plains and South-east China Bureaus were merged and renamed the Central China Bureau, with Liu Shaoqi placed in charge, reflecting the area's importance to Party Central. The New Fourth Army was also reorganized completely and substantially regularized. Chen Yi became its new acting commander, since Ye Ting was imprisoned. He directed the force, now divided into seven divisions. Each division had territorial responsibilities, and in each region the CCP claimed the establishment of a base. Indeed, base construction proceeded in earnest only after the friction of 1940 and the New Fourth Army incident. In the years that followed, the operating areas of the First through Fourth Divisions contained expanding enclaves of consolidated territory, where military dominance was joined with open party work: administrative control, the development of mass organizations, local elections, and socio-economic reforms. The other three areas fluctuated between semi-consolidated and guerrilla status. With the incident, the worst phase of the KMT-CCP conflict was now over. When CCP documents later speak of a third upsurge in 1943, they refer to something openly political. With the exception of Shandong—where a fairly strong Nationalist presence persisted for a longer time—the overall balance of power among Chinese forces behind Japanese lines had shifted in favor of the CCP by mid-1941. In subsequent years the CCP's predominance became even more pronounced, until by the end of 1943 the Communists were virtually beyond challenge by Chinese rivals. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. After the CCP and KMT entered the united front, cooperation felt conditional from the start. Mao pushed the New Fourth Army to reorganize and preserve Communist autonomy, even as the 1937 agreements publicly pledged obedience to KMT leadership. In 1939–40 the Communists worried that Chiang might negotiate peace with Japan; so they expanded bases and military presence, triggering repeated clashes. The pressure intensified when KMT orders forced the New Fourth Army to evacuate south Anhui in late 1940.

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Soviet Union in WW2: Ally or Enemy? | Yaron & Nikos Dialogues

Yaron Brook Show

Play Episode Listen Later May 10, 2026 127:21 Transcription Available

Live May 10Victory Day (May 9) -- Russia's Role in WW2 | Yaron & Nikos ShowFrom the joint invasion of Poland with Hitler in 1939, to the Nazis at the gates of Moscow, to the Red Army overrunning half of Europe and forging an empire that confronted the West for the next 45 years...what was the role of the Soviet Union in WW2, and what are the lessons for today?More on Nikos -- https://www.nikos.orgSupport Nikos -- / nikossotirakopoulos

europe west russia finance nazis enemy adolf hitler poland moscow equal soviet union ww2 ayn rand dialogues in pursuit red army yaron nikos objectivism alex epstein ayn rand institute hendershott wealth management free market revolution how ayn rand

Hobsbawm's Age of Extremes – The Golden Age, the Fall of Communism, and the Crisis of Social Democracy

Play Episode Listen Later May 9, 2026 29:52

**In this solo episode of the Explaining History Podcast, we return to Eric Hobsbawm's magisterial overview of the 20th century, *Age of Extremes*, to explore the paradoxes that shaped our world – and the crisis that defines our present.**Hobsbawm argued that the "short twentieth century" – from 1914 to 1991 – was defined by the confrontation between capitalism and communism. But the relationship between these two systems was stranger than simple opposition. The victory over Hitler's Germany was essentially won, and could only have been won, by the Red Army. Without the Soviet Union, the Western world would likely consist of a set of variations on authoritarian and fascist themes, not liberal parliamentary ones.Yet the most lasting result of the October Revolution was to save its capitalist antagonists – by providing the incentive of fear to reform itself after the Second World War, and by furnishing it with the popularity of economic planning. The post-war Golden Age (1947–73) – that unprecedented era of rising living standards, mass consumption, generous welfare states, and growing life expectancy – was, in Hobsbawm's word, "anomalous". It emerged from specific historical conditions: the need to stave off communist challenge, the availability of cheap energy, and the destruction of old ruling classes.That Golden Age is now long gone. Neoliberalism has de‑industrialised the West, privatised public assets, and replaced productive capitalism with rentier capitalism – where we rent the infrastructure of our own lives back from global capital. Social democratic parties across the Western world have abandoned any commitment to redistribution, embraced managerialism, and collapsed into irrelevance. Right‑wing populists – Trumps, Orbáns, Farages – have rushed into the vacuum, offering not solutions but the spectacle of permanent crisis.Hobsbawm died in 2012, but his framework helps us see our moment: an era of decay, of institutional collapse, of centre‑left parties dying. As Gramsci put it, the old is dying and the new cannot be born. And that new may not be born in Europe or America. The centre of gravity is shifting eastwards – to India and China – returning to where most of human history has been centred.We are living through the death of the post‑war social democratic order. What comes next is uncertain – but it will not look like the past.**Topics covered:**- Hobsbawm's "short twentieth century"- The Red Army and the defeat of Nazism- The paradox of Soviet communism saving capitalism- The post‑war Golden Age (1947–73) as an anomaly- De‑industrialisation and the rise of rentier capitalism- The collapse of social democratic parties- Neoliberalism, the 2008 crisis, and the absence of alternatives- Right‑wing populism and kleptocracy- The shifting global centre of gravity to Asia---*If you enjoy the podcast, please consider supporting us – we are migrating from Patreon to Substack. Details in the show notes.*Explaining History helps you understand the 20th Century through critical conversations and expert interviews. We connect the past to the present. If you enjoy the show, please subscribe and share.▸ Support the Show & Get Exclusive ContentBecome a Patron: patreon.com/explaininghistory▸ Join the Community & Continue the ConversationFacebook Group: facebook.com/groups/ExplainingHistoryPodcastSubstack: theexplaininghistorypodcast.substack.com▸ Read Articles & Go DeeperWebsite: explaininghistory.org Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

305 - A Boy Soldier in Hitler's Army

The Amish Inquisition Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later May 6, 2026 63:51

In the final months of the Second World War, as the Third Reich collapsed in on itself, boys were sent to the front to hold back the Red Army. Among them was fourteen-year-old Willi Langbein. He had grown up under Nazism, saluting Hitler at school, joining the Jungvolk at ten, and the Hitler Youth soon after. By March 1945, he was fighting Soviet tanks at close range on the Eastern Front. He was wounded, decorated, and survived the war, though many of the boys he fought alongside did not. In this episode, I am joined by his daughter, Heidi Langbein Allen, to talk about her father's war and the long shadow it cast over his life. Heidi is the author of Save the Last Bullet: Memoir of a Boy Soldier in Hitler's Army. Patreonpatreon.com/ww2podcast

army world war ii adolf hitler soldiers soviet nazism third reich red army eastern front hitler youth patreonpatreon

Play Episode Listen Later May 4, 2026 145:53

This Sunday, Marcus Gibson joins The Amish Inquisition to challenge one of the most enduring myths of World War II. A former Financial Times reporter and columnist, Gibson's new book The Greatest Force argues that RAF Bomber Command was the single most decisive factor in Germany's defeat — not the Red Army, not the Allied invasion, but the relentless air campaign led by Sir Arthur Harris. We'll explore: Why Bomber Command's impact has been dismissed for decades How wartime propaganda and post‑war politics distorted the record The evidence from German archives that changes everything The moral debate around Dresden and strategic bombing What this revision means for Britain's historical conscience This is history rewritten — and it's going to ruffle feathers. Follow Marcus here: https://www.marcusgibson.co.uk/ https://rafbook.co.uk/ _____________________________ Follow us here: https://allmylinks.com/the-amish-inquisition Sign up for the newsletter, join the community, follow us online, and most importantly share links! Producer Credits for Ep 422: Producers - Helen From Berkshire, Sally Thompson, Rhona Kesson, Mathew Chinn, Simon Mear and Gav Scott _______________________________ Leave us a voicemail: 07562245894 Message us here....follow, like, subscribe and share. (comments, corrections, future topics etc). We read out iTunes reviews if you leave them. Website - http://www.theamishinquisition.com/ Join the Element server: https://matrix.to/#/%23the-amish-inquisition%3Amatrix.org Subscribe to the Newsletter: Drop us an email and let us know Get your Merch from: The Amish Loot Chest - https://teespring.com/en-GB/stores/amish-inquisition-loot-chest Email - theamishinquisition@gmail.com Buy us a Coffee - https://www.buymeacoffee.com/theamishguys Twitch - https://www.twitch.tv/theamishinquisition Rumble - https://rumble.com/c/c-1347401 Twitter - https://twitter.com/amishinqpodcast Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/amish.inquisit.3 Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/theamishinquisition/?hl=en Bitchute - https://www.bitchute.com/channel/0fNMZAQctCme/ YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmv8ucrv5a2KpaRWyBWfBUA Find out how to become a Producer here - http://www.theamishinquisition.com/p/phil-1523918247/ Become a Producer! The Amish Inquisition is 100% supported by YOU. NO Ads, NO Sponsorship, NO Paywalls. We really don't want to suckle at the teat of some faceless corporate overlord. But that is only avoidable with your help! Join your fellow producers by donating to The Amish Inquisition via the PayPal button on our website, simply donate whatever you think the show is worth to you. If you find the podcast valuable, please consider returning some value to us and help keep the show free and honest.

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S8 Ep817: VFamily History and the Struggle for Western Ukraine The narrative shifts to Western Ukraine, specifically Galicia, which was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire before being annexed by the Soviet Union in 1939. Unlike the Russian Empire's f

history struggle russia russian narrative poland ukrainian shifts soviet union galicia family history red army russian empire austrians finkel austro hungarian empire western ukraine

Play Episode Listen Later May 2, 2026 6:54

Family History and the Struggle for Western UkraineThe narrative shifts to Western Ukraine, specifically Galicia, which was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire before being annexed by the Soviet Union in 1939. Unlike the Russian Empire's forced assimilation, the Austrians tolerated Ukrainian culture, turning Galicia into a center for Ukrainian nationalism. Finkel shares the story of his grandfather, Israel (Lev), who grew up in Poland and spoke no Russian until being drafted into the Red Army in 1940. Russia's historical anxiety over Galicia's influence was a key driver for World War I, as they sought to eliminate this "Ukrainian Piedmont." Guest: Professor Eugene Finkel. (2/8)1854

The Lost Empire of Emmanuel Nobel – Oil, Revolution, and the Birth of the Soviet State

Explaining History (explaininghistory) (explaininghistory)

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 29, 2026 38:27

In this episode of the Explaining History Podcast, we are joined by author Douglas Brunt to discuss his fascinating new book, The Lost Empire of Emmanuel Nobel – the story of the greatest oil magnate you've never heard of, and the turbulent Russian decades that swept him away.Emmanuel Nobel, nephew of the more famous Alfred (inventor of dynamite and founder of the Nobel Prizes), built an oil empire that by 1900 had surpassed Standard Oil. His Nobel Brothers Petroleum Company dominated the oil fields of Baku (modern-day Azerbaijan), introduced the world's first oil tanker, and supplied the Tsar's military with fuel as the Russian army mechanised. He was, for a brief window, the most important oil man on the planet.But Emmanuel was more than an industrialist. He was an unusually enlightened employer in a brutal industry – building schools and housing for his workers, who proudly called themselves "Nobelites". His benevolent practices protected him during the 1905 revolution, when Rothschild's operations were targeted. Yet even his fortune and influence could not survive the seismic forces of the First World War and the Russian Revolution.Douglas traces the Nobel family's journey from Sweden into the Russian Empire, the grandfather's bankruptcy and reinvention, the technical genius of Ludwig Nobel, and Emmanuel's transformation of Baku from a backward oil field into a global powerhouse. We explore the modernising reforms of Tsar Alexander II and Finance Minister Sergei Witte, the shift from kerosene to gasoline as the internal combustion engine took root, and the geopolitical scramble for oil that made Churchill declare petroleum "more important than food".The conversation then turns to revolution. Douglas reveals Nobel's desperate final years – writing to British leaders, warning of the Red Army's advance on Baku, and offering a plan that might have crushed Bolshevism in its cradle. Had Churchill's advice been taken in 1919, the 20th century might have looked very different. Instead, Nobel fled in disguise, aided by former employees, and watched as Stalin systematically erased his legacy – tearing down statues, renaming streets and factories, and rewriting history. Orwell's *1984* was directly inspired by the erasure of Emmanuel Nobel.**Topics covered:**- The Nobel family's journey from bankruptcy to Russian industrial might- Alfred Nobel, dynamite, and the Nobel Prizes- Baku oil fields and the rivalry with Standard Oil- The invention of the world's first oil tanker- Tsarist modernisation and foreign investment- The 1905 revolution and Nobel's "enlightened employer" reputation- Lenin, Stalin, and the Bolshevik seizure of power- Why the British failed to intervene in 1919 – a sliding-door moment- Nobel's harrowing escape from Russia- Stalin's memory‑hole: how *1984* was inspired by Nobel's erasure*Douglas Brunt's previous book explored Rudolf Diesel; his new book, The Lost Empire of Emmanuel Nobel, is published on 19th May. Please consider ordering from an independent bookstore or directly from the publisher.Explaining History helps you understand the 20th Century through critical conversations and expert interviews. We connect the past to the present. If you enjoy the show, please subscribe and share.▸ Support the Show & Get Exclusive ContentBecome a Patron: patreon.com/explaininghistory▸ Join the Community & Continue the ConversationFacebook Group: facebook.com/groups/ExplainingHistoryPodcastSubstack: theexplaininghistorypodcast.substack.com▸ Read Articles & Go DeeperWebsite: explaininghistory.org Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

community british russian revolution birth sweden acast nobel nobel prize joseph stalin churchill azerbaijan orwell lenin baku first world war rothschild bolsheviks russian revolution tsar red army alfred nobel russian empire standard oil bolshevism lost empire tsarist rudolf diesel soviet state tsar alexander ii

My year with the real Rudolf Nureyev — a volatile but vulnerable genius

Conversations

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 22, 2026 53:12

When the world's most famous dancer offered a young sailor a job as his assistant, Blue Robinson thought it was a joke at first. But what followed was the most fascinating and formative year of Blue's life.Simon 'Blue' Robinson grew up sailing and playing rugby on the idyllic island of Jersey, between England and France.In his 20s, he went further a field, first to London and then Blue started working on yachts sailing around the Caribbean.One evening at a restaurant in St Barts, Blue spotted a man whose face he recognised, and invited him on board the yacht the next day.That man was Rudolf Nureyev, hugely famous for his talents as a ballet dancer, his volatile temper, and for defecting from the Soviet Union.Nureyev took an immediate liking to Blue and spontaneously offered him a job as his assistant.The two next met months later, when Blue found himself side stage in Cleveland, Ohio, helping the legendary dancer undress, and preparing him a thermos of hot tea.This began an extraordinary and transformative year for Blue as the assistant, dresser, masseur, driver, cook, and trusted confidante of history's most iconic and legendary male ballet dancer.Blue's book, A Year with Rudolf Nureyev, is currently being turned into an audio book.He is still working as a writer, helping people write their private memoirs.This episode of Conversations was produced by Meggie Morris. Executive Producer is Eliza Kirsch.It explores ballet, Russia, USA, famous people, the secret lives of celebrities, Tatar, Red Army, Margot Fonteyn, classical dancing, defection, Soviet Union, USSR, The Royal Ballet, HIV-AIDS, health, decline, homosexuality in the 20th century, caring for sick people, carers, memoir, writing books, biography, boats, super yachts, below deck, sexual health, queer icons, STI, first jobs, amazing jobs.To binge even more great episodes of the Conversations podcast with Richard Fidler and Sarah Kanowski go the ABC listen app (Australia) or wherever you get your podcasts. There you'll find hundreds of the best thought-provoking interviews with authors, writers, artists, politicians, psychologists, musicians, and celebrities.

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Stephen F. Jones, "The First Social Democracy: The Democratic Republic of Georgia, 1918–1921" (Harvard UP, 2026)

New Books Network

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 21, 2026 65:19

Following the collapse of the Russian Empire, the small nation of Georgia established its independence in May 1918. Its leaders surprised the world by creating the first social democratic state. Based on a combination of parliamentarianism and direct democracy, it was a representative government of the peasants and workers themselves, with ballots in their hands. The First Social Democracy: The Democratic Republic of Georgia, 1918–1921 (Harvard University Press, 2026) is the definitive history of a government that should inspire social democrats today. Professor Stephen F. Jones chronicles how the founders of the new state navigated myriad challenges, including territorial threats from abroad, internal ethnic conflicts, and geopolitical rivalries between the imperial Ottomans, the British, and the Germans. In the midst of these existential challenges, Georgia's social democrats set about writing a constitution to put the country on a distinctive path of genuine self-government—protecting democratic rights, promoting political pluralism, and championing equality. Professor Jones brings to life the passionate debates that shaped Georgia's democracy during a moment of acute global instability. The Democratic Republic of Georgia was strangled in its crib. Just four days after the constitution was ratified, the capital fell to the Red Army. Under Soviet rule, the republic was lost to history. Soviet scholars were forbidden to research this Georgian story, and Western scholars had little interest in a small and peripheral state that was independent for only three years. Recovering a forgotten experiment in democratic citizenship and statecraft, Dr. Jones reminds us of those audacious times when Georgians created and defended political freedom against the rise of Soviet communism. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. You can find Miranda's interviews on New Books with Miranda Melcher, wherever you get your podcasts. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

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Stephen F. Jones, "The First Social Democracy: The Democratic Republic of Georgia, 1918–1921" (Harvard UP, 2026)

New Books in History

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 21, 2026 65:19

Stephen F. Jones, "The First Social Democracy: The Democratic Republic of Georgia, 1918–1921" (Harvard UP, 2026)

New Books in Political Science

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 21, 2026 65:19

Stephen F. Jones, "The First Social Democracy: The Democratic Republic of Georgia, 1918–1921" (Harvard UP, 2026)

New Books in Central Asian Studies

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 21, 2026 65:19

british german western recovering soviet democratic republic georgian harvard university press red army ottomans russian empire angolan mozambican social democracy harvard up miranda melcher professor jones republic of georgia

Stephen F. Jones, "The First Social Democracy: The Democratic Republic of Georgia, 1918–1921" (Harvard UP, 2026)

New Books in Russian and Eurasian Studies

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 21, 2026 65:19

Stephen F. Jones, "The First Social Democracy: The Democratic Republic of Georgia, 1918–1921" (Harvard UP, 2026)

New Books in Eastern European Studies

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 21, 2026 65:19

The Last Dance Floor in Chernobyl

The Documentary Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 20, 2026 58:43

The untold story of a young couple falling in love and getting married against the backdrop of disaster. Serhiy first laid eyes on Iryna under the swirling lights of the best disco in town. She was wearing a cool jumpsuit with a bright red belt, which drew attention to her waist as she wiggled to the pulsing beat. Serhiy was freshly discharged from the Red Army and was happy to be able to let his hair down. He thought Iryna was beautiful and couldn't take his eyes off her. He wouldn't work up the courage to ask Iryna out until a few days later, but once they started dating, Club Edison 2 became a favourite haunt and they looked forward to the weekly discos.The man behind the decks was DJ Alexander Demidov, a legend on the night life scene, known for his pioneering shows. He wasn't just choosing tracks; he was the pilot, the chief guide, the organiser of the dance. He was constantly talking to the crowd to say how, what, and where they were going next. Club Edison2 quickly became known as the best disco in Ukraine. He did have to jump through some hoops first though. It was 1986 and DJ Alexander had to have his playlist approved by the Soviet state. Often he would sneakily play banned foreign records that had been illegally smuggled in for a rapturous crowd hungry for anything from the West, from beyond the Iron Curtain, from outside the Soviet Union. His disco became something more: a sanctuary where forbidden Western songs pulsed through speakers, fashions were improvised, and young people tasted freedom despite the watchful eye of the state.It was risky, but a risk worth taking for this was no ordinary crowd. This was a dance floor full of the brightest and best from across all 15 countries that made up the Soviet union. This was a disco for the people of Pripyat, an ‘atom-grad', or nuclear city, built especially for the scientists and workers at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. It was a place designed to embody the future.It was in Pripyat that Serhiy and Iryna would fall in love. The city was one of the best places to live in the Soviet Union: good jobs, full shops, beautiful scenery and great nightlife. It's where they planned their future together, in a city that seemed safe.They planned to get married on Saturday 26th April 1986. But the night before the wedding, they felt the ground shake and heard a booming sound. It came from the direction of the nuclear power plant. On the morning of the wedding, as Serhiy went to pick up his best man from the station, he found the streets full of soldiers wearing gas masks and washing the streets down. Rumours swirled that there had been an accident at the Nuclear reactor, but nothing official was said. They called the authorities who told them they must still hold their wedding. As engineers and firefighters battled an unfolding nuclear catastrophe, the city's residents were told nothing. Iryna and Serhei married, smiling for photographs, but stumbling during their much practiced waltz, as unease rippled through the room. By the end of the wedding reception, the celebration descended into chaos. Still in her wedding dress, Iryna ended up running barefoot through the streets as evacuation orders spread, leaving behind her home, her possessions, and the city where their love had begun.The Last Dance Floor in Chernobyl tells the story of DJ Alex, Serhiy and Iryna and what happens to them after the disaster at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant, the worst nuclear accident the world has ever seen. Jordan Dunbar follow's their lives before and after, through forced exile, confusion, health fears, and the struggle to rebuild a life shaped by disaster. Jordan Dunbar traces the paths of Iryna, Serhiy and DJ Alex across decades, from the last dance floor in Chernobyl to new beginnings elsewhere. This is a story of love and music, of ordinary people caught up in history, and of a love strong enough to survive what felt like the sudden end of their world.Presenter: Jordan Dunbar Producers: Phoebe Keane and Neal Razzell Editor: Justine Lang Sound mix: James Beard Production Coordinator: Gemma Ashman Voice over actors: Hanna Komar, Oleksandr Begma, Anatolii Panchenko and Gregory ZhygalovThe contributors all feature in the TV documentary What Happened at Chernobyl, directed by Paul Harris, Executive Producer Vara Szajkowski, Assistant Producer Ellie Jacobs. It'll be available to watch on BBC iPlayer and the BBC World Service Youtube channel

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04/14 Hour 2 - Former MLS Players Imad and Nidal Baba + Houston Red Army President Charles McGuirk Join the Show!

Glenn Davis Soccer

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 15, 2026 47:20

players baba red army imad mcguirk nidal

The country that defied an empire

Free State with Joe Brolly and Dion Fanning

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 4, 2026 47:59

Olivier Norek says he has never met a killer who wasn't eaten inside by what they'd done. Before he became a writer, Norek was a policeman in the most dangerous parts of Paris and a humanitarian worker in the former Yugoslavia.On Free State today, Norek tells the story of Simo Hayha, the sniper known as the White Death, who fought for Finland during the Winter War when the Soviet Union invaded the country.He tells the story of how Finland, abandoned by the world to fight alone, stood against the Red Army, fighting for their communities.Norek researches his books the way he would investigate a crime and in preparation for the Winter Warriors, he spent a winter in Finland, experiencing the subzero temperatures in which Finns fought to defend their country.He tells us what the Winter War meant to Finland and how it shaped the world we live in today. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Ep. 640 – The Man Who Saves the World? With Patrick McCollum & Gabe Polsky

Mindrolling with Raghu Markus

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 3, 2026 60:23

Interfaith peace counselor Patrick McCollum and documentary filmmaker Gabe Polsky share the powerful prophecy that united the Amazon and led to making their film, The Man Who Saves the World?Click here to find screenings of The Man Who Saves the World? near you.This week on Mindrolling, Raghu speaks with his guests, Gabe and Patrick, about: The origin story behind The Man Who Saves the World? and the real-life journey that inspired the filmHow diverse Amazonian tribes are connected through shared spiritual practices and plant communicationThe meaning of the Roxa Prophecy and why the Amazon is considered the “heart of the world”Efforts to unite the Amazonian tribes to save the rainforest and its inhabitants Our universal journey to understand reality and our purpose in lifeHow psychedelics, indigenous wisdom, and other spiritual pursuits open doors to new perspectivesBursting the bubble of our constructed reality Patrick's work as a bridge between “the people of the concrete” (modern society) and the indigenous About Patrick McCollum:Patrick McCollum is an interfaith chaplain, spiritual mentor, and peace counselor. Patrick was inspired by the Great Mother to promote a sacred universal vision that respects religious and cultural diversity and advances pluralism. As a dedicated peacemaker, Patrick brings forth a well-timed meta-narrative of universal magnitude that is alerting the world of the sacredness of all beings. Patrick is the founder and president of The McCollum Foundation for Peace, which aims to discover and implement positive, workable, and sustainable strategies that create local and global change and peace in all areas of life. “Their ancient story said that one day, thousands of years later, the Amazon would be in trouble. It would be burning, the water would be poisoned, and the indigenous people and their wisdom would be wiped out. When that happened, the creator would send the spirit of Roxa into a man or woman, and that person would unite all of the indigenous people of the Amazon and help them create a strategy to save the heart of the world.” –Patrick McCollumAbout Gabe Polsky:Gabe Polsky is a filmmaker, director, producer, and writer best known for the documentaries Red Army (2014) and In Search of Greatness (2018). Known for pushing the boundaries of documentary filmmaking, Gabe Polsky has built a reputation for uncovering stories that challenge perception, provoke thought, and entertain. His work has premiered at major international festivals, including the Cannes Film Festival, the Toronto International Film Festival, the Telluride Film Festival, and the New York Film Festival. “After eight years of pursuit from these tribes, he agreed to try and unfold this prophecy. I learned about this, and I got caught up in this story as well, following Patrick down to the Amazon to try and fulfill this prophecy. It's this wild spiritual adventure, very funny, very strange, it's a film that has a lot of deep meaning.” –Gabe PolskySee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

amazon world peace religion meditation spirituality greatness effort consciousness saves psychedelics in search cannes film festival lifehow amazonian interfaith toronto international film festival red army great mother raghu new york film festival communicationthe telluride film festival gabe polsky mindrolling mindpod network patrick mccollum mindpod

301 - A Canadian in Stalin's Army

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 1, 2026 38:00

How does a Canadian end up fighting in the Soviet Red Army during the Second World War? My guest today is Scott Bury, and we're going to tell the remarkable story of his relative, Maurice Bury — a Canadian citizen who found himself caught in Eastern Europe when war broke out. Drafted into the Red Army in 1941, he fought against the German invasion, survived a brutal POW camp, escaped, joined the resistance in Nazi-occupied Ukraine, and was later forced back into the Soviet army for the final push into Germany. It's a story that takes us through some of the most complex and brutal parts of the Eastern Front. Scott has explored Maurice's experiences in three books: Army of Worn Soles, Under the Nazi Heel, and Walking Out of War. He's also the host of the podcast Beyond Barbarossa, which looks at the history of the Eastern Front in the Second World War. patreon.com/ww2podcast

germany canadian war ukraine german army world war ii nazis soviet eastern europe joseph stalin pow drafted red army eastern front walking out soviet red army

3.195 Fall and Rise of China: Xiang-Gan Operation

New Books in Military History

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 30, 2026 32:59

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

director china battle japan fall doctors war chinese japanese kings victory western army chief class institute tokyo fight resistance farmers front minister operation amid investigation statistics memoir shanghai bureau plan b soviet commander fifty chen wuhan wang guarding troops divisions international affairs brigades mao generals deploy hanoi mongolian nestled shouts yan deputy chief battalion sun tzu zhao pursued feng gazing army corps mao zedong disillusioned guangzhou regiment chiang red army great fire bai nanjing rng guangdong chongqing perched guan pacific war first battle hunan yangtze verdant xiang zhengzhou zhejiang chiang kai boling kuomintang yellow river sun yat changsha second sino japanese war anhui training division xue china podcast north china guilin hunan province nanchang craig watson army group executive yuan

Timothy Manion, "Why Barbarossa Failed: Germany and Russia in the Second World War" (Helion, 2026)

New Books Network

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 20, 2026 112:30

Why did Operation Barbarossa fail? For more than eight decades, historians have offered one dominant answer: Nazi Germany's invasion of the Soviet Union was doomed from the outset. Vast distances, brutal weather, weak logistics and the overwhelming industrial power of the Red Army ensured that the Wehrmacht never had a realistic chance of success. But what if this familiar verdict is too comfortable — and too simplistic? In Why Barbarossa Failed: Germany and Russia in the Second World War (Helion and Company, 2026), Timothy Manion offers a bold, deeply researched re-examination of the most consequential campaign of the Second World War. Going far beyond the well-worn clichés of “General Winter” and German hubris, Manion places the story in a much longer arc: the evolution of military thought from the age of Napoleon through the catastrophe of 1914–18 and into the highly mechanised, manoeuvre-driven doctrines championed by both Germany and the Soviet Union in the interwar period. Drawing upon a vast range of previously overlooked archival records, Manion demonstrates that both armies entered the war expecting a rapid, decisive campaign — a return to war between generals, not economies. Early German successes seemed to prove them right. But as Manion reveals, the Wehrmacht's apparent mastery of mobile warfare concealed profound flaws in decision-making, command structure and operational logic. Meanwhile, the Red Army —though battered — adapted faster and more its opponent understood. The result is a compelling challenge to the established consensus. Manion argues that Barbarossa did not collapse under the weight of numbers alone: German generalship and operational misjudgement played a far larger part than most accounts allow, while Soviet resilience and strategic learning proved decisive long before Stalingrad. Rich with analytical clarity, packed with detailed campaign studies, and supported by an extensive set of newly published archival maps and figures, Why Barbarossa Failed is essential reading for anyone seeking to understand not only how the 1941 campaign unfolded — but why its outcome shaped the entire course of the war. This is the story of two armies, two visions of modern warfare — and the decision points that sealed the fate of the Eastern Front.Timothy Manion earned dual degrees in mathematics and economics from Boston University. After graduating from Harvard Law School, Manion represented global financial institutions on Wall Street as outside counsel. Not satisfied with traditional explanations for the failure of the German invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941, Manion has undertaken an extensive investigation of the German and Soviet archives. The results of his study overturn the historical consensus on the campaign and are published here for the first time.Stephen Satkiewicz is an independent scholar with research areas spanning Civilizational Sciences, Social Complexity, Big History, Historical Sociology, Military History, War Studies, International Relations, Geopolitics, and Russian and East European history. He is currently the Book Review Editor for Comparative Civilizations Review. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Timothy Manion, "Why Barbarossa Failed: Germany and Russia in the Second World War" (Helion, 2026)

New Books in History

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 20, 2026 112:30

Timothy Manion, "Why Barbarossa Failed: Germany and Russia in the Second World War" (Helion, 2026)

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 20, 2026 112:30

Timothy Manion, "Why Barbarossa Failed: Germany and Russia in the Second World War" (Helion, 2026)

New Books in German Studies

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 20, 2026 112:30

Timothy Manion, "Why Barbarossa Failed: Germany and Russia in the Second World War" (Helion, 2026)

New Books in Russian and Eurasian Studies

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 20, 2026 112:30

S8 Ep585: prolonging the conflict. Author: John Bachelor and Sean McMeakin. Title: Stalin's War: A New History of World War II - Plunder and Infiltration. The discussion highlights the Soviet plunder of American intellectual property through Lend-Lease p

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 16, 2026 9:29

Author: John Bachelor and Sean McMeakin. Title: Stalin's War: A New History of World War II - Plunder and Infiltration. The discussion highlights the Soviet plunder of American intellectual property through Lend-Lease protocols, including the transfer of entire factories and sensitive technical blueprints. Harry Hopkins is depicted as a central figure who facilitated these transfers, possibly acting as a "volunteer" agent of influence for Soviet interests. The sources also reveal how Stalin delayed Operation Bagration until after D-Day to ensure the Allies suffered heavier losses while the Red Army advanced on American-funded equipment. Furthermore, the segment touches on Soviet infiltration of the U.S. government, naming individuals like Harry Dexter White1942

american bachelor world war ii soviet allies joseph stalin d day leases intellectual property infiltration plunder red army new history lend lease prolonging harry hopkins

S8 Ep585: 4 Author: John Bachelor and Sean McMeakin. Title: Stalin's War: A New History of World War II - Yugoslavia, China, and the Cold War Legacy. This episode examines how Stalin outmaneuvered the West in Yugoslavia and China to expand communist in

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 16, 2026 11:09

4 Author: John Bachelor and Sean McMeakin. Title: Stalin's War: A New History of World War II - Yugoslavia, China, and the Cold War Legacy. This episode examines how Stalin outmaneuvered the West in Yugoslavia and China to expand communist influence. In Yugoslavia, Churchill was "hoodwinked" into supporting Tito over the Chetniks based on fabricated communist reports. In China, the Marshall Mission effectively cut off aid to Chiang Kai-shek, allowing Stalin-backed Mao Zedong to seize control. The Red Army's mass looting of Manchuria and Germany is detailed as a strategy to secure "booty" for the Soviet state. Ultimately, the sources argue that Lend-Lease provided the foundational resources for the Soviet Union to emerge as a global superpower and nuclear threat.1942 HARRIMAN AND STALIN

299 - Berlin, 1939-45

german berlin world war ii stalingrad red army ian buruma

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 15, 2026 45:31

In this episode, I am joined by Ian Buruma to talk about life in Berlin during the Second World War. Rather than focusing on the regime at the top or the battles fought far from the city, we look at how ordinary people experienced daily life as war, repression, bombing, and fear increasingly shaped everything around them. Our conversation centres on what it meant to survive in wartime Berlin, how behaviour and attitudes changed over time, and how the city moved from uneasy normality to catastrophe after Stalingrad and as the Red Army approached. We also discuss the experience of forced labourers in the city, including Ian's father, who was among the hundreds of thousands trying to stay alive under brutal conditions. Ian is the author of Stay Alive: Berlin 1939–1945, which looks at life in the German capital from the outbreak of war to its collapse in 1945, focusing on how ordinary people coped as survival gradually became the central concern. patreon.com/ww2podcast

S8 Ep572: 11. Professor Paul Thomas Chamberlain describes the Casablanca and Tehran conferences, where Allied leaders grappled with the realization that the Soviet Union would emerge as a dominant European power. He highlights Roosevelt's anti-colonial v

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 12, 2026 8:47

12. Professor Paul Thomas Chamberlain details Allied contingency plans like Operation Rank, designed to rush airborne troops into Berlin to prevent the Red Army from occupying all of Europe if Germany collapsed suddenly. He explains that by 1944, Churchill was deeply concerned about Soviet dominance and sought to redirect Western forces into the Balkans or Mediterranean to protect Britishinterests. Despite these internal tensions, the U.S. demonstrated unprecedented superpower capability by launching simultaneous major offensives across both the Pacific and Europe. (12)1942 TORCH AT CASABLANCA

3.192 Fall and Rise of China: Soviet–Japanese Neutrality Pact

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 9, 2026 35:06

Last time we spoke about the end of the battle of khalkin gol. In the summer of 1939, the Nomonhan Incident escalated into a major border conflict between Soviet-Mongolian forces and Japan's Kwantung Army along the Halha River. Despite Japanese successes in July, Zhukov launched a decisive offensive on August 20. Under cover of darkness, Soviet troops crossed the river, unleashing over 200 bombers and intense artillery barrages that devastated Japanese positions. Zhukov's northern, central, and southern forces encircled General Komatsubara's 23rd Division, supported by Manchukuoan units. Fierce fighting ensued: the southern flank collapsed under Colonel Potapov's armor, while the northern Fui Heights held briefly before falling to relentless assaults, including flame-throwing tanks. Failed Japanese counterattacks on August 24 resulted in heavy losses, with regiments shattered by superior Soviet firepower and tactics. By August 25, encircled pockets were systematically eliminated, leading to the annihilation of the Japanese 6th Army. The defeat, coinciding with the Hitler-Stalin Pact, forced Japan to negotiate a ceasefire on September 15-16, redrawing borders. Zhukov's victory exposed Japanese weaknesses in mechanized warfare, influencing future strategies and deterring further northern expansion. #192 The Soviet–Japanese Neutrality Pact 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. Despite the fact this technically will go into future events, I thought it was important we talk about a key moment in Sino history. Even though the battle of changkufeng and khalkin gol were not part of the second sino-Japanese war, their outcomes certainly would affect it. Policymaking by the Soviet Union alone was not the primary factor in ending Moscow's diplomatic isolation in the late 1930s. After the Munich Conference signaled the failure of the popular front/united front approach, Neville Chamberlain, Adolf Hitler, and Poland's Józef Beck unintentionally strengthened Joseph Stalin's position in early 1939. Once the strategic cards were in his hands, Stalin capitalized on them. His handling of negotiations with Britain and France, as well as with Germany, from April to August was deft and effective. The spring and summer negotiations among the European powers are well documented and have been examined from many angles. In May 1939, while Stalin seemed to have the upper hand in Europe, yet before Hitler had signaled that a German–Soviet agreement might be possible, the Nomonhan incident erupted, a conflict initiated and escalated by the Kwantung Army. For a few months, the prospect of a Soviet–Japanese war revived concerns in Moscow about a two-front conflict. Reviewing Soviet talks with Britain, France, and Germany in the spring and summer of 1939 from an East Asian perspective sheds fresh light on the events that led to the German–Soviet Nonaggression Pact and, more broadly, to the outbreak of World War II. The second week of May marked the start of fighting at Nomonhan, during which negotiations between Germany and the USSR barely advanced beyond mutual scrutiny. Moscow signaled that an understanding with Nazi Germany might be possible. Notably, on May 4, the removal of Maksim Litvinov as foreign commissar and his replacement by Vyacheslav Molotov suggested a shift in approach. Litvinov, an urbane diplomat of Jewish origin and married to an Englishwoman, had been the leading Soviet proponent of the united-front policy and a steadfast critic of Nazi Germany. If a settlement with Hitler was sought, Litvinov was an unsuitable figure to lead the effort. Molotov, though with limited international experience, carried weight as chairman of the Council of Ministers and, more importantly, as one of Stalin's closest lieutenants. This personnel change seemed to accomplish its aim in Berlin, where the press was instructed on May 5 to halt polemical attacks on the Soviet Union and Bolshevism. On the same day, Karl Schnurre, head of the German Foreign Ministry's East European trade section, told Soviet chargé d'affaires Georgi Astakhov that Skoda, the German-controlled Czech arms manufacturer, would honor existing arms contracts with Russia. Astakhov asked whether, with Litvinov's departure, Germany might resume negotiations for a trade treaty Berlin had halted months earlier. By May 17, during discussions with Schnurre, Astakhov asserted that "there were no conflicts in foreign policy between Germany and the Soviet Union and that there was no reason for enmity between the two countries," and that Britain and France's negotiations appeared unpromising. The next day, Ribbentrop personally instructed Schulenburg to green-light trade talks. Molotov, however, insisted that a "political basis" for economic negotiations had to be established first. Suspicion remained high on both sides. Stalin feared Berlin might use reports of German–Soviet talks to destabilize a potential triple alliance with Britain and France; Hitler feared Stalin might use such reports to entice Tokyo away from an anti-German pact. The attempt to form a tripartite military alliance among Germany, Italy, and Japan foundered over divergent aims: Berlin targeted Britain and France; Tokyo aimed at the Soviet Union. Yet talks persisted through August 1939, with Japanese efforts to draw Germany into an anti-Soviet alignment continually reported to Moscow by Richard Sorge. Hitler and Mussolini, frustrated by Japanese objections, first concluded the bilateral Pact of Steel on May 22. The next day, Hitler, addressing his generals, stressed the inevitability of war with Poland and warned that opposition from Britain would be crushed militarily. He then hinted that Russia might "prove disinterested in the destruction of Poland," suggesting closer ties with Japan if Moscow opposed Germany. The exchange was quickly leaked to the press. Five days later, the first pitched battle of the Nomonhan campaign began. Although Hitler's timing with the Yamagata detachment's foray was coincidental, Moscow may have found the coincidence ominous. Despite the inducement of Molotov's call for a political basis before economic talks, Hitler and Ribbentrop did not immediately respond. On June 14, Astakhov signaled to Parvan Draganov, Bulgaria's ambassador in Berlin, that the USSR faced three options: ally with Britain and France, continue inconclusive talks with them, or align with Germany, the latter being closest to Soviet desires. Draganov relayed to the German Foreign Ministry that Moscow preferred a non-aggression agreement if Germany would pledge not to attack the Soviet Union. Two days later, Schulenburg told Astakhov that Germany recognized the link between economic and political relations and was prepared for far-reaching talks, a view echoed by Ribbentrop. The situation remained tangled: the Soviets pursued overt talks with Britain and France, while Stalin sought to maximize Soviet leverage. Chamberlain's stance toward Moscow remained wary but recognized a "psychological value" to an Anglo–Soviet rapprochement, tempered by his insistence on a hard bargain. American ambassador William C. Bullitt urged London to avoid the appearance of pursuing the Soviets, a view that resonated with Chamberlain's own distrust. Public confidence in a real Anglo–Soviet alliance remained low. By July 19, cabinet minutes show Chamberlain could not quite believe a genuine Russia–Germany alliance was possible, though he recognized the necessity of negotiations with Moscow to deter Hitler and to mollify an increasingly skeptical British public. Despite reservations, both sides kept the talks alive. Stalin's own bargaining style, with swift Soviet replies but frequent questions and demands, often produced delays. Molotov pressed on questions such as whether Britain and France would pledge to defend the Baltic states, intervene if Japan attacked the USSR, or join in opposing Germany if Hitler pressured Poland or Romania. These considerations were not trivial; they produced extended deliberations. On July 23, Molotov demanded that plans for coordinated military action among the three powers be fleshed out before a political pact. Britain and France accepted most political terms, and an Anglo-French military mission arrived in Moscow on August 11. The British commander, Admiral Sir Reginald Plunket-Ernle-Erle-Drax, conducted staff talks but could not conclude a military agreement. The French counterpart, General Joseph Doumenc, could sign but not bind his government. By then, Hitler had set August 26 as the date for war with Poland. With that looming, Hitler pressed for Soviet neutrality, or closer cooperation. In July and August, secret German–Soviet negotiations favored the Germans, who pressed for a rapid settlement and made most concessions. Yet Stalin benefited from keeping the British and French engaged, creating leverage against Hitler and safeguarding a potential Anglo–Soviet option as a fallback. To lengthen the talks and avoid immediate resolution, Moscow emphasized the Polish issue. Voroshilov demanded the Red Army be allowed to operate through Polish territory to defend Poland, a demand Warsaw would never accept. Moscow even floated a provocative plan: if Britain and France could compel Poland to permit Baltic State naval operations, the Western fleets would occupy Baltic ports, an idea that would have been militarily perilous and diplomatically explosive. Despite this, Stalin sought an agreement with Germany. Through Richard Sorge's intelligence, Moscow knew Tokyo aimed to avoid large-scale war with the USSR, and Moscow pressed for a German–Soviet settlement, including a nonaggression pact and measures to influence Japan to ease Sino–Japanese tensions. On August 16, Ribbentrop instructed Schulenburg to urge Molotov and Stalin toward a nonaggression pact and to coordinate with Japan. Stalin signaled willingness, and August 23–24 saw the drafting of the pact and the collapse of the Soviet and Japanese resistance elsewhere. That night, in a memorandum of Ribbentrop's staff, seven topics were summarized, with Soviet–Japanese relations and Molotov's insistence that Berlin demonstrate good faith standing out. Ribbentrop reiterated his willingness to influence Japan for a more favorable Soviet–Japanese relationship, and Stalin's reply indicated a path toward a détente in the East alongside the European agreement: "M. Stalin replied that the Soviet Union indeed desired an improvement in its relations with Japan, but that there were limits to its patience with regard to Japanese provocations. If Japan desired war she could have it. The Soviet Union was not afraid of it and was prepared for it. If Japan desired peace—so much the better! M. Stalin considered the assistance of Germany in bringing about an improvement in Soviet-Japanese relations as useful, but he did not want the Japanese to get the impression that the initiative in this direction had been taken by the Soviet Union." Second, the assertion that the Soviet Union was prepared for and unafraid of war with Japan is an overstatement, though Stalin certainly had grounds for optimism regarding the battlefield situation and the broader East Asian strategic balance. It is notable that, despite the USSR's immediate diplomatic and military gains against Japan, Stalin remained anxious to conceal from Tokyo any peace initiative that originated in Moscow. That stance suggests that Tokyo or Hsinking might read such openness as a sign of Soviet weakness or confidence overextended. The Japanese danger, it would seem, did not disappear from Stalin's mind. Even at the height of his diplomatic coup, Stalin was determined not to burn bridges prematurely. On August 21, while he urged Hitler to send Ribbentrop to Moscow, he did not sever talks with Britain and France. Voroshilov requested a temporary postponement on the grounds that Soviet delegation officers were needed for autumn maneuvers. It was not until August 25, after Britain reiterated its resolve to stand by Poland despite the German–Soviet pact, that Stalin sent the Anglo–French military mission home. Fortified by the nonaggression pact, which he hoped would deter Britain and France from action, Hitler unleashed his army on Poland on September 1. Two days later, as Zhukov's First Army Group was completing its operations at Nomonhan, Hitler faced a setback when Britain and France declared war. Hitler had hoped to finish Poland quickly in 1939 and avoid fighting Britain and France until 1940. World War II in Europe had begun. The Soviet–Japanese conflict at Nomonhan was not the sole, nor even the principal, factor prompting Stalin to conclude an alliance with Hitler. Standing aside from a European war that could fracture the major capitalist powers might have been reason enough. Yet the conflict with Japan in the East was also a factor in Stalin's calculations, a dimension that has received relatively little attention in standard accounts of the outbreak of the war. This East Asian focus seeks to clarify the record without proposing a revolutionary reinterpretation of Soviet foreign policy; rather, it adds an important piece often overlooked in the "origins of the Second World War" puzzle, helping to reduce the overall confusion. The German–Soviet agreement provided for the Soviet occupation of the eastern half of Poland soon after Germany's invasion. On September 3, just forty-eight hours after the invasion and on the day Britain and France declared war, Ribbentrop urged Moscow to invade Poland from the east. Yet, for two more weeks, Poland's eastern frontier remained inviolate; Soviet divisions waited at the border, as most Polish forces were engaged against Germany. The German inquiries about the timing of the Soviet invasion continued, but the Red Army did not move. This inactivity is often attributed to Stalin's caution and suspicion, but that caution extended beyond Europe. Throughout early September, sporadic ground and air combat continued at Nomonhan, including significant activity by Kwantung Army forces on September 8–9, and large-scale air engagements on September 1–2, 4–5, and 14–15. Not until September 15 was the Molotov–Togo cease-fire arrangement finalized, to take effect on September 16. The very next morning, September 17, the Red Army crossed the Polish frontier into a country collapsed at its feet. It appears that Stalin wanted to ensure that fighting on his eastern flank had concluded before engaging in Western battles, avoiding a two-front war. Through such policies, Stalin avoided the disaster of a two-front war. Each principal in the 1939 diplomatic maneuvering pursued distinct objectives. The British sought an arrangement with the USSR that would deter Hitler from attacking Poland and, if deterred, bind Moscow to the Anglo–French alliance. Hitler sought an alliance with the USSR to deter Britain and France from aiding Poland and, if they did aid Poland, to secure Soviet neutrality. Japan sought a military alliance with Germany against the USSR, or failing that, stronger Anti-Comintern ties. Stalin aimed for an outcome in which Germany would fight the Western democracies, leaving him freedom to operate in both the West and East; failing that, he sought military reassurance from Britain and France in case he had to confront Germany. Of the four, only Stalin achieved his primary objective. Hitler secured his secondary objective; the British and Japanese failed to realize theirs. Stalin won the diplomatic contest in 1939. Yet, as diplomats gave way to generals, the display of German military power in Poland and in Western Europe soon eclipsed Stalin's diplomatic triumph. By playing Germany against Britain and France, Stalin gained leverage and a potential fallback, but at the cost of unleashing a devastating European war. As with the aftermath of the Portsmouth Treaty in 1905, Russo-Japanese relations improved rapidly after hostilities ceased at Nomonhan. The Molotov–Togo agreement of September 15 and the local truces arranged around Nomonhan on September 19 were observed scrupulously by both sides. On October 27, the two nations settled another long-standing dispute by agreeing to mutual release of fishing boats detained on charges of illegal fishing in each other's territorial waters. On November 6, the USSR appointed Konstantin Smetanin as ambassador to Tokyo, replacing the previous fourteen-month tenure of a chargé d'affaires. Smetanin's first meeting with the new Japanese foreign minister, Nomura Kichisaburö, in November 1939 attracted broad, favorable coverage in the Japanese press. In a break with routine diplomatic practice, Nomura delivered a draft proposal for a new fisheries agreement and a memo outlining the functioning of the joint border commission to be established in the Nomonhan area before Smetanin presented his credentials. On December 31, an agreement finalizing Manchukuo's payment to the USSR for the sale of the Chinese Eastern Railway was reached, and the Soviet–Japanese Fisheries Convention was renewed for 1940. In due course, the boundary near Nomonhan was formally redefined. A November 1939 agreement between Molotov and Togo established a mixed border commission representing the four parties to the dispute. After protracted negotiations, the border commission completed its redemarcation on June 14, 1941, with new border markers erected in August 1941. The resulting boundary largely followed the Soviet–MPR position, lying ten to twelve miles east of the Halha River. With that, the Nomonhan incident was officially closed. Kwantung Army and Red Army leaders alike sought to "teach a lesson" to their foe at Nomonhan. The refrain recurs in documents and memoirs from both sides, "we must teach them a lesson." The incident provided lessons for both sides, but not all were well learned. For the Red Army, the lessons of Nomonhan intertwined with the laurels of victory, gratifying but sometimes distracting. Georgy Zhukov grasped the experience of modern warfare that summer, gaining more than a raised profile: command experience, confidence, and a set of hallmarks he would employ later. He demonstrated the ability to grasp complex strategic problems quickly, decisive crisis leadership, meticulous attention to logistics and deception, patience in building superior strength before striking at the enemy's weakest point, and the coordination of massed artillery, tanks, mechanized infantry, and tactical air power in large-scale double envelopment. These capabilities informed his actions at Moscow, Stalingrad, Kursk, and ultimately Berlin. It is tempting to wonder how Zhukov might have fared in the crucial autumn and winter of 1941 without Nomonhan, or whether he would have been entrusted with the Moscow front in 1941 had he not distinguished himself at Nomonhan. Yet the Soviet High Command overlooked an important lesson. Despite Zhukov's successes with independent tank formations and mechanized infantry, the command misapplied Spanish Civil War-era experience by disbanding armored divisions and redistributing tanks to infantry units to serve as support. It was not until after Germany demonstrated tank warfare in 1940 that the Soviets began reconstituting armored divisions and corps, a process still incomplete when the 1941 invasion began. The Red Army's performance at Nomonhan went largely unseen in the West. Western intelligence and military establishments largely believed the Red Army was fundamentally rotten, a view reinforced by the battlefield's remoteness and by both sides' reluctance to publicize the defeat. The Polish crisis and the outbreak of war in Europe drew attention away from Nomonhan, and the later Finnish Winter War reinforced negative Western judgments of Soviet military capability. U.S. military attaché Raymond Faymonville observed that the Soviets, anticipating a quick victory over Finland, relied on hastily summoned reserves ill-suited for winter fighting—an assessment that led some to judge the Red Army by its performance at Nomonhan. Even in Washington, this view persisted; Hitler reportedly called the Red Army "a paralytic on crutches" after Finland and then ordered invasion planning in 1941. Defeat can be a stronger teacher than victory. Because Nomonhan was a limited war, Japan's defeat was likewise limited, and its impact on Tokyo did not immediately recalibrate Japanese assessments. Yet Nomonhan did force Japan to revise its estimation of Soviet strength: the Imperial Army abandoned its strategic Plan Eight-B and adopted a more defensive posture toward the Soviet Union. An official inquiry into the debacle, submitted November 29, 1939, recognized Soviet superiority in materiel and firepower and urged Japan to bolster its own capabilities. The Kwantung Army's leadership, chastened, returned to the frontier with a more realistic sense of capability, even as the Army Ministry and AGS failed to translate lessons into policy. The enduring tendency toward gekokujo, the dominance of local and mid-level officers over central authority, remained persistent, and Tokyo did not fully purge it after Nomonhan. The Kwantung Army's operatives who helped drive the Nomonhan episode resurfaced in key posts at Imperial General Headquarters, contributing to Japan's 1941 decision to go to war. The defeat of the Kwantung Army at Nomonhan, together with the Stalin–Hitler pact and the outbreak of war in Europe, triggered a reorientation of Japanese strategy and foreign policy. The new government, led by the politically inexperienced and cautious General Abe Nobuyuki, pursued a conservative foreign policy. Chiang Kai-shek's retreat to Chongqing left the Chinese war at a stalemate: the Japanese Expeditionary Army could still inflict defeats on Chinese nationalist forces, but it had no viable path to a decisive victory. China remained Japan's principal focus. Still, the option of cutting Soviet aid to China and of moving north into Outer Mongolia and Siberia was discredited in Tokyo by the August 1939 double defeat. Northward expansion never again regained its ascendancy, though it briefly resurfaced in mid-1941 after Germany's invasion of the Soviet Union. Germany's alliance with the USSR during Nomonhan was viewed by Tokyo as a betrayal, cooling German–Japanese relations. Japan also stepped back from its confrontation with Britain over Tientsin. Tokyo recognized that the European war represented a momentous development that could reshape East Asia, as World War I had reshaped it before. The short-lived Abe government (September–December 1939) and its successor under Admiral Yonai Mitsumasa (December 1939–July 1940) adopted a cautious wait-and-see attitude toward the European war. That stance shifted in the summer of 1940, however, after Germany's successes in the West. With Germany's conquest of France and the Low Countries and Britain's fight for survival, Tokyo reassessed the global balance of power. Less than a year after Zhukov had effectively blocked further Japanese expansion northward, Hitler's victories seemed to open a southern expansion path. The prospect of seizing the resource-rich colonies in Southeast Asia, Dutch, French, and British and, more importantly, resolving the China problem in Japan's favor, tempted many in Tokyo. If Western aid to Chiang Kai-shek, channeled through Hong Kong, French Indochina, and Burma could be cut off, some in Tokyo believed Chiang might abandon resistance. If not, Japan could launch new operations against Chiang from Indochina and Burma, effectively turning China's southern flank. To facilitate a southward advance, Japan sought closer alignment with Germany and the USSR. Foreign Minister Yosuke Matsuoka brought Japan into the Tripartite Pact with Germany and Italy, in the hope of neutralizing the United States, and concluded a neutrality pact with the Soviet Union to secure calm in the north. Because of the European military situation, only the United States could check Japan's southward expansion. President Franklin D. Roosevelt appeared determined to do so and confident that he could. If the Manchurian incident and the Stimson Doctrine strained U.S.–Japanese relations, and the China War and U.S. aid to Chiang Kai-shek deepened mutual resentment, it was Japan's decision to press south against French, British, and Dutch colonies, and Roosevelt's resolve to prevent such a move, that put the two nations on a collision course. The dust had barely settled on the Mongolian plains following the Nomonhan ceasefire when the ripples of that distant conflict began to reshape the broader theater of the Second Sino-Japanese War. The defeat at Nomonhan in August 1939, coupled with the shocking revelation of the German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact, delivered a profound strategic blow to Japan's imperial ambitions. No longer could Tokyo entertain serious notions of a "northern advance" into Soviet territory, a strategy that had long tantalized military planners as a means to secure resources and buffer against communism. Instead, the Kwantung Army's humiliation exposed glaring deficiencies in Japanese mechanized warfare, logistics, and intelligence, forcing a pivot southward. This reorientation not only cooled tensions with the Soviet Union but also allowed Japan to redirect its military focus toward the protracted stalemate in China. As we transition from the border clashes of the north to the heartland tensions in central China, it's essential to trace how these events propelled Japan toward the brink of a major offensive in Hunan Province, setting the stage for what would become a critical confrontation. In the immediate aftermath of Nomonhan, Japan's military high command grappled with the implications of their setback. The Kwantung Army, once a symbol of unchecked aggression, was compelled to adopt a defensive posture along the Manchurian-Soviet border. The ceasefire agreement, formalized on September 15-16, 1939, effectively neutralized the northern front, freeing up significant resources and manpower that had been tied down in the escalating border skirmishes. This was no small relief; the Nomonhan campaign had drained Japanese forces, with estimates of over 18,000 casualties and the near-total annihilation of the 23rd Division. The psychological impact was equally severe, shattering the myth of Japanese invincibility against a modern, mechanized opponent. Georgy Zhukov's masterful use of combined arms—tanks, artillery, and air power—highlighted Japan's vulnerabilities, prompting internal reviews that urged reforms in tank production, artillery doctrine, and supply chains. Yet, these lessons were slow to implement, and in the short term, the primary benefit was the opportunity to consolidate efforts elsewhere. For Japan, "elsewhere" meant China, where the war had devolved into a grinding attrition since the fall of Wuhan in October 1938. The capture of Wuhan, a major transportation hub and temporary capital of the Nationalist government under Chiang Kai-shek, had been hailed as a turning point. Japanese forces, under the command of General Shunroku Hata, had pushed deep into central China, aiming to decapitate Chinese resistance. However, Chiang's strategic retreat to Chongqing transformed the conflict into a war of endurance. Nationalist forces, bolstered by guerrilla tactics and international aid, harassed Japanese supply lines and prevented a decisive knockout blow. By mid-1939, Japan controlled vast swaths of eastern and northern China, including key cities like Beijing, Shanghai, and Nanjing, but the cost was immense: stretched logistics, mounting casualties, and an inability to fully pacify occupied territories. The Nomonhan defeat exacerbated these issues by underscoring the limits of Japan's military overextension. With the northern threat abated, Tokyo's Army General Staff saw an opening to intensify operations in China, hoping to force Chiang to the negotiating table before global events further complicated the picture. The diplomatic fallout from Nomonhan and the Hitler-Stalin Pact further influenced this shift. Japan's betrayal by Germany, its nominal ally under the Anti-Comintern Pact—fostered distrust and isolation. Tokyo's flirtations with a full Axis alliance stalled, as the pact with Moscow revealed Hitler's willingness to prioritize European gains over Asian solidarity. This isolation prompted Japan to reassess its priorities, emphasizing self-reliance in China while eyeing opportunistic expansions elsewhere. Domestically, the Hiranuma cabinet collapsed in August 1939 amid the diplomatic shock, paving the way for the more cautious Abe Nobuyuki government. Abe's administration, though short-lived, signaled a temporary de-escalation in aggressive posturing, but the underlying imperative to resolve the "China Incident" persisted. Japanese strategists believed that capturing additional strategic points in central China could sever Chiang's lifelines, particularly the routes funneling aid from the Soviet Union and the West via Burma and Indochina. The seismic shifts triggered by Nomonhan compelled Japan to fundamentally readjust its China policy and war plans, marking a pivotal transition from overambitious northern dreams to a more focused, albeit desperate, campaign in the south. With the Kwantung Army's defeat fresh in mind, Tokyo's Imperial General Headquarters initiated a comprehensive strategic review in late August 1939. The once-dominant "Northern Advance" doctrine, which envisioned rapid conquests into Siberia for resources like oil and minerals, was officially shelved. In its place emerged a "Southern Advance" framework, prioritizing the consolidation of gains in China and potential expansions into Southeast Asia. This pivot was not merely tactical; it reflected a profound policy recalibration aimed at ending the quagmire in China, where two years of war had yielded territorial control but no decisive victory over Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalists. Central to this readjustment was a renewed emphasis on economic and military self-sufficiency. The Nomonhan debacle had exposed Japan's vulnerabilities in mechanized warfare, leading to urgent reforms in industrial production. Tank manufacturing was ramped up, with designs influenced by observed Soviet models, and artillery stockpiles were bolstered to match the firepower discrepancies seen on the Mongolian steppes. Logistically, the Army General Staff prioritized streamlining supply lines in China, recognizing that prolonged engagements demanded better resource allocation. Politically, the Abe Nobuyuki cabinet, installed in September 1939, adopted a "wait-and-see" approach toward Europe but aggressively pursued diplomatic maneuvers to isolate China. Efforts to negotiate with Wang Jingwei's puppet regime in Nanjing intensified, aiming to undermine Chiang's legitimacy and splinter Chinese resistance. Japan also pressured Vichy France for concessions in Indochina, seeking to choke off aid routes to Chongqing. War plans evolved accordingly, shifting from broad-front offensives to targeted strikes designed to disrupt Chinese command and supply networks. The China Expeditionary Army, under General Yasuji Okamura, was restructured to emphasize mobility and combined arms operations, drawing partial lessons from Zhukov's tactics. Intelligence operations were enhanced, with greater focus on infiltrating Nationalist strongholds in central provinces. By early September, plans coalesced around a major push into Hunan Province, a vital crossroads linking northern and southern China. Hunan's river systems and rail lines made it a linchpin for Chinese logistics, funneling men and materiel to the front lines. Japanese strategists identified key urban centers in the region as critical objectives, believing their capture could sever Chiang's western supply corridors and force a strategic retreat. This readjustment was not without internal friction. Hardliners in the military lamented the abandonment of northern ambitions, but the reality of Soviet strength—and the neutrality pacts that followed—left little room for debate. Economically, Japan ramped up exploitation of occupied Chinese territories, extracting coal, iron, and rice to fuel the war machine. Diplomatically, Tokyo sought to mend fences with the Soviets through the 1941 Neutrality Pact, ensuring northern security while eyes turned south. Yet, these changes brewed tension with the United States, whose embargoes on scrap metal and oil threatened to cripple Japan's ambitions. As autumn approached, the stage was set for a bold gambit in central China. Japanese divisions massed along the Yangtze River, poised to strike at the heart of Hunan's defenses. Intelligence reports hinted at Chinese preparations, with Xue Yue's forces fortifying positions around a major provincial hub. The air thickened with anticipation of a clash that could tip the balance in the interminable war—a test of Japan's revamped strategies against a resilient foe determined to hold the line. What unfolded would reveal whether Tokyo's post-Nomonhan pivot could deliver the breakthrough so desperately needed, or if it would merely prolong the bloody stalemate. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. In 1939, the Nomonhan Incident saw Soviet forces under Georgy Zhukov decisively defeat Japan's Kwantung Army at Khalkin Gol, exposing Japanese weaknesses in mechanized warfare. This setback, coupled with the Hitler-Stalin Nonaggression Pact, shattered Japan's northern expansion plans and prompted a strategic pivot southward. Diplomatic maneuvers involving Stalin, Hitler, Britain, France, and Japan reshaped alliances, leading to the Soviet-Japanese Neutrality Pact in 1941. Japan refocused on China, intensifying operations in Hunan Province to isolate Chiang Kai-shek.

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S8 Ep549: 1. Alan Philps introduces The Red Hotel, detailing Moscow's Metropol Hotel in 1941. Foreign correspondents struggled with Soviet censorship while relying on Russian secretaries for survival. British communist Charlotte Haldane arrives, ideali

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 8, 2026 12:30

1. Alan Philps introduces *The Red Hotel*, detailing Moscow's Metropol Hotel in 1941. Foreign correspondentsstruggled with Soviet censorship while relying on Russian secretaries for survival. British communist Charlotte Haldane arrives, idealistically seeking to report on the "heroic" Red Army while navigating the starvation and chaos of the early war years. (18)1942 MOSCOW

british russian hotels survival moscow foreign censorship soviet communists arrives relying detailing struggled secretaries red army foreign correspondents haldane metropol ideali

3.191 Fall and Rise of China: Zhukov's Steel Ring of Fire at Nomonhan

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 2, 2026 34:11

Last time we spoke about General Zhukov's armor offensives at Nomohan. Following heavy Japanese losses in May and June, General Georgy Zhukov arrives in June, reorganizes the Soviet 1st Army Group, and bolsters it with tanks, artillery, and reinforcements. The July offensive sees General Komatsubara's forces cross the Halha River undetected, achieving initial surprise. However, General Yasuoka's tank assault falters due to muddy terrain, inadequate infantry support, and superior Soviet firepower, resulting in heavy losses. Japanese doctrine emphasizing spiritual superiority clashes with material realities, undermining morale as intelligence underestimates Soviet strength. Zhukov learns key lessons in armored warfare, adapting tactics despite high casualties. Reinforcements pour in via massive truck convoys. Japanese night attacks and artillery duels fail, exposing logistical weaknesses. Internal command tensions, including gekokujo defiance, hinder responses. By August, Stalin, buoyed by European diplomacy and Sorge's intel, greenlights a major offensive. Zhukov employs deception for surprise. Warnings of Soviet buildup are ignored, setting the stage for a climactic encirclement on August 20. #191 Zhukov Steel Ring of Fire at Nomohan 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 the night of August 19–20, under cover of darkness, the bulk of the Soviet 1st Army Group crossed the Halha River into the expanded Soviet enclave on the east bank. Two weeks of nightly Soviet sound effects had paid off: Japanese perimeter troops failed to distinguish the real deployment from the frequently heard simulations. Zhukov's order of battle was as follows: "Northern force, commanded by Colonel Alekseenko—6th Mongolian Cavalry Division, 601st Infantry Regiment (82nd Division), 7th Armored Brigade, 2 battalions of the 11th Tank Brigade, 82nd Artillery Regiment, and 87th Anti-tank Brigade. Central force, where Zhukov was located, commanded by his deputy, Colonel Petrov—36th Motorized Infantry Division, 82nd Infantry Division (less one regiment), 5th Infantry Machine Gun Brigade. Southern force, commanded by Colonel Potapov—8th Mongolian Cavalry Division, 57th Infantry Division, 8th Armored Brigade, 6th Tank Brigade, 11th Tank Brigade (less two battalions), 185th Artillery Regiment, 37th Anti-tank Brigade, one independent tank company. A mobile strategic reserve built around the 212th Airborne Regiment, the 9th Mechanized Brigade, and a battalion of the 6th Tank Brigade was held west of the Halha River." The Soviet offensive was supported by massed artillery, a hallmark of Zhukov's operations in the war against Germany. In addition to nearly 300 antitank and rapid-fire guns, Zhukov deployed over 200 field and heavy artillery pieces on both sides of the Halha. Specific artillery batteries were assigned to provide supporting fire for each attacking infantry and armored unit at the battalion level and higher. In the early hours of August 20, the sky began to lighten over the semiarid plain, with the false promise of a quiet Sunday morning. The air was clear as the sun warmed the ground that had been chilled overnight. General Komatsubara's troops were in no special state of readiness when the first wave of more than 200 Soviet bombers crossed the Halha River at 5:45 a.m. and began pounding their positions. When the bombers withdrew, a thunderous artillery barrage began, continuing for 2 hours and 45 minutes. That was precisely the time needed for the bombers to refuel, rearm, and return for a second run over the Japanese positions. Finally, all the Soviet artillery unleashed an intensive 15-minute barrage at the forwardmost Japanese positions. Komatsubara's men huddled in their trenches under the heaviest bombardment to which they or any other Japanese force had ever been subjected. The devastation, both physical and psychological, was tremendous, especially in the forward positions. The shock and vibration of incoming bombs and artillery rounds also caused their radiotelegraph keys to chatter so uncontrollably that frontline troops could not communicate with the rear, compounding their confusion and helplessness. At 9:00 a.m., Soviet armor and infantry began to move out along the line while their cover fire continued. A dense morning fog near the river helped conceal their approach, bringing them in some sectors to within small-arms range before they were sighted by the enemy. The surprise and disarray on the Japanese side was so complete, and their communications so badly disrupted, that Japanese artillery did not begin firing in support of their frontline troops until about 10:15 a.m. By then, many forward positions were overrun. Japanese resistance stiffened at many points by midday, and fierce combat raged along the front, roughly 40 miles long. In the day's fighting, Colonel M. I. Potapov's southern force achieved the most striking success. The 8th MPR Cavalry Division routed the Manchukuoan cavalry holding Komatsubara's southern flank, and Potapov's armor and mechanized infantry bent the entire southern segment of the Japanese front inward by about 8 miles in a northwesterly direction. Zhukov's central force advanced only 500–1,500 yards in the face of furious resistance, but the frontal assault engaged the center of the Japanese line so heavily that Komatsubara could not reinforce his flanks. Two MPR cavalry regiments and supporting armor and mechanized infantry from Colonel Ilya Alekseenko's northern force easily overran two Manchukuoan cavalry units guarding the northern flank of the Japanese line, about 2 miles north of the Fui Heights. But the heights themselves formed a natural strong point, and Alekseenko's advance was halted at what became the northern anchor of the Japanese line. As the first phase of the Soviet offensive gathered momentum, General Ogisu, the 6th Army's new commander, assessed the situation. Still unaware of Zhukov's strength, he reassured KwAHQ that "the enemy intends to envelop us from our flanks, but his offensive effectiveness is weak… Our positions in other areas are being strengthened. Set your mind at ease." This optimistic report contributed to Kwantung Army's delay in reinforcing the 23rd Division. Some at KwAHQ suspected this might be another limited Soviet push, like Aug 7–8, that would soon end. Others worried it was a diversion prior to a larger offensive and were concerned but not alarmed about Komatsubara's position. On Aug 21–22, Potapov's southern force pierced the Japanese main defense line at several points, breaking the southern sector into segments that the attackers sealed off, encircled, and ground down. Soviet armor, mechanized infantry, and artillery moved swiftly and with deadly efficiency. Survivors described how each pocket of resistance experienced its own hellish period. After the Japanese heavy weapons in a pocket were neutralized, Soviet artillery and tanks gradually tightened the ring, firing at point-blank range over open sights. Flame-throwing tanks incinerated hastily constructed fortifications and underground shelters. Infantry mopped up with grenades, small arms, and bayonets. By the end of Aug 23, Potapov had dismembered the entire Japanese defensive position south of the Holsten River. Only one significant pocket of resistance remained. Meanwhile, Potapov's 8th Armored Brigade looped behind the Japanese, reaching southeast of Nomonhan, some 11 miles east of the river junction, on the boundary claimed by the MPR, and took up a blocking position there athwart the most likely line of retreat for Japanese units south of the Holsten. In those two days, the Japanese center yielded only a few yards, while the northern flank anchored at Fui Heights held firm. Air combat raged over the battlefield. Soviet air units provided tactical support for their armor and infantry, while Kwantung Army's 2nd Air Group strove to thwart that effort and hit the Soviet ground forces. Before Nomonhan, the Japanese air force had not faced a modern opponent. Japanese fliers had roamed largely unchallenged in Manchuria and China from 1931 to 1939. At Nomonhan, the Soviets enjoyed an advantage of roughly 2:1 in aircraft and pilots. This placed an increasingly heavy burden on Japanese air squadrons, which had to fly incessantly, often against heavy odds. Fatigue took its toll and losses mounted. Soviet and Japanese accounts give wildly different tallies of air victories and losses, but an official Japanese assessment after the battle stated, "Nomonhan brought out the bitter truths of the phenomenal rate at which war potential is sapped in the face of superior opposition." As with tank combat, the Soviet air superiority was qualitative as well as quantitative. In June–early July, the Soviet I-16 fighters did not fare well against the Japanese Type 97 fighter. However, in the lull before the August offensive, the Soviets introduced an improved I-16 with armor-plated fuselage and windshield, making it virtually impervious to the Type 97's light 7.7-mm guns. The Japanese countered by arming some planes with heavier 12.7-mm guns, which were somewhat more effective against the new I-16s. But the Soviet pilots discovered that the Type-97's unprotected fuel tank was an easy mark, and Japanese planes began to burn with horrendous regularity. On Aug 23, as Ribbentrop arrived in Moscow to seal the pact that would doom Poland and unleash war in Europe, the situation at Nomonhan was deemed serious enough by Kwantung Army to transfer the 7th Division to Hailar for support. Tsuji volunteered to fly to Nomonhan for a firsthand assessment. This move came too late, as Aug 23–24 proved the crucial phase of the battle. On Tue night, Aug 22, at Japanese 6th Army HQ, General Ogisu ordered a counterattack to push back the Soviet forces enveloping and crushing the Japanese southern flank. Komatsubara planned the counterattack in minute detail and entrusted its execution to his 71st and 72nd Regiments, led by General Kobayashi Koichi, and the 26th and 28th Regiments of the 7th Division, commanded by General Morita Norimasa. On paper this force looked like two infantry brigades. Only the 28th Regiment, however, was near full strength, though its troops were tired after marching about 25 miles to the front the day before. This regiment's peerless commander was Colonel Morita Toru (unrelated to General Morita). The chief kendo fencing master of the Imperial Army, Morita claimed to be invulnerable to bullets. The other three regiments were seriously understrength, partly due to combat attrition and partly because several of their battalions were deployed elsewhere on the front. The forces Kobayashi and Morita commanded that day totaled less than one regiment each. It was not until the night of Aug 23 that deployment and attack orders filtered down to the Japanese regiment, battalion, and company commanders. Due to insufficient truck transport and the trackless terrain, units were delayed reaching their assigned positions in the early morning of Aug 24, and some did not arrive at all. Two battalions of the 71st Regiment did not reach Kobayashi in time; his attack force that morning consisted of two battalions of the 72nd Regiment. Colonel Sumi's depleted 26th Regiment did not arrive in time, and General Morita's assault force consisted of two battalions of the 28th Regiment and a battalion-equivalent independent garrison unit newly arrived at the front. Because of these delays, the Japanese could not reconnoiter enemy positions adequately before the attack. What had been planned as a dawn assault would begin between 9:30 and 10:00 a.m. in broad daylight. The light plane carrying Tsuji on the final leg of his flight from Hsinking-Hailar-Nomonhan was attacked by Soviet fighters and forced to land behind the 72nd Regiment's staging area. Tsuji managed to reach General Kobayashi's command post by truck and on foot, placing him closer to the fighting than he anticipated. Just before the counterattack began, a dense fog drifted across part of the battlefield, obscuring visibility and limiting artillery effectiveness. Using the fog to mask their movement, lead elements of the 72nd Regiment moved toward a distant stand of scrub pines. As they approached, the trees began to move away—the stand was a well-camouflaged Soviet tank force. The tanks then maneuvered to the south, jeopardizing further Japanese advance. As the fog cleared, the Japanese found themselves facing a much larger enemy force. A vastly heavier Soviet barrage answered their renewed artillery fire. Kobayashi and Morita discovered too late that their counterattack had walked into the teeth of far stronger Soviet forces. One account calls it "The Charge of Two Light Brigades." Kobayashi's 72nd Regiment encountered the Soviet T-34, with its thick sloped armor and 76-mm gun—the most powerful tank in 1939. In addition, the improved Soviet BT-5/7 tanks, powered by diesel, were less prone to ignition. On gasoline-powered vehicles, the Soviets added wire netting over the ventilation grill and exhaust manifold, reducing the effectiveness of hand-thrown gasoline bombs. Japanese infantry regiments suffered near 50% casualties that day. Nearly every battalion and company commander was lost. Kobayashi was gravely wounded by a tank shell fragment and nearly trampled by fleeing troops. He survived the battle and the Pacific War but died in a Soviet POW camp in 1950. Morita's 28th Regiment fared little better. It was pinned down about 500 yards from the Soviet front lines by intense artillery. Unable to advance and not permitted to retreat, Morita's men dug into the loose sand and withstood the bombardment, but were cut to pieces. Shortly after sunset, the remnants were ordered to withdraw, but both regiments were shattered. Tsuji, a survivor, rejoined Komatsubara at his command post. Upon receiving combat reports from the 72nd and 28th Regiments, General Komatsubara "evinced deep anxiety." 6th Army chief of staff Major General Fujimoto Tetsukuma, at Komatsubara's command post, "appeared bewildered," and announced he was returning to headquarters, asking if Tsuji would accompany him. The major declined and later recalled that he and Komatsubara could barely conceal their astonishment at Fujimoto's abrupt departure at such a time. Meanwhile, at the northern end of the line, Colonel Alekseenko's force had been hammering at Fui Heights for 3 days without success. The position was held by about 800 defenders under Lieutenant Colonel Ioki Eiichiro, consisting of two infantry companies; one company each of cavalry, armored reconnaissance, and combat engineers; and three artillery batteries (37-mm and 75-mm guns). The defenders clung tenaciously to the strongpoint created by the heights and their bunkers, inflicting heavy losses on Alekseenko's force. The unexpectedly strong defense disrupted the timing of the entire Soviet offensive. By Aug 23, Zhukov was exasperated and losing patience with the pace in the north. Some of Zhukov's comrades recall a personable chief who played the accordion and urged singing during happier times. Under stress, his harshness and temper surfaced. Zhukov summoned Alekseenko to the telephone. When the northern commander expressed doubt about storming the heights immediately, Zhukov berated him, relieved him on the spot, and entrusted the attack to Alekseenko's chief of staff. After a few hours, Zhukov called again and, finding that the new commander was slow, fired him as well and sent a staff member to take charge. Accounts record that his tirades sometimes included the phrase "useless bag of shit," though others note harsher language was used toward generals who did not meet expectations. That night, reinforced by the 212th Airborne Regiment, heavier artillery, and a detachment of flame-throwing tanks, the northern force renewed its assault on Fui Heights. The battered Japanese defenders were thoroughly overmatched. Soviet artillery fired at two rounds per second. When the last Japanese artillery was knocked out, they no longer could defend against flame-throwing tanks. From several miles away, Colonel Sumi could see the heights shrouded in black smoke and red flames "spitting like the tongues of snakes." After Aug 22, supply trucks could no longer reach Fui Heights. The next afternoon, Colonel Ioki's radio—the last link to the 23rd Division—was destroyed. His surviving men fought on with small arms and grenades, repelling Soviet infantry with bayonet charges that night. By the morning of Aug 24, Ioki had about 200 able-bodied men left of his original 800. Soviet tanks and infantry had penetrated defenses at several points, forcing him to constrict his perimeter. Red flags flew on the eastern edge of the heights. Ioki gathered his remaining officers to discuss last measures. With little ammunition and almost no food or water, their situation seemed hopeless. But Ioki insisted on holding Fui Heights to the last man, arguing that the defense should not be abandoned and that orders to break out should come only with reinforcements and supplies. Some subordinates urged retreat. Faced with two dire options, Ioki drew his pistol and attempted suicide, but a fellow officer restrained him. Rather than see his men blown to bits, Ioki decided to abandon Fui Heights and retreat east. Those unable to walk received hand grenades with the injunction to blow themselves up rather than be captured. On the night of Aug 24–25, after moonrise, the remaining resistance at the heights was quelled, and Soviet attention shifted south. Ioki's battered remnant slipped out and, the next morning, encountered a Manchukuoan cavalry patrol that summoned trucks to take them to Chaingchunmiao, forty miles away. Russians occupying Fui Heights on Aug 25 counted the corpses of over 600 Japanese officers and men. After securing Fui Heights, the Soviet northern force began to roll up the Japanese northern flank in a wide arc toward Nomonhan. A day after the fall of Fui Heights, elements of the northern force's 11th Tank Brigade linked up with the southern force's 8th Armored Brigade near Nomonhan. A steel ring had been forged around the Japanese 6th Army. As the Japanese northern and southern flanks dissolved under Zhukov's relentless assaults, Komatsubara's command ceased to exist as an integrated force. By Aug 25 the Japanese lines were completely cut, with resistance remaining only in three encircled pockets. The remnants of two battalions of General Morita's "brigade" attempted a renewed offensive on Aug 25, advancing about 150 yards before being hammered by Soviet artillery and tanks, suffering heavier casualties than the day before. The only hope for the surrounded Japanese troops lay in a relief force breaking through the Soviet encirclement from the outside. However, Kwantung Army was spread thin in Manchuria and, due to a truck shortage, could not transport the 7th Division from Hailar to the combat zone in time. By Aug 26 the encirclement had thickened, with three main pockets tightly invested, making a large-scale breakout nearly impossible. Potapov unleashed a two-pronged assault with his 6th Tank Brigade and 80th Infantry Regiment. Japanese artillery from the 28th Regiment temporarily checked the left wing of the armored attack, but the Soviet right wing overran elements of Sumi's 26th Regiment, forcing the Japanese to retreat into a tighter enclave. Morita, the fencing-master commander who claimed to be immune to bullets, was killed by machine-gun fire while standing atop a trench encouraging his men. The Japanese 120-mm howitzers overheated under the August sun; their breech mechanisms swelled and refused to eject spent casings. Gunners had to leap from behind shelter to ram wooden rods down the barrels, drastically reducing rate of fire and life expectancy. Komatsubara's artillery units suffered a bitter fate. Most were deployed well behind the front lines with their guns facing west toward the Halha. As the offensive developed, attackers often struck the batteries from the east, behind them. Even when crews could turn some guns to face east, they had not preregistered fields of fire there and were not very effective. Supporting infantry had already been drawn off for counterattacks and perimeter defense. One by one, Japanese batteries were smashed by Soviet artillery and tanks. Crews were expected to defend their guns to the last man; the guns themselves were treated as the unit's soul, to be destroyed if captured. In extremis, crews were to destroy sensitive parts like optics. Few survived. Among those who did was a PFC from an annihilated howitzer unit, ordered to drive one of the few surviving vehicles, a Dodge sedan loaded with seriously wounded men, eastward to safety during the night. Near a Holsten River bridge he encountered Soviet sentries. The driver hesitated, then honked his horn, and the guards saluted as the sedan sped past. With water supplies exhausted and unable to reach the Halha or Holsten Rivers, the commander of the easternmost enclave ordered his men to drain radiator water from their vehicles. Drinking the foul liquid, at the cost of immobilizing their remaining transport, signaled that the defenders believed their situation was hopeless. On Aug 27 the rest of the Japanese 7th Division, two fresh infantry regiments, an artillery regiment, and support units totaling barely 5,000 men—reached the northeastern segment of the ring around Komatsubara. One day of hard fighting revealed they lacked the strength to break the encirclement. General Ogisu ordered the 7th Division to pull back and redeploy near his own 6th Army headquarters, about 4 miles east of Nomonhan and the border claimed by the enemy. There would be no outside relief for Komatsubara's forces. Throughout Aug 27–28, Soviet aircraft, artillery, armor, and infantry pounded the three Japanese pockets, compressing them into ever-smaller pockets and grinding them down. The surrounded Japanese fought fiercely and inflicted heavy casualties, but the outcome was inevitable. After the remaining Japanese artillery batteries were silenced, Soviet tanks ruled the battlefield. One by one, major pockets were overrun. Some smaller groups managed to slip through Soviet lines and reach safety east of the border claimed by the MPR, where they were left unmolested by the Red Army. Elements of Potapov's 57th and 82nd Divisions eliminated the last remnants of resistance south of the Holsten by the evening of Aug 27. North of the Holsten, during the night of Aug 28–29, a group of about 400 Japanese tried to slip east through the Soviet lines along the riverbank. They were spotted by the 293rd Regiment (57th Division), which struck them. The fleeing Japanese refused to surrender and were wiped out attempting to recross the Holsten. Japanese soldiers' refusal to surrender is well documented. Surrender was considered dishonorable; the Army Field Manual was silent on surrender. For officers, death was not merely preferable to surrender; it was expected, and in some cases required. The penal code (1908, not revised until 1942) stated that surrender was dereliction of duty; if a commander did his best to resist, imprisonment could follow; if not, death. Stemming from Bushido, regimental colors were treated as sacred. On the afternoon of Aug 28, with much of his 64th Regiment destroyed, Colonel Yamagata saw no alternative but to burn the regimental colors and then commit suicide. Part of the flagpole had been shattered; the chrysanthemum crest damaged. Yamagata, Colonel Ise (artillery regimental commander), an infantry captain, a medical lieutenant, and a foot soldier—the last survivors of the headquarters unit—faced east, shouted "banzai" for the emperor, drenched the pennant in gasoline, and lit it. Yamagata, Ise, and the captain then shot themselves. The flag and crest were not entirely consumed, and the unburned remnants were buried beneath Yamagata's unmarked body. The medical officer and the soldier escaped and reported these rites to 6th Army HQ, where the deaths of the two colonels were mourned, but there was concern over whether the regimental colors had been entirely destroyed. On Aug 29, Lieutenant Colonel Higashi Muneharu, who had taken command of the 71st Regiment, faced the same dilemma. The regimental standard was broken into four pieces and, with the flag and chrysanthemum crest, drenched with fuel and set on fire. The fire kept going out, and the tassels were especially hard to burn. It took 45 minutes to finish the job, all under enemy fire. Afterward, Higashi urged all able to join him in a suicide charge, and the severely wounded to "kill themselves bravely when the enemy approached." Soviet machine-gun fire and grenades felled Higashi and his followers within moments. When it became clear on Aug 29 that all hope was lost, Komatsubara resolved to share the fate of his 23rd Division. He prepared to commit suicide, entrusted his will to his aide, removed his epaulets, and burned his code books. General Ogisu ordered Komatsubara to save himself and lead as many of his men as possible out of the encirclement. Shortly before midnight on Aug 30, the bulk of the Soviet armor briefly pulled back to refuel and resupply. Some of the Soviet infantry also pulled back. Komatsubara and about 400 survivors of his command used the opportunity to slip through the Soviet lines, guiding wounded by starlight to safety at Chiangchunmiao on the morning of Aug 31. Tsuji was among the survivors. In transit, Komatsubara was so distraught he needed to be restrained from taking his own life. A fellow officer took his pistol, and two sturdy corporals helped to support him, preventing him from drawing his sword. On August 31, Zhukov declared the disputed territory between the Halha River and the boundary line through Nomonhan cleared of enemy troops. The Sixth Army had been annihilated, with between 18,000 and 23,000 men killed or wounded from May to September (not counting Manchukuoan losses). The casualty rate in Komatsubara's 23rd Division reached 76%, and Sumi's 26th Regiment (7th Division) suffered 91% casualties. Kwantung Army lost many of its tanks and heavy guns and nearly 150 aircraft. It was the worst military defeat in modern Japanese history up to that time. Soviet claims later put total Japanese casualties at over 50,000, though this figure is widely regarded as inflated. For years, Soviet-MPR authorities claimed 9,284 casualties, surely an underestimate. A detailed unit-by-unit accounting published in Moscow in 2002 put Soviet losses at 25,655 (9,703 killed, 15,952 wounded), plus 556 MPR casualties. While Soviet casualties may have exceeded Japanese losses, this reflects the fierceness of Japanese defense and questions Zhukov's expenditutre of blood. There was no denying, however, that the Red Army demonstrated substantial strength and that Kwantung Army suffered a serious defeat. Knowledgeable Japanese and Soviet sources agree that given the annihilation of Komatsubara's forces and the dominance of Soviet air power, if Zhukov had pressed beyond Nomonhan toward Hailar, local Japanese forces would have fallen into chaos, Hailar would have fallen, and western Manchuria would have been gravely threatened. But while that might have been militarily possible, Moscow did not intend it. Zhukov's First Army Group halted at the boundary line claimed by the MPR. A Japanese military historian notes that "Kwantung Army completely lost its head." KwAHQ was enraged by the battlefield developments. Beyond the mauling of the Sixth Army at Nomonhan, there was anxiety over regimental colors. It was feared that Colonel Yamagata might not have had time to destroy the imperial crest of the 64th Regiment's colors, which could have fallen into Soviet hands. Thousands of dead and wounded littered the field. To preserve "face" and regain leverage, a swift, decisive counterstroke was deemed necessary. At Hsinking, they decided on an all-out war against the USSR. They planned to throw the 7th, 2nd, 4th, and 8th Divisions into the Sixth Army, along with all heavy artillery in Manchukuo, to crush the enemy. Acknowledging shortages in armor, artillery, and air power, they drafted a plan for a series of successive night offenses beginning on September 10. This was viewed as ill-advised for several reasons: September 10 was an unrealistic target given Kwantung Army's limited logistical capacity; it was unclear what the Red Army would be doing by day, given its superiority in tanks, artillery, and air power; autumn would bring extreme cold that could immobilize forces; and Germany's alliance with the Soviet Union isolated Japan diplomatically. These factors were known at KwAHQ, yet the plan proceeded. Kwantung Army notified AGS to "utilize the winter months well," aiming to mobilize the entire Japanese Army for a decisive spring confrontation. However, the Nomonhan defeat coincided with the Hitler-Stalin pact's diplomatic fallout. The push for close military cooperation with Germany against the Soviet Union was discredited in a single week. Defeated and abandoned by Hitler, pro-German, anti-Soviet policy advocates in Tokyo were furious. Premier Hiranuma Kiichiro's government resigned on August 28. In response, more cautious voices in Tokyo asserted control. General Nakajima, deputy chief of AGS, went to Hsinking with Imperial Order 343, directing Kwantung Army to hold near the disputed frontier with "minimal strength" to enable a quick end to hostilities and a diplomatic settlement. But at KwAHQ, the staff pressed their case, and Nakajima eventually approved a general offensive to begin on September 10. The mood at KwAHQ was ebullient. Upon returning to Tokyo, Nakajima was sternly rebuked and ordered to stand down. General Ueda appealed to higher authority, requesting permission to clear the battlefield and recover the bodies of fallen soldiers. He was denied and later relieved of command on September 6. A reshuffle followed at KwAHQ, with several senior officers reassigned. The Japanese Foreign Ministry directed Ambassador Togo Shigenori to negotiate a settlement in Moscow. The Molotov-Togo agreement was reached on September 15–16, establishing a temporary frontier and a commission to redemarcate the boundary. The local cease-fire arrangements were formalized on September 18–19, and both sides agreed to exchange prisoners and corpses. In the aftermath, Kwantung Army leadership and the Red Army leadership maintained tight control over communications about the conflict. News of the defeat spread through Manchuria and Japan, but the scale of the battle was not fully suppressed. The Kwantung Army's reputation suffered further from subsequent punishments of officers deemed to have mishandled the Nomonhan engagement. Several officers were compelled to retire or commit suicide under pressure, and Ioki's fate became a particular symbol of the army's dishonor and the heavy costs of the campaign. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. In August 1939, Soviet General Georgy Zhukov launched a decisive offensive against Japanese forces at Nomonhan. Under cover of darkness, Soviet troops crossed the Halha River, unleashing massive air and artillery barrages on August 20. Fierce fighting ensued, with failed Japanese counterattacks, the fall of Fui Heights, and annihilation of encircled pockets by Soviet tanks and infantry.

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3.190 Fall and Rise of China: Zhukov Unleashes Tanks at Nomonhan

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 23, 2026 39:02

Last time we spoke about General Zhukov's arrival to the Nomohan incident. The Kwantung Army's inexperienced 23rd Division, under General Komatsubara, suffered heavy losses in failed offensives, including Colonel Yamagata's assault and the annihilation of Lieutenant Colonel Azuma's detachment, resulting in around 500 Japanese casualties. Tensions within the Japanese command intensified as Kwantung defied Tokyo's restraint, issuing aggressive orders like 1488 and launching a June 27 air raid on Soviet bases, destroying dozens of aircraft and securing temporary air superiority. This provoked Moscow's fury and rebukes from Emperor Hirohito. On June 1, Georgy Zhukov, a rising Red Army tactician and tank expert, was summoned from Minsk. Arriving June 5, he assessed the 57th Corps as inadequate, relieved Commander Feklenko, and took charge of the redesignated 1st Army Group. Reinforcements included mechanized brigades, tanks, and aircraft. Japanese intelligence misread Soviet supply convoys as retreats, underestimating Zhukov's 12,500 troops against their 15,000. By July, both sides poised for a massive clash, fueled by miscalculations and gekokujo defiance. #190 Zhukov Unleashes Tanks at Nomohan Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. At 4:00 a.m. on July 1, 15,000 heavily laden Japanese troops began marching to their final assembly and jump-off points. The sun rose at 4:00 a.m. and set at 9:00 p.m. that day, but the Japanese advance went undetected by Soviet/MPR commanders, partly because the June 27 air raid had temporarily cleared Soviet reconnaissance from the skies. On the night of July 1, Komatsubara launched the first phase. The 23rd Division, with the Yasuoka Detachment, converged on Fui Heights, east of the Halha River, about eleven miles north of its confluence with the Holsten. The term "heights" is misleading here; a Japanese infantry colonel described Fui as a "raised pancake" roughly one to one-and-a-half miles across, about thirty to forty feet higher than the surrounding terrain. For reasons not fully explained, the small Soviet force stationed on the heights was withdrawn during the day on July 1, and that night Fui Heights was occupied by Komatsubara's forces almost unopposed. This caused little stir at Zhukov's headquarters. Komatsubara bided his time on July 2. On the night of July 2–3, the Japanese achieved a brilliant tactical success. A battalion of the 71st Infantry Regiment silently crossed the Halha River on a moonless night and landed unopposed on the west bank opposite Fui Heights. Recent rains had swollen the river to 100–150 yards wide and six feet deep, making crossing difficult for men, horses, or vehicles. Combat engineers swiftly laid a pontoon bridge, completing it by 6:30 a.m. on July 3. The main body of Komatsubara's 71st and 72nd Infantry Regiments (23rd Division) and the 26th Regiment (7th Division) began a slow, arduous crossing. The pontoon bridge, less than eight feet wide, was a bottleneck, allowing only one truck at a time. The attackers could not cross with armored vehicles, but they did bring across their regimental artillery, 18 x 37-mm antitank guns, 12 x 75-mm mountain guns, 8 x 75-mm field guns, and 4 x 120-mm howitzers, disassembled, packed on pack animals, and reassembled on the west bank. The crossing took the entire day, and the Japanese were fortunate to go without interception. The Halha crossing was commanded personally by General Komatsubara and was supported by a small Kwantung Army contingent, including General Yano (deputy chief of staff), Colonel Hattori, and Major Tsuji from the Operations Section. Despite the big air raid having alerted Zhukov, the initial Japanese moves from July 1–3 achieved complete tactical surprise, aided by Tsuji's bold plan. The first indication of the major offensive came when General Yasuoka's tanks attacked predawn on July 3. Yasuoka suspected Soviet troops south of him attempting to retreat across the Halha to the west bank, and he ordered his tanks to attack immediately, with infantry not yet in position. The night's low clouds, no moon, and low visibility—along with a passing thunderstorm lighting the sky—made the scene dramatic. Seventy Japanese tanks roared forward, supported by infantry and artillery, and the Soviet 149th Infantry Regiment found itself overwhelmed. Zhukov, hearing of Yasuoka's assault but unaware that Komatsubara had crossed the Halha, ordered his armor to move northeast to Bain Tsagan to confront the initiative. There, Soviet armor clashed with Japanese forces in a chaotic, largely uncoordinated engagement. The Soviet counterattacks, supported by heavy artillery, halted much of the Japanese momentum, and by late afternoon Japanese infantry had to dig in west of the Halha. The crossing had been accomplished without Soviet reconnaissance detecting it in time, but Zhukov's counterattacks, the limits of Japanese armored mobility across the pontoon, and the heat and exhaustion of the troops constrained the Japanese effort. By the afternoon of July 3, Zhukov's forces were pressing hard, and the Japanese momentum began to stall. Yasuoka's tanks, supported by a lack of infantry and the fatigue and losses suffered by the infantry, could not close the gap to link with Komatsubara's forces. The Type 89 tanks, designed for infantry support, were ill-suited to penetrating Soviet armor, especially when faced with BT-5/BT-7 tanks and strong anti-tank guns. The Type 95 light tanks were faster but lightly armored, and suffered heavily from Soviet fire and air attacks. Infantry on the western bank struggled to catch up with tanks, shot through by Soviet artillery and armor, while the 64th Regiment could not keep pace with the tanks due to the infantry's lack of motorized transport. By late afternoon, Yasuoka's advance stalled far short of the river junction and the Soviet bridge. The infantry dug in to withstand Soviet bombardment, and the Japanese tank regiments withdrew to their jump-off points by nightfall. The Japanese suffered heavy losses in tanks, though some were recovered and repaired; by July 9, KwAHQ decided to withdraw its two tank regiments from the theater. Armor would play no further role in the Nomonhan conflict. The Soviets, by contrast, sustained heavier tank losses but began to replenish with new models. The July offensive, for Kwantung Army, proved a failure. Part of the failure stemmed from a difficult blend of terrain and logistics. Unusually heavy rains in late June had transformed the dirt roads between Hailar and Nomonhan into a mud-filled quagmire. Japanese truck transport, already limited, was so hampered by these conditions that combat effectiveness suffered significantly. Colonel Yamagata's 64th Infantry Regiment, proceeding on foot, could not keep pace with or support General Yasuoka's tanks on July 3–4. Komatsubara's infantry on the west bank of the Halha ran short of ammunition, food, and water. As in the May 28 battle, the main cause of the Kwantung Army's July offensive failure was wholly inadequate military intelligence. Once again, the enemy's strength had been seriously underestimated. Moreover, a troubling realization was dawning at KwAHQ and in the field: the intelligence error was not merely quantitative but qualitative. The Soviets were not only more numerous but also far more potent than anticipated. The attacking Japanese forces initially held a slight numerical edge and enjoyed tactical surprise, but the Red Army fought tenaciously, and the weight of Soviet firepower proved decisive. Japan, hampered by a relative lack of raw materials and industrial capacity, could not match the great powers in the quantitative production of military materiel. Consequently, Japanese military leaders traditionally emphasized the spiritual superiority of Japan's armed forces in doctrine and training, often underestimating the importance of material factors, including firepower. This was especially true of the army that had carried the tactic of the massed bayonet charge into World War II. This "spiritual" combat doctrine arose from necessity; admitting material superiority would have implied defeat. Japan's earlier victories in the Sino-Japanese War, Russo-Japanese War, the Manchurian incident, and the China War, along with legendary medieval victories over the Mongol hordes, seemed to confirm the transcendent importance of fighting spirit. Only within such a doctrine could the Imperial Japanese Army muster inner strength and confidence to face formidable enemies. This was especially evident against Soviet Russia, whose vast geography, population, and resources loomed large. Yet what of its spirit? The Japanese military dismissed Bolshevism as a base, materialist philosophy utterly lacking spiritual power. Consequently, the Red Army was presumed to have low morale and weak fighting effectiveness. Stalin's purges only reinforced this belief. Kwantung Army's recent experiences at Nomonhan undermined this outlook. Among ordinary soldiers and officers alike, from the 23rd Division Staff to KwAHQ—grim questions formed: Had Soviet materiel and firepower proven superior to Japanese fighting spirit? If not, did the enemy possess a fighting spirit comparable to their own? To some in Kwantung Army, these questions were grotesque and almost unthinkable. To others, the implications were too painful to face. Perhaps May and July's combat results were an aberration caused by the 23rd Division's inexperience. Nevertheless, a belief took hold at KwAHQ that this situation required radical rectification. Zhukov's 1st Army Headquarters, evaluating recent events, was not immune to self-criticism and concern for the future. The enemy's success in transporting nearly 10,000 men across the Halha without detection—despite heightened Soviet alert after the June 27 air raid—revealed a level of carelessness and lack of foresight at Zhukov's level. Zhukov, however, did not fully capitalize on Komatsubara's precarious position on July 4–5. Conversely, Zhukov and his troops reacted calmly in the crisis's early hours. Although surprised and outnumbered, Zhukov immediately recognized that "our trump cards were the armored detachments, and we decided to use them immediately." He acted decisively, and the rapid deployment of armor proved pivotal. Some criticized the uncoordinated and clumsy Soviet assault on Komatsubara's infantry on July 3, but the Japanese were only a few hours' march from the river junction and the Soviet bridge. By hurling tanks at Komatsubara's advance with insufficient infantry support, Mikhail Yakovlev (11th Tank Brigade) and A. L. Lesovoi (7th Mechanized Brigade) incurred heavy losses. Nonetheless, they halted the Japanese southward advance, forcing Komatsubara onto the defensive, from which he never regained momentum. Zhukov did not flinch from heavy casualties to achieve his objectives. He later told General Dwight D. Eisenhower that if the enemy faced a minefield, their infantry attacked as if it did not exist, treating personnel mine losses as equal to those that would have occurred if the Germans defended the area with strong troops rather than minefields. Zhukov admitted losing 120 tanks and armored cars that day—a high price, but necessary to avert defeat. Years later, Zhukov defended his Nomonhan tactics, arguing he knew his armor would suffer heavy losses, but that was the only way to prevent the Japanese from seizing the bridge at the river confluence. Had Komatsubara's forces advanced unchecked for another two or three hours, they might have fought through to the Soviet bridge and linked with the Yasuoka detachment, endangering Zhukov's forces. Zhukov credited Yakovlev, Lesovoi, and their men with stabilizing the crisis through timely and self-sacrificing counterattacks. The armored car battalion of the 8th MPR Cavalry Division also distinguished itself in this action. Zhukov and his tankmen learned valuable lessons in those two days of brutal combat. A key takeaway was the successful use of large tank formations as an independent primary attack force, contrary to then-orthodox doctrine, which saw armor mainly as infantry support and favored integrating armor into every infantry regiment rather than maintaining large, autonomous armored units. The German blitzkrieg demonstrations in Poland and Western Europe soon followed, but, until then, few major armies had absorbed the tank-warfare theories championed by Basil Liddell-Hart and Charles de Gaulle. The Soviet high command's leading proponent of large-scale tank warfare had been Marshal Mikhail Tukhachevsky. His execution in 1937 erased those ideas, and the Red Army subsequently disbanded armored divisions and dispersed tanks among infantry, misapplying battlefield lessons from the Spanish Civil War. Yet Zhukov was learning a different lesson on a different battlefield. The open terrain of eastern Mongolia favored tanks, and Zhukov was a rapid learner. The Russians also learned mundane, but crucial, lessons: Japanese infantry bravely clambering onto their vehicles taught Soviet tank crews to lock hatch lids from the inside. The BT-5 and BT-7 tanks were easily set aflame by primitive hand-thrown firebombs, and rear deck ventilation grills and exhaust manifolds were vulnerable and required shielding. Broadly, the battle suggested to future Red Army commander Zhukov that tank and motorized troops, coordinated with air power and mobile artillery, could decisively conduct rapid operations. Zhukov was not the first to envision combining mobile firepower with air and artillery, but he had rare opportunities to apply this formula in crucial tests. The July offensive confirmed to the Soviets that the Nomonhan incident was far from a border skirmish; it signaled intent for further aggression. Moscow's leadership, informed by Richard Sorge's Tokyo network, perceived Japan's renewed effort to draw Germany into an anti-Soviet alliance as a dangerous possibility. Stalin and Vyacheslav Molotov began indicating to Joachim von Ribbentrop and Adolf Hitler that Berlin's stance on the Soviet–Japanese conflict would influence Soviet-German rapprochement considerations. Meanwhile, Moscow decided to reinforce Zhukov. Tens of thousands of troops and machines were ordered to Mongolia, with imports from European Russia. Foreign diplomats traveling the Trans-Siberian Railway reported eastbound trains jammed with personnel and matériel. The buildup faced a major bottleneck at Borzya, the easternmost railhead in the MPR, about 400 miles from the Halha. To prevent a logistics choke, a massive truck transport operation was needed. Thousands of trucks, half-tracks, gun-towing tractors, and other vehicles were organized into a continuous eight-hundred-mile, five-day shuttle run. The Trans-Baikal Military District, under General Shtern, supervised the effort. East of the Halha, many Japanese officers still refused to accept a failure verdict for the July offensive. General Komatsubara did not return to Hailar, instead establishing a temporary divisional HQ at Kanchuerhmiao, where his staff grappled with overcoming Soviet firepower. They concluded that night combat—long a staple of Japanese infantry tactics—could offset Soviet advantages. On July 7 at 9:30 p.m., a thirty-minute Japanese artillery barrage preceded a nighttime assault by elements of the 64th and 72nd Regiments. The Soviet 149th Infantry Regiment and supporting Mongolian cavalry were surprised and forced to fall back toward the Halha before counterattacking. Reinforcements arrived on both sides, and in brutal close-quarters combat the Japanese gained a partial local advantage, but were eventually pushed back; Major I. M. Remizov of the 149th Regiment was killed and later posthumously named a Hero of the Soviet Union. Since late May, Soviet engineers had built at least seven bridges across the Halha and Holsten Rivers to support operations. By July 7–8, Japanese demolition teams destroyed two Soviet bridges. Komatsubara believed that destroying bridges could disrupt Soviet operations east of the Halha and help secure the border. Night attacks continued from July 8 to July 12 against the Soviet perimeter, with Japanese assaults constricting Zhukov's bridgehead while Soviet artillery and counterattacks relentlessly pressed. Casualties mounted on both sides. The Japanese suffered heavy losses but gained some positions; Soviet artillery, supported by motorized infantry and armor, gradually pushed back the attackers. The biggest problem for Japan remained Soviet artillery superiority and the lack of a commensurate counter-battery capability. Japanese infantry had to withdraw to higher ground at night to avoid daytime exposure to artillery and tanks. On the nights of July 11–12, Yamagata's 64th Regiment and elements of Colonel Sakai Mikio's 72nd Regiment attempted a major assault on the Soviet bridgehead. Despite taking heavy casualties, the Japanese managed to push defenders back to the river on occasion, but Soviet counterattacks, supported by tiresome artillery and armor, prevented a decisive breakthrough. Brigade Commander Yakovlev of the 11th Armored, who led several counterattacks, was killed and later honored as a Hero of the Soviet Union; his gun stands today as a monument at the battlefield. The July 11–12 action marked the high-water mark of the Kwantung Army's attempt to expel Soviet/MPR forces east of the Halha. Komatsubara eventually suspended the costly night attacks; by that night, the 64th Regiment had suffered roughly 80–90 killed and about three times that number wounded. The decision proved controversial, with some arguing that he had not realized how close his forces had come to seizing the bridge. Others argued that broader strategic considerations justified the pause. Throughout the Nomonhan fighting, Soviet artillery superiority, both quantitative and qualitative, became painfully evident. The Soviet guns exacted heavy tolls and repeatedly forced Japanese infantry to withdraw from exposed positions. The Japanese artillery, in contrast, could not match the Red Army's scale. By July 25, Kwantung Army ended its artillery attack, a humiliating setback. Tokyo and Hsinking recognized the futility of achieving a decisive military victory at Nomonhan and shifted toward seeking a diplomatic settlement, even if concessions to the Soviet Union and the MPR were necessary. Kwantung Army, however, opposed negotiations, fearing it would echo the "Changkufeng debacle" and be read by enemies as weakness. Tsuji lamented that Kwantung Army's insistence on framing the second phase as a tie—despite heavy Soviet losses, revealed a reluctance to concede any territory. Differences in outlook and policy between AGS and Kwantung Army—and the central army's inability to impose its will on Manchukuo's field forces—became clear. The military establishment buzzed with stories of gekokujo (the superiority of the superior) within Kwantung Army and its relations with the General Staff. To enforce compliance, AGS ordered General Isogai to Tokyo for briefings, and KwAHQ's leadership occasionally distanced itself from AGS. On July 20, Isogai arrived at General Staff Headquarters and was presented with "Essentials for Settlement of the Nomonhan Incident," a formal document outlining a step-by-step plan for Kwantung Army to maintain its defensive position east of the Halha while diplomatic negotiations proceeded. If negotiations failed, Kwantung Army would withdraw to the boundary claimed by the Soviet Union by winter. Isogai, the most restrained member of the Kwantung Army circle, argued against accepting the Essentials, insisting on preserving Kwantung Army's honor and rejecting a unilateral east-bank withdrawal. A tense exchange followed, but General Nakajima ended the dispute by noting that international boundaries cannot be determined by the army alone. Isogai pledged to report the General Staff's views to his commander and take the Essentials back to KwAHQ for study. Technically, the General Staff's Essentials were not orders; in practice, however, they were treated as such. Kwantung Army tended to view them as suggestions and retained discretion in implementation. AGS hoped the Essentials would mollify Kwantung Army's wounded pride. The August 4 decision to create a 6 Army within Kwantung Army, led by General Ogisu Rippei, further complicated the command structure. Komatsubara's 23rd Division and nearby units were attached to the 6 Army, which also took responsibility for defending west-central Manchukuo, including the Nomonhan area. The 6 Army existed largely on paper, essentially a small headquarters to insulate KwAHQ from battlefield realities. AGS sought a more accountable layer of command between KwAHQ and the combat zone, but General Ueda and KwAHQ resented the move and offered little cooperation. In the final weeks before the last battles, General Ogisu and his small staff had limited influence on Nomonhan. Meanwhile, the European crisis over German demands on Poland intensified, moving into a configuration highly favorable to the Soviet Union. By the first week of August, it became evident in the Kremlin that both Anglo-French powers and the Germans were vying to secure an alliance with Moscow. Stalin knew now that he would likely have a free hand in the coming war in the West. At the same time, Richard Sorge, the Soviet master spy in Tokyo, correctly reported that Japan's top political and military leaders sought to prevent the escalation of the Nomonhan incident into an all-out war. These developments gave the cautious Soviet dictator the confidence to commit the Red Army to large-scale combat operations in eastern Mongolia. In early August, Stalin ordered preparations for a major offensive to clear the Nomonhan area of the "Japanese samurai who had violated the territory of the friendly Outer Mongolian people." The buildup of Zhukov's 1st Army Group accelerated still further. Its July strength was augmented by the 57th and 82nd Infantry Divisions, the 6th Tank Brigade, the 212th Airborne Brigade, numerous smaller infantry, armor, and artillery units, and two Mongolian cavalry divisions. Soviet air power in the area was also greatly strengthened. When this buildup was completed by mid-August, Zhukov commanded an infantry force equivalent to four divisions, supported by two cavalry divisions, 216 artillery pieces, 498 armored vehicles, and 581 aircraft. To bring in the supplies necessary for this force to launch an offensive, General Shtern's Trans-Baikal Military District Headquarters amassed a fleet of more than 4,200 vehicles, which trucked in about 55,000 tons of materiel from the distant railway depot at Borzya. The Japanese intelligence network in Outer Mongolia was weak, a problem that went unremedied throughout the Nomonhan incident. This deficiency, coupled with the curtailment of Kwantung Army's transborder air operations, helps explain why the Japanese remained ignorant of the scope of Zhukov's buildup. They were aware that some reinforcements were flowing eastward across the Trans-Siberian Railway toward the MPR but had no idea of the volume. Then, at the end of July, Kwantung Army Intelligence intercepted part of a Soviet telegraph transmission indicating that preparations were under way for some offensive operation in the middle of August. This caused a stir at KwAHQ. Generals Ueda and Yano suspected that the enemy planned to strike across the Halha River. Ueda's initial reaction was to reinforce the 23rd Division at Nomonhan with the rest of the highly regarded 7th Division. However, the 7th Division was Kwantung Army's sole strategic reserve, and the Operations Section was reluctant to commit it to extreme western Manchukuo, fearing mobilization of Soviet forces in the Maritime Province and a possible attack in the east near Changkufeng. The Kwantung Army commander again ignored his own better judgment and accepted the Operations Section's recommendation. The main strength of the 7th Division remained at its base near Tsitsihar, but another infantry regiment, the 28th, was dispatched to the Nomonhan area, as was an infantry battalion from the Mukden Garrison. Earlier, in mid-July, Kwantung Army had sent Komatsubara 1,160 individual replacements to make up for casualties from earlier fighting. All these reinforcements combined, however, did little more than replace losses: as of July 25, 1,400 killed (including 200 officers) and 3,000 wounded. Kwantung Army directed Komatsubara to dig in, construct fortifications, and adopt a defensive posture. Colonel Numazaki, who commanded the 23rd Division's Engineer Regiment, was unhappy with the defensive line he was ordered to fortify and urged a slight pullback to more easily defensible terrain. Komatsubara, however, refused to retreat from ground his men had bled to take. He and his line officers still nourished hope of a revenge offensive. As a result, the Japanese defensive positions proved to be as weak as Numazaki feared. As Zhukov's 1st Army Group prepared to strike, the effective Japanese strength at Nomonhan was less than 1.5 divisions. Major Tsuji and his colleagues in the Operations Section had little confidence in Kwantung Army's own Intelligence Section, which is part of the reason why Tsuji frequently conducted his own reconnaissance missions. Up to this time it was gospel in the Japanese army that the maximum range for large-scale infantry operations was 125–175 miles from a railway; anything beyond 200 miles from a railway was considered logistically impossible. Since Kwantung Army had only 800 trucks available in all of Manchukuo in 1939, the massive Soviet logistical effort involving more than 4,200 trucks was almost unimaginable to the Japanese. Consequently, the Operations Staff believed it had made the correct defensive deployments if a Soviet attack were to occur, which it doubted. If the enemy did strike at Nomonhan, it was believed that it could not marshal enough strength in that remote region to threaten the reinforced 23rd Division. Furthermore, the 7th Division, based at Tsitsihar on a major rail line, could be transported to any trouble spot on the eastern or western frontier in a few days. KwAHQ advised Komatsubara to maintain a defensive posture and prepare to meet a possible enemy attack around August 14 or 15. At this time, Kwantung Army also maintained a secret organization codenamed Unit 731, officially the Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department of the Kwantung Army. Unit 731 specialized in biological and chemical warfare, with main facilities and laboratories in Harbin, including a notorious prison-laboratory complex. During the early August lull at Nomonhan, a detachment from Unit 731 infected the Halha River with bacteria of an acute cholera-like strain. There are no reports in Soviet or Japanese accounts that this attempted biological warfare had any effect. In the war's final days, Unit 731 was disbanded, Harbin facilities demolished, and most personnel fled to Japan—but not before they gassed the surviving 150 human subjects and burned their corpses. The unit's commander, Lieutenant General Ishii Shiro, kept his men secret and threatened retaliation against informers. Ishii and his senior colleagues escaped prosecution at the Tokyo War Crimes Trials by trading the results of their experiments to U.S. authorities in exchange for immunity. The Japanese 6th Army exerted some half-hearted effort to construct defensive fortifications, but scarcity of building materials, wood had to be trucked in from far away—helped explain the lack of enthusiasm. More importantly, Japanese doctrine despised static defense and favored offense, so Kwantung Army waited to see how events would unfold. West of the Halha, Zhukov accelerated preparations. Due to tight perimeter security, few Japanese deserters, and a near-absence of civilian presence, Soviet intelligence found it hard to glean depth on Japanese defensive positions. Combat intelligence could only reveal the frontline disposition and closest mortar and artillery emplacements. Aerial reconnaissance showed photographs, but Japanese camouflage and mock-ups limited their usefulness. The new commander of the 149th Mechanized Infantry Regiment personally directed infiltration and intelligence gathering, penetrating Japanese lines on several nights and returning crucial data: Komatsubara's northern and southern flanks were held by Manchukuoan cavalry, and mobile reserves were lacking. With this information, Zhukov crafted a plan of attack. The main Japanese strength was concentrated a few miles east of the Halha, on both banks of the Holsten River. Their infantry lacked mobility and armor, and their flanks were weak. Zhukov decided to split the 1st Army Group into three strike forces: the central force would deliver a frontal assault to pin the main Japanese strength, while the northern and southern forces, carrying the bulk of the armor, would turn the Japanese flanks and drive the enemy into a pocket to be destroyed by the three-pronged effort. The plan depended on tactical surprise and overwhelming force at the points of attack. The offensive was to begin in the latter part of August, pending final approval from Moscow. To ensure tactical surprise, Zhukov and his staff devised an elaborate program of concealment and deception, disinformation. Units and materiel arriving at Tamsag Bulak toward the Halha were moved only at night with lights out. Noting that the Japanese were tapping telephone lines and intercepting radio messages, 1st Army Headquarters sent a series of false messages in an easily decipherable code about defensive preparations and autumn-winter campaigning. Thousands of leaflets titled "What the Infantryman Should Know about Defense" were distributed among troops. About two weeks before the attack, the Soviets brought in sound equipment to simulate tank and aircraft engines and heavy construction noises, staging long, loud performances nightly. At first, the Japanese mistook the sounds for large-scale enemy activity and fired toward the sounds. After a few nights, they realized it was only sound effects, and tried to ignore the "serenade." On the eve of the attack, the actual concentration and staging sounds went largely unnoticed by the Japanese. On August 7–8, Zhukov conducted minor attacks to expand the Halha bridgehead to a depth of two to three miles. These attacks, contained relatively easily by Komatsubara's troops, reinforced Kwantung Army's false sense of confidence. The Japanese military attaché in Moscow misread Soviet press coverage. In early August, the attaché advised that unlike the Changkufeng incident a year earlier, Soviet press was largely ignoring the conflict, implying low morale and a favorable prognosis for the Red Army. Kwantung Army leaders seized on this as confirmation to refrain from any display of restraint or doubt, misplaced confidence. There were, however, portents of danger. Three weeks before the Soviet attack, Colonel Isomura Takesuki, head of Kwantung Army's Intelligence Section, warned of the vulnerability of the 23rd Division's flanks. Tsuji and colleagues dismissed this, and General Kasahara Yukio of AGS also went unheeded. The "desk jockey" General Staff officers commanded little respect at KwAHQ. Around August 10, General Hata Yuzaburo, Komatsubara's successor as chief of the Special Services Agency at Harbin, warned that enemy strength in the Mongolian salient was very great and seriously underestimated at KwAHQ. Yet no decisive action followed before Zhukov's attack. Kwantung Army's inaction and unpreparedness prior to the Soviet offensive appear to reflect faulty intelligence compounded by hubris. But a more nuanced explanation suggests a fatalistic wishful thinking rooted in the Japanese military culture—the belief that their spiritual strength would prevail, leading them to assume enemy strength was not as great as reported, or that victory was inevitable regardless of resources. Meanwhile, in the rational West, the Nazi war machine faced the Polish frontier as Adolf Hitler pressed Stalin for a nonaggression pact. The German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact would neutralize the threat of a two-front war for Germany and clear the way for Hitler's invasion of Poland. If the pact was a green light, it signaled in both directions: it would also neutralize the German threat to Russia and clear the way for Zhukov's offensive at Nomonhan. On August 18–19, Hitler pressed Stalin to receive Ribbentrop in Moscow to seal the pact. Thus, reassured in the West, Stalin dared to act boldly against Japan. Zhukov supervised final preparations for his attack. Zhukov held back forward deployments until the last minute. By August 18, he had only four infantry regiments, a machine gun brigade, and Mongolian cavalry east of the Halha. Operational security was extremely tight: a week before the attack, Soviet radio traffic in the area virtually ceased. Only Zhukov and a few key officers worked on the plan, aided by a single typist. Line officers and service chiefs received information on a need-to-know basis. The date for the attack was shared with unit commanders one to four days in advance, depending on seniority. Noncommissioned officers and ordinary soldiers learned of the offensive one day in advance and received specific orders three hours before the attack. Heavy rain grounded Japanese aerial reconnaissance from August 17 to midday on the 19th, but on August 19 Captain Oizumi Seisho in a Japanese scout plane observed the massing of Soviet forces near the west bank of the Halha. Enemy armor and troops were advancing toward the river in dispersed formations, with no new bridges but pontoon stocks spotted near the river. Oizumi sent a warning to a frontline unit and rushed back to report. The air group dispatched additional recon planes and discovered that the Japanese garrison on Fui Heights, near the northern end of Komatsubara's line, was being encircled by Soviet armor and mechanized infantry—observed by alarmed Japanese officers on and near the heights. These late discoveries on August 19 were not reported to KwAHQ and had no effect on the 6th Army and the 23rd Division's alertness on the eve of the storm. As is common in militaries, a fatal gap persisted between those gathering intelligence and those in a position to act on it. On the night of August 19–20, under cover of darkness, the bulk of the Soviet 1st Army Group crossed the Halha into the expanded Soviet enclave on the east bank. 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. By August, European diplomacy left Moscow confident in a foothold against Germany and Britain, while Sorge's intelligence indicated Japan aimed to avoid a full-blown war. Stalin ordered a major offensive to clear Nomonhan, fueling Zhukov's buildup in eastern Mongolia. Kwantung Army, hampered by limited logistics, weak intelligence, and defensive posture, faced mounting pressure.

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3.189 Fall and Rise of China: General Zhukov Arrives at Nomonhan

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 16, 2026 39:50

Last time we spoke about the beginning of the Nomohan incident. On the fringes of Manchuria, the ghosts of Changkufeng lingered. It was August 1938 when Soviet and Japanese forces locked in a brutal standoff over a disputed hill, claiming thousands of lives before a fragile ceasefire redrew the lines. Japan, humiliated yet defiant, withdrew, but the Kwantung Army seethed with resentment. As winter thawed into 1939, tensions simmered along the Halha River, a serpentine boundary between Manchukuo and Mongolia. Major Tsuji Masanobu, a cunning tactician driven by gekokujo's fire, drafted Order 1488: a mandate empowering local commanders to annihilate intruders, even luring them across borders. Kwantung's leaders, bonded by past battles, endorsed it, ignoring Tokyo's cautions amid the grinding China War. By May, the spark ignited. Mongolian patrols crossed the river, clashing with Manchukuoan cavalry near Nomonhan's sandy hills. General Komatsubara, ever meticulous, unleashed forces to "destroy" them, bombing west-bank outposts and pursuing retreats. Soviets, bound by pact, rushed reinforcements, their tanks rumbling toward the fray. What began as skirmishes ballooned into an undeclared war. #189 General Zhukov Arrives at Nomohan 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. Though Kwantung Army prided itself as an elite arm of the Imperial Japanese Army, the 23rd Division, formed less than a year prior, was still raw and unseasoned, lacking the polish and spirit typical of its parent force. From General Michitaro Komatsubara downward, the staff suffered a collective dearth of combat experience. Intelligence officer Major Yoshiyasu Suzuki, a cavalryman, had no prior intel background. While senior regimental commanders were military academy veterans, most company and platoon leaders were fresh reservists or academy graduates with just one or two years under their belts. Upon arriving in Manchukuo in August 1938, the division found its Hailar base incomplete, housing only half its troops; the rest scattered across sites. Full assembly at Hailar occurred in November, but harsh winter weather curtailed large-scale drills. Commanders had scant time to build rapport. This inexperience, inadequate training, and poor cohesion would prove costly at Nomonhan. Japan's army held steady at 17 divisions from 1930 to 1937, but the escalating China conflict spurred seven new divisions in 1938 and nine in 1939. Resource strains from China left many under-equipped, with the 23rd, stationed in a presumed quiet sector, low on priorities. Unlike older "rectangular" divisions with four infantry regiments, the 23rd was a modern "triangular" setup featuring the 64th, 71st, and 72nd. Materiel gaps were glaring. The flat, open terrain screamed for tanks, yet the division relied on a truck-equipped transport regiment and a reconnaissance regiment with lightly armored "tankettes" armed only with machine guns. Mobility suffered: infantry marched the final 50 miles from Hailar to Nomonhan. Artillery was mostly horse-drawn, including 24 outdated Type 38 75-mm guns from 1907, the army's oldest, unique to this division. Each infantry regiment got four 37-mm rapid-fire guns and four 1908-era 75-mm mountain guns. The artillery regiment added 12 120-mm howitzers, all high-angle, short-range pieces ill-suited for flatlands or anti-tank roles. Antitank capabilities were dire: beyond rapid-fire guns, options boiled down to demolition charges and Molotov cocktails, demanding suicidal "human bullet" tactics in open terrain, a fatal flaw against armor. The division's saving grace lay in its soldiers, primarily from Kyushu, Japan's southernmost main island, long famed for hardy warriors. These men embodied resilience, bravery, loyalty, and honor, offsetting some training and gear deficits. Combat at Nomonhan ramped up gradually, with Japanese-Manchukuoan forces initially outnumbering Soviet-Mongolian foes. Soviets faced severe supply hurdles: their nearest rail at Borzya sat 400 miles west of the Halha River, requiring truck hauls over rough, exposed terrain prone to air strikes. Conversely, Hailar was 200 miles from Nomonhan, with the Handagai railhead just 50 miles away, linked by three dirt roads. These advantages, plus Europe's brewing Polish crisis, likely reassured Army General Staff and Kwantung Army Headquarters that Moscow would avoid escalation. Nonetheless, Komatsubara, with KwAHQ's nod, chose force to quash the Nomonhan flare-up. On May 20, Japanese scouts spotted a Soviet infantry battalion and armor near Tamsag Bulak. Komatsubara opted to "nip the incident in the bud," assembling a potent strike force under Colonel Takemitsu Yamagata of the 64th Infantry Regiment. The Yamagata detachment included the 3rd Battalion, roughly four companies, 800 men, a regimental gun company, three 75-mm mountain guns, four 37-mm rapid-fires, three truck companies, and Lieutenant Colonel Yaozo Azuma's reconnaissance group, 220 men, one tankette, two sedans, 12 trucks. Bolstered by 450 local Manchukuoan troops, the 2,000-strong unit was tasked with annihilating all enemy east of the Halha. The assault was set for May 22–23. No sooner had General Komatsubara finalized this plan than he received a message from KwAHQ: "In settling the affair Kwantung Army has definite plans, as follows: For the time being Manchukuoan Army troops will keep an eye on the Outer Mongolians operating near Nomonhan and will try to lure them onto Manchukuoan territory. Japanese forces at Hailar [23rd Division] will maintain surveillance over the situation. Upon verification of a border violation by the bulk of the Outer Mongolian forces, Kwantung Army will dispatch troops, contact the enemy, and annihilate him within friendly territory. According to this outlook it can be expected that enemy units will occupy border regions for a considerable period; but this is permissible from the overall strategic point of view". At this juncture, Kwantung Army Headquarters advocated tactical caution to secure a more conclusive outcome. Yet, General Michitaro Komatsubara had already issued orders for Colonel Takemitsu Yamagata's assault. Komatsubara radioed Hsinking that retracting would be "undignified," resenting KwAHQ's encroachment on his authority much as KwAHQ chafed at Army General Staff interference. Still, "out of deference to Kwantung Army's feelings," he delayed to May 27 to 28. Soviet air units from the 57th Corps conducted ineffective sorties over the Halha River from May 17 to 21. Novice pilots in outdated I 15 biplanes suffered heavily: at least 9, possibly up to 17, fighters and scouts downed. Defense Commissar Kliment Voroshilov halted air ops, aiding Japanese surprise. Yamagata massed at Kanchuerhmiao, 40 miles north of Nomonhan, sending patrols southward. Scouts spotted a bridge over the Halha near its Holsten junction, plus 2 enemy groups of ~200 each east of the Halha on either Holsten side and a small MPR outpost less than a mile west of Nomonhan. Yamagata aimed to trap and destroy these east of the river: Azuma's 220 man unit would drive south along the east bank to the bridge, blocking retreat. The 4 infantry companies and Manchukuoan troops, with artillery, would attack from the west toward enemy pockets, herding them riverward into Azuma's trap. Post destruction, mop up any west bank foes near the river clear MPR soil swiftly. This intricate plan suited early MPR foes but overlooked Soviet units spotted at Tamsag Bulak on May 20, a glaring oversight by Komatsubara and Yamagata. Predawn on May 28, Yamagata advanced from Kanchuerhmiao. Azuma detached southward to the bridge. Unbeknownst, it was guarded by Soviet infantry, engineers, armored cars, and a 76 mm self propelled artillery battery—not just MPR cavalry. Soviets detected Azuma pre dawn but missed Yamagata's main force; surprise was mutual. Soviet MPR core: Major A E Bykov's battalion roughly 1000 men with 3 motorized infantry companies, 16 BA 6 armored cars, 4 76 mm self propelled guns, engineers, and a 5 armored car recon platoon. The 6th MPR Cavalry Division roughly 1250 men had 2 small regiments, 4 76 mm guns, armored cars, and a training company. Bykov arrayed north to south: 2 Soviet infantry on flanks, MPR cavalry center, unorthodox, as cavalry suits flanks. Spread over 10 miles parallel to but east of the Halha, 1 mile west of Nomonhan. Reserves: 1 infantry company, engineers, and artillery west of the river near the bridge; Shoaaiibuu's guns also west to avoid sand. Japanese held initial edges in numbers and surprise, especially versus MPR cavalry. Offsets: Yamagata split into 5 weaker units; radios failed early, hampering coordination; Soviets dominated firepower with self propelled guns, 4 MPR pieces, and BA 6s, armored fighters with 45 mm turret guns, half track capable, 27 mph speed, but thin 9 mm armor vulnerable to close heavy machine guns. Morning of May 28, Yamagata's infantry struck Soviet MPR near Nomonhan, routing lightly armed MPR cavalry and forcing Soviet retreats toward the Halha. Shoaaiibuu rushed his training company forward; Japanese overran his post, killing him and most staff. As combat neared the river, Soviet artillery and armored cars slowed Yamagata. He redirected to a low hill miles east of the Halha with dug in Soviets—failing to notify Azuma. Bykov regrouped 1 to 2 miles east of the Halha Holsten junction, holding firm. By late morning, Yamagata stalled, digging in against Soviet barrages. Azuma, radio silent due to faults, neared the bridge to find robust Soviet defenses. Artillery commander Lieutenant Yu Vakhtin shifted his 4 76 mm guns east to block seizure. Azuma lacked artillery or anti tank tools, unable to advance. With Yamagata bogged down, Azuma became encircled, the encirclers encircled. Runners reached Yamagata, but his dispersed units couldn't rally or breakthrough. By noon, Azuma faced infantry and cavalry from the east, bombardments from west (both Halha sides). Dismounted cavalry dug sandy defenses. Azuma could have broken out but held per mission, awaiting Yamagata, unaware of the plan shift. Pressure mounted: Major I M Remizov's full 149th Regiment recent Tamsag Bulak arrivals trucked in, tilting odds. Resupply failed; ammo dwindled. Post dusk slackening: A major urged withdrawal; Azuma refused, deeming retreat shameful without orders, a Japanese army hallmark, where "retreat" was taboo, replaced by euphemisms like "advance in a different direction." Unauthorized pullback meant execution. Dawn May 29: Fiercer Soviet barrage, 122 mm howitzers, field guns, mortars, armored cars collapsed trenches. An incendiary hit Azuma's sedan, igniting trucks with wounded and ammo. By late afternoon, Soviets closed to 50 yards on 3 fronts; armored cars breached rear. Survivors fought desperately. Between 6:00 and 7:00 p.m., Azuma led 24 men in a banzai charge, cut down by machine guns. A wounded medical lieutenant ordered escapes; 4 succeeded. Rest killed or captured. Komatsubara belatedly reinforced Yamagata on May 29 with artillery, anti tank guns, and fresh infantry. Sources claim Major Tsuji arrived, rebuked Yamagata for inaction, and spurred corpse recovery over 3 nights, yielding ~200 bodies, including Azuma's. Yamagata withdrew to Kanchuerhmiao, unable to oust foes. Ironically, Remizov mistook recovery truck lights for attacks, briefly pulling back west on May 30. By June 3, discovering the exit, Soviet MPR reoccupied the zone. Japanese blamed: (1) poor planning/recon by Komatsubara and Yamagata, (2) comms failures, (3) Azuma's heavy weapon lack. Losses: ~200 Azuma dead, plus 159 killed, 119 wounded, 12 missing from main force, total 500, 25% of detachment. Soviets praised Vakhtin for thwarting pincers. Claims: Bykov 60 to 70 casualties; TASS 40 killed, 70 wounded total Soviet/MPR. Recent Russian: 138 killed, 198 wounded. MPR cavalry hit hard by Japanese and friendly fire. Soviet media silent until June 26; KwAHQ censored, possibly misleading Tokyo. May 30: Kwantung Chief of Staff General Rensuke Isogai assured AGS of avoiding prolongation via heavy frontier blows, downplaying Soviet buildup and escalation. He requested river crossing gear urgently. This hinted at Halha invasion (even per Japanese borders: MPR soil). AGS's General Gun Hashimoto affirmed trust in localization: Soviets' vexations manageable, chastisement easy. Colonel Masazumi Inada's section assessed May 31: 1. USSR avoids expansion. 2. Trust Kwantung localization. 3. Intervene on provocative acts like deep MPR air strikes. Phase 1 ended: Kwantung called it mutual win loss, but inaccurate, Azuma destroyed, heavy tolls, remorse gnawing Komatsubara. On June 1, 1939, an urgent summons from Moscow pulled the young deputy commander of the Byelorussian Military District from Minsk to meet Defense Commissar Marshal Kliment Voroshilov. He boarded the first train with no evident concern, even as the army purges faded into memory. This rising cavalry- and tank-expert, Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov, would later help defend Moscow in 1941, triumph at Stalingrad and Kursk, and march to Berlin as a Hero of the Soviet Union.Born in 1896 to a poor family headed by a cobbler, Zhukov joined the Imperial Army in 1915 as a cavalryman. Of average height but sturdy build, he excelled in horsemanship and earned the Cross of St. George and noncommissioned status for bravery in 1916. After the October Revolution, he joined the Red Army and the Bolshevik Party, fighting in the Civil War from 1918 to 1921. His proletarian roots, tactical skill, and ambition propelled him: command of a regiment by 1923, a division by 1931. An early advocate of tanks, he survived the purges, impressing superiors as a results-driven leader and playing a key role in his assignment to Mongolia. In Voroshilov's office on June 2, Zhukov learned of recent clashes. Ordered to fly east, assess the situation, and assume command if needed, he soon met acting deputy chief Ivan Smorodinov, who urged candid reports. Europe's war clouds and rising tensions with Japan concerned the Kremlin. Hours later, Zhukov and his staff flew east. Arriving June 5 at Tamsag Bulak (57th Corps HQ), Zhukov met the staff and found Corps Commander Nikolai Feklenko and most aides clueless; only Regimental Commissar M. S. Nikishev had visited the front. Zhukov toured with Nikishev that afternoon and was impressed by his grasp. By day's end, Zhukov bluntly reported: this is not a simple border incident; the Japanese are likely to escalate; the 57th Corps is inadequate. He suggested holding the eastern Halha bridgehead until reinforcements could enable a counteroffensive, and he criticized Feklenko. Moscow replied on June 6: relieve Feklenko; appoint Zhukov. Reinforcements arrived: the 36th Mechanized Infantry Division; the 7th, 8th, and 9th Mechanized Brigades; the 11th Tank Brigade; the 8th MPR Cavalry Division; a heavy artillery regiment; an air wing of more than 100 aircraft, including 21 pilots who had earned renown in the Spanish Civil War. The force was redesignated as the First Army Group. In June, these forces surged toward Tamsag Bulak, eighty miles west of Halha. However, General Michitaro Komatsubara's 23rd Division and the Kwantung Army Headquarters missed the buildup and the leadership change, an intelligence failure born of carelessness and hubris and echoing May's Azuma disaster, with grave battlefield consequences. Early June remained relatively quiet: the Soviet MPR expanded the east-bank perimeter modestly; there was no major Japanese response. KwAHQ's Commander General Kenkichi Ueda, hoping for a quick closure, toured the Fourth Army from May 31 to June 18. Calm broke on June 19. Komatsubara reported two Soviet strikes inside Manchukuo: 15 planes hit Arshan, inflicting casualties on men and horses; 30 aircraft set fire to 100 petroleum barrels near Kanchuerhmiao. In fact, the raids were less dramatic than described: not on Kanchuerhmiao town (a 3,000-person settlement, 40 miles northwest of Nomonhan) but on a supply dump 12 miles south of it. "Arshan" referred to a small village near the border, near Arshanmiao, a Manchukuoan cavalry depot, not a major railhead at Harlun Arshan 100 miles southeast. The raids were strafing runs rather than bombs. Possibly retaliation for May 15's Japanese raid on the MPR Outpost 7 (two killed, 15 wounded) or a response to Zhukov's bridgehead push. Voroshilov authorized the action; motive remained unclear. Nonetheless, KwAHQ, unused to air attacks after dominating skies in Manchuria, Shanghai (1932), and China, was agitated. The situation resembled a jolt akin to the 1973 North Vietnamese strike on U.S. bases in Thailand: not unprovoked, but shocking. Midday June 19, the Operations Staff met. Major Masanobu Tsuji urged swift reprisal; Colonel Masao Terada urged delay in light of the Tientsin crisis (the new Japanese blockade near Peking). Tsuji argued that firmness at Nomonhan would impress Britain; inaction would invite deeper Soviet bombardments or invasion. He swayed Chief Colonel Takushiro Hattori and others, including Terada. They drafted a briefing: the situation was grave; passivity risked a larger invasion and eroded British respect for Japanese might. After two hours of joint talks, most KwAHQ members supported a strong action. Tsuji drafted a major Halha crossing plan to destroy Soviet MPR forces. Hattori and Terada pressed the plan to Chief of Staff General Rensuke Isogai, an expert on Manchukuo affairs but not operations; he deferred to Deputy General Otozaburo Yano, who was absent. They argued urgency; Isogai noted delays in AGS approval. The pair contended for local Kwantung prerogative, citing the 1937 Amur cancellation; AGS would likely veto. Under pressure, Isogai assented, pending Ueda's approval. Ueda approved but insisted that the 23rd Division lead, not the 7th. Hattori noted the 7th's superiority (four regiments in a "square" arrangement versus the 23rd's three regiments, with May unreliability). Ueda prioritized Komatsubara's honor: assigning another division would imply distrust; "I'd rather die." The plan passed on June 19, an example of gekokujo in action. The plan called for reinforcing the 23rd with: the 2nd Air Group (180 aircraft, Lieutenant General Tetsuji Gigi); the Yasuoka Detachment (Lieutenant General Masaomi Yasuoka: two tank regiments, motorized artillery, and the 26th Infantry of the 7th). Total strength: roughly 15,000 men, 120 guns, 70 tanks, 180 aircraft. KwAHQ estimated the enemy at about 1,000 infantry, 10 artillery pieces, and about 12 armored vehicles, expecting a quick victory. Reconnaissance to Halha was curtailed to avoid alerting the Soviets. Confidence ran high, even as intel warned otherwise. Not all leaders were convinced: the 23rd's ordnance colonel reportedly committed suicide over "awful equipment." An attaché, Colonel Akio Doi, warned of growing Soviet buildup, but operations dismissed the concern. In reality, Zhukov's force comprised about 12,500 men, 109 guns, 186 tanks, 266 armored cars, and more than 100 aircraft, offset by the Soviets' armor advantage. The plan echoed Yamagata's failed May 28 initiative: the 23rd main body would seize the Fui Heights (11 miles north of Halha's Holsten junction), cross by pontoon, and sweep south along the west bank toward the Soviet bridge. Yasuoka would push southeast of Halha to trap and destroy the enemy at the junction. On June 20, Tsuji briefed Komatsubara at Hailar, expressing Ueda's trust while pressing to redeem May's failures. Limited pontoon capacity would not support armor; the operation would be vulnerable to air power. Tsuji's reconnaissance detected Soviet air presence at Tamsag Bulak, prompting a preemptive strike and another plan adjustment. KwAHQ informed Tokyo of the offensive in vague terms (citing raids but withholding air details). Even this caused debate; Minister Seishiro Itagaki supported Ueda's stance, favoring a limited operation to ease nerves. Tokyo concurred, unaware of the air plans. Fearing a veto on the Tamsag Bulak raid (nearly 100 miles behind MPR lines), KwAHQ shielded details from the Soviets and Tokyo. A June 29–30 ground attack was prepared; orders were relayed by courier. The leak reached Tokyo on June 24. Deputy Chief General Tetsuzo Nakajima telegrammed three points: 1) AGS policy to contain the conflict and avoid West MPR air attacks; 2) bombing risks escalation; 3) sending Lieutenant Colonel Yadoru Arisue on June 25 for liaison. Polite Japanese diplomatic phrasing allowed Operations to interpret the message as a suggestion. To preempt Arisue's explicit orders, Tsuji urged secrecy from Ueda, Isogai, and Yano, and an advanced raid to June 27. Arisue arrived after the raid on Tamsag Bulak and Bain Tumen (deeper into MPR territory, now near Choibalsan). The Raid resulted in approximately 120 Japanese planes surprising the Soviets, grounding and destroying aircraft and scrambling their defense. Tsuji, flying in a bomber, claimed 25 aircraft destroyed on the ground and about 100 in the air. Official tallies reported 98 destroyed and 51 damaged; ground kills estimated at 50 to 60 at Bain Tumen. Japanese losses were relatively light: one bomber, two fighters, one scout; seven dead. Another Japanese bomber was shot down over MPR, but the crew was rescued. The raid secured air superiority for July. Moscow raged over the losses and the perceived failure to warn in time. In the purge era, blame fell on suspected spies and traitors; Deputy Mongolian Commander Luvsandonoi and ex-57th Deputy A. M. Kushchev were accused, arrested, and sent to Moscow. Luvsandonoi was executed; Kushchev received a four-year sentence, later rising to major general and Hero. KwAHQ celebrated; Operations notified AGS by radio. Colonel Masazumi Inada rebuked: "You damned idiot! What do you think the true meaning of this little success is?" A withering reprimand followed. Stunned but unrepentant, KwAHQ soon received Tokyo's formal reprimand: "Report was received today regarding bombing of Outer Mongolian territory by your air units… . Since this action is in fundamental disagreement with policy which we understood your army was taking to settle incident, it is extremely regretted that advance notice of your intent was not received. Needless to say, this matter is attended with such farreaching consequences that it can by no means be left to your unilateral decision. Hereafter, existing policy will be definitely and strictly observed. It is requested that air attack program be discontinued immediately" By Order of the Chief of Staff By this time, Kwantung Army staff officers stood in high dudgeon. Tsuji later wrote that "tremendous combat results were achieved by carrying out dangerous operations at the risk of our lives. It is perfectly clear that we were carrying out an act of retaliation. What kind of General Staff ignores the psychology of the front lines and tramples on their feelings?" Tsuji drafted a caustic reply, which Kwantung Army commanders sent back to Tokyo, apparently without Ueda or other senior KwAHQ officers' knowledge: "There appear to be certain differences between the Army General Staff and this Army in evaluating the battlefield situation and the measures to be adopted. It is requested that the handling of trivial border-area matters be entrusted to this Army." That sarcastic note from KwAHQ left a deep impression at AGS, which felt something had to be done to restore discipline and order. When General Nakajima informed the Throne about the air raid, the emperor rebuked him and asked who would assume responsibility for the unauthorized attack. Nakajima replied that military operations were ongoing, but that appropriate measures would be taken after this phase ended. Inada sent Terada a telegram implying that the Kwantung Army staff officers responsible would be sacked in due course. Inada pressed to have Tsuji ousted from Kwantung Army immediately, but personnel matters went through the Army Ministry, and Army Minister Itagaki, who knew Tsuji personally, defended him. Tokyo recognized that the situation was delicate; since 1932, Kwantung Army had operated under an Imperial Order to "defend Manchukuo," a broad mandate. Opinions differed in AGS about how best to curb Kwantung Army's operational prerogatives. One idea was to secure Imperial sanction for a new directive limiting Kwantung Army's autonomous combat actions to no more than one regiment. Several other plans circulated. In the meantime, Kwantung Army needed tighter control. On June 29, AGS issued firm instructions to KwAHQ: Directives: a) Kwantung Army is responsible for local settlement of border disputes. b) Areas where the border is disputed, or where defense is tactically unfeasible, need not be defended. Orders: c) Ground combat will be limited to the border region between Manchukuo and Outer Mongolia east of Lake Buir Nor. d) Enemy bases will not be attacked from the air. With this heated exchange of messages, the relationship between Kwantung Army and AGS reached a critical moment. Tsuji called it the "breaking point" between Hsinking and Tokyo. According to Colonel Inada, after this "air raid squabble," gekokujo became much more pronounced in Hsinking, especially within Kwantung Army's Operations Section, which "ceased making meaningful reports" to the AGS Operations Section, which he headed. At KwAHQ, the controversy and the perception of AGS interference in local affairs hardened the resolve of wavering staff officers to move decisively against the USSR. Thereafter, Kwantung Army officers as a group rejected the General Staff's policy of moderation in the Nomonhan incident. Tsuji characterized the conflict between Kwantung Army and the General Staff as the classic clash between combat officers and "desk jockeys." In his view, AGS advocated a policy of not invading enemy territory even if one's own territory was invaded, while Kwantung Army's policy was not to allow invasion. Describing the mindset of the Kwantung Army (and his own) toward the USSR in this border dispute, Tsuji invoked the samurai warrior's warning: "Do not step any closer or I shall be forced to cut you down." Tsuji argued that Kwantung Army had to act firmly at Nomonhan to avoid a larger war later. He also stressed the importance, shared by him and his colleagues, of Kwantung Army maintaining its dignity, which he believed was threatened by both enemy actions and the General Staff. In this emotionally charged atmosphere, the Kwantung Army launched its July offensive. The success of the 2nd Air Group's attack on Tamsag Bulak further inflated KwAHQ's confidence in the upcoming offensive. Although aerial reconnaissance had been intentionally limited to avoid alarming or forewarning the enemy, some scout missions were flown. The scouts reported numerous tank emplacements under construction, though most reports noted few tanks; a single report of large numbers of tanks was downplayed at headquarters. What drew major attention at KwAHQ were reports of large numbers of trucks leaving the front daily and streaming westward into the Mongolian interior. This was interpreted as evidence of a Soviet pullback from forward positions, suggesting the enemy might sense the imminent assault. Orders were issued to speed up final preparations for the assault before Soviet forces could withdraw from the area where the Japanese "meat cleaver" would soon dismember them. What the Japanese scouts had actually observed was not a Soviet withdrawal, but part of a massive truck shuttle that General Grigori Shtern, now commander of Soviet Forces in the Far East, organized to support Zhukov. Each night, Soviet trucks, from distant MPR railway depots to Tamsag Bulak and the combat zone, moved eastward with lights dimmed, carrying supplies and reinforcements. By day, the trucks returned westward for fresh loads. It was these returning trucks, mostly empty, that the Japanese scouts sighted. The Kwantung interpretation of this mass westbound traffic was a serious error, though understandable. The Soviet side was largely ignorant of Japanese preparations, partly because the June 27 air raid had disrupted Soviet air operations, including reconnaissance. In late June, the 23rd Division and Yasuoka's tank force moved from Hailar and Chiangchunmiao toward Nomonhan. A mix of military and civilian vehicles pressed into service, but there was still insufficient motorized transport to move all troops and equipment at once. Most infantry marched the 120 miles to the combat zone, under a hot sun, carrying eighty-pound loads. They arrived after four to six days with little time to recover before the scheduled assault. With Komatsubara's combined force of about 15,000 men, 120 guns, and 70 tanks poised to attack, Kwantung Army estimated Soviet-MPR strength near Nomonhan and the Halha River at about 1,000 men, perhaps ten anti-aircraft guns, ten artillery pieces, and several dozen tanks. In reality, Japanese air activity, especially the big raid of June 27, had put the Soviets on alert. Zhukov suspected a ground attack might occur, though nothing as audacious as a large-scale crossing of the Halha was anticipated. During the night of July 1, Zhukov moved his 11th Tank Brigade, 7th Mechanized Brigade, and 24th Mechanized Infantry Regiment (36th Division) from their staging area near Tamsag Bulak to positions just west of the Halha River. Powerful forces on both sides were being marshaled with little knowledge of the enemy's disposition. As the sun scorched the Mongolian steppes, the stage was set for a clash that would echo through history. General Komatsubara's 23rd Division, bolstered by Yasuoka's armored might and the skies commanded by Gigi's air group, crept toward the Halha River like a predator in the night. Fifteen thousand Japanese warriors, their boots heavy with dust and resolve, prepared to cross the disputed waters and crush what they believed was a faltering foe. Little did they know, Zhukov's reinforcements, tanks rumbling like thunder, mechanized brigades poised in the shadows, had transformed the frontier into a fortress of steel. Miscalculations piled like sand dunes: Japanese scouts mistook supply convoys for retreats, while Soviet eyes, blinded by the June raid, underestimated the impending storm. Kwantung's gekokujo spirit burned bright, defying Tokyo's cautions, as both sides hurtled toward a brutal reckoning. What began as border skirmishes now threatened to erupt into full-scale war, testing the mettle of empires on the edge. 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. Patrols in May led to failed Japanese offensives, like Colonel Yamagata's disastrous assault and the Azuma detachment's annihilation. Tensions rose with air raids, including Japan's June strike on Soviet bases. By July, misjudged intelligence set the stage for a major confrontation, testing imperial ambitions amid global war clouds.

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AudioBlog: A Russian Contactee Case

Podcast UFO

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 16, 2026 9:00 Transcription Available

by UFO History Buff & Author, Charles Lear | In the Volume 26, Number 6, March 1981 Flying Saucer Review, there is an article (page 7 of the pdf) by Russian UFO investigator Nikita A. Schnee headlined, “Contact Reported Near Pyrogovskoye Lake.” It tells the tale of an unnamed Red Army officer who said he was taken aboard a craft by “two men in dull-coloured cellophane like garments,” who told him they wanted to have a talk. In his introduction, Schnee explains that Soviet UFOlogists were of the belief that there were no Russian CE-3 cases. He cites Felix Y. Zigel, an assistant professor at the Moscow Institute of Aviation, who presented his opinion in the second issue of Observations of UFOs in the USSR that, in Schee's words, “such reports are the fruits of sick minds, or obvious hoaxes with the aim of making money or obtaining publicity.” With that said, Schnee assures the reader that in his report, “all the events described actually (emphasis in the original) took place and are not products of the contactee's imagination.” He says this “has been proved, quite convincingly” through examination of the witness and “the landing site of the UFO.” As the reader shall see, Russian UFOlogists had a unique style of landing site examination in those days. Read more →*Note: audioblogs are now a cloned AI version of Martin's voice.

ai russian ufos observations aviation ussr schnee red army audioblog schee flying saucer review moscow institute russian ufo

3.188 Fall and Rise of China: From Changkufeng to Nomonhan

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 9, 2026 40:38

Last time we spoke about The Battle of Suixian–Zaoyang-Shatow. Following the brutal 1938 capture of Wuhan, Japanese forces aimed to solidify their hold by launching an offensive against Chinese troops in the 5th War Zone, a rugged natural fortress in northern Hubei and southern Henan. Under General Yasuji Okamura, the 11th Army deployed three divisions and cavalry in a pincer assault starting May 1, 1939, targeting Suixian and Zaoyang to crush Nationalist resistance and secure flanks. Chinese commander Li Zongren, leveraging terrain like the Dabie and Tongbai Mountains, orchestrated defenses with over 200,000 troops, including Tang Enbo's 31st Army Group. By May 23, they recaptured Suixian and Zaoyang, forcing a Japanese withdrawal with heavy losses, over 13,000 Japanese casualties versus 25,000 Chinese, restoring pre-battle lines. Shifting south, Japan targeted Shantou in Guangdong to sever supply lines from Hong Kong. In a massive June 21 amphibious assault, the 21st Army overwhelmed thin Chinese defenses, capturing the port and Chao'an despite guerrilla resistance led by Zhang Fakui. Though losses mounted, Japan tightened its blockade, straining China's war effort amid ongoing attrition. #188 From Changkufeng to Nomonhan 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. Well hello again, and yes you all have probably guessed we are taking another detour. Do not worry I hope to shorten this one a bit more so than what became a sort of mini series on the battle of Changkufeng or Battle of Lake Khasan. What we are about to jump into is known in the west as the battle of khalkin Gol, by the Japanese the Nomohan incident. But first I need to sort of set the table up so to say. So back on August 10th, 1938 the Litvinov-Shigemitsu agreement established a joint border commission tasked with redemarcating the disputed boundary between the Soviet Union and Japanese-controlled Manchukuo. However, this commission never achieved a mutually agreeable definition of the border in the contested area. In reality, the outcome was decided well before the group's inaugural meeting. Mere hours after the cease-fire took effect on the afternoon of August 11, General Grigory Shtern convened with a regimental commander from Japan's 19th Division to coordinate the disengagement of forces. With the conflict deemed "honorably" concluded, Japan's Imperial General Headquarters mandated the swift withdrawal of all Japanese troops to the west bank of the Tumen River. By the night of August 13, as the final Japanese soldier crossed the river, it effectively became the de facto border. Soviet forces promptly reoccupied Changkufeng Hill and the adjacent heights—a move that would carry unexpected and profound repercussions. Authoritative Japanese military analyses suggest that if negotiations in Moscow had dragged on for just one more day, the 19th Division would likely have been dislodged from Changkufeng and its surrounding elevations. Undoubtedly, General Shtern's infantry breathed a sigh of relief as the bloodshed ceased. Yet, one can't help but question why Moscow opted for a cease-fire at a juncture when Soviet troops were on the cusp of total battlefield triumph. Perhaps Kremlin leaders deemed it wiser to settle for a substantial gain, roughly three-quarters of their objectives, rather than risk everything. After all, Japan had mobilized threatening forces in eastern Manchuria, and the Imperial Army had a history of impulsive, unpredictable aggression. Moreover, amid the escalating crisis over Czechoslovakia, Moscow may have been wary of provoking a broader Asian conflict. Another theory posits that Soviet high command was misinformed about the ground situation. Reports of capturing a small segment of Changkufeng's crest might have been misinterpreted as control over the entire ridge, or an imminent full takeover before midnight on August 10. The unexpected phone call from Foreign Minister Maxim Litvinov to the Japanese embassy that night—proposing a one-kilometer Japanese retreat in exchange for a cease-fire along existing lines—hints at communication breakdowns between Shtern's headquarters and the Kremlin. Ironically, such lapses may have preserved Japanese military honor, allowing the 19th Division's evacuation through diplomacy rather than defeat. Both sides endured severe losses. Initial Japanese press reports claimed 158 killed and 740 wounded. However, the 19th Division's medical logs reveal a grimmer toll: 526 dead and 914 injured, totaling 1,440 casualties. The true figure may have climbed higher, possibly to 1,500–2,000. Following the armistice, the Soviet news agency TASS reported 236 Red Army fatalities and 611 wounded. Given Shtern's uphill assaults across open terrain against entrenched positions, these numbers seem understated. Attackers in such scenarios typically suffered two to three times the defenders' losses, suggesting Soviet casualties ranged from 3,000 to 5,000. This aligns with a Soviet Military Council investigation on August 31, 1938, which documented 408 killed and 2,807 wounded. Japanese estimates placed Soviet losses even higher, at 4,500–7,000. Not all victims perished in combat. Marshal Vasily Blyukher, a decorated Soviet commander, former warlord of the Far East, and Central Committee candidate, was summoned to Moscow in August 1938. Relieved of duty in September and arrested with his family in October, he faced charges of inadequate preparation against Japanese aggression and harboring "enemies of the people" within his ranks. On November 9, 1938, Blyukher died during interrogation a euphemism for torture-induced death.Other innocents suffered as well. In the wake of the fighting, Soviet authorities deported hundreds of thousands of Korean rice farmers from the Ussuri region to Kazakhstan, aiming to eradicate Korean settlements that Japanese spies had allegedly exploited. The Changkufeng clash indirectly hampered Japan's Wuhan offensive, a massive push to subdue China. The influx of troops and supplies for this campaign was briefly disrupted by the border flare-up. Notably, Kwantung Army's 2nd Air Group, slated for Wuhan, was retained due to the Soviet threat. Chiang Kai-shek's drastic measure, breaching the Yellow River dikes to flood Japanese advance routes—further delayed the assault. By October 25, 1938, when Japanese forces captured Hankow, Chiang had relocated his capital to distant Chungking. Paradoxically, Wuhan's fall cut rail links from Canton inland, heightening Chiang's reliance on Soviet aid routed overland and by air from Central Asia. Japan secured a tactical win but missed the decisive blow; Chinese resistance persisted, pinning down a million Japanese troops in occupation duties. What was the true significance of Changkufeng? For General Koiso Suetaka and the 19th Division, it evoked a mix of bitterness and pride. Those eager for combat got their share, though not on their terms. To veterans mourning fallen comrades on those desolate slopes, it might have felt like senseless tragedy. Yet, they fought valiantly under dire conditions, holding firm until a retreat that blended humiliation with imperial praise, a bittersweet inheritance. For the Red Army, it marked a crucial trial of resolve amid Stalin's purges. While Shtern's forces didn't shine brilliantly, they acquitted themselves well in adversity. The U.S. military attaché in Moscow observed that any purge-related inefficiencies had been surmounted, praising the Red Army's valor, reliability, and equipment. His counterpart in China, Colonel Joseph Stilwell, put it bluntly: the Soviets "appeared to advantage," urging skeptics to rethink notions of a weakened Red Army. Yet, by World War II's eve, many British, French, German, and Japanese leaders still dismissed it as a "paper tiger." Soviet leaders appeared content, promoting Shtern to command the Transbaikal Military District and colonel general by 1940, while honoring "Heroes of Lake Khasan" with medals. In a fiery November 7, 1938, speech, Marshal Kliment Voroshilov warned that future incursions would prompt strikes deep into enemy territory. Tokyo's views diverged sharply. Many in the military and government saw it as a stain on Imperial Army prestige, especially Kwantung Army, humiliated on Manchukuo soil it swore to protect. Colonel Masanobu Tsuji Inada, however, framed it as a successful reconnaissance, confirming Soviet border defense without broader aggression, allowing the Wuhan push to proceed safely. Critics, including Major General Gun Hashimoto and historians, questioned this. They argued IGHQ lacked contingency plans for a massive Soviet response, especially with Wuhan preparations underway since June. One expert warned Japan had "played with fire," risking Manchuria and Korea if escalation occurred. Yet, Japanese commanders gleaned few lessons, downplaying Soviet materiel superiority and maintaining disdain for Red Army prowess. The 19th Division's stand against outnumbered odds reinforced this hubris, as did tolerance for local insubordination—attitudes that would prove costly. The Kremlin, conversely, learned Japan remained unpredictable despite its China quagmire. But for Emperor Hirohito's intervention, the conflict might have ballooned. Amid purges and the Czech crisis, Stalin likely viewed it as a reminder of eastern vulnerabilities, especially with Munich advancing German threats westward. Both sides toyed with peril. Moderation won in Tokyo, but Kwantung Army seethed. On August 11, Premier Fumimaro Konoye noted the need for caution. Kwantung, however, pushed for and secured control of the disputed salient from Chosen Army by October 8, 1938. Even winter's chill couldn't quench their vengeful fire, setting the stage for future confrontations. A quick look at the regional map reveals how Manchukuo and the Mongolian People's Republic each jut into the other's territory like protruding salients. These bulges could be seen as aggressive thrusts into enemy land, yet they also risked encirclement and absorption by the opposing empire. A northward push from western Manchuria through Mongolia could sever the MPR and Soviet Far East from the USSR's heartland. Conversely, a pincer movement from Mongolia and the Soviet Maritime Province might envelop and isolate Manchukuo. This dynamic highlights the frontier's strategic volatility in the 1930s. One particularly tense sector was the broad Mongolian salient extending about 150 miles eastward into west-central Manchukuo. There, in mid-1939, Soviet-Japanese tensions erupted into major combat. Known to the Japanese as the Nomonhan Incident and to the Soviets and Mongolians as the Battle of Khalkhin Gol, this clash dwarfed the earlier Changkufeng affair in scale, duration, and impact. Spanning four months and claiming 30,000 to 50,000 casualties, it amounted to a small undeclared war, the modern era's first limited conflict between great powers. The Mongolian salient features vast, semiarid plains of sandy grassland, gently rolling terrain dotted with sparse scrub pines and low shrubs. The climate is unforgivingly continental: May brings hot days and freezing nights, while July and August see daytime highs exceeding 38°C (100°F in American units), with cool evenings. Swarms of mosquitoes and massive horseflies necessitate netting in summer. Rainfall is scarce, but dense morning fogs are common in August. Come September, temperatures plummet, with heavy snows by October and midwinter lows dipping to –34°C. This blend of North African aridity and North Dakotan winters supports only sparse populations, mainly two related but distinct Mongol tribes. The Buriat (or Barga) Mongols migrated into the Nomonhan area from the northwest in the late 17th to early 18th centuries, likely fleeing Russian expansion after the 1689 Treaty of Nerchinsk. Organized by Manchu emperors between 1732 and 1735, they settled east of the river they called Khalkhin Gol (Mongolian for "river"), in lands that would later become Manchukuo. The Khalkha Mongols, named for the word meaning "barrier" or "shield," traditionally guarded the Mongol Empire's northern frontiers. Their territories lay west of the Buriats, in what would become the MPR. For centuries, these tribes herded livestock across sands, river crossings, and desert paths, largely oblivious to any formal borders. For hundreds of years, the line dividing the Mongolian salient from western Manchuria was a hazy administrative divide within the Qing Empire. In the 20th century, Russia's detachment of Outer Mongolia and Japan's seizure of Manchuria transformed this vague boundary into a frontline between rival powers. The Nomonhan Incident ignited over this contested border. Near the salient's northeastern edge, the river, called Khalkhin Gol by Mongols and Soviets, and Halha by Manchurians and Japanese, flows northwest into Lake Buir Nor. The core dispute: Was the river, as Japan asserted, the historic boundary between Manchukuo and the MPR? Soviet and MPR officials insisted the line ran parallel to and 10–12 miles east of the river, claiming the intervening strip. Japan cited no fewer than 18 maps, from Chinese and Japanese sources, to support the river as the border, a logical choice in such barren terrain, where it served as the sole natural divider. Yet, Soviets and Mongolians countered with evidence like a 1919 Chinese postal atlas and maps from Japanese and Manchukuoan agencies (1919–1934). Unbeknownst to combatants, in July 1939, China's military attaché in Moscow shared a 1934 General Staff map with his American counterpart, showing the border east of the river. Postwar Japanese studies of 18th-century Chinese records confirm that in 1734, the Qing emperor set a boundary between Buriat and Khalkha Mongols east of the river, passing through the hamlet of Nomonhan—as the Soviets claimed. However, Kwantung Army Headquarters dismissed this as non-binding, viewing it as an internal Qing affair without Russian involvement. Two former Kwantung Army officers offer a pragmatic explanation: From 1931 to 1935, when Soviet forces in the Far East were weak, Japanese and Manchukuoan authorities imposed the river as the de facto border, with MPR acquiescence. By the mid- to late 1930s, as Soviet strength grew, Japan refused to yield, while Mongolians and Soviets rejected the river line, sparking clashes. In 1935, Kwantung Army revised its maps to align with the river claim. From late that year, the Lake Buir Nor–Halha sector saw frequent skirmishes between Manchukuoan and MPR patrols. Until mid-1938, frontier defense in northwestern Manchukuo fell to the 8th Border Garrison Unit , based near Hailar. This 7,000-man force, spread thin, lacked mobility, training, and, in Kwantung Army's eyes, combat readiness. That summer, the newly formed 23rd Division, under Kwantung Army, took station at Hailar, absorbing the 8th BGU under its command, led by Lieutenant General Michitaro Komatsubara. At 52, Komatsubara was a premier Russian specialist in the Imperial Army, with stints as military attaché in the USSR and head of Kwantung's Special Services Agency in Harbin. Standing 5'7" with a sturdy build, glasses, and a small mustache, he was detail-oriented, keeping meticulous diaries, writing lengthy letters, and composing poetry, though he lacked combat experience. Before departing Tokyo in July 1938, Komatsubara received briefings from Colonel Masazumi Inada, AGS Operations Section chief. Amid planning for Changkufeng, Inada urged calm on the Manchukuo-MPR border given China's ongoing campaigns. Guidelines: Ignore minor incidents, prioritize intelligence on Soviet forces east of Lake Baikal, and study operations against the Soviet Far East's western sector. Familiar with the region from his Harbin days, Komatsubara adopted a low-key approach. Neither impulsive nor aggressive, he kept the green 23rd Division near Hailar, delegating patrols to the 8th BGU. An autumn incident underscores his restraint. On November 1, 1938, an 8th BGU patrol was ambushed by MPR forces. Per Japanese accounts, the three-man team, led by a lieutenant, strayed too close to the border and was attacked 50 meters inside Manchukuo. The lieutenant escaped, but his men died. Komatsubara sent an infantry company to secure the site but forbade retaliation. He pursued body recovery diplomatically, protested to MPR and Soviet officials, and disciplined his officers: garrison leaders got five days' confinement for poor troop training, the lieutenant thirty days. Despite this caution, pressures at AGS and KwAHQ were mounting, poised to thrust the 23rd Division into fierce battle. Modern militaries routinely develop contingency plans against potential adversaries, and the mere existence of such strategies doesn't inherently signal aggressive intentions. That said, shifts in Japan's operational planning vis-à-vis the Soviet Union may have inadvertently fueled the Nomonhan Incident. From 1934 to 1938, Japanese war scenarios emphasized a massive surprise assault in the Ussuri River region, paired with defensive holding actions in northwestern Manchuria. However, between mid-1938 and early 1939, a clandestine joint task force from the Army General Staff and Kwantung Army's Operations Departments crafted a bold new blueprint. This revised strategy proposed containing Soviet forces in the east and north while unleashing a full-scale offensive from Hailar, advancing west-northwest toward Chita and ultimately Lake Baikal. The goal: sever the Transbaikal Soviet Far East from the USSR's core. Dubbed Plan Eight-B, it gained Kwantung Army's endorsement in March 1939. Key architects—Colonels Takushiro Hattori and Masao Terada, along with Major Takeharu Shimanuki—were reassigned from AGS to Kwantung Army Headquarters to oversee implementation. The plan anticipated a five-year buildup before execution, with Hattori assuming the role of chief operations staff officer. A map review exposes a glaring vulnerability in Plan Eight-B: the Japanese advance would leave its southern flank exposed to Soviet counterstrikes from the Mongolian salient. By spring 1939, KwAHQ likely began perceiving this protrusion as a strategic liability. Notably, at the outbreak of Nomonhan hostilities, no detailed operational contingencies for the area had been formalized. Concurrently, Japan initiated plans for a vital railroad linking Harlun Arshan to Hailar. While its direct tie to Plan Eight-B remains unclear, the route skirted perilously close to the Halha River, potentially heightening KwAHQ's focus on the disputed Mongolian salient. In early 1939, the 23rd Division intensified reconnaissance patrols near the river. Around this time, General Grigory Shtern, freshly appointed commander of Soviet Far Eastern forces, issued a public warning that Japan was gearing up for an assault on the Mongolian People's Republic. As Plan Eight-B took shape and railroad proposals advanced, KwAHQ issued a strikingly confrontational set of guidelines for frontier troops. These directives are often cited as a catalyst for the Nomonhan clash, forging a chain linking the 1937 Amur River incident, the 1938 Changkufeng debacle, and the 1939 conflict.Resentment had festered at KwAHQ over perceived AGS meddling during the Amur affair, which curtailed their command autonomy. This frustration intensified at Changkufeng, where General Kamezo Suetaka's 19th Division endured heavy losses, only for the contested Manchukuoan territory to be effectively ceded. Kwantung Army lobbied successfully to wrest oversight of the Changkufeng salient from Chosen Army. In November 1938, Major Masanobu Tsuji of KwAHQ's Operations Section was sent to survey the site. The audacious officer was dismayed: Soviet forces dominated the land from the disputed ridge to the Tumen River. Tsuji undertook several winter reconnaissance missions. His final outing in March 1939 involved leading 40 men to Changkufeng's base. With rifles slung non-threateningly, they ascended to within 200 yards of Soviet lines, formed a line, and urinated in unison, eliciting amused reactions from the enemy. They then picnicked with obentos and sake, sang army tunes, and left gifts of canned meat, chocolates, and whiskey. This theatrical stunt concealed Tsuji's real aim: covert photography proving Soviet fortifications encroached on Manchukuoan soil. Tsuji was a singular figure. Born of modest means, he embodied a modern samurai ethos, channeling a sharp intellect into a frail, often ailing body through feats of extraordinary daring. A creative tactician, he thrived in intelligence ops, political scheming, aerial scouting, planning, and frontline command—excelling across a tumultuous career. Yet, flaws marred his brilliance: narrow bigotry, virulent racism, and capacity for cruelty. Ever the ambitious outsider, Tsuji wielded outsized influence via gekokujo—Japan's tradition of subordinates steering policy from below. In 1939, he was a major, but his pivotal role at Nomonhan stemmed from this dynamic. Back in Hsinking after his Changkufeng escapade, Tsuji drafted a response plan: negotiate border "rectification" with the Soviets; if talks failed, launch an attack to expel intruders. Kwantung Army adopted it. Deputy Chief of Staff Major General Otozaburo Yano flew to Tokyo with Tsuji's photos, seeking AGS approval. There, he was rebuffed—Changkufeng was deemed settled, and minor violations should be overlooked amid Tokyo's aversion to Soviet conflict. Yano's plea that leniency would invite aggression was countered by notes on Europe's tensions restraining Moscow. Yano's return sparked outrage at KwAHQ, seen as AGS thwarting their imperial duty to safeguard Manchukuo. Fury peaked in the Operations Section, setting the stage for Tsuji's drafting of stringent new frontier guidelines: "Principles for the Settlement of Soviet-Manchukuoan Border Disputes." The core tenet: "If Soviet troops transgress the Manchukuoan frontiers, Kwantung Army will nip their ambitions in the bud by completely destroying them." Specific directives for local commanders included: "If the enemy crosses the frontiers … annihilate him without delay, employing strength carefully built up beforehand. To accomplish our mission, it is permissible to enter Soviet territory, or to trap or lure Soviet troops into Manchukuoan territory and allow them to remain there for some time… . Where boundary lines are not clearly defined, area defense commanders will, upon their own initiative, establish boundaries and indicate them to the forward elements… . In the event of an armed clash, fight until victory is won, regardless of relative strengths or of the location of the boundaries. If the enemy violates the borders, friendly units must challenge him courageously and endeavor to triumph in their zone of action without concerning themselves about the consequences, which will be the responsibility of higher headquarters." Major Tsuji Masanobu later justified the new guidelines by pointing to the "contradictory orders" that had hamstrung frontier commanders under the old rules. They were tasked with upholding Manchukuo's territorial integrity yet forbidden from actions that might spark conflict. This, Tsuji argued, bred hesitation, as officers feared repercussions for decisive responses to incursions. The updated directives aimed to alleviate this "anxiety," empowering local leaders to act boldly without personal liability. In truth, Tsuji's "Principles for the Settlement of Soviet-Manchukuoan Border Disputes" were more incendiary than conciliatory. They introduced provocative measures: authorizing commanders to unilaterally define unclear boundaries, enforce them with immediate force "shoot first, ask questions later", permit pursuits into enemy territory, and even encourage luring adversaries across the line. Such tactics flouted both government policy and official army doctrine, prioritizing escalation over restraint. The proposals sparked intense debate within Kwantung Army's Operations Section. Section chief Colonel Takushiro Hattori and Colonel Masao Terada outranked Tsuji, as did Major Takeharu Shimanuki, all recent transfers from the Army General Staff. Tsuji, however, boasted longer tenure at Kwantung Army Headquarters since April 1936 and in Operations since November 1937, making him the de facto veteran. Hattori and Terada hesitated to challenge the assertive major, whose reputation for intellect, persuasion, and deep knowledge of Manchuria commanded respect. In a 1960 interview, Shimanuki recalled Tsuji's dominance in discussions, where his proactive ideas often swayed the group. Unified, the section forwarded Tsuji's plan to Kwantung Army Command. Commander Lieutenant General Kenkichi Ueda consulted Chief of Staff General Rensuke Isogai and Vice Chief General Otozaburo Yano, seasoned leaders who should have spotted the guidelines' volatility. Yet, lingering grudges from AGS "interference" in past incidents like the Amur River and Changkufeng clouded their judgment. Ueda, Isogai, and Tsuji shared history from the 1932 Shanghai Incident: Tsuji, then a captain, led a company in the 7th Regiment under Colonel Isogai, with Yano as staff officer and Ueda commanding the 9th Division. Tsuji was wounded there, forging bonds of camaraderie. This "clique," which grew to include Hattori, Terada, and Shimanuki, amplified Tsuji's influence. Despite Isogai's initial reservations as the group's moderate voice, the guidelines won approval. Ueda issued them as Kwantung Army Operations Order 1488 on April 25, 1939, during a division commanders' conference at KwAHQ. A routine copy reached AGS in Tokyo, but no formal reply came. Preoccupied with the China War and alliance talks with Germany, AGS may have overlooked border matters. Colonel Masazumi Inada, AGS Operations head, later noted basic acceptance of Order 1488, with an informal expectation—relayed to Hattori and Terada—of prior consultation on violations. KwAHQ dismissed this as another Tokyo intrusion on their autonomy. Some Japanese analysts contend a stern AGS rejection might have prevented Nomonhan's catastrophe, though quelling Kwantung's defiance could have required mass staff reassignments, a disruptive step AGS avoided. Tsuji countered that permitting forceful action at Changkufeng would have deterred Nomonhan altogether, underscoring the interconnectedness of these clashes while implicitly critiquing the 1939 battle's location. Undeniably, Order 1488's issuance on April 25 paved the way for conflict three weeks later. Japanese records confirm that Khalkha Mongols and MPR patrols routinely crossed the Halha River—viewed by them as internal territory, 10 miles from the true border. Such crossings passed uneventfully in March and April 1939. Post-Order 1488, however, 23rd Division commander General Michitaro Komatsubara responded aggressively, setting the stage for escalation. The Nomonhan Incident ignited with a border clash on May 11–12, 1939, that rapidly spiraled into a major conflict. Over a dozen "authoritative" accounts exist, varying in viewpoint, focus, and specifics. After cross-referencing these sources, a coherent timeline emerges. On the night of May 10–11, a 20-man Mongolian People's Republic border patrol crossed eastward over the Halha River (known as Khalkhin Gol to Mongols and Soviets). About 10 miles east, atop a 150-foot sandy hill, lay the tiny hamlet of Nomonhan, a cluster of crude huts housing a few Mongol families. Just south flowed the Holsten River, merging westward into the broader Halha. By morning on May 11, Manchukuoan forces spotted the MPR patrol north of the Holsten and west of Nomonhan. In the MPR/Soviet perspective, Nomonhan Hill marked the Mongolia-Manchuria border. To Manchukuoans and Japanese, it sat 10 miles inside Manchukuo, well east of the Halha. A 40-man Manchukuoan cavalry unit repelled the Mongolians back across the river, inflicting initial casualties on both sides—the Manchukuoans drawing first blood. The MPR patrol leader exaggerated the attackers as 200 strong. The next day, May 12, a 60-man MPR force under Major P. Chogdan evicted the Manchukuoans from the disputed zone, reestablishing positions between the Halha and Nomonhan. The Manchukuoans, in turn, reported facing 700 enemies. Sporadic skirmishes and maneuvering persisted through the week. On May 13, two days post-clash, the local Manchukuoan commander alerted General Michitaro Komatsubara's 23rd Division headquarters in Hailar. Simultaneously, Major Chogdan reported to Soviet military command in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia's capital. What began as a Mongolian-Manchukuoan spat was poised to draw in Soviet and Japanese patrons. Attributing the May 10–11 violation hinges on border interpretations: both sides claimed the Halha-Nomonhan strip. Yet, most accounts concur that Manchukuoan forces initiated the fighting. Post-May 13 notifications to Moscow and Tokyo clarify the record thereafter. Midday on May 13, Komatsubara was leading a staff conference on the newly issued Kwantung Army Operations Order 1488—Major Tsuji Masanobu's aggressive border guidelines. Ironically, the first Nomonhan combat report arrived mid-discussion. Officers present recall Komatsubara deciding instantly to "destroy the invading Outer Mongolian forces" per Order 1488. That afternoon, he informed Kwantung Army Headquarters of the incident and his intent to eradicate the intruders, requesting air support and trucks. General Kenkichi Ueda, Kwantung commander, approved Komatsubara's "positive attitude," dispatching six scout planes, 40 fighters, 10 light bombers, two anti-aircraft batteries, and two motorized transport companies. Ueda added a caveat: exercise "extreme caution" to prevent escalation—a paradoxical blend of destruction and restraint, reflective of KwAHQ's fervent mood. Ueda relayed the details to Tokyo's Army General Staff, which responded that Kwantung should handle it "appropriately." Despite Kwantung's impulsive reputation, Tokyo deferred, perhaps trusting the northern strategic imbalance, eight Japanese divisions versus 30 Soviet ones from Lake Baikal to Vladivostok, would enforce prudence. This faith proved misguided. On May 14, Major Tsuji flew from KwAHQ for aerial reconnaissance over Nomonhan, spotting 20 horses but no troops. Upon landing, a fresh bullet hole in his plane confirmed lingering MPR presence east of the Halha. Tsuji briefed 23rd Division staff and reported to Ueda that the incident seemed minor. Aligning with Order 1488's spirit, Komatsubara deployed a force under Lieutenant Colonel Yaozo Azuma: an armored car company, two infantry companies, and a cavalry troop. Arriving at Nomonhan on May 15, Azuma learned most MPR forces had retreated westward across the Halha the prior night, with only token elements remaining, and those withdrawing. Undeterred, he pursued. The advance met scant resistance, as foes had crossed the river. However, Japanese light bombers struck a small MPR concentration on the west bank, Outpost Number 7, killing two and wounding 15 per MPR reports; Japanese claimed 30–40 kills. All agree: the raid targeted undisputed MPR territory. Hearing of May 15's events, Komatsubara deemed the Mongolians sufficiently rebuked and recalled Azuma to Hailar on May 16. KwAHQ concurred, closing the matter. Soviet leaders, however, saw it differently. Mid-May prompted Soviet support for the MPR under their 1936 Mutual Defense Pact. The Red Army's 57th Corps, stationed in Mongolia, faced initial disarray: Commander Nikolai Feklenko was hunting, Chief of Staff A. M. Kushchev in Ulan Ude with his ill wife. Moscow learned of clashes via international press from Japanese sources, sparking Chief of Staff Boris Shaposhnikov's furious inquiry. Feklenko and Kushchev rushed back to Ulaanbaatar, dispatching a mixed force—a battalion from the 149th Infantry Regiment (36th Division), plus light armor and artillery from the 11th Tank Brigade—to Tamsag Bulak, 80 miles west of the Halha. Led by Major A. E. Bykov, it bolstered the MPR's 6th Cavalry Division. Bykov and Cavalry Commander Colonel Shoaaiibuu inspected the site on May 15, post-Azum's departure. The cavalry arrived two days later, backed by Bykov (ordered to remain west of the river and avoid combat if possible). Some MPR troops recrossed, occupying the disputed zone. Clashes with Manchukuoan cavalry resumed and intensified. Notified of renewed hostilities, Komatsubara viewed it as defiance, a personal affront. Emboldened by Order 1488, he aimed not just to repel but to encircle and annihilate. The incident was on the verge of major expansion. 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 ghosts of the Changufeng incident have come back to haunt both the USSR and Japan. Those like Tsuji Masanobu instigated yet another border clash that would erupt into a full blown battle that would set a precedent for both nations until the very end of WW2.

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S8 Ep398: Sean McMeekin describes how the Soviets utilized Lend-Lease to acquire industrial secrets and nuclear materials, often facilitated by Harry Hopkins whom McMeekin views as a devoted Soviet agent of influence, while Stalin delayed Operation Bagrat

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 1, 2026 9:26

Sean McMeekin describes how the Soviets utilized Lend-Lease to acquire industrial secrets and nuclear materials, often facilitated by Harry Hopkins whom McMeekin views as a devoted Soviet agent of influence, while Stalin delayed Operation Bagration to let Western Allies absorb German strength.1945 RED ARMY

Anna Reid, "A Nasty Little War: The West's Fight to Reverse the Russian Revolution" (Basic Books, 2024)

New Books in History

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 28, 2026 53:43

In A Nasty Little War: The Western Fight to Reverse the Russian Revolution (Basic Books, 2024), award-winning reporter Anna Reid tells the extraordinary story of how the West tried to reverse the Russian Revolution. In the closing months of the First World War, Britain, America, France and Japan sent arms and 180,000 soldiers to Russia, with the aim of tipping the balance in her post-revolutionary Civil War. From Central Asia to the Arctic and from Poland to the Pacific, they joined anti-Bolshevik forces in trying to overthrow the new men in the Kremlin, in an astonishingly ambitious military adventure known as the Intervention. Fresh, in the case of the British, from the trenches, they found themselves in a mobile, multi-sided conflict as different as possible from the grim stasis of the Western Front. Criss-crossing the shattered Russian empire in trains, sleds and paddlesteamers, they bivouacked in snowbound cabins and Kirghiz yurts, torpedoed Red battleships from speedboats, improvised new currencies and the world's first air-dropped chemical weapons, got caught up in mass retreats and a typhus epidemic, organised several coups and at least one assassination. Taking tea with warlords and princesses, they also turned a blind eye to their Russian allies' numerous atrocities. Two years later they left again, filing glumly back onto their troopships as port after port fell to the Red Army. Later, American veterans compared the humiliation to Vietnam, and the politicians and generals responsible preferred to trivialise or forget. Drawing on previously unused diaries, letters and memoirs, A Nasty Little War brings an episode with echoes down the century since vividly to life. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose forthcoming book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

The liberation of Auschwitz

Witness History

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 27, 2026 10:56

On 27 January 1945, prisoners at the Nazis' largest death camp were freed by the Soviet Union's Red Army.General Vasily Petrenko commanded one of the four units that liberated Auschwitz.The Nazis murdered 1.1 million people at Auschwitz-Birkenau between 1941 and 1945. Almost a million were Jews, 70,000 were Polish prisoners, 21,000 Roma, 15,000 Soviet prisoners of war and an unknown number of gay men.It was one of six death camps the Nazis built in occupied Poland in 1942, and it was by far the biggest.Vicky Farncombe produced this episode using an interview General Vasily Petrenko gave to the BBC's Russian Service in 2001. He died in 2003. Eye-witness accounts brought to life by archive. Witness History is for those fascinated by the past. We take you to the events that have shaped our world through the eyes of the people who were there. For nine minutes every day, we take you back in time and all over the world, to examine wars, coups, scientific discoveries, cultural moments and much more. Recent episodes explore everything from the death of Adolf Hitler, the first spacewalk and the making of the movie Jaws, to celebrity tortoise Lonesome George, the Kobe earthquake and the invention of superglue. We look at the lives of some of the most famous leaders, artists, scientists and personalities in history, including: Eva Peron – Argentina's Evita; President Ronald Reagan and his famous ‘tear down this wall' speech; Thomas Keneally on why he wrote Schindler's List; and Jacques Derrida, France's ‘rock star' philosopher. You can learn all about fascinating and surprising stories, such as the civil rights swimming protest; the disastrous D-Day rehearsal; and the death of one of the world's oldest languages.(Photo: Auschwitz survivors watch the arrival of Soviet troops come to free them. Credit: Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images)

Anna Reid, "A Nasty Little War: The West's Fight to Reverse the Russian Revolution" (Basic Books, 2024)

New Books Network

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 24, 2026 53:43

S8 Ep301: SHIFTING BORDERS AND THE FIGHT FOR GALICIAN IDENTITY Colleague Professor Eugene Finkel. Finkel shares the story of his grandfather, Israel (Lev), a Jew from Galicia who was drafted into the Red Army despite growing up in Poland without speaking

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 12, 2026 6:54

SHIFTING BORDERS AND THE FIGHT FOR GALICIAN IDENTITY Colleague Professor Eugene Finkel. Finkel shares the story of his grandfather, Israel (Lev), a Jew from Galicia who was drafted into the Red Army despite growing up in Poland without speaking Russian. This illustrates the complex history of western Ukraine, which experienced Austrian tolerance regarding language compared to Russian repression and forced assimilation elsewhere. Finkel notes that Russian fear of Ukrainian nationalism in Galicia was a key driver for World War I. Following the 1917 Russian Empire collapse, a short-lived Ukrainian state emerged, but the region was eventually partitioned between the Soviet Union and Poland in 1939. NUMBER 21863 UKRAINE

3.184 Fall and Rise of China: The Lake Khasan Truce

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 12, 2026 33:02

Last time we spoke about the climax of the battle of Changkufeng. A 7–10 August clash near Changkufeng and Hill 52 saw a brutal, multi-front Soviet push against Japanese positions in the Changkufeng–Hill 52 complex and adjacent areas. The Korea Army and Imperial forces rapidly reinforced with artillery, long-range 15 cm and other pieces, to relieve pressure. By 7–8 August, Soviet assault waves, supported by tanks and aircraft, intensified but Japanese defenses, including engineers, machine-gun fire, and concentrated artillery, prevented a decisive breakthrough at key positions like Noguchi Hill and the Changkufeng spine. By 9–10 August, continued Japanese counterfire, improved artillery neutralization, and renewed defenses kept Hill 52 and Changkufeng in Japanese control, though at heavy cost. The frontline exhaustion and looming strategic concerns prompted calls for intensified replacements and potential diplomatic considerations. It seemed like the battle was coming to an end. #184 The Lake Khasan Truce 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 casualties were atrocious for both sides, yet they continued to mobilize more forces to the conflict area. While the Russians appeared uninterested in all-out war, they were not rushing to settle the crisis through diplomacy and, at the front, were launching "reckless" counterattacks at inconvenient locations, presumably to occupy positions useful for bargaining. The local Soviet military, having ceded the hills at the outset, must also have been anxious about its prestige. The Kwantung Army's potential threat to the flank undoubtedly made the Russians nervous. Although the leading echelon of the 104th Division did not reach Hunchun until the evening of 13 August, Japanese intelligence heard that the Red Army Headquarters staff at Khabarovsk had detected movements of Kwantung Army elements around 10 August and had been compelled to take countermeasures: they reinforced positions along the eastern and northern Manchurian frontiers, concentrated the air force, ordered move-up preparations by ground forces in the Blagoveshchensk district, and commandeered most of the motor vehicles in the Amur Province. By shifting its main strength to the eastern front, the Kwantung Army exerted, as intended, a silent pressure. The covert objective was to restrain and divert the Russians and to assist Japanese diplomacy, not to provoke war. Nevertheless, an American correspondent who visited the Changkufeng area in mid-August privately reported that the Kwantung Army was massing large numbers of troops near the border and expected further trouble. Toward its weak neighbor in Korea the Kwantung Army rendered every support. Apart from its major demonstration in eastern Manchuria, the Kwantung Army promptly sent whatever reinforcements of artillery, engineers, and other units that Seoul had desired. Being also intimately involved in anti-Soviet military preparations, the Kwantung Army understandably wanted the latest and most authentic information on Russian Army theory and practice. The Changkufeng Incident furnished such a firsthand opportunity, and the professional observers sent from Hsinking were well received at the front. Military classmate ties contributed to the working relationships between the armies. As one division officer put it, the teams from the Kwantung Army came as "friends," not only to study the battlefield by their respective branches of service but also to assist the front-line forces; "the Kwantung Army was increasingly helpful to us in settling the incident." Foreign Minister Ugaki felt that the pressure of troop movements in Manchuria played a major part in the Russians' eventual decision to conclude a cease-fire. From Inada's viewpoint, it had been a "fine and useful demonstration against the Soviet Union." Pinned at Changkufeng, the Russians did not or could not choose to react elsewhere, too. Army General Staff officers believed that clear and consistent operational guidance furnished by Tokyo produced good results, although the fighting had been very hard for the front-line Japanese troops because of the insistence on exclusive defense, the curbs on interference by the Kwantung Army, and the prohibition on the use of aircraft. It had been close, however. Only by conscious efforts at restraint had the small war at Changkufeng been kept from spilling over into neighboring areas. Escalation of combat in early August had caused the Japanese government to try to break the diplomatic impasse while localizing the conflict. On 2 August Premier Konoe assured the Emperor that he intended to leave matters for diplomacy and to suspend military operations as soon as possible, an approach with which the government concurred. The Changkufeng dispute had been accorded priority, preceding overall settlements and the creation of joint commissions to redefine the borders. On the 3rd, after coordinating with the military, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs advised Shigemitsu that the front-line situation had become "extremely critical" and that a quick suspension of fighting action should be proposed. Soviet and Japanese troops should be pulled back to the setup as of 30 July. In the midst of the Changkufeng Incident, the USSR intensified harassing tactics against the last Japanese consulates located within the Soviet Union. Forty-eight hour ultimatums to quit the country were delivered to the consuls at Khabarovsk and Blagoveshchensk on 3 and 4 August, respectively. Although the Japanese government warned that it might retaliate, the Russians were unyielding. The foreign ambassadors, Mamoru Shigemitsu and Maxim Litvinov met on August 4th, whereupon Shigemitsu argued, the best procedure would be to suspend military operations on both sides and to restore the status quo. Litvinov in a long manner explained the stance of the USSR as Shigemitsu put it "the Soviet side had a disposition to cease fighting, provided that conditions were satisfactory." The Russians were stalling at the very time the Red Army was bending every effort to retake Changkufeng. Coordination between the Army, Navy, and Foreign Ministers produced cease-fire conditions which were rushed to the Japanese ambassador on 6 August. Two alternate lines were proposed, to which both armies would pull back. After the creation of a buffer zone, discussions could begin concerning delineation of boundaries in the region of the incident. The Hunchun pact could be the basis for deliberations, demarcation to be effected by joint investigations on the spot in consultation with documents in the possession of Manchukuo and the USSR; the Japanese would serve only as observers. Shigemitsu conferred once more with Litvinov for three and a half hours on 7 August, but no progress was made. Litvinov insisted that a clash could be averted only if Japanese forces pulled However Litvinov's positive reaction to the idea of a demarcation commission was seen as a good sign. On August the 10th, both sides seemed to have reached a similar conclusion that a cease-fire needed to rapidly be implemented. At 11pm that night Litvinov called the embassy, asking for Shigemitus to see him as fast as possible. Shigemitsu arrived around midnight whereupon Litvinov showed him a draft of a final accord: 1. Japanese and Soviet forces shall cease all military activities on 11 August at noon local time. Instructions to that effect are to be issued immediately by the governments of the USSR and Japan. 2. Japanese as well as Soviet troops shall remain on those lines which they occupied at midnight local time on 10 August. 3. For redemarcation of the portion of frontier in dispute, there shall be created a mixed commission of two representatives from the USSR and two representatives from the Japanese-Manchurian side, with an umpire selected by agreement of both parties from among citizens of a third state. 4. The commission for redemarcation shall work on the basis of agreements and maps bearing the signatures of plenipotentiary representatives of Russia and China. Shigemitsu agreed to the inclusion of a Japanese commissioner on the Manchukuoan delegation, but he could not assent to the addition of a neutral umpire. Moscow received the news of the truce with gratification mingled with surprise. Few realized that the USSR had taken the step of appeasing or at least saving face for the Japanese even after Shigemitsu had pleaded for and won a cease-fire. The world was told by the Russians only that specific overtures for cessation of hostilities had originated with the Soviet authorities. In general, it was not difficult to guess why the Russian government, distracted by the European political scene and apprehensive about a two-front war, agreed to a cease-fire at Changkufeng. The slowness of communication across the many miles between Moscow and Tokyo did nothing to alleviate nervousness in the Japanese capital during the night of 10–11 August. Ugaki wrote in his diary that, "after ten days of tension, the struggle between the Japanese and Soviet armies on the USSR–Manchukuo border had reached the decisive brink". Complicating the situation was the fact that, late on 10 August, the president of Domei News Agency conveyed to Konoe a message from one of his Moscow correspondents. Purporting to sum up Shigemitsu's latest outlook, the report stated that success in the negotiations seemed unlikely. The contents of the message were transmitted to Ugaki and Itagaki. Consequently, Konoe and his associates spent a fearful and depressed night. Shigemitsu's own report, sent by telegram, arrived frustratingly slowly. After definite information had been received from Shigemitsu, Harada happily called Kazami Akira, the prime minister's chief secretary, and Konoe himself. "Until the accord was implemented," Kazami had said, "we would have to be on the alert all day today." Konoe and Kazami seemed "a little relaxed anyhow." Inada had finally retired past midnight on 10–11 August, "agreement or no agreement. I must have been dozing from fatigue when the jangle of the phone got me up. It was a message saying that a truce had been concluded the preceding midnight. Just as I had been expecting, I said to myself, but I felt empty inside, as if it were an anticlimax." The call had to have been an unofficial communication, perhaps the latest Domei news, since the records showed that definitive word from the embassy in Moscow did not reach Tokyo until after 10:00. Attache Doi's report to the Army General Staff came at about 11:00. This was extremely late in terms of getting Japanese troops to cease operations at 13:00 Tokyo time (or noon on the spot); a tardy imperial order might undo the Moscow accord. Complicating this matter of split-second timing was the fact that the first official telegram from Shigemitsu referred to unilateral Japanese withdrawal by one kilometer. At the Japanese high command level, there was agitated discussion when initial word of these arrangements arrived. Inada speculated that on 10 August the Russians had staged persistent close-quarter assaults against Changkufeng and seized the southern edge eventually, although repulsed at all other points. Moscow may have agreed to a truce at that midnight because they expected that the crest of Changkufeng would be in their hands by then and that a fait accompli would have been achieved. Some officers argued that the Russian forces were suffering "quite badly and this caused the authorities' agreeability to a cease-fire." Most exasperating, however, was the provision stipulating a one-sided military withdrawal. Admittedly, such action had been under discussion by the Army General Staff itself, particularly after Terada's sobering appeal of 10 August. It was another matter to have a Japanese withdrawal dictated by the USSR while Russian troops did not have to budge. Initial puzzlement and chagrin began to yield to rationalization. The Japanese side seemed to have made a concession in the negotiations, but there must have been significance to the phrase which said, "the line occupied by Japanese forces has been taken into due consideration." Japanese troops had presumably advanced to the edge of the frontier, while Russian soldiers had not come even close. Thus, it must have been necessary to have the Japanese units withdraw first, to fix the boundaries, since it had been the Japanese who had done the greater advancing. One Japanese office remarked "A pull-back was a pull-back, no matter how you looked at things—and we were the ones who had to do it. But the atmosphere in the command had been far from optimistic on 10 August; so we decided that it was unnecessary to complain about this issue and we approved the agreement in general. Both the senior and junior staff levels seemed to be quite relieved." The 11th of August had been an awkward day to conduct liaison between the Foreign Ministry, the Army, and the Throne, since the Emperor was leaving Hayama to visit naval installations in the Yokosuka area and the navy air unit in Chiba from morning. By the time a conclusive report on the cease-fire could be conveyed to the monarch, he was aboard the destroyer Natsugumo at Kisarazu. Naval wireless facilities in Tokyo had to be used to transmit coded messages to Admiral Yonai, the Navy Minister, for delivery to the Emperor. This was done shortly before 14:45 According to Yonai, the Emperor "was very pleased and relieved when I reported to him… about the conclusion of the truce accord." The appropriate Imperial order was approved promptly. But not until 15:00, two hours after cease-fire time at Changkufeng, did word of Imperial sanction reach the high command. Japanese soldiers in the lines recalled nothing special on 11 August. "We didn't hear about the truce till the last minute," said one, "and we had become so inured to enemy artillery we hardly noticed any 'last salute.' From Tokyo, on 11 August, it was reported that the Japanese side had suspended operations promptly at noon, as agreed, but that sporadic bursts of fire had continued to come from the Soviet side. Colonel Grebennik, when asked after the war whether the combat did end at noon, replied petulantly: "Yes, but not quite so. The fighting actually ceased at 12:05." According to him, the tardiness was the Japanese side's fault. The Japanese press told readers that "the cease-fire bugle has sounded—the frontier is cheerful now, 14 days after the shooting began." All was quiet in the area of Changkufeng, where the sounds of firing ceased at noon "as if erased." The most intense period of stillness lasted only a few minutes and was followed by the excited chattering of soldiers, audible on both sides. Korea Army Headquarters spoke of the "lifting of dark clouds [and] return of the rays of peace." In Hongui, a Japanese combat officer told a Japanese correspondent: "Suddenly we noticed the insects making noise; the soldiers were delighted. Once the fighting stopped, Japanese national flags were hoisted here and there along our front. … After the Russians observed what we had done, they broke out red flags also, at various points in their trenches." Some Japanese soldiers were given cookies by Soviet medical corpsmen. At Hill 52, an infantryman remembered, the Japanese and the Russians were facing each other, 50 meters apart, that afternoon. "We just lay there and stared at each other for two hours, waiting grimly. But it was well past cease-fire now, and those same Russians finally started to wave at us. Later that day, when Soviet troops came to salvage their KO'd tanks, we 'chatted' in sign language." After the cease-fire, Ichimoto, whose battalion had seen the most difficult fighting, stuck his head above the trench and waved hello to some Soviet officers. "They waved back. It gave me an odd sensation, for during the furious struggle I had considered them to be barbarians. Now I was surprised to see that they were civilized after all!" A rifleman at Changkufeng remembered swapping watches with an unarmed Russian across the peak. The Japanese front-line troops stayed in their positions confronting the Russians and conducted preparations for further combat while cleaning up the battlefield. Soviet troops also remained deployed as of the time of the cease-fire and vigorously carried out their own construction. The day after the cease-fire went into effect, Suetaka escorted an American reporter to the front. At Changkufeng: "carpenters were making wooden receptacles for the ashes of the Japanese dead. Funeral pyres still were smoldering. . . . From our vantage point the lieutenant general pointed out long lines of Soviet trucks coming up in clouds of dust [which] apparently were made deliberately in an effort to conceal the trucks' movements, [probably designed] to haul supplies from the front. Soviet boats were pushing across [Khasan] . . . and Soviet soldiers were towing smashed tanks back from no-man'sland. On the Japanese side there was a pronounced holiday spirit. Soldiers, emerging from dugouts, were drying white undershirts on near-by brush and bathing in the Tumen River. The soldiers were laughing heartily. A few were trying to ride a Korean donkey near Changkufeng's scarred slope. The general pointed out three Soviet tanks behind the Japanese advance lines east of Changkufeng. He said the Russians had hauled back seventy others [on the night of 11 August]. . . . The writer was shown a barbed wire fence immediately behind a wrecked village on the west slope of Changkufeng which the general said the Soviet troops built at the beginning of the fighting. Possiet Bay also was pointed out, clearly visible across the swamp." Soviet losses for what became known as the battle of Lake Khasan for the Russians and the Changkufeng incident for the Japanese, totaled 792 killed or missing and 3,279 wounded or sick, according to Soviet records. The Japanese claimed to have destroyed or immobilized 96 enemy tanks and 30 guns. Soviet armored losses were significant, with dozens of tanks knocked out or destroyed and hundreds of "tank troops" becoming casualties. Japanese casualties, as revealed by secret Army General Staff statistics, were 1,439 casualties, 526 killed or missing, 913 wounded; the Soviets claimed Japanese losses of 3,100, with 600 killed and 2,500 wounded. The Soviets concluded that these losses were due in part to poor communications infrastructure and roads, as well as the loss of unit coherence caused by weak organization, headquarters, commanders, and a lack of combat-support units. The faults in the Soviet army and leadership at Khasan were blamed on the incompetence of Blyukher. In addition to leading the troops into action at Khasan, Blyukher was also supposed to oversee the trans-Baikal Military District's and the Far Eastern fronts' move to combat readiness, using an administrative apparatus that delivered army group, army, and corps-level instructions to the 40th Rifle Division by accident. On 22 October, he was arrested by the NKVD and is thought to have been tortured to death. At 15:35 on 11 August, in the Hill 52 sector, high-ranking military delegates bearing a white flag emerged from the Soviet lines and proceeded to Akahage Hill, about 100 meters from the Japanese positions. Cho, as right sector chief, was notified. He sent three lieutenants to converse with the Russians; they learned that the Soviets wanted the Japanese to designate a time and place for a conference. This word was conveyed to Suetaka, who had already dispatched Lieutenant Kozuki to the heights east of Shachaofeng to contact the Russians. Around 4:20, the commander canceled Kozuki's mission and instructed Cho to reply that the delegation ought to convene near the peak of Changkufeng at 18:00 Cho set out promptly with several subordinates; they reached the Changkufeng crest a little before 6. The Russians then said they wanted to meet the Japanese near the Crestline southeast of Changkufeng, the excuse being that the peak was too far for them to go and that they could not arrive by the designated time. Cho took his team to the location requested by the Russians. There, the Japanese found 13 Soviet soldiers and a heavy machine gun on guard, but the Russian delegates had not arrived, although it was 6:18. The irked Japanese clocked a further delay of two minutes before the Russian truce chief, Gen. Grigory M. Shtern, rode up on horseback with a party of eight. Both delegations saluted, the chiefs and team members identified themselves, and all shook hands. The Soviet team was made up of Corps General 3rd rank Shtern, 38, chief of staff, Far East area army; Brigade Commissar Semenovsky political major general, 37 or 38; Colonel Fedotev, 42; and Major Wabilev, about 30. Interpreting for the Russians was Alexei Kim. In Colonel Cho's opinion, "It was always necessary to take the initiative in dealing with the Soviets. So, even in such matters as shaking hands or conversing, he always did things first." During the exchange of greetings, Cho teased Shtern about his bandaged forehead. "A Japanese artillery shell got you, didn't it?" he asked. But Cho began formal discussions on a more dignified note: "Cho: It is very much to be regretted that the Japanese and Soviet armies had to get involved in combat around Changkufeng. Nevertheless, I laud the consummation of the Moscow accord on the part of both governments. And, I must say, your forces were quite brave and patriotic. Shtern: I agree with you. The Japanese Army, too, was courageous and strong." Negotiations would go on at the local level and diplomatic level for many days. In Tokyo, on the morning of 13 August, Ugaki had gone to the Meiji shrine to "report" on the cease-fire and to express his gratitude. At 10:00, when received in Imperial audience, he discussed the Changkufeng Incident. "I humbly regret to have troubled Your Majesty so unduly in connection with an unimportant affair on the Soviet-Manchurian frontier" at a time when the monarch was confronted by grave national problems. A long and winding road lay ahead before the incident as a whole was settled, but a good start had been made and "we are going to be even more careful in handling matters, although the Soviet regime consists of devious, vicious scoundrels." Recognition of the Japanese Army's performance was accorded by the highest authorities in the homeland. As soon as the fighting ceased, Kan'in transmitted a message of appreciation. The day after the cease-fire, the command in North Korea issued a generous communique: "We pay homage to the Japanese for defending themselves against 100 planes, 200 tanks, and 60 pieces of heavy artillery. Our admiration for the bravery of both armies is of the highest." At 14:00 on the 15th, Kan'in was received in audience and reported on the settlement of the crisis. Said the Emperor: "We are gratified by the fact that, during this incident at Changkufeng, Our officers and men achieved their mission fully and manifested prudence and forbearance while confronting difficult circumstances with small forces. Our profound condolences to the casualties. Convey this message to the officers and men." A wire was dispatched promptly to Nakamura. With Imperial use of the wording "Changkufeng Incident," the nomenclature for the affair was fixed in Japan. When the cabinet met on 16 August, the decision was reached officially. After the Changkufeng affair, Japanese officers claimed that the Soviets had dispatched tactical experts "to ascertain why their elite Far Eastern forces had not been able to achieve satisfactory results. They realize the urgency of this investigation in preparation for any great war." Specifically, the AGS heard that on the day of the cease-fire, Blyukher had sent an investigative team of commissars under Romanovsky to the scene. Japanese experts on the USSR speculated that the experience at Changkufeng ought indeed to have impressed the Red Army: "Our forces did seize the hill and hold it. After comparing the strengths involved ... the Russians may well have had to modify their estimates." According to one Japanese commentator, improvements in political leadership were judged imperative by the USSR, gainsaying claims that the Soviet Army had been strengthened through the purge of alleged Japanese tools. Soviet authorities would conclude "As a test of doctrine, the fighting had confirmed the correctness of the basic principles embodied in the 1936 Field Service Regulations." The Soviet infantry had paid dearly for this, as well as for the deficiencies in tactical training. Defense Commissar Voroshilov admitted, "We were not sufficiently quick in our tactics, and particularly in joint operations in dealing the enemy a concentrated blow." In the view of historian Mackintosh: "The Soviet success at Lake Khasan was bought at the cost of heavy casualties and exposed serious defects in the mobilization machinery and the training of troops. There can be little doubt that these factors checked to some extent the Soviet Government's overoptimistic estimate of its own military strength and cast doubt on the effectiveness of its policy of expansion in all fields of military organization". Writing a year and a half after Changkufeng, an Mainichi reporter observed that the greatest harvest from the incident was tangible Japanese experience in determining the fighting strength of the Russians. Purchased with blood, this knowledge could provide valuable evidence for future combat operations. It was a question whether Changkufeng really possessed such strategic significance as was claimed for it, but the Soviet policy of bluff could be interpreted as substantiating the weakness of the defenses of Vladivostok. "The Russians used all kinds of new weapons at Changkufeng and tipped their whole hand. But although mechanization of the Red Army had attained high levels with respect to quantity, their weaknesses in technique and quality were laid bare." Imaoka observed that since the Changkufeng Incident marked the first time that the Japanese and Soviet armies engaged each other in combat involving large strategic elements, divisional and above, Russian fighting strength was studied with keen interest. The Japanese did not rate the capacity of the officers or Soviet quality, in general, as especially high. Still, the Russians did possess quantitative abundance, and Japanese losses had been heavy because the enemy had fired masses of ammunition against fixed targets. Suetaka seemed to have comprehended the scope of tangible Soviet strength in equipment and materiel, as shown by his comment: "I felt deeply that if the gap in manpower went beyond limits, it would be inevitable for our casualties to increase tremendously; this might even cause us danger in specific local areas." Few Japanese officers saw anything new in Soviet tactical methods, although considerations of mass were ever-present. Not only intelligence experts but the whole army worked on ways of coping with Soviet forces that would have the numerical advantage by 3:1. Most awesome was the "fantastic abundance" of hostile materiel, although the Russians could not deploy to surround the Japanese because of the geography. An AGS expert on the USSR summed it up: "We learned that Soviet strength was up to expectations, whereas Japanese arms and equipment had to be improved and reinforced." Worded in a multiplicity of ways, the Japanese conclusion was that patient imperial forces had won a great victory by defending the contested border with flesh vs. steel and by limiting the Changkufeng Incident, till the end, against enemy hordes supported exclusively by planes and tanks. Japanese infantrymen admit that the combat soldiers did not savor their disadvantages. "All our materiel was inferior in quality and particularly in quantity. We had the impression that whereas we relied on muscle power, the enemy used engines. This rendered our fighting particularly hard, but we had full confidence in our spiritual strength [i.e., superiority]." Nevertheless, the Japanese mode of tactical operation, asserted Iwasaki, the Korea Army senior staff officer, was "the worst possible: fighting with hands tied." This meant that the Russians could fight "to their hearts' content," committing tanks and planes, and striking from all directions. A front-line infantry commander commented: "One's troops ought to be provided meaningful reasons for fighting and for dying happily. It is cruel to ask officers and men to meet masses of steel and to shed their blood without visible cause, and apparently because of inadequate combat preparations." The cease-fire agreement was concluded "at just the right time," General Morimoto admitted. A secret report prepared by AGS analysts sheds light on the larger question of what the army thought it had learned about itself and the Soviet enemy: "In studying Changkufeng, one ought to bear a number of cautions in mind: (1) The incident broke out when we were concentrating on the holy war against China; severe limitations on combat operations were imposed by the necessity to adhere to a policy of nonenlargement. (2) Apparently, the enemy also adopted a policy of localization while continuously attempting to recapture the high ground in the Changkufeng area. (3) Our forces employed units which were on Phase-1 alert from beginning to end; in terms of quality, the personnel were excellent—mainly active-duty types, from key men down. But our numbers were far inferior, and our organization and equipment were not of the best. In addition, we committed no planes or tanks, whereas the enemy used plenty. (4) The 19th Division was thorough, rigorous, and realistic in its combat training prior to the engagement. (5) Battlefield terrain seriously limited the enemy's attacks, especially tank action. But while the Tumen restricted assaults against our flanks and rear, it hampered our own services of supply, notably the provision of position construction materials." The Japanese learned few or erroneous lessons from the Changkufeng affair; the Kwantung Army, for example, was convinced that everything had been handled badly in 1938 by the Korea Army and the high command. When a dispute arose in 1939 at Nomonhan on another border lying between Outer Mongolia and Manchukuo, the staff in Hsinking fostered escalating measures. The USSR, however, learned in 1937 and 1938 that the Japanese Army seemed to respect only force. 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 Changkufeng incident or battle of Lake Khasan clash saw a fierce Soviet push against Japanese positions around Changkufeng and Hill 52. The cease-fire ended the incident, but not the conflict. Despite the brutal lessons learned by both sides, a much larger conflict would explode the next year that would alter both nations throughout WW2.

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3.181 Fall and Rise of China: Soviet Counter Offensive over the Heights

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 22, 2025 34:26

Last time we spoke about the Japanese Victory over Changkufeng. Japan's generals hatched a plan: strike at night, seize the peak, then bargain if need be. Colonel Sato, steady as a compass, chose Nakano's brave 75th Regiment, selecting five fearless captains and a rising star, Nakajima, to lead the charge. Ahead, scouts and engineers threaded a fragile path through darkness, while distant Soviet tanks rumbled like distant thunder. At 2:15 a.m., wire breached and soldiers slipped over the slope. The crest resisted with brutal tenacity, grenades flashed, machine guns spit fire, and leaders fell. Yet by 5:15 a.m. dawn painted the hill in pale light, and Japanese hands grasped the summit. The dawn assault on nearby Hill 52 and the Shachaofeng corridor followed, with Takeshita's and Matsunobe's units threading through fog, fire, and shifting trenches. Narukawa's howitzers answered the dawn with measured fury, silencing the Soviets' early artillery as Japanese infantry pressed forward. By daybreak, the Russians were driven back, their lines frayed and retreating toward Khasan. The price was steep: dozens of officers dead or injured, and a crescent of smoke and memory left etched on every face. #181 The Russian Counter Offensive over the Heights Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. After admitting the loss of Changkufeng and Shachaofeng by dawn on 31 July, the Russian government issued a communique the next day asserting that Soviet troops had "hurled back a Japanese division… after a two-day battle" involving tanks, artillery, and aircraft. Some hours after the Japanese penetration, Soviet regulars rushed to the scene and drove out the invaders. Japanese losses amounted to 400 men; Soviet losses were 13 killed and 55 wounded. On Soviet soil, the Japanese abandoned five cannons, 14 machine guns, and 157 rifles, while the Russians admitted losing one tank and one gun. A Soviet reconnaissance pilot may have fallen into Japanese hands after bailing out. "Both before and during the Japanese attack… Soviet troops did not once cross the Manchukuoan frontier,which deprived them of the possibility of surrounding or outflanking the invaders." By 1 August, Russian ground forces were deployed and the Soviet Air Force took action. Soviet aircraft appeared at 24:30 to reconnoiter. Soon after, more than ten planes flew in formation, launching strikes against forward units. Eight sorties, light bombers and fighters, roughly 120–150 aircraft in flights of two or three dozen, bombed and strafed. Raids were conducted by as many as 30 planes, though no Soviet losses were reported. The Russians also hit targets on the Korean side of the Tumen. The 75th Regiment judged that the Soviet Air Force sought only to intimidate. Russian planes dropped several dozen bombs on the Kyonghun bridge, but the span was not struck; damage was limited to the railway, producing an impression of severity that was misleading. The lack of air cover troubled the troops most. Japanese casualties on 1 August were modest: three men wounded in the 75th Infantry, and one wounded and a horse killed in the 76th. However the three Japanese battalions expended over 15,000 machine-gun and 7,000 rifle rounds that day. The appearance of Soviet air power at Changkufeng drew anxious international attention. Shanghai reports electrified observers, who anticipated that major Russo-Japanese hostilities would transform the China campaign overnight. Some observers were openly dismayed, foreseeing a prolongation of the mainland war with potential benefits to Soviet interests. Japanese Army spokesmen sought to downplay the situation. Officers in Hsinking told correspondents that the raids, while serious, represented only a face-saving measure. The Red Army was reportedly attempting to compensate for losses at Changkufeng and other disputed positions, but aside from the bombings, the frontier remained quiet. If the Russians were serious, observers noted, they would have bombed the vital Unggi railway bridge, which remained untouched; raids focused on minor bridges, with limited damage. In Tokyo, foreign observers believed the appearance of about 50 Soviet heavy bombers over North Korea signaled an extension of the incidents and that the Japanese government was taking urgent measures. Military leaders decided not to escalate but prepared for emergencies. The Korea Army Headquarters denied Soviet bombing of Harbin in Manchuria or Najin and Chongjin in Korea. Regarding retaliation, an American correspondent reported that the Japanese military had no intention of bombing Russian territory. Although Soviet use of aircraft introduced a new dimension of danger, the main efforts remained ground-based on both sides. After Japanese troops cleared Changkufeng and Shachaofeng, the Russians appeared to be redeploying to contract their defensive frontage; no troops or works remained west of Khasan. Four or five Russian infantry companies and ten artillery pieces stood between the lake and Paksikori, while the main forces, with numerous gun sites, were concentrated west of Novokievsk. On the Kwantung Army front in southeast Manchuria, no changes were observed. "The Russians were apparently shocked by their defeat at Changkufeng and must suddenly have resorted to negative, conservative measures." Korea Army Headquarters assessed the situation as of the evening of 31 July: "The enemy must fear a Japanese advance into the Novokievsk plain and therefore is concentrating his main forces in that district. Our interests require that we anticipate any emergency, so we must prepare the necessary strength in the Kyonghun region and reinforce positions at Wuchiatzu." At 20:45 on the 31st, the 19th Division received a detailed message from the Hunchun garrison commander describing his northward deployments. Suetaka was heartened; he "earnestly desired to bring about the end of the incident as a result of the fighting of 30–31 July but was equally resolved to defend the border firmly, based on Japanese interpretation of the Hunchun pact, in case the Soviet side did not perform intensive self-reflection." First, Suetaka issued instructions from Kyonghun at 8:15 on the 31st via K. Sato: "It is our intention that Changkufeng and the high ground northwest of Shachaofeng be secured, as well as the high ground south of Shachaofeng if possible. Enemy attacks are to be met at our positions, but you are not to pursue far." Second, Colonel Tanaka was instructed not to fire as long as Russian artillery did not bombard friendly forces. "Except for preparing against counterassaults, your actions will be cautious. In particular, harassing fire against inhabited places and residents is prohibited." Suetaka was finally armed with formal authority, received at 22:05 on 1 August. He did not delay in implementing it. At 23:00 he ordered the immediate rail movement of strong reinforcements: the alerted infantry brigade headquarters, as well as four infantry battalions and the remaining mountain artillery battalion. Thus, Suetaka could deploy forward not only the forces he had requested but also a brigade-level organization to assume control of the now sizeable combat elements massed at the front for "maneuvers." Earlier that afternoon he had already moved his division's message center forward to the Matsu'otsuho heights at the Tumen, and he regularly posted at least one staff officer there so that the center could function as the division's combat headquarters. An additional matter of explosive potential was built into the divisional order: provision of Japanese Air Force cover for rail movements forward, although use of aircraft had been prohibited by all higher headquarters; Nakamura intended only ground cover. At the front, Japanese units spent most of their time consolidating their hard-won positions. By 3 on 1 August, a column of Soviet forces with vehicles was observed moving from the east side of Khasan. Late in the day, the division received an extremely important telegram from the 2nd (Intelligence) Section of the Kwantung Army: "According to a special espionage report from our OSS in Khabarovsk city, Red Army authorities there have decided to retake the high ground along Changkufeng." From other intelligence, the Kwantung Army concluded that the Russians were rebuilding in the Novokievsk region. Frequent movements observed immediately to the rear of the Soviet battle zone caused K. Sato to grow apprehensive about a dawn counterattack on the 1st, and he reinforced Changkufeng with the 6th Company. The second of August was marked by continuation of Soviet air attacks and the anticipated Russian counteroffensive. According to Japanese intelligence, Marshal Blyukher had arrived in Khabarovsk, and Lieutenant General Sokolov was in Voroshilov. An offensive buildup, estimated at about 3,000 men plus tanks and guns, was reported in the Kozando area by evening on the 1st. Hirahara, commanding the battalion at Changkufeng, grew concerned about Hill 52. With day's end approaching, he reinforced the defenses further and ordered the battalion medical officer to establish a dressing station at Fangchuanting. Around 15:00 Soviet artillery began firing at forward areas, especially gun positions; the bombardments were described as severe. Japanese artillery sought to conserve ammunition, firing only at worthwhile, short-range targets. Main Russian ground actions focused on the far-right (Hill 52) and far-left (Shachaofeng) sectors, not Changkufeng. In line with Hirahara's orders, two infantry companies and four heavy machine guns were moved by 8:00 from Changkufeng to the heights 800 meters southeast. Soviet heavy artillery pounded the zone between Fangchuanting and Hill 52; observing the enemy became difficult. Russian planes engaged at 9:00 fighters, then bombers, to soften defenses and gun positions. Meanwhile, the Soviets deployed firepower southeast of Khasan, while two infantry battalions and more than ten tanks advanced through the pines on the western slopes. Japanese regimental guns and two machine-gun platoons at Hill 52 attacked the enemy heavy machine guns and neutralized them. By 10:00 the Russians had advanced with heavy weapons to the high ground 800 meters from Hill 52. From Changkufeng, the battalion guns engaged heavy weapons. Hirahara moved with the engineers and battalion guns to the heights to which he had transferred reinforcements earlier, took command, and prepared an assault. Initially, Soviet troops advanced in formation, but after cresting a dip, they dispersed and moved onto the high ground opposite Hill 52. Heavily armed, they drew within 700 meters, with artillery and heavy machine guns providing coverage. By 10:00 Sato requested Shiozawa's mountain guns across the Tumen to unleash a barrage against Hill 52's front. For about half an hour, the battery fired. By 10:30, the Soviet advance grew listless. Believing the moment ripe, Hirahara deployed his men to charge the foe's right wing, ordering rapid movement with caution against eastern flank fire. On the heights north of Hill 52, Inagaki watched the struggle; with the telephone out and the situation urgent, he brought up firepower on his own initiative. Taking the main body of the 1st Machine Gun Company, along with the battalion guns, he moved out at noon, making contact with the 10th Company on Hill 52 around 14:00, where the Japanese machine guns and battalion guns joined the fray. The Russians, losing momentum, were checked by Japanese heavy weapons and by mountain guns from Hill 82. Hirahara's main battalion advanced onto the high ground north of Hill 52 around noon. By 15:00, two enemy companies began to fall back, climbing the western slopes of Hill 29 as the main forces retreated piecemeal to a dip. By 16:00, Suetaka observed that his units were continuing to secure their positions and were "gradually breaking the hostile intention." Despite heat and rain, front-line troops showed fatigue but remained vigilant. Between 11:00 and 16;00, Sato inspected the lines and directed defensive positions, particularly at Hill 52. After a poor initial performance, the Russians awaited reinforcements before attempting another assault on Hill 52. They moved up a mechanized corps, and by 15:00 50 tanks massed east of Maanshan. Around 17:00, the Russians began moving south along the high ground across Khasan. Another two Soviet battalions advanced along the Tumen hills, led by armor. Hirahara anticipated an assault at twilight, especially after 18:00, when nine bombers struck Hill 52. Earlier, Takeshita had received reports from the antitank commander, Lieutenant Saito, that at 17:00 several enemy tanks and three infantry battalions were advancing from Hill 29. Convinced of an imminent Soviet strike, Takeshita ordered the defense to conceal its efforts and to annihilate the foe with point-blank fire and hand-to-hand fighting. He sought to instill confidence that hostile infantry could not reach the positions. Before 19:00, the enemy battalions came within effective range, and Japan opened with all available firepower. Rapid-fire antitank guns set the lead tank alight; the remaining tanks were stopped. Support came from Hisatsune's regimental guns and two antitank gun squads atop Changkufeng. The Russian advance was checked. By nightfall, Soviet elements had displaced heavy weapons about 400 meters from Japanese positions. As early as 16:00, Suetaka ordered a mountain artillery squad to cross the river. Sato told Takeshita at 7:30 that there would be a night attack against Hill 52. Takeshita was to annihilate the foe after allowing them to close to 40–50 meters. The Russians did mount a night assault and pressed close between 8 and 9 p.m. with three battalions led by four tanks. The main force targeted Takeshita; all ten Russian heavy machine guns engaged that side. Japanese machine guns and battalion guns joined the fray. The Russians pressed within 30 meters, shouted "Hurrah! Hurrah!" and hurled grenades before advancing a further 15 meters. The Japanese repelled the first waves with grenades and emplaced weapons, leaving light machine guns and grenade dischargers forward. Soviet illuminating shells were fired to enable closer approaches within 100 meters. Japanese grenade-discharger fire blasted the forces massed in the dead space before the works. While the Hill 52 night attack collapsed, other Russian units, smaller in strength and with one tank leading, moved against the hill on the left that the Japanese had not yet occupied that morning. The Russians advanced along the Khasan slope north of Hill 52, came within point-blank range, and shouted but did not charge. By 22:00, the Japanese, supported by machine guns, had checked the foe. Thereupon, the 6th Company, now under a platoon leader, Narusawa, launched a counterattack along the lake. "The enemy was bewildered and became dislocated. Buddies were heard shouting to one another, and some could be seen hauling away their dead." The Soviet troops held back 300–400 meters and began to dig in. Sato decided artillery should sweep the zone in front of Hill 52. At 21:30, he requested support, but the mountain guns could not open fire. Still, by 23:00, not a shadow of an enemy soldier remained on the Hill 52 front, where the Japanese spent the night on alert. In the northern sector, eight Russian tanks crossed the Japanese-claimed border at 5:25 on 2 August and moved south to a position northwest of Shachaofeng. Around 7 Russian artillery opened fire to "prepare" the Japanese while a dozen heavy bombers attacked. An hour later, the ground offensive began in earnest, with one and a half to two infantry battalions, a dozen machine guns, and several tanks. Supporting Takenouchi's left wing were several batteries of mountain artillery and two heavy batteries. Well-planned counterfire stopped the offensive. There was little change north of Shachaofeng and in the southeast, where Kanda's company held its positions against attack. On Takenouchi's front, Akaishizawa notes 120-degree daytime heat and nighttime chill. Men endured damp clothes and mosquitoes. To keep warm at night, soldiers moved about; during the day they sought shade and camouflage with twigs and weeds. No defense existed against cold night rain. Nocturnal vigilance required napping by day when possible, but the intense sun drained strength. For three days, Imagawa's company had only wild berries and dirty river water to eat. At 6:00 on 2 August, Colonel Tanaka exhorted his artillery to "exalt maximum annihilation power at close range, engage confirmed targets, and display firepower that is sniperlike—precise, concentrated, and as swift as a hurricane." Tanaka devised interdiction sectors for day and night attacks. At 10:30, the artillery laid down severe fire and eventually caused the enemy assault to wither. Around 24:40, Rokutanda's battalion detected a Russian battalion of towed artillery moving into positions at the skirt of Maanshan. When the first shells hit near the vanguard, a commander on horseback fled; the rest dispersed, abandoning at least eight artillery wagons and ten vehicles. Suetaka, observing from the Kucheng BGU, picked up the phone and commended the 3rd Battalion. Japanese casualties on 2 August were relatively light: ten men killed and 15 wounded. Among the killed, the 75th Infantry lost seven, the 76th Infantry two, and the engineers one. Among the wounded, the 75th suffered nine and the 76th six. Infantry ammunition was expended at an even higher rate than on 30–31 July. In Hirahara's battalion area, small arms, machine guns, ammunition, helmets, knapsacks, and gas masks were captured. A considerable portion of the seized materiel was employed in subsequent combat, as in the case of an antitank gun and ammunition captured on 31 July. Soviet casualties to date were estimated at 200–250, including 70 abandoned corpses. Twelve enemy tanks had been captured, and five more knocked out on 1–2 August; several dozen heavy bombers and about 5,000 Soviet ground troops were involved in the concerted offensives. Nevertheless, reports of an imminent Soviet night attack against Hill 52 on 2–3 August alarmed Suetaka as much as his subordinates. Shortly after 20:00 accompanied by his intelligence officer, Suetaka set out for the hill, resolved to direct operations himself. Somewhat earlier, the division had sent Korea Army Headquarters a message, received by 18:30, reflecting Suetaka's current outlook: 30 to 40 Soviet planes had been bombing all sectors since morning, but losses were negligible and morale was high. The division had brought up additional elements in accord with army orders, and was continuing to strive for nonenlargement, but was "prepared firmly to reject the enemy's large-scale attacks." Impressed by the severity of the artillery and small-arms fire, Suetaka deemed it imperative "quickly to mete out a decisive counterassault and thus hasten the solution of the incident." But Japanese lines were thinly held and counterattacks required fresh strength. This state of affairs caused Suetaka to consider immediate commitment of the reinforcements moving to the front, although the Korea Army had insisted on prior permission before additional troops might cross the Tumen. Suetaka's customary and unsurprising solution was again to rely on his initiative and authorize commitment of every reinforcement unit. Nearest was T. Sato's 73rd Regiment, which had been ordered the night before to move up from Nanam. Under the cover of two Japanese fighters, these troops had alighted from the train the next morning at Seikaku, where they awaited orders eagerly. K. Sato was receiving reports about the enemy buildup. At 20:10 orders were given to the 73rd Regiment to proceed at once to the Matsu'otsuho crossing and be prepared to support the 75th. Involved were T. Sato's two battalions, half of the total infantry reinforcements. Suetaka had something else in mind: his trump, Okido's 76th Infantry. At 23:40 he ordered this regiment, coming up behind the 73rd, to proceed to Huichungyuan on the Manchurian side of the Tumen, via Kyonghun, intercept the enemy, and be ready to go over to the offensive. On the basis of the information that the division planned to employ Okido's regiment for an enveloping attack, K. Sato quickly worked out details. He would conceal the presence of the reinforcements expected momentarily from the 73rd Regiment and would move Senda's BGU and Shimomura's battalion to Huichungyuan to cover the advance of the 76th Regiment and come under the latter's control. Japanese forces faced the danger of Soviet actions against Changkufeng from the Shachaofeng front after midnight on 2 August. Takenouchi had been ready to strike when he learned that the enemy had launched an attack at 01:00 against one of his own companies, Matsunobe's southwest of Shachaofeng. Therefore, Takenouchi's main unit went to drive off the attackers, returning to its positions at 02:30. The Russians tried again, starting from 04:00 on 03 August. Strong elements came as close as 300 meters; near 05:00 Soviet artillery and heavy weapons fire had grown hot, and nine enemy fighters made ineffective strafing passes. By 06:30 the Russians seemed thwarted completely. Hill 52 was pummeled during the three battles on 2 August. Taking advantage of night, the Russians had been regrouping; east of the hill, heavy machine guns were set up on the ridgeline 500 meters away. From 05:00 on 03 August, the Russians opened up with heavy weapons. Led by three tanks, 50 or 60 infantrymen then attacked from the direction of Hill 29 and reached a line 700–800 meters from the Japanese defenses. Here the Russian soldiers peppered away, but one of their tanks was set ablaze by gunfire and the other two were damaged and fled into a dip. Kamimori's mountain artillery reinforcements reached Nanpozan by 07:15 on 03 August. Tanaka issued an order directing the battalion to check the zone east of Hill 52 as well as to engage artillery across Khasan. A site for the supply unit was to be selected beyond enemy artillery range; on the day before, Russian shells had hit the supply unit of the 3rd Mountain Artillery Battalion, killing two men and 20 horses. The exposed force was ordered to take cover behind Crestline 1,000 meters to the rear. After 09:00 on 03 August, the artillery went into action and Japanese morale was enhanced. Near 09:00, Soviet bombardment grew pronounced, accompanied by bomber strikes. The Japanese front-line infantry responded with intensive fire, supported by mountain pieces and the regimental guns atop Changkufeng. Enemy forces stayed behind their heavy weapons and moved no further, while their casualties mounted. At 11:00 the Russians began to fall back, leaving only machine guns and snipers. One reason the Soviets had been frustrated since early morning was that K. Sato had seen the urgency of closing the gap midway between Changkufeng and Hill 52 (a site called Scattered Pines) and had shifted the 2nd Company from Changkufeng. Between 06:00 and 07:40, the company fired on Soviet troops which had advanced north of Hill 52, and inflicted considerable casualties. A corporal commanding a grenade launcher was cited posthumously for leading an assault which caused the destruction of three heavy machine guns. In the afternoon, the Japanese sustained two shellings and a bomber raid. Otherwise, the battlefield was quiet, since Russian troops had pulled back toward Hill 29 by 15:00 under cover of heavy weapons and artillery. At Hill 52, however, defense posed a problem, for each barrage smashed positions and trenches. During intervals between bombardments and air strikes, the men struggled to repair and reinforce the facilities. Changkufeng was again not attacked by ground troops during the day but was hit by planes and artillery. Trifling support was rendered by the mountain gun which had been moved to the Manchurian side of the Tumen. Japanese infantry reinforcements were on the way. By 23:00 on 02 August, T. Sato had left Shikai. His 73rd Regiment pushed forward along roads so sodden that the units had to dismantle the heavy weapons for hauling. The rate of advance was little more than one kilometer per hour, but finally, at 05:20 on 03 August, he reached Chiangchunfeng with the bulk of two battalions. The esprit of the other front-line troops "soared." K. Sato, who was commanding all forces across the Tumen pending Morimoto's setting up of headquarters for the 37th Brigade, had T. Sato take over the line to the left of Changkufeng, employing Takenouchi's old unit and the 73rd Regiment to cover Shachaofeng. T. Sato set out with his battalions at 06:00 amid heavy rain. By 07:30, under severe fire, he was in position to command the new left sector. According to division orders to Morimoto, this zone was to include the heights south and northwest of Shachaofeng, but, in the case of the former, it was "permissible to pull back and occupy high ground west of the heights south of Shachaofeng." T. Sato contemplated using his regiment to encircle the foe on the north side of the lake, while Okido's 76th Infantry formed the other prong. Most of the day afterward, Soviet artillery was active; the Japanese responded with barrages of their own. Eventually, from 15:30, the entire enemy front-line force in this sector began falling back under violent covering fire. Morimoto's initial operations order, received at 18:00, advised T. Sato officially that he was coming under command of the 37th Brigade. The night of 03–04 August passed with the units uneasy, striving to conduct security and reconnaissance while working on the battered defenses. Total Japanese casualties on 3 August were light again: six men killed and ten wounded, four of the dead and seven of the wounded being suffered by the 75th Infantry, the rest by Takenouchi's battalion. Ammunition was expended at a lower rate than on the preceding day. The Japanese War Ministry reported no significant change since nightfall on 03 August. Thereafter, the battlefield seemed to return to quiescence; Japanese morale was high. In the press abroad, Changkufeng attracted overriding attention. The world was no longer talking of "border affrays." Three-column headlines on page 1 of the New York Times announced: "Soviet Hurls Six Divisions and 30 Tanks into Battle with Japanese on Border, 2 Claims Conflict, Tokyo Reports Victory in Manchukuo and Foes' Big Losses, Moscow Asserts It Won." The startling claim that six Soviet divisions were in action seemed to have been supplied for external consumption by Hsinking as well as Seoul. According to Nakamura Bin, the Russians employed 4,000 to 5,000 men supported by 230 tanks. Although Japanese casualties were moderate, Soviet artillery bombardment had stripped the hills of their lush summer grass. According to the uninformed foreign press, "the meager information showed both sides were heavily armed with the most modern equipment. The Russians were using small, fast tanks and the Japanese apparently were forewarned of this type of weapon and were well supplied with batteries of armor-piercing antitank guns." On 03 August the Russians lost 200 men, 15 tanks, and 25 light artillery pieces. One feature of the fighting was Japanese use of "thousands of flares" to expose fog-shrouded enemy ranks during a Soviet night attack. During the "first phase counteroffensive" by the Russians on 2–3 August, the 75th Regiment judged that the enemy's choice of opportunities for attacking was "senseless"; once they started, they continued until an annihilating blow was dealt. "We did not observe truly severe attacking capacity, such as lightning breakthroughs." With respect to tactical methods, the Japanese noted that Soviet offensive deployment was characterized by depth, which facilitated piecemeal destruction. When Russian advance elements suffered losses, replacements were moved up gradually. Soviet artillery fired without linkage to the front-line troops, nor was there liaison between the ground attacks staged in the Shachaofeng and Hill 52 sectors. Since enemy troops fought entirely on their own, they could be driven off in one swoop. Additionally, although 20–30 Russian tanks appeared during the counterattacks, their cooperation with the infantry was clumsy, and the armor was stopped. Soviet use of artillery in mobile warfare was "poorness personified." "Our troops never felt the least concern about hostile artillery forces, which were quite numerous. Even privates scoffed at the incapability of Russian artillery." It seemed that "those enemies who had lost their fighting spirit had the habit of fleeing far." During the combat between 31 July and 03 August, the defeated Russians appeared to fear pursuit and dashed all the way back to Kozando, "although we did not advance even a step beyond the boundary." On 4 August Suetaka prepared a secret evaluation: the enemy attacks by day and night on 2 August were conducted by front-line corps built around the 40th Rifle Division. "In view of the failure of those assaults, the foe is bound to carry out a more purposeful offensive effort, using newly arrived corps reinforcements." Russian actions on 02 August had been the most serious and persistent offensive efforts undertaken since the outset of the incident, but they were about the last by the front-line corps whose immediate jurisdiction lay in the region of the incident. Consequently, the enemy's loss of morale as a result of their defeat on 30–31 July, combined with their lack of unity in attack power, caused the attacks to end in failure. "We must be prepared for the fact that enemy forces will now mount a unified and deliberate offensive, avoiding rash attacks in view of their previous reversal, since large new corps are coming up." I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. In the shadowed night, Japan's Sato chose Nakano's 75th to seize a peak, sending five captains and a rising Nakajima into darkness. At 2:15 a.m., they breached wires and climbed the slope; dawn lit a hard-won crest, then Hill 52 and Shachaofeng yielded to resolve and fire. The day wore on with brutal artillery, fluttering bombers, and relentless clashes. By August's edge, casualties mounted on both sides, yet Japanese regiments held fast, repelling night assaults with grit.

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S8 Ep205: David Shedd outlines strategies to counter Chinese espionage, advocating for "partial decoupling" to protect critical technologies like semiconductors and AI. He argues for modernizing legal deterrence to prosecute theft effectively an

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 18, 2025 10:30

David Shedd outlines strategies to counter Chinese espionage, advocating for "partial decoupling" to protect critical technologies like semiconductors and AI. He argues for modernizing legal deterrence to prosecute theft effectively and warns that Chinese platforms like DeepSeek harvest user data to advance their "Great Heist" of American wealth. 1950 RED ARMY

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