Podcasts about Regiment

The "Long Tail" Logistical Supply and Heroic Resupply Missions — James Holland — Holland explains the critical "Long Tail" logistical support infrastructure that sustained the regiment's operational capability despite mounting casualties during rapid mechanized advance into Belgium. Holland describes the eccentric personality of Baron Lord Leigh, a regimental officer whose unconventional behavior masked genuine leadership capability. Holland recounts a desperate night combat operation at Gheel wherein soldier George Stanton heroically executed resupply missions to a trapped squadron surrounded by German Jagdpanther tank destroyers, demonstrating exceptional courage and logistical improvisation under extraordinary threat conditions.

Relentless Drive into Germany: Personal Loss Amid Victory — James Holland — Holland details the regiment's relentless mechanized push into Germany, from the destructive Operation Veritable through the dramatic Rhine Rivercrossing, chronicling the escalating tempo of combat operations. Holland illustrates the war's profound personal costs through the tragedy of Stuart Hills, who experienced overwhelming grief over the death of his closest friend Dennis Elmore merely weeks before German capitulation, embodying the devastating human consequences of protracted warfare. Holland juxtaposes moments of lingering humanity and compassion against the mechanized brutality of tank warfare, documenting how soldiers maintained moral and emotional resilience despite systematic exposure to death and destruction.

Ceasefire and Post-War Legacy — James Holland — Holland describes the final ceasefire order received at a German farmyard, evoking the profound mixture of "immense relief and overwhelming grief" experienced by surviving regiment members who had endured years of combat and witnessed countless comrades' deaths. Hollandtraces the post-war lives of veterans including Arthur Reddish and John Semken, documenting their transition from combat to civilian life and the lasting psychological impact of sustained warfare. Holland concludes by noting that the Sherwood Rangers Yeomanry continues to exist in contemporary Britain as an integral component of the Royal Yeomanry, maintaining institutional continuity and commemorating the regiment's extraordinary combat history and sacrifice during World War II.

This is the 2nd part of the story of Miles, a British National Service conscript during his military service in the late 1950s. I'd like to give special thanks for the Norfolk Tank Museum for highlighting Miles' story and one of his relatives for putting me in contact with him. Throughout the episode, our Miles shares captivating anecdotes and the thrill of being part of a light armoured reconnaissance regiment. He vividly recounts the challenges of operating various armoured vehicles, including the Saladin and Saracen, and the responsibilities that came with being on the front lines of military operations. One of the most intriguing aspects of his service was the border patrols, where he and his comrades would venture into the woods, often encountering their East German counterparts. The tension of those moments, coupled with the knowledge that they were living in a semi-war footing, adds a layer of gravity to his experiences. ⁠Help me preserve Cold War history. ⁠⁠ You'll become part of our community, get ad-free episodes, and get a sought-after CWC coaster as a thank you and you'll bask in the warm glow of knowing you are helping to preserve Cold War history. Just go to ⁠⁠⁠https://coldwarconversations.com/donate/⁠⁠⁠ If a monthly contribution is not your cup of tea, We also welcome one-off donations via the same link. Episode Extras ⁠https://coldwarconversations.com/episode434/ Find the ideal gift for the Cold War enthusiast in your life! Just go to ⁠https://coldwarconversations.com/store/⁠ CONTINUE  THE COLD WAR CONVERSATION Follow us on BlueSky ⁠https://bsky.app/profile/coldwarpod.bsky.social⁠ Follow us on Threads ⁠https://www.threads.net/@coldwarconversations⁠ Follow us on Twitter/X ⁠https://twitter.com/ColdWarPod⁠ Facebook ⁠https://www.facebook.com/groups/coldwarpod/⁠ Instagram ⁠https://www.instagram.com/coldwarconversations/⁠ Youtube ⁠https://youtube.com/@ColdWarConversations Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Let us know what you think! Text us!  SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this episode of Security Halt!, Deny Caballero sits down with Dagan “Hoot” VanOosten to discuss his journey from military service to entrepreneurship and the creation of Nomadic Research. They explore the challenges of transitioning out of the military, the role of mental health and psychedelics in personal growth, and the importance of resilience, training, and community support. Hoot shares how purpose-driven innovation and serving veterans and first responders drive his work today.TITAN SARMSUse code: CDENNY10Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/titan_performance_llc/Website: https://www.titansarms.com    PURE LIBERTY LABSUse code: SECURITY_HALT_10Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/purelibertylabs/Website: https://purelibertylabs.com/ PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP  Use code: Security Halt Podcast 25Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/precisionwellnessgroup/Website: https://www.precisionwellnessgroup.com/  SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATION Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/specialforcesfoundation_/ Website: https://specialforcesfoundation.org/ Request Help: https://specialforcesfoundation.org/get-support/ Instagram: @securityhaltX: @SecurityHaltTik Tok: @security.halt.podLinkedIn: Deny Caballero Follow Dagan and check out his show Today!Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/realhubb_mccann/?hl=enWebsite: https://nomadicresearch.com/Website: https://ten22fifty.com/Podcast: https://open.spotify.com/show/1x4pZ9Ro8QkProvb8I1H9v?si=fc5d91fbb4384bf5 Hand crafted, custom work, military memorabilia or need something laser engraved? Connect with my good friend Eric Gilgenast.Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/haus_gilgenast_woodworks_main/Website: https://www.hausgilgenastwoodworks.com/ SOF Heritage Designs Custom belt Buckles. Of the Regiment for the Regiment SOF-HD.Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sofhdesigns/Support the showProduced by Security Halt Media

Last time we spoke about the beginning of the battle of lake Khasan. On a frost-bitten dawn by the Chaun and Tumen, two empires, Soviet and Japanese, stared at Changkufeng, each certain the ridge would decide their fate. Diplomats urged restraint, but Tokyo's generals plotted a bold gamble: seize the hill with a surprise strike and bargain afterward. In the Japanese camp, a flurry of trains, orders, and plans moved in the night. Officers like Sato and Suetaka debated danger and responsibility, balancing "dokudan senko", independent action with disciplined restraint. As rain hammered the earth, they contemplated a night assault: cross the Tumen, occupy Hill 52, and strike Changkufeng with coordinated dawn and night attacks. Engineers, artillery, and infantry rehearsed their movements in near-poetic precision, while the 19th Engineers stitched crossings and bridges into a fragile path forward. Across the river, Soviet scouts and border guards held their nerve, counting enemy shadows and watching for a break in the line. The clash at Shachaofeng became a lightning rod: a small force crossed into Manchurian soil in the restless dark, provoking a broader crisis just as diplomacy teetered.   #179 From Darkness to Crest: The Changkufeng Battle Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. As remarked in the 19th division's war journal "With sunset on the 30th, the numbers of enemy soldiers increased steadily. Many motor vehicles, and even tanks, appear to have moved up. The whole front has become tense. Hostile patrols came across the border frequently, even in front of Chiangchunfeng. Tank-supported infantry units were apparently performing offensive deployment on the high ground south of Shachaofeng." Situation maps from the evening indicated Soviet patrol activity approaching the staging area of Nakano's unit near the Tumen, moving toward Noguchi's company to the left of Chiangchunfeng, and advancing toward Matsunobe's unit southwest of Shachaofeng. Russian vessels were depicted ferrying across Khasan, directly behind Changkufeng, while tanks moved south from Shachaofeng along the western shores of the lake. The 19th division's war journal states "Then it was ascertained that these attack forces had gone into action. All of our own units quietly commenced counteraction from late that night, as scheduled, after having systematically completed preparations since nightfall." Meanwhile, to the north, the Hunchun garrison reinforced the border with a battalion and tightened security. All evidence supported the view that Suetaka "in concept" and Sato"(in tactics" played the main part in the night-attack planning and decisions. Sato was the only infantry regimental commander at the front on 30 July. One division staff officer went so far as to say that Suetaka alone exerted the major influence, that Sato merely worked out details, including the type of attack and the timing. Intertwined with the decision to attack Changkufeng was the choice of an infantry regiment. The 76th Regiment was responsible for the defense of the sector through its Border Garrison Unit; but the latter had no more than two companies to guard a 40-mile border extending almost to Hunchun, and Okido's regimental headquarters was 75 miles to the rear at Nanam. T. Sato's 73rd Regiment was also at Nanam, while Cho's 74th Regiment was stationed another 175 miles southwest at Hamhung. Thus, the regiment nearest to Changkufeng was K. Sato's 75th, 50 miles away at Hoeryong. Although Suetaka had had time to shuffle units if he desired, Sasai suggested that troop movements from Nanam could not be concealed; from Hoeryong they might be termed maneuvers. Suetaka undoubtedly had favorites in terms of units as well as chiefs. K. Sato had served longest as regimental commander, since October 1937; Okido's date of rank preceded K. Sato's, but Okido had not taken command until 1938. He and Cho were able enough, but they were unknown quantities; T. Sato and Cho were brand-new colonels.  Thus, K. Sato was best known to Suetaka and was familiar with the terrain. While he did not regard his regiment as the equal of units in the Kwantung Army or in the homeland, K. Sato's training program was progressing well and his men were rugged natives of Nagano and Tochigi prefectures. From the combat soldier's standpoint, the Changkufeng Incident was waged between picked regulars on both sides. The matter of quantitative regimental strength could have played no part in Suetaka's choice. The 74th, 75th, and 76th regiments each possessed 1,500 men; the 73rd, 1,200. Even in ordinary times, every unit conducted night-attack training, attended by Suetaka, but there was nothing special in July, even after the general inspected the 75th Regiment on the 11th. It had been said that the most efficient battalions were selected for the action. Although, of course, Sato claimed that all of his battalions were good, from the outset he bore the 1st Battalion in mind for the night attack and had it reconnoiter the Changkufeng area. Some discerned no special reasons; it was probably a matter of numerical sequence, 1st-2nd-3rd Battalions. Others called the choice a happy coincidence because of the 1st Battalion's 'splendid unity' and the aggressive training conducted by Major Ichimoto, who had reluctantly departed recently for regimental headquarters. Coming from the 75th Regiment headquarters to take over the 1st Battalion was the 40-year-old aide Major Nakano. By all accounts, he was quiet, serious, and hard-working, a man of noble character, gentle and sincere. More the administrative than commander type, Nakano lacked experience in commanding battalions and never had sufficient time to get to know his new unit (or they, him) before the night assault. He could hardly be expected to have stressed anything particular in training. Since there was no battalion-level training, the most valid unit of comparison in the regiment was the company, the smallest infantry component trained and equipped to conduct combat missions independently. Sato valued combat experience among subordinates; Nakano's 1st Battalion was considered a veteran force by virtue of its old-timer company commanders. All but one had come up through the ranks; the exception, young Lieutenant Nakajima, the darling of Sato, was a military academy graduate. For assault actions synchronized with those of the 1st Battalion, Sato selected Ito, the one line captain commanding the 6th Company of the 2nd Battalion, and Takeshita, 10th Company commander, one of the two line captains of the 3rd Battalion. In short, Sato had designated five veteran captains and a promising lieutenant to conduct the night-attack operations of 30-31 July, the first Japanese experience of battle against the modern Red Army. During the last two weeks of July, numerous spurious farmers had gambled along the lower reaches of the Tumen, reconnoitered the terrain, and prepared for a crossing and assault. Scouts had operated on both the Manchurian and Korean sides of the river. Major Nakano had conducted frequent personal reconnaissance and had dispatched platoon and patrol leaders, all heavy-weapons observation teams, and even the battalion doctor to Sozan Hill, to Chiangchunfeng, and close to enemy positions. In Korean garb and often leading oxen, the scouts had threaded their way through the Changkufeng sector, sometimes holing up for the night to observe Soviet movements, soil and topography, and levels of illumination. From this data, Nakano had prepared reference materials necessary for an assault. Hirahara, then located at Kucheng BGU Headquarters, had established three observation posts on high ground to the rear. After Chiangchunfeng had been occupied, Hirahara had set up security positions and routes there. Regarding Changkufeng, he had sought to ensure that even the lowest private studied the layout. Formation commanders such as Takeshita had volunteered frequently. Sato had also utilized engineers. Since the order to leave his station on 17 July, Lieutenant Colonel Kobayashi had had his regiment engage in scouting routes, bridges, and potential fords. Sato's 1st Company commander had prepared a sketch during 3% hours of reconnaissance across from Hill 52 during the afternoon of 18 July. Captain Yamada's intelligence had contributed to the tactical decisions and to knowledge of Russian strength and preparations. The most important information had been his evaluation of attack approaches, suggesting an offensive from the western side, preferably against the right flank or frontally. This concept had been the one applied by the regiment in its night assault two weeks later; Yamada had died on the green slopes he had scanned. Cloudy Saturday, 30 July, had drawn to a close. The moment had been at hand for the 75th Regiment to storm the Russians atop Changkufeng. Setting out from Fangchuanting at 22:30, Nakano's battalion, about 350 strong, had assembled at a fork one kilometer southwest of Changkufeng. The roads had been knee-deep in mud due to intermittent rain and downpours on 29–30 July. Now the rain had subsided, but clouds had blotted out the sky after the waning moon had set at 22:30. Led by Sakata's 1st Platoon leader, the men had marched silently toward the southern foot of Changkufeng; the murk had deepened and the soldiers could see no more than ten meters ahead. It had taken Sakata's men less than an hour to push forward the last 1,000 meters to the jump-off point, where they had waited another two hours before X-hour arrived. Scouts had advanced toward the first row of wire, 200–300 meters away. Platoon Leader Amagasa had infiltrated the positions alone and had reconnoitered the southeastern side of the heights. Sakata had heard from the patrols about the entanglements and their distance and makeup. While awaiting paths to be cut by engineer teams, the infantry had moved up as far as possible, 150 meters from the enemy, by 23:30. Although records described Changkufeng as quite steep, it had not been hard to climb until the main Russian positions were reached, even though there were cliffs. But as the craggy peak had been neared, the enemy defenses, which had taken advantage of rocks and dips, could not have been rushed in a bound. It had been 500 meters to the crest from the gently sloping base. The incline near the top had been steep at about 40 degrees and studded with boulders. Farther down were more soil and gravel. Grass had carpeted the foot. Japanese Army radio communications had been in their infancy; wire as well as runners had served as the main means of linking regimental headquarters with the front-line infantry, crossing-point engineers, and supporting guns across the Tumen in Korea. From Chiangchunfeng to the 1st Battalion, lines had been installed from the morning of 29 July. Combat communications had been operated by the small regimental signal unit, 27 officers and men. In general, signal traffic had been smooth and reception was good. Engineer support had been rendered by one platoon, primarily to assist with wire-cutting operations. Nakano had ordered his 1st Company to complete clearing the wire by 02:00. At 23:30 the cutters had begun their work on the right with three teams under 1st Lieutenant Inagaki. Since the proposed breach had been far from the enemy positions and there were no outposts nearby, Inagaki had pressed the work of forced clearing. The first entanglements had been breached fairly quickly, then the second. At about midnight, a dim light had etched the darkness, signaling success. There had been two gaps on the right. On the left side, Sakata's company had hoped to pierce the barbed wire in secrecy rather than by forced clearing. Only one broad belt of entanglements, actually the first and third lines, had been reconnoitered along the south and southeastern slopes. Sakata had assigned one team of infantry, with a covering squad led by Master Sergeant Amagasa, to the engineer unit under 2nd Lieutenant Nagayama. Covert clearing of a pair of gaps had begun. The Russian stakes had been a meter apart and the teams cut at the center of each section, making breaches wide enough for a soldier to wriggle through. To the rear, the infantry had crouched expectantly, while from the direction of Khasan the rumble of Soviet armor could be heard. At 00:10, when the first line of wire had been penetrated and the cutters were moving forward, the silence had been broken by the furious barking of Russian sentry dogs, and pale blue flares had burst over the slopes. As recalled by an engineer "It had been as bright as day. If only fog would cover us or it would start to rain!" At the unanticipated second line, the advancing clearing elements had drawn gunfire and grenades. But the Russians had been taken by surprise, Sakata said, and their machine guns had been firing high. Two engineers had been wounded; the security patrol on the left flank may have drawn the fire. Sakata had crawled up to Lieutenant Nagayama's cutting teams. One party had been hiding behind a rock, with a man sticking out his hand, grasping for the stake and feeling for electrified wire. Another soldier lay nearby, ready to snip the wire. The enemy had seemed to have discerned the Japanese, for the lieutenant could hear low voices. Although the cutters had been told to continue clearing in secrecy, they had by now encountered a line of low barbed wire and the work had not progressed as expected. Forced clearing had begun, which meant that the men had to stand or kneel, ignoring hostile fire and devoting primary consideration to speed. The infantrymen, unable to delay, had crawled through the wire as soon as the cutters tore a gap. Ten meters behind the small breaches, as well as in front of the Soviet positions, the Japanese had been troubled by fine low strands. They had resembled piano-wire traps, a foot or so off the ground. The wires had been invisible in the grass at night. As one soldier recalled "You couldn't disengage easily. When you tried to get out, you'd be sniped at. The wires themselves could cut a bit, too." Sakata had kept up with the clearing teams and urged them on. On his own initiative, Amagasa had his men break the first and third lines of wire by 01:50. Meanwhile, at 01:20, Nakano had phoned Sato, reporting that his forces had broken through the lines with little resistance, and had recommended that the attack be launched earlier than 2:00. Perhaps the premature alerting of the Russians had entered into Nakano's considerations. Sato had explained matters carefully, that is, rejected the suggestion, saying Changkufeng must not be taken too early, lest the enemy at Shachaofeng be alerted. The entire battalion, redeployed, had been massed for the charge up the slope. In an interval of good visibility, the troops could see as far as 40 meters ahead. A little before 02:00, Nakano had sent runners to deliver the order to advance. When the final obstructions had been cut, Nagayama had flashed a light. Then a white flag had moved in the darkness and the infantry had moved forward. Sakata's company, heading directly for Changkufeng crest, had less ground to traverse than Yamada's, and the point through which they penetrated the wire had been at the fork, where there appeared to have been only two lines to cut. The soldiers had crawled on their knees and one hand and had taken cover as soon as they got through. It had been 02:15 when the battalion traversed the barbed wire and began the offensive. The Japanese Army manual had stated that unaimed fire was seldom effective at night and that it had been imperative to avoid confusion resulting from wild shooting. At Changkufeng, the use of firearms had been forbidden by regimental order. Until the troops had penetrated the wire, bayonets had not been fixed because of the danger to friendly forces. Once through the entanglements, the men had attached bayonets, but, although their rifles had been loaded, they still had not been allowed to fire. The men had been traveling light. Instead of the 65 pounds the individual rifleman might ordinarily carry, knapsack, weapons and ammunition, tools, supplies, and clothing, each helmeted soldier had only 60 cartridges, none on his back, a haversack containing two grenades, a canteen, and a gas mask. To prevent noise, the regulations had prescribed wrapping metal parts of bayonets, canteens, sabers, mess kits, shovels, picks, and hobnails with cloth or straw. The wooden and metal parts of the shovel had been separated, the canteen filled, ammunition pouches stuffed with paper, and the bayonet sheath wrapped with cloth. Instead of boots, the men had worn web-toed, rubbersoled ground socks to muffle sound. Although their footgear had been bound with straw ropes, the soldiers occasionally had slipped in the wet grass. Considerations of security had forbidden relief of tension by talking, coughing, or smoking. Company commanders and platoon leaders had carried small white flags for hand signaling. In Sakata's company, the platoons had been distinguished by white patches of cloth hung over the gas masks on the men's backs, triangular pieces for the 1st Platoon, square for the second. Squad leaders had worn white headbands under their helmets. The company commanders had strapped on a white cross-belt; the platoon leaders, a single band. Officer casualties had proven particularly severe because the identification belts had been too conspicuous; even when the officers had lay flat, Soviet illuminating shells had made their bodies visible. On the left, the 2nd Company, 70–80 strong, had moved up with platoons abreast and scouts ahead. About 10 meters had separated the individual platoons advancing in four files; in the center were Sakata and his command team. The same setup had been used for Yamada's company and his two infantry platoons on the right. To the center and rear of the lead companies were battalion headquarters, a platoon of Nakajima's 3rd Company, and the Kitahara Machine-Gun Company, 20 meters from Nakano. The machine-gun company had differed from the infantry companies in that it had three platoons of two squads each. The machine-gun platoons had gone through the center breach in the entanglements with the battalion commander. Thereafter, they had bunched up, shoulder to shoulder and with the machine guns close to each other. Kitahara had led, two platoons forward, one back. The night had been so dark that the individual soldiers had hardly been able to tell who had been leading and who had been on the flanks. The 2nd Company had consolidated after getting through the last entanglements and had walked straight for Changkufeng crest. From positions above the Japanese, Soviet machine guns covering the wire had blazed away at a range of 50 meters. Tracers had ripped the night, but the Russians' aim had seemed high. Soviet illuminating shells, by revealing the location of dead angles among the rocks, had facilitated the Japanese approach. Fifty meters past the barbed wire, Sakata had run into the second Soviet position. From behind a big rock, four or five soldiers had been throwing masher grenades. Sakata and his command team had dashed to the rear and cut down the Russians. The captain had sabered one soldier who had been about to throw a grenade. Then Master Sergeant Onuki and the others had rushed up and overran the Russian defenses. The Japanese had not yet fired or sustained casualties. There had been no machine guns in the first position Sakata had jumped into; the trenches had been two feet deep and masked by rocks. To the right, a tent could be seen. Blind enemy firing had reached a crescendo around 02:30. The Russians had resisted with rifles, light and heavy machine guns, hand grenades, rifle grenades, flares, rapid-fire guns, and a tank cannon. "The hill had shaken, but our assault unit had advanced, disregarding the heavy resistance and relying only on the bayonet." The battalion commander, Major Nakano, had been the first officer to be hit. Moving to the left of Sakata's right-hand platoon, he had rushed up, brandishing his sword, amid ear-splitting fire and day-like flashes. He had felled an enemy soldier and then another who had been about to get him from behind. But a grenade had exploded and he had dropped, with his right arm hanging grotesquely and many fragments embedded in his chest and left arm. After regaining consciousness, Nakano had yelled at soldiers rushing to help him: "You fools! Charge on! Never mind me." Staggering to his feet, he had leaned on his sword with his left hand and pushed up the slope after the assault waves, while "everybody had been dashing around like mad." Sakata had encountered progressive defenses and more severe fire. The main body of the company had lost contact with other elements after getting through the entanglements. Sakata had thought that he had already occupied an edge of Changkufeng, but about 30 meters ahead stood a sharp-faced boulder, two or three meters high, from which enormous numbers of grenades had been lobbed. The Japanese, still walking, had come across another Soviet position, manned by four or five grenadiers. Sword in hand, Sakata had led Sergeant Onuki and his command team in a rush : "The enemy was about to take off as we jumped them. One Russian jabbed the muzzle of his rifle into my stomach at the moment I had my sword raised overhead. He pulled the trigger but the rifle did not go off. I cut him down before he could get me. The others ran away, but behind them they left grenades with pins pulled. Many of my men fell here and I was hit in the thighs".  Onuki had felled two or three Russians behind Sakata, then disposed of an enemy who had been aiming at Sakata from the side. It had been around 03:00. On the right, the 1st Company had made relatively faster progress along the western slopes after having breached two widely separated belts of barbed wire. Once through the second wire, the troops had found a third line, 150 meters behind, and enemy machine guns had opened fire. Thereupon, a left-platoon private first class had taken a "do or die" forced clearing team, rushed 15 meters ahead of the infantry, and tore a path for the unit. At 03:00, Yamada had taken his men in a dash far up the right foot of the hill, overran the unexpected position, and captured two rapid-fire guns. The company's casualties had been mounting. Yamada had been hit in the chest but had continued to cheer his troops on. At 03:30, he had led a rush against the main objective, tents up the hill, behind the antitank guns. Yamada had cut down several bewildered soldiers in the tents, but had been shot again in the chest, gasping "Tenno Heika Banzai!" "Long Live the Emperor!", and had fallen dead. His citation had noted that he had "disrupted the enemy's rear after capturing the forwardmost positions and thus furnished the key to the ultimate rout of the whole enemy line." Sergeant Shioda, though wounded badly, and several of the men had picked up their commander's body and moved over to join Lieutenant Inagaki. On the left, Kadowaki had charged into the tents with his platoon and had played his part in interfering with the Russian rear. After this rush, the unit had been pinned down by fire from machine-gun emplacements, and Kadowaki had been wounded seriously. His platoon had veered left while watching for an opportunity to charge. Eventual contact had been made with Sakata's company.   The assault on the right flank had been failing. With the death of Yamada, command of the company had been assumed temporarily by Inagaki. He and his right-flank platoon had managed to smash their way through the entanglements; Inagaki had sought to rush forward, sword in hand. Furious firing by Soviet machine guns, coupled with hand grenades, had checked the charge. Losses had mounted. Still another effort had bogged down in the face of enemy reinforcements, supported not only by covered but by tank-mounted machine guns. Russian tanks and trucks had appeared to be operating behind Changkufeng. Sergeant Shioda had been trying to keep the attack moving. Again and again, he had pushed toward the Soviet position with five of his surviving men, to no avail. The left-flank platoon had sought to evade the fierce fire by taking advantage of rock cover and hurling grenades. Finally, a private first class had lobbed in a grenade, rushed the machine gun, and silenced the weapon. By now, precious time and lives had been lost. Either instinctively or by order, the 1st Company had been shifting to the left, away from the core of the enemy fire-net. Inagaki had decided to veer left in a wide arc to outflank Changkufeng from the same side where the 2nd Company and most of the battalion were at-tacking. There would be no further attempts to plunge between the lake and the heights or to head for the crest from the rear. Military maps had indicated tersely that remnants of the 1st Company had displaced to the 2nd Company area at 04:00, sometime after the last charge on the right by Yamada. On the left front, in the sector facing the main defenses on Changkufeng crest, Sakata had fallen after being hit by a grenade. A machine gunner had improvised a sling. "I had lost a lot of blood," Sakata had said, "and there were no medics. Onuki, my command team chief who had been acting platoon leader, had been killed around here. I had ordered Warrant Officer Kuriyama to take the company and push on until I could catch up." As Sakata lay on the ground, he had seen the battalion commander and the Nakajima company move past him in the darkness. Nakano had said not a word; Sakata had not known the major had been maimed. "I still hadn't felt intense pain," Sakata had recalled. "I had rested after the first bad feelings. In about 15 minutes I had felt well enough to move up the hill and resume command of my company." With both Nakano and Sakata wounded, individual officers or noncoms had kept the assault moving. The 1st Platoon leader, Kuriyama, had been securing the first position after overrunning it but had become worried about the main force. On his own initiative, he had brought his men up the hill to join the rest of the company, while the battalion aide, 2nd Lieutenant Nishimura, had made arrangements to deploy the heavy machine guns and reserve infantry in support. Before 4 A.M., these troops under Kitahara and Nakajima had caught up with the remnants of the 2nd Company, which had pressed beyond the third position to points near the Soviet Crestline.   By the time Sakata had regained his feet and moved toward the peak, somewhere between 03:30 and 04:00, the Japanese had been pinned down. Most of the losses had been incurred at this point. "Iron fragments, rock, sand, blood, and flesh had been flying around," Akaishizawa had written. Grenades had caused the preponderance of wounds after the men had penetrated the barbed wire. Deaths had been inflicted mainly by the Soviet "hurricane" of small arms and machine-gun fire and by ricochets ripping from man to man. Six Russian heavy weapons had kept up a relentless fire from three emplacements, and milk-bottle-shaped grenades had continued to thud down on the Japanese. The grenades had hindered the advance greatly. Mainly at the crest, but at every firing position as well, the Russians had used rifle grenades, primarily to eliminate dead angles in front of positions. There had been low piano wire between firing points, and yellow explosive had been planted amidst rock outcroppings and in front of the emplacements. "The Russians had relied exclusively on fire power; there had been no instance of a brave enemy charge employing cold steel." Only 20 meters from the entrenchments atop Changkufeng, Kitahara had been striving to regain the initiative and to hearten the scattered, reeling troops. One Japanese Army motto had concerned the mental attitude of commanders: "When surprised by the enemy, pause for a smoke." Kitahara had stood behind a rock, without a helmet, puffing calmly on a cigarette—a sight which had cheered the men. Sakata could not forget the scene. "It really happened," he had said, respectfully. As soon as Sakata had reached the forward lines, he had joined Kitahara (the senior officer and de facto battalion commander till then) and three enlisted men. All had been pinned behind the large boulder, the only possible cover, which had jutted in front of the Soviet crestline positions. Fire and flame had drenched the slopes, grenades from the peak, machine guns from the flank. The eastern skies had been brightening and faces could be discerned. Troubled by the stalemate yet not feeling failure, Sakata had said nothing about his own wounds but had told Kitahara he would lead his 2nd Company in a last charge up the left side of Changkufeng if only the machine gun company could do something about the enemy fire, especially some Soviet tanks which had been shooting from the right. "The enemy must have learned by now," the regimental records had observed, "that our forces were scanty, for the Soviets exposed the upper portions of their bodies over the breastworks, sniped incessantly, and lobbed illuminating shells at us." Agreeing with Sakata that the "blind" Japanese would have to take some kind of countermeasure to allow his two available heavy machine guns to go into concerted action, Kitahara had ordered illuminating rounds fired by the grenade dischargers. He had clambered atop the boulder and squatted there amidst the furious crossfire to spot for his guns, still only 20 meters from the Russian lines. Perhaps it had been the golden spark of Kitahara's cigarette, perhaps it had been the luminescence of his cross-bands, but hardly a moment later, at 04:03 am, a sniper's bullet had caught the captain between the eyes and he had toppled to his death. Nakajima had wanted to support Sakata's stricken company as well. The lieutenant had seen the advantage of outflanking the emplacements from the far left of Changkufeng where the fire of two Soviet heavy machine guns had been particularly devastating. Nakajima had swung his reserve unit around the crest to the southwest side, pressed forward through deadly grenade attacks, and had managed to reach a point ten meters from the Russian positions. Perched on the cliff's edge, he had prepared to continue: "Nakajima, who had been calming his men and looking for a chance to advance, leaped up and shouted, "Right now! Charge!" Sword in hand, he led his forces to the front on the left and edged up against the crest emplacements. But the enemy did not recoil; grenades and machine gun fusillades burst from above on all sides. Men fell, one after another. [During this final phase, a platoon leader and most of the key noncoms were killed.] A runner standing near Nakajima was hit in the head by a grenade and collapsed. Nakajima picked up the soldier's rifle, took cover behind a boulder, and tried to draw a bead on a Russian sniper whom he could see dimly 20 meters away through the lifting mist. But a bullet hit him in the left temple and he pitched forward, weakly calling, "Long Live the Emperor!" A PFC held the lieutenant up and pleaded with him to hang on, but the company commander's breath grew fainter and his end was at hand. The time was 4:10 am". Nakajima's orderly said of the event "Lieutenant Nakajima charged against the highest key point on Changkufeng, leading the reserve unit, and ensured the seizure of the hill. The lieutenant was wearing the boots which I had always kept polished but which he had never worn till this day." Akaishizawa added that Nakajima had purified himself in the waters of the Tumen before entering combat, in traditional fashion. Lieutenant Yanagihara had penned a tribute to his young fellow officer, the resolute samurai "Lt. Nakajima must have been expecting a day like today. He was wearing brand-new white underclothes and had wrapped his body with white cloth and the thousand-stitch stomach band which his mother had made for him. .. . Was not the lieutenant's end the same as we find in an old tanka verse? "Should you ask what is the Yamato spirit, the soul of Japan: It is wild cherry blossoms glowing in the rising sun."  On this main attack front, Soviet heavy machine guns and tanks had continued to deliver withering fire against the Japanese remnants, while Russian snipers and grenadiers had taken an increasing toll. Shortly after 04:00, enemy reinforcements had appeared at the northeast edge. Of the company commanders, only Sakata had still been alive; the other three officers had died between 03:30 and 04:30. A machine gunner who had been pinned down near the crest had commented: "It must have been worse than Hill 203" (of bloody Russo-Japanese War fame). Between a half and two-thirds of each company had been dead or wounded by then. Sakata had still been thinking of ways to rush the main positions. After Kitahara had been shot down, he had moved around to investigate. A colleague had added: "The agony of the captain's wounds had been increasing. He rested several times to appease the pain while watching intently for some chance to charge once more." Now, Sakata had been wounded again by grenade fragments tearing into the right side of his face. "It hadn't been serious," Sakata had insisted. As he had limped about, he could see his platoon leader, Kuriyama, sniping at a Russian grenadier.   Much would depend on the effectiveness of supporting firepower. With the death of Kitahara, control of the machine-gun company had been assumed by Master Sergeant Harayama. There had been almost no time to coordinate matters before Kitahara had fallen, but Harayama as well as Sakata had known that the infantry could not break loose until the Soviet heavy weapons had been suppressed. Working with another sergeant, Harayama had ordered his gunners to displace forward and rush the positions 20 meters away. The one heavy machine gun set up for action had been the first to fire for the Japanese side at Changkufeng, after its crew had manhandled it the last few meters to the first Soviet trench below the crest. The trench had been empty. Thereupon, the gunner had opened up against tents which could be seen 20 meters to the rear. Other friendly machine guns had begun to chatter. Kuriyama had dashed up and secured the southeast edge of the heights. Enemy resistance had begun to slacken. What appeared to be two small Soviet tanks, actually a tank and a tractor had been laying down fire near the tents in an apparent effort to cover a pullback. The two vehicles had advanced toward the Japanese and sought to neutralize the heavy machine guns. A squad leader had engaged the tractor, set it afire, and shot down the crewmen when they had tried to flee. Next, the tank had been stopped. The Japanese lead gun had consumed all of its armor-piercing (AP) ammunition—three clips, or 90 rounds—in 10 or 15 seconds. No more AP ammunition had been available; one box had been with the last of the six squads struggling up the heights. "More AP!" had yelled the 1st Squad leader, signaling with his hand—which had at that moment been hit by a Russian slug. A tank machine-gun bullet had also torn through the thumb and into the shoulder of the squad's machine gunner, whereupon the 21-year-old loader had taken over the piece. Similar replacements had occurred under fire in all squads, sometimes more than once in the same unit. "It had been a fantastic scene," Sakata had commented. "Just like grasshoppers! But they had finally neutralized the heavy weapons." The knocked-out Russian vehicles had begun to blaze while the eastern skies had lightened. New enemy tanks (some said many, others merely three) had lumbered up the slopes, but the Japanese heavy machine guns had continued to fire on them, and the tanks had stopped. If the machine guns had gone into action minutes later, the Russian armor might have continued to the top, from which they could have ripped up the surviving Japanese infantrymen: "So we gunners fired and fired. I could see my tracers bouncing off the armor, for there was still no AP. We also shot at machine guns and infantry. Since we carried little ammo for the night attack, my gun ran out, but by then the enemy had been ousted. We had originally expected that we might have to fire in support of the infantry after they took the crest. We lost none of our own heavy machine guns that night, overran four Maxims and captured mountains of hand grenades. By dawn, however, our machine gun company had lost more than half of its personnel—about 40 men".  The light-machine-gun squad leader had been wounded in the hand by a grenade near the site where Sakata had been hit. Nevertheless, the superior private had clambered up the slope with his men. After 04:00, when he and his squad had been pinned down with the infantry below the crest, he had heard Japanese heavy machine guns firing toward the foe on the right: "Our units were in confusion, bunched up under terrific fire in a small area. Getting orders was impossible, so I had my light machine gun open up in the same direction at which the heavies were firing. We could identify no targets but tried to neutralize the enemy located somewhere on the crest. Although Soviet flares were going off, we never could glimpse the enemy clearly. But we heard the Russians yelling "Hurrah!" That ought to have been the signal for a charge; here it meant a retreat".  But, of the ten men in this Japanese machine-gun squad, only four had been in action when dawn had come. The turning point had arrived when the machine-guns belonging to Sakata, and the reserves of the late Nakajima, had torn into the Russian emplacements, tanks, and tents behind. Others had said the key had been the fire of grenade dischargers belonging to the same units. A high-angle weapon, the grenade discharger, had been light, effective, and ideal for getting at dead space. In terms of ammunition, it had been especially useful, for it could fire hand grenades available to the foot soldier. Undoubtedly, the combined action of the grenade dischargers and machine guns (heavy and light) had paved the way for a last charge by the infantry. The four light machine guns of the 2nd and 4th companies had played their part by pouring flank fire against the Russians, who had clung to the position although Kuriyama's platoon had made an initial penetration. At about 04:30, Japanese assault forces could be seen dimly, in the light of dawn, exchanging fire with the Russians only a few meters away on the southern edge of Changkufeng Hill. At the same time, on the northern slopes, enemy reinforcements numbering 50 men with trucks and tanks had been scaling the hill. Around 04:45, Japanese grenades began to burst over the heads of the last enemy atop Changkufeng; the Russians had wavered. After the heavy weapons had finally begun to soften up the Soviet positions, Sakata had judged that there were not many Russians left. He had jumped into the first trench, ahead of his only surviving platoon leader, Kuriyama, and several soldiers. Two or three Russians had been disposed of; the rest had fled. By then the 2nd Company had been chopped down to a platoon; about 40 men still lived. There had been no cheer of banzai, as journalists had written; it would have drawn fire to stand up and raise one's arms. But Sakata had remained proud of the assertion by Sato that, from Chiangchunfeng, he had observed the last rush and knew the "real story," that "Sakata was the first to charge the peak." The regimental eulogist had written that Sakata's earnestness "cut through iron, penetrated mountains, and conquered bodily pain." As for Inagaki, about 15 or 20 minutes after the badly wounded Sakata had managed to reach the point where Kitahara and Nakajima had been pinned down near the Crestline, the lieutenant had arrived with the remnants of Yamada's company, probably by 04:20. The records would have us believe that Sakata had been able to coordinate the next actions with Inagaki despite the storm of fire: "The acting battalion commander [Sakata] resumed the charge with a brand-new deployment—his 2nd Company on the right wing and the 1st Company on the left." Actually, all Sakata could think of had been to charge; it had been too confused a time to issue anything like normal orders as acting battalion commander: "About all I remember asking Inagaki was: "What are you doing over here? What happened to your company commander?" I think he told me that Yamada had been killed and resistance on the right flank had been severe. Undoubtedly, he acted on his own initiative in redeploying. Nor was there any particular liaison between my company and Inagaki's force." To the left of Sakata's survivors were the vestiges of Nakajima's platoon, and further to the left, the outflanking troops brought up by Inagaki. These forces gradually edged up to the rear of the foe, in almost mass formation, on the western slope just below the top. "The enemy soldiers who had been climbing up the northern incline suddenly began to retreat, and Inagaki led a charge, fighting dauntlessly hand-to-hand." As a result of the more or less concerted Japanese assaults, "the desperately resisting enemy was finally crushed and Changkufeng peak was retaken completely by 05:15," three hours after the night attackers had jumped off. Akaishizawa had said that the troops "pushed across the peak through a river of blood and a mountain of corpses. Who could withstand our demons?" Sato's regimental attack order had called for the firing of a green star shell to signal success. At 05:15, according to the records, "the signal flared high above Changkufeng, showering green light upon the hill; the deeply stirring Japanese national flag floated on the top." Sakata thought that this must have been 10 or 20 minutes after the hill was taken, but he remembered no flare. "After the last charge I had no time to watch the sky!" The flare had probably been fired from a grenade launcher by the battalion aide or a headquarters soldier. After the final close-quarter fighting, Sakata had pressed forward while the survivors came up. The captain had deployed his men against possible counterattack. Later he had heard that Soviet tanks had lumbered up to reinforce the peak or to counterattack but that, when they observed the Japanese in possession of the crest, they had turned back. Only after his men had secured the peak had Sakata talked to Inagaki about sharing defensive responsibility. The records described Sakata's deployments at 05:20, but there had been painfully few men to match the tidy after-action maps. Did Sakata and his men push across the peak? "Not downhill a bit," he had answered. "We advanced only to the highest spot, the second, or right-hand peak, where we could command a view of the hostile slope." He had merely reconnoitered to deploy his troops. The senior surviving Japanese officer atop Changkufeng heights had been Sakata. What had happened to Major Nakano, who had been wounded shortly after jump-off? Although his right arm had been shattered, he had dragged himself to his feet, once he had regained consciousness, and kept climbing to catch up. His men had pleaded with him to look after his terrible wounds, but he had insisted on advancing, leaning on his sword and relying on spiritual strength. "Left! Move left!" he had been heard to shout, for the faltering Japanese had apparently been of the opinion that they were at the enemy's rear. Instead, they had pressed against the Russians' western wing, directly in front of the enemy works, from which murderous fire had been directed, especially from machine-gun nests ripping at their flanks. With sword brandished in his uninjured hand, high above his head, Nakano had stood at the corner of the positions. The explosion of an enemy grenade had illuminated him "like the god of fire," and he had been seen to crumple. He had died a little before 0500, to the left of where young Nakajima had fallen at 0430. His citation had said: "The battalion commander captured Changkufeng, thanks to his proper combat guidance and deployments. He provided the incentive to victory in the Changkufeng Incident." A eulogist had called Nakano a "human-bullet demon-unit commander": "All who observed this scene were amazed, for it was beyond mortal strength. One could see how high blazed the flame of his faith in certain victory and what a powerful sense of responsibility he had as unit commander. Major Nakano was a model soldier." When Nakano had pitched forward, badly wounded PFC Imamura had tried to protect the commander's corpse. Imamura had killed a soldier who appeared from behind a boulder, had lunged at another two or three, but had toppled off the cliff. Two other Japanese privates—a battalion runner and PFC Iwata—had been lying nearby, hurt seriously; but when they saw Imamura fall to his death, leaving the major's body undefended, they had dragged themselves to the corpse, four meters from the foe. Iwata, crippled and mute, had hugged Nakano's corpse until other soldiers managed to retrieve it. While death had come to Nakano, Sakata had been fighting with no knowledge of what was going on to his left. Pinned behind a boulder, he had had no way of checking on the battalion commander. Only after Sakata had charged onto the crest and asked for the major had he been told by somebody that Nakano had been killed. He had not even been sure where the commander had fallen. Such had been the time of blood and fury when battalion chief, company commanders, and platoon leaders had fought and died like common soldiers, pressing on with saber or pistol or sniping rifle under relentless cross-fire. Pretty patterns of textbook control had meant nothing. Life—and victory—depended on training, initiative, raw courage, and the will to win. The result of this combination of wills could not be ascertained, on 31 July 1938, until dawn brightened the bleeding earth on Changkufeng Hill. 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. Tokyo gambled on a night strike to seize Changkufeng, while diplomacy urged restraint. Amid mud, smoke, and moonless skies, Nakano led the 1st Battalion, supported by Nakajima, Sakata, Yamada, and others. One by one, officers fell, wounds multiplying, but resolve held. By 05:15, shattered units regrouped atop the peak, the flag rising as dawn bled into a costly, hard-won victory.

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: PURE LIBERTY LABS, TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this episode of Security Halt!, host Deny Caballero speaks with Rob Evans, founder of Hots&Cots, about his mission to improve military living conditions for service members across the force. Rob shares the origins of Hots&Cots, the challenges troops face in barracks and dining facilities, and how his platform is pushing for transparency, accountability, and meaningful change. Their conversation highlights quality of life issues, community engagement, and the emotional toll of advocating for better standards—underscoring why improving military living conditions is essential for readiness, morale, and mental health. 

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATION In this episode of Security Halt!, remote pilot Tanner Yackley reveals the overlooked mental health challenges faced by drone operators and the emotional toll of witnessing combat from afar. He discusses the hidden burden of remote warfare, the need for recognition and proper support, and his advocacy through the Remote Warrior initiative. Tanner explains the coping strategies—including “panic packs”—that help manage anxiety, and emphasizes the importance of community, open conversations, and improved resources for veterans dealing with PTSD and trauma. 

The RAF Regiment - ask any squaddie and they'll give you a sneer, a joke, or a tall tale about babysitting airfields. But the truth? The RAF Regiment has been fighting - and dying - in deadly and dangerous places since its formation. But what is the RAF Regiment, what's the history and what is the unit's role now? Let's find out. Get your free eBook - https://redcoathistory.com/newsletter/  Support the Study of British Military History - https://www.patreon.com/RedcoatHistory 

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATION In this episode of Security Halt!, Michael Meegan shares his journey from a family tradition of military service to serving in the elite Ranger Regiment and ultimately mentoring future leaders at Texas A&M. He reflects on the lessons learned through adversity, the pursuit of excellence, and the impact of rigid standards in shaping character. Michael emphasizes the importance of mentorship, continuous learning, and giving back to the next generation, while discussing how his podcast helps educate and inspire future service members. This conversation highlights the enduring value of resilience, leadership, and purpose. 

Last time we spoke about the beginning of a conflict between the USSR and Japan. In the frost-hardened dawns by the Chaun and Tumen, two powers eye a ridge called Changkufeng, each seeing a prize and fearing a trap. On the Soviet side, weary front-line troops tighten their grip, while Moscow's diplomats coaxed restraint through Seoul and Harbin.  As July unfolds, Tokyo's generals push a dangerous idea: seize the hill with a surprise strike, then bargain for peace. Seoul's 19th Division is readied in secret, trains loaded with men and horses, movement masked, prayers whispered to avoid widening the rift. Japanese scouts in white Hanbok disguise, peering at trenches, wire, and watchful Russians. Russian border guards appear as shadows, counters slipping into place, yet both sides hold their fire. On July 29, a skirmish erupts: a platoon crosses a shallow line, clashes flare, and bodies and banners ripple in the cold air.    #178 Night Attacks and Diplomatic Strains: The Lake Khasan Conflict 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. A second troop train was scheduled to depart Agochi for Nanam on the night of 29 July, carrying back the initial elements of the 75th Infantry. At Haigan, regimental commander Sato was pulling on his boots at 16:00 when the division informed him that fighting had broken out near Shachaofeng since 15:00 and that the Russians were assembling forces in that area. Suetaka ordered Sato's 3rd Battalion, which had not been slated to leave until the following night, to proceed to Kucheng; the remainder of the regiment was to assemble at Agochi. After consulting with Division Staff Officer Saito at Agochi, Sato returned to Haigan with the conclusion that "overall developments did not warrant optimism, it was imperative to prepare to move the entire regiment to the battlefield." One of Sato's first actions was to telephone a recommendation to the division that he be allowed to occupy Hill 52, which commanded the approaches to Changkufeng from south of Khasan. Suetaka approved, and at 17:30, Yamada's company was ordered to proceed to Shikai along with Hirahara's battalion. Meanwhile, Suzuki's 15th Heavy Field Artillery Regiment, which had been among the last units ordered to leave, had finished loading at Agochi by about 15:00. Sato recommended to Suetaka that a portion of Suzuki's regiment be attached to him; this was why Suetaka decided to transfer one of the two batteries to the 75th Infantry. The rest of the heavy artillery concentrated at Kyonghun. Suetaka's orders, issued at 18:20, called for Sato to have two of his battalions, the 1st and 3rd, cross the Tumen as soon as possible, with engineer support. Attached was Narukawa's heavy battery. Sato's mission was twofold: to assist Senda and to watch the enemy in the Changkufeng area. Sato arrived at 21:15 in Shikai. There, he assembled a number of his officers, including Yamada, and explained his plan: the 1st Company plus machine guns were to cross the Tumen from Sozan ahead of the other units, occupy Hill 52 with an element, and concentrate the main body at the foot of Fangchuanting to await Hirahara's battalion. A portion of the 19th Engineers would go to Sozan to assist the 1st Company with its river crossing. Amid heavy rain and darkness, the various units set out at 22:15. The platoon sent to Hill 52 arrived before dawn on the 30th, the rest of the forces somewhat later, though Sato had intended to move everybody across the river by the early hours. On the 29th the engineer regiment commander, Kobayashi, had also arrived at Shikai. He ordered Captain Tomura to handle the crossing in the vicinity of Sozan, as well as preparations for a future offensive with the main body. When Kobayashi reached Kucheng, he learned from Hirahara not only about the front-line situation but also about Sato's important plans: "The K. Sato force is going to cross the river tonight, 29–30 July. A night attack will be launched against Changkufeng on the night of 30–31 July." Kobayashi issued orders to his two commanders to assist the crossing by Nakano's infantry unit, 1st Battalion, 75th Regiment at Matsu'otsuho and Sozan, and, in addition, to cooperate with the position attack by Nakano and help in the assault at Hill 52. Most of these young officers, such as Seutaka dishing out orders were performing what the Japanese termed "dokudan senko" or "arbitrary or independent action". Japanese operational regulations actually contained a section dealing with dokudan senko, by which initiative, not imperiousness, was meant. Two elements were involved: control but encouragement of self-reliant thinking. This subject became important in training officers, all of whom, including such infantry experts as Suetaka, were well acquainted with the requirements. Combat missions were stipulated in operations orders, but, if these were not realistic, initiative was to come into play, though only when there was no time to contact superiors. By the same token, commanders had to be ready to assume full responsibility if matters turned out adversely. "We were disciples of the 'Moltke' system of AGS control, with dual authority vis-à-vis the local forces and the chief of staff."  The Korea Army's version of events on 29 July, there was no mention of any report received from the division prior to 17:30. Details did not reach Seoul, in the form of printed divisional intelligence reports and operational orders, until 1 August. The late afternoon report from Kyonghun provided the Korea Army authorities with little solid information, but Seoul had to notify higher headquarters immediately. Kitano sent messages to Tokyo and Hsinking at 19:15. The command and Kwantung Army were told that, in addition to Senda's assault party, 40 Japanese soldiers were deployed west of Changkufeng and at Yangkuanping. The division's main forces had begun the rail pullback from the 28th, leaving behind only two infantry battalions and a mountain artillery battalion for the time being. At 21:20 on 29 July, Korea Army Headquarters received the text of Suetaka's full report, which concluded: "With a view toward a possible emergency, the division suspended movement back of the 75th Regiment and is making necessary arrangements to have them advance instead. The latest affair derives sheerly from the enemy's unlawful challenge. It is my firm belief that the nature of this incident differs completely from the one at Changkufeng and should be handled separately. At present, since communication with the forward lines is not good, Lieutenant Colonel Senda (who is at the front) has been entrusted with command, but I assume entire responsibility for the consequences." Instead of boarding their trains at Agochi, Sato's regiment and supporting engineers moved to the Manchurian side of the Tumen as soon as possible. Suetaka called Sato's 2nd Battalion to Kyonghun as divisional reserve. Subsequent dispatches claimed that: (1) Senda's unit, which had driven off intruders in the Shachaofeng area once, was engaged against new Soviet forces (sent at 18:20, 29th);  (2) Senda's unit had expelled trespassers, and a combat situation had developed near Shachaofeng (22:00, 29th);  (3) fighting was going on in the vicinity of Shachaofeng (06:40, 30th).  Korea Army Headquarters, however, obtained no more important communication concerning the events of 29 July than a report, sent that evening by Suetaka, that revealed his concern about a possible Soviet attack in the Wuchiatzu sector near the neck of the long Changkufeng appendix.  After the clash at Shachaofeng, a general officer, Morimoto, happened to be visiting Colonels Okido and Tanaka in Nanam. Both of them were said to be of the pronounced opinion that no troubles ought to be provoked with the USSR while the critical Hankow operation lay ahead; yet Suetaka apparently had some intention of striking at the Soviet intruders, using the 75th Regiment. They urged that this policy not be adopted and that Suetaka be approached directly; the channel through Y. Nakamura, the division chief of staff, was hopeless. Although in agreement, General Morimoto declined to approach Suetaka; since the latter seemed to have made up his mind, it would be inappropriate to "meddle" with his command. Suetaka was functioning as an operations chief at that time. Apart from the mobilization staff officer, who was not enthusiastic about aggressive action, the only other officer who may have affected the decisionmaking process was the Hunchun OSS chief, Maj. Tanaka Tetsujiro, a positive type who shared Suetaka's views and was probably with him on the 29th as well as 30th. Although developments at Suetaka's command post were known more as the result of silence than of elucidation, we possessed considerable information about thinking at the Korea Army level: "Suetaka contacted us only after his men had driven out the enemy near Shachaofeng. Till then, the front had been relatively quiet and we were of the opinion all or most of the deployed forces were on their way home. We at Seoul had no foreknowledge of or connection with the 29 July affair. Reports came in; we never sent specific orders. Triggered by the affray at Shachaofeng, the division attacked on its own initiative. It was our understanding that very small Japanese forces had been committed to evict a dozen enemy scouts and that, when a platoon of ours got atop the hill, they observed surprisingly huge hostile concentrations to the rear. This was probably why the platoon pulied back, although much has been made of the desire to obey the nonaggravation policy to the letter. We at Seoul felt that this was a troublesome matter—that our side had done something unnecessary. When the division finally made its report, the army had to reach some decision. There were two irreconcilable ways of looking at things. We might condemn what had been done, and the division ought to be ordered to pull out promptly, having arbitrarily and intolerably acted against the known facts that Imperial sanction for use of force had been withheld and Tokyo had directed evacuation of the moved-up units. The opposing, eventually predominant view was that the division commander's course of action ought to be approved. Perusal of small-scale maps of the locale indicated a clear violation of the frontier, something not proved in the case of Changkufeng. We shared the division commander's interpretation. His BGU had its mission, and he was acting with foresight to solve matters positively and on his own, since he was the man closest to the problem. General Nakamura felt that the latest development was inevitable; our units did not cross the Tumen until the Soviets attacked us in force. Therefore, the division's actions were approved and a report was rendered promptly to Tokyo. It could be said that our outlook served to "cover" the division commander, in a way. But if IGHQ had ordered us to desist, we would have".  Nakamura added: "I was of the opinion the only solution was to drive the Soviet troops outside Manchukuoan territory; therefore, I approved the action by the division." Such sanction had been granted on the basis of information supplied to Seoul by Suetaka on the evening of 29 July, again post facto. At 01:20 on the 30th, Nakamura wired Suetaka a message characterized by gracious phrasing that suggested his grave concern: "One ought to be satisfied with expelling from Manchurian territory the enemy attacking our unit on the . . . heights southwest of Shachaofeng. It is necessary to keep watch on the enemy for the time being, after having pulled back to the heights mentioned above, but we desire that matters be handled carefully to avoid enlargement; in case the foe has already pulled back south of Shachaofeng . . . he need not be attacked." Nakamura also sent a wire to the AGS chief, the War Minister, and the Kwantung Army commander. After conveying the information received from Suetaka, Nakamura continued: "In spite of the fact that our troops have been patient and cautious . . . this latest incident [near Shachaofeng] started with Soviet forces' arrogant border trespassing and . . . unlawful challenge. Therefore, I am convinced that this affair must be dealt with separately from the incident at Changkufeng. Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to handle matters so that the incident will not spread and shall make it my fundamental principle to be satisfied with evicting from Manchurian territory the hostile forces confronting us. The Korea Army chief of staff is being dispatched quickly to handle the incident".  The Korea Army, "painfully slow to act," says a Kwantung Army major, was merely the intermediary link, the executor of Tokyo's desires. In the case of remote Shachaofeng, there was an inevitable gap between on-the-spot occurrences and AGS reactions. By then, Arisue, Kotani, and Arao, Inada's observers, had returned to Japan—an important fact, given the "Moltke" system of staff control. Nevertheless, their return must have exerted significant effects on central operational thinking. Kotani remembered that his AGS subsection had given him a welcome-home party on the night of 29 July when an emergency phone call was received from the duty officer. "It was about the clash at Shachaofeng. The festivities came to an abrupt end and I headed for the office. From then till the cease-fire on 11 August, I remained at the AGS night and day." Since the 19th Division had furnished higher headquarters with minimal information, Tokyo, like Seoul, had only a few ostensible facts to act upon. But this had been the first combat test for the Korea Army, which needed all the encouragement and assistance possible. Although Japanese field armies, notably the Kwantung Army, were notorious for insubordination, one could not overemphasize the fact that the Korea Army was meek and tractable. If Nakamura had concluded that Suetaka acted properly (which reports from Seoul indicated), the AGS could hardly demur. It would have been unrealistic to think that Tokyo, although cautious, was "softer" about the Russian problem than front-line forces. There had been no concern over time lags; details were Seoul's province. Reaction took time at every level of the chain of command. Decision making in the Japanese Army had been a many-layered process. The Army general staff had been of the opinion that initial guidance ought to have been provided to the Korea Army soon, particularly since there had been evidence of failure to convey intentions promptly to the front and no high command staff officer remained to direct matters. After hearing from Seoul twice about the Shachaofeng affair, the responsible Army general staff officers conferred at length. Stress had been laid on the indivisibility of the Shachaofeng and Changkufeng incidents. It had also been evident that further information was required. On that basis, a "handling policy for the Shachaofeng Incident" was drafted, and Tada notified the Korea and Kwantung armies accordingly on 30 July. Nakamura had received the telegram at 16:50 and had its contents retransmitted to Kitano, then at Kyonghun: "Shachaofeng Incident is progressing along lines of our policy, leave things to local units, which have been adhering to the principle of nonenlargement. Have them report on front-line situation without fail."  The Army general staff and the Korea Army were calling for prudence, but the division, well down the rungs of the ladder of command, was initiating actions that jeopardized the government's basic policy. Earlier quibbling about restraints on "unit-size" elements crossing into Manchuria had been abandoned after the firefight near Shachaofeng on 29 July. At 15:30, Takenouchi's battalion, part of the 76th Regiment, had been directed to assist Senda near Yangkuanping; at 18:20 Suetaka was ordering the 75th Regiment to head for the Kucheng sector and be ready to assault the Russians in the Changkufeng area. Support was to be provided by Kobayashi's engineers, by Iwano's transportation men, and by Suzuki's heavy guns. Of particular interest had been Suetaka's acceptance of Sato's recommendation that elements be sent to occupy Hill 52, a measure linked with a possible Japanese attack against Changkufeng.   Sato had decided by evening that the new situation required rapid deployment of his forces across the river. At Shikai, he conducted a briefing of his officers. Suetaka's orders conveyed orally by staff officers had stipulated: "The division will take steps to secure the border line immediately, even if the situation undergoes change. The Sato unit will advance immediately to the left shore, reinforce Senda's unit, and maintain a strict watch on the enemy in the Changkufeng area." Around 23:20, the last elements ordered forward arrived at Shikai station. Sato instructed only his headquarters and the Ito company to get off. The rest of the troop train primarily the 1st [Nakano's] Battalion was to move on to Hongui. From there, the soldiers proceeded to the Tumen near Sozan. With his staff and Ito's company, Sato trudged in silence through the mud from Shikai to the shore at Matsu'otsuho, starting at 00:30 and reaching the crossing site at 03:00. Reconnaissance had proved satisfactory, Sato remembered.  At the crossings, the hardworking engineers rowed his 1st and 3rd battalions across, company by company. Near dawn, around 04:30, he traversed the river. The movement had been completed in about an hour. When Sato's infantry finally got across, they proceeded to the skirt of Fangchuanting and assembled in secrecy. Not until about 08:00 did the regimental headquarters, Ito's company, and Hirahara's battalion reach Hill 147, already held by Noguchi's company west of Changkufeng. By then, plans had fallen behind schedule by at least several hours because of difficulties in train movement forward. Sato also remembered torrential rains; other officers mentioned darkness. Members of Nakano's battalion pinpointed a shortage of engineer boats from Kucheng. Engineers rowed some boats downstream during the night, but six of them were kept at Matsu'otsuho. This left only three boats for moving the 400 men of the 1st Battalion, the unit slated to storm Changkufeng, across the river at Sozan. Sato had wanted all of his troops across well before dawn on the 30th. A division staff officer rightly thought that Suetaka had already advised Sato, in secret, to "attack at an opportune time," and that the night of 29–30 July had been intended for the surprise assault. "Perhaps there was not enough time for all the attack preparations." Kobayashi's engineers admitted problems in moving boats to Sozan: "Although the water level had gone up because of daily rains recently, there were still many shallows and the current was irregular. Not only was it hard to move downstream, but dense fog also complicated the work. Nevertheless, the units at both sites were able to accomplish the river-crossing operation approximately as scheduled".  Meanwhile, after reconnoitering Soviet defenses along the Manchurian bank, Suzuki, commander of the 15th Heavy Field Artillery Regiment, crossed the Kyonghun Bridge on 30 July with his 1st Battery and established positions on the edge of Shuiliufeng Hill. Once Captain Narukawa was attached to the 75th Infantry on 29 July, he dispatched his 2nd Battery by train to Shikai that night. Although firing sites had been surveyed northwest of Sho-Sozan, the battery had to traverse two weak, narrow bridges in the darkness. With two 15-centimeter howitzers to haul, plus five caissons and wagons, the unit faced tense moments. The gun sites themselves were worrisome: they were scarcely masked from observation from Changkufeng, and the single road to them from the unloading station ran through a paddy area and was similarly exposed. By 1200 hours on 30 July, Sato exerted operational control over the following units: his own forces, Nakano's battalion east of Fangchuanting; Hirahara's reinforced battalion west of Chiangchunfeng; a platoon from Nakajima's infantry company on Hill 52; and Noguchi's company on Hill 147; and from other forces, Senda's 2nd (Kanda) BGU Company; two reinforced companies from Takenouchi's battalion of Okido's 76th Regiment near Shachaofeng; and a 75-mm half-battery from the 25th Mountain Artillery on the Manchurian side with Sato. On the Korean shore, another half-battery comprising two 15-centimeter howitzers from Narukawa's unit of the 15th Heavy Field Artillery was in place. The 19th Engineers operated near the crossing sites, though one platoon remained at Fangchuanting. Sato said, "We were now deployed at last, to cope with any situation." His command post was set in foxholes on open ground at Chiangchunfeng, a central hill that offered excellent observation and control over actions around Changkufeng to the east and Shachaofeng to the north. Not content with suspending the pullout of units and deploying additional combat troops across the Tumen, Suetaka decided to recall division headquarters, mountain artillery, cavalry, signal, medical, and veterinary personnel from Nanam. At dawn on 30 July, Nanam issued orders for Colonel Tanaka to move 500 men and 300 horses to Agochi by rail; most of the increment came from Tanaka's horse-drawn 25th Mountain Artillery. The colonel reached the Korean side of the Tumen at 05:00 on 31 July. The preceding emergency measures were being implemented by Suetaka, even as he received Nakamura's calming telegram of 30 July enjoining nonexpansion. Changkufeng Hill was not even mentioned. Nakamura's concern was typified by Kitano flying to the front. At 10:00 on 30 July, Kitano sent the division chief of staff a cautious follow-up cable: "Based on the consistent policy for handling the Changkufeng Incident and on the army commander's earlier telegram, kindly take steps to ensure careful action in connection with the affair in the Shachaofeng vicinity lest there be enlargement." At 13:45, Nakamura transmitted another restraining message to Suetaka: "The division is to secure … Chiangchunfeng and … the heights southwest of Shachaofeng, using present front-line units. Unless there is an enemy attack, however, resort to force will depend on separate orders." Several hours later, at 16:50, Nakamura received instructions from Tada: the Shachaofeng case was being left to the local forces, who were pursuing the desired policy of nonenlargement, but prompt reporting was desired. At 19:30, the retransmitted message was received by Kitano, already at the front with Suetaka at Kyonghun. After his units had crossed the Tumen on 30 July, Sato Kotoku ordered a strict watch and directed preparations for an assault based on the plans. He conferred with Senda at Chiangchunfeng and observed the enemy. Even after dawn, the frontline commanders who had crossed the river remained uncertain about when the attack would be staged. While Sato's force conducted reconnaissance to prepare for a daytime offensive, orders arrived around 08:00 indicating, "We intend a night attack, so conceal your activities." Daytime movements were prohibited. Sato then explained the impression he had derived from Senda and the intelligence on which he based his estimates: " Exploiting the impasse in diplomatic negotiation, the enemy side had steadily reinforced front-line offensive strength and trespassed anew near Shachaofeng. They now had a battalion and a half of infantry plus 20 artillery pieces in the area, some south of Shachaofeng and the others at four positions immediately east of Lake Khasan. At least a dozen (maybe 20) tanks were deployed in the sector opposite us. About 300 well-armed, active Russian troops were at Changkufeng. I decided that an attack ought to be staged that night. First of all, we were going to chill the insolent enemy by a courageous night assault—a method characteristic of the Imperial Army. Then all kinds of fire power were to be combined in a surprise attack against the positions. Our intention was to jo lt the Russians, demonstrate the true strength of our combat fire, and, by a combination of night and dawn attacks, cut down losses which our left-flank units would have incurred if a night assault alone were staged. We had considered two plans—a night attack against Changkufeng by the 3rd Battalion from the north, or by the 1st Battalion from the south. On 30 July, I decided to execute the second plan, using my 1st (Nakano's) Battalion, to avoid simultaneous involvement around Shachaofeng where the foe was by now alerted."  The Japanese Army ordinarily favored surprise assaults without supporting guns, since firepower was regarded as secondary in close combat and artillery was in short supply. According to the regimental journal, telephone contacts from the morning of the 30th indicated that the division commander shared the same line of thinking as Sato. By noon, Suetaka made his stance explicit. A phone call from Kucheng conveyed to Sato the gist of a critical division order: first, a detailed briefing on Soviet troop concentrations and dispositions, firing positions, troops, and armor south of Shachaofeng; entanglements and forces at Changkufeng; large concentrations behind west of Khasan; tanks and ground formations moving north of the lake; a heavy concentration near the lake to the northwest; one confirmed and two suspected positions along the eastern shore and another with artillery far to the south. Then the order stated that K. Sato's forces, including the Takenouchi battalion from the 76th Infantry, one mountain artillery platoon, and one engineer platoon were to strengthen their positions and, at the same time, promptly evict from Manchurian territory the intruding and advancing enemy. However, pursuit must not be pushed too far lest the border be crossed. Shortly after noon, Suetaka issued another order to form a new force under Senda, who was to strengthen border security along the Shuiliufeng–Hunchun line. As with Sato, Senda was to eject the intruding and advancing enemy from Manchurian soil but not pursue them across the border. By midafternoon, Sato knew not only what he wanted to do but also Suetaka's intentions. At 15:30, he assembled all subordinate officers at Chiangchunfeng and dictated minute attack instructions. Intelligence indicated that the enemy continued to fortify points of importance along the Changkufeng–Shachaofeng line. Sato's plan was to annihilate hostile elements that had crossed the border north and south of Changkufeng. His concept went beyond a frontal assault. While Nakano's battalion would jump off south of Changkufeng, one reinforced company, Takeshita's 10th was to attack north. Since the sun rose at about 05:00, Sato intended to wipe out the enemy during three hours of darkness. Another battalion, Hirahara's 3rd would be held in reserve, with Ito's 6th Company ready to launch a night attack against Changkufeng from the northwest if necessary. Small forces deployed southeast at Hill 52 were to block the arrival of Soviet reinforcements around the southern shores of Khasan. Only after Changkufeng was secured and fire swept the high ground south of Shachaofeng would a reinforced battalion, Takenouchi's 1st from the 76th Regiment undertake a dawn assault to clear the Russians from that sector. An engineer platoon would assist both the night and dawn assault battalions with obstacle clearing. There would be no artillery support until dawn, when the available guns were to provide maximum coverage. Notably, even the movement of a single antitank gun warranted mention. Sato concluded the attack order by directing that each unit mask its intentions after sunset. Takenouchi was to act to check the enemy as soon as the sun went down. In connection with the dawn barrage against the enemy southwest of Shachaofeng, key personnel were to study the best way to exploit sudden fire described as gale and lightning. They were also to be ready to destroy enemy tanks. A green star shell would be fired to signal the success of the night attack. The code words were shojiki "honesty" and ydmo "bravery". At midnight, the regiment commander would be at the northwest foot of Chiangchunfeng. The order stressed typical night-attack precautions: secrecy and concealment, avoidance of confusion, antitank defense, and flare signaling of success. Sato added his own flair with his daily motto as code words and the reference to "whirlwind" fire. Impending action times were explicitly set when the order was issued at 15:30 on the 30th, more than ten hours before the 1st Battalion was to jump off. The key to success in a night assault lay in an absolute prohibition on firing by their side, and bold, courageous charging. Sato reminded his men that life is granted again after death. Nakano then assembled his company commanders east of Fangchuanting and issued his battalion order at 18:30. A few hours after Sato's briefing of the assault commanders, Suetaka arrived at the 75th Regiment command post. This visit late on 30 July is central to allegations that Sato, not Suetaka, conceived and executed the night attack on his own initiative. Divisional orders giving Sato his core mission had already been conveyed by telephone. After 16:00, Suetaka boarded a motorboat at Kucheng and went to the Manchurian side to verify front-line conditions. Soviet snipers south of Yangkuanping fired several shots, but his craft reached the Matsu'otsuho landing and proceeded to Chiangchunfeng to meet Sato. Sato described the situation: "frontline enemy forces had been reinforced steadily and had begun a vigorous offensive. The foe was provoking us, and the matter had grown very serious. I had already issued orders at 15:30 to take the initiative and deal the enemy a smashing blow." I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. On a frost-bitten dawn by the Chaun and Tumen, Russia and Japan lock eyes over Changkufeng. Diplomats urge restraint, yet Tokyo's generals push a bold gamble: seize a hill with a surprise strike and bargain later. Japanese divisions, engineers, and artillery edge toward the border, while Soviet sentries brace for a confrontation that could widen the war. 

Last time we spoke about the Changkufeng Incident. In a frost-bitten dawn along the Chaun and Tumen rivers, a border notched with memory becomes the stage for a quiet duel of will. On one side, Japanese officers led by Inada Masazum study maps, mud, and the hill known as Changkufeng, weighing ground it offers and the risk of war. They glimpse a prize, high ground that could shield lines to Korea—yet they sense peril in every ridge, every scent of winter wind. Across the line, Soviet forces tighten their grip on the crest, their eyes fixed on the same hill, their tents and vehicles creeping closer to the border. The air hums with cautious diplomacy: Moscow's orders pulse through Seoul and Harbin, urging restraint, probing, deterring, but never inviting full-scale conflict. Yet every patrol, every reconnaissance, seems to tilt the balance toward escalation.   #177 The point of no return for the USSR and Japan 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. Days passed and the local emissaries had not been released by the Russians. Domei reported from Seoul that the authorities were growing worried; the "brazen" actions of Soviet front-line forces infuriated the Manchurians and Japanese. From Seoul, too, came ominous news that villagers were preparing to evacuate because they feared fighting would soon begin in the Changkufeng area. While diplomatic activity continued in Moscow without effect, the Tokyo press continued to report intense military activity throughout the Soviet Far East—the greatest massing of troops in months, with planes, armored cars, and motorized equipment choking the Trans-Siberian railway. The press was dominated by commentary about the danger of war. One enterprising Tokyo publisher ran advertisements under the heading: "The Manchukuo-Soviet Border Situation Is Urgent—Ours Is the Only Detailed Map of the Soviet Far East: Newspaper-size, in seven clear colors, offset printed, only 50 sen." Although the Manchukuoan foreign office issued a statement on 20 July about the dire consequences the Soviets were inviting, it is probable that the next Russian actions, of a conciliatory nature, were reached independently. Either Moscow had taken almost a week to make the decision, or the diplomatic conversations there had had an effect. Local Japanese authorities reported inactivity on the Changkufeng front from the morning of 23 July. On the next day, word was received that the USSR proposed to return the two emissaries as "trespassers." At midday on 26 July, the Russians released the blindfolded agents at a border site along the Novokievsk road. After completing the formalities, the Japanese asked the Russians for a reply concerning local settlement of the incident. According to Japanese sources, the "flustered" Colonel Grebennik answered: "My assignment today was merely to turn over the envoys. As for any request about the Changkufeng Incident, our guard commander must have asked for instructions from the central government. I think this is the type of matter which must be answered by the authorities at Moscow through diplomatic channels." Grebennik's postwar recollection does not differ appreciably from the Japanese version. Soviet sources mention a second effort by the Japanese military to deliver a message under more forceful circumstances. On 23 July a Soviet border unit drove off a four-man party. Russian cavalry, sent to investigate, discovered that the Japanese had pulled down a telegraph pole, severed lines 100–150 meters inside Soviet territory, absconded with wire, and left behind a white flag and a letter. Undated, unsigned, and written in Korean, the message struck Grebennik as being substantively the same as the communication delivered formally by the emissaries on 18 July. Japanese materials make no reference to a second, informal effort by local forces, but there is little reason to doubt that such an attempt, perhaps unauthorized, was made. Although Japanese efforts at low-level negotiations came to naught, two observations emerged from the local authorities and the press. First, on-the-spot negotiations had broken down; it had been difficult even to reclaim the emissaries, and the Russians in the Posyet region were using various pretexts to refer matters to diplomatic echelons. Second, the Russians had released the men. Some interpreted this as the first evidence of Soviet sincerity; possibly, the USSR would even return Matsushima's body as a step toward settlement. Other Japanese observers on the scene warned the public that it was imperative to stay on guard: "All depends on how diplomacy proceeds and how the front-line troops behave." Yet the excitement in the Japanese press began to abate. It is difficult to ascertain the nature of the decision-making process on the Russian side after the Japanese attempted local negotiations. The Soviets contend that nothing special had been undertaken before the Japanese provoked matters at the end of July. Grebennik, however, admits that after receiving the two Japanese communications, "we started to prepare against an attack on us in the Lake Khasan area." He and a group of officers went to Changkufeng Hill and sent as many border guards there as possible. Although he personally observed Japanese troops and instructed his officers to do the same, he denied categorically that the Russians constructed trenches and fortifications. Only the observation of Manchurian territory was intensified while instructions were awaited from higher headquarters. For its part, the Korea Army was carrying out Imperial general headquarters first instructions while pursuing a wait-and-see policy. On 16 July, Korea Army Headquarters wired an important operations order to Suetaka. With a view toward a possible attack against intruders in the Khasan area, the army planned to make preparations. The division commander was to alert stipulated units for emergency dispatch and send key personnel to the Kyonghun sector to undertake preparations for an attack. Lt. Col. Senda Sadasue, BGU commander of the 76th Infantry Regiment, was to reconnoiter, reinforce nearby districts, and be ready for emergencies. Particular care was enjoined not to irritate the Soviet side. Maj. Gen. Yokoyama Shinpei, the Hunchun garrison commander, was to maintain close contact with the BGU and take every precaution in guarding the frontiers. Like Senda, Yokoyama was warned against irritating the Russians. Korea Army Headquarters also dispatched staff to the front and had them begin preparations, envisaging an offensive. Upon receipt of the army order, Suetaka issued implementing instructions from his Nanam headquarters at 4:30 A.M. on the 17th. The following units were to prepare for immediate alert: the 38th Infantry Brigade Headquarters, 75th Infantry Regiment, 27th Cavalry Regiment, 5th Antiaircraft Regiment, and 19th Engineer Regiment. The same instructions applied to the next units, except that elements organic to the division were designated: the 76th Infantry Regiment, 25th Mountain Artillery Regiment, and 15th Heavy Field Artillery Regiment. Another order enjoined utmost care not to irritate the Russians; Japanese actions were to be masked. Next came a directive to the forces of Senda and K. Sato. The former comprised mainly the 76th Infantry BGU and a cavalry platoon. The latter was built around the 75th Infantry Regiment, the Kucheng garrison unit, another cavalry platoon, two mountain artillery and one heavy field artillery battalion, and the 19th Engineers. Suetaka's idea about a solution to the border troubles had become concrete and aggressive. From the night of July 17, concentration would be accomplished gradually. The exact timing of the attack would be determined by subsequent orders; in Senda's area, there was no such restriction regarding "counteraction brought on by enemy attack." Division signal and intendant officers would conduct reconnaissance related to communications, billeting, food, and supplies. Sato and his subordinates were to reconnoiter personally. Having ordered the division to begin concentration and to stand by, Korea Army Headquarters was prepared the next morning, July 17, to direct the movement. Nevertheless, there was concern in Seoul that Suetaka's advance elements might cross the Tumen River into Manchurian territory, which could result in a clash with Soviet troops. Such an outcome might run counter to the principle established by Imperial general headquarters. Consequently, it was decided that "movement east of the river would therefore have to be forbidden in the Korea Army's implementing order." Nakamura transmitted his operational instructions to Suetaka at 6:00 on July 17: "No great change in latest situation around Lake Khasan. Soviet forces are still occupying Changkufeng area. Diplomaticlevel negotiations on part of central authorities and Manchukuoan government do not appear to have progressed. Considering various circumstances and with view to preparations, this army will concentrate elements of 19th Division between Shikai, Kyonghun, Agochi." Restrictions stipulated that the division commander would transport the units by rail and motor vehicle and concentrate them in the waiting zone in secret. Movement was to begin on the night of July 17 and to be completed the next day. Further orders, however, must govern unit advance east of the Tumen as well as use of force. The remainder of the division was to stay ready to move out. Troops were to carry rations for about two weeks.   Late that day, Suetaka received an order by phone for his subordinates in line with Seoul's instructions. Senda would handle the concentration of elements assembling at Kyonghun, and Sato would do the same for the main units arriving at Agochi. A communications net was to be set up quickly. Caution was to be exercised not to undertake provocative actions against the opposite bank of the Tumen, even for reconnaissance. The division would dispatch two trains from Hoeryong and four from Nanam. At 11:58 pm on 18 July, the first train left Hoeryong for Agochi. Concentration of units was completed by dawn. By that time, the Japanese had dispatched to the border 3,236 men and 743 horses. Past midnight on 20 July, Division Chief of Staff Nakamura wired headquarters that the division was ready to take any action required, having completed the alert process by 11 pm. Japanese scouting of the Changkufeng sector began in earnest after mid-July. Although the affair had seemed amenable to settlement, Sato took steps for an emergency from around the 14th. His thoughts centered on readiness for an attack against Changkufeng, which simultaneously required reconnaissance for the assault and preparation to pull the regiment back quickly to Hoeryong if a withdrawal was ordered. After arriving at Haigan on 18 July, Sato set out with several engineers. At Kucheng, the officers donned white Korean clothing, presumably the disguise directed by the division—and boarded native oxcarts for a leisurely journey southward along the Korean bank of the Tumen across from Changkufeng. The seemingly innocent "farmers" studied the river for crossing sites and Changkufeng Hill for the extent of enemy activity. On the hill's western slope, in Manchurian territory, three rows of Russian entanglements could be observed 300 feet below the crest. Only a handful of soldiers were visible, probably a platoon, certainly not more than a company. Infantry Captain Yamada Teizo conducted secret reconnaissance of the entire Changkufeng-Hill 52 sector for 314 hours in the afternoon of 18 July. Even after intense scanning through powerful binoculars, he could detect no more than 19 lookouts and six horsemen; camouflage work had been completed that day, and there were ten separate covered trench or base points. Barbed wire, under camouflage, extended about four meters in depth, yet even Yamada's trained eye could not determine whether there was one line of stakes or two. He jotted down what he could see and compared his information with that learned from local police. Artillery Colonel R. Tanaka shared the view that the Soviets had intruded. When he went reconnoitering along the Korean bank, he observed Russian soldiers entrenched around the hilltop, easily visible through binoculars at a range of two kilometers. Trenches had been dug 20 to 30 meters below the crest on the western slope. Eventually, there were three rows of barbed wire, the first just below the trenches and the lowest 100 meters under the summit. Tanaka estimated Soviet strength at two companies (about 200 men). Suetaka's intelligence officer, Sasai, recalls seeing barbed wire after Japanese units deployed to the front on 18–19 July; he had surmised then that the entanglements were being prepared out of fear of a Japanese assault.   To obtain first-hand information, the Gaimusho ordered a section chief, Miura Kazu'ichi, to the spot. Between 23 July and the cease-fire in August, Miura collected data at Kyonghun and transmitted reports from the consulate at Hunchun. On 28 July he visited Sozan on the Korean bank. He observed Soviet soldiers on the western slopes of Changkufeng, digging trenches and driving stakes. These actions were clearly on Manchukuoan territory even according to Soviet maps. Miura insisted that he saw no friendly troops on territory claimed by the Russians and observed no provocative actions by the Japanese. These statements are supported by a map drawn for him in early August by Division Staff Officer Saito Toshio, a sketch Miura retained as late as 1947. Miura's testimony is tempered by his assertion that he saw a red flag flying near the top of Changkufeng Hill. This contention conflicts with all evidence, as Russian lawyers at the International Military Tribunal for the Far East argued, it is improbable that a Soviet frontier post, highly interested in camouflage, would have hoisted a pennon so large that it could be seen from Sozan. Russian sources are unanimous in stating that no flag was put up until 6 August and that no trenches or entanglements were established by Soviet border guards in July, at least prior to the 29th. The two Army General staff consultants, Arisue and Kotani, arrived in Seoul on 16 July, the day Korea Army Headquarters was ordering an alert for the 19th Division "with a view toward a possible attack against enemy intruders." Inada dispatched them mainly to inspect the frontline situation; but he had not fully decided on reconnaissance in force. At Shikai, Arisue and Kotani donned Korean garb and traveled by oxcart on the Korean side of the Tumen, reconnoitering opposite the Shachaofeng sector. Kotani was convinced that hostile possession of Changkufeng posed a serious threat to the Korean railway. He agreed with the division's estimate that, if the Japanese did decide to seize Changkufeng, it ought not to be too difficult. Arisue, as senior observer, dispatched messages from Kyonghun to Tokyo detailing their analysis and recommendations. Meanwhile, in Tokyo, on 17 July the central military authorities received a cable from the Japanese envoy in Moscow, Colonel Doi Akio, reporting that prospects for a diplomatic settlement were nil. The USSR was taking a hard line because Japan was deeply involved in China, though there were domestic considerations as well. The Russians, however, showed no intention of using the border incident to provoke war. It would be best for Japan to seize Changkufeng quickly and then press forward with parleys. Meanwhile, Japan should conduct an intensive domestic and external propaganda campaign. There was mounting pressure in the high command that negotiations, conducted "unaided," would miss an opportunity. Based on reports from Arisue and Kotani, that army seemed to be contemplating an unimaginative, ponderous plan: an infantry battalion would cross the Tumen west of Changkufeng and attack frontally, while two more battalions would cross south of Kyonghun to drive along the river and assault Changkufeng from the north. Inada sent a telegram on 17 July to Arisue for "reference." Prospects had diminished that Soviet troops would withdraw as a result of negotiation. As for the attack ideas Arisue mentioned, Inada believed it necessary to prepare to retake Changkufeng with a night attack using small forces. To avoid widening the crisis, the best plan was a limited, surprise attack using ground units. The notion of a surprise attack drew on the Kwantung Army's extensive combat experience in Manchuria since 1931.  The next morning, after the forward concentration of troops was completed, Suetaka went to the front. From Kucheng, he observed the Changkufeng district and decided on concrete plans for use of force. Meanwhile, Nakamura was curbing any hawkish courses at the front. As high-command sources privately conceded later, the younger officers in Tokyo sometimes seemed to think the commander was doing too good a job; there was covert sentiment that it might be preferable if someone in the chain of command acted independently before the opportunity slipped away. This is significant in light of the usual complaints by responsible central authorities about gekokujo—insubordination—by local commands. An important report influencing the high command's view arrived from Kwantung Army Intelligence on 19 July: according to agents in Khabarovsk, the USSR would not let the Changkufeng incident develop into war; Russians also believed there would be no large-scale Soviet intrusion into their territory. By 19 July, the Tokyo operations staff was considering the best method to restore control of the lost hill by force, since Seoul appeared to maintain its laissez-faire stance. On 18 July, Arisue and Kotani were instructed by Imperial General headquarters to assist the Korea Army and the 19th Division regarding the Changkufeng Incident. What the Army general staff operations officers sought was an Imperial General headquarters order, requiring Imperial sanction, that would instruct the Korea Army to evict the Russian troops from Changkufeng the way the Kwantung Army would, using units already under Nakamura's command. The sense was that the affair could be handled locally, but if the USSR sought to escalate the incident, it might be prudent for that to occur before the Hankow operation began. The IGHQ and War Ministry coordinated the drafting of an IGHQ order on 19–20 July: "We deem it advisable to eradicate Soviet challenges . . . by promptly delivering blow on this occasion against unit which crossed border at Changkufeng. That unit is in disadvantageous spot strategically and tactically; thus, probability is scant that dispute would enlarge, and we are investigating countermeasures in any case. Careless expansion of situation is definitely not desired. We would like you people also to conduct studies concerning mode of assault employing smallest strength possible for surprise attack against limited objective. Kindly learn general atmosphere here [Tokyo] from [Operations] Major Arao Okikatsu." The 20th of July proved to be a hectic day in Korea, and even more so in Tokyo. The division had informed the Korea Army that it was finally "ready to go," a message received in Seoul in the early hours. Then Arisue received a wire from Inada presenting limited-attack plans and noting that Arao was on the way. By that day, Japanese intelligence judged there were 400 Soviet troops and two or three mountain guns south of Paksikori. Russian positions at Changkufeng had been reinforced, but no aggressive intentions could be detected. Soviet ground elements, as well as materiel, appeared to be moving from Vladivostok and Slavyanka toward Posyet. Suetaka headed back to the front. Sato told him that it was absolutely necessary to occupy Chiangchunfeng Hill across the Tumen in Manchurian territory. Upon reaching the Wuchiatzu sector and inspecting the situation, Suetaka agreed to send a small unit to Chiangchunfeng on his own authority.  Colonel Sato Kotoku had ordered one company to move across the Tumen toward Chiangchunfeng on 21 July, a maneuver that did not escape the Russians' notice. On 24 July, the same day another Japanese unit occupied Shangchiaoshan Hill, Marshal Blyukher ordered the 40th Rifle Division, stationed in the Posyet area to be placed on combat readiness, with a force of regulars assigned to back the Soviet border guards; two reinforced rifle battalions were detached as a reserve. According to Japanese records, Russian border patrols began appearing around Huichungyuan, Yangkuanping, and Shachaofeng from 26 July, but no serious incidents were reported at that stage. At about 9:30 am on 29 July, Captain Kanda, the 2nd Company commander of Lieutenant Colonel Senda's 76th Border Garrison Unit, was observing the Shachaofeng area from his Kucheng cantonments. Through his glasses, Kanda observed four or five Soviet soldiers engaged in construction on high ground on the west side of Shachaofeng. Kanda notified Senda, who was at BGU Headquarters inspecting the forward areas. Senda transmitted the information to Suetaka. Deciding to cross the Tumen for a closer look, Senda set off with Kanda. A little after 11 am, they reached Chiangchunfeng Hill, where the men from Captain Noguchi's company were already located. Senda verified, to his own satisfaction, that as many as 10 enemy infantrymen had "violated the border" to a depth of 350 meters, "even by the Soviets' contention", and were starting construction 1,000 meters south of Shachaofeng. Senda decided to oust the Russian force "promptly and resolutely," in light of the basic mission assigned his unit. He telephoned Suetaka, who was in Kyonghun, and supplied the intelligence and the recommendation. Subordinates recalled Suetaka's initial reaction when the BGU reported a Soviet intrusion about a mile and a half north of Changkufeng. "The arrogant Russians were making fools of the Japanese, or were trying to. At stake was not a trifling hill and a few invaders, but the honor of the Imperial Army. In the face of this insult, the general became furious. He insisted upon smashing the enemy right away."  Kanda phoned 2nd Lieutenant Sakuma, who was still at Kucheng, and told him to bring his 25-man platoon across the river by 2 pm Sakuma crossed by boat and arrived at 1:30. Kanda set out from Chiangchunfeng at 2:20, took over Sakuma's unit, bore east, and approached within 700 meters of the enemy. He ordered the men not to fire unless fired upon, and to withdraw quickly after routing the Russians. It is said that the Japanese troops were fired upon as they advanced in deployed formation but did not respond at first. In a valley, casualties were incurred and the Japanese finally returned fire. Sakuma's 1st Squad leader took a light machine gun and pinned down the Russians facing him. Sakuma himself pressed forward with his other two squads, taking advantage of the slope to envelop the enemy from the right. At the same time, he sent a patrol to the high ground on the left to cover the platoon's flank. Thanks to the 1st Squad's frontal assault, the Russians had no chance to worry about their wings, and Sakuma moved forward to a point only 30 meters from the foe's rear. Kanda was now 50 meters from the Russians. When the enemy light machine gun let up, he ordered a charge and, in the lead, personally cut down one of the foe. Sakuma also rushed the Soviets, but when about to bring down his saber he was stabbed in the face while another Russian struck him in the shoulder. Grappling with this assailant, Sakuma felled him. Other Japanese attackers sabered two more Russians and shot the rest. By 3:10 pm the eight enemy "trespassers" had been annihilated. The covering patrol reported that five Soviet horsemen, with a light machine gun, were galloping up from Khasan. Sakuma had his platoon fire grenade dischargers, which smashed the enemy. Seventy more Russian soldiers now came, attacking from northwest of the lake and supported by fire from the east side. Using light machine guns and grenade dischargers, Sakuma checked them. Meanwhile, Miyashita's platoon, part of Noguchi's company, had departed from Chiangchunfeng at 2:20 pm and swung right until it reached the crestline between Changkufeng and Kanda's company. One squad faced 200 Russians on Changkufeng; the other faced the enemy south of Shachaofeng. Soviet forces opened intense machine-gun fire from Changkufeng and from the high ground east of the lake. After 20 minutes, Kanda's unit charged, two or three Russians fled, and Miyashita's platoon shot one down. Senda, who had gone with Miyashita, directed the platoon's movements and proceeded north, under fire, to Kanda's unit. Once the Russians had been cleared out, Senda forbade pursuit across the boundary and gradually withdrew his forces to the heights line 800 meters southwest. It was 4:30 then. By 5 pm Soviet reinforcements, apparently brought up from the Changkufeng and Paksikori sectors, advanced anew. With 80 men in the front lines, the enemy pushed across the border to a depth of at least 500 meters, according to the Japanese, and began to establish positions. Several tanks and many troops could be observed in the rear. Senda had Noguchi's company hold Chiangchunfeng. Kanda's unit, reinforced by 33 men from Kucheng, was to occupy the heights southwest of Shachaofeng, while Imagawa's company of the 76th Regiment was to occupy other high ground to the west. Senda then reported the situation to Suetaka in Kyonghun and asked for reinforcements. In Seoul, Army headquarters understood the developments reported by Suetaka as a response to the hostile border violation, and about 20 men of the Kucheng BGU under Lt. Sakuma drove the enemy out between 2:30 and 3 pm. Afterward, Sakuma pulled back to high ground two kilometers south of Yangkuanping to avoid trouble and was now observing the foe. Although Seoul had heard nothing about Japanese losses, Corp. Akaishizawa Kunihiko personally observed that Kanda had been wounded in the face by a grenade and bandaged, that Sakuma had been bayoneted twice and also bandaged, and that the dead lay on the grass, covered with raincoats. According to Suetaka "the enemy who had crossed the border south of Shachaofeng suffered losses and pulled back once as a result of our attack at about 2:30 pm". By about 4:30, Suetaka continued, the Russians had built up their strength and attacked the platoon on the heights southwest of Shachaofeng. Behind the Russian counterattack, there were now several tanks. Earlier, Suetaka noted ominously that several rounds of artillery had been fired from the Changkufeng area; "therefore, we reinforced our units too, between 5 and 6 pm., and both sides are confronting each other." Details as to the fate of Sakuma's platoon are not given, but it is now admitted that casualties were incurred on both sides. The Korea Army Headquarters consequently reported to Tokyo in the evening that, according to information from the division, 20 Japanese had driven out the Russians near Shachaofeng; 25 men from Senda's unit were occupying the heights 600 meters west of Changkufeng; and another 16 men were deployed in ambush at Yangkuanping. Such an enumeration would have tended to suggest that only a few dozen Japanese were across the Tumen on the 29th. But a review of the numbers of combat troops committed and the reinforcements sent by Senda reveals that Japanese strength across the river was in the hundreds by nightfall. In Moscow, Tass reported that on 29 July detachments of Japanese-Manchukuoan intruders had attempted to seize high ground apparently located 0.5 miles north of a Russian position. The assailants had been "completely repelled from Soviet territory, as a result of measures taken by Russian frontier guards," and instructions had been sent to the embassy in Tokyo to protest strongly. Walter Duranty, the veteran American correspondent in Moscow, heard that the Japanese press had published reports, likely intended for internal consumption, that hours of furious fighting had occurred at the points in question. Since the dispatches were unsubstantiated and "failed to gain credence anywhere outside Japan," Duranty claimed this may have forced the Japanese to translate into action their boast of "applying force" unless their demands were satisfied. "Now, it appears, they have applied force, unsuccessfully." The Soviet communiqué on the Shachaofeng affair, despite its firm tone, appeared unostentatiously in the following day's Pravda and Izvestiya under the headline, "Japanese Militarists Continue Their Provocation." The Japanese Embassy in Moscow heard nothing about the Shachaofeng affray until the morning of the 30th, when a wire was received from the Gaimusho that ten Russian soldiers had occupied a position northwest of Changkufeng and had begun trench work until ejected by frontier guards. Since the Russian communiqué spoke of afternoon fighting, American correspondents concluded that Soviet troops must have counterattacked and driven off the Japanese. No additional information was available to the public in Moscow on the 30th, perhaps because it was a holiday. Nevertheless, in the afternoon, Stalin's colleague Kaganovich addressed an immense crowd in Moscow on "Railroad Day" and at the conclusion of a long, vigorous speech said:  "The Soviet Union is prepared to meet all enemies, east or west." It certainly was not a fighting speech and there is no reason to suppose the Soviet will abandon its firm peace policy unless Japan deliberately forced the issue. 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. Diplomacy flickered as Moscow pressed restraint and Tokyo whispered calculated bravado. As July wore on, both sides massed troops, built trenches, and sent scouts across the river. A tense, hidden war unfolded, skirmishes, patrols, and small advances, until a fleeting moment when force collided with restraint, and the hill's future hung in the frost.

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATION  In this episode of Security Halt!, Deny Caballero sits down with Ben Wallick to unpack his journey from aspiring Navy SEAL to entrepreneur and founder of Vanilla Gorilla Security. Ben reflects on how Hollywood shaped his early motivations, the realities of BUD/S and SEAL life, and the importance of authentic storytelling within the military community. They discuss the challenges of transitioning into civilian life, the role of family in shaping careers, and how physical fitness, discipline, and tactical expertise helped Ben build a successful business in the training and contracting world. This episode is a mix of humor, honesty, and hard-earned wisdom from a life lived at full throttle. 

First a quick note which the marketing weasel ordered me to announce. This week I received an email from Apple which read: "We're thrilled to share some incredible news: History of South Africa podcast has been selected by our editors as one of Apple Podcasts' Best Shows of 2025! Congratulations on this fantastic achievement and for creating one of the most compelling shows of the year. We're so excited to spotlight your work.” So to all the listeners and my supporters, for all your wonderful comments and suggestions, may we continue to survive the present in order to understand the past. 250 is what is known in maths as a 5-smooth number - none of its prime factors are greater than five. Factor 250 that is 250 ÷ 2 = 125 and 125 = 5 × 5 × 5. So the Prime Factors are all less than five. Strange but true. Culturally 250 is fascinating too - in Mandarin slang, Chinese, the number 250 pronounced er bai wu is an insult meaning idiot or simpleton. Which is apt, because a certain American president number 47 who is referred to as er bai wu is going to preside over his country's 250th birthday celebrations in 2026. When we left off last episode, a British column of the 1/24 and 2/24, a host of irregular mounted men of the Natal Carbineers, the Natal Native Contingent and the Native Pioneers and their commanding officer Lieutenant Colonel Glyn had entered Zululand by way of Rorke's Drift and approached the kwaSogetle home of amaQungebeni inkosi Sihayo. 4700 British troops and support personnel, 220 wagons, 2000 oxen, 82 carts, 67 mules. It took over an hour for the column to pass a point it was so large. And as you heard, Cetshwayo kaMpande had decided that because this column was the largest, it was going to get special amabutho treatment. Lord Chelmsford had arrived at Helpmekaar on the eve of the invasion, and had taken over as commander of the column, which was to increase tension amongst the officers. Chelmsford tended to micromanage, and Glyn was highly experienced. Later, when a catastrophe unfolded, controversy would rage about who in fact was in charge. Glyn was already resentful that his role had been usurped. If you recall last episode, I explained how he'd put together the regiment in England, paid for his colonelcy, then led the regiment through the end of the 9th Frontier War and here was Chelmsford and his retinue, taking over. Here we are, Shepstone leading the central column, or Number 3 Column as it was known, with Glyn glowering. Column 1 was on the right flank, down the coast, crossing the lower Thukela with 5000 men under Colonel Charles Pearson comprised of the Naval Brigade, 2/3rd 60th Rifles, the 99th Regiment, Natal Native Contingent and artillery. Column two was Durnfords although technically it was closely attached to Glyn's Column 3 - and both 2 and 3 were set to operate more closely than the Pearsons' first column which was to head to the lower Thukela, cross the mighty river opposite the Zulu kraal at Gingingdlovu, advance to Eshowe and push on to Ondini. However, Pearson had been told to advance cautiously, and consolidate his men in Eshowe before continuing. He would end up besieged in Eshowe he had moved so slowly. Thus the arrival at Sihayo's homestead kwaSogetle less than a day's march across Rorke's Drift. Sogetle was a natural flat-topped fortress which rose over 1000 feet from the valley floor, its approaches were strewn with boulders, it was steep and seemingly impregnable. The British faced a tough assignment. Had Cetshwayo kaMpande or chief Sihayo decided to rather defend this citadel, the battle would have no doubt been far more bloody. But the fortress was defended by only a small group of Sihayo's men including one of his youngest sons Mkhumbikazulu. Most warriors including Siyaho himself and all his other sons had marched off to oNdini 116 kilometers away to join the main Zulu army.

First a quick note which the marketing weasel ordered me to announce. This week I received an email from Apple which read: "We're thrilled to share some incredible news: History of South Africa podcast has been selected by our editors as one of Apple Podcasts' Best Shows of 2025! Congratulations on this fantastic achievement and for creating one of the most compelling shows of the year. We're so excited to spotlight your work.” So to all the listeners and my supporters, for all your wonderful comments and suggestions, may we continue to survive the present in order to understand the past. 250 is what is known in maths as a 5-smooth number - none of its prime factors are greater than five. Factor 250 that is 250 ÷ 2 = 125 and 125 = 5 × 5 × 5. So the Prime Factors are all less than five. Strange but true. Culturally 250 is fascinating too - in Mandarin slang, Chinese, the number 250 pronounced er bai wu is an insult meaning idiot or simpleton. Which is apt, because a certain American president number 47 who is referred to as er bai wu is going to preside over his country's 250th birthday celebrations in 2026. When we left off last episode, a British column of the 1/24 and 2/24, a host of irregular mounted men of the Natal Carbineers, the Natal Native Contingent and the Native Pioneers and their commanding officer Lieutenant Colonel Glyn had entered Zululand by way of Rorke's Drift and approached the kwaSogetle home of amaQungebeni inkosi Sihayo. 4700 British troops and support personnel, 220 wagons, 2000 oxen, 82 carts, 67 mules. It took over an hour for the column to pass a point it was so large. And as you heard, Cetshwayo kaMpande had decided that because this column was the largest, it was going to get special amabutho treatment. Lord Chelmsford had arrived at Helpmekaar on the eve of the invasion, and had taken over as commander of the column, which was to increase tension amongst the officers. Chelmsford tended to micromanage, and Glyn was highly experienced. Later, when a catastrophe unfolded, controversy would rage about who in fact was in charge. Glyn was already resentful that his role had been usurped. If you recall last episode, I explained how he'd put together the regiment in England, paid for his colonelcy, then led the regiment through the end of the 9th Frontier War and here was Chelmsford and his retinue, taking over. Here we are, Shepstone leading the central column, or Number 3 Column as it was known, with Glyn glowering. Column 1 was on the right flank, down the coast, crossing the lower Thukela with 5000 men under Colonel Charles Pearson comprised of the Naval Brigade, 2/3rd 60th Rifles, the 99th Regiment, Natal Native Contingent and artillery. Column two was Durnfords although technically it was closely attached to Glyn's Column 3 - and both 2 and 3 were set to operate more closely than the Pearsons' first column which was to head to the lower Thukela, cross the mighty river opposite the Zulu kraal at Gingingdlovu, advance to Eshowe and push on to Ondini. However, Pearson had been told to advance cautiously, and consolidate his men in Eshowe before continuing. He would end up besieged in Eshowe he had moved so slowly. Thus the arrival at Sihayo's homestead kwaSogetle less than a day's march across Rorke's Drift. Sogetle was a natural flat-topped fortress which rose over 1000 feet from the valley floor, its approaches were strewn with boulders, it was steep and seemingly impregnable. The British faced a tough assignment. Had Cetshwayo kaMpande or chief Sihayo decided to rather defend this citadel, the battle would have no doubt been far more bloody. But the fortress was defended by only a small group of Sihayo's men including one of his youngest sons Mkhumbikazulu. Most warriors including Siyaho himself and all his other sons had marched off to oNdini 116 kilometers away to join the main Zulu army.

First a quick note which the marketing weasel ordered me to announce. This week I received an email from Apple which read: "We're thrilled to share some incredible news: History of South Africa podcast has been selected by our editors as one of Apple Podcasts' Best Shows of 2025! Congratulations on this fantastic achievement and for creating one of the most compelling shows of the year. We're so excited to spotlight your work.” So to all the listeners and my supporters, for all your wonderful comments and suggestions, may we continue to survive the present in order to understand the past. 250 is what is known in maths as a 5-smooth number - none of its prime factors are greater than five. Factor 250 that is 250 ÷ 2 = 125 and 125 = 5 × 5 × 5. So the Prime Factors are all less than five. Strange but true. Culturally 250 is fascinating too - in Mandarin slang, Chinese, the number 250 pronounced er bai wu is an insult meaning idiot or simpleton. Which is apt, because a certain American president number 47 who is referred to as er bai wu is going to preside over his country's 250th birthday celebrations in 2026. When we left off last episode, a British column of the 1/24 and 2/24, a host of irregular mounted men of the Natal Carbineers, the Natal Native Contingent and the Native Pioneers and their commanding officer Lieutenant Colonel Glyn had entered Zululand by way of Rorke's Drift and approached the kwaSogetle home of amaQungebeni inkosi Sihayo. 4700 British troops and support personnel, 220 wagons, 2000 oxen, 82 carts, 67 mules. It took over an hour for the column to pass a point it was so large. And as you heard, Cetshwayo kaMpande had decided that because this column was the largest, it was going to get special amabutho treatment. Lord Chelmsford had arrived at Helpmekaar on the eve of the invasion, and had taken over as commander of the column, which was to increase tension amongst the officers. Chelmsford tended to micromanage, and Glyn was highly experienced. Later, when a catastrophe unfolded, controversy would rage about who in fact was in charge. Glyn was already resentful that his role had been usurped. If you recall last episode, I explained how he'd put together the regiment in England, paid for his colonelcy, then led the regiment through the end of the 9th Frontier War and here was Chelmsford and his retinue, taking over. Here we are, Shepstone leading the central column, or Number 3 Column as it was known, with Glyn glowering. Column 1 was on the right flank, down the coast, crossing the lower Thukela with 5000 men under Colonel Charles Pearson comprised of the Naval Brigade, 2/3rd 60th Rifles, the 99th Regiment, Natal Native Contingent and artillery. Column two was Durnfords although technically it was closely attached to Glyn's Column 3 - and both 2 and 3 were set to operate more closely than the Pearsons' first column which was to head to the lower Thukela, cross the mighty river opposite the Zulu kraal at Gingingdlovu, advance to Eshowe and push on to Ondini. However, Pearson had been told to advance cautiously, and consolidate his men in Eshowe before continuing. He would end up besieged in Eshowe he had moved so slowly. Thus the arrival at Sihayo's homestead kwaSogetle less than a day's march across Rorke's Drift. Sogetle was a natural flat-topped fortress which rose over 1000 feet from the valley floor, its approaches were strewn with boulders, it was steep and seemingly impregnable. The British faced a tough assignment. Had Cetshwayo kaMpande or chief Sihayo decided to rather defend this citadel, the battle would have no doubt been far more bloody. But the fortress was defended by only a small group of Sihayo's men including one of his youngest sons Mkhumbikazulu. Most warriors including Siyaho himself and all his other sons had marched off to oNdini 116 kilometers away to join the main Zulu army.

Few leaders have shaped the identity of America's Special Forces more than President John F. Kennedy. In just three years as Commander in Chief, JFK redefined how the United States would fight, lead, and prepare for an uncertain world, one that demanded unconventional solutions and elite warriors ready to face any challenge.As the Cold War escalated, President Kennedy saw the need for a new kind of Soldier, one trained to think, adapt, and win in conflicts fought not only on the battlefield, but through influence, innovation, and resilience. His vision for military modernization gave birth to the era of Unconventional Warfare and cemented the role of the Green Berets in America's national defense strategy.From his visit to Fort Bragg and the historic meeting with Brigadier General William Yarborough, to the moment he publicly endorsed the Green Beret as “a symbol of excellence, a badge of courage, and a mark of distinction in the fight for freedom,” JFK's leadership transformed Special Forces from a small experimental group into a cornerstone of American military power.Today, that legacy continues, honored each year at the JFK Wreath Laying Ceremony, carried forward by generations of Green Berets who live by the same principles of courage, creativity, and service that JFK saw as vital to the nation's defense.From the USASOC History Office, Fran Racioppi sat down with two of the historians who've preserved and advanced this legacy; Dr. Troy Sacquety and Dr. Jared Tracy. Their work ensures JFK's vision is never forgotten. We explored the strategic thinking behind Kennedy's military modernization, the significance of the Green Beret endorsement, and why, decades later, the U.S. Army John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and School still bears his name. We also discussed the legacy-building moment of JFK's recent induction as Distinguished Member of the Regiment and the enduring symbolism of the annual wreath laying at Arlington.This episode is about vision, legacy, and the enduring bond between a President and the warriors he inspired - the Green Berets.HIGHLIGHTS0:00 Introduction1:58 Welcome to the USASOC Historians Office2:57 JFK and Green Berets5:34 USASOC Historian role & importance10:57 JFK's vision18:11 USASOC capability in the 1960's21:05 JFK's impact28:24 DMOR induction33:54 A world with JFK?QUOTES“What really struck us was how great of a speech giver he was.” “The most important thing we could do is preserve the history of our organization.” “On any given day, I could be working on something that comes from 1774 to yesterday.” “Kennedy viewed the Army Special Forces as the natural fit to be able to fill that role.” “He's very deliberate in wanting to make Special Forces a part of his program.” “Can we do this as a nation every time there's a need to contain the spread of communism?” “During the Kennedy administration, the term Special Warfare was not very well defined at all.” “Without the Korean War, you don't have the ability to do Special Operations in Vietnam.”“It's part of the identity of Special Forces.” “Everyone assumes it was done. When we did the research and looked at it, we realized it hadn't been.” “It serves as a reminder for soldiers that are in the Regiment today.” “What would history be like if Kennedy hadn't been killed?”The Jedburgh Podcast is brought to you by University of Health & Performance, providing our Veterans world-class education and training as fitness and nutrition entrepreneurs.Follow the Jedburgh Podcast and the Green Beret Foundation on social media. Listen on your favorite podcast platform, read on our website, and watch the full video version on YouTube as we show why America must continue to lead from the front, no matter the challenge.The Jedburgh Podcast is an official program of the Green Beret Foundation.

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this episode, Deny Caballero sits down with former Navy SEAL Zack Ferguson for a raw, vulnerable look at the realities behind the Trident. Zack shares his journey through BUD/S, the grit required to push through adversity, and the hidden struggles that followed—addiction, family challenges, identity loss, and the difficulty of transitioning out of the Teams. Together, they break down the importance of community, asking for help, and finding purpose after service. This conversation is a powerful reminder that even elite warriors are human—and healing starts with connection. 

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATION In this episode, Deny Caballero sits down with Cody Halfpop to break down the realities of veteran mental health, the power of community, and why vulnerability saves lives. Through raw personal stories, Deny and Cody highlight how isolation fuels crisis, how humor helps break through the darkness, and why the Special Forces Foundation's QRF initiative is critical for preventing suicide in the veteran community. This conversation is a direct call to action: check on your people, build non-negotiables for self-care, and remember that reaching out is strength. 

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this episode of Security Halt!, Navy clearance diver Daniel Pace shares his journey from a turbulent upbringing to developing Blast Buddy, a revolutionary tool tracking blast exposure in real time. He opens up about the overlooked mental health effects of blast exposure, why smarter training and data are essential, and how shifting military culture can save lives. This conversation dives deep into the science, innovation, and mindset behind protecting those who serve. 

The Tourism Minister is projecting growth for the tourism sector. We'll break down the allocations for the Office of the Commissioner of Police...which covers not only the Royal Cayman Islands Police Service, but also the Regiment and Coast Guard. We'll outline Government's plans to ensure gov.ky websites don't go dark and it's Movember. An important event that could help save lives. #rcnews #radiocayman #caymannews

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this episode of the Security Halt! Podcast, Kyle Steiner joins Deny Caballero for a heartfelt discussion on the realities of military service, transition, and identity. They explore the chaos of post-service logistics, the role of mentorship in shaping young leaders, and the value of conventional forces in combat. From fatherhood and community to leadership and legacy, this conversation underscores the importance of storytelling, human connection, and embracing life beyond the battlefield. 

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this episode of Security Halt!, former Army Ranger Byron Beplay shares his powerful journey from military service to entrepreneurial success. He opens up about battling personal demons, mental health struggles, and the healing impact of service dogs. Byron discusses how accountability, a positive mindset, and community support helped him pivot his life's direction—and how anyone can turn pain into purpose by choosing growth over excuses.

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATION In this episode of Security Halt!, Deny Caballero speaks with Rob from Sleep Genius about the powerful connection between sleep, mental health, and military culture. From his own journey in the military to becoming a sleep expert, Rob unpacks how poor sleep habits compound mental health struggles—especially for veterans. He offers practical tools for improving sleep, such as breathwork, light control, and building supportive environments, while challenging the stigma around rest in high-performance cultures. 

Let us know what you think! Text us! SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATION In this episode of Security Halt!, Deny Caballero sits down with Joshua Parish, founder of VetLife and the Battle Buddy app, to explore the raw realities of veteran transition. From navigating the broken VA system to finding strength through community and ownership, this episode offers powerful insight into resilience, innovation, and what it really takes to heal after service. Parish shares personal stories, hard truths, and actionable resources for veterans seeking connection and purpose. 

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATION In this episode of Security Halt!, host Deny Caballero sits down with Alan Mack, a legendary military pilot with 36 years of service. Alan shares his journey from aspiring aviator in junior high to flying high-stakes missions in special operations. He discusses how 9/11 reshaped military aviation, the value of mentorship, and the teamwork that made complex operations possible. Alan also opens up about the emotional toll of early deployments, the critical role of support staff, and his mission to preserve history through storytelling. It's a powerful look into service, sacrifice, and the skies of war. 

There are few chapters in American military history as daring, secretive, and defining as MACV-SOG, the Military Assistance Command-Vietnam, Studies and Observations Group. A small band of elite Green Berets who operated deep behind enemy lines, often without acknowledgment, and always with extraordinary courage.These men were tasked with missions that had never been done before and might never be done again. Their work in Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam forged the tactics, technology, and mindset that would become the DNA of modern Special Operations.But when they came home, many faced a different kind of battle. The Vietnam era brought with it a complex legacy, one of heroism and heartbreak, pride and pain. Some became business and political leaders; others struggled for decades to find peace. Yet through it all, the brotherhood forged in MACV-SOG never wavered.Live from the 2nd Annual Stars and Stripes Classic, we sat down with Doug Godshall and Jim Shorten, two veterans of MACV-SOG, to honor their service, preserve their stories, and remind today's Green Berets what courage, sacrifice, and innovation truly mean.This episode is about the origins of Special Forces as we know them today, the unbreakable bonds formed in war, and the duty we all share to ensure that the lessons of MACV-SOG live on in every generation of those who don the Green Beret.HIGHLIGHTS0:00 Introduction1:42 Welcome to the Stars & Stripes Classic3:06 Defining MACV-SOG5:54 Who were the partner forces?7:20 MACV-SOG Losses11:27 Why Become A Green Beret?14:42 Life Post-Vietnam19:35 Leadership Lessons from MACV-SOG22:54 Honoring MACV-SOG VeteransQUOTES“We had no identification that we were United States soldiers.”“MACV-SOG had the highest casualty rate of any US Army unit since the Civil War.”“We were very dedicated to the Montangards.”“We wouldn't be alive but for our indigenous partners.”“Teams went out and didn't come back. They were overrun upon landing.”“The Vietnamese War was highlighted by a lot of enemy infiltration into our ranks.”“Our generation wasn't supportive.”“I'm one of those guys that likes to continue learning.”“You can never train up enough.”“You can be whatever you want to be if you put your mind to it.”“I think the modern GWOT soldier has a lot of history to look back on and they're going to be better soldiers."“If you really want to run the mission, get all the training you can possibly get.”“We're glad that you're honoring us, but you're honoring you and the rest of the Regiment as well.”The Jedburgh Podcast is brought to you by University of Health & Performance, providing our Veterans world-class education and training as fitness and nutrition entrepreneurs.Follow the Jedburgh Podcast and the Green Beret Foundation on social media. Listen on your favorite podcast platform, read on our website, and watch the full video version on YouTube as we show why America must continue to lead from the front, no matter the challenge.The Jedburgh Podcast and the Jedburgh Media Channel are an official program of The Green Beret Foundation.

Let us know what you think! Text us! SPONSORED BY: TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATION In this powerful episode, Jeremy Stalnecker, co-founder of the Mighty Oaks Foundation, shares how faith and community can guide veterans and first responders through trauma, recovery, and rediscovery of purpose. From his own military transition to building a nationally recognized healing program, Jeremy discusses mental health, resilience, and the role faith plays in breaking isolation and fostering hope. 

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: PURE LIBERTY LABS, TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this powerful episode, Deny Caballero sits down with Jacek Waliszewski—a former Green Beret, Oxford graduate, and founder of the Hero Protocol—to explore his transformation from bartender to elite soldier. Jacek shares what it was like to help close out U.S. operations in Afghanistan, the mental toll of combat, and the silent epidemic of traumatic brain injury (TBI). He opens up about his personal health battles, the development of cutting-edge brain health protocols, and his mission to support veteran mental health through innovation and education.

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: PURE LIBERTY LABS, TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this episode of Security Halt!, host Deny Caballero sits down with Bryan Bush, founder of the Reboot Project, to explore his transformation from personal struggle to leadership in the veteran wellness space. Bryan shares how fitness, nutrition, and mental health became pillars of his recovery and how Intentional Change Theory helped guide his self-directed growth. He explains how authentic connections, community accountability, and removing internal barriers are vital for veterans navigating life after service. This episode is a roadmap for anyone seeking purpose, healing, and forward motion.

This is the VIC 4 VETS, Weekly Honored Veteran. SUBMITTED BY: TIMOTHY MAY Johann WeilbacherMy Great, Great, Great Grandfather Johann Weilbacher, who served in the Civil War as a Union Solder from 8/1/1862 to 4/21/1864 (medical discharged). Hi rank was a Private in the Illinois 82nd Illinois Infantry Regiment Group “G”. While in active duty, his Regiment fought at the Battle of Gettysburg. He was born on Born May, 1807 in Nassau, Germany, and emigrated to the United States in 1836 to Columbia, Illinois area. And became a United States Citizen on October 14, 1844, and died on Feb,15,1867. He is buried in Immaculate Conception Catholic Cemetery in Columbia, IL ________________________________________________________________ This Week’s VIC 4 VETS, Honored Veteran on NewsTalkSTL.With support from our friends at:Alamo Military Collectables, and Monical’s Pizza See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: PURE LIBERTY LABS, TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this powerful episode of Security Halt!, host Deny Caballero sits down with Tyr Symank to explore the complexities of military culture, leadership, and mental health. From unique operational experiences in Korea to the internal battles faced by Special Forces veterans, they unpack the weight of legacy, the need for vulnerability, and the unspoken challenges of transitioning to civilian life. Tyr shares personal insights on PTSD, accountability, and why seeking help is a strength—not a weakness. This is a must-listen for anyone navigating the military-to-civilian gap or supporting those who are. 

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

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: PURE LIBERTY LABS, TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this powerful episode, Deny Caballero is joined by Marine Corps veteran and advocate Liz Hartman for a raw conversation on the realities of military transition, trauma, and personal growth. Together, they discuss the importance of community support, the healing power of nature, and the need for moral accountability within veteran spaces. Liz shares her own story of resilience and advocacy, challenging the veteran community to uphold higher standards, protect the vulnerable, and bridge generational divides through truth, faith, and family. 

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: PURE LIBERTY LABS, TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this powerful episode, host Deny Caballero sits down with Clinton Beaudel Dooley to explore his profound journey of healing, recovery, and self-discovery after military service. From navigating the emotional fallout of divorce and trauma to the transformative role of psychedelics, faith, and community, Clinton shares raw insights into what it takes to rebuild from the inside out. His story is a testament to the importance of asking for help, doing the inner work, and finding purpose through serving others. 

Let us know what you think! Text us!SPONSORED BY: PURE LIBERTY LABS, TITAN SARMS, PRECISION WELLNESS GROUP, and THE SPECIAL FORCES FOUNDATIONIn this powerful episode of Security Halt!, host Deny Caballero sits down with JD, an active-duty Green Beret and member of the FM Training Cadre, to explore the gritty realities and transformative lessons of the Special Forces journey. JD shares his personal path—from overcoming early setbacks to earning the coveted Green Beret—and how mentorship, character, and faith shaped his growth along the way. The conversation dives deep into how training, resilience, and community support are essential to mission success. JD reflects on the Q Course, the importance of embracing failure, and the evolving standards of today's Special Forces candidates.Whether you're a young warrior aspiring to serve, a veteran navigating transition, or someone seeking purpose and growth, this episode offers raw insights and powerful takeaways on leadership, personal development, and the enduring brotherhood of the Green Beret community. 

Former Washington Post and Boston Globe editor Marty Baron joins for Press Play. He talks about news outlets refusing to sign the new Pentagon press rules, the future of NPR, and what to expect from the Trump administration in response to No Kings protests this weekend.  NBC10 Boston's Sue O'Connell on Trump's threats to Boston, Marjorie Taylor Greene calling GOP men weak, and a judge's order to pause shutdown layoffs.GBH CEO Susan Goldberg talks about the “Fund the Future” campaign and her vision for GBH post-CPB funding.Boston Lyric Opera joins for a Studio 3 edition of Live Music Friday, to talk about "Daughter of the Regiment," an adaptation of a classic French opera that shifts focus to real-life feminist revolutionary Deborah Sampson.  Phillip Eng, MBTA general manager and interim secretary of transportation, joins for “Ask the GM." He takes questions from us and listeners. 

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

James Marten, author of "The Sixth Wisconsin and the Long Civil War: The Biography of a Regiment."

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

Send us a text however note we cannot reply through these means. Please message the instagram or email if you are wanting a response. On today's Zero Limits Podcast host Matty Morris chats with former Special Air Service Regiment K9 Hander and Operator Horse aka Andrew Hudson. Horse enlisted into the infantry first serving as a paratrooper at 3RAR. Horse spent time at 4RAR and deploying to East Timor. In 2003 Horse attempted and successfully completed SASR selection posting to 1 Squadron. During his SASR career he deployed on multiple Special Operations Task Group rotations to Afghanistan both as a K9 Handler (pictured with Richa) and operator. Currently Horse is presenting the Bravery and Betrayal documentary which is touring the East Coast. Head to wanderingwarriors.org to get tickets and see the locations of the upcoming documentary locations. Website - www.zerolimitspodcast.comInstagram - https://www.instagram.com/zero.limits.podcast/?hl=enHost - Matty Morris www.instagram.com/matty.m.morrisSponsors Instagram - @gatorzaustralia www.gatorzaustralia.com15% Discount Code - ZERO15(former/current military & first responders 20% discount to order please email orders@gatorzaustralia.com.au Instagram - @3zeroscoffee 3 Zeros Coffee - www.3zeroscoffee.com.au 10% Discount Code - 3ZLimits Instagram - @getsome_au GetSome Jocko Fuel - www.getsome.com.au 10% Discount Code - ZEROLIMITS

The hosts of the Aged Out Podcast, Michael Fantini and Evan Worrell, react to and discuss the 2025 Phantom Regiment Percussion Section from DCI 2025 finals week with Battery Arranger, Matt Penland and Percussion Director and Front Ensemble Arranger, Tyler Sammons.

Don Graves tried to enlist in the U.S. Marine Corps the day after President Franklin Roosevelt declared the Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor a day of infamy. Since he was only 16 years old, Graves had to wait another six months to enlist. When he did, he went through basic training in California and was soon assigned as a flamethrower operator in the 2nd Battalion, 28th Regiment, 5th Marine Division.In this edition of Veterans Chronicles, Graves recounts the harrowing landing during the third wave at Iwo Jima, getting pinned down in the water, what they had to do to reach the volcanic ash beach, and how he begged God to spare his life as the bullets flew above him.Graves also tells us about the fight up Mount Suribachi against Japanese forces with the higher ground. He explains what made the difference in the fight, a shocking encounter with a Japanese soldier during the battle, and what he remembers about the iconic flag raising atop Mount Suribachi.Then Graves details an even more intense fight at Hill 362 A, where his unit lost all its remaining officers. He also takes us into the fighting in the caves, both with guns and with his flamethrower. And he shares one of the most devastating moments of the battle that took place in his own foxhole.Finally, Graves describes leaving the island alive when so many other Marines didn't. And he remembers hearing the news of the Japanese surrender just as he was training for the invasion of Japan.

 In this episode of The Catalyst Collective, Joshua Daniel and Johnny Hammans sit down with Jim and Becky Hario to remember their son, PFC Eric Hario—the 2025 Hero Games honoree. Eric's story is one of courage, legacy, and sacrifice, from his younger years and entry into the Ranger Regiment to the impact he left on his family, his brothers, and all who knew him. The conversation dives deep into Eric's life, exploring not just the Ranger he became but the young man behind the uniform. Jim and Becky share reflections on what it meant to see Eric choose the path of service, the bonds he built within the Regiment, and how his memory continues to shape their lives today. Joshua and Johnny also discuss the 2025 Hero Games and the powerful role it played for the Hario family—Jim as a competitor, Becky as a spectator. Together they highlight the mission of Hero Games, the importance of honoring Gold Star Families, and how events like these carry forward the legacies of those who gave everything. This is more than remembrance—it's a reminder of why we gather, why we honor, and why we carry these stories forward. If you've ever wondered about the true weight of sacrifice and the mission to keep names like Eric's alive, this episode will leave a lasting impact. Support the showThe Catalyst Collective Instagram Counter Culture Solutions InstagramCounter Culture Solutions WebsiteHero Games Charity InstagramHero Games Charity WebsiteSharp Top CrossFit InstagramSharp Top CrossFit WebsiteHosts:JD's InstagramJohnny's InstagramWillie's Instagram

4th S-400 Regiment Delivered | Tejas, Su-57 Messages to US | Rubio, Trump Play Good Cop, Bad Cop

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

In this episode of the WW2 Podcast, we explore the remarkable history of the Malay Regiment during the Second World War. Formed in the 1930s as an experiment with just 25 local recruits, the regiment quickly grew into a respected fighting force. By the time of the Japanese invasion of Malaya in late 1941, it had expanded to two full battalions. These soldiers would be thrown into the heart of the fighting during the desperate defence of Singapore in early 1942. To help tell this story, I am joined by Stuart Lloyd, author of The Malay Experiment: The Colonial Origins and Homegrown Heroics of the Malay Regiment. His book examines how the regiment was created, its role in the war, and the lasting legacy it left behind in Malaysia's military history.   patreon.com/ww2podcast  

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

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

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