Podcasts about second sino japanese war

It's 1937 in China. Japan has invaded China some years prior and the Chinese people are under a ruthless Japaneses occupation. This story is about when people get fed the fuck up and rise against their oppressors.While most historians agree that WWII started with the invasion of Poland, some historians will say this is an even earlier catalyst for the war--and it all took place at the Lugou Bridge, most commonly known as the Marco Polo Bridge (although that guy had nothing to do with the bridge besides being awestruck and writing about it in his journal...) This must be some bridge and some "incident," right?!For episode 120, KT is taking us to China in 1937 with the event that started the Second Sino-Japanese War.~~~~~*Episode 4: Hatori HonzoEpisode 93: Yi Sun-Sin, the Korean admiralGEICO Marco Polo ad⁠~~~~~*The Socials and Patreon!Patreon-- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠The Best Buds Club!⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠ - ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@HighTalesofHistory⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠  TikTok⁠- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@HighTalesofHistoryPod⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠  YouTube-- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@High Tales of History⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠ -⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠High Tales of History or ⁠⁠@HighTalesofHistory ⁠Email—hightailingthroughhistory@gmail.com⁠ ~~~~~~*Source Material and References:Sources:https://www.pacificatrocities.org/blog/the-marco-polo-bridge-incident-a-catalyst-for-the-second-sino-japanese-war https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marco_Polo_Bridge_incident https://www.britannica.com/event/Marco-Polo-Bridge-Incident https://origins.osu.edu/read/marco-polo-bridge-incident-1937 ~~~~~~~*Intro/outro music: "Loopster" by Kevin MacLeod (⁠incompetech.com⁠) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

It's 1937 in China. Japan has invaded China some years prior and the Chinese people are under a ruthless Japaneses occupation. This story is about when people get fed the fuck up and rise against their oppressors.While most historians agree that WWII started with the invasion of Poland, some historians will say this is an even earlier catalyst for the war--and it all took place at the Lugou Bridge, most commonly known as the Marco Polo Bridge (although that guy had nothing to do with the bridge besides being awestruck and writing about it in his journal...) This must be some bridge and some "incident," right?!For episode 120, KT is taking us to China in 1937 with the event that started the Second Sino-Japanese War.~~~~~*Episode 4: Hatori HonzoEpisode 93: Yi Sun-Sin, the Korean admiralGEICO Marco Polo ad⁠~~~~~*The Socials and Patreon!Patreon-- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠The Best Buds Club!⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠ - ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@HighTalesofHistory⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠  TikTok⁠- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@HighTalesofHistoryPod⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠  YouTube-- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@High Tales of History⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠ -⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠High Tales of History or ⁠⁠@HighTalesofHistory ⁠Email—hightailingthroughhistory@gmail.com⁠ ~~~~~~*Source Material and References:Sources:https://www.pacificatrocities.org/blog/the-marco-polo-bridge-incident-a-catalyst-for-the-second-sino-japanese-war https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marco_Polo_Bridge_incident https://www.britannica.com/event/Marco-Polo-Bridge-Incident https://origins.osu.edu/read/marco-polo-bridge-incident-1937 ~~~~~~~*Intro/outro music: "Loopster" by Kevin MacLeod (⁠incompetech.com⁠) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

Last time we spoke about the New Fourth Army Incident. Across the Second Sino-Japanese War, the CCP entered after the setbacks of the 1930s, seeking to become a national leader in resistance while remaining cautious toward the Nationalist government. The 1936 Xi'an Incident reshaped politics, and by August 1937 KMT–CCP agreements defined a working arrangement: the CCP acknowledged KMT leadership and integrated its forces, while still pursuing political space and autonomy. As the war progressed, the CCP focused on defining its relationship with the KMT and keeping operational independence during cooperation. Mao Zedong managed this alliance by promoting a united front against Japan, yet protecting CCP revolutionary goals and internal control. The establishment of the Eighth Route Army and New Fourth Army marked this military reorganization. Throughout, the CCP feared that KMT collaboration with Japan could enable a peace settlement that would undermine communist legitimacy and restrict the party's future authority thereafter.   #202 The One Hundred Regiment Offensive Phase One 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. Simultaneously with the friction between the Kuomintang (KMT) and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), the Japanese were also working to take control of—and extract value from—most of the territory they had nominally conquered. Treating these two processes separately—"friction" on the one hand and "consolidation" on the other—does violence to the real difficulty of the CCP's dilemma: the Party often had to confront both problems at the same time. At certain moments, the CCP was effectively forced to wage a two-front struggle. Even so, if the worst of the KMT–CCP friction had already eased by 1941, the most serious and painful challenges posed by Japanese consolidation were still ahead. To recover anything close to reality, the two timelines have to be read together and placed on top of one another. The Japanese understood that consolidation could not be postponed, because much of the land behind the furthest reaches of their army was still only weakly under their actual control. In some places, order could be restored by relatively direct methods: rebuilding local administration and policy authority; repairing transportation and communications; enrolling Chinese personnel—usually, as it turned out, people of dubious reliability—as police or militia under puppet regimes; registering the local population; and requiring identity cards. In true old-style Chinese fashion, collective security practices were used widely. One form was the familiar bao-jia system, in one variant or another. Another was the so-called "railway-cherishing village": a village would be assigned a nearby stretch of track, and if residents failed to "cherish" it, they were held collectively responsible. Yet early Japanese weakness in northern China is vividly illustrated by an incident in the summer of 1938. Three young foreigners—vacationing from teaching in Peiping (Beijing)—were curious about events and about what people were doing. They loaded their bicycles on a southbound train, got off at Baoding, and rode west until they ran into Eighth Route Army detachments. In the early period of the war, commanders generally wanted to rely on more mobile forms of warfare. Mao, however, insisted on a strategy of de-escalation and dispersion: breaking the 8RA and New Fourth Army into small units as nuclei for combat, recruitment, political work, and base-area construction. Under this approach, few engagements could be truly dramatic in scale, and most were constrained by the need to survive. Each skirmish had to be carefully planned. The CCP would use local intelligence and the element of surprise so that a detachment could strike and withdraw before its limited ammunition ran out or before enemy reinforcements arrived. Small Japanese patrols and puppet units could be ambushed not only to seize weapons and other material, but also to inflict casualties. Active collaborators, or Japanese-sponsored administrative personnel, could be assassinated. Above all, Communist action aimed to disrupt transportation: mining roads; cutting down telegraph poles, stealing wire, and cutting rail lines; sabotaging rolling stock; and, at times, carrying off steel rails so that primitive arsenals could be supplied. Attempting derailments was also part of the effort. Destroying a bridge or a locomotive counted as a major achievement. Both the Communists and the Japanese understood that these tactics did not decisively shift the overall strategic balance. Still, they worked at other levels. For the Japanese, the result was a constant series of small wounds—painful, bleeding, and potentially infectious. Few areas in the countryside felt truly safe. Japanese field commanders documented growing frustration as they tried to eliminate resistance, restore administration, collect taxes, and prepare for more systematic and effective economic exploitation of conquered territory. Guerrilla warfare against the Japanese cannot be judged only in conventional battle terms—numbers of engagements, casualties, or territory occupied. It had to be evaluated politically and psychologically as well, exactly as Mao repeatedly emphasized. Since the CCP's wartime legitimacy depended on its patriotic claims, enough fighting had to be carried out to maintain credibility. Moreover, military success mattered for mobilizing the "basic masses," persuading wavering people to keep an open mind, and neutralizing opposition. As the logic put it, it was not that people always chose the side that was winning, but that few would ever join a side they believed was losing. One experienced cadre described the effect this way: Among the guerrilla units… there is a saying that "victory decides everything." No matter how hard it has been to recruit troops, supply the army, raise the masses' anti-Japanese fervor or win over the masses' sympathy, after a victory in battle the masses fall all over themselves to send us flour, steamed bread, meat, and vegetables. The masses' pessimistic and defeatist psychology is broken down, and many new guerrilla soldiers swarm in. But once the Japanese began to demand a heavy price for every engagement—whether the Communists won or not—this attitude began to change. In North and Central China, the Japanese earliest pacification sweeps created comparatively little trouble for the CCP. At first, the Japanese made few distinctions among Chinese forces. They simply tried to mop up or disperse them without regard to character. Over time, however, they realized that these sweeps actually made it easier for the CCP to expand. By the second half of 1939, Japanese methods became more discriminating. Chinese non-Communist forces would step aside while the Japanese hunted specifically for the 8RA, the N4A, and their local affiliates. The Japanese also made more direct appeals to non-Communist forces. According to Japanese army statistics, during the eighteen months from mid-1939 to late 1940, around 70,000 men from more or less regular Nationalist units in North China alone went over to the Japanese. The Japanese also reached informal "understandings" with several regional commanders whose forces together might have totaled as many as 300,000 men. This, of course, corresponded to what the CCP denounced as "crooked-line patriotism"—the "crooked-line" collaboration that preserved certain units so they could be used in future anti-Communist operations. When pacification efforts were intensified from late 1939 and throughout 1940, differences also appeared in the strategies Japanese armies used in North versus Central China. In North China, the approach relied heavily on military means, with political tactics limited largely to recruiting collaborators. In Central China, Japanese authorities did not hesitate to use military force, but they also attempted to supplement it with more comprehensive political and economic solutions by setting up tightly controlled "model peace zones." Although both approaches ultimately failed, they created enormous difficulties for Chinese Communists—until, in 1943, the Japanese were forced to ease off because the Pacific War against the United States became too burdensome. Careful reading of detailed intra-party documents suggests that repression also demobilized peasant support and terrorized populations into apathy, grudging acquiescence, or even active collaboration with the Japanese. In a locality already reduced from consolidated base status to guerrilla status, capacity and will were often too weak to administer complex reforms in systematic fashion. In other words, passive survival—defensive survival—was at least as important as what lay behind the heroic public images the Party projected. Systematic pacification in North China in late 1939 and 1940 radiated outward. It moved from areas held more or less firmly by the Japanese and their puppets into guerrilla and contested zones. The ultimate objective was to crush resistance or render it ineffective. The method was first to sweep the area clear of anti-Japanese elements, and then to establish a chain of interconnected strongpoints that could quickly reinforce one another. After that, puppet government would be expanded so it could take increasing responsibility for civil administration and "pacification maintenance," while Japanese forces repeated the initial steps further outward into contested territory. Violence was used selectively against individuals, groups, or villages accused of acts of resistance. This selective violence aimed to deter active participation in CCP-led programs, deprive Communist forces of a population willing to shelter them, and persuade informers to come forward. That was, at least, the theory of the strategy. In practice, the basic framework of the strategy depended on the main transport lines. Railways and roads—if properly fortified and protected—could separate resistance forces from one another and deny them one of their most effective weapons: mobility. These "cage" tactics (chiyu-lung, "jiu-lung") made it possible to enlarge pacified areas by "nibbling" outward, "as a silkworm feeds on mulberry leaves" (ts'an-shih). At the same time, the approach aimed to exploit North China's economy more effectively. To this end, the Japanese worked to improve and extend both railway and road networks. When the war began, in Shanxi the Cheng-Tai (Shijiazhuang–Taiyuan) and Tong-Pu (Datong–Tongguan) lines were metre-gauge, incompatible with the standard-gauge lines elsewhere in China—part of Yan Xishan's design to prevent deeper penetration into his province. By the end of 1939, the Japanese used forced labor to convert both lines to standard gauge. One benefit was the easier transportation of high-quality anthracite coal from the Qingxing mines (on the Cheng-Tai line) to industrial users in North China and Manchukuo. Of the newly constructed roads and railway lines, the most important was the Te-Shih line—from Dezhou in northeastern Shandong to Shijiazhuang. Construction began in June 1940 and finished in November, connecting the Tianjin–Pukou, Beiping–Hankou, and Cheng-Tai lines. This made it easier to move troops and transport raw cotton. Once the Te–Shih link was completed, the Japanese had direct connections between the point of their furthest advance at the elbow of the Yellow River and all major cities of North China, and beyond to Manchukuo. Communist sources began to speak of a "transportation war," noting with concern the moats and ditches, the blockhouses, and the frequent patrols protecting the lines. Both militarily and economically, these measures weighed heavily on forces led by the Communists in North China and on the populations under their control—especially the plains of central and eastern Hebei. One indicator of effectiveness was the rapid decline in "acts of sabotage" against North China railways in 1939 and the first half of 1940. A cadre in Jin-Cha-Ji reported in mid-1940: "The enemy has adopted a blockhouse policy, like that of the Jiangxi Soviet. They are spread like a constellation. In central Hebei alone, there are about 500, separated by one to three miles." Normal trading patterns were disrupted as Japanese or puppet occupiers took over administrative and commercial centers, and peasants found themselves caught between regulations imposed by the Communists on one side and those enforced by the other side. Finally, landlords, moneylenders, loafers, bandits—everyone who felt damaged by the new order inside base areas—could use pacification programs to try to recover influence or simply take revenge. Some became informers. After 8RA and local units were driven away, they could kill remaining cadres or activists and settle scores with the peasants who had supported them. Until the "first anti-Communist upsurge" was defeated, local elites and other disaffected elements might also seek support from Nationalists. It was even possible for an armed band to operate for several months inside consolidated regions of the CCP base, killing cadres as it went. Peng Dehuai later recalled this period in a way that underscored how pressure translated into wavering and collapse. Under the enemy's brutal pressure, in some districts the masses even hesitated or capitulated. From March to July 1940, large areas of the North China base were reduced to guerrilla regions. Before the "Cage-bursting battle",, they controlled only two county seats: Pingxun in the Taihang mountains and Pien-kuan in northwest Shanxi. Masses who previously had one set of obligations now had two—one toward the anti-Japanese regime and one toward the puppet regime. The situation in North China had not yet become a full crisis, but it was certainly serious. Action was needed to regain initiative. On 22 July 1940, Zhu De, Commander-in-Chief of the Eighth Route Army, Peng Dehuai Deputy Commander-in-Chief, and Zuo Quan Deputy Chief of Staff jointly issued the Preliminary Battle Order, laying out the strategic goals for the coming operation. The order stated: "To respond to the enemy's 'prison cage policy,' obstruct its advance toward Xi'an, create favorable conditions in the North China theater, and strike at the national resistance initiative, we have decided to take advantage of the concealment provided by tall summer millet and the rainy season to carry out a large-scale sabotage operation on the Shijiazhuang–Taiyuan railway (Zheng–Tai Line)." It required the participation of at least 22 regiments from the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region, the 129th Division, and the 120th Division. The main objective was to "completely destroy key points along the Zheng–Tai Line" and to "cut the railway for a prolonged period." On 8 August, the headquarters of the Eighth Route Army issued the Operational Battle Order, further clarifying how forces would be deployed. The Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region was assigned to attack the eastern section of the Zheng–Tai Railway (from Niangzi Pass to Shijiazhuang). The 129th Division was assigned the western section (from Niangzi Pass to Yuci). The 120th Division was tasked with targeting the northern segment of the Tongpu Railway and the Fen–Li Highway. The order also required all troops to begin combat operations on 20 August, and emphasized that "the success of the campaign should be assessed primarily by the extent of damage inflicted on the Zheng–Tai Line." The operation was prepared under strict secrecy. Various elements of the Eighth Route Army conducted thorough preparations before the campaign. Reconnaissance teams, hidden and protected with the help of local villagers, penetrated deep into areas near the Shijiazhuang–Taiyuan railway to carefully map Japanese strongholds, enemy troop dispositions, and local terrain. At the same time, both military and civilian communities mobilized to stockpile grain, ammunition, and tools needed for railway sabotage; blacksmiths were organized to manufacture crowbars, pickaxes, and other essential equipment. Specialized military training covered demolition methods and techniques for dismantling railways, including tactics such as heating and bending steel rails. Civilian mobilization played a crucial role: militia and support teams took on tasks such as transport, medical aid, and coordination with military units. In Central Shanxi alone, more than 10,000 militia members were mobilized. The Eighth Route Army headquarters repeatedly stressed the need for operational confidentiality, stating: "Before the battle begins, the plan must remain strictly classified; until preparations are completed, the campaign objective may be disclosed only to brigade-level commanders." With the cover of dense summer millet, troops secretly assembled within their designated operational areas. Before the battle, the Japanese North China Area Army estimated the strength of the communist regular forces at about 88,000 men in December 1939. Two years later, they revised the estimate to 140,000. On the eve of the battle, communist forces had grown to between 200,000 and 400,000 men, organized in 105 regiments. By 1940, the growth had become so significant that Zhu De ordered a coordinated offensive by most of the communist regular units—46 regiments from the 115th Division, 47 from the 129th, and 22 from the 120th—against Japanese-held cities and the railway lines that connected them. According to the Communist Party's official statement, the battle began on 20 August.  On August 20, 1940, the rain didn't stop the campaign—it changed the battlefield. It slowed movement, blurred distance, and turned rivers and muddy roads into obstacles that could just as easily trap your own men as your enemy's. Along the districts bordering the Zhengtai Railway, the Eighth Route Army still moved, slipping through valleys and river crossings, bypassing Japanese posts, and positioning forces on both sides of the line as night settled in. By dark, the plan became a coordinated strike meant to hit the enemy before they could properly react. Across the entire Zhengtai Railway, attacks went out with timing designed to disorient Japanese defenders—so that their "first realization" arrived only after the railway itself was already being attacked and the window to respond effectively had slipped away.   A key portion of that strike fell to the right column of the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region, centered on the 5th and 19th Regiments, with the mission of sabotaging the Niangziguan to Luanliu section. At 20:00 on August 20, part of the 5th Regiment infiltrated Niangziguan Village for the first time, overwhelmed the puppet troops stationed there, and seized the village by dawn. After that opening cut, the main force moved in to cover the engineers, destroy enemy fortifications, and blow up the Guandong Railway Bridge. When the sabotage was done, they withdrew from Niangziguan on their own initiative, leaving the enemy to deal with the destruction rather than being pulled into a long, grinding engagement.   That same night, at Mohe Beach along the Zhengtai line, another action unfolded. The 1st Company of the 1st Battalion of the 5th Regiment attacked the station and was immediately met with a counterattack by Japanese forces. By dawn on August 21, the company withdrew—an adjustment, not defeat—and then attacked again the same night after crossing the Mian River. This time the enemy retreated into barracks to resist more stubbornly, with nearly 1,000 Japanese troops holding Mohe Beach. Heavy rain had swollen the river and made foot crossing nearly impossible, but the attackers seized the village west of the station and held it. On August 22 afternoon, more than 400 Japanese troops counterattacked; the main force of the 5th Regiment hit from the north bank of the Mian River in a fire assault, killing more than 50 before withdrawing the 1st Company out of the fighting. The 19th Regiment, meanwhile, took Jucheng and Irrang stations, tightening the pressure on the railway corridor.   On August 23, 1940, the 5th Regiment recaptured Niangziguan and blew up the stone bridge east of the village, destroying the railway segment between Chengjialongdi and Mohetan. That night the 19th Regiment stormed Yirang Station and blew up the water tower and the railway, ensuring the disruption would not be temporary. From August 24 to 27, bridges near Yanhui—stone and wooden—were destroyed again and again. Under that continuous pressure, beginning on August 25, Japanese transportation along the Niangziguan to Luanliu section of the Zhengtai Road was cut off completely. Strongholds were left to fight more or less alone, unable to coordinate or move supplies the way they normally would.   While the right column worked the railway, other forces hit the system from different angles. The Central Column of the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region—comprised of the 2nd, 3rd, and 16th Regiments—took responsibility for sabotaging the Zhengtai Road segment from Niangziguan to Weishui and for striking the Jingxing Coal Mine area. On the night of August 20, the 3rd Regiment launched coordinated attacks on the Gangtou old mine and the Dongwangshe new mine of Jingxing, and with miners assisting, the 1st Battalion quickly stormed the new mine and annihilated part of the enemy garrison. The rest withdrew into bunkers, resisting as best they could. By the afternoon of the next day, the entire enemy force had been wiped out. Afterward, major buildings in the mining area were destroyed and most materials were removed so that the mine could not resume production for more than six months. The 3rd Regiment also captured Jiazhuang, reinforcing the idea that sabotage here meant disabling not just lines of movement, but also the flow of resources.   Elsewhere, Japanese positions were disrupted in smaller, targeted strikes that still added up. After the Japanese stronghold at Nanzheng destroyed the railway between Nanzheng and Weishui, the 2nd Regiment took the eastern end fortress of the Faluling Railway Bridge, covered the engineers as they blew up a section of the bridge, and briefly occupied Caizhuang. The 2nd Battalion of the 16th Regiment attacked Beiyu on the night of August 20, annihilating most defenders, and on August 21 it covered the engineers to destroy the Beiyu Stone Bridge. Other units struck Didu and annihilated most defenders in Nanyu. By August 24, the Central Column had learned that more than 1,000 Japanese troops were stationed in Jingxing County, with additional reinforcements moving toward Nanyu and Didu. Their response was practical: detachments were assigned to watch and harass along the railway while the main force gathered in mobile positions—waiting for the next opening rather than charging blindly into concentrated strength.   Meanwhile, the left column of the Jin-Cha-Ji effort—from the 2nd Regiment of the Jizhong Garrison Brigade, the Military Region Special Service Regiment, and the Pingjinghuo Detachment—focused on sabotage from Weishui to Shijiazhuang. On the night of August 20, the Pingjinghuo Detachment attacked Yanfeng and blew up the railway. The Special Service Regiment moved with massed efforts as they destroyed power lines and highways from Yanfeng to Weizhou. On the night of August 22, the Special Service Regiment attacked Shang'an Station. On August 23, the 2nd Regiment stormed Touquan Station, captured two fortresses, then withdrew from the railway line; from August 25 to 27, they destroyed the highway connecting Pingshan, Huolu, Weishui, and Yanfeng.   While the main blow was falling along the Zhengtai Railway, the 129th Division was assigned raids on the western section. That area included the Japanese Independent Mixed Brigade No. 4 headquarters, a coal mine base at Yangquan, and support from Independent Mixed Brigade No. 9 from Yuci. These raids weren't only about destruction—they were meant to disorient, to create confusion over where the main pressure truly was. After the general offensive began at 20:00 on August 20, five companies of the 16th Regiment attacked Lujiazhuang Station and captured bunkers. Two guerrilla-operating companies in Yuci worked with engineers to destroy bridges between Lujiazhuang and Duanting. The 38th Regiment surprised Shanghu and Heshangzu stations, while the 25th Regiment captured Mashou Station and pushed Japanese troops toward Shouyang. The division's right-wing sabotage unit—28th and 30th Regiments of the newly formed 10th Brigade—took on sabotage on the Yangquan–Shouyang section, splitting routes on the night of August 20 to attack stations like Langyu, Zhangjing, Qinquan, and then striking additional positions with the 30th Regiment. Across that window, stations and strongholds such as Sangzhang, Yanzigou, Langyu, and Qinquan were taken, iron bridges were destroyed, and additional stations including Potou, Xinzhuang, Saiyu, Tielugou, Xiaozhuang, and Zhangzhuang were seized or disrupted.   As the western sabotage deepened, Japanese response hardened—but the ability to coordinate weakened. With the Zhengtai line sabotaged, the western section came under the 129th Division's control except for a few places such as Shouyang. Fierce assaults forced Japanese forces to lose contact with each other within days. Strongholds were attacked, besieged, and then annihilated as communication and coordination broke down. The 129th Division mobilized local people to destroy railway facilities, stations, and installations using demolition, burning, and flooding, moving materials so the railway and related infrastructure were effectively erased rather than merely damaged.   To cover these operations, the division occupied Shinaoshan with the 14th Regiment of the general reserve. Starting the morning of August 21, Japanese forces concentrated in Yangquan and attacked Shinaoshan daily. Enemy strength reportedly rose from more than 200 to more than 600, supported by bombing and strafing and the release of poison. The 14th Regiment held out until August 25, repelling repeated attacks, and by August 26 additional pressure came again as reinforcements increased. After six days and nights—and the annihilation of more than 400 enemy soldiers—the 14th Regiment withdrew from the main peak of Shinaoshan, continuing to contain the Japanese with smaller detachments while the main force shifted to another mission.   The first phase of sabotage had succeeded, but the campaign did not allow complacency. The Japanese strengthened their presence along the railway and launched frequent counterattacks, and Japanese divisions in southern Shanxi—including the 36th, 37th, and 41st—prepared to reinforce from the north. On August 26, the Eighth Route Army Headquarters issued instructions for a second phase: continue breaking through the road, concentrate superior forces, and annihilate Japanese units smaller than a battalion that were attacking or reinforcing. In line with that guidance, the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region ordered the Jin-You Column to keep breaking through the road on August 27 for one or two days, while the 129th Division alternated daily in breaking through. Under sustained pressure, the western section of the Zhengtai Road was basically destroyed; transportation was effectively cut off except for a few towns such as Shouyang and Yangquan.   On September 2, orders were issued to conclude the Zhengtai Campaign starting from the 3rd and shift forces according to the second-step plan. As the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region launched the Mengbei Campaign, the 129th Division shifted toward attacking invading Japanese forces, while other tasks—such as attacking the He-Liao Highway and recovering cities of He and Liao—were left for later. Beginning September 2, the Military Region deployed the 2nd, 5th, 16th, and 19th Regiments toward areas north of Meng County and Shouyang to recapture enemy strongholds. With the railway sabotaged, the Japanese main force north of Meng County shifted south to reinforce, weakening garrisons and spreading panic among the strongholds. As fierce offensives intensified, garrison troops began to waver. By the afternoon of September 5, Japanese troops at Xiashe, supported by troops from Shangshe, retreated to Shangshe and fled toward Meng County overnight. That night, the 19th Regiment arrived near Shangshe and, together with the Special Service Battalion of the 2nd Military Sub-district, pursued. The 1st Battalion of the 19th Regiment advanced into Shenquan and Putian to cut off the retreat route. By 9:00 AM on September 6 the enemy was surrounded in Xingdao Village, and after five hours of intense fighting most forces were annihilated. Survivors fled east to Luolizhang Mountain, only to be surrounded again by the 19th, 5th, and 16th Regiments. By the night of September 9, most Japanese forces had been wiped out, though more than 40 men broke through in dense fog and escaped into Meng County.   The siege continued through bitter episodes involving attacks and withdrawals under poison, with both sides paying heavily for every moment of progress. Eventually, on September 11, Japanese troops in Xiyan escaped back to Meng County, helped by more than 200 Japanese already present there. Meanwhile, the Japanese attempted to counter the pressure: on September 4 they sent more than 2,000 troops to reinforce Meng County and began a counterattack. On September 10, the Jin-Cha-Ji Military Region ordered the 19th and 5th Regiments to remain east and north of Meng County to coordinate with the 129th and 120th Divisions, while the rest prepared for new missions.   As fighting intensified around Zhengtai and Meng County, a parallel pressure campaign unfolded. To contain Eighth Route Army sabotage along Zhengtai, the Japanese assembled battalions from Independent Mixed 4th and 9th Brigades to strike the 129th Division. In response, the 120th Division began large-scale sabotage against the Tongpu Railway and major highways in northwestern Shanxi starting 20:00 on August 20. They captured enemy strongholds along rail and road lines, striking major bases such as Kangjiahui on the Xinjing Highway, where more than 50 Japanese and puppet troops were stationed, and also attacking other areas like Shishen, Lizhen, and Jingle. Ambushes were set to annihilate reinforcements arriving from different directions, and at 00:30 on August 21 the 2nd Battalion of the 4th Regiment attacked Kangjiahui and annihilated the defenders by dawn. Reinforcements arriving in cars were destroyed, and subsequent actions continued to expand the disruption.   Over more than 180 battles in northwestern Shanxi, the 120th Division annihilated more than 800 Japanese and puppet troops and captured or destroyed stations and strongholds including Kangjiahui, Yangfangkou, Pingshe, and Longquan. By disrupting the Tongpu Railway and transportation along the Xinjing, Taifen, and Fenli highways, they tied down Japanese forces and made it harder to reinforce Zhengtai. In practical terms, this meant the first phase of the Hundred Regiments Offensive—lasting about three weeks—ended on September 10 with major railway lines and motor roads attacked repeatedly. Roadbeds, bridges, switching yards, and installations were hit heavily; at the Qingxing coal mines, facilities were destroyed and production was halted for nearly a year.   By the end of that first phase, the campaign's logic had become clearer: once the Japanese leaned more heavily on a "cage-and-strongpoint" defense system, the same transport network that had supported their defense became less secure. When rail and road were repeatedly disrupted, strongpoints became more vulnerable—especially if Japanese units pulled out nearby detachments to respond to sabotage. So the campaign shifted from breaking transportation to attacking blockhouses and other strongpoints in contested areas, aiming to force Japanese forces back into well-defended garrisons and leave the countryside again contested by Communist forces. 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. From 20 August 1940, under secrecy and rain, units of the 8th Route Army infiltrated stations, captured villages, destroyed bridges, power lines, roads, mines, and stations across multiple columns. By early September the Zhengtai and related Tongpu transport routes were repeatedly severed, forcing Japanese troops to fight isolated strongpoints and hindering reinforcement. 

Last time we spoke about the Xiang-Gan Operation. In 1939, during the Second Sino-Japanese War's stalemate phase, Chiang Kai-shek received intelligence from Wang Pengsheng about Japan's "Xiang-Gan Operation," a plan to pressure Chongqing by advancing on Hunan and supporting Wang Jingwei's puppet regime in Nanjing. Chiang, based in Chongqing's Huangshan Villa, coordinated defenses in the Ninth War Zone. Deputy Chief Bai Chongxi proposed Plan A, luring Japanese forces deep to Hengyang for annihilation, minimizing movements and exploiting supply vulnerabilities. Chen Cheng and acting commander Xue Yue favored Plan B, emphasizing successive resistance north of Changsha to prevent its fall and counter propaganda.Initially approving Plan A, Chiang switched to Plan B after Xue's insistent telegrams highlighted risks like pincer attacks from Guangzhou and political fallout. Xue, haunted by past failures like Lanfeng and Nanchang, sought redemption. Troops under generals like Guan Linzheng fortified positions along the Xin Qiang and Miluo Rivers, with slogans invoking Taierzhuang's prestige.   #196 The Road to Changsha: Rivers of Carnage at Miluo and Bijia Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. At 7 a.m. on September 14, over 2,000 troops from Nakai Ryotaro's 106th Division launched a fierce attack on the positions of Wan Baobang's 184th Division in Huibu. When this telegram crackled into the command centers of Chongqing, Guilin, and Changsha simultaneously, a hush fell over those who read it, each uttering the same grave words: "It has begun." Huibu, a forgotten speck in Jiangxi Province, clung precariously close to the Hunan border. It was here, in this unassuming town, that the curtain rose on a brutal symphony of war, the opening act of a larger tragedy. The Japanese 106th and 101st Divisions, fresh from their iron grip on Nanchang, clashed once more with the beleaguered units under General Luo Zhuoying, the front-line commander whose failed bid to reclaim Nanchang still burned like an open wound after five agonizing months of tense standoff, where every shadow hid a potential ambush.   This was the calculated first thrust of Okamura Yasuji's insidious "Xiang-Gan Operation" plan: unleash an assault in Jiangxi to draw and pin down Chinese forces, forging the anvil for the hammer blow soon to fall in northern Hunan. The Japanese horde splintered into two relentless routes, surging toward Gao'an and Xiu Shui like twin serpents through the mist-shrouded hills and tangled jungles. Against them stood the Chinese 1st and 19th Army Groups, arrayed in ironclad formation, igniting a ferocious battle that echoed through the valleys with the thunder of gunfire and the cries of the fallen.   When Luo Zhuoying received the urgent telephone report from the front lines, not even a flicker of the expected tension crossed his steely facade. The map of the battlefield was etched into his mind, vivid as a fresh scar, with no need to consult paper when strategy pulsed in his veins. His voice remained calm, almost detached, as he issued orders that carried the weight of life and death. The confidential staff scribbling down the commands couldn't help but notice the eerie mismatch between General Luo's serene tone and the savage directives spilling forth. "Order all units to strictly hold their positions, use their own reserves to reinforce critical areas, do not expect the general reserve, retake lost positions on their own. Anyone whose defense zone is breached by the enemy, affecting the overall operation, will be executed without mercy!" After dictating this decree of unyielding resolve, he summoned Deputy Chief of Staff Yang Xiuqi with a pointed command: "Don't handle anything else; just keep an eye on Gao'an for me."   As the focus shifted to this critical stronghold, Gao'an stood as the town nearest Nanchang still clutched in Chinese hands, a stubborn thorn in the Japanese side, one they were hell-bent on yanking out with overwhelming fury. On September 15, 1939, the invaders shattered several forward positions of Song Kentang's 32nd Army encircling Gao'an, advancing like a tidal wave from east, west, and north. The soldiers of Li Zhaoying's 139th Division and Tang Yongliang's 141st Division clung desperately to their increasingly pulverized fortifications, enduring a hellstorm of Japanese aircraft and artillery that rained death from the skies. Wave after wave of wounded and martyred heroes were hauled from the lines, their blood staining the earth, while swathes of Japanese troops crumpled at the front in heaps of defeat. Army Commander Song Kentang, his brows furrowed in grim calculation, pondered pulling his forces back from Gao'an to blunt the enemy's razor-sharp advance. But as night cloaked the battlefield, Yang Xiuqi arrived under direct orders to oversee the fray, bearing Luo Zhuoying's unshakeable edict: Hold Gao'an firmly; no withdrawal allowed.   The onslaught intensified the next day, September 16, as the Japanese unleashed a frenzy of continuous assaults, their bombs reducing front-line positions to smoking craters. By dusk, each unit had bled over half its strength, yet they held amid the rubble, defiant ghosts in a landscape of ruin. That night, Song Kentang and Yang Xiuqi faced each other with expressions etched in worry, shadows dancing across their faces in the dim light. Song implored Yang to relay to Commander Luo that without reinforcements to hammer the enemy's flanks, clinging on until tomorrow's eve would be impossible—he urged a tactical withdrawal. Yang dispatched the dire situation and Song's plea via overnight telegram to Luo Zhuoying, but by noon on the 17th, silence reigned, no reply pierced the growing dread.   Yang Xiuqi recalled that on the afternoon of the 17th, a relentless drizzle fell like tears from the heavens. He accompanied a reception team to a crossroads, witnessing a heartbreaking procession from the front to a makeshift hospital south of Gao'an city. Severely wounded streamed in on stretchers, the lightly injured limped on their own, porters whispered of abandoned guns littering the positions, and military police reported a surge of deserters. In the cold calculus of combat statistics, there lurked a "missing" category—most were those who had fled the carnage.   On the 18th, combat erupted at dawn's first light. Japanese planes obliterated Gao'an city into a flattened wasteland, their infantry charging with unprecedented savagery. At noon, Song Kentang issued the fateful order: withdraw from the city and seize the hillsides to the south. Gao'an thus slipped into enemy clutches, a bitter loss that echoed like a death knell. That evening, Operations Section Chief Ji informed Yang Xiuqi of urgent directives from Guilin Office Director Bai Chongxi and War Zone Commander Xue Yue: the 32nd Army must orchestrate an immediate counterattack on Gao'an, with the "ace army" en route. The "ace army" was none other than Wang Yaowu's 74th Army, the Ninth War Zone's prized general reserve. Yang's orderly, fetching water past Song Kentang's quarters, overheard the commander's resigned growl: "If they say fight, then fight; at worst, we'll lose all our men."   That night, Army Commander Song Kentang descended to Tang Yongliang's 139th Division to personally oversee the assault, striking from south to north. The 141st Division, bolstered by Li Tianxia's 51st Division and Shi Zhongcheng's 57th Division of the 74th Army, flanked like wolves from both sides, weaving an encirclement around the Japanese in and around Gao'an city. "The 51st Division's code name was 'Vanguard.' This was truly a formidable unit; that night, with a fierce charge, they recaptured Cunqian Street, then built fortifications and stabilized the position," Yang Xiuqi said.   Liu Qihuai, an elderly man who was a squad leader in the 4th Company of the 3rd Regiment of the 51st Division during the Gao'an battle, where his thigh was pierced, recalled: "At that time, I was young and remembered one phrase passed down by veterans: The fearful die first, the fearless die later. In the first few battles, I gritted my teeth and charged head-on. Later, I grew bolder, became flexible in battle, calm-headed, quick-eyed and -handed. Once, right after a skirmish, the company commander punched me in the chest and said, 'Good kid, you know how to fight!' and made me squad leader. On the battlefield, bullets don't care if you're afraid or not; those unafraid of sacrifice, brave and tenacious, often seize the initiative for our army but also bear the brunt, suffering the heaviest casualties. On the third day of fighting Gao'an, the wound ticket said Republic Year 28 (1939) September 21. That day, we charged into the city for street fighting with the little devils, all mixed up. I was closely following the deputy company commander, but lost him; no one could find anyone, it was all about who had the quickest eyes. Watching front, left, right, rooftops, and fearing the ones lying on the ground were feigning death to get up and shoot—wished I had more eyes. I killed a devil poking out from a broken wall, thought that wall section could be a cover for observation and shooting, so I rushed toward it. As I got closer to that dead devil, suddenly my thigh felt stabbed; I ran a few more steps before realizing I was hit, and seeing blood, I couldn't stand. The bullet came at an angle; later I thought it might have been friendly fire, since I was charging ahead and there were no devils on the sides. But I didn't dare say that then; admitting it wouldn't count as a combat wound. I was carried by stretcher bearers to the aid station in a Gu clan's ancestral hall. Next to my stretcher was a Henan soldier from the 32nd Army with a through-and-through calf wound; he was quite cheerful, friendly right away. He said our 74th Army could fight because our helmets were special, all bought from the old Russians (Soviets), bulletproof, bullets would spin on the head. I said great, next battle let's swap. Being wounded, I feared disability most; death wasn't scary—die early, reincarnate early. Lying on the stretcher, still joking; we were truly young then. Later, I met a platoon leader surnamed Dang from my company who was wounded around the same time; he said that Henan soldier was transferred to a rear hospital, got gangrene, had his leg amputated, and died a few days later..."   According to war history records: At dawn on September 22, with the cooperation of the 74th Army, the 32nd Army's "139th and 141st Divisions fiercely attacked Gao'an city. Since the city walls had been destroyed by the unit before withdrawing, the Japanese could not hold firm and began retreating." By 8 a.m., the entire city was recaptured, "pursuing north in victory. A portion of the 141st Division advanced to Huangpo Bridge." The next day, they recaptured Xiangfuguan, Sigong Mountain, and other places northeast of Gao'an, "restoring the pre-war positions."   September 18 was a date the Japanese favored for their grim expeditions, a cursed numeral etched into the annals of invasion and strife. At dawn's first whisper, the Japanese 6th and 33rd Divisions, the Nara Detachment, Uemura Detachment, and their attached artillery, armored, engineer, aviation, and naval units gathered in their respective starting zones, adhering to the precise timings decreed by Okamura Yasuji. They held silent prayer ceremonies, an eerie ritual amid the gathering storm. Over 50,000 Japanese officers and soldiers turned their faces eastward, their hands momentarily abandoning weapons to clasp before their chests, peering through the dense, rain-laden clouds blanketing China toward an imagined sun ascending from a blood-red sea.   As the silent prayers dissolved into the mist, hands seized weapons once more. General Okamura Yasuji, prowling the lines of the 6th Division to inspect and ignite the assault, drew his command sword with a savage flourish and barked a short, guttural command in the tongue of his island nation to his fervent compatriots. In response, tens of thousands of military boots thundered in unison upon this foreign soil, so distant from the homeland that flickered in their devotional visions. The offensive in northern Hunan had erupted, a cataclysm of steel and fury.   On Okamura Yasuji's military map, three bold red arrows aligned menacingly along the Xin Qiang River, like lethal shafts poised to pierce the south bank. The scattered Chinese forward positions on a handful of high points north of the river appeared as mere pebbles before an inexorable tidal wave. Among these fragile defenses, the one thrust farthest into the jaws of peril was the Bijia Mountain position, held by Qin Yizhi's 195th Division under Zhang Yaoming's 52nd Army—a protruding bastion shaped like an oval with twin camel-like peaks. On Okamura's map, this defiant outpost bore no unit designation or commander's name, perhaps dismissed as inconsequential in the shadow of the massive onslaught.   Qin Yizhi recalled: "The enemy broke through the left-wing Songjiawan position on the north bank on the 19th. From dawn on the 20th, they attacked Shi Enhua's battalion at Bijia Mountain from the north and west. Besides artillery, they used planes for repeated bombings. This battalion was the most forward in our division; my attention was always here. The 195th Division was newly added to the 52nd Army after Yueyang's fall in late 1938, based on Henan security forces with poor military quality. I was transferred from army chief of staff to division commander and immediately focused on rigorous military training. First train company commanders, then platoon leaders, finally squad leaders. Marksmanship, bayoneting, grenade throwing—everyone passes; fail and get demoted. This is fighting the devils; personal death is minor, but who takes responsibility for failing the mission? Shi Enhua was my old subordinate from the 25th Division, Huangpu 8th Class graduate as platoon leader. He was upright, brave in combat; I promoted him to company and battalion commander. Shi Enhua had an older brother, Shi Enrong, Huangpu 7th Class, also in my unit, killed at Taierzhuang. Army Commander Zhang Yaoming said holding Bijia Mountain for 3 days completes the task; strive for more to blunt the enemy's edge, consume them heavily before they cross the river, making later battles easier. I barely slept those days. Shi Enhua led a reinforced battalion, over 500 men; this time it was truly bitter. By the second day, fortifications were basically blasted away; by the third day, September 22, the battalion had over half casualties. At dusk, visibility good, I went to a high ground by the river and looked across with binoculars. Shells flipped up patches of yellow earth on the mountain; fortifications in ruins. The chief of staff said the friendly position on Bijia Mountain's right wing was also lost. I called Shi Enhua: 'You've held for three days and nights, meeting army requirements. Troops have heavy casualties, surrounded on three sides; if unable to hold, withdraw if necessary.' Shi Enhua said only: 'A soldier has no "if necessary."' From dawn the next day, intense gunfire at Bijia Mountain; operations officer reported over a dozen tanks supporting infantry. I called for Shi Enhua; the orderly said the battalion commander was at the front. I asked how many troops left; the orderly cried. I ordered him to immediately convey: Withdraw to south bank at once, no delay! Shi Enhua and his brother Shi Enrong were both my subordinates. After Enrong's death, his father visited the troops; the old man tearfully shook my hand: 'Enrong died for the country, in his rightful place.' Enhua's family was affluent; his father educated, deeply principled. Around 3 p.m., I called again, finally reached Shi Enhua. I yelled angrily why not withdraw; Shi said: 'Division Commander, not that we won't; the enemy has us surrounded, we can't.' I ordered him to organize remaining forces for breakout; I'd assign artillery to suppress and send troops on south bank for support. Shi Enhua was silent for a while, finally said: 'Division Commander, see you in the next life!' A reinforced battalion, over 500 men: battalion commander, company commanders, platoon leaders, squad leaders, soldiers. A complete, orderly unit… After the battle, Japanese soldiers made locals collect bodies on the mountain; thousands from nearby villages went, all wanting to see these Chinese soldiers who fought for 4 days. On the mountain, everyone knelt; the hill was covered in fragmented corpses, not one intact for burial; the people wailed loudly."   On the night of September 22, under the dim, ethereal glow of the moonlight, the Xiang River flowed in silent mystery, its gentle waves lapping against the shore like whispered secrets of impending doom. Amid this serene rhythm, a faint, ominous hum of engines pierced the air. Upon the river's surface, shadowy vessels glided, not a mere handful, but a colossal fleet, a dark armada poised for conquest! The right wing of the Japanese attacking formation was the 5th Brigade, commanded by Major General Uemura Mikio under Fujita Susumu's 3rd Division. This formidable force—comprising 4 infantry battalions, 1 mountain artillery battalion, two engineer regiments, and two transport companies—bore a perilous mission: "After the frontal offensive begins, advance up the Xiang River to land at Yingtian in Xiangyin County, detour to the area of Daniqiao, Xinkaishi, Qingshansi, and Malinshi south of the Miluo River, cut off the retreat of the Chinese forces, and support the 6th Division, 33rd Division, and 26th Brigade in attacking the area north of Changsha."   The Yingtian landing occupied a pivotal, treacherous role in Okamura Yasuji's grand operational scheme, a devastating thrust aimed at the left wing of the Chinese defenses, designed to sever the southern retreat of troops entrenched along the Xin Qiang River and Miluo River lines, while plunging a lethal dagger into their exposed flanks. Among the Japanese soldiers charged with this grim duty was Yoshida Yujin, who in the 1970s resided in Higashi Ward, Osaka, Valley Town 3-chome, once a private first class in the 5th Brigade's 7th Infantry Battalion, 5th Company. He recalled: "It was a few days before the Mid-Autumn Festival, and we were on the 'Xiang-Gan Operation' mission. One night, the troops assembled and boarded naval speedboats near Yueyang. I remember the mission involved our brigade plus attached units, totaling over 3,000 men. The speedboats formed a long line on the river; the one I was on seemed to be near the front. The speedboats ran without lights or whistles for concealment. We headed upstream along the Xiang River. That night, there was a not-quite-full, dark red moon in the sky, with dim reflections on the water; other boats and the land were black. We sat tightly packed in the cabins or on deck, rifles against shoulders, no talking allowed, only hearing the rumble of engines and soft water sounds. Around 1 or 2 a.m., Squad Leader Aota whispered: 'Entering combat zone.' We all instinctively grabbed our rifles, staring at the dark shoreline. About two hours before dawn, we finally reached the landing site. As we disembarked, gunfire erupted from a nearby hillside; the Chinese army had spotted us. Machine guns fired from the boats ahead; urged by the squad leader, we jumped off, wading knee-deep water to run from the shore. The company commander ordered several squads to deploy in battle formation, seize the hill attacking us, and cover the following boats' landing. After the attack began, it drew enemy fire; bullets whistled overhead and around us. Soon, enemy direct-fire cannons bombarded the fleet fiercely. Turning back in the explosion's flash, I saw our boat and an adjacent one hit and sinking, plus a few not yet ashore hit—those on board must have suffered heavy casualties. Because of the fierce enemy fire, our progress was slow. It was dark, targets unclear; 'Follow up, follow up' commands came constantly. Advancing in darkness, uneven ground caused frequent falls, impossible to move fast. Per plan, our battalion was to land at Tuxing Port between Yingtian and Xiongzui, then immediately occupy a place called Liuxing Mountain south of Yingtian as a foothold, before cutting southeast into the main battlefield. Landing led to immediate combat; everyone was momentarily at a loss. Along the riverbank, many spots fired guns and cannons toward the river, making our intent to seize that hill meaningless. When I and another soldier carried a wounded to the company's aid station, I saw officers studying maps with flashlights, probably unsure of position and attack direction. Soon came the order: Conceal in place. At dawn's first light, our planes bombed enemy positions; seven or eight planes dropped bombs and strafed several high grounds controlling the riverbank. By full daylight, we received orders to capture a village. The squad leader ordered us to advance in battle formation. This village, whose name I now forget, was on a hillside not far from the riverbank, with a simple trench in front. We rushed to the trench, threw a few grenades, and jumped in; my foot softly stepped on an enemy soldier's corpse. I jumped in fright, looked down, and saw two bullet holes side by side in his head—from a machine gun. Though I'd been in several battles, I was still afraid; before each, I'd pray inwardly, making a small wish. This time, my wish was to live through the Mid-Autumn Festival. Around 9 a.m., several more battalions landed at another crossing near Yingtian and soon linked with us. After our battalion occupied the empty small village, we turned to attack Yingtian Town. Around noon, we reached a kilometer outside the town, eating in a dry ditch. I heard the company commander say the company had over a dozen killed and wounded each. After eating, we joined the final assault on Yingtian Town. Bayonets fixed on rifles, per tactics, in groups of three or four, alternating cover, advancing stepwise. Enemy fire was quite fierce; we could only rush to forward advantageous positions when planes bombed, then conceal immediately after they left, pushing forward step by step. At 4 p.m., we attacked into the bombed-out ruins of Yingtian streets, engaging in street-by-street fighting with the enemy. My combat group had four; before entering the streets, Oyama-kun was unfortunately killed. After entering, the three of us stayed close. Rushing into a small temple in the town's northwest corner, one of us, my good friend Kurata, was hit in the abdomen and fell. I quickly dropped, took out bandages to wrap him. His expression was pained, holding breath in his lungs, face flushed red. I forcefully pried his hands from his belly; blood surged out. I stuffed gauze in, shouting: 'Medic, medic!' Kurata was my middle school classmate, same grade different class; we met on the school baseball team. His mother was a very kind woman, always smiling beautifully. Sometimes after extended practice, she'd bring water and snacks, wait by the field until done, and share with the team. The medic was nowhere; I was so anxious tears flowed. Kurata teared up too, wanted to say something but dared not breathe, suffering greatly. I picked him up to retreat; after a few steps, a shell exploded nearby, my head boomed, and I knew nothing. When I woke, Company Commander Miki was slapping my face hard; my mouth tasted salty. I got up, felt myself—no injuries; realized I'd been stunned. The commander, seeing me awake, patted my shoulder and handed my gun. Seeing people walking upright, I knew the battle was over. I asked: 'Where's Kurata-kun?' He said: 'He did his duty.' Not far, over thirty bodies lay side by side awaiting transport; I recognized them one by one and found Kurata. No longer curled, he lay flat, comfortably. His face waxy yellow, an arm blown off, abdominal blood soaking his uniform. I knelt beside him, tears unending. My mind kept thinking: I can't live either, because back home, I couldn't face that kind, always beautifully smiling woman; I can't live. Our unit advanced southeast; the column lacked many familiar faces. Before the unit crossed a mountain, I looked back once. Yingtian, a small town on the Xiang River's east bank..."   According to war history records: "On the morning of September 23, the Japanese Nara Detachment at Yanglin Street and the 6th Division near Qibutang west of Xin Qiang forcibly crossed the Xin Qiang River (shallow enough to wade). A portion of the Uemura Detachment, supported by naval vessels, assaulted landings at Lujiao and Jiumazui on the left flank of Chinese positions. The Chinese 2nd Division and 195th Division bravely resisted the facing enemy. At this time, the Japanese used over a hundred small boats to carry the main Uemura Detachment force, supported by naval guns and air fire, detouring via Heyehu and Guhu to land south of the Miluo River mouth, at Yingtian, Tuxing Port, Duigongzui, etc., with about 1,500 troops. The Chinese 95th Division immediately counterattacked. Around 10 a.m., the Japanese reinforced landings toward Qingshan, Yanjia Mountain, and Liuxing Mountain south of Yingtian. Chinese counterattacks in these areas failed, and the Japanese captured the line from Yingtian to Qianqiuping."   After triumphing at the Xin Qiang River and securing their perilous landing at Yingtian, Okamura Yasuji, adhering to his meticulously crafted deployment, drove his forces relentlessly toward the second defensive bulwark in northern Hunan, the formidable Miluo River, a line that could spell the difference between survival and annihilation. The Miluo River, snaking midway but northward between Yueyang and Changsha, stood as a natural fortress, a gift from the earth that Chinese forces could wield as a shield against the invaders. Chen Pei's 37th Army, under the 15th Army Group, had arrayed Liang Zhongjiang's 60th Division and Luo Qi's 95th Division along its southern bank, a wall of determination forged in the face of encroaching doom. With the Xin Qiang River defenses shattered and the Changsha region pulsing with tension, precious time was needed to fortify further, so Xue Yue issued a draconian order: do not abandon the Miluo River line under any circumstances. Over 20,000 officers and men of the 37th Army toiled ceaselessly through day and night, bolstering fortifications with sweat and resolve, their hearts heavy with the dread of the inferno soon to descend.   The 2nd Company of the 1st Battalion, 3rd Regiment of the 37th Army's 60th Division had been entrenched at Xinshi for a full three months, a vigil that turned the town into a pressure cooker of anticipation. Since the eruption of battle at the Xin Qiang River on September 18, the nerves of this riverside outpost had been strung taut, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Yang Peyao, who would later endure a crippling foot wound that left him disabled, was then a fresh-faced one-year recruit, his innocence yet to be scorched by the fires of war. He harbored a naive conviction that combat was preferable to the drudgery of peacetime; training and fortification labor were exhausting, meals meager and uninspiring, but in the heat of battle, hardships seemed to vanish, and rations improved with each passing day. This notion stemmed from his unit's lack of real action since his enlistment, just endless standbys and guard duties where the enemy remained a phantom, never materializing.   That day marked the 13th of the eighth lunar month; Yang Peyao and his entire regiment stood on high alert at their positions beside the dock, as routine as the river's flow. The Xin Qiang River line had held for five grueling days and nights; since two days prior, front-line troops had been streaming southward in retreat, their weary forms a harbinger of the storm to come. Xinshi served as the vital crossroads of east-west and north-south highways, a choke point for withdrawals from the Xin Qiang River, and the precarious junction between the 60th and 95th Divisions of the 37th Army. Army Commander Chen Pei had personally inspected the defenses multiple times, his eyes scanning for any weakness that could unravel their stand. One fateful day, as Yang Peyao's battalion labored to thicken fortification covers, the commander and Division Commander Liang Zhongjiang strode by; Yang overheard the commander's voice, sharp as a blade, declaring to the division commander: "No words; execute on the spot!" After the officers vanished from sight, Yang turned to a grizzled 40-something veteran in his squad: "Uncle Zhao, don't know who the commander is so fierce about executing?" Old Zhao replied with the weary wisdom of one who had seen too much: "Once fighting starts, people die, some by devils' hands, some by officers'; that's a soldier's fate."   Around 10 a.m., regimental orders crackled through: Battle was imminent today; front-line troops would withdraw by noon, with Japanese hounds nipping at their heels; all positions must vigilantly scan the north bank; lunch would not be rotated, meals delivered straight to the lines. Yang Peyao positioned himself outside the fortification, peering intently across the water. The Miluo River stretched about 600 meters wide here, bridged by a military pontoon for vehicles linking the north-south highways. Not far upstream on the south bank loomed Xinshi Town; the highway skirted west of it, arrowing straight south to Changsha. With the town as a dividing line, the east fell under the 60th Division's domain, the west to the 95th; Yang's battalion clung to the division's edge, perilously adjacent to the town. Since assuming their post, he had heard tales of the south bank fortifications, erected over a full year: clusters of reinforced concrete bunkers interlinked in a defiant network. With reports of Japanese heavy artillery and aerial onslaughts at the Xin Qiang River, the commander had demanded further reinforcements, ensuring they could withstand multiple direct hits from the sky's fury.   At 11:30 a.m., the company phone buzzed with instructions to fetch lunch from the kitchen. As Yang Peyao and another recruit emerged, they beheld another unit trudging across the bridge, a grim procession of battered souls. These brothers had fought through hell itself, their forms caked in grime and soot, the Republic of China flag at their vanguard tattered and filthy like a discarded rag. Stretcher bearers hauled an endless line of wounded and lifeless bodies; Yang caught sight of one injured soldier sitting rigidly on his litter, his upper body and head swathed in bandages, only his wide, haunted eyes visible, staring blankly in his direction. The unit took nearly an hour to cross, a somber parade of exhaustion. Returning with empty bowls after their meal, Yang spotted two collection vehicles groaning under loads of supplies and stragglers rumbling over the bridge. Trailing not far behind were clusters of three to five refugees, burdened with children, their faces etched with desperation. Since taking position, Yang had witnessed such southward streams daily on this crucial route, ghosts fleeing the advancing nightmare.   Then the squad leader bellowed his name, jolting him back into the fortification. The company relayed urgent word: Japanese forces were tailing the 79th Army southward, poised to reach the Miluo River imminently. Before the squad leader could finish, the sharp "da-da-da" of machine gun fire erupted nearby. Yang's head buzzed with adrenaline; this was his first true taste of combat since enlisting. Though he had thumped his chest in pre-battle rallies, the real crackle of gunfire twisted his guts, nearly overwhelming him with fear. He dove to his assigned spot: assisting machine gunner Old Zhao by swapping ammo drums. Peering through the narrow firing slit, a vivid, stereoscopic tableau unfolded before him, forever seared into his memory.   A thin man in a blue gown, bespectacled like a rural teacher, hoisted a light machine gun, firing wildly as he charged; behind him, a woman clutched a child, racing northward from the bridge's center. Several farmer-like figures miraculously produced machine guns, blasting away while advancing; beside them, women, elders, and old crones, some crouched with hands over heads on the bridge, others fled back, a few leaped into the churning river. The chaos erupted so abruptly that even these battle-ready soldiers froze in shock. Two disguised Japanese assailants stormed the nearest semi-underground permanent fortification by the bridge, circling it while unleashing fire, likely hunting for an entry. One yanked a grenade pin with his teeth, jamming it through the slit; the air quivered silently before exploding, and they lunged toward another target.   Several Chinese soldiers, not yet hunkered in their bunkers, stood frozen, as if the pandemonium were a distant spectacle unrelated to them. In that surreal moment, Japanese machine guns spared these bystanders, fixating instead on the bridgehead bunkers. Then, a soldier erupted from a bunker with a primal yell, bayoneted rifle in hand, charging the armed intruders. As the Japanese wheeled around, he closed in, thrusting before bullets felled him, but his stab missed as they evaded; his cry was silenced mid-roar. Over a dozen members of this Japanese suicide squad, masquerading as fleeing Chinese civilians, surged toward the bridge's southern end; our machine guns finally thundered to life, dropping the invaders one by one on the span, yet the survivors pressed on in a desperate sprint.   Yang's machine gun roared to life; he watched battle-hardened Old Zhao, sweat streaming, eyes narrowed in fury, teeth gritted, lips pulled back in a savage grimace. They sealed the bridge with a hail of lead; amid the deafening cacophony, Yang caught a frantic shout: "Blow the bridge! Damn it, blow the bridge!" Yang braced for the nightmare of a Japanese bursting in, raking their backs with fire. But then, the bridgehead and the entire river defenses shuddered under a barrage of shells. From the first shot to now, mere minutes had elapsed; yet the opposite bank already bristled with khaki uniforms and the glaring Rising Sun flags fluttering like omens of death. What followed was a relentless alternation of aerial and artillery bombardments, a symphony of destruction. Later, Yang queried Old Zhao: Many in the suicide squad had crossed, so weren't they afraid of bombing their own? Old Zhao pondered deeply, then sighed with bitter resignation: "No matter the country, soldiers' lives are cheap."   As the bombing ceased, Japanese forces, now in plain sight and within lethal range, charged in waves from the bridge and through the water toward the south bank; one wave crumpled, only for another to rise, an unyielding, inexhaustible horde. Ammunition was plentiful in the fortification; Old Zhao mentioned three "bases" had been issued—Yang couldn't recall the exact rounds per base. Hours blurred into a frenzy, the ground carpeted with gleaming brass casings; this, Yang realized, was the commander's invocation of the "Art of War: 'Strike when half crossed'", a tactical masterstroke amid the carnage. Japanese blood stained this ancient, storied river crimson; Yang's reinforced concrete bastion cracked wide under the onslaught. In the cataclysmic blast of a heavy bomb from above, the other gunner bled from every orifice, collapsing unconscious and being dragged away. Old Zhao, eyes bloodshot and nose trickling red, paused during a drum swap: "Might not make it this time; don't forget me." Then, with grim pride: "Remember, killed 8 enemy, 1 horse."   At dusk, the Japanese assault faltered, granting a fleeting respite. The fortification's survivors scrambled out, frantically repairing and piling more soil. The company commander passed by, eyeing the fissure: "You guys are lucky; this is the best in the company." The squad leader inquired: "Heavy casualties?" The commander paused, his response evasive: "Depends how higher-ups say to fight." Soon after, orders circulated: Two per squad to retrieve ammo and rations from the company; prepare for nocturnal warfare. The squad leader dispatched Yang for rations, handling bullets himself. While distributing the meager sustenance, fresh word arrived: Immediate withdrawal.   As darkness enveloped the battlefield, our mortars and small mountain guns hammered the opposite Japanese positions. In column formation, Yang stole one last glance at this place of grueling training, endless drills, and now, brutal initiation. Fortifications erected over a year, inhabited for three months, defended for half a day. At the Xinshi positions on the Miluo River's south bank, recruit Yang Peyao had fought his first battle in his personal saga of the War of Resistance Against Japan. He emerged unscathed, no death or wound; alongside Old Zhao, they had felled 11 enemies and two horses. In a quiet revelation, he discovered Old Zhao wasn't the unflinching hero he proclaimed, trudging onward, Yang secretly tallied his insights. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. After debating Plans A and B, Chiang adopted Plan B, emphasizing resistance north of Changsha. Japanese forces assaulted Jiangxi and Hunan, capturing Gao'an briefly before Chinese troops, including the 74th Army, recaptured it. At Bijia Mountain, Shi Enhua's battalion held for four days, perishing entirely. The Uemura Detachment landed at Yingtian amid fierce resistance, suffering heavy losses. Defenders at the Miluo River repelled waves of attacks, with suicide squads and bombardments inflicting carnage before a tactical withdrawal.

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

Last time we spoke about the Chiang Kai-Shek-Wang Jingwei divide. In the late 1930s, amid the Second Sino-Japanese War, tensions escalated between Chiang Kai-shek and Wang Jingwei. Following the Nomonhan Incident and Soviet-Japanese neutrality pact, Japan intensified its invasion of China. At the 1937 Mount Lu Conference, Chiang delivered a speech committing to resistance against Japanese aggression, though both leaders initially hoped for peace. However, Japan's advances, including the fall of Shanghai and the brutal Rape of Nanjing, displaced millions and relocated the government to Chongqing. Wang, disillusioned by Chiang's scorched-earth tactics—such as the devastating Yellow River flood and Changsha fire, which caused immense civilian suffering, joined a "peace faction" of intellectuals favoring negotiation. In December 1938, Wang defected from Chongqing, fleeing to Hanoi via Kunming to broker peace with Japan. An assassination attempt, likely ordered by Chiang, killed Wang's secretary Zeng Zhongming instead, deepening the rift.    #194 The Wang Jingwei Regime Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. The assassination of Zeng Zhongming struck a severe blow to Wang Jingwei. Although Lin Baisheng had been stabbed in Hong Kong in January, Wang apparently did not foresee himself becoming a target. To him, Zeng's death signified that Chiang Kai-shek would no longer tolerate a potential rival to power. In mourning, on April 1, Wang Jingwei published a defiant piece titled "An Example" (Ju yige li) in the South China Daily News. Drawing on Zeng's final words, he argued that a peaceful settlement was not something Wang proposed alone, but a result of a consensus reached at the highest levels of the national government. He referenced the December Hankou minutes in which Trautmann's mediation was discussed. He asserted that the minutes were only one of many covert negotiation instances and, for the sake of national interests, he would reveal no further details. He contended that Konoe's conditions could similarly underpin peace, especially now that a larger portion of China had fallen. He argued that a Sino-Japanese total war would be mutually destructive and must end for both nations to survive. He hoped Zeng's blood would become a bright torch for the "peace movement."   This article proved deeply embarrassing for Chiang Kai-shek. Wu Zhihui quickly wrote a rebuttal, accusing Wang of leaking government secrets and falsifying the minutes. However, the original minutes were not released to support Wu's claim. Henceforth, any pretence of civility or understanding between the two camps was lost. This hostility meant that Chongqing's path to peace through negotiation was closed. If Wang ever sought to broker peace between Chongqing and Tokyo, the publication of this article burned that bridge, making his course of action increasingly irreversible. On the Japanese side, the Hiramuma Cabinet, previously uncertain about how to handle Wang, now felt compelled to protect their new asset. Two days after the incident, the Five Ministers Conference decided to send Kagesa Sadaaki and Inukai Takeru to Hanoi immediately. Inukai, a congressman and the son of assassinated prime minister Inukai Tsuyoshi, carried with him the grim memory of a frenzied public cheering for his father's killers, serving as a sobering counterweight to militant nationalism. Zeng's death also inaugurated a bloody cycle of killings and retaliation. Shen Song, Wang Jingwei's nephew, was assassinated in August in Hong Kong. Wang and his followers felt compelled to protect themselves. Lacking military backing, they turned to the secret police, establishing the notorious spy agency known as "No. 76," named after its Shanghai headquarters at 76 Jessfield Road. It recruited the city's worst elements and was led by the defected BIS agent Ding Mocun and Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics agent Li Shiqun. Both men had defected to the Japanese and were handed over to Wang's faction, which thus wielded limited control over them. Spy violence in Shanghai persisted throughout the war, infamous for its brutality and shifting allegiances. Wang Jingwei attempted to erect a martyr's cult around Zeng Zhongming within the RNG. Beginning in 1942, the propaganda ministry in Nanjing held annual memorials on the anniversary of Zeng's death. This date sat between Sun Yat-sen's death (March 12) and the RNG's founding (March 30), and it became part of the RNG's foundational narrative that the Wang regime promoted. Yet the Zeng cult seemed to matter most to Wang Jingwei himself. After Wang's death in November 1944, the propaganda ministry quietly discontinued the Zeng anniversary service, though Sun Yat-sen's death continued to be mourned and the RNG's founding was still celebrated in March 1945, five months before the regime fell. The journey from Hanoi to Nanjing was long and winding, and Wang Jingwei eventually emerged at the far end as both an emblem and an enigma. To his followers and sympathizers, he was a cult figure who single-handedly saved half of China from total subjugation, likened to a bodhisattva who descended into Hell to rescue tortured souls. To others, his name became a byword for treason. The resistance ultimately gained unity through its hatred of traitors. For the Japanese government, Wang's role and value evolved with the war's shifting dynamics, at times seeming to be an asset, a puppet, an enemy, and a partner all at once. After months of courtship, Kagesa Sadaaki and Inukai Takeru became the first Japanese agents to meet Wang in person. On April 16, they arrived in French Indochina with forged passports aboard a rented civilian vessel, the Hikkōmaru. They found Wang entangled in a fresh scandal. Eleven days earlier, Chongqing's Dagongbao published an alleged secret agreement that Gao Zongwu claimed Wang had brokered in late February. In this plan, Wang proposed forming a GMD collaborationist organization with branches in key Japanese-occupied cities. When the Japanese army moved toward Xi'an, Yichang, and Nanning, Wang would make a statement to "take responsibility for peace," while Long Yun and other local warlords would respond to the call. A new national government under Wang would be established in Nanjing on October 10, 1939, creating a unified government over all of China (excluding Manchukuo) and making Japan its ally in East Asia. All of these activities would be funded by the Japanese government. The plan provoked an uproar, with critics accusing Wang of "selling the nation." Gao Zongwu was suspected of leaking the plan, and Wang denied that the agreement existed. Gao accused the Japanese of leaking a forged plan to sow further division between Chongqing and Wang. Wang's supporters were deeply divided. Gao later claimed he came to prefer the French option, citing Japan's insincerity. Chen Gongbo suggested Wang remain in Hong Kong first to recover from Zeng Zhongming's death before going overseas. Zhou Fohai and Mei Siping favored international concessions in Shanghai. Kagesa and Inukai's mission was to bring Wang into Japan's grasp. On April 18, through Wang's Japanese-language secretary Zhou Longxiang, the Japanese agents met him for the first time. Wang Jingwei, dressed in a traditional Chinese-style long white robe, impressed them with his characteristic poise and sincerity, as he often did with visitors. It was not the first time his personal charm helped him escape danger. If in 1910 he avoided death as a byproduct of Prince Su's favor, in the following decades he weaponized his intimate charisma. These agents, moved by Wang's apparent altruism and sincerity, eventually played a peculiar role as intermediaries between the Japanese government and Chinese collaborators. The Umē Kikan "Plum Agency" was founded on August 22, 1939, in Shanghai under Kagesa's leadership and was seen as a puppet master guiding the RNG's fate. Yet it often fought on behalf of the collaborators with the Japanese cabinet to secure better terms. Kagesa Sadaaki, initially an advocate of aggressive strategy, especially in Manchuria, was removed from his post as supreme military advisor at Nanjing in May 1942 by the new prime minister, Tojo Hideki, who deemed him "too soft toward China." He was reassigned to Manchuria and eventually to Rabaul. In the shadow of illness and death, he produced a memoir in December 1943 to atone for having failed Wang's trust. In truth, perhaps because of Kagesa's sympathy, Wang remained cautiously optimistic about Japan's intentions, unable to disengage from negotiations even as conditions deteriorated. Wang Jingwei chose Shanghai as the destination, but he refused to board a Japanese ship or reside in the Hongkou concession, preferring other autonomous international concessions to avoid appearances of patronage. Unfortunately, the 750-ton vessel rented from the Indochina government nearly foundered in a storm. In Hainan, Wang and his entourage were rescued by the 5,000-ton Hikkōmaru. On May 6, they finally arrived in Shanghai aboard a Japanese ship. For security reasons, Wang had to stay in the Hongkou District for three weeks before moving to 1136 Lane Yúyuan Road, a site within the expanded, unofficial French concession. This episode became another public relations setback. After reaching Shanghai, on May 28 the Wang group presented the Japanese government with a "Concrete Plan to Solve the Current Situation." Key proposals included: convening a GMD national congress to preserve orthodoxy; calling a multiparty central political conference to legitimize a reorganization of the national government and approve personnel choices; founding a national government in Nanjing and dissolving existing collaborationist regimes to signal national unity. Three days later, Wang flew to Japan by navy plane to meet Hiranuma in person, accompanied by eleven followers including Zhou Fohai, Mei Siping, and Gao Zongwu. It was his first visit to Japan in three decades, aside from occasional stopovers. When he left Japan in 1910, many Japanese intellectuals and politicians supported China's modernization and backed its Nationalist revolution morally and financially. Now, with such goodwill scarce, he hoped to appeal to Japan's rational self-interest. In Tokyo, a June 6 cabinet meeting concluded that the new Chinese government would comprise Wang, the retired strongman Wu Peifu, established collaborationist regimes, and a reformed Chongqing regime; the foundation date would be set by Japan. The plan called for collaboration under a divided governance framework, and the GMD could continue only if it pledged friendship to Japan, recognized Manchukuo, and committed to anti-communism. The document's tone suggested trouble for Wang's visit, and the gap between each side's demands seemed insurmountable. Over the next ten days, Wang held marathon meetings with Hiranuma, cabinet members, and Prince Konoe. He briefed his followers daily, appearing increasingly despondent. He suggested Japan's best option was to strike a peace deal with Chiang Kai-shek; the second option was peace via a new national government under Wang, for which he demanded: an army of about half a million, immediate withdrawal of Japanese forces after his government's foundation, non-interference in China's internal affairs, immediate recognition of his government by Japan, Germany, and Italy, a three-hundred-million-yen loan, and administrative control over North China. Japanese officials listened politely but added numerous conditions. Frustrated, Wang began to walk away. Alarmed, the Japanese cabinet made some concessions on June 16, and the "Concrete Plan" was approved, though it still insisted on divided governance and did not address the crucial issue of a military withdrawal. On June 18, Wang departed Japan for Tianjin. This negotiation round was only the prelude. Beyond questions of jurisdiction, military occupation, and economic renationalization, Wang insisted on preserving an ostensibly unified "national government," including its official doctrine (the Three Principles) and the nationalist flag, and he pressed for annexation of existing collaborationist regimes in Beiping and Nanjing. This was a daunting task, as each regime had a different patron. After the fall of Nanjing, the North China Area Army instructed Wang Kemin to establish a provisional government in Beiping. Liang Hongzhi was recruited by the Central China Area Army to lead the Reformed Government in Nanjing, founded on March 28, 1938. Both were Beiyang loyalists, and their regimes used the Five-Color Beiyang flag, an anti-GMD symbol. Asking them to subordinate themselves to a "latecomer" and old rival proved difficult. Wang's aim was thus to reassert GMD political authority over occupied territories. However, the idea of creating a client government that would conflict with Chongqing split Wang's followers and even some Japanese sympathizers. Gao Zongwu, Nishi Yoshiaki, and Matsumoto Shigeharu opposed the plan. Given Gao Zongwu's growing pessimism, Japan's eventual negotiating partner leaned more toward the optimistic Zhou Fohai. Wang sought legitimacy to give his future government the appearance of autonomy, despite Japan's backing. As historian David Serfass observed, aligned with Sun Yat-sen's concept of "political tutelage," a state-formation process must be initiated by the ruling party. Thus, reorganizing an "orthodox" GMD in occupied China became a prerequisite for reconstituting the state's legal framework in Nanjing, enabling the new regime to claim legitimate authority vis-à-vis Chongqing. On August 28, 1939, the Sixth National Congress of the GMD was held in Shanghai. With most Reorganization Clique members declining to join, CC Clique members within Wang's circle recruited locally, and thirty-six CC Clique members in Shanghai endorsed Wang, giving his faction dominance at the congress. This foreshadowed a future RNG split between the Mansion Clique (gongguan pai) around the Wang couple and the CC Clique around Zhou Fohai. The communique did not reject resistance outright but criticized Chiang's methods, arguing that Wang's negotiations had already achieved the goal of national resistance—peace. Among other resolutions, the congress revised the GMD charter, abolished the authoritarian zongcai system, elected Wang as chairman of the Central Executive Committee, and redefined the highest principles as the Three Principles, anticontainment of communism, and friendship with Japan and Manchukuo. Civil liberties, such as freedom of speech and assembly, were protected, though communists were excluded. The congress promised to convene a national assembly and promulgate a constitution once peace was achieved. Importantly, it opened the door for other parties to join the Central Political Committee, signaling Wang's attempt not only to create a rival "peace" government to Chongqing but also to establish a competing, if imperfect, democratic framework. For the next year and a half, constitutionalism became a central objective in the Wang faction's political program. Wang's communique proposed a remedy for the separatist client regimes. On September 20 in Nanjing, an agreement was announced that nominally ended GMD single-party rule and established a multiparty coalition government. A Central Political Conference (a semi-parliament) would be formed, comprising one-third GMD members, one-third former Beiyang collaborators, and one-third small parties or independents. In practice, this tripartite power sharing was never fully realized in the RNG. The negotiations with Japan stretched into a lengthy verbal marathon that persisted for months. As Gerald Bunker noted, the Wang peace movement depended on convincing both sides to accept a conciliatory posture from the other, a plan doomed from the start. During the Shanghai negotiations, Wang sought an agreement with Japan that would give real substance to his "Peace Government." But Japan's demands were excessive. To address the chaos Japan's China policy had created, Konoe established the Kōain (Asia Development Board) to coordinate all government activities and economic initiatives in China, reporting directly to the prime minister. Its staff came from across ministries—Foreign Affairs, Finance, Army, and Navy, making it a natural battlefield for power struggles. Following changes at the General Staff Office, Kagesa, then an Army officer, found himself suddenly in charge of the entire "peace movement," a coveted position. When he and Inukai were shown the secret Kōain draft that would form the basis for future talks with Wang, they were stunned by its strict demands. The draft was presented to the Wang camp on November 1 in Shanghai, provoking astonishment and confusion by imposing harsher terms than Gao Zongwu's deal a year earlier, or even than Konoe's latest statement. Kagesa adopted a duplicitous stance: each night, Inukai privately met with Zhou Fohai to seek more lenient terms, and the next morning Kagesa would propose those terms for the next round. Tao Xisheng warned that Japan planned to slice China into thin rings, each attached to Japan's core interests. According to Tao, Wang broke into tears, declaring, "If Japan can conquer China, let it try. It cannot, so it wants me to sign its plan. This document cannot be an indenture to sell China. China is not something I can sell. At most, my signature would be an indenture to sell myself." The Wang couple considered halting talks and seeking refuge in France. Hearing this, Kagesa hurried to see Wang. Tears stained the page where Wang was taking notes, and his words moved Wang, who privately admitted that Kagesa might be sincere after all. The next day, Kagesa returned to Tokyo to report Wang's discontent, and the France option was again shelved. Just as Wang weaponized his sincerity, Kagesa's genuine wish to end the war through Wang Jingwei was instrumentalized by the Kōain. The latter appeared torn between reason and greed. Moreover, who claimed the war in China was unwinnable? Like Wang, the Japanese believed in the neo-Confucian ideal of a thoroughly cultivated, invincible self, a conviction echoed in their wartime sacrifices. Similarly, Wang viewed the negotiations as a contest of moral principles. Tao Xisheng described it as "drinking poisoned wine." He took a sip, found it poison, and nearly died; Wang concluded he might as well finish the cup. Kagesa's plea to improve terms was rejected by Tokyo. He returned a changed man, stiff, overbearing, and determined to ram the demands down his counterpart's throat. But just as talks reached another breaking point, Kagesa abruptly altered course, overstepped his authority, and made a few quick concessions on key issues, ending the discussion. Compared with the original plan, the December 30, 1939 agreement, titled "Principles of Adjusting the New Sino-Japan Relationship," introduced changes on eleven points, spanning from substantive to symbolic matters. The Great Wall line separating the Mongolian Autonomous Zone from North China was placed under the Wang regime's jurisdiction; Chinese administrative rights over Japanese military areas were reaffirmed; a two-year timeline for total troop withdrawal from occupied Chinese territories after peace was achieved was established; and Manchukuo was not listed as a separate entity. The future Wang regime was granted greater latitude in economic policy and personnel appointments, provided it guaranteed Japan's wartime supply. The dispute over a naval base in Hainan became a focal point of contention. Japan's navy representative, General Sugahiko Jirō, clashed with Chen Gongbo in a contentious exchange. This time, Wang Jingwei compelled Chen to concede. Even Inukai lamented that Wang made concessions too readily, since the Hainan base symbolized a failure of Japan's restraint in venturing into the Southern Pacific. The concession jeopardized not only Wang's cause but also Japan's fate. According to Inukai, even if the conditions needed to reach a credibility threshold of 60 points to avoid rendering Wang a traitor, Kōain's original draft scored at best 30; through coordinated efforts with Kagesa, they improved it to 57 or 58, still short of the credibility gap Gao Zongwu called crucial, between saving the nation and selling it. Gao Zongwu and Tao Xisheng declined to participate in the signing ceremony. Gao felt alienated from the movement he had helped initiate and his ties with the Japanese had become strained. Thinking he faced mortal danger, he persuaded Tao to flee Shanghai together. In mid-November, Gao secretly copied Kōain's terms in negotiation. The photocopies were published in the Hong Kong Dagongbao on January 22, 1940, fueling the impression that the final signed agreement had been reached and undermining the Wang faction's public narrative of securing genuine peace and national independence. An editorial decried it as "the ultimate fulfillment of the Japanese militarists' pipe-dreams! The greatest betrayal in the history of China and the world!" A national uproar ensued. The Wang camp, while moving toward Qingdao to build consensus with established collaborators, was blindsided. Zhou Fohai swore to "kill these two animals." For the embryonic Wang regime, appearances mattered as much as substance. But with the leak of this damning document, the illusion of sovereignty was irreparably shattered. Nevertheless, Wang resisted his followers' urge to publish the final secret terms containing the Japanese concessions, a restraint that impressed Imai. There was a hopeful note amid the media backlash. The Japanese cabinet was forced to approve the limited concessions that Kagesa had secured, particularly regarding troop deployments and railroad rights. Yet Tokyo remained stubborn in insisting that a yellow triangle pennant bearing the words "peace, anticommunism, nation-building" be appended to the flagpole beneath the national flag. The yellow pennant became a powerful emotional flashpoint for the Wang camp. For them, this unsightly symbol embodied the future character of their regime. On March 4, less than three weeks before the RNG's founding, Zhou Fohai threatened to delay the process indefinitely unless the pennant was removed. In the end, they capitulated on that point as well. On March 30, the Blue Sky White Sun flag reappeared over the occupied, ruined city of Nanjing, with a yellow triangle pennant affixed to the pole. Whenever possible, the RNG tried to display the national flag without the pennant, making such images rare in surviving visual records. Inukai observed that Wang may have faced such harsh terms because many in the cabinet and in Kōain were reluctant to negotiate with him. They regarded the RNG as a temporary fix, reserving the most favorable peace terms for Chiang Kai-shek. Konoe's remark that he would never negotiate with Chiang was an unfortunate misstep that his successors struggled to correct. Wang took that stance to heart, wasting political capital and ultimately his life. Inukai noted that in 1941, when Konoe negotiated with the United States to avert war in the Pacific, the conditions offered regarding China bore a striking similarity to what he had promised Gao Zongwu in 1938. Yet this time, Japan refused to accept them. Konoe resigned again; Tojo Hideki succeeded him, and the Pacific War erupted. Had Konoe kept his promises, the bloodshed of the war might have been avoided. Wang Jingwei returned to a changed Nanjing, a provincial city never fully modernized, ravaged by war and burdened by occupation. On March 19, 1940, Wang led a future cabinet faction to pay respects at Sun Yat-sen's Mausoleum. It was a desolate spring day. Through cutting wind and rain, a small, solemn group climbed the 392 steps to the hall. Wang stood in the main hall, raised his eyes to the 4.6-meter marble statue, and tears streamed down his cheeks. As he read Sun's testament, the hall echoed with hushed sobs. It was a sorrowful prelude to the Wang regime. Optimistic Zhou Fohai saw a brighter sign as they exited the mausoleum, noting that the sun appeared. On the same day, however, he learned that the RNG's foundation would be delayed: the Japanese cabinet was eager to push another peace initiative with Chiang, and Imai had gone to Hong Kong to meet a Chongqing representative. Zhou was annoyed, but Wang agreed to proceed. Imai's contact, who presented himself as Song Ziwen's brother turned out to be a BIS agent whose sole aim was to obstruct the Wang faction. The negotiations stalled, and the RNG's founding finally took place on March 30, 1940. An exhilarated Zhou proclaimed the day the happiest of his life, claiming nothing felt more fulfilling than realizing one's ideals. With Wang's growing passivity, Zhou effectively became the RNG's most powerful figure, controlling administration, finances, military, and policing. This fostered resentment within the Wang faction and helped spawn the Mansion Clique around Chen Bijun, Mei Siping, and Lin Baisheng. The RNG was founded on a veneer of legitimacy. Lin Sen, the GMD elder, was elected president, but since he remained in Chongqing and was unlikely to join the RNG soon, Wang Jingwei served as acting president, in addition to his roles as head of the Executive Yuan and the Military Council. The regime claimed nominal sovereignty over border regions and imagined sovereignty over parts of the interior. Nanjing's influence over North China was minimal, with that area administered by the semiautonomous North China Political Council under Wang Yitang, a Beiyang bureaucrat. Although established as China's rival national regime to Chongqing, the RNG did not receive formal recognition from Japan. Japan did, however, agree to send an ambassador to present credentials to Wang, though the implications remained vague. On this and other issues, Japan neither denied nor endorsed the RNG's sovereignty. The collaborators noticed Japan's duplicity. Rather than appoint a Japanologist as foreign minister, Wang named Chu Minyi, whose foreign language skills were French, a choice France refused to recognize, making the appointment rather provocative. From late 1940 into 1941, the United States grew more involved as the war intensified. Chongqing stood firm, while Japan found itself bogged down. Eventually, Japan abandoned hopes of peace with Chongqing. Despite his reluctance, Wang formally assumed the RNG presidency on November 29, 1940. The next day, he and the Japanese ambassador Abe Nobuyuki exchanged a "Basic Treaty" that formally recognized the RNG as China's national government. Zhou Fohai regarded this as a fresh start: previously, their aim had been to persuade Chongqing to negotiate for peace; now, he hoped Wang and Chiang would reach a tacit understanding of a dual approach—one regime aligned with the Axis, the other with the Allies—so that China would emerge victorious. Chongqing, however, did not share Zhou's optimism; on the same day, it placed a bounty on Wang's head. A consistent thread in Wang's political vision was constitutional democracy, pursued both as an ideal and as a pragmatic method to distinguish himself from rivals, chiefly Chiang Kai-shek. In the Return to the Capital Manifesto (March 30, 1940), Wang declared the regime's core aims as peace and constitutionalism. Peace followed Konoe's December 1938 "Adjustment of the Sino-Japanese Relationship" blueprint—neighborliness, joint anti-communism, and economic cooperation. Constitutionalism drew on the RNG's Sixth National Congress in Shanghai (1939). The RNG presented itself as both a peacemaker and a champion of constitutional democracy, opposing dictatorship (Chiang) and opposing the CCP's class warfare doctrine. A Constitutionalism Implementation Committee was founded on June 27, 1940, and by September adopted a plan to convene a national assembly on January 1, 1941. Yet actual liberal democracy would undermine Wang's and the GMD's leadership, and by August 1940 Wang declared that neither direct nor representative democracy suited China's current conditions, advocating instead for "democratic centralism" under a GMD-led coalition with smaller parties. That year, urgent tasks, ratifying the Basic Treaty with Japan, establishing a charter for the East Asian League Movement, and creating a Central Reserve Bank, pushed constitutional reform onto the back burner, delaying the national assembly indefinitely and shelving the constitutional program. Another source of legitimacy for the RNG was Sun Yat-sen's cult, which it continued to promote as a civil religion. Although Wang recognized Sun's fallibility and disagreed with him at times, Sun's deification aided both Wang and Chiang. The Three Principles of the People were reintroduced in schools; Sun's portrait appeared on office walls and currency; a bronze statue was erected in Nanjing; his testament was read at meetings; and memorial observances were held on Sun's birthday and death. The rivalry between Wang and Chiang over legitimacy through piety was evident in Chongqing's conferment of the title "Father of the Nation" on Sun on March 21, 1940, just before the RNG's founding. In terms of diplomatic relations, the RNG received recognition from Nazi Germany (reluctantly), fascist Italy (enthusiastically), and Franco's Spain. France, by contrast, declined to follow suit, mainly because of its delicate position balancing interests in China and Indochina, and secondly because its China-diplomatic corps was split between officials loyal to Vichy and supporters of Free France. Among the RNG's foreign relations, Manchukuo proved the most thorny. Despite the RNG's hesitant acknowledgment of Manchukuo's statehood, cautious rhetoric was used to avoid public outrage. On May 4, 1942, Wang left Nanjing for a state visit to Manchukuo, accompanied by Zhou Zuoren. On May 8, he finally met Puyi, who likely did not forget that the man before him once sought to murder his father. Regardless of sentiment, the arrangements had been set in advance with Japanese approval, leaving little to chance. The Basic Treaty, effective at the end of 1940, limited Japanese military zones to Mongolia and parts of North China, ceding central and southern China largely to the RNG. It agreed to rescind Japanese extraterritorial rights and settlements, effective immediately. The two-year grace period before total Japanese evacuation would begin immediately upon the war's end, rather than after a vaguely defined "recovery of peace." The cap on RNG troop numbers was lifted, granting the RNG more freedom to build its own police and army. Japanese advisers were confined to technical and military roles, with functions defined by the Chinese authorities. Although this fell far short of true independence that Wang Jingwei sought, concessions were made to strengthen the RNG and to help Japan as a wartime partner. The RNG's forces were not deployed in frontline combat against Chongqing or in Japan's Pacific war, but primarily to suppress growing communist influence in occupied areas. Under the RNG, economic activity in the occupied areas appeared to some extent normal, at least until early 1943, when a "command economy" was introduced to monopolize commodities as Japan's Pacific venture grew desperate. Life in occupied China, however, remained noticeably more comfortable than in "free China," fueling resentment when resistance fighters returned. 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. Wang established the Reorganized National Government (RNG) in Nanjing in 1940, after grueling talks yielding harsh Japanese terms, including limited sovereignty and a yellow pennant on the national flag. The RNG sought legitimacy through a GMD congress, constitutional promises, and Sun Yat-sen's cult, but gained only Axis recognition and faced Chongqing's hostility, ultimately serving as Japan's wartime puppet.

Last time we spoke about the Soviet-Japanese neutrality pact. In the summer of 1939, the Nomonhan Incident escalated into a major clash along the Halha River, where Soviet-Mongolian forces under Georgy Zhukov decisively defeated Japan's Kwantung Army. Zhukov's offensive, launched on August 20, involved intense artillery, bombers, and encirclement tactics, annihilating the Japanese 23rd Division and exposing weaknesses in Japanese mechanized warfare. The defeat, coinciding with the Hitler-Stalin Nonaggression Pact, forced Japan to negotiate a ceasefire on September 15-16, redrawing borders and deterring further northern expansion. Stalin navigated negotiations with Britain, France, and Germany to avoid a two-front war, ultimately signing the German-Soviet pact on August 23, which secured Soviet neutrality in Europe while addressing eastern threats. Post-Nomonhan, Soviet-Japanese relations warmed rapidly: fishing disputes were resolved, ambassadors exchanged, and the Chinese Eastern Railway sale finalized. By 1941, a neutrality pact was concluded, allowing Japan to pivot southward toward China and Southeast Asia.   #193 The Chiang-Wang Divide Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. After that lengthy mini series covering the battle of Khalkin Gol, we need to venture back into the second sino-japanese war, however like many other colossal events….well a lot was going on simultaneously. I wanted to take an episode to talk about the beginning of something known as the Reorganized National Government of the Republic of China, or much shorter, the Wang Jingwei Regime. It's been quite some time since we spoke about this character and he is a large part of the second sino-japanese war.    After the fall of Tianjin and Beiping, the government offices in Nanjing entered their annual summer recess. All of GMD's senior leadership, from Chiang Kai-shek down to Wang Jingwei, gathered on Mount Lu, a picturesque resort in northern Jiangxi, south of the Yangtze, famed for cliffs, clouds, and summer villas. Although Chiang had visited Mount Lu every summer, this was the first occasion that nearly the entire central government assembled there. Analysts suspected the gathering was a deliberate move to relocate government functions inland in the event of total war. Dozens of the nation's leading intellectuals were invited to Mount Lu to discuss strategies for countering Japan's ambitions. The forum was scheduled to begin on July 15 and to last twenty-seven days in three phases. The bridge incident caught them off guard. Unlike Manchuria, Beiping had long been the nation's capital, and the shock added urgency to the proceedings. When the forum, chaired by Wang, finally opened on July 16, speculation ran as to whether this signaled another regional conflict or the onset of full-scale war. The media pressed for a resolute stance of resistance from the government. To dispel the mounting confusion and perhaps his own indecision, Chiang delivered a solemn speech on July 17, declaring that if the incident could not be resolved peacefully, China would face the "crucial juncture" of national survival and would consider military action; if war began, every Chinese person, from every corner of the country and from every walk of life, would have to sacrifice all to defend the nation.   Chiang's Mount Lu Speech was now commonly regarded as the moment when China publicly proclaimed its firm commitment to resistance. Contemporary observers, however, did not take Chiang's stance at face value. Tao Xisheng, a Peking University law professor who had been invited, recalled that after the speech, people gathered in Hu Shi's room to discuss whether a peace option remained. Chiang left the mountain on July 20, leaving Wang to chair the conference. The discussions continued upon their return to Nanjing, where a National Defense Conference was organized in mid-August. It was also Tao's first encounter with Wang Jingwei. A "peace faction," largely composed of civil officials and intellectuals, began to take shape around Wang, favoring diplomatic solutions over costly and potentially ineffective military action.   During this period, both Chiang and Wang publicly called for resistance, while both harbored hopes for a peaceful solution. Yet their emphases differed. On July 29, Wang Jingwei delivered a radio address from Nanjing titled "The Critical Juncture," echoing Chiang's slogan. He likewise asserted that after repeated concessions and retreats, the critical juncture had come for China to rise against Japan. It would be a harsh form of resistance, since a weak nation had no alternative but to sacrifice every citizen's life and scorch every inch of land. Yet toward the end, Wang's speech took on an ironic turn. He stated, "The so-called resistance demands sacrificing the whole land and the whole nation to resist the invader. If there is no weakness in the world, then there is also no strength. Once we have completed the sacrifice, we also realize the purpose of resistance. We hail 'the critical juncture'! We hail 'sacrifice'!" The sentiment sounded almost satirical, revealing his doubt about the meaning of total sacrifice.   The hope for containment was crushed by Japan's ongoing advances. On November 12, Shanghai fell. Chiang's gamble produced about 187,200 Chinese casualties, including roughly 30,000 officers trained to German standards. Japanese casualties were estimated at a third to a half of the Chinese losses, still making it their deadliest single battle to date. The battered Japanese Imperial Army and Navy, long convinced of their invincibility, were consumed by vengeful bloodlust. The army swept from Shanghai toward Nanjing, leaving a trail of murder, rape, arson, and plunder across China's heartland.   With the fall of Nanjing looming, the central government announced on November 20 that it would relocate to Chongqing, a city upriver on the Yangtze protected by sheer cliffs. Plans for Chongqing as a reserve capital had already begun in 1935, with Hankou as the midway station. To preserve elite troops for the future while saving face, Nanjing was entrusted to General Tang Shengzhi and his roughly one hundred thousand largely inexperienced soldiers. Nanjing fell on December 13. Despite this victory, Japan's hopes of ending the China Incident within three months were dashed. The carnage produced by the war, especially the Rape of Nanjing, left a profound moral stain on humanity. A mass exodus from the coastal provinces toward the hinterland began. People fled by boats, trains, buses, rickshaws, and wheelbarrows. Universities, factories, and ordinary households were moved halfway across China, step by step. The nation resolved to persevere, even in distant mountains and deserts if necessary. In Sichuan alone, government relief agencies officially registered about 9.2 million refugees during the war years.   Chiang Kai-shek, after paying respects at Sun Yat-sen's mausoleum, flew to Mount Lu with Song Meiling. The so-called Second Couple chose a more modest path: like most refugees, the Wang family traveled upriver along the Yangtze. On November 21, they left Nanjing, abandoning a recently renovated suburban home and thirty years of collected books. Coincidentally, the ship carrying Wang Jingwei from Nanjing to Wuhan was SS Yongsui, the former SS Zhongshan that had escorted Sun Yat-sen to safety and witnessed Wang's ascent and subsequent downfall from power. Ironically renamed "Yong-sui," the ship's new title meant "peace," while the compound term suijing denoted a policy of appeasement. This symbolism—Wang being carried away from Nanjing by a ship named "Eternal Peace"—foreshadowed his eventual return to the city as a champion of a "peace movement."   After the Mount Lu Forum, Hu Shi and Tao Xisheng could not return to Beiping, now under Japanese occupation. They joined the government in Nanjing. Beginning in mid-August, Japanese bombers began attacking Nanjing. Air power—an unprecedented weapon of mass destruction—humbled and awed a Chinese public largely unfamiliar with airborne warfare. By striking a target that did not serve its immediate interests, Japan demonstrated its world-class military might and employed psychological warfare against the Chinese government and people. Because Zhou Fohai's villa at Xiliuwan had a fortified cellar suitable as an air-raid shelter, a group of like-minded intellectuals and civil servants sought refuge there. They preferred a peaceful approach to the conflict, subscribing to the idea of trading space for time—building China's industrial and military capabilities before confronting Japan. Tao Xisheng and Mei Siping, old allies of Zhou Fohai, lived in his house. Another frequent guest was Luo Junqiang, an ex-communist. The former CCP leader Chen Duxiu, recently released from prison, joined their gatherings a few times. Gao Zongwu hosted another meeting site. Hu Shi, as a guest himself, jokingly called this circle the "Low-Key Club" (Didiao julebu), a label that underscored their pragmatic defiance of the government's high-flown rhetoric urging all-out resistance. Many members of this group would later become central figures in a conspiracy known as the "peace movement," with Wang Jingwei as its leader and emblem.   As Gerald Bunker noted, the peace scheme did not originate with Wang but with certain associates of Chiang, elements in Japanese military intelligence, and members of liberal-minded Japanese political circles who were linked to Konoe. Zhou Fohai belonged to the Chiang-loyalist CC faction, named for Chen Guofu and Chen Lifu. Zhou believed that resistance under current conditions was suicidal. He sought to influence Chiang through people around him, including Wang Jingwei, whom he found impressionable and began visiting at Wang's salon. Gao Zongwu, head of the Foreign Ministry's Asian Department, felt sidelined by Chiang's uncompromising stance. They shared the sense that Chiang might be willing to talk but feared the price, perhaps his own leadership. They were dismayed by the lack of a long-range war plan beyond capitulation. Their view was that China's battlefield losses would worsen the terms of any settlement, and that the war's outcome seemed to benefit Soviet Russia and undermine the GMD more than China itself. The rapid collapses of Shanghai and then Nanjing vindicated their pessimism. Chiang's autocratic decision-making only deepened their dissatisfaction. They feared China was again at risk of foreign conquest from which it might not recover.   Wang Jingwei became the focal point for these disaffected individuals, drawn by his pacifist leanings, intellectual temperament, and preference for consensus-building. After the government relocated to Hankou, he lent guidance to the Literature and Art Research Society (Yiwen yanjiu hui), a propagandist body led by Zhou Fohai and Tao Xisheng. Its purpose was to steer public opinion on issues like the war of resistance and anticommunism, and to advocate a stance that the government must preserve both peace and war as options. Many believed it to be Wang's private organization; in truth, Chiang supported its activities. For much of 1938, Chiang's belligerent anti-Japanese rhetoric and Wang's conciliatory push were two sides of the GMD's broader strategy.   Among the society's regional branches, the Hong Kong chapter flourished under Mei Siping and Lin Baisheng. In addition to editing South China Daily News, Lin established Azure Books and the International Compilation and Translation Society (Guoji bianyishe) as primary propaganda organs. Ironically, Mei Siping had himself been a radical during the 1919 student protests, when he helped set fire to the deputy foreign minister's house in protest of perceived capitulation to Japan.   Wang Jingwei also actively engaged in international efforts to broker peace between Japan and China, including Trautmann's mediation by the German ambassador. Since the outbreak of war, various Western powers had contemplated serving as mediators, but none succeeded. Nazi Germany, aligned with Japan in an anti-Soviet partnership, emerged as China's most likely ally because it did not want Japan to squander its strength in China or compel China to seek Soviet help. Conversely, Japan's interest lay in prolonging the war or achieving a swift settlement. Ambassador Trautmann met with Wang Jingwei multiple times from October 31 to early November 1937 to confirm China's preference for peace before negotiating with Japan. The proposal Trautmann carried to Chiang Kai-shek on November 5 proposed terms including autonomy for Inner Mongolia, a larger demilitarized zone in North China, an expanded cease-fire around Shanghai, a halt to anti-Japanese movements, an anti-communist alliance, reduced tariffs on Japanese goods, and protection of foreign interests in China. Although Japan did not specify territorial gains, these terms deviated significantly from Chiang's demand to restore pre–Marco Polo Bridge status. After Shanghai fell, Chiang's rigidity softened.   On December 5, at Hankou, the National Defense Conference agreed to begin peace negotiations based on Trautmann's terms, a decision Chiang approved. But it was too late: Nanjing fell on December 13, and a provisional Beiping government led by Wang Kemin was established, signaling Japan's growing support for regional separatism. On December 24, Japan issued an ultimatum for a harsher deal to be accepted by January 10. In response, Chiang resigned as chairman of the Executive Yuan on January 1, 1938, and was succeeded by his brother-in-law Kong Xiangxi. Chiang declared that death in defeat was preferable to death in disgrace and refused to yield under coercion. The Konoe Cabinet announced on January 16 that Japan would not negotiate with Chiang Kai-shek. Trautmann's mediation had failed.   After Konoe's announcement, mediation became even more precarious, as it placed the already deadly, no-win situation between the two nations in deeper jeopardy. Secret contacts between the two governments persisted through multiple channels—sometimes at the direction of their own leaders, other times at the initiative of a cadre of officials and quasi-official figures of dubious legitimacy. Many of these covert efforts were steered by Chiang himself. In late 1937, Wang Jingwei even sent Chen Gongbo to Rome to explore the possibility of Italian mediation between China and Japan. After meetings with Mussolini and Foreign Minister Ciano, Chen concluded that Italy had no genuine goodwill toward China and favored Japan. His conversations with other Western leaders (Belgium, France, Britain, and the United States) proved equally fruitless. In diaries, Zhou Fohai and Chen Kewen recorded a pervasive mood of pessimism among Hankou and Chongqing's national government factions. Although direct champions of negotiating with Japan were few, many voices insisted that China was on the brink of collapse while secretly hoping peace talks would begin soon. Gao Zongwu's mission emerged from this tense atmosphere.   With Konoe's cabinet refusing to negotiate with Chiang Kai-shek, many regarded Wang as the best candidate to carry forward a diplomatic solution. Yet Wang remained convinced of his loyalty to Chiang and to Chiang's policy. The Italian ambassador visited Wuhan to offer mediation between Wang and the Japanese government, an invitation Wang declined. Tang Shaoyi's daughter traveled to Wuhan to convey Tokyo's negotiation intent, but was similarly turned away. Even Chen Bijun, then in Hong Kong, urged Wang to join her and start peace negotiations; he again declined. Tao Xisheng remembered a quiet night when Wang confided in him: "This time I will cooperate with Mr. Chiang until the very end, regardless of how the war unfolds." His stance did not change when Gao Zongwu reported that the Imperial Japanese Army General Staff Office wanted him to head the peace talks.   Gao Zongwu's bid was brokered by Dong Daoning, head of the Japan Affairs Section in the Foreign Ministry. Shortly after Konoe's statement, Dong traveled to Shanghai to meet Nishi Yoshiaki, representative of Mantetsu, and Matsumoto Shigeharu, a Dōmei News Agency journalist. Nishi and Matsumoto then introduced Dong to Kagesa Sadaaki, head of the Strategy and Tactics Department in the General Staff Office. Kagesa introduced Dong to Deputy Director Tada Hayao and colleagues Ishiwara Kanji and Imai Takeo, who agreed that a peaceful resolution to the China crisis aligned with Japan's interests. It would be inaccurate to paint these figures as pacifists: Ishiwara, who helped build Manchukuo, also recognized that further incursions into China could jeopardize Japan's hard-won gains. They proposed a temporary resignation by Chiang to spare Konoe from having to retract his refusal to negotiate, thereby allowing Wang to lead the talks. In short, the scheme aimed to save face for Konoe.   Dong returned to Hong Kong and delivered the proposal to Gao Zongwu, who had been stationed there since February under Chiang's orders to oversee intelligence and liaison with Japan. Luo Junqiang, Gao's contact, testified that Gao was paid monthly from Chiang's secret military fund. Gao went back to Hankou twice, on April 2 and May 30. On the second trip, he personally conveyed Japan's terms to Chiang. Gao later admitted that Chiang never gave him explicit instructions, but rather cultivated an impression of tacit approval. At no point did Gao view the deal as Chiang's betrayal. As long as Chiang retained control of the military, Wang's leadership could only be nominal and temporary. Unbeknownst to Wang, Gao's personal ties to Chiang remained hidden from him; he learned of them only through Zhou Fohai. Startled, he handed the information to Chiang Kai-shek and told Tao Xisheng: "I cannot broker peace with Japan alone. I will not deceive Mr. Chiang." Given Tao's later departure from Wang's circle to rejoin Chiang, Tao's recollection could be trusted.   Two months later, Wang left Chongqing to pursue a peace settlement. A key factor may have been persistent lobbying by Zhou, Gao, Mei, Tao, and especially his wife Chen Bijun. Luo Junqiang recalled that Kong Xiangxi objected that Gao acted without him, prompting Chiang to order Gao to halt his covert efforts, an order Gao ignored. Gao and Mei Siping continued to press for a deal. Gao even spent three weeks in Japan in July, holding extensive talks with Kagesa Sadaaki and Imai Takeo. Their discussions produced the first substantive articulation of the Wang peace movement as a Sino-Japanese plot to end the "China incident." On November 26, Mei flew from Hong Kong to Chongqing with a draft of Japan's terms and Konoe's planned announcement. The proposal stated that the Japanese army would withdraw completely within two years once peace was reached, but it demanded that China formally recognize Manchukuo. Wang was to leave Chongqing for Kunming by December 5, then proceed to Hanoi. Upon Japan receiving news of his arrival in Hanoi, the telegram would reveal the peace terms. This pivotal moment threw Wang into intense inner turmoil. Zhou Fohai visited Wang daily, and Wang delayed decisively each time, much to Zhou's frustration. Ultimately, it seemed that Chen Bijun rendered the final judgment on Wang's behalf. As in earlier episodes, Wang found himself trapped by an idealized image of himself held by family, followers, and loyalists, seen by them as a larger-than-life figure who must undertake a mission too grand to fail.   Yet Wang's stance was not purely involuntary. As Imai Takeo noted, he fundamentally disagreed with Chiang's strategy of resistance. The so-called scorched-earth approach caused immense suffering. Three episodes stood out: the 1938 Yellow River flood, ordered by Chiang to impede Japan's advance, which destroyed dikes and displaced millions, yielding devastating agricultural and humanitarian consequences; the subsequent epidemics and famine that followed, producing about two million refugees and up to nine hundred thousand deaths, while failing to stop the Japanese advance toward Wuhan (which fell in October); and the Changsha fire, ignited in the early hours of November 13, which killed nearly thirty thousand people and devastated most of the city. These events sharpened Wang's doubts about Chiang's defense strategy, especially its reckless execution and cruelty. By late November, Wang began to openly challenge Chiang's approach, delivering a series of speeches advocating his own war-weariness and preference for limiting resistance to preserve national strength for future counterstrikes. He argued that guerrilla warfare burdened the people and wasted national resources that could be saved for a later, more effective defense. He urged soldiers to exercise judgment and listen to their consciences, and he attributed much of the civilian suffering to the Communists; nonetheless, with General von Falkenhausen, Chiang's German adviser, now urging a shift toward smaller-unit mobile warfare, Wang's critique of Chiang's strategy took on a more pointed, risksome tone. If resistance equaled total sacrifice, Wang was not prepared to endorse it. As Margherita Zanasi noted, Wang Jingwei and Chen Gongbo had long shared a vision of a self-consciously anti-imperial "national economy", the belief that China's economy had not yet achieved genuine nation-power and that compromising with the foe might be necessary to save the national economy.   Wang and Zhou also worried that continuing resistance would strengthen the Communists and that genuine international aid would not arrive, at least not soon. After Nazi Germany occupied Czechoslovakia, Wang briefly hoped for the formation of an antifascist democratic alliance. Yet the Munich Agreement disappointed him. Viewing Western democracies as culturally imperialist, he doubted they would jeopardize their relations with Japan, another imperial power, on China's behalf. This view was reinforced by Zhou Fohai and other China specialists who had recently joined Wang's circle; they argued that China would fall unless the international situation shifted dramatically. Their forecast would prove accurate only after Pearl Harbor.   In the end, Wang longed for decisive action. He had been sidelined since the government's move to Wuhan. At the GMD Provisional National Congress in Hankou (March 29–April 1), the party resolved to restore Chiang Kai-shek to near-total control by reasserting the authoritarian zongcai system. The Congress also established the People's Political Council as a nominal nod to democracy, but it remained largely consultative. Wang was elected deputy director and chairman of the council, yet he clearly resented the position. Jiang Tingfu described Wang's Hankou mood as "somewhat resentful," recognizing the role as largely ceremonial. More optimistic observers attributed his dismay to the return of dictatorship, and he likely felt increasingly useless. Since the Mukden Incident, Wang had prioritized party unity and been content to play a secondary role to Chiang, but inaction did not fit his sense of historical purpose. It was Zhou Fohai who urged Wang to risk his reputation for a greater cause, presenting a calculated nudge to someone susceptible to idealism. A longing to find meaning through action may have finally pushed him toward a fateful decision. As Chen Bijun bluntly told Long Yun, her husband "was merely an empty shell in Chongqing and could contribute nothing to the country; thus he wanted to change his surroundings."   Wang considered staying abroad as a serious option amid the Hanoi uncertainty. Gao Zongwu had previously told Japanese negotiators that if Konoe's stance did not satisfy Wang, he might head to France. Chongqing echoed this possibility. On December 29, Ambassador Guo Taiqi, acting on Chiang's orders, telegraphed Wang suggesting he go to Europe "to take a break." It would have offered a graceful exit. Kagesa recommended Hanoi as Wang Jingwei's midway station because, as a French colony, it offered a relatively safe environment. Only the French were armed there, and several members of the extended Wang family had grown up in France, enabling them to communicate with the colonial authorities.   After Wang departed for Hanoi, Long Yun hesitated for weeks. On December 20, he telegraphed Chiang, saying Wang had paused in Kunming on the way to Hanoi to seek medical treatment. Knowing this was untrue, Chiang replied on December 27 with a stern warning about Japan's unreliability, a message that appeared to have persuaded Long. A day later, Long urged leniency for Wang. Following Wang's publication of the "yan telegram," public anger likely pushed Long toward a final decision. On January 6, he informed Chiang of a letter from Wang delivered by Chen Changzu, and he noted that the Wangs were considering the French option, but recommended allowing Wang to return to Chongqing to show leniency and to enable surveillance.   Chiang replied two days later that Wang would be better off going to Europe. The extended Wang family resided in two Western-style mansions at 25 and 27 Rue Riz Marché, surrounded by high walls. On February 15, Chongqing's envoy Gu Zhengding brought their passports to Hanoi. Accounts differed on what happened next. One version had Wang offering to travel abroad if Chongqing accepted his proposal to start peace talks; if Chongqing remained indecisive, he would return to voice his dissent. Another version claimed Gu's primary task was to bring Wang back to Chongqing, which Wang declined, preferring France.   Although the French option was gaining favor, the Wang circle continued to explore other avenues. In early 1939, secret contacts with the Japanese government persisted, though not always in a coordinated way. Chiang's intelligence advised that the Wang group was forming networks in Shanghai and especially Hong Kong, with Gao Zongwu playing a central role. On February 1, Gao returned from Hong Kong and stayed for five days, finding Wang in a despondent mood. Wang asked Gao to pass along a few letters to Japanese leaders urging the creation of a unified Chinese government to earn the Chinese people's understanding and trust. Wang believed his actions would serve the best interests of both China and Japan. On March 18, the Japanese consulate in Hong Kong informed Gao that funding for the Wang group would come from China's customs revenues that Japan had seized.   Meanwhile, Chiang Kai-shek sensed a shift in the war's direction. On February 10, Japan seized Hainan, China's southernmost major island. The next day, Chiang held a press conference describing the development as "the Mukden Incident of the Pacific." He warned that Japan's ambitions could threaten British and French colonial interests and U.S. maritime supremacy. Gao Zongwu read the speech and concluded that Chiang's outlook had brightened.   For three months, the Wang circle met frequently to weigh options. The prominent writer and scholar Zhou Zuoren, who had already accepted a collaborationist post as head of the Beiping library, warned Tao Xisheng, saying "Don't do it," signaling his misgivings about collaborating with Japan based on his reading of Japanese politics. As Zhou observed, many young Japanese militarists did not even respect General Ugaki, let alone a foreign leader.   Then the assassination of Zeng Zhongming, Wang's secretary and protégé, abruptly altered the meaning of Wang's mission. The Wang group was deeply unsettled by Zeng Zhongming's assassination. The event came as a shock. On March 20, Gu Zhengding's second Hanoi visit concluded. Allegedly Gu delivered passports and funds for a European excursion. On a bright spring day, the entire Wang family enjoyed a lighthearted outing to Three Peaches Beach, only to be halted by a French officer who warned they were being followed. During their afternoon rest, a man posing as a painter, sent by the landlord to measure rooms for payment, appeared at the door and was turned away when he insisted on entering every room. More than twenty people in the household, none were armed.   Since January, Hanoi had been a hive of BIS activity. The ringleader was Chen Gongshu, a veteran operative under spymaster Dai Li, though Chen's recollections clashed with those of other witnesses, leaving the exact sequence unclear. Chen claimed their role was intelligence and surveillance until March 19, when an unsigned telegram from Dai Li ordered, "Severest punishment to the traitor Wang Jingwei, immediately!" The mission supposedly shifted. The Wang family was followed the next day but evaded capture in traffic, prompting a raid on the house. Reports varied: some said Wang resided on the second floor of No. 27; others suggested he lived in No. 25, with No. 27 used for day guests. The force entered the courtyard, forced open the door to Wang's room, and a getaway car waited outside. Chen, in the car, heard gunshots: initial shots toward a downstairs figure, then three shots through a bedroom door hacked open with an axe, aimed at a figure beneath the bed, believed to be Wang Jingwei. The team drove off after four to five minutes. Vietnamese police soon detained three killers who lingered in the courtyard and even listened in on a hospital call. Chen didn't realize the target had been misidentified until the next afternoon. Some BIS records suggested Wang and Zeng Zhongming had swapped bedrooms that night, a detail Chen doubted. Chen did not mention a painter's earlier visit.   There were competing accounts of the event with their numerous inconsistencies that fueled conspiracy theories. Jin Xiongbai outlined three possibilities: (1) the killers killed the "wrong person" as a warning to Wang Jingwei; (2) they killed Zeng to provoke Wang toward collaboration; or (3) the episode was always part of a broader Chiang-Wang collaboration plan.   In any case, Dai Li showed unusual leniency toward Chen Gongshu, who was never punished and later led the Shanghai station. After Dai Li's agent Li Shiqun was captured in 1941, Li not only spared Chen's life but recruited him on a double-agent basis for the remainder of the war, with Chen retiring to Taiwan. Chiang Kai-shek never discussed the case publicly or in his diary, and his silence was perhaps the strongest indication that he ordered the killing.   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. Wang Jingwei, once a key figure in China's resistance against Japan, grew disillusioned with Chiang Kai-shek's scorched-earth tactics during the Second Sino-Japanese War. Amid devastating events like the Yellow River flood and Changsha fire, which caused immense civilian suffering, Wang joined a peace faction advocating negotiation. Secret talks with Japanese officials led to his defection in 1938. He fled Chongqing to Hanoi, where an assassination attempt, likely ordered by Chiang, killed his secretary Zeng Zhongming instead.   

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

Last time we spoke about the Japanese invasion of Hainan. In early 1939, the Sino-Japanese War shifted from pitched battles to a grueling struggle over lifelines and logistics. Japan pursued a southward strategy (Nanshin-ron), aiming to choke Chinese resistance by isolating key railways and airbases. It seized Hainan in February to secure southern airfields and threaten Indochina routes, then targeted Nanchang to cut the vital Zhejiang–Jiangxi Railway, crippling Free China's eastern supply lines. The Japanese used a blended-arms approach: concentrated armor, air support, and amphibious and river operations, focusing on rapid, strategic breakthroughs rather than large-scale frontal assaults. China, though battered, relied on a reconstituted defense around Wuhan and Nanchang, with the Ninth War Zone under Xue Yue delaying Japanese advances and preserving critical corridors south of the Yangtze. The campaign highlighted the war's broader human and political dimensions: massive casualties, forced labor, and internal political fragility within the Kuomintang, even as both sides sought to outlast the other.   #186 The Battle of Nanchang 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. For the Second Sino-Japanese War, 1939 marked a transition from broad occupation tactics to a focused, politically driven military strategy aimed at breaking Nationalist cohesion and isolating key nodes. After the January 11, 1938 Imperial Conference, Tokyo framed the China Conflict as a contest of endurance and political attrition: hold occupied territories as strategic assets, push a narrow operational corridor between Anqing, Xinyang, Yuezhou, and Nanchang, and treat the broader east-of-line spaces as pacified. The aim was to deny resources to Chiang Kai-shek's regime while awaiting a more opportune political rupture, instead of pursuing indiscriminate conquest. By October 1938, the tactical center of gravity shifted toward Wuhan and the Yangtze corridor. General Headquarters acknowledged the need to adapt to a protracted war: emphasize political strategy alongside combat operations, bolster a new regime in areas under pressure, and gradually erode Chongqing's moral and material resolve. This shift produced a dual track: reinforce a centralized, secure core while permitting peripheral fronts to be leveraged against Chongqing.   In early 1939, Japan sought to consolidate gains through layered defenses and strategic war zones, aiming to blunt Chinese mobilization and disrupt critical logistics. The Ninth War Zone, commanded by Xue Yue, formed a defensive umbrella over Nanchang's northern approaches and the surrounding rail-and-river arteries. China's leadership, notably Chiang Kai-shek, pressed for preemption to seize the initiative: an ambitious plan from Xue Yue to strike by March 24, 1939, to prevent a river-crossing Japanese advance and to pin forces before they could entrench. Japan responded with Operation Ren, targeting the Zhejiang–Jiangxi Railway to sever lines of communication and isolate Nanchang. Okamura Yasuji reorganized heavy weapons into concentrated tank groups, supported by air power, while late-February 1939 movements staged feints and riverine maneuvers to complicate Chinese concentration around Nanchang. The objective was a rapid, surgical seizure of Nanchang to blind the southern airbase network, disrupt the critical rail spine, and push Chinese forces deeper inland, thereby tightening a blockade around southern China. Together, these shifts framed Nanchang not as an isolated objective but as the climactic hinge in a broader strategy of coercive pressure, air-ground mobility, and rail control. The city's fall would represent the culmination of a protracted contest to deny the Nationalist regime its logistical arteries and air superiority, paving the way for further Japanese consolidation and pressure along the Yangtze corridor. In the wake of the Japanese capture of Wuhan in late 1938, the city swiftly transformed into a pivotal stronghold for the Imperial Japanese Army. It became the new base for the 11th Army, occupying the former territories of the National Revolutionary Army's 5th and 9th War Zones. This shift not only consolidated Japanese control over central China but also positioned their forces to launch further offensives, exploiting the region's logistical and geographical advantages. As a key railway hub and the western terminus of the Zhejiang-Hunan Railway, Nanchang served as a vital supply artery connecting the Third and Ninth War Zones of the Nationalist forces. Its airfields further amplified its importance, posing a direct threat to Japanese shipping routes along the Yangtze River. Capturing Nanchang would sever Chinese supply lines, isolate key military districts, and pave the way for deeper incursions into southern China. Faced with this looming threat, the Nationalist government under Chiang Kai-shek moved quickly to reorganize its defenses in the 9th War Zone. General Chen Cheng retained his nominal position as commander in chief, but the actual operational reins were handed to General Xue Yue, a seasoned tactician known for his defensive prowess. This restructuring aimed to streamline command and bolster resistance, yet it was hampered by persistent logistical challenges that rendered many changes ineffective on the ground. As tensions escalated in early 1939, Chinese forces began amassing near Nanchang in preparation for the inevitable clash. Over 200,000 troops from 52 divisions were mobilized, drawing from units across the Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi Border Area. This region alone housed more than 29 divisions organized into four army groups: the 1st, 19th, 30th, and 32nd. On paper, this formidable assembly included over 16,000 officers and 240,000 enlisted men, representing a significant concentration of Nationalist power.   Leading this defensive effort was General Chen Cheng as the overarching commander in chief, with General Xue Yue stepping in as the acting commander to oversee day-to-day operations. Within this structure, the 19th Army Group stood out under the command of General Luo Zhuoying, supported by Lieutenant General Luo Weixong as his chief of staff. Luo Zhuoying, in particular, emerged as a central figure, assuming overall command for much of the ensuing Battle of Nanchang. His leadership would be tested against the relentless advance of the Japanese Eleventh Army, setting the stage for one of the bloodiest engagements of the war. In July 1938, during their offensive against Wuhan, Japanese forces attempted to advance toward Nanchang but were halted by Chinese defenders along the Xiushui River. The Chinese had established strong, fortified positions that effectively barred the Japanese path. The impasse endured for the rest of the year, with both armies locked in a standoff on opposite sides of the river. By March of 1939, the 11th Army led by General Okamura Yasuji, part of the Central China Expeditionary Army of General Hata Shunroku comprised 3 divisions, the 6th, 101st and 106th, roughly 120,000 men supported by 130 tanks and tankettes, 200 pieces of artillery, 30 warships with 50 motor boats, a battalion of SNLF and several air squadrons.  On March 12,  the Japanese Central China Expeditionary Army issued orders to its directly subordinate 116th Division. This division was commanded to dispatch two key detachments: the Ishihara Detachment and the Murai Detachment, the latter composed meticulously of five battalions drawn from the 119th Brigade. Their mission was to conduct a thorough search along the eastern shore of Poyang Lake, supported by naval vessels that patrolled the waters with menacing precision. The purpose was multifaceted: to safeguard the integrity of land and water transportation routes and to protect the left flank of the main Japanese force as it prepared for larger operations. By March 15, these detachments had advanced without encountering any resistance from the Chinese army, allowing them to conclude their search operation successfully. Following this, they deployed the necessary troops at key points along the route, establishing garrisons that would serve as footholds for future advances. This reconnaissance was no mere stroll; it was a calculated probe into enemy territory, drawing lessons from prior engagements like the grueling Battle of Xuzhou in 1938, where intelligence gathering had proven crucial to Japanese successes. The Japanese soldiers boots sank into the marshy banks of Poyang Lake, China's largest freshwater body, covering over 3,500 square kilometers and teeming with reeds that could hide ambushes. The lack of opposition allowed the Japanese to fortify their positions, setting the stage for the preemptive strikes that would follow. The tempo of battle quickened on March 17, 1939, as the Japanese army launched its preemptive attack, a move designed to seize the initiative and disrupt Chinese preparations. The very next day, on March 18, the Murai Detachment departed from Xingzi aboard warships, navigating the treacherous waters to land near Wucheng, approximately 30 kilometers northeast of Yongxiu. Their objective was to assault the Chinese defenders in this area, but they encountered fierce resistance from the Chinese 32nd Army and other supporting units, turning the landing into a brutal contest of wills. Concurrently, the main forces of the Japanese 101st and 106th Divisions, bolstered by their artillery and tank units, advanced methodically toward the north bank of the Xiushui River. They occupied their respective attack starting points with precision, after which the artillery units began conducting test firings and further reconnaissance to gauge the strength of Chinese defenses. This phase echoed the Japanese tactics employed in the Battle of Shanghai in 1937, where combined arms operations had overwhelmed urban defenses. A Chinese defender's recollection "We watched the enemy approach like a dark cloud, our rifles ready, knowing that the river would soon run red with the blood of brothers." The climax of preparation erupted at exactly 16:30 on March 20, when the Japanese 11th Army issued orders to the commander of the 6th Artillery Brigade. This commander was directed to orchestrate all available artillery to bombard the positions held by the Chinese 49th and 79th Armies on the south bank of the Xiushui River. What ensued was a pre-general offensive artillery barrage that endured for more than three grueling hours, incorporating a large number of poison gas shells, a heinous weapon that flouted international conventions like the Geneva Protocol of 1925. Many defenders' positions were utterly destroyed in this onslaught, and several officers and soldiers, including the valiant Wang Lingyun, commander of the 76th Division, were poisoned by the toxic fumes, suffering agonizing effects that highlighted the barbarity of chemical warfare. At precisely 19:30 that evening, the 106th Division commenced its forced crossing of the Xiushui River at Qiujin. Later, on the night of the 20th, the 101st Division also initiated its crossing north of Tujiabu. The Xiushui River, measuring about 30 meters in width, had swollen by approximately 3 meters due to continual heavy rains, rendering the crossing exceedingly difficult for the Japanese troops who battled against the raging currents. Nevertheless, the flooding had an unintended benefit for the invaders: many defender positions were inundated, and most water obstacles were washed away by the deluge. Leveraging this, the two Japanese divisions broke through the defenders' front lines and executed continuous night attacks, establishing a beachhead that extended 2 kilometers deep by dawn on the 21st. This foothold provided essential cover for Japanese engineers to construct pontoon bridges amid the chaos. At around 8 a.m., the Japanese tank group crossed these pontoon bridges and launched an attack on the Dongshan garrison from the front of the 106th Division, then proceeded to circle around toward Nanchang along the west side of Nanxun Road. Historian Rana Mitter aptly describes such river crossings as "desperate gambles where nature itself became a combatant," underscoring how environmental factors often tipped the scales in Sino-Japanese confrontations.Chiang Kai-shek, monitoring these developments from his command center, would have felt the weight of impending crisis.   By 21:30 on March 22, the Japanese vanguard tank group had advanced to Fengxin and successfully occupied the Liaohe Bridge outside the South Gate. The sudden and ferocious tank attack caught the defending troops off guard, preventing them from withdrawing the 38 artillery pieces that had been deployed on the city's outskirts before they were forced into a hasty retreat. On March 23, the Japanese army fully occupied Fengxin. Simultaneously, a portion of the 101st Division launched a frontal assault along Nanxun Road. Under the protective cover of artillery, they crossed the Xiushui River and encountered fierce resistance from the Chinese 32nd Army at Tujiabu, resulting in a prolonged stalemate where neither side could gain a decisive advantage. Following the Japanese launch of their general offensive, the Guilin Headquarters of the National Government Military Commission, under Director Bai Chongxi, urgently ordered all units of the Ninth War Zone to hold their positions firmly on March 21. On the same day, Chiang Kai-shek telegraphed Gu Zhutong, commander-in-chief of the Third War Zone, with specific instructions to immediately transfer the 102nd Division to Nanchang to reinforce the city's defenses, placing it under the command of Luo Zhuoying, commander-in-chief of the 19th Army Group. He also ordered the 16th and 79th Divisions to proceed to Dongxiang and Jinxian, southeast of Nanchang, to guard the southern bank of Poyang Lake and provide support for operations in Nanchang. Simultaneously, he commanded the 19th Army Group to deploy approximately two divisions of its strongest forces to strike key enemy points in the rear, including Mahuiling, Ruichang, Jiujiang, and De'an, with the aim of sabotaging railways and highways, cutting off enemy rear-area transportation, and preventing reinforcements from reaching the front. However, due to poor communication, slow troop movements, and inadequate coordination among units, these ambitious plans were not implemented, and the battlefield situation had already undergone significant changes by the time adjustments could be made. On the 23rd, Chiang Kai-shek came to realize that the Japanese army was resolutely determined to capture Nanchang, and thus he conceived the strategic idea of inflicting heavy casualties on the enemy before potentially abandoning the city. He specifically telegraphed Xue Yue, commander-in-chief of the Ninth War Zone; Luo Zhuoying, commander-in-chief of the 19th Army Group; and Xiong Shihui, chairman of Jiangxi Province, with the following directive: "The key to this battle is not the gain or loss of Nanchang, but inflicting the greatest blow on the enemy. Even if Nanchang falls, all our armies should disregard everything and advance toward the designated targets, and decide on future operational plans in accordance with this policy." This telegram, preserved in wartime archives, exemplifies Chiang's shift toward a war of attrition, a tactic that would define much of China's resistance. On March 25, Chiang Kai-shek again telegraphed Bai Chongxi, Xue Yue, Luo Zhuoying, and Gu Zhutong, providing detailed instructions: "1. The main force of Luo's group should maintain focus on the Hunan-Jiangxi Highway, attack the enemy's right flank, and press them toward the Gan River. It is crucial to avoid having the main force operate with its back to the Gan River. (That is, the main force of the 19th Army Group should be moved to a mobile position west of the Gan River to avoid being forced to the Gan River and facing a decisive battle in an unfavorable situation.) 2. A necessary portion should be used to defend the Nanchang front. If necessary, resistance can be carried out gradually between the Fu and Gan Rivers to cover southern Jiangxi." On the very same day, the Japanese army defeated the 102nd Division, which had been reinforced from the Third War Zone, in engagements west of Nanchang. By March 26, the Japanese army had advanced to the vicinity of Shengmi Street on the left bank of the Gan River. They crossed the river that day, executing a maneuver to outflank Nanchang from the south and simultaneously cut off the Zhejiang-Jiangxi Railway, a critical supply line. The main force of the 101st Division also advanced to Shengmi Street via Wanbu and Huangxi on March 26, crossed the Gan River that evening, and launched a direct attack on Nanchang. Its 101st Brigade, moving along the Nanchang-Xuncheng Railway via Lehua and Jiaoqiao, reached the north bank of the Gan River northwest of Nanchang on the 26th. Upon discovering these Japanese advances, the 19th Army urgently ordered the 32nd Army to withdraw from Tujiabu on the Nanchang-Xuncheng Railway back to Nanchang to join the 102nd Division in defending the city. However, before the 32nd Army had fully withdrawn, the Japanese tank group and the 101st Brigade had already advanced to the Gan River bridges to the west and north of Nanchang, respectively. Although the defending forces managed to destroy the bridges to halt their progress west and north of the Gan River, the Japanese 101st Division had already penetrated into Nanchang from the south. The defenders found themselves outnumbered and with weak firepower compared to the invaders. After engaging in intense street fighting, they suffered heavy casualties and were ultimately ordered to retreat to Jinxian. On March 27, the Japanese 101st Division occupied Nanchang, marking a significant, albeit temporary, victory in their campaign. Eyewitness account "The city fell amid the thunder of guns and the wails of the wounded, a testament to the fragility of urban defenses against mechanized onslaught." Following the capture, on March 28, the Japanese 11th Army was ordered to ensure that the main force of the 101st Division would return to Nanchang and that the 106th Division would retake Fengxin, all in preparation for subsequent operations in Gao'an or areas west of Fengxin. By April 2, the Japanese army had occupied Gao'an City, further consolidating their hold on the region. Meanwhile the fighting extended to Wuning. Wuning is located on the north bank of the Xiushui River, approximately 80 kilometers west of the Nanchang-Jiujiang Railway. This position holds immense strategic importance, backed by the formidable Mufu Mountains, and serves as a key point on the left flank of the Ninth War Zone's defense line in northern Jiangxi. The forces deployed here included the 72nd and 78th Armies of the 30th Army Group, along with the 8th and 73rd Armies of the Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi Border Advance Army, all positioned along both banks of the Xiushui River under the unified command of Wang Lingji, commander-in-chief of the 30th Army Group. To bolster the defense of Nanchang, the Nationalist Government's Military Commission devised a plan to send a powerful force eastward from Wuning toward Qiujin and De'an, with the intent of harassing the rear and flanks of the enemy advancing south along the Nanchang-Jiujiang Railway and disrupting their transportation networks. After carefully assessing the Chinese deployments and strategic intentions, the Japanese 11th Army also regarded Wuning as a crucial flank in its overall Nanchang campaign. Consequently, they dispatched their 6th Division to Wuning to contain and block the Chinese army, thereby ensuring the safety of its main force's right flank and facilitating the capture of Nanchang. On March 20, while the Japanese army was heavily engaged on the Nanxun Railway front, its 6th Division launched an attack westward along the north bank of the Xiushui River from Ruoxi (situated between Qiujin and Wuning). However, they encountered fierce resistance from the Chinese 73rd and 8th Armies, which resulted in slow and painstaking progress for the attackers. On the afternoon of the 21st, a portion of the 6th Division, under the protective cover of aircraft and artillery, crossed the Xiushui River east of Ruoxi, and the main force directed its assault toward Wuning, while its 36th Brigade targeted Yangzhou Street. The 30th Army Group, tasked with defending Wuning, mounted a tenacious resistance by leveraging the advantageous mountainous terrain, making the Japanese advance extremely difficult. After four days of fierce and unrelenting fighting, the Japanese were still unable to break through the defenders' positions. On the morning of March 23, under continued air and artillery cover, the Japanese army persisted in its fierce attack, repeatedly dropping incendiary and chemical bombs on Chinese positions. The defending forces suffered heavy losses as a result and were compelled to withdraw from Wucheng Town on the 24th, moving farther back to regroup. After occupying Wucheng, the Murai Detachment continued its operations to clear the Gan River and Xiushui River of obstacles and to remove mines that had been laid by the Chinese forces. By the 28th, they had advanced to the vicinity of Xinning Town, which is about 4 kilometers east of Wuning. Its 36th Brigade engaged in fierce fighting with the defending 19th Division at Yangzhou Street on the 24th and successfully captured Jing'an on the 27th; however, due to the conclusion of the Nanchang battle and the fact that its main force was blocked east of Wuning, it quickly returned and redirected its attack toward Wuning. Because the 73rd and 8th Armies had suffered heavy casualties from days of intense fighting, the 30th Army Group ordered the 72nd Army to assume the defense of northeast Wuning. The Japanese 6th Division concentrated its forces for a fierce and coordinated assault, and by the 29th, the defending forces had retreated to the south bank of the Xiushui River, allowing the Japanese army to occupy Wuning. After further intense fighting, by April 5, the Japanese 36th Brigade had advanced to the south bank of the Xiushui River.During this entire period, Chiang Kai-shek repeatedly telegraphed Bai Chongxi and Xue Yue, issuing orders for the 30th Army Group in Wuning and the 31st Army Group in Chongyang and Tongshan (commanded by Tang Enbo) to launch a counteroffensive regardless of the evolving situation in Nanchang. The objective was to flank and attack the enemy's rear, advancing toward Mahuiling, De'an, Yongxiu, and Ruichang on the Nanchang-Xunyi road, to cut off enemy transportation lines and block reinforcements. However, this plan was not implemented due to various logistical and coordination challenges.   After the Japanese army captured Nanchang, it maintained a tense standoff with the Third and Ninth War Zones of China along the southeast bank of Poyang Lake to the east, Xiangtang to the south, and Gao'an, Fengxin, and Wuning to the west. The Military Commission of the National Government made a calculated judgment that although the Japanese had occupied Nanchang, they had suffered heavy losses and had not yet had the opportunity to replenish their forces. The defending forces within the city were deemed insufficient, prompting the Commission to decide on launching a counteroffensive while the Japanese army was still in the process of consolidating its position. At the same time, it ordered each war zone to initiate the "April Offensive" (also known as the "Spring Offensive") with the goals of harassing and containing the Japanese army and preventing it from continuing to advance westward toward Changsha. The Military Commission specifically ordered the Ninth War Zone and the Third War Zone to plan and execute a counteroffensive against Nanchang. The forces designated for this operation were planned to include the 1st, 19th, and 30th Army Groups of the Ninth War Zone and the 32nd Army Group of the Third War Zone, totaling about 10 divisions, all under the unified command of Luo Zhuoying, commander-in-chief of the 19th Army Group. On April 17, Chiang Kai-shek telegraphed his detailed "Plan to Conquer Nanchang" to Bai Chongxi, the director of the Guilin Headquarters, and sought his opinion on the matter. The operational strategy outlined was: "First, use the main force to attack the enemy along the Nanchang-Xunyi Railway, effectively cutting off enemy communications, and then use a portion of the force to directly capture Nanchang. The attack is scheduled to begin on April 24th." The main content of its troop deployment was as follows: The 1st Army Group (Commander-in-Chief Gao Yin-huai), the 19th Army Group, and the 74th Army (Commander Yu Ji-shi) were ordered to advance through Fengxin and Dacheng toward the Nanchang-Xunyi Railway between Xiushui and Nanchang, thoroughly disrupting transportation, cutting off enemy reinforcements, and cooperating in the capture of Nanchang; the 49th Army of the 19th Army Group (Commander Liu Duo-quan) was ordered to advance gradually as the general reserve; the 32nd Army Group (Commander-in-Chief Shangguan Yun-xiang) was ordered to attack Nanchang from the east of the Gan River with three divisions, and to organize a regiment to seize Nanchang by surprise; the 30th Army Group (Commander-in-Chief Wang Ling-ji) was ordered to attack Wuning. On April 18, Bai Chongxi replied to Chiang Kai-shek, offering his own suggestions on troop deployment with slight modifications. He emphasized the critical need for a surprise attack and for disrupting and harassing the enemy's transportation and rear areas, as well as cutting off the enemy's communication lines. He also believed that the attack should be brought forward and carried out as soon as possible, at the latest around the 22nd. On April 21, the forces of the Ninth War Zone began their operations in earnest. The 1st Army Group, comprising the 184th Division of the 60th Army and the New 10th Division of the 58th Army, attacked Fengxin, while the New 11th Division of the 58th Army monitored the Japanese forces in Jing'an; the main force of the 74th Army attacked Gao'an, and parts of the 74th Army and the 49th Army crossed the Jinjiang River to the north, attacking Dacheng and Shengmijie. Fierce fighting continued until the 26th, when the Japanese retreated to the areas of Fengxin, Qiuling, and Wanshougong. The 19th Army Group captured strongholds such as Dacheng, Gao'an, and Shengmijie. However, progress thereafter became difficult, and the offensive stalled. Neither army group was able to advance to the Nanchang-Xunyi Railway as originally planned. On April 23, the 32nd Army Group of the Third War Zone, consisting of the 16th and 79th Divisions of the 29th Army, the 5th Reserve Division, and part of the 10th Reserve Division, crossed the Fu River and launched an attack on Nanchang. Fierce fighting persisted until the 26th, when they captured Shichajie (south of Nanchang) and advanced toward the city. On the 27th, the Japanese concentrated the main force of the 101st Division to launch a counterattack. Supported by heavy artillery and air power, they engaged in fierce fighting with the Chinese army in the southeastern and southern areas, repeatedly contesting villages and strongholds. Due to the heavy casualties sustained, Duan Langru, commander of the 79th Division, changed the offensive deployment on the night of April 28 and reported this alteration to the army and army group commanders. The commander-in-chief of the 32nd Army Group, citing unauthorized changes to the plan, reported to the Third War Zone for approval and requested the dismissal of Duan Langru. Eager to capture Nanchang and driven by strategic impatience, Chiang Kai-shek, upon hearing the report, issued a stern order on May 1: Duan Langru was to be executed in front of the army for delaying military operations, He Ping, commander of the 16th Division, was ordered to atone for his crimes by achieving success in battle, and Shangguan Yunxiang was sent to the front to supervise the battle personally, with a strict deadline of May 5 for capturing Nanchang. On May 2, the 102nd Division recaptured Xiangtang and then Shichajie. The 16th Division once captured Shatanbu, but it was subsequently taken back by Japanese reinforcements. Shangguan Yunxiang then committed the 26th Division into the battle. On May 4, they launched another concerted attack. By dusk on the 5th, the 5th Reserve Division had reached the outer perimeter of the city and destroyed the barbed wire defenses, but Japanese firepower was intensely concentrated, causing the division to suffer heavy casualties and rendering it unable to continue the assault. The 152nd Regiment of the 26th Division broke into Xinlong Airport at dawn on the 5th and destroyed three Japanese aircraft. The 155th Regiment broke into the railway station at 9:00 a.m. on the 5th, but was blocked by fierce Japanese firepower and a determined counterattack. On May 5, after Chiang Kai-shek had issued the order to capture Nanchang by May 5, Xue Yue, acting commander of the Ninth War Zone, held the belief that with troops not having been replenished after the defense of Nanchang and with weaponry far inferior to that of the enemy, it was impossible to capture Nanchang within the subjective timeframe set. However, he did not directly dissent to Chiang Kai-shek, and on May 3, he telegraphed Chen Cheng to express his views in detail. He wrote: "Attacks on Nanchang and Fengxin have continued for 11 days since April 23. Because our army's equipment cannot keep pace with the enemy's, and the enemy's heavy weapons, mechanized units, and aircraft can support their ground forces everywhere, it is quite difficult to destroy the enemy's strong positions. Now I have received the Chairman's telegram: our army's operational strategy is to wear down the enemy without being worn down by the enemy, to avoid the enemy's strength and attack their weaknesses, and to achieve a protracted war of resistance. Therefore, this attack on Nanchang is aimed at wearing down the enemy. Under the principle of avoiding the enemy's strength and attacking their weakness, we should lie in ambush in advance and launch a surprise attack from all sides, hoping to recapture Nanchang with the fastest and most agile means. However, the battle has already dragged on; a direct assault is impossible, and striking their weakness is also unattainable. Although the enemy's strength is waning, it is practically impossible to capture Nanchang before May 5. Besides strictly ordering all units to overcome all difficulties and continue the fierce attack at all costs, I intend to politely explain the above situation to Chiang Kai-shek during a telephone conversation." Chen Cheng forwarded Xue Yue's telegram in full to Chiang Kai-shek on May 5. At the time, Bai Chongxi, director of the Guilin Headquarters, also considered the order to capture Nanchang within a limited time to be unrealistic, and on May 5 he telegraphed Chiang Kai-shek and He Yingqin, subtly offering a different suggestion. He stated, "Our army's attack on the enemy must be unexpected to be effective. Now, the enemy in Nanchang is prepared, and our army has launched a ten-day attack and has exerted all its efforts. To consider morale and our highest strategic principles, it is proposed that one-third of our forces continue the siege of Nanchang, while the other two-thirds are reorganized. Outside, we should continue to publicize our aggressive strategy…" The aim of both telegrams was to "turn the enemy's own spear against his shield," hoping Chiang Kai-shek would alter his order to capture Nanchang within a specified time, citing the operational guidance as inconsistent with the broader strategic policy. Upon receiving the telegrams, Chiang Kai-shek also learned of the sacrifice of Commander Chen Anbao and the heavy casualties among the attacking troops. On May 6, the main force of the Japanese 106th Division, supported by aircraft and tanks, launched a pincer attack on the 29th Army in the suburbs of Nanchang and Liantang. By 5 PM, the 29th Army was encircled. Liu Yuqing, commander of the 26th Division, was wounded in the fighting, and army commander Chen Anbao and Xie Beiting, commander of the 156th Regiment, were killed in action. Based on the actual battlefield situation, Xu Zhixun, chief of staff of the 29th Army, and Liu Yuqing, realizing that capturing Nanchang was impossible, decided to break out toward Zhongzhouwei and Shichajie to avoid total annihilation and potential execution by Chiang Kai-shek for failure. A regiment of the 5th Reserve Division, disguised as civilians, had infiltrated the city but was forced to withdraw due to the lack of follow-up support. Finally, on May 9, Chiang Kai-shek issued an order to halt the attack on Nanchang. The Japanese army, having suffered heavy losses themselves, was also unable to mount an effective counterattack, and thus the Battle of Nanchang came to an end, leaving behind a legacy of valor and tragedy. In the Battle of Nanchang, China suffered more than 52,000 casualties, including over 43,000 deaths, while Japan sustained more than 24,000 casualties and over 2,200 deaths. Although the National Army eventually lost Nanchang, the engagement thwarted Japan's plan to crush the main Chinese force. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me.   The Nanchang battle was a decisive Japanese victory, yet the Chinese did manage to halt the Japanese western advance and showcased their perseverance amid a growing strategic stalemate. Supplies were still leaking into Nationalist China, the Japanese would have to continuously find and plug them. The war for China was nowhere near over.

Today, we examine the Nanjing Massacre. We trace the escalation of the Second Sino-Japanese War from the Fall of Shanghai to the eventual Takeover of Nanjing. We'll explore the efforts to protect civilians within the Neutral Zone, the city's destruction, and the long road to justice during the Nanjing Trials. Welcome to Camp

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

SECOND SINO-JAPANESE WAREXPOSING PACIFIC ATROCITIES IN WWII WITH JENNY CHANCOMMANDING THE NARRATIVE EPISODE 116Steven Tripp is joined by the Co-Founder of Pacific Atrocities Education to discuss the war between China and Japan in World War II. Jenny co-founded Pacific Atrocities Education to expose the numerous atrocities that took place against the Chinese people at the hands of the Japanese during the Second Sino-Japanese War that lasted between 1937 to 1945.These included Unit 731, which was a covert biological and chemical warfare research and development unit of the Imperial Japanese Army, Chinese comfort women, the occupation of Hong Kong and the massacre of Nanjing. To contact or follow Jenny Chan and Pacific Atrocities Education, visit: https://www.pacificatrocities.org SHOW YOUR SUPPORT for Commanding the Narrative by donating – your support is much appreciated! https://www.commandingthenarrative.com/donate https://www.buymeacoffee.com/commandingthenarrative KEEP UP TO DATE WITH ALL OUR PODCASTS AND ARTICLES, visit:https://www.commandingthenarrative.com To become a Member of Australians for Better Government, visit: https://www.australiansforbetter.com/joinCONTACT US BY EMAIL:commandingthenarrative@outlook.com Hosted by:Steven Tripp is one of Australia's most prominent politicians and political commentators, known for his incisive analysis and fearless approach to addressing the Nation's challenges. With a deep understanding of policy and a reputation for sparking meaningful debate, Steven guides conversations with his signature clarity and passion for Australia's future.https://x.com/RealStevenTripp https://www.facebook.com/theRealStevenTripp https://spectator.com.au/author/steven-tripp Follow Commanding the Narrative on: Rumble: https://rumble.com/c/CommandingTheNarrative Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/4GIXhHBogM1McL5EPGP3DT Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CommandingTheNarrative Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/commandingthenarrative X: https://x.com/commandthenarra YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@commandingthenarrative Gettr: https://gettr.com/user/commandingthenarrative Truth Social: https://truthsocial.com/@ExCandidates Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/commanding-the-narrative/id1631685864 Please share and spread the word!

I feel pretty well versed when it comes to World War II. I understand fairly well what was happening in Europe at least with Germany and whatnot. I know that the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941 (84 years ago today) was the event that drew the United States into the war. But Pearl Harbor wasn't bombed by Germany. It was bombed by Japan. Wait, what? Japan? What does Japan have to do with Nazi Germany and World War II? This week I sit down with Quin Cho, an expert on the Pacific Theater during World War II, to talk about what was happening in Asia leading up to that fateful attack on Pearl Harbor. He'll fill us in on the rising action, like the Mukden Incident and the Second Sino-Japanese War, that led to the collision of two different war theaters into one big, bad world war. Quin's books: "Rise of the Kwantung Army: Japan's Empire in Manchuria to 1932""Competing Empires in Burma: A Chronicle of the China-Burma-India Theater of Operations in World War 2"Support the show! Join the Patreon (patreon.com/historyfixpodcast)Buy some merchBuy Me a CoffeeVenmo @Shea-LaFountaineSources:The National WWII Museum "Pearl Harbor Attack, December 7, 1941"Office of the Historian "The Mukden Incident of 1931 and the Stimson Doctrine"Office of the Historian "The Chinese Revolution of 1911"History.com "Pearl Harbor"Wikipedia "Zhang Zoulin"Wikipedia "Mukden Incident"Shoot me a message! Shop for History Fix merch here to support the show! Support the show

As the Second Sino-Japanese War raged on, domestic matters in Japan took a turn for the worse as Prime Minister Konoe Fumimaro proposed applying colonial policies to the home provinces in the name of supporting the war effort.Support the show My latest novel, "Califia's Crusade," is now available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple Books, Bookshop.org, and many other online platforms!

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

I would like to thank Patreon member Xizer for suggesting this one, as Xizer put it    “An in depth look at General Kanji Ishiwara would be interesting. The man was the architect for the Mukden Incident that led to the Second Sino Japanese War, but he was vehemently opposed to the abuse and exploitation Japan's colonialism indulged in. His vocal condemnation of the brutality and excesses of the Imperial Japanese military foreign policy and Tojo in particular led to his removal, but he couldn't be executed for popularity in the rank and file. Even at the trials after the war he remained defiant, declaring that President Truman should be tried alongside the Axis War criminals for firebombing Japanese cities. He was truly a fascinating figure.   Indeed Kanji Ishiwara is a fascinating character and his story has a startling impact on the Pacific War and global history as a whole. Now by the time I am reading this the script got out of hand, its a long one haha, so it might have to be a multi parter, but I want to limit the first part to Ishiwara and how the Mukden Incident occurred first. It might come further down the road but I will finish the story of this fascinating man later on after hitting up more Patrons desired subjects, without further adieu enjoy part one of Kanji Ishiwara.    Kanji Ishiwara was born in Tsuruoka, Yamagata prefecture on January 18th of 1889. He was the second son of a policeman who was a descendent of a samurai family serving the Shonai Domain. His clan supported the Tokugawa Shogunate during the Boshin War and as a result of their defeat, alongside other Shogunal allied clans would see themselves shut off from larger governmental positions in Meiji Era Japan. Not to go too deep down that rabbit hole, but domains like Choshu and Satsuma would see the lionshare of higher positions, while domains who served on the opposite side would be cast out more.   Ishiware began his army career at the military preparatory school in Sendai at the age of 13, followed up by 2 years at the Central military preparatory school in tokyo. In 1907 he entered the military academy as a member of its 21st class. He left the academy in july of 1909 with the commission of Lieutenant and an assignment as platoon commander of an infantry regiment in Tohoku. After the annexation of Korea in 1910 his regiment was shipped over to the peninsula and he served at Ch'unch'on in a small garrison. After two years of occupation duty, Ishiwara returned to Tohoku and in 1915 passed the examinations necessary to enter the Army Staff college. He held an outstanding record, graduating top of his class in november of 1918 and would be amongst the elite ranks of the Gunto Gumi, receiving the imperial sword.   Now in 1920 he had a frustrating assignment with the department of military training he applied for service in China and received an assignment to the Central china garrison in Hankow. He spent a year traveling through central china before returning back to Tokyo in 1921 where he worked as a lecturer at the army staff college. He sought another China assignment, but his superiors sent him instead to Europe, as they did with all their promising young officers. He went to Germany for 3 years, studying languages and military history. In 1925, he was now a Major, 36 years of age and he received an assignment to the faculty of the army staff college to lecture about the history of war. Now from the very beginning of his character, Ishiwara proved himself a very unconventional officer. He was on the eccentric side, quite argumentative and burdened with a lot of health problems. He had multiple kidney infections, gastro-intestinal problems, tympanitis and other ailments that clawed at him. You also cant forget his ancestry which was important to the Japanese military even in the 1930s. Many of those that came from a disgraced clan had the habit of going above and beyond in terms of imperial loyalty, sort of like a way to rid themselves of the stigma of distrust that was seen in the early Meiji years.   Ishiwara was a bit bizarre, he was nonconforming, quite an independent spirit you would say. Many biographers of his point out, while he held an outstanding record in his education, this went alongside things like his disregard for military punctilio, such as his dress and appearance. In his early career he spoke out against inequalities he saw within the military such as what he saw as favoritism for staff college graduates. Such talk was quite reckless. He read a lot about politics, religion, history and philosophy, he seemed to have quite the restless mind. His behavior drew attention from his colleagues, many deeming him brilliant.   Now everyone in any military has to learn about military history, but not all seek to learn it outside the required readings and such. Ishiwara is one of those rare individuals who was obsessed with learning more about military history. He read about the Russo Japanese war and took quite a critical look at it. He believed the Japanese victory was due to a large part because of luck. He thought Japan had taken the von Moltke strategy of annihilation, but Russia was simply to large to be dislodged from Asia with a swift stroke. If Russia had preserved herself better, he believed Japan would have lost and it was only by a peculiar set of circumstances that Japan had avoided a war of endurance. Ishiwara believed if such a set of circumstance occurred again, Japan defense planning would need to change dramatically to base itself on the realities of modern warfare. This led him to read thoroughly about WW1 in europe and he looked critically at the differences between a short duration vs long duration war. How prolonged conflicts eventually became total wars where politics, economics and social order played larger roles, than just that of the military. This led him to think of categories for different types of war such as “kessenteki senso / decisive war” and “jizokuteki senso / continuous war”. He viewed these two types as flowing back and forth throughout history, in a cyclical rhythm.    While in Germany he studied Clausewitz, von Moltke and the works of Hans Delbruck. He was particularly taken by Delbrucks niederwerfungstragie “strategy of annihilation, the decisive battle” and ermattungsstrategie “the strategy of exhaustion”. He could see his own theorizes more fleshed out in such works and took quite a liking to them. This brought him to analyze the Napoleonic war as the archetype of the war of annihilation and the wars of Frederick the Great as that of a war of exhaustion.    Now further on in his studies, Ishiwara became convinced like many of his colleagues, that Japan and the United States for reasons of power and ideology were on a set course for war. He also concluded such a war would be a protracted one, that of a strategy of exhaustion. But how could Japan prepare for such a protracted war when her natural resources were so clearly inadequate. This led him to think more so about Asia. Ishiwara believed Asia was an entity distinctly different from the west. He held beliefs that Asia should be liberated and unite. During the Xinhai revolution of 1911, as a young cadet in Korea, Ishiwara was quite excited by the idea China might revitalize itself, but he became disillusioned during his time in China later. In the 1920's he dealt with bandits, warlord era conflicts, chaos and disorder, seeing poverty everywhere, all of this shattered his image of China progressing and reforming herself. He wrote this during that time “Looking at the situation in China, I came to harbor grave doubts as to the political capacities of the chinese race and came to feel that, though they were a people of high cultural attainment, it was impossible for them to construct a modern state”. Despite how disappointed he was with the political problems of China, he was likewise disgusted with how his Japanese colleagues treated the Chinese. He recalled feelings of shame when he saw fellow colleagues in Hankow descending from rickshaws and tossing coins to the ground at the rickshaw mens feet. He would constantly write of how the Japanese needed to shed their racial superiority feelings, but funny enough he would write this alongside his beliefs it was necessary for Japan to help guide nations like China to their destiny. While he may have held beliefs in racial equality between Japan and China, he certainly did not think the same of China's politics. Like the majority of his colleagues he believed China required reform and modernization that Japan should usher in. To Ishiwara the issue at hand was if Japan did not help China, the west would aggressively do so and thus subjugate her further. To Ishiwara China needed liberation. Ishiwara also linked the incoming war between Japan and the United States to play a large role for what would occur between China and Japan.   Ishiwara like many Japanese officers held beliefs concerning the Kokutai. I will try to summarize exactly what the Kokutai is, but honestly its a unbelievably complex cultural phenomenon. The Kokutai was a spiritual motive force that influenced the Japanese military. It can be viewed as the national character of Japan. Japan was a constitutional monarchy that held the Kokutai (national body or character)  and Seitai (government body/structure). Thus there was in reality two ideologies, one held the traditional belief focusing on that of the emperor and that of the official government. If I were to give you a overly confusing summary, I would tell you “Japan is run by the emperor and the government simultaneously” this of course if confusing as hell, and it should be. Article 4 of the former Japanese constitution held “the emperor is the head of the empire, combining in himself the right of sovereignty, uniting the executive, legislative and judicial branches of government, although subject to the consent of the imperial diet”. Its like saying you have an absolute monarch, but he will be listening and following the democratically elected people. This contradiction would lead to the Pacific War. A large issue that would emerge is that the constitution literally said the navy and army were controlled by the Emperor and not the political diet. Thus many in the military viewed themselves subject to the Kokutai, which as an ideology would evolve dramatically from the Meiji era to the Showa Era. For example, what if you are a military high ranking officer who views the political elites as nothing more than criminals, taking the emperor hostage against his will and thus against the will of the Japanese people. Well this might lead you to try and overthrow the government to make sure the Emperor was really in charge as you think he should be. A real rabbit hole I could go down.   Ishiwara had a unique view of the Kokutai. In his early education he wrote this about his doubt on understanding it as a principal. “Even though I, myself, because of my training…had come to have an unshakeable faith in the kokutai I began to lack confidence that I could imparts this belief to others –to the common soldier, to the civilian, to non-Japanese”. His issue was how did the Kokutai apply outside Japan? How could its value transcend the national boundaries and interests of Japan? If a Japanese soldier was to sacrifice his life for the Kokutai, how did this take on any meaning for men of all races? How could the kokutai's supra-national value by linked to other outside ideologies?   Ishiwara found some answers to these questions in Nichiren Buddhism. It seems here he was able to combine his conceptions about war, history and national purpose. Now Ishiwara did not come from a religious family. He dabbled in christianity for a bit, but did not pursue it. Shinto likewise did not sufficiently fulfill Shiwara' beliefs. Nichiren Buddhism is strongly patriotic, has a apocalyptic character to it and represents a holy mission to be the religion for all mankind with the center of propagation as Japan. There was this kind of quasi idea of world regeneration behind it with Japan as the moral righteous leader. Thus as you can imagine the Kokutai and Nichiren buddhism sort of fit like a glove in many ways.    Utilizing Nichiren Buddhism, the kokutai could be raised from its purely national dogma and be amplified to the entire world. Ishiwara was introduced to all of this by Tanaka Chigaku who was part of the Kokuchukai “national pillar society” a nichiren nationalist organization with an HQ in tokyo. After attending a public meeting held by Tanaka, he quickly converted to Kokuchukai and he would write down in his journal “I was attracted to the Nichiren faith's view of the kokutai”. Nichiren buddhism.    One aspect of Kokuchukai's nichirenism that greatly appealed to Ishiwara was its combative passages. Ishiwara would justify and attribute much of the military force Japan used on the asian continent drawing parallels to Nicherns idea of drawing the sword to defend righteousness. He often quoted nichirens statement “that the significance of the art of war appears in the wonderful law”. Ishiwara become engulfed by the nichiren doctrine and came to believe in its prediction that there would be a “Zendai mimon no dai toso / titanic world conflict, unprecedented in human history”, something like a global armageddon. After this would come a reign of universal and eternal peace under the harmony of “the wonderful law”.   While in Germany Ishiwara became convinced that if Japan and the United States were destined for war and the US won that war, the kokutai would be destroyed. He took the trans-siberian railway enroute back to Japan and stopped in Harbin. There he met with Nichiren believers and he spoke to them about his idea of “a final war”. He stated he believed it would come through religious prediction and his military analysis. He warned everyone Japan must hasten herself for it and that “the final war is fast approaching”. Ishiwara came back to Japan in 1925 fired up with conviction to lecture at the army staff college about his final war. His audience was the army's bright and youthful officers. He taught them Frederican and Napoleonic campaigns, Moltke and WW1 and of course his thoughts on the future conflict before them all. The Army staff college continuously called for him to expand his lectures because they were so popular. Then in 1927 he drafted an essay titled “Genzai oyobi shorai Nihon no kokubo / Japan's present and future national defense”. Here he spoke about the inevitable war between the US and Japan. These were quite provocative and took a hell of a lot of attention from colleagues. Later on in april of 1931, he would brief his fellow Kwantung officers using the essay, arguing the need for decisive action on the asian mainland.   In 1928 he would have given another course on European war, but he came down with influenza and was forced to take leave. As he was getting better he was hit with a case of tympanitis in his ear and had to be hospitalized for 6 months. It was to be one of many ailments that would grind at his health. He eventually was drawn into an elite study circle to talk about war theories led by Major Suzuki. The group consisted of young reformist type officers who talked about political and military issues. He carried on his work on the final war and eventually wrote “Sensoshi taikan / general outline of the history of war” which was delivered as a lecture before Kwantung officers at Changch'un in Manchuria on July 4th of 1929. It would receive revisions in 1931, 1938 and became a book of the same title after 1941. As he began lecturing using Sensoshi taiken he also circulated amongst an inner circle within the Kwantung army “kokuun tenkai no konpon kokusakutaru man-mo mondai kaiketsuan / Plan for the solution of the Manchuria and Mongolia problem as a basic national policy to revolutionize our country's destiny”, what a title. As you might guess the plan called for occupying Manchuria in preparation for the upcoming war with America. By the way, all of his lectures and works would gain so much fame, he was asked in 1936 to adapt the materials for a text on military history for Emperor Hirohito.    Now the 1930's were quite a tense time for Japan. The Japanese leadership saw Marxism everywhere, and believed it was withering away their nation. Japanese liberal types were arguing the military budget was out of hand, many were calling for reduction. To Ishiwara it was insanity, how could Japan not arm itself? Marxists preached communism would save Japan; Liberals preached true democracy would save Japan; Ishiwara and many in the army preached the Kokutai would save Japan. Ishiwara preached his final war theories and that the coming apocalypse would not see an American synthesis, but a supreme victory for the Japanese kokutai that would unify the world. “Japan must be victorious not for the sake of her own national interest, but for the salvation of the world. The last war in human history is approaching, Nichiren's titanic world conflict, unprecedented in human history”.   From the offset of his initial theories, Ishiwara believed the final war would be a strategy of exhaustion. But WW1 and the 1920's brought technological advances such as tanks, poison gas and the airplane. The airplane in particular made Ishiwara believe the defensive stalemate seen in WW1 was coming to an end. Airpower could deliver bomb loads past all known defenses such as naval surface units, fortresses, armies with automatic weapons. He believed the final war would see absolute horrors brought upon the greatest cities of the world. London, Shanghai, Paris even Tokyo would be wiped out within a day of the commencement of hostilities. Air bombardment would deliver victory and he would be quite right about that in regards to what would happen to Japan. He believed such a war would be waged only once and “we will enter an age where war will become impossible because of the ultimate development of war technology”.   Ishiwara argued Japan must directly or indirectly control Manchuria and to a lesser degree over parts of China. He asserted Japan had a moral obligation to the asian continent and a special relationship to Manchuria and China. China must be stabilized, for her people were threatened by turmoil, corruption and conflict. He argued Japan would be eventually obliged for the sake of peace and the welfare of the Chinese people to take a more active effort to stabilize her, particularly in Manchuria. He wrote in 1930 “To save China, which has known no peace, is the mission of Japan, a mission, which, at the same time, is the only means for the salvation of Japan itself. To accomplish this task it is an urgent matter that the interference of the United States be eliminated”. Ironically, he was advocating that in order to prepare for a conflict with the US, Japan must take a stronger hand in Manchuria and China…which would probably force the United States to confront her. He advocated against the strategy of a decisive battle at sea, instead emphasizing a continental strategy. “If the worst comes about and the war at sea turns against us, if proper measures have been taken, Japanese forces on the Asian mainland can be made self-sufficient and the war continued.” Above all else, Manchuria was the key, alongside parts of Mongolia and China.    In 1931 he began writing about how China needed to reform and it would be in her best interest to accept Japanese guidance. He saw China as the most valuable ally to be beside Japan in the event of war with the United States. If anything he argued Japan must try to not become involved in a war with China, every effort should be made to avoid provoking such an event. Yet as he continued his writing he began to see the diplomatic issues play out between China and Japan and came to the conclusion, “every attempt should be made to avoid provoking China, but in the event that it is impossible to bring about China's understanding, then Nanking should be swiftly attacked and north and central China occupied” way to go 0-60. His attitudes to Britain and Russia were quite similar, every effort should be made to remain friendly, but in the case of war Hong Kong and Malaya should be quickly occupied or in the case of the USSR, predetermined objectives inside Siberia should be seized quickly.    Now lets talk about Manchuria, specifically Manchuria in the late 1920's. Manchuria was in a huge tug of war between Russia, China and Japan. Her ties to China proper were severed by years of warlordism allowing Japan to grow her position. For Japan, the quote “manchurian problem” as it would be known centered on a single question “how to consolidate and expand it under Japanese influence in the face of an expanding China”. Japan saw 3 viable methods, taking control over the south manchuria railway, using the kwantung army and Japanese colonists, the good old filibuster approach. Each of these 3 methods offered different approaches to the same problem which of course would have very different outcomes.    Controlling the railway allowed quite a lot of control over southern Manchuria. The issue with this of course being Japan having to constantly fight off Chinese political efforts against such control. Zhang Zuolin, the Tiger of Manchuria and arguably greatest of the warlords of China held control over Manchuria and was firmly acting in Japanese interests, but for how long would he play ball? To the Kwantung Army members operating in and around Manchuria, the northern expedition of Chiang Kai-shek was getting out of hand and threatening Zhang Zuolin and thus their interests as well. Anti-Japanese sentiment was only getting worse as the northern expedition climbed north. The Kwangtung army sought more than anything to assert and retain their control over Manchuria, because it offered a buffer against the USSR. Anything that threatened that control had to be dealt with. Ultimately it was believed by many in the Kwantung Army that Manchuria would have to be separated officially from China and in order for this to occur, Japan would most likely need to use force.    Senior officers of the Kwantung army were invited in June of 1927 for a meeting called upon by Premier Tanaka Giichi. The purpose of the meeting was to formulate Japan's policy toward China and Manchuria. A more radical Kwantung army group headed by Colonel Komoto Daisaku sought to eliminate Zhang Zuolin, as he was increasingly being seen as a major obstacle to Japanese ambitions in Manchuria. Well they would do just that in 1928 when Zhang Zuolin was assassinated via a bomb placed on train tracks known as the Huanggutun incident. The assassination did not work out as the Kwantung Army officers thought it would. Instead of their groomed puppet General Yang Yuting taking up the role as leader of Manchuria, it went instead to Zhang Zuolin's son, Zhang Xueliang, who lets just say was not too happy the Japanese had obviously killed his father. Thus the Kwantung Army did not assert the forceful policy they wanted in Manchuria, they had actually made it worse for them.   The half-hearted investigation into those responsible for killing Zhang Zuolin, led to the removal of Colonel Komoto from his post. Tanaka's cabinet was toppled. The Kwantung army were now embarrassed and angry that their stance in Manchuria was weakened. The Japanese colonists within Manchuria felt more threatened and called more so upon the Kwantung army for protection against Chinese nationalists wishing to kick them out. The Kwantung army was grasping at straws trying to think of a way to sever Manchuria from China. In 1928, Ishiwara was a lt colonel and he was consulted in length by Kwantung officers about his views on the Manchurian problem. While he had not fully hashed out his Final War theory by this point, he nonetheless spoke about the fundamentals of it, arguing the necessity of taking action to control Manchuria. For the next few years, all efforts were made by Kwantung officers to influence policy towards Manchuria. Ishiwara's ideas were being stimulated and influencing the debate over Manchuria amongst his high ranking colleagues. In October of 1928, Ishiwara sought and received an appointment to the Kwantung army staff. The assignment was to be as an operations officer and his number one backer was Colonel Komoto Daisaku. It seemed Komoto saw Ishiwara as the firebrand necessary to push the Manchurian policies they wanted.   When Ishiwara arrived at Port Arthur, he found the Kwantung Army HQ in a state of confusion and demoralization. This of course was a large part due to the cluster fuck of a failure from the bombing of Zhang Zuolin. The investigation into the assassination led to many shifts within the Kwantung army staff, many quite restrictive. Even though Komoto's career was shattered by the Zhang Zuolin failure, he kept arguing to his colleagues that the Manchurian crisis hamukdend to be resolved by force. Ishiwara it seems agreed with this and during the early months of 1929 worked alongside Komoto, planning operations against Chinese forces in the Mukden area. By spring of 1929, Komoto was officially being kicked out. By May he was relegated to a divisional backwater in Japan and by June he was out of the army. This did not mean however that he lost influence on Manchurian affairs. Komoto's replacement was Lt Colonel Itagaki Seishiro and old comrade of Ishiwara since Sendai military preparatory school.    For the next two and a half years, Ishiwara and Itagaki worked alongside other Kwantung Army staff to solve the Manchurian problem as they saw it. By the mid 1931's the idea Manchuria needed to be seized via force was now the mainstream viewpoint for the Kwantung army in general. Ishiwara believed firmly that Japan could no longer stand idle in Manchuria, because every day that went by saw little by little, Japan relinquishing rights and interests in Manchuria to China, and at some point they would simply be kicked out. To “quit manchuria” would be a national disaster, they would lose their buffer state, the resources and the land for their booming population to emigrate to. Simply put Manchuria was the steroid keeping Japan alive, she needed it to continue to grow. Ishiwara would often say “manchuria provides Japan with breathing space” where have we heard that type of talk before?. To the military heads in Tokyo Ishikawa would often assert Manchuria had to be seized via force, because of the soviethreat of the USSR and communism as a whole “In view of the traditional russian policy in that area, once the soviets advanced into manchuria, it would become a base for the communization of asia. Not only would the internal stability of manchuria become impossible to maintain, but Japan would be unable to maintain its own national defense, and China's defenses, too, would become imperialized". The Army HQ in Tokyo likewise agreed Manchuria was the vital defensive line against the USSR. But unlike the Kwantung army who sought all of Manchuria, the heads in Tokyo sought to absorb southern Manchuria via the south manchurian railway and did not seek anything north of it. Ishiwara however assumed the only way Japan could prevent the USSR from placing pressure on southern Manchuria was no less that Japan having to occupy northern Manchuria and even further north towards the Amur River so Japan could control the mountain ranges flanking western and eastern frontiers of northern manchuria.  Once Japan controlled northern Manchuria, Ishiwara stated in 1931 “With the solution of our defense problems in the north, we would then be free to plan an advance in any direction: to China proper, for example, or even to Southeast Asia”.   Ishiwara took all of this a step further, after Manchuria was conquered, Japan would have to somehow administer and pacify the peoples of it. Ishiwara argued the stability of Manchuria would be developed through the special talents of various races living there. The Chinese would develop the small businesses in the region, the Koreans would use their paddy farming knowledge, etc. These racial ideas would contribute to the development of Manchukuo and the greater east asia co-prosperity sphere. But above all else, Manchuria would serve the interests of Japan, many of which would be exploitative and economic in nature.    By early 1930 Ishiwara and Itagaki worked out a plan using the same strategy used during the Russo-Japanese war, a surprise night attack. The Kwantung army would assault the Liaoning area hitting important Chinese garrisons. The plans had to be meticulous as the Kwantung army was severely smaller than most of the Manchurian forces led by Zhang Xueliang. Around Mukden alone Zhang held 20,000 men well equipped with aircraft and tanks. Throughout all of Manchuria, if a war arose, Zhang could assemble roughly 250,000 troops to bear down on an enemy. The Kwantung army meanwhile could muster 10,000 men which were basically garrison units around the railway. They did not have significant aircraft nor mechanized forces at hand, and were pretty poorly equipped to boot. Ishiwara's answer to the disparity in forces called for the use of intelligence and rigorous training. He sought to perfect specific assault techniques so that when the conflict broke out, the Japanese would use lightning speed and effective concentration of force to overwhelm the Chinese. The plan overall was remarkably simplistic, wagering everything on dealing a crushing blow at the center of Zhang Xueliangs military powerbase at the Peitaying barracks at Mukden. If this fell, he predicted the enemy's morale would break, giving the Kwantung the necessary military and psychological momentum to subdue the surrounding areas. If the USSR got involved, the plan would have gone to utter shit.   One important variable Ishiwara highlighted was the necessity to pull off the operation before any attempt to restructure the domestic order in Japan occurred. Ishiwara knew his arguments and those of his colleagues would influence the heads in Tokyo, and they had to act before they did. However the heads at Tokyo and the Kwantung army held very different perspectives on when to act. In June of 1931 the Central army HQ stated in its General Outline of a solution to the Manchurian problem “we must defer the question of military action for a whole year. During this time the foreign ministry would attempt to dampen anti japanese activities in manchuria through negotiations with the government of Nanking. In the meantime the government would launch an information campaign to try and drive acquiescence at home and aboard for military action ”. Ishiwara as you can imagine was very bitter about the idea of prolonging for a year and argued the international environment meant they must strike immediately. The Soviet 5 year plan was still in mid course; the US, Britain and France had yet to overcome their financial crisis and could offer limited resistance in the far east and most obviously the Nationalist regime in China was still busy in its unification efforts south of the Great wall, but that would change soon. If they waited a year all of this would change for the worse, the time was now or never to Ishiwara.   In july of 1931 Ishiwara and Itagki organized a final major staff reconnaissance designed to get the newest Kwantung officers up to date with northern Manchuria. To cover for what they were doing they told high command it was a survey against the USSR, but it was of course to investigate the Chinese power in northern manchuria. On their return trip, the party heard of the disappearance of one Kwantung staff officer, captain Nakamura Shintaro. Ishiwara and the others found out when they reached Port Arthur and the rumor spread that Captain Nakamura had been killed by Chinese soldiers under “mysterious circumstances”. Now over the past few months there had been violent riots, murders, work strikes and other incidents occurring in Manchuria. The Nakamura affair flared all of these tensions up. Seeing the paint on the wall, Chinese and Japanese foreign ministries tried to negotiate the issue, but those at the central army HQ like Nagata Tetsuzan who were sympathetic to the impatience of their Kwantung colleagues felt compelled to aid them. For Ishiwara the issue was clear as he wrote “the Nakamura incident adds just one more issue to the others. What the army should do now is to ignore the foreign ministry and solve the problem by taking matters into its own hands”. And that is just what he did. The Kwantung officers took their forces outside the railway zone, which they had been restricted to and without waiting for approval from Itagaki who was in Japan at the time, initiated the steps to despatch an armored train and a mixed regiment of infantry and artillery forces to go to Mukden to get the Chinese military to help investigate the Nakamura disappearance. Tokyo got word of this and dispatched a telegram to stop their departure from the railway and to not use the Nakamura incident as a way to use force to solve the manchurian problem.   For Ishiwara this was the last straw. On August 20th he sent a message to Nagata condemning the current diplomatic situation and that negotiations were an utter waste of time. “There is no way to settle the matter except by placing it in the hands of the army. If central hq finds it so difficult to trust its field personnel then it had better replace them with representatives more suitable to the conditions it imagines to exist in Manchuria”. Ishiwara doubled down and pushed for a plot to provoke military conflict outside of Mukden. As he wrote in almost a messianic Nichiren conviction ‘I will be the pillar of Japan; I will be the eyes of Japan; I will be the great vessel of Japan” .   “Gekokujo / ruling from below” is a Japanese historical term referring to when subordinates defy or manipulate their superiors. Ishiwara and his like minded close colleagues were about to perform Gekokujo. On september 18th, 1931 a bomb was planted by the Kwantung army on the tracks of the south manchuria railway at Liutiaokou and it exploded. Japanese troops under the guise the bomb was a “chinese terrorist attack” moved to swiftly overrun the Peitaying barracks. Ishiwara's plot had finally unfolded. 

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

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

                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Last time we spoke about the 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.

Following anti-immigration protests across the country, we’re looking at what’s driving the rise of extremist groups, and whether they're a growing threat to our communities. Plus, bad news for our hayfever friends out there... the season is back, and depending where you live, worse than ever. And in headlines today, Police believe accused gunman Dezi Freeman is still alive and that they possibly know where he is hiding; Housing affordability has dropped to a 20-year low, but first-home buyers are still finding ways to get into the market; A woman branded as the "Ketamine Queen" has pleaded guilty to selling Matthew Perry the drug that killed the Friends star; North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un and Russian President Vladimir Putin were among high-profile leaders in Beijing for a parade marking the 80th anniversary of the end of the Second Sino-Japanese War and World War II; Authorities in Florida have announced that they are working to become the first US state to remove childhood vaccine mandates, a public health policy that has kept children safe from infectious diseases for decades; Bruce Willis’ wife Emma Hemming Willis has defended the family’s difficult decision to move Bruce into his own homeTHE END BITS Our new podcast Watch Party is out now, listen to our deep-dive into The Thursday Murder Club movie on Apple or Spotify. Support independent women's media Check out The Quicky Instagram here Listen to Morning Tea celebrity headlines here GET IN TOUCHShare your story, feedback, or dilemma! Send us a voice note or email us at thequicky@mamamia.com.au CREDITS Hosts: Taylah Strano & Claire Murphy Guest: Josh Roose, Associate Professor of Politics at Deakin University. Audio Producer: Lu Hill Become a Mamamia subscriber: https://www.mamamia.com.au/subscribeSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Text usIn this episode of Anthology of Horror, we plunge into some of the darkest chapters of the twentieth century: the atrocities committed by Imperial Japan during the Second Sino-Japanese War. From the systematic slaughter and sexual violence of the Nanjing Massacre to the grotesque human experimentation carried out by Unit 731, this is a story of cruelty without parallel.Told with unflinching honesty but delivered with solemn restraint, the episode paints a vivid historical picture of how Japan's imperial ambitions turned ordinary men into monsters—and why denial and forgetting are just as dangerous as the crimes themselves.Listener discretion is strongly advised. This episode contains descriptions of graphic violence, sexual violence, and crimes against humanity.Cast & CreditsHost: Spring-Heeled JackResearch Assistant: Kate (daughter of Steve)Producer: Mickie EberzSpecial Thanks: Young Alex, for suggesting the topic and supporting the Mannings' GoFundMe after the Eaton FireEpisode Theme & Closing Song: Blood Engine by EmpressSupport the showDemented Darkness https://open.spotify.com/show/2ausD083OiTmVycCKpapQ8Dark Side of the Nerd https://open.spotify.com/show/6cwN3N3iifSVbddNRsXRTuFoxhound43 https://rumble.com/user/Foxhound43

In this moving and insightful episode, J.R. sits down with author Tong Ge as part of the Author's Circle series to explore her debut novel The House Fiddler. Born and raised in China, Tong shares the incredible true story that inspired her book—based on her grandmother's harrowing and courageous life spanning war, political upheaval, and bound-foot oppression in early 20th-century China.

A riveting account of the five most crucial days in twentieth-century diplomatic history: from Pearl Harbor to Hitler's declaration of war on the United States. By early December 1941, war had changed much of the world beyond recognition. Nazi Germany occupied most of the European continent, while in Asia, the Second Sino-Japanese War had turned China into a battleground. But these conflicts were not yet inextricably linked--and the United States remained at peace. Hitler's American Gamble recounts the five days that upended everything: December 7 to 11. Tracing developments in real time and backed by deep archival research, historians Brendan Simms and Charlie Laderman show how Hitler's intervention was not the inexplicable decision of a man so bloodthirsty that he forgot all strategy, but a calculated risk that can only be understood in a truly global context. This book reveals how December 11, not Pearl Harbor, was the real watershed that created a world war and transformed international history. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/american-studies

A riveting account of the five most crucial days in twentieth-century diplomatic history: from Pearl Harbor to Hitler's declaration of war on the United States. By early December 1941, war had changed much of the world beyond recognition. Nazi Germany occupied most of the European continent, while in Asia, the Second Sino-Japanese War had turned China into a battleground. But these conflicts were not yet inextricably linked--and the United States remained at peace. Hitler's American Gamble recounts the five days that upended everything: December 7 to 11. Tracing developments in real time and backed by deep archival research, historians Brendan Simms and Charlie Laderman show how Hitler's intervention was not the inexplicable decision of a man so bloodthirsty that he forgot all strategy, but a calculated risk that can only be understood in a truly global context. This book reveals how December 11, not Pearl Harbor, was the real watershed that created a world war and transformed international history. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

A riveting account of the five most crucial days in twentieth-century diplomatic history: from Pearl Harbor to Hitler's declaration of war on the United States. By early December 1941, war had changed much of the world beyond recognition. Nazi Germany occupied most of the European continent, while in Asia, the Second Sino-Japanese War had turned China into a battleground. But these conflicts were not yet inextricably linked--and the United States remained at peace. Hitler's American Gamble recounts the five days that upended everything: December 7 to 11. Tracing developments in real time and backed by deep archival research, historians Brendan Simms and Charlie Laderman show how Hitler's intervention was not the inexplicable decision of a man so bloodthirsty that he forgot all strategy, but a calculated risk that can only be understood in a truly global context. This book reveals how December 11, not Pearl Harbor, was the real watershed that created a world war and transformed international history. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

A riveting account of the five most crucial days in twentieth-century diplomatic history: from Pearl Harbor to Hitler's declaration of war on the United States. By early December 1941, war had changed much of the world beyond recognition. Nazi Germany occupied most of the European continent, while in Asia, the Second Sino-Japanese War had turned China into a battleground. But these conflicts were not yet inextricably linked--and the United States remained at peace. Hitler's American Gamble recounts the five days that upended everything: December 7 to 11. Tracing developments in real time and backed by deep archival research, historians Brendan Simms and Charlie Laderman show how Hitler's intervention was not the inexplicable decision of a man so bloodthirsty that he forgot all strategy, but a calculated risk that can only be understood in a truly global context. This book reveals how December 11, not Pearl Harbor, was the real watershed that created a world war and transformed international history. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/military-history

A riveting account of the five most crucial days in twentieth-century diplomatic history: from Pearl Harbor to Hitler's declaration of war on the United States. By early December 1941, war had changed much of the world beyond recognition. Nazi Germany occupied most of the European continent, while in Asia, the Second Sino-Japanese War had turned China into a battleground. But these conflicts were not yet inextricably linked--and the United States remained at peace. Hitler's American Gamble recounts the five days that upended everything: December 7 to 11. Tracing developments in real time and backed by deep archival research, historians Brendan Simms and Charlie Laderman show how Hitler's intervention was not the inexplicable decision of a man so bloodthirsty that he forgot all strategy, but a calculated risk that can only be understood in a truly global context. This book reveals how December 11, not Pearl Harbor, was the real watershed that created a world war and transformed international history. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/german-studies

A riveting account of the five most crucial days in twentieth-century diplomatic history: from Pearl Harbor to Hitler's declaration of war on the United States. By early December 1941, war had changed much of the world beyond recognition. Nazi Germany occupied most of the European continent, while in Asia, the Second Sino-Japanese War had turned China into a battleground. But these conflicts were not yet inextricably linked--and the United States remained at peace. Hitler's American Gamble recounts the five days that upended everything: December 7 to 11. Tracing developments in real time and backed by deep archival research, historians Brendan Simms and Charlie Laderman show how Hitler's intervention was not the inexplicable decision of a man so bloodthirsty that he forgot all strategy, but a calculated risk that can only be understood in a truly global context. This book reveals how December 11, not Pearl Harbor, was the real watershed that created a world war and transformed international history. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/world-affairs

A riveting account of the five most crucial days in twentieth-century diplomatic history: from Pearl Harbor to Hitler's declaration of war on the United States. By early December 1941, war had changed much of the world beyond recognition. Nazi Germany occupied most of the European continent, while in Asia, the Second Sino-Japanese War had turned China into a battleground. But these conflicts were not yet inextricably linked--and the United States remained at peace. Hitler's American Gamble recounts the five days that upended everything: December 7 to 11. Tracing developments in real time and backed by deep archival research, historians Brendan Simms and Charlie Laderman show how Hitler's intervention was not the inexplicable decision of a man so bloodthirsty that he forgot all strategy, but a calculated risk that can only be understood in a truly global context. This book reveals how December 11, not Pearl Harbor, was the real watershed that created a world war and transformed international history. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Last time we spoke about the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. On July 7, 1937, tensions escalated between Japan and China as the Japanese military conducted a training exercise near the Marco Polo Bridge. During the exercise, gunfire erupted, sowing confusion and leading to the unexplained disappearance of one soldier. This incident prompted Japan to demand permission to search the nearby city of Wanping, which was denied by Chinese forces, escalating tensions further. By the next day, Japanese troops attacked, resulting in fierce fighting at the bridge. Under heavy assault, Chinese defenders fought valiantly but faced overwhelming force. As the conflict intensified, both sides struggled with heavy casualties, leading to the full-scale Sino-Japanese War. The Japanese military's aggressive maneuvers and the determined Chinese resistance marked the beginning of a brutal conflict, forever altering the landscape of East Asia. The profound toll on both nations foreshadowed the horrors of war that were to come, as China prepared to defend its sovereignty against a relentless enemy.   #155 Operation Chahar 1937 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 the end of July of 1937 the Japanese had overwhelmed the Beiping-Tianjin region. It's pretty understandable as to how this came so fast. As we have discussed thoroughly in this series, the Japanese had gradually seized control over Northern China going back to Operation Nekka in 1933. Little by little they had carved it out. Typically when you pull out a map of a war between two nations, one nation pierces into the other and gradually seizes control of key locations until it archives victory. However with the case of the outset of the Second Sino-Japanese War its more like the Japanese are starting at multiple key locations where they have concessions, treaties or where there are autonomous regions. Thus its honestly a huge headache to follow. When the Marco Polo Bridge Incident broke out, Chiang Kai-Shek had been in Kuling, a mountain top resort where he spent his summer vacations. He received the news with composure, but his message to the nation conveyed a sense of optimism and anticipation. The embarrassment of the Sian mutiny was a thing of the past. Although he wasn't overly confident, he believed that this was the pivotal moment China had been preparing for, more so than at any time in recent years. For nearly three weeks, efforts were made to resolve the situation through diplomatic means. For the first time, Chiang was in a position to make demands. He understood they would likely be rejected, but that wasn't the main point. He asked Japan to acknowledge its responsibility for the recent turmoil, to issue an apology, and to provide compensation. After making that request, he addressed his nation with a formal commitment: China would not accept any settlement that compromised its sovereign rights or territorial integrity. No changes would be permitted regarding the status of the Hubei-Chahar Council, and local officials would not be reassigned at the request of any foreign government. Any restrictions on the Twenty-ninth Army's positions would be unacceptable. He declared that the era of Japanese expansion in North China had come to a definitive end. The Japanese army achieved significant victories on the battlefield in China, leading to the inevitable expansion of the conflict. The first major campaign following the Nanyuan victory unfolded along the mountainous border marked by the inner Great Wall, separating northern Hubei from Chahar. On the Jinpu Railway, just south of Tianjin, lies a small station known as Jinghai. Adjacent to this station is the Jian River, which had swollen to a width of 20 meters due to intermittent heavy rains in northern China after the Japanese army's occupation of Tianjin. The embankments on either side of the river were overgrown with dense reeds and grass, and a wooden arch bridge spanned the river. After landing at Dagukou in Tianjin, the 10th Division, commanded by Lieutenant General Rensuke Isogai, advanced south along the Jinpu Railway. However, as the vanguard, the 10th Regiment of the 33rd Brigade made its way through the muddy terrain towards the Jian River's wooden bridge, they were suddenly taken aback. A group of Chinese soldiers appeared, their faces vividly painted red and armed with long-handled broadswords, a sight reminiscent of the legendary Chinese figure Guan Yu, as depicted in many traditional portraits. These soldiers belonged to the 26th Independent Brigade of the 38th Division of the 29th Army, who were in retreat from Tianjin. Following the city's fall, they had retreated southward to Jinghai Station, where they prepared to make a stand. Brigade Commander Li Zhiyuan recognized their inferior numbers and weaponry compared to the Japanese forces. Drawing from painful lessons learned during the positional battles in Tianjin, he decided to divide his troops strategically: one battalion would defend the station, another would protect the county town, and a third would engage in guerrilla tactics along the Jinpu Road. If faced with a small number of Japanese soldiers, they would fight fiercely; if overwhelmed, they would attempt to encircle the attackers to prevent a direct assault on their main position. Despite the Japanese army's attempts to advance, including efforts to send an armored train into Jinghai Station, the Chinese soldiers cleverly laid straw on the tracks and buried mines, thwarting the train's progress. Once Japanese troops disembarked to mount an offensive, they were ambushed by the battalion executing guerrilla tactics, resulting in a chaotic retreat that left behind several dozen casualties. Over the course of weeks, the divisional headquarters ordered a battalion of Japanese troops to move south along the Jinpu Road, requiring them to cross the Jian River at the wooden bridge. The 26th Independent Brigade was assigned to halt this advance, and they managed to hold their ground for over 20 days. Recognizing the gravity of their situation, Brigade Commander Li Zhiyuan gathered his group and battalion commanders to emphasize the necessity of pushing back the Japanese forces. He passionately rallied them, declaring, “We must defend this river to the death. Each regiment will select a death squad. Each member will carry a long-handled broadsword and four grenades, paint their faces red and rush across the bridge to engage in melee combat!” When Li asked for volunteers to lead the death squad, the regiment commander, Zhu, eagerly stepped forward, quickly gathering a group that followed him, uniting passionately in their cause. The death squad charged across the bridge, catching the Japanese off guard with their war paint and weapons. The sudden attack left the Japanese soldiers dazed, leading to a chaotic retreat as they struggled through the muddy terrain. In the tumult, more than 200 long-handled swords struck down a significant number of Japanese troops. Those advancing from behind panicked at the sight of their retreating comrades. An officer, dismounted during the chaos, was left behind, and the Chinese soldiers, filled with zeal, pressed forward, ignoring the orders from Brigade Commander Li Zhiyuan to fall back for their own safety. Despite moments of heroism, many fell that day by the Jian River, as the officers and soldiers burned their boats and set fire to the wooden bridge, rendering retreat impossible. As the Japanese military consolidated its power in the Pingjin region, many leaders underestimated the tenacity of Chinese resistance. Plans were made to defeat the Chinese army and air force swiftly, aiming to resolve the issue in North China decisively, with no diplomatic negotiations or external interventions allowed during military operations. Now, in late July to early August, Chiang Kai-shek issued orders to improve defenses at Nankou. He mobilized Tang Enbo's 13th Army in Suidong for battle readiness, tasked Liu Ruming to sabotage railways, and directed Fu Zuoyi and Yan Xishan in Suiyuan to prepare for conflict. Troops were reorganized rapidly, with divisions merging to strengthen the 17th Army under Liu Ruming's command. Chiang insisted that Nankou's defenses be deep and wide to thwart enemy cavalry and tank assaults, rendering Japanese mechanized advantages ineffective. He called for close cooperation among commanders and a resolute defense. Tang Enbo's 13th Army, consisted of the 4th and 89th Divisions, whom established defensive positions along the Peiping-Suiyuan Railway at Nankou, with additional units positioned further back at Juyongguan. The 13th Army, was 20,000 men strong, all motivated soldiers committed to fighting the Japanese, but their equipment was woefully inadequate. The 89th Division had a few outdated artillery pieces, whilst other units were in even worse condition, hampering their effectiveness against the well-armed Japanese forces. Liu's 17th Army stationed its 84th Division at Chihcheng, Yanqing, and Longguan, effectively securing the flank of the 13th Army against potential Japanese advances from Chahar. The 21st Division was deployed in Huailai, situated along the railway to the rear of Tang's forces. Additionally, Zhao Chengshou's 1st Cavalry Army, Liu 's 143rd Division, and two Peace Preservation Brigades commenced an offensive against Mongol forces in northern Chahar. As the Japanese launched initial assaults on Nankou on August 4, fierce fighting erupted. The Chinese defenders fought valiantly, but heavy bombardments by artillery and air raids took a toll. The Japanese began using tanks to support their infantry, yet the 530th Regiment successfully repelled an attack at Deshengkou. Meanwhile, the Japanese intensified their efforts, culminating in poison gas assaults that overwhelmed Chinese positions on Longhutai, leading to significant losses. Despite the escalating pressure and casualties, the determination to hold Nankou was unwavering. On August 5, the Kwantung Army requested permission for the advance guard to move to Changpei, arguing that the Central Army's invasion of Chahar had jeopardized the security of Manchukuo. This request was denied, yet the advance guard proceeded to Changpei on August 8. This unauthorized movement by the Kwantung Army was a serious act of defiance, as Tolun lay outside Manchukuo's borders, and troop deployments required imperial authorization. Although imperial sanction had been obtained for the move to Tolun on July 28, permission for the advance guard to proceed was only granted retroactively, with the stipulation that they would not advance further into Inner Mongolia. Nevertheless, this unauthorized action ultimately compelled the high command to approve the advance to Changpei. On August 7, the Japanese army launched a large assault on Nankou with its three main divisions, aiming to breach the Great Wall and advance westward along the Pingsui Railway to flank the strategic city of Shanxi. By August 8, the Japanese forces that had captured Beiping and Tianjin deployed the entire 20th Division, commanded by Lieutenant General Kawagishi Fumisaburo, and supplemented their efforts with the 5th and 10th Divisions, along with the Sakai Brigade, to attack Nankou along the Pingsui Railway. On August 8, the Japanese 11th Independent Mixed Brigade, led by General Shigiyasu Suzuki, initiated an attack on the left flank of the 13th Corps' position at Nankou. However, their efforts were halted after three days due to challenging terrain and the determined resistance from Chinese forces.  On the same day, Chiang Kai-shek ordered the activation of the 14th Group Army, comprising the 10th, 83rd, and 85th Divisions, under General Wei Lihuang. Elements of the 14th Group Army traveled by rail from Yingchia-chuang to Yi County and then embarked on a ten-day march through the plains west of Beiping to flank and support Tang Enbo's forces. Meanwhile, the Chinese 1st Army Region launched attacks against the Japanese in Liangxiang and Chaili to divert their attention and dispatched a detachment to Heilung Pass to cover the advance of the 14th Group Army. On August 9, the central high command ordered the China Garrison Army to eliminate resistance in the area and instructed Kwantung Army Commander Ueda Kenkichi to send reinforcements from Jehol and Inner Mongolia to support the operation. The China Garrison Army deployed its 11th Independent Mixed Brigade and the 5th Division, recently arrived from Hiroshima under Lieutenant-General Itagaki Seishirö, to launch an attack on the mountainous regions around Nankou and Pataling within the Great Wall. Following intense fighting, they succeeded in crossing into Chahar.    The Kwantung Army aimed to conquer Chahar and, upon receiving approval from the Japanese General Staff, established an expeditionary headquarters on August 14, led by its chief of staff, Lieutenant General Tojo Hideki. Yes that Tojo. Tokyo's objective was to secure the strategic flank of Manchukuo, while the Kwantung Army sought to create puppet regimes in northern China and integrate the occupied territories into a Japanese sphere of influence. The Chahar Expeditionary Force comprised three mixed brigades, including Japan's only fully mechanized unit, which was equipped with medium tanks, heavy and light armored vehicles, and light tanks. The Japanese troops shifted their main attack toward Zhangjiakou via the Pingsui Railway due to pressures from the Kwantung Army eager to occupy Inner Mongolia, Suiyuan, and Chahar. They sought to eliminate threats from the rear before launching further operations along the Pinghan Line and Jinpu Line. The 11th Independent Mixed Brigade of the 20th Division of the Chinese Garrison Army was ordered to assault Chinese defenders in the Nankou area, with the goal of capturing key locations on the Great Wall, like Badaling, to facilitate the Fifth Division's advance. The Chinese assessed the Japanese strategy, believing they would first secure critical points along the Pingsui route to facilitate further incursions into Shanxi and Zhengding. They understood that holding the Nankou line was vital for both logistical support and tactical maneuvering. Nankou, a key town on the Pingsui Railway connecting Beijing to Zhangjiakou and Baotou, was surrounded by mountains and the Great Wall, marking it a significant natural defense line. As the Japanese army aimed to capture Zhangjiakou and divide their forces into Shanxi and Suiyuan, the Chinese army's control over Nankou became crucial. A renewed assault on August 11, bolstered by tanks and aircraft, successfully captured Nankou Station, allowing General Suzuki's brigade to advance toward Juyong Pass. On August 12, Tang Enbo's army launched a counterattack, encircling the Japanese forces and severing their supply and communication lines. That day, Tang Enbo sent a telegram to Luo Fanggui: “Brother Fanggui, Commander Luo of the 529th Regiment, I have received your telegram. Your regiment has recently defeated formidable enemies, laying the groundwork for our army's future victories. Your efforts bring me great relief! The Nankou position is critical to our nation's war of resistance. Despite the enemy's numerical superiority and fierce artillery fire, we cannot surrender this area. It is our fighting spirit, not our numbers or advanced weaponry, that will help us withstand these powerful foes. We vow never to abandon our positions. Life is transient, and we must embrace our fate. A hero perishing on the battlefield is the glorious destiny of a soldier.” On the same day, he also sent a telegram to Wang Zhonglian: “Brother Jieren Wang, commander of the 89th Division, I have read your telegram. Brigade Li has triumphed against formidable foes, establishing a precedent for our army's victory. Your successes bring me much comfort! The Nankou position is our glorious objective. If I perish, the country lives on. If I survive, the country perishes. We would rather die defending this position than live in disgrace. Please convey to all the officers and soldiers of your division, who share in this struggle, the importance of striving for victory!” On August 13, Tang Enbo ordered the defensive positions at Nankou to be abandoned as the remaining troops pulled back to stronger positions at Badaling and Juyongguan. Renowned journalist Fan Changjiang noted Tang Enbo's physical and emotional toll, describing him as a mere shadow of his former self after enduring relentless battles without rest. His subsequent thoughts and fears reflected the despair of facing insurmountable odds, with the Japanese army overwhelming the Nankou defenses. Casualty reports from the Battle of Nankou reveal stark discrepancies; average estimates suggest Chinese losses neared 26,000, while Japanese casualties were around 2,600,an alarming ratio of 10 to 1. Despite the devastating defeat, Tang Enbo's leadership gained national recognition for his efforts, though he viewed the loss of Nankou as a blemish on an otherwise honorable defense. The indomitable spirit displayed during the relentless struggle at Nankou, despite the defeat and challenges faced, inspired a sense of resilience among the Chinese people, reminding them that even in dire circumstances, they would not yield to oppression. Meanwhile in response to having their supply and communication lines severed, on August 14, Seishirō Itagaki dispatched the 5th Division to relieve the 11th Independent Mixed Brigade at Juyonggua. Fu Zuoyi's troops attacked Chahar from Suidong. Dong Qiwu 's troops attacked Shangdu and recaptured it on the 14th, while Shi Yushan 's troops attacked Dehua and recaptured it on the 16th. By the 16, Itagaki had arrived at Nankou and initiated an enveloping assault targeting the right flank of the 13th Army, executing a five-pronged attack at Huanglaoyuan. In anticipation, the 7th Brigade of the 4th Division, commanded by Shi Jue, was positioned to counter this maneuver. Reinforcements, including Li Xianzhou's 21st Division and Zhu Huaibing's 94th Division, were brought in, resulting in several days of intense fighting. On August 17, General Yan Xishan, Director of the Taiyuan Pacification Headquarters, ordered the 7th Group Army, commanded by Fu Zuoyi, to move the 72nd Division and three additional brigades by rail from Datong to Huailai to support Tang Enbo's forces. Chiang Kai-shek urged steadfastness in the face of adversity, emphasizing that retreat was not an option. But with communication breakdowns and logistical challenges, Tang Enbo faced dilemmas that would lead him to issue the order for his troops to break out on August 26. As the Japanese army occupied Huailai and Yanqing, Tang Enbo's forces executed a withdrawal, retreating via various routes before suffering further losses.  Meanwhile Liu Ruming's troops of the 143rd Division of the 29th Army took Zhangbei from Zhangjiakou . Proceed to Wanquan Dam , the junction of Wanquan and Zhangbei. The members of the pseudo-Mongolian military government fled to Duolun under the leadership of King De . In order to relieve the danger in Zhangjiakou, Liu Ruming's troops began to attack the enemy in Zhangbei. On August 20, they captured key points such as Bolicai Village outside Zhangbei City. At this time, the mechanized troops of the Japanese Kwantung Army led by Hideki Tojo rushed from Rehe to support Zhangbei. When passing through Guyuan, they were divided into two groups: one group of Japanese troops, the Suzuki Brigade and Homma Brigade went south to attack Zhangjiakou. On the night of August 21, the Chinese army retreated to Shenweitai, 25 kilometers south of Zhangbei County. On August 22, the Japanese army began its attack. Shenwei Tower fell at midnight on the 23rd. At the same time, another part of the Japanese army launched a roundabout attack on Wanquan County. On the morning of August 24, they captured Wanquan County, and then headed straight for Zhangjiakou along the highway with an infantry regiment and an artillery battalion. From August 25 to 27, the Japanese army attacked Bajiaotai, the highest point of Cir Mountain west of Zhangjiakou. At noon on the 27th, Zhangjiakou fell. Gao Guizi's 17th Army marched to Dushikou to resist the enemy from Duolun Akagi and Longguan and intercepted the Pingsui Railway. Gao Guizi's troops failed to withstand the Japanese attack, and the 301st Regiment of the 29th Army stationed in Xuanhua also retreated southward. On August 28, Xuanhua fell into the hands of the enemy. Meanwhile, in northern Chahar, the Chinese 1st Cavalry Army successfully captured Shangdu, Nanhaochan, Shangyi, and Huade from the puppet Mongolian Army led by Demchugdongrub. Elements of the 143rd Division secured Zhongli, while the main force advanced to Zhangbei. During this Chinese offensive, the Japanese Chahar Expeditionary Force, consisting of the mechanized 1st Independent Mixed Brigade along with the 2nd and 15th Mixed Brigades, prepared for a counteroffensive from Zhangbei to Kalgan. Tojo personally commanded the units of the 1st Independent Mixed Brigade during Operation Chahar, which would serve as his only real combat service for his career. From August 18 to 19, the Chahar Expeditionary Force launched a counterattack from Zhangbei, capturing Shenweitaiko on the Great Wall and the Hanno Dam. The scattered and ill-equipped Chinese forces were unable to halt the Japanese advance, which now threatened the Peking–Suiyuan Railway at Kalgan. On August 20, General Fu Zuoyi's 7th Group Army diverted its 200th and 211th Brigades, which had been moving south by rail to join General Tang Enbo's forces, back to defend Kalgan. Fu's remaining 72nd Division arrived to reinforce Chenpien, while his 7th Separate Brigade was dispatched to protect the railhead at Huailai.On August 21, the Japanese forces breached the defenses at the villages of Henglingcheng and Chenbiancheng. General Tang Enbo's forces, awaiting reinforcements but having suffered over 50% casualties, continued to defend Huailai, Juyong Pass, and Yanqing. Liu Ruming's 143rd Division retreated to safeguard Kalgan from the advancing Japanese troops. On August 23, as Seishirō Itagaki's 5th Division advanced toward Huailai from Chenpien against Ma Yenshou's 7th Separate Brigade, advance elements of the 14th Army Group arrived on the Japanese flank at Chingpaikou. They successfully drove off the Japanese outpost and made contact with Japanese forces advancing toward Chenpien. However, delays in crossing the Yongding River postponed their attack until it was too late to halt the Japanese advance. Due to poor communications, they also failed to coordinate with General Tang Enbo's forces during the battle. After eight days and nights of fierce fighting, on August 24, Itagaki linked up with the Kwantung Army's 2nd Independent Mixed Brigade at Xiahuayuan. By August 24, the Japanese army breached the defensive line of the Chinese defenders' Wang Wanling Division along the western Hengling, crossed the Great Wall, and advanced into the Huailai area. At this time, the Japanese forces attacking Zhangjiakou from Chabei also secured control of the railway line west of Zhangjiakou, posing a significant threat to the Chinese defenders at Nankou. On August 25, the Chinese defenders were compelled to withdraw from Nankou and retreat to Juyongguan. By August 27, they received orders to break out and relocate southward, completely evacuating the Nankou battlefield. Since Wei Lihuang's troops lost their intended target for reinforcement and Baoding along the Pinghan Line was in a state of emergency, they engaged the enemy in the Wanping area for over a month before retreating south. Following the abandonment of both Nankou and Juyongguan, the Japanese army invaded Huailai City on the night of August 27. The Chinese army suffered over 16,000 casualties, while the Japanese army reported more than 15,000 casualties. On August 26, General Tang Enbo's forces were ordered to break out toward the Sangchien River, while Liu Ruming's troops were directed to withdraw to the opposite side of the Hsiang-yang River. On August 29, a Japanese unit known as the Oui Column by the Chinese and the Ohizumi Detachment by the Japanese launched an attack. According to Hsu Long-hsuen, this unit moved south from Tushihkou, and on August 30, it attacked Yenching via Chihcheng but was repelled by the Chinese 17th Army. The unit had moved to Guyuan by August 25 and reached Xuanhua by September 7, effectively cutting the railway behind Tang's forces and east of the Chinese defenders along the Great Wall. Following the repulsion of the Oui Column's attack, the Chinese 17th Army withdrew to join the rest of Tang Enbo's forces on the far side of the Sangchien River. Kalgan fell to the Japanese on August 27. After General Fu Zuoyi's 200th and 211th Brigades failed in their counterattack to recapture Kalgan, Fu's forces retreated to the west to defend the railway to Suiyuan at Chaikoupao.  On August 30, the army high command ordered the task force and the China Garrison Army to occupy Chahar Province. The North China Area Army deployed Lieutenant General Itagaki Seishiro's Fifth Division, the theater's strategic reserve, for this operation. The Japanese forces relied on armored units to breach Chinese defenses and utilized rail lines to transport troops and supplies effectively to critical locations throughout Chahar. Although the First Independent Mixed Brigade's tanks and armored cars demonstrated proficiency, the Kwantung Army's assessment of the operation criticized the armored units for their lack of shock effect and frequent mechanical breakdowns. Additionally, these vehicles required significant supplies and maintenance, leading the army to deem them ineffective in combat situations. The Second Air Group provided crucial support for the ground offensive in Chahar. From mid-August, this air group, stationed in Chengde and Jingzhou, conducted bombing raids on enemy positions and transport routes, performed reconnaissance missions, and even airdropped supplies to encircled Japanese forces. To match the rapid advance of the mechanized ground forces, air units were repositioned to advanced airfields. After bombing Taiyuan in late August, some units returned to their home bases, leaving behind two fighter squadrons and two heavy bomber squadrons, which formed a provisional air regiment. By mid-September, the Fifth Division and the Chahar Expeditionary Force were advancing southwest through the rugged mountains of Shanxi Province and captured Datong on September 13. Five days later, anticipating a decisive battle, Lieutenant General Katsuki ordered the Fifth Division to pivot southeast toward Baoding to encircle the retreating Chinese forces. Shortly after repositioning, Itagaki learned from aerial reconnaissance that Chinese units were assembling near Pingxingguan (Dayingzhen) Pass. Concerned that these forces might advance eastward through the pass and threaten his rear, Itagaki dispatched a regimental-sized task force under the command of Major General Miura Keiji, leader of the Twenty-first Brigade, to disperse the enemy troops and control the road on both sides of the pass. Miura's task force departed by truck in the mid-afternoon of the following day, but the overland movement proved much slower and more challenging than anticipated. Travelling along a single rutted dirt track through steep mountains, the forty-nine trucks carrying his infantry and heavy weapons, including crew-served machine guns and battalion artillery, could only manage a speed of seven miles per hour. By late afternoon, the lead elements were still about five miles east of the pass when they encountered a few hundred Chinese troops who had retreated after a brief firefight. As night fell, the Japanese moved cautiously forward and reached a village approximately a mile from the pass, where they encountered stiff resistance, including mortar and automatic weapons fire. After successfully repelling a counterattack by the Chinese Seventy-third Division, Miura launched a night assault. Supported by pack artillery and heavy machine guns, two Japanese companies pushed through the pass and seized the high ground on its west side by early morning. However, Chinese reinforcements soon arrived and attempted to reclaim the lost territory, resulting in ongoing fighting for the heights on September 24. Meanwhile, the Chinese Communist 115th Division, comprising the 685th, 686th, and 687th regiments of the Eighth Route Army, consisting of around 6,000 effective troops under the command of twenty-nine-year-old Lin Biao, maneuvered south around the Japanese rear. By September 24, they had interposed themselves on the road east of the pass, effectively cutting off Miura's task force from its supply base. That same day, the Central Army's Seventy-first Division launched several sharp counterattacks against Miura's outnumbered forces west of the pass, threatening to overrun the Japanese positions. Central Army and Communist forces had planned to attack both flanks of the Japanese at dawn on September 25, but torrential rains delayed the advance of the Central Army reserves. The downpour also muffled the sounds of an approaching Japanese night assault. Utilizing the poor night security of the Chinese, Japanese assault parties surprised the Seventy-first and Eighty-fourth divisions, pushing them from their positions west of the pass. Miura mistakenly believed he controlled both sides of the pass and assumed the Chinese forces were in full retreat. Unbeknownst to him, Lin Biao's troops had blocked the eastern entrance to the pass, prompting him to order a resupply column with rations and ammunition forward from about fifteen miles east of the pass to replenish his depleted task force. The supply train, consisting of seventy horse-drawn wagons and eighty trucks, struggled to make progress along the single dirt track, where sections had become muddy bogs due to the heavy rains. Most of the hundred-plus soldiers handling the horses and wagons were untrained and unarmed. The few regular service corps soldiers carried only ten cavalry carbines, while a single infantry platoon of thirty men provided security. The eighty trucks transported another 176 men, most of whom were not infantry. Therefore, the resupply column was ill-prepared for any trouble. Following a sunken road worn down by centuries of caravans, the column approached the pass through a narrow man-made defile, with its sides rising as high as thirty-five feet above the track. Around mid-morning, about four miles east of the pass, the Chinese Communist 115th Division launched an ambush. Communist troops rained grenades and small-arms fire from the high ground overlooking the road onto the trapped convoy. Although the Japanese fought back desperately, the combination of surprise, advantageous terrain, and overwhelming numbers turned the road into a killing ground. The ambush decimated almost all of the teamsters and the infantrymen who protected the wagons. At his field headquarters, Miura heard the heavy gunfire and explosions and quickly ordered a battalion-sized rescue force to assist the convoy. However, the Chinese 685th Regiment, blocking the only road to the trapped supply train, halted the Japanese battalion. Elements of the 685th and 686th regiments then finished off the motorized convoy, with only five trucks at the rear escaping. After looting weapons, equipment, and clothing, the Communists burned the remaining vehicles and withdrew southwest into the rugged mountains. Although the Communists claimed to have killed 3,000 Japanese troops, the more realistic number is around 200. Nonetheless, Lin Biao's guerrillas had achieved a significant tactical success. While the 115th Division destroyed the Japanese resupply column east of the pass, the Central Army's Sixth and Seventh Army Groups, including the Seventy-first Division, launched a series of day and night assaults against Miura's dispersed units west of the pass. Both sides incurred heavy losses, and the Japanese struggled to maintain control of the high ground as the Chinese fanned out through the valleys and attacked from all sides. Isolated and under heavy attack, the Japanese were low on ammunition, food, and water, lacked proper cold-weather clothing in the frigid mountains, and were greatly outnumbered. They resorted to scavenging ammunition and weapons from fallen Chinese soldiers. Itagaki promptly ordered his 41st and 21st infantry regiments, supported by an infantry regiment from the Kwantung Army located about fifty miles northeast of the pass, to rescue the beleaguered task force. These regiments moved along a narrow mountain road amidst heavy rain, which slowed their progress. The relief force split up about forty miles north of Pingxingguan, with the Twenty-first Regiment swinging westward to outflank the Chinese, while the other two regiments continued toward the pass. To the northwest, the Fifteenth Brigade of the Chahar Expeditionary Force advanced southeastward from Datong to encircle the Chinese. Central Army forces defending along the inner Great Wall, about fifty miles northwest of Pingxingguan, inflicted substantial casualties on the Japanese. The Japanese Forty-first Regiment finally reached Miura on September 28, and on the same day, the Twenty-first Regiment dislodged the stubborn defenders along the Inner Great Wall, roughly forty miles northwest of the pass, disrupting the entire Chinese defense and threatening to surround the besieging forces. Nonetheless, fighting continued through September 29, when the Second Brigade broke through the Chinese Central Army's defenses and advanced westward. Facing potential encirclement and certain destruction, the Japanese Sixth Army Group withdrew southwest the following day. Japanese accounts do not specify overall losses, but Chinese reports claim nearly 3,000 Japanese casualties while acknowledging they suffered ten times that number. After five days of intense fighting in rugged terrain, Miura's forces managed to hold their ground, but their heavy losses and those sustained by relief columns rendered it a Pyrrhic victory. Both Communist and Nationalist Chinese forces retreated southwest, surviving to fight another day. The determination of the Chinese Central Army in both offensive and defensive maneuvers, combined with the skillful hit-and-run tactics of the 115th Division, inflicted significant damage on the Japanese and became a cornerstone of Chinese propaganda. On October 1, the Japanese General Staff ordered the North China Area Army to destroy the Chinese forces in Shanxi Province, which were estimated to number over twenty divisions from either the Shanxi Army or the Central Army, and were fortifying positions in Taiyuan, Yangquan, and Yuanpingzhen. The Japanese Fifth and Twentieth Divisions advanced toward Taiyuan, while the Fifteenth Division, reinforced by a mixed brigade, launched an assault south from Yuanpingzhen on October 13. The Fifteenth Division quickly encountered strong Chinese resistance from well-prepared defenses, which halted its advance. From October 19 to 26, the Twentieth Division faced thirteen Chinese divisions entrenched near Jiuguan. Although they successfully repelled numerous fierce counterattacks, the division was unable to breach the Chinese lines. A maneuver by one of its regiments to the rear of the Chinese defenses forced a withdrawal of Chinese troops. The reconstituted Fifth Division joined the pursuit of the retreating Chinese forces on November 3, reaching Taiyuan five days later. Meanwhile, the Twentieth Division, moving westward, inflicted heavy losses on the Chinese units that were withdrawing from Taiyuan. Overall, given that the offensive aimed to secure territory, it can be considered a tactical and operational success. Shortly thereafter, all Japanese forces, except for the Twentieth Division, withdrew from Shanxi Province. The Chahar campaign concluded with the Kwantung Army in control of Chahar, Suiyuan, and the northern half of Shanxi Province. The Japanese quickly established puppet regimes in the captured territories. 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 July 1937, tensions between Japan and China erupted following the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, leading to fierce fighting as Japanese troops attacked. Chinese defenders, under command of Chiang Kai-shek, bravely resisted despite overwhelming odds, determined to protect their sovereignty. The Battle of Nankou saw relentless assaults, tank warfare, and desperate defense tactics, revealing the depth of Chinese resolve. 

  Last time we spoke about the Xi'an Incident. In December 1936, tensions in China erupted as Nationalist General Chiang Kai-shek faced a revolt led by his commanders, Zhang Xueliang and Yang Hucheng. Disillusioned by Chiang's focus on battling communists instead of the Japanese invaders, the generals swiftly captured him in a coup. Confined in Xi'an, Chiang initially resisted their demands for a united front against Japan but eventually engaged in negotiation with Zhang and the Chinese Communist Party. As public sentiment shifted against him, Chiang's predicament led to urgent discussions, culminating in an unexpected alliance with the communists. This pact aimed to consolidate Chinese resistance against Japanese aggression, marking a critical turning point in the Second Sino-Japanese War. By December 26, Chiang was released, and this uneasy collaboration set the stage for a more unified front against a common enemy, though underlying tensions remained between the factions.   #152 China Prepares for War 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. Before we jump into the Second Sino-Japanese War of 1937-1945, which I honestly have no idea how long will take us, I thought it would be a good idea to dedicate two episodes to how both China and Japan prepared themselves for war.  Going all the way back to the 1910s, Chinese intellectuals began to view an outright conflict between Japan and China was inevitable. In the discussions about China's strategic options, Jiang Fangzhen pioneered a strategy of protracted warfare, a concept that would later shape China's approach during the Sino-Japanese War. Having studied in Japan during his youth, Jiang developed a keen understanding of the Japanese government and military. As early as 1917, he predicted that China and Japan would become embroiled in a long-term conflict, with the battleground likely to be west of the Peiping–Wuhan and Guangzhou–Wuhan railways. In his work titled "Guofang Lun" or “On National Defense”, Jiang reiterated the importance of protracted warfare as a means to thwart Japan's aspirations for a swift victory. He argued that China should leverage its vast population and extensive territory to extend the conflict, gradually wearing down Japanese strength and turning the situation to its advantage. Jiang recommended that China not focus on defending its coastal regions but instead confront the enemy west of the Peking–Wuhan Railway.   Chiang Kai-shek would eventually come to share Jiang's belief that “the longer the war drags on, the more advantageous it will be for China.” Despite significant public criticism, both the Nationalist government and General Zhang Xueliang, decided against military resistance when Japan invaded Manchuria in September 1931 and attacked Shanghai in 1932. Chiang was particularly hesitant to engage Japan directly, as he was also dealing with a Communist insurgency in central China. He feared that Chinese forces would suffer quick defeat, predicting that Japan would capture key coastal areas and critical infrastructure within just three days, crippling China by dismantling its military and economic lifelines. Following the invasion of North China Chiang was forced to adopt a firmer stance. The Nationalist government proposed a dual strategy of pursuing peace and security while simultaneously preparing for war. If peace proved impossible, China would mobilize its resources for ultimate victory through prolonged conflict. This approach was formalized in the National Defense Plan, which China adopted by prioritizing protracted warfare as its core strategy. After the Sino-Japanese clash in Shanghai on January 28, 1932, the Military Affairs Commission devised a plan that divided China into four defense areas along with a preparation area. While some troops were assigned local security, commanders were directed to concentrate their remaining forces for potential confrontations with Japan. That year, the Military Affairs Commission issued General Defense Guidelines that outlined two strategic responses to a potential Japanese invasion. The first, conservative approach focused on maintaining key positions and utilizing protracted warfare to impede the enemy. The second strategy advocated for decisive battles in key regions to thwart Japan's ambitions and protect China's territorial integrity, prioritizing disengagement from Japanese forces along the Yangtze River and coastline. In August 1935, German military adviser General Alexander von Falkenhausen provided recommendations to Chiang Kai-shek based on his predictions of Japanese advance routes into China. He identified three main routes: one from northern Hebei to Zhengzhou, the second from Shandong toward Xuzhou, and the third crossing the Yangtze River to Nanjing and onwards to Wuhan. He suggested treating the Yangtze River as the primary combat zone and highlighted Sichuan as a possible retreat area. Taking all of this into consideration. in 1936, a draft of a new National Defense Plan divided the country into four zones: a war zone, a defense zone, an internal security zone, and a preparation area. The war zone encompassed ten provinces and established strategies for retreating to predetermined defensive positions when necessary, with Sichuan designated as the main base for the war. In January 1937, the Chinese General Staff Department introduced its annual War Plan, outlining three possible military conflict regions between China and Japan. It proposed two main strategies: Proposal A emphasized sustained combat and retreat to fortified positions if the situation became unfavorable, aiming to eventually go on the offensive against Japan. Proposal B focused on repelling Japanese invasions along the coast and from the north, prioritizing counter offensives against Japanese units stationed near key locations. To prepare, the NRA completed several critical projects outlined in its plans, establishing military supply depots in Nanjing, Bengbu, Xinyang, Huayin, Nanchang, and Wuchang to manage logistics for supplies across various strategic railways. These depots were equipped to sustain the military, with ample ammunition and provisions, including 60 million rounds of small-arms ammunition and food for hundreds of thousands. Despite these preparations, not all projects were completed by the time war broke out in July 1937. In contrast to the Japanese military's tactics, Chinese forces prioritized defensive strategies. For example, at the Mount Lushan Military Officer Training Camp in July 1934, Chiang Kai-shek outlined four possible approaches against Japan, favoring a defense-as-offense strategy. Other options included building fortifications, tenaciously defending key positions, and employing guerrilla warfare through irregular forces to constrain enemy advances. Chiang stressed the importance of national mobilization for the war effort.  There was a significant disparity in equipment between the Japanese and Chinese armies. To give you an idea, each Japanese division included a mechanized group featuring thirty-nine light military vehicles and 21 light armored cars, supplemented by 6,000–7,000 horses, 200–300 automobiles, and specialized troops such as poison gas teams. In contrast, Nationalist divisions lacked any of these capabilities, a typical nationalist division theoretically had an armored regiment, but this unit was equipped with fewer than 72 armored vehicles. Another major weakness of the Nationalist forces was their insufficient artillery. In 1936, a division was officially assigned one artillery battalion, which was divided into three batteries totaling twelve guns. It also included a mechanized cannon company with four direct-fire weapons. By comparison, a Japanese division boasted four infantry regiments and one mountain artillery or field artillery regiment, with each artillery regiment comprising three field artillery battalions and one howitzer battalion. The infantry regiment itself included a mountain artillery section with four mountain guns, while the infantry battalion had one Type 70 mountain gun section with two guns. In total, a Japanese division possessed sixty-four artillery pieces of various calibers, four times the number of a Chinese division and of significantly higher quality. In reality, in 1936, twelve of the twenty elite Chinese “reformed divisions” still lacked artillery battalions. The ordnance available in the “reformed divisions” mostly consisted of the outdated Type 60 mountain gun. Nationwide, very few of the 200 divisions were equipped with any artillery, and those that did often used obsolete field artillery pieces or mountain artillery provided to local forces. Some units even relied on trench mortars as a makeshift solution. The artillery weapons came from various countries, but they frequently lacked necessary observation and signal components, and were often low on ammunition. The majority of mountain guns and field artillery were of the Type 75, which, while capable of providing fire support, had limited range and inflicted minimal damage. To give you an idea of the striking inadequacy of the Chinese artillery, during the Shanghai fighting in 1937, the mountain artillery of the Guangxi 21st Army Group could only reach targets within 1,200 yards, while Japanese field artillery had an effective range of 8,000 yards. Chinese-made mountain artillery suffered due to inferior steel-making technology; the gun shields were constructed from low-quality steel, and the barrels often overheated after firing just a few rounds, increasing the risk of explosions. Additionally, the equipment of local forces varied greatly in quality. In fact, some local units had superior equipment compared to Nationalist units. For example, before the Sino-Japanese War, troops from Yunnan were equipped with French antitank guns and heavy machine guns, which were better than the German water-cooled machine guns used by the Nationalist forces. However, the majority of local troops relied on inferior equipment; the 122nd Division under Wang Mingzhang from Sichuan, noted for its brave defense of Tengxian County during the Xuzhou Battle, was armed with locally produced light and heavy machine guns that frequently malfunctioned, and their Type 79 rifles, also made in Sichuan, were often outdated, with some dating back to the Qing Dynasty. These weapons had limited range and sometimes malfunctioned after fewer than one hundred rounds. Now before the war, both Nationalist and local forces acquired weaponry from diverse foreign and domestic sources. Even domestically produced weapons lacked standardization, with those made in Hanyang and Manchuria differing in design and specifications. Arms manufactured in Germany, France, Russia, Japan, and Italy were similarly inconsistent. Consequently, even within a single unit, the lack of uniformity created significant logistical challenges, undermining combat effectiveness, particularly in the early stages of the war. Despite Nationalist ordnance factories producing over three million rounds of small-arms ammunition daily, the incompatibility of ammunition and weapons diminished the usable quantity of ammunition. Chinese communications infrastructure was inadequate. In the Nationalist army, signal units were integrated into engineering units, leading to low-quality radio communications. In emergencies, telegrams could remain undelivered for days, and orders often had to be dispatched via postal services. By 1937, the entire country boasted only 3,000 military vehicles, necessitating heavy reliance on horses and mules for transport. To effectively equip twenty Nationalist divisions, 10,647 horses and 20,688 mules were needed, but by the end of 1935, only 6,206 horses and 4,351 mules were available. A statistic from 1936 indicated a 5 percent mortality rate among military horses, with some units experiencing a rate as high as 10 percent. The distribution of weaponry led to disputes during army reorganization efforts following the Northern Expedition. Although Chiang Kai-shek's forces were part of the regular army, the quality of their equipment varied significantly. Domestic production of weapons was limited, and imports could not close the gap. Priority was given to small arms; through army reorganization, Chiang aimed to diminish the influence of forces less loyal to him. Nationalist army staff officers observed that troops loyal to Chiang received the best weapons. Northwest and Northeast forces, having cultivated good relations with the KMT, were similarly better equipped, while Shanxi troops received inferior supplies. Troops associated with the Guangxi Clique were given even poorer quality weapons due to their leaders' stronger political ambitions. Troops regarded as “bandit forces,” such as those led by Shi Yousan, Li Hongchang, and Sun Dianying, were naturally assigned the least effective weaponry. This unequal distribution of arms increased some local forces' inclination to align with the KMT while alienating others, which inadvertently led to additional turmoil in the aftermath of the Northern Expedition. Logistical accounting within the Nationalist military was severely lacking. Military expenditures accounted for a significant portion of government spending, roughly 65.48 % in 1937, with personnel costs being the largest component. However, military units prioritized boosting their own resources over accurate accounting. Surpluses were not returned but rather utilized to reward military officers and soldiers for merits in battle, care for the wounded, or to create a reserve. Conversely, if deficits arose, troops would resort to “living off vacancies,” a practice in which they would fail to report desertions promptly and would falsely claim new soldiers had arrived. Military leaders typically appointed their most trusted subordinates to serve as accountants and logistic officers. As the war commenced, these issues became readily apparent. During the Battle of Shanghai in 1937, frontline soldiers sometimes went days without food and went months without pay. Wounded soldiers and civilians had to search tirelessly for medical treatment, and when main forces relocated, they often abandoned grain, ammunition, weapons, and petroleum along the way. General Chen Cheng, the commander in chief during the Battle of Shanghai, noted, “This phenomenon clearly revealed our inability to supply frontline troops, indicating that China remains a backward country with poor management.” Many logistical shortcomings severely impacted troop morale and combat effectiveness. In a 1933 speech, Chiang Kai-shek acknowledged that poor food, inadequate clothing, and ineffective logistics contributed to widespread desertion. Soldiers were further demoralized by reduced or embezzled salaries. A lack of professional medical staff and equipment hampered healthcare efforts, leading to high disease and mortality rates. According to official statistics from 1936, approximately 10 percent of soldiers fell ill annually, with a mortality rate as high as 5 percent. Japanese military authorities reported that one in three wounded Japanese soldiers died, while a Dutch military officer present during the early stages of the Sino-Japanese War observed that one in every two wounded Nationalist soldiers perished. Due to inadequate equipment and limited transport options, Nationalist forces were compelled to recruit farmers and rent vehicles, as they lacked essential facilities such as tents. This reliance on local resources inevitably led to frequent conflicts between military personnel and civilians. China is clearly a vast nation with an extensive coastline, requiring the construction of several significant fortresses during the modern era. These included Wusong, Jiangyin, Zhenjiang, Jiangning, and Wuhan along the Yangtze River, as well as Zhenhai, Humen, and Changzhou along the seacoast. Except for the Wuhan fortress, built in 1929-1930, all other fortifications were established during the late Qing Dynasty and featured uncovered cannon batteries. These fortresses suffered from inadequate maintenance, and many of their components had become outdated and irreplaceable, rendering them militarily negligible. Following the January 1932 Shanghai Incident, the Japanese military destroyed the Wusong forts, leaving the entrance to the Yangtze River completely unfortified. Consequently, there were no defenses along the coastline from Jiangsu to Shandong, allowing the Japanese to land freely. In December 1932, the Military Affairs Commission established a fortress group tasked with constructing fortresses and defensive installations, seeking assistance from German military advisers. After the North China Incident in 1935, the Nationalist government accelerated the construction of defensive structures in line with national war planning, focusing particularly on Nanjing. The Nationalists prioritized building fortifications along the seacoast and the Yellow River, followed by key regions north of the Yellow River. The government also ordered a significant quantity of heavy artillery from Germany. This included several dozen pieces of flat-fire antiaircraft and dual-purpose heavy artillery, which were installed at fortifications in Jiangyin, Zhenjiang, Nanjing, and Wuhan. By the summer of 1937, the construction of nine fortified positions was complete: Nanjing, Zhenjiang, Jiangyin, Ningbo, Humen, Mawei, Xiamen , Nantong, and Lianyungang. In total, China had established 41 forts and equipped them with 273 fortress cannons. Some defensive installations were poorly managed, with many units assigned to their perimeters lacking training and access to proper maps. The barbette positions in the fortresses were not well concealed and could hardly store sufficient ammunition. Troops stationed at these fortresses received little training. Despite these shortcomings, the fortresses and fortifications were not entirely ineffective. They bolstered Chinese positions along the defense line stretching from Cangxian County to Baoding and from Dexian County to Shijiazhuang, as well as in southern Shandong.  Before the war, China's political and economic center was situated along the seacoast and the Yangtze River. As Japanese influence expanded, the Nationalist government was compelled to establish bases in China's inner regions, very similar to how the USSR pulled back its industry further west after Operation barbarossa.The Japanese attack on Shanghai in 1932 prompted the Nationalists to relocate their capital to Luoyang. On March 5, during the Second Plenary Session of the KMT's Fourth Congress, the Western Capital Preparation Committee was formed to plan for the potential relocation of all governmental bodies to Xi'an in the event of full-scale war. In February 1933, the Central Political Conference approved the Northwest Development Bill, and in February 1934, the National Economic Commission set up a northwestern branch to oversee development projects in the region. On October 18, 1934, Chiang Kai-shek traveled to Lanzhou, recording in his diary that “Northwest China has abundant resources. Japan and Russia are poised to bully us. Yet, if we strengthen ourselves and develop northwest China to the fullest extent, we can turn it into a base for China's revival.” Interestingly, it was Sichuan, rather than the northwest, that became China's rear base during the 2nd Sino-Japanese War. In October 1934, the Communist army evacuated its Soviet base in southern China, initiating the Long March that would ultimately end in the northwest. By this time, Chiang Kai-shek had decided to designate Sichuan as the last stronghold for China. In January 1935, the Nanchang Field Headquarters of the Military Affairs Commission, responsible for combatting the Communists and serving as the supreme military and political authority over most provinces along the Yangtze River and central China, dispatched a special advisory group to Chongqing. Following this, the Nationalist army advanced into Sichuan. On February 10, the Nationalists appointed a new provincial government in Sichuan, effectively ending the province's long-standing regionalism. On March 2, Chiang traveled to Chongqing, where he delivered a speech underscoring that “Sichuan should serve as the base for China's revival.” He stated that he was in Sichuan to oversee efforts against the Communist army and to unify the provincial administration.  After the Xinhai revolution, the Republic of China was still suing the Qing Dynasty's conscription system. However, once in power, the Nationalist government sought to establish a national military service program. In 1933, it enacted a military service law, which began implementation in 1936. This law categorized military service into two branches: service in the Nationalist army and in territorial citizen army units. Men aged eighteen to forty-five were expected to serve in the territorial units if they did not enlist in the Nationalist army. The territorial service was structured into three phases: active service lasting two to three years, first reserves for six years, and second reserves until the age of forty-five. The Ministry of Military Affairs divided China into sixty divisional conscription headquarters, initially establishing these headquarters in the six provinces of Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Anhui, Jiangxi, Henan, and Hubei. By December 1936, approximately 50,000 new soldiers had been drafted. The military service law disproportionately favored the middle and upper classes. Government personnel were exempt from enlistment, allowing privileged families to register their children with government agencies. Similarly, students in middle and higher education were excused from service, while youth from poorer backgrounds often felt compelled to enlist due to financial constraints that limited their educational opportunities. Village and town leaders were responsible for executing the recruitment process and frequently conspired with army recruiters. Recruitment principles often favored wealthier families, with guidelines stating that one son should be drafted for every three sons, two for five sons, but no drafts if there was only one son. Wealthy families could secure exemptions for all their male children, while poor families might see their only son conscripted if they were unable to provide the requisite bribe. Town and village heads wielded significant power in recruitment. This new recruitment system also created numerous money-making opportunities. Military personnel assigned to escort draftees to their units would often allow draftees to escape for a fee. Additionally, draftees could monetize their service by agreeing to serve as substitutes for others. For some, being drafted became an occupation. For example, in 1936, 600 individuals were drafted in the Wuhu area of Anhui province, and accounts from regional administrators indicated that every draftee had either been traded, replaced, or seized. Beginning in 1929, the Nationalist government also instituted military training for high school students and older individuals. Students were required to participate in one theoretical class and one practical class each week, totaling three hours. Starting in 1934, students had to complete a three-month military training program before graduating. Graduates of military academies were employed as military instructors. By the end of 1936, over 237,000 high school students had undergone military training. This student military training was overseen by the Society for the Implementation of the Three People's Principles of Sun Yat-sen, which also provided political education and sometimes gathered information on students' political beliefs.  Although the Nationalists made significant efforts to improve the military training of both officers and troops, they inherited deep-seated challenges that they were unable to completely overcome. A lack of facilities, outdated training manuals, low regard for military instructors, and the ongoing influence of regionalism and warlordism hindered progress. The Japanese would also later exploit these shortcomings of the Nationalist army. The Central Military Academy, which evolved from the Whampoa Military Academy established in 1923 in Guangzhou to train officers for the Northern Expedition, became the primary training institution for junior military officers. The academy offered a basic course, lasting eighteen months, which included general education, specialized training in various subjects, and field practice. This was followed by a two-year cadet training program focused on developing the skills necessary for junior military officers. Seventeen classes were admitted before the outbreak of war. Admission to the academy was highly competitive, with military officers receiving attractive salaries. For instance, in 1935, the academy received 10,000 applications for the twelfth class, but only 7% were accepted. Upon graduation, cadets were typically assigned to divisions within the Nationalist army loyal to Chiang Kai-shek. Their training, influenced by German advisors, resulted in a high-quality cadre. In modern China, most sergeants were veterans. While some units provided training for sergeants, a lack of formal education led to their diminished status. Truly qualified sergeants were rare. During his tenure as Minister of Military Training, General Bai Chongxi proposed establishing a sergeant school and creating a professional noncommissioned officer system; however, the Ministry of Military Affairs opposed this on financial grounds. While commanding officers enjoyed rapid promotions, military instructors did not. Furthermore, there was no system for transferring instructors to field commands or assigning commanders to military academies for extended periods. Despite minor updates to cover modern warfare concepts such as tank warfare and machine guns, Qing Dynasty military manuals were still in use at the Central Military Academy at the start of the war. Yeah, 1937 they were still rocking the old Qing books. Following the establishment of the Ministry of Military Training, a bureau for military translation was set up to evaluate existing course materials and translate military manuals, but its contributions were limited. Another significant shortcoming of military instruction focused on theory at the expense of practical application.  To enhance the quality of military officers, the Nationalist army instituted specialized schools for artillery, infantry, transport, engineering, and signals starting in 1931. These institutions were considered to have high-quality administrators and facilities. The Nationalists adopted German military training models, replacing the previously used Japanese models. They appointed German advisors to oversee instructor training at military academies and established three instructional divisions. By the onset of the Sino-Japanese War, 15,000 students had graduated from programs with a German military influence, resulting in the creation of about fifty combat divisions from these instructional units. However, the progress of other Nationalist army units was limited because their training was not aligned with contemporary battlefield realities. Before World War I, troops operated in close formations due to limited firepower. The widespread introduction of machine guns after World War I necessitated a shift to dispersed formations. Although a new drill manual issued by the Ministry of Military Training in 1935 introduced small-group tactics, few units adopted these methods. General Chen Cheng highlighted another underlying issue in 1938, commenting on the outmoded focus on parade ground drills and formal military manners. He noted, “We have paid too much attention to stereotypical formality and procedures of no practical use. Sometimes, even though soldiers could not get a haircut or take a bath for several months, their camps had to be in order. They underwent intensive training in close-order drill but learned little about gun handling, marksmanship, or maneuvering. This was inappropriate in peacetime, yet we continued this practice even after the Sino-Japanese War started, even using it on highly educated youth.” In contrast, the Communist army simplified training, emphasizing two essential skills: live-fire exercises and physical endurance, which significantly enhanced troop effectiveness in the challenging terrain characteristic of the Sino-Japanese War. Ultimately, the Nationalist army's training did not reach all soldiers. Only about half of all combat soldiers received adequate training, while the rest were neglected. According to statistics from the time, there were approximately five million military personnel during the Sino-Japanese War, with three million serving in logistics. Most of these logistics personnel had received little training, leading to disastrous consequences for overall combat effectiveness. As warfare has become more complex, the role of highly trained staff officers has become increasingly important. Napoleon developed operational plans close to the front and communicated orders via courier. During World War I, military commanders collected information at their headquarters and utilized telephones and automobiles to relay orders to the front lines. In World War II, with the battlefield expanding to include land, sea, and air, senior commanders often made decisions from headquarters far from the action, relying on a significant number of staff officers with specialized skills to keep them informed. In China, however, the staff officer system was underdeveloped. By 1937, only about 2,000 commanders and staff officers had received training. Prior to the Sino-Japanese War, most commanders managed staff work themselves, with staff officers serving primarily as military secretaries who drafted orders, reports, and maps. Many staff officers had no formal military training, and as a whole, the branch lacked respect, causing the most talented officers to avoid serving in it. The situation was even more dire for staff officer departments within local forces. For example, in March 1937, Liu Ziqing, a graduate of the Whampoa Military Academy, was appointed as the director of political instruction in the Forty-fourth Army, a unit under Sichuan warlord Liu Xiang. Liu Ziqing's account illustrates the dysfunction within the ranks: “The commander in chief was not supposed to manage the army and even did not know its whereabouts... But he could appoint relatives and former subordinates—who were officials and businessmen as well—to the army. Each month they would receive a small stipend. At headquarters, there was a long table and two rows of chairs. Around ten o'clock in the morning, senior officers signed in to indicate their presence. Those with other business would leave, while the remaining officers sat down to leisurely discuss star actresses, fortune-telling, business projects, mah-jongg, and opium. Occasionally they would touch on national affairs, chat about news articles, or share local gossip. In the afternoons, they primarily played mah-jongg, held banquets, and visited madams. Most mornings, the commander usually presided over these activities, and at first, I reported for duty as well. But I soon realized it was a waste of time and came very rarely. At headquarters, most staff members wore long gowns or Western-style suits, while military uniforms were a rare sight.” Most senior military personnel were trained at the Baoding Military Academy during the early republic. 2/3rds of commanders in chief, 37 %of army commanders, and 20 % of division commanders were Baoding graduates. Higher-ranking officers were more likely to have launched their careers there. In contrast, only 10 % of division commanders and a few army commanders were graduates of the Whampoa Military Academy. Additionally, commanders trained in local military schools and those with combat experience accounted for 1/3rd of all commanders. While the prevalence of civil war provided opportunities for rapid promotion, it also hindered officers' ability to update their training or gain experience in different military branches. German advisors expressed their concerns to Chiang Kai-shek, emphasizing that officers should first serve in junior roles before taking command. During one battle in 1938, Chiang noted, “Our commanders in chief are equivalent only to our enemy's regiment commanders, and our army and division commanders are only as competent as our enemy's battalion and company commanders.” Despite not viewing high-ranking Japanese officers as great strategists, Nationalist officers respected them as highly competent, diligent, and professional commanders who rarely made critical errors. The infantry was the primary component of the Nationalist army, with middle and junior infantry officers constituting over 80 %of all army officers. A 1936 registry of military officers listed 1,105 colonels and 2,159 lieutenant colonels within the infantry, demonstrating a significant outnumbering of Baoding graduates at ranks below lieutenant colonel. However, the quality of middle and junior infantry officers declined during the Sino-Japanese War; by 1944, only 27.3 % of these officers were from formal military academies, while those promoted from the ranks increased to 28.1 %. In 1937, 80 % of officers in an ordinary infantry battalion were military academy graduates, but this percentage dropped to 20 % during the war. Its hard to tell how educated soldiers were before the war, but it is generally believed that most were illiterate. In 1929, sociologist Tao Menghe surveyed 946 soldiers from a Shanxi garrison brigade and found that only 13 percent could compose a letter independently, while the rest had either never learned to read or were unable to write. In contrast, in August 1938, General Feng Yuxiang found that 80 percent of a regiment in Hunan were literate. Regardless, during the Sino-Japanese War, the quality of recruits steadily declined. More than 90 percent of soldiers were illiterate, and few possessed any basic scientific knowledge, which hindered their ability to master their weapons. On the battlefield, they heavily relied on middle and junior officers for guidance.  In autumn 1933, General Hans von Seeckt, the architect of the post World War I German army, visited China at the personal invitation of Chiang Kai-shek. In his recommendations for military reform, he identified China's greatest problem as its excessively large forces drawn from diverse backgrounds. He stated, “At present, the most pressing goal is to... establish a small, well-equipped army with high morale and combat effectiveness to replace the numerous poorly armed and trained forces.” He suggested forming an army of sixty divisions and recommended the establishment of a training regiment for military officers to equip them with the skills needed for modern warfare. Chiang Kai-shek accepted von Seeckt's proposals, and on January 26, 1935, he convened a National Military Reorganization Conference in Nanjing. On March 1, the Army Reorganization Bureau was established in Wuchang, under the leadership of General Chen Cheng. In the same month, General Alexander von Falkenhausen took charge of the German Military Advisors Group. Before war broke out, around nineteen divisions, roughly 300,000 troops received training from German advisors and were equipped with German-style weapons. At the onset of the Sino-Japanese War, the forces stemming from the First Army of the National Revolutionary Army and the Whampoa cadets, who had fought in the Northern Expedition, held the highest reputation and were referred to as the “core central forces” by the Japanese. Other notable forces included the Guangxi Army, Northwestern Army, Northeastern Army, some Uyghur units, the Guangdong Army, and the Shanxi Army. In contrast, provincial forces such as the Yunnan Army and Sichuan Army were viewed less favorably. Nationalist forces were generally far inferior to those of the Japanese enemy. In 1937, General He Yingqin noted that Nationalist forces had failed to prevail in 1932 and 1933, even when outnumbering the Japanese by 4-1.  In November 1937, during a national defense conference, Chiang Kai-shek stated, "In recent years we have worked hard, prepared actively, and achieved national unification. By the time of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, we were in a better domestic situation and had improved military preparedness compared to before. Since 1935, our strength has doubled. It increased by more than two to three times since January 1932 or September 1931 [when Japan attacked Shanghai and Mukden]. If peace had been achievable, we should have delayed the war for two or three years. Given an additional three years, our defensive capabilities would have been drastically different... Now, if we merely compare the military strength of China and Japan, we are certainly inferior." However, such assessments were overly optimistic, as Chiang failed to recognize that Japan's military capabilities would not have stagnated. 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. Generalissimo Chiang Kai-Shek certainly was dealt a difficult hand of cards for the upcoming poker match he was to play. Yet the Chinese were resilient and they had to be for the absolute horror that would be inflicted upon them from 1937-1945. Until this point, their enemies had been far more lenient, the Empire of Japan would show no mercy.

Last time we spoke about Operation Chahar. In the turbulent year of 1935, tensions surged in North China as the Kwantung Army defied Tokyo's orders, encroaching deeper into Chahar province. This period was marked by widespread anti-Japanese sentiments, fueled by local revolts and the assassination of pro-Japanese figures, which infuriated Japanese authorities. On May 20, the Kwantung Army launched an offensive against a bandit group led by Sun Yungqin, seeking to exert control over the demilitarized regions established by earlier agreements. Their swift victory forced the resignation of local officials opposing Japanese interests. As chaos escalated, the Chinese government, under pressure to appease Japan, dismantled anti-Japanese factions and dismissed key leaders. The climax in this saga came with the signing of the He-Umezu Agreement, stripping China of authority in Hubei and Chahar, signaling Japan's increasing dominance and setting the stage for further exploitation of the region.   #150 The February 26 Incident 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. While this podcast is supposed to be given through the Chinese perspective, I apologize but yet again I need to jump over to the Japanese side. You see, a very pivotal moment during the Showa era would occur in the year of 1936. I think it's crucial to understand it, and the underlying issues of it, to better understand what we will be stuck in for the unforeseeable future, the Second Sino-Japanese War. I've briefly mentioned the two factions within the Japanese military at this time, but now I'd really like to jump into them, and a major incident that made them collide. In the aftermath of WW1, 2 prominent factions emerged during this tumultuous period: the Kodoha, or Imperial Way Faction, and the Toseiha, or Control Faction. Each faction represented distinct visions for Japan's future, deeply influencing the nation's course leading up to World War II. The Kodoha rose to prominence in the 1920s, driven by a fervent belief in Japan's divine destiny and its right to expand its imperial reach across Asia. This faction was characterized by its adherence to traditional Japanese values, rooted in the samurai ethos. They viewed the Emperor as the embodiment of Japan's spirit and sought to return to the moral foundations they believed had been eroded by “Western influence”. The Kodoha was often critical of the West, perceiving the encroachment of Western thought and culture as a threat to Japan's unique identity. Their ideology emphasized a robust military force, advocating for aggressive campaigns in regions like Manchuria and China to assert Japan's dominance. Contrasting sharply with the Kodoha, the Toseiha began to emerge as a more dominant political force in the late 1930s. The Toseiha embraced a pragmatic approach, advocating for a disciplined military that could engage effectively with the complexities of modern warfare. They recognized the importance of retaining some traditional values while also integrating Western military techniques. Rather than rejecting Western influence entirely, the Toseiha believed in adapting to global shifts to ensure Japan's strength and security. The Toseiha's moderation extended to their governance strategies, as they prioritized political stability and control over radical ideology. They saw this approach as crucial for creating a robust state capable of managing Japan's expansionist ambitions without provoking the backlash that Kodoha tactics elicited. Their more calculated approach to military expansion included securing partnerships and pursuing diplomatic solutions alongside military action, thereby presenting a less confrontational image to the world. Now after Manchuria was seized and Manchukuo was ushered in, many in the Japanese military saw a crisis emerge, that required a “showa restoration' to solve. Both factions aimed to create military dictatorships under the emperor. The Kodoha saw the USSR as the number one threat to Japan and advocated an invasion of them, aka the Hokushin-ron doctrine, but the Toseiha faction prioritized a national defense state built on the idea they must build Japans industrial capabilities to face multiple enemies in the future. What really separated the two, was the Kodoha sought to use a violent coup d'etat to make ends meet, whereas the Toseiha were unwilling to go so far. The Kodoha faction was made up mostly of junior and youthful officers, typically country boys as we would call them. These were young men whose families were not the blue bloods, farmer types. They viewed the dramatic changes of Japan in light of their own family experiences, many were impoverished by the dramatic changes. A very specific thing these Kodoha boys hated were the Zaibatsu. The Zaibatsu were large Japanese business conglomerates, primarily active from the Meiji period until WW2. They combined various industries, including banking, manufacturing, and trading. Prominent examples included Mitsubishi and Sumitomo. The reason they hated the Zaibatsu was because they believed they were influenced by western thought and that they super succeeded the authority of the emperor. More or less you can think of it as “we hate the fat cats who are really running things”.   Now the Toseiha faction were willing to work with the Zaibatsu to make Japan stronger. Basically they believed them to just be a necessary evil, you had to play ball to get things rolling. Random note, Hirohito's brother Prince Chichibu sympathized with the Kodoha faction and repeatedly counseled his brother that he should implement direct imperial rule even if it meant suspending the constitution, aka a show restoration. Hirohito believed his brother who was active in the IJA at the time was being radicalized. Now I cant go through the entire history of it, but this time period is known as the “government by assassination” period for Japan. Military leaders in the IJA, IJN and from within the Kodoha and Toseiha factions kept assassinating politicians and senior officers to push envelopes forward. Stating all of that, I now want to talk about the February 26th incident and I will add I am using a specific source, simply because it's my favorite. That is Herbert P Bix's Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan. In late 1934, several officers from the Imperial Way faction at the Army Cadet School were arrested for plotting a coup. Although there were no immediate repercussions, the following year, two of the same Kodoha officers, named Isobe Asaichi and Muranaka Takaji were arrested again for distributing a document accusing Toseiha faction officers, like Major General Nagata Tetsuzan, of previously drafting coup plans against the government. This time, the army's upper echelons responded firmly, condemning Isobe and Muranaka's accusations as acts of disloyalty, resulting in both officers losing their commissions. Meanwhile, other Imperial Way officers sought retaliation against Nagata, who was rumored to be planning a major purge to eliminate factionalism within the army. Tatsukichi Minobe was a Japanese statesman and scholar of constitutional law and in the 1930s he began a movement bringing up the very real issue with the Meiji constitution in relation to the role of the emperor. In August 1935, amid a populist movement denouncing Minobe's interpretation of the constitution, Lt colonel Aizawa Saburo from Kodoha faction entered Nagata's office and fatally attacked him with his katana. This marked a significant escalation in the military struggle over state reform and the push for increased military funding, which was intertwined with the movement against Minobe. Meanwhile anti- Prime Minister Okada factions within the army, continuing to use slogans like “kokutai clarification” and “denounce the organ theory,” intensified their attacks on the emperor's advisers and hereditary peers. Senior generals from the Kodoha faction arranged a public court-martial for Aizawa, held by the 1st Division, a group heavily populated by Kodoha officers based in Tokyo. When Aizawa's trial commenced on January 12, 1936, his defense team transformed it into an emotional condemnation of the Okada cabinet, the court entourage, and Minobe's constitutional theories. This strategy garnered support across the nation, even reaching unexpected places like the imperial palace, where Dowager Empress Teimei Kogo, a staunch rightist, expressed sympathy for Aizawa. However, before the trial could progress, a military mutiny disrupted proceedings in the capital. Shockwaves rippled through the army after Army Minister Hayashi dismissed Kodoha member General Mazaki from his position overseeing military education and ordered the transfer of the 1st Division to Manchuria, which ignited the largest army uprising in modern Japanese history. The uprising was orchestrated through a series of meetings held from February 18 to 22 by key individuals including Nishida, Yasuhide Kurihara, Teruzō Andō, Hisashi Kōno, Takaji Muranaka, and Asaichi Isobe. Their plan was relatively straightforward: the officers would assassinate the most prominent adversaries of the kokutai, seize control of the administrative center of the capital and the Imperial Palace, and present their demands, which included the dismissal of certain officials and the establishment of a new cabinet led by Mazaki. They did not establish long-term goals, believing that those should be determined by the Emperor. However, it is suspected that they were prepared to replace Hirohito with Prince Chichibu if necessary. The young Kodoha officers felt they had at least implicit support from several influential Imperial Japanese Army officers after making informal inquiries. This group included figures such as Araki, Minister of War Yoshiyuki Kawashima, Jinzaburō Mazaki, Tomoyuki Yamashita, Kanji Ishiwara, Shigeru Honjō, as well as their immediate superiors, Kōhei Kashii and Takeo Hori. Later, Kawashima's successor as Minister of War remarked that if all the officers who had endorsed the rebellion were forced to resign, there would not have been enough high-ranking officers left to replace them. To articulate their intentions and grievances, the young officers prepared a document titled "Manifesto of the Uprising" “Kekki Shuisho”, which they intended to present to the Emperor. Although the document was authored by Muranaka, it was written under the name of Shirō Nonaka, the highest-ranking officer involved in the plot. The document aligned with Kokutai Genri-ha ideals, criticizing the genrō, political leaders, military factions, zaibatsu, bureaucrats, and political parties for jeopardizing the kokutai with their selfishness and disregard for the Emperor, and emphasized the need for direct action: “Now, as we face immense foreign and domestic challenges, if we do not eliminate the disloyal and unjust who threaten the kokutai, if we do not remove the villains obstructing the Emperor's authority and hindering the Restoration, the Imperial vision for our nation will come to naught [...] Our duty is to purge the malevolent ministers and military factions surrounding the Emperor and eradicate their influence; we shall fulfill this mission.” Seven targets were selected for assassination for "threatening the kokutai". Keisuke Okada served as Prime Minister, where he notably advocated for the London Naval Treaty and supported the "organ theory" of the kokutai. His actions reflect a commitment to international agreements and specific ideological principles at the time. Saionji Kinmochi, a Genrō and former Prime Minister, also supported the London Naval Treaty. However, his influence extended further, as he played a role in prompting the Emperor to establish inappropriate cabinets, impacting political stability. Makino Nobuaki, the former Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal and Foreign Minister, was another key figure who supported the London Naval Treaty. He notably prevented Prince Fushimi from voicing protests to the Emperor during this period, and he established a court faction in collaboration with Saitō, further entrenching political alliances. In his capacity as Grand Chamberlain, Kantarō Suzuki supported the London Naval Treaty but faced criticism for "obstructing the Imperial virtue," suggesting tensions between political decisions and traditional values. Saitō Makoto, who served as Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal and former Prime Minister, was involved in advocating for the London Naval Treaty and played a significant role in Mazaki's dismissal. He, too, formed a court faction with Makino, indicating the intricacies of court politics. Takahashi Korekiyo, as Finance Minister and former Prime Minister, engaged in party politics with the aim of diminishing military influence. His approach was focused on maintaining the existing economic structure amid the shifting political landscape. Finally, Jōtarō Watanabe, who replaced Mazaki as Inspector General of Military Education, supported the "organ theory" of the kokutai yet faced criticism for refusing to resign, despite being considered unsuitable for his position. On the night of February 25, Tokyo experienced a heavy snowfall, which uplifted the rebel officers as it evoked memories of the 1860 Sakuradamon Incident. During this event, political activists known as shishi assassinated Ii Naosuke, the chief advisor to the Shōgun, in the name of the Emperor. The rebel forces, organized into six groups, began mobilizing their troops and departing from their barracks between 3:30 and 4:00 AM. At 5:00 AM, they launched simultaneous attacks on key targets, including Okada, Takahashi, Suzuki, Saito, the Ministry of War, and the headquarters of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police. At around five o'clock on the morning of February 26, 1936, a rebellion erupted, fueled by the long-standing tensions surrounding the kokutai issues that had plagued 1935. Twenty-two junior officers led over 1,400 armed soldiers and non-commissioned officers from three regiments of the 1st Division and an infantry unit of the Imperial Guards in a mutiny in snow-covered Tokyo. The attack on Okada involved a contingent of 280 men from the 1st Infantry Regiment, commanded by 1st Lieutenant Yasuhide Kurihara. The troops encircled the Prime Minister's Residence and compelled its guards to open the gates. Upon entering the compound, they attempted to locate Prime Minister Okada but were met with gunfire from four policemen stationed there. All four policemen were killed, wounding six rebel soldiers in the process. However, the shots served as a warning for Okada, prompting his brother-in-law, Colonel Denzō Matsuo, to help him find refuge. Matsuo, who closely resembled Okada, was eventually discovered by the soldiers and killed. After comparing Matsuo's wounded face to a photograph of the prime minister, the attackers mistakenly believed they had accomplished their mission. Okada managed to escape the following day, but this information was kept confidential, and he did not play any further role in the events. After Matsuo's death, Kurihara's men took up guard positions around the compound, reinforced by sixty soldiers from the 3rd Imperial Guard. In another key operation, Captain Kiyosada Kōda led a group of 160 men to seize control of the Minister of War's residence, the Ministry of War, and the General Staff Office. Upon entering the Minister's residence at 6:30 AM, they demanded to see Minister Kawashima. Once admitted, they read their manifesto aloud and presented a document detailing several demands, including: A prompt resolution to the situation that would further "advance the cause of the Restoration." A call to prevent the use of force against the Righteous Army. The arrest of Kazushige Ugaki (Governor-General of Korea), Jirō Minami (commander of the Kwantung Army), Kuniaki Koiso (commander of the Korean Army), and Yoshitsugu Tatekawa for their roles in undermining military command. The immediate dismissal of Lieutenant Colonel Akira Mutō, Colonel Hiroshi Nemoto, and Major Tadashi Katakura from the Imperial Japanese Army for promoting "factionalism." The appointment of Araki as the new commander of the Kwantung Army. Ugaki, who served as Minister of War during two separate terms, had overseen significant reductions and modernization efforts within the army. He had also failed to support the March Incident plotters, who had hoped to install him as Prime Minister. Minami, Mutō, Nemoto, and Katakura were all influential members of the Tōsei-ha faction; Katakura had been partly responsible for reporting on the Military Academy Incident. Later that morning, Isobe encountered Katakura outside the Ministry of War and shot him non-fatally in the head. During this tumultuous period, several officers sympathetic to the rebels, including General Mazaki, General Tomoyuki Yamashita, and General Ryū Saitō, joined the uprising. Saitō praised the young officers' spirit and encouraged Kawashima to accept their demands. Shortly before 9:00 am, Kawashima indicated he needed to speak with the Emperor and left for the Imperial Palace. Meanwhile, Captain Hisashi Kōno led a team of seven, comprised mostly of civilians, to attack Makino Nobuaki, who was staying at Kōfūsō, part of the ryokan Itōya in Yugawara, Kanagawa Prefecture, with his family. Arriving at 5:45 am, they stationed two men outside while entering the inn with weapons drawn. Inside, policemen opened fire, leading to a lengthy exchange of gunfire. A policeman managed to alert Makino and his party of the danger, guiding them to a rear exit. Although the assassins fired at the escaping group, Makino successfully evaded capture. Kōno sustained a gunshot wound to the chest, and one policeman, Yoshitaka Minagawa, was killed. As Kōno was evacuated from the scene, the assailants set fire to the building. Hearing a gunshot, Kōno assumed that Makino had shot himself inside. After his recovery at a nearby military hospital, Kōno and his team were arrested by military police. Around 10:00 am, Kurihara and Nakahashi loaded a fleet of three trucks with sixty men and drove from the Prime Minister's Residence to the offices of the Asahi Shimbun, a significant liberal newspaper. They stormed the building, ordering the evacuation of employees and declaring their actions as "divine retribution for being an un-Japanese newspaper." The rebels then overturned and scattered the newspaper's type trays, containing 4,000 different characters, temporarily halting its publication. Following this attack, the men distributed copies of the uprising's manifesto to nearby newspapers before returning to the Prime Minister's Residence. On another front, 1st Lieutenant Motoaki Nakahashi of the 3rd Imperial Guard gathered 135 men and, under the pretext of paying respects at Yasukuni Shrine, marched to Takahashi Korekiyo's residence. There, he divided his forces, sending one group to attack while the other remained to guard the entrance. After breaking into the compound, Nakahashi and Lieutenant Kanji Nakajima found Takahashi in bed, where Nakahashi shot him while Nakajima delivered a fatal sword strike. Takahashi died without waking. Once his target was eliminated, Nakahashi regrouped with the soldiers and proceeded to the Imperial Palace, aiming to secure it. Entering through the western Hanzō Gate at 6:00 am, Nakahashi informed Major Kentarō Honma, the palace guard commander, that he had been dispatched to reinforce the gates due to earlier attacks. Honma, already aware of the uprisings, accepted Nakahashi's arrival. He was assigned to help secure the Sakashita Gate, the primary entrance to the Emperor's residence. Nakahashi planned to signal nearby rebel troops at police headquarters once he controlled access to the Emperor. However, he struggled to contact his allies, and by 8:00 am, Honma learned of his involvement in the uprising and ordered him, at gunpoint, to vacate the palace grounds. Nakahashi complied and returned to join Kurihara at the Prime Minister's Residence, while his soldiers remained at the gate until relieved later that day, preventing their inclusion in the government's official count of rebel forces. Elsewhere, 1st Lieutenant Naoshi Sakai led a detachment of 120 men from the 3rd Infantry Regiment to Saitō Makoto's home in Yotsuya. After surrounding the policemen on guard, five soldiers entered the residence and found Saitō and his wife, Haruko, in their bedroom. They shot Saitō dead, prompting Haruko to plead for her life, saying, "Please kill me instead!" While they pulled her away, she was unwittingly wounded by stray gunfire. Following Saitō's assassination, two officers directed another group to target General Watanabe, while the remaining men moved to strategically position themselves northeast of the Ministry of War. In Kōjimachi, Captain Teruzō Andō commanded 200 men from the 3rd Infantry Regiment to assault Suzuki's residence across from the Imperial Palace. After disarming the police on duty, they located Suzuki in his bedroom and shot him twice. When Andō moved to deliver the coup de grâce with his sword, Suzuki's wife implored to be allowed to do it herself, believing her husband to be fatally wounded. Andō obliged and, apologizing for the act, explained it was for the nation's sake. After saluting Suzuki, the soldiers left to guard the Miyakezaka junction north of the Ministry of War. Following the assault on Saitō, a party of twenty men, led by 2nd Lieutenants Tarō Takahashi and Yutaka Yasuda, headed to Watanabe's residence in Ogikubo after 7:00 AM. Despite the two-hour delay since previous attacks, no measures had been taken to alert Watanabe. As they attempted to storm the front entrance, military police inside opened fire, wounding Yasuda and another soldier. The troops then gained entry through the rear, confronting Watanabe's wife outside their bedroom. After shoving her aside, they found Watanabe using a futon as cover. He opened fire, prompting one soldier to retaliate with a light machine gun. Takahashi then rushed in and fatally stabbed Watanabe, witnessed by his nine-year-old daughter, Kazuko, who hid nearby. The soldiers departed, taking their wounded to a hospital before positioning themselves in northern Nagatachō. In a significant move, Captain Shirō Nonaka led nearly a third of the rebel forces, comprising 500 men from the 3rd Infantry Regiment, to assault the Tokyo Metropolitan Police headquarters. Their objective was to secure communication equipment and prevent dispatch of the police's Emergency Service Unit. Meeting no resistance, they quickly occupied the building, possibly due to a strategic decision to leave the situation in the military's hands. After securing the police headquarters, 2nd Lieutenant Kinjirō Suzuki led a small group to attack Fumio Gotō's residence, the Home Minister's, but found that Gotō was not home, thus allowing him to escape. This attack appeared to result from Suzuki's independent decision, rather than a coordinated effort among the officers. Despite all of these actions, the Kodoha boys had failed to secure the Sakashita Gate to the palace, which allowed the palace to maintain communication with the outside world, and they neglected to address potential naval interventions. At the Yokosuka naval base, Rear Adm. Yonai Mitsumasa and his chief of staff, Inoue Shigeyoshi, positioned marines to defend the Navy Ministry and prepared warships in Tokyo Bay to suppress the rebellion. By the morning of February 28, after unsuccessful negotiations through sympathetic officers at army headquarters, the commander under martial law transmitted an imperial order to disperse. Most troops returned to their barracks, one officer committed suicide, and the remaining leaders surrendered, resulting in the uprising ending with minimal further violence. Nevertheless, martial law in Tokyo continued for nearly five months. The rebel officers had initially planned for General Kawashima, a staunch ally of the Kodoha, to relay their intentions to the emperor, who they assumed would issue a decree for a “Showa restoration.” Despite their radical objectives of overthrowing the political order, the mutineers, like other military and civilian extremists of the 1930s, sought to operate within the imperial framework and maintain the kokutai. They believed the emperor was under the control of his advisers and lacked a genuine will of his own. Once the Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal and the Grand Chamberlain were removed, they expected the emperor to appoint General Mazaki as prime minister, a leader they believed would reinforce the military and effectively address the China issue. At the onset of the insurrection, they had a real chance of success. The Tokyo military police commander, General Kashii Kohei, sympathized with their cause, and the emperor's chief aide, General Honjo, was related to rebel officer Capain Yamaguchi Ichitaro. Support for the mutineers was present at military bases nationwide. Historian Hata Ikuhiko notes that the rebels contacted General Honjo by both phone and written message before attacking the Okada cabinet. As the first in the imperial entourage to learn of the mutiny, Honjo could have warned the intended targets but chose not to do so. By the time he arrived at court at 6:00 am. on the 26th, key advisors like Chief Secretary Kido, Imperial Household Minister Yuasa Kurahei, and Vice Grand Chamberlain Hirohata Tadakata were already aware of the potential danger. Suzuki was murdered, and the emperor was deeply affected, awakening to the news at 5:40 am from the chamberlain on night duty, Kanroji Osanaga. He learned that his old ministers had been attacked and a coup was underway. Upon receiving this information, Hirohito resolved to suppress the uprising. He was outraged by the killing of his ministers and feared that the rebels might use his brother, Prince Chichibu, to force him to abdicate. He donned his army uniform and summoned Honjo, ordering him to “end it immediately and turn this misfortune into a blessing.” Hirohito adopted a strategy proposed by Kido, who had acted swiftly earlier that morning, instructing Honjo to assess the Imperial Guard Division's potential actions if the mutineers advanced on the Palace. Kido aimed to prevent the establishment of a new provisional cabinet until the mutiny was fully quelled. At 9:30 am Army Minister Kawashima, who had previously met with one of the rebel officers, arrived at court. He urged the emperor to form a cabinet that would “clarify the kokutai, stabilize national life, and fulfill national defense.” Surprised by Kawashima's tone, Hirohito reprimanded him for not prioritizing the suppression of the mutiny. He also expressed his frustration to Chief of the Navy General Staff Prince Fushimi, dismissing him when he inquired about forming a new cabinet. Later that day, Kawashima met with the Supreme Military Council, consisting mainly of army officers sympathetic to the rebels. The council decided to attempt persuasion before relaying the emperor's orders a move contrary to Hirohito's directive. According to historian Otabe Yuji, an “instruction” was issued to the rebel officers at 10:50 am, acknowledging their motives and suggesting the emperor might show them leniency. This message was communicated to the ringleaders by martial law commander General Kashii. That evening, when members of the Okada cabinet came to submit their resignations, Hirohito insisted they remain in power until the mutiny was resolved. On February 27, the second day of the uprising, Hirohito announced “administrative martial law” based on Article 8 of the Imperial Constitution. This invoked his sovereign powers to address the crisis while freeing him from needing cabinet approval for his actions. Hirohito displayed remarkable energy throughout the subsequent days, sending chamberlains to summon Honjo for updates and threatening to lead the Imperial Guard Division himself when dissatisfied with the reports. Honjo, however, resisted the emperor's demands and exhibited sympathy for the rebels. During the uprising, Hirohito met with Prince Chichibu, who had recently returned from Hirosaki. Their discussions reportedly led Chichibu to distance himself from the rebels. However, rumors of his sympathy for them persisted, leading to concerns about potential conflicts within the imperial family. On the second day, Rear Admiral Yonai and his chief of staff demonstrated their loyalty to Hirohito. By February 29, the fourth day of the uprising, Hirohito had reasserted his authority, troops were returning to their barracks, and most rebel leaders were captured. Seventeen of these leaders were court-martialed and executed in July without legal representation. Shortly after, during the obon festival, Hirohito allegedly instructed a military aide to secure seventeen obon lanterns for the palace. This action, though secret, may have provided him some personal comfort amidst the turmoil. An investigation following the mutiny revealed that the rebels' sense of crisis was amplified by the recent general elections, which had shown an anti-military sentiment among voters. Despite their populist rhetoric, most ringleaders were not motivated by the agricultural depression; their goal was to support the kokutai by advocating for increased military rearmament. During this period, military spending steadily rose from 3.47% of GNP in 1931 to 5.63% in 1936. Intriguingly, the ringleaders and their senior commanders shared a desire for state control over production to mobilize resources fully for total war. While united in this goal, their ideas about how to achieve a “Showa restoration” varied greatly, with some leaders, like Isobe, calling for complete economic consolidation and a return to strong state power. The February mutiny reinforced Hirohito's belief in the constitutional framework that underpinned his military authority. He became increasingly cautious about decisions that could compromise his command and developed closer ties to the army's Control faction, justifying military spending increases. Yet, the memory of the mutiny left him feeling uncertain about the throne's stability. Now you know me, whenever I can bring up Hirohito's involvement in the war related times I gotta do. After WW2, in an apparent effort to downplay his role as supreme commander, Hirohito provided a deliberately distorted account of the February events. “I issued an order at that time for the rebel force to be suppressed. This brings to mind Machida Chuji, the finance minister. He was very worried about the rebellion's adverse effect on the money market and warned me that a panic could occur unless I took firm measures. Therefore I issued a strong command to have [the uprising] put down. As a rule, because a suppression order also involves martial law, military circles, who cannot issue such an order on their own, need the mutual consent of the government. However, at the time, Okada's whereabouts were unknown. As the attitude of the Army Ministry seemed too lenient, I issued a strict order. Following my bitter experiences with the Tanaka cabinet, I had decided always to wait for the opinions of my advisers before making any decision, and not to go against their counsel. Only twice, on this occasion and at the time of the ending of the war, did I positively implement my own ideas. Ishiwara Kanji of the Army General Staff Office also asked me, through military aide Chojiri [Kazumoto], to issue a suppression order. I don't know what sort of a person Ishiwara is, but on this occasion he was correct, even though he had been the instigator of the Manchurian Incident. Further, my chief military aide, Honjo, brought me the plan drafted by Yamashita Hobun, in which Yamashita asked me to please send an examiner because the three leaders of the rebel army were likely to commit suicide. However, I thought that sending an examiner would imply that they had acted according to their moral convictions and were deserving of respect. . . . So I rejected Honjo's proposal, and [instead] issued the order to suppress them. I received no report that generals in charge of military affairs had gone and urged the rebels to surrender.”  On February 26, when Hirohito ordered the immediate suppression of the rebels, his anger was directed not only at the insurgents who had assassinated his closest advisors but also at senior army officers who were indecisive in executing the crackdown. The following day, in addition to his role as Minister of Commerce and Industry, Machida took on the responsibilities of finance minister. Concerns over economic panic and confusion contributed to the emperor's sense of urgency, despite not being the primary motivation for his actions. Hirohito believed that every hour of delay tarnished Japan's international reputation. Since the Manchurian Incident, the emperor had frequently clashed with the military regarding encroachments on his authority, though never about fundamental policy issues. At times, he had managed to assert his political views during policy discussions, similar to his earlier influence under the Hamaguchi cabinet. The February 26 mutiny highlighted to Hirohito and Yuasa his privy seal from March 1936 to June 1940, and the first lord keeper of the privy seal to attend court regularly the necessity of fully exercising the emperor's supreme command whenever the situation demanded it. Even when faced with opposition from Honjo, Hirohito managed to gain support and assert his authority through a decisive approach. His resolution marked the end of a period during which alienated “young officers” attempted to leverage his influence as a reformist figure to challenge a power structure they could not manipulate effectively. However, Hirohito learned how to adeptly manage that establishment in most situations. The decision-making process within the government was characterized by secrecy, indirect communication, vague policy drafting, and information manipulation, creating a landscape of confusion, misunderstanding, and constant intrigue aimed at achieving consensus among elites. This was the modus operandi in Tokyo and a reflection of how the emperor operated. Once again, Hirohito reminded the tightly-knit elite that he was essential to the functioning of the system. On May 4, 1936, during his address at the opening ceremony of the Sixty-ninth Imperial Diet, while Tokyo remained under martial law, Hirohito closed the chapter on the February mutiny. Initially, he contemplated sending a strong message of censure to the military, but after considerable deliberation over three months, he ultimately chose to issue a brief, innocuous statement: “We regret the recent incident that occurred in Tokyo.” The response from his audience of Diet members and military officials was one of startled awe, with some privately expressing disappointment. Once again, at a critical juncture, Hirohito avoided an opportunity to publicly rein in the military through his constitutional role. Nonetheless, due to his behind-the-scenes actions, the drift in domestic policy that had characterized Japan since the Manchurian Incident came to an end. In the following fourteen months, the emperor and his advisors largely aligned with the army and navy's demands for increased military expansion and state-driven industrial development. 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. So some very unruly young Japanese officers got the bright idea of forcing a showa restoration by killing all the culprits they believed held their emperor hostage. Little did they know, this event spelt the end of the Kodoha faction and rise of the Toseiha faction. Henceforth the military was even more in charge and would get even more insane.   

     This week... Insurmountable obstacles, unfortunate events, and darker obsessions collide in four films about love that wounds and scars and ends unavoidably tragic.     When a young woman is found murdered after leaving his house, down on his luck and violently tempered screenwriter Dix finds himself squarely in the police's frame. Only the testimony of his beautiful neighbor keeps him from immediate arrest. As his prosecution drags out, a relationship between them blooms. Can the blossoming relationship withstand the suspicions and outside glances? Did Dix succumb to his rage fueled impulses and will he do it again? An existential noir masterpiece with a towering lead performance, In a Lonely Place.     In the summer of 1972, young Vada Sultenfuss lives with her widowed father. Vada has a tendency toward hypochondria and a fascination with death, likely from losing her mother at birth and growing up in the town funeral parlor. This summer, Vada begins growing into her own and suffers many of life's first times. Widely considered a classic of the 1990s with a pair of fantastic child lead performances and a final act that scared a generation, My Girl.     Young Douzi is abandoned by his mother at a Peking Opera troupe. His youth is spent training to play dan, female lead, roles while his best friend, Shitou, learns jing, heroic male roles. From the brutal violence of their training, the oppressive occupation of the Second Sino-Japanese War, and the crushing repression of the Cultural Revolution, Douzi and Shitou's relationship carries them through 50 years. Beautifully shot, delicately edited, and widely considered one of the best films produced in Mainland China, Farewell My Concubine.     Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona Beach, where we lay our scene, from ancient grudge break new mutiny... the star-crossed lovers draw the conclusion of Baz Luhrmann's Red Curtain Trilogy of theatrical motif. Hyper stylized with an energy that has few equals and a cast that matches it beat for beat, The Bard's most well known work's third major film adaption that still brings tears of joy to long suffering High School English teachers everywhere... William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet.     All that and Dave loses a letter, Tyler feels new emotions in a fetal positions, and Kevin likes to watch... everything. Join us, won't you?   Episode 410- Love That Scars

In Geographies of Gender: Family and Law in Imperial Japan and Colonial Taiwan (Cambridge University Press, 2024) Dr. Tadashi Ishikawa traces perceptions and practices of gender in the Japanese empire on the occasion of Japan's colonisation of Taiwan from 1895. In the 1910s, metropolitan and colonial authorities attempted social reform in ways which particularly impacted on family traditions and, therefore, gender relations, paving the way for the politics of comparison within and beyond the empire. In Geographies of Gender, Dr. Ishikawa delves into a variety of diplomatic issues, colonial and anticolonial discourses, and judicial cases, finding marriage gifts, daughter adoption, and premarital sexual relationships to be sites of tension between norms and ideals among both elite and ordinary men and women. He explores how the Japanese empire became a gendered space from the 1910s through the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, arguing that gender norms were both unsettled and reinforced in ways which highlight the instability of metropole-colony relations. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. You can find Miranda's interviews on New Books with Miranda Melcher, wherever you get your podcasts. Let's face it, most of the popular podcasts out there are dumb. NBN features scholars (like you!), providing an enriching alternative to students. We partner with presses like Oxford, Princeton, and Cambridge to make academic research accessible to all. Please consider sharing the New Books Network with your students. Download this poster here to spread the word. Please share this interview on Instagram, LinkedIn, or Bluesky. Don't forget to subscribe to our Substack here to receive our weekly newsletter. 150 million lifetime downloads. Advertise on the New Books Network. Watch our promotional video. Learn how to make the most of our library. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/japanese-studies

In Geographies of Gender: Family and Law in Imperial Japan and Colonial Taiwan (Cambridge University Press, 2024) Dr. Tadashi Ishikawa traces perceptions and practices of gender in the Japanese empire on the occasion of Japan's colonisation of Taiwan from 1895. In the 1910s, metropolitan and colonial authorities attempted social reform in ways which particularly impacted on family traditions and, therefore, gender relations, paving the way for the politics of comparison within and beyond the empire. In Geographies of Gender, Dr. Ishikawa delves into a variety of diplomatic issues, colonial and anticolonial discourses, and judicial cases, finding marriage gifts, daughter adoption, and premarital sexual relationships to be sites of tension between norms and ideals among both elite and ordinary men and women. He explores how the Japanese empire became a gendered space from the 1910s through the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, arguing that gender norms were both unsettled and reinforced in ways which highlight the instability of metropole-colony relations. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. You can find Miranda's interviews on New Books with Miranda Melcher, wherever you get your podcasts. Let's face it, most of the popular podcasts out there are dumb. NBN features scholars (like you!), providing an enriching alternative to students. We partner with presses like Oxford, Princeton, and Cambridge to make academic research accessible to all. Please consider sharing the New Books Network with your students. Download this poster here to spread the word. Please share this interview on Instagram, LinkedIn, or Bluesky. Don't forget to subscribe to our Substack here to receive our weekly newsletter. 150 million lifetime downloads. Advertise on the New Books Network. Watch our promotional video. Learn how to make the most of our library. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In Geographies of Gender: Family and Law in Imperial Japan and Colonial Taiwan (Cambridge University Press, 2024) Dr. Tadashi Ishikawa traces perceptions and practices of gender in the Japanese empire on the occasion of Japan's colonisation of Taiwan from 1895. In the 1910s, metropolitan and colonial authorities attempted social reform in ways which particularly impacted on family traditions and, therefore, gender relations, paving the way for the politics of comparison within and beyond the empire. In Geographies of Gender, Dr. Ishikawa delves into a variety of diplomatic issues, colonial and anticolonial discourses, and judicial cases, finding marriage gifts, daughter adoption, and premarital sexual relationships to be sites of tension between norms and ideals among both elite and ordinary men and women. He explores how the Japanese empire became a gendered space from the 1910s through the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, arguing that gender norms were both unsettled and reinforced in ways which highlight the instability of metropole-colony relations. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. You can find Miranda's interviews on New Books with Miranda Melcher, wherever you get your podcasts. Let's face it, most of the popular podcasts out there are dumb. NBN features scholars (like you!), providing an enriching alternative to students. We partner with presses like Oxford, Princeton, and Cambridge to make academic research accessible to all. Please consider sharing the New Books Network with your students. Download this poster here to spread the word. Please share this interview on Instagram, LinkedIn, or Bluesky. Don't forget to subscribe to our Substack here to receive our weekly newsletter. 150 million lifetime downloads. Advertise on the New Books Network. Watch our promotional video. Learn how to make the most of our library. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/east-asian-studies

In Geographies of Gender: Family and Law in Imperial Japan and Colonial Taiwan (Cambridge University Press, 2024) Dr. Tadashi Ishikawa traces perceptions and practices of gender in the Japanese empire on the occasion of Japan's colonisation of Taiwan from 1895. In the 1910s, metropolitan and colonial authorities attempted social reform in ways which particularly impacted on family traditions and, therefore, gender relations, paving the way for the politics of comparison within and beyond the empire. In Geographies of Gender, Dr. Ishikawa delves into a variety of diplomatic issues, colonial and anticolonial discourses, and judicial cases, finding marriage gifts, daughter adoption, and premarital sexual relationships to be sites of tension between norms and ideals among both elite and ordinary men and women. He explores how the Japanese empire became a gendered space from the 1910s through the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, arguing that gender norms were both unsettled and reinforced in ways which highlight the instability of metropole-colony relations. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. You can find Miranda's interviews on New Books with Miranda Melcher, wherever you get your podcasts. Let's face it, most of the popular podcasts out there are dumb. NBN features scholars (like you!), providing an enriching alternative to students. We partner with presses like Oxford, Princeton, and Cambridge to make academic research accessible to all. Please consider sharing the New Books Network with your students. Download this poster here to spread the word. Please share this interview on Instagram, LinkedIn, or Bluesky. Don't forget to subscribe to our Substack here to receive our weekly newsletter. 150 million lifetime downloads. Advertise on the New Books Network. Watch our promotional video. Learn how to make the most of our library. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/gender-studies

In Geographies of Gender: Family and Law in Imperial Japan and Colonial Taiwan (Cambridge University Press, 2024) Dr. Tadashi Ishikawa traces perceptions and practices of gender in the Japanese empire on the occasion of Japan's colonisation of Taiwan from 1895. In the 1910s, metropolitan and colonial authorities attempted social reform in ways which particularly impacted on family traditions and, therefore, gender relations, paving the way for the politics of comparison within and beyond the empire. In Geographies of Gender, Dr. Ishikawa delves into a variety of diplomatic issues, colonial and anticolonial discourses, and judicial cases, finding marriage gifts, daughter adoption, and premarital sexual relationships to be sites of tension between norms and ideals among both elite and ordinary men and women. He explores how the Japanese empire became a gendered space from the 1910s through the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, arguing that gender norms were both unsettled and reinforced in ways which highlight the instability of metropole-colony relations. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. You can find Miranda's interviews on New Books with Miranda Melcher, wherever you get your podcasts. Let's face it, most of the popular podcasts out there are dumb. NBN features scholars (like you!), providing an enriching alternative to students. We partner with presses like Oxford, Princeton, and Cambridge to make academic research accessible to all. Please consider sharing the New Books Network with your students. Download this poster here to spread the word. Please share this interview on Instagram, LinkedIn, or Bluesky. Don't forget to subscribe to our Substack here to receive our weekly newsletter. 150 million lifetime downloads. Advertise on the New Books Network. Watch our promotional video. Learn how to make the most of our library. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/chinese-studies

In Geographies of Gender: Family and Law in Imperial Japan and Colonial Taiwan (Cambridge University Press, 2024) Dr. Tadashi Ishikawa traces perceptions and practices of gender in the Japanese empire on the occasion of Japan's colonisation of Taiwan from 1895. In the 1910s, metropolitan and colonial authorities attempted social reform in ways which particularly impacted on family traditions and, therefore, gender relations, paving the way for the politics of comparison within and beyond the empire. In Geographies of Gender, Dr. Ishikawa delves into a variety of diplomatic issues, colonial and anticolonial discourses, and judicial cases, finding marriage gifts, daughter adoption, and premarital sexual relationships to be sites of tension between norms and ideals among both elite and ordinary men and women. He explores how the Japanese empire became a gendered space from the 1910s through the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, arguing that gender norms were both unsettled and reinforced in ways which highlight the instability of metropole-colony relations. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. You can find Miranda's interviews on New Books with Miranda Melcher, wherever you get your podcasts. Let's face it, most of the popular podcasts out there are dumb. NBN features scholars (like you!), providing an enriching alternative to students. We partner with presses like Oxford, Princeton, and Cambridge to make academic research accessible to all. Please consider sharing the New Books Network with your students. Download this poster here to spread the word. Please share this interview on Instagram, LinkedIn, or Bluesky. Don't forget to subscribe to our Substack here to receive our weekly newsletter. 150 million lifetime downloads. Advertise on the New Books Network. Watch our promotional video. Learn how to make the most of our library. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In Geographies of Gender: Family and Law in Imperial Japan and Colonial Taiwan (Cambridge University Press, 2024) Dr. Tadashi Ishikawa traces perceptions and practices of gender in the Japanese empire on the occasion of Japan's colonisation of Taiwan from 1895. In the 1910s, metropolitan and colonial authorities attempted social reform in ways which particularly impacted on family traditions and, therefore, gender relations, paving the way for the politics of comparison within and beyond the empire. In Geographies of Gender, Dr. Ishikawa delves into a variety of diplomatic issues, colonial and anticolonial discourses, and judicial cases, finding marriage gifts, daughter adoption, and premarital sexual relationships to be sites of tension between norms and ideals among both elite and ordinary men and women. He explores how the Japanese empire became a gendered space from the 1910s through the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, arguing that gender norms were both unsettled and reinforced in ways which highlight the instability of metropole-colony relations. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. You can find Miranda's interviews on New Books with Miranda Melcher, wherever you get your podcasts. Let's face it, most of the popular podcasts out there are dumb. NBN features scholars (like you!), providing an enriching alternative to students. We partner with presses like Oxford, Princeton, and Cambridge to make academic research accessible to all. Please consider sharing the New Books Network with your students. Download this poster here to spread the word. Please share this interview on Instagram, LinkedIn, or Bluesky. Don't forget to subscribe to our Substack here to receive our weekly newsletter. 150 million lifetime downloads. Advertise on the New Books Network. Watch our promotional video. Learn how to make the most of our library. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/law

In Geographies of Gender: Family and Law in Imperial Japan and Colonial Taiwan (Cambridge University Press, 2024) Dr. Tadashi Ishikawa traces perceptions and practices of gender in the Japanese empire on the occasion of Japan's colonisation of Taiwan from 1895. In the 1910s, metropolitan and colonial authorities attempted social reform in ways which particularly impacted on family traditions and, therefore, gender relations, paving the way for the politics of comparison within and beyond the empire. In Geographies of Gender, Dr. Ishikawa delves into a variety of diplomatic issues, colonial and anticolonial discourses, and judicial cases, finding marriage gifts, daughter adoption, and premarital sexual relationships to be sites of tension between norms and ideals among both elite and ordinary men and women. He explores how the Japanese empire became a gendered space from the 1910s through the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, arguing that gender norms were both unsettled and reinforced in ways which highlight the instability of metropole-colony relations. This interview was conducted by Dr. Miranda Melcher whose book focuses on post-conflict military integration, understanding treaty negotiation and implementation in civil war contexts, with qualitative analysis of the Angolan and Mozambican civil wars. You can find Miranda's interviews on New Books with Miranda Melcher, wherever you get your podcasts. Let's face it, most of the popular podcasts out there are dumb. NBN features scholars (like you!), providing an enriching alternative to students. We partner with presses like Oxford, Princeton, and Cambridge to make academic research accessible to all. Please consider sharing the New Books Network with your students. Download this poster here to spread the word. Please share this interview on Instagram, LinkedIn, or Bluesky. Don't forget to subscribe to our Substack here to receive our weekly newsletter. 150 million lifetime downloads. Advertise on the New Books Network. Watch our promotional video. Learn how to make the most of our library.

Poon Lim, born in 1918 on Hainan Island, China, grew up in a fishing village before moving to Malaysia at age ten. As Japan invaded China in the 1930s, sparking the Second Sino-Japanese War, Lim's father sent him away to avoid conscription, possibly fearing atrocities like the Nanjing Massacre. Lim joined the British Merchant Navy as a cabin boy, but faced discrimination and abuse, leading him to leave in 1937 for Hong Kong, where he became a mechanic.   In 1939, with Britain at war with Germany, the Navy improved conditions to recruit more Chinese seamen, including Lim, who joined the SS Ben Lomond in 1942 as a Second Mess Steward. On November 23, 1942, the unescorted, lightly armed ship was torpedoed by the German U-172 submarine off Brazil. Lim survived the sinking, which killed 54 of the 55 crew members, by clinging to debris and eventually finding a stocked life raft.   Alone at sea, Lim survived 133 days by rationing supplies—water, hardtack, chocolate, pemmican, milk, and lime juice—building a canopy for shade and rainwater, and crafting tools to fish and hunt birds. Despite being a weak swimmer, he tied himself to the raft and later killed a shark for its blood and meat when dehydration threatened his life. Multiple ships passed him without rescuing him, possibly mistaking him for a Japanese sailor or fearing a U-boat trap.   On April 1943, Brazilian fishermen rescued him near Pará after he drifted close to land, emaciated and weak. After recovering, Lim received the British Empire Medal from King George VI for his courage and resourcefulness. His story influenced Royal Navy survival manuals, and he later became a U.S. citizen, settling in Brooklyn with his family until his death in 1991 at age 72. Lim holds the record for the longest solo survival on a life raft, a testament to his extraordinary resilience.   00:00 Welcome to the Dark Oak 00:30 100 Episode Celebration and Giveaway 03:30 The Lake Oconee Murders   Sources: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poon_Lim https://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/sole-survivor-of-the-sinking-of-the-benlomond-in-wwii-poon-lim-set-a-record-for-133-days-adrift-at-sea/news-story/9c63348c42762182e17bcc3c2ddbe1a8 https://www.historydefined.net/poon-lim/embed/#?secret=sVREifRlva#?secret=E0phajhSTT https://www.joe.ie/fitness-health/133-days-at-sea-in-an-eight-foot-raft-meet-poon-lim-39850 Jones, S. (2024, March 6). Poon Lim, The Man who Survived 133 Days Lost at Sea. Historic Flix. https://historicflix.com/poon-lim-man-who-survived-133-days-lost-at-sea/   Join The Dark Oak Discussion: Patreon The Dark Oak Podcast Website Facebook Instagram Twitter TikTok Youtube This episode of The Dark Oak was created, researched, written, recorded, hosted, edited, published, and marketed by Cynthia and Stefanie of Just Us Gals Productions with artwork by Justyse Himes and Music by Ryan Creep

This show has been flagged as Explicit by the host. My setup for recording this podcast about podcasting. I never was attached to history (I'm a shame with events, names, dates ), much less of history fictionalized, like historical romances. But I ended up working on a piece of it. The event passes between 1931 and 1945. It relates to WWII — it's part of it. So , I talk about producing an specific audiod rama, covering two points, that are at really three: WHAT is the story: the chaos that came to me asking to come out; and WHY I decided to present it (and HOW:) by a podcast of fiction with history. In the end , I summarize that I got touched by the subject, it impacted me with disastrous images both in words and images. And I like audio, well-made audio content. In synthesis, the real story touched me and urged the crave of creating something from it, resulting in an audio drama. A minute of it translated on the end. Full Shownotes Why I made a 1-episode podcast about a war story by Sem Luz em Saint Louis A little citizen (that came from) outside the country, inside a prison. Not a common prison, though: it is Unit 731…' “What is Unit 731? What are you bringing to Hacker Public Radio?” The impulse and reason for creating an audiodrama, dear listener. I will tell you What and Why: - WHAT is the story: the chaos that came to me asking to come out; and - WHY I decided to present it by a podcast of fiction with history [WHAT] First, the WHAT. In the wanderings of the World Wide Web, a notable event was revealed before my eyes, a war scene that was under dust for decades, but people, even participants of it in varied degrees, came to reveal the fact; so, today, we know it. China and Japan engaged in war by the year 1931. More exactly, that is when Japan started colonizing China by the provinces of Manchuria, northeastern of the country. The resistence started in 1937, with reaction by the Chinese troops. Japan was so much more powerful, though (and that's why China took so long to decide fighting the Imperial Army of Japan). It took time, and without the best outcome, but it demanded courage, it showed force, and humanity, moral value. And this conflict is part of the second World War, that by one side had Japan, Italy and Germany (the German Reich), heading the Axis powers; who were fought against by the Allied powers, headed by the Soviet Union, Great Britain, France, United States and China. Even with basically all the rest of the world against the Axis, the Japanese occupied the 3 provinces of Manchuria from 1932 until the end of the war, in September 2, 1945, making of it the main territorial base for development of weapons. The Encyclopedia Britannica explains us the following, quote: On March 9, 1932, the Japanese created the puppet state of Manchukuo […] out of the three historical Manchurian provinces. The last Qing (Manchu) emperor, Puyi, was brought to Manchuria from his retirement in Tianjin and made “chief executive,” and later emperor, of the new state. The Manchukuo government, though nominally in Chinese hands, was in fact rigidly controlled and supervised by the Japanese, who proceeded to transform Manchuria into an industrial and military base for Japan's expansion into Asia. The Japanese took over the direction, financing, and development of all the important Manchurian industries, with the fortunate result that by the end of World War II Manchuria was the most industrialized region in China. [Source: BRITANNICA. Manchuria. Last updated in January 31, 2025. Link: . Acess in February 2025.] Unquote. Now, very briefly, we come to the Unit 731. It was a big Japanese construction first officially designated as a “Epidemic Prevention and Water Supply Department”. It was commanded by the tenant-general of the Army and microbiologist Shirō Ishii. I wanted until now to say what is the theme before hopping to the motivation to do something about the knowledge. Let's get to the WHY: I came to know of the theme by chance, navigating the web and suddenly coming to a strange photo of human experiencing, the description of Unit 731. I searched more about it and was simply astonished to know it happened, and inflicted by the so-estimated Japan, a headquarter of technology and populated by reverent people. We are (that is, I am) often so biased, for the good or the bad. That is, what the general public know about World War II, including me? The holocaust of the Jews. This is much, but more happened, and more can be known for our critical view of the World, the countries and its interests, and the rational thinking that might be better with this knowledge. The Unit 731 was not the only one with deadly human experimentation, other facilities existed, but 731 came to be better known; first, it was hidden, but now, decades after the events, documents and confessions came to the ground and can't be denied anymore. And in other sites, Shirō Ishii was already inflicting them probably since the fall of 1933, mainly Chinese people, but also Soviets, Mongolians and Koreans, men, women and children. That's basically it. The research I made (and the movie I saw, a fiction, based on it, horrendous) led me to dream about the theme, so I felt to throw it, what was developed and developing inside, in some manner. I like the voice, the radio, and it is accessible to do, not requiring many equipments etc., so my first choice was to tell it. How? At first, I hypothetized about proposing a script to some Brazilian podcast that tell stories. Soon I realized it could not fit so well in the lines of the ones I know. Some days after, the idea of a little fictionalized story, short story, came as a thing I like, and also with the advantages of: 1. being beautiful (men is made of stories, real or otherwise appropriated by the mind and senses); 2. being impactful (connection with characters); 3. being fast in the way I proposed it to be (one little episode). Not necessarily only this or in this order, but the idea was that. One thing more, of course: as any interested in the subject can note, there is so many technical things produced about it, I wanted to do something that caught the emotions and interest of people, spreading the possibility of them knowing what, elsewhere, they wouldn't come to see. I wanted to make it different in that sense, but as true to the facts as a little audio fiction can be. It's History to our minds, for our own construction and of our world view. But, if not, if the listener just come for the art, it can be (I hope) an enjoying story after all. That was the WHY I decided to do something with the knowledge (in an expression, fire in my heart), and HOW it became a fiction podcast (to do something I like, and different about the subject, attractive). That was my theme here for our moment in HPR! The motivation behind need to create. It was hard, I get moved easily with shocking scenes in words or images, but It catched me. Deciding how to “let go” and then producing it was not tranquil, also; the hands-on, the technical part, was as follows: I have written some pages summarizing the events I have outlined here. Having the base, I came with a story in my mind and in two days or three I think I wrote it, in 3 and a half pages, the story that you're going to listen. In a more silent night I went to my room, with my notebook and a USB condenser microphone, and recorded. Fast. The editing, cutting, compressing, normalizing, and choosing free sounds (all referenced in description) and fitting them in the story, took a long and time and patience, maybe 10 or more dedicated hours along days. I'm not very efficient, some of it was the necessary lack of hurry of art, but some was my slowness in getting to the technical part of what I wanted to do (this bit of information in this milisecond, move track 3 together with track 4 without affecting the sync of the other tracks and clips in the same track, cut the music at this point but with a gentle fade…). I used Audacity. I had a Reaper licence (I remember being a bit more efficient with it) but lost it after formatting without having the serial number anymore, so I went with my long-choice of the free and open source alternative. That was my work for the audiodrama podcast in my language. Which, in between the days I have been preparing this presentation script for HPR, I have released. You may find it in the description, or searching in your podcast app for the name (in Portuguese): “O Departamento de Prevenção de Epidemias e Distribuição de Água”, under the author name “Sem Luz em Saint Louis”. I don't know if it will be released in English. However, I made a first minute of it, here and now, so you can enjoy having mind of what I was talking about. Thank you, be with 1 minute of the report of the survivor… * and Bye! [1 MINUTE OF THE AUDIODRAMA – EXCERPT ONLY] The Epidemic Prevention and Water Supply Department This account was found in the records of Parkinson Tribly (or Tribly), of Russian and Polish origins. He was recruited by Dr. Shirō Ishii for experiments at Unit 731: a legitimate opportunity to stay alive — which ultimately proved false for reasons he did not expect. What we will hear now is his writing, unedited. Except that, for organization, we will name the three parts that he composed as follows: 1. Introduction; 2. Activities; 3. The Bargain. The author reflects and advances in his organization, but what he brings is: INTRODUCTION Thank God we know that, from the beginning, man has lived in war. It's envy, a desire for power, a desire for money. It is never a good motivation, but purely selfishness. I arrived at the department a week ago and, although I have no desire to collaborate with what happens here, I know enough to realize that it is impossible to leave this place free. When the Japanese invaded this region, Manchuria, in the long war against China, we did not expect the brutality that was witnessed. A few years ago, after the end of the Great War, several countries signed the Geneva Protocol. Although it only prohibits the use of chemical weapons, biological agents, asphyxiating, and related specificities, we believed it would mean more — that it would signify a general humanization of combat methods on land, sea, and air when there might be another Great War. I did not expect it to come in my lifetime nor to be captured to participate in it firsthand. [END OF EXCERPT] Thank you for your presence. References: The audiodrama podcast, in Brazilian Portuguese: SEM LUZ EM SAINT LOUIS. O Departamento de Prevenção de Epidemias e Distribuição de Água. In your favorite podcast listener or at https://archive.org/details/731-podcast-audiodrama. Credits of audios used, in order of appearance ( listenance ): Ant.Survila / ccmixter – Nostalgic Reflections MeijstroAudio / Freesounds – Dark Metal Rise 001 SamRam21 / Freesounds – KeysMouse Sadiquecat / Freesounds – MBA desk with mouse trimono / Freesounds – approving hm [On the drama excerpt:] Kulakovka / Pixabay – Lost in Dreams (abstract chill downtempo cinematic future beats). Title of the beginning of the audiodrama preview (“The Epidemic Prevention and Water Supply Department”) made in https://luvvoice.com , Abeo (Male) voice. BBC Sound Effects – Aircraft: Beaufighters - Take off (Bristol Beaufighter, World War II). Rewob / ccmixter – Secret Sauce (Secret Mixter) References: BRITANNICA. Second Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945). Last updated in December 16, 2024. Link: . Access in January 2025. BRITANNICA. Manchuria. Last updated in January 31, 2025. Link: . Access in February 2025. LIANG, Jiashuo. A History of Japan's Unit 731 and Implications for Modern Biological Warfare. Advances in Social Science, Education and Humanities Research , v. 673. Atlantis Press, 2022. [ A 5-pages article about Unit 731. If you were interested with the facts told, the text gives a synthesys of what happened between 1937 and 1945. ] PBS. The Living Weapon : Shiro Ishii. Link: . Access in January 2025. RIDER, Dwight R. Japan's Biological and Chemical Weapons Programs ; War Crimes and Atrocities – Who's Who, What's What, Where's Where. 1928 – 1945. 3. ed. 2018. [ “In Process” version ]Provide feedback on this episode.

Last time we spoke about the battle of Ormoc Bay. Amid the fierce Battle of Leyte in November 1944, American and Japanese forces clashed across rugged terrains and stormy weather. A typhoon swept the island, halting supply lines, while Colonel Verbeck's forces launched a determined assault on Breakneck Ridge, advancing against Colonel Miyauchi's well-defended lines. Meanwhile, Japanese reinforcements suffered devastating losses from American air raids. Through relentless attacks and strategic maneuvers, the Americans gained ground, signalling the turning point toward Japanese retreat and Allied victory on Leyte. Meanwhile a Japanese convoy led by Rear-Admiral Sato suffered devastating losses to Allied submarines and air attacks while attempting to transport troops. Concurrently, Australian and American forces launched aggressive operations in New Guinea, and American B-29 Superfortresses, despite some challenges, intensified the bombing campaign against Japan. This episode is the Fall of Peleliu Welcome to the Pacific War Podcast Week by Week, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about world war two? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on world war two and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel you can find a few videos all the way from the Opium Wars of the 1800's until the end of the Pacific War in 1945.  In our previous update, General Gill's 32nd Division had arrived to relieve the exhausted 24th Division and take charge of the main offensive down the Ormoc Valley. During this lull in the battle, General Kataoka took advantage of the pause to reposition his 1st Division and ordered Colonel Miyauchi's 57th Regiment to counterattack toward Breakneck Ridge. The counterattack had limited success, ultimately leaving the 57th Regiment significantly weakened. On November 16, Colonel John Hettinger's 128th Regiment moved in to relieve the 21st Regiment at Breakneck Ridge but was unable to capture Corkscrew Ridge following a fierce battle. Simultaneously, General Cunningham's 112th Cavalry was deployed to secure and patrol the Mount Minoro area, while Colonel Clifford's reinforced 1st Battalion advanced to Kilay Ridge behind Japanese lines, where it faced artillery fire and unsuccessfully attempted to link up with Colonel Chapman's 2nd Battalion roadblock on Highway 2. To the south, the 32nd Regiment moved toward Baybay to launch a second push toward Ormoc, initiating an advance north to the Damulaan-Caridad area on November 14. Meanwhile, General Yamagata's 26th Division, including Colonel Saito Jiro's 13th Independent Regiment, advanced in the same direction with plans to assault Burauen, setting up a confrontation with the American forces on Shoestring Ridge. By November 17, Hettinger's 1st Battalion had entrenched on the slopes of Corkscrew Ridge while the 3rd Battalion progressed roughly 1,000 yards down the highway, securing a ridge about 500 yards north of Limon. At the same time, Clifford's patrols finally made contact with Chapman's 2nd Battalion, but they struggled to establish a communication line due to the strong enemy presence between them. The following day, Clifford positioned machine guns for a firefight against the enemy on a ridge to the southeast. Throughout the night and into November 19, Japanese machine-gun fire targeted the perimeter, successfully disabling one gun and surrounding Clifford's southernmost outpost, eventually forcing the Americans to withdraw. Meanwhile, Hettinger's 1st Battalion launched another assault on Corkscrew Ridge on November 18, though it achieved only minor gains. Additionally, Colonel Kora Keijiro's 49th Regiment infiltrated the enemy's left flank, initiating a two-pronged advance toward Colasian and Capoocan, but this had limited impact on Gill's offensive. As a result, Hettinger's 1st Battalion continued its siege of Corkscrew Ridge until November 20, while the 3rd Battalion held positions on a ridge overlooking Limon. On November 20 and 21, Japanese forces also gained ground against Clifford's defenses on Kilay Ridge. At the same time, the 32nd Regiment had established a defensive stance on Shoestring Ridge, while the 13th Independent Regiment fortified the opposite ridge with trenches, machine-gun pits, and other installations, sending a reinforced battalion eastward toward Burauen. On November 22, the 11th Airborne Division arrived to relieve the 7th Division, which subsequently redeployed to the west coast. Gill resumed his offensive, sending Hettinger's 2nd and 3rd Battalions south while the 1st Battalion contained Corkscrew Ridge. The Americans fought their way to Limon, establishing defensive positions along a tributary of the Leyte River south of the town after repelling a fierce Japanese counterattack. Meanwhile, Japanese assaults intensified on Kilay Ridge, pushing back Clifford's troops, though they held firm. Fortunately, the Japanese did not press further on November 23, as Kataoka needed to reorganize his forces following the fall of Limon. To support the division's left flank along the Limon-Ormoc highway, he dispatched the 49th Regiment and his reserve battalion, coinciding with the arrival of the 1st Regiment to reinforce the heavily weakened 57th Regiment. However, the withdrawal of the 49th created a significant gap between the 1st and 102nd Divisions, which the 126th Regiment quickly exploited, advancing through the Hill 1525 area to strike at the enemy's rear. The 128th Regiment also took this time to realign and consolidate its positions, focusing the next three days on extensive patrols and placing harassing fire along an east-west ridge overlooking the highway about 1,000 yards south of Limon. Additionally, on November 24, the 112th Cavalry began advancing southwest from Mount Minoro toward the highway with a similar objective. With the occupation of Limon, the Battle of Breakneck Ridge concluded, costing the 24th and 32nd Divisions a total of 1,498 casualties, while the Japanese suffered an estimated 5,252 fatalities and had eight captured. The American victory was largely aided by the establishment of a roadblock south of Limon by Chapman's 2nd Battalion and the defense of Kilay Ridge in the Japanese rear by Clifford's battalion.  From November 12 to 23 the 2nd Battalion, 19th Regiment had defended the roadblock under extremely difficult conditions. The operations report of the 24th Division graphically summarizes the deeds for which the battalion received a presidential citation: “These bearded, mud caked soldiers came out of the mountains exhausted and hungry. Their feet were heavy, cheeks hollow, bodies emaciated, and eyes glazed. They had seen thirty-one comrades mortally wounded, watched fifty-five others lie suffering in muddy foxholes without adequate medical attention. Yet their morale had not changed. It was high when they went in and high when they came out. They were proud that they had rendered invaluable aid to the main forces fighting in Ormoc corridor, by disrupting the Japanese supply lines and preventing strong reinforcements from passing up the Ormoc road. They were proud that they had outfought the Emperor's toughest troops, troops that had been battle trained in Manchuria. They were certain they had killed at least 606 of the enemy and felt that their fire had accounted for many more. And they were proud that this had all been accomplished despite conditions of extreme hardship. 241 of the battalion's officers and enlisted men were hospitalized for skin disorders, foot ulcers, battle fatigue, and sheer exhaustion.” These units, facing constant fire and heavily outnumbered, prevented General Suzuki from reinforcing Limon. Abandoning a potential counteroffensive here, Suzuki redirected his primary efforts to the Burauen front for his Wa offensive. Despite Yamagata's preparations for combat, the effectiveness of the 26th Division depended heavily on acquiring more heavy weapons, ammunition, and equipment. Thus, a convoy with three transports and a submarine chaser departed Manila on November 23, carrying the essential supplies to Ormoc. As night fell over Shoestring Ridge, Saito finally launched his main offensive against the stretched defenses of the 32nd Regiment. Artillery, mortars, and machine guns provided cover for two companies advancing forward to capture sections of the ridge. The next morning, the 2nd Battalion of the 32nd Regiment reorganized its defensive positions, enabling the Americans to push back a Japanese force that had penetrated south of the Palanas River and east of Hill 918. Meanwhile, General Tominaga initiated a large-scale air offensive to support Operation TA's latest convoy, deploying sixty planes from the 2nd Air Division to strike the Leyte airfields, while thirty Navy aircraft targeted enemy shipping in Leyte Gulf. Over the next four days, daily air attacks were conducted in the Leyte area, and the 7th Air Division carried out coordinated strikes against enemy bases on Morotai. However, on November 24, the convoy's transports were sunk by an air attack off Masbate Island, just as another convoy consisting of three transports and one destroyer was dispatched to Ormoc. This convoy was similarly destroyed the next day off Marinduque Island by carrier aircraft, resulting in a complete operational failure. Back in Leyte, on the night of November 24, Saito's troops launched another ferocious assault on enemy positions, beginning with the heaviest artillery barrage the 32nd Regiment had yet encountered. The Americans quickly responded with their own supporting weapons, effectively repelling repeated Japanese attacks. Only Company K was pushed back, but American artillery, mortars, and machine guns prevented the Japanese from exploiting this breakthrough. After failing to penetrate the front lines, Saito's troops desperately attempted to neutralize the artillery supporting the 32nd Regiment before ultimately retreating, allowing the defenders to regroup. By nightfall, the Japanese employed the same tactics as in their previous assault but were ultimately pushed back after a fierce grenade battle and some close-quarters fighting. At the same time, Kataoka's newly deployed reserve battalion launched an attack on Kilay Ridge during the night. However, the weary defenders were able to fend off the assault, resulting in casualties for both sides. After reinforcing Shoestring Ridge, the 32nd Regiment faced another attack on the night of November 26.  At 2100 Colonel Saito renewed the assault against the American position, following the pattern set by the previous night actions. The Japanese first laid down mortar and machine gun fire, and then heavy-weapons fire of the 13th Infantry Regiment hit the right platoons of Company G, shifting to the east in about fifteen minutes. Immediately afterward, about a battalion of Japanese infantry attacked Company G, while twelve machine guns started to fire from a ridge 1,200 yards to the east. The Japanese moved into the fire of their own heavy weapons. The 32d Infantry, using all of its artillery batteries, mortars, machine guns, and rifles, started throwing lead against the enemy force as fast as its men could load and fire. The Japanese, employing an estimated fifty machine guns, continued to come on. "All hell broke loose" as the enemy shot off flares to guide their own artillery fire. The sharp declivity in front of the American lines did not allow for a close concentration of friendly artillery fire. Just as it appeared that the lines were to be overrun, some more enemy flares went up, and the Japanese withdrew, covered by heavy machine gun and mortar fire. Colonel Finn, taking advantage of this fortunate circumstance, hastily rearranged riflemen to fill gaps caused by casualties and replenished his ammunition supplies. The mortars of the regiment continued to fire into the draw. After a short lull Colonel Saito renewed the attack. There was no preparatory artillery fire, but the mortars and machine guns introduced the assault. The attack did not seem as determined as the previous one, though the number of troops was apparently about the same. The 32d Infantry again called down all types of fire upon the enemy. Elements of the 13th Infantry Regiment continued to advance, although "the carnage was terriffic," and attempted to pass through the American lines. A strong enemy group moved into a bamboo grove on a nose in front of the center platoon of G Company. From this position the enemy launched an attack which the company resisted with grenades and bayonets. As Colonel Finn later reported: "The battle continued to flare up and die down as the valiant soldiers fought like devils to hold our lines." The 81-mm. mortars from the mortar platoon of H Company fired 650 rounds in five minutes, and fire from the 60-mm. mortars was "practically automatic." After an hour's intense fighting, the enemy force withdrew. Unbeknownst to the Americans, however, the left and center platoons of Company G fell back in confusion during the fight, allowing the Japanese to infiltrate the American lines in the bamboo thicket previously occupied by the center platoon. The Japanese had not attacked the left flank of Company G. These troops heard the battle raging to the right and the sounds of the Japanese forming below them. A non-commissioned officer in charge of a listening post sent a man to get permission for his 3-man group to withdraw. After receiving permission he shouted the order from a distance of 50 yards. As the men from the listening post started back, they were joined by the left platoon and two squads from the center platoon. Within 45 minutes the two platoons, less one squad, plus the section of heavy machine guns, were moving south on the highway. "There was no thought in their minds that the withdrawal was not authorized." After proceeding down the road 250 yards they met the executive officer of Company H who ordered them back. It was too late, the damage was done. Though the left platoon was able to regain its position without trouble, the two squads from the center platoon found the enemy well dug-in in the bamboo thicket where the squads had been. It was later learned that there were about 200 hostile troops with 20 machine guns in the thicket. The Japanese were within the American lines and in a position from which they could fire on A Battery and the flanks of Companies E, L, I, and K. Although the surprised defenders managed to contain the infiltrators—who seemingly did not recognize the Americans' precarious situation, as they made no attempt to capitalize on it—the situation remained unstable until the 1st Battalion, 184th Regiment arrived on November 27 and regained the lost ground. At this point, all the assault elements of General Arnold's 7th Division had crossed to the eastern shore of the Camotes Sea, and reinforcements were en route. On November 28, the 184th Regiment relieved the exhausted defenders on Shoestring Ridge and successfully repelled a small Japanese attack that night. Meanwhile, Yamashita decided to shift most of his division toward Burauen to initiate Suzuki's planned offensive, leaving only a small detachment to prevent the Americans from reaching Albuera and cutting off the base of his attack. By the end of November, the 184th had successfully taken control of Shoestring Ridge and the Bloody Bamboo Thicket, although it was unable to advance further north due to the enemy's strong resistance. At the same time, Tominaga made an unsuccessful attempt to drop off a raiding unit over Burauen on November 26, marking the first use of a tactic that would be repeated in the coming weeks. On November 27, Admiral Okawachi launched another convoy carrying heavy equipment for the 26th Division, which successfully reached Ormoc Bay overnight. However, it was intercepted by PT boats the following day, resulting in the loss of one frigate and one subchaser during the encounter. The convoy faced further attacks from aircraft on November 29, which sank one transport before the remaining ships departed for Manila. On their return journey, the last two vessels were ultimately destroyed by air strikes. Back in Leyte, on November 29, Clifford's exhausted troops managed to fend off one final heavy assault before being relieved by Hettinger's 2nd Battalion. By the end of the month, the Americans had solidified their positions on Kilay and Shoestring Ridges and were prepared to advance their two offensives against Ormoc. However, we must now shift our focus from the Philippines to Peleliu, where Colonel Nakagawa's remaining 700 men continued to hold out against American assaults with their dwindling strength. At the beginning of November, Colonel Watson's 323rd Regiment had taken over the task of neutralizing the Umurbrogol Pocket, with Colonel Dark's 3rd Battalion on Walt Ridge and Mortimer Valley being the last unit remaining from the 321st Regiment. After a brief pause in combat at the end of October, operations became more active again on November 2. Watson's 2nd Battalion successfully attacked the Five Sisters from the southwest, while elements of the 1st Battalion advanced north along the ridges west of Death Valley, pursuing the remaining Japanese forces from South Pocket. Meanwhile, part of the 3rd Battalion moved slowly south through the ridges and rugged terrain at the northern end of China Wall. However, before Watson could continue his offensive, heavy rains began on November 4, escalating into a typhoon that persisted for four days. By November 12, no significant progress had been made by any unit, with slow patrols and sandbagging ongoing. The 81st Cavalry Reconnaissance Troop and elements of the 321st Regiment focused on securing additional offshore islets north of Peleliu. Attacks in the Umurbrogol resumed on November 13, with Watson's 1st Battalion advancing eastward from the ridges west of Death Valley, and his 2nd Battalion pushing north into the gorge and Wildcat Bowl, though little ground was gained in the following days. Despite this slow advancement, a key center of resistance was identified in the rough terrain west of central Death Valley. On November 16, oil was sent forward through a hose from fuel tanks set up in covered positions 300 yards distant and poured into a large cave which seemed to be the center of the new-found defenses. Ignited by white phosphorus hand grenades lobbed into the cave, the flaming oil produced such promising results in driving Japanese into the open or killing them, that the same method of conquest continued to be used by the 1st Battalion and in other parts of the pocket. Over the next five days, tanks and LVT-flamethrowers targeted enemy caves at the bases of China Wall and Five Brothers, effectively destroying or sealing all accessible enemy positions and leaving Nakagawa with only 150 men still capable of fighting. By November 21, infantry patrols could operate largely unimpeded throughout Wildcat Bowl and the southern section of Death Valley. The next day, the 323rd launched an assault on the China Wall, where the majority of Nakagawa's weary troops were entrenched, effectively compressing the enemy into a space measuring 125 yards wide by 285 yards long. Meanwhile, on November 23, Five Brothers Ridge was finally cleared. The following day, a second assault on the China Wall gained additional ground, leaving only 57 enemy troops alive. To enable tanks and LVT-flamethrowers to access the central hollow of China Wall, engineers began constructing a ramp up the east wall at the northern end of Wildcat Bowl. As the ramp ascended, Nakagawa realized his situation was hopeless.  On November 24th, Nakagawa burnt the regimental colors and performed harakiri.  He was posthumously promoted to lieutenant general for his valor displayed on Peleliu. His final message to General Inoue read  “Our sword is broken, and we have run out of spears.” The 57 remaining soldiers were divided into 17 small teams, instructed to hide during the day and raid American positions at night. With the enemy largely absent, American forces cautiously advanced into the area. On November 26, tanks and LVT-flamethrowers moved up the completed ramp to bombard caves and other defenses in the hollow center of China Wall. The next morning, as units from the north and south finally linked up, Watson declared that hostilities had come to an end. What General Rupertus had anticipated would last only four days had, in fact, extended to nearly two and a half months. The 323rd suffered significant losses during that battle, with approximately 118 soldiers killed and 420 wounded. The overall casualties for the Battle of Peleliu reached over 1,573 American deaths and 6,531 injuries. In contrast, the Japanese forces experienced a total of 10,695 men killed and 301 taken prisoner. Although the fighting was officially declared over and Peleliu secured, isolated groups and individual Japanese troops remained hidden in pockets and caves, primarily in the northern part of the island and the Umurbrogol mountains. For several months afterward, the units of the 81st Division assigned to garrison the island continued to root out stragglers and seal off caves. Many of these soldiers would survive in the mountains and swamps until the war's conclusion and beyond. In fact a Japanese lieutenant with 26 men of the 2nd Infantry soldiers and eight 45th Guard Force sailors held out in the caves in Peleliu until April 22nd of 1947 and surrendered after a Japanese admiral convinced them the war was over. The effort to reduce the Japanese pocket around Umurbrogol Mountain is often regarded as the most challenging battle faced by the U.S. military throughout the entire war. The 1st Marine Division suffered heavy losses and remained inactive until the invasion of Okinawa began on April 1, 1945. During their month on Peleliu, the 1st Marine Division incurred over 6,500 casualties, representing more than one-third of the division's strength. The 81st Infantry Division also experienced significant losses, with approximately 3,300 casualties during their time on the island. Postwar analyses indicated that U.S. forces required more than 1,500 rounds of ammunition to kill each Japanese defender. They expended a staggering 13.32 million rounds of .30-caliber ammunition, 1.52 million rounds of .45-caliber, 693,657 rounds of .50-caliber bullets, 118,262 hand grenades, and 150,000 mortar rounds.The battle sparked considerable controversy in the United States, as many believed that the high number of American casualties was unjustified for an island with minimal strategic importance. The Japanese defenders were incapable of hindering potential U.S. operations in the Philippines, and the airfield captured on Peleliu did not significantly influence subsequent military actions. Instead, the Ulithi Atoll in the Caroline Islands was utilized as a staging ground for the Okinawa invasion. The casualty rate from this battle surpassed that of any other amphibious operation in the Pacific War. Moreover, coverage of the battle was limited, as only six reporters were motivated to report from the shore, influenced by General Rupertus's prediction of a quick victory within three days. The battle also received less attention due to General MacArthur's return to the Philippines and the Allies' advance toward Germany in Europe. The battles for Angaur and Peleliu illustrated the typical patterns of Japanese island defense, yet few adjustments were made for the subsequent battles of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. Naval bombardment before the amphibious assault at Iwo Jima proved to be only marginally more effective than at Peleliu, while the preliminary shelling for Okinawa saw significant improvements. Underwater demolition teams, known as frogmen, conducted operations at Iwo Jima that confused the enemy by targeting both coasts, but this tactic later alerted Japanese defenders to the precise assault beaches during the Okinawa invasion. American ground forces gained valuable experience at Peleliu in assaulting heavily fortified positions similar to those they would encounter again at Okinawa. Admiral William Halsey Jr. recommended canceling the planned occupation of Yap Island in the Caroline Islands. He also suggested that the landings at Peleliu and Angaur be abandoned in favor of deploying their Marines and soldiers to Leyte Island; however, this recommendation was ultimately overruled by Admiral Nimitz. Turning our attention to China, we need to discuss the conclusion of the pivotal Operation Ichi-Go, as the 11th and 23rd Armies pressed on with their offensives against Guilin and Liuzhou. Back in August, following battles in Hunan and Guangdong, the 11th and 23rd Armies of the IJA initiated offensives toward Guilin and Liuzhou, respectively. The NRA troops defending the region were primarily remnants from the Battle of Hengyang, resulting in only 20,000 soldiers being present in Guilin on November 1 when the Japanese commenced their assault on the city. The Chinese government recognized that it could not hold Guilin but chose to prolong the battle for political reasons, sending food and supplies to those besieged. Most civilians had fled Guilin weeks earlier, leaving the city heavily scorched by fire. Defenses were reinforced with pillboxes, barbed wire, and Guangxi troops commanded by Muslim General Bai Chongxi. General Joseph Stilwell, who had a good relationship with Bai, made considerable efforts to supply American munitions to Bai's forces. Trenches were also dug throughout the hilly terrain. By early November, General Yokoyama's forces had effectively surrounded Guilin, with the 3rd and 13th Divisions ready to advance toward Liuzhou, while General Tanaka's units were also preparing to move north following the fall of Wuxuan. Consequently, most of Yokoyama's troops continued to tighten their grip on Guilin, where the determined defenders inflicted heavy casualties on the Japanese as they facilitated the withdrawal of American personnel. Additionally, the 13th Division advanced through Yongfu on November 6, the 3rd Division captured Luzhaizhen on November 8, and the 104th Division began its movement toward the area west of Liuzhou. On November 9, just as the 11th Army initiated its main assault on Guilin, General Okamura assigned the 3rd and 13th Divisions to the 23rd Army to enhance coordination for the attack on Liuzhou. Fortunately for them, the Chinese forces offered minimal resistance, leading to the city and its airfield falling the next day. Simultaneously, with the support of the 5th Air Army, Yokoyama successfully captured Guilin, achieving the primary goal of Operation Togo II.  To eliminate the retreating enemy forces, the 23rd Army continued its advance westward. On November 15, the 104th Division took Xincheng, while the 3rd Division captured Yizhou and the 13th Division moved towards Hechi, effectively cutting off the Chinese retreat and destroying the remaining enemy troops. The 3rd Division then advanced north, capturing Huanjian on November 27, while the 13th Division continued west, successfully taking Nandan on November 28 and Dushan on December 2. In response, Tanaka dispatched the 22nd Division and the 23rd Independent Mixed Brigade to capture Nanning, which fell by November 28. By early December, elements of the 22nd Division joined forces with the Indochinese garrison near Shangsi, marking the conclusion of Operation Ichi-Go. After ten days of fierce fighting, the Japanese forces captured Guilin and entered Liuzhou on the same day. Sporadic fighting persisted as Chinese forces retreated rapidly. By November 24, the Japanese had taken control of 75 counties in Guangxi, encompassing about two-thirds of the region. Reports indicate that they killed 215,000 civilians in reprisals and during crossfire, injuring over 431,000. After the fall of Guilin and Liuzhou, the majority of NRA troops lost their morale and retreated without ever confronting the enemy, leading to significant losses in both equipment and personnel. This event became one of the most devastating defeats of the entire Second Sino-Japanese War. Nevertheless, despite having destroyed the airbases in this area, the USAAF could still launch attacks on the Japanese mainland from their other bases. While the Japanese achieved some objectives of Operation Ichigo, it ultimately expanded the territory they needed to defend and significantly weakened their lines, creating a favorable scenario for future counterattacks by Chinese forces. After destroying enemy air bases and annihilating the main enemy forces in the Guilin-Liuzhen area, the 6th Area Army assigned the 22nd Division and the 22nd Independent Mixed Brigade to the 11th Army to secure strategic locations in the region, while the 23rd Army returned to Guangzhou and the Leizhou Peninsula. By the operation's end, Japanese losses were estimated at around 100,000 killed, 200,000 wounded, and significant material losses, including 1,938 small river vessels and 367 aircraft. In contrast, Chinese losses totaled approximately 310,000 killed, 410,000 wounded, and 80,000 captured, along with substantial war material losses, including 312 Allied aircraft, resulting in the deaths of 100 Americans. Additionally, the entire Japanese offensive resulted in the deaths of approximately 500,000 civilians. 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 fight on Leyte gruels on as the fight for Peleliu finally came to an end. The controversial battle of Peleliu would have major ramifications for American planners going forward. In China, absolute horror was continuing to be inflicted upon the Chinese people, leaving to the massacre of hundreds of thousands in a war that just never seemed like it would end.

Chapter 1:Summary of The Rape of Nanking"The Rape of Nanking: The Forgotten Holocaust of World War II" by Iris Chang, published in 1997, is a historical account of the horrific massacre in Nanking (now Nanjing), China, during the Second Sino-Japanese War. The book details the events that occurred in 1937, when the Japanese Imperial Army captured Nanking, then the capital of Nationalist China. Over the span of six weeks, Japanese soldiers committed widespread atrocities, including mass executions, rapes, looting, and other forms of extreme violence against civilians and unarmed soldiers.Chang describes the brutalities using extensive research, including survivors' testimonies, photographs, and documents, highlighting both the scale and cruelty of the massacre. The author estimates that approximately 300,000 people were killed and tens of thousands of women were raped, making it one of the most devastating massacres of the 20th century.The book also discusses the international response to the atrocities, noting how a small group of Western expatriates and missionaries established the Nanking Safety Zone to shelter and protect Chinese civilians. Despite their efforts, the suffering and loss were immense."The Rape of Nanking" serves not only as a reminder of a dark chapter in history but also as an examination of the psychological and sociological underpinnings of such human atrocities. Chang criticizes the Japanese government's reluctance to fully acknowledge the incident and calls for greater recognition and understanding of the massacre. Her narrative aims to ensure that the atrocities committed in Nanking are neither forgotten nor repeated. The book has contributed significantly to discussions about historical memory and justice.Chapter 2:The Theme of The Rape of Nanking"The Rape of Nanking: The Forgotten Holocaust of World War II" by Iris Chang is a non-fiction book published in 1997 that provides a detailed account of the Nanking Massacre, a six-week period of horrific violence and atrocities committed by the Japanese army in the Chinese city of Nanking (now Nanjing) beginning in December 1937 during the Second Sino-Japanese War.Key Plot Points:1. Invasion of Nanking: The book begins with the context of the Japanese invasion of China and the strategic and symbolic importance of Nanking, then the capital of Nationalist China.2. The Fall of Nanking: Details the siege and eventual fall of Nanking to Japanese forces. Despite attempts at defense by Chinese troops, the city succumbed to the better-equipped Japanese army.3. The Massacre Begins: Following the capture of the city, Japanese soldiers began an unrestrained attack on both soldiers and civilians, which included mass executions, rapes, and widespread looting.4. The Safety Zone: A group of Westerners and a few sympathetic Japanese established the Nanking Safety Zone, which tried to shelter Chinese civilians from the atrocities. The efforts and struggles of these individuals, including John Rabe, a German businessman and Nazi Party member, who played a leading role in trying to protect the civilians, are highlighted.5. The International Response: The book also discusses the lack of a strong international response to the massacre and the world's focus on the events unfolding in Europe leading up to World War II.6. Aftermath and Denial: Post-war, the book chronicles the Chinese struggle for recognition of the massacre, the ongoing denial by certain segments of Japanese society, and the challenges faced by historians and survivors in memorializing the event.Character Development:Given that it's a historical account, the book doesn't feature traditional character development. However, it does provide deep profiles of key figures involved in the event, illustrating their moral choices, courage, or cruelty. Figures such as John Rabe...

WARNING: A LOT OF TALK ABOUT SEXUAL VIOLENCE AND GENERAL INHUMANITY. Shit can get rough during wartime. Cruelty can rear its ugly head and we get a lot of that during our war-movie themed month we're calling GLORY & PROPAGANDA. This week is WW2 week. The Second Sino-Japanese War probably would have happened anyway, regardless of the rest of the world's troubles, but it was on the footsteps and an essential part of how ever-present troubles were across the globe leading up to the Second World War. It was the Fourth of July last week and China gives us a big assist with their amazing explosives that we blow up, so this month let's talk about a Chinese movie about an infamous event that the Japanese don't talk much about in their media. We're talking about the Siege and Rape of Nanking as depicted in Lu Chuan's 2009 film “CITY OF LIFE AND DEATH” also called “NANKING! NANKING!”. What is interesting about Chuan's epic of atrocity is that he manages to depict humanity even amongst the Japanese. Sergeant Kadokawa is not enjoying the abject horror his fellow soldiers are committing on prisoners or civilians. The remaining Chinese citizens are struggling to survive what may not be survivable. This movie is pretty hard to watch but if you read a little bit on this actual history then you realize how much harder it could have gone. Then there's a beat near the end that you can shake your sweet ass to. Here's a link with English subs we found: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yx_ervF7h7w Subscribe to us on YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCuJf3lkRI-BLUTsLI_ehOsg Contact us here: MOVIEHUMPERS@gmail.com Check our past & current film ratings here: https://moviehumpers.wordpress.com Hear us on podcast: https://open.spotify.com/show/6o6PSNJFGXJeENgqtPY4h7 Our OG podcast “Documenteers”: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/documenteers-the-documentary-podcast/id1321652249 Soundcloud feed: https://soundcloud.com/documenteers Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/culturewrought

#kotnis #china #inspiration Dr. Dwarakanath Shantaram Kotnis (10 October 1910 in India – 9 December 1942), also known by his Chinese name Ke Dihua (Chinese: 柯棣华; pinyin: Kē Dìhuá), was one of the five Indian physicians dispatched to China to provide medical assistance during the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1938. Known for his dedication and perseverance, he has been regarded as an example for Sino-Indian friendship and collaboration. Died in China war field at the young age of 32 years, Dr. Kotnis is true international spirit.

Indoctrinating the Youth: Secondary Education in Wartime China and Postwar Taiwan, 1937-1960 (U Hawaii Press, 2024) examines how the Guomindang (GMD or Nationalists) sought to maintain control of middle-school students and cultivate their political loyalty over the trajectory of the Second Sino-Japanese War, Chinese Civil War, and postwar Taiwan. During the Sino-Japanese War the Nationalists managed middle-school refugee students by merging schools, publishing and distributing updated textbooks, and assisting students as they migrated to the interior with their principals and teachers. In Taiwan, the China Youth Corps (CYC) became a symbol of the regime's successful establishment. Tracing Nationalist efforts to indoctrinate ideology and martial spirit, Jennifer Liu investigates how GMD leaders Chiang Kai-shek and his son Chiang Ching-kuo tried to build support among young people in their efforts to stabilize Taiwanese society under their rule. By comparing two key youth organizations—the Three People's Principles Youth Corps in China, and the CYC on Taiwan—Liu uses education as a lens to analyze state-building in modern China. Liu's careful analysis of the inner workings of GMD youth organizations also illuminates the day-to-day operations of military training in gender-segregated upper-middle schools—including how the government selected instructors and the skills taught to students. According to Liu, mandatory military training contributed to preventing major protest against the government but the policy was not without critics. Intellectuals, parents, and students voiced their dissent at what they perceived as excessive control by a repressive government and a waste of resources interfering with academics. The government-mandated civics curriculum, including government-approved textbooks and standards, reveals the characteristics and duties GMD officials believed modern citizens of the next generation should possess. Through provisions for refugee students, youth organizations, military training, and civics classes, GMD secondary education policy played a critical role in the process of state building in both modern China and Taiwan. Skillfully combining archival work in Nanjing and Taipei, along with oral interviews with former students and CYC administrators, instructors, and members, Liu offers a unique perspective toward a balanced assessment of Nationalist Party rule. Jennifer Liu is associate professor of East Asian history at Central Michigan University. She specializes in the political and social history of twentieth-century China, particularly education, youth culture, studen​t protest, and ethnic identity. Li-Ping Chen is a teaching fellow in the Department of East Asian Languages and Cultures at the University of Southern California. Her research interests include literary translingualism, diaspora, and nativism in Sinophone, inter-Asian, and transpacific contexts. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Indoctrinating the Youth: Secondary Education in Wartime China and Postwar Taiwan, 1937-1960 (U Hawaii Press, 2024) examines how the Guomindang (GMD or Nationalists) sought to maintain control of middle-school students and cultivate their political loyalty over the trajectory of the Second Sino-Japanese War, Chinese Civil War, and postwar Taiwan. During the Sino-Japanese War the Nationalists managed middle-school refugee students by merging schools, publishing and distributing updated textbooks, and assisting students as they migrated to the interior with their principals and teachers. In Taiwan, the China Youth Corps (CYC) became a symbol of the regime's successful establishment. Tracing Nationalist efforts to indoctrinate ideology and martial spirit, Jennifer Liu investigates how GMD leaders Chiang Kai-shek and his son Chiang Ching-kuo tried to build support among young people in their efforts to stabilize Taiwanese society under their rule. By comparing two key youth organizations—the Three People's Principles Youth Corps in China, and the CYC on Taiwan—Liu uses education as a lens to analyze state-building in modern China. Liu's careful analysis of the inner workings of GMD youth organizations also illuminates the day-to-day operations of military training in gender-segregated upper-middle schools—including how the government selected instructors and the skills taught to students. According to Liu, mandatory military training contributed to preventing major protest against the government but the policy was not without critics. Intellectuals, parents, and students voiced their dissent at what they perceived as excessive control by a repressive government and a waste of resources interfering with academics. The government-mandated civics curriculum, including government-approved textbooks and standards, reveals the characteristics and duties GMD officials believed modern citizens of the next generation should possess. Through provisions for refugee students, youth organizations, military training, and civics classes, GMD secondary education policy played a critical role in the process of state building in both modern China and Taiwan. Skillfully combining archival work in Nanjing and Taipei, along with oral interviews with former students and CYC administrators, instructors, and members, Liu offers a unique perspective toward a balanced assessment of Nationalist Party rule. Jennifer Liu is associate professor of East Asian history at Central Michigan University. She specializes in the political and social history of twentieth-century China, particularly education, youth culture, studen​t protest, and ethnic identity. Li-Ping Chen is a teaching fellow in the Department of East Asian Languages and Cultures at the University of Southern California. Her research interests include literary translingualism, diaspora, and nativism in Sinophone, inter-Asian, and transpacific contexts. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history