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

Dr Shaoxu Wu from Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hospital joins Dr Shangrong Han to discuss PanCAM, an AI pathology model that detects lymph-node metastasis across diverse cancers with robust performance. Click here to read the article: https://www.thelancet.com/journals/landig/article/PIIS2589-7500(25)00143-8/fulltext

Dr Shaoxu Wu from Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hospital joins Dr Shangrong Han to discuss PanCAM, an AI pathology model that detects lymph-node metastasis across diverse cancers with robust performance. Click here to read the full article: https://www.thelancet.com/journals/landig/article/PIIS2589-7500(25)00143-8/fulltext

Last time we spoke about the beginning of the first battle of Changsha. From Chongqing, Chiang debated defensive strategies for Hunan, ultimately adopting Plan B after Xue Yue's pleas, focusing on successive resistance north of Changsha to thwart Japanese advances. Japanese forces, under Okamura Yasuji, launched assaults in Jiangxi and Hunan. In Jiangxi, the 106th and 101st Divisions attacked Huibu and Gao'an, where Chinese troops under Luo Zhuoying and Song Kentang fiercely resisted. Gao'an fell briefly but was recaptured by the 32nd Army and the elite 74th Army, with heavy casualties on both sides, as recounted by soldier Liu Qihuai. In Hunan, Japanese units crossed the Xin Qiang River and landed at Yingtian, facing brutal opposition. At Bijia Mountain, Qin Yizhi's 195th Division held for four days; Battalion Commander Shi Enhua's reinforced unit perished entirely, their fragmented remains mourned by locals. Along the Miluo River, Chen Pei's 37th Army fortified positions, repelling waves of Japanese attacks, including suicide squads disguised as civilians. Recruit Yang Peyao's unit endured bombardments, inflicting significant enemy losses before withdrawing at dusk.   #197 The First Battle of Changsha 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. Major Luo Wenlang, battalion commander of the 3rd Battalion, 55th Regiment, 19th Division of the 28th Army, harbored a peculiar quirk: he couldn't sleep soundly without unwrapping his leg bindings, a small ritual that anchored him in the chaos of war. Since the war's eruption, such luxuries were rare, and unwrapping his bindings every night became an impossibility, leaving him to endure restless slumbers. Tonight, however, sleep eluded him entirely; he tossed and turned on his makeshift bed, his mind a whirlwind of unrest. Two days after the northern Hunan battle ignited like a powder keg, the 55th Regiment received urgent orders from Division Commander Tang Boyin to race to Wukou in Pingjiang County. Their path wound through Luo Wenlang's hometown of Fulinpu, a twist of fate that stirred conflicting emotions. Entering the village under the cover of night, the entire battalion encamped in the commander's modest family village, with battalion headquarters naturally established in his ancestral home.   Luo yearned to step across that familiar threshold but dreaded it, for his parents remained oblivious to a devastating truth. They slaughtered chickens and prepared meat, hosting the battalion staff with drinks and hospitality, after all, this was their son's unit gracing their home. Luo orchestrated door planks and straw for bedding, posted sentries, and deftly evaded his parents until they retired. Before dawn broke, he mustered the troops, ensured they were fed, and led them onward, slipping away like a shadow. By noon on the 22nd, they reached Wukou, only to receive fresh directives: rush to Yingtian to bolster the 95th Division against the enemy's audacious landings. The 3rd Battalion spearheaded the division's reinforcements, marching relentlessly through day and night, arriving at Dongtang, over 30 kilometers southeast of Yingtian—on the 23rd, hearts sinking upon learning Yingtian had already fallen into enemy clutches.   Luo Wenlang sought out the retreating 95th Division Commander Luo Qi to beg for a mission, his resolve unyielding. Luo Qi, anticipating his arrival, relayed Commander Guan Linzheng's ironclad instructions: The 19th Division's reinforcements would assume Dongtang's defenses. With the main force still en route, Luo Qi tasked Luo's battalion with relieving a segment held by a replacement regiment. He handed over a map, sketching a line with a pencil, a simple stroke that thrust Luo Wenlang and his men onto the front lines of fate. An operations staff was dispatched to guide them to the position and oversee the handover.   As the troops advanced, they encountered scattered soldiers fleeing like startled rabbits; seizing a platoon leader revealed they were indeed from the replacement regiment. Mere minutes from division HQ, the enemy was already closing in, a predator's breath hot on their necks. Luo Wenlang and Deputy Battalion Commander Wu Yacui split the battalion, launching a counterattack on Dongtang from dual routes. Fortune favored them; the Japanese held only an exhausted company, crumbling under a single, ferocious charge. They swiftly deployed two companies to the positions, reserving one as a bulwark. By dusk, the full 55th Regiment arrived, accompanied by the rest of the 19th Division's reinforcements, allowing the battered 95th Division, ravaged at Yingtian, to withdraw for desperate reorganization. The regimental commander positioned Luo's 3rd Battalion on the regiment's vulnerable left wing. In the blink of an eye, it was the 27th, aligning with the 15th of the eighth lunar month. Amid the relentless great battle, few noted the calendar, and the skies hung heavy with clouds. Luo Wenlang twisted on his straw bed, his thoughts a snarled knot of anxiety and memory.   At 11 p.m., gunfire shattered the night; a barrage of machine gun bullets riddled the battalion HQ house, raining thatch and dust upon Luo like fallout from a storm. Catastrophe had struck! Luo surged toward the positions with the bugler—his battalion signal chief—and the reserve force, ascending the hilltop in a frenzy. Halfway up, he spotted 8th Company's Lieutenant Platoon Leader Rong Fayu leading over 20 soldiers in retreat. Bellowing "Why unauthorized retreat?" while brandishing his pistol, he compelled Rong to rally and turn back. The Japanese had launched a nocturnal assault; 8th Company Commander Yi Zuitao lay slain by a fatal shot, over a dozen comrades felled in brutal close combat, the survivors scattered like leaves in the wind; the high ground now belonged to the enemy.   Upon learning of Dongtang's loss, the regimental commander personally led the regimental reserve, his face etched with urgency. Under flickering lantern light, poring over the map with Luo, Division Commander Tang Boyin telephoned, his voice a whipcrack of command: Recapture it before dawn, or both would face the merciless hand of military justice. After seizing the high ground, the enemy hesitated to press further; Luo surmised the darkness concealed paths, and their numbers were not overwhelming. Forgoing the regimental reserve, he led 7th Company's 4 squads and remnants of the routed 8th Company in a stealthy ascent. Near the position, a ravine concealed over 20 8th Company soldiers, rallied by Sergeant Squad Leader Tan Tianrong, who had lurked in wait for reinforcements, dreading exposure at dawn under the enemy's gaze.   Spotting the battalion commander personally spearheading the counterattack, Tan Tianrong's face lit with fierce joy; his men, armed with grenades, surged as the vanguard. Intimate with the terrain even in blindness, they hurled explosives into bunkers, trenches, and works. The commander orchestrated the charge; the Japanese force of 40-50 men crumbled, over half slain or maimed, the remnants fleeing northward to their village stronghold. It was past 4 a.m.; the moon pierced the clouds, bathing the earth in a silvery glow. With positions reclaimed, the night revealed its secret: tonight was Mid-Autumn. Moonlight unraveled the tangled threads of his past; Luo draped his clothes over his shoulders, sat beneath the luminous orb, and wept in solitary anguish.   Before the war, devastating news had arrived: his brother Luo Yinong had been killed in Jiangxi. Luo had three brothers; the eldest shouldered half the family's burdens, their bond unbreakable. The brother had enlisted first in the 50th Army, climbing to battalion commander through sheer valor. He and his younger brother had followed suit, inspired by that call to arms.   Wartime conscription demanded only one per family, but battling the devils was a duty for the nation and its people. His brother had risen to deputy regimental commander before his end. The 50th Army notified him first. Engulfed in battle, there had been no time to console his grieving parents or tend to the funeral; it weighed on his heart like an unyielding stone. His sister-in-law, diligent and unassuming, cared for a young boy and carried another child; the long, arduous days ahead loomed like an endless shadow. The night dew brought a biting chill, the moon an icy sentinel; Luo shivered uncontrollably, his tears mingling with the frost.   The sky hung heavy with overcast gloom, yet the moon lurked beyond the clouds, casting a faint, ethereal light that warded off utter darkness. Along the road, a unit's elongated black shadow snaked southward in hurried silence, a serpent of weary resolve pressing through the night. Qin Yizhi reined in his horse, pausing to gaze back: the queue stretched onward, silent and impeccably orderly, belying the exhaustion of a force scarred by days of ferocious combat, their spirits unbroken amid the shadows. After the Japanese seized the 195th Division's defiant outpost at Bijia Mountain, they surged across the Xin Qiang River in a merciless onslaught. The river, shallow enough to wade knee-deep, offered no true impediment; the real barrier was forged from the defenders' scorching blood, a crimson testament to their unyielding stand. The 195th Division clashed in a maelstrom of cruelty; positions were heaped with corpses time and again, the Xin Qiang's waters churning blood-red in relentless cycles of carnage. From the night of the 23rd to the dawn of the 25th, respite was a forgotten dream; Okamura Yasuji, in a gesture of grim respect, inscribed Qin's name in elegant calligraphy and hung it within his command tent, a haunting trophy of the foe's tenacity.   Following their triumphant landing at Yingtian, the Japanese entangled the Ninth War Zone's left-wing defenders in a protracted snare, their advances grinding slowly like a predator toying with prey, menacing the flanks of the frontal troops with insidious intent. On the evening of the 27th, Xue Yue issued the fateful order for the 15th Army Group to withdraw to the precarious ground between the Miluo River and Shangshan City, ushering this blood-soaked force into an all-night march toward the next defensive crucible. Late into the night, a brief halt was called. Soldiers slumped to the ground, adjusting leg wraps and gear with mechanical precision; logistics teams darted through the ranks, distributing rations like lifelines; cooks, having forged ahead, arrived with steaming pots of rice soup, infusing the air with a rare warmth. Though no clamor broke the hush, a quiet camaraderie enveloped the queue, a fleeting balm against the war's chill.   The division staff claimed a flat expanse beside a farmhouse yard for their respite. Qin settled onto a stone roller used for grinding grain, nibbling at his meager ration and sipping the hot soup that steamed in the cool air. Suddenly, moonlight pierced the clouds, cascading down in silvery streams; the familiar contours of the farmhouse stirred a flood of warmth in his heart, evoking memories of home.   Chongqing, Huangshan Villa. Every window was shrouded in double layers of thick curtains, sealing out any sliver of betraying light, as if the very walls conspired to guard secrets from the encroaching night. Tonight's ethereal protagonist rose languidly from the eastern valley, its orange-red moonlight casting an aura of drowsy reluctance, as though it had not fully shaken off the slumber of the day. The feeble glow dappled the building's roof, balcony, and the surrounding hillsides, intersections, and thickets, where armed shadows lurked, capturing every rustle in the oppressive silence. Only upon close inspection could one discern the faint specks of moonlight glinting off steel helmets. Yet, beyond those fortified walls, another realm pulsed with life, a vibrant contrast to the shadowed vigilance outside. The front hall, living room, and dining room blazed with brilliant light. Vibrant flowers, dominated by chrysanthemums in full, defiant bloom, infused the air with color and fragrance; a phonograph murmured a cheerful Guangdong melody, weaving an atmosphere thick with festive joy, a deliberate illusion amid the storm of war.   Chiang Kai-shek, clad in a flowing black silk gown, strode ahead with poised grace, escorting his guests into the dining room alongside the elegantly attired Soong May-ling, their conversation laced with laughter and warmth. At the table, Soong May-ling's smile was a beacon of diplomacy, as she artfully arranged the seating to suit hierarchies and alliances, while servers in crisp white uniforms moved with nimble precision. This was Chiang Kai-shek's intimate Mid-Autumn family banquet; beyond a handful of pivotal military and political figures, the gathering brimmed with relatives. Guests and kin alike noted Chiang's buoyant spirits tonight; his smiles were wide and genuine, his discourse light and expansive, delving into casual topics with uncharacteristic ease.   In September 1939, China's War of Resistance Against Japan had entered its grueling third year. After the initial cataclysm of turmoil and disarray, the government and military had clawed their way to stability, adapting to this unprecedented historical crucible, with operations finally aligning into a semblance of order. According to figures proclaimed by Minister of Military Affairs He Yingqin to Chinese and foreign reporters on the 13th of this month, Japanese invaders had seized 521 counties across 12 provinces, a vast swath of conquest. Yet, the Japanese imperialists had exacted this toll at a staggering cost. Just prior, on August 30, the Hirannuma Cabinet, installed a mere eight months earlier, had collapsed in mass resignation. Hirannuma Kiichiro's predecessor, Konoe Fumimaro, had similarly bowed out amid governmental failures, chiefly the unmet ambitions in the Sino-Japanese War that he had boldly promised to parliament, exacerbating domestic political and economic woes. Days ago, when Wang Pengsheng briefed Chiang on Japan's turbulent politics, he quipped: "Konoe said three months to destroy China; three months didn't work, nor three years, who knows about 30 or 300. Hirannuma had no solutions, down in eight months. Does Abe have good ideas? How long can he be prime minister?" Indeed, Abe Nobuyuki, Hirannuma's successor, would endure a mere four and a half months before resigning in ignominy. Tonight's feast showcased Chiang's favored cuisines: delicate Jiangsu-Zhejiang dishes mingled with robust Sichuan flavors. Chiang abstained from alcohol, raising his cup in mere symbolic toasts to his guests. During the meal, as if by unspoken accord, no one broached the raging domestic battles or the volatile international landscape; conversations meandered through trivialities, skirting anything heavy or discordant, a fragile bubble of normalcy.   On September 3, Britain and France had declared war on Germany, shattering the global order in a seismic shift. Foreign newspapers already bandied the term "Second World War," a phrase that evoked freshness, exhilaration, and sheer terror in equal measure. China's diplomacy surged with newfound vigor. In April, Ambassador to the US Wang Zhengting had negotiated a $20 million loan with American banks on China's behalf. In May, Stalin responded to Chiang's overtures, agreeing to exchange arms for Chinese tea, wool, raw hides, and more. A month later, the first consignment of light and heavy weapons—including artillery and heavy machine guns—arrived via clandestine routes through Xinjiang and Mongolia, bolstering the central army's frontlines. In August, Hu Shih, Wellington Koo, and Chien Tai represented the Nationalist Government at the 19th League of Nations Assembly, laying bare the Japanese imperialists' atrocities in China before the world and rallying global forces for peace to support China's defiant stand. Soon after, British and American civic groups ignited "China Week" campaigns, pressing their governments to aid the beleaguered nation. Waves of foreign volunteers streamed in from distant shores: doctors, journalists, ordnance engineers, even retired soldiers clamoring to join the fray on the frontlines.   "If we could pull America into this war..." Through Soong May-ling's subtle, persuasive influence, Chiang allowed himself to daydream of that prosperous, dynamic young powerhouse across the vast ocean. Thus, on this Mid-Autumn night, his talk turned to America, to his correspondence with President Roosevelt regarding the "tung oil loan." That saga had unfolded the previous October; T.V. Soong had jetted to America, securing a loan with China's tung oil, a commodity scarce in the US, as collateral. China had boldly requested $400 million; America countered with $25 million, a classic tale of "ask high, settle low." Yet, the funds were secured. One success paved the way for many. Soong May-ling had once confided to Chiang: "In mobilizing US aid for China's resistance, I'll make a difference." When Chiang responded with a smile, "Thank you, Madam," he could scarcely foresee how his beautiful wife's extraordinary prowess in fulfilling this solemn vow would astonish him, etching eternal glory for Chinese women worldwide and elevating Soong May-ling to the zenith of her life's achievements.   The most direct echo of the First Battle of Changsha's thunderous saga resides in the Ninth War Zone's meticulous report on the northern Hunan and southern Hubei operations, submitted to the Chongqing Military Committee and Chiang Kai-shek himself, a faded relic now entombed amid the vast ocean of Nationalist Government military and political archives in Nanjing's Second Historical Archives of China. This document, a painstaking compilation of combat dispatches from divisions, armies, and army groups, stands as a testament to valor and sacrifice. Tragically, time's relentless march and human folly have ravaged this priceless artifact, leaving only shards and whispers to conjure the heart-wrenching inferno of that bloody clash.   "October 24, Year 28. Urgent. To Chongqing. Chairman Chiang. Secret. Submitted by Commander Xue on orders." The rice paper has yellowed to a deep, somber hue, brittle and parched; a careless touch could reduce it to dust. Some pages lie fractured, their remnants affixed to white paper, forever unable to reclaim their original wholeness. Leafing through page by page unleashes a pungent miasma, a scorched, acrid, decayed blend that assaults the senses. Traces of fire and water mar the original rice paper sheets, with countless fragments glued haphazardly to white backings, their sequences lost to eternity.   "...The Xin Qiang River spanning from Lujiao to Leishi Mountain, defending a front of over 110 li..." "Enemy 13th and 33rd Divisions, parts of the Hata Detachment, naval units, and artillery, cavalry, engineers totaling..." "...Began attacking us first with artillery... fortifications completely destroyed, then infantry charged; relying on our officers and men all resolved to coexist with the homeland..." "...And launched balloons to direct artillery... our army braved the cannons... repelled them, corpses filling the river, turning the water red..." "Division casualties also reached over a thousand... failed to inflict greater strikes and annihilate... deep inner guilt, besides vigorously training troops awaiting orders to kill the enemy..." "...Attack casualties heavy, then concentrated large forces... artillery fire so dense like continuous firecrackers for hours... released poison gas, Wang Street garrison all heroically sacrificed, then breached... Zhao Gongwu kowtows, October 15"   Zhao Gongwu commanded the 2nd Division under Zhang Yaoming's 52nd Army. This unit first held the line along the Xin Qiang River, then fell back to northeast of Fengjiang Bridge to staunch the enemy tide once more; after October 6, it hammered southward-marching Japanese from the west in the Yanglin Street and Dajing Street regions. Through these crucibles, the division bled over half its strength. A fragment of an envelope clings to a sheet of white paper, its words faintly visible: "Changsha 126-3 Zhang Yaoming," "Hunan Jinjing Air Mail," "Combat Process by..." and the like. The stamp remains remarkably intact—a philatelic gem now. Measuring 1.5 cm square, it features Sun Yat-sen's portrait at its center, inscribed "Republic of China Post" below, with "5" in the upper right, "fen" to the left, and "5" in each lower corner. I sat at the long table in the spacious, brightly lit reading room, staring vacantly, my thoughts grinding to a halt. These remnants are all that endure for posterity, of that monumental battle, of the scorching blood and vanished lives of countless unnamed Chinese soldiers. With hands that once gripped a rifle, I gently caressed those pages from a bygone era; they were cold, devoid of any lingering breath.   As the full moon of the 15th of the eighth month dissolved into the golden-red blaze of sunrise, Qin Yizhi's 195th Division had already plunged into the rugged mountains and dense forests encircling Fulinpu. Per directives from 15th Army Group Commander Guan Linzheng, the 195th was to forge a new defensive bastion centered on Fulinpu, 40 to 70 kilometers from Changsha. Their mandate: stall the Japanese southward juggernaut, granting precious time for allied forces to muster and fortify around the city. Despite the grueling all-night march, morale soared undimmed. The advance chief of staff doled out positions to each regiment, and the troops dove into fortification labors with fervent zeal. The 195th Division's unyielding stand along the Xin Qiang River had already etched preliminary glory upon this unit in its baptism of fire. "Fame in one battle" echoed as a battle cry throughout the division, where collective honor intertwined with personal valor. Honor and triumph formed the bedrock for soldiers and armies alike. Yet, another fire fueled their resolve.   On September 23, amid the Japanese forcing the Xin Qiang River, Guan Linzheng's voice crackled over the phone to Qin Yizhi: "Facing you is the 6th Division." The 6th Division, a name that ignited fury in Chinese troops and civilians, forever linked to the demonic specter of Tani Hisao. Moments later, the whisper spread like wildfire through every trench: "The Japanese army that perpetrated the Nanjing Massacre is right in front." Agitation rippled through the ranks; some donned fresh uniforms and shoes from their packs, casting aside the worn; others flouted discipline to bid farewells to hometown comrades: "Today we fight to the death here; see you in the next life." "Tell my mother I died fighting the Nanjing Massacre enemies."   Some company commanders commanded their mess sergeants to expend all funds on hearty feasts. All Japanese were foes, but the 6th Division embodied a blood debt, an unforgivable vendetta; the Chinese nation does not lightly forget its tormentors. In the Xin Qiang River maelstrom, the 195th Division battled with heroic ferocity. Some soldiers, in their final breaths, murmured: "Die then; it's worth it." Others lamented slaying too few devils, gritting teeth, eyes refusing to close in eternal regret. Now under Inaba Shiro's command, the 6th Division splintered southward after breaching the Xin Qiang; roughly a thousand hounded the 195th to Fulinpu. On the morning of September 29, the Japanese blundered into the 195th's meticulously laid ambush. Qin Yizhi, pulse racing with excitement and tension, fumbled the binoculars from his guard's hand. His command sliced the air: "Begin." War history chronicles: "The 6th Division advanced south from the Miluo River along the Xinshi-Liqiao road and Xinshi-Fulinpu routes. The over a thousand reaching Fulinpu were ambushed by the Nationalist 195th Division, suffering heavy losses." As Japanese artillery and aircraft unleashed hell upon the 195th's positions, Qin orchestrated a swift southward withdrawal to the environs of Shangshan City. Again, without pause, they erected fortifications and set deadly traps.   On the morning of September 30, the pursuers from Fulinpu closed in on Shangshan, their numbers swollen to over 1,500. Qin Yizhi clenched his jaw, his demeanor icy calm, allowing the Japanese to creep into the kill zone before barking: "Hit them hard!" Combat raged from dawn to dusk, obliterating over 700 foes. Qin ascended a hill, surveying through binoculars, then erupted: "Bad! The enemy is retreating." Upon receiving Qin's telegram, Guan Linzheng scrutinized the map, momentarily stunned, then replied: "Enemy shows no retreat signs yet; proceed per original plan. Your unit to block at Shangshan City line until October 2." Xianning, Okamura Yasuji's 11th Army HQ.   Combat maps bristled with markings, staff officers darting amid ringing phones and clattering telegrams. The colossal red arrow in northern Hunan had fractured into tributaries, surging over 100 km southward from the outset; one tendril pierced to Yong'an City, a mere 30 km from Changsha. Vast swaths of northern Hunan lay conquered, yet Okamura sensed the tide turning, it was time to retreat. The Chinese employed their time-honored gradual resistance, battling while retreating with cunning grace. Some units fell back directly, others amassed on flanks—what portent did that hold? In Okamura's shrewd mind loomed an equally shrewd Xue Yue; he envisioned his adversary methodically weaving a snare.   Post-Yingtian landing, the 15th Army Group's timely evasion had unraveled his "Xiang-Gan Operation Plan" like fragile thread. If encircling and annihilating the Chinese main force proved unattainable, what purpose in pressing onward? Telegrams from 3rd Division's Fujita Susumu, 6th's Inaba Shiro, and 13th's Tanaka Seiichi piled on his desk, pleading to assault Changsha—for headlines and Imperial accolades, perhaps, but blind to their exposed supply lines vulnerable to enemy thrusts? Ground logistics teetered on collapse; the air force resorted to airdrops for isolated regiments. Venturing further south would stretch lines to breaking; a severed artery spelled doom for the vanguard. When would these commanders mature into true stewards of the Imperial Army? Okamura fretted and pitied them in equal measure.   At 4 p.m. on September 30, Okamura decreed a halt to advances at Shangshan and Yong'an. He commenced orchestrating the retreat. Changsha, Yuelu Mountain, Ninth War Zone Command Forward HQ. October 1. Xue Yue stood before the map, Guan's latest telegram clutched in hand. Qin's second missive insisted on Japanese withdrawal, corroborated by 15th Army Group scouts from Yingtian: This morning (October 1), Japanese transports unloaded artillery stowed the previous night, hauling it back to Yueyang; intercepted wires revealed a regiment aborting its southward push, standing idle. Guan assessed the mosaic and commanded counteroffensives: intercept if feasible, pursue relentlessly, deny the Japanese escape; he relayed retreat indicators to Xue. Xue paced the chamber, head bowed in contemplation. Chief of Staff Wu Yizhi, Staff Director Zhao Zili, and their cadre tracked his every step with expectant eyes, awaiting the verdict. Xue's thoughts whirled through military stratagems and beyond.   Pre-war, Xue had segmented the war zone's forces into tripartite blocs: Northern Hunan under Guan Linzheng's 15th, Yang Sen's 27th, and Shang Zhen's 20th Army Groups as "A Cluster"; Northern Jiangxi Nanchang with Yunnan Army Lu Han's 1st Army Group and the 74th Army as "B Cluster"; the Wuning, Xiushui, Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi border guarded by Sichuan Army Wang Lingji's 30th Army Corps, Fan Songpu's Border Advance Army, and 8th Army; augmented by 3 armies' 7 divisions in general reserve. Before the storm broke, Xue pored over maps, tracing every mountain, river, road, and bridge, envisioning burial grounds for the invaders.   Now, beneath Changsha, 200,000 troops formed a tightening net. The "decisive battle in Changsha suburbs" blueprint had been wired to Chongqing. Chiang and the nation yearned for a resounding triumph as the resistance pivoted into a new epoch?! A masterful drama, honed over half a month's toil, neared its crescendo; yet that cunning fox appeared to sniff the trap's metallic tang, freezing in place. "Commander, phone from Minister Chen." "Brother Boling, good news." Chen Cheng's voice brimmed with levity, "Your formal appointment published. What? Ninth War Zone Commander! First to congratulate; document tomorrow." Shedding the "acting" prefix was inevitable; Chiang had intimated as much long ago. But for a man and general, true worth lay not in titles, but in forging indelible feats. Splendor was judged not by underlings, colleagues, or superiors, but by peers in the craft of war.   Unmoved by the promotion, Xue exhaled a profound sigh. Though the 15th's intelligence couldn't confirm a wholesale retreat, preparations for dual contingencies were imperative. Victories came hard; a splendid battle, harder still. He summoned Wu Yizhi and Zhao Zili to devise countermeasures for the enemy's potential flight. October 2, Sichuan Army Yang Sen's 27th Army Group, Yang Gancai's 134th Division special service company, under Company Commander Wan Mingyu, slogged through the profound mountains and forests on the northern Mufu Mountains' flanks. The 134th's covert mandate: infiltrate enemy rear via treacherous terrain, sabotage supply arteries in the Chongyang-Xianning sector, and deliver a dagger to the Japanese spine when opportunity struck, bolstering frontal defenses.   Past 3 p.m., a crystalline mountain stream materialized. Wan decreed a respite. Over 100 soldiers, drained from a half-day's ascent, collapsed like puppets with severed strings. Most propped their torsos with rifles in one hand, fanning hats to ward off the relentless forest mosquitoes with the other. Regaining breath, they devoured rations washed down with stream water. Some unfurled towels and ventured downstream, letting the cool flow rinse away layers of sweat. Then, a muted engine drone encroached from the heavens. Wan peered through the foliage: a low-flying plane vectored southward, its wings emblazoned with the Rising Sun.   A transport; Wan recognized the temporary Japanese airfield near Xianning. With lines overextended, airdrops sustained isolated units. Wan was prying open a can with his bayonet, the tip etching a cross on the lid before levering along the edge; paired with a rice ball, it promised a savory repast. His orderly proffered a cup of fresh stream water; 2nd Platoon Leader Hu Yaozong perched nearby on a rock, smirking, poised to pilfer from the opened tin. Wan warded off this Sichuan Pixian compatriot. The plane droned overhead then.   Both glanced skyward; the platoon quipped: "Open quick, damn, I'll repay two cans later." Commander: "Want cans? Sky has; shoot plane down, enough for two lifetimes, bloat your mother-in-law first." The can hailed from a prior supply raid. Platoon: "You want me to shoot the plane?" Commander: "Bastard! You shooting or not?" The platoon snatched the light machine gun from a tree fork, jamming the butt against his belly, one hand on the grip, aiming crudely: "Come down, you turtle son!" The other hand squeezed the trigger. Wan assumed jest, resuming his task. "Da-da-da..." Wan jolted; the half-opened can tumbled to his feet, spilling Japanese fish onto Chinese soil. Recoil floored the platoon; he hurled the gun like a branding iron, face ashen. Inspecting the trigger, he snarled: "Whose damn fault, why no safety?!" The gunner dashed over; tall and even-tempered: "Safety was on; how'd it fire without pulling?" Wan's initial panic: "Damn! Position exposed."   The company spearheaded the division's reinforced regiment to raze a recent Japanese depot, guarded by a mere company—but exposure doomed the regiment deep in hostile territory. The assault had been plotted for days; pre-departure, Yang Gancai had toasted them. Wan had sworn a blood oath: No return to Sichuan without success. Hu had jested then: "No Sichuan return means wanting Hunan girl as concubine." Banter was fine in peace, but in war's grip, this was no trifling errand. Wan unleashed a torrent of curses, rising to survey the environs. The main force lagged 15 km behind; advance or abort post-blunder? Enemy rear was a labyrinth; this isolated band teetered on a razor's edge. As if to compel a choice, the radio operator approached; Wan itched to lash out. In his fury and indecision, a miracle unfolded.   The transport's engines hacked like a consumptive invalid, then a witness spied the plane banking left, plummeting, its nose inexorably toward a colossal rock 3-4 km distant. It rebounded twice on the stone, nose and left wing crumpling; the fuselage, fragile as parchment, tumbled gently, skewing onto the slope amid splintered trees. Wan gaped, then bellowed: "Assemble!" The men snapped from reverie, charging downhill in a frenzied cascade. One hour later, 134th Deputy Commander and Reinforced Regiment Commander Liu decoded Wan's vanguard transmission via radio. Another hour passed before Liu received Yang Gancai's directive: Abort Mountain Leopard operation; return with documents expeditiously. One day hence, October 3, Okamura Yasuji's original retreat order from October 2 dawn, addressed to northern Hunan's 6th, 33rd Divisions, Nara and Uemura Detachments, plus its Chinese translation, landed on Xue Yue's desk.   Fifteen days later, at the Changsha Victory Celebration, unit accolades were proclaimed; for "shooting down enemy plane, obtaining vital enemy documents," meritorious honors went to 134th Commander Yang Gancai and Deputy Liu. Each received 1000 yuan and one 3rd Class Baoding Medal. Okamura's October 2 order original: Chinese forces retreated to Miluo and Xiushui Rivers banks assembling; to avoid disadvantage, this army should quickly withdraw to original positions, restore combat strength.   Withdrawal plan as follows: … Xue's October 3 order original:   "Northern Hunan frontal units with current posture immediately pursue facing enemy fiercely, must capture in Chongyang-Yueyang south area. ... Pursuit units may detach part to monitor and sweep enemy collection troops; main force execute overtaking pursuit... Already deep behind enemy advance units vigorously destroy enemy transport lines, cut escape routes."   From October 3, Chinese forces unleashed ferocious counteroffensives against the Japanese on three fronts: northern Hunan, southern Hubei, and the Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi border; the invaders receded like a vanishing tide, never to reclaim their ground. The 25th and 195th Divisions hounded the 6th Division and Nara Detachment from Fulinpu back to the Miluo River, then to the Xin Qiang River. On October 8, the Japanese fled across the Xin Qiang; the 195th's 566th Brigade surged in pursuit, launching a nocturnal raid on Xitang-Jianshan. Gains were modest, but the enemy, entrenched in their den, resisted with feral tenacity. Qin commanded the brigade's withdrawal southward; northern Hunan operations concluded.   In southern Hubei, the 79th Army chased remnants of the 33rd Division from Sanyan Bridge to Pingjiang, across Nanjiang Bridge, hounding them back to their Tongcheng lair. On the Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi border, 30th Army Group Commander Wang Lingji orchestrated a pincer against Japanese at Xiushui. The foes retreated to Sandu, mounting a stubborn defense. Chinese assaults faltered for three days; on the fourth night's blitz, victory crowned their efforts, expelling the invaders to their original Wuning stronghold. With both armies reclaiming pre-war lines, the First Battle of Changsha drew to its resounding close.   Over days, Xue Yue received a deluge of congratulatory telegrams and letters from the Nationalist Government, Military Committee, National Assembly, myriad civic groups, party officials, and social luminaries. As hoped, among them was Chiang Kai-shek's effusive missive, brimming with joy. For Xue Yue, this one sufficed. Chiang Kai-shek's telegram to Xue Yue:   "In this northern Hunan campaign, over half the enemy was annihilated. The triumphant news has invigorated the nation, all due to effective command and soldiers' valor; I commend without reservation. Thoroughly investigate and report meritorious personnel from this battle; also report the dead and wounded for awards and relief. With this initial victory foundation laid, our officers and men's responsibilities grow heavier; urge your subordinates to extra vigilance, redoubled effort, avoiding arrogance or complacency, to amass great achievements, my deepest hopes."   As if countering Chongqing's high-powered broadcasts, Japanese radios in Wuhan, Nanjing, Beiping, and Manchukuo blared at full volume: "In this Xiang-Gan operation, valiant Imperial forces penetrated over 100 km into northern Hunan, sweeping anti-peace elements, routing Chinese central main forces, inflicting over 40,000 enemy casualties, a pivotal triumph advancing the holy war. Having achieved objectives, Imperial troops have victoriously withdrawn..."   In the aftermath of the First Battle of Changsha, the Japanese high command spun a tale of calculated restraint, insisting their assault was merely a spoiling raid, a calculated jab never intended to seize and hold the city indefinitely. With brazen confidence, they downplayed their toll, claiming a mere 850 souls lost to death and 2,700 wounded in the fray, while boastfully asserting they had slain 44,000 Chinese defenders and taken 4,000 captive, painting a picture of overwhelming triumph amid the smoke and ruin. Yet, foreign military observers, peering through the fog of propaganda with detached scrutiny, painted a starkly different canvas. They gauged Chinese losses at a far more tempered 20,000 killed and wounded, a heavy but bearable scar on the nation's resolve, while estimating Japanese casualties soared to around 30,000, a grievous hemorrhage that belied the invaders' claims of minimal sacrifice. Military historian Michael Clodfelter, sifting through the annals of conflict, ventured an even grimmer tally: a staggering 50,000 Japanese casualties endured in the relentless clash, a testament to the ferocity of Chinese resistance and the high price of imperial ambition. In the battle's locale, neither side claimed clear victory, but globally for the resistance, it favored China. 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 First Battle of Changsha unfolded in September 1939 during China's War of Resistance Against Japan. Japanese forces under Okamura Yasuji advanced into Hunan and Jiangxi, crossing rivers and capturing key positions like Yingtian amid fierce Chinese defenses led by Xue Yue. 

The US government has pushed for years for a war with China, selling billions of dollars of weapons to separatists in Taiwan. However, those plans are falling apart, after the leader of the KMT, the Nationalist Party based in Taipei, took a historic trip to the mainland, promoting peace. Ben Norton explains the importance of Cheng Li-wun's meeting with Xi Jinping, and the complex political history of Taiwan. VIDEO: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fiDtfdBYHBQ Topics 0:00 KMT leader visits Beijing 1:28 US "prickly porcupine" strategy 2:09 KMT, Chinese Nationalist Party 2:48 Taiwan's ruling party DPP 3:27 Nancy Pelosi visit 4:17 Taiwan's DPP supports Israel 4:42 Fears of new Ukraine 5:22 US war plans 6:22 US arms sales to Taiwan 7:09 USA uses Taiwan as proxy 8:12 (CLIP) KMT leader on Ukraine 9:08 Is Taiwan the next Ukraine? 9:28 Elections results in 2024 10:12 Lai Ching-te is unpopular 10:54 Iran war hurts Taiwan 11:48 Energy crisis 12:27 TSMC and advanced chips 13:45 Neoliberalism 14:10 Developmental state 14:54 Economic insecurity 15:14 Trump tariff threats 15:48 Beijing does not want war 17:12 Beijing opposes separatism 18:06 UN: Taiwan is part of China 18:50 One China policy 19:46 Map of Taiwan recognition 20:05 List of Taiwan recognition 20:45 Cross-strait relations 22:19 Rising trade 23:13 One country, two systems 24:31 US military bases 24:58 Peaceful reunification 25:27 Poll: Taiwan independence 26:09 Future leader of Taiwan? 26:48 Divisions within KMT 27:27 Modern history of Taiwan 29:05 Chiang Kai-shek 29:41 Democracy? 30:46 Cold War One propaganda 31:39 Sun Yat-sen 34:40 Historic step for peace 36:14 Outro

The Chinese mainland released a set of measures on Sunday aimed at promoting peaceful cross-Strait relations and improving the well-being of people on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, as a delegation led by Cheng Li-wun, chairwoman of the Chinese Kuomintang party, concluded its visit to the mainland.4月12日，在中国国民党主席郑丽文率领的代表团结束大陆之行之际，大陆方面发布一系列举措，推动两岸关系和平发展、增进两岸同胞福祉。The Taiwan Work Office of the Communist Party of China Central Committee announced a package of 10 measures covering areas such as party-to-party dialogue, youth exchanges, infrastructure connectivity, cross-Strait transportation, trade facilitation and cultural cooperation. It came following a meeting on Friday between Xi Jinping, general secretary of the CPC Central Committee, and Cheng, which was the first such top-level meeting between the two political parties across the Strait in a decade.中共中央台办公布十项措施，涵盖政党对话、青年交流、基础设施联通、两岸交通、贸易便利化及文化合作等领域。此前，中共中央总书记习近平于10日会见郑丽文主席，这是两岸两党十年来首次高层会晤。At the meeting, Xi said that the goal of developing cross-Strait relations is to enable people on both sides to lead better lives.会晤中，习近平表示，发展两岸关系的目标，是要让两岸同胞过上更美好的生活。As this year marks the start of the mainland's 15th Five-Year Plan (2026-30) period, he expressed willingness to share development opportunities and achievements with Taiwan compatriots and jointly build a stronger Chinese national economy.今年是大陆“十五五”开局之年，习近平表示，我们愿同广大台湾同胞共享发展机遇和成果、共同壮大中华民族经济。Xi also said at the meeting that Taiwan's agricultural and fishery products, as well as other high-quality goods, are welcome to enter households across the mainland.习近平还指出，欢迎台湾农渔产品、优质商品进入大陆千家万户。According to the 10 initiatives announced on Sunday, the mainland proposed exploring a regularized communication mechanism between the CPC and the KMT, based on adherence to the 1992 Consensus and opposition to "Taiwan independence".根据4月12日公布的十项举措，大陆方面提议，在坚持“九二共识”、反对“台独”的共同政治基础上，探索建立国共两党常态化沟通机制。The 1992 Consensus, which embodies the one-China principle, was reached between the mainland-based Association for Relations Across the Taiwan Strait and the Taiwan-based Straits Exchange Foundation with authorization from authorities on both sides of the Strait in 1992.“九二共识”体现一个中国原则，是由中国大陆的海峡两岸关系协会与台湾地区的海峡交流基金会于1992年经两岸授权达成的。The measures also include strengthening youth exchanges through institutionalized programs and arranging annual visits by Taiwan delegations to the mainland.十项举措还包括：建立国共两党青年双向交流机制化平台，每年邀请岛内青年团组来大陆交流参访。It said efforts will focus on advancing utility links and bridge projects between Fujian province and the islands of Jinmen and Matsu. Authorities will also promote normalization of direct cross-Strait passenger air services and resume routes between Taiwan and selected mainland cities.推动福建沿海地区在条件具备情况下同金门、马祖通水、通电、通气、通桥；推动全面恢复两岸空中客运直航正常化，支持尽快恢复台湾与大陆部分城市两岸航班。The measures further aim to facilitate purchases of Taiwan agricultural and fishery products that meet relevant standards, support Taiwan businesses in accessing mainland markets, and improve conditions for Taiwan fishing vessels.此外，为符合检验检疫标准的台湾农渔产品输入大陆提供便利，支持台企开拓大陆市场，改善台湾渔船作业条件。In addition, the mainland will allow more Taiwan-produced content to be broadcast and encourage joint media production to promote the innovative development of Chinese culture.扩大台湾影视内容在大陆播出，鼓励两岸媒体合作制作，推动中华文化创新发展。The mainland will work toward resuming individual travel from Shanghai and Fujian to Taiwan, as only group tours are currently allowed for Fujian and Shanghai residents. Fujian individuals' tours to Jinmen and Matsu have also resumed since the second half of 2024.推动恢复上海市及福建省居民赴台（本岛）个人游试点（目前两地仅开放团队游），福建居民赴金门、马祖个人游已于2024年下半年恢复。Chang Jung-kung, a KMT vice-chairman and member of the delegation, said on Sunday that the policy package could be regarded as a "gift" from the mainland, delivered through Cheng, to the people of Taiwan, enhancing their well-being.中国国民党副主席、代表团成员张荣恭12日表示，这一政策礼包可视为大陆方面通过郑丽文主席送给台湾同胞的“礼物”，切实增进台湾民众福祉。He said it demonstrated goodwill and sincerity from the mainland and has brought tangible benefits to Taiwan.他表示，此举彰显大陆方面的善意与诚意，为台湾带来实实在在的利益。The measures came as Cheng's delegation concluded their six-day trip to the mainland from Tuesday to Sunday, which included stops in Jiangsu province, Shanghai and Beijing. The trip also marked the first visit to the mainland by a KMT chairperson in a decade.上述举措出台之际，郑丽文率领的代表团结束为期六天的大陆之行。代表团于7日至12日先后访问江苏、上海及北京，此次系国民党主席十年来首次访陆。The itinerary included traditional stops for KMT leaders visiting the mainland, such as the Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum in Nanjing, Jiangsu province, and the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall at Biyun Temple at Xiangshan in Beijing, where the delegation paid tribute to Sun as an important founding figure of the KMT. This year also marks the 160th anniversary of Sun's birth.行程中，代表团按惯例拜谒南京中山陵、北京香山碧云寺孙中山纪念堂，纪念这位国民党重要创始人。今年正值孙中山诞辰160周年。Meanwhile, the trip featured several visits highlighting the mainland's technological development. On Sunday, the delegation visited the Xiaomi EV Hyperfactory in Beijing, where they learned about the mainland's progress in electric vehicle research and development, marking the final stop of their mainland tour.此次访问还安排多项展现大陆科技发展的参访活动。12日，代表团参访北京小米汽车超级工厂，了解大陆电动汽车研发进展，为此次大陆之行最后一站。On Saturday, the delegation toured the Zhongguancun National Innovation Demonstration Zone Exhibition Center in Beijing's Haidian district, which showcased the latest technologies, including artificial intelligence, embodied intelligence and high-end medical devices.11日，代表团参观北京海淀区中关村国家自主创新示范区展示中心，观摩人工智能、具身智能、高端医疗器械等前沿技术成果。"I found answers for Taiwan's future here," Cheng said at the exhibition center, noting that the island's service sector and traditional manufacturing industries are facing mounting challenges.郑丽文在展示中心表示：“我在这里找到了台湾未来的答案。”她指出，台湾服务业与传统制造业正面临日益严峻的挑战。Cheng said she was impressed by the mainland's applications of AI and technological innovation across sectors, describing the trip as "highly rewarding".她对大陆人工智能应用及各领域科技创新印象深刻，称“不虚此行”。"Without political barriers across the Strait, the two sides could make significant contributions to humanity," she said, calling for strengthened cross-Strait cooperation based on each side's respective strengths.“如果两岸可以毫无政治障碍，对人类的贡献将不可限量。”郑丽文呼吁，立足各自优势，深化两岸合作。She also emphasized that efforts on both sides to address differences and reduce confrontation are ultimately aimed at improving the lives of people across the Strait.她同时强调，两岸化解分歧、减少对立，最终目的是增进两岸同胞民生福祉。Li Peng, dean of the Taiwan Research Institute at Xiamen University, said Cheng's visit once again reaffirmed that both sides of the Strait should pursue peaceful development, uphold the 1992 Consensus, oppose "Taiwan independence", and work to improve the well-being of people on both sides.厦门大学台湾研究院院长李鹏表示，郑丽文此行再次表明，两岸应坚持和平发展、坚持“九二共识”、反对“台独”，共同增进同胞福祉。He noted that mainstream public opinion in Taiwan supports the resumption and expansion of cross-Strait people-to-people exchanges, with many hoping to share the benefits of mainland development.他指出，台湾主流民意支持恢复并扩大两岸民间交流，众多民众期盼共享大陆发展红利。"Cheng's trip has also achieved these objectives," Li said, adding that the policy package released by the mainland represents tangible benefits for Taiwan compatriots and constitutes an important outcome of her visit to the mainland.“郑丽文此行达成上述目标。”李鹏说，大陆方面出台的政策礼包为台湾同胞带来实实在在的好处，是此次访陆之行的重要成果。resume routes/ /rɪˈzuːm ruːts/恢复航线tangible benefits/ /ˈtændʒəbl ˈbenɪfɪts/实际利益itinerary/ /aɪˈtɪnərəri/行程安排pay tribute to/ /peɪ ˈtrɪbjuːt tuː/致敬strengthen cross-Strait cooperation/ /ˈstreŋθən krɒs streɪt kəʊˌɒpəˈreɪʃn/加强两岸合作

Xi Jinping, general secretary of the Communist Party of China Central Committee, said on Friday that regardless of how the international landscape or the situation across the Taiwan Strait evolves, the overarching trend toward the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation and the prevailing momentum for Chinese people on both sides of the Strait to come closer together will not change.He made the remarks on Friday during a meeting in Beijing with Cheng Li-wun, chairwoman of the Chinese Kuomintang party. This was the first meeting between the leaders of the CPC and the KMT since 2016, when Xi met in Beijing with then KMT chairwoman Hung Hsiu-chu.Cheng is leading a KMT delegation on a six-day visit to the Chinese mainland at the invitation of Xi and the CPC Central Committee. Since arriving on Tuesday, the delegation has visited Jiangsu province and Shanghai, before traveling to Beijing.Welcoming the delegation, Xi said the meeting is of great significance for the development of relations between the two parties and across the Taiwan Strait.He said that people on both sides of the Strait hope for peace and tranquility, improved cross-Strait relations, and better lives. "This is a responsibility that the CPC and the KMT cannot shirk, and also a driving force for the two parties to work together," he said.Xi expressed the willingness to work with all political parties in Taiwan, including the KMT, as well as groups and people from all sectors, to strengthen exchanges and dialogue, promote peace across the Taiwan Strait, improve the well-being of the people and advance national rejuvenation, on the basis of the common political foundation of adhering to the 1992 Consensus and opposing "Taiwan independence".In a four-point proposal on the development of cross-Strait relations, Xi called for forging closer bonds across the Strait by upholding a correct understanding of identity.Highlighting that people on both sides of the Strait share common roots, culture and lineage, Xi said that as members of one family, as long as people communicate sincerely and consult one another when issues arise, there will be no differences or disputes that cannot be resolved."Differences in social systems should not be an excuse for secession," he stressed.Xi called for safeguarding their shared homeland through peaceful development, noting that the core issue for safeguarding the shared homeland lies in recognizing that both sides of the Strait belong to one China."We welcome any proposals conducive to the peaceful development of cross-Strait relations and will spare no effort to advance any endeavors that promote such development," Xi said, adding that "Taiwan independence" is the chief culprit undermining peace across the Taiwan Strait. "We should neither condone nor tolerate it."Xi emphasized the importance of enhancing people's well-being through greater exchanges and integration, saying that the goal of developing cross-Strait relations is to enable people on both sides to lead better lives.Noting that the mainland boasts magnificent landscapes and a vast market, Xi said that Taiwan compatriots are welcome to visit the mainland, and he encouraged young people in Taiwan to seek development opportunities on the mainland. He added that Taiwan's agricultural and fishery products, as well as other quality goods, are welcome to enter households across the mainland.Xi called for joint efforts to achieve national rejuvenation. "We firmly believe that more and more Taiwan compatriots will gain a correct understanding of the mainland's social system and development path," he said."They will recognize that Taiwan's development prospects hinge on a strong motherland, and that the interests and well-being of Taiwan compatriots are closely linked to the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation," he added.As this year marks the opening year of the mainland's 15th Five-Year Plan (2026-30) period, Xi expressed willingness to share development opportunities and benefits with Taiwan compatriots and jointly strengthen the Chinese national economy.The CPC and the KMT should consolidate political mutual trust, maintain positive interactions, unite people on both sides of the Strait, and work together to create a bright future for national reunification and national rejuvenation, he said.KMT Chairwoman Cheng said that people on both sides of the Strait are all Chinese, who share a common heritage and are nurtured by the Chinese culture, and that they should work together to advance the cause of pursuing the revitalization of China envisioned by Dr Sun Yat-sen.She said the KMT and the CPC should uphold the common political foundation of adhering to the 1992 Consensus and opposing "Taiwan independence", strengthen political mutual trust, and make full use of their party-to-party platform for communication across the Strait.Cheng called for greater exchanges and cooperation in areas such as people-to-people ties, grassroots engagement, the economy and trade, and culture, as well as stronger support for youth exchanges and development.She also urged the two parties to help improve people's well-being, promote the peaceful development of cross-Strait relations, build a brighter future for the two sides, and advance the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation.

The United States and Iran have agreed to call off strikes and continue negotiations in Pakistan in a move welcomed by the international community including China (01:07). China has vetoed a resolution on reopening the Strait of Hormuz at the UN Security Council, saying it's biased against Iran (07:31). And the Chinese mainland says compatriots from both sides of the Taiwan Strait are one family as a KMT delegation visits the Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum (14:04).

Talk 1: Prof Yuxiang Ma, Sun Yat-sen University Cancer Center - Drug development and early phase clinical trials in China, insights from Sun Yat Sen Cancer CentreTalk 2: Prof Ben Tran, Peter MacCallum Cancer Center - T-cell Engagers in Solid Tumours

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.   

Good afternoon, I'm _____ with today's episode of EZ News. Tai-Ex opening The Tai-Ex opened up 140-points this morning from Friday's close, at 33,541 on turnover of 13.5-billion N-T. The market closed lower on Friday due to the ongoing military conflict in the Middle East, but losses were capped as bargain hunters turned active to pick up large-cap tech stocks. Taichung mayor says US trip aims to build goodwill for Taiwan Taichung Mayor Lu Shiow-yen has visited New York City as she continues her 11-day trip to the U-S. Speaking in the city this past weekend, Lu said her trip has three main goals - deepening city-to-city exchanges, engaging with overseas Taiwanese communities, and reinforcing (強化) Taiwan-US relations. Lu arrived in New York following a stop in Boston. She visited the Chinese Consolidated Benevolent Association in Manhattan's Chinatown and later traveled to Columbus Park to lay flowers at a statue of Sun Yat-sen. Lu is scheduled to travel to Washington, D.C. this week. Taiwan twins win badminton doubles title at BWF Swiss Open And, Twin brothers Lee Fang-ren and Lee Fang-zhi beat their Danish opponents 21-18, 21-13 to win the men's badminton doubles title at the BWF Super 300 Swiss Open in Basel. The Taiwan pair started the first set trailing 4-7 but quickly stabilized and took the lead. After a brief break, the twins maintained at least a two-point advantage and closed out the set 21-18. In the second set, they quickly pulled ahead 5-1 and despite some errors, the brothers responded with six consecutive (連續的) points, shutting down the Danish pair's comeback and clinching their first title of the year. The twin brothers won their first BWF Super 300 men's doubles title at last year's Canada Open. Tehran denies seeking U.S. ceasefire after Trump says Iran was Decimate Iran's Foreign Minister is rebuffing any suggestion his government has asked the United States for a ceasefire, as the conflict in the Middle East enters its third week. It follows President Trump posting on social media at the weekend that Iran was beaten and completely decimated (毀滅) militarily, economically, and in every other way. Mitch McCann reports: Mexico City Sets Record for Soccer Class Mexico City set a world record on Sunday with the largest soccer class ever, with 9,500 participants in the capital's Zocalo square as the country prepares to host the opening match of the World Cup in June. The city's main square became a massive open-air training ground with crowds practicing soccer drills under the guidance of instructors. Participants kicked balls and followed coordinated exercises to promote (推動) sport and community engagement. A Guinness World Records official confirmed the new historic mark during the event. Organizers said the turnout surpassed (超越) the previous Guinness record set in Seattle in June 2025, when a soccer class brought together 1,038 participants. That was the I.C.R.T. EZ News, I'm _____. －－－－以下為 SoundOn 動態廣告－－－－ 放慢了車速，心跳卻加速； 將你的手輕輕收進我外套的口袋， 隔絕涼意，卻藏不住滿溢的悸動。 紅燈停下的瞬間，影子重疊著曖昧； 永遠難忘的心動秘密， 都藏在……同一陣風裡。 盧可沛 首張個人專輯加速載入中 2026.03.13第二波心動單曲〈同一陣風裡〉 數位聆聽

National political advisers have been urged to build consensus and pool wisdom for the country to achieve a good start for the 15th Five-Year Plan (2026-30).全国政协委员为“十五五”开好局、起好步广泛凝心聚力，贡献智慧和力量。The fourth session of the 14th National Committee of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference, China's top political advisory body, opened on Wednesday at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing, raising the curtain on this year's two sessions of China's top legislative and political advisory bodies.3月4日，全国政协十四届四次会议在北京人民大会堂开幕，标志着今年两会正式拉开帷幕。President Xi Jinping, who is also general secretary of the Communist Party of China Central Committee and chairman of the Central Military Commission, and other leaders attended the opening meeting, joining around 2,100 CPPCC National Committee members from across the country and various sectors.中共中央总书记、国家主席、中央军委主席习近平等党和国家领导人出席开幕会，与来自全国各界、各领域的约2100名全国政协委员共同参会。Wang Huning, chairman of the CPPCC National Committee, delivered a work report on behalf of the Standing Committee of the CPPCC National Committee, saying that 2025 was a pivotal year for China's path to modernization.全国政协主席王沪宁代表政协第十四届全国委员会常务委员会作工作报告，指出2025年是中国式现代化进程中具有重要意义的一年。Amid complex global and domestic challenges, China concluded the 14th Five-Year Plan (2021-25) successfully, with strength in the economy, technology and defense reaching new heights, he said.面对错综复杂的国际形势和艰巨繁重的国内改革发展稳定任务，我国 “十四五” 圆满收官，经济实力、科技实力、国防实力迈上新台阶Over the past year, the CPPCC National Committee contributed to the country's development by organizing 98 consultative and deliberative activities. It received 5,992 proposals from members, of which 5,061 were accepted for processing and the response rate for the accepted proposals reached 99.9 percent, providing reference for the government, according to the report.一年来，全国政协共举办各类协商议政活动98场次，收到提案5992件，立案5061件，办复率99.9%，为政府决策提供了重要参考。Wang called for suggestions and deliberation during the session to be centered on the implementation of the new five-year plan.王沪宁指出，要围绕“十五五”规划实施议政建言。"We should focus on key issues in fields including economic development, scientific and technological innovation, reform and opening-up, social construction and people's livelihoods, and reflect social conditions and public opinion in a practical manner," he said.要围绕经济发展、科技创新、改革开放、社会建设、民生保障等领域重点问题，实事求是反映社情民意。Wang said the CPPCC National Committee will implement a democratic supervision work plan for the 15th Five-Year Plan period to help promote the implementation of major decisions and arrangements of the CPC Central Committee.全国政协要实施好“十五五”时期全国政协民主监督工作计划，助推中共中央重大决策部署贯彻落实。The CPPCC National Committee will also hold activities to commemorate the 160th anniversary of the birth of Sun Yat-sen, a revered national hero and pioneer of the country's democratic revolution. It will strengthen foreign exchanges and better tell the stories of China's democracy, he added.要办好纪念孙中山先生诞辰160周年活动。要加强政协对外友好交往，讲好中国故事、中国全过程人民民主故事。Jiang Ying, CPPCC National Committee member and chairwoman of Deloitte China, said that as the nation gets ready to start the 15th Five-Year Plan, its push for high-level opening-up and win-win cooperation shows it is committed to high-quality growth through openness.全国政协委员、德勤中国主席蒋颖表示，在"十五五"规划即将开启之际，我国持续推进高水平对外开放和互利共赢合作，彰显了以开放促高质量发展的决心。"This is good news for global businesses — giving them more confidence and new opportunities," Jiang said, adding that China's continuous progress in areas like the digital economy and green transformation is attracting more multinational enterprises to base their research and development in China."这为全球企业带来更多信心与机遇，我国在数字经济、绿色转型等领域的持续突破，正吸引越来越多跨国企业将研发中心落户中国。"She said that managing cross-border data flows has become a key issue in high-level opening-up and her proposal this year highlights the problems enterprises face in cross-border data flows, aiming at making it easier and more convenient for enterprises to comply with regulations.蒋颖指出，跨境数据流动已成为高水平对外开放的关键议题，今年她重点关注企业数据跨境流动痛点，助力提升企业合规便利化水平。Li Shufu, a CPPCC National Committee member and chairman of Geely Holding Group, identified the "new trio" — electric vehicles, lithium batteries and photovoltaics — as pivotal trends for social progress.全国政协委员、吉利控股集团董事长李书福认为，电动汽车、锂电池、光伏产品"新三样"已成为社会发展的重要趋势。While noting that the auto industry is shifting from "involution-style" competition toward sustainable growth through technology and quality, Li said that Geely is working to convert unstable wind and solar energy into stable liquid fuels for storage and transportation.当前汽车行业正从"内卷式"竞争转向依托技术与质量的可持续发展，吉利正探索将不稳定的风光资源转化为稳定的液态燃料，实现能源的跨时空存储与运输。Clarence Ling Chun-kit, a CPPCC National Committee member from Hong Kong, said that given current cross-Strait tensions, frequent communication is more important than ever and he will focus more this year on youth exchanges.来自香港的全国政协委员凌俊杰表示，面对当前两岸关系形势，加强交流沟通至关重要，今年他将重点关注两岸青年交流。Noting that cross-Strait integration in scientific areas like artificial intelligence and computing during the 15th Five-year Plan period is essential, Ling said Hong Kong serves as a "natural bridge" to help Taiwan compatriots understand the "real situation on the Chinese mainland" through shared cultural and trade ties.他强调，在"十五五"规划期间推动人工智能、算力等科技领域的两岸融合发展尤为重要，香港可发挥天然桥梁作用，通过深化文化经贸纽带，帮助台湾同胞更好了解大陆真实发展情况。cross-border data flows /ˌkrɒsˈbɔːdə ˈdeɪtə fləʊz/跨境数据流动 photovoltaics /ˌfəʊtəʊvɒlˈteɪɪks/光伏 involution /ˌɪnvəˈluːʃən/内卷

“...Some are dancing, some are drowning, but in the end everybody's going to go under.”Dr. Ali Kadri (Sun Yat-sen University), author of the Unmaking of Arab Socialism, joins Steve to talk about imperialism, development, and why the Arab world keeps getting put through the capitalist meat grinder. Ali argues that capitalism isn't just markets and greed. It's a destructive social relationship. Once you look at it that way, many of the world's mysteries stop being mysterious: war, austerity, pollution, and mass deaths aren't accidents that occasionally happen to capitalism. They are outcomes to be monetized.The conversation moves to imperialism as capitalism in its concentrated, caffeinated, and brutal form, especially under finance-dominance. Ali describes genocide as both direct (bombs, occupation, ethnic cleansing) and structural (avoidable hunger, disease, debt-driven collapse). He frames the destruction of Arab socialist and anti-colonial projects as strategic for empire: control of oil, geography, and the political threat of regional solidarity.They talk about MMT's explanation of currency and how the dollar functions as a lever. Ali sees the dollar as power, representing control over global resources and labor. Debt dependence becomes a kind of colonization by spreadsheet.“If the dollar stops for a minute or for a month or so, then we have people going hungry. And so this is a form of colonization, a form of death by the dollar.”They close by pulling democracy down from the clouds. Steve suggests bourgeois elections merely deliver a reshuffling of managers for the same system, and Ali produces a simple metaphor: a multiple-choice exam. The choices have been pre-loaded. And in elections, the result is still class rule.Dr. Ali Kadri is a Visiting Professor at Sun Yat-sen University. He has previously held senior roles at the National University of Singapore and the London School of Economics. His academic work focuses on the political economy of development, imperialism, and the Arab world. He is the author of several important books, including The Accumulation of Waste: A Political Economy of Systemic Destruction; China's Path to Development: Against Neoliberalism; and The Unmaking of Arab Socialism.

fWotD Episode 3213: Zhang Jingsheng Welcome to featured Wiki of the Day, your daily dose of knowledge from Wikipedia's finest articles.The featured article for Friday, 20 February 2026, is Zhang Jingsheng.Zhang Jingsheng (20 February 1888 – 18 June 1970) was a Chinese philosopher and sexologist. Born Zhang Jiangliu to a merchant family in Raoping County in eastern Guangzhou, Zhang attended Whampoa Military Primary School, where he became a militant supporter of the Tongmenghui revolutionaries. After he was expelled from Whampoa, he met with Tongmenghui leader Sun Yat-sen and entered the Imperial University of Peking. He became an enthusiastic advocate of European ideas of social Darwinism, scientific racism, and eugenics, changing his personal name to Jingsheng, "competition for survival". He was an active member of the Beijing Tongmenghui cell alongside Wang Jingwei, but declined a political post in the aftermath of the 1911 Revolution, instead studying in France.Zhang received a doctorate from the University of Lyon in 1919 for a thesis on Jean-Jacques Rousseau, one of his major philosophical inspirations. On recommendation from Cai Yuanpei, he became a professor at Peking University soon after his return to China in 1920. During the early 1920s, he wrote two books advocating for a society organized around aesthetic principles. In 1926, he published Sex Histories, a sexology text based on stories of sexual encounters he gathered from the public. He was ridiculed by much of the Chinese media and academia for the book, and was often referred to by the mocking nickname Dr. Sex (性博士; Xìng Bóshì) in the tabloid press. A number of unauthorized pornographic sequels were made due to its popularity, leading to confusion about which books were Zhang's original work. He left teaching and settled in Shanghai shortly after the release of Sex Histories. He founded a "Beauty Bookshop" in Shanghai, which published sex-education texts and translations of European literature and philosophy, and edited a monthly periodical he named New Culture. In 1929, he returned to France to work as a translator after his business efforts in Shanghai failed. Four years later, he returned to his home county of Raoping and worked in local politics and education in relative obscurity. He was persecuted by the Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution and died while in confinement in 1970.Loosely inspired by Havelock Ellis, Zhang's sexual thought centers on the absorption of bodily fluids produced during sex, which he saw as important for sexual pleasure and the vitality of the resulting children. His political writings outlined a utopian "New China" which would govern society according to aesthetics and sentimentality. This "aesthetic state" would institute a national eugenics program to resolve what he perceived as the weaknesses of the Chinese race. Although he enjoyed a brief period of academic prestige for his works in the early 1920s, the scandal around Sex Histories destroyed his professional reputation, and he became disconnected from academia. Posthumous scholarly opinions on him and his work range from dismissive to highly supportive. His son Zhang Chao, a local official in Raoping, collected his works and worked to promote his legacy during the 1980s. His former home was rebuilt by the county government in 2004 and converted into Dr. Zhang Jingsheng Park. Collections of his writing began to be published during the 1980s, but a full republication of Sex Histories was not made until 2005, likely due to obscenity laws.This recording reflects the Wikipedia text as of 00:06 UTC on Friday, 20 February 2026.For the full current version of the article, see Zhang Jingsheng on Wikipedia.This podcast uses content from Wikipedia under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.Visit our archives at wikioftheday.com and subscribe to stay updated on new episodes.Follow us on Mastodon at @wikioftheday@masto.ai.Also check out Curmudgeon's Corner, a current events podcast.Until next time, I'm neural Arthur.

Champions Day in the city of Shanghai, November 1941. The world was at war, but the clubhouse at the Shanghai Race Club (now People's Park) was packed with owners and punters cheering on the pony. The funeral of Shanghai's richest widow, Liza Hardoon, was a spectacle that filled the streets of the International Settlement. Japanese occupiers and their Chinese collaborators came together in a bizarre ritual to celebrate the birthday of revolutionary leader Sun Yat-sen. The opening of a new movie featuring, of all subjects, Charlie Chan had folks lining up at the local cinema box office. The world had changed, but the "Lone Island" of Shanghai persisted, as it had since becoming a treaty port a century earlier. In this encore episode from 2020, historian James Carter joins us to discuss his fascinating book Champions Day: The End of Old Shanghai. Carter brings to life the vivid tableau of an era coming to an end. By the end of the year, Japanese authorities would take control of Shanghai and the city would never again be the same. What did the end of the colonial era mean for Shanghai and its residents? Why were race tracks such powerful symbols? Join us as we discuss the history of horse racing, colonialism, and the last days of Old Shanghai.

Siyun Chen, associate professor at Sun Yat-sen University, discusses her research showing masculine brands perform better with simple ad designs while feminine brands achieve better results with complex designs. The conversation covers how visual complexity is determined by element count, detail level, and arrangement irregularity, why the effect works through subconscious conceptual fluency, and how brand gender can be manipulated through names, colors, and visual elements. Chen explains the role of holistic versus analytical thinking styles, why following design trends without considering brand fit is the biggest mistake practitioners make, and practical guidelines for determining appropriate complexity levels.

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

國慶日 guóqìngrì – National Day雙十節 shuāngshíjié – Double Tenth Day (Taiwan's National Day)武昌起義 Wǔchāng Qǐyì – Wuchang Uprising湖北省 Húběi Shěng – Hubei Province揭開推翻清朝的序幕 jiēkāi tuīfān Qīngcháo de xùmù – to open the prelude to overthrowing the Qing Dynasty腐敗 fǔbài – corrupt; corruption一連串 yī liánchuàn – a series of; a succession of革命 gémìng – revolution中華民國 Zhōnghuá Mínguó – Republic of China (ROC)隔年 génián – the following year孫中山 Sūn Zhōngshān – Sun Yat-sen臨時大總統 línshí dà zǒngtǒng – provisional president民國元年 Mínguó yuánnián – the first year of the Republic of China升旗典禮 shēngqí diǎnlǐ – flag-raising ceremony藝文表演 yìwén biǎoyǎn – arts and cultural performances盛大 shèngdà – grand; magnificent遊行 yóuxíng – parade列隊行進 lièduì xíngjìn – to march in formation國家認同 guójiā rèntóng – national identityPlanning to travel or move to Taiwan? If you'd like to improve your Chinese before you go, feel free to book a one-on-one lesson with me.I'll help you improve your Chinese so you can settle in more comfortably when you arrive.Book a one-on-one trial lesson with me !

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

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

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

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

Good afternoon, I'm _____ with today's episode of EZ News. Tai-Ex opening The Tai-Ex opened down 40-points this morning from yesterday's close, at 24,237 on turnover of 5-billion N-T. The market gained solid ground on Monday - closing up more than 500-points as investors were boosted by news that the U-S Federal Reserve could soon cuts interest rates. Vice premier confirms ongoing car tariff talks but gives few details Vice Premier Cheng Li-chiun says U-S car imports are part of ongoing tariff talks with Washington. Speaking at a legislative hearing, Cheng told lawmakers that Washington has expressed the hope for greater openness and expanded market access (市場准入) for U-S cars. According to Cheng, tariffs on U-S car imports and compliance with safety and emissions standards were still being negotiated. She failed to provide any further details. But Cheng did say she has held three video conferences with U-S officials since returning to Taiwan on August 1 .. KMT's Lo Chih-chiang joins race for party chair K-M-T lawmaker Lo Chih-chiang has announced his plans to seeking the party's leadership. Lo made the announcement in a Facebook post with a photo of him standing next to a statue of Sun Yat-sen. He survived a recall vote on July 26 and said in the post that his top priority (優先考慮的事，重點) will be to stop President Lai Ching-te from winning a second four-year term in 2028. Luo also said in the Facebook post that he will release further details of his campaign to seek the post of K-M-T chair later today. US Trump says he'll meet Kim Jong Un U.S. President Donald Trump says he will meet North Korean leader Kim Jong Un - potentially this year and that he 's open to further trade talks with South Korea - as he hosted President Lee Jae Myung at the White House The future of their military alliance (聯盟) was also on the agenda at the meeting just hours after President Trump suggested in a social media post that the US might stop doing business with the country. Kate Fisher reports from Washington. Brazil Buys US Tariff Affected Products Brazil's government says it will buy several domestic products that have been hit by the 50% higher U.S. tariffs on the country's exports. They include acai, coconut water, mangoes, Brazilian nuts, honey and fish. Most of these will be used in state schools or in stock building (增加庫存) nationwide. Officials say coffee and beef, which were also affected by the increase imposed by U.S. President Donald Trump, were not included on the government's list because there are other markets interested in them. That was the I.C.R.T. EZ News, I'm _____. －－－－以下為 SoundOn 動態廣告－－－－ 無論是駕駛、行人或自行車騎士，「停讓先行」不僅是口號，更是城市交通文化的核心。 讓我們將安全意識化為日常實踐，共同為行人、自行車及校園周邊建構更安全的用路環境，讓澎湖成為全齡友善的宜居城市。 交通部及澎湖縣政府關心您。 -- Hosting provided by SoundOn

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

Dr Philip Smith, Digital and Education Editor of Gut and Honorary Consultant Gastroenterologist at the Royal Liverpool Hospital, Liverpool, UK interviews Professor Tao Zuo from the Guangdong Institute of Gastroenterology, The Sixth Affiliated Hospital of Sun Yat-sen University, Sun Yat-sen University, Guangzhou, Guangdong, China, on the paper "Dietary whey protein protects against Crohn's disease by orchestrating cross-kingdom interaction between the gut phageome and bacteriome" published in paper copy in Gut in August 2025.   Please subscribe to the Gut podcast on your favourite platform to get the latest podcast every month. If you enjoy our podcast, you can leave us a review or a comment on Apple Podcasts (https://apple.co/3UOTwqS) or Spotify (https://spoti.fi/3Ifxq9p).

Last time we spoke about the Oyama Incident and decision to fight at Shanghai. In July 1937, escalating tensions between Japan and China erupted into war after the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. As conflict spread, Chinese leader Chiang Kai-shek, believing in his nation's resilience, called for unity to resist Japanese aggression. A pivotal moment occurred on August 9 at Hongqiao Airport, where a violent confrontation left several Japanese soldiers dead. The circumstances remained murky, with both sides blaming each other, further inflaming hostilities. Despite attempts at negotiation, the military standoff intensified, leading to a consensus that war was imminent. Chiang mobilized troops to Shanghai, a crucial city for both strategic and symbolic reasons, determined to demonstrate that China could defend its sovereignty. The Chinese forces, under Generals Zhang Fukai and Zhang Zhizhong, faced logistical challenges but aimed to strike first against the increasingly aggressive Japanese military. On August 12, both nations prepared for conflict, leading to a drastic escalation.  #157 The Battle of Shanghai Part 2: Black Saturday and Operation Iron Fist Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On Friday, August 13 of 1937, the residents of Shanghai began enduring the sounds of rifle fire and machine gun salvos, punctuated by the distant booms of artillery.  Members of the Japanese marines, disguised in civilian clothes and posing as rowdy thugs, boisterous ronin, arrived at barricades manned by the Peace Preservation Corps at the northern edge of Yangshupu around 9:15 a.m. They began to provoke the Chinese guards with loud taunts and jeers. When the Chinese fired a warning shot into the air, the Japanese retaliated with deadly intent. The Chinese responded in kind, resulting in a lethal exchange. From that moment on, the situation was beyond control. As the day progressed, nervous skirmishes continued throughout the northern part of Shanghai. Chinese commanders dispatched patrols to conduct probing attacks, hoping to identify weak points in the Japanese defenses and push them back wherever possible. Meanwhile, their Japanese counterparts rushed to occupy key positions outside their main line of defense, aiming to gain an advantageous position should their adversaries launch a larger offensive. Small bands of soldiers from both sides maneuvered along narrow alleys to minimize the risk of detection; however, whenever they encountered each other, the results were deadly. In the western sector of the front line, where the Chinese Army's newly arrived 88th Infantry Division was preparing its positions, the center of activity was the headquarters of the Japanese marines near Hongkou Park. This location resembled a fortress, featuring a massive four-story structure shielded from air and artillery bombardment by a double roof of reinforced concrete. The building, which encompassed a large inner courtyard, occupied two city blocks and could accommodate thousands of troops at once. Highly visible, it represented both a significant military threat and a symbol of Japan's presence in Shanghai. The Chinese were acutely aware of their objective: they had to eradicate it. The Sichuan North road lies south between the marine headquarters and the Japanese section of the International Settlement. This road became the scene of frantic activity from the first day of battle. Japanese armored cars and motorcycle patrols, with machine guns mounted on sidecars, sped up and down the otherwise deserted street, while trench mortars positioned along the pavement lobbed grenades into Zhabei to the west. As columns of smoke rose into the sky from buildings in the Chinese district, Japanese officers squeezed into a narrow conning tower atop the marine headquarters, watching the bombardment's results through field glasses. Reports of Chinese snipers stationed in the upper floors of buildings along the road prompted Japanese squads, led by sword-wielding officers, to carry out door-to-door searches. Suspects were unceremoniously dragged away to an uncertain fate. Not a single civilian was visible in the area; everyone stayed indoors, behind closed windows and drawn curtains. On the afternoon of August 13, the Eight Character Bridge, located west of the marine headquarters, became the site of one of the battle's first major engagements. The bridge, measuring just 60 feet in length and spanning a minor creek, was deemed by both sides to have significant tactical importance. The Chinese commanders viewed it as a crucial route for advancing into the Hongkou area, believing that if the bridge fell into Japanese hands, it would be like a "piece of bone stuck in the throat." At around noon, Major Yi Jin, a battalion commander of the 88th Infantry Division, led a couple of hundred men from around the North Railway Station toward Eight Character Bridge. When the soldiers reached their objective at about 3:00 p.m., they spotted a small Japanese unit that had just arrived across the creek and was setting up defensive positions. The Chinese opened fire and managed to secure the bridge, prompting the Japanese to launch a brief artillery bombardment that resulted in several Chinese casualties. Gunfire near the bridge continued intermittently until 9:00 p.m., when a fragile silence fell over the area. Further to the east, in the 87th Infantry Division's sector, the day was also characterized by frantic maneuvering, punctuated by lengthy bursts of violence. Chinese reconnaissance parties infiltrated enemy-held areas, making their way to the Japanese Golf Club near the Huangpu River, where they began shooting at workers busy preparing the makeshift airfield. As the first volleys from the Chinese snipers rang out, clouds of dust filled the air, causing the workers to hastily seek cover. Japanese soldiers stationed in the clubhouse immediately returned fire, throwing off the snipers' aim. After about an hour, two Japanese vessels moored in the Huangpu River, the destroyer Run and the gunboat Seta were called in to assist the Japanese marines facing the 87th Infantry Division on land. Four- and six-inch shells screamed across the sky, exploding in the Chinese districts to the north. Shanghai University was also shelled, as the Japanese troops on land believed it had been occupied by Chinese soldiers. Ultimately, the last remaining staff members, two Americans, were forced to flee the campus. The naval artillery had come to the aid of the beleaguered infantry onshore, a scene that would be repeated continually in the days and weeks to come. Late that evening, Chiang Kai-shek finally ordered his military commanders to “divert the enemy at sea, block off the coast, and resist landings at Shanghai” Even before the mobilization of troops began, panic swept through Shanghai. Meanwhile, the city's waterfront took on an increasingly ominous tone. The China Daily News wrote “Arms, ammunition, and supplies streamed from several Japanese cruisers and destroyers onto the O.S.K. wharf in what appeared to be an unending flow. Additionally, a large detachment of soldiers in full marching gear disembarked, while a cruiser, the Idzumo, two destroyers, and nine gunboats arrived shortly before.” Zhang Zhizhong, the commander of the left wing, finally received the orders he wished to hear. Zhang intended to deploy all available troops in a bold effort to eliminate the Japanese presence once and for all, following the strategy recommended by the Germans. However, the plan had a significant weakness. The assault was to focus on the marine headquarters and the rest of the Hongkou salient while deliberately avoiding combat within the formal borders of the International Settlement. This decision was made as a concession to international public opinion and was politically sound. However, from a military perspective, it was nearly suicidal and greatly increased the risks associated with the entire operation. The Hongkou area represented the most heavily fortified position along the entire front. The marine headquarters was at the center of a dense network of heavy machine gun positions, protected by barbed wire, concrete emplacements, and walls of sandbags. On Saturday, August 14th, the Nationalist military command decided to target one of the most significant Japanese naval assets in Shanghai: the Izumo, anchored with support ships on the Huangpu River in the city center. Shortly before 11:00 a.m., five Chinese planes appeared over the rooftops, flying toward the river and the Japanese vessels. The aircraft released their bombs, but all missed their target, with several detonating on the wharves, demolishing buildings and sending shrapnel flying through the air. In response, the Japanese battleships unleashed a massive barrage, further endangering those unfortunate enough to live or work in the area as shell fragments rained down with deadly force. At 11:20 a.m., another Chinese air raid occurred, this time involving three planes, once again targeting the Izumo. However, for two of the pilots, something went horribly wrong. “From one of the four monoplanes, four aerial torpedoes were seen to drop as they passed over the Bund, far from their intended target... Two others fell on Nanking Road.” Either the pilot misjudged the target, or there was a malfunction with the release mechanism. Regardless of the cause, the bombs landed in one of the city's busiest civilian areas, where thousands were walking, shopping, and enjoying a hot August Saturday. At 4:46 p.m., the public health department's work diary noted, “Palace Hotel hit! Many injured and dead in street! Nanking Road opposite Cathay Hotel.” A reporter vividly captured the horror of the scene: “A bomb arced through the air, struck the Palace Hotel with a glancing blow, and unleashed indescribable carnage. As the high explosive fumes slowly lifted, a scene of dreadful death emerged. Flames from a blazing car danced over distorted bodies. Bodies wrapped in coolie cloth lay in shapeless heaps at the entrances to the main doorways and arcades of the Palace and Cathay hotels, their heads, legs, and arms separated from smashed masses of flesh. The corpse of a Chinese policeman lay dead in his tracks, shrapnel lodged in his head, and a disemboweled child was nearby.” To make matters worse, another pilot mistakenly released his bomb over Avenue Edward VII, another major shopping street. When the numbers were finally tallied, over 1,000 people, both Chinese and foreign had been killed. The bombs struck the International Settlement, a zone that was politically neutral and presumed safe. Hundreds of civilians were killed culminating in what would soon be referred to as “Black Saturday” or “Bloody Saturday.” By the time these tragedies unfolded, the Battle of Shanghai had already entered its second day.  Zhang Zhizhong's men prepared their positions for most of the day, then launched their attack late in the afternoon. Intense fighting erupted in the few hours before sunset, and it quickly became clear that the 88th Infantry Division was encountering resistance that was tougher than expected. In addition to the direct fire from entrenched Japanese positions, the attackers were bombarded by the Third Fleet's powerful artillery, which was awe-inspiring even when it employed only a fraction of its total strength of 700 pieces. However, the Chinese infantry lacked proper training in the use of heavy weaponry against fortified enemy positions. Their heavier guns, which could have made a significant difference, were held too far in the rear and missed their targets too easily, as inexperienced crews used flawed coordinates from observers who were not close enough to the action. Additionally, some of the Japanese positions had such thick defensive walls that it was questionable whether even the most powerful weaponry in the Chinese arsenal, the 150 mm howitzers, could do more than merely dent them. These tactics resulted in extraordinarily heavy losses for the Chinese, including among senior ranks. Around 5:00 p.m., Major General Huang Meixing, the 41-year-old commander of the 88th Infantry Division's 264th Brigade, was leading an attack near the marine headquarters. His divisional commander, Sun Yuanliang, attempted to reach him via field phone, but he was forced to wait. When he finally managed to get through to Huang, he cracked a rare joke: “It took so long, I thought you were dead.” Just minutes later, as if fate wanted to punish Sun Yuanliang for his black humor, Huang Meixing's command post was struck by an artillery shell, killing him instantly. Shock spread through the ranks as the news circulated, recalled Wu Ganliao, a machine gunner in the 88th Division. “Brigade Commander Huang was a fair-minded person, and he showed real affection for his troops. It was sad new”. Huang was by no means an exceptional case; Chinese officers died in large numbers from the very first day. One regiment lost seven company commanders in a single short attack. Several factors contributed to the high incidence of death among senior ranks. One reason was the ethos among some officers to lead from the front in an effort to instill courage in their men. However, leading from the rear could also be highly risky in urban combat, where opposing forces were often just yards apart, and the maze-like environment created by multi-story buildings and narrow alleys led to a fluid situation where the enemy could be just as likely behind as in front. Moreover, soldiers on both sides deliberately targeted enemy officers, perhaps more so than in other conflicts, because rigid leadership hierarchies placed a premium on decapitating the opposing unit's command. However, the massive fatality rates among officers, and even more so among the rank and file, were primarily the result of Chinese forces employing frontal assaults against a well-armed, entrenched enemy.The men who were dying by the hundreds were China's elite soldiers, the product of years of effort to build a modern military. They represented the nation's best hope for resisting Japan in a protracted war. Nevertheless, on the very first day of battle, they were being squandered at an alarming and unsustainable rate. After just a few hours of offensive operations with minimal gains, Chiang Kai-shek decided to cut his losses. In a telegram, he commanded Zhang Zhizhong: “Do not carry out attacks this evening. Await further orders.”In the weeks leading up to the outbreak of the battle of Shanghai, Chiang Kai-shek received a parade of leaders from various provinces eager to participate in the upcoming fight. After years of the Warlord nonsense , a new sense of unity began to emerge among them for the first time. All of these factions proclaimed they would lend their troops to his leadership if he pledged them against Japan. As a sign of his sincerity, Chiang decided to appoint the position of overall commander in Shanghai to one of his longest-standing rivals, our old friend, the finger nails inspector, Feng Yuxiang. This was a political savvy move directed at the Communists, trying to earn their favor.  Feng Yuxiang did not hesitate when offered the command. “As long as it serves the purpose of fighting Japan, I'll say yes, no matter what it is.” His appointment was announced just as the first shots were fired in Shanghai. Feng was about a decade older than his direct subordinates, which Chiang considered an advantage. He desired someone who was both composed and prudent to counterbalance the fiery tempers of the frontline commanders, as Chiang put it“ The frontline commanders are too young. They've got a lot of courage, but they lack experience.” Feng moved his command post to a temple outside Suzhou in mid August. Almost immediately afterward, he visited Zhang Zhizhong, who had established his command near the Suzhou city wall. At that time, Zhang was just beginning to realize how formidable the Japanese resistance in Shanghai truly was. His staff started to notice troubling signs of his deteriorating health, sensing that sickness and exhaustion were taking a toll on his ability to stay upright and effectively lead the battle. Perhaps this feeling of being overwhelmed was why he failed to undertake basic tasks, such as providing adequate protection from air attacks. Meanwhile, Shanghai society responded to the sudden outbreak of war. In July, the city's residents worked, ate, drank, and played as they had for decades. Beginning in August, however, they had to entirely remake their lives. Local institutions began to relocate; by late September, it was announced that four local universities would open joint colleges with institutions in China's interior. In the country's premier commercial city, business was being devastated. “Like a nightmare octopus flinging cruel tentacles around its helpless victims,” the North-China Daily News reported, “the local hostilities are slowly strangling Shanghai's trade.” A shopkeeper lamented, “We obtain a lot of business, of course, from tourists who visit Shanghai. What tourists are there these days?” For the foreigners in Shanghai, the war was seen as a violent diversion, but nothing truly dangerous, at least, that's what they thought. For the Chinese, however, life was unraveling. As the fighting intensified around the Japanese district, thousands of refugees poured into the streets, heading for Suzhou Creek and the Garden Bridge, the only link to the International Settlement that remained open. It was a chaotic and merciless stampede, where the weak were at a severe disadvantage. “My feet were slipping… in blood and flesh,” recalled Rhodes Farmer, a journalist for the North China Daily News, as he found himself in a sea of people struggling to escape Hongkou. “Half a dozen times, I knew I was walking on the bodies of children or old people sucked under by the torrent, trampled flat by countless feet.” Near the creek, the mass of sweating and panting humanity was nearly uncontrollable as it funneled toward the bridge, which was a mere 55 feet wide. Two Japanese sentries were almost overwhelmed by the crowd and reacted as they had been trained, with immediate, reflexive brutality. One of them bayoneted an old man and threw the lifeless body into the filthy creek below. This act of violence did not deter the other refugees, who continued to push toward the bridge, believing they were heading toward the safety of the International Settlement. Little did they know, they were moving in the wrong direction, towards the horrific slaughter of innocent civilians that would mark the entire Shanghai campaign. The American advisor Claire Chennault had been in the air since the early hours of August 14. After only a few hours of sleep at his base in Nanjing, he jumped into a lone, unarmed fighter to observe the Chinese air raid as a neutral party. The night before, he had been at the Nanjing Military Academy, in the company of Chiang Kai-shek and his wife Soong Mei-ling. That night, as war loomed, Soong Mei-ling in tears said “They are killing our people!” Chennault asked “what will you do now?”. She replied “We will fight,”. Chennault was the one who suggested bombing the ships on the Huangpu River because of the artillery support they provided to the Japanese infantry. Since there was no Chinese officer with the expertise to prepare such an operation, Soong Mei-ling had asked Chennault to take over. Although he was completely unprepared for this new role, he felt a growing affinity for China, fueled by excitement at the prospect of contributing to their fight. Eleanor B. Roosevelt, the wife of US President Franklin D. Roosevelt, was in Shanghai at the time of the bombing and was horrified by the loss of innocent life. She sent a letter to Japan's premier, Prince Konoye, urging him to seek ways to minimize the risk of Chinese air raids, which she argued were caused by the presence of Japan's military in the Shanghai area. The Japanese did not respond. However, the day after her letter, the Izumo was moved from its anchorage near the Japanese Consulate to the middle of the Huangpu River. The cruiser remained close enough to contribute its artillery to the fighting inland, but far enough away to significantly reduce the danger to civilians in the city. The 15th was surreal, even after thousands had been killed in battle, the fighting in China remained an undeclared war as far as the Japanese government was concerned, and it committed forces only in a piecemeal fashion. The Japanese Cabinet continued to refer to events in Shanghai and further north near Beijing as “the China Incident.” However, euphemisms were not enough to disguise the reality that Shanghai was becoming a significant problem. In the early hours of the 15th, a Japanese Cabinet meeting decided to send army reinforcements to the hard-pressed marines in Shanghai, leading to the deployment of the 3rd and 11th Divisions. The two divisions were to form the Shanghai Expeditionary Force, a unit resurrected from the hostilities of 1932. Many of the soldiers sent to war were reservists in their late twenties and early thirties who had long since returned to civilian life and were poorly disciplined. In their habitual disdain for the Chinese, Japanese leaders figured that this would be more than enough to deal with them. Underestimating the foe would soon prove to be a mistake they would repeat again and again in the coming weeks and months. To lead the force, the Japanese leaders brought out of retirement 59-year-old General Matsui Iwane, a veteran of the 1904-1905 Russo-Japanese War. Matsui was a slight man, weighing no more than 100 pounds, with a large 19th century mustache and a palsy affecting his right side. He was not an accidental choice; he knew China well and had been an acquaintance of Sun Yat-sen.  Hongkou or “Little Tokyo” had become an area under siege. Surrounded by hostile Chinese troops on three sides, its only link to the outside world was the dock district along the Huangpu River. From the first day of the battle, the area was bombarded with Chinese mortar shells, prompting an exodus among Japanese residents, some of whom had lived in Shanghai for years. An increasingly common sight was kimono-clad women carrying heavy loads as they made their way to the wharfs to board ferries taking them back to Japan. Hongkou, said visiting Japanese correspondent Hayashi Fusao, “was a dark town. It was an exhausted town.” Those who remained in “Little Tokyo,” mostly men forced to stay behind to look after their businesses, tried to continue their lives with as little disruption to their normal routines as possible. However, this was difficult, given the constant reminders of war surrounding them: rows of barbed wire and piles of sandbags, soldiers marching from one engagement to another, and the sounds of battle often occurring just a few blocks away. “Every building was bullet-marked, and the haze of gunpowder hung over the town,” wrote Hayashi. “It was a town at war. It was the August sun and an eerie silence, burning asphalt, and most of all, the swarm of blue flies hovering around the feet.” It seemed Vice Admiral Hasegawa Kiyoshi, the commander of the Japanese 3rd Fleet, had bitten off more than he could chew in aggressively expanding operations in the Shanghai area. August 16th saw repeated Chinese attacks, placing the Japanese defenders under severe pressure, stretching their resources to the limit. Rear Admiral Okawachi Denshichi, who headed the Shanghai marines, had to hastily commit reserves, including irreplaceable tanks, to prevent a Chinese breakthrough. That day Hasegawa sent three telegrams to his superiors, each sounding more desperate than the last. After his second telegram, sent around 7:00 pm,  warning that his troops could probably hold out for only 6 more days, the Naval Command ordered the marine barracks at Sasebo Naval Base in southern Japan to dispatch two units of 500 marines each to Shanghai. Following Hasegawa's 3rd telegram later that night, the navy decided to send even more reinforcements. Two additional marine units, consisting of a total of 1,400 soldiers waiting in Manchuria for deployment at Qingdao, were ordered to embark for Shanghai immediately. The Chinese, however, did not feel that things were going their way. The battle continued to be much bloodier than anyone had anticipated. Throwing infantry en masse against fortified positions was the only feasible tactic available to an army rich in manpower confronting an adversary with a clear technological advantage. Yet, this approach turned the battle into a contest of flesh against steel, resulting in tremendous loss of life. Chiang Kai-shek was losing patience. After several days of fighting, his troops had still not succeeded in dislodging the Japanese from the streets of Shanghai. The Japanese marines entrenched in the Hongkou and Yangshupu areas proved to be a harder nut to crack than he or his generals had expected. At a meeting with his divisional commanders, Chiang ordered a massive attack to be launched in the early morning of August 17. The troops were to utilize more firepower and be better prepared than they had been for the assault three days earlier. Codenamed Operation Iron Fist, it was the most ambitious Chinese offensive in the first critical week of the Shanghai campaign. Colonel Hans Vetter, the advisor assigned to the 88th Division, played a key role in planning the offensive. He aimed to employ “Stosstrupp” or “stormtrooper” shock troop tactics that the Germans had effectively used during the Great War. After an intense artillery bombardment, a small, elite group of determined, well-armed men was to punch through the Japanese lines and fight their way deep into the enemy camp before the defenders had a chance to recover from the initial surprise. This procedure was to be followed by both the 88th Division moving in from the west, targeting the area south of Hongkou Park, and the 87th Division conducting a parallel operation from the east. Zhang Zhizhong recognized a window of opportunity while he still enjoyed a significant, but likely temporary, advantage against the Japanese. This opportunity had to be seized before reinforcements arrived. However, the odds were not favorable. Urban combat with modern weaponry of unprecedented lethality was a costly affair, especially when the enemy had the upper hand in the sky. Japanese airplanes constantly threatened the Chinese positions, carrying out relentless sorties throughout the day. The Chinese Air Force remained a factor, but it was uncertain how much longer it would hold out against the more experienced Japanese pilots and their superior, more maneuverable aircraft. The growing Japanese presence overhead, supported by both shipborne planes and aircraft based on airstrips on Chongming Island in the Yangtze Delta, greatly complicated any major movements on the ground. Despite these challenges, the Chinese Army continued its troop build-up in the Shanghai area. The 98th Infantry Division arrived on August 15 and placed one brigade, half its strength, at the disposal of the 87th Infantry Division, ensuring that the division's rear area was covered during Operation Iron Fist. Operation Iron Fist kicked off as planned at 5:00 am on the 17th. Utilizing all available firepower, the 87th and 88th Infantry Divisions launched simultaneous assaults against stunned and bewildered Japanese defenders. In line with the Stosstrupp approach of rapid penetration, Zhang Zhizhong introduced a new tactical principle, prompted by the severe losses during the first few days of fighting. Forces under his command were to identify gaps in the Japanese defenses and exploit them, rather than launch massive, costly, and most likely futile attacks on heavily fortified positions. Once an enemy stronghold was spotted, the main forces would circumvent it and leave just enough troops to keep it pinned down. Chen Yiding, a regimental commander of the 87th Infantry Division, played a pivotal role in the assault. His soldiers, each equipped with provisions for two days, made good progress during the first hours of Iron Fist, leveraging their local knowledge and moving with the slippery dexterity of alley cats. They would enter a building on one street, knock down the wall inside, and exit onto the next street, or they would throw down beams from rooftop to rooftop, sneaking as quietly as possible from one block to another without being noticed by those on the ground. They proved elusive targets for the Japanese, who expected them to come from one direction, only to be attacked from another. Nevertheless, changing the tactical situation from the previous days was not enough. The attackers encountered well-prepared defenses that sometimes could not be circumvented, resulting in significant losses from the outset of the assault. An entire battalion of the 88th Division was wiped out while trying to take a single building. Despite their sacrifices, there was no major breakthrough anywhere along the Japanese defense lines. This was partly due to strong support from Japanese naval artillery stationed along the Huangpu River and partly a reflection of poor coordination between Chinese infantry and artillery.Equally detrimental to the Chinese cause was their careful avoidance, during the first days of combat in Shanghai, of fighting inside the International Settlement or even in the predominantly Japanese part of the settlement, in order to avoid angering the outside world and swaying international opinion against them. This approach frustrated their German advisors. “It was obvious that the attacking troops had been told to engage only enemies standing on Chinese territory, not the ones inside the international areas,” the Germans wrote, with an almost audible sigh of regret in their after-action report. This frustration was shared by several Chinese officers at the frontline. “We are much handicapped by the demarcation of the foreign areas,” the adjutant to a divisional commander told a Western reporter. “We could have wiped out the enemy if it had not been for orders from the Central Government and our commander to avoid causing damage to foreign lives and to give them adequate protection.” The presence of the large foreign community primarily played into Japanese hands. Many of Chiang Kai-shek's officers believed that if the Chinese had been able to move through the French Concession and the International Settlement to attack the Japanese from the rear, they could have won easily. Zhang Fakui would later say “Without the protection provided by the foreign concessions, they would have been wiped out,”. At the end of the day, the Japanese emerged victorious. Their defense proved stronger, as it had for four long years on the Western Front during the Great War. The challenge facing the Japanese was tough, but at least it was straightforward and uncomplicated: they had to hold on to Hongkou and Yangshupu while waiting for reinforcements to arrive. They proved adept at this task. In many cases, Chinese soldiers found themselves fighting for the same objectives they had targeted when the battle for Shanghai began several days earlier. By August 18, the Chinese attack had been called off. Operation Iron Fist had proven to be a costly endeavor for the Chinese, who endured heavy casualties in the vicious urban fighting. The Japanese, on the other hand, suffered approximately 600 casualties, of which 134 were fatalities, according to the Official Gazette. The Japanese marine units dispatched from Manchuria on August 16, the day of crisis for their compatriots in Shanghai, arrived in the city during the morning of August 18 and were immediately thrown into battle. A few hours later, the Japanese Cabinet announced the formal end of its policy of non-expansion in China, which, by that time, had already been a hollow shell for several weeks. “The empire, having reached the limit of its patience, has been forced to take resolute measures,” it stated. “Henceforth, it will punish the outrages of the Chinese Army, thereby spurring the Chinese government to self-reflect.” I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. On August 13, Japanese marines, disguised as civilians, provoked Chinese guards, leading to mutual gunfire. The fierce urban fighting escalated, especially at the strategically vital Eight Character Bridge. Despite determined Chinese assaults, heavy losses ensued as they struggled against well-fortified Japanese positions. As artillery and air strikes rained down, civilian casualties soared, culminating in the infamous "Black Saturday," followed by the failed Operation Iron Fist.    

  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.

“Sometimes my students ask me if I worry about the future of choral music with advanced technology, AI, but I really am not concerned at all. The way that I see it, the act of making music with each other, the need to connect with each other – I don't see that going away anytime soon. To connect through honest, authentic communication that is not a digital platform – people want that. I'm excited for the future of choral music.”Dr. Michael Murphy is the director of choral activities and a professor in Stephen F. Austin State University's School of Music, where he teaches choral conducting, ensembles, repertoire and methods courses, and oversees the graduate conducting program.Before joining the School of Music faculty in 2017, Murphy was the director of choral activities and associate professor at the University of Idaho for nine years. During this time, he was founder and artistic director of the Idaho Bach Festival and was recognized with the UI Faculty Award for outstanding scholarship, teaching and engagement.He is an active clinician, adjudicator and author, and research interests include training and developing the holistic conductor, rehearsal techniques, new choral compositions and investing and creating impactful connections in our global community through music.Murphy's international conducting and teaching experiences include Austria, China, Czech Republic, Ecuador, England, Germany, Norway, Panama and Sweden. The Confucius Institute awarded Murphy with the "Understanding China Fellowship" and asked him to serve as visiting scholar at Sun Yat-sen University, South China University of Technology and Guangzhou University of Foreign Studies.Murphy is the coauthor and editor of "Conducting Primer in Practice," has been published several times in "Choral Journal" and contributed to volume four of "Teaching Music Through Performance in Choir."As a passionate champion of music for all, Murphy has experience teaching all ages and levels and several auditioned and non auditioned collegiate, community, school and church choirs. His choirs have been invited to perform for several state and regional American Choral Directors Association and The National Association for Music Education conferences. He also has held several international, national and state leadership positions in International Choral Conductors Federation, ACDA, NAfME, and National Collegiate Choral Organization.Murphy received his degrees in conducting and choral music education from Florida State University and East Carolina University.To get in touch with Michael, you can email him at murphymt2@sfasu.edu or find him on Facebook or Instagram.Email choirfampodcast@gmail.com to contact our hosts.Podcast music from Podcast.coPhoto in episode artwork by Trace Hudson

Welcome to the first episode of Literary Screening, a new series that invites Page Count guests to discuss films or television shows with a literary connection. First up is American Fiction, the 2023 adaptation of Percival Everett's novel Erasure. Laura is joined by Matt Weinkam and Michelle Smith of Literary Cleveland to consider how the film satirizes the publishing industry and academia, what it has to say about race and the depiction of Black families in film, comparisons between the book and film adaptation, and a lot more.   Literary Cleveland is a nonprofit organization and creative writing center that empowers people to explore other voices and discover their own. Learn more about the 2025 Cleveland Poetry Festival, which takes place April 25-27 with a theme of The Body Politic; the Inkubator, one of the largest free writing festivals in the country; and more, including dozens of classes and programs for writers of all levels.   Matt Weinkam is the Executive Director of Literary Cleveland. His work has been published in HAD, Denver Quarterly, Sonora Review, New South, DIAGRAM, Jellyfish Review, Split Lip, and Electric Literature. He holds an MA in creative writing from Miami University, an MFA in fiction from Northern Michigan University, and he has taught creative writing as far away as Sun Yat-sen University in Zhuhai, China.   Michelle R. Smith is the Programming Director at Literary Cleveland, as well as a writer, poet, educator, cultural facilitator, and native Clevelander. She is the author of the poetry collections Ariel in Black (2015) and The Vagina Analogues (2020), and the creator of BLAX MUSEUM, an annual performance showcase dedicated to honoring notable Black figures in American history and culture.   Be sure to check out Michelle and Matt's writing. And hey, give us a call if you need to revive a sentence.   Page Count is produced by Ohio Center for the Book at Cleveland Public Library. For full show notes and an edited transcript of this episode, visit the episode page. To get in touch, email ohiocenterforthebook@cpl.org (put “podcast” in the subject line) or follow us on Instagram or Facebook.

Vous écoutez le podcast "Les interviews Histoire", notre émission hebdomadaire gratuite pour tous. Abonnez-vous à "5.000 ans d'Histoire" et accédez à environ 350 podcasts d'1 heure pour seulement 2€ par mois sans Pub ! Avec une nouvelle émission chaque semaine : https://m.audiomeans.fr/s/S-tavkjvmo Alliance céleste, 14K, Sun Yee On, Bambou uni… derrière ces noms exotiques se cachent des organisations criminelles tentaculaires. À partir d'une vaste enquête et de rencontres avec des personnages hauts en couleur, Antoine Vitkine raconte l'histoire et les ambitions de la mafia chinoise, devenue la plus puissante au monde.Depuis près de deux siècles, les triades tissent leur toile. Elles ont fait tomber le dernier empereur de Chine, régné sur le Shanghai des années 1920 comme sur les salles de jeu de Macao. Sun Yat-sen, fondateur de la République de Chine, en fut même l'un des « parrains ». D'une implacable brutalité, elles possèdent leurs rites, leur hiérarchie stricte et des valeurs claniques.Ces « sociétés noires » ont su s'adapter au monde contemporain et déploient leur emprise sur tous les continents. Elles dominent le trafic de drogues, d'êtres humains et de contrefaçons, sont à la pointe du blanchiment d'argent et de la cybercriminalité, s'immiscent dans l'économie légale. Surtout, elles se sont mises au service des ambitions de Xi Jinping et de sa guerre contre l'Occident : soutien aux routes de la soie, répression des manifestants démocrates à Hong Kong, corruption politique au Canada, invasion du fentanyl aux États-Unis…Depuis quelques années, elles sont également devenues les banques occultes du crime organisé européen. Cette plongée sidérante dans le monde des triades révèle leurs liens avec le pouvoir de Pékin et leur impact sur les rapports de forces mondiaux. Un défi majeur pour nos démocraties.L'auteur, Antoine Vitkine est notre invité par téléphoneDistribué par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Today, we'll continue to talk about Sun Yat-sen University, which has been at the forefront of higher education in China, playing a crucial role in the country's academic development while nurturing leaders who would go on to shape the country's history.

Walking around Taipei a couple of years ago, I spotted a familiar sight – a bronze statue of a moustachioed man, cane in his right hand, left leg striding forward. The man is Sun Yat-sen, considered modern China's founding father. I recognised the statue because a larger version of it stands in the city centre of Nanjing, the mainland Chinese city that I was born and raised in. That one figure can be celebrated across the strait, both in Communist PRC and Taiwanese ROC, is the curious legacy left behind by Sun. March 12th this year is the centenary of Sun's death, so what better opportunity to look at his legacy, and who better to discuss Sun than the historian Rana Mitter, who needs no introduction with Chinese Whispers listeners. Further listening: Japan's role in the making of modern China What is it to be ‘Chinese'?

Walking around Taipei a couple of years ago, I spotted a familiar sight – a bronze statue of a moustachioed man, cane in his right hand, left leg striding forward. The man is Sun Yat-sen, considered modern China's founding father. I recognised the statue because a larger version of it stands in the city centre of Nanjing, the mainland Chinese city that I was born and raised in. That one figure can be celebrated across the strait, both in Communist PRC and Taiwanese ROC, is the curious legacy left behind by Sun. March 12th this year is the centenary of Sun's death, so what better opportunity to look at his legacy, and who better to discuss Sun than the historian Rana Mitter, who needs no introduction with Chinese Whispers listeners. Further listening: Japan's role in the making of modern China What is it to be ‘Chinese'?

In the first installment of what will be a two-part feature, we'll talk about Sun Yat-sen University, which stands as a testament to the seamless integration of traditional Chinese values and modern educational reforms, shaping the intellectual landscape of China through its commitment to academic excellence and cultural innovation.

Welcome to 听故事说中文, the podcast where stories come alive to help you improve your Chinese language proficiency and cultural competency. Today, we bring you a tale that is both a glimpse into history and a lesson in courage. Set in the late 19th century, our story follows a young Sun Yat-sen, the future father of modern China, as he navigates the traditional Confucian school system. In a classroom where rote learning and strict discipline reign supreme, Sun Yat-sen finds himself questioning the meaning behind the words he is forced to memorize. One day, after flawlessly reciting his lesson, he summons the courage to ask his teacher for an explanation, a move that shocks both his classmates and the teacher. Share your comments and join the conversation. _ LCTS ************************************************************ Support Our Podcast If our podcast brings value to your life and you'd like to help us continue creating great content, consider becoming a patron for as little as $7 a month. As a patron, you will enjoy: ✨ Ad-free episodes for an uninterrupted listening experience.

Welcome to 听故事说中文, the podcast where stories come alive to help you improve your Chinese language proficiency and cultural competency. Today, we bring you a tale that is both a glimpse into history and a lesson in courage. Set in the late 19th century, our story follows a young Sun Yat-sen, the future father of modern China, as he navigates the traditional Confucian school system. In a classroom where rote learning and strict discipline reign supreme, Sun Yat-sen finds himself questioning the meaning behind the words he is forced to memorize. One day, after flawlessly reciting his lesson, he summons the courage to ask his teacher for an explanation, a move that shocks both his classmates and the teacher. Share your comments and join the conversation. _ LCTS ************************************************************ Support Our Podcast If our podcast brings value to your life and you'd like to help us continue creating great content, consider becoming a patron for as little as $7 a month. As a patron, you will enjoy: ✨ Ad-free episodes for an uninterrupted listening experience.

Last time we spoke about the fifth encirclement campaign against the CCP. After surviving four encirclement campaigns by the NRA, the CCP faced an intensified fifth campaign in 1933, as the Japanese invaded Manchuria and North China. Despite growing in numbers, the CCP struggled against the KMT's modernized army, equipped with German weapons and strategies. A combination of blockades, fortified positions, and superior tactics eroded Red Army strength. By 1934, after significant losses, the Red Army retreated, marking the campaign's end and signaling the start of the CCP's eventual Long March. In the battle between the NRA and the Red Army, the NRA employed strategic counterinsurgency techniques to block Red infiltration and gained local support through loyalty and economic pressure. Meanwhile, the Red Army, hampered by internal issues and a shift in leadership towards the Twenty-eight Bolsheviks, struggled with morale and mass recruitment of untrained peasants. As the Red Army attempted aggressive tactics and reforms, they ultimately faced defeat, leading to their strategic retreat in the historic Long March.   #129 The Fujian Rebellion of 1933 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 previous episode, during the fifth encirclement campaign, I briefly mentioned a rebellion that took place in Fujian province. Now this story actually crosses over a few we will be covering, such as the fifth encirclement campaign, already mentioned but also the Japanese invasion of Shanghai in 1931, part of the Mukden incident. So its a bit tricky for me to cover this one without giving away too much of what we will be speaking about later, but I will try my best to be mysterious.  Now the key player I guess you can say to this story is the 19th Route Army. The 19th Route Army's history can be traced back to the 1st division of the Guangdong Army. In 1926, this division underwent a significant transformation, becoming the 4th Army of the NRA. At that time, Li Jishen was appointed as the commander, with Chen Mingshu serving as the commander of the newly formed 10th Division. Other notable figures included Jiang Guangnai as the deputy commander and Cai Tingkai leading a subordinate regiment. All of these men will be key players in the Rebellion.  During the Northern Expedition, the 4th NRA Army distinguished itself with numerous successful campaigns. The 10th Division was subsequently expanded into the 11th Army. This new formation went on to play a pivotal role in during the Central Plains War of 1930, assisting Chiang Kai-shek in his struggle against warlords' anti-chiang coalition. As a result of this success, the 11th Army was reorganized into the 19th Route Army, with Jiang Guangnai assuming the role of overall commander and Cai Tingkai becoming the army commander. Following these developments, the 19th Route Army then went on to be part of the third encirclement campaign. Now again not to give away too much, but in 1931 the Mukden incident broke out initiating a 15 year war between China and Japan. Most of the action took place in Manchuria, pouring slightly into Northern China and Inner Mongolia, but there was an expedition performed in Shanghai. In many ways it was like a dress rehearsal for what would go down in 1937 during the battle of Shanghai. During the crisis, known then as the September 18th Incident, the 19th Route Army was redeployed to Shanghai.This transition occurred during a tumultuous period when Chiang Kai-shek faced significant political pressure and was forced to resign. The Nanjing National Government, dominated by the Guangdong faction, saw Chen Mingshu appointed as the commander of the garrison responsible for defending Beijing and Shanghai. Now this was a hyper chaotic time for China, and a particularly rough time for Chiang Kai-Shek. Chiang Kai-Shek was dealing with multiple external and internal threats to China and his position as Generalissimo. First off, his encirclement campaigns against the Reds were not going well at all. His men were not accustomed nor trained properly to face guerilla warfare. When they assaulted the Jiangxi Soviet they were entering strange territory and were greeted by the countryfolk as enemies. The Reds, in contrast, felt at home among the villages. For years, they had lived alongside the people and built friendships; forging connections was a key aspect of Communist strategy. Whenever Chiang Kai-Sheks forces came too close for comfort, the guerrillas seamlessly blended into the local population. They established their own Soviets, spread their ideology at will, and disappeared when soldiers approached. They were like a fluid army. Over time, the Chinese public became less concerned about the ongoing presence of the Red Army and more weary of the topic. Those not living in areas affected by Communist infiltration struggled to grasp the urgency of this endless conflict and began to question whether the costs outweighed the benefits. Very little news was reported on the situation, and what was published came primarily from government sources, portraying it as a series of victories for the Nationalists—this battle was a success for the Nationalists, that one ended in a glorious triumph; the KMT troops had the Reds on the run. A few days later, another dispatch would reiterate the same points, as if the earlier battles had never occurred. The front lines never seemed to shift significantly. Chiang Kai-Shek maintained his position as Generalissimo like any other politician, through alliances. One of his key friends was Hu Hanmin. The relationship between Chiang Kai-Shek and Hu Hanmin was never straightforward. Their shared history was marked by significant jealousy, and in February 1931, they faced another separation. During a KMT conference, Hu Hanmin challenged the provisional constitution proposed by Chiang Kai-Shek, arguing that it was prematurely defining various governmental functions. He claimed that Chiang Kai-Shek was consolidating too much power for himself. Chiang Kai-Shek countered that Hu Hanmins concerns were mainly about party authority. This situation echoed their earlier disputes in Canton, where they had debated theories under Dr Sun Yat-sen's influence, but now their conflicts held more weight and didn't end in mere discussion. Hu Hanmin, overwhelmed by his anger, resigned from the presidency of the Legislative Yuan, a significant position at the time. In response, a similarly agitated Chiang Kai-Shek placed him under house arrest, or as the Chinese more delicately termed it, “in soft detainment.” Initially, this fact was not disclosed; Hu Hanmin simply vanished. This was quite an extreme action for someone who advocated democratic processes, leading to a barrage of inquiries from curious Europeans directed at Chiang Kai-Shek. What had happened? Where was Hu? Why had the innocuous Lin Sen been appointed as president of the Legislative Yuan? For a considerable time, the Generalissimo remained silent, but eventually, he reluctantly stated that Hu was fine—indeed, quite fine; it was simply that his personal freedom was temporarily restricted. This was all for his own benefit and that of the KMT. Without this restriction, the misguided individual might attempt to flee to Shanghai, which would only incite dissenting factions and provoke disorder. He was perfectly fine. The incident was added to the ever-growing list of accusations made by Chiang Kai-Sheks opponents, who claimed he was becoming a dictator. They argued that he was squandering the nation's resources to maintain his army while pursuing insignificant Communists, who, if left alone, might actually become good citizens. Rumors circulated that he was nurturing a group of young bullies reminiscent of the Italian "Blue Shirts." Additionally, there were concerns about the shady Chen brothers. Furthermore, it was alleged that Chiang Kai-Shek was in close contact with gangster Tu Yueh-sen in Shanghai, profiting immensely from the opium trade through this connection. In fact, Chiang had recently declared that opium would now be a government monopoly, similar to that of the British in Hong Kong, as he needed the funds. And now, this latest scandal! Criticism of the Generalissimo was rampant, especially among students. April passed, and the uproar over Hu Hanmin faded into discontented whispers, as the People's Congress approached, providing an opportunity for open discussion about the provisional constitution. However, by May 5, people were preoccupied with other concerns. The South was once again causing unrest, led by Wang Jingwei, with Eugene Chen involved as well. It began with the typical manifesto or circular telegram, signed by Wang Jingwei and the Jiangxi generals, who "impeached" Chiang Kai-Shek for his wrongdoings. Another telegram soon followed from the warlord in Canton, accusing the Generalissimo of assuming dictatorial powers. In response, Chiang Kai-Shek convened an urgent meeting of KMT leaders, asserting that the allegations must be openly discussed and investigated. He should have been able to rely on the Party's support during such a crisis, but the situation was unusual due to Hu Hanmin's detention. Some members of his own faction seized the moment to betray him. Sun Fo and Wang Chunghui retreated to Shanghai before moving on to Canton. Shortly after, the Canton warlord declared an alliance between Jiangxi and Guangdong, united in their fight, this was the Chiang-Gui War. On May 25, the southerners issued an ultimatum: Chiang Kai-Shek had to resign within forty-eight hours or face the consequences. A few days later, they established a new national government in Canton. Chiang Kai-Shek announced his intention to suppress the rebels but did not rush into action. Instead, there were discussions—more discussions—in the neutral setting of Shanghai. Throughout June and most of July, these negotiations continued, with Chiang Kai-Shek hoping to prevent a conflict that the nation could ill afford. The southerners persisted with their demands, and their appeal to Japan for support would haunt them for a long time. Their determination ultimately prevailed, and on July 21, it was announced in Canton that a punitive expedition was underway. By mid-August, Bai Chongxi's army was advancing through Hunan on the old route to Nanking. Chiang Kai-Shek prepared for the confrontation, and the capital was on high alert. Meanwhile, in the North, the Mukden Incident broke out. In the South, the generals and their associates held back, anticipating that war could be declared at any moment. However, Chiang Kai-Shek and his advisers understood that he was even less equipped than Zhang Xueliang to initiate an offensive against a powerful foreign nation. There was the League of Nations, established presumably to address crises like this, as well as the Kellogg Pact. Chiang Kai-Shek decided to refer the matter to the League, though his chances of a favorable outcome were slim: America, which might have otherwise been involved, was preoccupied with its own economic depression, and Britain remained indifferent. The more impulsive factions in China believed this response was insufficient, and the dissidents in the South demanded a stronger approach. The students were the most incensed. On September 28, hundreds of students in Shanghai took matters into their own hands. They seized control of a train at the railway station and traveled to Nanking, where they joined forces with fellow students from the capital's university. Together, they marched—five thousand strong—toward the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. They pushed past the guards, stormed the Minister's office, forcibly dragged him outside, and assaulted him. After recovering from his injuries in the hospital, the Minister chose to resign. The students then initiated a sit-in strike, declaring they would remain in Nanking until they received tangible action rather than mere diplomatic efforts. Authorities were unsure how to respond to them, as more pressing issues demanded the government's attention. It was clear that the South and Nanking needed to resolve their differences, as public opinion strongly supported this. Despite the ungracious criticisms emanating from Canton, where Eugene Chen was vocally denouncing Chiang Kai-shek for his diplomatic failures, Nanking sought to negotiate. In October, Chiang Kai-Shek released Hu Hanmin from his mild detention, and he appeared none the worse for the unexpected break. Along with three others, he traveled to Shanghai for a peace conference with the southern leaders. Hu urged the southerners to be reasonable and to cease calls for Chiang Kai-Shek's resignation. Chiang Kai-Shek remarked, “Regardless of the right or wrong of the situation, if desired, all blame can be placed squarely on me.” However, this uplifting scene was short-lived. As the Canton faction continued to insist on Chiang's resignation, Hu abruptly changed his stance and escalated the demands. He suggested that not only should Chiang resign, but he should also be exiled from China entirely. The conference ended in chaos. Various proposals were discussed and quickly dismissed. The South remained resolute; Chiang had to go. The sit-in students, frustrated with just sitting idle, started to escalate their actions. Their numbers had been steadily increasing since the initial demonstration, with boys traveling to Nanking from distant places; by the end of November, there were twelve thousand of them. They marched again to the new government buildings, demanding that Chiang Kai-Shek come out to engage in a discussion. “War on Japan!” they shouted. Chiang Kai-Shek made them wait in the cold winter weather for a full twenty-four hours before he finally appeared. He reprimanded them harshly and ordered them to return to school, leading to a subdued dispersal of the crowd. On December 15th, Chiang Kai-Shek capitulated to public pressure and resigned. Chiang Kai-Shek yet again nonchalantly got up and left heading home into the mountains. This left an extremely uneasy Sun Fo in the presidential chair facing what looked like a full blown Japanese invasion. The Japanese kept reiterating they were merely defending their citizens after the Chinese had attacked the South Manchurian Railway…but yeah they were certainly conquering. Sun Fo desperately looked to any veteran figures for help, but Hu Hanmin fled to Hong Kong, Wang Jingwei, arguably the man responsible for forcing Chiang Kai-Shek yet again to step down was suddenly far too ill to do anything and retired to the Shanghai Hospital. Meanwhile, all of the bankers had lost interest in the Nanjing government since Chiang Kai-Shek had departed, the government literally lost its coffers. The government had no means to properly pay its armies. Now the entire time the government had been tossing offers to Chiang Kai-Shek to come back, but he bided his time. Meanwhile Eugene Chen demanded China break off diplomatic relations with Japan, was told no so he resigned, followed soon after by Sun Fo. Wang Jingwei was tossed into the presidency position, which he must have relished, however it was just then when Shanghai was invaded. Chiang Kai-Shek still held his honorary position as CEC over the special committee so he simply waited and watched. Yet no one could manage the military like the generalissimo nor open the coin purses to fund it. Thus Chiang Kai-Shek was brought back, but not really as Generalissimo, now he had to work collaboratively with others, such as Wang Jingwei.  In 1932, the January 28 Incident unfolded, basically the Japanese performed another false flag operation trying to legitimize an expedition into Shanghai. Japanese marines began to land and on January 28th they were attacking in full force. The 19th Route Army met the enemy in what became a month-long resistance against great odds. Chiang Kai-Shek was being labeled a coward for not doing more against the Japanese, but he was keeping in touch with the commanders of the 19th Rout Army by telegraph. He advised them to guard Liuho, a village just across the Yangtze, believing the Japanese would make other landings to cut them off there. General Tsai neglected to take the advice, and low and behold the Japanese made the landing forcing the 19th Route Army to pull out. The entire situation looked incredibly bad for China. Fingers were pointed at the inept Nanjing government. Yet Chiang Kai-Shek was much more focused on the encirclement campaigns against the Reds. The people angrily accused him of “making war on his own people instead of attending to the real threat, Japan”. To this Chiang Kai-Shek replied “It is useless for China to talk of resisting Japan. When it has not yet stamped out the enemy in its midst. If China ventures to fight the Japanese, the Communists will attack from the rear and chaos will quickly overtake the whole country.” The 19th Route Army were hailed as heroes, receiving a lot of recognition as a prominent anti-Japanese force. Despite Japan's attempts to reinforce its troops, Chiang Kai-shek's return to leadership saw further NRA forces dispatched to join the fight. Eventually, the conflict reached a resolution through diplomatic negotiations, resulting in the withdrawal of the 19th Route Army from Shanghai. With the Japanese threat averted for the time being Chiang Kai-Shek redirected his efforts against the Reds. On May 21, 1932, Chiang Kai-shek ordered the 19th Route Army to enter Fujian and forced the army to engage in a civil war against the Communists in Fujian. On December 6 of the same year, Jiang Guangnai took over as the chairman of Fujian Province, and Cai Tingkai was appointed as the director of the Fujian Pacification Office and commander of the 19th Route Army.  At this point the leadership of the 19th Route Army were not at all happy with Chiang Kai-Shek, who to them seemed to have done little to help face the Japanese. They were not friendly to the CCP by any means and were actively suppressing Communist organizations while fighting the Japanese. When they came to Fujian they continued to suppress communists and supported people's anti-Japanese patriotic movements. On August 18, 1932, the 61st Division of the 19th Route Army collectively executed 69 CCP members and suspected individuals outside the East Gate of Quanzhou, and they also carried out mass killings of government workers from the Soviet area during their offensive against it. Despite this the CCP and 19th Route Army did agree on one thing, the Japanese were a problem.  After November 22, 1933, as Japanese imperialism intensified its invasion of China, the people across the nation once again launched a wave of anti-Japanese salvation movements. On January 17 of the same year, the Provisional Central Government of the Chinese Soviet Republic and the Revolutionary Military Committee of the Workers' and Peasants' Red Army issued a "Joint Anti-Japanese Declaration," proposing three conditions for cooperation with any armed forces to resist Japan: an immediate halt to attacks on the Soviet areas, immediate guarantees of the democratic rights of the people, and the immediate arming of the people to establish armed volunteer forces. However, Chiang Kai-shek's ruling group stubbornly persisted in its anti-Communist and anti-people policies, continuing to intensify attacks on the Red Army, and on May 31, he signed a peace agreement with the Japanese. Chiang Kai-Shek was met with another wave of opposition across the nation for appeasing the Japanese. The 19th Route Army basically concluded the Generalissimo was not going to help wage a war against their enemy. Thus in a rather insane fashion, the leadership of the 19th Route Army resolved to overthrow the Nanjing government so they could unite the anti-Japanese forces and push for a national resistance. At that time, Chen Mingshu, an early leader of the 19th Route Army who had gone abroad and had previously served as the vice president of the Executive Yuan of the National Government, returned to China in May 1933 and devoted all his efforts to opposing Chiang Kai-shek's Nanjing government. In Fuzhou, he secretly discussed three strategies with Jiang Guangnai, Cai Tingkai, and Deng Xizeng: the first was to unite with Guangdong and Guangxi to overthrow Chiang Kai-Shek, supporting Hu Hanmin to organize an independent government; the second was to unite with Li Zongren and Bai Chongxi of Guangxi, and Chen Jitang of Guangdong, seizing Guangdong; the last was to unite with the Red Army to resist Chiang Kai-Shek together.  As a result, neither the first nor the second strategies could be realized. Under Chiang Kai-shek's repeated orders to engage in civil war, the 78th Division and the 62nd Division of the 19th Route Army faced severe blows from the Red Army in Fujian between July and September 1933. Thus, the 19th Route Army found itself in a dire situation where not engaging in the "anti-Communist" actions would lead to its annihilation by Chiang Kai-shek, while engaging in "anti-Communist" actions would result in its destruction by the Red Army. In the context of rising national anti-Japanese sentiment, the upper leadership of the 19th Route Army had to swiftly make the choice to unite with the Communists to resist Chiang Kai-Shek and fight against Japan. On September 22, 1933, Chen Mingshu's main aide, Chen Gongpei, who had participated in the Nanchang Uprising and later left the CCP, secretly arrived at the command post of the 3rd Red Army Corps stationed at Wangtai, to express the political stance of the 19th Route Army to leaders of the Red Army, such as Peng Dehuai, Teng Daiyuan, and Yuan Guoping, regarding anti-Chiang resistance and cooperation with the Red Army. In October, Chen Gongpei accompanied Xu Minghong, the plenipotentiary representative of the 19th Route Army and secretary-general of its headquarters, to Ruijin. On the 26th, he signed the "Preliminary Agreement Against Japan and Against Chiang" with Pan Jianxing, a representative of the Provisional Central Government of the Chinese Soviet Republic and the Workers' and Peasants' Red Army. The main contents included: both sides immediately cease military actions, temporarily define a military demarcation line, restore trade between both parties; the Fujian People's Revolutionary Government and the 19th Route Army agree to the existence and activities of all revolutionary organizations in Fujian, allow freedom of publication, speech, assembly, and strikes, and immediately release political prisoners, among other provisions. The Soviet Provisional Central Government also sent Pan Jianxing as a permanent representative in Fuzhou. Subsequently, Chen Mingshu, Li Jishen, Jiang Guangnai, Cai Tingkai, and others actively prepared to establish a new government and made military preparations against Chiang Kai-Shek. On November 20, 1933, Li Jishen, Jiang Guangnai, Cai Tingkai, and representatives from over 100 cities across the country, along with 100,000 people from various sectors in Fuzhou, convened the National People's Temporary Representative Assembly in Fuzhou. The assembly issued the "Declaration of People's Rights of the Chinese People's Temporary Representative Assembly" and decided to establish the People's Revolutionary Government of the Republic of China. They elected Li Jishen, Chen Mingshu, Chen Youren, Feng Yuxiang , Cai Tingkai, Jiang Guangnai, Huang Qixiang, Xu Qian, Fang Zhenwu, Li Zhangda, Sa Zhenbing, He Gonggan, and other 12 members to the government, with Li Jishen as the government chairman. On November 22, the People's Revolutionary Government was officially established, with the capital in Fuzhou. The People's Revolutionary Government Committee set up a Military Committee, an Economic Committee, and a Cultural Committee, chaired respectively by Li Jishen, Yu Xinqing, and Chen Mingshu; and established a Ministry of Finance, a Ministry of Foreign Affairs, a Supreme Court, and a Political Security Bureau, led respectively by Jiang Guangnai, Chen Youren, Xu Qian, and Li Zhangda. The People's Revolutionary Government successively issued: The People's Revolutionary Government's Internal Telegram. The People's Revolutionary Government's External Declaration.The People's Political Program - Eighteen Articles of the Minimum Program and other documents, openly announcing anti-Japanese and anti-Chiang, and proposing some domestic and foreign policies with certain progressive significance. The "Internal Telegram of the People's Revolutionary Government" announced the government's future mission: 1) to seek the liberation of the Chinese nation and establish a truly independent and free country; 2) to eliminate the counter-revolutionary Nanjing government and establish a political power of the productive people; 3) to realize the equal rights of all ethnic groups in the country; 4) to guarantee the absolute freedom and equality of all productive people; 5) to eliminate the influence of imperialism in China, overthrow the warlords, eradicate the remnants of the feudal system, develop the national economy, and liberate the working people. The "Declaration of the People's Revolutionary Government to Foreign Countries" sternly pointed out the Nanjing government's traitorous behavior and warned the powers not to cooperate with Chiang Kai-shek. The Declaration stated: "We believe that the policies of the pro-American and pro-League of Nations factions are based on dangerous principles... However, it must be recognized that the objective result of the pro-American and pro-League of Nations factions will put China under an international condominium system, which is no less harmful than Chiang Kai-shek's pro-Japanese policies... It is recognized that China's real power must be established on a national basis... We finally declare that overthrowing the Chiang regime is not only necessary for China's independence and national salvation, but also for the military and economic interests of the whole world... In order to enhance international security, we have to warn the powers not to make any loans to the Chiang Kai-shek government in Nanjing, whether it is money, goods, or weapons. We also declare that if any such loans are concluded in the future, the Chinese people and their revolutionary government will completely deny them." The People's Political Program - Eighteen Articles of the Minimum Program declared: "China is a semi-feudal society under the rule of imperialists. The greatest goal of the Chinese revolution is to eliminate the imperialist domination in China; at the same time, to sweep away all feudal forces and establish a government that fully represents the rights of the people..." The 18 articles of the minimum program are: (1) Abolish unequal treaties and renegotiate equal and mutually beneficial treaties with other countries; (2) Foreign-invested or foreign-managed enterprises and cultural undertakings that are harmful to the interests of the Chinese nation may be restricted or confiscated; (3) To sort out new and old foreign debts. All political loans that harm the country should be absolutely denied; others should be repaid conditionally; (4) Implementing foreign trade controls; (5) Strictly implement absolute tariff autonomy; (6) Open up the political system and deny all political rights to counter-revolutionaries who are dependent on imperialism and warlords; (7) All nationalities within China are equal, may freely unite for revolution, and recognize national self-determination; (8) Ensure the people's absolute freedom of body, residence, speech, assembly, association, strike, demonstration and publication; (9) Implement universal suffrage; (10) Abolish all excessive taxes and levies; (11) The principle of "everyone who tills the land owns the land" was established, and land was distributed according to the number of people. Forests, mines, and rivers were completely nationalized. (12) All important banking and transportation enterprises shall be under state control; (13) Use political power and state capital to support the scientific development of agricultural production; (14) Usury is strictly prohibited; (15) Unscrupulous merchants will be eliminated and the people's daily necessities will be sold under the state monopoly; (16) To formulate agricultural and industrial laws, improve the lives of farmers and workers, and ensure the development of agricultural and industrial organizations; (17) Promote universal education; (18) Implement conscription, arm the people, and assist them in their anti-imperialist and economic and political struggles. After the establishment of the People's Revolutionary Government, it caused a great stir domestically and internationally. However, due to Wang Ming's "leftist" closure policy, the local party organization in Fujian initially adopted a hostile strategy toward the People's Revolutionary Government. It wasn't until early December, after the Fuzhou Central Municipal Committee received a letter from the Central Committee dated October 30 addressing the Fuzhou Central Municipal Committee and all comrades in Fujian, that they began to adopt a proactive cooperative approach toward the People's Revolutionary Government and the 19th Route Army. After December 29, the Fuzhou Central Municipal Committee issued a declaration in the name of the "Far East Anti-Imperialist Non-War Anti-Fascist Alliance, Fuzhou Branch," publicly calling for the establishment of an anti-imperialist united front. The People's Revolutionary Government also fully reprinted this declaration in its official newspapers, the "People's Daily" and the "Guoguang Daily." The Fuzhou branch then mobilized people from all walks of life to establish the "Committee to Oppose Kuomintang Air Raids and Support the Soldiers of the 19th Route Army Against the Kuomintang," organizing personnel to visit the stationed troops of the 19th Route Army to comfort the soldiers. The People's Revolutionary Government also adopted a cooperative attitude toward the economic struggles of workers' organizations. On November 18, Chen Mingshu called for an emergency secret meeting of the 19th Route Army and other key figures at Heshui Rock in Gushan. The meeting took place at Longyuan Pavilion, and attendees included Li Jishen, Chen Mingshu, Cai Tingkai, Jiang Guangnai, Chen Youren, Huang Qixiang, Xu Qian, Li Zhangda, and more than ten other military commanders and the chief of staff of the 19th Route Army. The discussion, which lasted from morning until late at night, revolved around heated debates concerning the timing of the uprising. Cai Tingkai advocated for postponing the uprising by one to two months for several reasons; many generals in the 19th Route Army were still undecided or openly opposed to the rebellion, the troops had yet to be mobilized, defenses were unorganized, various forces had not surrendered, and traitors and spies were still active. Additionally, Guangdong and Guangxi were not providing support, and Chiang Kai-shek was already aware of their plans. Cai Tingkai argued for more time to accelerate preparations without drawing immediate attention from Chiang Kai-Shek. In contrast, Chen Mingshu and others believed this was the last opportunity for an uprising. They pointed out that Chiang Kai-shek's forces were concentrated in North China, and Jinpu and particularly in Jiangxi, where his main troops were engaged in the fifth encirclement campaign against the Soviet area. They estimated that only 20,000 to 30,000 troops could be redirected to Fujian. Overestimating the political instability of Chiang's regime, Chen Mingshu believed that once the 19th Route Army raised the flag of rebellion, support from other regions of China would follow. He also felt confident that one division of the 19th Route Army could resist two or three of Chiang's divisions and that with cooperation from the Red Army, even if Chiang Kai-Shek deployed ten divisions, they would prevail. Chen Mingshu concluded that regardless of the outcome, the effort would be heroic and they should proceed without hesitation. The meeting's opposing viewpoints led to intense discussions. Chen Mingshu, visibly passionate, declared that revolution required sacrifice and that delaying any longer would mean submission to Nanjing. Cai Tingkai, while originally advocating for a delay, conceded that the situation had reached a point of no return. He agreed to lead the 19th Route Army and fully back the new government. The meeting concluded with a decision to convene the National People's Provisional Congress in Fuzhou on November 20 to officially declare the uprising against Chiang Kai-Shek. Other topics discussed included replacing the blue sky, white sun party flag, military and financial logistics, and a declaration drafted by Chen Mingshu's advisors, Wang Lixi and Hu Qiuyuan. On November 20, 1933, the National People's Provisional Congress convened at the South Parade Ground in Fuzhou, with thousands of soldiers, students, merchants, and workers in attendance. A banner reading "China's National People's Provisional Congress" adorned the stage, and the leaders of the rebellion, including Cai Tingkai, Jiang Guangnai, and Li Jishen, were present, though Chen Mingshu was absent due to illness. Representatives from 25 provinces and various walks of life gathered for the event. Before the meeting, the 19th Route Army's newly formed air force performed stunts, to the applause of the crowd. At 9:40 AM, the meeting began with Huang Qixiang, who was elected chairman of the presidium, delivering an opening speech and reading the "Declaration of the People's Rights of the Provisional Chinese People's Congress." Several prominent figures spoke, and the meeting concluded with the adoption of proposals to establish the People's Revolutionary Government and a new national flag designed by Ouyang Yuqian. That evening, the presidium decided to form the People's Revolutionary Government of the Republic of China, abolishing the Nanjing government, declaring 1933 as the first year of the Republic, and establishing Fuzhou as the capital. Li Jishen was elected President, and several others, including Chen Mingshu, Jiang Guangnai, and Cai Tingkai, were appointed government members. However the Fujian Revolution failed to gain support from other forces within the KMT. The Guangxi clique was dissatisfied with the fact that the 19th Route Army reconciled with the CCP so they did not support it. Chen Jitang tossed his lot in with Chiang Kai-shek and did not support the Fujian Revolution either. At that time, the CCP was undergoing a power struggle. On December 5, the Central Committee of the CCP, headed by Wang Ming, issued a statement stating that the Fujian government was "non-people and still non-revolutionary and that anyone who wants to take a third way between revolution and counter-revolution will inevitably fail." . Thus, Chiang Kai-shek transferred eight divisions of the National Revolutionary Army into Fujian, and coordinated the attack with the air force and navy. The 19th Route Army quickly collapsed. Four out of the five armies defected before the battle even began. Most of them were disarmed by the Central Army that they had fought side by side with during the Shanghai Incident a year ago. On January 15, 1934, Chiang Kai-shek's forces captured Fuzhou. The People's Revolutionary Government and the headquarters of the 19th Route Army retreated to Zhangzhou and Quanzhou, respectively. By January 21, both Quanzhou and Zhangzhou had fallen, and the Fujian Rebellion had failed. The People's Revolutionary Government of the Republic of China collapsed within two months of its establishment. On the 21st, the remaining troops of the 19th Route Army switched over to supporting the central government, and the Fujian Revolution officially came to an end. Jiang Guangnai, Cai Tingkai, Chen Mingshu and Li Jishen fled to Hong Kong . The designation of the 19th Route Army of the National Revolutionary Army was cancelled, and the troops were dispersed and integrated. 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. Yes it was a tad bit of an anti climatic event in the grand scheme of things. Yet the provincial rebellion was notable because the people involved wanted to fight the Japanese and believed their government was not doing enough to challenge the external threat. The reality however was far more complicated, the Japanese were far too formidable, for now. 

In this episode of Better Buildings for Humans, host Joe Menchefski welcomes Minjia Yang, Vice President of Investing for Health at the International WELL Building Institute (IWBI). With an impressive background spanning law, economics, and sustainable finance, Minjia discusses her role in advancing social sustainability and sustainable finance initiatives at IWBI. She shares insights on how WELL standards integrate human health, well-being, and equity into building design and operations across the globe. The conversation covers a range of topics, from sustainable finance innovations and ESG initiatives to balancing energy efficiency with occupant wellness. Minjia also highlights IWBI's work in aligning WELL standards with global sustainability reporting regulations, emphasizing the need for a people-first approach to building design. Tune in for a deep dive into the evolving world of healthy buildings and social sustainability. More About Minjia Yang: Minjia Yang is the Vice President of Investing for Health at the International WELL Building Institute (IWBI) where she leads the thought leadership platform to elevate the meaning of health, wellbeing and equity to organizations, communities and the investment landscape at scale. Minjia brings her interdisciplinary background in law, economics, finance and insights of global markets to partnership building, sustainable finance and Environmental, Social and Governance (ESG) initiatives. Prior to joining IWBI, Minjia worked with Delos, a wellness technology company, to establish over 10 subsidiaries and joint ventures in Asia as well as the first venture capital fund focusing on wellness technology for the built environment. Minjia has extensive professional experience across public, private and nonprofit sectors in Asia, Africa and North America. She worked with Inter-American Development Bank, Grameen Bank in Bangladesh, social enterprises in Lesotho, nonprofit organizations in Haiti, Malaysia Prime Minister's office and consulting firms in Asia. Minjia holds her Bachelor of Laws degree from Sun Yat-sen University in China. She was elected as a Chinese youth representative to the United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP) and also as a W. T. Chan Fellow to participate in the Social Entrepreneurship Program at University of California in Los Angeles. Minjia received the Master of Public Administration degree with a concentration on economics and finance from Cornell University. CONTACT: https://www.linkedin.com/in/minjiayang https://resources.wellcertified.com/people/staff/minjia-yang/ Where To Find Us: https://bbfhpod.advancedglazings.com/ www.advancedglazings.com https://www.linkedin.com/company/better-buildings-for-humans-podcast www.linkedin.com/in/advanced-glazings-ltd-848b4625 https://twitter.com/bbfhpod https://twitter.com/Solera_Daylight https://www.instagram.com/bbfhpod/ https://www.instagram.com/advancedglazingsltd https://www.facebook.com/AdvancedGlazingsltd

Last time we spoke about the Guangzhou, Gansu and Red Spear Uprisings. During China's Warlord Era, the CCP faced many challenges as they sought to implement land revolutions and armed uprisings. Following the Nanchang and Autumn Harvest uprisings, the CCP held an emergency meeting criticizing Chen Duxiu for his appeasement of the KMT right wing. With strong encouragement from Soviet advisors, the CCP planned a major uprising to seize control of Guangdong province. In November 1927, the CCP saw an opportunity as petty warlords in Guangdong and Guangxi engaged in conflict. Zhang Fakui's troops, vulnerable and demoralized, were targeted by the CCP. Mobilizing workers and peasants, the CCP initiated the Guangzhou Uprising. The uprising was ultimately suppressed by superior NRA troops, resulting in heavy CCP casualties and brutal reprisals. The failed uprisings, though unable to achieve immediate goals, ignited a persistent revolutionary spirit within the CCP, marking the beginning of a prolonged civil conflict that would shape China's future.   #121 The Sino-Soviet Conflict of 1929 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. All the way back in 1919, the brand new Soviet government's assistance Commissar of foreign affairs, Lev Karakhan, issued a manifesto to the Beiyang government, promising the return of the Chinese Eastern Railway at zero financial cost. That statement was made in late July and alongside the railway, he also mentioned relinquishing a lot of rights the former Russian Empire had acquired from unequal treaties, such as the Boxer Protocol. This all became known as the Karakhan Manifesto, and it was formed in a time when the Soviets were fighting the Russian Civil War, advancing east into Siberia. In order to secure the war in Siberia the Soviets had to establish good relations with the Chinese. Yet six months after the july manifesto, Karakhan personally handed over a second version of said manifesto, one that did not influence the rather nice deal of handing over the Chinese eastern railway for free. The Soviets official statement was that they had accidentally promised the deal prior. The truth of the matter was some real politik work at play. The Soviets had been trying to secure a Sino-Soviet alliance against the Japanese, but it looked to them it would never come to be so they simply took the deal off the table.  Henceforth the issue cause a lot of friction. In March of 1920 the Fengtian forces disarmed White Russian Troops along the railway and seized control over its operations. In February of 1922 China and the USSR signed a agreement stipulating the Beiyang government would set up a special agency to manage the railway. Then in November the Chinese announced an area within 11 km along the railway would be designated a Eastern Province special district. In December the Soviet Union officially formed and by May the two nations agreed to settle a list of issues. The Soviets agreed to abolish all the unequal treaties formed by the Russian Empire handing over all the leased territories, consular jurisdiction, extraterritoriality, Boxer payments and such, but the Chinese Eastern Railway would be jointly managed by China and the USSR. Now since the railway sat in the area that Zhang Zuolin came to control, in September of 1924 the Soviets signed an agreement with the Fengtian clique. In this agreement, the Soviets lessened the 80 year lease over the railway to 60 years. The Soviets also promised to hand full control to Chinese administrators, but had a trick up their sleeve. The Soviets let the Chinese think they were adding workers and officials loyal to them, in reality the Soviets were creating more jobs on the railway while hiring Soviet workers. In the end the Soviets controlled roughly 67% of the key positions. When Zhang Zuolin went to war with Feng Yuxiang's Guominjun this changed things considerably. In December of 1925, Zhang Zuolin's army owed the Chinese eastern railway some 14 million rubles, prompting the Soviet administrator over the railway, Ivanov to prohibit Zhang Zuolin's army from using it. Fengtian commander Zhang Huanxiang simply arrested Ivanov disregarding his ban. The Soviets then sent an ultimatum to the Beiyang government demanding his release. So Zhang Zuolin ran to the Japanese to mediate. Things smoothed over until 1928 when the Huanggutun incident saw Zhang Zuolin assassinated. As we saw at the end of the northern expedition, his son Zhang Xueliang responded by raising the KMT flag on December 29th of 1928, joining Chiang Kai-Shek. The next day Zhang Xueliang was made commander in chief of the Northeast.  Now Chiang Kai-Shek's government had broken diplomatic relations with the USSR after the Shanghai massacre purge. Thus Zhang Xueliang felt the old treaties signed by his father with the Soviets were null and void and looked upon the Chinese Eastern Railway enviously. To give some context outside of China. At this point in time, the USSR was implementing rural collectivization, ie; the confiscation of land and foodstuffs. This led to wide scale conflict with peasants, famines broke out, I would say the most well known one being the Holodmor in Ukraine. Hundreds of millions of people starved to death. The USSR was also still not being recognized by many western powers. Thus from the perspective of Zhang Xueliang, it looked like the USSR were fraught with internal and external difficulties, they had pretty much no friends, so taking the railway would probably be a walk in the park.  Zhang Xueliang began diplomatically, but negotiations were going nowhere, so he got tougher. He ordered his officials to take back control over the Chinese Eastern Railway zone police, municipal administration, taxation, land, everything. He instructed Zhang Jinghui, the governor of Harbin's special administrative zone to dispatch military police to search the Soviet embassy in Harbin and arrest the consul general. Zhang Jinghui did so and closed the Soviet consulates in Harbin, Qiqihar and Hailar. All of this of course pissed off the Soviets who responded by protesting the new Nanjing government, demanding the release of their people, while increasing troops to the border of Manchuria. The Soviets announced they were willing to reduce their control over the railway as a concession. This entire situation became known as the May 27th incident and unleashed a tit for tat situation. On July 13th, the Soviets sent an ultimatum giving three days for a response "If a satisfactory answer is not obtained, the Soviet government will be forced to resort to other means to defend all the rights of the Soviet Union." On the 17th the Soviets recalled their officials, cut off the railway traffic between China and the USSR, ejected Chinese envoys from the USSR and cut off diplomatic relations with China. In the background Joseph Stalin was initially hesitating to perform any military actions, not wanting to antagonize the Japanese in Manchuria. However the Soviet consul in Tokyo, sent back word that Japan was completely willing to stay out of any conflict if the Soviets limited it to just northern Manchuria. Thus Stalin decided to act. On August 6th, Stalin formed the Special Red Banner Far Eastern Army under the command of General Vasily Blyukher. It was composed of three infantry divisions; the 1st Pacific Infantry Division, the 2nd Amur Infantry Division, and the 35th Trans-Baikal Infantry Division), one cavalry brigade (the 5th Kuban Cavalry Brigade), and the addition of the Buryat Mongolian Independent Cavalry Battalion. The total force was said to be as many as 30,000 with their headquarters located in Khabarovsk. Blyukher also had the support of the Far Eastern Fleet, roughly 14 shallow water heavy gunboats, a minesweeper detachment, an aviation detachment with 14 aircraft, and a marine battalion commanded by Yakov Ozolin. Blyukher had served during the civil war and was a military advisor in China attached to Chiang Kai-SHek's HQ. He had a large hand to play in the northern expedition, and was one of the select Soviets Chiang Kai-Shek intentionally made sure got home safe during the purge. Blyukher would exercises a unusual amount of autonomy with his far east command, based out of Khabarovsk. For the upcoming operation a 5th of the entire Red Army was mobilized to assist. On the other side Zhang Xueliang mobilized as many troops as he could, including many White Russians hiding out in Manchuria. His total strength on paper was 270,000, but only 100,000 would be actively facing the Soviets as the rest were needed to maintain public order and to defend southern Manchuria. The person in charge of the Eastern Line of the Chinese Eastern Railway was the brigade commander of the Jilin Army, Ding Chao, and the western line was the brigade commander of the Heilongjiang Army, Liang Zhongjia, and the chief of staff was Zhang Wenqing. Wang Shuchang led the First Army to guard the eastern line, and Hu Yukun led the Second Army to guard the western line. The Soviet army also had a quality advantage in equipment. In terms of artillery, the Soviet army had about 200 artillery pieces, including more than a dozen heavy artillery pieces, while the Chinese army had only 135 infantry artillery pieces and no heavy artillery. At the same time, the Soviet army also had a quality advantage in machine guns because it was equipped with 294 heavy machine guns and 268 highly mobile light machine guns. The Chinese army was equipped with only 99 heavy machine guns. In terms of air force, the Chinese army had 5 aircraft that were combat effective. On July 26th the Soviets bombarded Manzhouli from three directions along the western end of the Chinese Eastern Railway. Two days later a Soviet infantry regiment, 3 armored vehicles and 4 artillery pieces advanced to Shibali station, cutting the lines to Manzhouli. They then ordered the Chinese military and police to withdraw as they captured Manzhouli. Then on the 29th the began bombarding Dangbi. On August 8th, 100 Soviet troops carrying two artillery pieces and 3 machine guns engaged Chinese forces outside the south gate of Oupu County street, casualties were heavy for both sides. 5 Soviet aircraft circled over Suifenhe City firing 200 rounds and dropping bombs over the Dongshan Army defense post and Sandaodongzi. The next day 40 Soviet soldiers established two checkpoints at Guzhan blocking traffic and they even began kidnapping civilians. That same day 300 Soviet soldiers and two gunboats occupied the Hujiazhao factory. On the 12th, Sanjianfang, Zhongxing and Lijia's Oil Mill were occupied by over 2000 Soviet troops. Meanwhile 80 Soviets amphibiously assaulted Liuhetun using 8 small boats, killing its defenders before returning to the other side. The next day two Soviet gunboats, 300 marines and 2 aircraft attacked Suidong county in Heilongjiang province while another force attacked Oupu county with artillery. On the morning of the 14th both counties fell. In response the Nanjing government dispatched Liu Guang, the chief of the military department to inspect the Northeast front. On the 15th Zhang Xueliang issued mobilization orders against the USSR, seeing his standing front line forces bolstered to 100,000. On the 15th the foreign minister of the Nanjing government, Wang Zhengting reported to Chiang Kai-Shek negotiations were going nowhere, the Soviets were adamant about getting their rights returned over the Chinese Eastern Railways. The next day, Wang Zhenting told reporters that if the Soviets attacked anymore China would declare war. The next day Zhang Xueliang was interviewed by the Chicago Daily News and had this to say. "The Soviet Union disregarded international trust, trampled on the non-war pact, and rashly sent troops to invade our country. We respect the non-war pact and have repeatedly made concessions to show our responsibility for provoking the provocation. If the Russian side continues to advance, we will be willing to be the leader of the war, so we have prepared everything and will do our best to fight to the death."  On the 16th two Soviet infantry companies and one cavalry company attacked Zhalannur from Abagaitu along the border. The two sides fought for 2 hours until the Soviets stormed the Zhalannur station. After another 5 hours of combat the Soviets pulled back over the border. By this point enough was enough. China declared war on August 17th escalating what was an incident around the Chinese Eastern Railway zone into a full blown war.  Blyukher had developed a plan for an offensive consisting of two rapid operations. The first would be against the Chinese naval forces and the second against the ground forces via a large encirclement. After the war was declared on the 17th, the Soviet Army advanced into Manchuria from the western end of the Chinese Eastern Railway. The Red Banner Special Far Eastern Army initially dispatched a total of 6,091 infantrymen and 1,599 artillerymen in front of Manchuria, equipped with 88 artillery pieces of 76.2 mm or above, excluding artillery belonging to infantry regiments, 32 combat aircraft, 3 armored trains, and 9 T-18 light tanks . The army units included: the 35th and 36th Infantry Divisions of the 18th Infantry Army; the 5th Cavalry Brigade; the Buryat Mongolian Cavalry Battalion; an independent tank company equipped with T-18 tanks, the 6th Aviation Detachment, the 25th Aviation Detachment, the 26th Bomber Squadron, the 18th Army Artillery Battalion, the 18th Engineering Battalion, and a Railway Battalion.  The first battle broke out around Manzhouli. Liang Zhongjia, the brigade commander stationed in Manzhouli, reported this to his superiors of the engagement “of the battle situation, the 38th and 43rd regiments under my command fought with a regiment of Soviet infantry and cavalry for 4 hours in the afternoon and are still in a standoff. The Soviet army has more than one division of troops near Abagaitu”. At 10:30 p.m. on the 18th, the Soviets began to attack the positions of the 2nd and 3rd Battalions of the 43rd Regiment of the Northeastern Army in Zhalannur. At 1 p.m. on August 19, the Soviets added about 600 to 700 troops opposite the positions of the 43rd Regiment of Zhalannur. At 5 a.m the Soviets dispatched five aircraft from Abagaitu to Shibali Station. On the 19th, the Soviets captured Suibin County with ease. At 6 a.m. on the 20th, the Soviets used armored trains to transport more than 200 troops to attack the 10th Cavalry Regiment of Liang Zhongjia's troops. After fighting for about an hour, the Soviets retreated. On the 23rd a battle broke out in Mishan and on the 25th 400 Soviet cavalry began building fortifications roughly a kilometer near the Chinese 43rd regiment at Zhalannur. Zhang Xueliang spoke again to the Chinese and foreign press on the 25th stating this. "Foreigners have many misunderstandings about the Eastern Province's actions this time, thinking that it is to take back the Eastern Route and violate the treaty. In fact, we have no intention of violating the 1924 Sino-Russian Agreement or the Agreement with Russia, because China has signed it and has no intention of violating it. China has no intention of taking back the route at all. What it wants is to remove the Russian personnel who are involved in the communist movement. Moreover, in this matter, the Eastern Route is a very small issue. The real point is that the Russians use China as a base for communism, and we have to take measures in self-defense." Between the 28th to the 30th an intense battle broke out at Wangqing.  On the 31st, Soviet gunboats bombarded three garrisons around  Heihe. On September 4th, the Soviet army bombarded the right wing of the 43rd and 38th Regiments stationed in Lannur. At 4 pm on the 9th, a single regiment of the Soviet army, under the cover of artillery, launched a fierce attack on the Chinese army at Manzhouli Station from the Shibali Station, but by 8:30 pm, they pulled back. At 4 pm, 8 Soviet aircraft bombed Suifenhe Station, causing over 50 Chinese casualties and injured a regimental commander. On the night of the 16th, more than 100 Soviet troops attacked the Kukdoboka checkpoint in Lubin County and burned down the checkpoint. On the 18th, the Soviet government announced to the ambassadors of various countries that they had always advocated for a peaceful solution to the issue of the Chinese Eastern Railway, while China's attitude was hypocritical and insincere. It was believed that future negotiations were hopeless, and all previous negotiations mediated by Germany were terminated. From now on, they stated quote “the Soviet Union would not bear any responsibility for any ominous incidents caused on the Sino-Russian border”. With negotiations completely broken down, Blyukher was given the greenlight to launch a fatal blow.  On October 2, more than a thousand Soviet infantryman, supported by aircraft and artillery stormed the positions of the 3rd Battalion of the 38th Regiment in Manzhouli. The two sides fought until the morning of the 3rd. On the 4th Zhang Xueiliang drafted the “national volunteer army organization regulations letter” trying to embolden the population stating "when the foreigners invade the border, the first thing to do is to resist. All citizens or groups who are willing to sacrifice their lives for the country on the battlefield will be volunteers or volunteer soldiers." The new regulations stipulated that volunteers of this new group would be named as the National Volunteer Army. On October the 10th, 30,000 Soviet forces on the Baikal side advanced through the northeastern border of China. At this time, the brigade responsible for defending Liang Zhongjia had been fighting with the Soviet troops for dozens of days. There was no backup and they were in urgent need of help. According to Chinese observations, the Soviets deployed nearly 80,000 troops by land, sea and air on the Sino-Soviet border. Along the eastern front, the Soviets capture in succession Sanjiangkou, Tongjiang and Fujin. Meanwhile at 5am on the 12th the Far Eastern Fleet commanded engaged in a firefight with the Songhua River Defense Fleet, near Sanjiangkou. According to Chinese reconnaissance, the Soviet warships participating in the battle included: the flagship "Sverdlov" a shallow-water heavy gunboat led by Sgassk, the shallow-water heavy gunboat "Sun Yat-sen", the shallow-water heavy gunboat "Red East", the shallow-water heavy gunboat "Lenin", the inland gunboat "Red Flag", and the inland gunboat "Proletariat", with a total of 4 152mm cannons, 26 120mm cannons, 6 85mm anti-aircraft guns, 8 37mm anti-aircraft guns, and more than ten aircraft for support. The Chinese forces were led by Yin Zuogan who commanded six shallow-water gunboats, including the "Lijie" (flagship), "Lisui", "Jiangping", "Jiang'an", and "Jiangtai", and the "Dongyi" armed barge as a towed artillery platform. Except for the "Jiangheng" of 550 tons and the "Liji" of 360 tons, the rest were all below 200 tons, and the entire fleet had 5 120mm guns. In the ensuing battle the Jiangping, Jiang'an, Jiangtai, Lijie, and Dongyi, were sunk, and the Lisui ship was seriously injured and forced to flee back to Fujin.The Chinese side claimed that they damaged two Soviet ships, sunk one, and shot down two fighter planes; but according to Soviet records, five Soviet soldiers were killed and 24 were injured.  At the same time as the naval battle around Sanjiangkou, two Soviet gunboats covered four armed ships, the Labor, Karl Marx, Mark Varyakin, and Pavel Zhuravlev, carrying a battalion of more than 400 people from the 2nd Infantry Division Volochaev Regiment, landing about 5 kilometers east of Tongjiang County and attacking the Chinese military station there. The Northeast Marine Battalion guarding the area and the Meng Zhaolin Battalion of the 9th Army Brigade jointly resisted and repelled the Soviet's initial attack. The Chinese suffered heavy losses, with more than 500 officers and soldiers killed and wounded, and more than 70 people including the Marine Battalion Captain Li Runqing captured.  On the 14th, the Chinese sank 6 tugboats, 2 merchant ships and 2 warships in the waterway 14 kilometers downstream of Fujin, forming a blockade line; and set up solid artillery positions and a 13-kilometer-long bunker line nearby, destroying all bridges on the road from Tongjiang to Fujin. A battle broke out at Tongjiang and according to the the report of Shen Honglie “the Northeast Navy suffered more than 500 casualties (including marines), 4 warships were sunk, 1 was seriously damaged, and the "Haijun" gunboat (45 tons) was captured by the Soviet army and renamed "Pobieda"; 17 officers including the battalion commander Meng Zhaolin and 350 soldiers of the army were killed; the Chinese side announced that 2 Soviet planes were shot down (some sources say 1), 3 Soviet warships were sunk, 4 were damaged, and more than 300 casualties”. On the 18th, the Soviets completely withdrew from the Tongjiang, allowing the two regiments of Lu Yongcai and Zhang Zuochen of the 9th Brigade to recapture it. On the 30th, Admiral Ozolin led some Soviet land forces in a major attack in the Fujian area. He organized the troops under his jurisdiction into two groups. He led the first group personally, who were supported by heavy gunboats Red East, Sun Yat-Sen and gunboats Red Flag, Proletarian, Buryat, minelayer Powerful and the armored boat Bars. Their mission was to annihilate the remnants of the river defense fleet anchored in Fujin. The second group was commanded by Onufryev, the commander of the Soviet 2nd infantry division. His group consisted of the shallow-water heavy gunboat Serdlov, gunboat Pauper and the transport fleets steam carrying the Volochaev Regiment and the 5th Amur regiment who landed at Fujin.  On the other side the Chinese had concentrated two infantry brigades, 3 cavalry regiments and a team of police with the support of the gunboats Jiangheng,  Lisui, Liji and the tugboat Lichuan. At 9 am on the 31st, the 7 Soviet ships suddenly destroyed the river blocking ropes and entered the Fujin River bank, bombarding the Chinese army, as cavalry landed. The Chinese ships "Lisui" and "Lichuan" sank successively, and only the "Jiangheng" managed to participate in the battle, but soon sank after firing only three shots. At 7 pm 21 Soviet ships sailed up the Songhua River, as part of the cavalry landed at Tuziyuan, advancing step by step towards Fujin. At 9 pm 7 Soviet ships approached the Fujin River bank, with roughly 700 infantry, cavalry and artillery soldiers of the 2nd Amur Infantry Division landed. The Chinese army collapsed without a fight, retreating to Huachuan, and by11am, Fujin county was occupied. Chinese sources reported “the Soviet army burned down the civil and military institutions separately and destroyed all the communication institutions. They distributed all the flour from the Jinchang Fire Mill to the poor, and plundered all the weapons, ammunition and military supplies." On the evening of November 1, the Soviet infantry, cavalry and artillery withdrew from the east gate. On the morning of the 2nd, the Soviet ships withdrew one after another. According to Soviet records, nearly 300 Chinese soldiers were killed in this battle, with thousands captured, while the Soviet army only lost 3 people and injured 11 people . The Chinese Songhua River fleet was completely destroyed, and 9 merchant ships were captured. In early November, the weather in the north became freezing cold, leading the rivers to freeze. Soviet warships retreated back to Khabarovsk, and their infantry and cavalry also returned by land. The war on the Eastern Front was basically over.  As for the western front, the main battlefields revolved around Manzhouli and Zhalannur. Since August 1929, conflicts here continued, a lot of back and forth stuff. The soviets would storm the areas and pull out. Yet in November, the war in the west escalated.  The commander of the Soviet Trans-Baikal Group, was Stepan Vostrezov, wielding the 21st, 35th and 36th infantry divisions, the 5th Cavalry Brigade, 331 heavy machine guns, 166 light machine guns, 32 combat aircraft, 3 armored trains, 58 light artillery, 30 heavy artillery, 9 T-18 ultra-light tanks, amongst other tanks. The Chinese side had about 16,000 people. There would be three major battles : the Battle of Zhallanur, the Battle of Manzhouli, and the Battle of Hailar. On November the 16th, the Soviets unleashed a large-scale offensive, tossing  nearly 40,000 troops, 400 artillery pieces, 40 tanks and 30 aircraft against the western front. At 11pm the Soviets crossed over the border. At 3am on the 17th the 5th Kuban Cavalry Brigade set out from Abagaitui, followed by the 35th Infantry Division who crossed the frozen surface of the Argun River, hooking around the rear of the Chinese garrison in Zhalannur along the east bank of the Argun River. At 7am Soviet aircraft began bombing the western front. The Chinese garrison headquarters, tram house, 38th Regiment building, and military police station were all bombed, and the radio station was also damaged. At noon, the Binzhou Railway was cut off 10-12 kilometers east of the city, and Zhalannur was attacked. Supported by 8 T-18 tanks and fighter planes, they attacked Zhalannur several times. On the morning of the 18th, the Soviet 5th Cavalry Brigade launched an attack against the 7,000-man 17th Brigade of the Chinese Army guarding Zhalannur. At 1pm on the 18th the Zhalannur Station and the Coal Mine was occupied by the Soviet army. The Chinese defenders, Brigadier Han Guangdi and Commander Zhang Linyu, were killed in action. More than half of the brigade officers and soldiers were killed and more than a thousand were captured. After capturing Zhalannur the Soviets concentrated their forces against Manzhouli. On the 19th, 7 T-18s supported the 108th Infantry Regiment of the Soviet 36th Division to attack Manzhouli from the east and west. Artillery pounded the city, before it was stormed. The 15th Brigade of the Chinese Army guarding the area was quickly surrounded by the Soviet army. Brigade Commander Liang Zhongjia and Chief of Staff Zhang Wenqing, alongside nearly 250 officers, fled to the Japanese consulate and surrendered to the Soviet army on the 20th. According to Soviet records, in the battles of Zhalannur and Manzhouli, over 1,500 Chinese soldiers were killed and more than 9,000 were captured, while the Soviet side lost 143 people, 665 were wounded and 4 were missing. Additionally 30 Chinese artillery pieces and 2 armored trains were captured by the Soviet army. The Soviets claimed that Chinese troops from Lake Khinkai were attacking Iman, modern day Dalnerechensk. In the name of self-defense, the Soviets began bombing Mishan on November 17 and mobilized  the Soviet Primorsky State Army and the 1st Pacific Rifle Infantry Division. The 1st Pacific Division and the 9th Independent Cavalry Brigade advanced towards Mishan, 40 kilometers from the border. Soviet records showed that during this battle the Chinese army suffered more than 1,500 casualties and 135 prisoners. The Soviets seized 6 machine guns, 6 mortars, 500 horses, 6 mortars, 200 horses and a large number of confidential documents. On November 23rd, 12 Soviet aircraft bombed Hailar, before capturing the city the next day.  By late November the Chinese had suffered something in the ballpark of 10,000 casualties along various fronts and an enormous amount of their equipment was taken by the Soviets. The Chinese officially reported 2000 deaths, 1000 wounded with more than 8000 captured. The Soviets reported 812 deaths, 665 wounded with under 100 missing. The Japanese had actually been quite the thorn for the Chinese during the war. They had intentionally barred Chinese forces from advancing north through their South Manchurian Railway zone, a large hindrance. Likewise the Kwantung army stationed in Liaoning were mobilizing, giving the impression they would exploit the situation at any moment.  In the face of quite a catastrophic and clear defeat, Nanjing's ministry of foreign affairs tossed a cease fire demand asking for foreign mediation. By December 3rd, Britain, France and the US asked both sides to stop the war so they could mediate a peace. The USSR rejected the participation of a third nation and suggested they could negotiate with China mono e mono. Zhang Xueliang accepted the proposal, dispatching Cai Yunsheng quickly to Shuangchengzi who signed an armistice with the Soviet representative Smanovsky. On the 16th real negotiations began and on the 22nd a draft agreement was signed. The draft stipulated both nations would re-cooperate over the Chinese Eastern Railway and that the Red Army would pull out of Manchuria as soon as both sides exchanged prisoners and officials. Thus the entire incident was resolved after humiliating China. While this all seemed completely needless, perhaps not significant, don't forget, the Japanese were watching it all happen in real time, taking notes, because they had their own ideas about Manchuria.  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. And so the Soviets and brand new Nationalist Republic of China went to war over, honestly a petty squabble involving railway rights and earnings. It was a drop in the bucket for such a war torn nation and only further embarrassed it on the world stage. Yet the Soviets might not be the foreign nation China should be looking out for. 

Last time we spoke about the finale of the Northern Expedition, the reunification of China. In May the NRA advanced from the Yellow River bridgehead despite losing access to the Tianjin-Pukou railway, forcing a 60-mile march. General Chen Tiaoyuan captured Tehzhou on the 13th, as the NRA cleared northern Shandong. They then converged on Beijing, with Feng Yuxiang's 2nd Collective Army and Yan Xishan's 3rd Collective Army advancing from different directions. Yan Xishan fought the NPA, recapturing territories and capturing Nankou, which led to speculation he would enter Beijing first. Despite NPA counterattacks, the NRA forces continued their advance. By late May, the NRA's combined efforts and internal NPA issues led to a general retreat of the NPA forces. On June 6, Yan Xishan's troops entered Beijing. The NPA's Zhang Zuolin was assassinated by Japanese officers, leading to a power shift to his son Zhang Xueliang, who later aligned with Chiang Kai-Shek. By December 1928, China was unified under the KMT.   #118 The Chinese Civil War Draws First Blood Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. So I said a few times during the northern expedition that I wanted to push aside the emerging Chinese civil war. Although we loosely covered a lot of the major events, this episode is going to try and narrow and focus it down. Now please note, up until this point I have to admit I had been using sources that were either skewed towards the Chinese nationalist views or were trying to be non biased. For some of these episodes I intentionally am using some CCP aligned sources, I will try my best to balance things out. Also a large part of this is going to be a retelling of the Shanghai Massacre, but more from the point of view of the CCP. All the way back in 1926, Chiang Kai-Shek had managed to seize power over the Kuomintang. He exerted control over the party and army as he unleashed the Northern Expedition. By November 9th Chiang Kai-Shek set up a new headquarters in Nanchang. Chiang Kai-Shek was determined to purge the party of communists and began to do so here. He began by recruiting a large number of right-wing Kuomintang members such as Dai Jitao and Wu Tiecheng. Dai Jitao was a member of the Kuomintang Central Executive Committee and had served as the Minister of the KMT's propaganda department. After the death of Sun Yat-Sen, Dai Jitao had actively promoted an anti-communist movement, drawing support from warlords, right wingers and those the CCP would describe as “imperialists”. In May of 1925 with the support of Chiang Kai-Shek, Dai Jitao began an anti-communist campaign in Shanghai. He ran two successful pamphlets loosely translated in English as "The Philosophical Foundation of Sun Yat-senism" and "National Revolution and the Chinese Kuomintang”. Both worked to promote the teachings of Confucius and Mencius while distorting Sun Yat-sen's thoughts. Dai Jitao was arguing that Sun Yat-Sen's ideology chiefly came from Confucianism instead of western philosophy and that in fact the man was a traditionalist. He twisted Sun Yat-Sen's three principles, castrating them of revolutionary content. All of this quickly became a "banner" for the Kuomintang right-winger to carry out anti-communist activities. After Chiang Kai-Shek arrived in Nanchang, he immediately invited him to go north to jointly plan the purge of the party and anti-communism. Wu Tiecheng joined Dai Jitao, he was the director of the Guangzhou Public security Bureau and a well known KMT right-winger. Prior to the Zhongshan ship incident, Wu Tiecheng stated he had suggested to Chiang Kai-Shek that they impose sanctions on the CCP. In his words “with the registration materials of the special household registration of our Public Security Bureau, we can immediately arrest a dozen of the main Communist Party members, and then use a ship to transport them to a small island near Zhongshan County , or send them to Shanghai. As for the minor members, they will be temporarily detained." Chiang Kai-Shek said "I will think about it first." After the Zhongshan incident, Chiang Kai-Shek pretended to dismiss him from his post, but specially invited him later to Nanchang and dispatched him to Japan as a liaison. Another large figure who was invited over was Huang Fu, who had served as the Minister of Foreign affairs and Education for the Beiyang Government and as its Prime Minister. When Chiang Kai-Shek came to Nanchang he wrote to Huang Fu twice inviting him to come south. On December 31st, Zhang Jingjiang and Chen Guofu were also invited to Nanchang. Zhang Jingjiang was a member of the KMT's Central Supervisory Committee. After the secondary Plenary session of the second central committee, he became chairman of it. He used his authority and colluded with Chen Guofu, the Minister of Organization to dissolve the Guangzhou Municipal Party committee, which at the time was being led by left winger KMT. They did this by placing confidants in various positions to steal power. Simultaneously, they suppressed worker and peasant movements in Guangdong, even dispatching gangsters to kill their leaders and burn down the provincial and Hong Kong strike committee HQ. All of these people gathered at Nanchang formed a anti-communist cabal backing Chiang Kai-Shek. In January of 1927 these men went up Mount Lushan to a famous hotel called Xianyan where they plotted. After several days of meetings, as my source argues, mostly based on the advice of Huang Fu, these following decisions were obtained. Number 1, they would enact a policy of separating from the USSR and purging the party of CCP. Number 2, the NRA must settle the southeast by forming an alliance with the gentry and merchant class there. Number 3 in their diplomatic efforts they had to abandon the USSR and ally themselves to Japan. Number 4, to increase their military power they had to unite with Feng Yuxiangs Guominjun and Yan Xishan.   Upon returning to Nanchang, Chiang Kai-Shek took action, first by attacking Borodin. He sent a telegram to Xu Qian, the chairman of the Wuhan joint conference, stating Borodin had insulted him in public at Wuhan and demanded he be removed from his advisory position. He also recomended expell Borodin back to the USSR. The source I am reading states Chiang Kai-Shek had two rationales for going after Borodin. "Chiang Kai-Shek felt that except for Borodin, the Kuomintang leaders in Wuhan were all politically incompetent. ... As long as Borodin was there, he could not gain a dominant position. Secondly, he was using Borodin like a scape goat to hide his real anti-Soviet purpose'. At this time Chiang Kai-Shek was being labeled a USSR stooge by the NPA and a Japanese stooge by the CCP. In response, Chiang Kai-Shek stated publicly "Our alliance with Russia was left by the Prime Minister. Although its representatives have been arrogant for a long time and oppressed our party leaders in many ways, I believe that this has nothing to do with the Soviet Union's spirit of treating us equally. No matter what their personal attitudes are, we will never change our relationship with the Soviet Union towards Japan. Why should we unite with the Soviet Union? It is because the Soviet Union can treat China equally. Since the Soviet Union has not given up treating us equally, how can we give up the policy of alliance with Russia. ... Not only Japan, but any country, if it can treat China equally, then we will treat them the same way as we treat the Soviet Union. It is not impossible to unite with them. We unite with the Soviet Union to seek freedom and equality for China. It is completely based on the meaning of treating our nation equally, so we must unite with the Soviet Union. If the Soviet Union does not treat us equally and oppresses us in the same way, we will also oppose them in the same way. I have said for a long time." In regards to the CCP Chiang Kai-Shek stated to his close confidants “When I was in Guangzhou, I was always paying attention to the actions of the CCP. I wanted to implement my proposal to overthrow the CCP in Guangzhou, however I did not do so. I was unable to do so because it could mean the end of the Kuomintang”. After the success of the Northern Expedition, Chiang Kai-Shek lamented to his confidants “although our army has won a great victory, I still worry the enemy is not at our front but at our rear. The CCP is causing much trouble within, we must make sure it does not split out party or even collapse our army. There are thorns everywhere”. Publically Chiang Kai-Shek stated "Now there is a rumor that I distrust and alienate my Communist comrades and have a tendency to oppose them. In fact, it cannot be said that I will not oppose the Communist Party. I has always supported the Communist Party... But that is to say, if the Communist Party becomes strong in the future and its members are arrogant and tyrannical, I will definitely correct them and punish them. ... Now many Communist Party members are actually oppressing the Kuomintang members, showing an overbearing attitude, and tend to exclude Kuomintang members, making Kuomintang members embarrassed. In this way, I can no longer treat Communist Party members with the same preferential treatment as before. If I still have the same attitude as before, then I am not in the position of a Kuomintang member, and I cannot be a Kuomintang member. Although I am not a Communist Party member, from a revolutionary perspective, I have to take some responsibility for the success or failure of the Communist Party! I am the leader of the Chinese revolution, not just the leader of the Kuomintang. The Communist Party is a part of the Chinese revolutionary forces. Therefore, if Communist Party members do something wrong or act tyrannically, I have the responsibility and power to intervene and punish them." As you can see, publicly Chiang Kai-Shek was always walking on eggshells when attacking the CCP. If you know the old boiling frog analogy, it's more or less like Chiang Kai-Shek gradually getting the public to attack the CCP. At the ceremony where Li Liejun was appointed chairman of Jiangxi, Chiang Kai-shek once again gave a speech, saying that communism was only a method of economic development, which might be applicable in some countries, but if China adopted communism, it would be a great harm and would only lead to the overthrow and revolution of China. In late January, Chiang Kai-Shek met with Momuro Keijiro, a representative sent by Japan's minister of Finance and Navy at Lushan. Chiang Kai-Shek explained to Keijiro that he understood the importance of the political and economic relationship between Manchuria and Japan. He understood the Japanese had spilt a lot of blood there during the Russo-Japanese War. He believed Manchuria required special consideration and hoped the Japanese would correctly evaluate the KMT's struggle to reunify China. Chiang Kai-Shek then met with the Japanese consul General in Jiujiang, Edo Sentaro, explaining he did not only intend to abolish the unequal treaties but would try to respect the existing conditions as much as possible, such as guaranteeing the recognition of foreign loans and repayments and respecting foreign owned enterprises.  After these meetings Chiang Kai-Shek met with representatives of the Imperial Japanese Military such as Nagami Masuki and Matsumuro Takayoshi. It was Dai Jitao who set up these meetings. Chiang Kai-Shek began the talks by making it clear the KMT would not work with the CCP and was willing to work with Japan to prevent the spread of Communism in China. Chiang Kai-Shek also met with the Japanese politician Yamamoto Jotario who would go on to say in Beijing that he believed the Generalissimo was an outstanding military leader. Needless to say, as my source would put it “Chiang Kai-Shek was closely colluding with Japanese imperialism”. He was also establishing contacts with the US. He dispatched Wang Zhengting to Shanghai to meet the American consul general there. Wang Zhengting told him the KMT had washed their hands of the communists and that there would be nor more incidents such as the one that befell Hankou. The American consul general in Guangzhou was likewise contacted through the finance minister of Guangdong, Kong Xiangxi. What the American consuls told their government was “if the powers want to drive the Soviets out of China, they should establish direct contact with Chiang Kai-Shek”. Chiang Kai-Shek also publicly expressed regret to numerous nations for incidents such as the one in Nanjing. He was gaining a reputation as being the only leader in China capable of restoring order amongst the chaos. Many of these foreign diplomats privately told Chiang Kai-Shek that if he wanted to really brush shoulders with them he had to purge the communists and soon. To truly purge the communists Chiang Kai-Shek reaches a deal with the bourgeoisie of Jiangsu and Zhejiang. They will support him economically if he helps suppress the worker movements in Shanghai. They fund Chiang Kai-Shek some 500,000 Yuan in early March, then on the 29th the Shanghai Commercial Federation pledges 5 million Yuan, with another 3 million on April 1st. Around this time Chiang Kai-Shek secretly send Wang Boling, the deputy commander of the 1st army; Yang Hu, chief of the special affairs department of the general HQ and Chen Qun the director of the political department of the eastern route army to Shanghai in disguise to meet Huang Jinrong. Huang Jinrong was a chief detective working in the French concession of Shanghai. He also happened to be one of the top three gangsters working under Du Yuesheng of the Green Gang. Huang Jinrong summoned Du Yuesheng and the other Green Gang leader Zhang Xiaolin, as they all discussed how to purge the communists. The Green Gang leaders seized the opportunity to help the KMT. They began monitoring the CCP, armed their gang members and began to attack anyone who was picketing. They formed the “China Progress Association”, which in reality was just Green Gang members. This association proceeded to attack the Shanghai General Labor Union, providing the perfect pretext for Chiang Kai-Shek to act.  On April 1st Wang Jingwei returns to Shanghai from aboard. By the 3rd Chiang Kai-Shek telegrams that Wang Jingwei is reinstated and holds secret talks with him. On the 8th Chiang Kai-Shek organizes a Shanghai Provisional Political Committee, stipulating it will decide all military, political and financial decisions and will replace the Shanghai special municipality provincial government that was established after the third Shanghai worker uprising. On the 9th he unleashes martial law prohibiting assemblies, strikes and marches, and established the Songhu Martial Law Command, with Bai Chongxi and Zhou Fengqi as the commander and deputy commander. Chiang Kai-Shek then takes his leave for Nanjing, leaving the job to Bai Chongxi who will supervise a coup in Shanghai. In a vain attempt Chen Duxiu tells the CCP to ease up on the Anti-Chiang Kai-Shek stuff. Then its announced to them that Chen Duxiu had managed to form a deal with Wang Jingwei. Chiang Kai-Shek send word from Nanjing to carry out the purge, in a very “execute order 66 fashion”.  April the 12th takes a wild turn in Shanghai. In the early morning a signal is raised over a warship anchored near the Gaochang temple. Hundreds of well armed Green Gang, Triads and some secret agents wearing blue shorts and white cloth  armbands with a black gongs on them, dispersed from the French concession in several cars. From 1 to 5am they attacked the picketing workers in Zhabei, Nanshi, Huxi, Wusong, Hongkou and other districts. The workers resisted immediately causing fierce street battles to break out. The 26th Army of the NRA, an old Sun Chuanfang unit that recently defected, came to forcibly confiscate guns while stating they were “mediating an internal strife amongst the workers”. Over 2700 armed workers in Shanghai were disarmed. More than 120 were killed with another 180 injured. The Shanghai General Labor Union club and all their associated pickets in the districts were occupied. Within the foreign concessions, foreign military and police forces arrested more than 1000 CCP members and workers who were immediately handed over to Chiang Kai-Shek's men. On the morning of the 13th, the workers from Shanghai's tobacco, silk factories, trams, municipal administration, postal services, sailors and various other industries went on strike. Over 200,000 workers took to the streets and the Shanghai General Labor Union held a mass rally in Qingyun Road Square in Zhabei with over 100,000 participants. They held a quick conference calling for resolutions. The first resolution was to hand over their weapons. Secondly those who destroyed their unions should be severely punished. Third the families of those killed needed to be compensated. Fourth protests should be made against the imperialists within the concessions. Fifth a telegram needed to be sent to the central government, then whole nation and world to demand assistance. Lastly the military authorities should be responsible for protecting the Shanghai trade unions. After the conference, the masses marched upon the headquarters of the 2nd division of the 26th army along Baoshan road to petition for the release of their comrades and for their weapons to be returned to them. They marched for a kilometer and upon reaching the Sandeli area of Baoshan road, soldiers of the 2nd division rushed out and opened fire upon them killing more than 100 on the spot. It was said Baoshan road was flooded with blood. That afternoon Chiang Kai-Sheks forces occupied the Shanghai General Labor Union and General Command of the Shanghai workers. They closed down and disbanded numerous revolutionary organizations and carried out searches and murders. Within 3 days after the Shanghai incident, more than 300 Shanghai CCP members were killed, another 500 were arrested and 5000 went “missing”. Like I said in the previous podcast on this very subject, I will leave it to you as to what missing meant. On the 15th of april the Kuomintang in Guangzhou launched their own coup. On that day more than 2000 CCP members and their supporters were arrested, 200 trade unions were closed. This all would b followed by similar activities in Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Anhui, Fujian and Guangxi where CCP members were purged. The NPA in the north would likewise crack down on communists. Li Dazhao had been placed on the Beiyang governments list of most wanted back in 1926 following the March 18th massacre. Since then he was hiding in the Soviet Embassy in Beijing, continuing to lead political maneuvers against the warlords. When the first united front collapsed as a result of Chiang Kai-Sheks purges, Zhang Zuolin ordered troops to raid the Soviet embassy. Li Dazhao, his wife and daughter were all arrested. Among 19 other communists, Li Dazhao was executed on April 28th of 1927 by strangulation. One of the behemoths who ushered in the New Culture Movement and was a founder of the CCP had become one of its greatest martyrs. The first united front was no more and in response to this the CCP declared "Chiang Kai-shek has become an open enemy of the national revolution, a tool of imperialism, and the culprit of the white terror of massacring workers, peasants and revolutionary masses”. This was followed by a call to mobilize, unite and form a solid front to fight the warlords and KMT. In May of 1927 the Communist International issued “the May Emergency Directive” to the CCP. (1) Without land revolution, victory is impossible; without land revolution, the Kuomintang Central Committee will become a pitiful plaything in the hands of unreliable generals. Excessive behavior must be opposed, but not by the army, but through the peasant associations. (2) It is necessary to make concessions to artisans, merchants and small landowners, and to unite with these strata. Only the land of large and medium-sized landowners should be confiscated; the land of officers and soldiers should not be touched. (3) Some old leaders of the KMT Central Committee will waver and compromise. We should recruit more new leaders of workers and peasants from below to join the KMT Central Committee and renew the KMT's upper echelons. (4) Mobilize 20,000 Communist Party members and 50,000 revolutionary workers and peasants in Hunan and Hubei to form several new armies and build our own reliable army. (5) A revolutionary military tribunal headed by prominent Kuomintang and non-Communists should be established to punish those officers who persecute workers and peasants.  Wang Jingwei obtained this document from Luo Yi, the representative of the Communist International. The high-ranking officials of the Kuomintang believed that this was the Communist International's armed seizure of power and they were determined to purge the party. Thus began the Wuhan-Nanjing war. However as we saw, Wang Jingwei would perform his own purge of the communists on May 21st as he found out the Soviets were pushing the CCP to seize control over his regime. In order to resist the KMT's massacres, or as the CCP put it “the white terror”, the CCP Central Committee reorganized itself on July 12th of 1927. Chen Duxiu and other early CCP leaders who had insisted on compromising with the KMT were dismissed from their posts and labeled right-wing capitulationists. The CCP formed an alliance with left wing KMT members forming a quasi second front where they planned an armed uprising in Nanchang hoping it would spark a large peasant uprising. They were led by He Long and Zhou Enlai. He Long a ethnic Tujia and Hunanese native was born to a poor peasant family. He received no formal education and worked as a cowherder during his youth. When he was 20 he killed a local Qing tax assessor who had killed his uncle for defaulting on his taxes. From this point he fled and became an outlaw, apparently his signature weapon was a butcher knife. In 1918 he raised a volunteer revolutionary army aligned with an emerging Hunanese warlord. By 1920 he joined the NRA and began brushing shoulders with CCP members. During the northern expedition he commanded the 1st division, 9th corps and served under Zhang Fakui. By late 1926 he joined the CCP. When the first united front collapsed he joined up with the CCP and took command of the 20th corps, 1st column of the Red Army. Zhou Enlai was born in Huai'an of Jiangsu in 1898. He was born to a scholarly family, many of them officials, but like many during the late 19th century in China suffered tremendously. Zhou Enlai was adopted by his fathers youngest brother Zhou Yigan who was also ill with tuberculosis. The adoption was more of a way to cover Zhou Yigans lack of an heir. Zhou Yigan died soon after and Zhou Enlai was raised by his widow Chen. He received a traditional literacy education. Zhou Enlai's biological mother died when he was 9 and Chen when he was 10. He then fell into the care of his uncle Zho Yigeng in Fengtian. Zhou Enlai continued his education at Nankai Middle School who were adopting an educational model used at the Philipps academy in the US. Zhou Enlai excelled at debate, acting, drama the sort of skill sets needed for public service. Like many students of his day he went to Japan in 1917 for further studies. He tried to learn Japanese to enter Japanese schools but failed to do so. He also faced a lot of racism in Japan, prompting him to become quite anti japanese. While in Japan he became very interested in news about the Russian Revolution. This led him to read works from Chen Duxiu.  In 1919 he returned to Tianjin where it is said he led student protests during the May Fourth movement, though a lot of modern scholars don't believe he did. Zhou Enlai then became a university student at Nankai and an activist. He led the Awakening Society and would find himself arrested. During this time he became familiar with Li Dazhao and Chen Duxiu. Then in 1920 he went to study in Marseille. In 1921 he joined a Chinese Communist Cell while in Paris. By 1922 he helped found a European branch of the CCP. When the first United Front began he joined the KMT and in 1924 was summoned back to China. He joined the Political department of the Whampoa military academy. He was made Whampoa's chief political officer, but he also took the post as secretary of the CCP of Guangdong, Guangxi and served as a Major-General. Soon he became the secretary of the CCP's Guangdong Provincial committee. In 1925 he got his first taste of military command against Chen Jiongming, accompanying the Whampoa cadets as a political officer. When Chen Jiongming regrouped and attacked Guangzhou again that year, Chiang Kai-Shek personally appointed Zhou Enlai as director of the 1st corps political department. Soon after he was appointed a KMT party representative as chief commissar of the 1st corps. With the newfound position he began appointing communists as commissars in 4 out of the 5 corps divisions. However his work at Whampoa came to an end during the Zhongshan Warship incident as Chiang Kai-Shek began purging communists from high ranking positions. Whampoa was a significant part of his career providing him with skills and a network. Until the first united fronts collapse he worked to form numerous armed CPP groups. He was sent to Shanghai where he was part of the effort to stage an uprising there. During the massacre he was arrested and nearly killed if not for the work of Zhao Shu, a representative of the 26th army who released him. From there he fled to Hankou where he participated in the CCP's 5th national congress. When Wang Jingwei unleashed his purge, Zhou Enlai went into hiding. When the CCP called for an uprising in Nanchang, Zhou Enlai as a CCP secretary was in a unique position to lead it. The CCP designated Zhou Enlai, Li Lisan, Yun Daiying and Peng Pai to form a Front Committee. The troops available to them were the 24th and 10th divisions of the 11th army of the 2nd front army, the entire 20th army, 73rd and 75th regiment of the 25th division of the 4th army and part of the officer training corps of the 3rd army of the 5th front army led by Zhu De. He Long was the commander in chief of the 2nd front army, Ye Ting was his deputy and acting front line commander. Zhou Enlai was the chief of staff with Liu Bocheng as director of the political directorate. At this time, the main force of the 3rd Army of the 5th Front Army of the Kuomintang Wuhan Government was located in Zhangshu, Ji'an; the main force of the 9th Army was located in Jinxian and Linchuan; and the main force of the 6th Army was advancing to Nanchang via Pingxiang; the rest of the 2md Front Army was located in Jiujiang; only the 5th Front Army Guard Regiment and parts of the 3rd, 6th, and 9th Armies, totaling more than 3,000 people, were stationed in Nanchang and its suburbs. The CCP Front Committee decided to launch an uprising on August 1 before the arrival of reinforcements. At 2:00am on August 1st the Nanchang uprising began. The 1st and 2nd division of the 20th army launched attacks against the defenders of the Old Fantai Yamen, Dashiyuan street and the  Niuxing railway station. Meanwhile the 24th division of the 11th army attacked the Songbaixiang catholic church, Xinyingfang and Baihuazhou. The bloody battle lasted until dawn inflicting 3000 casualties and capturing more than 5000 small arms of various types, 700,000 rounds of ammunition and a few cannons. During the afternoon the 73rd regiment of the 25th division station at Mahuiling, 3 battalions of the 75th regiment and a machine gun company of the 74th regiment led by Nie Rongzhen and Zhou Shidi revolted and came to Nanchang by the 2nd of august.  For the moment it seemed the CCP had achieved a grand success at Nanchang. The CCP then began proclaiming Chiang Kai-Shek and Wang Jingwei had betrayed the revolution and that of Sun Yat-Sens three principles by choosing to side with the imperialists and warlords. Meanwhile the CCP aligned military units began to gather in Nanchang requiring a reorganization. It was decided the uprising army would continue to use the designation of 2nd front army of the NRA with He Long serving as its commander in chief and Ye Ting as his deputy. Ye Ting would also command the 11th army consisting of the 24th, 25th and 10th divisions, Nie Rongzhen would be his CCP party representative; He Long would command the 20th Army consisting of the 1st and 2nd divisions with Liao Qianwu as his CCP party representative. Zhou Enlai with Zhu De as his deputy would lead the 9th army with Zhu Kejing as his CCP party representative. Altogether they were 20,000 strong and now very well armed. There was to be a great celebration, it seemed this was the grand moment the CCP would take the center stage. 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 Civil War had officially just begun. Chiang Kai-Shek and Wang Jingwei purged their respective regimes of communists unleashing a white terror. In a scramble to survive the CCP reorganized itself and sought revenge with their first target being Nanchang. From here until 1949, the CCP and KMT would fight for the future of China.  

On this podcast today, I am joined by three scholars: postdoctoral fellow and lecturer at Goethe University Frankfurt, Gil Hizi; assistant professor at Sun Yat-sen University, Xinyan Peng; and lecturer and researcher at the University of Ghent, Mieke Matthyssen. All three guests join me to talk about their chapters in the new book, Self-Development Ethics and Politics in China Today: A Keyword Approach (Amsterdam University Press, 2022) Self-Development Ethics and Politics in China Today takes readers on a journey into a central aspect of life in China, so-called "self-development." Twelve contributors have each written wonderfully elaborate chapters drawing on a wide range of material from practices in education, labor, and self-help as they spotlight "keywords" by which individuals make sense of their self-development journeys - including new forms of resistance to social norms. The book consists of twelve chapters and twelve keywords. In this episode, we talk about how three terms relate to self-development ethics and politics in China today: Gil Hizi joins me to talk about the Chinese term 'xinshang' (apprecation), Xinyang Peng discusses duanlian (exercise) and Mieke Matthyssen expands on the term tangping (lying flat). 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

On this podcast today, I am joined by three scholars: postdoctoral fellow and lecturer at Goethe University Frankfurt, Gil Hizi; assistant professor at Sun Yat-sen University, Xinyan Peng; and lecturer and researcher at the University of Ghent, Mieke Matthyssen. All three guests join me to talk about their chapters in the new book, Self-Development Ethics and Politics in China Today: A Keyword Approach (Amsterdam University Press, 2022) Self-Development Ethics and Politics in China Today takes readers on a journey into a central aspect of life in China, so-called "self-development." Twelve contributors have each written wonderfully elaborate chapters drawing on a wide range of material from practices in education, labor, and self-help as they spotlight "keywords" by which individuals make sense of their self-development journeys - including new forms of resistance to social norms. The book consists of twelve chapters and twelve keywords. In this episode, we talk about how three terms relate to self-development ethics and politics in China today: Gil Hizi joins me to talk about the Chinese term 'xinshang' (apprecation), Xinyang Peng discusses duanlian (exercise) and Mieke Matthyssen expands on the term tangping (lying flat). 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

For over two thousand years, China lived under imperial rule. A series of dynasties and emperors were the defining feature of Chinese governance.  However, in the early 20th century, China threw off its imperial rulers and became, for the first time in its history, a republic.  Much of the reason why China became a republic was due to one man. Learn more about Sun Yat-sen and the downfall of imperial China on this episode of Everything Everywhere Daily. Sponsors Sign up for ButcherBox today by going to Butcherbox.com/daily and use code daily at checkout to get $30 off your first box! Subscribe to the podcast!  https://link.chtbl.com/EverythingEverywhere?sid=ShowNotes -------------------------------- Executive Producer: Charles Daniel Associate Producers: Ben Long & Cameron Kieffer   Become a supporter on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/everythingeverywhere Update your podcast app at newpodcastapps.com Discord Server: https://discord.gg/UkRUJFh Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/everythingeverywhere/ Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/everythingeverywheredaily Twitter: https://twitter.com/everywheretrip Website: https://everything-everywhere.com/ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Last time we spoke about the invasion of Zhejiang. Chiang Kai-Shek kept the momentum going by invading Zhejiang after taking Jiangxi and Fujian. However Sun Chuanfang in desperation ran to an unlikely ally, Zhang Zuolin to form the National Pacification Army. Now the NPA would go to war with the NRA. The NRA also faced internal strife as strikes broke out in Guangzhou and Wuhan. After quelling the worker strikes, the NRA began to concentrate on the Zhejiang campaign performing strategic counter attacks against Sun Chuanfangs offensives. By early 1927 Sun Chuanfang's control over Zhejiang was being undermined by Zhejiang independence movement leaders who joined the KMT to overthrow him. Sun Chuanfang was served disastrous defeats, his armies began to rout with many plundering before they fled north. Those that still continued the fight fled for Shanghai, where Sun Chuanfang prepared to make a last stand to hold the NRA back before Zhejiang fell.   #113 The Northern Expedition Part 4: The taking of Shanghai & Nanking 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 NRA east route army had concentrated around Sungchiang just in front of Shanghai. They made it seem they were preparing for a major assault on the super city, yet up the Yangtze, half of the NRA were secretly preparing an offensive directed against Nanking. If the NRA captured Nanking and its strategic Tianjin-Pukou railway line, Sun Chuanfang's forces south of the Yangtze would be isolated and cut off from reinforcements and supplies. On February 19th of 1927, Sun Chuanfang pulled his battered armies out of Zhejiang as he awaited reinforcements from Zhang Zongchang's Shandong army. Meanwhile the KMT called upon their agents and allies within Shanghai to foment disorder. Going back to November of 1926, KMT and CCP members within Shanghai had been assembling recruits together to strengthen their first united front. Shanghai held a large part of China's modern factory workers, numbering in the several hundred of thousands. They represented a considerable percent of the Shanghai population. Following the formation of the NPA, Shanghai unions began attacking Sun Chuanfang for bringing Shandong mercenaries into Zhejiang and strongly disagreed with his alliance with the northerners. They had real grievances with the northerners, because they had ties to foreign powers like the Empire of Japan. Those in Shanghai sought to break the chains of foreign imperialism and wanted more autonomy. From 1926 onwards many unions, particularly those directed by the CCP organized demonstrations against Sun Chuanfang and the NPA. By February of 1927 the anti-Sun Chuanfang movement really heated up. The National General Labor Union of the CCP had ordered some assassinations to terrorize the Chinese and foreign industrialists. To bring even more Shanghai workers under their influence and hurt Sun Chuanfangs hold over the city the CCP organized a political strike, similar to what had occurred in Hong Kong the year prior. A general strike in Shanghai was planned for February 19th and it would include the foreign concession factories. The strikers had 5 political and 12 economic demands. A major aim of the strike was to seize power through the use of the masses, even against a well armed regime like Sun Chuanfangs. The CCP hoped to direct large crowds of workers against Sun Chuanfang's police stations and garrison posts where they could seize their weapons to arm some workers corps. They had acquired quite a bit of experience during the Hong Kong and Guangzhou strikers when it came to arming workers. However the response of Sun Chuanfangs regime would be vastly different than the KMT in Guangzhou.  Sun Chuanfangs garrison commander at Shanghai responded violently and quickly. He dispatched broadsword carrying executioners and soldiers through the city grabbing and beheading any strikers on sight. Heads were placed on lamp posts at street corners and on spikes all around. Its estimated out of perhaps 100,000 to 350,000 workers who striked, the headcount ranged between 100-500. The CCP continued its efforts to attack police stations, but the general strike died out on the third day. In a form of retaliation the Shanghai workers held a mass trial and execution of at least one police officer. A new garrison commander was sent to Sahnghai, Pi Shucheng in an effort to reinforce the city. By the point he showed up the CCP gave up and told the strikers to get back to work to end the bloodshed. What became known as the second shanghai uprising failed to achieve much.  Despite its failure, the second uprising in Shanghai displayed disunity under Sun Chuanfangs rule. By mid February Sun Chuanfangs Shanghai navy had begun to act suspiciously. On the 22nd as the CCP led sorties against the Shanghai Police, shells from the warships Chienkang and Chienwei fll over the Jiangnan arsenal. Thinking not much of it, Sun Chuanfang blamed a few young officers for the bombardment and gave his Admiral Yang Shuchuang a demerit. Sun Chuanfang was of course reluctant at this point to penalize his subordinates for fear they mutiny. The bombardment did not knock out the aresnal but a fire began mysteriously on the 28th blowing up 40 crates of artillery shells. The uprising did little to weaken Sun Chuanfangs hold over Shanghai, so the NRA shifted strategy. Over in Hangzhou, NRA units advance to the Sungchiang front while NRA units in Jiangxi advance downriver towards Nanking. The 6th and 7th NRA armies advance along the Jiangxi-Anhui border as the eastern route command dug in near Shanghai. Back in December, at the Nanchang conference Chiang Kai-Shek and Borodin had managed to smooth the tension between the CCP and KMT. Borodin agreed to curtain some union disorder that were interfering with the war effort so the First United Front would not collapse. However within the new conquered territories, many that contained enormous industrial potential, strikes and labor violence kept breaking out. This was quite dangerous for the stability of the NRA as they performed the northern expedition. But from the CCP point of view they were simply organizing the enormous untapped power of Chinese workers. The CCP began to really grow in power at Wuhan and were becoming less cooperative with Chiang Kai-Shek. They believed Chiang Kai-Shek was dependent and at the mercy of Soviet aid. They also believed, since he had left Guangdong, a more malleable KMT military figure would better suit their interests. Thus a concerted effort was made to replace Chiang Kai-Shek. You could call it a anti-Chiang movement sprang up and it was taking an effect on the Northern Expedition. Chiang Kai-Shek had just wired the Wuhan administration three times for funds to pay some disgruntled 7th army troops. The administration at Wuhan created by a joint council of the party and government, by insistence of Borodin, were generally compliant to Chiang Kai-Sheks demands. One of their leaders was Xu Chen, the current minister of justice. According to a group close to Wang Jingwei, it seemed the CCP, Chiang Kai-Sheks inner circle and the new Joint Council at Wuhan between January and February of 1927 were becoming quite dependent on Soviet advice. Early in January the CCP were attacking Chiang Kai-Shek with propaganda aimed to make it seem he was in bed with other warlords and the Japanese, thus a betrayer to Dr Sun Yat-Sens movement. Xu Chen the current commander of the 8th NRA army became a potential replacement for Chiang Kai-Shek, but the CCP were still afraid to risk open strife with the KMT. Borodin and CCP leaders like Mao Zedong were encouraged by the CCP membership growth in the countryside and within military units around Wuhan. As the NRA advance through Hunan, CCP membership increased as they spread through peasant associations. It was a similar case in Hubei. The Hunanese commander of the 2nd NRA army brought up the issue at a KMT meeting warning his colleagues “not to neglect the dangers of internal strife. Many of our members have become sidetracked by… ideas … not indicated in Sun Yat-sen's instructions,… not belittle the enemy. Our enemies are now uniting together and gathering to attack us. We should concentrate the power of the Party and obey its orders strictly regardless of our own opinions.” Chiang Kai-Shek of course was not oblivious to the danger all around him. He launched his own sort of counterattack. He began claiming the CCP strategy and those who were following them, threatened the all-class union of the KMT. On February 19th he urged a KMT audience during a speech to “look to … the doctrines of Sun Yat-sen and nothing else.” The anti Chiang Kai-Shek sentiment was felt in crowds at Wuhan. On February 24th, a crowd of 50,000 assembled at the party HQ parade ground where they made fiery speeches against Chiang Kai-Shek and against the Northern Expedition. “All we have seen is military power, but no Party power; individual will but not Party will…. Old degenerate counterrevolutionaries have caused these pathetic facts of the Party. That is why we must… knock down the feudal influences.” After this several people began chanting “Down with the Old and Degenerate!” Then another man made a speech stating “a few individuals could not do the work…. Now the old, rotten feudal thinking members manipulate the KMT, we must therefore knock them down.” Then the chant turned to “Down with Chang Ching-chiang,Oppose the Military Dictatorship.” Then the head of the NRA's Political Departments, Teng Yenta stated “democratic centralization was the way to achieve the ideals of the Three People's Principles, but now our leadership has been occupied by the old, ignorant, and the incompetent …, and we must overthrow personal dictatorship … and bring the military under control….” Chiang Kai-Shek was enraged by all of this of course and he refuted the charges made against him. He singled out Xu Chen who had just made himself chairman of the new Joint Council without KMT party authorization. Chiang Kai-Shek began a little investigation and concluded it was Borodin's doing so he telegrammed Moscow on February 26th requesting Borodin be sent back to the USSR. The next day at a KMT meeting, Chiang Kai-Shek told his colleagues he felt despite the fact the NRA advanced into new territories, while the people saw them as KMT members, they only heard propaganda from the CCP. By March the anti-Chiang cabal now sought to replace him with General Tang Shengchih, the Hunanese defector made commander of the 8th NRA army. According to one soviet report written on the 5th of March, Tang Shengchih was seen to be much more dependent on Soviet aid and a lot more cooperative in helping the anti-chiang effort amongst the other generals. A new anti-chiang alliance would require the support of other high ranking generals such as Chang Fakuai new corps, Chen Mingshu's 11th army, Chu Peitehs 3rd army and the 9th and 10th armies. According to the same Soviet report, Tang Shenchih managed to turn Li Tsungjen against Chiang Kai-Shek and this hampered Chiang Kai-Sheks ability to obtain funds from Wuhan to pay Li Tsunjens 7th army.  Spring of 1927 brought more disunity to the First United Front and thus hurt the Northern Expedition. Although the NRA were clearly on a roll in Zhejiang and Fujian, their progress north of Wuhan and downriver from Jiangxi lost steam. Chiang Kai-Shek still held confidence of the men in the eastern route army concentrating along the Jiangsu-Anhui border, but their offensive was also halted. In southern Honan where the NRA were facing the remnants of Wu Peifu's army, winter's chill was beginning to slow down the expedition.  The offensive kicked back up with a bunch of defections amongst Sun Chuanfang's forces in Anhui. Chen Tiaoyuan, Sun Chuanfangs commander in Chief for his Anhui forces, had became dissatisfied with him and how he was ruling the 5 province empire…which I guess is now more like 2. Chen Tiaoyuan was demoralized, who could blame him. Back on December 5th of 1926, Chen Tiaoyuan began secret negotiations by dispatching some of his subordinates such as Fan Shao-kai over to the KMT hoping to defect and gain a decent position. Simultaneously, Sun Chuanfang maintained hope of holding his frontline in Anhui by promoting subordinates. Sun Chuanfang appointed Chen Tiaoyuan to be the director of defenses over the province on December 21st. On February 20th of 1927, one of Chen Tiaoyuans divisions, led by Liu Paoti defected to the NRA when he was guarding a strategic pass known as the Chimen gateway. This was a 5000 foot high range leading into Anhui. Now the NRA held a mountain side door leading directly into Anhui. The mountain range in question also happened to be the last natural barrier that Sun Chuanfang's troops were utilizing to defend the lower Yangtze area, including of course Shanghai. After that Chen Tiaoyuang tossed the towel to the inevitable and defected to the NRA. Chen Tiaoyuan proved his defection by turning his defensive sector along the Yangtze over on March 2nd. He brought with him the mixed brigade of Wang Pu and elements of the Hunan Army led by Yue Kaixin. The NRA proceeded to advance over the Yellow Mountain and down it to seize Taiping in Anhui on march 3rd. Pretty much unopposed the NRA marched upon Nanking through Anhui taking several routes. By March 17th, the 17th Division of Cheng Chens 6th NRA Army had advanced 200 miles downstream using river steamboats and was only 70 miles away from Nanking. Over the north banks of the Yangtze the NRA formed a spearhead and thrusted it into the soft midsection of the north-south railway. By mid march the NRA captured Hofei in northern Anhui. At this point Sun Chuanfangs relationship with his navy was greatly waning and he was becoming more and more dependent on the Tsinpu railway as an escape option to head north rather than via the sea. Thus March of 1927 saw the NRA effectively begin trapping Sun Chuanfang into the Yangtze delta around Shanghai.  The NRA southern forces were now advancing out of Zhejiang into the delta region. One pincer was heading north along the shores of Lake Tai aiming for the Shanghai-Nanking railway at Changzhou. Meanwhile in Anhui the 6th army was attacking Wuhu on the 6th of March. Anti-foreign disorder broke out at Wuhu as NRA political agents raillied crowds of civilians and soldiers to mob the foreigners maritime customs office and clubhouse. This sent the foreigners to flee downriver to Shanghai by ship carrying more tales of anti-foreign abuse with them. The eastern route force facing Shanghai was met with heavy artillery bombardment as more and more NPA troops from Shandong arrived. Several NRA attacks north of Shanghai against railway links were made, threatening the city's defensive capabilities. By mid march many forces defending Shanghai began evacuating for Nanking. On March 15th the eastern route army had its first major breakthrough over the hills that overlooked Lake Tai. NRA forces managed to outflank the enemy artillery placements and erected a real blockade by march 16th. Now a new NRA pincer moved west against Lishui, 40 miles from Nanking. Along the east shore of said lake, the NRA was effectively blocked by Shandong troops who held an advantage in heavy artillery. By mid march many Shandong reinforcements arrived at Changzhou along the Nanking-Shanghai railway, but were simply turned back to Nanking. Not a good look.  From Wuhu the NRA kept the advance towards Tangtu which was outflanked and captured on the 17th, while the east route force took up a position 50 miles from Nanking on some ridges where Sun Chuanfang had once headquartered. On the 18th, north of the Yangtze the 7th NRA army just captured Hofei and its railway link. The delta area's defenses were falling apart everywhere one looked. The Dogmeat General took one look and ordered a general withdrawal of all the Shandong forces from the Shanghai area to some positions north of the Yangtze. With that Shanghai defenses fell apart. Over at the Sungchiang front the forces of Pi Shucheng retreated into the city towards the railway station, but did not high tail it to Nanking despite being ordered to do so. According to foreign and Chinese journalists, Pi Shucheng had been waiting for the opportune moment to defect to the NRA and had been secretly negotiating to turn Shanghai over. Thus it seemed the NRA had managed to capture the city without provoking the foreigners. On the 20th the NRA managed to flank the railroad artillery position still manned by some White Russian forces. They managed this through more defections, this time from Shanghai police. The Shanghai police controlled the waterways and aided the NRA in navigating them so they could advance more rapidly. Simultaneously Suzhou, Changzhou and Henglin were captured. Sun Chuanfang was receiving zero aid from the sea for over a week by this point as AdmiralYang Shuchuang had taken the fleet upriver to join the NRA's river fleet. Of course Admiral Yang Shuchuangs defection had been in the works for well over a year, but his timing could not have been worse for Sun Chuanfang. On March 21st a bloodless seizure of Shanghai proceeded. Now going back to our conversation about the anti-Chiang Kai-Shek movement, there had been a lot of development during this time period. In January of 1927, Wang Jingwei with his left wing allies, members of the CCP and Borodin had transferred the seat of the KMT government from Guangzhou to Wuhan. On March 1st the KMT government then reorganized the military commission and placed Chiang Kai-Shek under its jurisdiction with the secret intent to arrest him. As the NRA was about to storm Shanghai, a major opportunity presented itself to the CCP. Most of the Northern Chinese defenders still stuck in Shanghai were simply looking to surrender. Thus on March 21st, CCP leaders Zhou Enlai and Chen Duxiu launched an armed uprising. The CCP seized weapons, created a general strike and seized most of the city. This caused many of Sun Chuanfangs soldiers to flee to the railway station or coasts, looting as they did. Major battle took place between armed workers and soldiers, causing fires and damaged to heavily populated areas of the city. For example in the northern suburb of Zhapei, armed workers burnt down 3000 homes. By the night of the 22nd Bai Chongxi's NRA troops were gradually occupying the city, however the general strike was disrupting their efforts. General Bai Chongxi' ordered the CCP to call off the general strike on the 24th, but for over 4 days 322 Chinese were killed and over 2000 were wounded. As the NRA consolidated their authority over the city, their top spokesmen, Chiang Kai-SHek, Ho Yingqin and Bai Chongxi tried to alleviate the foreign community who were ridden with frightened refugees in the international settlement. The settlement was a literal warzone, fitted with barbed wire, gates, marines and soldiers behind sandbag trenches and such. Very real and many false stories were spread of anti-foreign atrocities. The NRA put out notices stating “The purpose of the military operations of the Northern Expedition is to establish a nation governed by the people and to get rid of the warlords. Our army occupied Hunan, Kiangsi, Hupeh, Fukien, Chekiang, Anhui, and other provinces and the unification of the entire nation will be accomplished soon. The Party Army's success is the victory of the people…. In accordance with international morality we shall guard the lives and property of foreigners. We have occupied Shanghai by more than force. We request that consuls inform your nationals to carry on your activities as usual and order the marines not to misunderstand our motives and not to carry out means to obstruct our revolutionary cause'. And now we come to a large and confusing part of the story. At Nanking and Shanghai major events would unfold, seeing the end of the first United Front. After a few days, anti-foreign actions would follow the capture of Nanking requiring more and more public assurances from the KMT. The last demoralized rear guard crossed the Yangtze to get to the safer northern bank. By doing this, now the NPA's most southern position was the rail terminal at Pukou. The NRA vanguard entered Nanking on March 24th, with units of the 6th army and countless NPA Anhui defectors alongside them. Chiang Kai-Shek loyalists in the KMT then charged the head of the 6th NRA army's political department, a CCP member named Lin Xuhan with masterminding attacks upon foreigners. These attacks provoked the foreign powers to then attack Chiang Kai-Shek, diverting his attention from the northern expedition and weakening his authority over the new Wuhan government. Elements of the 6th army had stirred up anti-foreign attitudes amongst their troops and civilians within Nanking. Yet the foreign community in the city would go on to say the attacks they witnessed were not made by civilian mobs. Whatever motivations, the situation that unfolded at Nanking signified a giant breach of soldier discipline. For Chiang Kai-Shek to have permitted such actions to take place was inconsistent with his strategy of avoiding any provocation upon the foreign powers. Yet over 25,000 Nanking refugees flooded over to Shanghai as 25,000 foreign marines and soldiers began defending the concessions, assuring the NRA they were ready for a fight. Going back in time somewhat, the March 20th coup was something akin to a patient zero. Back on January 3rd of 1927 elements of the KMT at Wuhan had triggered mobs to attack the British concessions until they gave back authority at Hankou and Kiukiang to the Chinese. Yet the KMT had never given such orders to do so. It seemed the CCP were pushing these actions. Between March 7th to the 17th, the new Joint Council at Wuhan was openly being defiant towards Chiang Kai-Shek and they held their first plenary session to work against him. They met with KMT leftists and CCP members and agreed to appoint CCP members, Su Chaocheng and Tan Pingshan as ministers; promoted CCP peasant and labour groups and dispatched three representatives to the Third Communist International to discuss China's role in the would be world revolution. It did not seem the CCP intended to keep their promise to the KMT about China not going communist. All of this authority at Wuhan undermined Chiang Kai-Sheks authority and those loyal to him. They immediately voted to take direct control of military funds which had been previously handled by the minister of Finance, T.V Soong, obviously considered a loyal supporter to Chiang Kai-Shek. In order to gain more influence in the NRA, the Wuhan guys began creating a parallel military chain of command and recruited CCP members into major officer positions. They hoped such actions would see more military types defect over to their cause. Now by this point the NRA really had become a giant beast. When the northern expedition launched in July of 1926 the were 8 armies, by March of 1927 they were now 40. Wuhans fiscal and political control over said armies would clearly undermine and probably be capable of getting rid of Chiang Kai-Shek, so it was a no brainer to attempt seizing them for the CCP. The Wuhan cabal hoped to incorporate some of the new armies, made mostly of defectors, whose alliances were probably flimsy to be under their control. Chiang Kai-Shek tried to counter these attacks, but anything he did would be seen as censorship or anti-communist, thus shattering the first united front, from which he still depended….or did he?  Now technically the Wuhan Cabal was only able to do what they were doing because leading KMT figures were not present such as Chiang Kai-Shek and Wang Jingwei. Thus lesser members like Xu Chen and Teng Yenta were able to make some big decisions. Both men were CCP aligned and worked to abolish Chiang Kai-Sheks posts that he held such as ministry of the military which was replaced by the Wuhan Military council. The Wuhan cabal was able to reduce Chiang Kai-Sheks role as commander in chief and give various tasks to other military commanders. Likewise the military education programs at the KMT academics removed Chiang Kai-Sheks supervisory role, depriving him of obtaining the loyalty of the new junior officer corps. Appointment, promotions and dismissals of commanders would be done by the Military council, ie: Xu CHen and Teng Yenta. They first relieved Chen Mingshu, a known Chiang Kai-Shek loyalist and replaced him with a Moscow certified star Tang Shengchih. It became very obvious what they were trying to do. Thus as the Wuhan cabal tore apart Chiang Kai-Sheks authority piece by piece, the NRA's war against Wu Peifu and Sun Chuanfang began to collapse. Without a high degree of coordination and leadership, the NRA was finding it difficult to fight the numerically superior NPA forces. In March of 1927, Wuhan proclaimed all regulations ordered by Chiang Kai-Sheks HQ to be nullified. This meant although he retained authority over troops at the frontlines, Wuhan now claimed authority over all the other troops. All of these attacks upon Chiang Kai-Shek caused massive confusion in the ranks. Many within the KMT believed and rightfully so that the CCP was trying to take leadership over the movement. As the northern expedition took the NRA into Jiangsu, the momentum of their previous victories had pushed them across the Yangtze. This was heavily aided by the recent Shanghai Navy defectors who eased the crossing using their vessels. Those already operating north of the Yangtze such as the 3rd, 7th and 10th armies were pressing past Hofei towards Pengpu by early April. Pengpu was the capital of Anhui, forming a sort of bridgehead over the Huai river with a railway depot for Zhang Zongchang's armies. Thus its capture would open a door to the invasion of North China. Yet the NRA's momentum died in confusion over which direction they were to take, because of the Wuhan cabal-Chiang Kai-Shek fighting, and their logistical support was falling apart. It seemed to all like the northern expedition might never make it to the north.  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 NRA managed to seize the super cities of Shanghai and Nanking. The NRA now dominated most of south China and were about to begin invading the north, when internal problems arose. The CCP and Chiang Kai-Shek were not seeing eye to eye and now a civil war seemed to be breaking out in the first united front.