Age of Conquest: A Kings and Generals Podcast

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

Last time we spoke about the battle along the Wusong Creek. The situation was dire for the Chinese defenders, who faced overwhelming odds. Among them was Ogishima, a Japanese soldier who experienced the brutal reality of war firsthand. Amidst the chaos, battles erupted along the Wusong Creek, where both sides suffered heavy casualties. Chinese forces, despite being greatly outnumbered in terms of tactical superiority, demonstrated extraordinary resilience, fighting bravely even when retreat was necessary. As the battle raged on, tactics evolved; Chinese troops fortified defenses and implemented guerrilla warfare strategies. The soldiers transformed the landscape into a fortification, turning abandoned buildings into strongholds. October brought a fresh wave of violence. The Japanese pressed their attack, unleashing superior firepower that gradually saw them conquer Dachang.    #161 The Battle of Shanghai #6: the 800 heroes who defended the Sihang Warehouse 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 the fall of Dachang, despite the threat of court-martial for anyone abandoning their posts, a general withdrawal of all Chinese forces in the Jiangwan salient was already in progress. As early as the night between October 24 and 25, the divisions within the salient had been ordered to move their baggage trains and support services back southwest across Suzhou Creek, utilizing the Zhongshan Bridge and Jessfield Railway Bridge. As the fighting intensified north of Zhabei in the subsequent days, the flow of soldiers, vehicles, and pack animals continued. By the night between October 26 and 27, the Chinese completely vacated metropolitan Shanghai north of Suzhou Creek. A foreign journalist wrot “The enormous Chinese army simply melted away and at dawn the Japanese found themselves facing empty positions. The two armies were no longer in contact.” During their retreat from Zhabei, the Chinese systematically set fire to thousands of shops and homes, implementing a scorched earth policy. At 7:00 am on October 27, eight narrow columns of smoke cut across the horizon from one end of Zhabei to the other. Two hours later, these columns had transformed into “huge black pillars stretching towards the azure sky.” By afternoon, a massive wall of smoke stretched four miles long, rising thousands of feet into the air. In the words of a German advisor, it was a fire “of unimaginable extent” that raged out of control for several days, repeatedly threatening to spill into the International Settlement. Refugees who had left Zhabei weeks or months earlier, hoping to return now that the fighting seemed to be over, were devastated to see their homes consumed by an immense sea of flames. The Japanese Army, or more specifically the doctrine guiding it in the field, failed in two significant ways by allowing some of China’s best divisions to escape the trap they had set for them. First, on the evening of October 26, after taking Dachang, the Japanese columns could have advanced across Zhabei right to the edge of the International Settlement. Instead, they followed orders and ceased their advance at the line they had reached at sunset. German advisor Borchardt wrote “The only explanation for this is the lack of independent thinking among junior Japanese commanders and their fear of deviating even slightly from a meticulously detailed attack plan.  Since the Japanese focused on rallying and reorganizing their forces after the fall of Dachang, they missed an opportunity for a victory so decisive that the Chinese would have been forced to give up their continued resistance in Shanghai.” If the Japanese made their first mistake by leaving a door open for the enemy to escape, they committed a second error by failing to notice that the enemy was using that door. Although Japanese reconnaissance planes monitored the two main bridges utilized by the Chinese to retreat and even deployed parachute flares to detect movements at night, they inexplicably failed to observe the Chinese withdrawal. The retreat was executed precisely as planned, with every piece of artillery withdrawn. This allowed the Chinese to occupy prepared positions south of Suzhou Creek and around Nanxiang, enabling them to continue the fight another day. Despite their missteps, the Japanese initially celebrated their conquest of Zhabei as a victory, placing thousands of small Rising Sun flags throughout the district’s ruins. Amid this sea of white and red, the only relatively intact structure, the Four Banks’ Warehouse, starkly reminded them that the Chinese still maintained a foothold north of Suzhou Creek. Rumors began to circulate that the soldiers inside had vowed to fight to the death. The Japanese came to realize that their triumph in Zhabei would be perceived as flawed and would even resemble a defeat as long as the warehouse remained in Chinese hands. It was back on October 26, Chiang Kai-shek ordered all forces in Shanghai to withdraw to the western rural region. To facilitate a safe retreat, a rearguard was necessary, as is standard in military withdrawals. Chiang issued orders to General Gu Zhutong, the acting commander of the 3rd Military Region, to leave the 88th Division behind, not only to buy time for the retreating forces but also to stage a final grand stand in front of the Shanghai International Settlement. This was a last-ditch effort to gain international support, as the nine Great Powers were set to convene on November 6. However, General Gu Zhutong was personally attached to the 88th Division, and thus reluctant to abandon them. It’s worth noting that he was acting commander in this position because his next post was to lead the 88th Division. Therefore, he telegrammed the divisional commander at the time, General Sun Yuanliang, who also opposed the plan to leave the 88th Division behind. While neither Gu Zhutong nor Sun Yuanliang were willing to disobey orders from the Generalissimo, Sun proposed a solution: They could leave a portion of the troops behind, just not the entire 88th Division. In his words, “How many people we sacrifice would not make a difference; it would achieve the same purpose.” Sun suggested leaving behind a single regiment from the 88th Division to defend one or two heavily fortified positions. Gu Zhutong agreed to this plan, and at that time, the 88th Divisional Headquarters was located at the Sihang Warehouse. The Sihang Warehouse is a six-story concrete building situated in the Zhabei district, just north of Suzhou Creek, at the northwestern edge of the New Lese Bridge. The warehouse was constructed collaboratively by four banks, hence the name "Sihang," which translates to "four banks." Directly across Suzhou Creek lies the Shanghai International Settlement, a neutral territory where Western foreigners resided. The fighting would occur literally just across the creek, forcing Western observers to witness the heroic last stand that China would make in Shanghai up close. For those who might not be aware, there is an outstanding film titled “The Eight Hundred.” I even reviewed the movie on my channel, the Pacific War Channel, on YouTube. The film excellently captures the remarkable situation, depicting an extravagant city on one side of a river, filled with entertainment, casinos, bars, and restaurants. The international community enjoys their vibrant lives, full of colors and lights, while on the other side lies a literal warzone. The Sihang Warehouse stands there, bullet-ridden, as the Japanese continuously attempt to storm it against the Chinese defenders. It’s a compelling film worth checking out, feel free to take a look at my review as well! Returning to the story, Sun Yuanliang reconsidered and believed that leaving an entire regiment was excessive. Instead, he opted to leave behind an over-strength battalion. The 1st Battalion of the 524th Regiment was chosen for this task. A young colonel, Xie Jinyuan, who was also new to the 88th Division, volunteered to lead the battalion. No one who had met Xie Jinyuan could doubt that he was the ideal choice to lead the battalion that would stay behind, holed up inside the Sihang Warehouse in a corner of Zhabei, demonstrating to both the domestic and international audience that China remained resolute in its resistance against Japanese aggression. The 32-year-old graduate of the elite Central Military Academy, who had been stationed in Shanghai with the 88th Division since hostilities began in August, was a soldier to the core. He stood as straight as a bayonet, and according to a foreign correspondent who met him, even while wearing a mask, he was unmistakably a military man. In the correspondent’s words, he represented “modern China stripped for action.” Upon receiving his assignment on the night of October 26, Xie Jinyuan went directly to the warehouse and was pleased with what he found. It resembled a virtual fortress. Each of its walls was pockmarked with numerous rifle slots, ensuring that attacking infantry would face a barrage of fire from the building’s well-defended positions. It was evident that once the Japanese arrived, they would surround the structure on three sides; however, a link remained to the International Settlement to the south across Lese Bridge. British forward positions were as close as 40 feet away, and with careful maneuvering and a bit of luck, it was likely that the injured could be evacuated under the cover of darkness. From a tactical standpoint, it was an ideal location.   Still, improvements were possible, and Xie ordered the soldiers already present to work through the night to enhance their defenses. They had an ample supply of large bags filled with wheat and corn at their disposal, which served as excellent substitutes for sandbags. Xie Jinyuan’s first challenge was to rally the soldiers of the 524th Regiment’s 1st Battalion to occupy the warehouse positions. This was a complex task, given the short notice, as the companies and platoons were scattered throughout Zhabei, and some had unknowingly begun moving west with the rest of the Chinese Army, unaware of the orders their battalion had received. Throughout the night, Xie and his second-in-command, Yang Ruifu, dispatched orderlies through the blazing streets in search of their men amidst the throng of retreating soldiers. Eventually, their efforts bore fruit. By 9:00 a.m. on October 27, the last remaining soldiers of the battalion arrived at the warehouse. By then, Xie Jinyuan's force consisted of just over 400 officers and soldiers. This was a minuscule number compared to the might of the Japanese military, and they were immediately put to the test. Xie was unfamiliar with the men under his command, effectively being thrown into the deep end, so to speak. The location chosen for their stand was, of course, the Sihang Warehouse. The 1st Battalion originally comprised eight hundred men, but casualties incurred during the Battle of Shanghai had reduced their numbers to just 452 soldiers before the defense of the Sihang Warehouse began. Each soldier was armed with either a Hanyang 88 or Chiang Kai-shek rifle, an 8mm Mauser, grenades, a German M1935 Stahlhelm, a gas mask, and they also had some Czech ZB vz.26 light machine guns, along with four Type 24 Maxim guns. They would face off against the forces of the 3rd IJA Division, commanded by General Iwane Matsui, as well as the 10th Battalion, 8th, and 9th Companies of the Shanghai Special Naval Landing Force under Captain Okochi Denshichi. The Japanese forces were further bolstered by approximately 260 sailors from the Yokosuka 2nd Independent SNLF Company and another 200 sailors from the Kure 1st SNLF 2nd Company. Additionally, the 8th and 9th Companies of the Shanghai SNLF, originally attached to the 4th Artillery Battalion, would provide support with howitzers and mountain guns. In total, around 980 infantrymen from the reinforced 10th Battalion of the Shanghai SNLF, along with another 200 artillerymen from the 8th and 9th Companies, were involved in the Japanese assault on the Sihang Warehouse. Xie Jinyuan consolidated his battalion’s defenses inside the Sihang Warehouse, believing it would provide his men the highest chance of holding out for as long as possible. He correctly assessed that the Imperial Japanese Army would be unable to use their heaviest artillery, aerial bombardment, gas attacks, or naval guns for fear of accidentally striking the International Settlement. It’s important to remember that this was 1937, and the Empire of Japan was not willing to risk open warfare with Western nations until 1941. What the Japanese did have access to were armored vehicles, such as the Type 94 tankettes. The Japanese infantry were equipped with various weapons, including the Arisaka Type 38 rifle, Type 11 and Type 96 light machine guns, the Nambu Type 14 pistol, Type 92 heavy machine gun, Type 97 grenade, Type 89 grenade discharger, and the Type 93 flamethrower. On October 27, various companies of the battalion reached the Sihang Warehouse after a fighting withdrawal. By this point, they numbered 414 men, who essentially volunteered for a suicide mission and were later acknowledged by Chiang Kai-shek for their “exemplary soldierly conduct.” The 1st Battalion was commanded by Army Major Yang Ruifu, and their forces included the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Companies, as well as a Machine Gun Company, totaling 452 men once the remaining soldiers arrived. Due to two months of intense fighting in Shanghai, many of the German-trained elite troops had been killed or wounded, leaving the majority of the reinforcements at the Sihang Warehouse to be garrison troops from the surrounding provinces. Many of these soldiers came from the 5th Regiment of the Hubei Province Garrison, which meant that many were also inexperienced recruits. On October 27, news began to circulate throughout Shanghai that Chinese forces were still resisting the Japanese in the Zhabei district at the Sihang Warehouse. At 4 a.m., a Girl Guide named Yang Huimin approached a British guard at a post at the Chinese end of the New Lese Bridge, where she noticed a British soldier tossing a pack of cigarettes into the warehouse. Yang asked the soldier what he was doing, and he informed her that there was a battalion of Chinese soldiers inside. She then wrote a message and requested that the soldier place it inside a cigarette box and toss it over. Soon, the Chinese tossed back the cigarette box with a message indicating they needed food, ammunition, and lubricant for their weapons. Yang then left the bridge and began pleading for help at the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce, but no one believed her story. Xie Jinyuan deployed the 1st Company, led by Captain Tao Xingchun, on the right side of the warehouse along Tibet Road. The 3rd Company, led by Shi Meihao, was stationed on the left across from the Bank of Communications building, while the 2nd Company, commanded by Deng Ying, held the other sides. Two heavy Type 24 Maxim machine guns were mounted on the roof of the Sihang Warehouse, with additional machine guns distributed among each company. A forward platoon from each company was sent out to provide early warning of any enemy attack. Furthermore, Xie ordered his combat engineers to place remote-detonated charges in front of the warehouse. His units were strategically dispersed with rifles and machine guns throughout the warehouse and on the rooftop. They reinforced the building with bags of sand, corn, and beans, and razed surrounding structures to create a deadly killing field. At 7:30 am an advance outpost reported seeing Japanese marines near the North Train Station, and 45 minutes later, it confirmed that the enemy's flag was flying over that building. The Chinese soldiers were ordered to engage the advancing IJA 3rd division, and over the next two hours, they executed a fighting retreat back toward the warehouse. A brief pause ensued, during which the Chinese defenders prepared themselves, with some taking up positions on the various floors of the warehouse and others crouching behind an outer wall surrounding the building. At 1:00 pm a Japanese column approached the warehouse, confidently marching down the middle of the road behind a large Rising Sun banner. It appeared more like a victory parade than a tactical maneuver. Once they were in range, the Chinese officers ordered their men to fire. Five Japanese soldiers fell, causing the rest of the column to scramble for cover. Within an hour, the Japanese had amassed enough troops to attempt a storming assault on the warehouse. A sizable force surrounded the building, unleashing so much firepower that the Chinese were forced to abandon the outer wall and retreat to the warehouse itself. Although the defenses remained solid, the crisis was far from over, and the attackers appeared to have gained dangerous momentum The first bloodshed occurred when ten IJA soldiers were killed while attempting to secure fortifications around the warehouse that had been rigged with explosives. At 2 p.m., a National Revolutionary Army  platoon led by Yin Qiucheng exchanged fire with approximately fifty IJA troops. By 3 pm, an IJA company consisting of around 194 men launched an attack on the warehouse from the west. During this engagement, the 3rd Company commander, Shi Meihao, was shot in the face but continued to lead the defense until he was shot again in the leg. Meanwhile, about seventy IJA soldiers took cover in a blind spot just southwest of the warehouse. In response, the NRA climbed to the rooftop and threw grenades at the IJA, killing seven and wounding twenty. The initial assault by the IJA was a failure, prompting them to set fire to the northwestern section of the warehouse, where fuel and lumber were stored. By 5 pm., firefighter efforts had extinguished the blaze, as the IJA were preoccupied with looting the Zhabei area. At this point, Yang Ruifu, the second-in-command, commanded a dozen soldiers to rush to the roof and lob hand grenades at the Japanese forces below. This counterattack halted the Japanese advance. As the Japanese withdrew, they left behind seven dead. Much of the fighting was closely watched by excited Chinese on the other side of the 60-yard Suzhou Creek. Each time news spread of another Japanese soldier being killed, a triumphant cheer erupted from the crowd. At 9 pm, battalion commander Yang Ruifu assessed that there would likely be no further IJA attacks that day and ordered the NRA to repair their fortifications and eat their meals. However, no one slept that night. The NRA suffered two deaths and four wounded, while the IJA reported seventeen dead and twenty wounded. Foreign correspondents witnessed the battle from the safety of Suzhou Creek, enjoying a front-row seat to the harsh reality of urban combat. One reporter observed a small group of Japanese soldiers cautiously approaching the warehouse, navigating through the broken masonry and twisted metal. Crawling from cover to cover, it took them 50 minutes to traverse just 50 yards. The Chinese defenders, watching from concealed vantage points, had been monitoring their movements all along. Once the Japanese party was close enough, the defenders unleashed a barrage of hand grenades. After the dust settled, they used their rifles to finish off anyone still able to move. Several Japanese attempting to rescue their wounded comrades were also killed. It was a war without mercy. Even after darkness fell over the warehouse, there was no time for sleep. The soldiers worked tirelessly to repair damages and reinforce their positions.  The next morning, Xie Jinyuan contacted the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce for assistance, having received their phone number from Yang Huimin. At 7 am on October 28, Japanese bombers began to circle the warehouse but refrained from dropping any bombs for fear of hitting the International Settlement. Surrounding the rooftops of nearby buildings was a sea of Rising Sun flags, serving to intimidate the NRA and signal that they were encircled. By 8 am, Xie delivered a pep talk to the defenders and noticed an IJA squad advancing along the Suzhou Creek. According to Yang Ruifu’s memoirs, Xie picked up a rifle and shot one of the IJA soldiers from over a kilometer away, halting the squad’s advance. At 3 pm, it began to rain as the IJA launched a major attack on the west side of the warehouse, taking control of the Bank of Communications building. From there, they deployed machine guns and cannons to bombard the north face of the warehouse. However, the cannons were unable to significantly damage the six-foot-thick walls, and the Japanese troops in the bank building were easily suppressed by the defenders on the warehouse roof, who enjoyed a superior vantage point. After two hours of fighting, the Japanese gave up on the attack but managed to cut electricity and water to the warehouse. Yang Ruifu ordered strict rationing, with each company placing its water reserves under guard and collecting urine in large barrels for firefighting purposes if necessary. Witnessing the fierce Chinese resistance, the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce was invigorated, and news of the stand quickly spread via radio. Crowds of 30,000 people gathered along the southern bank of the Suzhou Creek, cheering the defenders on. In response, ten truckloads of aid were donated by Shanghai citizens, making their way over the bridge to the warehouse throughout the night. The defenders received food, fruit, clothing, utensils, and letters of support from the citizens. A few journalists attempted to visit, but due to the commanding officers being busy, they only managed to meet with Lei Xiong, the Machine Gun Company commander. Xie Jinyuan also utilized the same trucks to transport ten wounded men into the International Settlement. During these truck transit actions, three NRA soldiers were killed by Japanese sharpshooters. Yang Huimin courageously ran to the warehouse to personally deliver the Republic of China flag to Xie Jinyuan. Upon receiving the flag, Xie was asked by a reporter about his plans, to which he simply replied, “Defend to the death.” Yang Huimin then requested a list of the soldiers’ names to announce to the entire country. However, Xie was reluctant to provide this information, fearing it would reveal his actual numbers and prompt the Japanese to storm the warehouse. Instead, he wrote down 800 names from the original 524th Regiment’s roster. Thus, the legend of the “800 Heroes” was born. The next morning, the Republic of China flag was hoisted on a thirteen-foot pole atop the Sihang Warehouse. Since Yang Huimin had only delivered the flag without a pole, the defenders constructed a makeshift pole using two bamboo culms tied together, holding a flag-raising ceremony. Crowds gathered in the International Settlement, reaching up to thirty thousand in number, shouting “Zhōnghuá Mínguó wànsu!” (Long live the Republic of China). Japanese aircraft attempted to destroy the flag with strafing fire but were unsuccessful and were forced to retreat due to anti-aircraft fire. At noon, the IJA launched their largest offensive to date, attacking the warehouse from all directions with Type 94 tankettes and cannons. The 3rd NRA Company was pushed out of their defensive lines to the base of the warehouse and then further into the warehouse itself. The IJA's cannon fire chipped away at the warehouse structure, creating new firing ports on the windowless west wall. The Japanese attempted to scale the walls to the second floor using ladders. Xie Jinyuan was positioned near a window when two IJA soldiers managed to climb into the second floor beside him. He choked the first soldier to death and shot the other while kicking over the ladder they had used. The situation became dire as a platoon of IJA soldiers began placing explosives to breach the west wall. As the battle raged on, the IJA platoon continued planting explosives at the base of the west wall in an effort to breach it. When the Chinese defenders noticed what they were doing, 21-year-old Private Chen Shusheng, armed with a grenade vest, jumped from a second-story window onto the IJA platoon that was planting the explosives. His suicide attack killed himself and twenty Japanese soldiers below. The fighting continued until darkness fell, with waves of IJA soldiers storming the warehouse using armored vehicles. Ultimately, the IJA had to abandon their assault and began digging a tunnel towards the warehouse with an excavator. In response, posters emerged in the International Settlement, showcasing the movement of the IJA to the NRA. At 7 am, on October 30, the IJA recommenced their attacks, this time employing heavy artillery, firing approximately one shell per second throughout the day. The NRA responded by reinforcing the warehouse with additional sandbags. As night approached, the IJA utilized floodlights to illuminate the warehouse, allowing their artillery fire to continue unabated. Despite the overwhelming firepower, the defenders still managed to destroy some of the IJA's armored vehicles. The International Settlement exerted pressure on the IJA to cease the artillery fire, as it was dangerously close to their area. They informed the IJA that they would attempt to persuade the NRA to end their defense. A petition was sent to Chiang Kai-shek to stop the fighting for humanitarian reasons. By this point, the defense of the Sihang Warehouse had accomplished all its objectives. The NRA forces in Shanghai had successfully redeployed to more favorable positions in the rural west. Moreover, the defense of the warehouse had garnered significant attention from the Western world. Consequently, Chiang Kai-shek authorized a retreat. Chiang Kai-shek ordered the battalion to retreat into the foreign concession and to rejoin the 88th Division, which was now fighting in western Shanghai. A meeting was arranged with British General Telfer-Smollet and Yan Hu of the Shanghai Auxiliary Police to facilitate the retreat. The 524th Regiment would retreat to the International Settlement by crossing the New Lese Bridge. The 3rd IJA Division commander, Matsui Iwane, was notified of this plan and agreed, promising to allow the defenders to retreat unharmed, although he would ultimately not fulfill this promise. At midnight on November 1, Xie Jinyuan led the retreat of 376 men out of the warehouse and across the New Lese Bridge into the International Settlement. Ten NRA soldiers had been killed, and twenty-seven were too wounded to move; those soldiers volunteered to stay behind and man the machine guns on the rooftop to provide cover for the retreat. During the crossing, ten additional NRA soldiers were wounded by IJA sharpshooter fire. By 2 a.m. on November 1, the retreat was complete, marking the end of the defense of the Sihang Warehouse. After the battle, Xie Jinyuan reported that more than 100 Japanese troops had been killed by the defenders. General Sun Yuanliang stated, “Enemy corpses in the vicinity of Sihang Warehouse totaled approximately two hundred.” Xie Jimin claimed, “More than 200 enemy troops were killed and countless others were wounded. Two enemy tanks were also destroyed, and two more were damaged. The number of enemies was based on the daily counts obtained by observation posts.” The NRA suffered ten deaths and thirty-seven wounded, while the IJA incurred an estimated two hundred killed, along with several others wounded. However, a Japanese report indicated that after the SNLF 10th Battalion stormed the Sihang Warehouse, they found only 80 Chinese corpses. As of 2022, historians now estimate that 377 Chinese soldiers managed to retreat, suggesting that the actual death toll for the Chinese was likely around 33. The Battle of Shanghai was arguably unwinnable for the Chinese from the outset. It was only a matter of time before the Japanese would gain the upper hand due to their material and technological advantages. As the fighting dragged on, with the Japanese capturing stronghold after stronghold in the countryside surrounding the city, the immense toll exacted on the defenders led a growing number of Chinese generals to question the wisdom of clinging to a city that was ultimately destined to fall. They pushed for a more comprehensive withdrawal rather than the tactical retreat from Zhabei and Jiangwan that had already taken place. Otherwise, thousands more soldiers would die in vain. Moreover, there were serious concerns about morale taking a devastating hit, which could compromise China’s ability to continue the fight. This was becoming a pressing issue. Chinese troops, who had initially entered the battle with an upbeat and patriotic spirit, gradually lost their fervor as casualties mounted in a seemingly hopeless battle. Once a division was reduced to one-third of its original strength, it was sent to the rear for reorganization and replenishment before being returned to the frontline. Most soldiers perceived the odds of survival as heavily stacked against them. Despite regular visits to the front, Chiang Kai-shek remained largely unaware of these grim realities. Officers who understood the true conditions in the trenches were also familiar with the supreme commander’s stubborn nature and his determination to defend Shanghai to the bitter end. Given the circumstances, they felt it unwise to reveal the full truth to him. This charade could not continue indefinitely. In some units, the situation was deteriorating so rapidly that it became increasingly likely soldiers would simply abandon their positions. With mutiny looming as a possibility, senior commanders sought to persuade Chiang Kai-shek that a complete withdrawal of all Chinese troops from the Shanghai area to a fortified line stretching from Suzhou to Jiaxing, a city about 35 miles to the south, was the only viable option. In early November, General Bai Chongxi informed Chiang that the officers at the front could no longer control their men and that a pullback would serve as a face-saving measure, forestalling potential rebellion within the ranks. However, nothing they said seemed to impress Chiang Kai-shek. General Li Zongren, another officer who had previously attempted to advocate for a retreat, realized that arguing with the man at the top was futile. “War plans were decided by him personally, and no one else was allowed to say anything,” Li noted in his memoirs. Despite this, there were moments when Chiang appeared tantalizingly close to being swayed by the views of his lieutenants. As early as the first days of October, he seemed to favor a withdrawal from the front, only to reverse his decision later. A similar situation arose late in the month when Chiang called a meeting with his frontline commanders in a train carriage at Songjiang Railway Station, southwest of Shanghai. Before his arrival, the generals discussed the battle and concluded they could do little against the enemy’s superior firepower. Upon Chiang’s arrival, Zhang Fakui, the commander of the troops in Pudong, suggested moving ten divisions to prepared positions further in the rear, where defense would be easier than in Shanghai. The majority agreed with this proposal. At this point, Madame Chiang Kai-shek made her entrance, dressed in an expensive fur coat and fresh from a visit to the Shanghai front. “If we can hold Shanghai for ten more days,” she declared, “China will win international sympathy.” She was vague about the specifics but seemed to be referring to the upcoming Brussels conference. This declaration galvanized Chiang. “Shanghai must be held at all costs,” he asserted with firm conviction, as if that had been his sentiment all along. 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 [http://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 Chinese troops retreated across Suzhou Creek, a small battalion under Colonel Xie Jinyuan held their ground, transforming the warehouse into a fortress. Despite fierce attacks, including artillery and tank assaults, they showcased unparalleled bravery. Reinforced by messages of support from locals, spirits soared. Amidst mounting casualties, they persisted until a strategic retreat was ordered. As dawn broke on November 1, Xie led the remaining troops to safety, leaving behind a legacy of valor that inspired future generations. Thus, the "800 Heroes" legend was born.

Last time we spoke about the battle of Luodian. Following a significant counter-offensive, the initial optimism waned as casualties escalated and morale plummeted. The strategically vital town of Luodian became a pivotal battleground, with the Chinese determined to defend it at all costs. Despite heroic efforts, including a daring nighttime assault, the overwhelming Japanese forces employed superior tactics and artillery, steadily gaining ground.  As September progressed, Japanese reinforcements flooded the frontline, exacerbating the already dire situation for the Chinese defenders. By late September, the fierce struggle to control Luodian culminated in a forced retreat by the Chinese forces, marking a significant turning point in the fight for Shanghai. Though they withdrew, the Chinese army earned newfound respect, having showcased their tenacity against a formidable adversary. The battle became a testament to their resilience amid overwhelming odds, setting the stage for the tumultuous conflict that lay ahead in their fight for sovereignty.   #160 The Battle of Shanghai Part 5: Fighting along the Wusong Creek 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 tides of warfare had shifted in Shanghai. In late September, the Japanese high command dispatched three divisions to the Shanghai area, starting with the 101st Division landing on September 22. This was followed by the 9th and 13th Divisions, bolstering Japan's military presence to five divisions in the city, despite the Chinese forces numbering over 25 divisions. However, the true dynamics of the confrontation revealed a complex picture: while the Chinese boasted numerical superiority, the Japanese divisions, each comprising around 15,000 soldiers, were supported by nearly 90,000 troops when including marines and infantry. China's units, often as small as 5,000 men, made their effective deployment difficult. The Japanese forces also leveraged their advantages in materials, aircraft, and naval artillery, which could effectively target critical positions along the Chinese front. With these reinforcements in place, Japanese commanders, including Matsui, devised a bold strategy: to execute a powerful thrust across Wusong Creek and advance toward Suzhou Creek. The goal was to encircle and annihilate the main Chinese force in a maneuver they had envisioned since their arrival in China.  Ogishima Shizuo, a reservist of the 101st division had just been through his first night at the front. Within his trench, soldiers leapt up from their slumber to a hail of bullets. Ogishima looked over the edge of the trench. It was still dark, making it hard to discern what was happening, but he thought he saw a flash of a helmet in a foxhole near the creek's edge. It wasn’t a Japanese helmet. Suddenly, it hit him that the gunfire wasn’t a mistake. “It’s the enemy! The enemy!” he yelled. Others began to shout as well. “The enemy! They’re behind us! Turn around!” Under the cloak of darkness, a Chinese unit had managed to bypass the Japanese lines and launch an attack from the rear. The sound of aggressive gunfire erupted, and a Japanese heavy machine gun joined in the fray. However, most of the bullets were fired haphazardly into the night. A force of 50 Chinese were firing on them. Japanese officers ordered the men to storm their positions, seeing infantrymen leap over their trench into the barrage. The Japanese and Chinese fired at each other and tossed grenades when close enough. The Japanese jumped into the Chinese foxholes and stabbed at them with bayonets. Ogishima thrust his bayonet into the belly of a Chinese soldiers, marking his first kill. He felt no emotion. Within minutes the little battle was over, every Chinese soldier lay dead, it was a suicide mission. Ogishima saw countless comrades dead around him, it was a scene of carnage. It was the morning of October 7, the 101st Division had crossed Wusong Creek from the north in the early hours of October 6, specifically, only half of the division had made it across. The other half remained on the far side, unable to get their boats past the 300 feet of water protected by unseen Chinese machine guns and mortar crews that would open fire at the slightest hint of movement on the northern bank. Dozens of corpses floated in the murky water, serving as grim evidence of the carnage from the previous 24 hours. Ogishima, alongside tens of thousands of Japanese soldiers were entering the most brutal part of the Shanghai campaign. Matsui’s vision of a quick and decisive end to the Shanghai campaign, would not come to be. Matsui detailed his plans in an order issued on September 29. The attack was to be conducted from west to east by the 9th, 3rd, and 101st Infantry Divisions. The 11th Infantry Division was assigned to follow the 9th Division, securing the right flank against potential Chinese counterattacks from the west. The 13th Infantry Division would serve as the reserve. The objective was to capture Dachang, an ancient town encircled by a medieval-style wall, and then advance as quickly as possible to breach the Chinese lines north of Suzhou Creek. Matsui had arranged an unusually high concentration of troops; the three divisions were aligned along a front that spanned only three miles. This meant that each division had less than half the front length that the Japanese field manual typically recommended. The decision to compress the divisions into such a narrow front was partly to compensate for the artillery shortcomings that were still hindering the Japanese offensive. The Japanese attackers confronted a formidable and well-prepared enemy. After extensive discussions, the Chinese commanders ultimately recognized that they had no choice but to shorten their front line. Defending Liuhang, a town situated along the route from Luodian to Dachang, had proven too costly, offering no prospect of victory. Chen Cheng, the commander of the Chinese left wing, had often visited Liuhang and understood how dire the situation was. He repeatedly urged that the unwinnable battle be abandoned and that valuable troops be withdrawn to stronger positions. However, his pleas initially went unheeded. Chiang Kai-shek was primarily driven by the belief that war was about securing territory, and he insisted on maintaining control over Liuhang at all costs. Meanwhile the Chinese positions north of Wusong Creek had been breached in numerous places during late September and this caused Chiang Kai-Shek to finally relent. A fighting retreat began on the night of October 1st and would be completed by dawn of the 3rd. The new defensive line extended just over a mile west of the road from Luodian to Dachang, providing the Chinese defenders with excellent opportunities to harass the advancing Japanese Army with flanking fire for several miles as they moved south. At Wusong Creek, the Chinese line curved eastward and followed the southern bank for several miles. The creek provided a significant advantage to the Chinese defenders; despite its name, it would be more accurate to describe it as a river. It reached widths of up to 300 feet in some areas, and in several spots, the southern bank formed a steep six-foot wall. Anyone attempting to scale this barrier under intense mortar fire would be met at the top by rows of barbed wire and heavy machine gun fire. For a full mile south of the creek, the Chinese had spent weeks constructing a dense network of defenses, transforming farm buildings into formidable fortifications linked by deep trenches. They had learned valuable lessons from their German mentors, many veterans of the battles of Somme and Verdun, and they applied these lessons effectively. The Japanese took Liuhang on the 3rd and were met with counterattacks, but these were easily repelled. More confident, Matsui issued new orders on the 4th for the 3rd, 9th and 101 divisions to cross the Wusong Creek and advance a mile south. Beginning on the 5th, the 3 divisions crossed and carved out a narrow bridgehead under heavy resistance. The Chinese were frantic now, as after the Wusong Creek, the last remaining natural obstacle was the Suzhou Creek. Two miles west of the key road from Luodian to Dachang,  battalion commander Yan Yinggao of the 78th Division’s 467th Regiment awaited the anticipated Japanese assault. The regiment had fortified three villages near a creek, reinforced with sandbags, barbed wire, and cleared fields of fire, along with deep trenches for troop movement. The 1st Battalion occupied the westernmost village, the 3rd Battalion held the other two, while the 2nd Battalion remained in reserve. The initial Japanese attack began with a heavy artillery bombardment. Despite facing significant casualties, their infantry was forced to withdraw from all three villages. They returned later in the afternoon with an even fiercer artillery assault. The 1st Battalion suffered devastating losses, including its commander, leading to the loss of the village to the Japanese. Yan Yinggao, observing from the rear, dispatched a reinforcement company, but it was quickly annihilated within ten minutes. Simultaneously the Chinese 3rd battalion at Tangbeizhai were nearly encircled. Yan received orders for his regiment to advance over to relieve them, but as they did a Japanese column of 60 soldiers approached from the opposite direction. A battle ensued over the smoking rubbled of the bombed out village. The few survivors of the 3rd battalion made a last stand, allowing the 2nd battle to fight their way in to take up their position. It was a small and temporary victory. Units arriving to the Shanghai theater were being tossed right into the front lines, such as the Tax Police Division. Despite its name they were a fully equipped military formation and quite well training consisting of 6 regiments, roughly 25,000 armed men. Their officers had previously served under the young marshal, Zhang Xueliang. They were rushed to Tangqiaozhan, lying on the road from Luodian to Dachang, bridged by the Wusong Creek. The bridge was crucial to the entire operation, as holding it would enhance the Chinese's chances of delaying the Japanese advance. The Tax Police, stationed at the northern end of the bridge, became surrounded on three sides. Intense fighting ensued, occasionally escalating to hand-to-hand combat. By the second day after their arrival, casualties had escalated significantly, forcing the Tax Police units to retreat south across the bridge, which ultimately fell to the advancing Japanese forces. A crisis atmosphere surrounded the meeting of the 3rd War Zone staff, chaired by Chiang Kai-shek, in Suzhou on October 11. Everyone agreed the previous efforts to halt the Japanese advance south across Wusong Creek had utterly failed. Each engagement resulted in Chinese troops being repelled without regaining significant territory. Chen Cheng proposed an attack in his sector, specifically targeting the area around Luodian. However, most felt that such an operation would not effectively influence the Japanese advance at Wusong Creek and ultimately dismissed the suggestion. Bai Chongxi, whom at this point held an informal advisory role, called for simultaneous attacks along both banks of Wusong Creek, thrusting into the right flank of the advancing Japanese. This would require an enormous amount of troops if there was to be any chance of success. Bai Chongxi was pushing to take 4 divisions from Guangxi, already in transit to Shanghai for the task. Chiang Kai-Shek liked the idea of a single decisive blow and agreed to Bai’s idea. The German advisors were not so keen on this one. In fact the Germans were getting depressed over a concerning issue. It seemed the Chinese staff simply talked too much, taking far too long to produce very few decisions. There were a lot of reasons for this, a lot of these figures held to many positions. For example Gu Zhuong, Chiang Kai-Sheks deputy in Suzhou, was a chief of staff and also held two advisory roles. Then there were these informal generals, such as Bai Chongxi. A man such as Bai had no formal command here, yet he was providing views on operational issues. To the Germans who held clear military hierarchies as the bible, it looked obviously chaotic. There was notable hope though. The Germans acknowledged the Chinese were improving their artillery situation. For the first time since the battle for Shanghai began, 6 artillery battalions were moved into positions in the vicinity of Nanxiang, under the unified command of the headmaster of the Tangshan artillery school near Nanjing. From there they could coordinate barrages in the area south of the Wusong Creek.  Sun Liren got off at Nanxiang railway station on October 7th. At 36 he was leading one of China’s best units, the 4th regiment of the Tax Police. Within confusion he was assigned to the 88th division, who were fighting the heaviest battles in the campaign. By noon of the next day, nearly all of Sun Liren’s regiment were cannibalized, sent as reinforcements to the 88ths front lines. Afterwards all the was left was Sun and a group of 20 orderlies and clerks. At 2pm he got a call from th division, they needed more reinforcements at the front or else a small bridge north of Zhabei would be taken, collapsing their lines. Sun replied he had no troops left only to be told “its an order. If you disobey, you’ll be courtmartialed”.  Without any choice, Sun hastily organized dozens of soldiers and marched them to the bridge. As they arrived, his men saw Chinese troops withdrawing away from the bridge. He asked one man what was going on “the officers have all left, we also don’t want to die”. To this Sun said he was an officer and would stay and fight with them. The Japanese in pursuit were shocked to see the Chinese turn around attack them. In general the Japanese were surprised by the sudden resilience of the Chinese around the Wusong Creek. Many assaults were being beaten back. In the Zhabei district, much more urbanized, foreigners were watching in awe. A war correspondent wrote “Every street was a defense line and every house a pocket fort. Thousands of holes had been knocked through walls, linking the labyrinth of lanes into a vast system of defense in depth. Every intersection had been made into a miniature fortress of steel and concrete. Even the stubs of bomb-battered walls had been slotted at ground level for machine guns and rifles. No wonder the Japanese Army was months behind its boasts”.  East of the Huangpu River at Pudong, Sun Shengzhi commanded an artillery regiment whom began launching a barrage across the river upon the Gongda airfield, that had been allowing the Japanese air forces to support their infantry. Meanwhile Chinese soldiers rolled a battery of 8 bofor guns 300 yards from the riverbank and at dawn began firing upon aircraft taking off. They reported 4 downed Japanese aircraft and 7 damaged. By mid-October the 88th division took advantage of a lull in the fighting and prepared a ambitious attack aimed at cutting off the Sichuan North road, which the Japanese were using to as a supply line from the docks to units north of the city. The German advisors developed this attack using Stosstruppen tactics taken from WW1. For stosstruppen, the main means of weakening the enemy line was via infiltration, rather than a massive frontal attack. The attack was unleashed on the 18th after a bombardment by artillery and mortars as lightly armed Chinese stormed down the streets near the North railway station and took the Japanese there by complete surprise. They quickly occupied a segment of the Sichuan North Road cutting the Japanese supply chain for many days. Back on the 13th, Kuse Hisao led a company of the Japanese 9th division to perform an attack on Chenjiahang, located due north of Wusong Creek. It was a strategic and heavily fortified stronghold that obstructed the southward advance. As Kuse’s men reached its vicinity they stopped to rest with orders to begin the assault at 1pm. The Japanese artillery kicked off the fight and was soon met with much larger Chinese artillery. This was an unpleasant surprise for the Japanese, whom to this point had always had superiority in artillery. Regardless the assault went ahead seeing wave upon wave of attackers fighting through cotton fields and bullets. Kuse’s men were forced to crawl through the field. Kuse crawled his way to a small creek to discover with horror it was full of Japanese and Chinese corpses at various stages of decomposition.  The assault on Chenjiahang bogged down quickly. Kuse and his men spent a night amongst the rotting dead. The following day orders arrived for two neighbouring units to renew the assault as Kuse’s fell back into the reserve. That day’s attempt fared no better, simply piling more bodies upon the field and waterways. The next day Kuse watched Japanese flamethrower units enter the fray as they led an attack over a creek. Men jumped into waist deep water, waded across to fight up slopes through mazes of Chinese trenches. Then to all of their surprise they stormed and unoccupied Chenjiahang without firing a shot. Kuse and his men suddenly saw a grenade come flying at them. Kuse was injured and taken out by comrades to the rear. Chenjiahang and been bitterly fought over for weeks. Alongside Yanghang it was considered two key points necessary for the Japanese to be able to advance against Dachang further south.  Meanwhile Sichuanese troops were being pulled back for the fresh 4 Guangxi divisions to come in. They wore lighter brown uniforms with British styled tin hat helmets. One of their divisions, the 173rd was sent straight to Chenjiahang, arriving before dawn of the 16th. While the handover of positions was taking place, the Japanese launched an intense aerial and artillery bombardment causing significant casualties before the 173rd could even deploy. Later that day, one of their regiments engaged the Japanese and were slaughtered on the spot. Two-thirds of their men became casualties. The battle raged for four days as the 3 other Guangxi divisions moved to the front. There was no break on either side, as one Guanxi officer recalled, “I had heard the expression ‘storm o f steel’ before, but never really understood what it meant. Now I do.” By mid October, Matsui’s optimism about his southern push was waning. Heavy rain over the past week had slowed his men down considerably. Supplies were taking much longer to reach the front. Intelligence indicated the senior Chinese commanders had moved from Suzhou to Nanxiang, with some in Shanghai proper. To Matsui this meant they were nowhere near close to abandoning Shanghai. Matsui wrote in his diary “It’s obvious that earlier views that the Chinese front was shaken had been premature. Now is definitely not the time to rashly push the offensive.” During this rainy time, both sides received some rest as a no-mans land formed. Winter uniforms were arriving for the Japanese 3rd and 11th divisions, causing some encouragement. The 3rd division had already taken 6000 casualties, but received 6500 reinforcements. Matsui estimated their combat strength to only by one-sixth of its original level.  On the 19th Matsui received reports that soldiers from Guangxi were arriving in Shanghai and deploying around Wusong Creek. To relieve some pressure the IJN sent a mock invasion force up the Yangtze to perform a 3 day diversion mission. 8 destroyers and 20 transport vessels anchored 10 miles upriver from Chuanshakou. They bombarded the area to make it seem like a amphibious invasion was imminent. Meanwhile both nations were fighting a propaganda war. On October 14th, China filed a complaint at the League of Nations accusing Japan of using poison gas in Shanghai. To this the Japanese accused them of using gas, specifically mentioning at the battle for Chenjiahang. Early in the campaign they accused the Chinese of using sneezing gas, a chemical adopted during WW1. To this accusation, Shanghai’s mayor Yu Hongjun stated to reporters ‘The Japanese sneeze because they’ve got cold feet.” Back to our friend Ogishima with the 101st. His unit crossed the Wusong Creek early on. Afterwards the fighting became confused as the Chinese and Japanese started across 150 yards of no man’s land. Every now and then the Japanese would leap out of trenches and charge into Chinese lines, but the attacks all ended the same. Rows of the dead cut down by machine guns. It was just like the western front of WW1. The incessant rain kept the trenches drenched like knee-deep bogs. Officers who had read about the western front routinely had their men line up for health checks. Anyone trying to fake a disease risked being branded a deserter, and deserters were shot. As Ogishima recalled “The soldiers in the frondine only have one thought on their minds. They want to escape to the rear. Everyone envies those who, with light injuries, are evacuated. The ones who unexpectedly get a ticket back in this way find it hard to conceal their joy. As for those left in the frontline, they have no idea if their death warrant has already been signed, and how much longer they have to live.” Nohara Teishin with the 9th division experienced pure hell fighting entrenched Chinese firing through holes in walls of abandoned farm buildings. Japanese officers urged their men to charge over open fields. Out of 200 men he fought with, 10 were able to fight after the battle. As Nohara recalled “All my friends died there. You can’t begin to describe the wretchedness and misery of war.” Watanabe Wushichi, an officer in the 9th division was given orders to secure water supplies for the front line troops. A task that seemed simple enough given the sheer amount of creeks and ponds in the area. However they were all filled with corpses now. For many troops dying of thirst, it became so unbearable when anyone came across an unpolluted well, they would crown around it like zombies turning into a mud pool. Officers were forced to post guards at all discovered water sources. Watanabe was shocked by the Chinese fierceness in battle. At one point he was attacked pillboxes and upon inspecting the captured ones he was horrified to see how many Chinese bodies lay inside still clutching their rifles.  International outcry mounted over the invasion. On October 5th, president Franklin Roosevelt made a speech in Chicago calling for concrete steps to be taken against Japan. “It would seem to be unfortunately true that the epidemic of world lawlessness is spreading. When an epidemic of physical disease starts to spread the community approves and joins in a quarantine of the patients in order to protect the community against the spread of the disease.” Meanwhile Chiang Kai-Shek pushed the international community to sanction Japan and deprive her of oil, iron, steal, all materials needed for waging her illegal war. The League of Nations proved completely inept. On October 21st, Japanese foreign minister Hirota Koki approached the German ambassador in Tokyo, Herbert von Dirksen, asking if China was willing to negotiate. Germany declared she was willing to act as mediator, and to this Japan sent demands. Japan sought for Chinese concessions in north China and a demilitarized zone around Shanghai. Germany’s ambassador to Nanjing, Oskar Trautmann conveyed this to Chiang Kai-Shek. Instead of replying Chiang asked the German what he thought. Trautmann said he considered the demands a basis for further talks and gave the example of what happened to his nation at the negotiating table during WW1. To this Chiang scoffed and made it clear he intended to restore the situation to its pre-hostile state before any talks.  Back at the front, Bai Chongxi planned his counterattack into the right flank of the Japanese. The attack was set for the 21st. The Guangxi troops at Chenjiahang were extricated and sent to assembly points. Matsui wrote in his diary on the 23rd “The enemy will launch a counterattack along the entire front tonight. It seems the planned attack is mainly targeted at the area south of Wusong Creek. It will give us an opportunity to catch the enemy outside of his prepared defenses, and kill him there. At 7pm the Chinese artillery began, an hour later troops were advancing east. The left wing of the Chinese attack, led by the 176th Guangxi Division north of Wusong Creek, initially advanced swiftly. However, it soon encountered significant obstacles, including numerous creeks and canals that disrupted progress. Concerned about supply trains lagging behind, the vanguard decided to relinquish much of the ground it had gained as dawn approached, hoping to reclaim it later that night. Meanwhile, the 174th Guangxi Division’s assault south of Wusong Creek also struggled. It met unexpectedly strong resistance and had difficulty crossing the canals due to insufficient bridge-building materials. Fearing artillery and air attacks before dawn, this division retreated to its starting line, abandoning the hard-won territory from the previous night. Both divisions then dug in, preparing to withstand a counterattack during the daylight hours, when the Japanese forces could fully leverage their air superiority. As anticipated, the counterattack occurred after sunrise on October 22. In the 176th Division's sector, Japanese forces surrounded an entire battalion by noon, resulting in its complete destruction, including the battalion commander. The main success for the day came from a Guangxi unit that, despite facing an attack from Japanese infantry supported by five tanks, managed to hold its ground. Initially on the verge of collapse, they organized a rapid defense that repelled the Japanese assault. One tank was destroyed, two became stuck in a canal, and two others retreated, highlighting the challenges of tank warfare in the riverine terrain around Shanghai. An after-action report from the Guangxi troops read  “The Japanese enemy’s army and air force employed every kind of weapon, from artillery to tanks and poison gas,” it said. “It hit the Chinese front like a hurricane, and resulted in the most horrific losses yet for the army group since it entered the battle.” As the sun rose on the 23rd, Japanese airplanes took to the skies. At 9:00 a.m., they targeted the already battered 174th Guangxi Division south of Wusong Creek. A Guangxi general who survived the assault recounted the devastation: “The troops were either blown to pieces or buried in their dugouts. The 174th disintegrated into a state of chaos.” Other units suffered similarly catastrophic losses. By the end of October 23, the Chinese operation had incurred heavy casualties, including two brigade commanders, six regimental commanders, and around 2,000 soldiers, with three out of every five troops in the first wave either killed or injured. Consequently, the assault had to be called off. Bai Chongxi’s counterattack was a complete disaster. Many Guangxi veterans would hold grudges for years for what was seen as a senseless and hopeless battle.  Meanwhile in Zhabei Zhang Boting, the 27th year old chief of staff of the 88th division came to the headquarters of General Gu Zhutong, urging him to move to a safer location, only to be told “Chiang Kai-shek wants your division to stay in Zhabei and fight. Every company, every platoon, every squad is to defend key buildings in the city area, and villages in the suburbs. You must fight for every inch of land and make the enemy pay a high price. You should launch guerrilla warfare, to win time and gain sympathy among our friends abroad.” The command had more to do with diplomacy than any battlefield strategy. The Nine-Powers Conference was set for Brussels the following week and it was important China kept a spectacle going on in Shanghai for the foreigners. If the war advanced into lesser known hamlets in the countryside there would be no talk amongst the great powers. To this explanation Zhang Boting replied “Outside o f the streets of Zhabei, the suburbs consist o f flat land with little opportunity for cover. It’s not suitable for guerrilla warfare. The idea o f defending small key points is also difficult. The 88th Division has so far had reinforcements and replacements six times, and the original core of officers and soldiers now make up only 20 to 30 percent. It’s like a cup o f tea. If you keep adding water, it becomes thinner and thinner. Some of the new soldiers we receive have never been in a battle, or never even fired a shot. At the moment we rely on the backbone o f old soldiers to train them while fighting. As long as the command system is in place and we can use the old hands to provide leadership, we’ll be able to maintain the division as a fighting force. But if we divide up the unit, the coherence will be lost. Letting every unit fight its own fight will just add to the trouble.” Zhang Boting then rushed east to the 88th divisional HQ inside the Sihang Warehouse laying just across from the International settlement. Here a final stand would be made and whose participants would be known as the 800 heroes, but that's a story for a later podcast.  Zhang Boting had returned to his HQ on October 26th, by then the Shanghai situation had deteriorated dramatically. The stalemate around Wusong Creek had suddenly collapsed. The IJA 9th division broke the Guangxi forces and now Matsui planned for a major drive south against Dachang. Before he even had time to meet with his colleagues the 3rd and 9th divisions reached Zoumatang Creek, which ran west to east two miles south of Wusong Creek. In preparation for the continued advance, the Japanese began dropping leaflets over the Chinese positions. Each one offered the soldiers who laid down their arms 5 Chinese yuan each, roughly half a US dollar each at the time. This did not meet much results, as the Chinese knew the Japanese rarely took prisoners. Instead the Guangxi troops continued to retreat after a brutal week of combat. Most of them were moving to prepared positions north and south of the Suzhou Creek, the last remaining natural obstacle to stop the Japanese conquest of Shanghai. In the early hours of the 25th the Japanese gradually realized the Chinese were withdrawing. The Japanese unleashed hundreds of aircraft and employed creeping barrages with their artillery. This may have been the first instance they employed such WW1 tactics during the campaign. The barrage was kept 700 yards in front of the advancing Japanese forces, giving the Chinese ample time to emerge from cover and re-man positions they had abandoned under artillery fire. Despite a general withdrawal, the Chinese also mounted a strong defense around Dachang.  Two strategic bridges across Zoumatang Creek, located west of Dachang, were defended by one division each. The 33rd Division, a recent arrival in Shanghai, was tasked with securing the westernmost bridge, Old Man Bridge, while the 18th Division, also newly arrived, was stationed near Little Stone Bridge, closer to Dachang. However, neither division was capable of stopping the advancing Japanese forces. On October 25, a Japanese column, led by more than 20 tanks, overwhelmed the 33rd Division's defenses and captured Old Man Bridge. As the Chinese division attempted a fighting retreat toward Dachang, it suffered severe casualties due to superior Japanese firepower. By mid-afternoon, only one in ten of its officers and soldiers remained fit for combat, and even the division commander had been wounded. The Japanese force then advanced to Little Stone Bridge, and after intense fighting with the 18th Division that lasted until sunset, they captured the bridge as well. Meanwhile, the 18th Division fell back into Dachang, where their commander, Zhu Yaohua, received a blunt order from Gu Zhutong to hold Dachang at all costs, warning that disobedience would lead to court-martial. Concerned that losing Little Stone Bridge might already jeopardize his position, Zhu Yaohua quickly organized a nighttime counterattack to reclaim it. However, the Japanese had anticipated this move and fortified their defenses near the bridge, leading to a disastrous failure for the Chinese. On October 26, the Japanese unleashed all available resources in an all-out assault on Dachang. The town had been nearly reduced to rubble, with only the ancient wall remaining as evidence of its former population. Up to 400 airplanes, including heavy bombers, targeted Chinese troops in and around Dachang, causing significant casualties among both soldiers and pack animals. A Western correspondent watching from afar described it as the “fiercest battle ever waged in Asia up to that time. A tempest of steel unleashed by Japanese planes, which flew leisurely overhead while observation balloons guided them to their targets. The curtain of fire never lifted for a moment from the Chinese trenches”. Following the aerial assault, more than 40 Japanese tanks emerged west of Dachang. The Chinese forces found themselves defenseless against this formidable armored column, as they had already relocated their artillery to safer positions behind the front lines. Left to fend for themselves, the Chinese infantry was quickly overwhelmed by the advancing wall of enemy tanks. The defending divisions, including Zhu Yaohua’s 18th Division, stood no chance against such material superiority and were swiftly crushed. After a brief skirmish, the victorious Japanese forces marched in to claim Dachang, which had become a sea of flames. Matsui observed the scene with deep satisfaction as the Rising Sun banner flew over the smoldering ruins of the town. “After a month of bitter fighting, today we have finally seen the pay-off,”. In stark contrast, Zhu Yaohua faced immediate criticism from his superiors and peers, many of whom believed he could have done more to resist the Japanese onslaught. The weight of this humiliation became unbearable for him. Just two days after his defeat at Dachang, he shot himself in the chest ending his life. 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 [http://www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals]. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. In late September, the Battle of Shanghai intensified as Japanese forces surged with reinforcements, pressing against Chinese defenses in Luodian. Amidst chaos, Japanese soldiers like Ogishima fought bravely in the trenches, witnessing unimaginable carnage. As October began, the battle's brutality escalated, with waves of attacks resulting in devastating casualties on both sides. However, the Chinese forces showcased remarkable resilience, adapting their strategies and fortifying defenses, marking a significant chapter in their struggle for sovereignty against overwhelming odds.

Last time we spoke about a major Chinese counter offensive at Shanghai. "Black Saturday," saw over a thousand civilians killed. In response, Chinese leader Chiang Kai-shek launched Operation Iron Fist on August 17, aiming to exploit weaknesses in Japanese defenses but failing due to disarray and entrenched opposition. Amid mounting pressure, Chinese commanders redirected their strategy toward Yangshupu, seeking to breach Japanese lines along the Huangpu River. The 36th Infantry Division, newly trained by German advisers, launched a surprise assault on August 19, but inexperienced troops faced relentless Japanese fire, struggling to hold their positions. As casualties mounted, the Japanese executed strategic landings at Chuanshakou and Wusong, capturing key points with minimal resistance. The battle at Baoshan became emblematic of their resistance, where a handful of defenders vowed to fight to the last man, encapsulating the desperation and bravery of those battling under the shadow of impending defeat.    #159 The Battle of Shanghai Part 4: The Battle for Luodian 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 early days of September, a profound sense of resignation descended upon the senior Chinese commanders as the Japanese troops captured stronghold after stronghold along the riverbank, first Shizilin, then Wusong, and finally Baoshan. Despite the resignation among their leaders, the rank and file remained resolute in their determination to defend every inch of Chinese soil. The fighting along Wusong Creek, extending west from Wusong, became particularly brutal. “There were huge numbers of deaths on both sides, and the water of the creek turned red,” wrote Chinese official Wang Jieshi in his diary. “The saying about ‘rivers of blood’ became a grim reality.” Meanwhile the Japanese were landing more reinforcements, such as the Tida detachment on September 6. The next day Tokyo HQ authorized the dispatch of the 9th, 13th and 101st divisions and the Shigeto Detachment to Shanghai. That same day over 10 Japanese infantry battalions were ordered to advance from Northeast China to Shanghai. The situation was dire for the Chinese. Not only were their frontline units struggling in battle, but they were also sustaining exceptionally high casualties. By early September, Yao Ziqing's 98th Infantry Division had suffered 4,960 casualties, including a regimental commander killed and another wounded. Throughout the battle for Shanghai, various units within the division received reinforcements up to four times. Upon arrival, these reinforcements were quickly armed and sent directly to the front lines. As recalled by Fang Jing “Some were injured almost immediately after arriving. When they reached the hospital, they had no idea which unit they belonged to.” The string of defeats and setbacks significantly affected morale within the Chinese Army, particularly among senior officers. While the lower ranks generally showed a willingness to continue the fight, high-ranking officials exhibited waning resolve. “All my soldiers have been sacrificed. There’s nobody left,” Xia Chuzhong, commander of the 79th Division, lamented in a phone call to Luo Zhuoying, head of the 18th Army, part of the 15th Army Group. In response, Luo Zhuoying urged, “Aren’t you still standing? Hold your ground and fight.” Having lost Baoshan the next defensive position was the small town of Luodian, the transportation center connecting Baoshan, downtown Shanghai, Jiading, Songjiang and several other towns via highways. The successful defense of Luodian was crucial for the security of Suzhou and Shanghai. On August 29, German adviser Alexander von Falkenhausen warned Chiang Kai-shek that the town needed to be held at all costs, describing it as "the most crucial strategic point.”. Chiang Kai-shek was determined to hold on to Luodian. He personally summoned senior commanders to the 3rd War Zone headquarters in Suzhou, emphasizing that the town must be retaken at all costs. In response, the commanders deployed entire divisions to the battle for Luodian. During one of several Chinese assaults, Qiu Weida, a regimental commander in the 51st Infantry Division, led a night attack on the southern part of Luodian. Moving quietly through the darkness, the Chinese force, about two companies strong, approached a Japanese camp, most of whose soldiers were asleep. The Chinese launched a swift attack, giving the Japanese no chance to react. They shot and bayoneted soldiers while they were still lying down, successfully taking over the camp and preparing for a counterattack. When the Japanese responded, the Chinese staged a fighting retreat, deliberately luring the enemy into an open area where well-armed soldiers lay in ambush. As the Japanese advanced, Qiu Weida signaled with a flare, a pre-arranged signal to open fire. Infantry weapons of various calibers joined in the assault. As dawn broke, Qiu raised his binoculars to survey the scene, which was a disturbing sight, covered with a tangled mass of dead and dying bodies. The Japanese commanders launched what they hoped would be the decisive blow to break out from the Baoshan perimeter. Elements of the 3rd Division were tasked with moving down the road toward Liuhang and occupying Yanghang. Meanwhile, the 11th Division’s Amaya Detachment, which had arrived in Wusong on September 2, was to seize Yuepu, a village on the other strategic road leading west from Baoshan that blocked access to Luodian and the opportunity to link up with other units of the 11th Division fighting in the area. This operation aimed to create the necessary space for a full assault on Shanghai, and the Japanese dedicated every available resource to the effort. The artillery barrage began before dawn on September 1, with Japanese guns of all calibers participating. For more than two weeks, the Japanese had been able to disembark supplies at landing sites along the Yangtze and Huangpu Rivers. After daybreak, air raids intensified unusually, with the Japanese seemingly deploying all available aircraft in this narrow part of the front. Eventually, the Japanese infantry prepared to launch their attack. While this was simply the latest in a series of Japanese assaults, the sheer tenacity displayed indicated to the Chinese that this time was different. However, after an entire day of fighting, little territorial gain was made. The defenders fought with a determination bordering on fanaticism, despite a total lack of air and artillery support, effectively utilizing the obstacles created by canals that cut through the heavily cultivated area. By sunset, the Japanese had advanced no further than the eastern edge of Yuepu, although the village had been completely destroyed by artillery fire. Yanghang remained firmly in Chinese hands. In the countryside between the two western roads leading from Baoshan, Japanese units had only managed to occupy territory where their artillery and aircraft had utterly obliterated the defenders. To an outsider, it might seem that the Chinese could breathe a sigh of relief. However, from the perspective of Chinese commanders, the situation was vastly different. Their primary concern was the Japanese superiority in artillery. The contested area north of Shanghai consisted mainly of low-lying rice and cotton fields with relatively few trees, offering insufficient camouflage for all but the smallest units. This allowed Japanese naval gunners on the elevated waters of the Yangtze and Huangpu to sometimes directly observe Chinese troops. Even when there was no direct line of sight from the ships in the rivers, they were aided by the directions of observers patrolling in aircraft or hovering in balloons over the horizon. The Chinese had long realized that exposing their units to continuous attack from naval guns played directly into the Japanese hands. They understood that they needed to move away from the riverbank and the lethal fire of the IJN Although the decision to withdraw would have been made sooner or later, it was hastened by the relentless Japanese pressure on the two roads from Baoshan, as their loss would create a breach between Zhang Zhizhong’s 9th Army Group in the Shanghai area and Chen Cheng’s 15th Army Group to the left. General Gu Zhutong, a member of Chiang Kai-shek’s inner circle who had recently been appointed deputy commander of the 3rd War Zone, witnessed how some of the best divisions were being decimated in the defense of Yuepu and Yanghang. Meanwhile, Zhang Zhizhong was pushing for the withdrawal of troops in Yangshupu, which risked becoming a dangerously exposed salient if a breach occurred. The order for the two Chinese army groups to withdraw came late on September 11. Under the cover of darkness, the bulk of the divisions pulled back to positions reinforced by reserves in the preceding days. As thousands of soldiers moved several miles to the rear, the Japanese remained unaware that anything unusual was occurring, and the entire movement took place without enemy harassment. Only skeleton crews remained in the original Chinese positions. By the morning of September 12, the new frontline stretched from the North Railway Station to the eastern edge of Jiangwan, bent west of Yanghang and Luodian, and extended north to the banks of the Yangtze. Unbeknownst to them, the Japanese had become masters of heavily contested areas from Yangshupu in the south to Yuepu in the north. The Chinese military leadership attempted to explain to the public that it had no choice but to withdraw and had never seriously expected to be able to push the Japanese back into the Yangtze, given the hundreds of naval guns at their disposal. A military spokesman said “The objective of the Chinese command was to delay and harass the landing. It was never hoped that we would permanently repel the landing.” The Chinese expressed confidence in their new positions, even comparing them to the Maginot Line along the French border with Germany, which of course would become rather ironic. The Japanese now controlled the entire left bank of the Huangpu River from Yangshupu to the mouth of the Yangtze. They had access to several good roads, some interconnected, which could serve as supply lines for future attacks. Additionally, they could exploit a large number of modern Chinese wharfs and docks, setting the stage for a steady flow of reinforcements.  On the 12th, Matsui received word from the Amaya Detachment that it had finally captured Yuepu. After driving the Chinese out of the village, the detachment established a defensive perimeter in a semicircle 500 yards around the western edge. Nearly simultaneously, the Ueno Detachment, a unit attached to the 3rd Division, reported that it had occupied Yanghang and pursued the enemy to a position about two miles west of the village. In both cases, it appeared that the enemy had abandoned their positions under the cover of night. Yet despite the victories Matsui desperately needed more men. In the three weeks leading up to September 11, the Japanese had managed to land 40,000 soldiers and establish a bridgehead measuring roughly 25 miles in length and over five miles in depth. Together with the troops already present in Shanghai, Japan had about 50,000 soldiers in the area. While this was a significant force, it was still insufficient to ensure the conquest of Shanghai, especially given the rapid attrition faced. As of September 9, the 3rd Division had reported losses of 589 killed and 1,539 injured, while the 11th Division recorded 616 dead and 1,336 wounded. But Tokyo was very reluctant to dispatch troops to Shanghai. From the viewpoint of the IJA leadership, Shanghai and Central China were a sideshow to the north china theater, which they alongside the Kwantung Army argued was more essential, given the proximity of the USSR. This belief was strongly reinforced when the Sino-Soviet agreement was signed in late August. Shanghai also heavily favored the Chinese terrain wise, it was basically like the battle of Thermopylae, instead of a mountain pass it was an extremely concentrated urban area. Then there was one of the main advocates opposing the China War altogether, Kanji Ishiwara. The entire time he was screaming and lecturing non-expansion and advised diplomacy and to even form an alliance with China against the USSR. Concentrating on China and ignoring the Soviet menace was, in his eyes, like “chasing the dogs away from the front door while forgetting the wolves approaching the back door.” However, Ishiwara’s reluctance to send more troops to Shanghai was overruled. On September 4, a meeting of officers in Tokyo concluded that the battle in the Shanghai area should be completed by late October or early November, and to that end, sufficient troops should be deployed. Three days later, Emperor Hirohito approved reinforcements for the Shanghai front, including the dispatch of three additional infantry divisions from the home islands, along with units from the garrison forces in Taiwan. Ishiwara was so upset by this decision that he submitted his resignation, although he was later appointed to a position in the army in northeastern China. There was little doubt among Japanese leaders that the deployment of these reinforcements marked a significant escalation in the war. The situation was unlike anything Japan had ever experienced before. Army Minister Sugiyama Hajime remarked in a statement to his commanders, “This war has become total war.” A junior Japanese officer inspecting the Shanghai front reported upon his return to Tokyo “The enemy resistance is undeniably strong. Whether they are bombed out or surrounded, they do not retreat.” Luodian had remained under Japanese control since late August, but the surrounding countryside largely remained Chinese territory. Despite increasing pressure after the Chinese withdrawal to the south on September 12, the Japanese advanced only slowly and hesitantly. Taken aback by the sudden gains at Yuepu and Yanghang, and revealing their typical tardiness in responding to unforeseen events, it took them several days to even dispatch patrols for probing attacks against the new Chinese defenses. This delay provided Chinese commanders with extra time to reinforce their positions near Luodian, particularly on both sides of the road from Yuepu, which they correctly assumed would be the primary route for the Japanese attackers. Chinese preparations were just one reason Japan's mid-September assault was only moderately successful. Like the Chinese, the Japanese had yet to develop much skill in coordinating infantry and armor operations. The road connecting Yuepu and Luodian was of relatively good quality, enabling the Japanese to deploy about 25 tanks as the spearhead of their thrust. These armored vehicles quickly eliminated the Chinese positions closest to the road and advanced rapidly toward Luodian. However, the accompanying infantry from the Amaya Detachment was unable to keep pace. The Japanese only held a few yards of terrain on either side of the road. Beyond that narrow strip, the area was swarming with Chinese soldiers, making the advancing Japanese infantry easy targets. The Japanese infantry became bogged down, and it was only after dark, when the Chinese defenders north of the road chose to withdraw westward, that the Japanese had a chance to reach Luodian. The debacle on the road to Luodian was not solely a result of flawed training within the Japanese ranks. The area around Shanghai, a patchwork of small farm plots divided by creeks and canals, was ill-suited for tank warfare. This terrain had previously been a key argument against large-scale deployments by the Japanese Army. Nevertheless, once the decision was made in Tokyo to send enough troops to win the battle for the city, the generals had to strategize ways to overcome these terrain challenges. One proposed solution was to deploy amphibious tanks. However, the tactics employed called for using the tanks in a supportive role rather than leading the attacks across waterways. If a creek needed to be crossed, Japanese commanders would first order a small infantry unit to wade or swim to the opposite bank and prepare it for the tanks to land under the cover of darkness. While it was still dark, the tanks would cross and provide support to the infantry by daybreak. This cumbersome procedure often felt like putting the cart before the horse, but the Japanese executed it precisely as prescribed, time and again. This predictability allowed their Chinese opponents to acclimate to Japanese tactics to such an extent that they could usually anticipate what the Japanese would do next. While flawed tactics prevented either side from breaking the stalemate at the Luodian front, both continued to pour in reinforcements. The Shigeto Detachment arrived from Taiwan and was attached to the 11th Division on September 14, the same day the Amaya Detachment made its way up the road from Yuepu to return to the division’s direct command. By mid-September, the division had grown into a sizeable fighting force. However, the enemy it faced around Luodian was also growing stronger by the day, posing a significant threat to the division’s right flank if it were to rush south toward Dachang to link up with the 3rd Division. Therefore, on September 18, the Shanghai commanders ordered the division to focus initially on eliminating the Chinese troops amassed around Luodian. By this time, heavy rain had already fallen in the Shanghai region for three days, gradually slowing the fighting. The Japanese disliked the rain, as it turned the roads into muddy rivers, making transportation difficult, if not impossible, while also grounding most of their aircraft. In contrast, the Chinese welcomed the lull, as it provided them with an opportunity to improve their positions. The challenge of breaking through the Chinese defenses was only becoming more difficult as time passed. The Chinese Army’s performance during the initial stage of the fighting in Shanghai altered the world's perception of the nation’s military capabilities. China, which had lost every war over the past century, invariably to nations much smaller than itself, had suddenly taken a stand. At Shanghai, the Chinese Army experienced more intense fighting than anyone could have anticipated, suffering losses that had taken years to build up. However, it had gained prestige and respect, even among its Japanese adversaries. Even the withdrawal on September 12 was met with sympathy and admiration in capitals around the world. Every journalist in Shanghai during the fall of 1937 had a story to tell about the remarkable Chinese soldier. American journalist Carroll Alcott spent many hours in dugouts in Zhabei. “While Japanese shells pelted down over their heads, the Chinese soldiers sat unfazed in their self-made caves, cooking rice, vegetables, and occasionally a small bit of pork over a charcoal brazier. They dispelled the inevitable boredom with games of checkers and mahjong and wrote letters home to their families. In the Chinese trenches, there was a sense of safety and a primitive kind of comfort”. Chiang Kai-shek had decided as early as September 15 that changes were needed at the top of the command in the 3rd War Zone. What this meant became clear six days later when Chiang sent two separate cables to the zone’s senior officers. In the first cable, he announced that he would take over command of the 3rd War Zone from Feng Yuxiang, and dispatched him to the 6th War Zone further north. This was a sideways move rather than a direct demotion, but it undeniably removed Feng Yuxiang from the most crucial theater at the time. Despite this, the decision seemed logical to most senior officers in Suzhou. Feng Yuxiang had never effectively managed the 3rd War Zone during his time in command. None of his direct subordinates truly considered him to be in charge; instead, they continued to view Chiang as their actual commander. In the second cable of the day, Chiang Kai-shek went a step further by relieving Zhang Zhizhong of his duties as commander of the 9th Army Group. He replaced him with General Zhu Shaoliang, a staunch ally and, if possible, an even more vehement opponent of communism than himself. For Zhang Zhizhong, the decision was no major surprise, as he had faced Chiang Kai-shek’s constant reproaches since the early days of the battle. Although Chiang initially selected Zhang due to his close connections with the divisional commanders he led, he grew increasingly disenchanted with Zhang's style of command characterized by “much talk and little action” and expressed his irritation both publicly and privately. There may have been an additional reason for this. Disagreements among the top echelons of the 3rd War Zone threatened to bring about paralysis. Zhang Zhizhong had not gotten along well with Chen Cheng, the commander of the neighboring 11th Army Group. Zhang had told anyone who would listen, “Chen Cheng isn’t capable enough,”to which Chen retorted, “Zhang Zhizhong loves to show off.”  The strain that Shanghai was under also had an economic aspect. Although it had been a bumper year for both rice and cotton,  the two most popular crops in the area and many farmers were unable to harvest due to the continued heavy fighting around the city. Labor disputes simmered and occasionally erupted into open conflict. On September 14, a group of workers hired on short-term contracts by the Fou Foong Flour Mill in the western part of the International Settlement locked themselves inside and refused to leave until their demand for ten months’ salary was met. Police and members of the Reserve Unit, a special anti-riot outfit, attacked the premises with tear gas and managed to disperse the protesters. Subsequently, ambulances transported 25 injured individuals to various hospitals from the mill. As if the city was not already suffering enough hardship, a cholera epidemic broke out, taking a particularly heavy toll on the poorest inhabitants. As of September 13, the outbreak had lasted for a month, with 119 confirmed cases and nine deaths. Less than a fortnight later, it had infected 646 people and resulted in 97 deaths. By early October, when the outbreak peaked, it had claimed a total of 355 lives. These statistics marked only the tip of the iceberg, as they accounted only for patients at hospitals in the International Settlement, excluding the likely much larger numbers in the Chinese part of the city. In a way, these individuals were collateral damage. A doctor who worked with the patients stated with a high degree of certainty that the disease had likely been brought to Shanghai by troops from the south. There existed a large villa overlooking Luodian they Japanese termed “the white house”. The Chinese forces had held the white house for four weeks, demonstrating fierce resistance. Encamped outside, the Japanese Army's 44th Regiment, known as the Kochi Regiment, was gradually being worn down, as their repeated attempts to storm the stronghold had failed. During their time at Luodian, the regiment had made numerous unsuccessful attempts to seize the villa. Limited artillery support hampered their efforts; logistical challenges meant each artillery piece received only one-fifth of its normal daily ammunition supply. On September 19, engineers began digging a tunnel from the trenches toward the White House. Four days later, they had excavated exactly 35 yards, effectively halving the distance the infantry would need to cross exposed ground before reaching the villa's defenses. A new attack was launched on the 23rd, beginning with an artillery bombardment, followed by air raids. Next, tanks advanced toward the walls, with small clusters of soldiers trailing behind. This attack included a surprise element for the Chinese defenders: as the offensive unfolded, a tunnel’s entrance erupted open, allowing soldiers to emerge in single file close to the wall too quickly for the Chinese machine gunners to adjust their aim. The soldiers rushed forward, bearing heavy satchels of explosives. Pressing against the wall, they ignited the fuses and sought cover as loud explosions rang out. When the dust settled, the Japanese surged through the new openings in the walls, spreading out within the compound. After a fierce battle lasting two and a half hours, the building was captured by the Japanese troops. Despite losing the "White House," Lin Yindong, the commander of the 1st Battalion, was awarded an A-2 grade for the "Medal of the Armed Forces." He was also promoted to lieutenant colonel and appointed as the regimental attaché of the 66th Regiment for successfully defending the "White House" against a numerically superior enemy for nearly a month. The capture of the White House was part of a significant offensive launched by the 11th Division in the Luodian area. Initially scheduled for September 20, the operation faced delays of several days due to prolonged preparations, a common issue in the challenging countryside surrounding Shanghai. The division chose to attack south of the town with a narrow front to concentrate enough forces to deliver a powerful, unified strike against Chinese positions. The Japanese employed massed armor in their assault, deploying aircraft to neutralize any anti-tank weapons that emerged. These tactics proved effective, as the Chinese were pushed back in multiple sections of the front. To marshal sufficient troops for the attack, the division assigned the Shigeto Detachment to cover its right flank north and west of Luodian. However, the newly arrived detachment, full of morale, exceeded its mandate by launching a vigorous counterattack against the Chinese in its sector. Unfortunately, their efforts yielded little significant progress, and they suffered heavy casualties. As Matsui would report "The detachment has already had 200 casualties. They can’t keep attacking blindly like this."  Further south, the 3rd Japanese Division also mounted attacks against Chinese forces, primarily around Liuhang. The fighting revealed Japan's material superiority, which was so pronounced that the Chinese refrained from deploying heavy artillery, even when available. Anti-aircraft guns were strategically positioned near artillery batteries, but the Chinese were reluctant to use them for fear of revealing their locations. Consequently, the Chinese Army found itself with virtually no air defense. Overall, local Chinese reserves struggled to repel the Japanese advances, leading to a shift from the see-saw battles that had characterized the front since early September. The Japanese gradually maintained their positions even after nightfall.  Despite their numerical superiority, defending Luodian proved nearly impossible for the Chinese forces. The Japanese's overwhelming firepower forced the Chinese into a defensive posture, preventing them from launching counterattacks until the enemy was almost upon them. Consequently, the decision was made to hold the entire town at all costs, a tactic that significantly increased the attrition rate within Chinese ranks. General Chen Cheng's army group experienced a casualty rate exceeding fifty percent, resulting in more than 15,000 losses. Additionally, units from Xue Yue's 19th Army Group participated in the combat southwest of Luodian and suffered severe casualties. The 59th and 90th divisions of the 4th Corps endured seventy to eighty percent losses within just five days. The training brigade of the 66th Corps reported 3,003 casualties after several days of fighting. Faced with these circumstances, Chinese commanders decided to execute another major retreat along the entire front north of Shanghai. They took advantage of a lull in Japanese assaults on September 25 to withdraw approximately one mile to a new defensive line. As before, this retreat was conducted with great discipline, and it took the Japanese two more days to fully comprehend that the Chinese forces had disappeared from their positions.  In the wake of these Japanese successes, significant changes began to unfold. The three divisions that the Japanese high command had dispatched to the Shanghai area in early September gradually arrived. First to land was the 101st Division, which started disembarking on September 22 and was ordered to position itself on the left flank of the 3rd Division. The 9th Division arrived in the same area on September 27, followed by the 13th Division on October 1. With these reinforcements, Japan now had five divisions stationed in Shanghai, compared to more than 25 divisions fielded by the Chinese. While China's numerical superiority was undeniable, the disparity was not as stark as it appeared. A typical Japanese division consisted of 15,000 men. Combined with the marines and infantry defending Hongkou, Japan had approximately 90,000 soldiers at its disposal in and around the city. In contrast, Chinese divisions often had as few as 5,000 men, making it unlikely that China deployed more than 200,000 soldiers in Shanghai at that time. Furthermore, the Japanese compensated for their numerical disadvantage with significant superiority in materials, aircraft, and naval artillery, which could still reach key areas within the Chinese front. Overall, the addition of the three new divisions significantly bolstered the Japanese forces, prompting Matsui and his staff to begin preparations for what they hoped would be the decisive strike against the Chinese defenders. Their plan was straightforward: they intended to execute a powerful thrust across Wusong Creek and advance toward Suzhou Creek. The goal was to encircle and annihilate the main Chinese force in a maneuver they had envisioned since their arrival in China. After all, encirclement was the cornerstone of Japanese military doctrine. 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 [http://www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals]. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. In August 1937, the Battle of Luodian raged as Chinese forces faced relentless Japanese attacks. After initial successes, the Chinese struggled under heavy casualties and dwindling morale. They fought fiercely to retain the critical town of Luodian, a vital transportation hub. Despite courageous defensive efforts, including a surprise night assault, the Japanese overwhelmed the Chinese with superior numbers and artillery. Encounters turned devastating, with both sides suffering severe losses. By late September, as the Japanese received reinforcements, the situation forced the Chinese to retreat, marking the beginning of a dire struggle for Shanghai's control.

Last time we spoke about Black Saterday and Operation Iron Fist. Conflict erupted in Shanghai on August 13, when Japanese marines disguised as civilians provoked Chinese guards, resulting in fierce gunfire and urban warfare. Both sides engaged in skirmishes around vital locations, with the Eight Character Bridge becoming a focal point. On August 14, air raids misfired catastrophically, killing over a thousand civilians in what became known as "Black Saturday." In an attempt to regain control, Chiang Kai-shek authorized Operation Iron Fist, a bold offensive targeting Japanese strongholds. The attack commenced early on August 17, involving coordinated assaults aimed at exploiting weak points in the enemy defenses. However, poor coordination, entrenched opposition, and the complexity of urban combat resulted in further devastating losses for the Chinese troops. By August 18, Operation Iron Fist had failed, with the Japanese reinforcing their positions and announcing a strategic shift towards expanded military engagement.   #158 The Battle of Shanghai Part 3: The Chinese Counteroffensive “Drive them into the Sea!” 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 August 18, the Japanese military reinforced their presence in Shanghai, shipping an additional 1,400 marines from Manchuria to bolster the ranks of the Japanese Shanghai Special Naval Landing Force or “SNLF”. Yes, all of you who don’t listen to my Pacific War week by week podcast are going to get a lot of acronym lessons soon. And yes, they are not quote en quote real marines, but like most telling these stories its easier to refer to them this way. This influx of troops was a significant escalation in the ongoing conflict, heightening tensions as the battle for control intensified. As the battle in Shanghai raged on, a growing sentiment emerged among Chinese leaders that crucial chances had been squandered. On August 18, Chiang Kai-shek sent his trusted aide, Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng, to confer with General Zhang Zhizhong at the front lines. They assessed the situation and agreed that instead of attacking the heavily fortified Hongkou area, they should redirect their focus to the Yangshupu district. The aim was to breach the defenses and split the Japanese forces along the Huangpu River. This strategic shift was precisely what the German military advisers and frontline commanders had anticipated, signaling a decisive move away from their earlier hesitance to engage within settlement boundaries. As attrition took its toll on the Chinese troops already committed in Shanghai, the responsibility for the offensive was placed on the newly arrived 36th Infantry Division, a unit highly trained by German forces. They were positioned to advance from the eastern edge of Hongkou, with two regiments tasked to march south toward the Huangpu. In the early hours of the 19th, two regiments of the 36th launched their long-planned attack, moving swiftly towards the front lines. The night was illuminated by the flames of sabotage and incendiary bombs, aiding visibility amid the chaos. However, the assault quickly faced significant challenges. Many of the Chinese soldiers were inexperienced, becoming easy targets for Japanese infantry positioned in rooftops and upper-story windows. In the absence of cover, some troops were forced to take shelter behind the fallen bodies of their comrades. For a moment, the Chinese troops felt a surge of hope, believing they could push the Japanese into the Huangpu River. General Zhang Fakui, observing from the opposite bank, envisioned a breakthrough. However, upon reaching Broadway, parallel to the river, they confronted a formidable barrier. High walls guarded the wharves, and even the largest artillery pieces struggled to breach the defenses. Attempts to scale the steel gate resulted in devastating fire from entrenched Japanese machine gunners, while fortified factories like the Gong Da Cotton Mill proved equally impenetrable. As the Chinese forces suffered under relentless bombardment, their momentum diminished. The 88th Infantry Division, previously effective, showed signs of disarray and hesitated to engage. Compounding their woes, Japanese reinforcements arrived, swelling their ranks to 6,300 well equipped marines. Despite these challenges, the Chinese committed to deploying their newly acquired British built Vickers tanks, a symbol of their efforts to modernize their military over the years. But with each hour, the balance of power tilted further in favor of the Japanese forces. Meanwhile the 87th Infantry Division was assigned two armored companies, yet it suffered catastrophic losses. The tanks, recently shipped from Nanjing, had crews untrained in coordinated assaults, and many were left without infantry support. The Chinese forces struggled to secure adjacent streets, allowing Japanese armor to outflank and destroy their tanks. The Japanese, too, faced coordination challenges between their armor and infantry, resulting in some of their tanks being annihilated by Chinese anti-tank weapons. On the 20th, General Zhang Zhizhong inspected the Yangshupu front and encountered a former student leading a tank company ready to attack the wharves. The tanks, hastily repaired and ill equipped for battle, faced fierce enemy fire, and the young officer expressed concern about the infantry's ability to keep pace. Despite Zhang's insistence that the assault must proceed, the attack ended in disaster as the tank company was decimated by shells from anchored vessels. The battle blended modern warfare with tactics reminiscent of earlier centuries. An officer named Wu Yujun managed a position during a Japanese cavalry attack on the 18th. After two unsuccessful assaults, Wu set an ambush that resulted in the annihilation of the Japanese riders. This incident illustrated the stark contrast on the battlefield where Chinese soldiers often confronted a technologically superior enemy while grappling with their own inexperience.  Many of the Chinese units arriving in Shanghai were very green, countless having never faced battle before, and their lack of experience proved costly in the initial days of fighting. Brigade Commander Fang Jing of the 98th Division observed that his soldiers constructed inadequate fortifications that crumbled under the Japanese 150mm howitzers. He lamented, “Often, the positions they built were too weak and couldn’t withstand the enemy’s artillery,”. On the 20th, 5 Chinese aircraft returned after yet another unsuccessful attack on the Japanese battleship Izumo, which remained anchored in the Huangpu. During their flight over western Zhabei, they encountered two Japanese seaplanes. One Chinese pilot broke formation, diving steeply to fire a brief machine-gun salvo, but his plane was quickly shot down, bursting into flames before crashing. The Chinese attacks had posed a significant threat to Japanese bombers, particularly the vulnerable Mitsubishi G3M medium aircraft targeting Shanghai and central China. Japan's First Combined Air Group suffered heavy losses, with half of its medium attack planes damaged or destroyed within the first three days of fighting. However, the Chinese pilots, largely inexperienced and inadequately trained, began to falter against the superior Japanese fighters, eventually withdrawing from the skies over Shanghai. Ground troops expressed frustration over the lack of effective air support, as they rarely saw their planes after the 20th, instead carrying out major troop movements only under the cover of darkness. The Japanese air superiority drastically affected operations on the ground, dictating when Chinese soldiers could eat and transport supplies. Without effective fighter protection and limited anti-aircraft capabilities, the Chinese troops were left exposed. Most of their anti-aircraft weaponry consisted of 20mm Solothurn guns that were ineffective against aircraft and were more often used against infantry. Officers hesitated to use these guns for fear of revealing their positions to the enemy.  By the morning of the 21st, the 36th Division had been relentlessly attacking the wharf area for over 48 hours, yet victory remained elusive. Although some tanks had infiltrated the wharf, they were met with dishearteningly strong Japanese defenses and a well-manned enemy presence. The commanders recognized that they had advanced too quickly without securing their flanks, and their reserves, which could have provided crucial support, remained in the rear. Reluctantly, they concluded that a withdrawal was necessary. The retreat was a painful acknowledgment that pushing the Japanese into the Huangpu River would not be as straightforward as hoped. Part of the Chinese failure stemmed from an inability to execute joint operations across different military branches. German advisors noted that artillery support for the forces in Yangshupu from the Pudong side was limited. In contrast, Japanese naval guns were actively providing support, significantly relieving the pressure on their marines. This imbalance resulted in heavy losses for the Chinese, with the 36th Division suffering over 2,000 casualties by the late 22nd. Meanwhile, Japanese naval aircraft attempted to impede the movement of additional Chinese troops to Shanghai by bombing the railway from Suzhou. Although several bridges were destroyed and railway stations sustained damage, the delays were minimal, offering some reassurance to Chinese commanders who understood that reinforcements were essential for a successful continuation of the battle. The light cruiser Jintsu, carrying the 3rd Division, set to land six miles north of Shanghai, while the 11th Division would disembark a dozen miles further up the Yangtze River. By the evening of the 21st, the task force arrived at the Yangtze River and the Saddle Islands off the river estuary. The soldiers had to transfer to smaller vessels capable of navigating the shallow waters of the Huangpu River.  On the 23rd, Matsui Iwane got aboard the light cruiser Yura and was greeted by Rear Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, then the commander of the 8th cruiser division. Yes, the same man who would be blamed for losing at Midway in 1942. The Japanese fleet had made a strategic sweep as far south as Hangzhou Bay the previous day to disrupt Chinese troop movements and force them to spread thin along the coast. However, with the landings imminent, it was clear the assault would happen at Wusong and Chuanshakou. Initially, Matsui preferred landing both divisions at Chuanshakou for a sweeping advance into the lightly defended countryside west of Shanghai, which would encircle tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers. The 3rd Fleet, however, proposed a bolder strategy: the 11th Infantry Division would proceed with the landing at Chuanshakou, while the 3rd Infantry Division would land at Wusong, directly confronting the heavily concentrated Chinese forces around Shanghai. This plan aimed to exert pressure from both the front and the rear, a tactic that could yield success but risked high casualties if faced with stiff Chinese resistance. Aware of the operation's risks, the naval officers sought to ease potential tensions with their army counterparts by offering over 500 elite marines to support the assault, preparing for what could be a pivotal moment in the campaign. Shortly after midnight on the 23rd, the marines designated as the primary assault wave at Wusong arrived in a convoy of steamers from Shanghai. Their arrival was eagerly anticipated, as they would spare the 3rd Division from being the first to land. As the naval artillery barrage reached a deafening climax, the boats glided across the smooth water towards the shore. Any time a Chinese machine gun opened fire, it drew immediate response from the Japanese gunners, swiftly silencing the threat. Meanwhile, trench mortars onshore targeted the advancing vessels, but their rounds fell harmlessly into the water without causing any damage. At 3:00 am, the first landing craft reached the bank, dropped anchor, and lowered its ramp. The marines waded ashore, climbing the 15 foot high dike to survey the terrain. Suddenly, machine gun fire erupted from a Chinese position just 50 yards away, cutting down several marines. Undeterred, the marines charged with fixed bayonets across the open field. An explosion marked the spot where a soldier had triggered a landmine, followed by more detonations, but there was no retreat; they pressed on, swarming over the Chinese trench and engaging in a brief yet fierce hand-to-hand struggle. Within moments, they had taken the position. The marines quickly cleared the area, paving a path to their immediate objective, a military road running parallel to the Huangpu River. While setting up defensive positions, the 3rd Division began to disembark at the water’s edge. By 8:00 a.m, the divisional command stepped ashore as the last unit to arrive. Meanwhile, naval pilots were busy bombing and strafing roads further inland to impede any enemy reinforcements. The landing had unfolded with remarkable success, marking a significant moment in the operation and setting the stage for greater advances by Japanese forces. Meanwhile the 11th division began setting foot on the beach north of Chuanshakou at 3:50 am. As the soldiers advanced towards the town's outskirts, they encountered only minimal resistance as Chuanshakou was defended by a single Chinese company.  Matsui was pleased with the outcome; everything had unfolded according to plan and, in fact, better than he had dared to hope. Casualties in both divisions were surprisingly low, amounting to little more than 40 soldiers. At 5:30 am, Zhang Zhizhong received an urgent phone call at his new headquarters in a small village near Nanxiang. On the line was Liu Heding, commander of the 56th Infantry Division, reporting that an enemy force of unknown size had landed near Chuanshakou. With heavy bombardment disrupting communications, details were scarce, but Zhang immediately recognized the gravity of the situation: a new front was opening, complicating his command significantly. Realizing he could not effectively manage the situation from Nanxiang with communications down, Zhang decided to head to the command post of the 87th Infantry Division in Jiangwan, a town closer to the landing area. By the time he arrived at the 87th Division's base, it was nearly 9:00 am. He was informed that the Japanese had not only landed at Chuanshakou but also at Wusong. Recognizing the urgency, he quickly dispatched half of the 87th Infantry Division and a regiment from the recently arrived Training Brigade, an elite unit fresh from Nanjing, to respond to the threat. Given that the 56th Infantry Division alone could not secure the area around Chuanshakou, Zhang assigned the 98th Infantry Division to defend most of the Yangtze riverbank under threat. He also dispatched the 11th Division, which had just arrived in the Shanghai area with Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng to move toward Luodian, a town just a few miles from the landing zone at Chuanshakou.  Meanwhile, the Japanese forces were advancing swiftly. While the main landing contingent engaged in fierce fighting for control of Chuanshakou, a small unit of a few hundred soldiers was dispatched down the road to Luodian. Marching under the scorching August sun, the reservists, weary from the trek, found little resistance upon reaching Luodian. They hastily set up camp without adequately preparing defenses, making them vulnerable targets. Later that afternoon, advance units of the 11th Infantry Division reached Luodian, shaken but determined to attack even after facing air raids on their journey. The ensuing skirmish was swift; within an hour, the Japanese were repelled. Back over at Wusong Hu Guobing received orders to push back the Japanese on August 21st. He led his regiment towards the Japanese lines, as his platoons dispersed further, dividing into smaller squads. Soon, the sharp crack and rattle of small arms fire resonated along the regiment's front. Battalion Commander Qin Shiquan, a graduate of the Central Military Academy, led two companies toward the enemy positions, taking care to remain unnoticed. When they drew close enough, he ordered his bugler to sound the charge. Then, raising his Mauser pistol, he turned to face his men and shouted, “Attack! Attack!” This sudden noise revealed his position, making it vulnerable. Japanese observers hidden nearby quickly relayed his coordinates to warships offshore. Within minutes, shells began to rain down on the unit with alarming accuracy. Amidst the storm of fire unleashed by the Japanese, all semblance of order disintegrated, and chaos ensued as each unit fought to survive. Hu Guobing spent most of the day dodging Japanese aircraft that circled overhead, waiting for targets to emerge. As Hu Guobing recalled “It felt as though the enemy could see everything. It was crucial not to act rashly. Our only real options were to take cover in a hole or hide behind a ridge”. The gunfire continued throughout the afternoon and did not relent until darkness began to fall. Only then could the soldiers breathe a little easier, grab a few bites of their field rations, and quench their parched throats with sips from their water canteens. Seizing the relative safety of night, they hurried to improve their positions, knowing that once dawn arrived, it would be too late; a shallow trench or inadequate camouflage could spell doom. Although it had been Chiang Kai-Shek’s decision to place Zhang Zhizhong and Feng Yuxiang in charge of Shanghai, now designated the 3rd War Zone, he was having regrets. In a telephone conversation with Feng Yuxiang shortly after the Japanese landings, Chiang emphasized the importance of monitoring the younger front-line commanders. He urged “Don’t hesitate to give them advice,”. Feng assured him that he would not hold back. He then recounted an anecdote about General Nogi Maresuke, who, during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905, allegedly delegated all major decisions to his chief of staff. Feng told him “The frontline commanders possess courage and a fighting spirit. Their role is to take orders and engage in battle. Mine is to stay back, like Nogi, write a few poems, and wait for the inevitable,”. Chiang persistently insisted, “Regardless of the situation, don’t be shy. Share your insights with them.” “Of course,” Feng responded. “If I notice something amiss, I’ll address it without hesitation. You can count on me.” However, this assurance did little to calm Chiang’s concerns. A great concern was Zhang Zhizhong. Much of his rhetoric about fighting the Japanese seemed to lack substance. Zhang had not demonstrated the necessary resolve to launch attacks against the small Japanese forces in the city when decisive action could have turned the tide of the battle. With Japanese reinforcements firmly entrenched in two locations within the greater Shanghai area, it was now too late to pursue a quick victory over the enemy. Compounding the issue, Zhang appeared to spend an excessive amount of time making grandiose statements to the newspapers rather than focusing on the ground situation. Chiang’s frustration was palpable, and it was shared by his German advisors, who concurred that Zhang lacked the requisite “toughness” to confront Japanese resistance effectively. The decision to send Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng to the front was an early indication that Chiang was considering replacing Zhang. In a particularly humiliating twist, Zhang was not even informed of Chen Cheng’s appointment and learned about it indirectly through other field commanders. Fearing that he was being sidelined, Zhang Zhizhong hurried to the 3rd War Zone headquarters in Suzhou to assess the situation. While in Suzhou, called Chiang, whom began harshly criticizing him for being so far behind the front lines. “What are you doing in Suzhou? What are you doing in Suzhou?”. Zhang Zhizhong replied “Mr. Chairman, I’m back in Suzhou to discuss important strategic matters. Otherwise, I’m constantly at the front What’s the matter with you?” Chiang was incensed by this perceived disrespect. “What’s the matter with me? You ask me what’s the matter with me!” His voice rising to a hoarse shriek, Chiang Kai-shek abruptly hung up. At this point, Zhang must have had little doubt that his days as the chief field commander were numbered. The Japanese landings had accomplished their immediate objective of relieving pressure on the small marine forces holed up in Shanghai. As a result, the Chinese were forced to halt their attacks on Hongkou and Yangshupu and had to reconsider how to allocate their resources across various fronts. If the Japanese landing party grew large enough, the Chinese forces could risk becoming the target of a Japanese pincer movement. In essence, within a few days, they had shifted from an offensive posture to a defensive one. Against this backdrop, Chen Cheng,  leading the 15th Army Group, arrived in Suzhou on August 24th. His presence aimed to bolster resistance, and he was also there to familiarize himself with local conditions, as he was expected to take on a greater role at the front shortly. Chen's confident demeanor and readiness to overrule local commanders indicated that real authority already resided with him. While he agreed with Zhang Zhizhong's plans from the previous day to counter the landings, he deemed them insufficient given the threat posed by the fresh Japanese troops. Consequently, he ordered that more soldiers be redeployed from Shanghai proper to the landing zones. To counter the dire situation, Falkenhausen devised a plan aimed at reigniting enthusiasm for the offensive among the Chinese forces. During a meeting on the 25th, he proposed rallying all troops in the Luodian area to mount a coordinated attack from all sides against the Japanese landing force. Emphasizing the German preference for a decisive strike, he aimed to push the invaders back into the Yangtze. The assembled officers expressed their agreement with the plan. However, as dawn broke, the optimism from the night’s discussions began to wane. It had been 48 hours since the landings, and the Japanese army had solidified its foothold at Chuanshakou, rapidly approaching a point of strength that would make it nearly impossible to dislodge them. Tanks and artillery were assembled along the riverbank, while engineers constructed a pier to facilitate the faster unloading of troops and supplies. They had already established a bridgehead that extended 10 miles in length and reached a depth of five miles, initiating the construction of a road heading inland, an evident preparation for a major offensive. In a secret report to Chiang Kai-shek, Falkenhausen outlined the challenging situation as the Japanese consolidated their material advantages. “It should be noted that the enemy’s army and navy operate in close coordination. Although their land-based artillery is still relatively weak, this is offset by their robust naval artillery and ship-based aircraft,”. He further noted that the airfields on Chongming Island contributed to Japan’s now “complete air superiority, as a result, the main operations on our side should be executed after dark.”  From late August onward, most Chinese movements occurred after sunset. Only then could Chinese and Japanese infantry engage on more equal footing, without the overwhelming advantage provided by air support. Night became the great equalizer in the uneven battle for Shanghai. During the day, the relentlessly active Japanese forces seemed to be everywhere. They deployed rubber boats up small rivers to scout and disrupt. Their observation balloons hovered on the horizon, keeping a vigilant watch on the Chinese and swiftly scrambling aircraft upon detecting any movement. They combined technological superiority with a bravery that bordered on the suicidal; when faced with the prospect of capture, many Japanese soldiers preferred death. Following a fierce battle in the vicinity of Luodian, the Chinese retrieved the body of a sergeant major who had committed hara-kiri, while a gravely injured private was found attempting to slit his own throat with his bayonet. Luodian remained the immediate target for nearly all the Japanese forces in the area, facing the same Chinese units that had driven them out on August 23rd. The Chinese were well entrenched in and around the town, but they lacked the numbers to consider launching offensive operations against the Japanese at Chuanshakou. Instead, their priority was to strengthen their defenses. While waiting for the Japanese to resume the assault, they endured massive and sustained bombardment. Among the Chinese officers, there was a growing sense of crisis and a palpable fear that their defensive line could collapse at any moment. From their perspective, the Japanese appeared to be gaining momentum. However, the situation looked quite different from the Japanese invaders’ point of view. Japanese casualties began to rise as the Chinese reinforcements sent to the Luodian area started to make an impact. Two days after the landings, the number of dead and injured from the 11th Division had exceeded 400, and the toll continued to climb. Among the casualties was a senior staff officer who was killed moments after stepping off his landing craft at Chuanshakou, struck down by a Chinese aircraft that had evaded Japanese fighter cover. The death toll escalated so quickly that not all bodies could be cremated, as was customary for the Japanese; privates and junior officers were hastily buried instead. For an army that prided itself on honoring its fallen soldiers more than those left alive, this was a significant blow to morale. The 3rd Division faced different challenges in its sector. It was subjected to relentless attacks on the first day of the landing and had to repel two further major enemy assaults on the second day. Additionally, it experienced occasional shelling from Chinese artillery located on the Pudong side. The greatest threat, however, came from the division’s right flank. North of the landing zone lay Wusong Fortress, which had been guarding the approach to Shanghai since the wars against British and French forces in the mid-19th century. From their fortifications, Chinese infantry and artillery continuously targeted the Japanese as they disembarked from their boats and advanced inland. They also fired upon small vessels navigating up the Huangpu River, delivering supplies to the division. As the 3rd Division expanded its bridgehead in the days following the landing, Wusong Fortress remained a persistent threat, impeding the buildup of Japanese forces on shore. Compounding the Japanese sense of being encircled, the village of Yinhang to the south was also under Chinese control. This, combined with the steadily increasing number of Chinese defenders in front of the landing zone, created a challenging tactical situation for the Japanese. Although initial casualties had been lighter than the planners had feared, the number of Japanese losses began to rise. By the 25th, the 3rd Division, often referred to as the “Lucky” Division, reported over 300 accumulated casualties. Two days later, that number had escalated to 500, the majority of whom were killed in action. On the 28th, the 3rd Division was finally able to capture the village of Yinhang, freeing itself somewhat from the tactical constraints it had faced up to that point. On the same day, following an intense naval bombardment, the 11th Division launched an assault on Luodian. Leading the charge was Wachi Takaji, a 44-year-old regimental commander who surged forward with his sword drawn, personally dispatching several enemies along the way. The Chinese defenders were driven out of the town and fled down the roads leading inland. By noon, Luodian was firmly under Japanese control.  However August 29th marked a significant triumph for Chinese diplomacy, as Chiang Kai-shek’s signed a non-aggression treaty with the Soviet Union. The pact between Nanjing and Moscow laid the political and diplomatic groundwork for Soviet military aid to China while ensuring that the Soviet Union would not reach an agreement with Japan as long as hostilities continued. Initially, Chiang Kai-shek had been wary of Soviet intentions, expressing concerns in his diary on August 1st, when the diplomats were preparing the treaty, that he feared the Kremlin might use the agreement to pressure Japan into signing a similar pact with Moscow. However, following the signing, skepticism gave way to optimism. Three days after announcing the treaty, Chiang confidently predicted in a speech that the Soviet Union would eventually enter the war against Japan. Chiang would not be wrong about that, but it would only come in 1945, officially. Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin had a clear reason to encourage China to engage in a full-scale war with Japan: it would secure Russia’s western flank while he focused on the strategic challenges posed by a Europe dominated by Hitler. A conflict with China could drain Japanese resources, thereby reducing the threat from Asia in the long term. Exasperated British diplomats attempted to warn Chiang Kai-shek about what they perceived as a Soviet ruse, advising that the Russians “only have their own interests in mind.” Nevertheless, this did little to undermine the Chinese leader’s belief in the Soviet Union’s willingness to help. At a deeper cognitive level, there was a reason why Chiang Kai-shek and his associates clung to the belief that not only Soviet aid but also direct Soviet participation in the hostilities was imminent. This aligned with their expectations of how a war with Japan would unfold. The Chinese General Staff’s War Plan A, drafted in 1937, was based on the premise that a conflict with Japan would soon trigger a larger conflict involving either the Soviet Union or the United States. Thus, the key objective for China was to withstand the superior Japanese forces until relief could arrive from a more powerful ally, whether that be Russian or American. This strategy was not as naive as it might seem; it was based on the understanding that neither Moscow nor Washington would want to see Japanese power grow too strong on the Asian mainland. Despite the capture of Luodian and Yinhang, the Japanese continued to face significant challenges. Their grip on the Shanghai region remained highly precarious, relying on control of two isolated pockets north of Shanghai and a beleaguered garrison within the city. Due to their numerical inferiority, they were under intense pressure from Chinese forces. The landings at Wusong and Chuanshakou had initially bolstered the manpower in the Shanghai area by fewer than 8,000 troops, and although reinforcements were gradually arriving, the pace was slow. Matsui Iwane recognized the need for a more radical increase in troop levels to achieve a decisive outcome. By the end of August, he cabled Tokyo, arguing that to complete the operation successfully, he required a total of five divisions or at a minimum the release of the 11th Division’s Amaya Detachment, currently stationed in northeast China, to reunite with the division at Chuanshakou. The Japanese imperial staff and navy command responded mostly favorably, agreeing to redirect the detachment to Shanghai alongside several units of the elite marines. One week after the landings, Wusong Fort continued to pose a significant problem for the 3rd Division and the navy, which was responsible for supplying the division. Chinese artillery fire made anchoring near the landing zone a perilous endeavor, resulting in several naval officers being killed when caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. At times, the shelling was so severe that vessels had to interrupt their operations and retreat to a berth in the middle of the Huangpu River, unloading only part of their supplies. Matsui now planned for the 3rd Division to launch a frontal assault on Wusong, while the 11th Division would maintain a support role, dispatching only one regiment to assist. The attack commenced at 10:00 am on August 31rd. Following an intensive naval and aerial bombardment involving 30 planes, a regiment from the 3rd Division boarded landing craft, sailed down the Huangpu River, and landed on the riverbank north of Wusong. Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, the soldiers engaged in fierce skirmishes with scattered Chinese units in front of Wusong in preparation for a final entry into the city. Meanwhile, the Asama Detachment from the 11th Division initiated its part of the offensive by marching along the bank of the Yangtze toward Shizilin. On the morning of September 1st, the Japanese tightened their grip on Wusong. The regiment from the 3rd Division seized a hamlet west of Wusong and readied for an assault on the town itself. The defending Chinese forces put up strong resistance, and it was not until late afternoon that the Japanese made any significant progress, aided by artillery fire from their ships. The Asama Detachment experienced somewhat greater success that day, successfully capturing the fort at Shizilin in the afternoon. The Japanese launched their final offensive against Wusong at dawn on the 2nd. To their surprise, the fort fell with relative ease. By 10:00 am, Matsui saw the Rising Sun flag hoisted over Wusong. “I felt boundless gratification,” he noted in his diary.  With the fall of Wusong, the town of Baoshan became the last major obstacle to uninterrupted Japanese control of the riverbank, stretching from Chuanshakou to the outskirts of Shanghai. The fort at Baoshan also posed a significant threat to Japanese naval operations due to its strategic location at the confluence of the Yangtze and Huangpu rivers. Chiang Kai-shek fully recognized the importance of Baoshan and ordered a battalion of the 98th Infantry Division to hold the town at all costs. Baoshan had one notable advantage: like many ancient Chinese towns, it was encircled by a thick city wall that had historically helped fend off invaders and still served its defensive purpose well. The Japanese were acutely aware that Baoshan favored defense, and even a small contingent of Chinese forces could potentially hold out for an extended period.  On the 4th, the 3rd Division sluggishly advanced toward Baoshan. Around mid-afternoon, an artillery unit arrived to assist by bombarding the city wall. Despite this support, the Japanese soldiers, sent in waves to scale the wall, suffered significant casualties and failed to penetrate the defenses by nightfall. At noon on September 5, Japanese bombers launched an air raid on Baoshan, while naval artillery rained shells indiscriminately over the town's gray roofs. The land attack began an hour later when Japanese tanks advanced toward the town gates. The Japanese pressed the Chinese defenders into a shrinking perimeter. By sunset, the defenders were left with only 100 soldiers. The night passed without incident, as the Japanese refrained from attacking without air support, but everyone knew that dawn would herald the end. Just as the sun rose above the horizon, the assault resumed. As the city neared its fall, the defending commander Yao Ziqing ordered a soldier to escape and report the situation to his superiors. Unnoticed by the Japanese, the soldier scaled a wall and fled into the surrounding countryside, becoming the sole survivor of the battle. He carried with him a message from the battalion: “We are determined to stay at our posts and to continue fighting the enemy until each and every one of us is killed.” 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 [http://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. Despite initial Chinese hopes for a counteroffensive by the newly arrived 36th Infantry Division, their inexperience and poor coordination led to heavy losses. As the Japanese gained reinforcements, they executed strategic landings at Chuanshakou and Wusong, overwhelming Chinese defenses. Amidst escalating casualties, Chinese troops struggled to maintain morale. However, their resolve to fight persisted, even as defeat loomed over the besieged city and its defenders.