Age of Conquest: A Kings and Generals Podcast

Last time we spoke about the crossing of Nanjing’s Rubicon. By November 1, Shanghai had become a lost cause, the Chinese were forced to retreat. In the wake of this turmoil, the Japanese set their sights on Nanjing, keenly aware that its fall would spell disaster for Chiang Kai-Shek's government. Despite the desperate situation, guerrilla fighters began fortifying the city as civilians rallied to support the defense, preparing for the inevitable assault that loomed. However, political divisions plagued the Chinese leadership, with some generals advocating for abandoning the city. After intense discussions, it was decided that Nanjing would be a hill worth dying on, driven largely by propaganda needs. As November 12 approached, Japanese troops rapidly advanced west, capturing towns along the way and inflicting unimaginable brutality. On November 19, Yanagawa, a commander, took the initiative, decreeing that pursuing the retreating Chinese forces toward Nanjing was paramount.    #164 The Battle of Lake Tai Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. As the Chinese troops fled westwards, at 7:00 am on November 19th, Yanagawa issued instructions to his troops in the field. “The enemy’s command system is in disarray, and a mood of defeat has descended over their entire army. They have lost the will to fight. We must not miss the opportunity to pursue the enemy to Nanjing.” The order went out to the 10th Army, sending, the 6th, 18th, and 114th Divisions west along the southern shore of Lake Tai, passing through Huzhou before turning right towards Nanjing. The Kunisaki Detachment, trained for rapid movement by water and land, was ordered east along the Yangtze River near Wuhu city and, if possible, cross the river to cut off the Chinese Army’s retreat from Nanjing. Yanagawa envisioned an operation unlike any other conducted by the Japanese Army in recent history. He believed this could not only end the war but also surpass previous victories, such as the defeat of tsarist Russia more than three decades earlier. Confident in a swift victory, he wrote in a follow-up message to his commanders, “The day is near when the banner of the Rising Sun will fly over Nanjing’s city wall.” However, Yanagawa's order elicited panic in Tokyo once it became known. His superiors viewed it as an outrageous attempt to entirely change the war focus away from the north. They understood that taking Nanjing was primarily a political decision rather than a strategic one. There was still hopes of finding terms through the Germans to end the conflict, thus carving up more of China. The Japanese did not want to become bogged down in a real war. Major General Tada was particularly opposed to increasing efforts on the Shanghai front. He belonged to a faction that believed the best way to avoid a quagmire in China was to deliver a swift, decisive blow to the Chinese Army. This mindset had turned him into a major advocate for landing a strong force in Hangzhou Bay in early November. Nevertheless, he had initially resisted expanding operations to the Suzhou-Jiaxing line, only relenting on the condition that this line would not be crossed under any circumstances. Tada’s immediate response was to halt the 10th Army’s offensive. Shimomura Sadamu, Ishiwara Kanji's hardline successor as chief of operations, strongly disagreed, arguing that field commanders should have the authority to make significant decisions. Undeterred, Tada insisted on restraining the field commanders, and at 6:00 pm on November 20th, the Army General Staff sent a cable to the Central China Area Army reprimanding them for advancing beyond Order No. 600, which had established the Suzhou-Jiaxing line. The response from the Central China Area Army arrived two days later whereupon the field commanders argued that Nanjing needed to be captured to bring the war to an early conclusion. To do otherwise, they argued, would provide the enemy with an opportunity to regain the will to fight. Moreover, the officers claimed that delaying the decisive battle would not sit well with the Japanese public, potentially jeopardizing national unity. On the same day it responded to Tokyo, the Central China Area Army instructed the 10th Army to proceed cautiously: “The pursuit to Nanjing is to be halted, although you may still send an advance force towards Huzhou. Each division is to select four or five battalions to pursue the enemy rapidly”. The remainder of the troops were instructed to advance towards Huzhou and prepare to join the pursuit “at any time.” Meanwhile Chiang Kai-shek officially appointed Tang Shengzhi as the commandant of Nanjing’s garrison. Born in 1889, Tang embodied the era of officers leading China into war with Japan. They straddled the line between old and new China. During their youth, they lived in a society that had seen little change for centuries, where young men immersed themselves in 2,000-year-old classics to prepare for life. Like their ancestors across countless generations, they were governed by an emperor residing in a distant capital. Following the 1911 revolution, they embraced the new republic and received modern military training, Tang, for instance, at the esteemed Baoding Academy in northern China. Yet, they struggled to fully relinquish their traditional mindsets. These traditional beliefs often included a significant distrust of foreigners. Before his appointment as garrison commander, Tang had led the garrison’s operations section. During this time, Chiang Kai-shek suggested that he permit the German chief advisor, General Alexander von Falkenhausen, to attend staff meetings. Tang hesitated, expressing concern due to Falkenhausen’s past as a military official in Japan and the current alliance between Germany, Italy, and Japan. “That’s not good, is it?” he asked. Chiang reassured him that Falkenhausen was an experienced officer who remembered earlier loyalties despite political shifts in Berlin. “It’s all right,” Chiang insisted, “we can trust him.” Reluctantly, Tang acquiesced but never fully trusted the German officer. Tang also faced issues with morale. He was Hunanese, the majority of his troops were locals, many from Nanjing. Tang also suffered from many ongoing illnesses. While he put on a bravado face, its unlikely he expected to be able to defend the capital for very long. On November 19th, the IJA 16th division and Shigeto Detachment conquered Changshu, a crucial point along the Wufu defense line, spanning from Fushan on the Yangtze to Suzhou and then to Wujiang sitting on the shores of Lake Tai. The fight for Changshu had surprised the Japanese. As they approached they ran into a network of interlocking cement pillboxes that had to be taken individually, resulting in heavy casualties. Frequently, when the Japanese believed they had finally destroyed a position and advanced, they were dismayed to discover that some defenders remained alive, continuing to fire at their flanks. Another obstacle facing them was Chinese artillery. During the night's capture of the city, the Japanese makeshift camps were hit relentlessly by bombardment. That same day further south, the IJA 9th division captured Suzhou , reporting to the press they did so without firing a single shot. General Matsui wrote in his diary “The enemy troops near Suzhou have completely lost their morale. Some soldiers are discarding their equipment and surrendering, while others flee westward in utter chaos. Our forces have not encountered the resistance we anticipated. So far, the Shanghai Expeditionary Force has achieved all its objectives. I am thrilled by this.” In reality, this was mere propaganda. The IJA 9th Division actually had to overpower a series of Chinese pillboxes outside the city. Once they entered through the medieval walls, they faced the task of eliminating pockets of resistance one by one. According to Japanese sources, over 1,000 Chinese soldiers were killed during these clearing operations. The Japanese found a wealth of spoils in Suzhou. Among the booty were 100 artillery pieces and other military equipment. Historically known as one of China's wealthiest cities, Suzhou still contained an abundance of loot even after months of conflict. Many Japanese soldiers had their pockets filled with cigarettes after raiding a tobacco factory, while others transported barrels filled with coins after robbing a bank. Meanwhile the government had officially moved from Nanjing to Chongqing. Chongqing was an unusual choice for the new capital as it was historically something of a backwater, not very cosmopolitan such as the great coastal cities in the east. However it was distant enough to be out of reach from the Japanese land forces, but not so distant that it would make governing China impossible. Not all the governmental agencies moved to Chongqing at once. The foreign ministry first moved to Wuhan, as did most of the foreign diplomats. Yet out of some several hundred foreign nationals, 30 American and 19 British did stay behind in Nanjing. Tang Shengzhi met with the remaining foreign community and began promising them guarantees of their lives and property would be protected to the fullest. In turn the foreign community were thinking up ways to help defend the city's civilian population. They formed a special demilitarized district, akin to the one in Shanghai. They named it the Jacquinot Safety Zone after its founder, French Jesuit Robert Jacquinot de Besange. An international committee for establishing a neutral zone for noncombatants in Nanjing was formed on November 19th and famously John Rabe chaired it. The committee knew their neutral zone depended solely upon Japan respecting it, thus Rabe was an ideal pick for chairman. Meanwhile Chiang Kai-Shek was determined to stay for as long as possible in Nanjing, and remain in the public view to maintain morale. Song Meiling also went around touring the capital by automobile to raise public spirit. Preparations for battle were being dished out in haste. Du Yuming, the commander of Nanjing’s armored regiment was called up to the headquarters of He Yingqin, then chief of staff. There Du was briefed on Chiang Kai-Shek’s war plans and how his tiny armored force would fit in. He Yingqin said “It has been decided that Tang Shengzhi is to defend Nanjing. Chairman Chiang wants the German vehicles to stay in Nanjing and fight.” This was referring to their Leichter Panzerspahwagen or “sd KFZ 221” armored cars. These were recent purchases from Germany. Du questioned using them however “The German vehicles are the best armor we have at the moment, but they have no cannon, only machine guns, so their firepower is limited. We just have 15 of them. And they are not suited for the terrain around Nanjing, with all its rivers and lakes.” Du instead argued for using the British-made Vickers Carden Lloyd tanks. Of these China had recently purchased the amphibious variants. Du said “Those tanks both have machine guns and cannon, and they can float. They are much more useful for the Nanjing area.” He further suggested the tanks might even make it to the other side of the Yangtze once all hope was out. To this He replied “No, don’t even think about crossing the Yangtze. The chairman wants the tank crews to fight to the death.” As far as war strategy was concerned, China had actually developed one against Japan decades prior. Ever since the nasty conflicts between the two nations had broken out back during the Great War days, China sought an answer to Japan’s aggression. One man rose to the occasion, a young officer named Jiang Baili. In 1922 Jiang wrote “The only way to prevail over the enemy, will be to do the opposite of what he does in every respect. It will be to his advantage to seek a quick resolution; we should aim for protracted warfare. He will try to focus on a decisive blow at the front line; we should move to the second line of defense and rob him of the opportunity to concentrate his forces in one place.” Soon Jiang became the forefather in China for theories involving protracted war. One could also call it a war of attrition, and it was the type of war suited to China. In the words of Jiang “We should thank our ancestors. China is blessed with two major advantages, a vast land area and a huge population. Abstaining from fighting will be enough. And if we do fight, we should drag it out. We should force the front to move west, and turn our weakness into strength, while allowing the enemy to overstretch himself”. China’s geography significantly influenced Jiang’s military strategy. In his works titled Organization of Mechanized Forces, Jiang wrote “The flat North Chinese plain offers ideal conditions for a large mechanized army. In contrast, the agricultural regions further south, characterized by their mix of rice paddies and waterways, are far less suitable.” Faced with a technologically superior enemy, China had no option but to draw the opponent away from the north, where their armored units would dominate the battlefield, to the Yangtze River area, where their mobility would be severely restricted. Jiang served as the director of the prestigious military academy at Baoding, near Beijing, where he could instill his philosophies in the minds of upcoming leaders of the Chinese armed forces, including Tang Shengzhi. Tang was able to put Jiang’s theories into practice. In the autumn of 1935, he played a crucial role in planning and executing the decade's largest military maneuver. Conducted south of the Yangtze, between Nanjing and Shanghai, this drill involved over 20,000 troops, allowing for a realistic simulation of battle conditions. Its primary objective was to test the strategy of "luring the enemy in deep." Upon concluding the maneuver, Tang described the location as exceptionally well chosen, a tank commander’s nightmare. The area consisted of steep hills alongside rivers, with very few robust roads and virtually no bridges capable of supporting tanks. Countless small paddy fields were divided by dikes that rarely exceeded a few feet in width, perfectly suited for swift infantry movements but utterly inadequate for tracked vehicles. It appeared to be a graveyard for any mechanized army. As the war broke out with Japan, Jiang’s ideas initially seemed validated. Chiang Kai-shek deliberately refrained from deploying his best troops to the northern Beijing area. Instead, he chose to instigate a significant battle in and around Shanghai, where the terrain presented the exact disadvantages for Japanese armor that Jiang had anticipated. Although the Japanese gradually introduced tactical innovations that allowed them to navigate the partly submerged paddy fields north and west of Shanghai, their tanks often found themselves forced along elevated roads, making them vulnerable targets for hidden Chinese infantry. For several weeks during September and October, the Shanghai area indeed resembled a quagmire, seemingly poised to ensnare the Japanese forces until they were utterly depleted. However, the successful Japanese landings in early November, first in Hangzhou Bay and then on the south bank of the Yangtze, dramatically changed things. The stalemate was broken, allowing the Japanese Army to advance despite the persistent challenges posed by the local geography. What would happen next would determine whether Jiang’s theories from a decade earlier could work or if Japan’s tanks would ultimately triumph even in the river terrain south of the Yangtze.  The Japanese field commanders' decision to shift their focus from defeating Chinese forces near Shanghai to pursuing them all the way to Nanjing, sent ripples throughout the ranks. Every unit had to reconsider their plans, but none felt the impact more acutely than the 6th Division. As one of the first contingents of the 10th Army to come ashore in Hangzhou Bay in early November, its soldiers had advanced with remarkable ease, cutting through the defenses like a knife through butter. Now, with orders to drive west towards Nanjing, they were required to make a huge U-turn and head south. Geography hurt them greatly, specifically the presence of Lake Tai. The original Shanghai Expeditionary Force, bolstered by the 16th Division and other newly arrived units, was set to advance north of the lake, while the 10th Army was tasked with operations to the south of it. This situation implied that the 6th Division had to hurry to catch up with the rest of the 10th Army.   Upon turning south, they reached Jiashan on November 21, only to face a brutal outbreak of cholera among their ranks, which delayed their advance by three days. Meanwhile the other elements of the 10th Army, including the Kunisaki Detachment and the 18th and 114th Divisions advanced  rapidly, entering Huzhou on November 23. To speed up their advance they had commandeered every vessel they could grab and tossed men in piece meal across the southern bank of Lake Tai to its western shore.  However the 10th army was unaware that they would soon face a brutal fight. As the Chinese government evacuated Nanjing, fresh troops from Sichuan province in southwest China were being unloaded at the city’s docks and marched toward imminent danger. Starting to disembark on November 20, these soldiers formed the Chinese 23rd Group Army. They presented an exotic sight, sporting broad straw hats typical of southern China, often adorned with yellow and green camouflage patterns. While some appeared freshly uniformed, many were ill-prepared for the colder central Chinese winter, dressed in thin cotton better suited for subtropical climates. A number looked as ragged as the most destitute coolie. Nearly all wore straw shoes that required repairs every evening after a long day of marching. Their equipment was rudimentary and often quite primitive. The most common weapon among the newly arrived soldiers was a locally produced rifle from Sichuan, yet many had no firearms at all, carrying only “stout sticks and packs” into battle. Each division had a maximum of a dozen light machine guns, and radio communication was available only at the brigade level and above. The absence of any artillery or heavy equipment was quite alarming. It was as if they expected to be facing a warlord army of the 1920s. They were organized into five divisions and two brigades, supplied by Liu Xiang, a notable southern warlord. Remarkably, Liu Xiang had been one of Chiang Kai-shek’s worst enemies less than a year prior. Now, Liu’s troops fought alongside Chiang’s against Japan, yet their loyalties remained fiercely provincial, listening to Liu Xiang rather than Chiang Kai-shek. China’s warlord era never really ended. Chiang Kai-Shek was actually doing two things at once, meeting the enemy but also getting warlord troops away from their provincial powerbase. This in turn would reduce the influence of regional warlords. Now the Chinese recognized the had to stop the Japanese from reaching Wuhu, a Yangtze port city due south of Nanjing, basically the last escape route from the capital. If it was captured, those in Nanjing would be effectively stuck. General Gu Zhutong, who personally witnessed the chaotic evacuation of Suzhou, had already dispatched two divisions from Guangxi province to block the Japanese advance. However, they were quickly routed. Liu Xiang’s troops were then sent to fill the gap on the battlefield. By the last week of November, the Japanese 10th Army and the newly arrived Sichuan divisions, were converging on the same area southwest of Lake Tai. Marching as quickly as possible, they were fated to clash in one of the bloodiest battles of the entire Nanjing campaign. As the Sichuanese troops reached the battlefield at the end of November, they  quickly realized just how ill-equipped they were to confront the modern Japanese Army. The Sichuan divisions hurried towards Lake Tai, primarily marching after sunset to avoid harassment from Japanese aircraft. A significant challenge for the soldiers was the condition of the roads, which were paved with gravel that wore down their straw shoes. Despite their best efforts to repair their footwear late at night, many soldiers found themselves entering battle barefoot. Along their route, they encountered numerous Chinese soldiers retreating. One particular column caught their attention; these troops were better uniformed and equipped, appearing as though they had not seen battle at all. They looked rested and well-nourished, as if they had just emerged from their barracks. This prompted unspoken doubts among the Sichuanese soldiers. Upon arriving in Guangde, the 145th Division quickly began fortifying its positions, particularly around a strategic airfield near the city and dispatched units towards the town of Sian. On November 25, skirmishes erupted throughout the day, and on the following day, the Chinese soldiers began facing the full force of the advancing enemy. Japanese planes bombed the Chinese positions near Sian, followed by rapid tank assaults from the 18th Japanese Division. Unaccustomed to combat against armored vehicles, they quickly routed. The Japanese forces rolled over the shattered Chinese defenses and advanced to capture Sian with minimal resistance. To make matters worse, amidst this critical moment when the Sichuan troops were engaged in their first battle against a foreign enemy, Liu Xiang, fell seriously ill. In his place, Chiang Kai-shek assigned one of his most trusted commanders, Chen Cheng. The Sichuanese soldiers were not happy with the new alien commander. Meanwhile, the Nine Power Treaty Conference in Brussels held its final session. The delegates concluded three weeks of fruitless discussions with a declaration that immediately struck observers as lacking any real substance. The decree stated “Force by itself can provide no just and lasting solution for disputes between nations,”. This was met with approval from all participants except Italy, one of Japan's few allies in Europe. They strongly urged that hostilities be suspended and that peaceful processes be pursued, but offered zero consequences for either belligerent should they choose not to comply. As they say today in politics, a nothing burger. China found itself resorting to shaming the international community into action, with barely any success.  In Berlin, the evening following the conference's conclusion, diplomats gathered as the Japanese embassy hosted a dinner to mark the first anniversary of the Anti-Comintern Pact. Among the guests, though he probably really did not want to be there, was Adolf Hitler. The Japanese Communications Minister, Nagai Ryutaro, speaking via radio stated “The Sino-Japanese conflict is a holy struggle for us. The objective is to hold the Nanjing government accountable for its anti-Japanese stance, to liberate the Chinese people from the red menace, and to secure peace in the Far East.” By hosting such an event, Germany was basically signalling that she would abandon her old Chinese ally to forge a stronger partnership with Japan. This was driving the world into two camps that would emerge as the Axis and Allies. My favorite boardgame by the way, I make a lot of goofy videos on my youtube channel about it.  Back at the front, a city sat midway along the Yangtze River between Shanghai and Nanjing, Jiangyin. By Chinese standards, Jiangyin was not a large city; its population numbered just 50,000, most of whom had already fled by the end of November. The city’s military significance had considerably diminished after a naval battle in late September resulted in the sinking of half the Chinese fleet, forcing the remainder to retreat upriver. Nevertheless, the Chinese still maintained control on land. This became a pressing concern for the Japanese after the fall of Suzhou and Changshu led to the collapse of the Wufu defensive line. Consequently, the next line of defense was the Xicheng line, of which Jiangyin formed the northern end. The city stood directly in the path of the 13th Japanese Division, positioned at the far right of the front line. Jiangyin featured 33 partially fortified hills, and like many other cities in the region, its primary defense was a robust 10-mile wall constructed of brick and stone. Standing 30 feet high, the wall was reinforced on the inside by an earthen embankment measuring up to 25 feet in diameter. Defending Jiangyin alone was the 112th Division, comprising approximately 5,000 soldiers. Only in November did it receive reinforcements from the 103rd Division, which had previously participated in the brutal fighting in Shanghai and withdrew westward after the Japanese victory there. Like the 112th, the 103rd also consisted of around 5,000 soldiers from former warlord armies, though they hailed from the hot and humid southwest of China rather than the cold and arid northeast. Both divisions faced an adversary with far superior equipment and training. Just hours after Japanese observation balloons appeared on the horizon, their artillery opened fire. The initial shells fell at approximately 30 second intervals, but the pace quickly accelerated. Most of the shells landed near the river, obliterating the buildings in that area. The explosions tore up telephone wires, severing communication between the scattered Chinese units. As the first shells began to fall over Jiangyin, Tang Shengzhi gathered with Chinese and foreign journalists in Nanjing, openly acknowledging the monumental challenge ahead but resolutely vowing to defend Nanjing to the bitter end. “Even though it is lagging behind in material terms, China has the will to fight. Since the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, we have suffered defeats in various theaters, but we will continue to fight until we achieve final victory.” Tang then promised that Nanjing would be fought to the last man. As early as November 14, the central government had ordered the evacuation of women and children from Nanjing, calling for all means of transportation available to be dedicated to this purpose. However, this directive proved to be an empty proclamation. Almost all resources were directed toward relocating government officials westward. Moving office furniture and filing cabinets took precedence over evacuating people. The government commandeered 600 trucks and 220 boats and ships to aid in this effort, but once those means of transportation were exhausted, little remained for the common people. In the final days of November, Nanjing's mayor, Ma Chaojun, attempted to rectify this dire situation. He sent a cable to the Ministry of Communications requesting that the ships used to relocate government agencies be returned to Nanjing as soon as possible to assist with the evacuation. For most vessels, there wasn’t enough time to make the journey back. The people of Nanjing were left to fend for themselves. Meanwhile the battles south and west of the Lake Tai continued to rage in late November. While the 18th Japanese Division advanced toward Guangde, aiming eventually for Wuhu and the Yangtze River, the 114th Japanese Division received different orders. It turned right along the western bank of Lake Tai, clearly intending to push onward to Nanjing. Awaiting them was the 144th Chinese Division, consisting primarily of Sichuanese soldiers. They dug in across the one viable road running west of the lake, with a large body of water on one side and rugged terrain on the other. This terrain forced the Japanese to attack over a narrow front, constraining the advantage they held due to their technological superiority. The Chinese were able to concentrate their limited artillery, primarily mountain guns that could be disassembled and transported by mules or even men, on the advancing Japanese attackers, and utilized it effectively. They allowed the Japanese to shell their positions without immediate retaliation, waiting until the infantry was within 1,000 yards before ordering their mountain guns to open fire. The result was devastating; the Japanese column became disorganized, and their advance stalled. However, just as the Chinese artillery appeared on the verge of achieving a significant victory, the decision was made to withdraw. The officers responsible for the mountain guns argued that the Japanese would soon overrun their positions, and it was preferable to take preemptive measures to prevent their valuable equipment from falling into enemy hands. The commanders of the 144th Division reluctantly concurred. The Chinese did their best to maintain the facade that their artillery remained in position, but the Japanese quickly noticed the weakened defense and attacked with renewed fervor. Despite this setback, Chinese soldiers found their morale boosted as their division commander, Guo Junqi, led from the front, issuing orders from a stretcher after sustaining a leg injury. However, deprived of their artillery, the Chinese faced increasingly dire odds, and they were pushed back along the entire front. As the Chinese front neared collapse, the officers of the 144th Division faced yet another challenge: Japanese infantry approached across Lake Tai in boats commandeered in previous days. With no artillery to defend themselves, the Chinese could only direct small arms fire at the vessels, allowing the Japanese to make an almost unimpeded landing. This was the final straw. Under pressure from two sides, the 144th Division had no choice but to abandon its position, retreating westward toward the main Chinese force around Guangde. Jiangyin endured two days of continuous shelling before the Japanese infantry attack commenced, but the city was fortified to withstand such a bombardment of this magnitude and duration. The 33 hills in and around the city had long served as scenic viewpoints and natural strongholds. The tallest hill, known as Mount Ding, rose 900 feet above the area, providing a commanding view and boasted over 100 artillery pieces. By late November, when the Japanese Army reached the area, most civilians had fled, but their homes remained, and the Chinese defenders effectively utilized them, converting them into concealed strongholds. The attack by the Japanese 13th Division on November 29 was led by the 26th Brigade on its right flank and the 103rd Brigade on its left. The advance proved challenging, constantly disrupted by Chinese ambushes. As a row of Japanese soldiers cautiously crossed an empty field, gunshots would erupt, striking down one of their ranks while the others scrambled for cover, desperately trying to identify the source of the fire. The Chinese launched frequent counterattacks, and on several occasions, individual Japanese units found themselves cut off from the main body and had to be rescued. Despite some setbacks, the 13th Division made satisfactory progress, bolstered by both land and ship-based artillery, and soon nearly encircled Jiangyin, leaving only a narrow corridor to the west of the city. However, the Chinese artillery was well-prepared, effectively targeting Japanese vessels on the Yangtze River. This led to an artillery duel that lasted three hours, resulting in several hits on Japanese ships; however, the Chinese batteries also suffered considerable damage. In the sector of the 103rd Chinese Division, the defenders had taken time to construct deep antitank ditches, hindering the advance of Japanese armored units. During the night of November 29-30, the Chinese organized suicide missions behind enemy lines to level the playing field. Armed only with a belt, a combat knife, a rifle, and explosives, the soldiers infiltrated Japanese positions, targeting armored vehicles. They quietly climbed onto the tanks, dropping hand grenades into turrets or detonating explosives strapped to their bodies. Though reducing Japanese armored superiority granted the Chinese some time, the attackers’ momentum simply could not be stopped. On November 30, the Japanese launched a relentless assault on Mount Ding, the dominant hill in the Jiangyin area. Supported by aircraft, artillery, and naval bombardments, Japanese infantry engaged the entrenched Chinese company at the summit. After a fierce and bloody battle, the Japanese succeeded in capturing the position. The Chinese company commander, Xia Min’an, withdrew with his troops toward Jiangyin to report the loss to the regimental command post. When the deputy commander of the 103rd Division, Dai Zhiqi, heard the news, he was furious and wanted to execute Xia on the spot. However, Xia's regimental commander intervened, saving him from a firing squad. Instead, he insisted that Xia redeem himself by recapturing the hill from the Japanese. Xia was put in command of a company that had previously been held in reserve. What followed was a fierce battle lasting over four hours. Eventually, the Japanese were forced to relinquish the hill, but the victory came at a steep price, with numerous casualties on both sides, including the death of Xia Min’an. The last days of November also witnessed chaotic fighting around Guangde, where the unfamiliar terrain added to the confusion for both sides. For the Chinese, this chaos was exacerbated by their upper command issuing contradictory orders, instructing troops to advance and retreat simultaneously. Pan Wenhua, the Sichuanese commander of the 23rd Army, prepared a pincer maneuver, directing the 13th Independent Brigade to launch a counterattack against the town of Sian, which was held by the Japanese, while the 146th Division would attack from the south. Both units set out immediately. However, due to a lack of radio equipment, a common issue among the Sichuanese forces, they did not receive the new orders to withdraw, which originated not from Pan Wenhua but from Chen Cheng, the Chiang Kai-shek loyalist who had taken command after Liu Xiang fell ill and was eager to assert his authority. Fortunately, the officers of the 13th Independent Brigade were alerted to the general order for withdrawal by neighboring units and managed to halt their advance on Sian in time. The 146th Division, however, had no such luck and continued its march toward the Japanese-occupied city. It was joined by the 14th Independent Brigade, which had just arrived from Wuhu and was also unaware of the general retreat order. Upon reaching Sian, these Chinese troops engaged in intense close combat with the Japanese. It was a familiar scenario of Japanese technological superiority pitted against Chinese determination. The Japanese brought armor up from the rear, while the Chinese lay in ambush, tossing hand grenades into tank turrets before jumping onto the burning vehicles to kill any surviving crew members. As the fighting around the flanks slowed, the area in front of Guangde became the focal point of the battle. Japanese soldiers advanced toward the city during the day, passing piles of dead Chinese and numerous houses set ablaze by retreating defenders. At night, the situation became perilous for the Japanese, as Chinese forces infiltrated their positions under the cover of darkness. In the confusion, small units from both sides often got lost and were just as likely to encounter hostile forces as friendly ones. Despite the chaos along the front lines, it was evident that the Japanese were gaining the upper hand primarily due to their material superiority. Japanese artillery bombarded Guangde, igniting many structures, while infantry approached the city from multiple directions. The Chinese 145th Division, led by Rao Guohua, was nearing its breaking point. In a desperate gamble, on November 30, Rao ordered one of his regiments to counterattack, but the regimental commander, sensing the futility of the move, simply refused. This refusal was a personal failure for Rao, one he could not accept. Deeply ashamed, Rao Guohua withdrew from Guangde. As darkness enveloped the battlefield, he and a small group of staff officers found a place to rest for the night in a house near a bamboo grove. Overwhelmed with anguish, he penned a letter to Liu Xiang, apparently unaware that Liu had been evacuated to the rear due to stomach issues. In the letter, he apologized for his inability to hold Guangde. Telling his bodyguard to get some rest, he stepped outside, disappearing into the bamboo grove. Shortly thereafter, his staff heard a single gunshot. When they rushed out and searched the dense bamboo, they found Rao sitting against a tree, his service weapon beside him. Blood streamed thickly from a wound to his temple. He was already dead. 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 the Japanese forces advanced on Nanjing, tensions escalated within the Chinese leadership. While Commander Tang Shengzhi fortified the city, some sought retreat. Japanese Commander Yanagawa, confident of victory, pushed his troops westward, disregarding high command's hesitations. Meanwhile, ill-equipped Sichuanese reinforcements hurried to defend Nanjing, braving cholera and disorganization. Intense battles unfolded around Lake Tai, marked by fierce ambushes and casualties.

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

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.