Chapter 310: Quagmire Of War
Lieutenant General Shinozuka Yoshio, the commander of the Japanese First Army trapped in Taiyuan City, was pacing around like ants on a hot pan at this moment.
He was directing the remaining Third Independent Mixed Brigade in Taiyuan City and those puppet troops with questionable combat effectiveness, frantically building fortifications and digging trenches, trying to turn Taiyuan City into an impregnable fortress.
On the other side, he kept issuing urgent telegrams to the garrisons across Shanxi, ordering them to rush to Taiyuan for reinforcements at all costs.
However, the 27th Division and the Seventh Independent Mixed Brigade, the two strongest mobile reinforcement forces he had high hopes for, had already been bombed to pieces by Su Yaoyang’s air squadron, with their formations shattered. They could only hide in the mountain gullies to lick their wounds and were fundamentally unable to advance.
Shinozuka Yoshio’s orders not only failed to lift the siege of Taiyuan but instead caused the Japanese deployment across Shanxi to fall into chaos, with emergencies everywhere.
At the same time, inside the Japanese North China Area Army headquarters in Beiping, the atmosphere was so heavy it seemed like water could drip from it.
Army General Tada Shun, the area army commander, was staring fixedly at the urgent battle report from Shanxi in his hand.
His turbid eyes were filled with bloodshot veins, and his brows were tightly furrowed into a “river” shape.
This thin telegram felt as heavy as a thousand pounds in his hand.
After a long time, an irrepressible fury finally erupted.
“Bang!”
Tada Shun slammed the battle report heavily onto the thick oak desk, producing a dull thud.
He abruptly stood up and roared: “What the hell is Shinozuka Yoshio doing? He turned the good situation in Shanxi into this mess! Now even Taiyuan, which the Imperial Army has occupied for three years, is about to be lost. How exactly is he commanding the First Army?”
Standing before him was Major Imoto Kumawo, the operations section chief of the area army.
He was dressed in a crisp military uniform, standing straight like a spear. Facing the commander’s thunderous rage, he simply bowed his head solemnly.
Once Tada Shun’s roaring subsided a bit, Imoto Kumawo said gravely: “Your Excellency Commander, the situation in Shanxi has reached a very critical moment. If Commander Shinozuka cannot come up with effective countermeasures, Taiyuan will be in danger of falling. At that time, the entire situation in Shanxi will become unimaginable.”
“Baka… Do I need you to tell me that?”
Tada Shun seemed stung by Imoto Kumawo’s calm and cruel analysis. He irritably scratched his already thinning hair and paced anxiously back and forth in the office.
Ever since the 27th Division and Seventh Independent Mixed Brigade sent for support had suffered devastating air strikes from Chinese aircraft, suffering heavy losses and forced to hide in place, he knew that in the short term, the area army could no longer send effective reinforcements to Shanxi.
That sense of powerlessness was like an icy hand tightly gripping his heart.
Tada Shun paced anxiously back and forth in the office for a long time, the heels of his military boots tapping out dull, irritated rhythms on the floor.
This spacious office now felt like an invisible prison, firmly trapping him inside.
Suddenly, he stopped, like a beast trapped in a cage that had found a narrow gap in the bars.
“No… we can’t just do nothing.”
He turned around, a glint of resolve in his eyes, and said coldly: “Since sending ground troops is no longer feasible, we’ll send aircraft over.”
At this point, he suddenly grabbed the heavy black telephone on the desk; the cold bakelite shell gave a chill to his heated palm.
He vigorously cranked the side hand crank, the harsh cranking sound echoing in the quiet room.
“This is Tada Shun. Connect me to Commander Kinoshita Satoshi of the Third Flying Group,” he growled into the mouthpiece.
The line connected quickly.
After a moment of static hiss, a distorted but still deferential voice came from the receiver: “Your Excellency Commander Tada, this is Kinoshita Satoshi. What are your orders?”
Tada Shun got straight to the point and asked gravely: “Kinoshita-kun, I want to know, how many aircraft can you maximally spare to support Shanxi right now?”
Kinoshita Satoshi on the other end of the line fell silent for a moment.
This brief silence made Tada Shun’s heart sink further. After a while, Kinoshita Satoshi replied in an extremely helpless tone: “Your Excellency Commander Tada, without affecting the normal defense operations of the North China Area Army, the number of aircraft we can draw… is very few.
Approximately… only twenty fighters and thirty bombers.”
“How can it be so few?” Tada Shun’s volume spiked instantly, his dissatisfaction overflowing.
“Your Excellency Commander, it’s already quite a lot,” the voice in the receiver was full of helplessness.
Kinoshita Satoshi explained: “Our entire area army has only about two hundred aircraft in total.
Excluding those that must perform reconnaissance missions, the remaining fighters and bombers each number only around eighty. Being able to draw over fifty aircraft at once to support Shanxi is already the result of my utmost efforts in allocation.”
Hearing this, Tada Shun could only let out a long sigh filled with powerlessness.
He released the phone, leaning back in his chair, feeling a deep fatigue surging over him.
He knew Kinoshita Satoshi was telling the truth. Now the Empire’s strategic focus had begun shifting toward resource-rich Southeast Asia, and precious steel and oil resources had been largely snatched by those insatiable fools in the Navy.
The resources allocated to the Army were dwindling, and getting these over two hundred aircraft for the North China Area Army was already the result of his hard-fought efforts.
Ironically, the Imperial Army Air Service, which once roamed freely, had now sunk to the point where even the air force of a Chinese local armed force could pin them down firmly.
“Your Excellency Commander… Your Excellency Commander…”
Kinoshita Satoshi’s cautious, probing voice came from the telephone receiver, pulling the pensive Tada Shun back to reality.
“Do we… still need to support Shanxi?”
“Of course we support!”
Tada Shun snapped back to attention like a cat whose tail had been stepped on and growled into the mouthpiece: “Immediately gather all surplus aircraft for me, transfer them to Shanxi right now, and do everything possible to support the Imperial forces in Shanxi!”
His voice was resolute and unquestionable, as if those fifty-plus aircraft were an iron flood that could turn the tide, not lambs heading into the tiger’s mouth.
“Hai!”
Kinoshita Satoshi on the other end of the line did not dare slack off and immediately responded loudly.
With a “snap,” Tada Shun forcefully slammed the heavy receiver back onto the phone, the loud sound making Imoto Kumawo’s shoulders twitch slightly nearby.
Seeing Tada Shun hang up, clear hesitation and confusion appeared on Imoto Kumawo’s face.
He hesitated for a moment but finally mustered his courage, stepped forward, and bowed slightly.
“Your Excellency Commander… forgive my bluntness,” his tone was full of respect, but his words were extremely sharp. “In my view, the situation in Shanxi is already very dire, and Taiyuan City is in peril, liable to fall at any moment.
Why… do you still want to throw our already precious air power needlessly into that bottomless pit?”
Tada Shun slowly turned around, looking at the baffled operations section chief with clear eyes before him; the irritation and anger in his heart subsided somewhat.
In Imoto Kumawo’s face, he saw his former self—a pure soldier who only considered military victory or defeat.
He sighed and, unusually patiently, explained: “Imoto-kun, as an operations section chief, you are undoubtedly competent.
But remember, if you want to advance further in this position in the future, when considering operations, you can’t just focus on military issues.”
He walked to the map and lightly tapped his finger on the “Beiping” location.
“You must know that no military exists independently of politics.”
Tada Shun’s gaze deepened: “Although I am the commander of the North China Area Army, above me is the China Expeditionary Army headquarters, and above that is the Imperial General Headquarters in Tokyo.
Once Taiyuan falls, or even if the entire situation in Shanxi collapses, as the North China Area Army commander, I will naturally bear inescapable responsibility.
At that time, everything I did during this period will be laid out on the table as evidence for those above to deal with me. Do you understand?”
“Yo xi… so that’s how it is.”
Imoto Kumawo’s eyes widened instantly, a flash of insight clearing all the fog in his mind. He immediately understood that the true purpose of the commander’s order was not for military victory but to prepare a political “disclaimer” for the inevitable future failure!
As he said, once the Shanxi situation completely collapses, he as area army commander would indeed bear inescapable blame.
But when the Imperial General Headquarters and headquarters pursue responsibility, the first thing they would examine is his actions during this period.
“Doing nothing” versus “having tried hard but still inevitably collapsing”—these are worlds apart!
The former is incompetence, dereliction of duty, leading to being sent back to the reserves and spending the rest of life in disgrace.
The latter is “having dutifully served the Empire under extremely difficult conditions, honorable even in defeat,” resulting in entirely different treatment.
At this moment, Imoto Kumawo stood respectfully behind Tada Shun with his head bowed, but his heart was surging with massive waves.
A cold chill crept up his spine to the top of his head, making all the hairs on his body stand on end.
Looking at Tada Shun’s back—not tall and even slightly hunched from age—he seemed to see a cold, emotionless stone statue.
The commander knew full well that those fifty-plus aircraft sent to Shanxi would likely become futile fireworks bursting in mid-air or heaps of burning scrap metal crashing onto the yellow earth, yet he issued the reinforcement order without hesitation.
He did this not to save the Shanxi crisis, nor to rescue Shinozuka Yoshio and his First Army.
He only did it to prepare in advance, to preserve his own position after the almost inevitable failure, avoiding liquidation by those even more ruthless figures in the Tokyo Imperial General Headquarters.
As for those fifty-plus aircraft and the lives of over a hundred young pilots and crew members full of boundless loyalty to the Empire…
Who would care about them?
In the eyes of high-level figures like Tada Shun, they were merely “expendables” that could be sacrificed at any time.
Their lives, their ideals, their families were as light as a feather before cold political calculations. Even, in the words of those high-level figures, to offer their lives for the commander, to become a pawn in his political game—that was already their supreme “honor.”
This was the “politics” the commander spoke of.
It was not the clash of swords on the battlefield, not the wargaming on sand tables, but a more intangible, more cruel strangulation.
It fueled the massive machine called “power” with countless fresh lives, crushing everything in its path.
A bitter taste welled up in Imoto Kumawo’s mouth.
Before this, he had always thought he was engaged in a “holy war” for the Empire’s glory.
But only today did he truly glimpse the dirty, cold truth behind this war.
No wonder they say those who play politics have black hearts.
Imoto Kumawo left, but his steps were somewhat unsteady.
Tada Shun watched his slightly stiff back disappear through the door, a faint, mocking smile tugging at his lips, but he said not a word.
As a veteran who had clawed his way up the ranks in the Empire’s military cesspool for most of his life, he naturally understood the shock his words had caused to a pure military staff officer like Imoto Kumawo.
But he didn’t care.
If Imoto Kumawo couldn’t even accept this harsh reality, he didn’t deserve his promotion.
The military has never been a place that only talks about fighting.
Tada Shun slowly turned around, his gaze falling on the huge East Asia map on the wall.
His eyes roamed over China’s vast territory, finally settling on the area representing the “quagmire.”
In fact, at this stage of the war, many of those lofty figures in Tokyo back in Japan had already begun to regret it.
They had seriously underestimated the Chinese people’s resolve to resist and overestimated the “Greater Japanese Empire’s” strength.
In later generations, some might often cite Army Minister Sugiyama Gen’s boast of “conquering China in three months” to mock his arrogance and hubris.
But from the perspective of that era, what Sugiyama Gen said wasn’t really bragging.
At that time, Japan’s national strength compared to the impoverished and weak China was like the comprehensive dominance of later Russia’s big bear over the little bear.
The former thought three months would settle it; how was the latter any different?
Both thought it would be a lightning war of sweeping decay and withering.
But the outcome, everyone knows.
Both inevitably sank into the quagmire of war.
