Chapter 284: Preparations
Wutai County, Shanxi Militia Command Headquarters.
Ever since the first explosion sounded over Taiyuan, this place had become the most tense nerve center of the entire Shanxi war zone.
The air was so heavy it seemed to drip water, the choking smell of tobacco mixed with sweat permeating every corner.
On the huge sand table, small flags representing both sides’ troops were interlocked like jagged teeth, and beside the sand table, two men had been standing for a long time.
Bai Chongxi, this battle-hardened veteran known as the “Little Zhuge,” could not hide the fatigue and anxiety on his face at this moment.
A cigarette clamped between his fingers was nearly burned to the end, his eyes fixed intently on the sand table, as if trying to discern the ever-changing air battle from those stationary models.
While Su Yaoyang beside him appeared somewhat calmer.
Dressed in a neat regular uniform, he was impeccably groomed, somewhat out of place in this smoke-filled environment.
He did not smoke, just kept his hands behind his back, but the anxious look in his eyes revealed that his heart was not at peace.
The floor under their feet was already littered with cigarette butts.
Due to the extremely solemn atmosphere, the entire command headquarters was so quiet you could hear a pin drop; even the staff officers marking maps and answering phones deliberately lowered their voices, afraid to disturb these two highest commanders who decided the life and death of hundreds of thousands.
Just as the two had turned this spacious command room into a misty fairyland, a hurried yet steady sound of footsteps broke the silence.
A young staff officer quickly walked up to the two, stood at attention and saluted; he tried to suppress the excitement in his voice, but his bright eyes betrayed his inner ecstasy.
“Report to Commander-in-Chief… Regiment Commander!”
Bai Chongxi abruptly turned his head, and Su Yaoyang also cast an inquiring glance.
“The air battle is over!”
The staff officer’s voice trembled with excitement; he took a deep breath and reported loudly: “Our flying squadron has shot down a total of 38 Japanese aircraft of various types! Our side lost five fighters, three pilots heroically sacrificed, and the other two pilots successfully parachuted and have been rescued by the search and rescue team lurking nearby!”
Thirty-eight to five!
Hearing this brilliant battle result, the nerves of Bai Chongxi and Su Yaoyang, tense for hours, finally relaxed completely at this moment.
Bai Chongxi viciously stubbed out the long-extinguished cigarette butt in his hand into the ashtray full of ash, as if extinguishing all his anxiety along with it, then let out a long, long breath of turbid air.
Su Yaoyang also let out a long breath, a faint, satisfied arc forming at the corner of his mouth.
“Good… well fought!”
The emotions suppressed for so long finally erupted; Bai Chongxi slammed the sand table in front of him, shaking the small flags representing the Japanese army on it.
He stood up excitedly, pacing back and forth beside the sand table; that usually steady face now flushed with long-absent color, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“This battle can declare that the Japanese air power in Shanxi has been largely destroyed by us!”
He paced back and forth, his expression somewhat exhilarated, “Now, the force stopping us from bombing has been greatly reduced, and we can go all out to pound those Japanese turtle-shell-like ground defense positions inch by inch!”
However, Su Yaoyang standing beside him just calmly shook his head; he extended his finger and lightly pointed at a point on the sand table representing the core fortress group of Taiyuan’s city defenses.
“Jianguo, we can’t be too optimistic yet.”
His voice was not loud, yet it clearly reached everyone’s ears.
“Relying solely on bombers won’t demolish all the Japanese meticulously dug fortifications and bunker clusters.
The final decisive battle still has to rely on infantry holding guns to seize inch by inch of land.
What we can do now is use aircraft and heavy artillery to grind down and clean out as much of the Japanese exposed defensive forces as possible.”
Su Yaoyang lifted his gaze from the sand table, scanning the staff officers around him who were listening intently:
“Pass my orders: First, intensify aerial reconnaissance efforts to thoroughly scout all terrain, roads, and troop deployments within a hundred kilometers around Taiyuan, and draw them into maps. I don’t want vague intelligence; I want it precise down to every bunker and every trench!”
“Second, immediately order the ground troops to accelerate marching speed across the entire line! Before nightfall, they must reach the predetermined attack positions on the outskirts of Taiyuan and tightly surround the east, south, and north sides of Taiyuan!”
Bai Chongxi walked to the sand table, looking at Su Yaoyang’s deployments, a glint of approval in his eyes.
“Surround on three sides and leave one open, the classic open stratagem for sieging a city since ancient times.”
He nodded, a playful smile on his face, “I wonder what Shimotsuka Yoshio will do?
Will he choose to defend Taiyuan to the death, to be trapped and starved by us? Or cut off his arm and abandon the city to flee? Or perhaps…”
Bai Chongxi’s gaze became profound and icy, “…mobilize all mobile forces in Shanxi to engage my army in a real knives-and-guns deathmatch under Taiyuan?”
While Bai Chongxi and Su Yaoyang were laying a dragnet for Taiyuan’s Shimotsuka Yoshio in the Wutai County command headquarters, the atmosphere in the Japanese First Army headquarters in Taiyuan had already chilled to the freezing point.
A communications staff officer rushed in pale-faced, his military cap askew, forgetting to adjust his appearance at the door, scrambling on hands and knees to kneel before Shimotsuka Yoshio, his voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.
“Com… Commander! The… 60th Flying Brigade… communications… completely cut off… According to the last intelligence… most of the 60th Flying Brigade has perished in honorable death, only Yima Tetsuji and six fighters retreated.”
The word “honorable death” hit every Japanese officer in the headquarters like a heavy hammer. The air instantly froze, everyone stopping their actions in horror, looking toward their commander.
However, Shimotsuka Yoshio’s reaction was unexpectedly calm.
He just sat quietly in his seat, his face showing no ripple, as if he had long anticipated this outcome.
He was already accustomed to the failures of the Army Air Force; after all, over the past year or so, he had grown used to their repeated defeats.
He never foolishly pinned the hopes of war victories on those boastful Army Air Force horse dung.
His hopes, from beginning to end, rested on the solid land under his feet, on the sturdy fortifications and steel defense lines built inch by inch with the blood and sweat of countless imperial warriors over the past few years, on the tens of thousands of elite, battle-hardened ground troops in his hands.
He forcibly suppressed the fleeting disappointment and unease deep in his heart, standing up slowly from his seat with a nearly cruel composure.
His sharp gaze swept over his subordinates in the headquarters, their faces drained of color by fear; his voice was not loud, yet carried an unquestionable authority.
“What’s there to panic about? When has the glory of the Imperial Army ever been defended by planes in the sky?”
He walked to the huge Taiyuan defense map, heavily tapping the command stick on the dense red defense markers.
“Order all garrison units to immediately strengthen ground defenses! All frontline positions enter highest combat readiness! Artillery units prepare for counter-battery fire; the Chinese planes are just tickling us!”
Shimotsuka Yoshio’s composure acted like a shot of strong tonic, temporarily steadying the panicked hearts in the headquarters.
He turned around, looking at the sky outside the window that had been “cleared,” a stubborn and mad curve at the corner of his mouth.
He did not believe that the so-called Shanxi Militia could occupy his Taiyuan, painstakingly operated for years and impregnable, just with some iron cans flying in the sky!
…………
Dozens of kilometers outside Taiyuan, in a carefully surveyed, concealed valley, a massive convoy came to an emergency halt amid billowing dust.
The vehicle door was flung open, and a burly, dark-skinned officer jumped down from the passenger seat; it was the Second Artillery Regiment commander of the militia, Xiong Junfeng.
After landing, he didn’t even have time to brush off the dust on him, planting his hands on his hips and roaring thunderously at the convoy that had just stopped.
“Hurry! Hurry hurry hurry! All of you, get moving for me!”
He pointed at the valley ahead embraced by mountains, spittle flying, “All units, immediately set up artillery positions and camouflage them.
The anti-air battalion and infantry battalion’s defense and anti-air positions must also be set up simultaneously.
In half an hour… by 12:48 p.m., I want to see a camouflaged artillery position ready to fire immediately! Got it! Move faster!”
“Yes!”
In the valley, over a thousand soldiers responded in unison, their voices shaking the wilderness.
With the order given, the entire convoy instantly came alive, turning into a high-speed precision war machine. Soldiers jumped off trucks like an ant colony, busying themselves in an orderly manner.
Heavy truck tailgates slammed down with a clang, and one after another ferocious 155mm M1 howitzers were carefully unloaded from the vehicles amid winch sounds and soldiers’ chants.
These steel behemoths weighing several tons seemed to come alive in the soldiers’ hands.
The gun crews worked with clear divisions: some used engineer shovels to quickly dig spades pits and wheel pits at predetermined gun positions.
Others jointly unfolded the two sturdy gun carriages; with a loud “clank,” the massive spades were hammered deep into the ground, transforming the artillery from marching state to combat-ready.
Meanwhile, anti-air battalion soldiers on the high ground around the position were setting up quadruple anti-aircraft machine guns and Bofors 40mm anti-aircraft guns, their black muzzles vigilantly pointing skyward.
Infantry battalion soldiers built a circular defense position further out, with machine guns, mortars, and barbed wire turning the entire artillery position into an iron barrel.
Huge camouflage nets were spread out, enveloping the entire valley in mottled shadows.
And on the entire position, the most grueling and shocking scene was undoubtedly the ammunition handling.
One by one, shirtless gunners wearing only uniform pants and boots revealed bronze, granite-hard muscles.
They carried heavy wooden ammo boxes down from the ammunition trucks.
This was no easy task; a 155mm high-explosive shell, along with its propellant cartridge, weighed at least 45 kilograms, up to 50, and an ammo box held only one such precious item.
A truck carried at least a few tons, up to over ten tons of shells.
Gunners in pairs gritted their teeth, veins bulging from necks to arms, hoisting ammo boxes onto shoulders and rapidly carrying them with heavy but swift steps to the ammo stacks beside each gun position.
Sweat streamed down their dark backs like creeks, carving gullies in the dust.
Even iron-clad men, after high-intensity hauling of a full truckload, would be dog-tired, bent over knees, gasping roughly.
Though the soldiers were drenched in sweat, none dared stop.
After brief gasps, they immediately dove into the next round of hauling.
The entire valley echoed with officers’ hoarse shouts, soldiers’ chants, and clanging sounds.
The clock hands precisely passed 12:48.
Xiong Junfeng raised his wrist, checked his watch, then looked up, surveying the valley before him that had completely transformed.
Half an hour ago, it had been a tranquil wilderness.
Now, one after another ferocious 155mm howitzers stood proudly on meticulously built positions, muzzles covered by camouflage nets, remotely pointing toward Taiyuan.
Between gun positions were neatly stacked, tarpaulin-covered ammo piles. On surrounding high ground, anti-air machine guns and anti-aircraft guns stood like vigilant sentinels watching the sky.
The entire position was covered by huge camouflage nets; from the air, it blended seamlessly with the surrounding mountain forests, showing no trace of human activity.
Xiong Junfeng nodded in satisfaction, a rare smile on his rough face.
He patted the cold, solid barrel of a cannon beside him, muttering to himself: “Not bad… at least we didn’t get outdone by those brats from the First Regiment; looks like the extra training these days paid off.”
He cleared his throat and once again let out a thunderous roar:
“Well done! Now, everyone to positions, all rest!”
“Yes!”
The soldiers responded in unison again, but this time with obvious relief and fatigue in their voices.
With Xiong Junfeng’s command, the war machine that had been running at high speed instantly switched to standby mode. Soldiers busy the previous second receded like a tide the next, diving into their dug individual foxholes or finding shade under trucks or against mountain walls.
“Gulp gulp…”
Water canteens were unscrewed, cool water pouring into parched throats with satisfying sounds. Some soldiers leaned against foxhole walls, removing helmets to fan themselves, letting sweat-soaked backs enjoy a moment of coolness.
Others thought of nothing, just found a comfortable position, heads pillowed on backpacks, sprawling out flat.
Most of the Second Artillery Regiment were veteran soldiers who crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood; they knew better than anyone that on the battlefield, every bit of usable time was invaluable.
Seize the time, rest anytime anywhere to maintain stamina for potential combat—this was the most basic quality of a qualified soldier.
Soon, the tense, noisy position gradually quieted down.
Except for the alert sentries vigilantly watching surroundings, most soldiers had fallen asleep.
The valley wind blew, and the rising and falling snores became the only background sound on this position bristling with killing intent…
