Chapter 259: Luring Into The Trap
Retreat has never been a simple word, especially when it involves the life and death of hundreds of thousands of troops.
This is an incredibly complex system engineering project, precise to the point of making one’s scalp tingle.
Which unit withdraws first, which unit withdraws later, how long must the rearguard hold? How many retreat routes are there? Where are the backup routes? Once encountering enemy aircraft bombing or ground troops assault, how to respond?
When different units cross during withdrawal, how should artillery, infantry, and logistics units coordinate and connect to avoid crowding into a mess on narrow roads, turning into live targets for the enemy?
Every detail concerns the lives of thousands of soldiers. Any glitch in any link could trigger a domino effect, turning the entire retreat operation into a catastrophic rout.
In the following days, the entire Fifth Theater Command headquarters turned into a high-speed operating war machine on the verge of overheating.
Li Zongren and his staff officers had bloodshot eyes, not having closed their eyes for days and nights.
The operations room was filled with smoke, telephone bells, telegraph tick-tock sounds, and hoarse arguments from officers rising and falling, never stopping.
Fortunately, Li Zongren had a capable assistant by his side—the Fifth Theater Chief of Staff… Xu Zuyi.
This experienced and meticulous chief of staff, together with his staff officers, poured all their energy into this retreat plan of hellish difficulty.
They pinpointed the action time of every division and every regiment to the hour, and rehearsed every retreat route dozens of times.
After several sleepless nights of effort, a detailed retreat plan finally took shape.
And in this plan, the core, most dangerous, and most crucial link was the rearguard mission.
There must be a unit with sufficiently strong combat power and firm enough will, like a nail, firmly nailed in Yichang, sparing no cost to hold off the Japanese army’s most frenzied attacks, buying precious window time for the westward withdrawal of hundreds of thousands of troops.
This nine-deaths-and-one-life mission undoubtedly fell on Su Yaoyang and his Shanxi Militia.
Thus, while the theater’s main forces began withdrawing westward in batches and silently, Su Yaoyang and his troops did the opposite.
They took over the defense of the entire Yichang city, and did only one thing—transform this ancient strategic stronghold into an unprecedented, solid fortress that could drain the Japanese army’s blood.
Inside Yichang city, the former prosperity had long vanished. In its place was a tense and orderly pre-battle atmosphere.
Teams of Shanxi Militia soldiers were assisting batches of civilians boarding westward-bound ships.
On the docks, cries, exhortations, and soldiers’ orders mixed together, but the scene remained orderly.
Meanwhile, on the streets inside the city, another scene was unfolding.
Under the unified command of the officers, the entire city was being “magically modified.”
Sturdy buildings were turned into firepower support points, windows sealed with sandbags, leaving only firing holes.
On the streets, toppled walls, abandoned houses, even heavy furniture moved from citizens’ homes, were piled up to build simple yet effective barricades.
Countless crossfire points, anti-tank traps, and booby traps were cleverly placed in every possible direction of Japanese attack.
Su Yaoyang stood on the top of a bell tower requisitioned as a temporary command post, holding binoculars, overlooking the city undergoing massive changes under his hands.
At his feet were streets and alleys being turned into death traps by countless engineers and soldiers. In the distance were endless friendly forces and civilians stretching westward.
He knew that after the last friendly unit withdrew, this city would become the bloody arena for him and his troops against the Japanese Eleventh Army.
When the last batch of civilians withdrew and Li Zongren’s theater command department had also relocated, this Guangxi clique boss personally came to the bell tower about to become a battlefield for a final farewell with Su Yaoyang.
Without much passionate speech, the two men just stood on the bell tower top, silently watching the sunset dye the entire city a tragic blood red.
“Mingxi, I’m counting on you.” Before leaving, Li Zongren heavily patted Su Yaoyang’s shoulder.
“Commander, rest assured, at least within ten days, Yichang will be as steady as Mount Tai. The little devils want to take Yichang only by stepping over all our corpses.” Su Yaoyang’s response was simple and forceful.
The two parted reluctantly. As Li Zongren’s figure disappeared at the end of the street, the fate of the entire Yichang city, along with tens of thousands of Shanxi Militia soldiers inside, was completely handed over to Su Yaoyang alone.
With no more constraints, Su Yaoyang could finally let loose and arrange this defense battle destined to go down in history according to his own ideas.
His first order went to the air force. Cheng Rufeng led the Pirate Squadron to move all precious F4U fighters and SBD Dauntless dive bombers, along with ground crew and key equipment, to the temporary airfield at Sandouping over 200 kilometers west.
The airfield outside Yichang city suburbs was turned into an empty shell, not even leaving a single screw for the devils.
Next, he began setting up ground defenses.
Relying on the hills and rivers outside Yichang city, he set up two lines of deep echeloned outer defenses.
These two defense lines were not intended to be held to the death, but as “speed bumps” to consume and delay the Japanese army.
Each defense line was filled with large numbers of landmines, barbed wire, and carefully calculated artillery bombardment coordinates, aimed at letting the Japanese bleed enough and wear down their momentum as much as possible before they formally attacked the urban area.
The true decisive battleground was placed inside Yichang city by him.
This city, meticulously transformed into a three-dimensional fortress by the staff officers, was the real graveyard he prepared for the 6th Division.
Second Regiment Commander Huang Guantao, this fierce general who crawled out of the pile of corpses and blood in Nanjing with him, was appointed by him as the city defense overall commander, responsible for the core street fighting.
Everything was ready; the rest was waiting.
Time passed in a suffocating calm.
The third day after Li Zongren and others left, the morning of May 26, 1940.
The thin mist shrouding Yichang city had not yet dispersed when a piercing alarm suddenly broke the silence!
They’re here!
Su Yaoyang abruptly sat up from the camp bed, grabbed the binoculars, and rushed to the bell tower’s observation port.
Only to see on the eastern horizon of the city, black floods appearing. That was the Japanese reconnaissance troops and vanguard units, approaching the outer defenses of Yichang city cautiously like wolves sniffing blood.
Following closely was sky-filling smoke and dust. That was the main force of the Japanese 6th Division, rolling up the earth’s dust, pressing forward menacingly.
War finally descended in its most direct and ferocious face.
Shanxi Militia soldiers on various positions outside the city quickly entered combat posts under officers’ orders.
The “click” of pulling bolts, artillerymen adjusting firing data commands, rose and fell. Every face was filled with tension and resolve.
They quietly lurked in their positions, like a group of patient hunters waiting for the prey to step into the trap.
Zhang Wen Shan silently sat in the trench smoking, in stark contrast to the young private next to him who kept poking his head out to observe.
On the first outer defense line five li east of Yichang city, inside a newly dug communication trench.
The air was filled with the damp earthy smell and faint tobacco scent.
Zhang Wen Shan silently leaned against the trench’s parapet, lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, then slowly exhaled. The smoke blurred his weather-beaten angular face.
He appeared unusually calm, in sharp contrast to the young private next to him who kept stealthily peeking out, nervously observing the front.
That was a new recruit just replenished to their platoon from the rear, with peach fuzz still on his face, now fidgeting restlessly, tightly clutching his brand-new Garand rifle, palms full of sweat.
“Don’t show your head, watch out for the little devils’ snipers.” Zhang Wen Shan said flatly without looking at him, “Sit your ass steady; there’s plenty of fighting for you.”
The young private blushed at the platoon leader’s words, quickly pulled his head back, but his body remained tense.
A veteran next to him wiping an M1919 machine gun grinned with his missing front tooth, chuckling: “Platoon leader, look at this rookie shaking like chaff. When the little devils come up later, just don’t piss your pants.”
“Get lost!” Zhang Wen Shan laughed and cursed, “Who wasn’t a rookie once.”
The veterans in the trench let out low chuckles, easing the tense atmosphere a bit.
Just then, distant hoofbeats grew from far to near, increasingly clear.
The first batch of Japanese troops to arrive was the 6th Cavalry Regiment under the 6th Division.
These Japanese soldiers riding tall horses and carrying sabers did not charge straight at the positions like reckless fools.
They showed the quality unique to permanent divisions.
Hundreds of cavalry dispersed, starting to circle back and forth along the defense line at a safe distance of about five or six hundred meters from the positions.
They sped up and slowed down at times, making various arrogant provocative gestures on horseback. Some waved sabers, some flipped the middle finger toward the positions, others shouted ear-splitting filthy curses in broken Chinese.
Their purpose was clear: to enrage the defenders on the positions, lure them into firing impatiently, thus exposing firepower point locations and density.
However, their scheme did not succeed.
The entire first defense line was like a sleeping giant python, silent and still. No machine gun sweeps, no rifle volleys, not even a responding curse. The soldiers had strict orders: no firing without command headquarters’ order.
Just as the Japanese cavalry were running merrily, thinking the Chinese defenders were all cowards—
“Pfft!”
A muffled and unique gunshot abruptly rang out on the battlefield. The sound was not crisp like ordinary rifles, but carried a suppressed power.
A Japanese sergeant major waving his saber arrogantly shuddered violently, as if struck by an invisible sledgehammer.
A blood hole instantly appeared on his steel helmet; the whole man fell straight off the galloping horse like a broken sack, rolled a few times on the ground, then went silent.
The provocative cursing stopped abruptly.
All Japanese cavalry reined in their horses in shock, looking uncertainly at their fallen comrade and the silent Chinese positions.
Before they could react—
“Pfft!”
Another identical gunshot.
Another cavalryman’s chest burst with a blood mist, falling from his horse.
Now they finally understood. What greeted them was not timid cowards, but calm and deadly snipers hidden deep in the positions. Unknown fear instantly enveloped them; these cavalry who were insufferably arrogant moments ago panicked, turned their horses, and fled disgracefully to the rear.
In the communication trench, Zhang Wen Shan stubbed out his cigarette, a cold smile on his lips.
This was just the appetizer.
The real main course was still to come…
The first probing clash between the Shanxi Militia and the 6th Division after three years ended with the 6th Cavalry Regiment leaving over a dozen corpses in front of the Chinese positions and fleeing in disgrace.
This was not just a tactical minor setback, but a public humiliation to Machijiri Ryoki and the entire 6th Division’s pride.
Thoroughly enraged, the Japanese escalated the conflict without hesitation.
Soon, orders from the rear field airfield arrived at the front command post via radio waves.
The Japanese first round of formal attack began. And this time, they sent steel death gods from the sky.
“Aircraft make war so terrible, I believe any nation will be exceedingly—exceedingly cautious about war.”
This was what a general said to reporters after World War I.
But regrettably, history proved him wrong. The rapid development of aircraft not only did not deter humanity from war, but greatly accelerated the war process and pushed its cruelty to a new height.
At this moment, at a hidden field airfield over a hundred kilometers from Yichang, these machines accelerating war were neatly arrayed beside the compacted grass runway.
Sleek-lined brand-new fighters painted with the Rising Sun emblem gleamed with metallic cold light in the morning sun. They were the Imperial Air Service’s latest pride—the Zero carrier-based fighter.
A group of generally short but sharp-eyed pilots with the fanaticism of youth gathered on the airfield grass, standing at attention, listening intently to their commander’s pre-battle briefing.
Standing before them was the captain of the 90th Air Squadron, Yamamoto Kenji, Imperial Army Air Force Middle Captain.
He stood tall in his flight suit, holding a pointer, indicating a Zero fighter behind him as a model.
“Gentlemen!”
Yamamoto Kenji’s voice was loud and confident, “This is the Empire’s latest masterpiece, Mitsubishi A6M, Zero fighter! It uses a 780-horsepower ‘Rikisen’ 13-type twin-row 14-cylinder air-cooled radial piston engine, all-metal lightweight fuselage, giving it unparalleled climb rate and endurance!”
He heavily tapped the aircraft’s wing with the pointer.
“For armament, two 7.7 mm aerial machine guns each on the wings and nose! In speed, maneuverability, or sustained firepower, the Zero is the Empire’s, even the world’s top fighter! The Chinese’s outdated I-15s and I-16s are nothing but flying coffins before it!”
The young pilots erupted in irrepressible excited murmurs, eyes shining with blind faith in the new fighters and eagerness for the coming air battle.
“Sir, request to speak!” A young pilot raised his hand high.
“Permission granted.”
“Sir, I heard the Shanxi Militia of China is equipped with the latest American fighters. These planes are not only extremely fast but have ferocious firepower. Our air group suffered heavy losses at Pumpkin Shop a few days ago. Can you tell us about those Chinese fighters?” The young pilot said, a trace of worry in his eyes.
“Idiot!” Yamamoto Kenji cursed, “Are you making excuses for failure?
The Chinese fighters are nothing special. Besides thicker armor and more machine guns, they can’t compare to us in speed or turning.
In combat, we just play to our small turning radius and flexible maneuverability advantages, and we can easily defeat them. Understand?”
“Hai!” The young pilot lowered his head in fright.
Yamamoto Kenji nodded satisfied at his subordinates’ reactions, continuing to incite: “Our mission is to pilot these elite war eagles to knock open Yichang’s gates! Clear all obstacles for the Army’s brave warriors! Let those Chinese rats in the trenches taste the wrath of the Imperial gods! Establish merit for His Majesty the Emperor!”
“Tenno Heika! Banzai!”
The pilots roared in unison, fanatical slogans echoing across the airfield.
With Yamamoto Kenji’s order, the pilots quickly dispersed to their aircraft.
Ground crew pulled starter levers; amid puffs of white smoke, the Zero engines roared to life like awakening beasts.
Soon, an attack formation of twenty-four Zero fighters and eighteen Type 97 light bombers kicked up dust, roaring into the sky one after another, forming a huge arrowhead in the air, charging toward Yichang with murderous intent.
Yamamoto Kenji led his proud Zero group, like a flock of elegant yet deadly raptors, flying over Yichang.
From thousands of meters high, the whole city looked like a huge sand table, streets and houses clearly visible.
A contemptuous smile curled his lips; he was about to order his subordinates to enjoy this “hunt.”
However, before he could speak, a sudden change occurred!
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
From the ground, tongues of fire erupted without warning! Then, below and around the formation, black cotton-candy-like smoke clouds suddenly exploded.
Those were anti-aircraft shells bursting at preset altitudes forming a barrage!
The violent explosion shockwaves made the fuselage shudder; several Zero fighters too slow to dodge were scratched by shrapnel, leaving ugly scars on their bodies.
“Idiot! Ground has heavy anti-aircraft fire!”
Yamamoto Kenji’s face darkened instantly, “Second and third squadrons, dive immediately! Knock out their anti-air positions!”
“Hai!”
Over ten Zero fighters broke formation, nosed down with ear-piercing shrieks, like diving eagles pouncing on the ground positions spitting fire.
At that moment, a cold and steady voice sounded on another radio frequency.
“Pirate calling chicks, ‘Zero’ candies entered the field, prepare to feast. Per plan, height advantage, free hunt!”
This voice belonged to Cheng Rufeng.
On his command, from higher cloud layers, twenty F4U “Corsair” fighters with shark-mouth paint and unique inverted gull wings smashed down like descending hammers!
Their speed far exceeded the Zeros; using “Immelmann turn” accumulated height advantage, with “hit-and-run” tactics, they viciously pounced on the diving Zeros exposing their backs completely!
“Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat…”
Six .50 caliber Browning heavy machine guns at the wing roots of the F4U Corsair fighters roared together! Six blazing whips of tracer rounds instantly lashed onto two diving Zero fighters.
The fragile Zeros under the heavy machine guns’ power were like eggs smashed by a hammer. One’s wing was torn off on the spot; the plane lost balance in the air, spinning into a fireball crashing to the ground.
The other’s cockpit was riddled like a sieve; the pilot and seat turned into bloody pulp. The plane trailed black smoke and nose-dived!
“Enemy attack! Enemy planes above!”
“It’s the Chinese new fighters! Such fast speed!”
The Japanese radio channel instantly descended into chaos.
Yamamoto Kenji was shocked and furious; he yanked the stick hard, abandoning ground attack, forcibly pulling up the plane, looking up.
He saw the group of blue fighters with weird wings, after one dive attack, using powerful engine advantage quickly climbed again, regaining favorable height.
“Damn it! Don’t tangle with them! Play to our maneuverability advantage!” Yamamoto Kenji roared, knowing their tactical intent.
The sky instantly became a huge and brutal meat grinder.
Twenty-four Zeros versus twenty Corsairs, paired in dogfights, tangled together.
Zeros relied on unparalleled horizontal maneuverability, trying to drag the Corsairs into close-range turning fights.
One Zero tightly bit a Corsair’s tail; 7.7 mm bullets bounced off the Corsair’s thick armor.
The Corsair pilot strictly followed Cheng Rufeng’s orders, never lingering. Using strong engine power and sturdy fuselage, once tailed, he slammed the throttle, used speed advantage to disengage, then reclimbed for the next dive opportunity.
The air battle was extremely fierce; planes trailing black smoke fell from the sky from time to time.
One Corsair, greedy for kills, chased a damaged Zero and was ambushed from the side-rear by another Zero; its fuel tank hit, exploding mid-air into brilliant fireworks.
Cheng Rufeng personally piloted his mount like an aerial ghost.
He targeted a skilled Japanese Zero; after several probing rounds, he caught its roll flaw, sideslipped sharply; six heavy machine guns roared again, dense bullet rain instantly shredding the Zero’s tail.
The out-of-control Zero spun helplessly to the ground like a falling leaf.
Both sides’ pilots staked their lives and skills in the most primal, bloodiest duel.
The sky over Yichang became a giant sieve, constantly shaking lives and steel from the heavens.
