Anti-Japanese War: From Becoming Chu Yunfei to Rising

Tokyo, Ichigayadai, Army Headquarters Underground Operations Room.

The air was filled with the smell of stale paper and a strong tobacco odor.

Major General Seizo Arisue, head of the Second Department (Intelligence Department) of the General Staff Headquarters, stood in front of a huge strategic map, his command baton firmly pointing to the location of Qiongzhou Island in the South China Sea: "Gentlemen, the situation is just as the 'Mei Agency' previously provided."

"The detachment of the U.S. Task Force 58, along with that massive transport convoy, has locked onto Qiongzhou Island."

"Based on the signal analysis after the radio silence was lifted, this is what the US and Chinese forces called a 'joint landing'."

Admiral Osami Nagano, Chief of the Naval General Staff, sat at one side of the long table, holding a teacup in his hand. He didn't even lift his eyelids, and there was even a mocking sneer on the corner of his mouth: "Hmph, that cripple Roosevelt really went all out to please that 'Eastern War Marshal' and Chang Ruiyuan."

"Using aircraft carriers and armored divisions to attack Qiongzhou Island, which is a 'secondary direction' on the strategic chessboard?"

Osami Nagano put down his teacup, his tone filled with disdain for America's strategic vision: "This is a typical political battle."

"The fact that the Americans are wasting their precious transport capacity here shows that they dare not confront our decisive battle in the Philippines right now."

Army Chief of the General Staff, Gen Sugiyama, frowned.

Although he also acknowledged that this was a "foolish move" by the Americans, the pressure of reality was on his side: "Nagino-kun, regardless of whether it's a political battle or not, the enemy's iron hooves are about to trample on the imperial land."

When the Allied forces launched their offensive against Qiongzhou Island, all the high-ranking Japanese military and political officials were actually aware of the situation.

There was absolutely no possibility for them to go south.

"Currently on the island, the 46th Division, the 23rd Independent Mixed Brigade, and the 'Peaceful Nation-Building Army' and police forces that have been recruited have barely managed to muster 100,000 men, but their equipment is extremely poor and their anti-tank firepower is almost zero."

"We have no chance of winning this battle."

Sugiyama Gen turned to Nagano and tentatively asked, "Now that the Americans' main aircraft carriers are dispersed, can the Combined Fleet take this opportunity to launch an operation?"

"Even if it's just a single interception at sea?"

"Interception?"

Nagano Osami seemed to have heard a joke: "Sugiyama-kun, are you still dreaming?"

"The combined fleet's heavy oil reserves have fallen below the red alert level!"

"Every drop of oil is prepared for the future 'Operation Jetsun-1' (the decisive battle in the Philippines planned by General Staff)!"

He walked to the map, drew a heavy circle in the Leyte Gulf east of the Philippines with his finger, his eyes both fanatical and ruthless: "The Americans are diverting their forces to attack Hainan Island, which is a golden opportunity for the Empire!"

"Let them get entangled with the Chinese in the mud!"

"As long as we hold the Philippines, what does it matter if we lose Qiongzhou Island?"
"If we waste the fleet's fuel trying to save that insignificant island, leading to a defeat in the final battle, who will take responsibility? You?!"

The loss of Qiongzhou Island is the responsibility of the army, not the navy!

Sugiyama Gen's face turned ashen, and he was rendered speechless by the rebuttal.

He knew that, in the eyes of the Navy...

The lives of the 100,000 deer in the army are not even worth as much as the fuel cost of a battleship.

"In that case..."

Sugiyama Gen took a deep breath, a ruthless glint in his eyes: "Then send a telegram to the Qiongzhou Island Garrison Command."

"Tell them: Headquarters has long been aware of the movements of the US military, but for the sake of a greater strategic purpose, there are no troops to be deployed and no oil to be supplied."

"Order them to use their existing forces to arm every expatriate!"

"Turn every inch of land into scorched earth!"

"Even if we are destined to perish, we will be like nails, pinning the Americans and Chinese to the island and bleeding them dry!"

……

Qiongzhou Island.

In the heart of Qionghai, the concealed position of the tank company of the 46th Division.

In the humid rubber forest, the chirping of cicadas was so loud it was irritating.

Several Type 97 medium tanks, painted with camouflage, lay quietly in their bunkers.

The cannon muzzle was pointed in the direction from which the gunfire was coming.

These tanks look very imposing.

But only when you get close can you smell a nauseating odor.

It had the pungent smell of pine root oil mixed with alcohol.

"Is this the 'special attack fuel' that headquarters gave us?"

Sergeant Major Sato, the tank commander, held a rusty oil drum in his hand. Looking at the dark, viscous liquid inside, which resembled snot, he forced a smile that was more like a grimace.

"With this stuff added, how many more revolutions will the engine make?"

The driver, Ono, was sweating profusely as he cleaned carbon deposits from the spark plugs. He shook his head in despair: "Two kilometers, at most two kilometers, and the cylinder will explode."

Sato fell silent.

The tank squadron, which was expected to be highly effective, actually only had a few "medium tanks" that were truly capable of fighting; the rest were just sitting ducks for the American troops.

Even with these few actual tanks, the higher-ups couldn't provide them with proper fuel.

The army has been short of fuel for quite some time.

As early as a year ago.

The armored forces had already abandoned the original truck resupply and switched to animal-powered resupply.

The combat effectiveness has decreased significantly.

In addition, the daily food allowance has been decreasing, and the treatment is vastly different from that before the start of the war.

Clearly, everyone knows that the situation is getting worse every day.

Even some of the most die-hard militarists are now in a state of confusion.

Sato was one of them.

He looked up to the north, the direction of their main camp, the direction they hoped to cut off.

The tank squadron had received enemy intelligence reports a few days earlier.

The American fleet arrived, with countless tanks and planes.

But the only order they received from their superiors was a cold, hard sentence: Hold the line and wait for the right opportunity.

Clearly, the island's garrison has been abandoned.

In one engagement and counterattack, their tank squadron was almost completely wiped out.

If their tanks hadn't been under maintenance, they probably would have been destroyed on the beach at Lingao Cape.

Thinking of this, Sato spat angrily: "Waiting for the wrong opportunity..."

He poured the inferior "pine root oil" into the fuel tank, then patted the thin armor plate of the Type 97 tank and said self-deprecatingly:

"Ono, stop complaining."

“The old men at headquarters know this very well.”

"They never expected us to be able to defend by maneuver."

"These two kilometers is the distance from which we drive the vehicle out of the bunker and aim the gun at the main road."

Sato pulled a family photo out of his pocket, glanced at it, and then carefully put it away, his eyes gradually becoming empty and resolute: "Those bastards in the Navy won't come, and the Army's planes haven't taken off either."

"We are no longer tank soldiers, Ono."

"From the moment we added this barrel of oil, we became a fixed fortress inside the tin can."

"When the American Sherman tanks charge in, or they get blown to pieces by planes in the sky..."

"Our mission is now complete."

It's like a jinx.

As soon as Sato finished speaking, a piercing air raid siren suddenly sounded outside the rubber plantation.

The Japanese soldiers showed no panic; they simply and calmly closed the tank hatch, as if they were prepared to die.

"Start the engine."

"Let's make one last move before it turns into scrap metal."

Ga ga ga ka ka ka.

The smoke coming out of the exhaust pipe is not normal.

Instead, it was a plume of black smoke with a burnt smell.

That's a product of the incomplete combustion of pine root oil.

The fumes made the soldiers nearby cough: "It moved...it really moved."

Ono slammed on the gas pedal, his face covered in soot, his voice filled with a kind of dying excitement: "Sergeant, the engine temperature is soaring!"

"We only have fifteen minutes at most! The cylinder will melt in fifteen minutes!"

"enough!"

Sato pressed his eyes against the observation window, his field of vision shaking violently with the tank's jolts.

At the edge of the rubber plantation, the sunlight was quite dazzling.

But even more dazzling than the sunlight were the dense clusters of silver aircraft in the sky.

The aircraft, like a flock of vultures that had smelled blood, circled and swooped down recklessly at low altitude.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

far away.

Several Type 95 light tanks tasked with acting as decoys were hit by aerial bombs as soon as they rushed out of the woods.

That thin-skinned, heavily armored structure was like a paper toy in the face of aerial bombs, instantly torn to shreds.

Parts and human remains flew dozens of meters into the air along with the fireball.

"Sergeant, all the decoys have been destroyed."

"Leave them alone!"

"Full speed ahead! Get on the highway!"

Sato roared, knowing that stopping in the woods would make him a sitting duck.

The only option is to charge out, even if it means dying under enemy fire.

It's better than being brutally killed by a bomb.

The tank roared and smashed several slender rubber trees.

They rushed onto that makeshift dirt road.

however.

The moment when the view suddenly opens up.

Sato, Ono, and all the surviving Japanese tank crewmen felt their hearts stop beating.

Hundreds of meters ahead, dust billowed and the earth trembled.

A torrent of steel was crashing down on them with overwhelming force.

Those were neither the Nationalist troops they were familiar with, nor the British troops they had fought against before.

Clearly, these armored vehicles belonged to the U.S. 18th Armored Division, which was painted with conspicuous white five-pointed stars.

The M4A3 Sherman tank's tall hull gleamed with a cold metallic sheen under the tropical sun.

The 76mm long-barreled cannon coldly pointed forward.

Under the tracks of a Sherman tank.

The Japanese army's makeshift roadblocks were directly crushed.

Aside from a few tanks being stopped by anti-tank concrete stakes, it had almost no effect.

Behind these steel behemoths.

There were countless half-track armored vehicles and trucks, fully loaded with heavily armed infantry.

"Is this what the US military is like?"

Sato's hands were trembling as he looked at the endless sea of ​​tanks.

Then look at your own Type 97 tank, which is losing power due to burning inferior fuel and is still shaking violently.

what is this?
Is a slave who doesn't want to live challenging a samurai lord?

Despair, utter despair.

"Japanese tanks spotted!"

The American tanks on the opposite side had obviously also spotted these little guys emitting black smoke.

The lead Sherman tank didn't even slow down; its turret only turned slightly.

Ono shouted in a tearful voice, "Sergeant, they're charging at us!"

"Fire!"

Sato roared hysterically, even though he knew it was pointless.

"boom!"

The Type 97 tank's short-barreled 57mm gun emitted a faint burst of fire.

The shell whistled out and accurately struck the upper frontal armor of the lead Sherman tank.

"when--!"

A crisp metallic collision sound was heard.

The shells were deflected directly by the sloping, thick armor.

It flew to an unknown location, leaving only a dent in Sherman's armor.

The Japanese tanks delivered a desperate, all-out "killer attack."

But it didn't even scratch off much of the other party's paint.

"Keep firing!"

The next second, the Sherman tank opposite paused, and its 76mm main gun recoiled violently.

"boom!!!"

An armor-piercing shell instantly penetrated the weak frontal armor of Sato's Type 97 tank.

Like a hot knife through butter, the immense kinetic energy instantly shredded everything inside the tank.

The pine root oil triggered a violent secondary explosion, and the tank's turret was directly blown away by the huge blast wave.

On this humid midday, it turned into a burning torch.

When the Japanese tanks faced the Sherman, they became "lighters".

This is just one corner of the battlefield.

In just ten minutes.

This tank squadron, which was regarded by the Japanese General Headquarters as a "counterattack force," was reduced to scrap metal under the tracks of the American armored onslaught.

There was no heroic confrontation, only one-sided crushing defeat.

On the hillside not far away.

Chen Feng, the commander of the Second Army of the Dingnan Army, put down his binoculars.

Zhao Pengcheng, who was beside him, was quickly recording the battle situation.

"This is the first time I've ever seen what the officer meant by an armored assault."

Zhao Pengcheng's voice carried a complex mix of shock at the Allied forces' overwhelming firepower and anticipation for his country's future: "The Japanese tanks are no different from toys in front of the Shermans."

"Their fuel was exhausted, and their spirits were crushed by this torrent of steel."

"According to intelligence, the Japanese army only had this one company of mobile forces on Qiongzhou Island, and it has now been basically annihilated."

Chen Feng nodded with a smile: "Up to now, our allies' mission has been completed, and it's time for our attack."

As the US military continues to penetrate deeper into the region...

The battle intensified.

After their counterattack failed, the Japanese army quickly shifted to its defensive lines in depth and adjusted its combat strategy.

It is located three kilometers north of Lingao Town.

The offensive front of the U.S. 18th Armored Division had to come to a halt here.

Both sides of the road.

The wreckage of twelve M4A3 Sherman tanks was emitting black smoke.

Just hours earlier, the U.S. military thought it was just a casual "armed parade".

however.

When the armored column entered the hilly area around Lingao, which was covered with shrubs and sugarcane fields.

The real nightmare began.

Countless Japanese suicide squads carrying technical grenades and "spiking mines" tied to long poles.

They leap out from the roadside bushes, ditches, and even tree canopies like mice.

They ignored the barrage of M2 heavy machine gun fire.

They perished together with American tanks in an almost insane and fearless manner.

Deep within the dense forest, the Japanese army's extremely concealed anti-tank guns formed a deadly crossfire network.

The Japanese army did not have many anti-tank weapons, so they chose to concentrate their use on one.

This is a gambling-style approach.

The Japanese just made the right bet.

Colonel Davis, commander of the U.S. Army's advance regiment, hid behind the wreckage of a half-track vehicle, watching stretcher teams carry wounded soldiers down from the front lines. His face was ashen: "Damn it! This place is hell!"

Just one day.

On this very day of pushing forward in depth.

His regiment suffered over 100 casualties, with total casualties exceeding 500! They also lost the equipment of a tank company!
This casualty rate is unusual for the U.S. military, which is accustomed to overwhelming firepower and advancing step by step.

This is an unacceptable loss.

Qiongzhou Island is not one of those fortified strongholds in the Pacific Ocean; it is merely a transit base for supplies!

"Sir, the sugarcane field ahead is full of Japanese!" A second lieutenant with a blood-stained face ran back to report. "They've tied themselves to the trees, and there are those damn 'rat holes' too."

"Our tanks would be sitting ducks if they went in! We must call in bombing!"

"Damn bombing!"

Davis glanced up at the dark clouds in the sky and angrily slammed his fist on the armor plate: "These weather conditions are simply not suitable."

"Hey!"

"Americans, make way!"

Davis turned around and saw a group of soldiers speaking Mandarin passing by him.

They were dressed in grass-green military uniforms, wearing M1 steel helmets, and carrying Thompson submachine guns and Garand rifles.

It was Chen Feng's troops under Huang Huanran's Second Army of Dingnan.

Their appearance actually means that they will take over the next battlefield.

The battles to come will naturally be their responsibility.

"Only the second day of the landing operation, our friendly forces couldn't wait to join the battle."

Davis smiled and repeated "Good, good" several times in a row.

A Nationalist Army major stopped in front of Davis, saluted, and said in broken English, "Colonel, the rest of the attack will be handled by us. You can rest."

Davis looked at the group of Chinese soldiers, who were not as burly as the American soldiers, but whose eyes revealed a fierce determination. His Adam's apple bobbed, and in the end he just nodded wearily: "Good luck to you, and watch out for those talking trees."

The major grinned, revealing a set of white teeth: "In Burma, in Siam, in French Indochina, we have dealt with such opponents countless times. Even if we have to burn down all the trees, even if we have to dig three feet into the ground, we will find the enemy and kill them completely."

……

Five hours later, in Lingao Town.

Compared to the setbacks the US military has suffered in the field.

At this point, Lingao County had become a meat grinder.

The one in charge of the main attack.

It was the First Combat Division, which was Chen Feng's unit.

The predecessor of the Second Army Group was the newly formed 11th Army, which was one of the elite units of the Flying Tigers.

In fact, due to the protracted counterinsurgency campaign (jungle warfare against small Japanese units in French Indochina), the U.S. military did not have a high opinion of their combat effectiveness.

But at the moment.

In the narrow, winding streets and alleys of Lingao Town, filled with both visible and hidden bunkers.

Chen Feng's troops demonstrated astonishing combat power.

"Flamethrower!"

"on!"

With a roar from the lieutenant company commander, two soldiers carrying M2 flamethrowers, under the cover of a machine gun squad, quickly leaped to the outside of a shrine occupied by the Japanese army.

"call--!"

Two fire dragons shot into the firing port.

The horrific screams instantly echoed through the street.

Immediately afterwards, several Japanese soldiers, their bodies engulfed in flames, rushed out and were accurately shot down by riflemen who had been waiting for them.

The Japanese army's defense in Lingao Town was extremely tenacious.

They breached the walls of civilian houses and set up countless booby traps and crossfire points in the streets.

Armored units naturally struggle in urban warfare.

But the Nationalist army's infantry thrived.

Of course, the US military has its own way of fighting, but this battle is not an obligation of its allies.

"Third shift, get on the roof!"

"Fourth Squad, Demolition Team, blow up the wall!"

"Don't take the main road!"

"Go through the house!"

The officers and soldiers of the National Revolutionary Army made full use of the key points of urban warfare.

They not only engaged in direct firepower battles with the Japanese army, but also used the ruins to infiltrate and penetrate enemy lines.

In terms of firepower, the Japanese were no match for them.

Similarly, infiltration and splitting the battlefield are also tactics that the Dingnan Army excels at.

In addition, some Type 31 rocket launchers were assigned to the front lines.

In urban warfare, the Nationalist army had a complete advantage!

"Two o'clock position, second floor machine gun firing point!"

"Tom!"

A rocket, trailing a plume of flame, flew out and blasted half the wall and the machine gunner into the air.

That evening.

Driven to despair, the Japanese soldiers launched one last assault.

In just six hours of fighting, they ran out of ammunition.

The sound of gunfire never stopped for even a second.

Knowing they were doomed after receiving the death order, they launched a desperate charge.

More than two hundred Japanese soldiers, bayonets at their heels, charged toward the Nationalist army's position, yelling and screaming.

A few years ago, we might have adopted a defensive stance by now, preparing for a shift from offense to defense.

But now, this combat force, equipped with fully modernized American weaponry and with allied logistical support, has unleashed an extremely formidable fighting force.

This style of play is extremely "solid".

"Thompson! Push them all up!"

The battalion commander at the front gave the order.

Two companies.

Thirty or so submachine guns and a dozen or so Browning light machine guns opened fire simultaneously.

The dense hail of bullets instantly created a metallic storm.

The Japanese "Banzai charge" completely collapsed when it was only fifty meters away from the Nationalist army's position.

With such overwhelming firepower, this was no longer a battle; it was a line of executions.

"Grenade!"

Before the surviving Japanese soldiers could react...

Hundreds of grenades were already raining down.

Amidst the deafening explosions, the Japanese counter-attacking force was completely annihilated.

……

The rain stopped in the evening.

The gunfire in Lingao Town gradually subsided.

Amidst the smoke and ruins, a flag of the Republic of China (Taiwan) rises.

outside the city.

At the temporary camp of the U.S. 18th Armored Division.

Colonel Davis lowered his binoculars and listened to his adjutant's report on the battle situation, his expression extremely complex.

“You mean… they wiped out the entire garrison in just four hours?” Davis asked incredulously. “And in urban warfare?”

“Yes, sir.” The adjutant swallowed hard. “Their infantry tactics are very flexible and extremely fierce.”

"The kind of suicide attacks we encountered in the wild had no effect on them. They completed the outer area clearing in just three hours, and in less than eight hours in total, they completely annihilated the enemy."

Davis was utterly bewildered: "Why is this happening!"

"They don't give the Japanese a chance to get close at all." The adjutant gave a wry smile: "The Chinese seem to know better than the Japanese how to fight in the muddy waters of Asia."

"They used rocket launchers and flamethrowers to clear every suspicious patch of grass and tree."

"If we encounter a tough opponent, we should call in the mortar fire from the rear."

"They are better at protecting themselves than we are, and they understand the enemy's combat strategy better."

"This tactic allows them to advance faster than our armored forces."

Davis remained silent for a long time, then took one last look at the Sherman tanks behind him that were still undergoing track repairs.

He had to admit.

In this specific battlefield environment, his armored division could only play a supporting role.

"It seems that General Bradley's decision was correct."

Davis sighed and gave the order: "Order all departments to construct fortifications on the spot to ensure the safety of major transportation lines and ports."

"The mission is to attack."

"Let's hand it over to our Chinese ally, just as agreed by both sides."

With the capture of Lingao Town, the floodgates of Operation "Great Flood" were fully opened. (End of Chapter)