Chapter Eighty-Six: The Japanese Army Attacks

Upon hearing Tengchong, Wang Zanbin nodded and glanced at the soldiers around him, unable to suppress a sigh.

They had suffered nearly six thousand casualties on their side, while eliminating only a little over two thousand Japanese troops. Judging by the numbers alone, it might seem they had come off the worse for it.

But that had to be weighed against the vast difference in equipment between the Republican Army and the Japanese.

To rely on the armament of the One Hundred Seventy-Fourth Division and still hold off an elite Japanese brigade for seven days and seven nights, while killing more than two thousand men, was already no small feat.

One might even call it a victory.

Wang Zanbin knew how hard it was to kill Japanese soldiers, so seeing such a casualty ratio gave him a measure of comfort.

“You brothers did very well, far beyond what I expected. Though we’ve lost many of our men, we’ve also taken out more than two thousand Japanese. Worth it!” Wang Zanbin gave a thumbs-up and said in a ringing voice. “Brothers, I’m proud of you!”

Hearing his words, the soldiers, whose spirits had been somewhat low, recovered a little and no longer looked as listless as before.

Seeing this, Wang Zanbin let out a long breath and said to Tengchong, “No matter what, we need to pull the troops back first. Once we return, we’ll rest and reorganize properly. Even though we’ve gotten out for now, and friendly forces are blocking the enemy behind us, it still isn’t truly safe...”

Just then, a burst of chaotic gunfire suddenly rang out.

The shots crackled like frying beans, once begun they came without pause, growing fiercer and fiercer.

At the sound, Wang Zanbin’s expression changed at once.

The gunfire was coming from Sanheji.

“Divisional Commander, it looks like the friendly force lying in ambush at Sanheji has already engaged the Japanese troops in pursuit!” Tengchong said urgently, leaning in close.

“Order the troops to pack up immediately and prepare to withdraw!” Wang Zanbin said quickly.

“Yes!”

Tengchong wasted no words. He immediately had the troops assemble rapidly, then continued the forced march toward the rear.

As for the fighting around Sanheji, it was only a small ambushing force. After holding off the Japanese for less than half an hour, they could no longer hold and withdrew under their commander’s lead.

Even so, they had killed and wounded two or three hundred Japanese soldiers.

After repelling the ambush at Sanheji, the Japanese Fifth Brigade did not pursue; instead, it headed straight for the direction in which the One Hundred Seventy-Fourth Division had retreated.

In Katasama Ichiro’s mind, the force he most wanted to annihilate was the One Hundred Seventy-Fourth Division.

What infuriated him, however, was that not long after driving off the ambush at Sanheji, the brigade was ambushed again near Majiagang.

Although they quickly drove off the troops lying in wait at Majiagang as well, the Japanese Fifth Brigade still lost more than two hundred men.

During the next stretch of pursuit, Republican forces repeatedly appeared in small detachments to block the road. Though they did not cause the Japanese any great trouble, they made the Fifth Brigade of the Imperial Army endlessly vexed.

And the casualties kept climbing rapidly.

Each encounter cost only dozens or at most a hundred men, yet after several ambushes in succession, and with the losses at Majiagang and Sanheji added in, the total number of dead and wounded came to nearly a thousand.

This enraged the Fifth Brigade commander, Katasama Ichiro, to the point of thunderous fury. On the march he flew into rages, repeatedly cursing the Republican troops as cunning and treacherous, but after venting his anger, there was nothing he could do.

Those small blocking units, once they had finished their fight with the Japanese, never lingered. They plunged directly into mountain ravines and dense forests, leaving the Japanese to stare into the woods in helpless fury.

Katasama Ichiro ground his teeth in hatred over it.

Though he knew that after such delay the unit they had been pursuing was already beyond reach, he still ordered the troops to continue forward.

Headquarters of the Third Division had already sent word that the Fifth Brigade was to hasten to Linhuai Pass and prepare to force the Huai River with the main force. Katasama Ichiro could only keep his men moving.

Just after the unit had set out and reached the Mingguang area, it was ambushed again. Thinking this was once more only a small force, the Japanese believed they could wipe them out completely, so they sent forward an infantry battalion to crush them with firepower and suppress the enemy.

To their surprise, this time they had run into the main force.

The Japanese infantry slammed headlong into the ferocious fire of the main body and suffered heavy losses the moment they made contact. After a brutal battle, more than a thousand Japanese soldiers had been lost before the defenders were finally driven back.

But that loss made Katasama Ichiro feel as though his heart were bleeding.

The seven-day, seven-night assault on the Chi River, together with the enemy blocking actions encountered along the road, brought the Fifth Brigade’s total casualties to more than four thousand men. That was nearly the strength of a field infantry regiment.

And his entire brigade consisted of only two regiments. This had cut the combat power of his Fifth Brigade in half in one blow. How could Katasama Ichiro not ache over it?

More than four thousand dead and wounded—such losses had never before befallen the Third Division. Once division headquarters learned of the situation, they launched a severe inquiry against Katasama Ichiro. Even the commander of the Third Division, Fujita Susumu, personally questioned him and reprimanded him.

That stern reckoning left Katasama Ichiro utterly humiliated. In his fury, flames seemed to blaze in his chest, and his hatred for the already escaped One Hundred Seventy-Fourth Division deepened to the marrow.

He ground his teeth and swore that he would personally annihilate the One Hundred Seventy-Fourth Division, cut off every one of their heads, and stack them into a grisly monument to slake the hatred in his heart.

Yet by then the One Hundred Seventy-Fourth Division had already arrived safely at Linhuai Pass, where the troops were resting and reorganizing.

So Katasama Ichiro’s wish was doomed to come to nothing.

After the Japanese captured the Chi River, the Third Division and the Thirteenth Division joined forces and raced toward Linhuai Pass, hoping to force the crossing of the Huai River and drive straight into the heart of Xuzhou.

And to prevent the Third and Thirteenth Divisions from pushing too deep alone and being cut off in the rear by Republican forces, the Ninth Division dispatched an elite main force to Dingyuan, intending to smash the defenders there.

When the news arrived, the Independent Brigade was busy receiving friendly troops withdrawing in this direction.

These friendly forces were the units that had laid an ambush for the Japanese Fifth Brigade near Mingguang. After being driven back by the Japanese, and with the enemy pursuing fiercely, they could not retreat to Linhuai Pass, so they had to take a detour to Dingyuan. There they planned to recover for a while and await orders from above.

The Independent Brigade and the One Hundred Thirty-Fifth Division welcomed them into the city, then entered a tense state of war readiness, waiting for the main force of the Japanese Ninth Division to arrive.

Everyone knew that a great battle was already unavoidable, and that it would soon break out at Dingyuan.