Chapter 80: The Assault Falters

The repeated assaults by the Japanese army had inflicted devastating losses upon the defending 174th Division. When they first engaged the enemy, the defenders suffered heavy casualties from a combination of a Japanese bayonet charge and an artillery barrage. Even the division’s only four mortars were destroyed. This loss ignited a furious rage in Commander Wang Zanbin; he shouted and roared in helpless anger.

The Japanese artillery bombardment showed no sign of abating, and their infantry pressed the attack relentlessly. It was clear the enemy intended to seize the Chihe position in a single, unbroken assault, without giving the defenders a moment to catch their breath.

Wang Zanbin could do little more than grit his teeth. Against the Japanese artillery, he was powerless. Their four mortars were small-caliber, with an effective range of only two kilometers, while the Japanese batteries were at least three kilometers away—well out of reach. Even if the mortars could reach that distance, his gunners were hardly skilled enough to hit anything so far away. All they could do was turn their fire on the Japanese infantry. But in doing so, they exposed their own mortars to enemy observation and fire.

This was the stark disparity in equipment; this was the chasm between the Japanese and the defending 174th Division. It was a gap that could only be filled with lives.

In truth, during the Battle of Songhu, the Nationalist government had mobilized hundreds of thousands of troops to resist the Japanese, yet suffered a crushing defeat. Why? Was it because the soldiers did not fight to the death? No. In Songhu, the soldiers fought with everything they had, yet still lost. With so many troops, just a mouthful of spit from each could have drowned the Japanese invaders. Yet, in reality, to eliminate a single Japanese soldier, the defenders often paid three to five times—or even ten times—the cost in their own lives. At Songhu, Japanese naval guns pounded the defenders’ positions without pause; entire companies and platoons were wiped out in the bombardments. Sometimes a whole battalion would be wiped out within ten minutes of entering the line.

Such a disparity in equipment was like the difference between clouds and mud. This was the situation Wang Zanbin now faced. His 174th Division fought desperately, but the inferiority of their equipment meant they could not hold. One after another, his men fell, utterly unable to strike back under the relentless shelling.

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“Charge!” The Japanese gathered yet another battalion and, under the command of their battalion leader, launched another assault on the position. Each time the Japanese were repulsed, another wave immediately followed, surging up like the relentless pounding of waves upon the shore, battering the defenders’ lines without rest.

This tactic was their “wave assault,” which we call the “boar charge”—an endless succession of infantry attacks, a human wave offensive. By rights, such tactics are the most costly and least sophisticated when storming a well-defended position. But the Japanese, with their superior equipment, found these human wave attacks devastatingly effective against the poorly equipped Nationalist defenders.

In previous battles, the Japanese would bombard a position with artillery, then send troops to charge, repeating the cycle without giving the enemy a chance to breathe. Soon enough, they would overrun the defenses. It was with this very tactic that the Japanese rampaged across every battlefield, driving the Nationalist troops to bitter silence.

The Japanese exploited their advantage, forcing the defenders into frontal fights where their inferior equipment left them utterly outmatched. Now, in the face of such tactics, Wang Zanbin’s 174th Division resisted with all their might, his soldiers fighting to the last breath. The staccato rattle of their machine guns filled the battlefield, pouring bullets into the advancing Japanese and cutting many down.

Yet, for every one killed, two more took his place; for every two, three surged forward. The Japanese infantry seemed endless, their attacks unceasing.

Under such an onslaught, the forward positions held by the 174th Division fell within a single day. Commander Wang Zanbin immediately led his men to the second line of defense, determined to hold against the attacks of the Japanese Fifth Brigade.

At the Chihe engagement, the 174th Division had established three defensive lines. Alongside them were some irregular units, whose contributions were limited but nonetheless slowed the Japanese advance, easing the tempo of their attacks.

Around the three lines of the Chihe position, the 174th Division and the Japanese fought a bitter, seesawing battle. The lines changed hands repeatedly—when the Japanese seized the second line, the defenders would launch desperate counterattacks to retake it. In this grinding contest, the Japanese Third Division’s Fifth Brigade assaulted Chihe for six days and nights, yet still could not capture it.

Exasperated, Lieutenant General Fujita Susumu, commander of the Third Division, personally called the commander of the Fifth Brigade, Katayama Ichiro, ordering him to take Chihe within a day—or face military justice.

“Hai! Rest assured, General!” Katayama Ichiro, bowing slightly with the phone in hand, replied, “The Chinese forces have taken severe losses and are nearly at their limit. My Fifth Brigade will surely capture the Chihe position within a day!”

“Hai! Hai! I understand. If I fail to take Chihe within a day, I will not have the face to see you, General, and will commit seppuku to prove my loyalty to the Empire!”

“Hai! Hai!” Whatever Fujita said on the other end, Katayama nodded and bowed repeatedly. Only after swearing this oath did he manage to placate the division commander. As the line went dead, Katayama hung up and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Commander, what did the General say?” the chief of staff asked after he hung up.

“The General is dissatisfied with our brigade’s failure to take Chihe after so long. He has ordered us to capture it within a day’s time, or I must commit seppuku in loyalty to the Emperor.”

“In a single day?” The chief of staff’s anxiety was clear. “It will be difficult to take the position in just one day! The Chinese defenders are determined to hold. Though they have suffered heavy losses, overcoming them in a single day will not be easy.”

“No matter how difficult, it must be done! I have already pledged my word to the General. If we fail, not only will I have to commit seppuku, but the General will lose all faith in our Fifth Brigade!” Katayama again wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke in a low, resolute voice.