Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Japanese Seventh Regiment

A long, mournful train whistle sounded as a locomotive sped northward, carrying only Japanese soldiers and their weapons and equipment. They were the vanguard of the Thirteenth Division, riding this train to the Dingyuan front.

The railway in question was the southern stretch of the Tianjin-Pukou line. The Japanese had opened battlefields north and south of Xuzhou, seizing the northern and southern ends of the line respectively.

Since the retreat after the defense of Nanjing, the southern end of the Tianjin-Pukou line had fallen into Japanese hands. The northern end, however, had originally been held by the Nationalist forces. Unfortunately, Han Fuqu withdrew with his army without firing a shot, allowing the Japanese to seize Shandong and the Yellow River defenses without expending a single soldier, and even occupy the entire northern end of the line, bringing down this vital transport route.

Now the Japanese were using the northern end of the Tianjin-Pukou railway to transport weapons, equipment, and troops in the Xuzhou Campaign with great convenience.

As for the southern end, although the Japanese also occupied it, the line itself had been blown up by the soldiers, and heavy troops were stationed at both ends precisely to prevent the Japanese from advancing north along the tracks.

After traveling some distance, the Japanese train came to a halt at a small station platform.

Once the train stopped, a large group of Japanese soldiers jumped down. They were the vanguard of the Ninth Division. The Ninth Division, also known as the Kanazawa Division, was a class-A division of the Japanese army, consisting of the Sixth Brigade and the Eighteenth Brigade.

This vanguard was the Seventh Field Infantry Regiment under Major General Akiyama Yoshimichi of the Sixth Brigade. As the Ninth Division's advance detachment, they had come to scout the way.

The main force was still behind, following on the next train.

As regimental commander of the Seventh Infantry Regiment, Colonel Isa Kazuo was somewhat short, with a little mustache beneath his mouth; at a glance, he was the image of a traditional Japanese soldier. At the moment, his expression was stern, his lips pressed tightly together, as if he were striving to appear dignified. Yet to outsiders, with his build and appearance, he looked utterly comical.

He was now urging the soldiers of the Seventh Regiment to assemble quickly and march to Dingyuan at the fastest speed.

Though only the advance guard, Isa Kazuo had his own plans.

Why should his unit be only the advance guard? Why should they be forbidden to attack on their own once they spotted the Chinese troops? Was his unit's combat power really that poor?

Could his Seventh Regiment truly fail to take a mere Dingyuan?

Although the brigade commander had already instructed him before departure that his regiment was to serve as the advance guard, merely to reconnoiter and clear away the enemy forces on the outskirts, and that the enemy in Dingyuan would be attacked only after the main army arrived, Isa Kazuo dismissed all this with scorn.

In his view, as warriors of the great empire, the Imperial Japanese naturally had no equal wherever they went.

He believed that once his Seventh Regiment advanced, the Chinese defenders of Dingyuan would surely flee at the mere sight of them.

Even if those Chinese in Dingyuan were able to resist, could they possibly block the unstoppable assault of the Seventh Regiment with nothing but their antiquated rifles, broadswords, and spears?

Ridiculous.

Because he had been thinking this way all along, the moment the unit reached the platform he immediately ordered the soldiers to assemble, shoulder their weapons, and march toward Dingyuan.

The station platform was located outside a small town called Willow Creek Town. It had originally been only a temporary stop, but because the railway ahead had already been blown up and the train could go no farther, this was where it had to halt.

Seeing the troops fully assembled, Isa Kazuo nodded in satisfaction, then waved his hand decisively. Leaving only a small squad behind to guard the platform, he led the main force toward Dingyuan.

...

Willow Creek Town was not large, but it had not been small either, and there were quite a few residents living there. Yet once the area was designated a combat zone, the villagers in Willow Creek Town had mostly fled.

What remained were only a few old people and some who had not managed to escape in time, leaving the whole place looking desolate.

Woof! Woof! Woof!

At the town entrance, several big yellow dogs were lazily sprawled on the dirt road, basking in the sun. But for some reason they suddenly sprang up, their hair standing on end, their drooping ears snapping upright. All of them bared their teeth and barked furiously toward the main road leading into town.

The dogs barking together drew some people’s attention, and a few old men quickly called to their dogs, telling them to stop.

"Big Yellow, what are you barking at? Come back!" an old woman shouted.

In the past, if the old woman had called out like that, the dog named Big Yellow would have already come wagging over to lie down by her side. But now it acted as if it heard nothing, continuing to bark wildly.

This scene left everyone puzzled.

And then, at that very moment, they suddenly heard a rapid clattering sound.

It was neat and uniform, as though a military unit were marching.

Looking toward the direction from which the sound came, they saw, far off, a large contingent of Japanese soldiers advancing mightily toward the town. At their head was none other than Isa Kazuo, commander of the Seventh Regiment.

At the sight, all the villagers were stunned, frozen in place. Then someone finally came to his senses and suddenly shouted, "No, bad news! The Japanese are here! Run, everyone!"

At that cry, everyone snapped back to reality, and the whole town exploded into chaos.

Adults and children, old people and women alike rushed home in panic, slamming their doors shut. Some people even hid outright.

In the courtyard of a farmhouse, a woman was stitching a sole onto a shoe, while beside her a girl of eleven or twelve lay across her legs, playing with a wooden token in her hands. The woman stitched the sole and from time to time turned to look at the child, her eyes filled with fondness.

But then a peasant man suddenly ran in, crying out in alarm, "Mother of the child, the Japanese are here! Take the child and hide in the cellar. No matter what happens, do not come out!"

"What?"

Hearing this, the woman panicked at once. Her face went deathly pale, drained of all color. She hurriedly picked up the child beside her and was about to head for the cellar, but after a few steps she stopped and anxiously said, "Child's father, if we hide in there, what will you do?"

"Those Japanese kill without blinking. If you stay here, they might... Why don't you hide in the cellar with me too!"

The woman was clearly so frightened that she had lost all composure; even her voice trembled.

"If I hide in there and no one is at home, the Japanese will suspect it for sure," the peasant man said quickly. "I'm fine. All the Japanese want is grain. We'll give it to them!"