Chapter 101: Middle East Incident 2

In the Northeast in August, autumn deepens. Along the Sino‑Soviet border, the standoff between the two nations' armies grows increasingly tense.

In Harbin, the Northeast Army hurriedly builds defensive works. Citizens, seeing troops setting up roadblocks and hauling ammunition on the streets, sense that war is about to break out.

"Dad, are we going to war?" a boy asks his father, who is packing luggage.

"Don't ask so many questions, quickly help your mother pack, we're heading to Jilin to take shelter."

Similar exchanges play out in countless families. Train stations are packed with fleeing civilians, their cries and shouts filling the air.

In Shenyang, Zhang Xueliang finally sends a request for aid to Jinling. Yet the Chairman's reply is ambiguous: "The central command will be the rear support, but Northeastern affairs should still be resolved locally."

In August 1929 at Manzhouli, the prairie wind sweeps across the Sino‑Soviet border, bringing an ominous foreboding. In the headquarters of the Northeast Army's 15th Brigade, Brigade Commander Liang Zhongjia stands at the observation post, peering through a telescope at the other side of the frontier. Through the lenses, Soviet Army movements are unusually frequent, and tank tracks carve deep ruts in the grassland.

"Brigade Commander, the Soviet Army's activity these past days is too abnormal," the Chief of Staff says anxiously, "They have massed at least three divisions in the Rear Baikal region."

Liang Zhongjia lowers the telescope, his brows knit: "Send a telegram to the junior commander, request reinforcements. I have a feeling the old Russian is serious this time."

Meanwhile, at Moscow Kelimulin Gong, Tie Ren and Fu Luo Xi Luo Fu study a Far‑East map.

"The China must pay for their arrogance," Tie Ren taps the map of Manzhouli with his pipe, "We will make the whole world see that the Soviet Union's dignity cannot be violated."

Fu Luo Xi Luo Fu stands straight and replies, "Rest assured, comrade Tie Ren. The Special Far East Army is ready; we will launch attacks simultaneously in three directions, leaving the Huaxia unable to support each other."

In the early hours of August 15, before dawn could light the Manzhouli prairie, Soviet artillery shattered the silence. Hundreds of guns fire at once, shells raining down on the Northeast Army positions.

"Artillery! Take cover!"

On the front, Northeast Army soldiers curl in the Trench, feeling The Good Earth shake violently. Rookie Wang Ergou clutches his Liaodong rifle, his teeth chattering. Beside him, veteran Zhao Dachui leisurely rolls a cigarette.

"What are you afraid of, kid," Zhao Dachui lights his cigarette, "Shells are a matter of fate."

After the barrage extends, the Soviet T-18 Tank appears on the horizon. Over thirty tanks form a wedge formation, followed by a dense mass of infantry.

"Anti‑tank gun! Quickly!" the officers shout hoarsely.

However, the Northeast Army's 37mm anti‑tank gun poses almost no threat to the Soviet tanks. Shells strike the armor, leaving only faint white marks.

"Load the explosive charge!" Liang Zhongjia personally goes to the front to command.

Soldiers clutch the explosive packs and crawl forward. Men are repeatedly swept down by machine‑gun fire, yet more keep pressing on. Finally, a soldier named Li Tiezhu manages to get close to a tank and jam the charge into its tracks.

"Boom," a tank is crippled. Li Tiezhu is also caught in the blast, collapsing in a pool of blood.

In Zhalienuoer, south of Manzhouli, the fighting is even more brutal. The Northeast Army's 17th Brigade meets the main Soviet force there.

On August 20, the Soviet forces dispatch a swarm of bombers to repeatedly strike Zhalienuoer Train Station. TB-1 bombers drop bombs that level the station, twisting the rails into a pretzel shape.

"Brigade Commander, the station has fallen!" the messenger reports, his face smeared with blood.

Brigade Commander Han Guangdi draws his pistol: "Follow me! Retake the station!"

Amid the ruined walls, both sides engage in a savage street fight. Bullets whiz through shattered Brickstone, grenade explosions rise and fall. Northeast Army soldiers, familiar with the terrain, maneuver against the Soviet troops.

On the station's water tower, machine‑gunner Liu Laowai alone holds a sector. His Maxim gun barrel is glowing red, forcing him to alternate between two guns.

"Come on, old Russian!" Liu Laowai shouts while firing. Until a shell hits the water tower directly, the Shandong man and his machine gun are reduced to fragments.

After three days of fierce fighting, Zhalienuoer ultimately falls. The 17th Brigade suffers over seventy percent casualties, and Brigade Commander Han Guangdi is killed in action.

On the eastern front at Suifen River, the battle is equally brutal. The mountainous terrain should favor defense, but the Northeast Army lacks mountain‑war experience and equipment.

On August 25, the Soviet forces send special mountain units to flank along treacherous mountain paths. They climb the cliffs like goats, completely surprising the Northeast Army.

"They're coming from behind!"

The guards of the Northeast Army atop the hill fall into chaos. Soviet troops launch simultaneous attacks from front and rear, and the positions are quickly breached.

In the valley, a massacre erupts. Soviet DP light machine guns spray wildly, Northeast Army soldiers fall in waves. Blood reddens the mountain streams, bodies pile up like hills.

In Tongjiang, fighting unfolds simultaneously on the river and on land. The Soviet Amur River Fleet sails down the Heilongjiang, bombarding China positions along the shore.

On September 5 of the same year, Soviet warships clash with the Northeast River Defense fleet in Tongjiang waters. The Northeast Army's old gunboats Lijie, Lisui, and others stand powerless against the Soviet's modern warships.

"Fire! Fire!" Lijie's captain Lin Peixi personally operates the guns.

Shells striking Soviet hulls only spark occasional flares. In contrast, a Soviet 152mm shell hits Lijie's boiler room directly, causing a massive explosion.

Lin Peixi is lifted by the blast wave into the river; in his final moments, he sees his warship slowly sinking.

On land, Soviet landing troops engage the Northeast Army in close‑quarters combat. The clatter of bayonets, dying groans, and angry shouts echo along the Heilongjiang banks.

A Northeast Army soldier named Sun Lao Ba, after being riddled with several bullets, pulls the pin on his last grenade, sacrificing himself together with the charging Soviet troops.