Chapter 157: Blood Battle

July 18 at dawn, the thin mist over the Yongding River was torn to pieces by artillery fire.

Huang Wei set up the command post in a half‑collapsed school building in South Garden; the bandage on his left arm seeped blood, but his pencil‑gripping hand was as steady as a rock as he marked fire points on the map, each symbol accurate to the meter.

The Chief of Staff whispered, "The main force of the Japanese 20th Division is advancing on the front of South Garden." "Their tanks are more than we expected."

Huang Wei didn't look up: "Disperse the Anti‑tank Artillery Company, spacing each gun fifty meters to create interlocking fire. Move all machine‑gun positions forward two hundred meters, place them on the flanks."

He suddenly hammered the pencil hard on the bend of the Yongding River on the map: "Here, lay all remaining mines. The Japanese tanks will definitely turn around here."

The staff officer hesitated: "But that's our only escape route…"

"There is no retreat in this battle," Huang Wei said coldly. "Either hold the line or die."

At 8 a. m., the Japanese main assault began. Over thirty tanks advanced in a wedge formation, followed by a black mass of infantry. Huang Wei stood at the observation point himself, holding a telescope to calculate distances.

"Anti‑tank guns, fire!"

The first salvo of armor‑piercing shells whistled out, instantly setting two Japanese tanks ablaze. The remaining tanks kept advancing, and the artillery fire began to blanket the defenders' positions.

"Machine‑gun position, suppress the infantry!"

The characteristic tearing sound of the MG34 rang out, and Japanese infantry fell in waves. Yet the Japanese artillery was so fierce that a machine‑gun position, barely three minutes after opening fire, was hit directly by a mortar.

"Second machine‑gun team, reinforce. Mortar company, cover the Japanese second echelon."

The school building shook violently under the bombardment, dust raining down. A runner burst in: "Division Commander, the left‑wing nd Division position has been breached!"

Huang Wei grabbed the telephone: "Gui Yongqing? Move the troops you're leading two hundred meters to the left wing and establish a blocking position. Remember, let the tanks go over there to focus on infantry!"

This was a tactic he had learned from the German Military Advisors—when tanks become detached from infantry, the tanks are blind.

Sure enough, after the Japanese tanks broke through the left wing, they found the infantry blocked and had to turn back to reinforce. At that moment, the pre‑planted mines at the river bend took effect, blowing the tracks off three tanks.

By afternoon, the Japanese first assault had been repelled. Over twenty wrecked tanks and hundreds of corpses lay before the position.

But Huang Wei knew this was only the beginning. While inspecting the line, he saw soldiers reinforcing the fortifications; a squad leader, his face blackened with gunpowder, saw him and silently saluted.

"Do we still have enough ammunition?"

"Grenades are running low, Division Commander."

Huang Wei nodded: "Someone will bring more tonight."

In truth, he didn't know whether the supplies could reach. Back at the command post, he ordered: "Collect any usable weapons on the battlefield, especially Japanese ones. Set up every functional machine gun you can find."

The next three days became the fiercest tug‑of‑war on the Huabei front. The Japanese launched five or six attacks each day, and the position changed hands repeatedly. Huang Wei's command style shone then—he never allowed his troops to retreat on their own; every loss had to be counter‑attacked immediately. Once a battalion commander withdrew two hundred meters without permission and was dismissed on the spot.

"The more days we hold, the more preparation time the rear gets," he told his men. "Every minute is bought with lives."

July 25, the South Garden position had shrunk by two‑thirds. Huang Wei threw his last reserve company into the fight—a elite company he kept untouched until battle. When they charged with bayonets, the battle‑hardened Japanese forces actually fell back a hundred meters.

But the tide had turned. July 27, news came that West Garden had fallen; South Garden was now an isolated island. That evening, Li Yuxuan called directly: "Withdraw before dawn tomorrow; this is an order."

Huang Wei held the microphone, silent for a long moment: "Director, can you give me one more day?"

"One day won't change much."

"But it will let us pull out more wounded."

July 28, the final battle erupted. Huang Wei personally led his team to the frontmost position. The Japanese clearly knew this was the last hard nut and threw in their most elite troops.

Around noon, an artillery shell exploded near the command post, lifting Huang Wei into the air with the blast wave. When he came to, he found a guard dragging him backward.

"Let go! The position is still there!"

"Division Commander, the brothers are…" the guard choked, unable to speak.

Huang Wei looked around; only a few soldiers remained standing on the line. He slowly removed his cap and bowed to the position.

That night the casualty count was taken: of the over five thousand men Huang Wei had brought, fewer than eight hundred survived, and the director's Fifth Army, whose main force was still holding Jinling, had essentially lost the supplies he had brought from Yanjing. Yet they had held South Garden for a full eleven days; the director's hard‑trained troops could only match the Japanese at a ratio of 1.2: 1, a record that felt a shame to the director.

August 1, Jinling Military Commission.

Li Yuxuan, dust‑covered and weary, entered the conference room, the smell of battlefield smoke still clinging to his uniform. He stared at the huge map on the wall; Huabei was already mostly stained with enemy colors.

"Jingxing, you've worked hard," a familiar voice called from behind.

Li Yuxuan turned, standing at attention: "Young Master, I am incompetent, unable to hold Huabei."

"A crime of not fighting," the principal waved his hand lightly, "you have fought well enough. The South Garden battle showed the spirit of Huaxia soldiers."

The two walked to the map.

"We need to adjust the strategy," the principal said, his finger tracing the Yangtze River. "I will divide the theater, establishing a long‑term resistance system. The Fifth Army will rest and replenish; more arduous missions await."

Li Yuxuan watched the lines about to be drawn on the map, recalling the last scene he saw when leaving Beiping—a soldier on the city‑gate tower raising a tattered flag.

"Young Master, rest assured," he said gravely, "we will remember this battle."

Outside the window, the August heat in Jinling was unbearable.