Chapter 188: Winning the Rematch Again

The spring wind along the Yellow River still carries a chill, but in the yaodong of Yan'an a pioneering zeal swirls. By oil lamp, Gu Tang's finger taps the crude map, his sharp eyes scanning the vast plains of Hebei and Qilu. The victory at Taierzhuang certainly lifts spirits, yet he ponders how to spread the anti‑Japanese flame wider and longer.

"Comrades," he said to the gathered military officers, his voice steady and strong, "the triumph at Taierzhuang shows the Japanese are not omnipotent. But we must stay clear‑eyed; frontal blood‑shed costs too much. Where is our advantage? In the masses, in our mobility, in the vast rear of the enemy!"

He rose, walked to the map, and traced his finger across the Huabei Plain: "Look here—Hebei, Qilu, a flat expanse. The Japanese think railways and roads will let them control it. Yet we will plant guerrilla flags everywhere! The plain has no mountains; the people are our mountains! No forest; the blue‑gauze tents are our forest!"

He turned, eyes blazing: "The Central Command must issue a clear directive: in the Hebei and Shandong plains we must, if possible, persist and develop a broad Anti‑Japanese guerrilla war! Build guerrilla corps, establish local regimes, create plain bases! Do not be shackled by the old notion that 'plains are unsuitable for guerrilla.' Solutions outnumber difficulties; rely on the masses, mobilize the masses—the plain will become the Japanese's grave!"

The Document titled "Instructions on Plain Guerrilla Warfare" flew from Yan'an to every Anti‑Japanese base across the Huabei Plain. Like a spark, it ignited the Red Army, local party groups, and countless patriotic citizens. Soon, Central Hebei, Southern Hebei, and the Hebei‑Shandong Border, using villages, tunnels, and blue‑gauze tents, launched a raging plain guerrilla campaign that left the Japanese "rear" without a day of peace, firmly tying down large enemy forces.

While Yan'an plotted the grand plain guerrilla strategy, the scales of the Xuzhou Campaign tipped again. The brilliance of Taierzhuang could not reverse the overall strategic disadvantage. The Japanese swiftly reinforced, advancing north and south, aiming to encircle the Huaxia Army's main force in the Xuzhou area. The Supreme Command decided to abandon Xuzhou, withdrawing the main force westward.

A retreat requires a rear guard, a body to block the Japanese pursuers with flesh and blood. This tragic, brutal task fell to the freshly arrived, not yet fully deployed Dian Army 60th Corps. Army Commander Lu Han's order was: at any cost, hold the line from Yuwang Mountain through Huoshi Bu to Daizhuang north of Xuzhou, repelling the main forces of the Banwan and Jigu divisions for at least fifteen to twenty days, buying time for the main force's relocation.

Yuwang Mountain, a modest earthen hill, became the gate deciding the lives of hundreds of thousands of allies.

On April 22, the Japanese tide of attack surged. Aircraft dropped bombs, heavy artillery roared, and the entire Yuwang Mountain position was turned into a sea of fire. The Dian Army soldiers, sons of the Yunnan‑Guizhou Plateau, faced an overwhelmingly superior foe and firepower, yet displayed astonishing tenacity.

"Brothers! We are the sons of the Southwest; do not disgrace our hometown elders! Do not disgrace Jing Gong—behind us are hundreds of thousands of allied brothers. If we step back, they will shed even more blood! Hold the line with me!" Front‑line regiment and battalion commanders, speaking in thick Southwest accents, roared amid the artillery.

Lacking permanent fortifications, they relied on simple trenches and shell craters, using grenades, rifles, and bayonets to clash with the fully armed Japanese. Repeated Japanese mass charges were repelled, bodies littering the front. The Dian Army's distinctive Big Sword Team launched frequent night counter‑attacks, flashing cold steel that caught the Japanese off guard.

The carnage far exceeded the Taierzhuang street fight. The Yuwang Mountain summit position fell by day, only to be retaken at night by the Dian Army's suicide squads, a relentless back‑and‑forth. Many companies were exhausted; battalion commanders poured in, regiment commanders took the lead. Wounded who could not be evacuated stayed in the trenches to keep fighting.

A heavily wounded company commander, his intestines spilling out, crudely bound with a leg‑strap, leaned against the trench wall and told the surrounding soldiers, "Don't worry about me… bullets… save me two… the Japanese are close… I can still drag two more…," then he breathed his last.

After more than twenty days of bloody fighting, the Dian Army 60th Corps suffered nearly twenty thousand casualties, with overall losses exceeding half its strength; many units were wiped out as whole formations. Yet they stubbornly pinned two elite Japanese divisions along the Yuwang Mountain line, securing the crucial time needed for the main force's safe withdrawal. When the final retreat order was issued, the surviving Dian troops gazed at the blood‑soaked hills littered with comrades' bones, tears streaming down their faces.

The news moved the nation. Newspapers in Jiangcheng, Shancheng and elsewhere ran headlines such as "Dian Army's Blood Battle at Yuwang Mountain" and "National Iron Bones," and the public solemnly revered the distant frontier unit. The principal and Li Yuxuan both sent telegrams of commendation, praising "loyal and brave fighting, mission accomplished, truly worthy of commendation." Yet behind that praise lay another local force that had bled itself dry in brutal attrition.

As the ground battle at Xuzhou unfolded with a harrowing retreat and rear‑guard action, Jiangcheng on the banks of the Yangtze was brewing a sky‑ward blood battle. Japanese officer Shen He, seeking revenge for the Taierzhuang setback and to strike at Huaxia's anti‑Japanese core, planned a massive air raid on April 29, Tencho Festival—the Emperor's birthday—launching numerous bombers escorted by fighters to bomb Jiangcheng as a "tribute."

However, the Huaxia Air Force and the Soviet Volunteer Air Detachment were already on high alert. In particular, Dai Yunong's intelligence work played a pivotal role.

On the afternoon of April 29, a mournful air‑raid siren wailed over Jiangcheng. This time, citizens did not scramble into shelters as usual; many ran onto streets and rooftops, looking up in anticipation.

In the sky, Huaxia and Soviet fighters painted with the Blue Sky White Sun Emblem and Red Five‑Star, like swift eagles, bravely surged toward the massive Japanese formation! The largest aerial battle since the Sino‑Japanese war began erupted fiercely over the three towns of Jiangcheng.

Clack clack clack clack!

Machine‑gun fire roared, tracer rounds carving deadly paths across the sky. Huaxia Air Force I‑15 and I‑16 fighters coordinated tightly with Soviet volunteer aircraft, tangled with Japanese Type 96 Carrier Fighters, Type 97 Heavy Bombers and other models. Occasionally, planes streaked down in thick smoke, blooming like parasols in the air, or crashed straight into the ground or the Yangtze, igniting a burst of flame.

On the ground, the public's pulse rose to a scream. They saw Huaxia fighters dash boldly into the Japanese bomber stream, watched Japanese fighters explode mid‑air, and erupted in cheers.