Chapter 197: Yellow River 2

On the other side, the editorial office of the Hankou "Xinhua Daily" was filled with the deafening roar of the printing presses. Inside the office, chief editor Pan Zinian was reviewing the proof of tomorrow's editorial. The headline was striking: "National Mobilization, Defend Jiangcheng—On the Coordination of Guerrilla Warfare and Conventional Battlefields."

"Pan Gong, is this editorial too sharp?" senior editor Hua Gang said with some worry, "We directly criticize certain units for 'preserving strength, passively avoiding combat'; the Kuomintang side will probably…"

Pan Zinian adjusted his glasses; the scholar in his fifties had a resolute face: "What must be said must be said. What time is it now? The autumn of the nation's survival! Some people are calculating their own small interests, thinking about how to seize power after the war. If such people are not condemned, how can Jiangcheng be defended?"

He picked up a red pen and added another passage to the manuscript: "…It must be pointed out that relying solely on defense of conventional frontlines is one‑sided and passive. The front battlefield should be used as a base, while guerrilla warfare behind enemy lines is widely launched, plunging the Japanese army into the vast sea of a people's war. The New Fourth Army's successful experience in Southern Jiangsu proves that, as long as one relies on the masses and employs flexible tactics, a weak force can still defeat a stronger enemy…"

"Is there any latest battle report from the New Fourth Army?" Pan Zinian asked.

Hua Gang nodded: "We received it yesterday. The First Detachment ambushed a Japanese transport convoy in Lishui, blowing up three trucks and killing more than twenty enemy soldiers. The Second Detachment attacked a Japanese stronghold in Jurong; although they didn't capture it, they tied down an enemy company."

"Good!" Pan Zinian slapped the table, "Add these battle examples, let facts speak. We must let the whole nation see that the Republic's forces are fighting truly, fighting cleverly, fighting desperately!"

He stood up and walked to the window. Outside the window lay the bustling streets of Hankou, crowds hurrying, their faces showing both tension and a strange exhilaration—that was the special atmosphere before the great war.

"Pan Gong, do you think Jiangcheng can be held?" the young editor Xiao Wang couldn't help asking.

Pan Zinian remained silent for a long while, then slowly said: "Whether it can be held does not depend solely on the army, but also on the people's hearts. If the authorities can truly mobilize the masses, if all parties can cooperate sincerely, if every Huaxia person can do their part… then nothing is indefensible."

He turned, his gaze sweeping over the young, eager faces in the editorial office: "Our responsibility is to convey this belief outward. A newspaper is also a front line."

On June 1, in the Reed Marsh northwest of Lishui, Jiangsu, the moon was hidden by clouds, leaving only faint heavenly light. Chen Yi crouched at the bow of a small boat, watching the distant road through gaps in the reeds. Around him were more than thirty soldiers of the New Fourth Army First Detachment, each in civilian clothes, a short gun at the waist, and a broadsword on the back.

"Commander, they're coming," the scout whispered.

From afar came the sound of car engines, two headlights piercing the darkness. Three trucks slowly drove along the road, each escorted by a motorcycle at the front and rear.

Chen Yi glanced at his Pocket Watch: 1:20 a. m. This was a regular Japanese convoy transporting supplies from Jinling to Wuhu; they had been tracking it for three days and had learned its pattern.

"Proceed according to plan," he whispered.

The warriors slipped silently into the water. The Jiangnan water network was dense, and these soldiers, raised in the water towns, moved like fish. They held reed tubes in their mouths, exposing only their eyes and nostrils, swimming toward the road bridge piers.

The first truck drove onto the wooden bridge. Suddenly, with a "Boom" a massive crash, the bridge deck gave way and the truck plunged headfirst into the river. Almost simultaneously, dense gunfire rang from both banks; the Japanese soldiers on the escort motorcycles were knocked down before they could react.

The two trucks behind slammed on their brakes; Japanese soldiers leapt from the vehicles to return fire. But the night was too dark; they could not see where the enemy was. Bullets came from the reeds, from the water surface, from every unexpected direction.

A Japanese sergeant shouted in Japanese, "Spread out! Find cover!"

As soon as the words ended, several dark silhouettes leapt from the water, their broadswords flashing coldly in the moonlight. The sergeant barely managed to raise his rifle to block; with a "Clang" his palm shattered, a chill ran down his neck, and then he knew nothing.

The fight lasted less than ten minutes. All three trucks were destroyed, fifteen Japanese soldiers were killed, five were captured. The New Fourth Army suffered only two lightly wounded.

The warriors quickly cleared the battlefield, taking away every weapon and ammunition they could, and blowing up what they couldn't carry on site. Chen Yi examined the seized documents, among which was a troop movement plan of the Japanese Eleventh Army.

"Good stuff," he carefully packed away, "Send someone to deliver it back to the army headquarters immediately."

The Deputy Squadron Leader wiped the water from his face and laughed, "Commander, shall we call this a 'waterborne guerrilla fight' then?"

"Whatever the name of the battle, if it eliminates the enemy it's a good fight," Chen Yi also laughed, "Let's withdraw to a safe area before dawn."

The group vanished into the vast water network, as if they had never been there. Only the burning wreckage of the trucks and the Japanese corpses testified that a battle had just taken place.

At the same time, at 10 a. m. at Zhenjiang dock, soldiers were loading the last batch of ammunition boxes onto transport ships. These soldiers were generally short, dark‑skinned, well equipped, and their insignia bore the red emblem of the Taiwan Mixed Brigade.

Major General Shigeyoshi Hatada stood on the dock command tower, holding a telescope to observe the fleet. Over fifty vessels of various sizes—ranging from 200‑ton landing craft to 2,000‑ton transport ships—lined up in a long dragon on the river, their masts like a forest.

"General, the First Regiment has completed boarding," the Chief of Staff reported.

Hatada nodded. He was forty‑six this year, renowned in the Japanese Army for his bravery and skill in battle, and also famous for his harsh training of Taiwan troops.

"The Chinese think the Yangtze River is a heavenly barrier," Hatada sneered, "I'll make them know that, before the Imperial Navy, any heavenly barrier is paper‑thin."

He descended from the command tower and boarded the flagship Hao Gunboat "Anzhai". It was an old‑style riverine gunboat, but equipped with two 120 mm main guns and six machine guns, a considerable firepower on the Yangtze.

On the bridge, the navigation officer was checking the route chart. From Zhenjiang to Jiangcheng, a waterway of over six hundred kilometers, the route passed through Madang, Hukou, Jiujiang, Tianjiazhen and a series of forts. Each fort meant a bloody battle.

"General, the Eleventh Naval Squadron has radioed in; they have cleared the mines near Madang, but the shore batteries are still resisting," the communications soldier reported.

Hatada looked at the map. The Madang fort, the first checkpoint in the middle reaches of the Yangtze. The National Army had deployed heavy forces there, calling it the "Iron Lock Across the River".

"Tell the Navy," Hatada ordered, "that before dawn tomorrow the passage must be opened. The landing troops should be ready for an amphibious assault."

"Hai!"

The fleet began to move slowly, the engines' roar shaking the river surface. Hatada stood on the bridge, watching the scenery of fields, villages, and occasional city walls recede on both banks. This is China, a rich and ancient China. Now it will tremble under the iron hooves of the Imperial forces.

He recalled the instruction from Minister of War Itagaki Seishiro before departing Tokyo: "Hatada, the battle for Jiangcheng concerns the Empire's destiny. Capturing Jiangcheng will cause the Kuomintang regime to collapse. Your unit, as the vanguard, bears a great responsibility."

"Minister, rest assured," Hatada had replied standing at attention, "I will be the first to storm Jiangcheng!" Now, the expedition has begun.

That evening, at Jiujiang railway station, the last flatcar came to a halt, bearing the final batch of heavy artillery of the Fifth Army. Li Nian'an leapt from the Jeep, his military boots striking the platform's concrete with a crisp sound.

"Commander, the 200th Division has all arrived and is constructing positions outside the city," Dai Anlan approached, his face showing the fatigue after a long march, "Honorary 1st Division is expected to arrive tomorrow morning."

Li Nian'an nodded, his gaze turning west. The setting sun was sinking into the Yangtze, the river surface a blood‑red hue. Jiujiang City lay on the southern bank of the Yangtze, Lushan rose majestically to the north; this was the last barrier east of Jiangcheng.

"Where are the Japanese troops?" he asked.

"Latest intel: Hatada Detachment departed Zhenjiang this morning and will reach Madang in as few as three days. On the northern front, the 6th Division has broken through Zhengyang Pass, the 48th Army has retreated to Shouxian," Chief of Staff Wang Weilin handed over the report, "In Anqing, the Yang Sen Army Group is hastening its defenses, but lacks troops, and the river defense is weak."

Li Nian'an quickly scanned the report, his brows knit. The situation was worse than he had expected. The Japanese forces from the north and south were converging on Wuhan like pincers, while the National Army units were scattered along the long front, each fighting on its own.

"What new orders does the brigade commander have?"

"The brigade commander orders: our troops will hold the line from Jiujiang to Ruichang, with depth defense to delay the Japanese westward advance. We must hold for at least a month to buy Jiangcheng time for fortifications," Wang Weilin paused, "Additionally… the Military Commission is studying 'extraordinary measures'."

"Extraordinary measures?" Li Nian'an looked up alertly.

Wang Weilin lowered his voice: "I heard… the higher‑ups may be considering using Yellow River water."

Li Nian'an was stunned. He instantly understood what "using Yellow River water" meant. His father Li Yuxuan's admonition from a few days earlier rang in his ears: "Some things, even if you know them, you must pretend not to know."

He inhaled deeply: "I understand. Send orders to all divisions to construct fortifications through the night. The defense of Jiujiang City is handed to local forces; my field army will be deployed in the hills outside the city, focusing on mobile defense."

"Yes!"

Night fell, and the area outside Jiujiang City was brightly lit. Soldiers of the Fifth Army swung shovels and pickaxes, digging trenches, laying Barbed Wire, and setting up machine‑gun positions. In the distance, the Yangtze flowed in the night, silent and profound.

Li Nian'an climbed onto Yanshui Pavilion, the high point of Jiujiang. Looking out, the Yangtze stretched like a belt, Lushan rose like a screen. This ancient city, with over two thousand years of history, was about to receive a baptism of artillery fire.

He recalled his father's words: "The battle for Jiangcheng will be fierce. The Fifth Army must fight well, but must not be exhausted."