Chapter 394: Nameless Tomb on General's Mountain

Jianghan Plain, June 7, 1942.

The gunpowder smoke had not cleared, yet the gunfire abruptly ceased.

The entire Jianghan area seemed to have its pause button pressed by an invisible hand.

The once interlocking battle lines now fell into a strange calm, and the Japanese Army began a full retreat.

Jiang Anguo stood on the citadel of Jingmen, sweeping the western bank of the Han River with his telescope.

He knew that beneath the surface calm lay a reshuffling of enemy and friendly forces.

Even though they had captured the four cities of Yichang, Jingmen, Zhijiang and Jingzhou, annihilating the main forces of the 13th and 39th Divisions, the Japanese Army still firmly held key points such as Xiangyang, Shayang, Qianjiang and Jiangling, and the western‑bank defensive line had not completely collapsed.

At this moment, both sides' forces were roughly equal, and the battle returned to a fifty‑fifty balance.

And in Wuhan, A Naganuma finally made a decision.

When the news that Jingzhou had fallen and Tokyo had been attacked was confirmed, the commander of the 11th Army turned a steel‑blue, yet remained unusually calm. He knew that if he continued to disperse troops to stubbornly defend isolated cities, Jiang Anguo would defeat them piece by piece.

Especially Xiangyang: once it fell, the Fifth War Zone's Li Zongren and the th War Zone's Xue Yue would achieve a strategic encirclement, and the three towns of Wuhan would become trapped turtles.

To hold Xiangyang, A Naganuma shook his head, saying it was nothing short of a joke.

Now his 11th Army had suddenly lost two divisions, especially the 13th Division; Wuhan was a major stronghold, and if the Third and Sixth Divisions were also redeployed, the Huaxia army's assault on Wuhan would make his culpability enormous.

"Order!" his voice was low but resolute, "Units at Xiangyang, Shayang, Qianjiang and Jiangling, immediately abandon positions, withdraw the entire army to the eastern bank of the Han River! No lingering in battle, no slaughter of Chinese civilians, preserving living forces is the top priority!"

A Naganuma had already received a telegram from headquarters, and also learned of the Tokyo bombing.

He knew clearly that if Chinese civilians were massacred again, the next bomb might fall on Tokyo, which was also A Naganuma's hometown.

At the same time, he gritted his teeth and ordered, "Abandon Yueyang! Support troops withdraw north immediately, constructing a new defensive line along the Xianing–He Sheng Bridge line. All forces south of Wuhan, contract toward the core zone!"

Yueyang no longer required support; air power was in the hands of the opposing Chinese army, and the Imperial was engaged in a decisive battle with the United States. If they rashly advanced to attack the Chinese army, the Imperial ground forces would suffer massive losses.

This decision could be called cold and precise.

Within a brief 48 hours, the Japanese Army receded like a tide:

Xiangyang's defenders burned some supplies and crossed the Han River overnight;

Shayang and Qianjiang garrisons abandoned the city eastward, leaving only small units lagging;

Yueyang, the northern gateway of Hunan, was voluntarily abandoned, with its troops retreating to Puqi and Xianing.

Jiang Anguo received a reconnaissance report, his brows slightly furrowed.

"A Naganuma… is ruthless," he whispered to Xu Guozhang, "He would rather lose a city than give us a chance to encircle and annihilate him."

In reality, whether it was the Independent Regiment, Xu Guozhang's 150th Division, or Hu Lian's 11th Division, all were exhausted.

Continuous days of high‑intensity marching and combat had crushed the soldiers' morale.

And the torrential rain that began last night continued until now.

The entire Jianghan Plain was like a vast ocean.

It was also Jiang Anguo's first time seeing such a sight; one could say the Myanmar rain comes quickly and goes quickly.

But that is because northern Myanmar is mountainous, so rainwater at least runs downwards.

How did the Jianghan Plain become this swamp?

In this blitzkrieg, not even tanks—Jiang Anguo's Jeep might not even make it out of Jingzhou city.

Later Jiang Anguo learned from local elders that the Jianghan Plain had once been called Yunmeng Marsh!

Xu Guozhang nodded, "When the devils curl into a ball, they become harder to fight."

Indeed, the Japanese Army shrank the front from the large arc of 'Jianghan—Yueyang' to a tight defensive circle of 'Wuhan—Xianing', relying on the natural barriers of the Yangtze River and Han River, still maintaining a manpower advantage with nearly one hundred thousand troops concentrated.

In the short term, the Huaxia army could not launch a strong offensive.

Yet a faint smile curled at Jiang Anguo's mouth.

"He retreated quickly, which shows he's scared," he said, pointing at the map. "The Jianghan Plain is now in my hands. The Sichuan entry routes are open, the two war zones will soon merge, and in this battle we have seized the strategic initiative."

General's Mountain, June 8, 1942, early morning.

Fine rain fell like silk, silently.

Xu Guozhang stood at mid‑slope, his cap slightly damp, his expression solemn.

Before them, thousands of blue‑stone tombstones were neatly arranged, stretching to the foot of the mountain like a silent formation.

The tombstones bore no names, no origins, no birth or death dates, only a relief of a crossed rifle and steel helmet.

Strangely, beneath the tombstones lay a copper plate densely filled with names, serial numbers, times and locations of sacrifice.

There was no gloom, no mourning.

Only a lofty righteous spirit rose like waves of pine, soaring straight into the clouds.

"Brother, what does this mean?" Xu Guozhang's voice was low, puzzled, "Why aren't the names engraved? Shouldn't the brothers' lives‑won victory be remembered?"

Jiang Anguo stepped forward slowly, rainwater sliding down his resolute jaw.

He gazed at this cemetery, which he had personally selected and ordered Yao Quanyi to build in secret, his eyes far‑seeing.

"Old Xu, in a few decades you will understand," he said softly, his tone almost prophetic.

Jiang Anguo knew exactly what would happen next, and he also strove to preserve the final dignity of these soldiers who sacrificed themselves for the nation.

Long before the northward assault on Dangyang, he had already ordered that the ashes of all fallen soldiers in this campaign be interred at General's Mountain.

Here was the decisive spot where Xu Guozhang's forces encircled the Japanese Army's 13th Division and captured its commander, Nei Shan Yingtai Lang.

Where the enemy chieftain was annihilated, we secure our loyal souls; this is to suppress evil and uphold righteousness.

Here are brothers from the 150th Division's Sichuan troops, the 11th Division, and soldiers of Jiang Anguo's Independent Regiment.

In this Yichang operation, the Independent Regiment suffered 2,853 casualties out of a total strength of 3,578; one could say the Independent Regiment was completely turned over during the Yichang battle.

It can be said the losses were severe.

More movingly, he built another "Heroes' Cemetery" east of Yichang, its stone forest towering, the register detailed, and Yichang residents voluntarily came to pay respects, the incense never ceasing.

Yet beneath that cemetery lay nothing at all.

"The one in Yichang is for the living to see," Jiang Anguo finally declared, "for the people to mourn, for reporters to photograph, for future generations to remember; that is the face of the nation."

He paused, pointing at the damp soil beneath his feet: "And here is for history to see. True heroes don't need their names carved on stone; their names have long been etched into the mountains and rivers."

Xu Guozhang was stunned, silent for a long while.

Even if he still didn't understand why Jiang Anguo did it, expending more time and effort to construct two burial sites.

In the rain, Xu Guozhang seemed to hear hundreds of voices whispering in the wind—some with Sichuan speech, some with Hubei twang, some in Xiang dialect…

They once charged here, fell, and became the green mountains.

After a long while, he took off his military cap and bowed deeply.

The mountain wind swept over the stele forest, raindrops fell on the nameless steles like tears, like vows.