Chapter 414: Mandalay Under Bombardment

Lashu Airport, June 25 1942, 12:30 p. m.

The rain stopped.

It was as if the heavens themselves held their breath, the fog suddenly cleared, the cloud layer split open a brilliant blue gap, sunlight pierced the vapor and fell onto the muddy runway.

"Go! Go! Go!" William snatched his leather jacket onto his shoulder, downed the last sip of ice‑cold beer, slammed the aluminum can hard into an Ammo Box, "All aboard! Now!"

Ground crew surged toward the tarmac like a tide.

Forty‑eight P‑38 Lightnings were already ready, each carrying two 250‑lb M57 high‑explosive bombs beneath the fuselage—lightweight, precise, designed specifically for bridge demolition.

Meanwhile, Taunggyi Airport remained shrouded in thick fog, and the B25 formation could not take off.

But Regiment Commander Song Yunfei had been prepared: after completing the first wave of bombing, they would return to Taunggyi Airport, with all bomber bomb bays full and pilots seated in the cockpits.

Ready to launch at any moment!

The original plan called for the B25 Bomber group to carry out two bombing runs today, while the P‑38 Lightnings could complete four.

But the weather in northern Burma was uncooperative; the rain showed no sign of stopping.

One moment the sun might shine, the next a torrential downpour.

"As soon as a sliver of sky opens, take off immediately!" Song Yunfei ordered, "Our bombers will also launch at once; the target remains unchanged—bomb Mandalay!"

But clearly, this time Song Yunfei's B25 bomber group could not take off.

Yet William's target lay outside the city.

"Ghost Battalion, attention," he leapt into the cockpit, buckled his harness, and his voice rang over the radio to the formation, "Today's primary target: the three bridges over the Mi River!"

The Mi River, ten kilometers south of Mandalay, is the largest tributary of the Yi Luo Wa Di Jiang.

Three strategic bridges spanned the river: a double‑track railway bridge linking Myitkyina–Yangon main line; and two road bridges, the sole routes for the 18th Division's southward retreat or resupply.

Destroy them, and Mandalay becomes an island.

The Little Devils can flee, but they cannot head south to Yangon or north; clearly they have already been chased by the Expeditionary Force's main body and would not contemplate a head‑on move north toward Myitkyina and the main force.

Therefore, Mukoda Koya's only chance was to retreat toward India.

"Understood! Cut off the Devil's retreat!"

"Damned if they want to swim back!"

Engines roared thunderously as the P‑38s lifted off in two waves from the two runways.

The twin tails sliced the post‑rain clear sky like silver shuttles weaving a net, rapidly forming an attack formation at 3,000 m altitude.

William led the first echelon over the Shanbang Plateau into Mandalay's airspace, the clouds effectively shielding Japanese observation; the second echelon provided high‑altitude cover, ready to intercept any Japanese aircraft.

13:15, the Mi River entered visual range.

The three bridges were clearly visible: the railway bridge's steel girders were massive, the road bridges' concrete piers solid, Japanese sentries patrolled the bridgeheads, and anti‑aircraft guns had not yet fully deployed.

"Crews, allocate targets according to the plan!" William ordered, "First squadron, the railway bridge's main arch; second and third squadrons, the road bridge approaches; fourth squadron, aerial cover to guard against Japanese fighters!"

"Roger!"

The P‑38 dove like a hunting hawk.

The first bomb whistled down, striking the railway bridge's central steel girder with pinpoint accuracy.

Boom!

The high‑explosive charge ripped rivets, twisted and snapped the steel beam, and half the bridge deck crashed into the turbid water.

Immediately after, four bombs slammed in succession at the eastern road bridge.

The approach pier was blown away, the entire roadway collapsed like a broken spine with a thunderous crash.

The Japanese anti‑aircraft guns finally opened fire, but it was too late.

A fourth‑squadron P‑38 rolled sideways, its machine guns lashing like a whip, pinning the gunner to the ground.

Over the radio, "Fourth squadron, drop all bombs, we are returning!"

"Yes, Regiment Commander!"

In just eight minutes, all three bridges were crippled, the railway bridge broken into three sections and sunk to the riverbed.

The two road bridges were reduced to ruined piers, impassable to vehicles.

Riverbank fortifications were flattened, and all communication lines were severed.

"Mission accomplished," William pulled up the nose, looking toward Mandalay, "18th Division… your road ends here."

On the return flight, the cloud layer gathered again.

But no further bombing was needed; this strike cut off the Japanese army's last escape route.

Outside Mandalay's command post, Muta Kugou Lian had just received an urgent telegram: "All three Mi River bridges destroyed, southward retreat route severed."

If the morning bombing was the Chinese army's counterattack against the 18th Division, Muta Kugou Lian was already prepared in his mind.

But this time was different; he knew the Chinese intended to annihilate him, and from the Chinese Air Force's movements it was clear the Chinese forces aimed to cut off his retreat.

Muta Kugou Lian stood beside a half‑collapsed brick wall, his uniform smeared with ash, yet his usual sternness had returned.

"Issue orders!" his voice was low yet unquestionable, "Engineer regiment, immediately select two shallow fords upstream and downstream of the Mi River, construct pontoon and boat bridges; infantry must be able to cross within twenty‑four hours!"

The deputy officer sprinted off.

Muta Kugou Lian instantly composed himself, "Order the Corner Shi direction's 124th Regiment, converge on the fragrant Mi River, build a circular defense, and hold our last retreat line to the death!"

The Mi River was nowhere near as wide as the Yi Luo Wa Di Jiang; south of Mandalay it spanned only about a hundred meters.

The Yi Luo Wa Di Jiang, however, was a true great river, reaching up to two kilometers at its widest.

Chief of Staff Kurokawa Kunisuke stood to the right of the division commander, looking at the map, "Sir, why haven't the Chinese attacked yet?"

Muta Kugou Lian squinted, staring intently at the map, "Nauqiu", "Xibu", "Jiaomei"—three points; he tried to discern something but after long thought still found no answer.

He was deducing the Chinese officer's intent: waiting for the main force to gather? Luring them into a breakout then encircling? Or… another deadly tactic?

"Unclear, but the quieter it is, the more dangerous. Ensure Mei Miu's 114th Regiment stays alert, monitors Chongqing forces toward Nauqiu, and contacts command immediately upon sighting the enemy," Muta Kugou Lian said.

"Load all troops' ammunition, get everyone into combat positions. The Chinese may launch a full‑scale attack at any moment!"

When the Regiment Commander said so, Kurokawa Kunisuke also found it hard to say anything more.

Even if both were puzzled, why did the Chinese, after the air force bombing was completed, not launch a ground attack?

Mukoda Koya stood on the high ruins, gazing at the setting sun, and had only one thought in his mind: "The Chinese forces opposite… what on earth are you waiting for?"

Unlike the Japanese Army's high alert, all Japanese Army soldiers were on edge; now as soon as the sun rose, the Japanese Army soldiers began to shiver, because they knew clearly that with clear weather, China's air force would certainly appear over Mandalay.

"When the weather clears, Chinese planes will come…" a Japanese Army veteran muttered, his fingers gripping the Type 38 rifle tightly, "If it rains, at least we could catch a breath."

Fear has seeped into the bones.

The once arrogant "Chrysanthemum Corps" now trembles at the sound of engines and hides when it sees light filtering through a gap in the clouds.