Chapter 514: Anxious Officer Du

The rain fell heavier and heavier, the mud grew deeper, more and more tanks were stuck in the mire, the soldiers' stamina was rapidly draining, the fatigue on their faces became increasingly evident, and the desperation in their eyes grew ever stronger.

They tried every method they could think of—wooden planks, piles of stones, tank towing, manual digging—but all ended in failure.

Hu Xianqun looked at everything before him and finally lowered his head in helplessness.

He knew they had already done their best; faced with the relentless rain and the soft, soggy mud, faced with T-34 tanks weighing dozens of tons, no amount of effort could help.

The Vanguard Unit that was originally meant to boost morale had now become a burden on the army, and thinking of this, Hu Xianqun's heart filled with guilt and helplessness.

In the distance, the Expeditionary Force's main body had already moved farther away.

Only Hu Xianqun's Tank Regiment remained, trapped on the muddy road, more than ten tanks sunk deep in the mire, immobile; the soldiers slumped wearily in the mud, rain mercilessly pouring over them, their faces full of despair and resentment.

Hu Xianqun stood in the rain, gazing toward the direction where the main force receded, his mind a blank of bewilderment.

He did not know how far they could still march in this southern campaign, nor where his Tank Regiment should go.

The news of the Tank Regiment's entrapment, carried by the signalman's urgent telegram, quickly reached the Expeditionary Force's central command.

At this moment, Du Yuming was seated in the command vehicle, studying the marching map in his hands, his brows slightly furrowed as he calculated the southward progress; beside him, Stilwell kept urging, complaining that the troops moved too slowly, eager to reach Yangon quickly and claim the victory.

"Report, Commander Du! Regiment Commander Hu Xianqun's urgent telegram!" the drenched signalman rushed into the command vehicle, cradling the telegram, his tone so hurried he could barely form a complete sentence.

"The Tank Regiment was caught in heavy rain, the road surface a quagmire; more than ten T-34 tanks were deep in the mire, immobile, the unit left behind the main army, requesting the commander's orders!"

Du Yuming sprang up from his seat, snatching the telegram, his eyes scanning the text rapidly; his complexion shifted instantly from calm to grim, his previously steady gaze suddenly filled with anger and anxiety.

He slammed the telegram onto the table, his voice cold and cutting: "Useless! All useless! I let him lead the Tank Regiment to clear the way and boost morale, and he actually stuck the tanks in the mire!"

The staff officer and signalman inside the command vehicle were so frightened they dared not breathe; everyone understood.

Du Yuming had already placed great hopes on this southern campaign, determined to secure Yangon and solidify his position as commander of the Expeditionary Force.

But now, with the Vanguard Tank Regiment trapped, the southward deployment was disrupted, morale could be shaken, and the Japanese Army might seize the opportunity.

Stilwell also stepped forward, and after reading the telegram his expression turned sour, his tone full of displeasure: "General Du, is this the elite of your China Expeditionary Force? You can't even protect a single tank, how do you expect to take Yangon? I warned that moving south in the rainy season was too risky, yet you ignored it. Now the Vanguard Unit is trapped, the main army's advance is blocked; when will we finally reach Yangon?"

Stilwell's rebuke only added fuel to the fire, Du Yuming's anger grew, yet he was helpless.

He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm, his fingers clenched into white knuckles, and he said gravely: "What's the panic! It's only a tank stuck in the mire. Issue orders for Hu Xianqun to keep organizing rescue, and be sure to pull the tanks out quickly to keep up with the main force!"

"But Commander, " a staff officer began cautiously.

"Regiment Commander Hu has already tried every method—wood planks, stones, tank towing—all to no avail; the rain keeps falling, the road only gets worse, and I'm afraid… I'm afraid it will be very hard to pull the tanks out."

Du Yuming's gaze darkened, his tone uncompromising: "No 'perhaps'! Tell him, even if they have to dig by hand, they must get the tanks out! The Tank Regiment is the Expeditionary Force's vanguard, our trump card, and must not be stuck here slowing the main army! Also, transfer two infantry battalions from the rear, rush to support the Tank Regiment, help clear the mire and haul the tanks, and ensure the Tank Regiment re‑joins the column before nightfall!"

"Yes, Commander!" the staff officer replied promptly, turning to deliver the orders.

After the staff officer left, Du Yuming walked to the window of the command vehicle, staring at the endless rain outside, his heart full of agitation and unease.

He recalled Jiang Anguo's earlier warning, a vague caution about the heavy risks of moving south in the rainy season, but at the time the thought of seizing Yangon had clouded his mind.

Eager to prove himself before Stilwell, he had stubbornly ordered the army southward, and now the problem had indeed arisen.

Jiang Anguo, after returning to Mandalay and learning the Expeditionary Force had set out, sent Du Yuming a telegram reminding him that the rainy season was unsuitable for tank offensives.

Instead, they would become a burden.

Jiang Anguo's success in Mandalay was because he had already positioned the tanks his units would use at the forefront; all that was needed were Zhang Bing's tank unit and Hu Xianqun's Tank Regiment, mount the tanks, and advance straight toward Mandalay.

However, the distance from Mandalay to Yangon exceeds five hundred kilometers; tanks cannot reach Yangon, especially with such harsh weather.

Reaching even one‑fifth would already be a blessing.

"If the Tank Regiment cannot be freed in time, the main army loses its vanguard cover; should it encounter a Japanese Army ambush, the consequences would be unimaginable," Du Yuming murmured softly, his tone full of self‑reproach.

He knew the T-34 tank was the Expeditionary Force's most powerful armor, and if the Tank Regiment were trapped, the southward progress would be affected.

It would also severely diminish the Expeditionary Force's combat power; the once unstoppable southern campaign could easily become passive.

Stilwell stood nearby, his face still sour, his tone tinged with sarcasm: "General Du, I hope you can resolve this quickly; I don't want a single Tank Regiment to waste the prime opportunity to take Yangon. If within three days the Tank Regiment still cannot keep up, I will report directly to Chongqing and explain the situation."

Du Yuming whirled around, his gaze icy as he stared at Stilwell, his tone firm: "General Stilwell, I will take care of everything; you need not worry. I have my own plans for the Expeditionary Force and will not delay the southward advance!"

Yet despite his words, Du Yuming felt no confidence at all.

He knew Hu Xianqun had already given his all; faced with endless rain and the soft mire, dragging out the dozens‑of‑tons T-34 tanks was an extremely difficult task.

But he had no retreat; he could only order a rescue with a forced grin. If the Tank Regiment truly remained stuck, not only would his reputation be ruined, the entire Expeditionary Force's southern campaign could be completely ruined.

The atmosphere inside the command vehicle was oppressively tense; outside, the rain continued to patter, as if foreshadowing that this southern campaign was doomed not to sail smoothly.

Du Yuming stared at the distant muddy road, his mind fixed on a single thought: no matter the cost, the Tank Regiment must be rescued, Yangon must be taken, and the Dian-Mian Highway must be opened.