Chapter 54: Huitong Bridge

Jiang Anguo glanced at Huitong Bridge as he passed it.

The terrain is so treacherous, with the raging Nujiang ahead, towering waves, towering mountains on both sides, such dangerous ground—how could the Japanese manage to reach this place?

In the end they blew up Huitong Bridge, which finally hindered the Japanese Army's advance.

He couldn't understand why, even if they couldn't hold Myanmar, the Expeditionary Force th Army retreated into Yunnan, and the th Army's losses were the smallest among the Expeditionary Force, as long as they defend locally.

Not to say they defeated the Japanese Army, but at least they could block the Japanese Army's advance.

In this spot, Jiang Anguo realized that it truly was a one-man pass that ten thousand could not open.

Even a company can block a battalion's attack; if there were a regiment, it would be enough to confront the enemy, and with a division's forces, Jiang Anguo was confident he could annihilate or drive away the enemy.

The first unit that withdrew back to Yunnan had at least twenty thousand men; Jiang Anguo simply couldn't fathom why they let the enemy advance so smoothly to the banks of Nujiang.

They even almost crossed Huitong Bridge into Baoshan.

It was precisely because Nujiang existed that it blocked the Japanese advance; otherwise the consequences would be unimaginable.

Why is the Shipa Campaign so important? Shipa is a transport hub on China's anti-Japanese front and also Chongqing's First Defensive Line; once this point is breached, the loss of the Central Plains is only a matter of time.

Therefore, Shipa's importance is easy to imagine.

By the same logic, if the Japanese Army broke through Huitong Bridge and marched from Baoshan to Kunming, then attacked Chengdu and Chongqing, the Chairman in Chongqing would have no retreat, and the Japanese forces on the two southeastern fronts would directly surround the National Government.

If the War of Resistance Against Japan failed, the several million Japanese troops would be completely released, able to advance into India, join Germany in the Middle East, and also move north into the Soviet Union, threatening the Soviet Union.

They could deploy forces to the Pacific Theater to strike the United States.

"Truly a dangerous spot," Jiang Anguo said, pausing on his horse before rejoining the main force.

Huitong Bridge is not his garrison, and he has no authority to station troops there.

The news that the th Division of the Expeditionary Force withdrew from Tonggu was known to Jiang Anguo from the start.

Lin Yi intercepted part of a radio broadcast, "Lin Yi, keep this information confidential; its impact on the soldiers' morale is too great."

"Understood, Battalion Commander," Lin Yi nodded.

Lin Yi naturally understood; they were the th Division's Independent Battalion, and if they hadn't yet entered Myanmar, they would be told that their unit had been defeated by the Japanese.

Of course, the th Division did not fail, but your withdrawal from Tonggu made the soldiers think you were, like the battles at home, a failure.

Actually that's normal; they only report good news, not grievances.

The domestic populace, with the anti-Japanese war at its toughest stage, desperately needed a morale boost.

A single defeat has a very large impact on the entire battlefield.

The war was extremely difficult by 1941, and as it approached 1942, the Principal's Chongqing government could be described as desperate.

The China-Vietnam Route was suspended, and Hong Kong fell to the Japanese.

The British were indecisive, first closing the China-Myanmar Road, then, upon realizing Japanese ambitions, reopening it.

Yet the Principal, to squeeze into the American circle, had to pay for the British's foolishness.

Jiang Anguo felt the unit's marching speed was far too slow, so he directly ordered Company Commander Liu Sheng of the Engineer Company to lead the soldiers, all riding bicycles.

Repair roads, build bridges, and also search for suitable camp locations.

Then continue to set out with the Engineer Company; this way, the Engineer Company will move ahead of all units by a day's time.

Jiang Anguo never imagined that a day's march route would be so short; he estimated it to be less than twenty‑five kilometers, and at this speed, reaching Lashu would still take ten days.

He needed to hurry the pace.

"Send the notice: the entire army will advance at full speed tomorrow, aiming to reach Lashu within seven days."

Having witnessed the bustle on the Dian-Mian Highway, Jiang Anguo also received some news that could not be suppressed: the Japanese forces were about to reach Lashu.

The Independent Battalion's soldiers knew about Lashu, and Jiang Anguo had explained to everyone several key Burmese cities; Lashu is the first stop on the China-Myanmar Road in Myanmar.

The Japanese are about to reach China's border.

The transport vehicles on the Dian-Mian Highway were intermittently functional; the broken ones could only park aside, waiting for mechanics—or whatever—and they could be seen pulling out cigarettes and smoking.

What frustrated Jiang Anguo even more was that horse-drawn carriages and ox carts were jockeying with automobiles; the road was already narrow, and they were hogging the crucial path—while ox and horse carts yielded more easily, a careless automobile could easily overturn.

"Send people up to maintain order, and make those rushing vehicles pull over; don't they know this is a vital anti-Japanese supply route?" Jiang Anguo could no longer manage everything; after all, the Dian-Mian Highway concerned China's very survival, and matters had differing urgency.

Indeed, those with guns handle matters better than those who just talk.

The people rushing the vehicles, as soon as they saw soldiers approach, immediately moved the ox and horse carts aside.

"Brother, thanks; which unit are you from?" the driver Chen Daoyi asked.

Chen Daoyi, twenty‑six, a Singaporean and member of the Nanyang Mechanics, in 1939, heeded Chen Jiageng's call, and over three thousand Nanyang Chinese overseas returned home to undertake the Dian-Mian Highway's military transport duties, ensuring the anti-Japanese lifeline remained open.

It can truly be said there was no other way; military culture was generally low, ninety‑five percent of the populace were farmers, and finding anyone who could drive was difficult.

Moreover, Nanyang people generally received formal education, and once they learned to operate, they would be much faster.

"We are the th Division," Li Erdan said with a smile; now he shouldn't be called Li Erdan any more, as he has a new name, Li Dan, which sounds quite nice.

Li Dan could also write his own name; it turned out his name was that simple.

"The th Division isn't in Tonggu; why is it on the Dian-Mian Highway? That's odd," Chen Daoyi began to ask, but Li Dan had already walked away to command from the rear.

Looking at these soldiers' complexion, they were good troops, still carrying German weapons on their backs.

Chen Daoyi knew some inside information; even though the higher-ups suppressed it well, some lower regiment and battalion commanders were loose‑lipped, and the news leaked layer by layer.

It meant the th Division had broken out from Tonggu; Chen Daoyi understood that it was because they had been defeated by the Japanese.

He also heard that the th Division inflicted over six thousand casualties on the Japanese Army, truly a band of heroic men; if all of China had a few more such divisions...