The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

The radio operator who escaped from Sanglin'ao delivered the news of the defeat to Houerling on his knees.

On September 28th, before dawn, two radios in the stone house on the north slope kept ringing all night: one for the Husanglin'ao brigade headquarters, and the other for Xiangyangquan requesting reinforcements. The call to arms was broadcast for the sixth time, but the south remained dead.

The radio operator's trousers were covered in a hard shell of blood and mud, crumbling at the slightest movement. He couldn't tell if the battalion commander was dead or not; he only remembered being hit by artillery fire from both ends simultaneously, cavalry suddenly appearing at the south gate, and finally seeing the battalion headquarters retreat into the supply wagon formation. After that, all he could do was tremble.

Major General Ohno did not believe it.

More than a thousand people, gone just like that? He ordered the radio operator to change the frequency and sent two more search teams south. The first team ran into stragglers after walking seven miles, and the second team dragged back a lieutenant. The lieutenant couldn't even answer how many men he had left, repeating over and over the same thing: "There are horses at the valley entrance, and cannons all over the mountain."

Ohno slammed his command sword on the table.

"Baka! A reinforced battalion of 1,100 men was wiped out by a regiment?"

No one dared to speak.

As dawn broke, over 1,800 Japanese and puppet troops slowly gathered at Monkey Ridge. Some had escaped from Sanglin'ao, some had retreated from the outskirts of Yangquan, and two small squads had originally gone to reinforce Sandaoliang but turned back halfway. The unit numbers, passwords, and ammunition were all mixed up. The three companies took roll call separately, and the same soldier was even listed in two different booklets.

Guo Yong, the puppet army company commander, had been running around all morning, collecting two hundred rounds of ammunition. Before he could even enjoy them, he was ordered to move artillery shells. He ran to three command posts but still couldn't figure out which side he was supposed to guard. Finally, he squatted down next to a car wheel, threw his helmet on the ground, and cursed something no one could hear.

Ohno wanted to reunite this disorganized group.

Two radios were moved into the stone house on the north slope, and a command flag was planted outside. Four vehicles were parked on the north slope and west ridge. The 7th Company had just received orders to hold their ground when they were immediately urged to search south. The orders conflicted, and the men below didn't know who to listen to.

All these chaotic sounds entered Zhi Zi's headphones.

The call sign list captured from Sanglin'ao, along with the half-finished coded record left at the Yangquan stronghold, was enough to separate the main station, branch stations, and logistics stations one by one. The main station called Xiling every twenty minutes, then called Donglu, conducting three direction measurements, with the intersection point all located near the stone house on the north slope.

Gardenia drew the intersecting line on the paper, then paused for a moment.

"The error margin is no more than half a mile. He dares not dismantle the antenna. If the antenna breaks, the people below will have even less chance of finding him."

Zhao Weiguo stared at the picture for a while, then tapped twice on the spot where the stone house on the north slope was located.

"Let him keep yelling. The louder he yells, the closer the men will gather around him. The closer they gather, the easier it will be to find the shells."

Duan Peng squatted down beside him, picking his teeth with a straw.

"So when do we make our move?"

"tonight."

Duan Peng threw down the straw and grinned.

"Alright. I've been cooped up in Sanglin'ao for five days, my bones are practically rusting."

The Independent Regiment's official strength remained at 13,000. The 54 men killed in the Battle of Sanglin'ao were discharged, and the 54 qualified soldiers sent from the rear only filled the vacancies in the original battalion; the total number did not increase by a single soldier. The First Battalion remained in Sanglin'ao to escort prisoners, transport the wounded, and clear the battlefield; they were unable to be moved to fight a second battle.

This time, the force sent to Monkey Ridge consisted of 900 men from Duan Peng's mobile battalion and 700 men from Li Dazhu's second battalion, plus four existing mountain guns. The mountain gun that had been captured from Sanglin'ao and was awaiting repair was still sealed at the back and not added to the artillery formation.

Old Zhou is still lying in the rescue cave.

The penetrating wound in his left shoulder had just been dressed, the two cuts on his right ribs had scabbed over, and the stab wound on his left thigh bled profusely with any exertion. The medic refused to let him get out of bed, only moving the telephone next to the stretcher.

Li Dazhu first reported the terrain.

"Cars can travel on the north slope, mules on the east gully, and the west ridge is so narrow that two vehicles can't pass each other."

Old Zhou asked on the other end of the phone, "The north slope was shelled, where does Daye run to?"

"There's a vehicle; take the north slope first."

"What if the north slope breaks off?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"Turn to Xiling."

"Then you'll guard Xiling," Old Zhou said calmly. "Don't get greedy and try to steal every car you see, and don't lose the pass just because you see a general. If you lose the pass and he escapes, stealing ten cars won't help."

Li Dazhu laughed and cursed, "You're lying here and you're still meddling in other people's business."

"I'm keeping an eye on you while I'm lying down because I'm afraid you'll cause trouble if you're standing up."

After hanging up the phone, Li Dazhu circled the narrow pass of Xiling on the map again.

The plan is actually very simple.

Li Dazhu's 700 men were stationed at Kashi Ridge. Duan Peng led 900 men, flanking from the east gully to the north slope's rear. The four mountain guns fired at only four things: radios, vehicles, command flags, and large numbers of counterattacking soldiers. The main battle zone was 18 kilometers away, but the pursuit was less than 30 kilometers.

Zhao Weiguo pressed the attack plan under a stone. It was found in the afternoon on a Japanese messenger. Ono planned to advance towards Sandaoliang again on the morning of the 29th: the puppet troops would go first, the Japanese troops would cover the flanks, and a company would be left on the north slope to guard the command post.

After reading it, Duan Peng looked up and asked, "Wait for him to come out of seclusion?"

"No need to wait. He'll assemble the team tonight, and they'll disperse tomorrow morning. Once the cannon fires, you just take the main platform and the vehicles. Li Dazhu just guards Xiling. Everyone does their own thing, and nobody gets distracted by anyone else."

Duan Peng folded the attack schedule and stuffed it into his pocket.

"What about Ohno?"

Zhao Weiguo did not look up.

"If he walks right into your line of fire, then hold on. If he doesn't, don't chase him. A major general's life isn't worth losing your life for."

Duan Peng clicked his tongue and didn't ask any more questions.

At dusk, the Second Battalion made their way up to Xiling.

Landmines were buried at the bend, barricades were placed across the narrowest section of the road, and two heavy machine guns were positioned in a crossed firing arc. They couldn't be seen from the north side of the slope; only the occasional sound of cars starting and then stopping could be heard.

As the two vehicles passed by at the foot of the ridge, their headlights swept up the hillside. The soldier at the front didn't even dare to blink. His rifle bolt wasn't cocked, nor was his grenade. Muddy water seeped into his arms from his sleeves, making his teeth ache from the cold. Only after the headlights had passed did Li Dazhu carefully retrieve the telephone wire that had been pressed against him, making sure it hadn't been broken by his boots.

Beside him lay an empty ammunition box. It contained no bullets, only delivery slips from each company. He wouldn't open the Xiling pass if even one slip was missing. By the time the last platoon's slip arrived, the bottom of the box was filled with muddy water half a finger's depth.

Duan Peng's men climbed up the eastern ditch.

There was a stretch of muddy ground at the bottom of the ditch, and it was impossible for nine hundred people to cross in complete silence; they had to stop and move in batches. When someone in front stepped into a mud pit, someone behind would reach out and support their heel. An ammunition box slid into the water, and three people lay down to retrieve it, none of them daring to make a sound.

At 10 p.m., the four mountain guns opened fire.

The first round of artillery fire targeted the cars outside the stone house on the north slope; the second round targeted the antenna and command flag. The artillery fire didn't directly cover the stone house because the mountain wind was blowing horizontally, and the first shot even missed its mark. The artillery crew reloaded the sights, preferring to be a round slower than to fire shells into the eastern ditch where Duan Peng was approaching.

The second shot hit the car.

The fuel tank caught fire, the flames illuminating the figures in front of the stone house. A flag bearer picked up the fallen command flag, but after running a few steps, a mortar shell landed beside him. The flag fell again, but someone still rushed out from behind the house to help it up.

Gardenia stood by the earpiece at the back, hearing several calls coming in simultaneously as people tried to speak.

The main command ordered the remaining troops to assemble to the north, but not long after, the branch command ordered them to retreat to the west. The two groups of Japanese troops collided halfway up the mountain, shouting at each other across the gunfire, each claiming that the order they received was the real one.

When Ohno came out of the stone house, the north slope was already in chaos.

He was a short, stout officer, fifty-three years old, from a family of samurai. His father had been hit by Russian artillery shells in Lushun during the Russo-Japanese War. He had never believed that the Chinese army could achieve anything, until the news of the defeat at Sanglin'ao slapped him in the face.

The guards first escorted him to the car, but halfway there they changed course and headed towards Xiling. Duan Peng couldn't see the man's face through the smoke, but he saw that everyone around him was taking the bullets for him, one falling down and another immediately taking his place.

The man had already taken off his officer's overcoat and removed his epaulets, blending in with the ordinary soldiers. But ordinary soldiers wouldn't allow a dozen guards to surround him, nor would anyone bend down to pick up his pistol from the mud.

Duan Peng threw the binoculars down.

"Don't let the one in the middle pass!"

The machine gun moved around the side slope, and the rifles followed, pinning down the group of guards. Ono was shot in the chest and abdomen and dragged to the roadside ditch, his sword still hanging from his waist. The guards tried to carry him away, but the heavy machine guns from the direction of Xiling opened fire.

Da Ye rolled behind a reclining rock, drew his gun, and fired three shots, hitting a machine gun assistant in the shoulder. Duan Peng didn't order the gunner to keep sweeping the rock; instead, he told another squad to move to the side.

"Don't worry. He can't escape."

As Ohno got up from behind the rock, intending to return to the radio station ruins, he was simultaneously engaged by two separate sources of fire.

He was shot a fourth time, but he knelt in the mud, using his saber as a support, and did not fall.

Duan Peng later recounted this scene to Zhao Weiguo, a straw dangling from his mouth, before finally managing to utter a single sentence.

"That son of a bitch, he's a real man."

Li Dazhu never left the ridge, nor did he go down the mountain to steal the car.

He waited until both cars squeezed into the narrow opening before detonating the landmines in front and behind. The first car overturned into the ditch, and the second car got stuck on the bend. The people in the cars had to jump out and run back.

Ohno was unable to reach Xiling.

His body remained in the mud on the north slope. A general's star epaulette was trampled off and half-buried next to the tire tracks. Duan Peng's men didn't go over to look at it; they first dismantled the radio, collected the document boxes, and then escorted the surviving guards away one by one.

With Ohno's death, the command at Monkey Ridge was completely cut off.

Some rushed towards the north slope, others crawled into the east gully, and the puppet troops scattered down the mountain in droves. Duan Peng held the main position, Li Dazhu continued to hold the position at Kaxi Ridge, and the four mountain guns turned to fire at the groups of people gathering together. The pursuit continued until the afternoon of the next day, when the scattered soldiers who had escaped more than 30 kilometers away were no longer pursued.

Zhao Weiguo categorized the pursuing troops into three types of targets: those with officers, those with machine guns and mortars, and those still able to move in formation. As for the stragglers who had thrown down their weapons and disappeared into the ravines, their whereabouts were to be recorded by the outer perimeter guards and local armed forces. No one was allowed to add them to the enemy casualty count until bodies, prisoners, or reliable identification were found.

Xiling did not relent just because Daye died.

Li Dazhu made the two companies take turns eating; half of them ate cold pancakes while the other half kept their eyes glued to the cart tracks. Only when the password to confirm their identities came from the north slope did he order the barricades to be moved half a foot to the side so that the stretcher could be placed there first.

Sixteen hours later, Monkey Ridge fell silent.

The Independent Regiment suffered 63 dead and 154 wounded. The enemy suffered 1,030 dead, 396 captured, and approximately 370 scattered into the mountains.

Of the four cars that Ono brought, three were still drivable. The first car carried our seriously wounded soldiers, the second carried the enemy's seriously wounded soldiers, and the third carried a power supply and document boxes. The remaining car broke down in Xiling; we removed the battery and any usable parts from it.

Zhi Zi checked the photos, the military knife, the medicine box, and the general's star epaulettes next to Da Ye's body, matching them one by one before putting them all in a bag. Zhao Gang forbade anyone from taking the epaulettes or looking through the letters for souvenirs.

The command flag in front of the stone house lay fallen in the mud.

The two radios, now without their superiors, were still transmitting and receiving intermittently. The branch station asked where Daye was; distant troops requested a retreat; and someone else demanded a report on the actual casualties at Sanglin'ao be sent to Taiyuan. Zhi Zi instructed the radio operator to simply copy the information, not reply.

The enemy’s own words are more valuable than a hundred fabricated ones.

The file box contained records of military disciplinary actions, a list of puppet soldiers, and more than twenty unmailed letters home. Some envelopes already had addresses written on them, while others were only half-written. The paper was stained with mud from Monkey Ridge and the sweat from the writers' hands.

Zhao Weiguo flipped over the top letter but didn't open it.

"Register first. Whose letter it is, whose number it is, and where it came from—everything must be accounted for."

A guard picked up the general's star epaulette from the mud and handed it to him. The epaulette was small, and the gold thread had been broken off by a wheel. Zhao Weiguo glanced at it, then put it back into the evidence bag along with his military knife and medicine box.

He didn't allow the things the soldiers wanted to see to be hung on the wall of the command post.

Down the mountain, three cars were already running. The stretcher carrying the seriously injured was loaded first, with the document box waiting at the end.

Beiping. Headquarters of the North China Area Army.

The telegram was delivered in the evening. The staff officer read out, "Major General Ono, commander of the Independent Mixed Brigade, was killed in action while supervising the battle at Houerling," but no one in the room responded.

A deathly silence lasted for a full three seconds.

Okamura Yasuji stood before the map, his back to the crowd. He didn't turn around, but instead stretched out his hand and slowly stroked the area in North China. Sanglin'ao and Houerling were two place names very close to each other.

"A young regimental commander," he began, his voice low, "killed a major general, pinning him to death in a mountain ravine."

No one dared to answer.

"Go verify it." Okamura's finger stopped on the Taihang Mountains. "How many men and how many artillery pieces does this independent regiment have? Who is supplying them? From today onwards, it will no longer be just a small piece of paper in the local security bureau."

He turned around.

"This is a variable that North China must deal with separately."

At the foot of Monkey Ridge, Zhao Weiguo held the mud-covered evidence bag in his hand.

Ohno's general has fallen.

But what this battle truly left behind remains locked in that box. And further north, some are already beginning to reassess its significance.