The War of Resistance Against Japan: Starting with a Calm View of Life and Death

The commands were passed down through the layers, and the speed of transportation seemed to have increased somewhat.

Sweat streamed down people's necks, turning into white vapor in the cold night.

The sounds of panting, shouts, the groaning of wheels, and the clattering of objects grew more frequent.

Kim Jae-gyu was guarded by two soldiers, crouching in the shadow of an overturned carriage.

He stared at the intense and powerful scene before him, his eyes filled with disbelief.

These people were dressed in rags, many of them wearing worn-out straw sandals or even barefoot and wrapped in rags. Their weapons were also varied, but their movements were so swift and their organization so effective.

Especially the young man known as the "captain," just standing there, seemed to put everyone at ease and unite all forces into one.

He hunched his neck, tucked his frozen hands into the sleeves of his tattered cotton-padded coat, and the slight contempt he had previously held for the "local guerrillas" vanished completely, replaced by a complex mix of fear and awe.

Time passed second by second.

Zhou Jindong's pocket watch ticked away. He checked it every few minutes, his brow furrowing slightly.

In the distance, in the direction where Sun Erniu was, all was still silent; there were no gunshots.

This is good news, but it also means that pressure is building and enemies could appear at any time.

"Report to the battalion commander! The grain wagons are almost empty!" Ren Wuliu, his face covered in soot, ran over to report.

"Key components of heavy weapons and half of the ammunition have been moved!" Zhang Fang followed.

"Most of the villagers' vehicles have already left, and the first batch of goods should be arriving in the village soon!" Liu Heiqi shouted at the top of his lungs, his lips cracked and peeling from shouting.

Several muffled thuds and sporadic explosions came from Zhao Laosi's side, as they were dealing with the heavy weapons and remaining ammunition that they couldn't take with them.

Zhou Jindong took a deep breath of the cold air and finally gave the order: "Attention everyone! Last ten minutes! Clean up the scene! Take everything you can—weapon remnants, empty boxes, and even the clothes and shoes from the Japanese corpses! What you can't take, pile it up! Zhao Laosi!"

"Here!" Zhao Laosi emerged from a cloud of smoke.

"Detonate the pre-set booby traps, burn the remaining carriages and supplies! Be careful, use delayed fuses!"

"Understood!" Zhao Laosi immediately ordered his engineers, "Light the fuse! Set the final detonator! Quickly!"

Several soldiers quickly piled up kerosene, rags and other ignition materials they had prepared next to several badly damaged but still intact carriages and next to the pile of ammunition that could not be taken away, and pulled out long fuses.

"All squadrons assemble! Take headcount and count casualties, prepare for evacuation! Follow the predetermined route, provide alternating cover, and retreat into Black Wind Gully!" Zhou Jindong's voice echoed in the night wind.

The company commanders immediately sprang into action, calling out the names of the soldiers in their respective units.

"Class One! Assemble!"

"Second Company, Third Platoon, this way!"

"Stretchers for the wounded, keep up with the medical team!"

The team quickly transitioned from transport to combat withdrawal. Despite their exhaustion, they moved swiftly and efficiently, with no one dawdling.

The torches were gathered together and thrown onto the kerosene-splattered car body and the piles of supplies.

With a "whoosh," the flames suddenly shot up and spread rapidly. Dry wood, paint, canvas, and leftover grain sacks all made excellent fuel.

The blazing fire instantly illuminated half the sky, and thick smoke billowed up, twisting and swirling upwards in the night wind.

The crackling of burning wood and the snapping of breaking wood were incessant.

Immediately afterward, "Boom! Boom!" Several more violent explosions rang out, as the booby-trapped ammunition piles and heavy weapon debris were detonated. Broken metal fragments and burning debris were thrown into the air and then fell back down in a flurry.

The towering flames and explosions carried far into the quiet winter night.

"Withdraw!" Zhou Jindong waved his hand, turned around first, and strode quickly toward Heifenggou on the west side of the railway.

The county brigade soldiers, escorting prisoners, carrying the bodies of fallen comrades, and bearing the most important spoils, formed several columns and quickly and silently disappeared into the dark forest beside the railway.

Their figures were quickly swallowed up by the shadows of the trees and rocks.

Wang Yuan took one last look at the railway line, now a sea of ​​flames, spat, and called to the last group of able-bodied villagers who were helping with the unloading and preparing to go home: "Let's go! Stay close to the group, don't fall behind! Hide your things when you get back to the village, and don't tell anyone!"

With excitement and lingering fear, the villagers carried, pushed, and shouldered the distributed grain and goods, and along the familiar mountain paths, they quickly dispersed and disappeared into the ravines and villages in all directions, like water droplets seeping into sand.

Just half an hour later.

From the east of the railway line, a muffled roar of engines approached from afar.

Bright headlights pierced the darkness as the car rapidly approached along the highway.

Several trucks full of Japanese soldiers and two armored vehicles rushed to the vicinity of Duanjiazhuang, panting heavily.

The Japanese commander leading the team was a battalion commander under the Independent Mixed Brigade No. 4 stationed in Datong, named Nakamura Jiro.

He saw the flames that illuminated the sky in the distance and the lingering smoke from the gunpowder while he was in the car, and his heart sank.

The truck screeched to a halt on the road, some distance from the railway line. Nakamura Jiro jumped out before the truck had even come to a complete stop, his face ashen as he drew his military sword.

The scene before him made him and the Japanese soldiers behind him who jumped out of the vehicle and quickly formed a battle formation gasp.

On the railway line, the special train that should have been fully loaded with important supplies has now become a twisted and burning steel wreckage.

Several carriages overturned below the roadbed, billowing black smoke. Many more carriages were burned down to their charred skeletons, the cargo inside long gone.

The rails were twisted into pretzels by the explosion, and the sleepers were burning, sizzling loudly.

The snow was covered with bullet craters, bloodstains, scattered shell casings, tattered fragments of Japanese military uniforms, and messy footprints and tire tracks.

The air was filled with a strong smell of burning, blood, and lingering gunpowder, which irritated the nasal passages.

There were no gunshots, no shouts of battle, only the crackling of flames and the howling of the night wind.

The deathly silence was more chilling than the fiercest battle.

"Baka! Baka yarou!" Nakamura Jiro strode over to the still-burning wreckage of the carriage, the intense flames stinging his face.

He saw several charred Japanese corpses, curled up in various contorted positions inside the carriages or lying on the side of the tracks.

They also saw scattered fragments of yellow Japanese military uniforms and broken weapon parts on the snow.

A sergeant ran back from the front, his face pale: "Reporting to Major Mura! The scene... there's no one left! The enemy has all retreated! The supplies... the supplies have been almost completely taken away!"

We found booby traps near some partially burned ammunition boxes, and engineers are carefully checking them! Also... we found Captain Inoue's... body, shot in the head...

Jiro Nakamura swayed slightly as he suppressed the surging anger and indescribable fear within him.

"Search! Expand the search area! Track the enemy's retreat direction and whereabouts!"

A small squad of Japanese soldiers, carrying rifles, cautiously made their way into the forests on either side of the railway in combat formation.

But they soon retreated, and the squad leader reported: "Major, the enemy retreated very cleanly. Although the traces were messy, they were difficult to track after entering the mountains and forests."

Moreover... there were many footprints and tire tracks of civilians in the snow, very messy, making it impossible to determine the main force's whereabouts. There might also be an ambush in the mountains and forests.

Looking at the dark, seemingly all-consuming forest, Nakamura Jiro knew that since the enemy had carried out such a brilliant ambush and raid, they must have made careful arrangements for their retreat. If he rashly chased after them now, he would likely be ambushed again.

Looking at the small number of troops he had brought, and then at the tragic scene and the possible number of enemies, the veins on the back of his hand gripping the knife bulged, and his teeth clenched so tightly that they cracked, but there was nothing he could do.

"Send a telegram to the brigade headquarters..." Nakamura Jiro's voice was dry and hoarse. "Our unit has arrived near Duanjiazhuang. The transport train was ambushed by a large force of the Eighth Route Army, all supplies were looted, and the entire escort company was wiped out."

The enemy has retreated into the mountains and is difficult to trace. Requesting further instructions.

The telegram was sent back to the Japanese brigade headquarters in Datong and then quickly forwarded to higher levels.

A few hours later, in Taiyuan, at the headquarters of the Japanese First Army stationed in Shanxi.

The atmosphere in the operations room was so heavy it could drip water.

In front of the huge map on the wall, several high-ranking officers in general's uniforms had terribly gloomy faces.

The officer in charge of logistics and transportation security was covered in cold sweat.

"Useless! Good-for-nothing!" The division commander in charge of defense in northwestern Shanxi slammed the telegram in his hand on the table, making the teacup jump. "A whole trainload of supplies!"

Supplies sufficient to support a medium-sized sweep! And an elite company of the Imperial Army!

They were robbed by a bunch of Eighth Route Army soldiers less than a kilometer from Datong! It's outrageous! That idiot Inoue, how did he manage to transport it?

What is Nakamura Jiro good for? Did the reinforcements crawl there?

"Please calm down, sir," a staff officer said, forcing a smile. "Based on the evidence at the scene and Major Nakamura's report, the enemy numbers at least three regiments, and there is a large-scale assistance from local civilians in the evacuation."

They were well-prepared, chose excellent terrain, and their ambush and retreat were exceptionally swift and decisive.

"The Inoue Company has likely suffered a sudden and fierce attack..."

"I don't want to hear these excuses!" the division commander roared, interrupting him. "This is a serious provocation against the Imperial Army! It's a fatal blow to the logistics lines!"

The recently concluded "Iron Wall Encirclement" operation against the Eighth Route Army consumed a large amount of resources. Just as they were preparing for the next phase of the suppression campaign, their supplies were seized, and many units' ammunition and food reserves were running out!

Without supplies, how can we maintain the occupation? How can we continue the mopping-up operations?

"Should we immediately organize troops to carry out a retaliatory mopping-up operation in the mountainous areas around Ningwu and Shenchi?" another officer suggested.

"Retaliation? What kind of retaliation?" the logistics officer said bitterly. "Among the stolen supplies was a considerable amount of ammunition and food that we had stockpiled for the next sweep."

The inventory in Datong, Xinzhou and other places needs time to be mobilized and replenished.

In a short period of time, many frontline outposts and troops faced supply shortages.

There was also a shortage of fuel and vehicles, making it impossible to support a large-scale rapid maneuver operation.

Moreover…after the Eighth Route Army seized a large amount of weapons and ammunition, their combat effectiveness would be further enhanced. At this time, rashly assembling troops into their familiar mountainous terrain would be extremely risky.”

The division commander's chest heaved violently as he stared at the shadowy area representing the mountainous region north of Ningwu on the map, his eyes blazing with anger yet revealing a sense of powerlessness.

He certainly wanted to send troops to pacify the area immediately and retaliate with the most brutal means.

However, the reality is that the recently concluded continuous mopping-up operation has consumed a large amount of manpower and resources of the Imperial army, leaving soldiers exhausted and supply lines stretched and vulnerable.

This robbery only made things worse.

Launching a large-scale offensive without sufficient preparation and reliable intelligence could easily turn into a war of attrition, or even allow the Eighth Route Army, skilled in guerrilla warfare, to seize the opportunity to turn the tables.

The silence lasted for a full minute.

Finally, the division commander sat back down in his chair, exhausted and dejected, and waved his hand, signaling his men to leave.

He just wanted to be alone.

......

On the rugged mountain path of Heifenggou, a long procession moved silently under the cover of night.

Zhou Jindong walked at the front of the group, his pace not slow, but each step firm and steady.

He was wrapped tightly in the captured Japanese officer's woolen overcoat, and the mountain wind at night felt like a knife, stinging his face.

Behind them were soldiers from the county brigade, each carrying something on their body.

Two people were carrying a long wooden box filled with rifle bullets, which made the carrying pole creak under the weight.

Some soldiers carried sacks filled with flour on their shoulders. The sacks would sag with every step they took, and the soldiers had to keep lifting them up.

Others carried a Type 38 machine gun or a Type 38 rifle tied with hemp rope on their backs, the butts of the rifles banging against their backs.

The wounded soldiers were carried on makeshift stretchers, in pairs. The person in front walked very carefully, afraid of jolting the wounded soldier.

The stretcher was made of branches and leg bindings and was not sturdy. We had to stop and tighten it every now and then.

The bodies of the forty-seven fallen comrades were carried by the soldiers in shifts.

They lay on stretchers, covered with captured Japanese army blankets, their faces covered, only their worn cloth shoes or straw sandals showing.

The soldiers carrying them walked slowly and quietly, as if afraid of waking them.

No one speaks.

Aside from footsteps, panting, the groaning of the carrying pole, and the muffled thuds of objects colliding, there was only the howling of the night wind blowing through the mountains and forests.

But there was a force hidden in that silence, a force that was being held back and accumulated.

Wang Yuan walked diagonally behind Zhou Jindong, carrying a bulging bundle containing maps, documents, and several binoculars that he had taken from the bodies of Japanese officers.

He would glance back at the line every now and then, then turn to look at Zhou Jindong's back. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed his words back.

Ren Wuliu was in the middle of the group, carrying two boxes of canned goods on his shoulder, panting heavily as he walked.

His face was obscured by gunpowder and blood, making it impossible to discern his true features; only his eyes shone frighteningly brightly in the darkness.

Li Yungui followed beside him, with a broadsword slung over his back and a light-handled gun in his hand, its barrel still slightly warm.

"Old Ren," Li Yungui said in a low voice, "you tell me... this time, we've struck it rich, haven't we?"