PFC Chapter 1220 It seems something has happened.
Chapter 1220 It seems something has happened.
One piece of intelligence after another, one detail after another, constantly gathered and sorted through Zhou Zhengqing's mind.
The Japanese offensive appeared fierce and unstoppable, but in reality, it had already shown signs of fatigue, and many weaknesses were gradually emerging.
Dividing troops for reckless advances, poor supply lines, ineffective coordination, and terrain limitations are all major taboos in military strategy.
The 10th Division's Seya Detachment made the fastest advance, but it was also the most isolated, with its flanks completely exposed and its logistics extremely fragile, like a lone soldier suspended in mid-air.
The 5th Division encountered a tough obstacle in Linyi, becoming bogged down and unable to extricate itself.
The 108th Division became bogged down in the terrain of southwestern Shandong, finding itself in a dilemma. The three main forces were fighting independently and disconnected from each other, losing the advantageous position of encirclement.
In contrast, the Chinese army, despite being at a significant disadvantage in terms of equipment, training, and firepower, with its soldiers possessing rudimentary weapons and frequent shortages of food and ammunition, had a firm determination to resist Japan and a tenacious fighting spirit.
Relying on their familiar territory and the complex battlefield environment of the mountains in southern Shandong and the water network in southwestern Shandong, they adapted to local conditions and fought flexibly, resisting step by step without ever retreating. They traded space for time, constantly depleting the Japanese army's manpower, silently accumulating strength, and patiently waiting for the best opportunity to counterattack.
Zhou Zhengqing's thoughts drifted away, recalling the fleeting, barely perceptible anxiety in Terauchi Hisashi's eyes when he left Beiping.
He knew perfectly well that the commander of the Japanese North China Area Army was no ordinary man and could see the many problems hidden in the current offensive, but he was already in a difficult position.
The repeated urging from headquarters, the honor bestowed by the military, the complacency brought about by the smooth start, and the temptation to achieve a decisive victory in one battle and completely annihilate the main force of the Fifth War Zone—all these factors combined to force him to continuously pour more and more troops into the huge war mill of Xuzhou, like adding oil to a fire, gradually leading him to a passive position.
"More importantly," Zhou Zhengqing's gaze snapped back, focusing intently on the map southwest of Xuzhou, where the vast Huaihe Plain lay, flat and conducive to the advance of mechanized troops: "Where exactly has the northward-bound army of the Central China Expeditionary Force advanced to?"
According to the limited intelligence available, the troops under the command of Prince Asaka Yasuhiko, commander of the Central China Expeditionary Army, mainly consisting of the 14th Division under Kawagishi Bunzaburo and the 7th Division under Sakamoto Seiemon, were crossing the Yangtze River from the Nanjing and Zhenjiang areas and advancing northward, attempting to attack along the southern section of the Jinpu Railway and join forces with the Japanese army in North China to complete the encirclement of Xuzhou from the north and south.
However, judging from the current battle reports, their progress does not seem to be as smooth as expected.
Along the way, they encountered fierce resistance from the Chinese defenders. The two sides engaged in repeated fierce battles in the southern section of the Jinpu Railway. The northward advance of the Central China Expeditionary Army was slow and failed to coordinate with the Japanese army in North China. The attempt to encircle them from the north and south had begun to crack.
"The key to advancing from the north and south lies in the word 'opposite,' in coordination and unified action." Kita Seiichi, a shrewd and calculating man, though not an expert in military affairs, immediately saw the problem: "If the Japanese forces from the north and south cannot simultaneously and effectively pincer attack Xuzhou, and instead the Chinese army takes advantage of its interior operations to concentrate its forces and defeat them one by one, first attacking one route and then sweeping away the rest, then..."
He didn't continue speaking, but a sharp, cold glint flashed in his eyes, and he had already made his judgment.
A fragmented memory surfaced in Zhou Zhengqing's mind: about that spring of 1938, there seemed to be a place name, a battle that resonated particularly loudly, Taierzhuang.
That seemed to be a great victory for the Chinese army?
A victory that shattered the myth of the Japanese army's invincibility?
But the memory was too blurry; the specific details and the course of the battle were impossible to recall. Only a vague outline remained, appearing and disappearing in the mind.
Just then, the train jolted violently, its body trembling slightly, instantly pulling Zhou Zhengqing's wandering thoughts back to reality.
Slowly raising my head, I looked out the window. The sky was gradually darkening. At this time, the Lunan plains were still desolate and bleak. The withered yellow grass trembled in the biting cold wind, making it look particularly desolate.
Everywhere you look, you can see the remains of bridges destroyed by artillery fire and the ruins of villages burned to the ground. The smell of gunpowder still lingers among the broken walls and ruins. Occasionally, you can see the hastily built bunkers and sentry posts by the Japanese army, with their cold gun barrels pointing into the distance, exuding a chilling aura.
The atmosphere of war, like an invisible haze, shrouded every corner of this land, pervasive and suffocating.
Every inch of land is stained with blood.
Every ruin is etched with suffering; every howl of the wind seems to carry the shouts of soldiers and the cries of the people.
"Report!" In the midst of the oppressive silence, a hurried and loud shout suddenly came from outside the car door. It was Qi's voice, with a hint of seriousness in his tone.
"Come in." Zhou Zhengqing withdrew his gaze, his expression quickly regaining its composure, and said calmly.
Qi opened the train compartment door and stood tall in the doorway, his expression unusually solemn.
He bowed slightly, holding a telegram in both hands: "General, I just received an urgent telegram from Tianjin. It seems something has happened to Ogura Daichi."
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Let's rewind to the time when Zhou Zhengqing left Tianjin for Beiping to attend the ceremony for the establishment of the puppet government. At that time, North China was shrouded in a thick gloom.
The biting wind, sharp as a knife, swept through the streets and alleys of Tianjin, whipping up snow and dust, howling like a mournful cry, as if denouncing the humiliation and suffering the city had endured.
The Japanese concession in Tianjin, as an important stronghold of the Japanese army in North China, was heavily guarded. Military police sentries were stationed at every street corner. The military police, with bayoneted rifles at their ready, coldly scanned passersby, looking for any opportunity to make some extra money.
Unlike the oppressive and somber atmosphere that permeated the air of Beiping, Tianjin was filled with an almost frenzied bustle... except that only the military police were busy.
Miyajima Street. The backyard of the Japanese Military Police Headquarters.
Everywhere, figures moved back and forth, and the sounds of footsteps, shouts, and vehicle engines mingled together.
"Hurry up! Haven't you eaten yet?! Be quick!" A rough, hoarse voice with a thick Osaka accent shouted in Japanese, echoing in the backyard with great penetrating power, drowning out all the surrounding noise.
The speaker was a Japanese lieutenant, wearing a slightly tight lieutenant's uniform with worn collar and cuffs, indicating that he had been wearing it for quite some time.