“Beijing and Tianjin have fallen,” General Alexander von Falkenhausen, Chiang Kai-shek’s German aide-de-camp, solemnly informed the Generalissimo from a recent report. The pair was in Chiang’s operational headquarters in Shanxi province surrounded by the Kuomintang’s core military cadre, planning future operations against Communist forces in Shaanxi. Chiang’s advisors stood in stunned silence. The whole of Northern China now lay prostrate before the Japanese hordes.

“China is lost,” an anonymous voice rasped.

Such talk rattled the Generalissimo. “Out,” Chiang ordered his advisors. When none moved, he shouted, “Out!” making the generals scurry from his sight. Only von Falkenhausen remained, his cold blue eyes set on his commander. “So it has come to this.” Chiang crossed his arms and thought over the situation. Never had a man gone so quickly from triumph to defeat. Chiang had hoped to continue his pursuit of the Communists, a campaign that had been proceeding in his favor. Communist forces under Zhang Guotao had been smashed and driven west into Shaanxi in disarray. After years and numerous campaigns, their destruction was finally within Chiang’s grasp. Yet now he was faced with letting them slip away, the Japanese forcing his hand. “War is inevitable,” Chiang grudgingly admitted. He had hoped for another several years before this moment arose. China was not ready but cruel fate did not care. “Can we expect aid, possibly from Germany?”

“No,” von Falkenhausen confessed. “The Western powers will do nothing, as always. But the Japanese already have sent a diplomatic overture for an armistice.”

“They want further concessions, not peace, as always. Nibbling away at China because she is too large to swallow in one gulp. They will not stop until we are slaves.” Chiang sighed painfully. “My authority will not survive another Mukden. But what do I have to stand in the way of the Tenno’s Imperial forces? Already the warlords have shown they no longer respect me. In the shadow of my back shall treachery take root.” He shook his head. “First Zhang embarks on his foolish adventure into Manchuria. Then the Guangxi Clique, encouraged by Zhang’s rebellious act, retreats from our alliance thanks to Chen Jitang’s meddling. They allowed the Communists to slip through their fingers as an affront to me,” he revealed to von Falkenhausen bitterly. “Worse, now they back Liu Wenhui who has returned to Sichuan and initiated war with his nephew for control of the province to undermine my forces there. With so many deserting me, who knows how long the Ma will remain loyal. And now the Japanese…” Chiang leaned weakly on a nearby table, his eyes empty. “It is all falling apart.”

“Then you will seek peace in order to strengthen your grip on the warlords.”

Chiang took a deep breath. “No. Things have progressed too far. I cannot afford to look weak. If I do nothing, then the warlords will have their fait accompli to turn on me. I have no choice.” He looked up. “We must strike back. If I cannot unite this nation under me, then I shall unite it against the Japanese.”

“If you fail-”

“I lose everything, but I have little left to lose.” Chiang came around the table to stand in front of his aide-de-camp. “What do you believe the Imperial Army’s next logical step to be?”

Von Falkenhausen turned his attention to a large map draped across the wall to his right. “The Japanese army will likely march south along the Peiping-Hankou and Peiping-Pukou railways, and most certainly cut right toward Wuhan.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

“If you are to counter this, the Kuomintang will have to defend along a horizontal axis and attempt to encircle the advancing enemy through pincer movement.” Von Falkenhausen frowned. “But I am afraid your forces are simply incapable of such maneuvers. The Japanese Imperial Army has qualitative superiority in Hebei and Shandong, and the mobility of its armor and artillery pieces cannot be matched by your forces. Your military presence in the north is minimal. In addition, most of your defenses are not built in the north, but in the east, along the lower Yangtze Delta. Even worse, Japanese troops are being reinforced easily through efficient naval and rail transports. Chinese troop movements are severely handicapped by the lack of sufficient motorized vehicles and adequate railway lines. All they have are their boots to move them. It takes considerably longer for Nationalist reinforcements from the south to reach the north than it does for the Japanese to reinforce from their home islands. Attempting to continue to fight a war in the north is impractical.”

“Then you are suggesting that I abandon Hebei and Shandong.”

“Yes. The situation there is untenable and you will only lose men in an impossible effort. In addition, if the Japanese army makes a southwestward advance into Wuhan and then turns eastward they will encircle the Shanghai-Nanjing region. Nationalist defenders will be forced into the sea.”

Chiang perused the map calculating his options. “Then we will establish a second front in Shanghai. This will draw the Japanese away from Wuhan altering their southward advance eastward rather than westward.”

Von Falkenhausen’s eyes lit with understanding. “You intend to give Nationalist troops room to the southwest for them to retreat and regroup should Shanghai and Nanjing fall.”

Chiang nodded. “I would prefer to turn Shanghai into a meat grinder. Perhaps we may exhaust the Japanese with numbers. Whatever the case, Kuomintang forces will fight as much as possible to delay the Japanese advance while time is bought to move government and vital industries into the Chinese interior. I do not expect to win. I only hope to survive.”

“An excellent plan, Generalissimo,” Von Falkenhausen remarked as he sized up Chiang’s plan. “Should you win, you blunt the Japanese offensive. Should you fail, China lives to fight another day.”

“Let us hope it is the former rather than the latter. Give word to my advisors,” Chiang ordered von Falkenhausen. “The time for war has finally come.”

***

Zhang Xueliang and Hauptmann Harpenau cautiously made their way through the burnt out remains of Jinzhou. A once proud and ancient city, all that remained was the eidolon of destruction. Scorched pillars and bent street signs leaned haphazardly on either side of the avenue, the skeletal frames of phantom houses now ashen and still smoking in the early morning air blotting out the crimson sun rising off the coast of the empty seaport of Liaodong Bay. Along the cracked boulevard, buildings had collapsed into their foundations leaving sink holes of splintered, seared wood; homes had become pyres. Even the once glorious Guangji Pagoda was little more than a gutted memory of grandeur. Not one stone was left atop another. The pair was forced to cover their mouths and noses against the fetid stench of the ruins, tears coming to their eyes while nausea filled their guts. Deathly silence reigned throughout the eldritch city as a gentle mist began to fall from the sky.

“This is worse than Ypres,” Harpenau intoned taking in the dystopic vista.

“A thousand years old and the Japanese raze it in days.” Zhang grimaced at the piles of charred bones. “They didn’t even bother to bury them.”

“Why should they?” Harpenau asked. “This is just one giant graveyard.”

“Were there any survivors?”

“Few. We have found scattered peasants near Yiwulü Mountain.”

“What do they say happened?”

“They claim this was the work of the Japanese.”

“But why?” Zhang hoarsely asked, turning to his comrade.

“They do not know. But it is the same as Jehol. The Japanese appeared several nights ago, seizing supplies. Then they began rounding the men up and shot them before setting the city ablaze. When women and children tried to escape, the Japanese forced them back into the inferno at bayonet point.”

The sheer barbarity of what had happened at Jinzhou disoriented Zhang who struggled to make sense of the wasteland the Japanese had created throughout Manchukuo. Why would they destroy their empire rather than stand and fight for it? “How could men do this?”

Harpenau shook his head. “These are not men we face. These are demons.”

“Where are the survivors now?” Zhang asked as he brushed the falling ash off of his uniform leaving streaks of gray.

“At camp. What would you have me do with them?”

Zhang did not contemplate their fate long. “Do what you can to feed them.”

Harpenau blinked. “Our rations are barely enough to feed our own men and we are unlikely to find resupply-”

“Then our men are going to have to sacrifice,” Zhang snapped. “There is nothing else left here for these people. I will not watch them starve before my eyes.”

One of Zhang’s soldiers stumbled over the wreckage toward his commander drawing the pair’s attention. Standing before his leader, the private snapped a sloppy, amateurish salute. “General.”

Zhang returned the salute. “What is it?”

“There is someone to see you.”

***

Zhang, followed by Harpenau, entered the command tent to discover Yen His-shan stroking his broad moustache waiting for them. Yen was a prominent Chinese warlord and governor of Shanxi province, one of the upper echelon of Kuomintang leadership as well as a detractor of Chiang Kai-shek. When Yen saw Zhang, he gave the young marshal a mild bow. “I’ve ridden many a horse to death in order to reach you in time.” After a brief pause he stated, “Chiang is dead.”

“What?” Zhang blurted, his eyes knit together. “Where?”

“He fell at Shanghai,” Yen coldly conveyed.

“Dead,” Zhang rasped, withdrawing to a corner.

Harpenau’s eyes went from Zhang to Yen. “What happened?”

“I do not know if you are aware of this as far from the front as you are, but China and Japan are at war.”

“It is my fault,” Zhang declared. “I have brought this upon China.”

“The Japanese have brought this upon China,” Harpenau retorted with contempt. Then to Yen, “What is the current situation?”

“The Japanese have made rapid progress against our forces decimating every army we put against them.”

“What of the Wufu and Xicheng Lines? Did they not slow the Japanese advance?”

“Our defenses were incomplete and useless. Nothing has stopped the Japanese juggernaut. Already they occupy everything from Hebei to Jiangsu. Chiang attempted to rally our forces against them to preserve the capital but failed. Shanghai is lost as is Nanjing. The Kuomintang is in disarray and there is little left to stand against the Imperial Army.”

“So why have you come here?” Zhang chastised, stabbing at the exit with his finger. “You should be rallying our forces to halt the Japanese offensive.”

“That is why I have come. I am here to ask you to save us.”

A look of bewilderment overtook Zhang. “I don’t understand.”

“Without Chiang there is no one left to unite the warlords. Despised as Chiang was, he held us together. As much as the warlords hated Chiang, they hate one another even more. With his death there is no one remaining to galvanize our forces against the threat of the foreign devils. The warlords distrust one another and refuse to cede authority to any in their ranks. It is only a matter of time before the Japanese begin to turn us against one another, destroying us one by one until the whole of China is theirs. But you…they will bow to you.”

Zhang crossed his arms and looked to the floor. “I think you overestimate my importance.”

“No. Your name carries great weight with the people and the army.” Yen swallowed. “I have spoken with the others. Li Zongren, Huang Shaohong, Bai Chongxi, and the Xibei San Ma have all agreed that you are a worthy candidate. Without you, China will not stand.”

Zhang glanced up with a scowl. “You would have me turn south and abandon my campaign?”

“Your campaign,” Yen said with cynical bemusement. “From what I have seen, there is little left to save in Manchuria. You cannot rescue what is already lost.”

“Manchuria is not lost!” Zhang shouted shocking those in attendance by his lack of control. Zhang reclaimed his composure, steadying his breath and brushing back those strands of hair that had come loose. “I would ask that you please leave.”

Yen would not budge. “Do you think Manchuria alone suffers the curse of the Japanese? You have not heard of what happened at Shanghai or what followed at Nanjing. 300,000 men, women, and children murdered at the hands of the Japanese. The capital is in ruins.”

“Mein Got,” Harpenau murmured before saying a silent prayer for the dead.

The revelation staggered Zhang. “Why?”

“The Japanese wish to break our spirit. They rape. They burn. They consume. If you do not turn south, this will be the fate of all China. The people need you. The warlords wish you to lead them. Save us from the Japanese.”

Zhang wearily weighed the options before him. “To save China I must sacrifice my own people. These are my ancestral lands. I have an obligation to Manchuria.”

“You have an obligation to China,” Yen countered. “How many have died in the wake of the Japanese? Thousands. Millions. Even your own father. Our nation is on the brink of collapse. Not just Manchuria, not just Shanxi--the whole of China. It is this, our coming to the threshold of cultural extinction and slavery that has finally brought the warlords together in common cause. If you turn away they will seek their own fortunes regardless of China and her people for there will be no future for her people. If you are to save your people, then you are to save the Chinese. We are brothers. This is your war as much as it is mine.” Yen could see Zhang wavering. He strode toward the young marshal and clasped Zhang’s shoulder tightly. “Unite us. Save China,” the warlord pleaded.

Zhang looked Yen in the eye and realized the man’s veracity. For such a proud man to beg was dishonorable. Zhang nodded his head, his shoulders slumping even as Yen grinned widely. The burden would be Zhang’s.

Next Chapter: Chapter 21