Chapter 13: A Bountiful Haul, Mortars
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The close-quarters fighting shattered the last shred of resistance among the soldiers of the 189th Regiment’s supply battalion. Gleaming bayonets flashed coldly, streaked with crimson blood, and the supply battalion collapsed completely.
The entire battle lasted less than twenty minutes, yet its intensity was tremendous.
Determined to crush the enemy as swiftly as possible, Long Wencheng’s troops paid no heed to their ammunition expenditure. Spent cartridges littered the ground everywhere.
As for the supply battalion, it left behind sixty or seventy corpses. The rest scattered like frightened birds and beasts, fleeing for their lives into the woodland on one side of the mountain.
After a brief pursuit, Long Wencheng’s troops began clearing the battlefield and selecting the supplies worth taking.
They had ample time. The main force of the 189th Regiment was at least five hours away.
More importantly, after marching for an entire day, the regiment’s soldiers had no strength left to turn around and hurry back to reinforce the supply battalion.
A little over an hour later, the captured goods had been inventoried.
There was a considerable amount of grain and assorted supplies—enough to fill ten handcarts to overflowing. It would keep their force of more than six hundred men fed for quite some time.
Beyond that, there were large quantities of weapons and ammunition.
The haul of firearms was not especially large: fifty Hanyang rifles, five submachine guns, three Czech light machine guns, and one Maxim.
Unfortunately, the tripod of the Maxim heavy machine gun had been blasted apart. Wen Song could only blame himself for firing that shell too accurately.
Of course, the firearms were not the main prize. The ammunition and other supplies were what truly mattered.
There were four entire horse carts of ammunition alone—not only replacing what they had just expended, but leaving them with a substantial surplus.
No one could count the exact number of bullets at a glance, but there had to be at least one hundred thousand rounds.
In addition, there were ten crates of eighty-one-millimeter mortar shells, one hundred and sixty rounds in all.
This delighted Little Stone, for now there were shells for his thirty-seven-millimeter flat-trajectory cannon.
Wen Song, however, gave a cold laugh.
“The calibers don’t match. Those shells are useless to us. They have to be fired from an eighty-one-millimeter mortar—and unfortunately, we don’t have one.”
As he spoke, he recalled that the main force of the 189th Regiment possessed several mortars of that caliber. He had no idea how that Old Dog Lei had managed to acquire them.
Long Wencheng glanced at the markings on the ammunition crates. They bore the name of the Liuzhou Arsenal, meaning these mortar shells had been manufactured by the Guangxi Army itself.
The Liuzhou Arsenal was famous in its own right. In 1933, it had imported from the German firm of Carlowitz a fully automated ammunition production line, as well as a production line for eighty-one-, eighty-two-, and eighty-three-millimeter mortar shells. These were the most advanced manufacturing facilities in China at the time, capable of producing nineteen million rounds of various calibers and thirty-six thousand mortar shells annually.
“What are we supposed to do with shells when we don’t have a mortar?” Yang Gang asked in dismay. His eyes settled on Wen Song, as though hoping the prisoner might somehow manage to obtain one.
Wen Song widened his eyes and spread his hands.
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“What are you looking at me for? I’m not a mortar production line. I can’t conjure up a mortar.
“If you want one, go take it from Old Dog Lei. I saw at least four eighty-one-millimeter mortars with his troops. Just looking at them made my mouth water.”
“We certainly can’t take them by force. There are too many of them. Our men might not be a match for them,” Qi Delong said after a thoughtful pause.
Then he turned toward Long Wencheng and found the commander standing there in silence, gazing up at the sky as though deep in thought.
Yang Gang suddenly developed an uneasy feeling. Could the commander really be thinking of stealing two mortars?
“Wen Song, that’s a fine idea. We should take them,” Long Wencheng said.
“You—you really think we can take them?” Qi Delong stammered.
Wen Song said nothing. Inwardly, he muttered, What is wrong with this Long Wencheng? Why does he act on every wild notion that crosses his mind? The enemy has more than sixteen hundred men, and their weapons and equipment are better than ours. Take them, my foot.
Yang Gang remained silent, because he knew the commander would not have spoken without a plan. There truly might be a chance.
Seeing the confusion on everyone’s faces, Long Wencheng explained his idea.
“Wen Song, if you were Old Dog Lei and heard that the supply battalion in the rear had come under attack, what would your first reaction be?”
Wen Song thought for a moment.
“I’d send part of my force back to provide support, while the main body continued pursuing the troops ahead.”
“Exactly. They can’t all come rushing back. They’ll certainly detach only part of their force to return and reinforce the battalion,” Long Wencheng said.
“But what if they all come back?” Wen Song asked, raising that possibility.
Long Wencheng gave a sly grin.
“Then we run.”
“What? We’re just going to abandon all these captured supplies and provisions?”
As he spoke, Wen Song glanced toward the ten crates of mortar shells, clearly unable to bear the thought of leaving them behind.
“Of course not. We’ll detach fifty men to take the provisions, pack animals, and carts along the narrow trails and withdraw from the battlefield first. They’ll go join the Third Battalion Commander and his men. Our elite troops will stay behind and lay an ambush.
“If Old Dog Lei sends only a small force, we fight. If a large force comes back, we run.”
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Long Wencheng swept his arm through the air, clearly having planned everything long ago.
“That—that actually might work. But where should we set the ambush?” Wen Song asked.
“Jade Dragon Valley. I noticed it when we came through. It’s perfect for an ambush. Block the valley at both ends, then rake both sides with the light and heavy machine guns. Down in the valley, they won’t be able to find a single piece of cover.”
Wen Song now remembered the place as well. It truly was ideal for an ambush. Could Long Wencheng have already been planning this at the time?
“Commander, what if they march along the high ground on both sides of the valley?” Yang Gang raised another possibility.
Long Wencheng, however, answered with absolute certainty.
“That’s impossible. They’ll be rushing to provide support, and their soldiers are already exhausted. Where would they find the time to climb up to the high ground and search their way forward?
“Besides, there’s more than just Jade Dragon Valley along this route where an ambush could be laid. If they had to send men climbing up to scout every single one, wouldn’t they wear themselves to death?”
After hearing Long Wencheng’s analysis, everyone felt that the plan was feasible.
The important thing was that if they could not win, they could still run, and the supplies would already have been moved ahead of time. There was no way they could lose.
With that decided, everyone split up and began to act.
Some of the soldiers were detached to escort the wounded and the provisions. They took the narrow trails around the mountains to rendezvous with He Tianlixin.
The remaining two hundred or so elite soldiers deployed directly along both sides of Jade Dragon Valley, intending to fight a battle of encirclement and annihilation.
Naturally, this plan depended on only one enemy battalion coming to reinforce the supply unit. If two or three battalions came, the battle could not be fought, and they would have to withdraw.
The good news was that the soldiers had rested for an entire day. Their attack on the supply battalion had cost them little strength, and they were now at the peak of their energy.
By contrast, the enemy force coming to the rescue had already been marching at a forced pace. They had barely had time to rest before receiving news that the supply battalion had come under attack. Their rest had been completely inadequate.
Three hours later, at Jade Dragon Valley, Yang Gang returned with the men responsible for forward reconnaissance.
“Commander, they’re here. No more, no less—one battalion. Three hundred men.”
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