3.158 Fall and Rise of China: Battle of Shanghai #3

Last time we spoke about Black Saterday and Operation Iron Fist. Conflict erupted in Shanghai on August 13, when Japanese marines disguised as civilians provoked Chinese guards, resulting in fierce gunfire and urban warfare. Both sides engaged in skirmishes around vital locations, with the Eight Character Bridge becoming a focal point. On August 14, air raids misfired catastrophically, killing over a thousand civilians in what became known as "Black Saturday." In an attempt to regain control, Chiang Kai-shek authorized Operation Iron Fist, a bold offensive targeting Japanese strongholds. The attack commenced early on August 17, involving coordinated assaults aimed at exploiting weak points in the enemy defenses. However, poor coordination, entrenched opposition, and the complexity of urban combat resulted in further devastating losses for the Chinese troops. By August 18, Operation Iron Fist had failed, with the Japanese reinforcing their positions and announcing a strategic shift towards expanded military engagement.   #158 The Battle of Shanghai Part 3: The Chinese Counteroffensive “Drive them into the Sea!” Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. On August 18, the Japanese military reinforced their presence in Shanghai, shipping an additional 1,400 marines from Manchuria to bolster the ranks of the Japanese Shanghai Special Naval Landing Force or “SNLF”. Yes, all of you who don’t listen to my Pacific War week by week podcast are going to get a lot of acronym lessons soon. And yes, they are not quote en quote real marines, but like most telling these stories its easier to refer to them this way. This influx of troops was a significant escalation in the ongoing conflict, heightening tensions as the battle for control intensified. As the battle in Shanghai raged on, a growing sentiment emerged among Chinese leaders that crucial chances had been squandered. On August 18, Chiang Kai-shek sent his trusted aide, Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng, to confer with General Zhang Zhizhong at the front lines. They assessed the situation and agreed that instead of attacking the heavily fortified Hongkou area, they should redirect their focus to the Yangshupu district. The aim was to breach the defenses and split the Japanese forces along the Huangpu River. This strategic shift was precisely what the German military advisers and frontline commanders had anticipated, signaling a decisive move away from their earlier hesitance to engage within settlement boundaries. As attrition took its toll on the Chinese troops already committed in Shanghai, the responsibility for the offensive was placed on the newly arrived 36th Infantry Division, a unit highly trained by German forces. They were positioned to advance from the eastern edge of Hongkou, with two regiments tasked to march south toward the Huangpu. In the early hours of the 19th, two regiments of the 36th launched their long-planned attack, moving swiftly towards the front lines. The night was illuminated by the flames of sabotage and incendiary bombs, aiding visibility amid the chaos. However, the assault quickly faced significant challenges. Many of the Chinese soldiers were inexperienced, becoming easy targets for Japanese infantry positioned in rooftops and upper-story windows. In the absence of cover, some troops were forced to take shelter behind the fallen bodies of their comrades. For a moment, the Chinese troops felt a surge of hope, believing they could push the Japanese into the Huangpu River. General Zhang Fakui, observing from the opposite bank, envisioned a breakthrough. However, upon reaching Broadway, parallel to the river, they confronted a formidable barrier. High walls guarded the wharves, and even the largest artillery pieces struggled to breach the defenses. Attempts to scale the steel gate resulted in devastating fire from entrenched Japanese machine gunners, while fortified factories like the Gong Da Cotton Mill proved equally impenetrable. As the Chinese forces suffered under relentless bombardment, their momentum diminished. The 88th Infantry Division, previously effective, showed signs of disarray and hesitated to engage. Compounding their woes, Japanese reinforcements arrived, swelling their ranks to 6,300 well equipped marines. Despite these challenges, the Chinese committed to deploying their newly acquired British built Vickers tanks, a symbol of their efforts to modernize their military over the years. But with each hour, the balance of power tilted further in favor of the Japanese forces. Meanwhile the 87th Infantry Division was assigned two armored companies, yet it suffered catastrophic losses. The tanks, recently shipped from Nanjing, had crews untrained in coordinated assaults, and many were left without infantry support. The Chinese forces struggled to secure adjacent streets, allowing Japanese armor to outflank and destroy their tanks. The Japanese, too, faced coordination challenges between their armor and infantry, resulting in some of their tanks being annihilated by Chinese anti-tank weapons. On the 20th, General Zhang Zhizhong inspected the Yangshupu front and encountered a former student leading a tank company ready to attack the wharves. The tanks, hastily repaired and ill equipped for battle, faced fierce enemy fire, and the young officer expressed concern about the infantry's ability to keep pace. Despite Zhang's insistence that the assault must proceed, the attack ended in disaster as the tank company was decimated by shells from anchored vessels. The battle blended modern warfare with tactics reminiscent of earlier centuries. An officer named Wu Yujun managed a position during a Japanese cavalry attack on the 18th. After two unsuccessful assaults, Wu set an ambush that resulted in the annihilation of the Japanese riders. This incident illustrated the stark contrast on the battlefield where Chinese soldiers often confronted a technologically superior enemy while grappling with their own inexperience.  Many of the Chinese units arriving in Shanghai were very green, countless having never faced battle before, and their lack of experience proved costly in the initial days of fighting. Brigade Commander Fang Jing of the 98th Division observed that his soldiers constructed inadequate fortifications that crumbled under the Japanese 150mm howitzers. He lamented, “Often, the positions they built were too weak and couldn’t withstand the enemy’s artillery,”. On the 20th, 5 Chinese aircraft returned after yet another unsuccessful attack on the Japanese battleship Izumo, which remained anchored in the Huangpu. During their flight over western Zhabei, they encountered two Japanese seaplanes. One Chinese pilot broke formation, diving steeply to fire a brief machine-gun salvo, but his plane was quickly shot down, bursting into flames before crashing. The Chinese attacks had posed a significant threat to Japanese bombers, particularly the vulnerable Mitsubishi G3M medium aircraft targeting Shanghai and central China. Japan's First Combined Air Group suffered heavy losses, with half of its medium attack planes damaged or destroyed within the first three days of fighting. However, the Chinese pilots, largely inexperienced and inadequately trained, began to falter against the superior Japanese fighters, eventually withdrawing from the skies over Shanghai. Ground troops expressed frustration over the lack of effective air support, as they rarely saw their planes after the 20th, instead carrying out major troop movements only under the cover of darkness. The Japanese air superiority drastically affected operations on the ground, dictating when Chinese soldiers could eat and transport supplies. Without effective fighter protection and limited anti-aircraft capabilities, the Chinese troops were left exposed. Most of their anti-aircraft weaponry consisted of 20mm Solothurn guns that were ineffective against aircraft and were more often used against infantry. Officers hesitated to use these guns for fear of revealing their positions to the enemy.  By the morning of the 21st, the 36th Division had been relentlessly attacking the wharf area for over 48 hours, yet victory remained elusive. Although some tanks had infiltrated the wharf, they were met with dishearteningly strong Japanese defenses and a well-manned enemy presence. The commanders recognized that they had advanced too quickly without securing their flanks, and their reserves, which could have provided crucial support, remained in the rear. Reluctantly, they concluded that a withdrawal was necessary. The retreat was a painful acknowledgment that pushing the Japanese into the Huangpu River would not be as straightforward as hoped. Part of the Chinese failure stemmed from an inability to execute joint operations across different military branches. German advisors noted that artillery support for the forces in Yangshupu from the Pudong side was limited. In contrast, Japanese naval guns were actively providing support, significantly relieving the pressure on their marines. This imbalance resulted in heavy losses for the Chinese, with the 36th Division suffering over 2,000 casualties by the late 22nd. Meanwhile, Japanese naval aircraft attempted to impede the movement of additional Chinese troops to Shanghai by bombing the railway from Suzhou. Although several bridges were destroyed and railway stations sustained damage, the delays were minimal, offering some reassurance to Chinese commanders who understood that reinforcements were essential for a successful continuation of the battle. The light cruiser Jintsu, carrying the 3rd Division, set to land six miles north of Shanghai, while the 11th Division would disembark a dozen miles further up the Yangtze River. By the evening of the 21st, the task force arrived at the Yangtze River and the Saddle Islands off the river estuary. The soldiers had to transfer to smaller vessels capable of navigating the shallow waters of the Huangpu River.  On the 23rd, Matsui Iwane got aboard the light cruiser Yura and was greeted by Rear Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, then the commander of the 8th cruiser division. Yes, the same man who would be blamed for losing at Midway in 1942. The Japanese fleet had made a strategic sweep as far south as Hangzhou Bay the previous day to disrupt Chinese troop movements and force them to spread thin along the coast. However, with the landings imminent, it was clear the assault would happen at Wusong and Chuanshakou. Initially, Matsui preferred landing both divisions at Chuanshakou for a sweeping advance into the lightly defended countryside west of Shanghai, which would encircle tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers. The 3rd Fleet, however, proposed a bolder strategy: the 11th Infantry Division would proceed with the landing at Chuanshakou, while the 3rd Infantry Division would land at Wusong, directly confronting the heavily concentrated Chinese forces around Shanghai. This plan aimed to exert pressure from both the front and the rear, a tactic that could yield success but risked high casualties if faced with stiff Chinese resistance. Aware of the operation's risks, the naval officers sought to ease potential tensions with their army counterparts by offering over 500 elite marines to support the assault, preparing for what could be a pivotal moment in the campaign. Shortly after midnight on the 23rd, the marines designated as the primary assault wave at Wusong arrived in a convoy of steamers from Shanghai. Their arrival was eagerly anticipated, as they would spare the 3rd Division from being the first to land. As the naval artillery barrage reached a deafening climax, the boats glided across the smooth water towards the shore. Any time a Chinese machine gun opened fire, it drew immediate response from the Japanese gunners, swiftly silencing the threat. Meanwhile, trench mortars onshore targeted the advancing vessels, but their rounds fell harmlessly into the water without causing any damage. At 3:00 am, the first landing craft reached the bank, dropped anchor, and lowered its ramp. The marines waded ashore, climbing the 15 foot high dike to survey the terrain. Suddenly, machine gun fire erupted from a Chinese position just 50 yards away, cutting down several marines. Undeterred, the marines charged with fixed bayonets across the open field. An explosion marked the spot where a soldier had triggered a landmine, followed by more detonations, but there was no retreat; they pressed on, swarming over the Chinese trench and engaging in a brief yet fierce hand-to-hand struggle. Within moments, they had taken the position. The marines quickly cleared the area, paving a path to their immediate objective, a military road running parallel to the Huangpu River. While setting up defensive positions, the 3rd Division began to disembark at the water’s edge. By 8:00 a.m, the divisional command stepped ashore as the last unit to arrive. Meanwhile, naval pilots were busy bombing and strafing roads further inland to impede any enemy reinforcements. The landing had unfolded with remarkable success, marking a significant moment in the operation and setting the stage for greater advances by Japanese forces. Meanwhile the 11th division began setting foot on the beach north of Chuanshakou at 3:50 am. As the soldiers advanced towards the town's outskirts, they encountered only minimal resistance as Chuanshakou was defended by a single Chinese company.  Matsui was pleased with the outcome; everything had unfolded according to plan and, in fact, better than he had dared to hope. Casualties in both divisions were surprisingly low, amounting to little more than 40 soldiers. At 5:30 am, Zhang Zhizhong received an urgent phone call at his new headquarters in a small village near Nanxiang. On the line was Liu Heding, commander of the 56th Infantry Division, reporting that an enemy force of unknown size had landed near Chuanshakou. With heavy bombardment disrupting communications, details were scarce, but Zhang immediately recognized the gravity of the situation: a new front was opening, complicating his command significantly. Realizing he could not effectively manage the situation from Nanxiang with communications down, Zhang decided to head to the command post of the 87th Infantry Division in Jiangwan, a town closer to the landing area. By the time he arrived at the 87th Division's base, it was nearly 9:00 am. He was informed that the Japanese had not only landed at Chuanshakou but also at Wusong. Recognizing the urgency, he quickly dispatched half of the 87th Infantry Division and a regiment from the recently arrived Training Brigade, an elite unit fresh from Nanjing, to respond to the threat. Given that the 56th Infantry Division alone could not secure the area around Chuanshakou, Zhang assigned the 98th Infantry Division to defend most of the Yangtze riverbank under threat. He also dispatched the 11th Division, which had just arrived in the Shanghai area with Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng to move toward Luodian, a town just a few miles from the landing zone at Chuanshakou.  Meanwhile, the Japanese forces were advancing swiftly. While the main landing contingent engaged in fierce fighting for control of Chuanshakou, a small unit of a few hundred soldiers was dispatched down the road to Luodian. Marching under the scorching August sun, the reservists, weary from the trek, found little resistance upon reaching Luodian. They hastily set up camp without adequately preparing defenses, making them vulnerable targets. Later that afternoon, advance units of the 11th Infantry Division reached Luodian, shaken but determined to attack even after facing air raids on their journey. The ensuing skirmish was swift; within an hour, the Japanese were repelled. Back over at Wusong Hu Guobing received orders to push back the Japanese on August 21st. He led his regiment towards the Japanese lines, as his platoons dispersed further, dividing into smaller squads. Soon, the sharp crack and rattle of small arms fire resonated along the regiment's front. Battalion Commander Qin Shiquan, a graduate of the Central Military Academy, led two companies toward the enemy positions, taking care to remain unnoticed. When they drew close enough, he ordered his bugler to sound the charge. Then, raising his Mauser pistol, he turned to face his men and shouted, “Attack! Attack!” This sudden noise revealed his position, making it vulnerable. Japanese observers hidden nearby quickly relayed his coordinates to warships offshore. Within minutes, shells began to rain down on the unit with alarming accuracy. Amidst the storm of fire unleashed by the Japanese, all semblance of order disintegrated, and chaos ensued as each unit fought to survive. Hu Guobing spent most of the day dodging Japanese aircraft that circled overhead, waiting for targets to emerge. As Hu Guobing recalled “It felt as though the enemy could see everything. It was crucial not to act rashly. Our only real options were to take cover in a hole or hide behind a ridge”. The gunfire continued throughout the afternoon and did not relent until darkness began to fall. Only then could the soldiers breathe a little easier, grab a few bites of their field rations, and quench their parched throats with sips from their water canteens. Seizing the relative safety of night, they hurried to improve their positions, knowing that once dawn arrived, it would be too late; a shallow trench or inadequate camouflage could spell doom. Although it had been Chiang Kai-Shek’s decision to place Zhang Zhizhong and Feng Yuxiang in charge of Shanghai, now designated the 3rd War Zone, he was having regrets. In a telephone conversation with Feng Yuxiang shortly after the Japanese landings, Chiang emphasized the importance of monitoring the younger front-line commanders. He urged “Don’t hesitate to give them advice,”. Feng assured him that he would not hold back. He then recounted an anecdote about General Nogi Maresuke, who, during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905, allegedly delegated all major decisions to his chief of staff. Feng told him “The frontline commanders possess courage and a fighting spirit. Their role is to take orders and engage in battle. Mine is to stay back, like Nogi, write a few poems, and wait for the inevitable,”. Chiang persistently insisted, “Regardless of the situation, don’t be shy. Share your insights with them.” “Of course,” Feng responded. “If I notice something amiss, I’ll address it without hesitation. You can count on me.” However, this assurance did little to calm Chiang’s concerns. A great concern was Zhang Zhizhong. Much of his rhetoric about fighting the Japanese seemed to lack substance. Zhang had not demonstrated the necessary resolve to launch attacks against the small Japanese forces in the city when decisive action could have turned the tide of the battle. With Japanese reinforcements firmly entrenched in two locations within the greater Shanghai area, it was now too late to pursue a quick victory over the enemy. Compounding the issue, Zhang appeared to spend an excessive amount of time making grandiose statements to the newspapers rather than focusing on the ground situation. Chiang’s frustration was palpable, and it was shared by his German advisors, who concurred that Zhang lacked the requisite “toughness” to confront Japanese resistance effectively. The decision to send Deputy War Minister Chen Cheng to the front was an early indication that Chiang was considering replacing Zhang. In a particularly humiliating twist, Zhang was not even informed of Chen Cheng’s appointment and learned about it indirectly through other field commanders. Fearing that he was being sidelined, Zhang Zhizhong hurried to the 3rd War Zone headquarters in Suzhou to assess the situation. While in Suzhou, called Chiang, whom began harshly criticizing him for being so far behind the front lines. “What are you doing in Suzhou? What are you doing in Suzhou?”. Zhang Zhizhong replied “Mr. Chairman, I’m back in Suzhou to discuss important strategic matters. Otherwise, I’m constantly at the front What’s the matter with you?” Chiang was incensed by this perceived disrespect. “What’s the matter with me? You ask me what’s the matter with me!” His voice rising to a hoarse shriek, Chiang Kai-shek abruptly hung up. At this point, Zhang must have had little doubt that his days as the chief field commander were numbered. The Japanese landings had accomplished their immediate objective of relieving pressure on the small marine forces holed up in Shanghai. As a result, the Chinese were forced to halt their attacks on Hongkou and Yangshupu and had to reconsider how to allocate their resources across various fronts. If the Japanese landing party grew large enough, the Chinese forces could risk becoming the target of a Japanese pincer movement. In essence, within a few days, they had shifted from an offensive posture to a defensive one. Against this backdrop, Chen Cheng,  leading the 15th Army Group, arrived in Suzhou on August 24th. His presence aimed to bolster resistance, and he was also there to familiarize himself with local conditions, as he was expected to take on a greater role at the front shortly. Chen's confident demeanor and readiness to overrule local commanders indicated that real authority already resided with him. While he agreed with Zhang Zhizhong's plans from the previous day to counter the landings, he deemed them insufficient given the threat posed by the fresh Japanese troops. Consequently, he ordered that more soldiers be redeployed from Shanghai proper to the landing zones. To counter the dire situation, Falkenhausen devised a plan aimed at reigniting enthusiasm for the offensive among the Chinese forces. During a meeting on the 25th, he proposed rallying all troops in the Luodian area to mount a coordinated attack from all sides against the Japanese landing force. Emphasizing the German preference for a decisive strike, he aimed to push the invaders back into the Yangtze. The assembled officers expressed their agreement with the plan. However, as dawn broke, the optimism from the night’s discussions began to wane. It had been 48 hours since the landings, and the Japanese army had solidified its foothold at Chuanshakou, rapidly approaching a point of strength that would make it nearly impossible to dislodge them. Tanks and artillery were assembled along the riverbank, while engineers constructed a pier to facilitate the faster unloading of troops and supplies. They had already established a bridgehead that extended 10 miles in length and reached a depth of five miles, initiating the construction of a road heading inland, an evident preparation for a major offensive. In a secret report to Chiang Kai-shek, Falkenhausen outlined the challenging situation as the Japanese consolidated their material advantages. “It should be noted that the enemy’s army and navy operate in close coordination. Although their land-based artillery is still relatively weak, this is offset by their robust naval artillery and ship-based aircraft,”. He further noted that the airfields on Chongming Island contributed to Japan’s now “complete air superiority, as a result, the main operations on our side should be executed after dark.”  From late August onward, most Chinese movements occurred after sunset. Only then could Chinese and Japanese infantry engage on more equal footing, without the overwhelming advantage provided by air support. Night became the great equalizer in the uneven battle for Shanghai. During the day, the relentlessly active Japanese forces seemed to be everywhere. They deployed rubber boats up small rivers to scout and disrupt. Their observation balloons hovered on the horizon, keeping a vigilant watch on the Chinese and swiftly scrambling aircraft upon detecting any movement. They combined technological superiority with a bravery that bordered on the suicidal; when faced with the prospect of capture, many Japanese soldiers preferred death. Following a fierce battle in the vicinity of Luodian, the Chinese retrieved the body of a sergeant major who had committed hara-kiri, while a gravely injured private was found attempting to slit his own throat with his bayonet. Luodian remained the immediate target for nearly all the Japanese forces in the area, facing the same Chinese units that had driven them out on August 23rd. The Chinese were well entrenched in and around the town, but they lacked the numbers to consider launching offensive operations against the Japanese at Chuanshakou. Instead, their priority was to strengthen their defenses. While waiting for the Japanese to resume the assault, they endured massive and sustained bombardment. Among the Chinese officers, there was a growing sense of crisis and a palpable fear that their defensive line could collapse at any moment. From their perspective, the Japanese appeared to be gaining momentum. However, the situation looked quite different from the Japanese invaders’ point of view. Japanese casualties began to rise as the Chinese reinforcements sent to the Luodian area started to make an impact. Two days after the landings, the number of dead and injured from the 11th Division had exceeded 400, and the toll continued to climb. Among the casualties was a senior staff officer who was killed moments after stepping off his landing craft at Chuanshakou, struck down by a Chinese aircraft that had evaded Japanese fighter cover. The death toll escalated so quickly that not all bodies could be cremated, as was customary for the Japanese; privates and junior officers were hastily buried instead. For an army that prided itself on honoring its fallen soldiers more than those left alive, this was a significant blow to morale. The 3rd Division faced different challenges in its sector. It was subjected to relentless attacks on the first day of the landing and had to repel two further major enemy assaults on the second day. Additionally, it experienced occasional shelling from Chinese artillery located on the Pudong side. The greatest threat, however, came from the division’s right flank. North of the landing zone lay Wusong Fortress, which had been guarding the approach to Shanghai since the wars against British and French forces in the mid-19th century. From their fortifications, Chinese infantry and artillery continuously targeted the Japanese as they disembarked from their boats and advanced inland. They also fired upon small vessels navigating up the Huangpu River, delivering supplies to the division. As the 3rd Division expanded its bridgehead in the days following the landing, Wusong Fortress remained a persistent threat, impeding the buildup of Japanese forces on shore. Compounding the Japanese sense of being encircled, the village of Yinhang to the south was also under Chinese control. This, combined with the steadily increasing number of Chinese defenders in front of the landing zone, created a challenging tactical situation for the Japanese. Although initial casualties had been lighter than the planners had feared, the number of Japanese losses began to rise. By the 25th, the 3rd Division, often referred to as the “Lucky” Division, reported over 300 accumulated casualties. Two days later, that number had escalated to 500, the majority of whom were killed in action. On the 28th, the 3rd Division was finally able to capture the village of Yinhang, freeing itself somewhat from the tactical constraints it had faced up to that point. On the same day, following an intense naval bombardment, the 11th Division launched an assault on Luodian. Leading the charge was Wachi Takaji, a 44-year-old regimental commander who surged forward with his sword drawn, personally dispatching several enemies along the way. The Chinese defenders were driven out of the town and fled down the roads leading inland. By noon, Luodian was firmly under Japanese control.  However August 29th marked a significant triumph for Chinese diplomacy, as Chiang Kai-shek’s signed a non-aggression treaty with the Soviet Union. The pact between Nanjing and Moscow laid the political and diplomatic groundwork for Soviet military aid to China while ensuring that the Soviet Union would not reach an agreement with Japan as long as hostilities continued. Initially, Chiang Kai-shek had been wary of Soviet intentions, expressing concerns in his diary on August 1st, when the diplomats were preparing the treaty, that he feared the Kremlin might use the agreement to pressure Japan into signing a similar pact with Moscow. However, following the signing, skepticism gave way to optimism. Three days after announcing the treaty, Chiang confidently predicted in a speech that the Soviet Union would eventually enter the war against Japan. Chiang would not be wrong about that, but it would only come in 1945, officially. Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin had a clear reason to encourage China to engage in a full-scale war with Japan: it would secure Russia’s western flank while he focused on the strategic challenges posed by a Europe dominated by Hitler. A conflict with China could drain Japanese resources, thereby reducing the threat from Asia in the long term. Exasperated British diplomats attempted to warn Chiang Kai-shek about what they perceived as a Soviet ruse, advising that the Russians “only have their own interests in mind.” Nevertheless, this did little to undermine the Chinese leader’s belief in the Soviet Union’s willingness to help. At a deeper cognitive level, there was a reason why Chiang Kai-shek and his associates clung to the belief that not only Soviet aid but also direct Soviet participation in the hostilities was imminent. This aligned with their expectations of how a war with Japan would unfold. The Chinese General Staff’s War Plan A, drafted in 1937, was based on the premise that a conflict with Japan would soon trigger a larger conflict involving either the Soviet Union or the United States. Thus, the key objective for China was to withstand the superior Japanese forces until relief could arrive from a more powerful ally, whether that be Russian or American. This strategy was not as naive as it might seem; it was based on the understanding that neither Moscow nor Washington would want to see Japanese power grow too strong on the Asian mainland. Despite the capture of Luodian and Yinhang, the Japanese continued to face significant challenges. Their grip on the Shanghai region remained highly precarious, relying on control of two isolated pockets north of Shanghai and a beleaguered garrison within the city. Due to their numerical inferiority, they were under intense pressure from Chinese forces. The landings at Wusong and Chuanshakou had initially bolstered the manpower in the Shanghai area by fewer than 8,000 troops, and although reinforcements were gradually arriving, the pace was slow. Matsui Iwane recognized the need for a more radical increase in troop levels to achieve a decisive outcome. By the end of August, he cabled Tokyo, arguing that to complete the operation successfully, he required a total of five divisions or at a minimum the release of the 11th Division’s Amaya Detachment, currently stationed in northeast China, to reunite with the division at Chuanshakou. The Japanese imperial staff and navy command responded mostly favorably, agreeing to redirect the detachment to Shanghai alongside several units of the elite marines. One week after the landings, Wusong Fort continued to pose a significant problem for the 3rd Division and the navy, which was responsible for supplying the division. Chinese artillery fire made anchoring near the landing zone a perilous endeavor, resulting in several naval officers being killed when caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. At times, the shelling was so severe that vessels had to interrupt their operations and retreat to a berth in the middle of the Huangpu River, unloading only part of their supplies. Matsui now planned for the 3rd Division to launch a frontal assault on Wusong, while the 11th Division would maintain a support role, dispatching only one regiment to assist. The attack commenced at 10:00 am on August 31rd. Following an intensive naval and aerial bombardment involving 30 planes, a regiment from the 3rd Division boarded landing craft, sailed down the Huangpu River, and landed on the riverbank north of Wusong. Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, the soldiers engaged in fierce skirmishes with scattered Chinese units in front of Wusong in preparation for a final entry into the city. Meanwhile, the Asama Detachment from the 11th Division initiated its part of the offensive by marching along the bank of the Yangtze toward Shizilin. On the morning of September 1st, the Japanese tightened their grip on Wusong. The regiment from the 3rd Division seized a hamlet west of Wusong and readied for an assault on the town itself. The defending Chinese forces put up strong resistance, and it was not until late afternoon that the Japanese made any significant progress, aided by artillery fire from their ships. The Asama Detachment experienced somewhat greater success that day, successfully capturing the fort at Shizilin in the afternoon. The Japanese launched their final offensive against Wusong at dawn on the 2nd. To their surprise, the fort fell with relative ease. By 10:00 am, Matsui saw the Rising Sun flag hoisted over Wusong. “I felt boundless gratification,” he noted in his diary.  With the fall of Wusong, the town of Baoshan became the last major obstacle to uninterrupted Japanese control of the riverbank, stretching from Chuanshakou to the outskirts of Shanghai. The fort at Baoshan also posed a significant threat to Japanese naval operations due to its strategic location at the confluence of the Yangtze and Huangpu rivers. Chiang Kai-shek fully recognized the importance of Baoshan and ordered a battalion of the 98th Infantry Division to hold the town at all costs. Baoshan had one notable advantage: like many ancient Chinese towns, it was encircled by a thick city wall that had historically helped fend off invaders and still served its defensive purpose well. The Japanese were acutely aware that Baoshan favored defense, and even a small contingent of Chinese forces could potentially hold out for an extended period.  On the 4th, the 3rd Division sluggishly advanced toward Baoshan. Around mid-afternoon, an artillery unit arrived to assist by bombarding the city wall. Despite this support, the Japanese soldiers, sent in waves to scale the wall, suffered significant casualties and failed to penetrate the defenses by nightfall. At noon on September 5, Japanese bombers launched an air raid on Baoshan, while naval artillery rained shells indiscriminately over the town's gray roofs. The land attack began an hour later when Japanese tanks advanced toward the town gates. The Japanese pressed the Chinese defenders into a shrinking perimeter. By sunset, the defenders were left with only 100 soldiers. The night passed without incident, as the Japanese refrained from attacking without air support, but everyone knew that dawn would herald the end. Just as the sun rose above the horizon, the assault resumed. As the city neared its fall, the defending commander Yao Ziqing ordered a soldier to escape and report the situation to his superiors. Unnoticed by the Japanese, the soldier scaled a wall and fled into the surrounding countryside, becoming the sole survivor of the battle. He carried with him a message from the battalion: “We are determined to stay at our posts and to continue fighting the enemy until each and every one of us is killed.” I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. Despite initial Chinese hopes for a counteroffensive by the newly arrived 36th Infantry Division, their inexperience and poor coordination led to heavy losses. As the Japanese gained reinforcements, they executed strategic landings at Chuanshakou and Wusong, overwhelming Chinese defenses. Amidst escalating casualties, Chinese troops struggled to maintain morale. However, their resolve to fight persisted, even as defeat loomed over the besieged city and its defenders.