‘Suicide bombers,’ said Boss Eyes. ‘Some of them are opium addicts. They’ve been fairly heavily dosed, so they’re happy. And they’ve been promised their families will be well imbursed and special prayers for them will be said on their ancestors’ graves.’ Boss Eyes paused. He spoke quietly and with respect. ‘But most have volunteered. They believe it is good to die in a noble cause. Until now, with all our civil wars, it has been very difficult to die for a noble cause. Now we have that chance.’
The suicide bombers were ready to go. The officer bowed to each one. Each of them clambered down from the breach and as soon as all of them had reached the ground they fanned out in case any of them exploded prematurely. Laden with explosives they waddled towards the tanks.
Immediately the Japanese infantry sheltering behind the tanks opened fire on them. Wei and the others on the walls returned immediate and deadly fire on them. For the first time Wei appreciated what an accurate and formidable weapon his Lee Enfield rifle was. The soldiers crumpled but the machine gun fire from the tanks themselves hit and detonated two of the bombers. In response the bombers broke from a waddle into a top-heavy jog and lumbered unerringly in on the separate tanks. There were shouts, bangs, explosions. Everything was engulfed in smoke and screams. When the smoke finally cleared four of the tanks were ablaze, their ammunition exploding, and a couple of flaming figures visible inside them, flailing desperately to escape the infernos. The surviving tanks frantically reversed. Two ran into each other. One last bomber zeroed in on them and exploded.
So ended the first day of battle.
*
During the night the remnants of Wei’s shattered company were withdrawn to a quieter section of the siege on the northern walls and in the trenches before them. Fresh troops took their place.
Of Wei’s original platoon only Boss Eyes and Fat Rat were still alive. Greedy the Dog was also alive and when not chasing down the numerous rats was happy to enjoy their affection. The three survivors were amalgamated with those of three other platoons. Wei knew several of them because they’d marched close to each other on the road.
In the morning the Japanese forces, now deployed almost all around the town, launched a colossal attack on Tengxian. Sixty planes carpet-bombed the town, heavy artillery rained down shells on it, one hundred tanks and thousands of infantry closed in on its defenders. The main attack was again focused on the east gate. It was again breached and the tanks and infantry stormed inside. All along the south-east wall holes were being blown in the masonry through which poured the light-khaki uniforms of the Imperial Japanese Army. In bitter house-to-house fighting they started to take over the south-eastern quarter of the town.
In the trenches to the north of the town’s walls, which they’d dug only two days before, Wei’s company was bombed repeatedly and bombarded with heavy artillery shells. The ground shook continuously as he and his fellow troops hugged the earth in the bottom of their trenches, burrowing their faces into it, almost eating it – praying that, like moles, they could burrow deeper and deeper into it. Wei understood the wisdom of Boss Eyes’ statement that the earth was their saviour, their protector. Wei thanked Tudeh the earth god with fervour.
Suddenly there was silence.
‘Up,’ roared Boss Eyes, who was now the corporal of their new platoon, ‘Get up, They’re coming!’
All the platoon jumped to their feet, wiped the dust out of their eyes, peered over the edge of their trench. The first Chinese trench was about fifty yards before them. They were in the second line of defence.
The silence continued for another second and then the air was split with scream of ‘Banzai’ and the bloodcurdling cries of the Japanese infantry as they charged. They appeared ghostly through the smoke and dust still swirling from the bombardment. Wei and all his platoon in the second trench opened supporting fire on the Japanese infantry as they picked their way through the barbed wire. After two shots Wei got his eye in and saw a Japanese soldier he’d aimed at jerk over as he fired.
The Japanese arrived at the first trench. They fired down into the trench; Chinese troops fired up at them. An officer leapt in, sword flashing, and others followed. Screams and shouts of rage and terror rang out. A general melee ensued. Wei’s platoon had no idea what was happening in the first trench. All they could hear were cries of anger and fear. Occasional helmets or bodies were seen rising and falling. If they were Japanese the platoon fired at them.
There was growing frustration in the second trench. Why weren’t they joining in, why weren’t they aiding their comrades? Their commanding officer, a very young lieutenant, had only joined them this morning (the previous one had died at the east gate) and obviously didn’t know what he was doing. Suddenly Fat Rat raised his bayoneted rifle and shouted out.
‘Why are we waiting? Why are we waiting? They need our help. Over, lads, over and at them.’
And the whole company cried out ‘Over! over! over!’ and they climbed over the top and charged towards the first trench. Wei climbed out with Fat Rat immediately before him. Suddenly Fat Rat jerked, and then fell backwards onto his considerable arse. His hands squeezed his stomach. Wei stopped by him.
‘What is it, Fat Rat, what is it?’
Fat Rat was lying flat on his back, a cavernous wound opened in his chest, blood welling from a pit of broken bones and ruptured guts and organs.
‘Oh,’ he grunted, ‘Oh the pain. Mother. Mother.’
He died. Wei stared at him. Suddenly he became aware of the shouting and the gunfire coming from in front of him, left Fat Rat and, grabbing his Lee Enfield, ran full tilt for the fight.
The first trench was a frenzy of limbs and bodies and bright steel. For a second Wei waited, weighing what was happening, who needed help, where he could be most effective, then he leapt in behind a Japanese officer and drove him through his back with his ‘pig-sticker’ bayonet. Blood fountained from the officer’s back all across Wei’s well-tailored uniform. The officer fell. Wei faced the Chinese soldier who was fighting the officer. Someone was screaming like a banshee. Behind the soldier a Japanese soldier started to thrust with a bayonet. Wei shot him and turned and became involved in a three-way fight between two Japanese – one wounded in the arm – and a Chinese. The wounded one managed to trip the Chinese soldier and the other Japanese soldier stabbed him. Greedy the Dog, fully involved in the fighting, sank his teeth into the Japanese soldier’s hand. Wei advanced on them…
The fighting lasted all of four minutes. Four minutes of frenzied chaos. Every eye on stalks to read every motion of all around them. Japanese officers shouting at their men, Chinese soldiers all the time exchanging shouts and warnings to each other. Neither side gained a clear advantage til the Chinese, at Boss Eyes’ shout, dropped their rifles and bayonets and drew their broadswords. Nothing as terrible as a broadsword, with its swift jabs and cuts and counter-cuts, in close-quarter combat. Bayonets were clumsy in comparison, guns needed constant reloading and attention.
Most of the Japanese were hacked to death and the rest fled to Chinese cheers and abuse. The surviving Chinese congratulated each other. Wei checked his work. The Japanese officer lay on his back, staring manically at heaven. A little way along the trench lay the Japanese private Wei had shot. He’d shot him in his face. Blood ran from one of his eyes through which Wei’s bullet had entered. It clotted and encrusted as it oozed down his face. The force of the bullet had knocked the other eye clean out of its socket. It hung down upon his chest. Flies already clustered and feasted all along the trench. They found Japanese and Chinese equally appetizing. The Chinese were moving among the dead Japanese, removing and pocketing any cigarettes or valuables about their bodies. Japanese cigarettes were not popular but smokable. The Chinese troops were removing the same things from the pockets of those friends who had given them permission to take what they wanted if they died. Prayers were muttered. With a sudden self-preserving reflex Wei looked out over the top of the trench to check if any more Japanese were advancing.
They weren’t.
A messenger arrived from Wang Mingzhang’s headquarters and reported to the young lieutenant. Because of the advance of the Japanese into the east of the town and the heavy Chinese casualties, he was having to shorten his lines. Their company was to withdraw from their trenches and man the walls behind them. The soldiers already there were being transferred to the east. This met with a certain amount of dissension. The victorious company felt it could take on the entire Japanese Army. But the young lieutenant was obeyed. He’d won respect in the eyes of his soldiers by his display of swordsmanship in the trench.
They started to withdraw to the walls. Wei helped a man with a wounded leg, the man’s arm over his shoulder. As they hobbled along they passed the body of Fat Rat. Wei glanced down at him. It could only be thirty minutes since he’d died, but such was the intensity of what Wei had been involved in, he could hardly remember Fat Rat’s death. It was as though it had all happened a hundred years ago.
As Wei climbed the ladder back onto the wall, as he almost reached the top, he felt a thump in his left shoulder. He lost his hold. He would have fallen if Boss Eyes, already on top of the wall, had not caught hold of him and dragged him over. He fell in a heap, back against the wall. There was blood. Wei had been shot by a Japanese sniper.
*
Wei had been moved by Boss Eyes to a cellar close to the wall. A family huddled along a wall opposite them.
‘You have been shot in the shoulder by a Japanese sniper,’ Boss Eyes explained to Wei. ‘It’s a flesh wound. It passed right through your shoulder without hitting any bones. Tudeh was looking out for you. But what you have to fear is infection. The wound festering internally, gangrene.’
The two men looked at each other closely. Boss Eyes smiled.
‘Fortunately we have Greedy the Dog to help you.’
Greedy was summoned from the carcase of a particularly tasty rat. Boss Eyes took out his knife and cut away the expensive fabric of Wei’s shirt from front and back of his shoulder.
‘Sorry about your shirt,’ he apologized.
He picked up the dog and held him to Wei’s wound. Greedy started to lick it.
‘Dog licking is a good way to cleanse a wound,’ he explained. ‘It slowly draws the infection out of the wound. Let him lick both sides for as long as he wants. He’s a clever dog.’
Boss Eyes left. The defence of the wall needed organizing, men needed shouting at, weapons checked and cleaned.
Greedy the Dog licked gently and caringly. Wei was used to animals healing wounds. His family always used one of their cats if someone was cut or grazed. Dogs’ tongues were softer than cats’.
From outside, all through the night came the crump of bombs and whistles of incoming shells. Distant shouts and screams and the sound of masonry collapsing. Still suffering from the shock of being wounded, Wei slept fitfully through it, but by morning the artillery bombardment had increased, and from just outside the cellar steps there were confused shouts and orders.
The Japanese were not only pushing northwards through the town from their east gate bastion, but they had also entered the town from the west. Now they were again attacking the north wall.
Wei hoisted himself onto his feet. Boss Eyes had left his ammunition pouch and Lee Enfield against the wall. Using his right hand, Wei looped first the pouch and then the rifle over his right shoulder. He went up the stairs. There were Chinese soldiers still on the north wall. His platoon. He climbed the steps onto the wall. The men were firing and swearing. Every so often one of them threw a grenade, shrieking at their enemy. Then there was a bang and the top of a ladder was thrown against the top of the battlement. Two Chinese soldiers immediately threw grenades, destroying both ladder and those climbing it.
Boss Eyes was still there and the two men exchanged weary nods.
Wei looked about him. What could he do with just one arm and hand? He couldn’t use a bayonet. He could throw grenades, but that was already being done. He looked over the battlement. There were Japanese advancing in the distance. Everyone was too busy dealing with those actually coming over the walls to bother about them. Wei knelt down by a crenellation in the wall. A shell exploded quite close by but he didn’t notice. He placed his ammunition pouch by his right hand, then, with his rifle leant against the wall to his right, started feeding its chamber one by one with bullets. It was full. He lifted the rifle to rest on the top of the parapet then raised his left arm – it was largely useless – to rest on top of the rifle to keep it steady. He squinted through the sights and took aim, searching for a target. There was a small rather hunched figure about two hundred yards away shuffling forwards. Looked rather scared. Wei breathed out, took aim, then fired. He didn’t bother to look to see if he’d hit but immediately started searching out someone new.
This process went on for some time. Firing all his bullets, refilling the breech, firing again. Gradually he improved his technique. He could prepare the rifle quicker, his aiming became more accurate. He could have sworn that he hit some green-uniformed officer shouting his men onward.
Then came another lull in the fighting. The few surviving men smoked and ate rations and grumbled among themselves. They drank wine they’d found in a destroyed shop to give them energy and concentration. Wei steadily continued his sniping.
There was a large explosion. A Japanese artillery shell had blown a gaping hole in the wall just to the left of the platoon’s position. Japanese troops started pouring through the breach.
To avoid being cut off they were forced to immediately withdraw. They jumped and clambered off the wall and immediately started retreating, running down a street with the Japanese close behind. Boss Eyes must have fallen at this point for Wei never saw him again. It caused him no pain, there was no time to mourn.
They reached some sort of haphazard barricade someone had thrown up. The young lieutenant rallied them behind it. Chickens squawked, hysterical mothers ran hither and thither seeking children, machine gun fire cut down birds and people left and right.
There were only about ten of them. The Japanese attacked. A hail of those precious grenades drove them back. A lull. The young lieutenant looked frantically left, right. What should he do? They were in this street. They couldn’t see anywhere outside this narrow street. Were there Chinese troops to the left and right of them, out of sight, holding their lines, or were they by themselves and being encircled this very moment by the Japanese? The young lieutenant decided to hold his line. But he needed information, he wanted instructions and orders from an officer senior to him who knew the whole situation. He looked around, swiftly assessing his men. He chose Wei as the man least capable of fighting, but still mobile.
‘Wei.’
‘Sir?’
‘You know where General Wang’s headquarters are? I think he recently moved them to the central crossroads in the town.’
‘I know it, sir.’
‘Explain to him what’s happened, the situation we’re in. Does he want us to hold our position or fall back? Are there any troops around us we can link up with?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do you want me to write it down or can you remember it?’
‘I can remember it, sir.’
‘Good luck,’ said the lieutenant, dismissing him.
Wei took his Lee Enfield, what ammunition remained. No one else in the platoon knew how to operate it. There wasn’t anyone left in the platoon to say farewell to; he didn’t know anyone else any longer. Except one. Greedy the Dog came up and gave his right hand a quick lick. Then, tail wagging, turned back to the fray. Every dog has its day.
*
Wei walked amid apocalyptic scenes. It was too painful to run.
Night had again fallen and the flames of the burning town lit a vision of hell. Explosions, flashes, tiny human screams, bewildered grandmothers, abandoned toddlers. In a house that was alight a mother suddenly appeared in an upper window screaming for someone to catch her baby. A man passing managed to catch it. Sudd
enly he had a child.
Wei made his way with difficulty, having to turn back here or there because he had lost his way or because there were Japanese troops ahead of him. At one stage, stampeding straight down the street at him, was a terrified herd of transport camels, one with its fur ablaze. Wei stepped quickly aside. Finally he arrived at the central crossroads. A soldier stood on guard outside a partially collapsed inn. It must be the headquarters. Wei went up to him.
‘Is this HQ?’
‘Yes.’
‘I have a message for General Wang.’
The guard let him through.
Inside several senior officers were busy putting on their scabbards and swords. They were attired in full dress uniform.
‘Yes?’ one of the officers asked Wei.
‘I have a message for General Wang.’
‘General,’ said the officer speaking to Wang, ‘a message for you.’
‘What is it?’ Wang asked Wei.
‘I have a message from Lieutenant Huang.’
‘What company?’
‘I don’t know, sir, we have mixed up with so many other companies.’
‘Where are you positioned?’ asked the general, adjusting his regimental sash. Another officer was waxing his moustache.
‘On the north wall, sir. Or retreating from it. It’s been taken. He asks whether he should hold his ground or retreat?’
The general stopped and sighed. ‘Tell him…’ Then he had a thought and looked at Wei.
‘Can you ride a bicycle? With that arm of yours?’
‘Should think so, sir. I could balance well enough.’
‘Just the man,’ said General Wang, stepping back to his desk and picking up a pen. ‘There’s still a way out of Tengxian. The enemy haven’t taken the south gate yet, but they will do very soon. I want you to take this message south – you’ll have to cut through the countryside, keep away from the main roads. It’s for General Sun Zhen. He’s positioned at Lincheng. We can’t radio because our sets were destroyed and all the telegraph wires are down. Do you think you could get through – arm and all?’
Wuhan Page 36
