*****
The moments leading up to 0330, local time,
4 October 1946
People's Liberation Army's
Advanced Field Headquarters,
125 kilometers west-southwest
of Mukden (Shenyang),
The day of the attack
Comrade Mao sat there, in the command dugout, thinking “The time has finally come...” As the clock ticked toward 3:30 in the morning, he choked down whatever reservations he still had, and steeled himself to pick up the field telephone receiver and give the order which would either raise him, and by extension, his party, to never-ending glory...or it would lead to his final and utter ruination. Never had so much been gambled on such ramshackle odds.
As the final runner came in to report all sectors as ready, the clock finally arrived at the appointed hour. He picked up the phone and simply said “It is time. Start the attack.” As soon as he said that, all the runners assembled in the room left immediately, to ensure that there was no appreciable delay to the attack at any sector. A moment later, artillery began firing a couple miles behind the line, its tempo increasing until it was a deafening crescendo. It was so distractingly loud, that Mao and his staff found anything that they could to stuff into their ears, so that they could continue working. Though they mitigated the sound of the artillery to an acceptable level, there was still the shaking to contend with. While it was still distracting, it was less so than the thunderous roar of the field pieces being rippled-fired, to saturate their assigned sector of the front with high-explosive death.
Though he lost the impeccable intelligence resource of General Kuo, the Nationalist's defense intelligence chief, Mao was reasonably certain that not much had changed from the final pieces of information that he had received from him, before his inglorious capture and torture. General Sun had broken apart his best fighting force, the New First Army, in a desperate effort to rebuild the army that cur, Generalissimo Chiang, had so ably destroyed for him, with his corruption and vanity. Mao knew General Sun to be a competent officer and an able commander. When one looks at his actions in overthrowing Chiang, he could be perceived to be a patriot and a man of honor and decency, with a deep love for his country, and its people.
But, by Mao's calculations, this made General Sun weak and naive, and thus, unworthy of the mantle of national leadership. Mao knew that the people needed to be ruled, for their own good, and the idea that they would choose who governed them was preposterous. It was nothing more than foolish western naivete, designed to keep the illusion that they had the final say over what the warmongering oligarchs did to them, and in their name. It was a pure canard to Chairman Mao, a fairy tale for the people. Never giving General Sun a chance to marshal his forces against him, he felt confident that he would prevail this day and would overcome the inauspicious defeat that Sun handed his forces earlier in the year. He knew that this gambit would pay off big for him, and yet.....
-----
Spread out along a 150-km front
facing the old Nationalist cordon line,
0445, local time
4 October 1946
After a thorough artillery barrage that felt like forever, communist soldiers came pouring out of their protective dugouts, screaming their battle cries and slogans, being exhorted to battle by their political officers to fight and free the oppressed masses, enslaved on the other side of their lines. With practiced and disciplined moves, these soldiers crossed the battlefield quickly, expecting to encounter and neutralize whatever resistance they encountered. When they encountered none, they naturally assumed cowardice on the part of the enemy and began to move about the battlefield less cautiously. They found personal items, pieces of uniforms, discarded arms and equipment that lent to this impression, but strangely, no corpses. As they were under penalty of death for anyone caught looting, they left the battlefield as they found it and continued their advance. The further they moved, the more abandoned the torn enemy fortifications and positions seemed, nothing really remaining but that that the artillery had not completely consumed or disintegrated.
The battlefield had an eerie feel to it, as though there had never been anyone facing them, but ghosts. And as ghosts were not officially tolerated by the communist dialectic, the thought was just as quickly dismissed. Discipline was beginning to break down, even among the political officers, as there was no resistance being encountered. After an advance of about 40 kilometers, the men began to move at a leisurely pace, with their guard down, apparently cocky in the fact that their nationalist enemy had conceded the battlefield to them. Any time a soldier drops their guard is a dangerous time, but these men had not been soldiers long, as they had been pressed-ganged into the communist ranks by hard men with guns and daos. They had no desire to be on this field of battle, with the air becoming crisp with the taste of the bitter cold winds yet to come. Of these men, many of them would never return to their families and friends. Many would be buried in unmarked mass graves, or even worse yet, their bodies would be left to rot in the open, for the carrion-eaters to pick. They were now kilometers from their jump-off point, and still no resistance. The majority of the men had no clue; they were just as happy if they never had to fire their rifles, or use their grenades. But the seasoned soldiers were getting jumpy, their trigger fingers were itchy and there was no remedy for it, save to fire at something.
Then, the sound of rapidly-approaching gunfire; one moment it was off in the distance, and the next moment, it was upon them, vicious and withering. It was not at all what they had been told to expect: a ragged mass of men, with hardly any weapons and even less organization. Instead, they found themselves locked in battle with well-trained, well-disciplined professionally-led soldiers, fully supported with armor and heavy weapons. Among the many leftover prize-of-war Japanese tanks they were operating were newer, more heavily armed, American tanks, and these soldiers wielded their American implements of death well. Among the lead tanks was their commander, directing the counterattack from his new, if cramped, “Super” Sherman tank, just recently transshipped from the United States, via Japan. He relayed his orders in German to his radioman, who issued the orders in Mandarin and Cantonese, the two main tongues spoken by the bulk of his forces. His mandate from President of China was to smash the offensive, and take the fight to them. This commander was well-known among the Soviets on the Eastern Front. He was baptized Hyazinth, Graf Strachwitz von Gross-Zauche und Camminetz, or simply Hyazinth von Strachwitz. Beloved by his armored troopers, he was affectionately known as der Panzer Graf, the Armored Count. Now commanding a combined-arms corps of the best troops that could be mustered on short notice, Lieutenant-General von Strachwitz stayed in constant communication with his command in Peking, and, as a condition of his parole as a war-prisoner, with Allied command headquarters in Tokyo. His forces cut through the complacent communists like a red-hot blade through pig fat, brutally smashing every attempt at resistance it encountered.
To Graf von Strachwitz, battle was the only thing he had left. One of his sons was presumed dead, captured in command of what was charitably called an infantry division during the waning days of the last war. By that time, the Bolsheviks were brutish animals with captured Wehrmacht officers. There had been no word from his younger son, whom he assumed would come to his mother's and sister's aid, in the event that he had been taken prisoner. When the Soviets had attacked, he had been brought to General Omar Bradley's field headquarters in Metz, and given his parole, on condition that he fight in another theater than that one. He had the impression that General Bradley was barely competent, and not very bright or imaginative. But he had given him parole, so he kept his opinions to himself. Then, he, and other professional German military officers, were transported to the United States. When they arrived in Washington, D.C., they were hurriedly debriefed for what battlefield information on the Soviets they could provide. His orders had come from the Allied command, through the newly-formed Combined Free German Military Command. It w
as headed by Gross-Admiral Karl Dönitz, Feld-Marschall Hasso von Manteufel and, the youngest among them, Luft-Generalleutnant Oskar-Heinz “Heinrich” Bär.
The Western Powers were apparently keen on reforming the Wehrmacht, in some form, to fight on their side. He was not morally opposed to this, but all the lies and the deceit that the western Allies had committed to keep the Soviets placated did not sit well with him. But he was not a politician, merely a soldier, and a soldier has his duty and his honor, and that is all he needs. In the meanwhile, all other considerations must hang by the wayside. After his momentary reverie, General von Strachwitz refocused his attentions on the rapidly fleeing Chinese communist soldiers, as his tankers cut them down. That meant fewer to face in the next engagement. At this point, he expected heavy armored resistance...and it predictably appeared, right on schedule. The Soviets trained their Chinese lackeys too well. He knew what to expect now.
What Strachwitz had not counted on were the familiar tanks and armored cars he was now facing: captured German Panzerwagenen and Spähwagenen, no doubt captured in Russia and across the Eastern Front. He smiled an evil smile to himself and thought “They never considered that a former Panzer commander would be leading this charge,” as he ordered his tanks to aim for the vulnerable turret rear and the rear drive sprockets, before targeting the now-vulnerable turret ring, for a near-guaranteed kill. All the weeks of stressing gunnery training for his tankers was now paying off, and though the communists were taking a toll on his forces, his tanks were racking up an enormously impressive kill ratio. As soon as he was satisfied that there were sufficient communist forces inside the pocket that his forces had created, he yelled down to his translator and radio man “Send out the order NOW! SLAM THE DOOR SHUT!” Strachwitz's evil smile grew larger as he thought of the implications of the order that he'd just sent out: he had just turned the Stalingrad tactics back on their communist originators. His panzer, no, armored, corps, along with the regular First Army, would, first, close the pocket, then wear it down, giving his enemy a taste of rattenkrieg, before finally liquidating it, in total. This enemy was nowhere near the quality of his troops, having made sure that he reviewed each battalion that came under his command, and all the troops that constituted each battalion, for reliability and motivation. Though he couldn't be one-hundred percent positive that his forces' reliability wasn't impeachable, Strachwitz was sufficiently confident that his soldiers were competent enough to execute this strategic maneuver, and brave enough to see it through. As motivation, he offered the bravest and the best soldiers not only glory, but a chance to lead other soldiers to their own glory, as well as that of their homeland.
As his tanks were reaching their objective, kilometers behind the crumbling front lines, he began encountering stiffer, more fanatical resistance, meaning that his element was reaching the command center of the communists' failed offensive. He allowed his armor to range freely, engaging targets at will. As the enemy's tanks had to stop to track their targets, his headquarter company tanks were firing on the move, thanks to another American technical innovation, the gyro-stabilizer. His personal tank also carried an improved version of the Uhu night sight and infrared lamp light, mounted for night operations. American technical prowess truly impressed him, even if the technology originated from Germany.
As his tanks reached a series of dugouts and tank-traps, Strachwitz sent his sappers forward to make sure the way was clear of any obstructions and booby-traps that might hamper his armors' performance. As this occurred, they began taking heavy fire from the high ground ahead. In his passable English, he got on the radio and called in a U.S. Marine Corps air strike, from their forward airbase in Tientsin. Within a matter of minutes, Corsairs and Skyraiders begin pounding the heights with machine gun-and cannon-fire, high-explosive bombs, rockets and incendiary gel, as witnessed by the decreased volume of fire. As the sortie returns to base, Strachwitz orders his tanks forward again, carefully probing, making sure that they did not trip any booby-traps, methodically destroying every enemy target they encountered. As he fearlessly looked out the cupola of his tank, Strachwitz paid special attention to the photographs clipped to his memo board, these being the most current photos of the communist leadership, who may or may not be out on the battlefield. Passing him going forward, having moved close behind his tanks, was mechanized infantry, such as it was in this theater. Moving in the other direction was infantry that had moved far afield of his tanks, and had been relieved by fresh troops. In turn, these troops were marching captured communist soldiers to holding areas prepared in the rear.
As these prisoners were force-marched rearward of the front lines, General Strachwitz thought he recognized one of the men being marched to internment. He motioned to his interpreter to call that prisoner and a guard over. Then, he picked up his memo board and began to furiously leaf through the photos, and he suddenly stopped on one photo in particular, and his usually calm demeanor slightly broke, and he once again smiled evilly. Through his interpreter, to all the soldiers within earshot of his tank, he called out loudly, “We have a special guest here today! Please introduce yourself, Herr Kommisar Mao!” After the initial shock of their commander's announcement, a huge cheer roared out, one that could heard all the way to the enemy's former rear areas.
*****
2307
6 October 1946
Behind communist lines
South of Tunghwa,
Liaoning Province,
Manchuria, Republic of China
Private Wei Hsu-lung had been behind the Soviet lines for many weeks now, undercover as a civilian laborer, watching their every move, smuggling weapons into the occupied zone and helping relay information back to his Army's headquarters, by runner, in Peking. In the meanwhile, he and his comrades were to continue with their cover, and keep working and avoid being caught.
He bristled at the Soviets' contempt for them. Having learned some Russian from his White Russian neighbors in Shanghai, he completely understood the insults hurled at him and his people, and fought hard for the inner peace to complete his mission. It was the mission of every Chinese man and woman right now, to keep from being the puppet, having its strings pulled by Soviet puppet-masters. Private Wei believed in his sacred duty and would see it done, or die in making the attempt.
When they finally withdrew, after the American atomic bombing of the Soviet Union, he felt somewhat at ease, but no less on guard. He had not heard of any changes in the plan, and continued on, in the way he was ordered to. There would be only be the Soviet-trained proxies of the Chinese communists of the People's Liberation Army, and their Korean allies of the Korean People's Army. Inferior to the Soviets to be sure, but still a potent force, nonetheless.
What was a wonder were the weapons that were being smuggled in: the new Type 46 automatic rifle, and Type 46 machine gun, both copies of the latest German weapons from the last war. There were many rumors as to how they got their hands on the plans for the weapons, but however it came to pass, Private Wei will be grateful to be using such superior arms to take back his nation.
As every soldier in this operation was handpicked by the President's most trusted military advisors, they were already given their “go” code, but they would only receive their objectives when they received orders to proceed with the operation. It seems like they were here forever... Then, tonight, a runner came into their tent, holding up the “go” order, and their objective: the airfield full of Soviet aircraft, their Soviet advisors now gone, along with the Chinese PLA and Korean KPA pilots, close to the Korean frontier, by the River Yalu. Private Wei's section leader gathers them all up, makes sure they all get their uniforms, kit, and weapons, and proceed to move out toward their objective, knowing that all over occupied Manchuria, many other Chinese troops were doing the same. The real war of liberation had begun.
*****
Noon, local time
7 October 1946
In the broadcast studios of the
Chinese Governm
ent Radio Network
Peking, Republic of China
President Sun Li-jen felt a bit uncomfortable in the unfamiliar surroundings of a radio broadcast studio, but he reminded himself of his duty, and was quickly able to calm himself. As he sat down in front of the microphone and gingerly put on the headset, and quickly shuffled the notes that he planned on using in this unusual midday address. The moment was finally at hand when the “On Air” sign flashed, then glowed steady red, as he began to speak:
“To all of my countrymen! I address you not as the President of the Republic of China, but as your brother, and fellow patriot, exhorting you to strike! Not at our fellow Chinese brothers and sisters, regardless of ethnicity or region or creed, who believe in freedom and justice, but at the true enemy: the Soviet wolf, and those of our number who succor to them to curry favor and power, who would lead us down the road to ruin that it is assuredly going down itself. There is absolutely no gain for our nation in emulating the methods and practices of the “Workers' Paradise”, with its brutal oppression and its practice of usurping your industry and giving it your less industrious neighbor, preventing you from properly providing for your families, as you see fit! As your President, I have begun to correct the major wrongs, such as making your province and county governors answerable to you alone, and making it possible for you to keep what you make, not having to pay 'taxes' to representatives of the provincial and county leaders and their corrupt cronies! I am committed to a better life for all of my brothers and sisters, not just for the few who believe that power comes from the barrel of a rifle. And to those of you who would throw your lot in with the Soviets in a naked bid for power over the Chinese people, I say to you that we will hunt you like the dogs that you are, never stopping until the threat is no longer a serious consideration...”
World War Three 1946 Series Boxed Set: Stalin Strikes First Page 44
