Japanese army regulations forbade a tank crew to abandon their vehicle under fire, even if it was knocked out of action. This was partly because of Japan’s resource scarcity—not enough steel, not enough tanks, each one precious. It was also a throwback to Japanese samurai concepts of martial honor. Retreat and surrender were not merely dishonorable, they were literally impermissible. In some cases they could be capital offenses punishable by death. The leader of one Japanese tank unit in this battle explained to his men that tank crews must share the fate of their tank, saving their last bullet for themselves.39
The consequences for Japanese tankers were devastating. In one relatively short engagement that afternoon, twenty of the Type 89 tanks were put out of action. Casualties among tank crews were high. The Japanese Type 95 light tank mounted a 37-mm gun, effective against soft targets up to seven hundred yards. They were quicker and more agile than the medium tanks, but they had even less armor protection and fared poorly. They not only were vulnerable to enemy armor and anti-tank guns, but they also suffered casualties from Soviet heavy machine gun fire.
Lieutenant Tomioka Zenzo, who commanded a squadron of light tanks, lost five to antitank guns. His own machine was dented by 130 machine gun slugs. Tomioka kept his hatch closed and was peering through the six-inch vision slit when a burst of machine gun fire hit the slit. One bullet struck him in the forehead, blinding him. His machine gunner took command of the tank and Tomioka was evacuated to a first aid station and later a hospital in Harbin. He regained partial vision after two months, carrying bullet fragments in his head for the rest of his life. But he remained a lucky survivor. As a captain in 1945, he was evacuated from Iwo Jima with typhus on the last Japanese plane to leave before the U.S. invasion. A few months later he survived the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, about eight miles from ground zero.40
The core of Yasuoka’s infantry, the 64th Regiment (23rd Division), on foot, was unable to keep up, or catch up, with the tank regiments, which suffered from lack of infantry support. The infantry, in turn, complained that once the battle began they never saw friendly tanks, only swarms of Soviet armor. The solution, of course, would have been truck transport for the infantry, but Kwantung Army did not have nearly enough trucks, and that day the 64th Regiment had none, so Japanese infantry and armor fought independently, each less effective than they would have been in concert. By late afternoon, Yasuoka’s advance was stopped far short of the river junction and the Soviet bridge. Soon the infantry was forced to dig in for protection against deadly Soviet bombardment. By nightfall, the Japanese tank regiments withdrew to their initial jump-off points, having lost about half their tanks.41
The situation of the Japanese attackers was imperiled further by the appearance of Soviet aircraft, which had not been seen over the Halha River since June 27. By the afternoon of July 3, however, furious air combat was raging over the battlefield and the Japanese flyers on occasion were outnumbered.42
Tsuji’s operational plan called for Komatsubara and Yasuoka to envelop the enemy troops and to trap and destroy them in the vicinity of the river junction. The strength of the enemy’s resistance, particularly his armor and artillery, frustrated that plan. Komatsubara then found himself in the dangerous position of having his forces divided on opposite sides of a river, with powerful enemy forces between them. This was a classic military dilemma, and the Japanese began to realize that if they did not move quickly, disaster might overtake them. On the evening of July 3, General Yano, Colonel Hattori, and Major Tsuji conferred with General Komatsubara and his divisional staff. They reached the unanimous decision that Komatsubara’s troops should be withdrawn to the east bank of the Halha as soon as possible. The urgency of this decision was underlined by the fact that Kwantung Army had no more bridge-building materiel. If the Japanese pontoon bridge were captured or destroyed, Komatsubara’s forces east of the Halha (approximately eight thousand men) would be isolated in enemy territory and in danger of annihilation. Zhukov had begun to direct air and artillery bombardment against the bridge, but it remained intact by nightfall.
The withdrawal would have to be effected swiftly, preferably before dawn. It also was decided that in view of enemy strength, which KwAHQ had failed to foresee, General Komatsubara should not be held responsible for the failure of the offensive. Of course, in view of Japanese air superiority before the battle, Kwantung Army should have foreseen Soviet strength, especially 450 armored vehicles. But that was a matter for after-action assessment. At that moment, Japanese commanders had to focus all their efforts on averting disaster.43
Fortunately for Komatsubara, Zhukov had been caught off guard by the daring river crossing and did not immediately recognize the vulnerability of the Japanese position. On the night of July 3, Zhukov was still thinking in terms of repulsing the enemy, rather than of encircling and destroying him.
Komatsubara ordered his troops to prepare to withdraw across the Halha that very night. Colonel Sumi Shinichiro’s 26th Regiment (7th Division), which still was relatively fresh, was ordered to secure Bain Tsagan and protect the withdrawal of the battered 71st and 72nd Regiments. By dawn of July 4, the two exhausted regiments had recrossed the pontoon bridge and reassembled at Fui Heights. However, a delay developed in withdrawing the 26th Regiment from its covering position. When the Soviets discovered that the main Japanese strength had withdrawn across the river, they pressed their assault on the 26th Regiment with greater intensity. Colonel Sumi’s men soon found themselves very heavily engaged and unable to break off the action and withdraw across river. The 26th Regiment suffered heavy losses throughout the day but fought off repeated Soviet attempts to overrun their position. The high ground to which they were pinned on Bain Tsagan at least afforded a strong defensive position. The Japanese pontoon bridge miraculously survived every Soviet attempt to destroy it throughout the day, but that was a situation that could change at any moment.44
During July 4, Zhukov brought up several batteries of heavy artillery, which soon were pounding Komatsubara’s troops on and near Fui Heights. These were German-made 152-mm Rheinmetall pieces acquired by the Red Army during the long years of clandestine cooperation with Weimar Germany. They had a range of over 20,000 yards, more than twice that of Komatsubara’s few 150-mm guns. The Japanese had no effective reply to this long-range bombardment. There was nothing to do but dig in deeper, accept their casualties stoically, and wait for nightfall.45
With darkness came a slackening of the Soviet pressure. The fragile pontoon bridge still spanned the river and the 26th Regiment, reduced in numbers, clung tenaciously to Bain Tsagan. Major Tsuji, who had accompanied Komatsubara and the others to the relative safety of the east bank of the Halha on the previous night, now recrossed the river to help Colonel Sumi execute a stealthy withdrawal. In the predawn hours of July 5, the last of Sumi’s troops regained the eastern shore. Tsuji was among the last to cross to safety, taking care to see that the pontoon bridge was destroyed behind them. Japanese combat engineers had ample experience in blowing up bridges, but this was the first time the Imperial Army had ever had to destroy one of its own bridges after retreating across it.
Some Japanese stragglers and wounded who had been separated from their units made it to the Halha after the bridge was blown, but few survived the attempt to swim across the swollen and swift-flowing river. One witness to the drownings, Lieutenant Nagami Hiroshi, an Olympic swimmer (Amsterdam, 1928), noted that no ordinary swimmer could have made it across the Halha. Soviet troops watching from the high ground west of the river took a less charitable view. Soviet sources claim that panicky Japanese engineers blew up their bridge prematurely, condemning latecomers to a watery death.46
Ten percent of the Japanese troops that crossed the Halha were killed or wounded, half of those from Sumi’s 26th Regiment. In addition, nearly 60 percent of the Japanese tanks had been disabled or destroyed, although many were subsequently recovered and repaired. On July 9 KwAHQ decided to withdraw its two tank regiments from the combat zone
. Japanese armor would play no further role in the conflict at Nomonhan, a decision that was regretted by Japanese commanders and criticized by analysts for years afterward. Soviet tank losses were much heavier than the Japanese, but Zhukov started with a 6:1 advantage in armor and was able to more than make good his losses with new—and improved—machines. The verdict on the July offensive was inescapable. Kwantung Army had failed again.
Part of Mongolian Border Outpost No. 7 viewed from the outpost observation tower, looking east toward Manchuria, July 2009. Author’s collection.
Semi-arid grassland at Nomonhan. Battlefield debris in foreground, Remizov heights in background. Courtesey M. Saandari, MonMap Engineering Services Co.
Left (west) bank of the Halha River dominates the east bank, July 2009. Author’s collection.
Lieutenant General Komatsubara Michitaro, commander, 23rd Division (left); Major General Yano Otosaburo, deputy chief of staff, Kwantung Army (right). Mainichi Newspaper/AFLO.
Major Tsuji Masanobu (foreground pointing) China, 1937. Mainichi Newspaper/AFLO.
From left to right, General Yakov Smushkevich (smoking cigarette), Soviet air force commander at Nomonhan; General M. S. Nikishev (looking over Smushkevich’s left shoulder); General Georgy Zhukov; and General Grigori Shtern (far right). RIA Novosti/AKG-images.
Soviet BA-10 armored car with 45 mm gun turret. Tracks on rear wheels removable for road travel. Author’s collection.
Restored Japanese Type 89 medium tank, Tsuchira, Japan tank museum, 2007. Author’s collection, courtesy Max Smith.
Soviet BT 5 tank at Yakovlev Memorial on Bain Tsagan. Inscription claims this is the tank Colonel Yakovlev was commanding when he was killed on July 12. Author’s collection.
Soviet Polikarpov I-16 fighter at air museum in Moscow. Author’s collection.
Rendering of a Japanese Type 97 fighter (Nakajima Ki-27) with Soviet Polikarpov I-16 in background Photo credit: ICM Holding, Kiev, Ukraine.
Part of the reason for the failure was an unfortunate combination of difficult terrain and inadequate logistics. Unusually heavy rains in late June had turned the dirt roads between Hailar and Nomonhan to a muddy quagmire. Japanese truck transport, limited in the best of circumstances, was so hampered by these conditions that it seriously affected combat effectiveness. Colonel Yamagata’s 64th Infantry Regiment, on foot, could not keep up with and support General Yasuoka’s tanks on July 3–4. Komatsubara’s infantry on the west side of the Halha ran short of ammunition, food, and water.
As was the case in the May 28 battle, however, the main cause for the failure of Kwantung Army’s July offensive lay in wholly inadequate military intelligence. Again the enemy’s strength had been seriously underestimated. Furthermore, a highly disturbing fact was becoming evident to some at KwAHQ and in the field. Their intelligence error was not merely quantitative, but qualitative as well. The Soviet forces not only were more numerous but were much more powerful than had been anticipated. The attacking Japanese forces actually enjoyed a slight numerical advantage as well as tactical surprise at the outset, but the Red Army fought tenaciously and the weight of Soviet firepower proved decisive.
Because of her relative lack of raw materials and industrial strength, Japan could not hope to match the great industrial powers in the quantitative production of military materiel. Consequently, Japanese military leaders traditionally felt compelled to stress in their doctrine and training the paramount importance of the spiritual superiority of Japan’s armed forces. As a corollary they tended to underestimate the relative importance of material factors, including firepower.47 This was particularly characteristic of the army that carried the tactic of the massed bayonet charge into the Second World War. This “spiritual” battle doctrine was born of necessity, since to admit the superiority of material over human factors in battle was to concede the defeat of Japanese arms. Moreover, Japan’s great victories in the Sino-Japanese War, Russo-Japanese War, Manchurian incident, and the China War (not to mention the legendary thirteenth-century victories over the invading Mongol Horde of Genghis Khan), against vastly more numerous foes, seemed ample evidence of the transcendent importance of fighting spirit. Only in such a doctrine could the Imperial Japanese Army find the inner strength and confidence needed to confront powerful enemies.48 This was especially true vis-à-vis Soviet Russia, whose vast geography, population, and material resources might otherwise have seemed awesome. But what of its spirit? The Japanese military held Bolshevism in contempt as a base and inhuman materialist philosophy utterly lacking spiritual power. Consequently, the Red Army was believed to have very low morale and fighting effectiveness. Stalin’s purge of the Red Army only strengthened this conviction.
But Kwantung Army’s recent experiences at Nomonhan undermined this whole outlook. Among common soldiers as well as ranking officers, among the 23rd Division Staff and at KwAHQ, terrible questions were beginning to formulate themselves. Had Soviet materiel and firepower proven superior to Japanese fighting spirit? If not, did the enemy possess a fighting spirit comparable to their own?
To some in Kwantung Army, these were grotesque, almost literally unthinkable, ideas. To others, these lines of thought led to conclusions that simply were too painful to contemplate. Perhaps the results of the combat in May and July were an aberration attributable to the inexperience of the 23rd Division.49 In any case, the conviction took hold at KwAHQ that they faced a situation that absolutely had to be rectified.
The assessment at Zhukov’s First Army Headquarters of the recent events was less painful, but it was not without self-criticism and apprehension about the future. That the enemy had succeeded in transporting nearly ten thousand men across the Halha River without being detected, at a time when the Soviet command presumably was at heightened alert because of the June 27 air raid, reflected a carelessness and lack of foresight on the part of Zhukov and his subordinates. Nor did Zhukov capitalize as fully as he might have on Komatsubara’s predicament on July 4–5.
Conversely, the Soviet commander and his troops reacted coolly in the first and most critical hours of the crisis. Although he was taken by surprise and outnumbered, Zhukov recognized instantly that “our trump cards were the armored detachments and we decided to use them immediately.”50 Zhukov played his trump quickly and that proved decisive. Some have criticized the uncoordinated and seemingly clumsy manner in which the Soviet armor was hurled against Komatsubara’s infantry on the morning of July 3, but the Japanese troops were only a few hour’s march from the river junction and the Soviet bridge. By recklessly throwing their tanks without adequate infantry support against Komatsubara’s advancing regiments, Mikhail Yakovlev, commander of the 11th Tank Brigade, and A. L. Lesovoi, commander of the 7th Mechanized Brigade, suffered appalling losses. But they halted Komatsubara’s southward advance and forced him onto the defensive, after which he was never able to regain offensive momentum. Zhukov did not flinch from incurring heavy casualties to achieve his objectives. He told General Dwight D. Eisenhower after the war, “If we come to a mine field, our infantry attack exactly as if it were not there. The losses we get from personnel mines we consider only equal to those we would have gotten … if the Germans had chosen to defend the area with strong bodies of troops instead of mine fields.”51 Zhukov admitted losing 120 tanks and armored cars that day, a high but necessary price paid to avert defeat.
Years later in his memoirs, Zhukov defended his tactics at Nomonhan, saying that he knew his armor would suffer very heavy losses, but that was the only way to prevent the Japanese from taking the bridge at the confluence of the rivers. If Komatsubara’s men had been allowed to advance southward unchecked for another two or three hours, they might have fought their way to the Soviet bridge and linked up with the Yasuoka detachment, thus splitting and gravely imperiling Zhukov’s forces. For their timely and self-sacrificing counterattacks, Zhukov credited Yakovlev, Lesovoi, and their men with stabilizing a critical situation. The armored car battalion of the 8th MPR Cavalry Division als
o distinguished itself in this action.
Zhukov and his tankmen learned a good deal in those two days of deadly combat. One important lesson was the successful use of large tank formations as an independent primary attack force. This contradicted orthodox military tactics of the day, which saw armor’s role primarily as support for the infantry and called for the integration of armor into every infantry regiment rather than maintaining large independent armored units. The German army would demonstrate the terrible potency of their panzer divisions in Poland shortly after the Nomonhan conflict and a year later in Western Europe, but until their demonstration of blitzkrieg, no other major armies had heeded the theoretical writings of the advocates of tank warfare such as Britain’s Basil Liddell-Hart and the young Charles De Gaulle. The leading exponent of large-scale tank warfare in the Soviet High Command had been the gifted Marshal Mikhail Tukhachevsky. With his liquidation in the purge of 1937, his ideas on the utilization of armor perished with him. Misapplying battlefield lessons from the Spanish Civil War, the Red Army then disbanded its armored divisions and dispersed most of the tanks among the infantry divisions.52 However, Zhukov was learning a different lesson on a different kind of battlefield. The open grassland and low sandy hills of eastern Mongolia was tank country. Zhukov was a quick learner.
Nomonhan, 1939: The Red Army's Victory That Shaped World War II Page 18
