Republic of China: German-equipped divisions massacred as warlords guarded the nation's borders

Shanghai Garrison Command, 2:15 a.m.

Shen Li slammed the urgent telegram on the table, beads of sweat from his forehead splashing onto the telegram paper and spreading out.

"More than three thousand people?"

Chen Zijun raised his head, his tone as calm as if he were saying that the cafeteria had added a new dish tonight.

"Yes!"

Shen Li took a deep breath. "A brigade commander from Qi Yingcai's remaining forces, surnamed Zhao, nicknamed 'Zhao the King of Hell,' was spotted by reconnaissance sentries from Taicang twenty minutes ago. They're heading south along the highway, their target the Shanghai arsenal."

"Three thousand men attacked my arsenal?"

Chen Zijun leaned back in his chair and tapped the table twice with his fingers.

"Did he get his brain caught in a door, or was he kicked by a donkey?"

"The question is, how did he cross the Yangtze River?"

Shen Li's lips twitched. The young marshal's words were a bit rough, but the logic was correct. Qi Yingcai's regular reinforced brigade had been utterly crushed by the Second Division in Taicang, and now a remnant force of three thousand men had appeared, daring to even approach the arsenal?

"Intelligence indicates that this Zhao Yanwang is a former bandit recruited by Qi Yingcai in northern Jiangsu. He missed the battle in Taicang last time and assumed that all our main forces had been deployed to Wusongkou, leaving our rear vulnerable. Therefore, he relied on the Zhang family of Nantong..."

"Emptiness? The Zhang family?"

"Is that Zhang Siyan, the one who produced the top scholar in the imperial examination and was hailed as a model of national industrial development?"

Chen Zijun chuckled.

He pulled a piece of paper from the drawer and waved it at Shen Li. The paper showed a small, boxy tank, with various parameters densely labeled around it.

Do you know what this is?

Shen Li leaned closer for a look. "The German Panzer I?"

"That's right." Chen Zijun picked up a red pencil and drew a circle on the paper. "Thirteen of them came with the fortress's coastal defense guns. We originally planned to save them for future land battles against the Japanese, but now they're perfect."

He stood up and walked to the huge battle map on the wall.

"Let Zang Keping take his armored infantry battalion and drive those thirteen No. 1 tanks out. No need to call in the main force, no need to fire the artillery. I just want to see if three thousand bandits with Mauser rifles can stand there for three minutes in front of steel."

Shen Li stood at attention. "Yes, sir!"

"And one more thing." Chen Zijun didn't even turn his head. "Tell Zang Keping that this is a live-fire test. I need detailed battle damage reports, ammunition consumption records, and mechanical malfunction logs. Write every single one down clearly."

"clear!"

Shen Li turned and rushed out of the operations room.

Chen Zijun sat down again and glanced at the Izumo's flight path chart on the table.

The fire in the backyard must be put out completely first.

North of Taicang. A section of the Shanghai-Nanjing Expressway.

Three o'clock in the morning.

More than three thousand figures crept south along the road under the moonlight. The column stretched out for almost two miles. The people at the front held torches to light the way, while those behind carried rifles and ran with bent backs.

Zhao Yanwang rode on a skinny horse, his face full of fat glistening with oil in the torchlight.

"Brothers! Give it your all!"

He shouted at the top of his lungs, "The Chen family's Shanghai arsenal is just twenty miles ahead! I heard they have tens of thousands of rifles and mountains of ammunition! And infantry cannons that we wouldn't even dare to dream of. If we rob this place, we'll never have to worry about anything again!"

His adjutant leaned closer and whispered, "Commander, the Chen family army is not to be trifled with. In the battle of Taicang, Brigade Commander Qian Baochang led three thousand men, and not a single one returned..."

"Bullshit!"

Zhao Yanwang lashed his adjutant on the head with his whip. "That useless Qian Baochang! He charged head-on, how could he not have killed people? I'm going to ambush them at night! We'll sneak in, grab the loot, and run!"

The adjutant covered his head and remained silent.

Zhao Yanwang smugly patted his horse's neck. He was used to being a bandit his whole life, his business being plundering when others were in trouble. Right now, the main force of the Chen family army was locked in a fierce battle with the Japanese at Wusongkou, leaving them with very few men in the rear. If they were quick, they could grab a wave of ammunition and retreat.

Once he's seized the ammunition, Zhao Yanwang will have capital in his hands. Regardless of whether Commander Qi can make a comeback in the future, he can raise an army and go it alone.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but grin.

Then he heard a sound he had never heard before.

Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

The sound was muffled and deep, as if some colossal beast was slowly emerging from the darkness. The earth trembled slightly. The pebbles by the roadside bounced.

What was that sound?

Zhao Yanwang's smile froze on his face.

The torches ahead suddenly went out.

It wasn't blown out by the wind. It was because the person carrying the torch threw it away.

Then a blinding white light shot out from directly in front.

Then came the second. The third. The fourth.

Thirteen headlights lined up in the night, like thirteen steel behemoths with their eyes open.

In the white light, King Yama Zhao finally saw what was in front of him.

It was a boxy, solid piece of metal. It was about two men tall, four or five meters long, and completely encased in gray steel armor. On top was a rotating turret, with two machine guns mounted on it. The tracks chugged and rattled over the gravel road, like chewing bones.

tank.

Zhao Yanwang has never even seen a picture of a tank in his entire life.

"What the hell is this?!"

No one answered him. Because the soldiers around him had already started running.

Zang Keping stood on the turret of the first tank, holding a metal megaphone in his hand.

He was wearing a brand-new German-style gray military overcoat and an M35 steel helmet, his face beaming with excitement. To be honest, he almost jumped for joy in the car yesterday when he test-drove these new gadgets the young marshal had bought.

Weighing five and a half tons, powered by a 100-horsepower Maybach engine, it boasts a top speed of 37 kilometers per hour. Its armor, though only 13 millimeters thick, is insufficient to withstand large-caliber shells. However—

Do those guys on the other side have cannons?

They don't even have mortars!

Zang Keping raised a megaphone and shouted at the chaotic crowd in front of him.

"Hey you over there! I'm Zang Keping from the Independent Armored Brigade of the Chen Family Army! You have thirty seconds to drop your weapons, put your hands on your heads, and squat down! Otherwise—"

He patted the steel armor beneath his feet.

"I'll run you over!"

He was met with a burst of gunfire.

In their panic, Zhao Yanwang's bandits picked up their old Mauser rifles and Hanyang rifles and fired wildly at the headlights.

Ding ding ding.

The bullets struck the tank's armor, sending sparks flying. Not even a white mark was left.

Zang Keping looked down at the bullet casings that had been flung around his feet, then looked up and smiled.

"Fine. If you won't listen to reason, you'll have to suffer the consequences."

He ducked into the turret and slammed his fist on the armored wall.

"Attention, battalion! Advance! MG13, free fire!"

The engines of thirteen Panzer I tanks roared to life at the same time.

The tracks rolled over the gravel, and the steel torrent surged forward.

Da da da da!

The two MG13 machine guns on each tank turret opened fire simultaneously. Twenty-six machine guns spat out dense tongues of fire in the night. The trajectories crisscrossed, weaving a golden web of death.

At that moment, Zhao Yanwang's three thousand remaining soldiers truly understood what despair meant.

Rifle bullets couldn't penetrate them. Hand grenades couldn't kill them. They couldn't even run away because tanks were much faster than people.

Someone tried to rush to the side of the tank and stab the tracks with a bayonet.

A track rolled over him. The man didn't even make a sound.

Some people ran into the fields by the roadside.

The tank rolled directly off the road into the field. Five and a half tons of steel continued to rampage through the mud.

Someone knelt on the ground and raised their hands.

The tank drove past him. Soldiers from the armored infantry battalion following behind came up and disarmed him.

But many more people didn't even have time to kneel down.

In the chaos, Zhao Yanwang desperately spurred his horse to run back. His skinny horse, terrified by the sounds of tank engines and machine guns, went mad, its hooves trampling over the scattered corpses, nearly throwing him off.

"Retreat! Retreat! Retreat back!" he shouted hoarsely.

But nobody listened to him anymore. The 3,000-strong force had completely collapsed. Some ran east, some ran west, and some lay on the ground pretending to be dead. The road was littered with abandoned rifles, ammunition boxes, and bloodstains.

A tank came rushing towards Zhao Yanwang from his left, its headlights shining directly into his face.

The skinny horse neighed, reared up, and Zhao Yanwang fell heavily to the ground.

He rolled over and tried to get up, but a dark shadow was already pressing down on him.

That's five and a half tons of steel.

The tracks crushed his legs. The sound of bones breaking was clearly audible in the night.

Zhao Yanwang let out a scream that sounded inhuman.

Then the second track rolled over his waist.

The screams abruptly stopped.

ten minutes.

From the moment the first tank turned on its lights until the last gunshot rang out, it took a total of ten minutes.

Of the three thousand remaining soldiers, more than half were killed or wounded. The rest either knelt by the roadside surrendering with their hands raised, or fled into the reeds on either side. Zhao Yanwang himself was crushed into a pool of bloody mud by the tank tracks.

Zang Keping climbed out of the tank, looked at the mess on the ground, and clicked his tongue.

"It's too fragile."

The deputy battalion commander beside him handed him a piece of paper. "Commander, preliminary casualty statistics: zero casualties on our side. The enemy suffered approximately 1,500 killed or wounded, and about 800 captured. Those who escaped are still being pursued. Ammunition consumption—approximately 3,000 rounds of MG13 ammunition."

"Three thousand rounds?" Zang Keping frowned. "That's a bit wasteful. A thousand rounds are enough to deal with this kind of stuff."

He picked up the paper and looked at it, then looked at the No. 1 tank at his feet. There were a few white marks from rifle bullets, but not much paint was even scratched off.

"Good stuff." He patted the turret. "Go back and tell the young marshal that this thing works. Let me bring out a few more next time."

Shanghai Defense Command Headquarters. 3:00 AM.

Chen Zijun received a telegram from Zang Keping.

"Ten minutes. Zero casualties," he read aloud, then threw the telegram on the table.

Qi Yingcai.

From this day forward, that name can be completely erased from his strategic chessboard. No soldiers, no money, no allies, not even a single capable brigade commander. The remnants of his forces in northern Jiangsu are utterly incapable of causing any trouble.

However, the Fengtian Army behind him is not easy to deal with!

However, his rear area is now basically clean.

He turned to look at the nautical chart on the wall.

The Izumo's estimated route is marked with a red dotted line: departing from Sasebo naval base, passing through the East China Sea, and heading straight for Wusongkou. According to the intelligence brought back by Moranzhi, the 10,000-ton steel behemoth will appear at their doorstep no later than the evening of the day after tomorrow.

Chen Zijun lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

Qi Yingcai, that toad, has been dealt with. Now it's time to face the real beasts.

He was about to look at the troop rotation chart that Moran had brought back when his desk suddenly shook violently. The water glass on the desk jumped up and shattered into pieces on the floor.

Then, another one.

The whole building was shaking.

The windowpanes emitted a piercing buzzing sound. The map hanging on the wall was shaken and fell down.

That wasn't an earthquake.

That was the sound of cannons.

The sound of cannons echoed from dozens of miles away, coming from the direction of Wusongkou. Deep and heavy, it sounded like an ancient beast roaring on the sea. Each shot could shatter eardrums.

Shen Li rushed into the operations room once again.

"Young Marshal! Report from the forward outpost at Wusongkou!"

His voice trembled. "The Japanese heavy cruiser Izumo, weighing 10,000 tons, has reached the outer sea early warning line! It...it's firing!"

"What's the caliber?" Chen Zijun stubbed out his cigarette.

"Two...two hundred and three millimeters! An eight-inch main gun!" Shen Li swallowed hard. "The first salvo landed directly on the outer mudflats. The craters—reportedly over ten meters deep!"

Chen Zijun remained silent for three seconds.

Then he stood up and picked up the military overcoat hanging on the coat rack.

"Let's go. To Wusongkou."

There was no fear in his eyes. Only a chilling coldness that sent shivers down one's spine.

"It came at just the right time."