funbook-pk Chapter 937 The price of "victory" was far too heavy.
Chapter 937 The price of "victory" was far too heavy.
A hail of bullets hurtled toward the top of the flagpole, the flag trembling violently in the hail of bullets, and pieces of cloth flying everywhere.
But the sturdy flagpole and carefully secured ropes prevented it from falling.
This absurd "battle" lasted for nearly ten minutes until the rope was finally snapped, and the battered flag slowly drifted down and fell into the rubble-strewn square.
This accident cast a heavy shadow over the Japanese army's "victory celebration."
That evening, an ordinary Japanese soldier who participated in shooting down the flag wrote in his diary: "Today we held an entry ceremony, but it took us ten minutes to shoot down the Chinese flag from their presidential palace with bullets..."
We captured the city with bayonets and blood, but I have a strange feeling that we never truly conquered the souls of those who resisted.
That tattered flag, like their souls, is still watching over us from heaven.
Meanwhile, in Pukou Town on the north bank of the Yangtze River, a group of surviving soldiers who had survived countless hardships and managed to break through the siege were gathering exhausted on the riverbank.
Among them was Ye Zhao, commander of the 66th Army.
This battle-hardened general, his uniform tattered and his face covered in soot, struggled to his feet with the help of his guards.
He raised his binoculars and looked back at the city on the south bank, which was shrouded in thick smoke and fire.
Nanjing, the capital of China, was like a giant crematorium at this moment, with black plumes of smoke rising from all directions, blotting out the sky.
Through the binoculars, one could vaguely see strange objects floating on the surface of the Xiaguan River—the remains of compatriots who had died in the crossing battle a few days earlier. In the distance, one could almost hear the faint sounds of gunfire, explosions, and cries coming from the opposite bank.
Looking at this apocalyptic scene, Ye Zhao's body began to tremble violently.
He thought of his fallen comrades, his brothers who couldn't cross the river, the soldiers who shed their last drop of blood in the street fighting, and the soldiers and civilians struggling desperately on the riverbank.
Overwhelmed by immense grief, humiliation, and a sense of powerlessness.
This tough soldier could no longer hold on. He collapsed to his knees with a thud, covered his face with his hands, and let out a suppressed cry like a wounded wild animal.
The officers and soldiers around were all in tears, and there was a chorus of sobs.
However, after the grief came a surge of overwhelming hatred and a determination for revenge.
Ye Zhao wiped away his tears, stood up, and said to the surviving soldiers, "The shame of today is etched into our hearts! As long as we have a breath left, we will avenge the Japanese invaders! Our blood will not have been shed in vain!"
. . . . . . . . . . .
The ancient capital of six dynasties, once a place of strategic importance and scenic beauty along the Qinhuai River, has now become a living hell.
The city wall collapsed in many places, and the smoke from the battle rose like an unyielding ghost from various breaches such as Zhonghua Gate, Guanghua Gate, and Zhongshan Gate, intertwining with the blood-red setting sun in the sky to create a hideous scene.
Inside the city, sporadic gunfire, explosions, and piercing cries still echoed, signaling the end of this brutal siege and the beginning of an even larger-scale massacre and looting.
At the foot of Zijin Mountain, on a relatively intact section of the city wall, General Matsui Iwane, commander of the Central China Expeditionary Army, stood silently, wearing a general's overcoat.
He leaned on his military knife with both hands, his figure casting a long shadow in the setting sun, making him appear exceptionally lonely.
Before him lay the burning, weeping city of Nanjing.
As far as the eye could see, the once bustling streets were reduced to rubble, the Qinhuai River was stained dark red, and Japanese soldiers swarmed into the city's streets and alleys like locusts. Any sporadic resistance was quickly swallowed up by even stronger violence.
The immense "honor" of conquering the capital of China was right in front of him, yet Matsui Iwane's face showed no trace of joy, but was instead shrouded in an overwhelming sense of gloom and exhaustion.
His eyes, once full of aggression and ambition, were now sunken in their sockets, covered with spiderweb-like blood vessels, and he stared blankly at the ruins at his feet.
The price of this "victory" was far too high.
It wasn't just the tens of thousands of casualties suffered by the attacking troops outside Nanjing and under the city walls.
The Songhu region was a meat grinder... Blood... stained the entire land...
There was also the war of attrition that lasted for more than ten days at the Xicheng defense line, a war of attrition that was like a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
In an attempt to break through the formidable defensive line held by elite Chinese troops under the guidance of German advisors, his Central China Expeditionary Army paid a horrific price: over 50,000 Imperial soldiers were killed. The entire front's combat effectiveness was severely weakened, many regiments and battalions were decimated, and morale was dealt a huge blow.
That "pyrrhic victory" had already emptied him of any sense of the reality of victory, leaving only the cold sting of the numbers and the heavy pressure from the domestic public's expectation of a "quick victory".
Too many soldiers were sent to their deaths by my own hand. Too many... far too many... too many to bear.
But what troubled him even more than the heavy casualties and made him restless was another "poisonous thorn" that had deeply pierced the foundation of his power.
His previous drastic measures against the forces of Tianjin Military Police Commander Takasaki Takuto included placing under house arrest Yuta Itai, head of the Shanghai Expeditionary Army Military Police, Shunsuke Nakamura, and Yusuke Ichijo, commander of the 10th Army Military Police Battalion in the Matsue area.
At the time, in order to eliminate "internal interference" in the attack on Nanjing and to deter Zhou Zhengqing, he took these tough measures.
Initially, he thought that his authority as the commander of the army group and the urgency of the front-line battle would be enough to suppress the backlash from the military police system.
He even hoped that Takasaki Takuto would back down, or at least lie low for the time being.
However, he underestimated Takasaki Takuto's energy and determination, and also misjudged the situation.
Instead of backing down, Takasaki Takuto launched a more intense and covert counterattack by leveraging his background in Kyoto, especially his relationship with the Imperial Family and the independent channels of the military police system.
The interrogation letter from the Tianjin Gendarmerie Command was strongly worded and widely copied, practically accusing him of "violating military discipline" and "persecuting his colleagues."
Even more frightening was the ensuing spread of various unfavorable rumors within the military's upper echelons, even subtly pointing to his command errors on the Xicheng battlefield.
This "poisonous sting" not only failed to achieve the desired effect, but also began to cause "ulceration".
It exacerbated the already tense relationship between the Central China Expeditionary Army and the military police system, and also attracted the attention and questioning of certain factions within the Tokyo General Headquarters, especially those who were closely related to Takasaki Takuto or who were wary of Matsui Iwane's rapid rise.
Matsui Iwane felt as if he were sitting on the crater of a volcano about to erupt. The capture of Nanjing did not bring him a sense of security; instead, it made him hear the cracking sound of the ground beneath his feet breaking even more clearly.
A secret telegram from the military headquarters! The higher-ups are being vague! What's the movement of those divisions that are currently resting?
He had a vague premonition that a storm was brewing against him in unseen places.