Late autumn 1940.
The sky in northern China is shrouded in a layer of gray haze.
Broken railroad tracks, burned bridges, and bombed-out enemy strongholds silently show the fierceness of this large-scale battle.
In a secluded mountain village, the soldiers of the Eighth Route Army were resting.
Under the old locust tree at the entrance of the village.
A few fellows were talking in low voices, their eyes full of joy at victory and worry about the future.
On the hill in the distance, a sentry was watching warily.
He knows
There was a tense atmosphere in the air.
It's like the calm before a storm.
really
The enemy, although already unable to organize large-scale battles.
As autumn deepened, the iron hooves of the Japanese army began to wreak havoc on this once peaceful land.
Villages were burned and crops were destroyed.
Innocent people were murdered.
Every scream, every wisp of gunsmoke, deeply pierced the hearts of the soldiers of the Eighth Route Army.
Ken Okazaki Nakasa
October 20, 1940.
The morning fog has not yet lifted, and the mountain villages of northern China are shrouded in a haze.
In the Japanese camp near Higashi Village in Wuxiang Prefecture, Kennaga Okazaki was listening to the latest orders.
In the camp,
The sound of weapons wiping and the shouts of equipment inspection came and went.
Personnel in the medical and communications teams were also busy, making final preparations for the upcoming sweep operation.
The sun gradually rose, dispelling the morning fog.
Nakasa Okazaki stands on a high ground overlooking the east.
His heart was full of greed for the land of China.
Farmhouses were burned to the ground, and hard-earned crops were trampled on.
The Japanese army was like a mad beast.
Looting, vandalizing, doing anything.
As night fell, the Okazaki Wing set up camp on a high ground.
In the camp,
And where they can't see it.
The flame of resistance against Japan is quietly igniting, waiting for the opportunity to counterattack.
An arsenal
On the 25th, autumn was in full swing, and the leaves in the mountains were already dyed golden yellow.
Surrounded by mountains, the autumn leaves are like fire.
The scenery is picturesque, but there is a hidden murderous intention.
Nakasa Okazaki stood on a high hill, overlooking the terrain in front of him.
His adjutant reminded in a low voice: "Sir, this place is surrounded by mountains, and I am afraid it is not conducive to the operation of our army. ”
Okazaki was unimpressed, his eyes were drawn to a building not far away.
"What's that?"
He asked, his eyes glinting with excitement.
"Report sir, it seems to be an arsenal of the Eighth Route Army." The adjutant replied.
He quickly ordered his troops to march towards Huangya Cave, completely ignoring the fact that it was a terrain that could be easily surrounded.
The Japanese army soon occupied Huangya Cave.
However, when they stormed the arsenal.
Most of the critical equipment was found to be missing.
Okazaki Nakasa's face was cloudy.
There is both the joy of winning and the frustration of missing out.
At the same time, in the surrounding mountains, the ranks of the Eighth Route Army were quietly gathering.
Sensing that he was surrounded, Okazaki was unimpressed.
Then the construction of the fortifications began, and the preparations were rigid.
Some are digging foxholes, others are building machine-gun positions.
Over time, a strong fortification gradually took shape.
The Japanese soldiers had tiredness in their eyes, but also a hint of fanaticism.
They knew that this would be their place of life and death.
If we don't withdraw, we will be in danger
At 3 o'clock in the morning of the 30th, the night had not yet faded.
Mr. Peng stood at the headquarters and gave the general attack order with a solemn expression.
"Hit!"
The soldiers of the Eighth Route Army rushed to Guanjiayuan like a tide.
However, they soon discovered that the enemy's defenses were far more tenacious than they thought.
The battle continued, and smoke filled the valley.
The attacks of the Eighth Route Army were repulsed again and again, and the casualties continued to increase.
In the headquarters, Mr. Peng's brows were tightly knit, and he knew that this battle was much more difficult than expected.
The sky began to whiten and the morning sun dewed.
On Guanjiayuan, the Japanese army was still resisting stubbornly.
At noon, a young commander stood behind the bunker, frowning.
In a flash of inspiration,
Soon, groups of fighters began to dig quietly.
Finally, the secret passage was opened.
The sudden attack caught the Japanese by surprise.
However, the joy of victory was soon replaced by a new crisis.
On the 31st, a large number of Japanese reinforcements poured in.
The 385th Brigade and the newly formed 10th Brigade fought the perimeter, but the enemy's numerical superiority was too obvious.
Mr. Peng and Zuo Quan stood at the command headquarters with solemn faces.
On the map, dense red markings show the location of enemy troops.
Zuo Quan said softly:
"If we don't withdraw, we'll be in danger."
Mr. Peng was silent for a moment, and finally gave the order to retreat.
The setting sun cast a bloody shadow on the entire battlefield.
Someone shed tears of pain, someone clenched their fists.
Vows to avenge this one day.
Their sacrifice was not in vain.
The main force of Okazaki United's forces has been annihilated in this tragic battle.
10,000 people, against 530 Japanese invaders, why is it so difficult to fight?
The autumn sunshine sprinkled on the battlefield of Guanjiayuan, illuminating this once bloody land.
The battle is over, but the air still seems to be filled with gunsmoke.
In his mind, the figure of his comrades-in-arms charging bravely appeared.
At that time, each person had only a few bullets on him, and after the fight, he had to fight with bayonets.
Their eyes burned with the belief that they would win, but they also hid their helplessness at the lack of ammunition.
Lao Balu crouched down and picked up a rusty bullet casing.
He remembered the statistics of the post-war period:
The Okazaki brigade consisted of just over 500 people.
These figures still frightened him.
He slowly walked towards a remnant of the tunnel.
At that time, the Japanese army relied on these carefully constructed fortifications, coupled with the superior geographical location, to resist stubbornly.
Lao Balu's hand touched the earthen wall of the tunnel, as if he could still feel the fierceness of the battle back then.
Lao Balu sighed deeply, a trace of pain flashing in his eyes.
He remembered those comrades-in-arms who would be buried here forever, who had exchanged their lives for victory, but also exposed the huge gap in weapons and equipment at that time.
A gentle breeze blows, lifting up a fallen leaf.
Lao Balu seemed to hear the shouts of his comrades-in-arms again.
They are aware of the disparity in equipment, but they still move forward.
The setting sun has given the entire hillside a golden shade of red.
Lao Balu stood on the top of the mountain, overlooking this former battlefield.
A complex emotion welled up in his heart: pride, grief, and emotion were intertwined.
That battle was a victory, but it was a tragic victory.
but
We should not only judge the outcome by the ratio of battle losses, but should look at the problem from a strategic perspective.
Today's China is not what it used to be.
But whenever he thought of the battle of Guan Jiayuan, his heart would still be filled with pain.
This pain is not only a nostalgia for the deceased comrades, but also a wake-up call to that humiliating history.