Chapter 24: The Bloody Battle of Guo Xunqi—The Second Crossing of the Chishui River-Atravessando o Rio Xiang: Sou um soldado do Exército Vermelho, mas não sei fazer nada(Eu amo batatas.)

Chapter 24: The Bloody Battle of Qinglong Mountain

The Independent Regiment was marching through an unnamed mountainous region toward the Chishui River.

"Commander! A telegram from the Army Group!"

"Wang Lin: The main force is about to cross the Chishui River for the second time! Your unit is ordered to capture the Qinglong Mountain heights at Erlangtan at all costs and hold them until the main force has safely crossed! Failure is not an option! — Dong."

The "Iron-Blooded Rearguard Tiger Regiment," which had just successfully "shocked the tiger by beating the mountain" at Dawanzi and forced the retreat of Guo Jianchen’s Yunnan Army, instantly shifted its role from a feinting force to a life-or-death rearguard. The order pointed directly to the strategic bottleneck on the banks of the Chishui River—the heights of Qinglong Mountain at Erlangtan.

Wang Lin’s gaze flickered rapidly between his map and the 3D mental map in his mind. The Erlangtan ferry was the lifeline for the main force’s westward advance, and Qinglong Mountain was the only commanding height that overlooked and locked down the crossing. If lost, the Chishui River would become a river of blood for the Red Army. Guo Xunqi, the fierce Sichuanese commander who had already made them suffer at Qinggangpo, was now leading his "Model Brigade"—reinforced by the Sichuan army and hungry like a wolf catching the scent of blood—in hot pursuit.

"Entire regiment! Target: Qinglong Mountain, Erlangtan! Forced march!" Wang Lin’s voice was decisive, cutting through the heavy panting of his men. This elite unit, having been reinforced in Zhaxi with veteran survivors of the Xiang River and equipped with the "Double Eleven Gift Package" from Dawanzi (captured Hotchkiss heavy machine guns, French-made mortars, anti-aircraft machine guns, and brand-new ZB vz. 26 light machine guns), surged toward their destiny like a taut bowstring. The fatigue of continuous marching was dispelled by a profound sense of duty; they had to plant the Tiger banner on the summit of Qinglong Mountain before Guo Xunqi arrived.

As the 2,700 soldiers of the Independent Regiment reached the peak of Qinglong Mountain under the final veil of twilight, the chaotic gunfire and arrogant shouts of Sichuanese scouts could already be heard below. Guo Xunqi’s vanguard had arrived at the foot of the mountain mere moments behind them.

"No time for full fortifications!" Wang Lin scanned his surroundings, his mind working with the precision of a computer. Qinglong Mountain had one steep slope facing the enemy, making it easy to defend, while the other side was a sheer precipice overlooking the faint, rushing waters of the Chishui—a true "death ground" with one's back to the river. He made his decision instantly:

"Mortar company, Liu Gensheng! Set up your positions on the reverse slope of the main peak! Use the blind spots of the ridge to avoid the Sichuanese direct-fire artillery and give me precision strikes on their assault groups and support fire points!"

"Heavy machine guns! Chen Ahai (1st Battalion), Huang Musheng (2nd Battalion), Zhou Zhiming (3rd Battalion)! Position all heavy machine guns in the pre-set simple bunkers behind the forward ridge line! Create interlocking fields of fire, focusing on sealing off the gentle slopes and potential climbing routes!"

"Infantry companies, deploy in the 'three-man team' formation! Utilize rocks and trenches, and configure in tiered layers! Each battalion must be prepared for rotation! Political Commissar Wang Guangdao, the morale work is in your hands. Tell the comrades: the Chishui River is behind us, and the main force is crossing! We have nowhere to retreat—we must fight to the end!"

"Anti-aircraft machine gun squad, stay hidden and wait! Zhong Guangbang, keep a close eye on those two 'big babies' (the captured 13.2mm anti-aircraft machine guns); don't bring them out until my command!"

The orders were relayed like a gale. The soldiers took their positions with astonishing efficiency; sweat soaked their uniforms, evaporating into white mist in the cold wind. Half-dug foxholes and hastily stacked stone walls became their first barrier against death.

Guo Xunqi stood at the foot of the mountain, his binoculars revealing the sparse, shifting figures on the summit and the crude traces of fortifications. A cold, contemptuous sneer curled his lips. "Hmph, just a battered Red Army regiment, and they think they can stop my Model Brigade? Order the mountain artillery battalion to fire! Plow the mountaintop for me! 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 10th Regiment, prepare for a group assault! Capture Qinglong Mountain, and there’s a reward of silver dollars!"

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" The Sichuanese mountain guns spoke first, shells whistling as they slammed into the summit and front lines, churning up earth and stone. The shockwaves were scorching; several soldiers were struck by shrapnel and fell with muffled groans as medics crawled forward under fire.

Before the dust of the bombardment could settle, thunderous battle cries erupted from the hillside. Under the supervision of officers with drawn pistols, the grey-blue clad Sichuanese soldiers surged toward the Independent Regiment’s positions like a rolling tide. The "da-da-da" of ZB light machine guns led the way, sending sparks flying from the rocks.

"Steady! Let them get close before firing!" The shouts of the battalion and company commanders pierced through the explosions.

"Fire!" Wang Lin’s Mauser pistol rang out, signaling the start of the battle.

"Da-da-da-da!" "Thump-thump-thump-thump!" In an instant, the nine Hotchkiss heavy machine guns and dozens of light machine guns on the Independent Regiment’s front line roared in unison! A searing metal storm wove a net of death, lashing mercilessly into the charging Sichuanese ranks. The enemies in the lead were swept away like stalks of grain before a giant scythe, collapsing in heaps. Screams, curses, and the shouting of supervising officers blended into a chaotic cacophony.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!..." The mortars on the reverse slope joined in. Following the urgent commands of the forward observers, Liu Gensheng directed his gunners to fire at maximum speed. Shells shrieked as they landed precisely in the middle and rear of the Sichuanese assault formations and at the positions where they attempted to set up heavy machine guns. Violent explosions tossed bodies and weapon parts into the air, effectively checking the follow-up echelons.

The first wave of the assault collapsed under the Independent Regiment’s fierce firepower, leaving the hillside littered with corpses and wailing wounded. Yet, Guo Xunqi’s sneer only deepened: "So, they have some backbone! Good! Let’s see how many waves you can take! Artillery! Keep firing! Send in the second echelon!"

The battle quickly devolved into a brutal tug-of-war. The Sichuanese artillery fire grew more intense with each round, and their assaults grew more relentless. Following Wang Lin’s "rotational defense" strategy, the Independent Regiment’s battalions endured immense pressure. The 1st Battalion held for over two hours, their casualties mounting; two of their heavy machine guns were rendered useless. Chen Ahai suffered a deep, bone-exposing wound on his arm from shrapnel, but after a quick bandage, he bit down on his Mauser’s holster and continued to command. Huang Musheng’s 2nd Battalion quickly stepped up, replacing the faltering front line.

Every rock on the hillside was stained repeatedly with blood, and the air was thick with the stench of gunpowder and gore. The bodies of the Sichuanese piled up, yet the subsequent waves continued to climb over the corpses of their comrades under the pressure of the artillery and the firing squads behind them.

"Commander! The 3rd Battalion is taking heavy casualties! Zhou Zhiming is requesting artillery suppression on the right flank; an enemy company is about to reach the ridge line!" the staff officer shouted hoarsely.

Wang Lin’s eyes were bloodshot as he stared at the battlefield. On the 3D map in his mind, the blue dots representing the enemy remained overwhelming. He slammed his fist against the bunker. "Liu Gensheng! All artillery, concentrate fire on the right hillside! Hit them hard! Guard Company, Zheng Shuisheng! Take a platoon, reinforce the right flank, and drive those bastards back!"

The artillery fire blanketed the area again, and Zheng Shuisheng led the elite of the Guard Company like tigers descending from the mountain. In coordination with the 3rd Battalion’s counterattack, they forced the infiltrating Sichuanese back. The price was heavy; the reinforcing platoon returned with only half its men.

Time dragged on in blood and fire until nearly noon. The Independent Regiment’s casualty numbers climbed sharply, and ammunition was being consumed at a terrifying rate. Although the Sichuanese had also suffered heavy losses, their numerical superiority remained, and their offensive did not slacken. They even brought in several old biplane reconnaissance bombers to circle overhead, strafing and dropping bombs, bringing new threats and casualties to the position. Guo Xunqi was determined; he would grind this "Tiger Regiment" that had humiliated him into the dirt of Qinglong Mountain!

Wang Lin wiped the sweat and gunpowder residue from his face, a flash of desperate resolve in his eyes. He turned sharply to Zhong Guangbang: "Old Zhong! Bring out those two 'big babies'! Set them up on that salient to the front left! Direct fire! Aim them at those pups charging up the mountain!"

"Direct fire?!" Zhong Guangbang and the surrounding staff officers were stunned. Anti-aircraft machine guns against infantry? It was an unheard-of tactic!

"Yes! Direct fire!" Wang Lin’s tone was absolute. "With their rate of fire and power, they are meat grinders against infantry formations! Quick! Execute the order!"

Soon, the two menacing 13.2mm anti-aircraft machine guns were pushed to the designated forward positions. The thick barrels were leveled, their dark muzzles pointing directly at the main body of the Sichuanese army, which was regrouping at the foot of the mountain for a new mass assault.

"Load! Target—the dense enemy formation below! Give them everything you've got!" the squad leader in charge roared.

When the howls of the next assault rose from the mountain base and the grey-blue tide surged up the slope, the Independent Regiment’s position went silent for a heartbeat. Then—

"Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump—!!"

A sound unlike any heavy machine gun—deeper, denser, and carrying a terrifying, fabric-tearing shriek—erupted! Two visible torrents of metal, composed of searing, large-caliber rounds, swept down from the salient on the left flank of Qinglong Mountain like two violent fire dragons!

The direct-fire power of the anti-aircraft machine guns was a "dimensionality reduction strike" on the 1935 Chinese battlefield! Wherever they passed, human bodies were easily torn and shredded like fragile paper! Small, bowl-thick trees were snapped in half, and rocks were pulverized into dust! The charging Sichuanese soldiers seemed to hit an invisible, needle-studded giant wall, instantly being mowed down and shredded in swathes! Severed limbs and viscera splattered everywhere, and the screams were drowned out by the deafening roar of the machine guns!

This sudden, devastating firepower completely stunned the Sichuanese at the foot of the mountain! The wave of the assault halted as if it had struck a reef. The soldiers who were lucky enough to survive lay on the ground in terror or scrambled back in a panic, their momentum broken despite the frantic shouting and executions by their officers. Even the enemy aircraft circling above seemed startled by this terrifying ground firepower, pulling up to a higher altitude.

"Good! Well done!" Wang Lin threw a punch into the air, his eyes burning with the fire of vengeance. "Keep firing! Don't stop! Break their spirit!"

The roar of the two anti-aircraft machine guns became the final straw that crushed the Sichuanese will to fight. Although Guo Xunqi was furious, strictly ordering follow-up units to organize another attack and even going to the front line to supervise, the soldiers were terrified by the "meat grinder" firepower. The offensive became sluggish and hesitant.

The Independent Regiment seized this precious breathing room. The soldiers used the brief lull to repair fortifications, evacuate the wounded, and collect ammunition. Wang Lin and Wang Guangdao moved through the smoke-filled positions, their voices hoarse as they encouraged every blood-soaked soldier: "Comrades! Hold on! The main force is crossing! Every minute we hold, the main force is one minute safer! The 'Iron-Blooded Rearguard Tiger Regiment' will die on its feet on this position!"

Six hours! Six hellish hours! Qinglong Mountain seemed to have been completely dyed red with blood. Through astonishing willpower and evolving tactical ingenuity (the precision support of the artillery, the tenacious rotation of the infantry, and the final lethal surprise of the anti-aircraft machine guns), the Independent Regiment held its ground against the wave after wave of assaults and the relentless bombardment of mountain guns and aircraft from the Sichuanese "Model Brigade."

When the setting sun turned the Chishui River a golden red, the telegram from the Army Group finally arrived: "The main force has safely crossed the Chishui River! The Independent Regiment’s mission is complete; evacuate and cross the river immediately!"

A silence fell over the position, followed by a faint cheer born of survival, mixed with exhaustion and immense pride. Wang Lin looked at the telegram and then at his men—blood-covered and many barely able to stand—and his eyes filled with tears.

"Withdraw!" his voice was raspy but firm. "Priority to the severely wounded! Those who can walk, support your comrades! Take all heavy weapons! Guo Xunqi won't dare to pursue. The anti-aircraft machine guns... carry them! Carry them across the river! They are our lifeblood! Move!"

The retreat was orderly yet tragic. The soldiers supported one another, carrying their wounded brothers as they struggled down toward the ferry. The last soldiers to leave the position set fire to the abandoned mortar baseplates and the wreckage of the heavy machine guns that could not be moved.

By the time the last of the Independent Regiment boarded the makeshift ferries and headed for the west bank of the Chishui River, Guo Xunqi had finally, with his shaken and fearful remnants, cautiously climbed to the scorched summit of Qinglong Mountain. What he saw were only the twisted corpses of his officers and men, the wreckage of destroyed weapons, and on the opposite bank of the Chishui, the "Iron-Blooded Rearguard Tiger Regiment" banner, tattered but still stubbornly flying.

The final tally of the battle was suffocatingly heavy: the Independent Regiment lost 527 men killed, 189 severely wounded and disabled, and countless others lightly injured. The total attrition exceeded 700, nearly one-third of the regiment. Yet, their opponents, the Sichuanese "Model Brigade" and its attached units, had left over 3,000 corpses at the foot of Qinglong Mountain, with countless wounded, bringing their total casualties to over 4,000. The backbone of an elite brigade had been shattered!

When the news reached him, the Sichuanese commander Liu Xiang was furious; Guo Xunqi was severely reprimanded and nearly stripped of his rank. The story of the "Iron-Blooded Rearguard Tiger Regiment" holding Qinglong Mountain, fighting with their backs to the river, and crippling an elite Sichuanese force spread like wildfire through the enemy ranks. From then on, whenever pursuing enemy units learned that Wang Lin’s Independent Regiment was ahead, they would often "tacitly" slow their pace, or find excuses to "get lost" or change routes, deliberately maintaining a safe distance of at least a day’s march. The smoke at Erlangtan and the blood of the Chishui River forged the chilling reputation of the "Tiger Regiment," and planted seeds of hesitation and fear in the hearts of enemy commanders during the Red Army’s subsequent, more flexible maneuvers (the Four Crossings of the Chishui River).

The Yunnan Army’s 3rd Regiment commander, Guo Jianchen, was boasting to An Enpu.

"Brigade Commander, I held off the attack of Wang Lin’s Independent Regiment and brought back 90% of my troops. Look at that—Guo Xunqi’s Model Brigade was almost wiped out."

"If you ask me, we should go slower. No need to rush up and invite trouble. Whether they win or lose, it’s the Central Army that gains, isn't it? It’s not worth it."

An Enpu pondered for a moment and nodded. And so, the Yunnan Army halted to rest in place, deciding to continue the pursuit tomorrow.