Excerpts from The Long Dark: the Chinese Struggle Against Imperialism 1939-1946, by Barrikady Nishihira* (New York: Pathfinder, 1998)
By 1942 the war against Japan and the Beijing Government had become a disaster for the United Front. The attempt to evict the Japanese from their Shanghai concessions in 1939 had transformed a soft civil war and border skirmishes between warlords into a total war of national defense. The government had been forced to decamp from its capital twice in a year, and the National Revolutionary Army had lost half of its best officers with the defection of Jiang Jieshi after the fall of Wuhan. While the IJA and Reorganized NRA had been halted at Changsha, the armies of the Co-Prosperity Sphere held the coastline, and the lower reaches of the Yangtze River Valley, poised like a dagger at the heart of China. Furthermore, the Japanese Southern Campaign at the end of 1941 had taken the last of China’s ports from the United Front, completing what the spotty Imperial Japanese Navy blockade could not; the complete cutting off of China from seaborne aid. However, this was not the fatal blow the Japanese thought it was. The camel caravans from Xinjiang, escorted by special regiments of the NRA, continued to brave Ma Clique patrols and brought a slow trickle of finished goods and supplies to the United Front government in Chongqing. Most importantly, however, was the Sun Yat-Sen Western Railway (中山烏麗鐵路, Zhōngshān Wūlì Tiělù or ZWT). Built on Standard Gauge and running from Urumqi to Lijiang through Tibet, the ZWT began work in 1934 with funding from the Soviets and Americans. Appointed to oversee its construction was NRA General and Governor of Yunnan, Long Yun.
A warlord in all but name, Long Yun had taken power from Yunnan’s old warlord, Tang Jiyao, with aid from the KMT. While he was clearly a relatively junior partner, his status as the son of a tribal headman and effective governance, as well as his loyalty to the Wuhan Regime allowed him to avoid the fate of the other southern warlords [1]. With his de facto fief being slated to become a rail nexus of the New China, the horse-trading and dealmaking that lead to the ZWT going ahead ended with him at its proverbial head. Tasked with securing right-of-way for the railroad with a hesitant government in the Tibetan Kashag, Long immediately set to work. Weeks of negotiations between Long and the Kashag resulted in a deal being hammered out in 1935. The Kashag would allow the ZWT to buy the required right-of-way, in exchange for preferential treatment in trade, a recognition of Tibetan sovereignty, and a promised proportion of developmental aid. This was a mutually beneficial deal; Nanjing would have its railroad, Long would be able to skim a small amount off the top of the money flowing into Tibet through Yunnan, and the Kashag was able to further decouple itself from the British Colonial regime in India. The rail line began construction in Lhasa, Urumqi, and Lijiang in 1937. The connection from Urumqi to Lhasa was completed in 1939, but the beginning of the war with Japan and the Beijing Government meant that the southern trunk was heavily delayed. It was finally completed in the early winter of 1940, just in time for the deployment of the Far Eastern Red Banner Army to Changsha, and its withdrawal later that year. Expansion continued over the next few years, increasing throughput and linking remote settlements in Tibet, Xinjiang, and Yunnan. The final trunk line was completed in 1942. The first train that crossed this final trunk line was from the Soviet Union, ladened with grain, machine parts, and other finished goods sorely needed by the United Front.
The construction of the ZWT continually deepened ties between the Kashag and the United Front. After a series of terror raids from the Ma in 1939, the Kashag agreed to a mutual defense pact with the Wuhan Government, declaring war on the Reorganized Government and Japan. However, this was entirely symbolic other than allowing troops to move along the ZWT between the core of United Front-controlled territory and the isolated Xinjiang province. Nevertheless, capital continually flowed between the two governments, and a clique of KMT- and Communist-sympathetic clergy, known as the “Red Monks,” began to accumulate power in Lhasa. This process came to a head in 1942, when the Ma took a set of border towns in their largest raid yet. The intensity of the raid, and the horrific conduct of Ma troops, pushed the Kashag over the edge. They invited the United Front to send troops into their country to repel the Ma, and this is what they did. However, for many in Tibet, this was the last straw.
In part a reaction to the Red Monks, a clique of reactionary monks, landowners, military officers, and the nascent bourgeoisie in Lhasa began to coalesce around the person of Tsarong Dasang Dramdul. Long an advocate of reform along the model of Meiji Japan, Tsarong had used his position as Commander-in-Chief of the Army to strengthen the military, Tibet, and his position at the court. After his removal from the Kashag in 1929 in an aristocratic coup, he had become increasingly focused on matters of economics over palace intrigue, until the announcement of the construction of the ZWT spurred his reentry into that arena. Long an ally of the British and Japanese, Tsarong had been increasingly uncomfortable with the strategy of “decoupling” pursued by the Kashag during the seven-year search for and early reign of the 14th Dalai Lama. He became a focus of gossip and society politics in Lhasa, and while he often half-jokingly talked about “something needing to be done” about the “Red Chinese,” he never seriously considered any action until the invitation of the United Front into the country. However, upon this happening, he immediately set to work with his contacts from Lhasa society and from his time as head of the Army. Contact was made through the Ma to the Beijing Government and Japan, and a plan to resolve the problem began to take shape. The Japanese promised recognition, entry into the Co-Prosperity Sphere, and economic aid in exchange for a declaration of war against the United Front and cutting the ZWT. Officers loyal to Tsarong entered Lhasa on rotation, and the stage was set.
In the very early hours of September 21, 40 men armed with pistols and knives entered the Potala Palace. Their goal was to murder the Kalöns, seize the young Dalai Lama, and make the new government a fait accompli in a matter of minutes. They failed almost immediately. A guard managed to scream an alarm before being killed, and the other guards immediately responded. While the putschists managed to kill three of the four Kalöns, they failed to secure the Dalai Lama, and ended up being routed from the palace. They eventually were forced out of the city when an attempt at an uprising was put down as the city’s garrison fought itself. Tsarong and his allies fled Lhasa in a Ki-56 flown by the IJA, and ended up in Nagqu as part of their backup plan.
By attempting to remove the Red Monks from power, Tsarong had strengthened their hand. The surviving Kalön, Thubten Kunphela, was a firm ally of the Red Monks, and the replacement Kalöns - Lhalu Tsewang Dorje, Ngapoi Ngawang Jigme, and Tsipön Lungshar - were all chosen from their ranks. In his attempt to purge the highest ranks of the Tibetan Government, Tsarong had unwittingly done what he had failed to do for almost thirty years - drive the conservative aristocracy from the political equation. No longer was the contention in Tibetan politics between a coalition of reformers and the aristocracy, but between outright leftists and reactionaries. It was no longer a question of whether or not Tibetan society would change, but whether the New Tibet would look to DeLeon, Moscow, and Wuhan; or to Berlin, Rome, and Tokyo. This question would be answered with blood, bullets, and bayonets.
Tsarong knew that if he fell into the arms of the new Kashag, his life was forfeit. The only option was to either flee or fight. He chose to fight. On the evening of the 21st, he broadcasted the following message by radio, a largely performative gesture given the mountainous terrain of the region.
“People of Tibet! Long have we struggled these decades as an independent nation, and long have we sought to chart our own path! Today I speak to you as an activist for this cause, against those in Lhasa that would chain us to the great beast of China once more. Those that would see our faith and way of life burnt on the altar of International Socialism. Those that would take our livelihoods, and squander them! Our nation is on the precipice, and we must drag it back, no matter the cost! Meanwhile, the degenerates that have seized the Kashag, that have imprisoned the Dalai Lama, seek to push us over the edge. No more I say! No more! With the aid of our brothers in Japan, we will punish these deviants, we will break their bones on the mountains. This I swear! For Tibet! For the Buddha! And for sovereignty!
Messages of support for the new Divine Government flooded in from Japan and its client states. Pledges of aid and recognition were nearly universal, but noticeably missing was one government: the Reorganized Government of the Republic of China in Beijing.
Even after his defection Jiang still by and large stuck to the full territorial claims of the KMT: everything from Tibet to Tuva were rightfully Chinese territories. He had been the loudest voice against recognizing Tibet during the negotiations around the ZWT, and had only recognized Demchugdongrub’s United Mongol State after his Japanese patrons had bent his arm. Already having “lost” a great deal of what he saw as Chinese territory, Jiang was determined not to lose more in Tibet. The Japanese knew that applying pressure here could damage the already fragile relationship between them and Jiang, so they backed off. The issue of Tibet and its relationship with Beijing would have to wait to be dealt with until after the United Front had been defeated.
Jiang was becoming increasingly unhappy with the devil’s bargain he had made in 1939. He was increasingly facing issues from the warlords that staffed his Reorganized NRA. Japanese oversight was becoming increasingly overbearing. And while the war against the United Front seemed to be going in his favor, some cracks were beginning to show.
While the Reorganized NRA and the IJA held the entire coast and the lower reaches of the Yangtze, they were not in an ideal situation. The flanks of the Yangtze Salient were critically undermanned and underequipped, and the withdrawal of much of the IJA’s in-theater units during the preparations for the offensives against Southeast Asia forced him into an operational pause, leaving those flanks vulnerable. Additionally, the RNRA began putting strain on the area around their still static positions. Villages were looted and burnt regularly as part of food requisitioning, and the local people rapidly became hostile against Jiang and his allies. Not helped by this were the reports of entire villages being emptied for use as “guest workers” in the factories in Manchuria and Chosun. Jiang was forced to peel entire divisions off of the lines for use as rear-area “security units” to maintain his control of the countryside near the lines and secure their vital food supplies.
Far into the rear though, Jiang was still having problems in his new role as “Protector of the Chinese Nation.” While Zhang Zhonchang and Liang Hongzhi had been sidelined while holding on to the increasingly ceremonial Presidency and Premiership, with most of their powers transferred to Jiang and the governing clique replaced with Jiang’s Right-KMT loyalists, the nature of the Beijing Government presented multiple issues. The Reorganized NRA, despite Jiang’s set of crash reforms and purges in 1939, was still essentially a coalition of warlord armies. Warlord-generals would often fight each other as often as the United Front, and had sometimes failed to pursue the enemy, focusing instead on loot. The reforms and purges had alleviated this somewhat, but this was still a serious problem, and introduced an even greater one: political conflicts. Jiangist-KMT commanders would clash with ex-warlords on a near-constant basis. The “old guard” of the Beijing armies saw themselves as legitimate successors to the Beiyang Republic, and the KMT - including the Jiangists - as a coterie of upjumped bandits and usurpers. Relationships between the old warlords and newer KMT officers got to the point that to cut down on “friendly” fire incidents Jiang would have to place Japanese or otherwise neutral formations between the two. Interoperability with the IJA, however, was far less of a problem, but presented its own issue: the IJAs “advisors.”
While command authority nominally belonged to Chinese commanders, many RNRA formations had a IJA Officer stationed at headquarters as an advisor and to aid interoperability with the IJA formations fighting alongside it. However, as the war dragged on, these advisors increasingly assumed de facto command of these formations, with the Chinese commanders essentially becoming figureheads. In one notable case, at Changsha the Fourth Army Group of the RNRA was being effectively commanded by a Japanese Major General. Due to increased support from the IJA and being able to avoid the snakepit of warlord politics, these formations usually excelled. As such, during a set of reforms undertaken in the wake of Changsha, Jiang requested additional advisors for his army. By the time he understood the actual function of the advisors, it was too late. A slim majority of the RNRA was effectively being controlled through the Japanese military mission in Beijing. He was tied to the Japanese now, and there was no leaving their Co-Prosperity Sphere.
The IJA Advisors represented just a part of the problems Jiang was encountering with the Japanese. While the territories gained from the United Front in the last three years were nominally administered and taxed by his Reorganized Government, they were effectively under the control of Japanese officials and corporations. Tax money would flow through local Japanese “development advisors” and back to banks in Tokyo. The IJN controlled the ports, and while Right-KMT local officials set taxes and tariffs, the IJN collected them, frequently skimming a “collection fee” off the top and likewise sending it back to Tokyo. Most odious to Jiang, though, was being kept in Beijing. Jiang believed that in order to make him and his KMT the clear legitimate successors to Sun Yat-Sen, the capital must be in Nanjing. Tokyo hemmed and hawed about the proximity of Nanjing to the lines, eventually saying that while Jiang was free to move to Nanjing, the Japanese presence in Beijing would not follow him. Understanding that putting that much distance between himself and his de facto patrons would put him at a considerable disadvantage, Jiang demurred for the moment.
As 1942 ticked along, the desperate situation for the United Front government in Chongqing began to improve. The city was rebuilding from the devastating fire bombing of 1940, future raids being repelled by increasing anti-air defenses and the beginning of an NRA Air Force, built with prefab “kit-planes” manufactured in the UASR. Fortifications began to be built along the Yangtze, and as goods and resources poured into the increasingly productive industry of Chongqing, plans began to be hatched for a counteroffensive. A Great Counteroffensive. However, the timing was less than ideal. Zhou Enlai and the Supreme Council of National Defense estimated that the build-up for such an offensive would take a year, minimum. As the Japanese offensives in Southeast Asia continued in a rolling success, it became clear that the United Front did not have a year. The IJA and its puppets, grown fat with plundered steel, oil, and rubber, would come screaming up the Yangzte again, by summer of 1943 at the latest. After hearing the report from Zhou, General Secretary Soong told Zhou and his staff:
“Well, figure something out then. We can’t just sit here and wait for them to come kill us”
After weeks of discussion and debate, a plan for early 1943 took shape: spoiler attacks on the flanks of the Yangtze Salient, aimed at Jiang’s relatively weak flanks near the coast. By threatening to encircle the main force of the Co-Prosperity Sphere in the Yangtze valley, the SCND hoped to blunt any attacks up the Yangtze, and potentially even drive the enemy downriver. Approved for a February launch date in November 1942, the deception campaign began with the offensive’s name: Operation Wu. By naming the offensive after the Spring-and-Autumn Period state based around the Yangtze River Delta, the SCND hoped to make the Co-Prosperity Sphere armies believe that their objective was to move directly up the Yangtze, retaking Nanjing and possibly Shanghai. Ideally, this would lead to troops being moved away from the flanks and into the Salient.
However, little did the United Front know that Jiang, however unwittingly, was preparing to protect his flanks. He had taken advantage of the lull in the fighting to pull units off the line in rotation to retrain, refresh, and rearm entire divisions at a time. Equipped with new guns, vehicles, and even tanks flowing down from Manchuria, Jiang and the RNRA were slowly becoming more and more prepared for an attack on the flanks than the government in Chongqing realized.
[1] Despite the capital being nominally in Nanjing, the KMT-CCP government was associated with Wuhan due to it being the initial capital of the alliance, as well as remaining the home of several institutions. *[WPA]: Works Progress Administration *[NBI]: National Bureau of Investigation
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