Their relationship was built on soldierly comradeship and shared dangers. That Hirohata still drew breath was solely down to the bravery of his Sergeant-Major, whose face bore the burns caused by the fire that should have killed the young Marquis. The blaze claimed the lives of the five other officers of 3rd Tank Division who had bunked in the wooden hut, but Kagamutsu had plucked the young Lieutenant from the building, even as it started collapse on top of them. The young Chinese culprit had been apprehended swiftly and was brought before the unit commander. Major Kaneda had beheaded the youth on the spot.
Unfolding his map, Hamuda cleared his throat noisily to draw a line under the pair’s ritual squabbling.
As the business of the march was being discussed, a shouted warning stopped them abruptly, eyes swivelling upwards to confirm the friendly nature of the approaching aircraft.
Around the positions, AA gunners tensed, ready to hurl death into the air.
Private Asego had been the man to shout and his eyes were the finest in the unit. It was a full ten seconds before any of the three could verify that the aircraft were indeed friendly.
A Mitsubishi Ki-46 reconnaissance plane was being shepherded back towards friendly lines by a group of four Ki-84 fighters, having conducted a mission to gather information about Chinese forces around Xingye.
Two of the fighters broke off from the formation, circling back to port over the Heights of Jianzhuding and lazily lost height, heading away from the Rainbow tankers to the south.
Sounds of firing followed and the keener eyes of Asego confirmed that the aircraft were strafing something on the ground.
Lacking any means of swiftly communicating with the troops on the ground, the flight leader had ordered two of his pilots to attack the enemy force on the road, in order to try and warn the tank force that they were not alone.
Hamuda swiftly grasped the situation and ordered his unit to readiness. Correctly assessing that the attack had been carried out the other side of the river, he ordered his tanks to prepare to move out.
On arrival at his command tent, a sergeant passed him the radio handset, unit commander Major Yamashio already informed and planning his own response to the obvious Chinese advance.
1st Company was ordered to take up positions bordering the river, oriented to the west, remaining silent for a flank ambush when Yamashio ordered it.
2nd and 3rd Companies had crossed the river previously and would remain in position, guarding the approaches to Guiping. 4th Company would remain in situ as a reserve.
With the improved communications offered by all the newly-arrived German equipment, Yamashio expected to be able to better control his battalion’s responses, and so was light on specific orders, enjoying a freedom of operation and command almost unheard of for a Japanese tank unit commander.
Hardy hated the Chinese with a passion. They were useless soldiers, so he told himself, unable to digest the simple soldierly arts let alone the complexities required of the tank man.
And yet here he was, commanding an M5 light tank with Chinese crew, and leading his whole unit into battle.
The unexpected strafing attack by the nip fighters had been ineffective, killing solely one useless chink tank commander who couldn’t keep his head down.
Apart from that, the advance had been uneventful as the column pushed up Route 304 towards their first objective, the Yujiang River bridges at Guiping.
Raising himself out of the cupola, he brought his binoculars to his eyes, taking in the relatively open landscape into which he was driving. Hardy shuddered at the memory and quietly thanked his god that he wasn’t back in France, where such terrain meant Paks and Panzers, which always brought death and destruction in equal measure.
As they passed the left hand junction with the county road Teo Li, his gunner, began chattering excitedly and the tank halted abruptly and without orders. Whilst Hardy could normally manage to issue orders and could understand much of what his crew said, at this moment, his ability to comprehend the increasing pitch and rapidity of his crew’s agitated conversation was non-existent.
The gunner alternated between looking down his sights and sending an imploring look directly at his American commander, accompanying both with increasingly panicky words. Hardy shook the man’s shoulder and calmly used his best Chinese to find out exactly what the problem was.
He was in the process of isolating key words like ‘Japanese’, ‘Tank’ and ‘big’ when something sounding like an express train rocked his tank as it passed close by.
Ordering his tank to head for some isolated buildings just off to the right, he stuck his head back out, the binoculars again probing for enemies.
A second shot betrayed the enemy position.
The radio was in his hand in an instant, sending back a contact report as his tank dropped in behind the farm building, screening him from the Shinhoto Chi-Ha that had engaged the Stuart tank.
He dismounted and moved to the corner of the building, from where he immediately spotted a second Shinhoto. The 47mm gun was engaging the next US vehicle in line, with more success it seemed, as a burst of smoke followed the sound of metal on metal.
Climbing back into his tank again, he informed the unit commander of the latest development and was told to reconnoitre further forward around the flanks, if safe to do so. Which order he immediately interpreted to his own ends, determining the move totally unsafe and electing to remain in place until the medium tanks took care of business.
Li’s mouth was still working overtime, but the man was clearly calming down, as his pitch started to descend to more normal levels.
Cigarettes appeared and Hardy tried to calm his men further, all made jittery by the panic of their gunner. He spoke softly to the man.
“Ok then, Teo Li, you’ve been in action before. What on earth got into you? You’ve seen a Shinhoto before, haven’t you?”
The look from the frightened Chinese was a mix of disbelief and contempt. “That no Shinhoto, Hardy Sergeant. That bigger tank.”
This started the rest of the crew off again and the chatter again climbed in pitch and intensity. Hardy, his dislike of serving with the Chinks reinforced, dismounted once more and moved to watch the armoured exchange.
An M4A4 had stopped to engage the Japanese tanks and was rewarded with a first shot hit, splitting the track of the stationary tank adjacent to the road. A well aimed reply struck the Sherman on the glacis and ricocheted skywards with next to no damage done, a gleaming scar the sole testament to the strike.
The American gunner nonchalantly adjusted his aim and dispatched the Shinhoto through the hull, watching as three panicked crew members abandoned their tank before putting a second shot into the smoking vehicle.
Hardy thought the shooting was impressive and nodded approvingly when the second Sherman killed the other Shinhoto with its first shot.
Inside the two lead Shermans, the relaxed atmosphere generated by easy kills evaporated in an instant as first one then the other gunner brought their sights to bear on a third enemy tank.
The first gunner remained speechless, transfixed by the sight.
The second gunner had the presence of mind to report the new target.
“Enemy tank, two o’clock, range 900 yards.”
The Commander looked for the new target and found it, euphoria turning quickly to fear.