Chapter 39: The Central Army Supply Corps

However, Qianxi was mountainous, and the resources of those mountain tribes were limited. Even after a round of procurement, they still fell short of Long Wencheng’s requirements.

Food and other supplies in particular were insufficient even for Long Wencheng’s men to consume in the mountains.

After all, their force numbered four thousand troops—its ranks having been expanded after entering Qianxi—and they also had a great many mules, horses, and other livestock. The daily consumption of food and supplies was enormous.

For that reason, during this period Long Wencheng had men keep a close watch on the enemy’s supply routes, looking for a convoy worth raiding.

After more than a month there, Long Wencheng gradually received a great deal of intelligence, most of it coming from the direction of Zunyi and the surrounding areas.

Some reports claimed that the main force of the Central Column had already crossed the Chishui River and intended to head north into Sichuan. Others said that the main force had returned, retaken Zunyi, and driven Wang Jialie into headlong flight, with fierce fighting still raging in the Zunyi region. Still others said that the Central Column had crossed the Chishui River once more and was preparing to enter Sichuan again...

In short, everyone in the entire Red Eighteenth Regiment except Long Wencheng was thoroughly bewildered by the flood of contradictory intelligence.

“Is this intelligence reliable, Old Lin?”

Yang Gang looked at Lin Tong with some suspicion.

“Well...”

Lin Tong had begun to doubt himself as well. “It’s hard to say. But these are the most credible reports we’ve received.”

Wen Song studied the map. Taking out a pencil, he drew a line across it, clicked his tongue thoughtfully for a while, then turned to Long Wencheng.

“Commander, there’s a real genius in this Central Column.”

He seemed to have noticed something.

“Oh? What have you figured out?”

Long Wencheng naturally knew why the Central Column had been repeatedly crossing the Chishui River in circles. But he knew only because he had witnessed the entire campaign in advance.

Most of the people caught up in these events, however, had no way to see the whole picture.

Long Wencheng wondered whether Wen Song could truly be that perceptive. Could he have seen through the Central Column’s intentions and plans?

Wen Song pointed toward the Gulin area.

“On the previous occasions when they crossed the Chishui River, the Central Column broke through the White forces’ encirclement every time. But this time, by moving toward Gulin, they seem to be staking everything on one throw. Are they planning to smash through the Sichuan Army’s defensive line and enter the Chengdu Plain?”

There was a note of uncertainty in his voice, for this appeared to be the most reasonable course of action, and the one most advantageous to the Central Column.

Long Wencheng smiled faintly. He knew that this was something Wen Song would never be able to work out. After all, so many commanders on the Nationalist side had failed to understand what this move meant.

“Even so, it would be an enormous gamble. Once the surrounding Nationalist forces close their encirclement, there’ll be no escape.”

Worry showed on Wen Song’s face. Though he had never met the Central Column, after spending so long among them, he had come to regard himself as a Red Army soldier through and through.

Long Wencheng, however, knew that when the various forces converged on the Gulin area, the Central Column would suddenly wheel east, cross the Chishui River once more, then march south and advance directly on Guiyang, whose defenses would be dangerously thin.

“There will be a way out. Trust the Central Red Army.”

Long Wencheng offered no further explanation.

Just then, Little Stone came running over with a report.

“Commander, new intelligence. Another enemy supply convoy is operating along the supply route northwest of our position. It’s a large one, and from their uniforms, they appear to be Central Army troops.”

Long Wencheng knew that this was a convoy departing from Guiyang, carrying supplies to the main Central Army forces rushing toward the Gulin region.

“Excellent. We’ve consumed quite a lot of food and supplies lately.”

As he spoke, Long Wencheng ordered the regiment to assemble.

At that moment, Tian Lixin, who was usually cautious in his actions, reminded him, “Commander, if we attack the enemy’s supply convoy now—and such a large one at that—won’t it alert the enemy in the direction of Guiyang?”

Qi Delong added, “Exactly. If they discover us, won’t all the time we’ve spent hiding here be for nothing?”

Yang Gang, however, said, “We’ll follow the commander. If we’re going to strike, then let’s strike.”

Long Wencheng laughed.

“I never said our troops would be the ones raiding this convoy.”

With that, he swept his hand through the air.

“Have everyone change into the Qian Army uniforms we captured earlier. This time, we’ll drive a wedge between them. The Central Army’s convoy must believe it was robbed by Wang Jialie’s Qian Army.”

The others were left open-mouthed. Who would have thought they could do such a thing?

Yet after thinking it over, they realized that Wang Jialie’s Qian Army committing such an act would not be surprising at all.

He had already been beaten repeatedly by the Red Army. Even Guiyang had been seized by Xue Yue and the Central Army, leaving his troops without proper provisions or pay.

Previously, in order to raise enough funds to support his army, he had even held a birthday celebration for his aged mother in Zunyi. It was called a birthday celebration, but in reality he had merely used it as a pretext to collect money.

Before he could get his hands on the funds, however, the Red Army crossed the Chishui River for the second time and swept back into the city, retaking Zunyi.

After being defeated yet again, Wang Jialie’s once sizeable force, which had included several divisions, was reduced in the blink of an eye to just a few regiments. He was now stationed around Jinsha County, trying to rebuild his strength.

Thus, if he sent troops to seize supplies from the Central Army, it would be entirely plausible.

The reason was simple: Guiyang had been taken from him by the Central Army, leaving his entire force short of money and provisions.

If the National Government demanded an explanation, Wang Jialie would simply deny everything to the bitter end.

Having considered all this, Long Wencheng decided that the convoy was worth attacking. Wang Jialie could bear the blame.

Northeast of Guiyang, on the banks of the Yachi River.

Lin Que, commander of the Central Army’s Second Supply Battalion, was smoking with a deeply irritated expression.

The pontoon bridge had inexplicably collapsed and been swept away during the night. His supply battalion had no choice but to wait there until it could be rebuilt; otherwise, they would be unable to deliver the supplies to the front.

This shipment was intended for Wu Qiwei’s four divisions.

The Central Army had originally stationed eight divisions in Guiyang, but after repeated redeployments, almost none remained. The only combat troops still in Guiyang consisted of a single regiment, along with a local security regiment stationed along the Wu River.

Nearly all the forces had been concentrated along the Gulin–Chishui River line, preparing to launch a final encirclement campaign against the Central Red Army in that region.

Because the pontoon bridge had been destroyed, the supplies had been forced to remain piled along the riverbank, awaiting the craftsmen who had been summoned to rebuild the bridge and make the crossing possible.

As Lin Que calculated how much they would need to accelerate their march over the next few days, he suddenly saw a caravan approaching slowly in the distance.

It was a sizable caravan, numbering between one and two hundred people, with a great many horses. At a glance, it was clear that they were a horse caravan active across the Yunnan, Guizhou, and Sichuan regions.

These caravans relied on packhorses to transport tea, salt, and various other goods to remote stockades and tribal settlements. They were a common sight in Guizhou.

After taking one look at the caravan, Lin Que felt no particular alarm. He continued smoking glumly as he watched the troops ahead work on rebuilding the pontoon bridge.

Within the caravan, a group of Red Eighteenth Regiment soldiers dressed in loose, wide-sleeved robes slowly approached the banks of the Yachi River.

Hidden beneath those broad blue-black sleeves were submachine guns.