by Chen Ching-Yang
Chapter 27: Swashake—When the Mountain Rain Is About to Fall
Swashake is an Atayal settlement of the Longshan clan, migrated from Fengmei Creek at Luchang Settlement. As the Atayal population at Luchang gradually increased, they faced shortages of arable land and food sources. Like a great tree branching outward, more than a decade ago Walis Goya led members of the Fengmei clan of Luchang to relocate and settle at the foothills of Mount Jiali. They named the new settlement “Swashake.”
Walis Belin and Walanai led a column of about twenty men, moving swiftly and silently along the winding mountain trail of Luchang Mountain. This trail, known as the Henglong Mountain Crossing, traverses Luchang Mountain and connects Luchang Settlement with Swashake. Two men at the front and two at the rear carried rifles on guard, while the others slung nearly ten rifles each across their shoulders. Working in pairs, they carried burlap sacks filled with firearms, explosives, and ammunition—supplies destined for the Longshan settlement.
All the companions were seed instructors carefully selected by Belin from the Luchang Volunteer Forces. Upon reaching Swashake, they would organize and train Longshan warriors in the shortest possible time—nearly eight hundred Atayal fighters drawn from the three villages of Dabilas, Swashake, and Shapulu.
When the team reached a cliffside choke point several li from Swashake, some thirty to forty men from Swashake emerged in single file to receive them, each slinging a matchlock across his shoulder. They opened their arms warmly, embracing Belin and his party from their home at Luchang, and took over the burlap sacks.
Goya Mara said, “Belin, Walanai—you’ve had a hard journey.” Goya Mara was Belin’s cousin.
Goya Kannan exclaimed animatedly, “Last night, the brothers Ulu and Gulu came to the village and first conveyed Chief Ri’s intentions to my father. They also said you would escort the weapons and ammunition here by this evening. My brothers and I, along with dozens of young men in the village, were so excited we couldn’t sleep all night!”
The warrior Zashiva said happily, “That’s right! At last we’re going to fight the Japanese. We’ve had enough of their army and police bullying us all these years. They keep pushing the guard line closer to the foothills of Tiger Mountain, forcing us to take long detours whenever we travel to and from Miaoli—extremely inconvenient.”
Mara said indignantly, “What’s worse are the Japanese policemen stationed at the post at the foot of Tiger Mountain. They often seize our people’s deerskins and mountain produce on flimsy pretexts, and even openly demand bribes—charging ‘tolls’ to let us pass. It’s outright highway robbery.”
Walanai asked, “So did you pay them?”
Zashiva replied helplessly, “What choice did we have? They carry rifles and pistols and block the road. They don’t want coins—they want gold and silver. They know Swashake trades pelts with the Han and always deals in gold and silver.”
Walanai spat. “Bah! Those bloodsucking bats—despicable!”
Belin laughed. “That’s why your chance has come. We’ve brought two hundred rifles, two machine guns, and plenty of explosives and ammunition—enough to let you vent all that pent-up anger.”
“Exactly!” Kannan said, gesturing excitedly. “The two new-style rifles the Ulu brothers carried in last night—we test-fired them this morning. Long range, great power—far superior to the matchlocks we use for hunting.”
Walanai laughed. “And those two machine guns in the sacks can fire continuously—their power is even more astonishing.”
Zashiva asked, “I heard from the Ulu brothers that most of these weapons were seized from the Japanese army. You’re truly brave!”
“That’s nothing,” Walanai said, tapping his forehead with two fingers. “Use your brain—nothing is impossible.”
Chaita smiled. “Zashiva, don’t forget—among the young hunters of Luchang, Walanai is the smartest. He’s also the favorite disciple of our Volunteer Forces’ strategist, the old Instructor Lin.”
Zashiva laughed. “True enough! Besides Belin’s title as the ‘First Warrior of the Atayal,’ Walanai’s nickname—the ‘Wise Raven’—is also well known in Swashake.”
Chaita recalled, “At the battle of Longmen Pass, we even captured Japanese artillery!”
Kannan said admiringly, “You’re incredible!”
Walanai said, “But our strategist said artillery is of little use once it enters the mountains. So after the shells were spent, we blew the guns up before withdrawing.”
Zashiva asked curiously, “I heard from Ulu that among the Atayal of Luchang, only you and Chaita took part in the battle at Longmen Pass. That’s enviable!”
“At the time,” Walanai said, “I was apprenticing at my master’s side. He said I’d soon be able to stand on my own and apply the Han military strategies I’d learned from him over the years to the battles ahead.”
Zashiva laughed. “Ah, I see—so your master sent you, the Wise Raven, to fight the Japanese together with us in Swashake.”
Chaita joked, “You’ve got it, Zashiva. With this clever raven around, we’ll peck out the eyes of the invading Japanese soldiers and send them crawling down the mountain in the dark. Ha!”
Zashiva clapped and shouted, “Well said! Well said!”
Mara asked, “Belin, my father has already gathered every Atayal in the village who can fight—we’ve been waiting for your arrival.”
Belin said with satisfaction, “That’s good. We only have a few days to train. The strategist predicts the Japanese will soon come in force from the Miaoli direction to launch a surprise attack on Swashake—and perhaps even on our Atayal Taoshan settlement farther away.”
Mara smiled and patted Belin’s shoulder. “We Atayal hunters are already skilled with firearms, but if the Japanese had come into the mountains without your warning and these weapons from home, we truly would have suffered a great loss.”
Belin asked, “Didn’t Uncle Goya anticipate that the Japanese would soon mount a large-scale surprise attack on Swashake?”
Mara replied, “Once Lianxing Village went to war with the Japanese, my father naturally thought of this at once. After all, the Atayal of Swashake and Luchang share the same roots—our fates are bound together. We just didn’t expect the Japanese to move so quickly.”
Belin said, “Mara, I can only stay here for two days. After that I must return to Luchang—it needs me even more than this place.”
Mara nodded. “I understand, Belin. Luchang truly needs you more.”
Belin pointed to Walanai. “Walanai and Chaita will stay. I’ll only take the Ulu brothers back. Once the decisive battle begins at Luchang, I plan to have them escort my woman to Taoshan Village—it should be safe there.”
Mara asked in surprise, “Oh? Your woman? Since when did Belin have a woman? We’ve heard nothing of it.”
Walanai asked, “Didn’t the Ulu brothers tell you?”
Mara shook his head. “No.”
Walanai smiled and nodded. “Well then—it seems those two can keep their mouths shut.”
Mara said, “Wise Raven, it sounds like there’s more behind your words.”
Belin said, “I asked the Atayal who know not to spread it. My woman and I aren’t married yet—and she’s already carrying my child.”
Mara nodded in understanding. “Oh? I see. In that case, we won’t pry further.”
As they talked and walked, they soon returned to Swashake. Chief Walis Goya, together with elders and many villagers, were already gathered at the village entrance waiting.
Goya opened his arms and embraced Belin and the others one by one. “Belin, Walanai, Chaita—welcome!”
Belin greeted warmly, “Uncle, Elders—it’s good to see you.”
Surrounded by elders and villagers, Belin’s party proceeded into the settlement.
Elder Anando said, “Belin, hearing that Lianxing Village has won several battles in succession, our young men here have been boiling with hot blood—shouting and jumping like rolling water, saying they want to return to Luchang to defend our homeland and fight the Japanese.”
Elder Puwaji said, “Now that you’ve come and brought word of the Japanese plan to launch a surprise attack, the young men have finally settled down and are willing to stay in Swashake to defend our home.”
Belin said, “Elders, now that we have finally gone to war with the Japanese, this concerns not only the survival of Lianxing Village, but the fate of all Atayal.”
Anando said, “Naturally. We share honor and disgrace alike. Luchang is our ancestral land—none of the Atayal of Swashake can stand aside.”
Puwaji said, “Since the old chief Wagang Walis passed away, the Atayal have lost our spiritual pillar and our strength has gradually declined. Belin, we place great hopes in you and believe you can lead the Atayal in a prolonged struggle against the Japanese.”
Belin sighed deeply. “Alas, Elder—by ourselves, the Atayal cannot defeat the well-armed Japanese army. Without Chief Ri of Lianxing to lead us, the tribes would be like loose sand, quickly broken one by one.”
Anando agreed. “Exactly. We understand this clearly. The Japanese are our common enemy, and Ri A-guai is a great tree the Japanese cannot topple. That’s why everyone agreed without objection to answer Lianxing Village’s call.”
Goya came forward and said warmly, “Belin, I’ve had a feast prepared to welcome you. Tonight, let us uncle and nephew drink heartily together with everyone—shall we?”
Belin smiled with pleasure. “Uncle, I look forward to it.”
Swashake lies at the foothills of Mount Jiali. Stilted houses are scattered along gently rolling hills. At the center of the settlement is a flat platform of about ten mu, where a square-ring ancestral house has been built. Tribal councils and rituals are held in and around this ancestral house.
Dozens of fire baskets were lit inside and outside the ancestral house. People from the nearby Atayal villages of Dabilas and Shapulu also arrived, making the gathering lively.
In the council hall, Goya, Belin, Walanai, elders from each village, and Goya’s wife Nali, his children Mara, Kannan, and Maya, along with representatives of the young warriors, all sat in a circle on the wooden floor. Two roasted wild boars and assorted fruits were placed in the center, while two young girls poured wine and cut meat for the guests.
Raising his bamboo cup, Goya said with emotion, “Ever since the Japanese arrived, life has only grown harder for us. Alas!”
Anando agreed. “Indeed. The local Qing officials of the past also demanded tribute and provisions, but rarely dared to solicit bribes so brazenly. These Japanese policemen, righteous in public and preaching law and discipline, are in fact insatiably greedy in private—using every means to squeeze the people dry.”
Puwaji said, “Anando, you studied Han learning and are the most learned among us—no wonder you speak in classical Chinese. After taking their cut, Qing officials at least knew how to respect us and live in peace. Japanese policemen don’t even treat us as human beings—always grabbing, eating, and threatening to kill. They are detestable. In my view, Qing officials were merely gluttonous, cowardly frogs—Japanese policemen are hundred-pace vipers with mouths full of fangs.”
Goya clapped in approval. “Well said, Puwaji. The Japanese police are indeed our Atayal nightmare. Soon the flames of war will spread to Swashake, and we will no longer enjoy the peace we have now.”
Belin said apologetically, “Uncle, I’m sorry to have drawn Swashake into this conflict.”
Realizing he had misspoken, Goya quickly said, “Don’t say such foolish things, Belin. This is the shared fate of all Atayal. The Japanese have long intended to deal with us.”
Elder Nuolong said, “Belin, the chief is right. We Atayal have long been mentally prepared—sooner or later we must settle accounts with the Japanese.”
Accompanied by Goya and the elders, Belin and Walanai descended from the ancestral house to the plaza, where they raised cups and drank freely with the young warriors and village representatives.
Goya lifted his bamboo cup and said boldly, “Everyone—our chief of Luchang, Belin, will offer a toast.”
Belin raised his cup as well. “I am Walis Belin, son of the old chief Wagang Walis. With this cup of millet wine, I toast you all. After we drink it, from this day forward we Atayal will fight the Japanese together—sharing hardship and danger alike. If we live, we live together; if we die, we die together. Cheers!”
A roar of cheers erupted across the plaza: “Fight the Japanese! Fight the Japanese! Fight the Japanese!” The echoes reverberated among the mountain walls and lingered long after.
At that moment, war drums began to beat rhythmically. The resounding drums—long relegated to elders’ memories—now heralded the coming of wartime, reawakening the wildness in Atayal blood. Every warrior raised blade and spear overhead; the atmosphere surged to a fever pitch.
After night fell, bonfires blazed in the plaza. Belin, Walanai, Chaita, Mara, Kannan, Zashiva, Ulu, Gulu, Maya, Meina, and several girls gathered together. Passing around bamboo tubes of millet wine, they drank in turn—each heart both excited and heavy. Excited to fight side by side, to live and die together; heavy with the knowledge that once war began, no one knew how many partings of life and death awaited.
Zashiva gulped several mouthfuls of wine, wiped his mouth, and said, “Belin—are we, born in this era, fortunate or unfortunate? Sometimes my thoughts are truly in turmoil.”
Belin, his face flushed and eyes distant, said, “Don’t think too much. If our ancestral spirits watch over us from above, then no matter how great the danger, we’ll pass through safely.”
Walanai said with a hint of drunkenness, “Zashiva, my master once said: only when we are strong enough not to be easily defeated will those who plot against us abandon their designs and allow us to exist.”
Slightly drunk, Zashiva gestured clumsily. “Yes—yes—your master is a man of great wisdom and rich experience, Walanai.”
Chaita chimed in, “That’s right. Master Lin saw the Japanese intentions long ago. At this point, aside from rising up and resisting bravely, we have no better option—because the Japanese we face will never allow us to choose our own way of life.”
Kannan declared passionately, “Chaita, facing the mighty Japanese army, all the Atayal of Swashake neither cling to life nor fear death. War is cruel and brings separation by life and death—we’ve long prepared ourselves. Rather than be slaughtered at will and live on in despair, it’s better to rise up and defend our dignity of existence. Even if we die in battle, we’ll have no regrets.”
Walanai said, “Yes. This is a war of ‘you die or I die—irreconcilable.’ What the Japanese fear is precisely our resolve to resist to the death and fight to the end. As the Han military texts say, ‘Place them in deadly ground and they will live.’ Only thus will the Atayal avoid waiting helplessly for destruction and break free from misfortune.”
Meina, smiling, said, “In you men’s world, it always seems to be kill or be killed. Can’t you relax a little? The moonlight is so beautiful tonight—let’s talk about something pleasant.”
Kannan’s sister Maya added, “Exactly. Don’t waste such a wonderful moment. Why don’t we sing and dance?”
Belin said, “Yes—leave the future to the god of fate and cherish the moments we share. Friends, let us celebrate our youth with song and dance.”
Zashiva and the brothers Kannan and Mara took out bamboo flutes, mouth harps, and skin drums, playing lively melodies. Belin and Walanai took the initiative to invite Maya and Meina; moving with the rhythm and drumbeats, they danced in pairs. One by one, the others rose and invited partners beside them, joining the dance.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Battle of Dagwulu Village and the Penglai United Settlements
At this time, the Sixth Battalion of the Japanese Nakajō Brigade, stationed in Miaoli under the command of Battalion Commander Taniki Shunsuke, was advancing upstream along the ox-cart track beside the middle reaches of the South River. Their objective was Dagwulu (Baguoli) Village and the Penglai Fourteen United Settlements further upriver.
Facing the advance, the people of Dagwulu Village and the Penglai Fourteen Settlements evacuated their elderly, women, children, and livestock into the mountainous regions of Luchang Grand Mountain. At the same time, they deployed defensive positions along the foothills of Baguoli Mountain, preparing to wage a guerrilla campaign—lying in wait along the narrow, steep, and winding mountain paths to ambush Japanese forces approaching from Miaoli.
Following the strategic advice of Li Yuanming, military adviser of the Penglai United Settlements, the Atayal of Dagwulu adopted a scorched-earth strategy. Before the Japanese arrived, all wooden structures in the village, granaries, and standing crops were set ablaze; reservoirs and water conduits were completely destroyed.
The Japanese army swiftly occupied the sites of Dagwulu Village and the Penglai United Settlements, entering a standoff with the local militia. Confronted with ruins deliberately laid waste, the Japanese were forced to rebuild from scratch, erecting marching tents as their encampment.
Within the Japanese field headquarters at Dagwulu, nearly ten senior officers gathered to discuss their next move. Operations Officer Yoshino Shigeo spread a military map across an oval conference table.
The command post had originally been the village ancestral hall and council chamber. Before retreating, the Atayal chieftain Bus had ordered it burned. The Japanese command tent now stood beside the charred remains.
Staff Officer Kawashima Hikoshi reported:
“Along the South River we encountered no resistance. According to scout reports, the Dagwulu and Penglai forces have merged and withdrawn into the Baguoli Mountains. They are conserving strength, clearly intending to engage us in mountainous terrain. The terrain is rugged and broken, with frequent spring rains. I suggest we establish camp here and wait for friendly forces advancing from Dongshijiao. Once they reach the foothills of Tiger Mountain, we can launch a coordinated pincer attack from north and south against Dagwulu, Penglai, and the Longshan Atayal villages.”
Operations Officer Yoshino added:
“I concur. Given the weather, mountain paths are muddy and impassable for artillery. Without artillery support and lacking familiarity with the terrain, we would be exposed targets. The enemy need only concentrate limited forces at chokepoints, using rockfalls and rolling logs, to inflict heavy casualties.”
Commander Taniki Shunsuke replied gravely:
“I am well aware of the unfavorable conditions. However, General Nakajō has ordered us to attack immediately upon arrival, to pin down the rebels and prevent them from detaching forces to strike his main army’s rear and sever supply lines. This dilemma weighs heavily on me.”
Kawashima responded:
“Our presence here already exerts psychological pressure. Based on my assessment, enemy forces are insufficient to spare troops to assist Lianxing Village. If we wait two days, the Fifth Battalion from Dongshijiao should arrive—even with rain. Once the weather clears and visibility improves, we can signal with artillery fire and launch a coordinated assault.”
Taniki concluded:
“Your analysis is sound. Over the next two days, we will extend our defensive depth, establish outposts, and reinforce mutual support. Remain vigilant against night attacks.”
Meanwhile, in a concealed cave on a plateau of Baguoli Mountain, militia leaders convened: Chieftain Norong Bus, his sons Danyang and Samila, Battalion Commander Mengla, Penglai headman Qiu Wuwei, his son Qiu Youren, Battalion Commander Wu Kangtai, and military adviser Li Yuanming.
Mengla reported, “The Japanese are camped in our village but have made no move.”
Li Yuanming replied, “They are holding position, waiting for reinforcements.”
Qiu Youren proposed, “If they won’t come up, we go down and strike first.”
Li Yuanming waved him off:
“Absolutely not. They want to lure us down. Once we leave Baguoli, we fall into their trap. On open ground, our weapons are inferior.”
Qiu Youren protested, “So we wait and let reinforcements surround us?”
Li Yuanming explained:
“The force from Miaoli is only a flanking unit meant to pin us down, preventing us from striking Nakajō’s main force from behind.”
Samila asked, “So we wait?”
“Yes,” Li answered calmly. “Within three days, once the weather clears, they will attack—likely coordinating with forces advancing up the Wenshui River from Dongshijiao, forming a west-south pincer.”
Wu Kangtai asked, “How long do we hold?”
Li replied:
“After repelling their initial waves and cutting their strength by half, we will redeploy two-thirds of our forces to Xiangtian Lake.”
Wu asked skeptically, “Only one-third left behind?”
“Enough,” Li said firmly. “Their morale will be broken.”
Bus asked, “Can the Atayal at Swasig hold?”
Li assessed:
“They face greater pressure, but Tiger Mountain and Henglong Ridge are more treacherous. My teacher’s orders to Walanei were clear: ‘Hold Henglong Pass to the death.’ Unless annihilated, Swasig will not fall.”
Wu nodded. “Then we endure.”
Li smiled. “Prepare more rolling rocks and logs. This battle will be fierce.”
Outside the cave, mist and rain veiled the mountains—soon to be soaked in blood and smoke.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Crushing Blow at Baguoli Mountain
A long column advanced in pairs along a winding path beside the middle reaches of the Wenshui River—cliffs on one side, gentle valley slopes on the other. Ten warhorses led the way. The officer in command was Endō Shōji, Operations Officer of the Japanese Fifth Battalion from Dongshijiao.
Rain drifted through the air. Tiger Mountain and Henglong Ridge loomed cold and mist-shrouded.
At Henglong Pass, Atayal warriors of Swasig lay in ambush on high ground. Two machine guns were concealed beneath vines. The warriors waited, motionless.
Battalion Commander Yokomitsu Taiyū raised his hand. “Vanguard, halt!”
Troops dropped into cover.
Staff Officer Itsukigawa Tarō reported, “Artillery cannot proceed beyond this point.”
Yokomitsu ordered:
“After bombardment, advance. Leave one infantry unit to guard the artillery. Others proceed single-file. Watch for rolling rocks and logs.”
Artillery thundered. Smoke burst across the mountainside.
Hearing artillery from the south, the Japanese Sixth Battalion mobilized. Commander Taniki ordered bombardment of Baguoli and assembled his forces. Orders were issued: three columns advancing from east, west, and center, converging at the Mountain God Shrine on Hill 1250.
As they advanced into dense fog, tension gripped every soldier.
On Baguoli Mountain, militia forces moved into position. In the cave headquarters, Li Yuanming briefed the leaders:
“Enemy forces are advancing on three routes. The central path is the easiest. They will expect our main force there.”
Mengla asked, “So we reinforce the center?”
Li smiled cryptically.
“No. We concentrate on the flanks—strike where they are weakest.”
He explained a plan of feigned weakness, flanking annihilation, and encirclement.
Orders were issued. Forces dispersed.
On the eastern route, Yoshino Shigeo’s column entered a narrow gorge and was immediately engulfed by rockfalls, logs, and explosive arrows. Trapped, blinded, and under fire, the unit collapsed. Within minutes, the gorge became a slaughterhouse.
Three hundred Japanese soldiers were annihilated. None escaped.
On the central route, repeated ambushes shattered morale. Casualties mounted. From the west came explosions and gunfire.
Commander Taniki realized the truth too late.
Orders were given to halt and hold.
From the shrine lookout, Li Yuanming observed calmly.
“They will withdraw,” he said.
Indeed, failing to receive any signal from their flanks, the central column retreated down the mountain in orderly formation—watched silently by Atayal scouts hidden in the trees.
Chapter Thirty: Blood-Stained Crossing at Henglong Mountain Pass
Meanwhile, the Japanese Army’s Fifth Battalion and the Atayal tribal volunteer militia from Longshan exchanged machine-gun and rifle fire along the Henglong Mountain Crossing Trail. Facing assaults from volunteer forces advancing from both sides of the mountain slopes, the Japanese initially attempted to suppress them with the overwhelming firepower of nearly twelve machine guns.
However, the volunteers, holding the high ground, advanced stealthily in three-man teams until they were within bow range. Without fear of sacrifice, they systematically destroyed the Japanese machine-gun positions one by one using explosive-tipped arrows. Afterward, the two remaining machine guns mounted on elevated platforms by the volunteers unexpectedly unleashed formidable firepower.
Many Japanese soldiers fired back from behind piles of rolling stones and logs stacked along the mountain path. Scattered around them lay the bodies of fallen comrades and wounded men—casualties from the first wave of the indigenous assault.
Soldier A asked in confusion, “How do these savages have machine guns and rifles?”
Soldier B replied, “Obviously, they seized them from our own troops.”
Nearby, squad leader Kikuchi Hirohiko shouted angrily, “Bakayaro! What use is saying that now? We outnumber them in rifles—what are you afraid of? Fire at once!”
The volunteers fired explosive arrows toward the Japanese along both sides of the valley path. The blasts sounded like endless popping corn. Rifle fire was exchanged back and forth, yet against the Atayal warriors—skilled hunters accustomed to using hunting rifles—the Japanese gained no clear advantage.
Battalion Commander Yokomitsu Taiyū watched as his men fell one after another. Realizing that continued fighting would soon lead to annihilation, he pondered how to break through. Nearby, Staff Officer Itsukigawa Tarō had already been wounded. As medics bandaged his shoulder, he struggled to speak:
“Commander, while we still have enough manpower, we must withdraw immediately. If this battle continues, I fear all our men will die here.”
Yokomitsu said bitterly, “We severely underestimated the savages’ firepower and will to fight. It seems they are determined to hold this mountain pass at all costs. We’ll pull back to the foot of Tiger Mountain and wait for reinforcements.”
Turning to the messenger, he ordered, “Sound the retreat. Have the First Infantry Company cover the withdrawal.”
“Yes, sir!”
The bugle echoed through the valley. Under relentless pursuit by the volunteer militia, the Japanese retreated in disarray from the Henglong Old Trail, leaving behind over three hundred bodies strewn across the mountain path, along with severely wounded soldiers groaning intermittently.
On the morning of the eighteenth, 1,200 troops from the Japanese Taichū Prefecture’s Kumagai Brigade Second Battalion stationed at Huludun arrived at the Henglong Pass entrance and joined the remaining eight hundred men of the Fifth Battalion.
Second Battalion Commander Shimamura Hikohide said, “Colonel Yokomitsu, what happened to your Fifth Battalion? You look utterly routed.”
Yokomitsu sneered. “Commander Shimamura, once you face the savages yourself and taste their cruelty, you’ll understand how formidable they are.”
Wounded Staff Officer Itsukigawa Tarō said with effort, “The Henglong Crossing is extremely treacherous—truly a case of ‘one man holding the pass against ten thousand.’ The savages’ firepower far exceeds our estimates. They probably have close to ten machine guns and five to six hundred rifles now.”
Second Battalion Operations Officer Yamada Tadao asked, “How many casualties have you suffered?”
Fifth Battalion Operations Officer Endō Shōji replied grimly, “More than one full company. The First Company lost over half its men.”
Itsukigawa added, “Each time they fight, their firepower seems to grow stronger.”
Endō said, “Our artillery is useless here. We can only rely on infantry assaults, but attacking uphill puts us at a severe disadvantage. These savages move through the mountains like leopards.”
Shimamura declared, “Enough. No matter the cost, we must break through within the next two or three days, wipe out the Longshan settlement, and link up with General Nakajō’s forces.”
Itsukigawa forced a bitter smile. “I wouldn’t be so optimistic. In yesterday’s engagement, I saw that the savages are determined to die defending this pass. Three of them, armed only with explosive arrows, can eliminate one of our machine-gun positions.”
Second Battalion Staff Officer Murakami Toshizawa asked, “Tarō, this sounds difficult. How many enemy fighters are there?”
“Six to seven hundred at least. I can’t estimate precisely,” Itsukigawa replied.
Shimamura scoffed, “It seems your Fifth Battalion has lost its nerve. We’ll take the lead attack—you provide support. There will be no retreat. Colonel Yokomitsu, can you manage that?”
Yokomitsu felt his fighting spirit reignite. “That would be ideal.”
Shimamura said, “This time, I’ll have the artillerymen rearmed—all of them will carry rifles.”
Yokomitsu nodded and forced a smile. “Shimamura, I hope your method works.”
Chapter Thirty-One: Shattered into Fireflies
The Second Battalion of the Nakajō Brigade stationed in Zhubei District, along with the Fifth Battalion from Xinpu and Guanxi, arrived successively at Shirixing Settlement. After regrouping with Nakajō’s main First Battalion and the remnants of the Fourth Battalion, they turned westward and advanced along the Donghe River valley. Surprisingly, they encountered no resistance along the way and reached Donghe Settlement by evening.
Once bustling, Donghe’s market now stood deserted. Houses had been torn down, and no cattle or sheep remained in the pastures. The Japanese camped there overnight and at dawn moved upstream, targeting Luchang Settlement.
The mountain road to Luchang wound upward along the riverbank, flanked by sheer cliffs and deep ravines—extremely perilous terrain. After only a few li, the troops discovered that several sections of the ox-cart road had been destroyed by explosives. Artillery wagons and horses could not pass, and even infantry had to descend by ropes into the stream and struggle forward.
Fourth Battalion Commander Higashiyama Kōtarō reported, “General, the road ahead has been destroyed by the savages. Artillery and horses cannot advance. Awaiting orders.”
Nakajō surveyed the collapsed roadbed and said, “These savages are clever. They’ve stranded our heavy weapons halfway, waiting to face our infantry in direct combat.”
Staff Officer Shimura Teruo said anxiously, “General, without artillery support, we’ll be at a serious disadvantage.”
Nakajō muttered thoughtfully, “What choice do we have? Our infantry outnumbers theirs. A frontal assault should still crush them.”
Shimura replied gravely, “But our casualties will be severe.”
Nakajō gazed into the distance. “Should we wait until they disappear deeper into the mountains before pursuing? How would we explain that to headquarters?”
Shimura sighed. “Then… we must proceed at any cost.”
Under cover of darkness, the Japanese vanguard crept along the riverbed toward Luchang. The Lianxing Village volunteer militia on the high ground was already prepared to deliver a fatal blow.
As night fell, gunfire erupted intermittently, echoes ricocheting through the valley, punctuated by explosions as the volunteers counterattacked with dynamite charges.
The fighting continued deep into the night. Never had tranquil Luchang been so noisy—but this was not festive celebration; it was a brutal struggle between life and death.
Hundreds of fireflies darted through the stray bullets, unaware why the flashes erupting from gun barrels were so beautiful yet fleeting.
“How many guns do these rebels have?” General Nakajō asked in the darkness.
Staff Officer Shimura replied, “Most were taken from our fallen soldiers.”
Nakajō asked incredulously, “How could our troops be so ineffective?”
Shimura explained, “We are unfamiliar with the terrain.”
Operations Officer Onizuka Jiichirō interjected, “No—it’s because these rebels are too cunning.”
Nakajō shook his head bitterly. “Neither. This is their homeland. They are defending it, and thus they fear no death.” He sighed deeply.
Soon, gunfire erupted from the far side of the valley. Nakajō sensed trouble—the supply units left along the riverbank were likely under attack. But he could not turn back. He pressed forward, determined to seize Luchang first.
The battle lasted until dawn. Corpses lay scattered across the valley and slopes; the stream ran red with blood. Mountain crows flew overhead, crying mournfully, as if chanting requiems for the dead.
Most volunteer positions were overtaken. Old instructor Lin Yongnian ordered a retreat. Valis Bering made the most tragic decision—he would stay behind with forty to fifty Atayal warriors to cover the withdrawal.
“Ulu,” Bering said, “deliver my order. The Luchang warriors will hold the rear.”
Ulu pleaded, “Chief, you can’t die here. Let me stay instead.”
Bering replied firmly, “Don’t be foolish. Under these circumstances, Lianxing cannot escape intact. Take care of Xiaoxue—she carries my child.”
Ulu wept. “Chief, I will obey.”
Bering said gently, “That’s my good brother. Wipe your tears. I don’t want you crying.”
Operations Officer Onizuka led over five hundred infantry in an assault on the largest plateau. Bering and the remaining twenty-plus warriors ran out of bullets. They strapped dynamite sticks all over their bodies, lit two in their hands, and leapt one by one from the stone bunker, charging into the massed Japanese troops.
A series of explosions followed. Bodies were blown apart; flesh and blood scattered like fireflies.
Bering was gone. Onizuka was gone. Both had vanished into ash, transformed into fireflies emitting a cold, bluish glow.
The Japanese launched a second assault led by Lieutenant Colonel Yamada Tadao. Stepping over the corpses of fallen comrades, they fired machine guns and rifles at volunteer positions on both mountain slopes.
The volunteers, now armed with weapons seized the previous day, possessed several times the firepower. To fully repel the enemy, Walanai prepared more rock traps and logs, and sent warriors at night to bury explosive charges along the mountain path, concealed beneath dead leaves and branches.
As explosive arrows rained into the valley, they ignited the buried charges. Combined with rolling rocks and logs, the valley erupted in fire and explosions, smoke filling the air.
Goya Kanang rushed into the cave command post. “Walanai, bad news! Scouts report Luchang has fallen. Lianxing volunteers have withdrawn into Luchang Mountain and are entering Suwasek.”
Walanai asked, “Are the chief and the teacher safe?”
Kanang replied, “Bering volunteered to cover the retreat.”
Walanai froze. “Bering stayed behind? Damn it—he would surely fight the Japanese to mutual destruction…”
Kanang continued, “The old instructor sent word: hold out through the day. At midnight, they’ll circle Mount Malabang, descend on Tiger Mountain, and cut off the enemy’s retreat.”
Walanai said confidently, “We can hold as long as needed. Morale is high. The Japanese won’t cross the pass. Tell the messenger to inform my teacher—I’ll launch the counterattack at midnight on his signal and trap them.”
Inside the Fifth Battalion forward command post, Yokomitsu Taiyū, Endō Shōji, Itsukigawa Tarō, Shimamura Hikohide, and Murakami Toshizawa discussed the situation.
A messenger reported, “Commander Shimamura, Operations Officer Yamada and First Company Commander Sasaki have been killed. Explosives were planted along the mountain path. First Company has suffered heavy casualties.”
Shimamura’s face darkened. “Relay my order—Second Company will advance. Anyone who retreats without my bugle signal will be beheaded.”
“Yes, sir!”
Murakami said, “Colonel, the enemy’s fire network will be difficult to breach.”
Shimamura snapped, “Are you afraid?”
Murakami smiled wryly. “If you aren’t, why should I be? But the losses are too heavy.”
Shimamura folded his arms, thinking. “We’ll see. If Second Company can’t break through, then we’ll consider withdrawing to the valley entrance.”
Murakami tapped the back of his head. “Wise decision, sir. I thought you’d press on regardless.”
Shimamura sighed. “I’m not a fool. Honor matters—but my men’s lives matter more. We’ve done our duty; headquarters won’t fault us.”
The fierce fighting continued past noon. The Japanese still failed to break through, advancing less than two li. After leaving over three hundred corpses behind, Second Company retreated in panic.
(The end)
