DECISIVE BATTLES IN

CHINESE HISTORY
MORGAN DEANE

WESTHOLME
Yardley
© 2018 Morgan Deane
Maps by Paul Dangel
Maps © 2018 Westholme Publishing

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 CONTENTS

LIST OF MAPS

LIST OF IMPERIAL DYNASTIES

INTRODUCTION

1. The Battle of Maling, 342 BC

2. The Battle of Red Cliffs, 208

3. The Battle for Luoyang in the War of the Eight Princes, 302–305

4. The Battle of Fei River, 383

5. The Battle of Yan Island, 589

6. The Battle of Hulao, 621

7. The Siege of Xiangyang, 1267–1273

8. The Battle of Lake Poyang, 1363

9. The Siege of Pyongyang, 1593

10. The Battle of Zhenjiang, 1842

11. The Third Encirclement Campaign, 1931

12. The Battle of Hengyang or Fourth Battle of Changsha, 1944

NOTES

BIBLIOGRAPHY

INDEX
 LIST OF MAPS

1. Reference map of China

2. The Battle of Maling, 342 BC

3. Early Chinese Dynasties, c. 2000 BC

4. The Warring States, c. 260 BC

5. The Battle of Red Cliffs, 208

6. The Han Dynasty, 189

7. Jin Military Commands in the Early Fourth Century

8. Qin and Jin Territory in the Late Fourth Century

9. The Battle of Fei River, 383

10. The Three Gorges Region

11. The Battle of Yan Island, 589

12. The Tang Dynasty, c. 750

13. The Jin and Southern Song Dynasties, c. 1270

14. The Battle of Lake Poyang, 1363

15. The Japanese Invasion of Korea, 1592

16. The Siege of Pyongyang, 1593

17. The First Opium War, 1839–1842

18. Imperialism in China, 1824–1924

19. The First Sino-Japanese War, 1894–1895

20. South China Provinces, 1931

21. The First Encirclement Campaign

22. The Second Encirclement Campaign

23. The Third Encirclement Campaign

24. The Fourth Encirclement Campain

25. The Fifth Encirclement Campaign

26. China during World War II

 Imperial Dynasties of China*

NAME PERIOD
Qin 221 BC–207 BC
Western Han c. 206 BC–8
Xin 9–23
Eastern Han 25–220
Three Kingdoms 220–280
Western Jin 265–317
Eastern Jin 317–420
Southern and Northern 420–589
Sui 581–618
Tang 618–907
Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms 907–960
Kingdom of Dali 937–1253
Northern Song 960–1127
Southern Song 1127–1279
Liao c. 907–1125
Jin 1115–1234
Western Xia 1038–1227
Western Liao 1124–1218
Yuan 1271–1368
Ming 1368–c. 1662
Qing c. 1636–1911

*Preceding the imperial dynasties were the ancient dynasties of Xia, Shang, Eastern and Western
Zhou, and the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods.
 INTRODUCTION

[The] period of sixty years . . . which has just ended, was probably the most momentous for
China, if not for the world at large; for it was in 1839 [the First Opium War] that the
difficulties of intercourse between the East and the West came to the first crisis. The year
1899 seems to mark another crisis, which, as regards the integrity of the Chinese problem,
may prove final. Yet the situation in Far Eastern Asia was grasped by only a few Western
observers before 1895, when the struggle for suzerainty over Korea revealed the helplessness
of China, and lifted Japan to a seat in the council of Powers. Though worsted in two foreign
wars and nearly wrecked by an internal convulsion, the government of the “Son of Heaven”
had learned nothing new and forgotten nothing old. . . . Each government has been bullying
Beijing in its turn, demanding this or that contract or concession with or without the color of
a pretext. . . . Is it for the benefit of the United States to deal with China as a vast unit under
her native flag, or as fragments under many flags? That is what we have to decide.
—“The Break-Up of China, and Our Interest in It”
Atlantic Monthly, August 1899

THIS AMERICAN WRITER at the transition to the twentieth century illustrated

the compromised condition of China at the time and a significant reason
why China became susceptible to being stereotyped. The concern of the
author of this article is how Americans should receive their share of the
commercial interest in China. It is a given that China is weak, helpless, and
“had learned nothing new and forgotten nothing old.” The relative
powerlessness of China during a period of Western strength is one of the
many reasons that the study of Chinese military history has been neglected.
But there are additional problems and barriers.
Western historians who master difficult Eastern languages still face a
challenging time. There are relatively few primary and archived sources
outside of Beijing or Nanjing. For translations and non-Chinese language
histories, spelling differs from book to book depending on the system of
transliteration used. (Except for relatively well-known people and places
such as Nationalist leader Chiang Kai-shek, I use the Pinyin system. It
abandons diacritics and is what most modern scholars use.) If a researcher
is able to access Chinese language material, trying to find unbiased primary
sources with detailed descriptions of battles is rather difficult until one
reaches the modern age. The result is that the lack of introductory or more
advanced material for students and scholars reinforces the perception that
Chinese military history is unimportant. The seemingly “unimportant” field
doesn’t inspire more to research it, and combined with the difficulty of
mastering the language and accessing archived sources, it means the field
remains under examined.
The study of Chinese military history also faces steep hurdles from
Chinese cultural values and the way events were transmitted to the West.
The first Westerners who had significant academic engagement in China
were Jesuit missionaries, beginning in the sixteenth century. They interacted
with Chinese elites who also disdained war and emphasized cultural values
over military ones. The Jesuits sent back to the West the stories of Chinese
civil virtue and martial impotence. (Ironically, Jesuit cannon-making skills
were among the most sought after technologies the Chinese wished to
obtain.) Chinese scholars emphasized the strongly held cultural values that
helped create the great dynasties and almost completely ignored the equally
important role of warfare. From the first dynasty of China in 221 BC,
civilian leaders exercised political dominance over the military. Though
outranked by their civilian counterparts, the military men held great power,
and it was the use or lack of military power that brought about the rise and
fall of dynasties. Many Chinese leaders adopted passive or nonviolent ways
to subdue their enemies, such as marriage proposals or generous trade
agreements. But these were often done as a way to compensate for military
weakness. During times of martial strength, Chinese leaders preferred
pacification campaigns because they had the means to carry them out;
during times of weakness, in contrast, they often adopted other methods.
But it was the relative martial strength of the dynasty, its ability to project
power, and other practical considerations that often determined strategy, not
an overwhelming cultural preference for pacifism.1

There are many books about major or decisive battles, but few have more
than a handful of non-Western battles, nor do they examine the battles with
the expertise of a Chinese military historian. If they do include non-Western
battles, it is usually because of their association with (and defeat by) the
West. In A History of War in 100 Battles, for example, only four battles do
not have a European or American opponent, and only six are from the
Southern Hemisphere.2 Another book presented itself as the authoritative
guide to battles in world history but didn’t include a single section devoted
to Chinese history, the index did not include an entry on China, and the
book contains only scant references to Japanese history.3
 It is true that China entered a long period of military weakness at the
same time the West was expanding its influence globally, and there is
significant question about its capabilities even today. But the picture is far
more complicated than the West dominating and China trying to keep up.
China has one of the oldest civilizations and has a claim to some of the
longest continuous cultural traditions. It fielded armies as big as half a
million soldiers during the Warring States period, or roughly the same time
that Rome was little more than a collection of huts on a few hillsides. China
invented key technologies such as the crossbow and gunpowder. During a
time when America was a small nation clinging to the Eastern Seaboard,
China extended its rule over hundreds of thousands of square miles with
hundreds of millions of people. It also has a history that seems almost
cyclical at points, where a strong dynasty would eventually collapse,
followed by a period of weakness and then consolidation and expansion
under a new emperor. It had the singularly unfortunate timing to enter a
period of weakness and fail to industrialize during a period of rapid change
in the West. For example, at the start of the Opium War in 1839 (see chapter
10), the Chinese armies possessed fairly modern weapons and defensive
fortifications but could not keep pace. The British fielded their first ironclad
the very year that war started and had several other advantages that unfairly
cast the Chinese as backward and hopelessly inferior.
This book is designed for general readers and students to learn major
themes and issues in Chinese history and military history through key
moments of conflict. Each chapter starts with an account of a battle and its
immediate political and military impact. It then broadens its focus to
present an overview of events that led to and were impacted by the battle. I
have chosen battles that I believe best highlight Chinese strategy, military
culture, tactics, weapons, and geography. In additon, I have attempted to
consolidate information contained in widely disparate sources, from
obscure academic journals to rare monographs to other secondary sources,
as well as select primary sources. I hope readers will find this an
approachable introduction to major themes in Chinese military history and,
by extension, Chinese history.
 1

THE BATTLE OF MALING

342 BC

Clearly observe the enemy’s coming and going, advancing and withdrawing. Investigate his
movements and periods at rest, whether they speak about portents, what the officers and
troops report. If the Three Armies are exhilarated [and] the officers and troops fear the laws;
respect the general’s commands; rejoice with each other in destroying the enemy; boast to
each other about their courage and ferocity; and praise each other for their awesomeness and
martial demeanor— these are indications of a strong enemy.
If the Three Armies have been startled a number of times, the officers and troops no
longer maintaining good order; they terrify each other [with stories about] the enemy’s
strength; they speak to each other about the disadvantages; they anxiously look about at each
other, listening carefully; they talk incessantly of ill omens, myriad mouths confusing each
other; they fear neither laws nor orders and do not regard their general seriously—these are
indications of weakness.
—The Six Secret Teachings of Tai Kong

PANG JUAN WAS INCENSED. In 342 BC, he was a few days away from taking
the capital of his enemy, the Han. But the state of Qi had finally invaded on
behalf of its Han ally. The former had delayed out of political
considerations. It wanted the two other states—the state of Wei, with armies
led by Pang Juan, and its ally the Han—to deplete their reserves fighting
against each other. But now the Qi saw the capital of their ostensible ally
about to fall and made their move to clean up the rival army and be the
strongest partner in their alliance. Sun Bin, the commander of the Qi, knew
that Pang Juan was angry and aggressive. He likely read the passage in
general and military strategist Sunzi’s (Sun-Tzu) book about the
commander’s anger being “hot” and exploited it to his advantage. Instead of
directly attacking the newly invading Wei forces, Sun Bin aimed for their
capital and lured them out.
 But these generals had faced each other before. Pang Juan knew that Sun
Bin had likely set an ambush, so he ordered his troops to go around the Qi
force and avoid the ambush. The Wei troops moved quickly, taking
circuitous routes as they hunted down the Qi forces of Sun Bin. But Sun
Bin had more tricks up his sleeve. He avoided attacking the swiftly moving
forces right away. Instead he let the Wei troops get close, and then
backtracked to his own lands. When camped for the night, he ordered his
troops to light fewer and fewer cooking stoves. The first day he had one
hundred thousand stoves lit. The second day he ordered fifty thousand lit.
And the final day he allowed only twenty thousand lit. This suggested to
observers, again following the instructions of classical military texts to
observe the enemy’s camp for signs, that Qi troops were deserting in
droves. At this sign, Pang Juan sent a small and elite cavalry force to hunt
down the apparently fleeing soldiers. This unit had incredibly high morale,
as it was responsible for large victories to date for the Wei forces.
To better sell the story that his troops were panicking, Sun Bin ordered
his soldiers to abandon some of their artillery pieces as well, as though they
had fled so quickly in a state of panic that they couldn’t take the pieces with
them. Finally, Sun found a small and heavily wooded pass to his liking. As
the story goes, he calculated that Pang Juan would reach the pass by
nightfall. According to Chinese historians, he cut down a tree, shaved the
bark, and wrote a personal message for Pang based on their shared days as
students in the same class.1 It should have acted as a warning—“Pang Juan
shall die in Malingdao, under this tree”—yet it acted as a prophecy. Pang
Juan saw the message, ordered it scraped off the tree, and continued his
pursuit.
 Finally the two armies clashed near Maling. Sun Bin positioned ten
thousand archers in the trees beside the road, and they opened fire on the
cavalry moving along the narrow pass. The first wave of Wei soldiers
quickly fell in the surprise onslaught. Those following the slaughtered
vanguard quickly charged in despite their surprise at the strength and size of
Qi forces. Pang Juan and his soldiers fought with spirit, but they quickly fell
to the Qi. The sources variously say that Pang Juan committed suicide when
he saw defeat at hand, or he was shot and killed early in the battle.
Qi forces quickly overran much of the Wei and captured their prince.
Wei power declined precipitously after the defeat at Maling. Qi became one
of the largest and most powerful states of the Warring States period until it
was defeated by the Qin (pronounced Chin), who founded the Qin dynasty
in 221 BC and lent their name to the region we now call China.
This battle highlights various important factors related to Chinese
history. Above all, it shows the already advanced state of Chinese military
thought. These two forces performed rather sophisticated maneuvers and
countermaneuvers in order to outsmart their opponents before the battle had
even started. The writings of various political, religious, and military
thinkers were widely disseminated and rather influential in this period (and
for all of Chinese history up to the present). They fought with cavalry,
showing a departure from early periods in Chinese history. They had rather
large armies that were conscripted, trained, armed, and supplied by
sophisticated bureaucracies. They had capable leaders who represented a
skilled class of literate military specialists. And the results of these battles
quickly led to the formation of the Chinese imperial state.
THE FIRST KINGDOMS
The arable land around the Yellow River where the states of Wei and Qi
fought constituted an important center of agriculture for early China. There
is much more to history than simply feeding people, and though growing
grain seems rather pedestrian compared to the great wonders of the ancient
world, feeding people is the important first step. The increase in agricultural
output around 4000 BC led to surplus food. The extra food created
conditions that allowed people to focus on other pursuits than farming. In
short, the surplus was the start of a specialist economy, as a state could now
support political leaders, full-time armies, artists, scribes, priests,
merchants, and lawyers.
 By around 2000 BC, this process had created the Xia, Shang, and Zhou
dynasties. These dynasties reach back to the earliest recorded histories and
even merged with myth and prehistory similar to the ancient Sumerians and
Akkadians of Mesopotamia. Only the latter two Chinese dynasties have any
solid evidence for their existence.
The three major trends of Shang civilization were writing, bronze
working, and the rise of social classes. Shang specialists wrote on bamboo,
but none of these writings is known to have survived to the modern day.
(This is the same medium that Warring States military theorists wrote on
and is often the reason why their sayings are so terse.) The earliest
examples of writing were the oracle bones. These were short questions
written on bones and then submitted to a deity by priests. The shaman
priests then wrote the answers in response. Often these questions focused
on matters of war, but they also included hunting predictions and
interpretations of heavenly signs. Other questions answered by the oracle
bones involved the blessings of heaven on their kingship.
The palace at the ancient capital of Anyang attests to the power of the
elites. Since construction of this palace was as labor intensive as the
pyramids of ancient Egypt or the ziggurats of Babylon, only a ruling class
that had the ability to amass huge amounts of labor could build them. This
suggests an advanced society with a distinct ruling class that held most of
the political and military power. This palace also contained servants’
quarters. Archeologists have uncovered pottery shards that help shed light
on the artisan economy. Much like the ability to raise armies and command
labor, the surplus in farming allowed the elite class to hire and house
artisans.
By 1050 BC, the Shang dynasty succumbed to the western Zhou. The
rulers justified their revolution by proclaiming what would become a
stereotype used repeatedly by Chinese historians to explain dynastic
changes. The stereotype consisted of the following sequence of events: The
previous dynasty suffered from a bad last emperor who forfeited his claim
to rule through his licentious, excessive lifestyle, defeat in war, and the
onerous tax burden he placed upon the people. Then the revolutionary
forces cited inauspicious omens that signaled the loss of divine favor. These
omens included floods, shooting stars, droughts, and military defeats. By
this point, the revolutionaries usually held somewhat independent
territories, and the governors, or warlords, of these territories offered relief
from taxes and more responsive leadership than the current dynasty, which
in turn swelled the governors’ forces. The forces of the rival warlords then
defeated the ruling dynasty or other contenders for the throne and upon
victory proclaimed that they had earned the Mandate of Heaven. This
mandate is a Chinese belief that heaven blesses and makes prosper the
rulers who are fit to govern. These blessings then flow down to the people
to benefit the entire realm.
That is the narrative surrounding the mandate, but it differs slightly from
the actual history. In this case, the Shang dynasty overextended itself in
campaigns against its nomadic neighbors to the north. Inscriptions from
oracle bones suggest the Shang had both positive and negative relations
with their neighbors. After the Shangs’ ineffective campaigns, the Zhou
allied with disaffected city-states and swept aside the former dynasty. They
continued many of the Shang patterns of life and rule, yet they still
consisted of a small minority among their more-civilized subjects. The
Zhou needed a reason for their violent conquest and a foundation for their
right to rule. This became the Mandate of Heaven.
 By 771 BC, this dynasty also entered a period of decay. The decay of
central power led to one of many instances in Chinese history when
centrifugal forces created many small independent kingdoms. Barbarians
attacked and sacked the primary capital of the western Zhou. Remnants of
the political elite fled to the secondary capital at Luoyang, near what
became the Warring State Kingdom of the Qi and Wei. (Luoyang would be
the location of many fights throughout Chinese history; see chapter 3 for
example.) The previous capital remained a center of culture and ritual
observances. The rulers, however, were so desperate for military power that
the local elites often gained a great deal of autonomy in exchange for their
support. Eventually, central power collapsed and local rulers appointed by a
central government became rulers of their own small kingdoms. Historians
labeled this period of decay the Spring and Autumn period and the era of
small independent kingdoms the Warring States period. The former comes
from The Spring and Autumn Annals, a historical work attributed to
Confucius (551–479 BC). The latter is derived from Records of the Warring
States, written during the Han dynasty.
WARFARE IN THE WARRING STATES PERIOD
Three major developments marked the entry into the Warring States period.
The first was the increasing expansion of agriculture and increasing
population. Previously, the cities formed relatively isolated urban oases
surrounded by relatively large amounts of pastures and untamed lands.
Horse breeding and livestock grazing consumed more land than agriculture.
This is what provided the elites of the Shang and Zhou with the means to
raise massive chariot armies and conduct aristocratic hunts. During this
period, though, farms increasingly replaced pastures, which in turn raised
the population. This led to a rise in the number of cities. The increasing
population combined with a weak central government led to conflicts over
boundaries and prime agricultural land. It also decreased the amount of land
that aristocrats could use to support their chariot armies and conduct hunts.
The second major development featured a rise in commerce. Farmers
needed roads to transport their products to the markets in timely fashion.
Even today this concept allows a customer in Minnesota to buy fresh fruit
in December from a local grocer. This also facilitated the transportation of
merchants. Tombs of the elites in this period featured bronze bells and
mirrors, clay figurines, lacquer boxes, lace, and musical instruments,
suggesting a vigorous and surprisingly expansive trade. The merchants then
rivaled the nobility in terms of prestige, power, and wealth, which also led
to a weakening of central authority. Chinese society consistently
marginalized merchants throughout its history, but merchants still played an
important role in generating wealth and acting as centers of power. For
example, the taxes on these powerful merchants financed the battles fought
between warring states, and control of vital trade routes was often the prime
strategy in those conflicts.
 With the growth in population and increasingly wealthy people, the third
major development consisted of the small breakaway states fielding large
armies. At a time (500 BC) when Greeks were fighting with armies that
measured several thousand, the major Chinese warring states each fielded
armies in the hundreds of thousands. For centuries, the elite class fought
with bronze weapons in chariots supported by infantry conscripts. By the
Warring States period, the armies consisted of mass conscripted infantry
with iron weapons, with large crossbow and cavalry components. The
chariot lacked the ability to move over rough terrain, needed more land to
supply multiple horses for each chariot, and was supplanted by the more
nimble cavalry. The ability to use a crossbow without a great deal of
training made the weapon ideal for larger conscripted armies. The armies of
this size could only be mustered using weapons that required little advanced
training. This isn’t to say that the armies were poorly trained but that some
weapons facilitated larger armies. The crossbow’s deadly shot and short
range made it ideal for breaking up large masses of opposing infantry.
The democratization of war had several major effects. The old nobility
gave way to a rise of professional soldiers and ministers. In place of a
feudal duke, the Chinese warring states employed ministers of war. These
ministers acted as free agents in much the same way as modern-day
athletes. They took their services and particular skill set and worked for the
highest bidder. Their knowledge of statecraft, administration, and tax policy
helped transform the agricultural states into military powers. The ministers
directed the collection of taxes, kept detailed records, levied soldiers
(hundreds of thousands of them), advised the king in strategic matters, and
selected competent generals.
One of the most famous of these ministers was Master Sun, or Sunzi.
His military tract, The Art of War, is one of the most famous writings in the
world. It contains his advice as a minister of war. The terse text and simple
profundity of his statements have led to its wide use and enjoyment not
simply in Chinese history but worldwide and continuing to this day. The
book emphasized the material and human costs of war. Because of this high
cost, the ruler must seek the most expeditious way to either avoid war or
achieve victory. This included subterfuge (such as Sun Bin manipulating the
number of camping stoves lit), the use of spies, beguiling opponents with
women, supplying the enemy with misleading information, and
psychologically undoing an opponent through ruses. Ideally, this meant
winning a battle without even fighting one; or, if war is imminent, gaining
an advantage before the fight. Preparation is essential. The ruler should do
everything in order to achieve harmony between the well-being of the
people and supplying the army. The ruler should create strategic conditions
where defeat is impossible and victory is as sudden, decisive, and easy as
water flowing down from the mountain. The book had a Daoist tone as well
(see chapter 2), where he described the “formlessness” of an army and the
ability to adapt to a wide variety of situations and act in harmony with the
situation presented.
This text joined many others such as The Wuzi (with a historical author
who likely worked for the state of Wei), The Six Secret Teachings of Tai
Kong, and The Methods of Suma that made up the Seven Military Classics
of ancient China.2 Formed in the Song dynasty (960–1279 AD), they acted
as primary military education texts for potential leaders. In addition, they
contained a great deal of nonmartial thought that reflected the intellectual
trends of the Warring States period and much of subsequent Chinese
history.
Moreover, the texts represent a moral world view that dominated
Chinese battle. Battle included a great deal of practical matters, such as the
logistical needs of soldiers and manner of their training. But the texts were
also concerned with cosmological matters and references to divination and
prognostication. In Chinese thought, battle represented heaven’s verdict on
a ruler. In the run up to the Battle of Maling, Sun Bin left a moral message
for Pang Juan to find, and ignoring it led to the latter’s death.
CONCLUSION
The Battle of Maling represents the culmination of a long development in
Chinese history. Like other ancient civilizations, Chinese civilization
formed around an arable river valley producing a staple crop. The people
and rulers created powerful religious and government institutions. By the
time of the Warring States period, Chinese warfare was led by a class of
literate military specialists producing and circulating profound texts. The
armies represented a capable bureaucratic class and government that could
raise, equip, train, maintain, and lead large and well-armored forces into
combat. The trained military specialists could then command armies in
rather complex maneuvers during campaigns that lasted months and ranged
over hundreds of miles. They became the basis of a new and stronger
government, as well as agents of chaos when that government faltered.
 2

THE BATTLE OF RED CLIFFS

208

Now take a young fellow who is a bad character. His parents may get angry at him, but
he never makes any change. The villagers may reprove him, but he is not moved. His
teachers and elders may admonish him, but he never reforms. The loves of his parents, the
efforts of the villagers, and the wisdom of his teachers and elders—all the three excellent
disciplines are applied to him, and yet not even a hair on his shins is altered. It is only after
the district magistrate sends out his soldiers and in the name of the law searches for wicked
individuals that the young man becomes afraid and changes his ways and alters his deeds. So
while the love of parents is not sufficient to discipline the children, the severe penalties of
the district magistrate are. This is because men became naturally spoiled by love, but are
submissive to authority. . . .
That being so, rewards should be rich and certain so that the people will be attracted by
them; punishments should be severe and definite so that the people will fear them; and laws
should be uniform and steadfast so that the people will be familiar with them. Consequently,
the sovereign should show no wavering in bestowing rewards and grant no pardon in
administering punishments, and he should add honor to reward and disgrace to punishments
—when this is done, then both the worthy and the unworthy will want to exert themselves.
—Han Feizi

I lift my drink and sing a song, for who knows if life is short or long?
Man’s life is but the morning dew, past days many, future ones few.
The melancholy my heart begets, comes from cares I cannot forget;
What can unravel these woes of mine? I know but one drink—[The God of] Wine.
Disciples dress in blue, my heart worries for you.
You are the cause, of this song without pause.
Across the bank a deer bleats, in the wild where it eats.
Honored my guests I salute, strike the harp! Play the flute!
Bright is the moon’s spark, when can I pick it apart?
Thoughts of you from deep inside, cannot settle, cannot subside.
Friends drop by via a country road, the respect they pay really shows.
A long due reunion we fest, sharing past stories we possessed.
Stars around the moons are few, southward the crows flew.
Flying with no rest, where shall they nest?
No mountain too steep, no ocean too deep.
Sage pauses [from meals] when guests call, so at his feet the empire does fall!
—Cao Cao, “Short Song Style”
CAO CAO (155–220) WAS ON AN INCREDIBLE MARCH. Figuratively, he rose
from a middle-class leader of a private band of soldiers to the chancellor
and nominal leader of northern China. He led an impressive force of loyal
companion soldiers and a polyglot collection of war bands to defeat his
enemies. The Yellow River was the traditional cultural and political center
of China, and now he controlled it.
By 208, he was literally marching south to reunite the increasingly
shattered remnants of the Han dynasty. The last effective leader had been
deposed by its own leading general, Dong Zhuo, in 189. The chaotic
fighting between rival generals, new warlords, and those with private
armies such as Cao Cao consumed the empire for decades.
Marching south in 208 with a unified north behind him, Cao easily
defeated Lui Biao and seized the key Jing Province. This extended his
territory from the Han River, a tributary of the Yellow, all the way to the
key southern river, the Yangtze. Capturing the vital river base at Jiangling
and clearing out the enemy armies around it would grant him control of
most of the central Yangtze basin and provide him a dominant position from
where he would eliminate the last few rivals to central authority.
Sensing the imminence of Cao’s victory, the two southern rivals, Liu Bei
and Sun Quan combined their forces to oppose him. They tried to flank
Cao’s force from the south and east, and ended up meeting at Red Cliffs,
along the Yangtze River, in 208. Cao Cao’s elite cavalry had pursued the
retreating forces of the former governor of Jing Province as far as he could.
Cao’s forces are said to have numbered eight hundred thousand but likely
were no more than two hundred thirty thousand. Of these, about eighty
thousand were forcibly conscripted after Cao’s recent victory in Jing
Province, and the rest were northerners unaccustomed to riverine combat in
southern marshes. Most of them had as little as three days of training in
naval operations and marine tactics. The opposing force from the south
consisted of only fifty thousand soldiers, but they were trained marines with
long experience fighting in the environment and ready for amphibious
combat. Cao had shown great military acumen in securing the north, but his
southern strategy was far simpler. He advanced against the enemy forces
arrayed against him and expected his superior numbers would crush his
opponents in battle.
With Cao’s forces on the north shore of the Yangtze, the combined
Liu/Sun force sailed a short distance upstream toward the Red Cliffs. Cao
Cao’s vanguard was exhausted from its recent chase and reportedly fighting
disease picked up from the various marshy bogs through which it had just
crossed. A brief opening skirmish ensued, and Cao’s force retreated a bit
from the north bank of the river. One of the admirals in the southern force
feigned surrender to Cao’s navy. It looked as though Cao’s overwhelming
force and previous victories in the province was having a positive effect.
 But Cao was disappointed because his opponent was actually launching
a fire attack similar to those called for by Sunzi and other classical theorists.
Instead of surrendering capital ships, the sailors quickly set fire to dry
bundles of reeds and grass on the vessels and then escaped in small boats.
The floating fire ships crashed into the fleet Cao needed to cross the river
and set it ablaze. The smoke carried for miles, and dozens of ships and
thousands of men and horses burned to death. The effectiveness of the
attacks was great because Cao had left his ships in a close formation. Some
historians suggest this was designed to aid his seasick men and prevent the
need for extensive maneuvers.1 That formation aided the fire attacks a great
deal.
Sensing that both the literal and figurative tide had turned against him,
Cao ordered a general retreat. But he had to do so along a single road
through the same marshes that sickened and exhausted his army in the first
place. Heavy rains added to their misery and made the retreat even more
precarious. Cao’s infantry forces had to carry bundles of reeds to provide
enough foundation for the horses to walk on. The enemies pursued Cao so
aggressively that many of Cao’s cavalry trampled their own soldiers in the
retreat.
Cao managed to stabilize his army and the situation in the north, but he
lost his momentum and died a few years later. The divided kingdoms
continued, and except for a brief respite at the beginning of the third
century, China witnessed hundreds of years of chaos. The Battle of Red
Cliffs was the most pivotal battle in what the Chinese regard as the
romantic Three Kingdoms period (though it is considered part of the early
unofficial portion of it). It is one of the most celebrated and reenacted
battles in Chinese history, and it marked the permanent end of the Han
dynasty, though imperial Confucianism and its cultural influence continued
to shape Chinese attitudes and history.2
THE ROMANCE OF THE THREE KINGDOMS
The Three Kingdoms period which followed the Han dynasty is considered
one of the most bloody in Chinese history. Even though the population
declined due to protracted conflict, this is considered one of the most
romantic periods in Chinese history. The kingdoms of Wei (ruled by Cao
Cao’s descendants), Shu, and Wu each ruled a portion of China, and they
waged war against each other before finally being consolidated under the
Jin dynasty (see chapter 3).
The Romance of the Three Kingdoms is attributed to Luo Guanzhong and
was written sometime during the fourteenth century. It’s a fictionalized
account of Chinese history from 169 to 280 AD. Much like Game of
Thrones, which borrows heavily from the English War of the Roses, the
book dramatizes, embellishes, romanticizes, and adds some legendary
elements and composite characters to the period.
It starts with the end of the dynasty, when cunning eunuchs and court
officials deceive the emperor and punish the good ministers. Finally, the
empire collapses from its corruption. The story then follows numerous
secondary characters and complex events, but they show many of the
common cultural elements in Chinese history. There are evil rebel generals,
the forfeiture of rule by unrighteous ministers, Cao Cao escaping two
assassination attempts, competing warlords secretly finding and keeping the
imperial seal, overambition leading to collapse, and, above all, a great deal
of war and battle and conflict between the lofty ideals of Confuncianism
and the harsh realities of Legalism. Eventually, Sima Yi seizes power from
the Cao family and establishes the Jin dynasty.
The book has contributed a number of Chinese proverbs. One—“Every
person on the street knows what is in Sima Zhao’s mind”—comes from a
line uttered by Cao Mao, a descendent of Cao Cao’s, who lamented that the
ambitions of his adviser (Sima Zhao) were so obvious that everybody knew
his mind. It is used in Chinese to describe a person whose ambitions are
rather obvious. Another saying is, “Speak of Cao Cao, and Cao Cao
arrives.” This is equivalent to the English saying, “Speak of the devil.”
The leading Chinese figure of the twentieth century, Mao Zedong, said
that much of his understanding of military tactics until the late 1930s was
influenced by The Romance of the Three Kingdoms.3 It was only when he
assumed leadership of the Communist movement in the relative safety of
northern China that he began to study the classical military writings. The
book’s extensive influence in popular culture makes this period extremely
well known in Chinese history. Its translation into English also makes this
one of the most popularly known periods of Chinese history in the Western
world, and it is often compared to the romantic beliefs about Merlin, the
knights of the Round Table, evil sorcerers, and courtly love during the
Arthurian period.
HAN DYNASTY
The quick collapse of the Qin dynasty and introduction of the Han dynasty
(which was itself replaced by the Three Kingdoms Period) represented the
first instance of what historians call the dynastic cycle. Military victory by
the founder of the dynasty gave him claim to the Mandate of Heaven. With
a claim to the mandate, the various independent warlords and civil servants
started to exhibit a bandwagon effect. Under a win-win situation, the
various warlords, leaders of war bands, and civil servants joined the leading
contender for the throne, kept their political positions and bases of power,
or were promoted to important civil service posts. The new emperor often
ruled with vigor and consolidated his political strength. As a leader who
gained power through military strength, he possessed the political and
military skill to subdue foreign enemies and rein in regional Chinese
leaders. The military strength helped secure trade routes and the proper
collection of taxes. Eventually, the expansion of borders and opulence of
the court led to an excessive budget. Military commanders needed to be
paid, troops had to be raised and supported, and borders needed to be
defended. The emperors usually became less vigorous, the court descended
into petty infighting, and local leaders exercised more power, such as
diverting taxes to themselves. Central control eventually became impotent,
canals and roads were left unrepaired, banditry increased, heavenly signs
were interpreted by civil servants as “inauspicious omens,” regional
garrison commanders established their own bases of power, barbarians
invaded, and local leaders revolted and contended for military supremacy
and the claim to the Mandate of Heaven. Eventually one of them won. The
regional warlords and civil servants rallied to the winner, and the cycle
continued.
 The division of Chinese dynasties isn’t always accurate or the best way
to divide history. Many long-term cultural trends transcended a specific
dynasty. Many aspects of Chinese culture, such as the importance of the
Seven Military Classics, or the spread of Buddhism, occurred independently
of any one dynasty. Many of the dynasties were built slowly and
incrementally. During periods of division, such as the Five Dynasties and
Ten Kingdoms period of the early tenth century, the amount of time that
elapsed from when a ruler proclaimed a dynasty to when his military and
political victories actually secured his rule are too vast to point to a specific
inception date of a dynasty. There were pivotal battles, such as those at Red
Cliffs, that ended aspirations of would-be emperors, and other battles that
induced a bandwagon effect, but the founding of a dynasty or its fall have
somewhat arbitrary dates that obscure long-term trends surrounding
negotiations between central and local powers. That said, it is useful to
identify trends and developments during a particular dynasty. And it is an
especially useful categorization for beginning students of Chinese history.
The founder of the Han dynasty started out as a rebel general against the
remnants of the Qin dynasty. The leaders of the Han quickly asserted their
power against the warlords who had submitted to their rule. For example,
when an original ally died, the emperor replaced him with one of his close
relatives. The naked application of Legalism (see below) by the previous
dynasty had alienated many people, so Emperor Gaozu (d. 195 BC)
cautiously asserted power and melded Legalism and Confucianism into its
imperial form. He made punishments less severe and lowered taxes. But he
did keep many of the tenets of Legalism and imperial Confucianism, which
helped him rule.
ISMS: LEGALISM, CONFUCIANISM
The Chinese used tian as the word for sky or god that is often interpreted in
later writings as heaven. During the Shang dynasty, the character started as
da, or large man. Early priests added a horizontal line on their oracle bones,
which meant extra-large man or king of kings. Shang Chinese believed in a
supreme deity above that ruled over the earth but also lower deities such as
the sun, moon, wind, and ancestors. The Shang king sacrificed to his
ancestors so they could intervene on his behalf with the deity above.
Worship in early China centered on the movement of the stars. The Chinese
interpreted celestial events as omens from the gods. Later Chinese people
stopped seeing deity in human form but instead thought of heaven as a
force.
Several hundred years of constant fighting during the Warring States
period whittled the states down to several of the strongest. One of these, the
Qin, adopted a series of measures that granted them enough strength to
unify China under their rule. One of the most import reforms of the Qin was
the adoption of a series of rewards and punishments. These formed the basis
of Legalism.
The leading Legalists, Han Feizi (d. 233 BC) and Li Si (d. 208 BC),
argued that human nature is inherently selfish. Humans like comfort and
rewards and dislike punishments and pain. Like the hypothetical youth in
the first epigraph of this chapter, humans don’t respond to the love of their
parents but to the soldiers of a magistrate looking to execute the law.
Legalists felt that true peace required a united country and strong state. So
the state instituted severe punishments associated with breaking its laws,
but it also included inducements for bravery in battle, loyalty, diligence, and
frugal living. In one famous example of this principle from the sixteenth
century, the famous general Li Rusong led his men from the front of the
battle (earning a reward for bravery from the emperor), shot a man who had
abandoned his position (the punishment), and promised a hefty bonus to the
first man to scale the wall of their target city (the reward). The rewards
extended to the lowliest peasant and the punishments to the highest official,
which, according to Legalist thinkers, would lead to a stable realm from top
to bottom.
In 221 BC, the armies of Shi Huangdi (256–210 BC) unified China,
established control over areas as far south as modern-day Vietnam, and
extended his influence into the steppes to the north. To help him control the
barbarians he built a large wall. This is not the Great Wall seen today, which
was built in the late Ming dynasty (sixteenth century), but it was over one
thousand miles long and required vast amounts of labor. As many as one
million people died building this wall. The emperor built roads and
centrally controlled the collection of taxes. He standardized the writing of
the language. He also collected and burned books from rival schools of
thought within Confucianism. Some Confucian historians say that he had
scholars who disagreed with him buried alive. The emperor had so much
power that he was buried with an army of almost eight thousand life-size
terracotta warriors to reflect his status when he died. Some of his measures,
while unifying for China in the long term, generated incredible amounts of
anger and resistance from court officials, the people, and local elites. After
his death, the empire quickly disintegrated and was reformed, with the
name of the Han dynasty.
 The rulers of the Han dynasty combined the tenets of Legalism with a
form of Confucianism. This kept much of the potency inherent in Legalism
but made it much more acceptable to the masses. As a personal philosophy,
Confucianism stressed proper forms of behavior (li) relative to one’s
position. The ruler ruled, the subject was a subject, the father a father, and
the son a son. If everyone did their duty as required by heaven, it would
form an unbroken chain of harmony, from the daughter of the lowliest
peasant all the way up to the emperor.
While Confucianism often interacted with the political sphere, Daoism
often affected people’s private lives. The beliefs derive from the Tao Te
Ching written by Laozi (c. sixth century BC). “Dao” simply means way.
Many Westerners add “the” in front of it, but that often distorts the nature of
“way.” Way is the creator of the universe, sustainer of the universe, and the
process, flux, or (as you might guess) way of the universe. Humankind’s
duty is to stay in harmony with that process. The yin-yang symbol
represented this goal. It showed two perfectly harmonized halves. Ying and
yang are opposites of one another but interact and produce harmony within
a greater whole, and together they form one dynamic system. This notion
overlapped with Confucianism, since people who acted properly had power
flow to them. A sage, or one who acts in accordance with Daoist principles,
can “do without doing” or affect people and events through the power of his
moral lifestyle. A person should seek to become a true sage by regaining or
returning to an original simplicity. The Daoists sometimes referred to this
by saying a person must “return to being the uncarved block,” or “return to
being a babe.” Politically, this meant that a ruler must not have too many
laws or officials, since government can become oppressive from its own
weight.
POWER AND CULTURE
The Han government had the military power and political cache to protect
the Silk Road and establish a monopoly on salt. Both of these generated
huge amounts of revenue. The Silk Road consisted of a connection of
trading routes and cities that stretched from China to Rome. The items
traded included silk, metal-work, and jewels from the Chinese, who
imported horses, cattle, sheep, and jade from their neighbors on the steppe
and glass and gold from Rome.
 While not many archaeological finds go this far back in China, poets
described the majesty of the capital city at Luoyang: massive walls, huge
watchtowers, open courtyards, tiled gateways, broad boulevards, and the
astounding size of the population. In fact, in later periods, when Marco Polo
reported what he witnessed in China, it was so astounding to the Europeans
that they thought he was exaggerating or lying.
Besides poets’ capturing the majesty of the dynasty, archaeologists have
recovered many fundamental Confucian texts dating to this period. In one
of the many acts that prompted a backlash to his reign, the Qing emperor
had ordered the confiscation and burning of many of the texts. But many
leading families had hidden bamboo scripts in their walls or reproduced
them from memory. In roughly 100 AD, Chinese scholars and bureaucrats
created the first dictionary. On top of the standardized script, this helped
bridge the gap between northern and southern dialects; it also created a
standard for language that many other cultures emulated. The significance
of this is similar to the invention of Arabic numerals, which allowed for the
practice of mathematics across cultures through the ages. With the aid in
writing, China also developed a tradition of writing histories. Sima Qian (d.
85 BC) wrote the Historical Records, which consisted of 130 chapters and
700,000 characters but also included what modern historians call primary
sources.
CONCLUSION
Scholars still dispute the exact location of the Battle of Red Cliffs. But it
represented a moment in time that has been highly influential in Chinese
history. Cao Cao’s rapid ascent and swift defeat crystallizes the romantic
attraction to this age. The rise and fall of the Han dynasty illustrates the
beginning of the disputed but still useful dynastic cycle and illustrates
important cultural principles that formed ruling ideologies and guides on
behavior. Chapter 3 will illustrate how these ruling ideologies and moral
beliefs shaped the battlefield and conduct of Chinese wars.
 3

THE BATTLE FOR LUOYANG IN THE WAR

OF THE EIGHT PRINCES
302–305

By the [end of the war], trouble and disturbances were very widespread. . . . [M]any suffered
from hunger and poverty. People were sold [as slaves]. Vagrants became countless. In the
[provinces around the capital], there was a plague of locusts. . . . Virulent disease
accompanied the famine. Also the people were murdered by bandits. Their rivers were filled
with floating corpses; bleached bones covered the fields. . . . There was much cannibalism.
Famine and pestilence came hand in hand.
—History of the Jin Dynasty

THE CIVIL WAR AMONG THE SIMA CLAN that ruled the Jin dynasty in the early
fourth century had raged for years. But there was a chance of peace—all the
rival ruler called for was the head of Zhang Fang. The skilled general
Zhang Fang scoffed at the idea and thought a military victory was at hand.
He urged an attack and told his prince that their territory was rich and their
troops strong and they were poised to once again descend on the capital.
Other officials advised the potential ruler, Sima Yong, that Zhang was cruel
and violent, and his behavior would lead to defeat.
They had a significant point. The fight for control of the empire centered
on the capital of Luoyang and personal control over the figurehead emperor
Huidi (Sima Zhong). Several years before that pivotal meeting in late 303,
Zhang put the city under siege. He cut off the city’s water supply and the
city had to mobilize women and slaves to grind wheat by hand. The grain
itself ran low, and prices skyrocketed. Even slaves were mobilized in
defense of the city, but Zhang stormed the gates with his elite force. With
fighting in the streets, the “arrows fell like fire,” and flames lit the sky. In
the seesaw fight for control of the capital, Zhang personally stormed the
palace and seized the emperor. When the surrounded soldiers realized how
few invading troops there were, they wanted to restore Sima Yi, the
emperor’s regent, but Zhang burned him to death.
The threats to Luoyang were not over. Taking the city was the easy part;
ruling from it with a swarm of Sima contenders who wanted to also storm
the capital and take control was much tougher. The original leaders who
fought the war held military commands in key territories that led to the
capital. During the war, and particularly this phase of it, those military
leaders often returned to their centers of strength, but they could easily
swoop down to harass those trying to rule in the capital. In fall 304, Zhang
had to march against another contender advancing on the city. Zhang faced
a food shortage as well and seized over ten thousand slave women. On the
way west to meet the most recent challenge to his ruler’s claim, he killed
the slaves, minced them with meat, and fed them to his soldiers. After his
victory and more machinations, he again sped back to the capital with crack
troops and again seized and executed the next usurper, Sima Tan. A rival
force then tried to smuggle the next figurehead emperor back into the
capital, which would grant him legitimacy. In response, Zhang Fang sped
from his protected valley to the west of the capital and captured them at
their crossing of the Yellow River. This time Zhang’s army returned to the
capital and plundered it for months. They smashed cultural buildings, raped
women, and seized whatever wealth they could for themselves. After
several years of fighting Zhang’s prince, Sima Yong still had not obtained
sole control of the country.
By 307, Sima Yong arrived at a pivotal decision point between fighting
on with his effective general or killing Zhang and sending his severed head
as the opening gesture of peace talks with his distant cousin Sima Yue.
Sima Yong chose the latter, and Sima Yue accepted the head—but he kept
fighting. The war raged for several more years, but the damage to Luoyang
was already massive. Contemporary and later Chinese historians recorded
that the bones had been picked from the dynasty. Famine, slavery,
cannibalism, and desolation reduced what was once a city that rivaled
Rome in size and glory to no more than a few hundred shacks housing
dying refugees.
The War of the Eight Princes is a vastly understudied conflict in Chinese
history.1 It doesn’t have the allure of The Romance of the Three Kingdoms,
and it is a one- or two-generation exception during a long period of
disunion. But the same cultural values that informed the rise of the Han
dynasty and later periods of military conflict were present during this
period. The pivotal concepts about this period included the moral power of
the Mandate of Heaven, the economic stagnation of war, the
decentralization of power, the political and military art of the period, and
the duration, intensity, and casualties of the conflict.
THE FALL OF THE JIN DYNASTY
The War of the Eight Princes ended the short-lived (Western) Jin dynasty.
This conflict is often overshadowed by the Han dynasty and the Three
Kingdoms period (see chapter 2). Even dedicated sinologists have trouble
following the kaleidoscope of various usurpers and their machinations in
the War of the Eight Princes. After the Three Kingdoms period, Sima Yan
united China and proclaimed the beginning of the Jin dynasty in the late
third century. Sima Yan placed his relatives in strong military commands
surrounding Luoyang on the Yellow River. As is typically the case in
Chinese history, however, commanders capable enough to protect the
frontier were also powerful enough to assert their will against the emperor.
It took a strong emperor at the center to hold these ambitious commanders
in check.
Upon the death of Sima Yan in 290, his mentally feeble son, Sima
Zhong, assumed the throne as emperor Huidi. His wife, Empress Jia,
suppressed, executed, or ran off members of the Sima clan and effectively
ruled until 300. After the murder of Sima Yu, the various princes stationed
along the periphery asserted their will in favor of the imperial (Sima) clan.
Until this point, the various political machinations had been undertaken
behind the façade of imperial authority. The empress signed an edict in the
name of her feeble husband and then executed or exiled the various
“traitors” to the empire. Two princes, Sima Yun and Sima Lun, violently
seized power in the capital. Their naked use of power without an edict led
to a violent plunge into chaos, and they forced the empress to commit
suicide. Members of the Sima clan justified their actions based on
assertions of military power and not imperial authority.
Less than a year after the princes’ coup, Sima Lun killed Sima Yun and
abandoned all pretense of ruling through his feeble cousin Sima Zhong
(Huidi), and declared himself emperor. But this caused the former
emperor’s younger brothers—Sima Ying, Sima Yong, and an area
commander, Sima Jiong—to attack from their surrounding commands.
They defeated Sima Lun and restored their brother Sima Zhong (Huidi) to
the throne. With the unremitting carnage among the princes in their
struggles for power, by May 302, no clear heirs remained to the (recently
restored) Jin emperor.
Sima Ying hoped for the nomination and resented the dominant position
taken by the more distant relative Sima Jiong, while Sima Yong from the
west also sought a role. In complex intrigue during the last days of the
Chinese year heading into 303, Sima Ying and Sima Yong involved Sima Yi
in their rivalry with Sima Jiong, but when Sima Jiong sought to destroy
Sima Yi, Sima Yi turned the tables on him and took his place at the head of
government.
After heavy fighting, Sima Yi defeated Sima Ying’s forces and held off
another army from Sima Yong, commanded by the vigorous, if violent and
cruel, General Zhang Fang. However, Sima Yi was betrayed by his own
soldiers, under the influence of Sima Yue. In 304, Sima Yue had Sima Yi
imprisoned, but before the latter could be restored as regent, General
Zhang, who served Sima Yong, burned him at the stake, but Yue continued
his efforts to gain control over the emperor. Sima Yue’s enemy, Sima Yong,
tried to appease him by offering the head of his general. Sima Yue accepted
the head but continued the fight to gain control of the government. He
accomplished his design in 307.
The war gutted the strength of the Jin dynasty and marked the effective
end of its rule in northern China. Sima Yue’s victory ended the civil war,
but the country was in a state of complete exhaustion. The Sima clan
retained their positions but their extensive use of treachery, murder, and war
—each person doing so in the name of the imperial family—left the
legitimacy of the government in tatters and the army a shell of its former
size and effectiveness.
MORAL BELIEFS
The concept of the Mandate of Heaven, discussed earlier, granted the ruler
legitimacy in the eyes of the people and helped secure his right to rule. This
affected the War of the Eight Princes in at least three distinct ways. First,
Empress Jia ruled through the command of her husband Sima Zhong
(Huidi). She did not rule directly, but due to the Mandate of Heaven at least
made it appear that everything was done by the emperor. Even with this
façade, she had to tread carefully. When she killed the crown prince and his
mother, it caused outrage among the population and gave her opponents the
opening they needed.
One of her opponents, Sima Lun, could not completely capitalize on his
victories due to the Mandate of Heaven. The people considered Sima Lun
avaricious and false as well as simple and stupid. Once Sima Lun’s alliance
with Sima Yun and Sima Jiong was successful, he couldn’t be the lead
figure in the alliance, despite his key leadership role. Because Sima Lun
was not trusted, Sima Yun was given an important command of capital
troops to counter Sima Lun, as the ministers hoped his “resolute” character
would offset Sima Lun’s “improper ambitions.” (Although Sima Lun later
murdered Sima Yun to seize sole control.) The title of crown prince went to
one of the emperor’s grandsons. The machinations of the empire were done
behind a veil of righteousness and duty, but it simply added several more
layers of intrigue to maneuvering in the capital.
Finally, the Mandate of Heaven affected the power base of would-be
rulers. Contemporary Chinese historians recorded that Sima Jiong shared
many of the proclivities of the last emperors who had forfeited rule. He
supposedly held lavish banquets in the capital and threw extravagant parties
while ignoring the advice of his ministers to restore order to the realm. His
generals called him a “rat that looks both ways,” which implied that he was
hesitant and indecisive. By 304, Sima Yi was under siege in Luoyang from
several different armies and rival threats, including Zhang Fang. With the
threat of famine hanging over his head, Sima Yi kept the emperor Huidi
(Sima Zhong) at his side wherever he went, which ensured the loyalty of his
soldiers. And the attempt of his followers to undo their surrender to Zhang
and restore the emperor resulted in Zhang’s executing Sima Yi. The
Mandate of Heaven helped the emperor rule and inspired soldiers, but it
could also place a ruler under the burden of being a good emperor and pose
such a threat that it ensured a would-be ruler’s demise.
ECONOMIC STAGNATION AND LOCAL STRONGMEN
Economic stagnation resulted from, and contributed to, the loss of a rulers’
legitimacy. The Jin dynasty was only a recent victor from the civil war that
had lasted since the end of the Han dynasty a hundred years before. But this
empire was far from a faithful re-creation of the Han dynasty. Centralized
power was weak, and the vigorous monetary economy had stagnated. The
lack of national trade allowed the local strongmen to leverage their power
against an increasingly isolated capital. They could embargo the capital and
confiscate taxes for their own use. Plus, the prosperity of the local populace
was often intimately connected with the legitimacy of the central ruler.

The bad and good emperor dichotomy described previously applies here.
Chief among these “good” practices were low taxes and the promotion of
fruitful trade. Writers in the Seven Military Classics emphasized the ideas
that as a good father, the ruler had to promote policies that benefited his
people. So the economic embargo by regional leaders against the central
government attacked not only his coffers but also his legitimacy. This was
only compounded by the inability of the central government to ensure fair
collection of taxes in its provinces.
All this resulted in a death spiral, as the government needed more money
and soldiers to maintain power. So it levied more taxes in the areas still
under its control, which led to the rise of disaffected groups. That in turn led
to a decreasing tax base and the need for yet more confiscatory measures.
This inspired a reassessment of the people’s and the major leaders’ loyalty
to the emperor and central government, and it gave local strongmen and
regional leaders the chance to offer a relatively easier burden, present just
as a strong a case of having the Mandate of Heaven, and thus gain enough
power to contend for the throne. This shows that the Chinese ruling
ideology could be influenced by economic concerns and turn into powerful
motivations and excuses for defying or trying to seize power.
These princes could use their economic power to keep the capital
Luoyang in a general state of weakness economically and politically. But
the moral significance associated with ruling the capital and the symbolic
mandate it gave made its capture necessary. That is why so much of the
fighting centered on Luoyang. Flush with troops and funds, the rival princes
could move against the capital using the pivotal passes and rivers they were
assigned to guard (such as Zhang Fang discussed in the opening of the
chapter). In defeat, they could lick their wounds on the periphery until the
balance of power between the other contenders presented an opening. Since
they were assigned to guard pivotal passes and avenues of approach to the
capital, they could also easily defend these approaches from forces sent
from the capital. For example, a contender for the throne was defeated at
the Battle of Tangyin. During this defeat, however, the contender managed
to wound Emperor Huidi (Sima Zhong) with an arrow, and a few weeks
later, another contender took advantage of the weakness in the center due to
the emperor’s state and came south against the capital.
POLITICAL AND MILITARY ART
Clausewitz famously and correctly described war as “politics by other
means.” This revolutionary activity includes striking at an enemies’
Mandate of Heaven through economic warfare and performing the proper
religious rituals in the capital. It also included using things like bribes, gifts,
and even the temptations of wine and women to encourage them to indulge
in their base practices and abandon the hard work of keeping the Mandate
of Heaven and governing the kingdom. Other times rulers and would-be
rulers used behind-the-scenes machinations and even assassinations to keep
or gain power.
These techniques were seen repeatedly in the War of the Eight Princes.
Empress Jia often invented charges with which to capture and execute
potential rivals to the throne. Emperor Zhong was manipulated by no less
than three other members of the Sima clan. Palace intrigue resulted in the
execution of others. Once the façade of imperial authority faded, the rivals
took their issues to the battlefields. Yet they still engaged in prebattle
machinations, such as respectively offering and ignoring the severed heads
of rival generals.
The political intrigues translated to the battlefield were no less sanguine
or complicated. We can fruitfully use the example of General Zhang Fang,
the leading general for Sima Yong, one of the eight princes, who led his
troops with energy and vigor. Early in the war, Zhang Fang led a surprise
attack on enemy forces. A short time later, he led a successful and daring
night operation to supply his army. Later in the war, he argued for a decisive
military attack using the language of classic Chinese theorists. Subsequent
historians blamed his “cruel and violent” behavior as one of the sources for
China’s endemic conflict. Finally, rival leaders collaborated to murder
Zhang Fang, then sent his head as part of a peace offering to a rival leader,
who kept the head and continued fighting.
Zhang Fang’s career during the War of the Eight Princes calls attention
to the nature of military practice. This included heavy use of stratagem and
ruses to psychologically undo opponents. Military practice was also
intimately linked to contemporary political strife and subsequent moralizing
from historians.
DURATION, INTENSITY, AND CASUALTIES
The War of the Eight Princes lasted roughly sixteen years, with numerous
changes in rulers and shifting alliances. The princes of the Jin dynasty laid
waste to the rival cities. The citizens in and around the capital city of
Luoyang were almost continuously looted, raided, starved, eaten,
conscripted, and attacked by Chinese and barbarian forces, until one of the
largest cities of the third century world and most prosperous regions was
desolate. Luoyang had an estimated six hundred thousand residents and its
army may have had as many as seven hundred thousand soldiers at the start
of the war, but the death rate was so high, it would be two centuries before
its population reached prewar numbers.
While some may dispute the ability of premodern forces to kill large
numbers of people, the raids, civilian losses, depredations, and lengthy,
intense battles, combined with internecine political conflict, make the large
numbers of deaths recorded in ancient texts entirely plausible. Additionally,
there is evidence that there is no need for a special category of battles from
“other” cultures separate from a distinctive “Western way of war.” Scholars
such as Victor Davis Hanson have argued that there is a distinctive and
preferred method of fighting in the West that contrasts with the war-making
practices of “others.” A central component of this is a preference for shock
battle. This is a battle that features a direct clash of arms between two
opposing forces that essentially line up and charge at each other, in contrast
with battle mainly decided by hit-and-run tactics and evasion. Starting with
the Greek hoplites fighting short, decisive battles, then moving to the
checkerboard formation of Roman legions, and the discipline of British
Redcoats, scholars argue that this form of fighting has continued to the
present. At least when it comes to shock battle, I join other scholars such as
John Lynn and Kenneth Swope, who argue that the number of battles from
non-Western cultures that feature direct clashes of armies undermine that
part of the Western-way-of-war thesis.2
CONCLUSION
The War of the Eight Princes revealed numerous connections between
Chinese thought about and practice of warfare: the impact of the Mandate
of Heaven on the conduct of and pressures on political leaders; the use of
economic power to disrupt trade so that it could be interpreted as a curse or
loss of divine favor; a multitude of related claimants to the throne and the
intrigues that ensued; regional power bases with control of the capital often
serving as a catalyst for conflict; political ruses and a constant appeal to
divine favor to justify war; reliance on prebattle ruses, and the sanguine
results of the war in terms of duration, intensity, casualties, and preference
for shock battle. The next battle features even larger numbers of deaths in
one of the most decisive battles in Chinese history.
 4

THE BATTLE OF FEI RIVER

383

During the Taiyuan period of the Qin dynasty a fisherman . . . once rowed upstream,
unmindful of the distance he had gone, when he suddenly came to a grove of peach trees in
bloom. For several hundred paces on both banks of the stream there was no other kind of
tree. The wild flowers growing under them were fresh and lovely, and fallen petals covered
the ground—it made a great impression on the fisherman. He went on for a way with the idea
of finding out how far the grove extended. It came to an end at the foot of a mountain
whence issued the spring that supplied the stream. There was a small opening in the
mountain and it seemed as though light was coming through it. The fisherman left his boat
and entered the cave, which at first was extremely narrow, barely admitting his body; after a
few dozen steps it suddenly opened out onto a broad and level plain where well built houses
were surrounded by rich fields and pretty ponds. Mulberry, bamboo and other trees and
plants grew there, and crisscross paths skirted the fields. . . . Men and women were coming
and going about their work in the fields. The clothes they wore were like those of ordinary
people. Old men and boys were carefree and happy.
When they caught sight of the fisherman, they asked in surprise how he had got there.
The fisherman told the whole story, and was invited to go to their house, where he was
served wine while they killed a chicken for a feast. When the other villagers heard about the
fisherman’s arrival they all came to pay him a visit. They told him that their ancestors had
fled the disorders of the [earlier] times and, having taken refuge here with wives and children
and neighbors, had never ventured out again; consequently they had lost all contact with the
outside world. They asked what the present ruling dynasty was, for they had never heard of
the Han, let alone the Wei and the Qin. They sighed unhappily as the fisherman enumerated
the dynasties one by one and recounted the vicissitudes of each. . . . He stayed several days.
As he was about to go away the people said, “There’s no need to mention our existence to
outsiders.”
—Tao Qian, The Peach Blossom Fountain

If the enemy is forging a river to advance, do not confront them in the water. When half
their forces have crossed, it will be advantageous to strike them. If you want to engage the
enemy in battle, do not array your forces near the river to confront the invader but look for
tenable ground and occupy the heights. . . . This is the way to deploy the army where there
are rivers.
—Sunzi, The Art of War
THE BANDWAGON EFFECT in Chinese history—disparate groups joining to
back a leading contender for power—might appear to be an endless cycle,
but each would-be dynasty had its own unique story in its rise to power.
After the collapse of the Jin dynasty and the resulting period of disunion,
the Former Qin dynasty had one of the strongest claims to the throne. The
Jin had collapsed from civil war, rebellion, and invasion. The Jin rulers fled
south and consolidated their power around the Middle Yangtze. The
remaining officials called that “skulking beyond the river.” The leading
politicians and heads of war bands remaining in the north fought for power;
eventually one of them consolidated his power and then attempted to
reunify the country by moving south. Normally this would have been the
end of the familiar story about the rise of a new dynasty. But there were
important differences that made this new attempt a failure at unifying the
country and resulted in the longest period of disunion in Chinese history.
The main strength of northern Chinese armies was based in their cavalry.
The geography, frequent contact with neighboring steppe tribes, and the
new introduction of horse-riding equipment that facilitated the rise of heavy
cavalry made it a particularly effective mode of combat in northern China.
The Di tribe was a significant exception. It was usually subordinate to other
tribes, many of which were allowed to settle in northern China in exchange
for military service. The Di was the least nomadic of the tribes and largely
focused on shepherding. As a result, it emphasized infantry-based armies.
During the chaos after the fall of the Jin dynasty and the resulting period of
disunion, the Di wanted to throw off the shackles of servitude and started its
independence movement in the protected Wei River valley, just a short
distance from the ancient capitals of Changan and Luoyang. Within several
generations, its infantry-based army had deposed its neighbors and
absorbed the rival soldiers. Following tradition, the Di made their
submission easier by accepting the armies of surrendered generals, leaving
their commanders in place, and even giving some of them selected positions
in what historians call the Former Qin dynasty. (For our discussion we’ll
simply call it the Qin dynasty.)
The grandson of the founder of this Qin dynasty, Fu Jian (337–385), held
control in northern China, while the remnants of the Jin dynasty still ruled
in southern China. Fu Jian started south to capture the middle and lower
Yangtze region. He besieged the key fortress at Xingyang, which his forces
captured in 379. At the same time, his forces moved against the eastern
flank of the dynasty. They captured strongholds that opened the door to the
Jin capital at Jiangkang (modern-day Nanjing). A forceful Jin counterattack
drove the invaders back across the Huai River. That river is about halfway
between the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers and is generally considered the
dividing point between northern and southern China.
Faced with a mild setback, Fu Jian ordered conscripts from all across his
realm for the final assault. The numbers were said to be prodigious, with as
many as nine hundred thousand soldiers. The plan in 383 was to advance in
three columns, one in the west capturing the headwaters of the Yangtze in
the Sichuan Basin. Another would advance in the east along the coastal
plains. The main effort would advance from the city where the Qin forces
had just been driven back.
 The main Qin army advanced slowly along the river Fei, a north-flowing
tributary of the Huai. But the fifty thousand Qin soldiers in the vanguard
were pushed back by a daring night assault of five thousand Jin soldiers.
The armies finally met and stared at each other across the river near the city
of Shouyang. The Jin commander on the east side didn’t want to assault a
much larger force holding the opposite bank of the river. He asked the Qin
commander, Fu Rong, to move back and allow his forces to cross the river.
He contended that he wanted a quick resolution to the conflict instead of a
lengthy siege.
Fu Rong’s senior leaders advised against the idea. Their own army was
bigger, but it was a collection of various tributary groups and poorly trained
conscripts, which made the army rather unwieldy to maneuver. Even a
small march might prove too unmanageable for the polyglot army. Holding
the river bank and contesting any eventual crossing seemed like a stronger
option to them, even if it resulted in a stalemate. Fu Rong dissented because
he wanted to follow classic military theory and attack an army during a
vulnerable river crossing. Without knowledge of the overall Qin plan,
which was to fall back and allow the Jin to cross, but to then attack them in
the process, individual soldiers interpreted the order to withdraw as a retreat
and assumed another part of the army had been defeated. The rumor spread
and the conscripts quickly panicked, trampling to death Fu Rong and his
disciplined cadre of loyalists, who tried to corral the soldiers from fleeing.
The Jin soldiers successfully crossed the Fei and quickly pursued the
panicked Qin army. Chinese chroniclers report that almost all of the nine
hundred thousand Qin soldiers perished. Those that weren’t killed in
combat, died because of hunger or exposure to the elements. If the battle
didn’t seem like a cataclysmic affair, the results certainly were. The Qin
dynasty quickly collapsed into another series of competing warlords and
states. China wasn’t unified again until almost two hundred years later. The
Battle of Fei River is considered one of the most decisive in Chinese
history. The battle reveals the benefits of and drawbacks to the cultural idea
of a unified China resulting from a would-be emperor’s resounding victory
or defeat, at which point many rival and unaligned officials, warlords, and
generals supported the claimant or abandoned him. It tells us about the way
Chinese historians recorded battles and how much modern readers should
trust the numbers listed in ancient histories. Finally, it is another example
that shows the difference between northern and southern China and how it
usually resulted in separate northern and southern dynasties.
BANDWAGON AND DIFFERENCES
The conspiring politicians and would-be rulers of the Qin Empire felt the
crushing burdens of the Mandate of Heaven almost as often as they felt the
benefits of it. The bandwagon effect for would-be rulers was one of the
most decisive benefits of that mandate. The initial victories of a would-be
emperor might have been based on little more than luck, or a limited and
unique tactical situation that he exploited. For example, the Fu family had
the benefit of being in a protected river valley not too distant from the
pivotal centers of power. They could hold key mountain passes in a
defensive position and selectively attack when their opponents were
distracted or engaged. These initial victories based on luck or limited
strategic situations encouraged rivals to defect. Defectors were induced by
the fact that those who submitted received rather generous terms. Those
who declared their loyalties to the new emperor often remained in
command of their armies, and many even received important positions. This
wasn’t just generosity of the new emperor; he often still had limited control
over his home territories, and this was a convenient negotiation of power
under the guise of the mandate. The new emperor had to staff a complex
bureaucracy filled with Confucian scholars, manage the territory already
under control, and continue to feed, equip, and pay the army he possessed,
all while fending off rivals who resisted his power.
The compromise between the emperor and submitting warlords or
Confucian officials allowed the emperor to strengthen his position, reduce
the threats against him, and gain greater legitimacy. It also allowed the
warlord, bandit chief, or army leader to keep power, have his position
legitimized, and have a chance to amass greater wealth and power. The
wins of the emperor produced a positive feedback loop. The initial winner
received the submission of various warlords and leaders. This increased the
ruler’s tax base and the number of farmers he could call on to supply his
army, and it made him look like a mandated ruler in the eyes of the
Confucian officials who helped him govern and the people over whom he
governed. But there were significant limits to this power. A single defeat
could shatter an emperor’s power. The rival generals still held their armies,
so they could easily sense which way the wind was blowing and rebel, and
because of the ideology surrounding the Mandate of Heaven, they could
claim a powerful justification for their actions by arguing that the ruler had
lost the mandate.
 The conquest dynasties such as those from the Di were even more
susceptible to this. Because they weren’t ethnically Han (East Asians whose
name derives from the ancient Han dynasty), they had to work harder to
prove to the people—and most importantly, ethnically chauvinist officials
and the elite—that they were sanctioned rulers of China. (This was a
particularly difficult problem when a foreign dynasty had to respond to the
western threat. See chapter 10.) Tribes like the Di didn’t have skilled
bureaucrats who could collect taxes, administer rituals of leadership,
conduct a census that taxes households, and raise their armies. On top of
this, the Di tribe had only gained power within recent memory. There were
still many gaps to their rule. The various hilltop fortresses were only
nominally loyal to the government. They still provided potential centers of
opposition should the ruler falter and they shielded peasants from taxes and
the imposition of corvee labor. This weakened the central government, as it
couldn’t pay its army and didn’t have enough labor to build its own
fortresses. The most potentially damaging effect on a would-be emperor’s
power was the tendency to relocate the population of defeated enemy states
to areas around the capital. In times of severe chaos when central authority
was weak or nonexistent, people often became more important than empty
territory. By the time of the Battle of Fei River, there were over one
hundred forty thousand households from the Xianbei and Qiang tribes
stationed around the capital.
All of these factors meant that even though individuals like Fu Jian, Cao
Cao, and Zhu Yangzhang (see chapter 8) had impressive records of military
victory, charisma, and auras of power, their positions remained precarious.
The defeat at Fei River quickly led to an unraveling of the empire, as the
fortress chiefs, relocated people, and rival generals who still held command
of their original armies all reasserted their will. The defections by fortress
chiefs, relocated populations, and previously subdued but now deserting
generals were especially harder to reverse in this case because many of the
most loyal soldiers to the Qin dynasty were trampled and killed along with
their leader, Fu Rong.
NATURE OF CHINESE HISTORY
But the scope of defeat is perhaps exaggerated. The account of the battle
comes from only one source, the history of Fu Jian. This was written by
officials of the Jin dynasty trying desperately to sustain the legitimacy of
the southern regime. The aura of legitimacy was only increased by
portraying a catastrophic defeat of one of the Jin’s enemies, and this became
one of the biases that calls into question the accuracy of the account.1
Despite the bias, it’s tough to deny that the retreat from Fei River preceded
a dramatic and sudden implosion of the Qin Empire.
This becomes an excellent example of the long-term trends that modern
historians have noticed in Chinese history. These trends have particularly
strong influence on Chinese military history. The Confucian scholars who
were part of the ruling dynasty were responsible for writing history. Few of
them had any military experience. In fact, there is a perception of Chinese
culture as having a specific dichotomy that favors wen (or culture) or wu (or
martial matters). There is even a Chinese proverb that states, “Good iron
doesn’t make good nails, and good men don’t make good soldiers.” The
Wuzi, a writing within the Seven Military Classics, was actually suppressed
by many Confucian officials because of its brutality. This means that the
people writing the history were specifically opposed to the subjects and
leaders in their writing.
That being said, the cultural bias is a bit overstated. Many generals
throughout Chinese history had classical educations—some even wrote
poetry and sponsored the arts—and many officials led rather successful
armies. Despite the Confucian stereotype of the Chinese people as
culturally averse to war and naturally coalescing, their empires formed and
disintegrated because of war like any other culture. But there was still a
perception at least, and many times a strong divide between wen and wu
that persisted throughout Chinese history, and it did affect their writing on
military matters.
The problems don’t simply involve culturally minded historians who
were sometimes actively hostile toward military matters. The sources they
had to work with were sometimes sparse or wildly inaccurate. The
Confucian historians often had to rely on announcements of victory. These
were messages from frontier commanders to the general that included the
dates, times, locations, and such things as the names of friendly
commanders, their assignments, and troop dispositions. A recording of the
actual course of the battle was lacking. Moreover, there aren’t any
announcements of defeat recorded, which suggests that the commanders
were at best reluctant to send them and that they massaged the accounts (or
commanded their scribes to do so when they couldn’t write) in order to
receive imperial favor. The accounts of the enemy dead were often wildly
exaggerated and the friendly dead hardly reported. This seems done to
make it seem as though their victories were miraculous.2
The other primary sources Confucian historians used were the accounts
of conduct. These were even more self-serving, as they often acted like
eulogies for dead commanders written by friends and relatives of the
deceased. They often omitted unflattering information, distorted events to
make the deceased look even more important, and presented many half-
truths at best. The scribes compiling the accounts were often overworked
and operating under tight deadlines, so they uncritically borrowed from
these accounts and sometimes did wholesale insertions of these accounts
into the records.
Finally, every history of the previous dynasty was commissioned by the
current dynasty and written with a specific purpose. The writers had no
interest in tactics, strategy, or the course of the battle unless they
exemplified a teaching from a military classic. The Confucian scholars
knew the great works, including the Seven Military Classics, and they
believed that book learning mattered more than soldiering, so they made
sure to include ideas from those writings to show it was the proper
education of generals and application of principles that caused their
victories. Because of the motivation of historians, the nature of the primary
sources with which they worked, and the cultural bias of historians—though
the last factor is somewhat overstated—there is a significant barrier to
studying military history in China.
NUMBERS IN BATTLE
The final difficulty in military history includes the manipulation of the
number of soldiers in battles. Here the record of Chinese battles largely
matches those found in other cultures. Exaggerating the size of armies and
numbers of the dead was often done for several reasons. Scribal error, the
unreliability of eyewitness estimates, and the use of the wrong numbers to
make a deliberate moral or political point were the primary factors. Ancient
historians often wrote not to tell what happened but with a specific moral
purpose. Hence, they didn’t have the same scruples about bending facts to
fit their story.
In Chinese history, this goes back to the Mandate of Heaven. Scribes,
such as those writing the history of Fu Jian, were motivated to enhance the
magnitude of the defeat of the stereotypical bad last emperor. This in turn
enhanced the status of the current ruling dynasty (which conveniently
commissioned the history in the first place.) According to the chronicle of
Fu Jian, he mustered an estimated eight hundred seventy thousand troops to
attack the eastern Jin dynasty in the late fourth century, and over seven
hundred thousand of his soldiers died in the climactic battle. These numbers
are vigorously disputed, but many Chinese sinologists point to the figures in
the previous conflicts such as those in the War of the Eight Princes to show
that Chinese dynasties could raise and destroy large armies in a short
period. They also cite the many medieval Europeans who discounted Marco
Polo’s travels because of his seemingly unbelievably high numbers, yet his
record was true and is now considered a vital primary source. The high
numbers for this battle could also be true despite Western skepticism. But
given the huge numbers and the scope of the defeat, it’s likely the writers
sponsored by the Jin dynasty inflated the size of the army opposing them
and the magnitude of its defeat. Later Confucian scholars who finalized the
book in the Tang dynasty (see chapter 5) probably massaged the numbers
even further in an attempt to dissuade their current emperor from more
military adventures.
Even though they were likely inflated or exaggerated, the numbers were
still within the realm of possibility. While modern readers should have a
healthy skepticism of numbers, the ancient Chinese could field and destroy
large armies. The War of the Eight Princes decimated the western Jin
dynasty in ancient China; scholars argue that the Jin army had seven
hundred thousand soldiers at the start of the war. The battles from this civil
war ranged across northern China for only about six years, and one ancient
historian suggested that the capital province had only 1 percent of its
population survive the conflict. Modern historians posit that the powers in
the Warring States period from almost a thousand years earlier could
possibly field up to half a million men for one campaign. Historians will
likely never know what the true numbers were. There is good evidence that
the numbers in the Battle of Fei River were wildly inflated (but just as
strong evidence to say that those numbers were still possible) and that they
were overstated because of political and cultural factors. Whatever the size
of the army, the result of the battle is not in question.
CHINESE GEOGRAPHY
The Battle of Fei River displayed a characteristic common in Chinese
history. The northern Chinese forces had great difficulty in fighting in
southern terrain, and vice versa. The rivers that the southerners used for
logistics and travel became barriers to the northerners. These barriers
necessitated Fu Rong’s three-pronged attack at Fei River. One of the
flanking armies was tasked with capturing the headwaters of the Yangtze
River. Located in the Sichuan Valley, this would have allowed them to float
a fleet down the river that could help supply and coordinate attacks with the
land army.
China is roughly the same size as the United States or Europe (from the
Ural Mountains to the west). That size brings diverse climates, crops, and
lifestyles. The Yellow River flows west to east, and the area through which
it flows is similar in climate and geography to the Midwest states of Indiana
and Illinois. Unlike the Midwest, though, significant mountain ranges run
both north-south and east-west that channeled armies through pivotal
passes, reduced the arable land, and created a much higher population
density at the time of the Battle of Fei River than the modern American
Midwest. This area, in fact, is where ancient Chinese societies first formed
and was home to historic capitals such as Luoyang and Changan, as well as
the modern capital of Beijing. The armies here had large cavalry
components suitable for fighting in the plains along the river and the steppe
farther north of the Yellow River. The steppe also brought large contingents
of nomadic forces as friend or foe (and sometimes both at the same time),
from the Xiongnu tribes of the third century BC all the way to the Jurchens
of the sixteenth century AD.
Farther south of the Yellow River region, the Yangtze River stretches
east to west. The southern region dominated by the Yangtze also contains
rather steep peaks, narrow river gorges, and little arable land. This resulted
in the many carefully terraced hilltops that snake around the sides of hills
filled with rice paddies. In great contrast to the northern regions with
marked changes in weather between seasons, the southern climate is
tropical, with numerous jungles and swamps. Tropical diseases often
sapped the strength of northern armies operating in southern regions.
(Remember the sickness that incapacitated Cao Cao, for example.)
The hills, swamps, mountains, and two major east-west rivers created a
multitude of almost completely isolated geographic areas within China.
Most of the future rulers of China started their careers in regions like the
Sichuan Basin on the Upper Yangtze, the Middle and Lower regions, and
the northern Yellow plain or from some of the main regions under
consideration. When central Chinese authority weakened, many of the
regions attained some semblance of independence. The southern realms had
strong naval forces—trained marines used to operating in water, rivers,
marshes, and storming boats—and strong infantry forces. The northern
powers attempting to attack the south were usually at the end of their
logistical limits on tributary rivers. This made it easier for southern forces
to send a flanking attack. Cutting the logistical cord was often enough to
weaken the armies to the point they had to withdraw.
Southern forces faced their own share of problems as well. Their navies
excelled in the narrow rapids and gorges of the Yangtze but could not help
them project power in the north. When their armies marched north, they
faced the same logistical limits and susceptibility to flanking attacks as
northern armies. They were dangerously lacking in cavalry. They had little
need for cavalry forces in the south, little land in which to breed horses, and
therefore limited experience with horsemanship. Tactically, southern
cavalry was often mowed down by the charges of the north’s heavy cavalry.
The north often had to face dangerous and fast nomads, so they could easily
outflank their southern partners with their own speedy cavalry. Many of the
southern dynasties that expanded into the north were rump states that
regrouped after losing their northern lands. The northern military families
that supported the southern court would end up losing most of their lands
and were thus far weaker and had far less access to the emperor in the
south. An emperor from the south often lacked soldiers directly loyal to
him, which meant that the more success a general had in regaining the
north, the more that general became a threat to the court itself. Many of
these successful generals swooped south along the Yangtze and established
their own regimes by force. Finally, the southern elites did not want to send
their forces so far away from their local bases of power, so the leaders of
the south often faced numerous challenges prosecuting and controlling the
war in the north.
CONCLUSION
As Fu Jian and many others found out, the southern territories were very
hard to capture. Throughout Chinese history, from the Chin dynasty to the
Three Kingdoms period to the Sui and Mongol invasions all the way to
Chiang Kai-shek in the twentieth century, southern China could
occasionally be a base of power for would-be rulers but was usually the last
refuge of a dying dynasty. A single defeat could bring ruin to would-be
emperors. Their power often rested upon the victory of their armies. It was
negotiated with local rulers, such as the hilltop fortress chiefs in Fu Jian’s
day, but also various warlords and officials looking for a mandated ruler.
They fought battles with armies of unknown size, which was likely
exaggerated for effect, but could still be very large. China would face a long
period of disunion, and it was the combination of effective military
leadership and excellent use of naval forces that finally united the country
under the Sui dynasty.
 5

THE BATTLE OF YAN ISLAND

589

Drunk-Land lies at I cannot say how many thousand li from the Middle Kingdom. Its soil is
uncultivated, and has no boundary. It has no hills nor dangerous cliffs. The climate is
equable. Nowhere is there either darkness or light, cold or heat. Customs are everywhere the
same. There are no towns; the inhabitants live scattered about. They are very refined; they
neither love, nor hate, nor rejoice, nor give way to anger. They inhale the breeze, and drink
the dew; they do not eat of the five cereals. Happy in their rest, dignified in their movements,
they mingle freely with birds, beasts, fishes, and crustaceans. They have no chariots, nor
boats, nor weapons of any kind. . . . Under the Great Yü (2205 BC), laws were instituted,
rites were numerous, and music was of varied kinds, so that for many generations there was
no communication with Drunk-Land [until today]. . . . However, certain enlightened friends
of mine often slipped across on the sly. The poet Tao Chien, and others, to the number of ten
or a dozen, went off to Drunk-Land, disappeared there and never came back; they died there
and were buried in its earth. They are known in the Middle Kingdom as the Wine Immortals.
Ah me! How different are the customs of the people of Drunk-Land from those of the
country of the mother of Fu Xi (3rd millennium B.C.) of old! How pure and peaceful they
are! Well, I have been there myself, and therefore I have written this record.
—Wang Qi, Drunk-Land

Thus the victorious army is like a ton compared with an ounce, while the defeated army is
like an ounce weighed against a ton! The combat of the victorious is like the sudden release
of a pent up torrent down a thousand fathom gorge. This is the strategic disposition of force.
—Sunzi, The Art of War

IN 588, THE GENERALS OF THE SUI DYNASTY completed their massive fleet.
The emperor chose one of his most talented and experienced generals, Yang
Su (d. 606), to lead the flotilla. The construction at the headwaters of the
Yangtze included what they called “five banner warships.” These were
massive ships with five decks that could transport up to eight hundred men
per ship. The top deck was big enough to hold siege equipment such as
trebuchets. The ship contained six, fifty-foot-long spiked booms that could
be dropped onto opposing ships. If that didn’t destroy them outright, it
pinned them in position and allowed the eight hundred archers to rain
arrows and fire arrows on the hapless vessel. Construction also included
small Yellow Dragon-class ships that were faster and could hold about one
hundred men.
The Sui dynasty had followed the time-honored Chinese tradition of
rising to power in the north before organizing a significant naval campaign
against the south, but it had several advantages over it predecessors.1 First,
it did a much better job of consolidating the north. The mixed Sino-Turkish
elite that had developed over hundreds of years of conquest and
intermarriage between foreigners from the steppe and ethnic Han had
produced a vigorous set of leaders with the ethnic credentials to impress
and enlist Confucian elites, and a long heritage of martial skill. The
combination allowed the northern Zhou kingdom to absorb its neighbors
and become the vigorous Sui dynasty.
It had also expanded a great deal into southern China. It didn’t have to
worry about supply lines extending from the Huai or Han Rivers, fortresses
blocking their approaches to the Yangtze, or a tenuous supply line that
could be cut. Yang Su was supervising the building of a fleet at the
headwaters of the Yangtze itself, not far from the World War II capital in
Chonqing. Other columns of troops (eight in total, three completely naval
and a fourth that was mixed, totaling five hundred thousand men) could
embark or ford the river from the northern bank of the Middle Yangtze.
By late autumn 588, Yang Su embarked with his flotilla. The overall
strategy was to pin down the opposing naval forces using his fleet in the
Upper Yangtze, which should allow troops near the Chen capital of
Jiangking to cross the river and take the city. If the opposing fleet did not
engage Yang’s forces, then he could descend toward the east, make a flank
attack on defending forces, and assist in taking the capital and deposing the
rival emperor.
Yang Su had the advantage, but it wasn’t a foregone conclusion that he
would succeed. Larger forces than his had failed, and the south still had the
advantages of terrain, in particular a nasty series of swift currents, narrow
gorges, and strong fortresses that lined his approach to the capital.
The first resistance was a combination of two forts, several thousand
men, and a large contingent of Green Dragon-class warships contesting the
passage of Wolf Tail rapids. Yang Su feared being attacked from both
directions if he advanced in daylight. It was dangerous, but he decided to
advance through the narrow rapids at night and bypass the force. Historians
report that he forced his men to bite on sticks to enforce noise discipline. In
addition, he had landed two raiding parties north of the river forts.
The Chen forces didn’t think Yang Su would try to negotiate the rapids
in the dark with the risk of attack from the soldiers on alert. They were
surprised, then, to be attacked from land and sea during the night. Yang’s
daring had paid off handsomely with a large haul of prisoners, and he
continued down the river.
Yang faced the next challenge about twenty miles farther, where his
opponent had laid three giant iron chains across the river. Yang couldn’t
bypass them, so he landed soldiers again, but this time on both sides of the
river. They launched several costly frontal assaults before finally seizing the
forts in a night attack. The chains were cut and the opposing fleet fled to the
strong defensive position at Yan Island.
By this point Yang didn’t see the need for subtlety. He placed his five
banner ships in the front of his formation and charged down the river.
Unlike Western navies, they didn’t attempt to ram or board ships. The
spiked boom of the warship destroyed dozens of craft, and the hundreds of
archers on each ship killed many more soldiers. By this point, most of the
defense leading to the enemy capital of Jiangkang had collapsed, and the
city itself was close to falling. Over the course of the campaign, Yang
destroyed dozens of ships, captured thousands of men, sent the remaining
enemy fleeing, and shattered the defense of the entire western one-third of
the Chen state.
The defending Chen dynasty had fewer soldiers, it is true, but their
situation was compounded by weak defense measures. The infighting
among Confucian officials paralyzed potential defensive policies, which
meant the emperor ended up keeping most of the remaining navy around
the capital. The exceptions were the fleet defeated by Yang Su.
The Sui commander opposite the capital also used a combination of
ruses to advance unopposed. He hid his good ships and displayed decrepit
hulks. He went on large game hunts near the river, ostensibly to feed his
soldiers, but their real purpose was to condition the enemy to ignore large
troop movements near the river. And he deliberately allowed the enemy to
see through other ruses, which led the defending troops to relax further.
When he did cross the river, he smashed the surprised enemy and advanced
to Jiangkang unopposed by the Chen fleet, which was still harbored and
paralyzed around the capital.
The final battle took place on the high ground east of the city. Again, the
Chen dynasty had a good number of soldiers, but unwise deployment made
it difficult for them to reinforce each other. One of the subcommanders for
the Chen showed initiative, but when his force was repelled (using burned
grass to conceal the Sui redeployment of forces), the Chen army retreated in
a general rout. The rival emperor was deposed, and many of the remaining
units quickly submitted to the new dynasty.

The final outcome of this battle reveals many trends seen in Chinese
history during the period of disunion. It showed the influence of western
tribes on the culture of northern elites, the spread of Buddhism, the
increasing importance of the south, and Chinese expansion at the expense
of southern tribes.
TRENDS IN THE PERIOD OF DISUNION
This victory in early 589 ended the Chinese period of disunion. This was
the longest period of division from the start of imperial China in the second
century BC until the last dynasty fell in 1911. While this time defies easy
periodization and seems like an aberration, it produced many important
trends in Chinese history.

These trends somewhat mirror what happened in western Europe with

the fall of the Roman Empire. The West witnessed a merging of cultures
between Germanic tribes and Roman settlers. This mixture created what
medieval historians started to call Europe. A similar event happened in
China, but Confucian historians, acutely aware of their privileged status in
the Middle Kingdom, often argued that Chinese culture eventually
conquered the barbarians. The new ruling elites of the barbarian kingdoms
employed civilian bureaucrats to collect taxes and provide legitimacy for
their rule. They intermarried with leading Chinese families and started to
learn the Chinese script of their more sophisticated neighbors. At first this
led to more division, as one part of the family became more like the
Chinese in the capital while their relatives stayed in frontier garrisons along
the steppe. The latter group married their own ethnicity, retained their
language and customs, and kept their military skills honed. This contributed
to the Chinese period of disunion, as they revolted against their seemingly
decadent relatives in the capital. Over generations, there was a much
stronger fusion between the western tribes and the Chinese. It came to be
seen as ideal for a leader to have a strong foundation in Confucian classics
but also a mastery of archery, horseback riding, and a robust grasp of
strategy and statesmanship. Yang Jian, who became Emperor Wen when he
founded the Sui dynasty, exemplified this trend. He led a coterie of strong
generals like Yang Su who could unify China.
The introduction and influence of Buddhism was particularly
pronounced in this period. Roughly contemporary with the founding of
Christianity, missionaries spread Buddhism to China in the first century AD.
Originally, the Chinese simply viewed it as a new strain of Daoism. Many
early translators used Daoist terms to describe Buddhist concepts. With the
collapse of the Han dynasty, the religion spread rapidly. It contained a
doctrine of personal salvation with several routes to that goal. Like
Confucianism, it contained high standards of personal ethics. It received
continued inspiration from India, such as advanced meditative practices.
Buddhism in India had started as a reform movement, but Chinese
Buddhism combined with local religions. They used the meditative
procedures of early Buddhism and believed it represented a Confucian form
of self-improvement. Chinese Buddhism added a different strain of
philosophy that combined a succession of Buddhas that formed a force
similar to the Daoist concept of way. Socially, Buddhism demanded that
heirs perform sacrifices to their ancestors. Chinese Buddhism required that
first sons have families so the sons could fulfill the familial piety required
by Confucianism, but they also believed this prevented “hungry ghosts,”
which represent unpleased spirits from Buddhist thought. And they
encouraged second sons to become monks.
Daoism and Buddhism compared in some ways to Western religions.
Their principles governed personal lives, brought comfort during chaotic
periods filled with endemic war, and created potent political philosophies.
During the period of Chinese disunion, many monks created large
monasteries that provided oases of order. Much like their European
counterparts, these Buddhist monks preserved ancient texts, administered
law and order, delivered food to nearby peasants, provided basic medical
services, and, in the case of some militant orders, formed armies. Vigorous
emperors of the resurgent Tang (618–907) and Song (960–1279) dynasties
often severely pruned these monasteries and confiscated or heavily taxed
their lands. This was often the result of a monastery’s material excess,
interference in politics, and antagonism from warrior monks. As the
religion of both the Chinese and the western tribes they associated with,
Buddhism acted as a unifying force.
 But the major Chinese belief systems differ from Western religions in
important ways. They have no concept of a single God. Heaven is more a
cosmic order, so Chinese religious leaders did not record theophanies (the
appearance of a deity to a human) and did not form institutional churches.
Thus, Chinese history does not contain the equivalents of such things as
papal decrees or an investiture controversy, during which European leaders
battled the pope for the right to ordain priests in their realms. Not having a
concept of God decreased the duality between the spiritual and natural
words seen in Western religions, in which heaven is above, earth below, and
people in between. Chinese religions contained more thought comparable to
the Greek philosophers. But even the Greeks were more speculative about
societal issues and theology, while Chinese philosophies often commented
on how religious principles applied to practical issues of righteous daily
living and political concerns. Chinese emperors modified Confucianism to
bolster the strength of imperial dynasties.
EXPANSION INTO THE SOUTH
The campaigns of Yang Su focused on the Yangtze River. This had been an
important center of Chinese strength since the Qin dynasty. But successive
Chinese rulers held only isolated areas along the Middle and Lower Yangtze
for much of that early period. Both Cao Cao and Fu Jian fought in this
region to try to control the south. The territory along the river was often
rough and jagged and meant that settlements consisted of isolated pockets
of Han Chinese in between different ethnic groups who practiced
economies other than farming. Farther from the river, the terrain became
even more rugged. A distant central government almost always had
difficulty controlling mountainous and rough terrain which is why in the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries, for example, the Taiping Rebellion and
Mao’s insurgency both started in these remote regions. In this early period,
the tribes around Chinese settlements were often fiercely independent or
only nominally loyal to the emperors.
But the period of disunion changed these Chinese settlements in the
south from islands to the dominant culture. The trickle of settlers from the
north soon turned into a flood. The relatively flat land around the northern
Yellow River made it much more difficult to find shelter or protection from
threats. The same trends that prevented the easy conquest of the south by
northern armies also made it rather attractive to settlers fleeing chaos in the
north. Individuals, small groups, and more often entire households and
towns under a mayor or provincial official relocated to the south. They
formed defensible farming communities on the sides of mountains (using
terraced rice fields). The southern empires often had a difficult time raising
armies because southern elites jealously guarded their manpower. This
created a quid pro quo whereby the southern emperor granted land in
relatively unpopulated areas in exchange for registering part of or an entire
community as military households. During the early periods, these military
households were valuable members of the state. They received tax breaks
on their land, since farming helped the military household supply its own
food, and the excess could be sold to fund armor and weapons. In exchange,
the government received a steady supply of soldiers, usually one male from
each military house, and it didn’t have to pay for feeding or equipping the
soldiers. The government did forego the tax revenue on the lands of military
households, but it didn’t lose any money out of pocket, only future tax
revenue from new families. As the dynasty declined, these households often
became little more than slaves, with soldiers being forced to serve far into
old age and scrambling to find replacements. They were often absorbed into
the private armies of local landlords or, more often, considered servants of
the state.
The new Chinese settlers ended up displacing original tribes in a process
not too unlike American expansion in the West. (In fact, modern Chinese
politicians often justify their occupation of Tibet using similar analogies.)
Even as late as the twentieth century, there was sometimes a divide in
provinces between the hakka, or old settlers who lived in the rough
highlands on the economic, political, and geographic margins of society,
and the new settlers who worked prosperous farms in lowlands near major
centers of power, such as Nanchang in Jiangxi Province and who made up
most of the political leadership and dominant families of the province. The
ethnic, political, and economic isolation of the old settlers eking out a living
in rough terrain made them prime recruits for Communist revolutionaries
proclaiming economic reform.2 Some of the tribesmen adopted an if-you-
can’t-beat-them-join-them attitude. For example, the five banner ships that
led the attack at Yan Island had included thousands of archers from
southern tribes. But most of the time, the frontier was the location of fierce
friction between the original settlers and the new or guest settlers.
 A combination of ethnic tension, raids, assaults, and the rebellion of
southern elites losing privileges inspired a rather massive campaign by
Yang Su. Yang’s army ended up marching more than three hundred miles
and fought more than seven hundred engagements throughout southern
China. The army was so remote that it was out of contact with Sui officials
for more than one hundred days. This campaign finally put the south under
firm control, or at least as firm as ever.
CHINESE IMPERIALISM
Imperialism, combining racism, economic exploitation, and military
superiority, is normally thought of as a Western wrongdoing committed
against indigenous peoples. However, China, and by extension, other non-
Western powers, are not unique victims of European racism, but had their
own versions of imperialism and causes for it. China did face imperialism,
but its weak state at the time wasn’t necessarily a result of greedy foreign
invaders. Chinese dynasties often had periods of expansion and collapse.
During the early periods of a given dynasty, and particularly the Han and
Tang, Chinese forces often controlled territory as far south as Hanoi, as far
west as the Tarim basin in modern-day central Asia, and much of Korea.
The Ming dynasty even sent large treasure fleets to much of Southeast Asia
and even the east coast of Africa. (One theory posits those treasure fleets
actually discovered America.)
The early Sui and Tang dynasties demonstrate this pattern. Yang Su
conquered the southern tribes and imposed Chinese political power and
cultural ideals as far south as modern-day Vietnam. A dominant facet of
Chinese history and culture was the violent expansion and conquest of
nonethnic Han people. In fact, the Chinese people called themselves Middle
Kingdom because Chinese literati considered themselves a beacon of
civilization and culture in Asia with barbarian kingdoms bordering them in
every direction. The Chinese writing system, imperial style of government,
and religion did spread to and inspire neighboring countries. Even their
foreign policy was centered on a parent-child relationship whereby various
powers had to approach them as a dutiful son showing the proper amount of
filial piety.
The corollary to this is the idea that China had something special that
enticed the greed of foreigners. During periods of weakness, the Chinese
faced invasion. Because every adult male in nomadic societies could ride a
horse and rode off to war, compared to a relatively small percentage of
males in sedentary societies who were conscripted, nomadic groups often
had prodigious militaries compared to their relatively small populations. Yet
the nomadic lifestyle of grazing sheep and raising horses couldn’t match the
wealth and luxuries created in sedentary societies. The period of disunion
shows this pattern most clearly as China faced invasions for three hundred
years. But China built primitive versions of the Great Wall as far back as
the Chin dynasty in the second century BC. It built a series of dikes and
canals to prevent the invasion of Jurchen tribes during the eleventh century.
And the sixteenth century Ming dynasty faced invasion and created the
current version of the Great Wall. The invasions weren’t simply foreigners
eyeing China with “tiger like voracity,”3 but a factor of two different kinds
of societies living in close proximity to each other. As a sedentary people,
the Chinese farmed, worked metal, and created silk garments. To put it
simply, they had products that nomadic groups living on the steppes
couldn’t produce for themselves.
The Chinese used a variety of tactics to subdue the threats. During
periods of strength, particularly the Tang dynasty under Li Shimin (ruling
name Tang Taizong), they could use their elite heavy cavalry to pursue and
destroy nomadic armies. Under weaker dynasties, the logistical
requirements of infantry-based armies made the nomads practically
untouchable once they retreated to the steppes and uncatchable when they
disengaged from Chinese forces. Extensive military campaigns were
adopted as far back as the early Han dynasty, but these were often
inconclusive.4 The Chinese rulers then set up trading outposts. This
provided a way for the powers on the steppe to trade for the things they
needed. The Chinese received warhorses and sometimes shipments of hides,
or meat, from the herds they kept. During periods of greater Chinese
weakness, they provided payments, often in lengths of silk, to the various
tribes, from the Xiongnu to the Mongols. Or they offered marriage
proposals under the guise of allowing the nomads to join the Heavenly
Family led by the emperor. Even in periods of weakness, they couched the
payments or offers of marriage in terms that still cast China as the Middle
Kingdom and center of the world order. In short, the Chinese gave as well
as they got. They often practiced a form of imperialism when strong and
always exercised cultural influence, even in periods of weakness. During
that weakness, they used ethnically chauvinistic reasons to justify their
position.
CONCLUSION
Yang Su’s fleet showed the importance of a navy in conquering southern
China. It showed the strength of the Sui dynasty, as it succeeded where
many others in the period of disunion had failed. The mix of Turkish
nomads and ethnic Han produced a new martial vigor in northern leaders
who could rule from the saddle. It also showed Chinese expansion into the
south and provides much-needed context for the sometimes sad realities
that accompany imperial expansion, and it pushes back on the idea that
imperialistic expansion is unique to the West. It was the Tang dynasty and
the subject of the next chapter that truly represented China’s golden age and
biggest expansion of power.
 6

THE BATTLE OF HULAO

621

In the time of the accomplished Emperor Taizong, the illustrious and magnificent founder of
the dynasty, among the enlightened and holy men who arrived was the Most-virtuous
Olopun, from the country of Syria. Observing the azure clouds, he bore the true sacred
books; beholding the direction of the winds, he braved difficulties and dangers. In the year of
our Lord 635 he arrived at Changan; the Emperor sent his Prime Minister, Duke Fang
Hiuenling; who, carrying the official staff to the west border, conducted his guest into the
interior; the sacred books were translated in the imperial library, the sovereign investigated
the subject in his private apartments; when becoming deeply impressed with the rectitude
and truth of the religion, he gave special orders for its dissemination. . . .
Orders were then issued to the authorities to have a true portrait of the Emperor taken;
when it was transferred to the wall of the church, the dazzling splendor of the celestial visage
irradiated the illustrious portals. The sacred traces emitted a felicitous influence, and shed a
perpetual splendor over the holy precincts. According to the Illustrated Memoir of the
Western Regions, and the historical books of the Han and Wei dynasties, the kingdom of
Syria reaches south to the Coral Sea; on the north it joins the Gem Mountains; on the west it
extends toward the borders of the immortals and the flowery forests; on the east it lies open
to the violent winds and tideless waters. The country produces fire-proof cloth, life-restoring
incense, bright moon-pearls, and night-luster gems. Brigands and robbers are unknown, but
the people enjoy happiness and peace. None but Illustrious laws prevail; none but the
virtuous are raised to sovereign power. The land is broad and ample, and its literary
productions are perspicuous and clear.
—Christian Monument in Changan, 781

LIKE PREVIOUS DYNASTIES, the Sui lasted only a short time. The massive
campaigns in Korea had taxed the resources of the state and led to revolt
and rebellion, and in the chaos, the Li family emerged as one of the strong
contenders to consolidate power. Li Shimin’s father was Duke of Taiyun, in
the pivotal Fen River valley north of the capital at Luoyang. His son Li
Shimin put Wang Shicong under siege in the capital in 620. The latter sent a
request to Dou Jiande for help. He was based in the plains surrounding the
Yellow River to the east. They weren’t the closest of friends, but they
shared political interests that made them both want to fight Li. Dou knew
that if Li captured the capital, Dou would be the next target. Only Li would
have the additional surrendered soldiers of Wang, and the additional
territory and prestige from capturing Luoyang. It would also increase Li’s
case for possessing the Mandate of Heaven. Finally, Dou hoped that after he
defeated Li, he could be the one to absorb Wang’s now-weakened regime.1
Li took a small force, no more than half of the fifty thousand at
Luoyang, and went to defend the critical Hulao Pass to the east of Luoyang.
The valley is described in detail by one early Western writer:

Fifty miles east of Lo Yang, the confused loess hills which stretch eastward along the south
bank of the Yellow river from the Shensi border end abruptly at the stream of [Ssu-shui]. The
stream flows in a flat valley about a mile broad, bordered to the west by the loess hills which
end in a steep slope. To the east the stream has in past ages scoured out a low, vertical cliff,
on top of which the great plain begins; flat, featureless, dotted at intervals with villages in
groves of trees. The stream itself, receding from the cliff in a course of time, now flows in
the center of the sunken valley, with a stretch of flat land on either bank. The road from the
east to Lo Yang and Shensi descends into the ravine, crossing the stream at the little city of
Ssu-shui, before entering the hills by a narrow defile among precipices.

Li stayed in his powerful position on top of the cliffs on the west side of
the pass. He was in no hurry. He held a strong defensive position, and every
day saw his remaining force exhausting the supply of his opponent, bring
closer the successful end of the siege in Luoyang. Li’s strategy was
reminiscent of Sunzi’s maxim to first occupy a position of strength and then
seek victory. Dou’s wife suggested the he bypass Li’s position altogether.
They should move to the north and east of Li’s position and attack his
homeland in Taiyuan Province. This would unsettle Li’s tactical position
and weaken his claim to the mandate. If Dou was lucky, he could force Li to
chase him. But Dou’s generals overruled the plan. They were possibly
bribed by Wang to make sure they relieved the siege at Luoyang, but they
were definitely dismissive of a woman’s opinion and considered her
unworthy of giving them advice. On top of this, Dou’s force might have had
significant trouble leaving its logistical tether along the Yellow River.
After a month, Li finally advanced on Dou. The sources don’t list an
exact reason, but it’s likely he believed the morale of his opponent’s army
had deteriorated, but he also didn’t want Dou’s men to retreat to the safety
of their core territories. To entice them to battle, he sent a cavalry raid on
Dou’s supply lines and made his camp at the west side of the pass look like
it was weakly held. Dou then deployed his troops into battle positions in the
eastern side of the valley. Yet Li still waited. His opponent was arrayed in
battle formation and didn’t want to break ranks. This meant they were
deployed all morning without eating, and they were starting to get stiff,
hungry, and tired. By noon, Li finally sent a probing attack. When Dou’s
men withdrew in fear instead of attacking the probing force, Li launched an
all-out assault.
Li charged into the thick of the fighting with his elite cavalry. One of his
close relatives cut and hacked his way back and forth across the battlefield
so many times that it was said his armor was filled with arrows like a
porcupine. The key moment came when Li reached the east side of the
valley and unfurled the Tang banner. Combined with a sudden flanking
attack from the returning cavalry raid, Dou’s forces scattered in fear. Over
fifty thousand were taken prisoner, and Dou was killed trying to cross the
river. The combined effect of capturing Luoyang a short time later in the
west and the submission of most of Dou’s forces and leaders in the east
greatly helped Li consolidate his rule. Dou had controlled one of the key
population and farming centers in the empire. With Dou Jiang defeated, Li
had subdued his major rivals to his east and west, leaving only general
mopping-up operations against holdouts.
TANG DYNASTY
During the period of disunion, Sui Wendi (541–604), who descended from
mixed steppe-Chinese ancestors, founded the Sui dynasty in 581. Like the
reign of the Qin dynasty, his was short, forfeited upon his death to the
tyrannical emperor Yang-ti, which was quickly followed by the Tang
dynasty in 618. The Tang formed one of the most vigorous and splendid
periods in Chinese history.
The Tang dynasty benefitted from several policies started during the Sui
dynasty. The empire recruited scholars and civil servants from prominent
local families in various regions but also established the exam system,
which increased the caliber of the civil servants. The exam system tested a
potential civil servant’s knowledge of the Confucian classics such as the
Analects and also what eventually became the Seven Military Classics.
Many local families believed that having a family member pass the exam
and enter civil service qualified it as an elite family. Thus, many local
leaders became tied to the central dynasty and spent small fortunes on tutors
and supplies so their sons could pass. Leaders from Chinese society could
still rise from humble origins. An Lushan, a powerful general who
eventually revolted, and other powerful figures within the dynasty were
often illiterate foreigners with little cultural education. But the divide
between the civil and military spheres continued.

The equal-field system reinvigorated agriculture, which had stagnated

during the long period of disunion. In theory, the emperor owned all the
land and then allocated it equitably (for the most part) among every subject
of the empire. The state then taxed the land and received a portion of its
goods or called on the farmers for physical labor. Part of this labor formed
the fubing system. The fubing consisted of farmers who owed service to the
state in times of war in exchange for tax exemption on their land. This was
somewhat similar to the military households formed by other empires but
was far more successful for far longer. The tax exemption did not constitute
a huge bonus because the state required soldiers to supply their own arms
and equipment. But it did create a cost effective and relatively efficient
system for supplying soldiers. This concept is somewhat similar to the
citizen-soldier ideal found in Republican Rome and the United States. In
contrast to those ideals, though, these soldiers were tied to the land, the
military obligation passed from father to son, and during the decline of the
Tang dynasty, just as in the earlier Sui dynasty, the government regarded
those who were part of fubing as little better than slaves, socially and
legally.
Culturally, the Tang capital at Chang’an became the envy of the world.
In size, significance, and diversity it had no rival until modern times. The
population flourished, and Chinese culture opened itself to foreigners. The
city lured traders, diplomats, gawkers, and people from every corner of the
world. It contained Japanese, Koreans, Central Asians, Vietnamese, Arabs,
Jews, Persians, and even Christians from Europe. The Tang repaired the
Grand Canal that connected the Yellow and Yangtze Rivers. This allowed
the opulent capital and densely populated regions of the north to import
food and goods more easily from the south. It also contributed to cross-
regional trade, and the resulting taxes added to the splendor of the dynasty.
As an emperor with a Chinese and nomadic background, Li Shimin, who
was called Emperor Taizong (599–649), extended Chinese power into the
steppes. His mixed ancestry provided him with a strong military
background, and his close connections to steppe groups provided him with
powerful cavalry. The unique combination of skills led to what historians
call Li’s “strategic trademark.”2 He would advance against an enemy and
draw it into the field. He would make sure to have a stronger, fortified
position than his enemy and better supplies. (In most cases this was fairly
easy, considering that he was often outnumbered and smaller armies require
less food.) When the enemy tired, he would dangle some kind of bait. He
would either destroy his fortifications, or retreat a bit, or he would feign
weakness or a lightly held position. When the enemy took the bait and
attacked, he would use his cavalry as the tip of the spear to break his
enemy’s center and cause its psychological collapse. With the same cavalry,
he would pursue the enemy relentlessly until he annihilated his opponents.
The speed and maneuverability of his cavalry forces were particularly
suited to this aggressive manner of combat. It was no surprise, then, that he
expanded Chinese control far into the steppe and oasis cities along the Silk
Road. The better military control over the Silk Road facilitated a transfer of
knowledge and wealth across much of the Asian continent. He expanded
Chinese control so far into central Asia that later Tang forces encountered
Middle Eastern-based Muslim armies at the Battle of Talas River (751).
They fought the Muslim armies near modern-day Afghanistan. Both sides
were at the limits of their power, and the Tang dynasty was soon consumed
with the An Lushan rebellion, but this was an important example of the
scope and reach of the Tang dynasty.
In fact, the cultural achievements of this period set the standard for
beauty and glory in Chinese history. Tang cultural accomplishment was
cosmopolitan in nature. Music from central Asia entered along the trade
routes. Merchants from Arabia and India set up quarters in southeastern
China and brought their cultural tastes with them. Pottery figurines placed
in Chinese tombs included traders and ladies from foreign courts. Nestorian
Christians established churches, and their monuments provide important
insight into the history of non-Western Christians. Poetry included romantic
descriptions of foreign culture and places, such as exotic goods in the
market or the far reaches of the Tang dynasty. An anthology of poetry from
Li Bo (701–762) compiled during the Ming dynasty contained almost fifty
thousand poems and stunningly beautiful imagery. Li Bo wrote about
service on the frontier:

A Tartar horn tugs at the north wind,

Thistle Gate shines whiter than the stream.
The sky swallows the road to Kokonor.
On the Great Wall, a thousand miles of moonlight.

This period was also the golden age of Buddhism in China. Buddhism
was first introduced during the period of disunion; the humble monasteries
patronized by the emperors became centers of vast land and wealth during
this dynasty. Not only were the monasteries rich, but the sophisticated
beauty of their temples inspired awe. Few Buddhist temples have survived
in China, but the architecture, wooden sculptures, and painted walls at the
Hoyuji temple in Japan draw millions of tourists today. The monasteries
sent monks across South Asia to learn from Indian scholars, and they often
congregated in the capital. One recently excavated cave contained exquisite
stone sculptures and thousands of ancient manuscripts. Buddhist temples
often served as centers of learning and inns for their traveling colleagues or
merchants. Scholarship continued as literacy spread. This included more
dynastic histories, dictionaries, and also commentaries on the Confucian
classics.
CHANGING CLASSIC TEXTS
The last of the Seven Military Classics, Questions and Replies between
Tang Taizong and Lei Weigong, was written during this period. It is
important to consider that the first of the military classics was likely
completed a thousand years earlier, from the perspective of a small state
seeking a powerful revolution against the dominant power. The last classic
is a reported conversation between the current emperor and a military
theorist. Society had changed, and the writers at this point were answering
questions from a position of power instead of seeking power or vying for
power among warring states. Some Chinese scholars claim there was little
worthy or novel military theory beyond the end of the Warring States
period. They claim they are useless theorizing from Confucian bureaucrats.
But there is no specific evidence that early writers were military men. Many
of them seemed more like a skilled class of advisers. And later writers did
have a fair amount of military experience. On top of that, this is a collection
of writings that summarizes statements from one of China’s greatest
military leaders (Li Shimin or Taizong). The writings also comment on
specific battles and analyze them in light of classic military theory.3
It may seem like these disparate books, written by vastly different people
in different positions at different times, don’t fit together, but they were
compiled in the later Song dynasty as a specific core of military readings
designed to help aspiring commanders. Instead of looking at the differences,
one might consider how each book treats warfare from a different position
of power and with different goals and means. With a wide and substantive
discussion of various concepts, from revolutionary warfare to preserving
state power to the use of chariots changing to cavalry, it provides a future
commander a broad foundation of knowledge. Reading these, an aspiring
Chinese leader would know how to fight in a swamp or on the steppes; how
to conduct river combat to topple an emperor; or how to defend a fortress
using fire tactics.
In short, these classics provide a corpus of wisdom that could justify
certain approaches, positions, and strategies. But because they tended to be
vague and often had contradictory information, they could actually support
both sides of a position at the same time. That tended to undermine their use
as an ironclad guide. Yet there is still plenty of evidence that the ruses and
strategies mentioned in them were used in battle. Every chapter in this book
you are reading thus far (and more to come) illustrates examples of
strategies from these classics. Although it’s possible they were included by
Confucian scholars writing their history with knowledge of the classics, and
not as a product of thought that said, “I should follow this principle of [Han
dynasty historian] Ssu Ma.” In short, one might answer the question of their
effectiveness like the medieval scholar Peter Abelard’s discussion of
seemingly contradictory biblical principles, with a yes and no (Sic et Non).
WHY NOT CHINESE SAMURAI OR KNIGHTS?
This is a good place to consider the role of military technology and why
armies in China looked different than those in medieval Europe, and why
they even looked different than those in their neighbor Japan. The answer
lies in the relationships between geography, power, and population.
Chinese leaders never faced a situation such as those faced by the
Angevin English kings. These kings traced their ancestry back to the Duke
of Normandy and his 1066 invasion of England. Each in turn was the
English king and also Duke of Normandy, and after Henry II married
Eleanor of Aquitaine, he also became Count of Anjou and Aquitaine. Thus
he was a king but actually held more territory as a vassal in France than as
king of England. This made his relationship with the French king
particularly awkward and complicated during times of war. The clear-cut
delineation of power took hundreds of years to navigate. This kind of
diffusion of power was quite common in Europe.4
The Chinese faced a bit of this during the period of disunion. For
example, Fu Jian’s empire collapsed after Fei River at least in part because
he had too many fortress chiefs only nominally loyal to him. And during
periods of weakness, various government officials rebelled and became
independent chiefs. Unlike in Europe, this trend was an aberration and not
the norm. A new emperor in China did negotiate power, but the cultural
norms and power of the empire eventually absorbed the former rivals.
Much like the Duke of Normandy, the governor of Taiyuan Province
founded his own nation. But unlike Europe, once the Tangs gained power,
they maintained strong control over the use of that power and their
subordinate political leaders.
 In Europe, this diffusion of power created a feudal system centered on a
negotiated arrangement of delegating central power in exchange for the
supply of knights. The Chinese also developed a form of warfare based on
heavy cavalry and had a period of disunion with diffuse political power. But
the Chinese polities consolidated politically under the Sui and Tang
dynasties. The strong central government could raise large horse armies
without a need to outsource it to its vassals. The control over the use of
military power and the means of raising armies made China’s medieval
history far different than Europe’s and meant the rise of a noble class of
knights providing service as vassals to their king never occurred. The
legalistic emperor commanded far more power than his medieval European
counterparts.
The Chinese empires’ use of large infantry-based armies with cavalry
components rather than specialized warriors such as the samurai in Japan,
followed a similar logic. Crossbows require less training than longbows, are
easier to aim, and have more penetrating power (which is why they were
banned by the pope in Europe). They can even be preloaded for immediate
release upon sight of an enemy. The smaller missiles were easier to
manufacture and transport. But they had a slower rate of fire (by almost six
times) and shorter range than regular arrows. They can’t be loaded and shot
by somebody on horseback. All of this means they are ideally suited for use
in large numbers, behind cover, and especially in the defense of a city.
The crossbow made large armies relatively easier to train, less expensive
to equip, and far more deadly than their competitors. They were not
especially well-suited to fighting in cavalry warfare, but they were well-
suited to territories with large populations. As far back as the Warring States
period, Chinese rulers could raise armies and train them to use the crossbow
quickly compared to armies that relied on highly skilled individual
warriors; as a result, they could confront an enemy in relatively short order.
The dense population centers, technology that worked best in large
formations, and weapons that could be used by raw conscripts, facilitated
the use of substantial infantry armies. Combined with political
considerations whereby power was not subcontracted to feudal vassals, this
moved China away from the use of knights.5
In contrast, the samurai were highly skilled and trained. The population
of Japan was often far smaller than that of China. The Japanese centers of
power had less available farmland, which restricted the population growth,
the number of potential recruits, and the size of an army. The armor and
sword of a samurai could consume anywhere from six to nine months of a
smith’s time, and many months of income for the average peasant. Finally,
the complex tactics needed to survive a fight with other samurai (which,
contrary to popular knowledge, most often consisted of rival horse archers
maneuvering around each other for a better shot) required years of intensive
training.
One story is fairly typical of the exquisite training of the samurai. A
father and son on a small rural estate awoke to thieves stealing a horse.
Without any conversation, both warriors mounted their horses and sped off
in pursuit. They often operated outside of each other’s sight but coordinated
their efforts to such a degree that it seemed planned. When they finally
cornered one of the thieves, still out of sight of each other, the father yelled,
“Shoot,” and the thump of his son’s bow was heard before the father’s word
faded away. The father called for his son to get the horse and rode home
without a second thought. The son recovered the horse, and as he rode
home, he was joined in twos and threes by his servants and retainers. By the
time he reached home, he had a posse of thirty men in arms. He dismissed
them and went to bed without checking in with his father. Their training
was such that the father and son didn’t need to check on each other,
coordinate strategy, or even practice, but in the middle of the night and
within hours, they had completed their mission.6
The average farmer didn’t have the luxury of years of study. He labored
most of the year on his farm to feed himself. The combination of
technology and skill required made samurai skills a province of the elite.
This meant that a handful of samurai were often the most that a lord or local
elite could produce. Armies were composed of dozens of loosely connected
groups of allies, retainers, relatives, and supporters. This made them
incredibly unstable, and alliances based on coalitions of samurai were short
lived and hard to maneuver on the battlefield. Power in Japan, then, was
relatively more diffuse for much of its history. The combination of political
power, geography, and technology made warfare in Japan (and to a certain
extent Europe) the domain of relatively few numbers of samurai (and
knights). In contrast, the relatively large population and ease of arming and
training numbers of crossbow soldiers in China made infantry a much
bigger component of its armies and meant there was no specialized class of
warrior similar to the samurai.
CONCLUSION
Li Shimin’s victories inaugurated one of the golden ages in Chinese history.
They projected power farther than any dynasty previously had and exported
Chinese culture throughout much of Asia. Military writers completed the
Seven Military Classics in this period, and they were compiled by
Confucians in the next dynasty. This period also showed the effects of
military technology in China and how the emperors retained control over
the use of force, with a resulting lack of focus on specialized cavalry
components similar to knights and samurai. But China had yet to encounter
a nomadic foe like the Mongols, who could adapt to different terrains and
modes of combat.
 7

THE SIEGE OF XIANGYANG

1267–1273

[The Mongols] are most efficient in wars, having been in conflict with other nations for the
space of these forty-two years. When they come to any rivers, the chief men of the company
have a round and light piece of leather. They put a rope through the many loops on the edge
of this, draw it together like a purse, and so bring it into the round form of a ball, which
leather they fill with their garments and other necessaries, trussing it up most strongly. But
upon the midst of the upper part thereof, they lay their saddles and other hard things; there
also do the men themselves sit. This, their boat, they tie to a horse’s tail, causing a man to
swim before, to guide over the horse, or sometimes they have two oars to row themselves
over. The first horse, therefore, being driven into the water, all the others’ horses of the
company follow him, and so they pass through the river. But the common soldiers have each
his leather bag or satchel well sewn together, wherein he packs up all his trinkets, and
strongly trussing it up hangs it at his horse’s tail, and so he crosses the river.
—Friar Jon of Plano Carpini, 1245

My hair bristles through my helmet, the rain stops as I lean against the rail;
I look up at the sky and scream a bellowing war cry.
Over thirty years of accomplishments are now dust upon the ground.
Eight thousand li of paths under rising cloud and moon I did not rest
My hair turning white on a young man’s head from despair
The humiliation of the Jingkang period is not removed
The indignation I feel as a subject
What time will it be extinguished
Let me drive off in a chariot to trample and break
Their base at Helan Mountain.
My greater goal is to dine on the flesh of barbarians,
Laughing and discussing, I will quench my thirst with their blood
Then, I will rest and wait to restore
Slake my thirst with the blood of the tribesmen.
I will rest and start afresh to recover the former lands of the empire,
Then report to the emperor.
—attributed to Yue Fei, The Whole River Red
SIX YEARS. That’s how long the commander Lu Wenhuan held out against
the Mongols. But that was all up in smoke across the Han River from him.
He commanded the twin cities of Xiangyang and Fangcheng against the
Mongol threat, and from his vantage in Xiangyang, he witnessed the fall of
Fangcheng. Between their rise in the early thirteenth century in central Asia
and the beginning of the campaign against the Song in 1259, the Mongols
had ranged from Europe as far west as the Adriatic Sea (on the east coast of
Italy) to across both the Near and Middle East. But the wealth of southern
China beckoned them, and the sometimes-inept performance of the Chinese
armies only encouraged them. Yet the southern Song dynasty effectively
relied upon the rivers and rough terrain of southern China to thwart their
attacks.
As was usual in Chinese history, southern China had the advantages of
natural obstacles. The Mongol advance bogged down in the Sichuan Basin,
and faced a series of Chinese defensive works that were quite impressive:
they were usually built on cliffs near pivotal river crossings, both of which
made cavalry charges and storming them difficult. The fortresses enclosed
land within their walls where the besieged could farm. Each fort often had
its own well for water, which enhanced the residents’ ability to survive long
sieges. And being on the rivers allowed the Song navy to resupply the forts
fairly easily. This made the Mongols shift focus from the Sichuan valley to
the pivotal cities of Xiangyang and Fangcheng along the Han River.1
Xiangyang and its twin city Fangcheng across the river were vital for
control of the Middle Yangtze region, and the region was the launching
point of Song counterattacks. But the Song court had political problems that
helped the Mongols. The founders of the Song dynasty had intermarried
with the military families based in the north. On top of that, many civilian
officials held military commands, which further strengthened the ties
between the court and the military. But when they moved to the south, they
lost those advantages. The northern families were no longer closely related
to members of the imperial family. The civilian officials became
disconnected from policy, and regional concerns often trumped national
policies. But this still wasn’t a catastrophic situation throughout the mid-
thirteenth century. The Lu clan, headed by Lu Wende, had significant ties
with the court and family members in very important commands, such as
his son, Lu Wenhuan, and his cousin, who commanded the important twin
cities.
 The Lu clan held these pivotal cities against the Mongols. Over a
century earlier, one of the most acclaimed generals in all Chinese history,
Yue Fei, launched attacks on the Mongols from this region. It protected a
pivotal tributary to the Yangtze River and the centers of strength of the
Song court. The navies that assisted Yang Su and his conquest on behalf of
the Sui dynasty launched from this city, for example. Unfortunately, Lu
Wende died during the early days of the siege. He had been one of the few
generals to defeat the Mongols, and he cultivated good relations in the
capital through a network of relatives and friends. His death inspired the
chief minister to appoint a new overall commander of the defense, and the
decision was based more on the new individual’s political connections than
the military needs. The court was nervous about the Lu clan and didn’t want
to grant the generals too much power.
The alienation and then defection of key generals due to disagreements
with the court was a real concern. Another general, Lui Zheng, was the
subject of baseless accusations of misusing funds, and he defected to the
Mongols a few years before the siege began. He likely did so based on
examples such as Yue Fei. Despite a stellar military career that is one of the
most storied in Chinese history, Yue was imprisoned over being a too-vocal
advocate of reclaiming the north and opposing a peace treaty with the
Mongols. The court forced him to commit suicide a short time later. Lui
Zheng knew that the court was paralyzed by factional infighting and
couldn’t be trusted. It couldn’t properly direct strategy and continued to
strain relations with many of its generals. The Mongols, in contrast, had the
strategic initiative, could choose the time and place of their battle, and
treated defecting generals rather well. The first two circumstances allowed
the Mongols to have local superiority of forces and capture a key line of
southern Song defense. The third matter came to the forefront quickly when
the Mongols suggested that Le Wenhuan should also defect because of the
court’s distrust.
Lu Wende knew the Mongols were preparing a long siege, but his
planned spoiling attack north and east of the twin cities evaporated upon his
death. The western city of Xiangyang was protected by mountains on three
sides and the Han River on its east. The city of Fangcheng had the river to
its west, and was relatively exposed on its east side, so the siege started
there. The first thing the Mongols did was start to break the link between
the cities and fight off the Song navy, which was their chief avenue of
supply. Through a series of bitter battles and fire attacks, the Mongols
burned most of the Song ships and the bridge between the cities. Under a
hail of Song arrows from Fangcheng, the Mongols erected their Muslim-
engineered trebuchets. The Chinese developed special nets that largely
negated the effect of the trebuchets, but the Mongol stranglehold on
Fangcheng continued.
This is where the death of Lu Wende affected the defense. The new
overall commander was a political hack who was largely unable to
coordinate a defense of Fangcheng and managed only a few partial
resupplies, with thousands dying upon each attempt. Worst of all, his
appointment, which bypassed the capable defenders already fighting in the
twin cities from the Lu clan, signaled to the Lu that they had lost the
confidence of the court.
In early 1273, six years into the siege, the Mongols upgraded their
trebuchets, and the Song forces had run low on food supplies. Under the
cover of the thunderous impacts of massive hurled stones and raging
snowstorms, the Mongols assaulted Fangcheng from every side (including
an amphibious assault from the river to its west). The Mongol attackers
suffered horrendous casualties, and many commanders from both sides
were severely wounded as the soldiers filled trenches, stormed the walls,
burned the city, and took part in desperate hand-to-hand fighting in the
streets.
The Mongols killed everybody in Fangcheng and stacked their bodies.
The ten thousand men, women, and children rose higher than the walls of
the city and could be seen from Xiangyang. Lu Wenhuan assessed the
situation. Western readers might assume that Lu Wenhuan would never join
his enemy after a bitter fight that lasted most of the decade (and killed his
family members). But generals had an obligation to save the men under
their command from useless slaughter, and philosophically he could justify
his defection if he believed that his rulers had lost the mandate. The
Mongols’ removal of the defector and Lu’s chief rival, Lui Zheng, from the
battlefield was a key sign of respect, which showed Lu he might defect
successfully. Lu had fought for over six years with no resupply coming, and
the knowledge that his city could fall like its sister across the river and its
inhabitants would receive the same fate, combined with his continued
alienation from the court, made him ready to concede.
 The Han River and a path to the Yangtze and the heart of the Song
dynasty were now open to the invaders. The Mongols were an impressive
military machine, but the Song dynasty had the resources and talented
leaders to beat them. In many ways it was the political decisions of the
southern Song court—such as its failure to adopt a proactive strategy, the
alienation of key generals such as the Lu clan, and political appointments
and divided command—that undermined the twin cities.
This chapter looks at the cultural developments that arose during the
Song and Yuan dynasties, the interplay between the martial and cultural
values wu and wen, and how the traditional interpretation of the Song
dynasty collapsing because of its military weakness is not entirely accurate.
And it will reveal that individual poor decisions of Song political leaders
often hampered the actions of generals, caused some leaders to defect, hurt
the dynasty’s strategic outlook, and often failed to control the potent and
aggressive new ideology called neo-Confucianism.
SONG DYNASTY
A general powerful and talented enough to protect the frontier also held
enough power to assert his will against the central government. Strong
emperors held these individuals in check, but a strong general named An
Lushan rebelled in 755. The long period of peace and prosperity of the Tang
dynasty resulted in militarization along the frontiers with relatively few
units and seasoned soldiers stationed near the capital along the Yellow
River. The soldiers stationed near the capital were often vanity assignments
given to noble families. The checks and balances that the government held
against frontier generals using their force without government permission
weakened through the first couple of centuries during the dynasty. When
the inevitable revolt of a powerful general happened, it meant there were
only a few untrained armies to oppose him. This rebellion shattered the
strength of the dynasty and led to another period of regional warlords, with
the last weak emperor deposed in 907. The central government had to cede
power to local governors in exchange for military support. Eventually the
local rulers abandoned the pretext of continued central rule by the Tang
dynasty.
After a brief period of disunion, one of these leaders, Taizu (924–976),
established the Song dynasty in 960. Finding a monetary economy more
efficient than bartering, the government increasingly paid farmers in metal
coins. Since the cash rates for their goods stayed consistent, the farmers
sold their surplus on the market. New strains of rice increased the
productivity and yield of the average acre, which in turn increased
population and wealth. While the Tang had enjoyed restaurants, theaters,
wine shops, brothels, and acrobats, those establishments and individuals
now catered to the increasing number of new rich and local officials (also
paid in coin). While the population of the largest city of Europe during this
time was roughly sixty thousand people, that of the Song capital at Kaifeng
was almost one million people. The trend of increasing southern power and
population continued, as the southern capital of Hangzhou had a population
nearing two million. Merchants based in southern ports, with the help of
their new invention, the compass, and new ship designs traveled far around
the world, from Japan in the north to Sumatra in the south, where
middlemen then took their goods as far as the Horn of Africa.
The north remained vital as well. Chinese workers invented new coal-
and iron-smelting techniques that provided them with carbonized steel, the
material that led to some of the best weapons in the world. Block-print
presses churned out books to the point that they were fairly common.
Presses began printing Buddhist texts as early as the seventh century, and
by the mid-Song, books with moveable type were more common. Military
leaders incorporated gunpowder weapons into their armies such as primitive
guns called fire cannons and early forms of grenades.2
Many of the Chinese cultural achievements in this period centered on the
gentry scholar. The exam system continued to cull the best and brightest
from leading Chinese families into civil service and also acted as a stamp of
approval on a family’s status. So many people from the south qualified for
government service that the emperor had to set regional quotas. Song
pottery became widespread, and every major area and city had a kiln.
Artists created new refining techniques, a variety of glazes, and under the
influence of Confucianism and Daoism, their shapes were restrained and
harmonious.
Historians continued to write comprehensive works. Sima Guang (1019–
1086) wrote A Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government, which
surveyed the entire expanse of Chinese history. As mentioned before, Song
officials compiled the salient works of Chinese military theory into the
Seven Military Classics of ancient China to aid in the training of their
officers. Poets during this period increasingly considered the lives of
nontraditional women but still wrote in awe of those from the Tang dynasty.
NEO-CONFUCIANISM
Neo-Confucianism started as a renaissance of traditional Confucian values
and as a reaction to the influence of Buddhism and religious Daoism. The
first true pioneer was the writer Zhou Dunyi (1017–1073) who argued,
unlike Buddhists, that reality existed and could be understood. Zhu Xi
(1130–1200) was an influential Chinese philosopher, whose role in Chinese
history can be compared to that of Thomas Aquinas (1224–1274) in
Europe. Zhu Xi combined the metaphysical ideas that had permeated
Chinese society with Confucian teachings. With his emphasis on
meditation, some contemporary critics argued that he was only a Buddhist
wolf in neo-Confucian sheep’s clothing. His supporters responded that he
emphasized “quiet sitting” as a way to fundamentally inculcate Confucian
ideals and wisdom. Historians also point out that his teachings became one
more source of stability in China as it endured conquest dynasties, dynasties
established by outside conquerors. In short, in contrast to Buddhists and
Daoists, neo-Confucians did not believe in some kind of spiritual world that
was disconnected from the physical. Overall, they took a more rationalist
approach and rejected what they saw as the more superstitious elements of
Daoism and Buddhism.
Politically, neo-Confucians tended to be rather aggressive. They often
called for the reconquest of lost territories. They were morally and
religiously intolerant of the kind of political and military compromises the
court needed to make. Because of their moral connections to classic
Confucianism and influence with the court, they were a potent force to deal
with. For example, while the desire for reconquest might seem compatible
with the wishes of military leaders, it wasn’t always so. The neo-
Confucians were zealously intent on maintaining civilian control over the
military. They scoffed at the recommendations of military men; even the
more cultured and well connected ones who approached them had to do so
with finesse. Gains in territory meant generals became more powerful. As
their power grew, they became a threat to the court and aroused suspicion
among men who thought the military should remain subservient to civilians.
The aggressive neo-Confucianists had a variety of tools to limit military
control, such as marginalizing the officers they didn’t like through false
accusations, cutting off their contact to the emperor, overbearing
administrative action, playing favorites, and even executing some. This
often forced the emperor to walk a delicate line between pleasing religious
zealots at home and irredentist generals on the frontier, trying to maintain
good relationships with and between the two groups, and not abdicating too
much power to either group. With that kind of juggling act, it’s a small
wonder the Southern Song Empire lasted as long as it did and stands as a
testament to the strength of Chinese armies and their skilled leadership.
MILITARY WEAKNESS AND THE MONGOL RULE
A conquest dynasty is a dynasty founded through military force by, in the
case of China, non-Chinese people. The Chinese usually faced a problem
with their nomadic neighbors to the north and west. The Qin built the first
segments of what is now the Great Wall in the second century BC to try to
repel them. The Han dynasty alternated between expensive campaigns to
subdue them and giving them expensive gifts of silk and princesses. The
Xiongnu, an early nomadic tribe, helped speed the collapse of the dynasty
after the War of the Eight Princes. The period of disunion was replete with
nomadic armies, and even the founder of the Tang dynasty, Li Shimin,
excelled in the use of nomadic-style heavy cavalry as his tactical finishing
force. Nomadic horsemen aided An Lushan in his great rebellion. And
every emperor tried to have contingents of cavalry supplied by friendly
tribal leaders. Hence, it was not unusual to see nomads attack China and
even have success. What was unusual was the amount of territory the
Mongols conquered, the longevity of their presence, their ability to operate
in a variety of terrains, and the astoundingly foolish choices of the Song
dynasty that resulted in its demise.
The Song reacted to the Mongols in the early thirteenth century the way
Chinese did with other nomadic powers from the past. Strong leaders
fought the nomads or tried to support rival claimants to the throne in
attempts to have them fight each other. Weaker rulers offered them goods
and princesses, essentially buying them off. Incompetent leaders did neither
effectively. The southern Song fit this last category. By the end of the
twelfth century, the Song had lost a great deal of territory to the nomadic
tribe called the Jurchens. Chinese leaders believed that the enemy of their
enemy was their friend and sided with the Mongols against the Jurchens in
an attempt to reclaim their lost territory. After the defeat of their mutual
enemy, the Song betrayed the Mongols and recaptured some of their
northern territory assigned to the Mongols.3
In attacking the Song, the Mongols changed tactics and relied on
Chinese defections to reorganize their forces and adjust their strategy in
southern China. This revealed a trend in Chinese history. Since the founding
of the Qin dynasty, civil servants often had more loyalty to the concept of
China than to a particular dynasty. Thus, when a dynasty seemed in
disarray, as though it had lost the Mandate of Heaven, civil servants felt no
particular duty to go down with the ship. Instead, they served the group that
was winning and proving its claim to the mandate. Chinese scholars and
elites maintained their status and positions. The Mongol ruler Kublai Kahn
(1215–1294) sought the riches of China and thought that the civil servants
were the most likely to help him administer the already conquered northern
territories and conquer the rest. Kublai Kahn also found that the rituals of
leadership, such as wearing silk robes and performing religious ceremonies,
earned him legitimacy in the eyes of those he sought to conquer. So the
Mongol leaders, civil servants, and defecting generals found a mutually
beneficial agreement that sapped the strength of the Song dynasty.
A CIVIL CULTURE THAT CAN’T FIGHT?
The fall of the Song dynasty also highlighted a much broader trend in
Chinese history: the general perception of military weakness. The dynasty
collapsed in the face of outside pressure, though it arguably defended itself
against the Mongol threat longer than any other nation had, and much
longer than the quickly supine Europeans. Even then, Confucian historians
argued that the Mongol adoption of Chinese rituals, customs, and style of
rule proved that Chinese culture won. As discussed earlier, Confucian
historians also emphasized a dichotomy between wu (martial) and wen
(civil). The works of Confucius and many of the Buddhist writers contained
strains of antimilitarism. Few generals were literate or capable of writing
their own histories similar to Caesar’s Gallic Wars; thus, official histories
often neglected and sometimes denigrated military affairs. In addition to the
bias of Chinese historians, early Western historians added to the neglect of
Chinese military history. Jesuits first disseminated stories of Chinese
customs, history, and culture to the West, but they often focused on molding
Confucian rituals into proper Christian behavior. As a consequence, the first
Western histories of China faced the double bias of Christian missionaries
largely interested in religion and science reading histories from Confucian
scholars who were at best apathetic to the military. This trend continued
through the modern period and is even reflected in many textbooks today
that point to the Song dynasty as the emblematic weak dynasty.
 The fall of the northern Song was not a foregone conclusion. Even
during this period of supposed cultural supremacy over the military, the
empire still had military leaders who were well read and civilian
bureaucrats who led armies with some success. They failed in some
respects more because of so-called “peace disease” than any rejection of
military culture. Peace disease is the shorthand phrase for a military that has
been at peace for so long it has few soldiers with military experience and
little institutional memory of the last war. As a result, it tends to fight
poorly early in a war, but once it gains a skilled set of warriors and leaders,
it performs far better. The Song wars with the neighboring Tangut nation in
the eleventh century were fought generations apart from each other, but the
supposedly inept northern Song eventually fought well enough to create a
favorable peace with Tangut. The Song’s poor performance was the result
of troops and leaders who were simply untrained and unpracticed from
years of peace and not because of some kind of long-term cultural aversion
to or rejection of war.
The fall of Kaifeng and the end of the dynasty were due more to the
stunningly inept political decisions of the emperor. During the pivotal
military campaign, he scattered his armies across northern China and failed
to realize the importance of the capital and his personal presence, which
turned an admittedly devastating raid into the collapse of political power.
The armies being dispersed allowed the Jurchens to capture Kaifeng and the
emperor. This threw the entire government apparatus and defense of the
north into disarray. Even after that, strong generals arose, the greatest of
whom, Yue Fei, was successful on the battlefield. He started his military
career as a small unit leader before the fall of Kaifeng. After its fall (the
“humiliation” mentioned in the second epigraph at the beginning of this
chapter), he reorganized Chinese defenses, and over the next thirty years
(also mentioned in the epigraph), he won a string of victories that made him
one of China’s most legendary and skilled generals. Yet he was killed
because of political fighting and factional machinations.
Even after all the decisions that robbed the empire of half its territory
and some of its most skilled generals fighting against Jurchen raiders, the
southern Song managed to battle the Mongols to a standstill for forty years,
using key fortifications, the benefit of geography, and capable emperors. In
contrast, many states across Asia and Europe collapsed after a single
campaign, while the weakest dynasty in Chinese history had the latent
strength to survive much longer. Similar trends can be seen in every other
period of Chinese history. Contrary to being an example of China’s cultural
preference for civil matters and rejection of military ones, this period shows
that China was far more balanced between the two principles.
CONCLUSION
The siege of Xiangyang was the key event that led to the destruction of the
Song dynasty. The Chinese defenders had plenty of men and material to
resist the Mongol invasion. Due to court politics and the disputes with neo-
Confucian court officials, the court policy was often paralyzed and
ineffective. Despite the catastrophic military defeats, China still produced
many military men with cultural attainments, as well as Confucian officials
who could lead armies. Of course, the desperately poor who started their
careers as outlaws could command society as well, as will be seen in the
next chapter with the founding of the Ming dynasty.
 8

THE BATTLE OF LAKE POYANG

1363

Upon arriving at foreign countries, capture those barbarian kings who resist civilization and
are disrespectful, and exterminate those bandit soldiers that indulge in violence and plunder.
The ocean routes will be safe thanks to this, and foreigners will rely on them to secure their
livelihood
—Zheng He

When you have left the city of Soochow and have traveled for four days through a splendid
country, passing a number of towns and villages, you arrive at the most noble city of
Hangzhou, which is in our language “City of Heaven.” I will enter into particulars about its
magnificence since the city is beyond dispute the finest and noblest in the world.
First and foremost, then, Hangzhou is so great that it is 200 square miles. In it there are
12,000 bridges of stone, with most so lofty that a great fleet could pass beneath them. And let
no man marvel that there are so many bridges, for you see the whole city stands as it were in
the water and surrounded by water, so that a great many bridges are required to give free
passage around it. . . . Inside the city there is a lake of some 30 miles: and all round it are
beautiful palaces and mansions, of the richest and most exquisite structure that you can
imagine, belonging to the nobles of the city. There are also two islands, on each of which
stands a rich, beautiful, and spacious edifice, furnished in such style fit for the palace of an
emperor. And when anyone of the citizens desire to hold a marriage feast or to give any other
entertainment, it is done at one of these palaces. And everything would be found there ready
to order, such as silver plate, trenchers, and dishes (napkins and table cloths), and whatever
else was needed.
This city of Hangzhou is the seat of one of the kings who rules over 100 great and
wealthy cities. For in the whole of this part of the country, there are more than 1,200 great
cities, without counting the towns and villages, which are also in great numbers. In each of
those 1,200 cities the Great Khan has a garrison, and the smallest of such garrisons musters
1,000 men; while there are some of 10,000, 20,000, and 30,000; so that the total number of
troops is something scarcely calculable. You must not suppose they are by any means all
cavalry; a very large proportion are foot-soldiers, according to the special requirements of
each city. And all of them belong to the army of the Great Khan. . . . On the lake there are
numbers of boats and barges of all sizes for parties of pleasure. These will hold 10, 15, 20, or
more persons, and are from 15 to 20 paces in length, with flat bottoms and ample breadth of
beam, so that they always keep afloat. Anyone who desires to go with the women or with a
party hires one of these barges which are always to be found completely furnished with
tables and chairs and all the other apparatus for a feast. The roof forms a level deck, on
 which the crew stands and poles the boat along whithersoever may be desired for the lake is
not more than two paces in depth. The inside of this roof and the rest of the interior is
covered with ornamental painting in gay colors, with windows all round that can be shut or
opened, so that the party at table can enjoy all the beauty and variety of the prospects on both
sides as they pass along. The lake is never without a number of other such boats, laden with
pleasure parties, for it is the great delight of the citizens here, after they have finished the
day’s business, to pass the afternoon in enjoyment with their ladies, either in these barges or
in driving about the city in carriages.
—Marco Polo

ZHU YUANZHANG would eventually become the founder of the Ming

dynasty (1368–1644). By the time he reached Lake Poyang in 1363, he was
desperate and close to collapse. The Mongol-led Yuan dynasty had faltered,
which led to the rise of a number of independent warlords. Zhu rose from
little more than pirate captain of a dozen people to a position as a key
warlord on the Middle Yangtze based on a powerful but loosely loyal
coalition around the cities of Nanchang and Nanjing. But he was squeezed
between two other powers vying for control. Chen Youliang up the river
had much larger forces and outnumbered Zhu almost ten to one. Down the
river was Zhang Shicheng. Luckily for Zhu, his southern rival was indolent
and spent most of his time consolidating his power around the river, or
Zhu’s regime would have been strangled in its crib.
Despite the reprieve, Zhu was hardly in a good position. The rivers,
marshes, and lack of roads in the region concentrated power in a handful of
cities. And the leaders, Zhu and his rivals Chen and Zhang, required
outstanding victories to maintain the loyalty of their loose coalitions of
followers. Only capturing a major city provided the kind of spectacular
victory to keep the followers loyal. This meant almost nonstop warfare for
control of a handful of major cities along the Yangtze.
Chen Youliang sailed downriver to capture Nanchang in 1363. The main
part of his fleet was massive tower ships. Their three decks were protected
by large, castle-like fortifications on each deck and could transport up to
three thousand men each. Combined with numerous smaller vessels, his
fleet transported over three hundred thousand men. He planned to sail right
next to the city walls and directly assault them from his ships. Zhu had
expected this, though, and built new city walls away from the river’s edge.
Frustrated but not deterred, Chen disembarked his soldiers and conducted a
standard siege of the city. Disembarking his soldiers had already
undermined the timing of his plan, and through eighty-five days of fierce
fighting with extensive use of cannon and firearms, the city still hadn’t
fallen.
It was only at this point that Zhu entered Lake Poyang. His tardiness
represented his weakened position, as he had to spend over three months
subduing a rebellion on the other side of his territory. Zhu didn’t have any
tower ships, and his one thousand ships and one hundred thousand men
were vastly outnumbered, outsized, and outgunned. His advantage was
represented in his smaller ships with more maneuverability. The fall of
Nanchang after previous losses combined with his precarious position
would have been a devastating blow from which he likely couldn’t recover.
The desperate nature of his position led to his unusually aggressive
behavior during the battle. Chen, in contrast, only had to outlast his enemy
and secure the city that was ready to fall.
Zhu positioned his fleet at the northern entrance to the lake to prevent
his opponent’s escape. Chen left a small force around the Nanchang and set
sail to meet him. The battle was joined in late August 1363 as Zhu’s ships
charged at the larger fleet opposing them. The tower ships were quite
formidable and dealt heavy damage to the Zhu’s Ming fleet despite its use
of fire and gunpowder ships. The first day’s battle ended in a draw, and the
badly outnumbered Ming fleet suffered as much damage as it caused. The
next day the Ming tried even more fire attacks. Ships filled with straw,
gunpowder, and other flammable material were launched at the enemy, this
time with dummy fire ships to aid the attack. Chen’s forces were in a tight
formation around the tower ships, acting as the backbone of the fleet. This
increased their firepower against the smaller ships but made the fire attacks
more successful. These attacks destroyed several hundred ships and killed
about sixty thousand people. It is a testament to the strength of the Chen
fleet that this was seen as just a setback instead of a crippling defeat. If
Chen held a tight formation, then Zhu launched fire attacks. If Chen
loosened his formation, the smaller Ming ships would close to try to grapple
and board their enemies. But in any case, the damage Chen inflicted was
usually accomplished only through heavy losses to his own fleet and wasn’t
enough for the decisive victory he needed.
 By this time, though, a separately dispatched land force had relieved the
siege of Nanchang. That was good news for Zhu, but after several days of
fierce fighting, fire attacks, and attempts of his ships to grapple and seize
their enemies, the battle was largely a draw. Chen’s larger force had been
damaged, but its land forces could still capture the city after they drove
away the smaller Ming fleet.
By September, the two sides had separated. Zhu moved back to the north
end of the lake to prevent Chen’s possible escape. Chen waited on the
southern side of the lake. For almost a month, both sides eyed each other
warily. Chen couldn’t resume the siege of Nanchang with a large rival fleet
ready to engage him at any time. And he didn’t want to force his larger
ships through a narrow channel, against the current, and with the Ming
penchant for fire attacks. By the beginning of October, Chen’s food supplies
were running low, and he couldn’t keep his army and fleet, which formed
the center of his power, so far from his core territories. He charged the
Ming position. The resulting battle descended into a chaotic melee of fights
between individual ships floating downriver. It may have resulted in another
draw or perhaps a victory for Chen, but reminiscent of the fate of Harold at
the Battle of Hastings, a stray arrow hit and killed Chen Youliang. His son
and heir and fifty thousand soldiers were captured, and hundreds of ships
were destroyed.1
This was the spectacular victory that Zhu Yuanzhang needed. He still
had to consolidate territory up and downstream from his core territories on
the Yangtze and complete the destruction of the Yuan dynasty. But he had
gone a long way to strengthening his position, expanding his core, and
defeating a chief rival for power. The Ming dynasty Zhu founded would
rule for hundreds of years and established important historical precedents.
This victory at Lake Poyang also gives us a chance to examine the use of
naval power throughout Chinese history and revisit the impact of
technology by considering why gunpowder weapons weren’t used as
extensively and to the same cultural effect as in Europe.
THE MING DYNASTY
After the death of Kublai Khan in 1294, the Mongol rulers quickly lost
effectiveness. Like many rulers from the steppe, they were never Chinese
enough in their customs and culture to earn the trust of the indigenous
people. Often, to maintain power and preserve their ethnic heritage in a sea
of Han Chinese, they segregated themselves from their conquered subjects.
But they did become Chinese enough to clash with their relatives and tribe
mates on the steppe. Those relatives often revolted against the Mongols,
which in turn sapped their military strength. With the weakening of military
power and central authority, China again devolved into a series of regional
powers led by warlords.
One of these warlords, Zhu Yuanzhang, started his career essentially as a
river pirate in the Middle Yangtze. By 1363, he had consolidated his power
by winning one of the most climactic naval battles in Chinese history at
Lake Poyang. By 1367, he had gained control over much of China and
inaugurated the Ming dynasty. The first emperors continued to expand their
realm. They humbled the Mongols through numerous campaigns into the
steppes and reasserted their authority over regions as far south as Vietnam
and as far north as Korea. They also gained control of many of the oasis
cities on the eastern end of the Silk Road.
One of the most important aspects of the Ming dynasty was the trading
missions it launched. As the Middle Kingdom, the Chinese wished to
expand their tributary system. Just as internal Confucian ideals stressed the
loyalty of a son to his father, and the father to the emperor, their
international relations were often viewed as father/son, or elder/younger
brother, with China as the dominant partner. The expeditions of Zheng He
(1371–1435?), for example, contained sixty-two major ships and over
twenty-eight thousand sailors. Zheng He’s fleet traded as far away as east
Africa and dominated local politics in many places they visited. They
installed a new king in Java and captured hostile kings in places such as
Borneo. They also brought back exotic gifts such as giraffes and zebras.
This happened almost half a century before the voyages of Columbus
but raises the question, why was it Europeans and not the Chinese who
established trading outposts across the world and discovered the Americas?
Zheng’s voyages, despite the impressiveness of their scope, stopped almost
as soon as they began. Many of the early Confucian classics, such as those
by Mencius, denigrated the pursuit of money, and many emperors had laws
that restricted merchant activities. This stood in stark contrast to early
Italian capitalists such as Marco Polo and Christopher Columbus and their
sponsors, who acted somewhat similarly to modern venture capitalists.
Chinese culture had stood at the center of the Middle Kingdom for almost
two millennia. The Chinese had lent their script and culture to many
neighbors, and they assimilated those who subjected them to military
defeat, such as the nomadic invaders who continually pressed the court
along China’s northern border. They felt little desire to explore and set up
far-flung trading posts. China also lacked the competition dynamic found in
European society. Italian city states, the newly unified country of Spain,
England, and France all competed for the same wealth and control of trade
routes, and this spurred innovation and risk taking among Westerners that
their Chinese counterparts often lacked.
As the Ming dynasty went on, it did start to increase its participation in
national and world trade. Some historians estimate that half of the silver
that came from the New World ended up in China. Just as new bronze coins
helped stimulate trade and the prosperity of the average farmer during the
Song dynasty, the introduction of silver coins did the same in the Ming
dynasty. The average farmer had access to better seeds and fertilizer, and
paid only a single tax. This increased prosperity also contributed to a
greater increase in population. The large population allowed the
government to take in surpluses, even as it kept taxes low, and maintain a
fully manned and aggressive military. The people obtained this silver from
local mines in the mountains of southern China but also from a new
worldwide trading network. As the sixteenth century progressed, European
traders established outposts around the world, and more gold and silver
flowed from the Americas. (In fact, his haul along the America-to-China
route helped propel Sir Francis Drake to pirate fame.)
Painting, poetry, music, literature, and theater flourished during the
Ming dynasty. Artists in this period painted lacquer wares, applying a fine
polish to porcelain items, which included rather detailed and intricate
scenes. The wealthy usually bought these works, in addition to fine
furniture and latticework, and arranged them according to aesthetic and
Daoist tastes. The latter dictated that the arrangement of furniture must
conform to the flow of the room and location of the building.
Writing became even more prolific in this period. Newspapers began to
use moveable-type printing. This made them easier to produce and
increased their durability. Travel literature recorded the thoughts and
experiences of writers who visited various parts of China. Xu Xiake (1587–
1641) wrote a four-hundred-thousand-character diary that included
everything from local geography to mineralogy. Writers started to compose
their works in vernacular Chinese. This expanded readership to women,
merchants, and shop clerks who only had a rudimentary education.
The late Ming period witnessed the first arrival of Jesuit missionaries
from Europe. In 1607, some of these missionaries worked with the Chinese
mathematicians to translate the Greek mathematical works into Chinese.
Chinese scholars were impressed with European knowledge in some
subjects, such as astronomy and geography. Most Chinese, however, were
suspicious and critical of Christianity. Yet despite this tension, the Imperial
Astronomical Board employed Western missionaries learned in science.
NAVAL MATTERS
Many historians and students consider China to be a traditional land power.
This perception is somewhat correct, as China did not have extensive blue-
water navies—ocean-going vessels and capital ships designed to operate in
blue, or deep, water—throughout much of its history. As described above, it
did have treasure fleets during the Ming dynasty and extensive overseas
trade. So overall, the perception is correct, but it discounts the extensive
internal history and use of navies.
Given the country’s numerous rivers and extensive coastal regions, and
the fierce combat in and around rivers using marines and naval forces,
Chinese naval history needs to include these small, brown-water ships—
vessels which operate in swamps, marshes, and littorals. This
reinterpretation would mean that throughout its history, Chinese military
operations are replete with naval maneuvers. There are many examples we
have seen: the Han dynasty couldn’t control some southern kingdoms that
broke away from Qin, because they were small coastal provinces in
southern China, difficult to reach by land and protected by a small but well-
trained fleet; the Tang dynasty scored a huge naval victory over Japan in the
sixth century, which allowed it to expand and resupply its armies in the
area; the northern Song dynasty collapsed in the face of the steppe tribe
onslaught in the twelfth century on the plains in and around Kaifeng, but
the southern Song saved themselves for over thirty years because of their
impressive navy. The Song had lost most of their northern territory and
faced a massive invasion from the Jurchens, but the southern Song navy
broke the pontoon bridge of the invading force, severing the invading
armies’ logistical connection, and prevented them from retreating to the
north side of the river. The eight-thousand-man naval force of the southern
Song dynasty tied down a one-hundred-thousand-man army for a significant
amount of time. A short time later, it faced another engagement, and despite
being outnumbered six to one, the Song navy charged into the much larger
force, secure in its superior training, and annihilated the opposing fleet. The
Mongols understood the power of a navy and reportedly built five thousand
warships and mustered seventy thousand marines to help conquer the
southern Song stronghold of Xiangyang. A century later, Zhu Yuanzhang
founded the Ming dynasty through the strength of his naval fleet. In fact,
the brown-water navy he defeated had ships large enough to carry three
thousand people. Throughout Chinese history, would-be invaders stretching
back to the time of Cao Cao often had massive fleets and ships large enough
to fire siege equipment.
But naval power wasn’t only useful for securing power, it helped in
keeping power. The last Song emperor was captured in a naval battle near
Hong Kong. Likewise, the remnants of the Ming dynasty were defended by
their fleet on a small island in southern China. The Qing would realize the
need for a strong navy when British ironclads penetrated their defenses and
moved upstream. In short, every dynasty and every phase of a dynasty
touched upon naval matters. Even though they didn’t build vast blue-water
navies to colonize other countries, they did have extensive experience in
building and using fleets. In fact, they were often the key to gaining or
keeping power.2
GUNPOWDER ARMIES?
The Chinese are credited with being the first to discover and use firearms.
Most popular knowledge assumes that the Chinese used them for little more
than firecrackers, and it was the West that really perfected how to build and
use gunpowder weapons. These assumptions are flawed in a couple of
points. China knew how to build and use gunpowder weapons but their
particular needs didn’t lead to improved firearms or massed fire.3
The first mention of gunpowder comes from a Daoist text in the 800s.
The earliest verified reference comes from the eleventh century. Chinese
infantry used an early version of the formula for gunpowder to make a fire
lance, a bamboo tube that essentially acted as a flamethrower or fire spear.
These were direct ancestors of the firearm, as sometimes the Chinese would
put small pebbles into the bamboo that would be discharged in the stream of
fire. The first firearms as we know them were used in the mid-1100s, and
by the time of the Ming dynasty, they were standard issue to the military
and widely used.
But if the Chinese had firearms for so long, why did they fall behind the
Europeans in their design and use? Like other military technology, such as
crossbows, it has to do with a combination of geographic considerations
and the type of threats the Chinese faced. Early firearms were much less
effective than is commonly realized. They were incredibly slow to reload.
In the time it took an enemy to charge one hundred yards, a bowman might
be able to get off three shots, while somebody armed with a musket could
fire once. Reloading muskets was incredibly difficult, often involving a
twenty-eight-step process, and for early matchlock weapons it included
holding a lit candle in one hand and loading the gunpowder weapon with
the other.4 This, of course, made them almost impossible to use on
horseback. Intense training and massed fire helped to increase their rates of
fire and effectiveness, but even with massed fire, the bows had a better
firing rate and accuracy. Bows could be used on horseback, fired more
often, and had better accuracy. For example, eighteenth-century gunpowder
weapons could hit a target thirty-three yards wide at sixty-seven yards away
only 50 percent of the time (thirty-three yards wide is about the size of a
good barn, so they literally could only hit the broad side of a barn about half
the time).
The primary enemy of the Chinese was nomadic horse archers. These
armies were incredibly mobile, making it hard to hit once with muskets, and
they were able to achieve an incredible rate of fire. The slow rate of fire and
inaccuracy made muskets a poor choice of weapon against nomads. It is no
surprise that China started to expand its power into the steppes during the
eighteenth century, when gunpowder weapons had much better rates of fire
and accuracy.
But the weapons were extremely good if you could mount them on walls
and ships. The wall or ship could support more-effective and heavier
weapons. Ships are much larger and slower than horse archers, so they
could be hit by gunpowder weapons. The walls of town are even bigger
than a ship and don’t move at all, so the Chinese developed very effective
artillery. When used against experienced Japanese forces (see chapter 9),
those forces reported that the ground shook. They were so effective and
unnerving that the Japanese tried to avoid direct engagements with Chinese
forces despite their superiority in small arms.
 In contrast, European armies for the most part didn’t face nomadic horse
armies. They faced other groups of infantry. Much like the Chinese massing
crossbow-equipped armies, the Europeans needed to mass more soldiers
into an area and make sure they could fire, load, and reload in unison. They
increasingly sought better and better weapons to the point that they
eventually outclassed Chinese small-arms fire.
In short, the Chinese used gunpowder weapons far more than is
commonly thought. They had different enemies and a unique set of
circumstances that made small arms ineffectual. Because of the lack of
incentives and poor effect in battle, they never developed new and better
firearms. Instead, they developed rather good cannon mounted on ships and
walls, and excellent siege artillery. They didn’t show a cultural aversion to
new weapons and didn’t simply use gunpowder as fireworks. They actively
imported the better small arms when they became aware of the difference
late in the dynasty.
CONCLUSION
The Battle of Lake Poyang was a naval encounter that decisively
established the Ming dynasty. It was one of the few times the south
conquered the north. It established hundreds of years of Ming dynasty rule,
and it suggests we should reassess our opinion of Chinese naval history and
the country’s use of gunpowder weapons. The next battle shows an example
of Chinese gunpowder weapons in warfare, but it also shows those
traditional Chinese values and military theory applied in the gunpowder
age.
 9

THE SIEGE OF PYONGYANG

1593

Muskets are effective on wagons, on boats, and on foot. Recently a gun has been created that
is fired on horseback. Firing a musket relies entirely on the priming powder. [Some may
say:] When the horse gallops, which is how northerners are used to riding, if the priming
powder is not spilled and scattered then it will be blown away by the wind, and then how
will it fire? This is the talk of a person who does not know a lot about firearms. If it is a three
eyed gun or one of the newly manufactured [pistol like] winged tiger guns, it can first be
used as a gun and then after having been fired then it can serve as a hand to hand weapon. As
for hitting the target and killing the enemy, I don’t know.
—Zhao Shizen, writing in a sixteenth-century military manual

When the Japanese fire their muskets, you can still hear, even if they fire from all sides. But
when the Chinese fire their cannon, the sky and the earth vibrates and the mountains and
plains tremble and you can’t even speak. . . . [M]ilitary affairs are simple. Big cannons defeat
small cannons and many cannon defeat few cannon.
—Korean official, 1593

LI RUSONG’S CANNON SHOOK THE HEAVENS. The Japanese forces inside

Pyongyang had yet to encounter that kind of resistance before. After
unifying Japan and reportedly receiving a series of insults from China,
Toyotomo Hideyoshi (1536–1598) had a large contingent of trained troops,
excellent muskets, and a desire to change the world order in Asia. The
Japanese invasion of Korea in 1592 launched what is popularly called the
Imjin War, though many academic historians call it the First Sino-Japanese
War of 1592–1598. The Japanese quickly overwhelmed the Koreans. They
marched north and captured the pivotal city of Pyongyang and seemed
poised to invade China through Manchuria. In response to the defeat of
large parts of China’s first expeditionary army and the flight of the Korean
emperor to the Yalu River, the Wanli emperor (1563–1620) of the late Ming
dynasty intervened to protect his vassal. At the time, the bulk of his
available troops were dealing with a mutiny of a powerful frontier general
centered in the northern Chinese city of Ningxia.
Li Rusong moved as quickly as he could across the northern frontier and
across the Yalu River early in 1593. Upon entering Korea, and perhaps
because of the time crunch, Li’s army had only a modest amount of
supplies. The army may have expected to receive additional supplies from
the Koreans. If it did, Li possessed an unrealistic assumption based on
incomplete intelligence. The army itself was reported to contain a good
number of untrained conscripts with far fewer disciplined veterans, though
they were eventually joined with some of the best-trained troops China
could field, instructed by Qi Jiguang in the south. The lack of disciplined
forces within Li’s army could slow him down, as well as cause unnecessary
casualties.
Li’s forces seemed to lack the discipline to avoid Japanese intelligence
gathering but also seemed to misread or ignore his intelligence concerning
the inability of the Koreans to supplement Chinese supplies, the effects of
terrain upon their cavalry forces, and the deadly disciplined fire of Japanese
muskets. The Chinese heavy cannon proved difficult to move through the
rough terrain of Korea, though they were invaluable in fighting against key
cities and frightening Japanese forces.
 Likewise, the cavalry forces of the Chinese repeatedly bogged down in
the muddy valleys they attempted to pass through. The snows froze the
ground, but a thaw quickly produced soft ground that made cavalry
operations and transporting cannon difficult. The first expeditionary army
had been soundly defeated a year earlier because of this, and Li’s horses
later suffered the same fate, being ambushed a short time after the Siege of
Pyongyang.
Li typically employed ruses to help his advance. One was to move
toward Pyongyang under the guise of seeking a negotiation. On arriving
close to the city, Li invited a Japanese delegation for what it thought was a
parley. But instead of discussing matters, Li sprang a trap that sought to
capture key leaders of the Japanese military. Some of the Japanese fought
their way out of the ambush and managed to alert Japanese general Konishi
Yukinaga at Pyongyang. Yukinaga dug into the city of Pyongyang and
properly placed his forces to defend the city walls. Overall, the Japanese
forces seemed more paralyzed by combat fatigue, sickness, and supply
problems than by Chinese ruses.
The failure of Li’s ruses left him with few options. He could outflank the
Japanese position at Pyongyang, but the small army he possessed, the lack
of supplies, and the difficulty of the terrain made an attack on Pyongyang
the only option. While the Chinese had cannon that could blast in the walls
during a siege, the Japanese had well-trained soldiers armed with muskets.
The significant disadvantages of muskets are negated behind a fortification,
and their advantages are increased. Thus, many nations, the Japanese
included, adopted the fortified wagon approach to allow their gunpowder
forces proper cover as they reloaded; the cover offered by fortifications
made the enemy approach into the muskets’ effective range and sometimes
even funneled the enemy into a deadly enfilade of small-arms fire.
In approaching Pyongyang, Li needed to clear the hilltop fort just to the
north of the city. This secured his flank and protected its rear as Chinese
forces attacked. Perhaps conserving the strength of his troops, or maybe
taking advantage of a displaced people, he attacked with Korean warrior
monks. After taking the hill and softening the city with his cannon, Li begin
the frontal assault on the city proper with a feint attack from the south. At
the same time, Li personally led an attack from the west. He then used
incendiary attacks to mask his attack against the city. While the fire
effectively masked the advance of Li toward the city, the postbattle analysis
revealed that the use of fire could have burned the grass and stores needed
to feed the Chinese cavalry. The fire attacks and smoke from cannon and
musket fire, on top of the opening phase of the battle, added to the chaos.
The indiscriminate use of cannon fire and incendiary attacks belied the fact
that the Chinese were liberating a major Korean city. The city was already
in ruinous condition before the battle, and the withering artillery fire made
it even worse for the returning Koreans.
As his army began to falter outside the city walls, Li personally shot the
first man who fled and then offered a reward to the first man to scale the
wall. Once the walls had been breached, in the chaos of the city fighting,
many of Li’s troops beheaded anybody they could find. The system of
rewards (beyond the special one instituted by Li in front of the gates) was
based on the number of heads a soldier could present as evidence of his
effectiveness in combat. The Japanese tried to break out from the southwest
against the supposedly unreliable Korean forces. Those forces turned out to
be Chinese in disguise; according to sources, this caused the Japanese to
retreat back into the city in a panic.
After bitter hand-to-hand fighting and witnessing the effect of cannon
fire on their fortifications, the Japanese were ready to attempt a second
retreat from the city. The fortifications were breached, and they faced
encirclement. Korean writers claimed that Li accepted a bribe, thus
allowing the Japanese to cross the Taedong River unmolested. Other
accounts suggest that the Japanese retreated under the cover of darkness
across the frozen river. Whatever happened, Li did not follow up his victory
at Pyongyang with an immediate pursuit of the enemy. He may have been
short on supplies.
 After a short break, Li did pursue the fleeing Japanese forces. Eventually
the conflict settled down around the southern end of the peninsula as peace
talks slowly progressed. The war is mostly known in Korea because of the
national icon Yi Sun Sin. He led spiked ships called turtle boats, which
decimated the much larger Japanese fleet and made resupply of its army in
Korea very difficult. The other factors that led to an end of the war included
the death of Hideyoshi, who commanded the invasion; the defeat of a
follow-up force later in the decade; and continuing guerrilla warfare from
Korean forces.1 The peace treaty proved effective enough to end the
conflict.
LATE MING DYNASTY
The general perception among scholars is that the late Ming dynasty was
one of decline. Viewed through the lens of the dynastic cycle, it had entered
its death throes. But the campaigns of the Wanli emperor decisively show
that it was not in complete decline. During a period of ten years in the late
sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, the Ming campaigned and won in
every corner of the empire. Some allied northwestern tribes of Mongols
rebelled and were swiftly crushed. Li Rusong was then directed to Korea.
There the Ming dynasty successfully defended its vassal against a much
larger and experienced Japanese force that was closer to its supply lines.
Finally, the Ming defeated rebelling tribesmen in the remote southwest. The
Ming dynasty overcame vast logistical challenges and severe threats,
including the dynasty’s extensive and successful counterinsurgency against
the Wokou, or dwarf pirates, along the southeastern coast.
The martial success across its empire shows how the Ming retained what
modern analysts would call strong fundamentals. They had a large
population, a good tax base, increasing wealth, and a military that was large
and fairly well-equipped. The problems in this era, and a cause of decline,
emanated from bureaucratic inertia. The chief ministers fought among
themselves and with the eunuchs who advised the emperor. A vigorous
military leader and strong emperor could cut through the red tape to
promote good policies and make good military decisions. But most
emperors toward the end of the Ming dynasty looked at the infighting
among their ministers and voluminous reports generated by the government
apparatus and simply stopped caring. After all, they were emperors and
could live a life of luxury in any number of opulent palaces as they pursued
their favorite hobbies. The various regional governors and local officials
managed their territories reasonably well, but what we would call national,
foreign, and domestic policy generally became listless.
In short, much like the collapse of the Song dynasty described in chapter
7, a lack of strong leadership and proper military policy led to weakness in
the late Ming dynasty. A strong leader could direct the proper military and
economic resources to a certain region, conduct diplomacy, and properly
harness the strong military families like the Li.
Another group whose talents were properly harnessed in the late Ming
dynasty was the Qi clan. The most famous member of the clan, Qi Jiguang
(1528–1588), was born into a hereditary military family. He recruited,
trained, equipped, and led Chinese forces against Japanese pirates from
1555–1565 and is credited by historians with ending their threat.2 Qi’s
writings, The New Book Recording Effective Techniques and the Record of
Military Training, evoked a system of rewards and punishments discussed
in the Seven Military Classics by theorists such as Sunzi and Wuzi to create
disciplined armies.
One of Qi’s unique creations was called the Mandarin Duck Formation.
It consisted of an eleven-person unit led by a squad leader with two teams
of five: one multiple-tipped-spear person to entangle the enemy weapon
(because the pirates often fought in the littorals of the south, this was
usually a melee weapon designed for close-quarters combat), one shield
person to protect him, two spear people to assist in thrusting at the enemy
trying to untangle his weapon, and one sword person for additional combat
power. Qi directed that squads repeatedly drill in coordinating their
individual and mutually supportive functions. While the function of
individual members remained the same, the specific configuration could be
changed between three models. Soldiers who faced different types of
enemies, such as nomadic horsemen and regular Chinese infantry,
benefitted from Qi’s disciplinary guidelines and grappling techniques. In
fact, Li Rusong credited Qi’s teaching for the “total victory” of the Chinese
forces in the Sino-Japanese War and specifically praised the southern troops
in his theater. The Koreans were so impressed with the skill of Chinese
soldiers trained with these methods that they trained exclusively from Qi’s
manual for much of the seventeenth century.
LEADERSHIP QUALITIES
Qi’s training material explicitly borrowed from a vast Chinese heritage.
This gives us a chance to examine more closely how the Siege of
Pyongyang might illustrate the continued influence of and possible changes
to classical military theory in the gunpowder age. The methods and
applications of Qi were one example of this, and another was Li’s
leadership in Korea.
Li was censured by Confucian officials during the early years of his
career for licentiousness and later for inattention to proper military
discipline, mismanagement of military affairs, and raising his hands at his
civil counterparts. Of those charges, the first seems to be the most serious.
Tai Kong, in the Seven Military Classics, taught that the ruler (and by
extension his generals) must cultivate values like benevolence,
righteousness, loyalty, credibility, sincerity, courage, and wisdom. Many of
these values have utilitarian purposes, such as courage to inspire soldiers
during difficult moments in a campaign.
The other charges had dangerous implications as well, yet their potential
political causes make them suspect. Civil servants, jealous and fearful of
military success and the increasing strength of military households, could
easily trump up charges against Li. In fact, historians suggest this in their
study of the Li family, and the charges are similar to those faced by the Wu
family in the thirteenth century. Li Rusong’s later actions proved his
courage and desire to faithfully defend Chinese interests.3
Tactically, Li’s actions during the siege of Ningxia and other skirmishes
against the rebels establish a baseline that can be applied to his later actions
in Korea. The Li family is reported to have excelled at ambushes, forced
marches, and night attacks with the intent of confusing their foes. Upon the
failure of his ruse, he progressed with a standard siege, although one could
interpret his actions as pinning the enemy in place with an orthodox siege
and then attempting to strike the killing blow with unorthodox tactics. If
true, this attempt mirrors one of the central and most unique concepts in
Chinese military theory, where a combination of orthodox and unorthodox
tactics served to pin an enemy in place, preparing it for a devastating blow
from unorthodox tactics.4 In Li’s case, he followed his siege of the
rebellious city of Ningxia with a daring night attack and then flooded the
land around the city, cutting it off from reinforcements. Finally, he dangled
bogus offers of clemency to encourage fighting within the enemy’s ranks.
These unconventional measures were interspersed with conventional frontal
attacks that, although led courageously by Li, caused great suffering and
casualties among his forces and did little to take the city. They also left
openings for the enemy to conduct its own raids on his camps.
Upon defeating the rebels, Li turned his attention to the situation in
Korea. From sources it appears that he prepared what he thought was the
proper amount of supplies for his expedition. This reflects the admonition
of Sunzi to employ the military only after the ruler has gathered the
necessary supplies.5 Sunzi also stressed the need for proper mental
preparation, yet the Ming civil and military leaders seem to have acted in
ignorance of proper intelligence. In making their initial estimations, the
Ming ignored the signs of an imminent invasion of one of their tributaries,
perhaps the same way they ignored the growing signs of rebellion in
Ningxia. Then, after the invasion, they misread the intelligence, and some
even assumed the Koreans were actively aiding the Japanese in their
conquest. The first expedition ignored the warning of the Koreans about the
deadly disciplined fire of Japanese muskets. After that expedition’s defeat,
Li Rusong seemed to ignore the same warnings concerning Japanese
musketeers.
Li used ruses in front of the city. He turned the parley with Japanese
diplomatic officials into an ambush out of which the Japanese forces fought.
This closely matches one of Sunzi’s greatest themes: “warfare is the way of
deception.” He adds that “when such deception is imaginatively created and
effectively implemented, the enemy will neither know where to attack nor
what formations to employ and thus be condemned to making fatal errors.”6
In this case, the Japanese generals seemed unfazed by Chinese
machinations.
The ineffectiveness of Li’s deception could mean two things. First, it
could have resulted from the lack of discipline among Li’s forces. Second,
the Japanese were resistant to this form of warfare because they were close
neighbors with a long history of fighting the same foes and each other. In a
sense, the Japanese could fight fire with fire and thus did not get burned by
Chinese manipulations. Plus, the Japanese forces were known for their
discipline, so they had the presence of mind to fight their way out of Li’s
ambush and perceive possible deception in his peace overtures, and they
planned accordingly.
The battle itself presents numerous lessons for study, including the
proper use of soldiers respective to the terrain, the use of rewards and
punishments during the fight, the ability to lead from the front and lead
through hardships, the ruse of using what appeared to be Korean troops,
using incendiary attacks, the lack of harmonious conduct by the troops, and
the question of whether superior numbers, and not superior leadership, won
the battle for Li.
In the desperate moments before the city walls, Li seemed to rely on the
classic Chinese technique of instilling discipline through rewards and
punishments: “if by executing one man the entire army will quake, kill him.
If by rewarding one man the masses will be pleased, reward him . . . [T]hen
your awesomeness has been effected.”7 The command for rewards and
punishments comes from the Legalist tradition, where only a strong
centralized state could survive among warring factions.
This could represent what the Chinese call higher and lower forms of
combat and signify important connections to Daoist notions of harmony in
Chinese thought. Political scientist Alastair Johnson argued that Chinese
thought held what he called the Confucian Mencius view. One of the
prominent beliefs included the idea that the righteousness and good
governance of a ruler could prevent conflict.8 Confucian historians
considered the resort to warfare as an admission of the ruler’s moral
bankruptcy.9
Sunzi frequently referred to flowing water to describe a victorious army.
For example, “the combat of the victorious is like the sudden release of a
pent up torrent down a thousand fathom gorge.”10 The lowest form of
combat consisted of bloody attacks against fortified positions. The actions
of Li during the Korean campaign consisted of an ambush that might seem
dastardly to modern Western readers but actually represented an attempt to
avoid lower forms of combat that resulted in costly battles that killed large
numbers of soldiers and devastated cities.
Rewards and punishments, leading from the front, and fire attacks won
the battle and eventually the war, but they took the lives of many Koreans
and made life incredibly difficult for the ones who survived. This stands in
stark contrast to the ruler’s supposed purpose in going to war. Tai Kong
taught that a ruler (and by extension his generals) should lead with
Confucian values of benevolence and virtue with policies that benefit the
average man. This would bind the people in loving harmony with their ruler
and allow him to recruit the motivated populace into his army. This also
represented the harmonious goal of many classic writers. Under Daoist
influence, many writers viewed war as an evil but necessary last resort in
order to restore harmony to the realm. While winning the battle would seem
to fulfill the goal of restoring order, the suffering of the Korean population
perpetrated by their supposed protectors seemed to lead to great friction
between the civilian population and the ruling dynasty. It also led to greater
friction between Korean and Chinese leaders. So instead of restoring
harmony through a higher form of battle, Li escalated tensions through the
lower form.
Contemporary Korean historians accuse Li of being bribed or possibly
being unable to exploit his victory at Pyongyang. A final explanation or Li’s
sluggish pace after his victory could reflect the maze of mirrors that
accompanied Asian warfare. For instance, Sunzi said that “if the enemy
opens the door, you must race in.”11 Yet a charging army could be entering
an ambush and trap. The pursuing Chinese forces were in fact ambushed at
Pyokje a short time after the Siege of Pyongyang. Li might not have started
an immediate pursuit because he wanted to reassess his strength after a
battle, reorder his forces, check supplies, and then proceed at a pace that
would decrease the chance of an ambush. (Since he was in fact ambushed
during his pursuit south, his caution seems warranted.) This may have
seemed dilatory to anxious Korean officials and could even be condemned
through a close reading of Chinese military theorists, but Li could also point
to various considerations and classical theory as well to support his cautious
pause.
After a brief period (that was annoyingly long to the Koreans), Li moved
with great haste against the remaining Japanese forces. But he failed to
properly take into account the terrain he was moving through and was
ambushed along a narrow valley during early spring. The valley allowed the
Japanese to quickly close and engage in hand-to-hand combat, while the
early spring had thawed the road into a muddy mess. This negated the
Chinese advantage in cavalry and combat power and played into the
superior ability of Japanese small-arms and melee combat. Only the timely
intervention of Li’s remaining force prevented total disaster.
Even though Li seemed to operate with a great deal of faithfulness to
classic texts, his actions also differed a great deal. There is no word about
gunpowder in the thousand-year-old writings. Thus cannon fire would make
a siege better for Chinese forces. Gunpowder weapons— except for the
relatively new pistols, or what they called three-eyed guns—were
ineffective on horseback. And Chinese writers even advised that after firing
a pistol, it should be used as a bludgeon. Qi Jiguang trained his infantry in
close-order formations that didn’t include gunpowder weapons. Chinese
military writings often have disputed translations, interpretations, and
contested authenticity of their authors. The Confucian officials writing the
histories were often more concerned with enhancing their position at the
expense of uncouth military men. If they did include an example of Chinese
military theory, it was because they wanted to show how book learning
could lead to success on the battlefield, and probably not that the general
actually followed theory. One late Ming dynasty specialist, for example,
argued that the Seven Military Classics were hardly used during the Ming
dynasty. Citations of those works were so rare that he noted the exceptions.
The Kangxi Emperor (1654–1722), one of the most powerful martial
leaders in Chinese history, famously called the Seven Military Classics
“worthless.”12
That said, Qi Jiguang’s military manual included large amounts of
material that recalled classic writers. One could argue that Chinese values
and their ways of war were so ingrained that they didn’t need to specifically
mention it. Anybody with passing familiarity with the classics could notice
a similarity between Li’s use of rewards and punishments in front of the
walls of Pyongyang and the instructions in the classics. It is clear, then, that
Chinese forces were at least partially influenced by the military classics, as
they still acted in several clear ways according to its principles and
consciously copied them in their written works, even though gunpowder
weapons affected the practice of warfare in this age.
CONCLUSION
The Siege of Pyongyang represented one of the most pivotal battles in one
of the largest conflicts in modern East Asian history. It is even called the
first regional war, in comparison to the latter one that was a part of World
War II. The fight shows the continuing strength of the late Ming dynasty
and helps to dispel the notion that it was bound to decline as part of an
artificial dynastic cycle. The application of the classic military theories was
more nuanced than typically thought. Li Rusong and Qi Jiguang likely used
inherited ideas and cultural values from Sunzi and other classic writers, but
there was a great deal of variance from them in accordance with new
technology. Some leaders disregarded the classic teachings, while others
consciously and effectively modeled their writings on them. The application
of ancient principles in dangerous modern times applied even more when
British ships arrived at their doorstep during the next war.
 10

THE BATTLE OF ZHENJIANG

1842

You O King, are so inclined toward our civilization that you have sent a special envoy across
the seas to bring to our Court your memorial of congratulations on the occasion of my
birthday and to present your native products as an expression of your thoughtfulness. On
perusing your memorial, so simply worded and sincerely conceived I am impressed by your
genuine respectfulness and friendliness and greatly pleased. . . . The Celestial Court has
pacified and possessed the territory within the four seas. Its sole aim is to do its utmost to
achieve good government and to manage political affairs, attaching no value to strange
jewels and precious objects. The various articles presented by you, O King, this time are
accepted by my special order to the office in charge of such functions in consideration of the
offerings having come from a long distance with sincere good wishes. As a matter of fact,
the virtue and prestige of the Celestial Dynasty having spread far and wide, the kings of the
myriad nations come by land and sea with all sorts of precious things. Consequently there is
nothing we lack, as your principal envoy and others have themselves observed. We have
never set much store on strange or ingenious objects, nor do we need any more of your
country’s manufactures.
—Emperor Qian Long to England, 1793

A survey of all the states in the world will show that those states that undertook reforms
became strong while those states that clung to the past perished. . . . Our present trouble lies
in our clinging to old institutions without knowing how to change. In an age of competition
between states, to put into effect methods appropriate to an era of universal unification and
laissez-faire is like wearing heavy furs in the summer or riding a high carriage across a
river. . . . It is a principle of things that the new is strong but the old is weak. . . . Moreover,
our present institutions are but the unworthy vestiges of the Han, Tang, Yuan, and the Ming
dynasties. . . . In fact, they are the products of the fancy writing and corrupt dealing of petty
officials rather than the original ideas of the ancestors. . . . After studying ancient and modern
institutions, Chinese and foreign, I have found that the institutions of the sage kings and the
Three Dynasties [of Xia, Shang, and Zhou] were excellent, but that ancient times were
different from today. . . . I beg Your Majesty to adopt the purpose of Peter the Great of
Russia as our purpose and to take the Meiji Reform of Japan as the model of our reform.
—Kang Youwei, Comprehensive Consideration of the Whole Situation
THE CAPITAL AT BEIJING was in a precarious position. Even though British
forces were still hundreds of miles away and their naval forces couldn’t
land enough infantry to fight there, the British were close enough to the
Grand Canal at Zhenjiang to cut the grain supply to Beijing. Since the sixth
century Sui dynasty rulers built the canal, it had been a vital logistical line
that fed Beijing and the other capitals of the north.
About nine thousand soldiers and eight thousand Manchu Bannermen of
the Qing dynasty fought outside the gate. After bitter fighting, the
bannermen were forced back into the city. The British disembarked their
heavy cannon and blasted the north gate. Still, the bannermen resisted at the
gate. The British brought special scaling ladders, and the bannermen fought
on the palisades. They fought in the streets, and the bodies piled up. After a
lengthy stuggle, and over 1,500 British deaths, they secured the city. The
British had cut the vital lifeline to the court at Beijing, and peace
negotiations started.
The Chinese had banned opium almost fifty years before but hardly
enforced the ban. There was even a thriving homegrown industry in the
Sichuan valley. But the trade imbalance with the British over this product
produced friction for both parties. Lin Zexu, the local governor of the trade
city of Guangzhou (called Canton by the British), became increasingly
strident as he tried to enforce the ban. The British leader of the naval forces,
Charles Elliot, and other British officials were annoyed at the sudden
restrictions being placed on them. Things came to a head in 1839, when Lin
demanded that the British hand over all the opium in port and sign
additional agreements in order to trade, but Elliot wouldn’t oblige. They
resented the infringement of their rights as British men and free traders. The
Chinese then moved war junks, small ships armed with cannon, to a
position where they could fire on the British ships.
This led to the first battle in late 1839. In response to being denied free
trade, the British war vessels closed the entire port to trade. By November
1839, one of the British merchant vessels tried to run the blockade. Thirteen
Manchu junks and sixteen fire boats prevented British ships from firing on
their rogue trader. After a furious but inconclusive firefight, the British
ships disengaged. Because the British withdrew, Lin enhanced his role, and
the outcome of the battle was a victory that he dutifully reported to the
emperor. A tense standoff continued through much of 1840, as the British
widened their blockade around southern coastal cities and negotiations
faltered. The Chinese were ready to force the British ships away from
Macao, but the British preempted them. This in turn led to the Battle of the
Barrier, in which a combination of disembarked British marines and
devastating naval fire from corvettes destroyed the barrier separating the
trading port of Macao from the entrance to China.
At this point, the British wanted to force a conclusion to the conflict but
couldn’t move on Beijing. They could, however, cut the Grand Canal and
attempt to starve the emperor into submission. The British assembled a
force almost nine thousand strong, which included about eighteen ships
ranging from two seventy-four-gun men of war to a half dozen frigates to
numerous corvettes and smaller vessels. Up until this point, they had fought
local Han troops. After bypassing numerous river defenses and coastal
forts, they reached Zhenjiang and seized the city.
 The loss of grain and increasing loss of political control of territories
south of Yangtze brought the Chinese emperor to the bargaining table. The
resulting Treaty of Nanjing underscored the free-trade issues that drove the
conflict in the first place. The British demanded the Chinese open five trade
cities, including Guangzhou and Shanghai. The treaty stipulated that Hong
Kong become an open and free port. (The city had only recently returned to
Chinese control.) Britain also gained any concessions made to other
countries.
The Opium War marked the beginning of a century of Chinese
weakness. This was a pivotal period in Chinese history that witnessed their
first sustained interaction with and defeat by the West. It also illustrates
several important myths and realities concerning the perception of Chinese
military weakness, the performance of their military, and the attempts at
importing Western military technology.
MYTHS AND REALITY
The battles of the Opium War were hardly more than skirmishes in many
cases, especially compared to later conflicts like the Taiping rebellion or
China’s war against Japanese aggression during World War II. But it still
had a prodigious impact on Chinese society and led to the creation of
several myths that obscure how Chinese leaders grappled with
modernization. Probably the myth with the most cultural impact comes
from Chinese historiography. Chinese textbooks still start modern history
sections with the Opium War and label it the first of many examples of
greedy foreign conquest.
The history books turn Lin into a nationalist hero for his antiimperialist
stance, even though his intransigence likely contributed to the conflict. In
fact, the first battle featured a British merchant vessel being fired on by
British warships protected by Chinese warships. The insistence on open
cities for commerce in the peace treaty points more toward the British
desire for free trade and not a desire to unfairly extract resources from
China. Though it is called the first of the “unequal” treaties by Chinese
scholars, the Nanjing Treaty that ended the war actually benefitted the local
Han Chinese at the expense of the Qing dynasty’s Manchu court. It restored
rights regarding free trade that the Han felt they had lost to a conquest
dynasty. Lin’s writings indicate that he hated Chinese merchants and
thought they were evil, while the British were just his opponents. The
ethnic Han witnesses to the Battle of Zhenjiang disliked the Manchus to the
point that they were ambivalent about British victory or defeat.1
The British had the good fortune, then, that allowed them to exploit
ethnic divisions within Chinese society that would flower into rebellion and
a collapse of the Qing dynasty in the next seventy years. This, combined
with other factors we will see, increased the British impression of easy
victories against an inferior foe. In the Battle of Chuanbi, the British
tactically withdrew, which led Lin Zexu to declare a victory. At what
historians now call the Sanyuanli Incident, named for the minor village near
Guangzhou, local militia surrounded an isolated attachment of British
soldiers, caused minor casualties, and made the British withdraw. This led
to another report of victory, which contributed to an unwarranted sense of
complacency in the Qing court. The court should have instead been
wondering why a force outnumbered ten to one could not only survive but
withdraw with minimal casualties. But the Qing amply rewarded
individuals for victory, which incentivized exaggerating and outright lying.
This led to reports that were then called the “Six Smashing Victories” in the
Opium War.
Another contributing factor to China’s loss resulted from Confucian
officials who labeled the British pirates or invaders. The incorrect labels
from officials made the local administrators recall the Japanese dwarf
pirates of the sixteenth century. (That conflict also featured disputes over
trade rights between local southern merchants and the officials in the
capital.) Because of this label, Chinese leaders adopted a somewhat passive
stance that had worked well against invaders and pirates in the past,
believing that all they had to do was defend with enough force to make
plundering unattractive. This ceded the initiative to the British and made the
Chinese forces seem rather weak in their passivity. It also aided British
objectives, as they could dictate strategy and apply pressure at just the right
points not to plunder but to force policy changes that would aid free trade.
The Han forces weren’t very motivated to fight and often retreated early in
a battle. The British freedom of action and low casualties gave them a sense
of a one-sided fight, but they faced ethnic Han who disliked the Manchu
and fought a passive strategy dictated by incorrectly applying historical
experience.
The Chinese had impressive numbers of ships with fairly advanced
equipment and tactics. British leaders in Guangzhou, for example, worried
that the large number of Chinese junks could overwhelm them. The junks
were armed with cannon comparable in size to what the British had, though
they had trouble aiming them. At the Battle of Chuanbi, for example, the
British soldiers reported that with better aiming, the Chinese could have
raked the decks of British ships and caused far more damage. Later in the
war the British faced Manchu Bannermen. Unlike the Han defenders, they
were strictly loyal to the dynasty and were well-trained and equipped. This
resulted in the intense Battle of Zhenjiang, where British forces suffered
heavy casualties and faced a stiff challenge.
The difference in the Opium War turned out to be the British edge in
technology. But it was a small edge and only began the year the war started.
The original ships in the region were subject to the winds and currents. Just
as at the Battle of Lake Poyang, this meant they had trouble moving upriver
in narrow spaces because it opened them up to fire attacks. But the new
ironclad Nemesis was different. It was only completed the year the war
started. Its steam-powered engine left the ship unaffected by the wind. Its
hull was constructed in six segments, which meant that if one was
penetrated by cannon or rocks, which happened at several points in the
conflict, it wouldn’t sink. The most effective advantage was its shallow
draft of only six feet. The steam-powered ships were relatively well-armed,
with two thirty-two-pound guns and six six-pounders, and the small draft
meant they could navigate previously unnavigable rivers. During the Opium
War, the British penetrated small creeks near Guangzhou that were as
shallow as four-and-a-half feet. According to reports, at some points the
river was so shallow the Nemesis practically slithered along the mud. This
allowed British forces to outflank naval fortifications positioned to stop
vessels operating in deep water, not powerful ships operating in shallow
water. The relatively advanced Chinese fortresses were rendered useless,
and the British could attack places that were often undefended and do so
from unexpected directions. The Chinese adapted during the war as well.
They started using pivot mounts on junks and fielding their own gunboats.
But the reports of Chinese victories and the belief that they could simply
outlast what the officials mislabeled as pirates meant it was too little too
late. Combined with the previously described apathy of Han soldiers, the
shallow-draft ironclads gave the British a war-winning advantage.
This wasn’t a case of cavalry charging tanks, or spearmen charging
machine-gun nests. The Chinese forces in the previous century had used
gunpowder weapons and railroads to advance farther than any other
dynasty. The longest ruling and most martially accomplished emperors,
such as the Kangxi and Qianlong emperors, collectively reigned for over
one hundred years. They left a peaceful, strong, and expanded empire
protected by a strong military armed with relatively modern weapons and a
healthy amount of money in their treasury. Their country’s population, if
not their territory, dwarfed that of just about any other nation on Earth, and
the Qianlong emperor had only died about forty years before the Opium
War. But the latter years of his reign witnessed the beginning of protracted
ethnic rebellions from the Muslim minorities, which drained the treasury. It
also presaged the problems that China would face in the nineteenth century
with frequent rebellions and a military increasingly unable to quell them.
 So at the start of the Opium War, the Chinese had well-trained armies
with advanced weaponry. There was some local variation, of course, but it
was still an impressive empire with a large military, tax base, and territory
under its control. It was a specific set of circumstances—ranging from
ethnic tension between the ruling Manchu and ethnic Han to unwise policy
choices based on a misreading of British intentions to new technology—
that defeated China. It was hardly the backward East being overawed by
European strength, as many people believe. This was a devastating and
shocking defeat for China, but it was due to specific historical events and
conditions, not Eastern aversion to technology or insurmountable Western
superiority.
SELF-STRENGTHENING
The Chinese reactions to their defeat during the Opium War were largely
based on cultural and political considerations. Because the Manchus were
not ethnically Han, they feared any reforms in the army could be used
against them. (The mutiny of armies which ended up being reformed did
contribute to their downfall in 1911.) The Manchus could also point to
victory reports received and blame defeats on incompetent Han troops. The
Manchus were keenly aware of, and their Confucian officials never let them
forget, their obligations as good Confucian rulers. Sadly, the one lesson not
learned from the conflict was the need to modernize; it was another twenty
years until the recovery from the near death blow during the Taiping
Rebellion of the 1860s that Chinese rulers pursued establishing modern,
gunpowder-equipped armies.
Chinese victories for the half century after the Opium War showed
evidence of the Manchu’s adaptability and strength. Chinese armies
equipped with Western-style rifles and tactics recovered from shocks and
setbacks, and even expanded farther into central Asia. They fought a brief
war and resolved the conflict with Russia over the pivotal Ili valley and
province. They subdued the Taiping Rebellion and defeated Muslim-led
revolts in the remote Yunnan Province. Just like the Wanli emperor in the
late Ming dynasty (see chapter 9), this period proved that an active and
capable leader could still secure and recover territory, as well as make
modest improvements in adopting Western arms. Compared to the collapse
of the Song and Ming dynasties, the Qing government did a capable job
against stronger threats in creating peace and prosperity.2
While the Chinese were able to respond to land-based threats and
internal rebellions very well, the European naval threats to areas that were
nominally under their control were a different story. They fought and lost
two wars against the British, which prompted improvements in technology
research and acquisition of more-advanced martial technology, as well as in
educating soldiers to effectively use it.3 But they lost two more pivotal wars
in the latter decades of the century, which showed that their efforts at
modernizing were still halting and inadequate. They fought the Sino-French
War in 1883–1885 for control of the Gulf of Tonkin and the territory we
now know as Vietnam. The war highlighted some of the larger trends in this
period that made self-strengthening difficult. The efforts at military reform
were led by various local leaders in a very inconsistent and political
fashion. Li Hongzhang (1823–1901) was considered one of the leading
reform advocates in the 1870s. He governed a pivotal central Chinese
province and led soldiers to subdue the Taiping and Muslim revolts. He and
several other governors were rewarded with great autonomy because of
their loyalty and relatively successful efforts at modernizing. But he and the
other reformers had a tough time deciding on which European country they
should model their new fleet, and he argued with many of the other leading
advocates for reform. Both of these factors meant that even when the court
committed to reform, it was done in a haphazard way. The result was
modern ships and armies that lacked standardized equipment and spare
parts. This was a common theme until the end of World War II, as China at
various points in this period obtained Soviet, German, Japanese, American,
British, and French advisers and equipment. Sometimes it obtained parts
and equipment from multiple countries at the same time.
Assuming they did have working equipment, doctrine and training was
still very uneven. (See chapter 11 for a discussion of military doctrine.)
Even with the best equipment, China didn’t always apply it in a conflict,
because of factional infighting, and didn’t use it properly in combat. Once
the conflict with France began, Li Hongzhang didn’t allow his northern
Chinese fleet to move south. He jealously procured and guarded the very
best ships (ironically, French built) and didn’t want to risk losing them. As
in the Opium War, though, the Chinese performance wasn’t such a clear-cut
failure. They scored several victories over French infantry in northern
Vietnam, and ended up losing control of only a small amount of territory on
the periphery that became the French colony of Vietnam.
They had performed better, but their efforts were still not enough. It was
the First Sino-Japanese War in 1894–1895 that clearly revealed Chinese
weakness and signaled the beginning of the end for the dynasty. The
conduct of China’s army and sea forces were a complete embarrassment for
the Qing dynasty and its Manchu rulers. Their army was sent retreating
back to China, with core Chinese territory penetrated, and Beijing was close
to falling. Despite having superior numbers, the navy was destroyed. Once
again, the northern and southern Chinese navies failed to assist each other,
but it likely wouldn’t have helped. The Japanese fleet completely
outmaneuvered, outperformed, and annihilated the much larger Chinese
fleet. The resulting treaty removed Korea and Taiwan from the Chinese
orbit and subjected China to years of Japanese aggression. Many local
Japanese leaders regularly seized territory and created puppet states to
advance their careers. In 1931, the Japanese staged the “Mukden Incident”
in which they blamed Chinese insurgents for attempting to destroy a
Japanese-owned railway in China. The incident gave the Japanese pretense
to invade Manchuria and establish the puppet state of Manchukuo, in what
many historians consider to be the true start of World War II.
After the First Sino-Japanese War, Germany, Russia, and Great Britain
demanded additional trade concessions in Chinese ports, the rights to use
railroads, and special protections for missionaries. Concessions to America
were smaller but still consisted of the Open Door Policy that allowed
American goods to flood China. In short, the First Sino-Japanese War
revealed the ineffectiveness of the Manchus in the face of Western nations.
It wasn’t because of an aversion to Western technology or China being an
incredibly backward nation but, arguably, because of unique circumstances
that made reforms incredibly halting and uneven.
 In addition to the provincial governors, the leading Confucian scholars
of this period often made uneven efforts at reform. Traditional Confucian
interpretations dominated until the Taiping Rebellion. The Manchu rulers
were starting to see the beginning of various ethnic rebellions from Han
Chinese and Muslims. The rebels armed with modern weapons caused as
many as sixty million casualties, and the success of the court in suppressing
them solidified the Manchu’s rule enough to justify self-strengthening.
Prominent Confucian officials and the Manchu court believed that the
essence of Confucianism remained the same, but what they called useful
contrivances could be borrowed from the West.
After the Manchu’s disastrous defeat at the hands of the Japanese, the
essence/borrowing method—where the essence of Confucian philosophy
remained unchanged, while useful or needed ideas from the West could be
borrowed—seemed inadequate, and leading scholars such as Kang Youwei
(1858–1927), quoted at the beginning of this chapter, began to reinterpret
the essence of Confucianism and argued that Confucius was a reformer and
Confucianism a policy of change. This policy lasted until 1911 with the
collapse of the Qing dynasty. With the end of the last dynasty, and
particularly after World War I, leading Chinese thinkers began to abandon
Confucianism and embrace Western ideas. During this period, ideas were
judged and adopted based on their ability to help solve Chinese problems.
This phase is often called the May Fourth Movement, after an incident in
Beijing on May 4, 1919, where thousands of demonstrators marched to
protest the Treaty of Versailles, which awarded former German territory in
China to Japan. This affront created strong nationalistic feelings, and
thousands of demonstrators merged with reform-minded advocates. This
movement also coincided with the rise of warlords and allowed the Chinese
people and leaders to experiment with new ideologies such as communism
and nationalism.
The leaders of this movement were Cai Yuanpei (1868–1940), who
became the chancellor at Beijing University, and Chen Duxiu (1879–1942),
who became his dean of letters. They made the university a haven for
scholars fleeing the chaos of China or returning from study abroad. Their
nationalistic and anti-imperialistic ideas spread quickly to the rest of China,
and especially to other scholars in urban centers. After the slaughter of
World War I and the intensity of nationalism, a handful of the older
generation of reformers such as Kang Youwei advocated for a return to
traditional Confucian ideals.
CONCLUSION
The Chinese were decisively defeated in the Opium War, which led to over
one hundred years of weakness. The simplistic interpretation of the Chinese
as the hapless victims of greedy foreign invaders is inaccurate. The
perception of the Chinese as incapable of using Western weapons and
lacking interest in military matters is also inaccurate. First the British and
then other European powers and the Japanese had specific advantages in
technology during a period in which the Manchu rulers were often
philosophically prevented from making meaningful military and political
reforms because of their need to appease ethnic Han and Confucian elites.
The court eventually adopted Western technologies, suppressed rebellions,
and even won land contests against the Russian and the French armies. But
they suffered from a period of inefficient rule and unfocused self-
strengthening run by territorial politicians who hampered the efforts the
rulers did make. After the fall of the last dynasty, China was consumed with
civil war that did little to prevent its abuse by outside powers. But it was
during this period that one of China’s leading political and military figures
was revealed.
 11

THE THIRD ENCIRCLEMENT CAMPAIGN

1931

This proposal to contend in Jiangxi erred only in setting a time limit of one year. It was based
not only on conditions within the province itself, but also on the prospect that a nationwide
high tide of revolution would soon arise. For unless we had been convinced that there would
soon be a high tide of revolution, we could not possibly have concluded that we could take
Jiangxi in a year. The only weakness in the proposal was that it set a time limit of one year,
which it should not have done, and so gave a flavor of impetuosity to the word “soon” in the
statement, “there will soon be a high tide of revolution.” As to the subjective and objective
conditions in Jiangxi they well deserve our attention. Besides the subjective conditions
described in the letter to the Central Committee, three objective conditions can now be
clearly pointed out. First, the economy of Jiangxi is mainly feudal, the merchant capitalist
class is relatively weak, and the armed forces of the landlords are weaker than in any other
southern province. Secondly, Jiangxi has no provincial troops of its own and has always been
garrisoned by troops from other provinces. Sent there for the “suppression of Communists”
or “suppression of bandits,” these troops are unfamiliar with local conditions, their interests
are much less directly involved than if they were local troops, and they usually lack
enthusiasm. And thirdly, unlike Guangdong which is close to Hong Kong and under British
control in almost every respect, Jiangxi is comparatively remote from imperialist influence.
Once we have grasped these three points, we can understand why rural uprisings are more
widespread and the Red Army and guerrilla units more numerous in Jiangxi than in any other
province.
—Mao Zedong, “A Single Spark Can Start a Prairie Fire”

Practice divorced from theory is like groping in the dark; theory divorced from practice is
purposeless theory.
—Zhu De, “Some Basic Principles Concerning Tactics”

SO CLOSE. The Third Encirclement Campaign started only three months

after the defeat of the second campaign in July 1931, and it was the first to
feature the use of Chiang Kai-shek’s loyal divisions and his personal
supervision. In this campaign, the Nationalists had cornered a Communist
force and seemed poised for victory. As was usually the case, a lone unit,
under-gunned and with little supply, made a daring escape. It fled quickly to
the northeast. Chiang’s forces thought this was the fleeing army of
Communists and chased them. So far, the third campaign by Nationalist
troops, and the fifth if you include campaigns led by warlords and
provincial forces, had gone as usual. The Communists outmaneuvered their
foe and escaped destruction, and once the core force recuperated, it would
spring on the unsuspecting Nationalist troops who had been lured away.
Before the Long March—in which Communist forces traveled over six
thousand miles to escape destruction and restart the revolution in northern
China, an action given Valley Forge status among the Chinese—those
forces fought a long insurgency. This period saw Mao’s first actions as
leader of a small insurgency in southern China. After his defeat in the 1927
Nanchang uprising, Mao retreated to the Jinggangshan mountain base. This
was a rather impressive mountain range on the western border of Jiangxi.
The province itself was somewhat remote but within several hundred miles
of pivotal cities such as Shanghai, Changsha, Wuhan, and Guanzhou in
southern China. Communist insurgents made sure to possess territory that
crossed provincial and county borders, which prevented cooperation among
governors. Counterinsurgency soldiers had to advance along limited routes
and could be flanked by Communists using secret mountain paths. The
Communists then told and retold their exploits against the invaders in rather
romanticized fashion to gain even more recruits. Eventually the provinical
governors cooperated enough that the Communist forces under Mao and
Zhu De (the more-experienced military leader and eventual commander in
chief of the Red Army) were forced to make a daring escape along an
unused path. After reestablishing a base in the southeastern portion of
Jiangxi Province, they were joined by other Communist leaders, and
together they expanded their territory and implemented reforms they would
later establish on a national scale when they won the civil war in 1949. With
Mao rebuilding in a new area, the nominal leader of China, Chiang Kai-
shek, finally issued a call for widespread counterinsurgency operations
called encirclement or extermination campaigns. Those campaigns did not
go well, with the Communists decisively defeating the opposing force using
speed and surprise to attack and annihilate Nationalist isolated units. The
Communists were finally expelled by the Nationalists in 1934, after the
fifth counterinsurgency campaign.
 Returning to the third campaign and the Nationalists chasing of a ghost,
it seemed to be going the Communists’ way again. The Nationalist forces
were out of position and exhausted. But Chiang and his lead general, Chen
Cheng, managed to salvage what seemed destined to be another defeat.
Instead of retreating in disarray as before, Chiang quickly summoned
reinforcements, successfully located the Communists’ main force, and
tightened the noose around it. (See map, page 151.) The Red Army leaders
stated in their memoirs that the Nationalist siege was the most difficult and
trying time of the extermination campaigns to date.1 It seemed like Chiang
was poised for victory. Unfortunately for him, the Guangxi secession of two
southern warlords and the Mukden Incident with Japan that resulted in the
creation of the puppet state of Manchukuo ended Chiang’s campaign
prematurely. Chiang had to contend against external threats and internal
revolt from prominent warlords. He was so close to final victory against the
Communist insurgency but was denied it at the last moment.
Mao Zedong is hailed in largely hagiographic terms as a result of his
eventual ascent to power and victory in the Chinese civil war. His words are
immortalized in such texts as On Guerrilla Warfare and On Protracted
Warfare. Revolutionaries like the Vietnamese Ho Chi Minh explicitly
credited his theories, and scholars often mention Mao in the same breath as
Ernesto “Che” Guevara as leading theorists and practitioners of
revolutionary warfare. As Zhu De stated, the theory of warfare without a
history of its practice is often groping in the dark.2 Comparing Communist
military campaigns in this period to Mao’s widely known theories makes us
reexamine both Mao’s and Chiang Kai-shek’s leadership. His loss in the
civil war meant that Chiang is often labeled a failure, while Mao is
considered a military genius and great reformer. But these are imperfect
perceptions that ignore many details, such as the core Nationalist strength,
the favored geographic position of the Communist insurgency, and the
unappreciated strategic heritage of the late Qing and Warlord era.
END OF QING TO THE NANJING DECADE AND INSURGENCY
After the failure of its self-strengthening movement and disastrous defeat
by Japan (see chapter 10), the Qing dynasty was in dire straits. It couldn’t
protect its territory against encroaching Western powers and Japan. The
court tried to co-opt the violent antiforeigner uprising called the Boxer
Rebellion. Between 1899 and 1901, the violent anti-foreigner movement
swept the country, with missionaries killed and the European diplomatic
quarters put under siege in Beijing. The Chinese army also placed artillery
around and facing the foreign legates. This was the decisive firepower the
Boxers needed to overwhelm the besieged Westerners, but the artillery fire
was dilatory at best. Besides again giving the Westerners the impression of
Chinese martial incompetence, the lackadaisical performance of the artillery
is the leading evidence that the court tried to straddle multiple sides by
appearing to help the Boxers, who could perhaps solve its problem with the
West, while trying to escape blame from Western governments in case the
Boxers failed. It also reflected the ongoing strain in the court between
belligerent anti-Western factions and those that favored conciliation and
reform. A joint operation by Western naval forces and marines quickly
landed near Tianjin and fought their way to Beijing. On top of the
embarrassment of having such a small army capture its capital, the court did
not escape blame for its support of the movement. The Boxer Protocols
called for the execution of the officials who supported the rebellion and a
payment from the Chinese government larger than its annual tax revenue.
The government limped on for years until it collapsed in 1911. The
catalyst was a riot in Sichuan followed by a combination of local gentry,
railroad workers, and prominent provincial politicians refusing to obey
government edicts. It quickly spread to the general population and led to a
mutiny among newly trained military units, whose ethnic Han soldiers had
little loyalty to the Manchu dynasty. The last emperor, Puyi, abdicated in
1912. After a short-lived government under Yuan Sikai, the pivotal figure of
the period was Sun Yat-sen (1866–1925), considered the father of the
Chinese republic, similar to American’s reverence for George Washington.
The government of Yuan was initially hostile to him, but Sun returned in
1916 and tried to lead the republican government of China. He and his
protégé, Chiang Kai-shek, had to lead a fractured country with a rather
weak political party and little actual power compared to strong warlords
with large and well-equipped armies. The best modernizers in China since
the mid-nineteenth century were the provincial governors. When the central
government continued to collapse, those modern armies and navies became
the basis of their power.
Sun’s major beliefs and governing philosophy centered on the three
principles: (1) nationalism, or independence from foreign domination, (2)
increased prosperity and economic success for each household, largely
represented in free trade, and (3) government-sponsored land reform and
equal distribution of land, as well as laws to prevent the abuse of what
peasants called “evil landlords.” In short, Sun tried to alleviate foreign
aggression and economic unfairness and inequality that took a financial and
emotional toll on large parts of the population. His death due to disease in
1925 left the movement in the hands of Chiang Kai-shek. Because of his
time as commandant of the new military academy at Whampoa, he led the
Whampoa clique of officers trained at the academy. His northern expedition
in 1927 nominally united China (and was only the second time in addition
to the Ming dynasty that a southern leader conquered the north to unite
China). The year 1927 also marked the beginning of the Nanjing decade. It
started with a modest amount of hope for reform and progress under a new
government. But Chiang had a difficult time consolidating his rule and
implementing reform. He had to fight a Communist insurgency, resist an
aggressive Japan, keep the warlords and rival cliques in line, and fight all
three threats at the same time as he tried to implement needed reforms.
THE ENCIRCLEMENT CAMPAIGNS
Chiang considered the Communist threat the greatest to his regime, and in
1930 he tried to suppress that movement throughout China. He assembled
troops loyal to him and various warlord-led soldiers to prosecute the
campaigns. The limits of Chiang’s power are evident in the first campaign.
He had to rely on rather ineffective warlord soldiers in his campaigns, and
they presented significant challenges. They often fought each other far more
than the Communists, and their soldiers lived off the land. Hence, soldiers
from other provinces were especially likely to alienate the local population
and were considered “guest armies.” Bases like the Communists’ Jiangxi
Soviet, which straddled provincial boundaries, had the advantage of interior
lines against divided forces operating in rough terrain. Even if militarily
successful, the atrocious behavior of guest armies and their nominal loyalty
to Chiang’s government made them walking recruiting posters for the Red
Army.
There were command and control problems as well. Provincial soldiers
received limited equipment and sporadic training that lacked rigor. Even the
Nationalist divisions under Chiang often had limited numbers of quality
guns, artillery, and radios. The few warlord troops that were highly trained
and superbly equipped had leaders more concerned with their own self-
interest. Their political power was based in their home provinces and
guaranteed by their armed soldiers, so leaders such as Li Zongren of the
Guangxi Clique (one of China’s more effective generals in the war against
Japan) didn’t want to risk their political fortunes, and likely their lives, on
operations outside of their province. Success against the Communists would
only help the national government at the expense of their soldiers, or cost
them their armies, political power, and lives upon a defeat.
We might wonder why Chiang used troops of dubious loyalty and
effectiveness. He absorbed many of them and transferred them from their
bases of operation, which added mass to his operation. If they succeeded,
then he would have one less problem and he would get overall credit for the
victory. If they failed, the warlords, particularly those from the north, would
have less strength with which to oppose him and revolt. Sinologists have
listed twenty-seven revolts during the Nanjing decade from 1927–1937, so
this wasn’t an imaginary concern.3
In the First Encirclement Campaign, from December 1930 to January
1931, the warlord troops advancing from the west stopped far away from
the battlefield under the pretext of needing supplies, while the troops
advancing from the east province never entered Jiangxi to fight the
Communists. (See map, page 149.) This left the isolated Eighteenth Army
to try to penetrate the areas of Communist control. Even this army group
advanced with gaps between its divisions. Hence, it wasn’t too difficult for
Zhu De and Mao to find, isolate, and annihilate individual divisions. Once
they did so, it caused a self-fulfilling prophecy and became vindication for
warlords who didn’t want to risk their armies. The defections increased
when the Communists offered generous terms to defeated Nationalists. And
the Red Army scavenged additional weapons, making it even stronger.
The Second Encirclement Campaign occurred from April to May 1931.
The important part of this campaign was the east-to-west movement of
Communist forces. (See map, page 150.) The forces led by Mao and Zhu
preferred to find one isolated unit that had advanced too far and then use the
defeat of that unit to cause chaos and undermine the morale of the other
units and more easily defeat them. Much like the first campaign, it worked
spectacularly. The first defeated unit retreated east and undermined the
morale of other units and caused confusion, which led to those units being
defeated.
By the Third Encirclement Campaign in July to September 1931, Chiang
used more of his own troops loyal to him. While they were more effective
than warlord soldiers, this still created its own set of problems. Most
historians list this as a Communist victory, but it was at best a draw. Each
force received heavy damage and inflicted it on the other, but the
Communists were eventually surrounded, and the Nationalists were closing
in for the final blow. Chiang had to call off the attack because of outside
factors, but he was poised for victory.
Historians normally discuss the campaign, if they discuss it at all, as part
of a narrative that results in Communist victory. Because the third campaign
is sandwiched between the first, second, and fourth campaigns, and this
campaign featured some of the same elements of those Nationalist losses—
such as isolated and destroyed divisions, and units that were led astray—it
is often considered another Communist victory. But examining the
campaign on its own shows that Chiang recovered from setbacks and had a
strong position before he had to withdraw on his own accord.
The Fourth Encirclement Campaign was fought from January to March
1933. (See map, page 152.) Note the sixteen-month gap between the third
and fourth campaigns. That was because Chiang was dealing with an
international crisis and a warlord rebellion. The Communists used this
period to expand their support. The fourth is the only campaign in which
the Communists didn’t lure the Nationalists into rough and distant terrain
deep within the province (which theorists called “lure into the deep”) to try
to isolate and annihilate individual units. Instead, the Communists
preemptively attacked Nationalist forces, securing a resounding victory.
Because of previous friction with Communist leaders, Mao was not in a
position of authority at this time, and because he advocated the exact
opposite of the strategy used in this campaign, his leadership was
thoroughly discredited. This would be the nadir of Mao’s prestige and
influence.
The Fifth Encirclement Campaign occurred from September 1933 to
October 1934. (See map, page 153.) This campaign lasted almost a year.
The Nationalists built blockhouses and slowly advanced into Communist-
held territory. They adopted political reforms and an effective economic
blockade as the Communists withered trying to attack fixed and fortified
positions. This campaign was utterly disastrous for the Communists and
forced them to retreat six thousand miles—a trek of twice the width of the
continental United States—that became known as the Long March. But
Mao benefited once again. Because he was out of favor, he used the defeat
to regain power and question the decisions in hindsight to elevate his
opinions on what should have been done.
The strategy used most often during these campaigns was called “lure
into the deep.” The common understanding of this strategy is that under
inspiration from Mao, Zhu and other military commanders traded space for
time by retreating into the mountainous terrain of the Jiangxi Soviet. The
Jinggangshan area especially facilitated this since there were only a few
approaches to the mountain villages. In both the Jinggangshan area and the
new base established in eastern Jiangxi, the Communists took advantage of
poor communication between Nationalist armies. The Nationalist units
advanced over rough terrain that strained their logistical capabilities and
often isolated individual units. The Communists then used their knowledge
of local terrain to mass secretly and annihilate isolated divisions. (Mao
might have had this in mind when he later wrote, “Injuring all of a man’s
ten fingers is not as effective as chopping off one.”)4 This created a cascade
effect. The defeat of an isolated unit produced a stream of retreating
surviving soldiers who would undermine other units with their low morale.
In addition, the unit that was destroyed isolated others that depended on it
for mutual support. This made the defeat of other Nationalist units easier for
the Communists, who then repeated the pattern.
THE NATIONALIST ARMY
The devastating expulsion of the Communists after the Fifth Encirclement
Campaign suggests a revision of the common interpretation of the
Nationalist armies. The Nationalists were the government that ruled China
for over twenty years. They prosecuted successful campaigns to nominally
unite the country, control the warlords, expel the Communists, and fight the
Japanese. It was only when Chiang Kai-shek initiated the First
Encirclement Campaign in late 1930 that the Communist counterinsurgency
became a matter of direct concern to the Nationalist government, and it was
not until the third campaign in late 1931 that Chiang used higher-quality
units. But the limited forces directly loyal to the national government forced
the continued use of less-effective warlord troops in each campaign.
The Nationalists had armies capable enough to win against much larger
opponents and secure China, but their strengths were uniquely unsuited to
combat against the Communists. The Nationalist armies had a diverse
composition of units. The core troops most loyal to Chiang often received
the best equipment, which created a great deal of jealousy and mistrust,
which compounded communication problems, making it difficult to
maneuver over large fronts. In the rugged terrain of south China, against an
enemy that traded space for time and patiently waited for an isolated unit, a
large united front was exactly what was needed, and its absence became a
decisive weakness.
Nationalist armies were small and generally had far fewer resources than
their opponents. This made them want to end campaigns quickly before
they exhausted their supplies. This reinforced the tendency to advance
quickly and seek battle, and they often attempted dangerous flank
maneuvers to maximize their attacks. Their desire for swift resolution stood
in direct contrast to an enemy that had the advantage of withdrawing deep
into difficult terrain.
Finally, the Nationalists relied on great élan. Chiang cultivated what he
called the Whampoa Spirit in his army. This spirit produced an army with
motivated leaders who conducted an aggressive, speedy, and confident
pursuit of and engagement with the enemy. Chiang even believed that
martial vigor was a model for the nation. Numerous sinologists credit the
Whampoa Spirit for the Nationalist’s victory against numerically and
materially superior opponents. But the Communists often fought with the
same amount of élan.5 The Nationalists couldn’t rely on one decisive battle
as they had before, but had to contend with a prolonged counterinsurgency
against an enemy just as motivated yet better at using the rough terrain to
isolate and overwhelm its opponents. Thus, in every way, the factors that
made the Nationalist army successful were negated and actually amplified
Communist strengths. In contrast to the common view of the Nationalists as
perennial losers who were simply placeholders before the inevitable
Communist victory, Chiang’s military contained many capable and
qualified military leaders who often failed because of an impossible
combination of intractable problems.6
CULTURAL ENVIRONMENT OF MILITARY WRITINGS
Mao receives a great deal of credit as the father of revolutionary warfare,
but there is increasing evidence that questions that image. Scholars are now
suggesting that On Guerrilla Warfare was written by Zhu De.7 This volume
achieved wide fame during the Greater East Asian War, and many historians
and practitioners consider it one of the most succinct, influential, and
essential texts on guerrilla warfare. Many of its aphorisms have penetrated
popular thought, including the idea that people are like water, and the
guerrilla must move through them as freely as a fish through water.
Also quite famous are the sixteen-character formula and the three rules
and eight principles. The sixteen-character formula was written in the shape
of a classical poem for easy memorization and recitation:
When the enemy advances, we retreat.
When the enemy halts and encamps, we harass them.
When the enemy seeks to avoid battle (becomes tired),
we attack.
When the enemy retreats, we pursue.

The three rules and eight points were designed to protect the people
against the common depredations of the army. These principles became a
concise and profound blueprint for the Red Army in the twenty-year civil
war against the Nationalists. And their simple profundity makes them
widely applicable around the world. The main rules were essential in
helping the Communists win the support of the people. Yet historians also
attribute both the sixteen-character formula and main rules to Zhu De.8
Moreover, even if Zhu gets the credit for these formulations, the main rules
had historical antecedents that suggest even Zhu wasn’t completely original.
 Jiangxi Province had a long history of rebellion. The rugged terrain,
limited roads, and bandits who straddled county and provincial jurisdictions
made Jiangxi a contested and lawless region that even a strong national
government had difficulty controlling. For example, rebels used the
Jinggangshan mountain base during the Taiping Rebellion (1850–1864).
These rebels even created a set of rules called the Taiping Rules and
Regulations that bear an uncanny resemblance to the three main rules and
eight principles developed by the Communists.
Guerrilla warfare wasn’t new, but Mao often receives credit as the first
to fully articulate a theory on protracted revolutionary warfare. However,
the eighty years previous to Mao’s fight witnessed similar strategic thought
in China and Europe. This includes strategies such as lure into the deep, late
Qing dynasty military writings, and the theories articulated by Cai E in the
early twentieth century and seen later during World War II. Late Qing
dynasty (1644–1911) military writings published in 1843 and the mid-
1880s discussed these theories. All of them concluded that in the event of
war, China should avoid the West’s area of strengths, such as naval warfare
and ability to bypass coastal defenses. Instead, Chinese forces should draw
them into a land battle and use China’s vast interior to exhaust them before
swarming like “bees and ants.” In On Guerrilla Warfare, Mao used almost
the exact words and stressed the need for the regular army to work with
guerrillas to become “gnats biting a giant.”9 While the Qing writers didn’t
use the phrase “lure into the deep,” their methods bear a striking
resemblance to those used by Communists in their base areas, and the
writings of military thinkers show that the Chinese were not passive victims
of the West, but thoughtfully examined the problems and possible solutions
to them throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
The quest for battles of annihilation, or cutting off one finger instead of
injuring ten, is not unique either. Qing military theory called for the tactics
of “pin down the front and attack the wings and flanks.”10 It is outside the
scope of this chapter to show how that applied in conflicts with Japan and
France in the late Qing dynasty, but a conflict between southern warlords
near Jiangxi province during this turbulent period does include an example
of both luring into the deep and a quest for a battle of annihilation. One
warlord ordered his troops to retreat a small degree in the face of a frontal
attack. His elite troops, prepositioned on the flanks, then enveloped and
destroyed the advacing enemy as they were “lured into the deep.” Zhu De
was considered Mao’s right-hand man, and his mentor, Cai E, advanced
similar ideas.11 Like the Qing theorists before him, and Communists and
Nationalists after him, he thought that China was too weak to pursue
offensive action. They must, Cai argued, use the example of the Boer War
and allow the enemy to advance deeply. Then, at the opportune moment,
Chinese forces should pounce and destroy them. According to Cai, this
would force the enemy into the same fate as Napoleon in Russia and secure
victory for China.
It is fairly obvious that using difficult terrain to weaken an enemy before
pouncing on it for a complete victory had ample precedent within recent
Chinese history. Chiang Kai-shek often withdrew from superior Japanese
forces during much of World War II. He moved the capital to the distant
city of Chongqing. And Nationalist generals were so good at retreating and
then attacking the flanks, such as at the three battles for Changsha, that by
the time of Japan’s Ichigo offensive, from April to December 1944 (see
chapter 12), the Japanese advanced with their strongest forces on the flanks.
At the very least, we can safely assume that Mao was not nearly as original
and gifted as is commonly assumed and instead engaged in fairly standard
practices.
CONCLUSION
The prevailing impressions of Mao Zedong and Chiang Kai-shek suffer
from inaccurate perceptions of history. Mao was not nearly the military
genius and father of revolutionary warfare that people assume. Chiang was
not the corrupt leader of a military junta and ineffectual forces. Mao did end
up being the leader of the Communist insurgency and all of China, but it
wasn’t because of his great military skill. Chiang lost but only after
successfully fending off multifaceted challenges that would tax the leader of
any state. The next chapter will show the decisive Japanese campaign that
fatally weakened Chiang’s state.
 12

THE BATTLE OF HENGYANG OR FOURTH

BATTLE OF CHANGSHA
1944

First, prior to the Cairo Conference there had been disturbing elements voicing their
discontent and uncertainty of America and Great Britain’s attitude in waging a global war
and at the same time leaving China to shift as best she could against our common enemy. At
one stroke the Cairo communique decisively swept away this suspicion in that we three had
jointly and publicly pledged to launch a joint all-out offensive in the Pacific.
Second, if it should now be known to the Chinese army and people that a radical change
of policy and strategy is being contemplated, the repercussions would be so disheartening
that I fear of the consequences of China’s inability to hold out much longer.
Third, I am aware and appreciate your being influenced by the probable tremendous
advantages to be reaped by China as well as by the United Nations as a whole in speedily
defeating Germany first. For the victory of one theater of war necessarily affects all other
theaters; on the other hand, the collapse of the China theater would have equally grave
consequences on the global war. I have therefore come to this conclusion that in order to
save this grave situation, I am inclined to accept your recommendation. You will doubtless
realize that in so doing my task in rallying the nation to continue resistance is being made
infinitely more difficult.
Because the danger to the China theater lies not only in the inferiority of our military
strength, but also, and more especially, in our critical economic condition which may
seriously affect the morale of the army and people, and cause at any moment a sudden
collapse of the entire front. Judging from the present critical situation, military as well as
economic, it would be impossible for us to hold on for six months, and a fortiori to wait till
November 1944. In my last conversation with you I stated that China’s economic situation
was more critical than the military. The only seeming solution is to assure the Chinese people
and army of your sincere concern in the China theater of war by assisting China to hold on
with a billion gold dollar loan to strengthen her economic front and relieve her dire economic
needs. Simultaneously, in order to prove our resolute determination to bring relentless
pressure on Japan, the Chinese air force and the American air force stationed in China should
be increased, as from next spring, by at least double the number of aircraft already agreed
upon, and the total of air transportation should be increased, as from February of next year,
to at least 20,000 tons a month to make effective the operation of the additional planes.
In this way it might be possible to bring relief to our economic condition for the coming
year, and to maintain the morale of the army and the people who would be greatly
encouraged by America’s timely assistance. What I have suggested is, I believe, the only
 way of remedying the drawbacks of the strategy concerning the China and Pacific theaters. I
am sure you will appreciate my difficult position and give me the necessary assistance. I
have instructed General Stilwell to return immediately to Chungking and I shall discuss with
him regarding the details of the proposed changed plan and shall let you know of my
decision as to which one of your suggestions is the more feasible.
From the declaration of the Teheran Conference Japan will rightly deduce that
practically the entire weight of the United Nations’ forces will be applied to the European
front thus abandoning the China theater to the mercy of Japan’s mechanized air and land
forces. It would be strategic on Japan’s part to liquidate the China Affair during the coming
year. It may therefore be expected that the Japanese will before long launch an all-out
offensive against China so as to remove the threat to their rear, and thus re-capture the
militarists’ waning popularity and bolster their fighting morale in the Pacific. This is the
problem which I have to face. Knowing that you are a realist, and as your loyal colleague, I
feel constrained to acquaint you with the above facts. Awaiting an early reply,
—Chiang Kai-shek, reply to US president Franklin Roosevelt

THE CHINESE GENERAL XUE YUE, nicknamed the Patton of Asia, planned a
staged withdrawal along the banks of the Xiang River. The forces he
commanded couldn’t stand against the shock and awe of highly trained and
well-equipped Japanese soldiers maneuvering to bring their heavy
firepower to bear. But they fought the Japanese as they had been doing
since 1937. In the 1944 Ichigo offensive, the wartime government of
Chiang Kai-shek faced its greatest threat. In response, Xue planned to
overextend the Japanese army, then near Changsha he would attack its
flanks, cut its logistical ties where the army was weakest, and force its
retreat.
But the Japanese had faced this tactic before. Instead of advancing in
three separate columns, with most of the strength in the center, they
advanced across a broad front. The strengthened wings were able to repel
the Chinese flanking maneuvers. The Japanese advanced against the often-
understrength units and captured Changsha. By June 1944, the operation
had entered its second phase. But it was largely the same as the first stage.
The Chinese forces under Xue held the small city of Hengyang, north of
Hunan, with one army and placed thirteen armies on the flanks to try to
attack the exposed Japanese flanks. Chiang was under a great deal of
pressure to give command of the armies to the American liaison in China,
General Joseph Stilwell, and other Chinese generals suggested they strike
the Japanese rear. After all, they argued, the Japanese were 212 miles of
railroad from their central supply depot and 447 miles of road to their core
areas, and they were already short of supplies. But the need to maintain
national prestige and defend the city at all costs prevented what might have
been the more effective military option.
China’s Tenth Army was outnumbered two to one, and its defense of
Hengyang, led by Fang Xianjue, lasted forty-seven days and resulted in one
of the most ferociously contested battles of World War II. Hengyang was a
key rail junction for at least four nearby provinces. And its loss could open
up an avenue of approach to the Chinese wartime capital. The Chinese
soldiers were told that international prestige was on the line and they held
every block. They set up earthworks, trenches, pillboxes, bunkers
throughout the urban terrain, and established hidden machine-gun nests
around the city.
The Japanese planned to take the city in two days. They started with a
massive artillery barrage, absorbed huge counterattacks, and sent mass
human wave attacks against the fortified positions in the city. Because of a
shortage of ammunition, the Chinese adopted a “three don’t” policy: Don’t
shoot what you can’t see, don’t shoot what you can’t aim at, and don’t shoot
what you can’t kill. This preserved ammunition but also resulted in frequent
hand-to-hand fighting. The city was reduced to rubble, and outside the city,
thirteen Chinese armies tried to attack the scattered Japanese forces. The
Japanese eventually used piles of bodies to scale the Chinese defensive
positions. Ultimately the Chinese were forced to retreat after running out of
ammunition, but their fierce fighting displayed Chinese bravery and desire
to resist the foreign invaders. The concentrated forces of the Japanese, and
failure to coordinate the relief efforts of surrounding Chinese units with the
relieving armies, meant that Chinese forces were defeated piecemeal. The
political pressure Chiang was under and the strained relationship with Xue
Yue illustrated the difficulties Chiang had ruling China during the Nanjing
decade and throughout World War II and the civil war. His disagreements
with Stilwell represented the conventional but mistaken view of Chinese
weakness and supposed lack of desire to fight. The Battle of Hengyang, or
Fourth Battle of Changsha, was one of the most desperately fought and
intense conflicts of the entire war, yet few outside of China seem to know
about it or care.1
THE COURSE OF THE WAR
Some scholars date the beginning of this Sino-Japanese conflict to the
Mukden Incident of 1931, with Japan’s annexation of Manchuria, but active
fighting between Japan and China was imminent when a Japanese training
exercise engaged Chinese soldiers in July 1937 at the Marco Polo Bridge
southwest of Beijing. This incident finally sparked war in northern China.
The Nationalist army on the eve of the war had tried to strengthen itself but
still had numerous flaws. The soldiers received poor training and the
officers’ training was uneven. The German-taught officers at the Baoding
and Whampoa academies were generally better trained, but there simply
weren’t enough qualified officers to staff and lead 130 divisions. Their
tactics were out of date, they were poorly supplied, and they lacked a
general staff. Staff positions were not seen as desirable assignments for
qualified officers, so the posts usually became patronage positions for the
relatives of officers. This meant that even well-trained and well-equipped
units weren’t employed in well-organized operations. The headquarters
units often failed to distribute vital but relatively scarce equipment such as
antiaircraft and antitank guns and key artillery pieces.2 Chinese divisions
were smaller than their Japanese counterparts, but because of differences in
training, equipment, and doctrine, it generally took three and as many as ten
Chinese divisions to counter one Japanese division.3
Chiang Kai-shek wanted to relieve pressure on the northern front near
the Marco Polo Bridge and gain international support for his position by
attacking Japanese positions in Shanghai. Unfortunately, the battle became
a meat grinder for the best-trained units. A combination of the dense urban
terrain, stiff Japanese defense, and a failure to distribute artillery and air
assets from headquarters to forward units meant the Chinese were not
initially effective. Eventually, the Japanese flanked Chinese positions with
two amphibious landings. The Chinese retreated in disarray to Nanjing.
During the headlong retreat, motivated Chinese generals tried to stem
the tide by regrouping behind the “Chinese Hindenburg Line,” a series of
fortifications designed to provide a defense in depth. Yet the Japanese
advance was so swift that Chinese officials with the keys to these
fortifications had also fled. The resulting chaos meant that Chinese units
couldn’t establish strong positions and Japanese troops quickly flanked
them, forcing them to retreat again. The series of forts designed to produce
a stalemate with the Japanese was breached in less than two weeks. A
combination of Japanese skill and Chinese ineptitude led to the premature
end of this siege, the fall of the southern capital at Nanjing (Nanking), and a
series of abuses to the civilian population called the rape of Nanjing.
 At this point, Chiang became even more reliant on a coalition of warlord
troops. The execution of General Han Fuju seemed to have a catalyzing
effect that helped his leadership. Han had abandoned a key position in
northern China without firing a single shot. After his death, other generals
started to coalesce and fight the key Battle of Wuhan. The superior
performance of these now-motivated warlord generals led some scholars to
criticize the Whampoa clique that Chiang preferred. In addition to the
effective warlord generals, the Baoding clique, named after the German-led
military academy founded in 1921, were far less political and more
professional than the Whampoa clique. Despite the differences in
background and mistrust of each other, in 1938, around Wuhan, they started
to establish an effective resistance.4 (The Communists were active in this
period as well. But they were rebuilding their strength after the grueling
Long March and avoided major pitched battles, but they did score a famous
victory against a Japanese supply train strung out along Pingxingguan Pass
in late 1937.) The Japanese planned to have their units in northern and
southern China perform a pincer operation and capture the city of Wuhan.
After the fall of much of northern China and key cities in southern China,
this was the center of Chinese political, industrial, and military strength. It
was here that the Chinese achieved one of their first major victories of the
war, at Taierzhuang.
The city of Taierzhuang was on the eastern bank of the Grand Canal, not
that far from where Manchu Bannermen were humiliated one hundred years
before. Among the forces in charge of the defense was Li Zongren, leader
of the Guangxi clique whose rebellion forced Chiang to abort the Third
Encirclement Campaign. The city was located near a pivotal railroad
junction flanking Xuzhou. The capture of Taierzhuang opened a path along
the railroad to Xuzhou and then Wuhan. After a ten-month campaign in
1938, Xuzhou and eventually Wuhan were lost, but the vigorous defense
showed Chinese strength and earned grudging respect from world
observers. The lack of an early knockout for Japanese forces led to several
years of strategic indecision.
The Japanese army trained for rapid, explosive offensives whereby it
maneuvered its impressive firepower into position to blast its enemies. The
Japanese army was not trained for garrison duty or counterinsurgency. They
had first-class weapon systems superior to what the Chinese had and
disciplined junior officers and noncommissioned officers. But their
spectacular initial victories concealed structural weaknesses. Outside of
winning in those quick-strike offensives, such as their speedy victory
against China in their 1894–1895 war, they did not have a long-term
strategy to deal with China. They ended up alternating between additional
quick strikes and heavy bombing of Chinese areas. Eventually the Chinese
found that it was best to place a modest holding force in front of the
Japanese advance, offer substantive but still token resistance, and let a
much larger flanking force attack them when the Japanese thrust seemed to
reach its logistical limit. This happened in several battles for Changsha. Its
remote location and difficult terrain made it a reach for Japanese forces, and
the Chinese often chose this spot to engage the Japanese. By the time of the
Ichigo offensive, they had already fought the Fourth Battle of Changsha.
 The Ichigo offensive was designed by the Japanese to decisively solve
Japanese strategic problems. The Japanese naval fleet and merchant marine
were suffering severe losses at the hands of American naval forces, so they
wanted to clear and hold a contiguous land route connecting all of Japanese
territory from northern China to Indo-China. They also wanted to destroy
American bomber bases in China that were pummeling the Japanese
homeland.
This campaign featured over five hundred thousand Japanese soldiers,
comparable in size to the German invasion of the Soviet Union. It
devastated China and destroyed key industrial areas in Nationalist territory.
This operation laid to waste an estimated 25 percent of China’s industrial
base. Tax revenue dropped sharply, critical shortages of food resulted from
loss of grain areas, and over one million Chinese soldiers were killed just in
that year. Chiang wrote, “I’m 58 years old this year, of all the humiliations I
have suffered in my life, this is the greatest. . . . 1944 is the worst year for
China in its protracted war against Japan.”5
Most critically for postwar China, Chiang had to withdraw the small
portion of his forces keeping a wary eye on the Communists. (About 30 out
of 130 divisions kept them under control.) The Communists took advantage
of the absence of Nationalist and Japanese forces in the region to expand
greatly. They took over Japanese-based territories and supplies that had
been vacated or abandoned. The Communists were the true winners of the
Ichigo offensive.
RISE OF COMMUNIST FORCES
Once World War II had started, Chiang and Mao Zedong formed an uneasy
united front that lasted until 1941. The nature of what triggered the collapse
of their cooperation is disputed, but either Nationalist treachery or
Communist insubordination rising to the level of mutiny inspired an armed
response from Nationalist units. When it was finished, over seven thousand
members of the Communists’ New Fourth Army were killed, and the
unified government fell apart. The Communist guerrilla forces had much
more success and were much better at advertising their successes during the
war against Japan. The Nationalist army units caught behind enemy lines or
entrapped by swift Japanese thrusts also formed guerrilla units. But they
were committed to holding key territory and performing large unit
operations. Nationalist guerrillas were inept at doing the political work
needed to gain support of locals, and even though official publications
stressed concern for local populations, the Nationalist commanders often
ignored them. In 1938, the Nationalists had over seven hundred thousand
men behind Japanese lines, but by 1943, they had no meaningful forces
remaining to wage guerrilla warfare.6
 In contrast, by 1945, after the Ichigo offensive, Communist guerrilla
forces had grown to nine hundred thousand that formed the core of mobile
Communist strength and about three million local forces that often supplied
intelligence and guarded key terrain for the mobile units. The three rules
and eight principles and other easily digested concepts helped them expand
influence and win the support of the population. By the end of World War
II, the Communists had secured much of the Japanese industry in
Manchuria. There was an uneasy period of peace as negotiations were led
by American general George C. Marshall. But fighting renewed in 1948.
The Nationalist industries had a difficult time recovering from the damage
of the Ichigo offensives, and well-planned strikes led by Communist-
infiltrated unions led to key labor strife. Combined with defections of
Nationalist units, the Nationalist government lost the civil war and fled to
Taiwan.
WESTERN ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT THE WAR
Contrary to popular belief—shaped by the memoirs of a bitter General
Stilwell—Chiang was committed to fighting the Japanese, not just hoarding
material for the eventual fight with the Communists. As shown by the
furious resistance in Hengyang, the active guerrilla war, and the carnage
from the Ichigo offensive, the Nationalists fought for their nation with over
a million soldiers giving their lives. Chiang bravely resisted Japanese
aggression as early as 1937, long before the Western powers joined the war
against Japan or Germany. China suffered greatly, fought longer, and fought
just as bravely as the Western allies. It even fought the Communists long
before the Cold War had started. Chiang led a fractured government that
was beset with jealousy, mistrust, and competing agendas among warlords,
Communists, and Nationalists against one of the best armies in the world,
and he had to fight with extremely limited resources. Hue Yue, for example,
was a trusted associate of Chiang’s who served in the northern expedition,
but he and other generals wanted Chiang to fight the Japanese more than the
Communists, and Hue actually threatened to arrest Chiang during the Xian
Incident (1937) if he didn’t form a united front with the Communists. This
made for rather tense relations, as the political leader had to direct and
coordinate strategy throughout the war with a general who tried to arrest
him.
 Strategically, China was put on the back burner during the war.
American strategy in the Pacific such as island hopping, the bombing of the
Japanese homeland, and destruction of shipping is credited with winning
the war. But the war in China occupied the majority of Japanese army units
and exhausted some that were scheduled to assist Japanese offensives in the
Pacific, including the Battle of Guadalcanal (August 1942–February 1943).
Chinese officials argued after the war that if resources for Pacific island-
hopping offensives in 1944 had been given to them, they could have
stopped the Ichigo offensive and could have protected American bomber
bases in China. There is merit to this argument, as China actually received a
relatively small amount of Lend-Lease material until 1945, by which point
the outcome of the war was no longer in doubt.7
The arguments about military aid were vigorously disputed by Western
analysts at the time, with most viewing China, and Chiang in particular, as
backward, feudal, and corrupt. This was simply an inaccurate judgment.
Chiang led vigorous training programs supervised by German officers
before and during the early parts of the war. (This led to the somewhat
ironic situation in which German advisers were placed in Chinese units
fighting their future Japanese allies.) He had rather strong ideas for reform,
but because of a violent insurgency and then an aggressive world war on his
doorstep, he was unable to implement vital changes like land reform. There
is also a bit of Western stereotyping of what “modern” is. China, while still
largely agricultural, already had a strong body of ancient and modern
strategic thought, and the Nationalists showed élan and competence in the
northern expedition and securing the country during the Nanjing decade
(see chapter 11.)
Stilwell’s disagreements with Chiang, and many journalists who lapped
praise on what they viewed as Communist reformers, helped solidify the
Western view of China as an incompetent military regime,8 but the Chinese
prosecuted the war using various strategies to mobilize support, maintain
armies, and fight battles. Nationalist propaganda looked at various national
heroes, ranging from Sunzi to Yue Fei to Qi Jiguang to help rally resistance.
Their economy sometimes moved to a barter system so the government
could get needed funds. Up until the Ichigo offensive, the Nationalist
government stabilized farm production and tax revenues and essentially
turned the war into a stalemate (though part of that was a result of the lack
of Japanese strategy to end the war). Figures vary widely, but an estimated
ten million soldiers and twenty million civilians were killed in what is sadly
and unfairly seen by many historians as a fruitless Chinese contribution to
World War II.9
CHINA STRATEGY AFTER THE WAR AND BRIEF APPLICATION
FOR THE UNITED STATES
Once China did become united under one ruler, it became surprisingly
aggressive. Many analysts thought China would spend many years
recovering its strength. But in the very first years of the new regime, the
Chinese almost immediately began to reassert their traditional territorial
rights. Many apologists for Chinese policy like to point to China’s one
hundred years of weakness and Western imperialism to justify its behavior,
but the specific situations in each of these postwar conflicts point to
Chinese aggression. In the last sixty years, the Chinese have fought
offensive wars against every one of their neighbors, on their opponents’
territory.
Immediately after winning the Chinese civil war, Mao launched a sneak
attack in Korea. US general Douglas MacArthur was approaching the Yalu
River with the ostensible goal of unifying the Korean Peninsula under a
democratic government, but the Yalu was also the border with China, and
this was an indirect confrontation with the Communist regime. Mao and the
Communists had just won a civil war that was embedded in a regional and
world war with Japan. Their economy was a wreck, which meant that
fighting a war so quickly was not in China’s interest. Moreover, even if they
did choose to fight, it was a preemptive attack outside their territory. A
surprise attack against approaching American forces seems less justified
considering the reasons China had for avoiding war, and its preemptive
nature.
A few years later, Mao seized islands claimed by Taiwan. The
Communists had massed forces in the area and were ready to seize the main
island and destroy the remnants of Chiang’s Nationalist forces. They clearly
broadcast their objectives by radio to the Chinese people. Further operations
were curtailed by the timely intervention of American forces in the Taiwan
Strait and even the threat of nuclear warfare from the administration of
President Dwight Eisenhower. This protected Chiang’s regime and led to
the situation today where the People’s Republic of China claims Taiwan as
part of its nation and will eventually be unified with it.
 China also sought to readjust what it called unequal treaties (the first of
which ended the Opium War). One of these was made with the British
regarding India. During a contentious dispute, China preemptively attacked
India in 1962. Chinese forces, operating in high altitude, stormed across the
border and seized the territory of Aksia Chin that it claimed was unfairly
taken by the British during their imperialist expansion in the nineteenth
century. After a month, the two countries declared a ceasefire.
Upon victory in the 1962 Sino-Indian War, Chinese leaders became
increasingly bellicose in their demands to adjust their borders to counter
former treaties. As early as 1950, Mao sought to adjust China’s borders. He
and Stalin, however, affirmed the existing line between China and the
Soviet Union in the Sino-Soviet Treaty of Friendship of 1950. But Mao still
believed they were open to adjustment based on terms of mutual respect for
territorial integrity found within the treaty. Over the next decade, both sides
increased their forces along the central Asian border. This included the
disputed islands in the Ussuri and Amur Rivers, the border with Mongolia,
and the Xinjiang-Kazakhstan region (including the Ili region, where Russia
and China had fought in the nineteenth century). Soviet troop strength went
from seventeen divisions in 1965 to twenty-seven in 1969 to forty-two
divisions numbering almost one million men by the mid-1970s. The Soviets
also stationed several divisions in Outer Mongolia and a significant nuclear
arsenal. These forces clashed with local Chinese citizens in minor border
incidents throughout the mid-1960s, especially in Xinjiang Province but
also the border between islands running through the Ussuri and Amur
Rivers.
In addition to thousands of minor incidents, the armies clashed twice
during March 1969 along the rivers. On March 2, soldiers of the Chinese
People’s Liberation Army (PLA) attacked Damansky (Zhenbao) Island.
Supported by artillery and heavy guns on their side of the shore, they failed
to resist Soviet attempts to retake the island. As many as sixty Russians
died in this encounter. (Conflicting sources and government secrecy make
an exact count difficult.) Early on the morning of March 15, the PLA
attacked again. It committed a regiment consisting of two thousand soldiers
against Soviet defenses. The Chinese did not capture the island and
sustained eight hundred casualties to the Soviets’ sixty. The Chinese,
though, gained by showing their willingness and ability to face the Soviets
in combat. This directly challenged the 1968 Brezhnev Doctrine, which in
practice meant that any deviance from Communist orthodoxy was
considered a threat to the Soviet Union and subjected the threat to armed
intervention. While the PLA did not win, the existence of battles between it
and a superpower enhanced its reputation. The Chinese also signaled their
intention to counter Soviet influence in Central and East Asia. The tension
continued throughout the 1970s as both sides added more soldiers and
nuclear weapons. The Chinese added an extensive series of bunkers and
moved their nuclear weapons facility to Tibet. The Chinese also became
responsive to American overtures. President Richard Nixon and Secretary
of State Henry Kissinger worked to exploit the rift in Sino-Soviet relations
and weaken the Soviet Union. China sought closer relations with America
and Japan to isolate Soviet allies in Southeast Asia.
The tensions continued between the two Communist powers in late
1979, when Chinese forces attacked Vietnam. The war was little more than
a border clash, and the Chinese claim they didn’t seek any territory, but they
were left in possession of the disputed territory that Vietnam held at the
beginning of the war. Combined with their previous behavior against every
one of their neighbors, a particular pattern emerged.
The Chinese claimed they were acting defensively. Given their recent
and distant past, they had some reason for their concern. But their strategic
maneuvers fighting preemptive offensive actions against their neighbors
suggest they will continue to make aggressive moves while claiming them
to be defensive actions. Currently, their attention is on the South China Sea,
where they are building up islands also claimed by the Philippines and
Japan, with weapons that can be used to interdict shipping or launch attacks
from a forward position. They have also begun construction on their first
aircraft carrier. Policy makers can’t be cowed into a passive stance by
Chinese claims of victimhood, when the last sixty years of Communist
leadership in China has shown a fondness for provocative offensive action.
CONCLUSION
China fought Japan hard during World War II but their contribution to the
Allied victory was unfairly considered negligible. The Battle of Hengyang,
or Fourth Battle of Changsha, was decisive in helping to crystallize
attitudes that the Chinese should be proactive in defending their country and
avoid repeating the one hundred years of weakness that they had endured.
But following the war, that policy has tended to lead to aggressive,
preemptive incidents.
China has a long history of military conflict. They have their own
venerable military legacy, some of which is widely read around the world
for use in non-martial professions. The simple profundities of those writings
contain valuable messages, but are also subject to change with the time. The
Chinese also have a legacy of connections between geography and military
technology, ranging from groups of crossbowmen that are ideal for breaking
up large infantry groups, to the use of large heavy canon in sieges, and
bows against nomadic horsemen.
They have a martial, cultural, political, and philosophical legacy that is
largely underappreciated, particularly given a new and seemingly
aggressive China. After reading this book the reader should have a better
grasp of the myths and realities in Chinese history. They have suffered at
Western hands, but they also had specific ethnic tensions that prevented
reform, and during their long history they often subdued or displaced
nearby rivals. They have specific cultural legacies like the bandwagon
effect of dynastic change, but they are not immune to the disintegrating and
unifying effects of military power.
 NOTES

INTRODUCTION
Epigraph: “The Break-Up of China, and Our Interest in It,” Atlantic Monthly 84, no. 502 (August
1899): 276–280.
1. A good book that shows how Chinese officials were far more practical and realistic in their
war making than the stereotypical portraits painted of biased Confucian historians can be found in
Peter Lorge ed., Debating War in Chinese History (London: Brill, 2013).
2. Richard Overy, A History of War in 100 Battles (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014).
3. Richard Holmes and Martin Evans, eds., A Guide to Battles: Decisive Conflicts in History
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009).

CHAPTER 1: THE BATTLE OF MALING, 342 BC

Epigraph: Ralph Sawyer, trans., The Six Secret Teachings of Tai Kong, in The Seven Military Classics
of Ancient China (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993), 73.
1. For a historical account mixed with Chinese literary ideas, see Sima Quan, Records of the
Grand Historian, 3 vols., trans. Burton Watson (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961).
2. Ralph Sawyer, trans., The Seven Military Classics of Ancient China (Boulder, CO: Westview
Press, 1993).

CHAPTER 2: THE BATTLE OF RED CLIFFS, 208

Epigraph: Han Feizi, excerpt from Albert Craig, The Heritage of Chinese Civilization (New York:
Prentice Hall, 2000, 22. Cao Cao, “Short Song Style,” anon. trans., accessed July 17, 2017,
https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Translation:Short_Song_Style.
1. For a discussion of the defensive advantages of ships tied together, see Rafe de Crespigny,
Generals of the South, Internet edition (Canberra: Australian National University, 2004), 169–173.
2. Rafe de Crespigny, an Australian sinologist, has done a lot of excellent work on this period.
His copious research and translations of primary sources are available online at the Australian
National University, https://openresearchrepository.anu.edu.au/html/1885/42048/index.html,
accessed July 14, 2017.
3. Stuart Schram, The Thought of Mao Tse-tung (London: Cambridge University Press, 1989),
54. Mao made many contradictory statements, but his theoretical training and writing was rather
sparse in the early years. See chapter 11.

CHAPTER 3: THE BATTLE FOR LUOYANG IN THE WAR OF THE

EIGHT PRINCES, 302–305
Epigraph: Reprinted in David Graff, Medieval Chinese Warfare: 300–900 AD (New York: Routledge,
2002), 47.
 1. For one of the only English summaries, see Edward Dryer, “Military Aspects of the War of the
Eight Princes: 301–307,” in Military Culture in Imperial China, ed. Nicola Di Cosmo (Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 2009), 112–142.
2. John Lynn, Battle: A History of Combat and Culture (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2003), 1–
28, directly addressed Hanson’s argument, though the central thesis of the book indirectly argues
against any particular way of war.

CHAPTER 4: THE BATTLE OF FEI RIVER, 383

Epigraph: Herbert Giles, trans., “The Peach-Blossom Fountain,” by Tao Qian, in Gems of Chinese
Literature (Shanghai: Kelly and Walsh, 1922), 102–104. Ralph Sawyer, trans., “Sun-Tzu’s Art of
War,” in The Seven Military Classics of Ancient China (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993), 172.
1. Michael Rogers, “The Myth of the Battle of the Fei River,” T’oung Pao, 2nd ser., vol. 54
(1968): 50–72.
2. David Graff, Medieval Chinese Warfare: 300–900 (New York: Routledge, 2002), 64–70.

CHAPTER 5: THE BATTLE OF YAN ISLAND, 589

Epigraph: Herbert Giles, trans., “Drunk-Land,” by Wang Qi, in Gems of Chinese Literature
(Shanghai: Kelly and Walsh, 1922), 109–111. Ralph Sawyer, trans., “Sun-Tzu’s Art of War,” in The
Seven Military Classics of Ancient China (New York: Westview Press, 1993), 164.
1. Arthur Wright, “The Sui Dynasty,” The Cambridge History of China, vol. 3, S’ui and Tang
China, Part 1, ed. Dennis Twitchett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 48–149.
2. Stephen Averill, Revolution in the Highlands: China’s Jinggangshan Base Area (Lanham,
MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2006). See part 1 in Averill’s book for an extensive discussion of the
role of the hakka and the socioeconomic background of the Communist insurgency.
3. Empress Dowager Imperial Edict, November 21, 1899, in Stanley Smith, China from Within:
The Story of the China Crisis (London: Marshall Brothers, 1901), 149.
4. Michael Lowe, “The Campaigns of Han Wudi,” in Chinese Ways in Warfare, ed. Frank A.
Kierman and John K. Fairbank (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1974), 67–122.

CHAPTER 6: THE BATTLE OF HULAO, 621

Epigraph: Frits Holm, The Nestorian Monument: An Ancient Record of Christianity in China, with
Special Reference to the Expedition of Frits V. Holm, ed. Paul Carus and Alexander Wylie (Chicago:
Open Court Publishing, 1909), 18–19.
1. For a full discussion of the campaign leading to the Battle of Hulao, see David Graff, “Dou
Jiande’s Dilemma: Logistics, Strategy, and State Formation in Seventh-Century China,” in Warfare in
Chinese History, ed. Hans Van De Ven (London: Brill, 2000), 77–105.
2. Graff, Medieval Chinese Warfare, 174.
3. For more discussion and copious notes about Sunzi’s teachings, textual variants, and
commentaries from Chinese scholars, see Ralph Sawyer, trans., The Seven Military Classics of
Ancient China (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993).
4. Barbara Tuchman, A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century (New York: Knopf, 1978),
246–268. “[Lord Coucy] could neither take up arms against his father-in-law, to whom he owed
fealty for his English lands, nor, on the other hand, fight against his natural liege lord, the King of
France.” An accessible example of balancing competing duties to rival sovereigns includes the work
on the French De Coucy family that held allegiances to both the French and English kings by birth
and marriage respectively.
 5. Albert Dien, “The Stirrup and Its Effect on Chinese Military History,” in Warfare in China to
1600, ed. Peter Lorge (New York: Ashgate, 2005), ch. 9.
6. This story of the training of a samurai and a detailed discussion of samurai are in Karl Friday,
Samurai, Warfare, and the State in Medieval Japan (New York: Routledge, 2003).

CHAPTER 7: THE SIEGE OF XIANGYANG, 1267–1273

Epigraph: The Book of Ser Marco Polo: The Venetian Concerning Kingdoms and Marvels of the
East, vols. 1 and 2, trans. and ed. Colonel Sir Henry Yule (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons,
1903), accessed July 17, 2017, http://afe.easia.columbia.edu/mongols/pop/menu/class_marco.htm.
Yue Fei, The Whole River Red, Morgan Deane trans., “Man Jiang Hong,” accessed July 4, 2017,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Man_Jiang_Hong.
1. Huang K’uang-Chung, “Mountain Fortress Defense: The Experience of the Southern Song and
Korea in Resistingthe Mongol Invasions,” in Warfare in Chinese History, ed. Hans Van De Ven
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001), 222–251.
2. Peter Lorge, The Asian Military Revolution: From Gunpowder to the Bomb (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2008), 7–44.
3. Peter Lorge, War, Politics, and Society in Early Modern China: 900–1795 (New York:
Routledge, 2005), 58–77.

CHAPTER 8: THE BATTLE OF LAKE POYANG, 1363

Epigraph: Peter Lorge, War, Politics and Society in Early Modern China: 900–1795 (New York:
Routledge, 2005), 98. John Mansfield, Marco Polo’s Travels (New York: Dent and Sons, 1918), 300.
1. Edward Dreyer, “The Poyang Campaign of 1363: Inland Naval Warfare in the Founding of the
Ming Dynasty,” in Chinese Ways in Warfare, ed. Frank A. Kierman and John K. Fairbank
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1974).
2. Peter Lorge, “Water Force and Naval Operations,” in A Military History of China, ed. David
Graff and Robin Higham (New York: Westview Press, 2002), 81–96.
3. Kenneth Chase, Firearms: A Global History to 1700 (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2003), 28–52.
4. Ibid., 25, lists the steps from a 1607 training manual.

CHAPTER 9: THE SIEGE OF PYONGYANG, 1593

Epigraph: Kenneth Swope, “Crouching Tigers, Secret Weapons: Military Technology Employed
During the Sino-Japanese Korean War, 1592–1598,” Journal of Military History 69, no. 1 (2005):
11–41. Kenneth Chase, Firearms: A Global History to 1500 (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2008), 150.
1. Kenneth Swope, A Dragon’s Head and a Serpent’s Tail: Ming China and the First Great East
Asian War, 1592–1598 (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2012), 284–300.
2. Kenneth Swope, “Cutting Dwarf Pirates Down to Size: Amphibious Warfare in Sixteenth-
Century East Asia,” in New Interpretations in Naval History: Selected Papers from the Fifteenth
Naval History Symposium Held at the United States Naval Academy 20–22 September 2007, ed. Yu
Maochun (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2009), 81–107.
3. Kenneth Swope, “A Few Good Men: The Li Family and China’s Northern Frontier in the Late
Ming,” Journal of Ming Studies (2004): 34–81.
 4. Morgan Deane, “Forming the Formless,” in Ender’s Game and Philosophy (New York:
Blackwell, 2013), 78–88.
5. Ralph Sawyer, “Sun-Tzu’s Art of War,” in Sawyer, Seven Military Classics, 159.
6. Ibid., 158.
7. Tai Kong, The Six Secret Teachings of Tai Kong, in Sawyer, Seven Military Classics, 66.
8. Alastair Iain Johnson, Cultural Realism: Strategic Culture and Grand Strategy in Chinese
History (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998), 155.
9. Ibid., 62.
10. Sawyer, Seven Military Classics, 164, 165, 168.
11. Sawyer, “Sun-Tzu’s Art of War,” 183.
12. Kenneth Swope, “Manifesting Awe: Grand Strategy and Imperial Leadership in the Ming
Dynasty,” Journal of Military History 79, no. 3 (July 2015): 597–634, 605.

CHAPTER 10: THE BATTLE OF ZHENJIANG, 1842

Epigraph: Sources of Chinese Tradition: From 1600 through the Twentieth Century, comp. Wm.
Theodore de Bary and Richard Lufrano, 2nd ed., vol. 2 (New York: Columbia University Press,
2000), 269–270. Albert Craig, The Heritage of Chinese Civilization (New York: Prentice Hall, 2000,
122.
1. Bruce Elleman, Modern Chinese Warfare, 1795–1989 (New York: Routledge, 2001), 13–56.
2. Ibid., 71–115.
3. Richard Horowitz, “Beyond the Marble Boat: The Transformation of the Chinese Military,
1850–1911,” in A Military History of China, ed. David Graff and Robin Higham (Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 2002), 153–174.

CHAPTER 11: THE THIRD ENCIRCLEMENT CAMPAIGN, 1931

Epigraph: Mao Zedong, “A Single Spark Can Start a Prairie Fire,” in Selected Military Writings of
Mao Tse-tung (Beijing: Foreign Language Press, 1967), 75. Mao Zedong, On Guerrilla Warfare,
trans. Samuel Griffith (New York: Praeger, 2007). Zhu De, “Some Basic Principles Concerning
Tactics” (1933), in Selected Works of Zhu De (Beijing: Foreign Language Press, 1986), 24.
1. Wilbur Hsu, Survival through Adaptation: The Chinese Red Army and the Encirclement
Campaigns, 1927–1936 (printed by author, 2012), 88.
2. Zhu De, “Some Basic Principles Concerning Tactics” (1933), in Selected Works of Zhu De
(Beijing: Foreign Language Press, 1986), 24.
3. William Wei, Counterrevolution in China: The Nationalists in Jiangxi during the Soviet
Period (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1985), 41.
4. Mao Zedong, “Problems of Strategy in China’s Revolutionary War,” in Selected Military
Writings of Mao Tse-tung (Beijing: Foreign Language Press, 1967), 146.
5. Peter Worthing, “Continuity and Change: Chinese Nationalist Army Tactics, 1925–1938,”
Journal of Military History 78 (2014): 998.
6. Colin Green, “Turning Bad Soldiers into Polished Steel: Whampoa and the Rehabilitation of
the Chinese Soldier,” in Beyond Suffering: Recounting War in Modern China, ed. James Flath and
Norman Smith (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2011), 153–185. The title of this
article is rather clever, as it takes a Chinese proverb denigrating the military—“Good iron doesn’t
make good nails, and good men don’t make good soldiers” (see chapter 4)—and turns the denigrated
soldiers into polished, or good, steel.
7. Stuart Schram, The Thought of Mao Tse-tung (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 52.
8. Matthew William Russell, “From Imperial Soldier to Communist General: The Early Career of
Zhu De and His Influence on the Chinese Army” (PhD diss., George Washington University, 2009),
75.
9. Mao, On Guerrilla Warfare, 92.
10. Russell, “Imperial Soldier,” 230.
11. Agnes Smedley, The Great Road: The Life and Times of Chu Teh (New York: Monthly
Review Press, 1956), 226. On that page, Smedley relates that they were considered two arms of one
person and were often called Zhu Mao by the people.

CHAPTER 12: THE BATTLE OF HENGYANG OR FOURTH BATTLE

OF CHANGSHA, 1944
Epigraph: “Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek Reply to US President Roosevelt,” Dec. 9, 1943,
https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Generalissimo_Chiang_Kai-shek_reply_to_US_President_Roosevelt.
1. Wang Qisheng, “The Battle of Hunan and the Chinese Military’s Response to Operation
Ichigo,” in The Battle for China: Essays on the Military History of the Sino-Japanese War of 1937–
1945, ed. Edward Drea, Hans Van DeVen, and Mark Peattie (Stanford, CA: Stanford University
Press, 2011), 403–420.
2. Peter Harmsen, Shanghai 1937: Stalingrad on the Yangtze (New York: Casemate, 2015), 52.
3. Chang Jui-Te, “The Nationalist Army on the Eve of the War,” in The Battle for China: Essays
on the Military History of the Sino-Japanese War of 1937–1945, ed. Edward Drea, Hans Van De Ven,
and Mark Peattie (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2011), 83–104. Sections 1 and 2 provide
several excellent chapters that detail the political background and respective organization, equipment,
and shortcomings of the Japanese and Chinese armies at the start of the war.
4. Stephen MacKinnon, Wuhan 1938: War, Refugees, and the Making of Modern China (Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 2008), 31–43.
5. Qisheng, “Battle of Hunan,” 403.
6. Yang Kuisong, “Nationalist and Communist Guerrilla Warfare in North China,” in The Battle
for China: Essays on the Military History of the Sino-Japanese War of 1937–1945, ed. Edward Drea,
Hans Van De Ven, and Mark Peattie (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2011), 308–327.
7. Lend-Lease was the program developed by President Franklin Roosevelt’s administration to
provide much-needed war supplies such as oil, food, trucks, and military hardware to Britain, the
Soviet Union, China, and eventually dozens of countries during World War II.
8. Edgar Snow, Red Star over China: The Classic Account of the Birth of Communism, rev. ed.
(New York: Grove, 1994), and Smedley, Great Road, 86. Both texts present very sympathetic views
of Communists. An example is Smedley’s reference to Zhu De reading seminal texts by George
Washington and Montesquieu’s Spirit of the Laws by the soft glow of the moonlight.
9. The Battle for China: Essays on the Military History of the Sino-Japanese War of 1937–1945,
ed. Edward Drea, Hans Van De Ven, and Mark Peattie (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press,
201), 421–484, is an excellent assessment of China’s contribution in World War II, China’s wartime
experience contextualized in world history, and the war’s meaning in Chinese history.
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 INDEX

Adriatic Sea, 81
Africa, 64, 87, 101
Akkadians, 5
Aksia Chin, 173
Amur River, 173-174
Analects, 70
Angevin English Kings, 76
Anyang, 5, 7
Aquinas, Thomas, 88
The Art of War (Sunzi), 10, 39, 55
Atlantic Monthly, on the break-up of China and, xi

Babylon, 5
Baisha, 150-153
Baoding Academy, 163-164
Barrier, battle of, 125
Beijing University, 138
Beijing, xi-xii, 51, 124-125, 135, 137, 143-144, 163, 165
Bei, Liu, 15-16
Biao, Lui, 15
Bin, Sun, 2-4, 11
Boer War, 157
Bo, Li, 74
Borneo, 101
Boxer Protocols, 144
Boxer Rebellion, 143
Brezhnev Doctrine, 174
Buddhism, 22, 58, 60-61, 74, 88

Caesar, Julius, 91
Cairo Conference, 159
Cao, Cao, 14-19, 26, 47, 52, 62, 105
casualties, Luoyang and, 36
Chang’an, 33, 72
Changan, 40, 51, 67-68
Changban, battle of, 16-17
Changsha, 141, 158-159, 161, 163, 168, 175
Chen dynasty, 57-58
Cheng, Chen, 142
Chengdu, 85
Chien, Tao, 54
Chin dynasty, 53, 65
Chinese Hindenburg Line, 164
Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA), 174
Chongqing, 158, 165, 167
Chonqing, 56, 58
Chuanbi, battle of, 129-130
Chungking, 160
Cold War, 170
Columbus, Christopher, 102
Comprehensive Consideration of the Whole Situation (Youwei), 124
A Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government (Guang), 88
Confucian Mencius view, 119
Confucius, 8, 18-19, 22, 24-25, 46-50, 55, 60-62, 70, 74-76, 79, 86-89, 91, 93, 101-102, 116, 121,
129, 133, 137-138
Coral Sea, 67
crossbows, xiii, 10, 77-79, 105, 107, 175

Dalian, 136
Daliang, 3
Damansky Island, 174
Daoist, 11, 25, 60-61, 88, 103, 105, 118-119
De, Zhu, 140, 142-143, 146-150, 155-157
Di tribe, 40, 46
Dongshao, 149-153
Drake, Francis, 103
Drunk-Land, 54
Duke of Normandy, 76-77
Duke of Taiyun, 68
Dunyi, Zhou, 88
Duxiu, Chen, 138
E, Cai, 157-158
economic stagnation, 32-34
Egypt, 5
Eighteenth Army, 146
Eisenhower, Dwight, 173
Eleanor of Aquitaine, 76
Elliot, Charles, 125

Fangcheng, 81-85
Fang, Zhang, 27-28, 31-32, 34-35
Fei River, 38, 41-43, 45, 47, 51, 76
Fei, Yue, 81-82, 92, 171
Feizi, Han, 13, 23
Fen River, 68
Fifth Encirclement campaign, 148, 153-154
First Encirclement campaign, 146, 149, 154
First Opium War, xi, xiv, 127-133, 135, 138, 173
First Sino-Japanese War, 135-137
Five Dynasties, x, 22
Fourth Encirclement campaign, 147-148, 152
France, 76, 102, 135, 157, 179n4
Friar Jon, 80
fubing, 72
Fuju, Han, 164
Futian, 150-153

Gallic Wars, 91
Gaozu, 22
Gem Mountains, 67
Germany, 60, 134-135, 137, 159, 163-164, 168, 170-171
Grand Canal, 73, 124-126, 165
Greater East Asian War, 155
Great Wall, 9, 24, 65, 74, 89
Great Yü, 54
Guadalcanal, battle of, 171
Guangchang, 150-153
Guangdong, 140
Guang, Sima, 88
Guangxi Clique, 146
Guangzhou, 125, 128-131, 141
Guevara, Ernesto “Che”, 143
Gulf of Tonkin, 134
gunpowder weapons, xiii, 87, 97, 100, 105-107, 111, 116, 120-121, 131, 133

hakka, 63
Han dynasty, 1-3, 8, 14, 18, 20-22, 24, 26, 29, 32, 46, 60, 64-65, 67, 76, 89, 104, 124, 128-131, 133,
137-138
Hangzhou, 87, 94-95
Han River, 15-17, 55, 58, 81-83, 85, 99
Hanson, Victor Davis, 36
Hastings, battle of, 100
Hengyang, 159, 161-163, 165, 167, 170, 175
Henry II, 76
He, Zheng, 94, 101
Hideyoshi, Toyotomo, 109, 114
Historical Records (Qian), 26
History of the Jin Dynasty, 27
A History of War in 100 Battles, xiii
Hiuenling, Duke Fang, 67
Hong Kong, 105, 128, 140
Hongzhang, Li, 134-135
Horn of Africa, 87
Hoyuji temple, 74
Huai River, 40-43, 55
Huangdi, Shi, 23
Huangpi, 149-153
Huidi (Sima Zhong), 27-35, 35
Hulao, 67-79

Ichigo offensive, 158, 161, 165, 168-172

Illustrated Memoir of the Western Regions, 67
Imjin War, 109
Imperial Astronomical Board, 103
imperialism, 64, 66, 132, 172
India, 60-61, 74, 173
Italy, 81
Japan, xi, xiii, 72, 74, 76-79, 87, 104, 106, 108-118, 120, 124, 128-129, 132, 134-138, 142-143, 145-
146, 154, 157-158, 160-166, 168-172, 174-175
Java, 101
Jesuits, xii
Jiande, Dou, 68-70
Jian, Fu, 40, 47, 50, 53, 62, 76
Jiangkang, 40-41, 57
Jiangking, 56
Jiangling, 15, 17
Jianking, 85
Jian, Yang, 60
Jiguang, Qi, 109, 115-116, 120-121, 171
Jin dynasty, 19, 27, 29, 31-32, 36, 39-40, 47, 50, 85
Jinggangshan mountain base, 140-141, 148, 156
Jing province, 15
Jin military commands, 33
Jiong, Sima, 30-32
Johnson, Alastair, 119
Juan, Pang, 1-4, 11
Jurchens, 51, 90, 92, 104

Khan, Kublai, 90, 95, 101

Kaifeng, 87, 92, 104
Kai-shek, Chiang, xii, 53, 140, 142-147, 154-155, 158, 161-164, 168-171, 173, 183
Kangxi Emperor, 121
Kazkhstan, 173
Kissinger, Henry, 174
Kong, Tai, 116, 119
Korea, vii, xi, 64, 68, 72, 101, 108-114, 116-120, 132, 135-136, 172

Lake Poyang, 94, 96-101, 107, 130, 141

Lake Poyang, battle of, 130
Laozi, 24
Le’an, 149-153
Legalism, 22-24
Lend-Lease, 171
Liang province, 21
Liaodong Peninsula, 136
Longgang, 149-153
Long March, 140, 148, 153, 164-166
Long, Qian, 123
Lo Yang, 68-69
Lun, Sima, 30-32
Luoyang, 7-8, 25, 28-29, 32-34, 36, 40, 51, 68-70
Lushan, An, 72-73, 86, 89
Lynn, John, 36

Macao, 125
MacArthur, Douglas, 172
Maling, 1-5, 7-9, 11
Malingdao, 4
Manchu, 124-125, 129-130, 133, 135, 137-138, 144, 165
Manchu Bannermen, 124-125, 129-130, 133, 165
Manchukuo, 135, 142
Manchuria, 109, 132, 135-136, 163, 170
Mandarin Duck Formation, 115
Mandate of Heaven, 6-7, 20-21, 29, 31-32, 34-35, 37, 45-46, 50, 68, 90
Mao, Cao, 19
Marco Polo Bridge, 163
Marshall, George C., 170
Ma, Ssu, 76
May Fourth Movement, 137
Meiji Reform, 124
Mencius, 102
Mesopotamia, 5
The Methods of Suma, 11
Ming dynasty, 97, 117, 124, 134
Ming dynasty, 24, 64-65, 74, 93, 96-97, 100-105, 107, 109, 114-117, 121, 124, 133-134, 145
Minh, Ho Chi, 143
Mongolia, 132, 173
Mongols, 53, 66, 79-85, 90, 92, 101, 104, 114, 180
Mukden Incident, 135, 142, 151-152, 163
Muslims, 70, 73, 83, 131, 133-134, 137

Nanchang, 63, 96-100, 140

Nanfeng, 149-153
Nanjing, xii, 40, 96, 128-129, 143, 145-146, 162, 164-165, 171
Nanking, 164
Nationalists, 140, 142, 146-148, 150-151, 153-157, 165, 169-171
navy, 15, 57, 66, 82-83, 103-105, 135
Nemesis, 130-131
neo-Confucianism, 88-89, 93
The New Book Recording Effective Techniques (Jiguang), 115
New Fourth army, 169
Ningdu, 149-153
Ningxia, 109, 116-117
Nixon, Richard, 174
Northern Expedition, 171

Olopun, 67
On Guerrilla Warfare, 143, 155–157
On Protracted Warfare (Zedong), 143
Open Door policy, 137
Opium War, xi, xiv, 127-133, 135, 138, 173
Outer Mongolia, 173

The Peach Blossom Fountain (Qian), 39

Pearl River, 127
period of disunion, 29, 39-40, 53, 58, 60-62, 65-66, 70, 72, 74, 76-77, 86, 89
Peter Abelard, 76
Peter the Great, 124
Pingxingguan Pass, 164
poetry, 48, 74, 88, 103, 156
political and military art, 34-35
Polo, Marco, 25, 50, 95, 102
Port Arthur, 136
Puyi, 144
Pyongyang, 108-114, 116, 119-121, 136

Qi, 1-5, 8-9

Qi, Liu, 16
Qianlong, 131
Qian, Sima, 26
Qian, Tao, 39
Qing dynasty, x, 4, 20, 22, 25, 38-40, 45, 47, 62, 70, 90, 104-105, 124, 127, 129, 134-135, 137, 143,
156-157
Qi, Wang, 54
Quan, Sun, 15
Questions and Replies between Tang Taizong and Lei Weigong, 75

racism, 64
Record of Military Training (Jiguang), 115
Records of the Warring States, 8
Red Army, 140, 142, 145-146, 156
Red Cliffs, 14-19, 21, 26
The Romance of the Three Kingdoms (Guanzhong), 19, 29
Roman Empire, 60
Rong, Fu, 44, 47, 51
Roosevelt, Franklin, 161
Ruijin, 149-153
Rusong, Li, 23, 108-109, 111-115, 118-121
Russia, 124, 132-133, 135-136, 138, 158, 173-174

samurai, 76-79
Sanyuanli Incident, 129
Second Encirclement campaign, 147, 150
Seven Military Classics, 11, 22, 33, 48-49, 70, 75, 79, 88, 115-116, 121
Shang dynasty, x, 5-6, 8, 22-23, 124
Shanghai, 128, 141, 163, 165
Shicheng, Zhang, 96
Shicong, Wang, 68
Shimin, Li, 65, 68-70, 73, 75, 79, 89
Shizen, Zhao, 108
Sichuan Basin, 21, 44, 52, 81
Sikai, Yuan, 144
Si, Li, 23
Sili province, 21
Silk Road, 25, 70, 73, 101
Sino-French War, 134
Sino-Indian War, 173
Sino-Japanese War, 109, 116, 135-137, 163
Sino Soviet Treaty of Friendship, 173
Sin, Yi Sun, 114
The Six Secret Teachings of Tai Kong, 1, 11
Song dynasty, 11, 61, 75, 81-82, 85-87, 90-91, 93, 102, 104, 115, 134
Soochow, 94
South China Sea, 175
The Spring and Autumn Annals (Confucius), 8
Stalin, Joseph, 173
Stillwell, Joseph, 161, 163, 170-171
Sui dynasty, x, 53, 55, 57-58, 60, 64, 66, 68, 70, 72, 77, 82, 124
Sumerians, 5
Sunzi (Sun-Tzu), 2, 10, 18, 39, 55, 69, 115, 117-121, 171
Su, Yang, 55-58, 60, 62, 64, 66
Swope, Kenneth, 36
Syria, 67

Taedong River, 112-113

Taierzhuang, 165, 167
Taiping Rebellion, 62, 128, 133-134, 137, 156
Taiping Rules and Regulations, 156
Taiwan, 135-136, 170, 173
Taiyuan period, 38
Taiyun, 70
Taizong, Tang, 65, 67, 73, 75
Taizu, 86
Talas, 70, 73
Talas River, battle of, 73
Tang dynasty, vii, 50, 61, 64-66, 70, 72-74, 77, 86, 88-89, 104, 124
Tangut, 92
Tangyin, battle of, 34
Tao Te Ching (Laozi), 24
Tarim basin, 64, 70
Teheran Conference, 160
Ten Kingdoms, x, 22
Tenth Army, 162
Third Encirclement campaign, 139-140, 147, 151-152, 165
Three Gorges Region, 58, 98
Three Kingdoms, x, 18-21, 29, 53
Tianjin, 144
Tibet, 174
Tongchuan, 85
Treaty of Nanjing, 128-129
Treaty of Versailles, 137
United Nations, 159-161
Ural Mountains, 51
Ussuri River, 173-174

Valley Forge, 140

Vietnam, 23, 64, 101, 134-135, 165, 174-175

Wanli, 109, 114, 133

Warlord Era, 143
War of the Eight Princes, 29, 31, 35-37, 50, 89
War of the Roses, 19
Warring States period, 4
Warring States, x, xiii, 4-5, 8-12, 23, 50, 75, 78
Washington, George, 144
Wei dynasty, 2-5, 8-9, 11, 19, 21, 39, 67
Wei River, 40, 58
Wende, Lu, 82-84
Wendi, Sui, 70
Wenhuan, Le, 83
Wenhuan, Lu, 81-84
Whampoa, 145, 164
Whampoa Academy, 163
Whampoa Spirit, 155
The Whole River Red (Fei), 80-81
Wine Immortals, 54
Wolf Tail rapids, 56, 59
World War I, 137-138
World War II, 56, 121, 128, 134, 157-158, 162, 165, 169-170, 172, 175
Wuhan, 141, 164-165
Wu province, 21
The Wuzi, 11, 48, 115

Xia dynasty, x, 5, 7, 124

Xiake, Xu, 103
Xiang River, 161
Xiangyang, 33, 80-85, 93, 104
Xian Incident, 170
Xianjue, Fang, 162
Xi, Fu, 54
Xingguo, 153
Xingyang, 33, 40
Xingyang, siege of, 80-93
Xinjian, 173
Xinjiang, 174
Xiongnu, 51, 66, 89
Xi, Zhu, 88
Xu province, 21
Xuzhou, 165

Yalu Bay, 136

Yalu River, 109-110, 136, 172
Yangtze River, 15-17, 21, 39-40, 44, 51-53, 55-56, 58, 62, 71, 73, 82, 85, 96, 98-101, 126, 128, 132,
141
Yangzhang, Zhu, 47
Yan Island, 54, 57, 59, 64
Yan, Sima, 29-30
Yat-sen, Sun, 144-145
Yellow River, 3, 5, 7, 9, 14, 21, 28-29, 51-52, 58, 62, 68-69, 71, 73, 86, 126, 132
Yichang, 58, 98
Ying, Sima, 30
Yi province, 21
Yi, Sima, 19, 28, 30-32
Yong, Sima, 27, 29-31, 33, 35
Youliang, Chen, 96, 99-100
Youwei, Kang, 124, 137-138
Yuan dynasty, 86, 96, 100, 124
Yuanpei, Cai, 138
Yuanzhang, Zhu, 96, 99-101, 104
Yue, Hue, 170
Yue, Sima, 29, 31
Yue, Xue, 161-162
Yu, Guan, 16
Yukinaga, Konishi, 111
Yunnan, 133
Yun, Sima, 30-32
Yu province, 21
Yu, Zhou, 16
Zedong, Mao, 19, 140, 142-143, 146-149, 152, 155-158, 169, 172-173
Zexu, Lin, 125, 127-129
Zhao, Sima, 19
Zhenbao, 174
Zheng, Lui, 83-84
Zhenjiang, 124, 126, 128-130
Zhong, Jia, 30-31, 35
Zhou dynasty, x, 5-8, 55, 124
Zhuo, Dong, 14
Zongren, Li, 146, 165