Chapter 638 — A Win-Win Battle
A curtain of white smoke erupted from the edge of the square. The Ming cavalry rushing headlong into the volley were instantly upended by the hail of bullets, their charge shattering like a wave crashing against a reef. The survivors dared not press forward any further, splitting to either side of the formation in a desperate attempt to outflank and slash the infantry from the flanks and rear. Soldiers on the two wings of the square seized the opportunity, firing continuously at the cavalry galloping past. The helmeted and armored riders suffered devastating casualties under the rotating fire of Minié rifles. In just a few minutes, dozens of men and horses lay dead around the square.
He Zhanran retreated several dozen zhang, gathered his scattered forces, and prepared to charge again. At that moment Yang Zeng shouted: "Sights one hundred meters—fire!"
The cavalry team that had just finished assembling was engulfed by another dense rain of bullets before they could even launch their charge. Dozens more fell in an instant. The survivors stood paralyzed with shock—no one had expected the enemy's firearms to shoot so far, or with such devastating force. Iron armor meant nothing. One squad leader's steel heart-protecting mirror was shattered like crockery. Another had his helmet and half his skull blown away.
The Ming cavalry retreated slightly, then split into two streams to attempt another flanking maneuver. This time they moved with desperate speed; presumably knowing that the Hair Bandits' bird guns had terrifying range, everyone spurred their horses hard, hoping velocity alone would throw off the enemy's aim.
Volley fire roared again. Another twenty-odd cavalrymen tumbled from their saddles. At that moment, He Zhanran suddenly wheeled his horse and led all remaining cavalry in one final straight charge at the square. He had assumed the Hair Bandits were employing the traditional "Three-Stage Fire" tactic of bird guns—now that three ranks had fired, the enemy would require considerable time to reload. He intended to exploit this gap and smash the square wide open. A trusted chieftain of his led a few personal soldiers at the very front, prepared to crash directly into the bayonet array regardless of life or death, to carve open a bloody path.
But the Hair Bandits' bird guns thundered in yet another unified volley. The charge was like a wild wave hurled against a cliff; the tide of cavalry shattered to pieces. The survivors retreated to two hundred meters away before the Minié rifles finally fell silent. He Zhanran had already lost nearly half his men. Those who remained had no stomach for more fighting and fled the battlefield on horseback one after another. Cursing viciously, He Zhanran cut down a fleeing cavalryman and was attempting to reassemble what little remained of his force some several hundred meters distant when the sound of artillery pealed through the air.
Shell after shell, trailing crimson glows, arced over the Light Infantry square. Each one burst suddenly in midair, violently projecting a rain of eighty-eight shrapnel balls toward the earth below. The cavalrymen still attempting to regroup were engulfed by the savage hail, falling in swathes. The neighing of horses, screams, and groans blurred together into a single cacophony of agony.
A projectile struck the ground almost grazing He Zhanran himself, throwing dirt all over his head and face. The pungent stench of gunpowder smoke stung his eyes so badly he could not open them. He had known the Hair Bandits' firearms were powerful—but he had never imagined this. Cannonballs could actually explode in the air! And then project a rain of bullets! He dared not fight any longer. He had only forty or fifty riders left, at an absolute disadvantage—and worse, war drums were beating urgently from the Hair Bandit earthen fort more than two li distant. A force had already marched out. He Zhanran wheeled his horse and shouted for the soldiers to flee.
"Cease fire!" Zhang Berlin lowered his binoculars. In the distance, only a handful of cavalrymen were fleeing toward the county seat. He could not help but release the breath he had been holding. "I didn't expect the square formation would actually work!"
When the cavalry had first charged the retreating infantry, he had considered ordering the gunners to fire shrapnel shells to intercept them. But the enemy cavalry had moved so fast that they reached the infantry square almost immediately. Firing artillery at that moment would have risked friendly casualties.
Yang Zeng exhaled in relief as he watched the enemy retreat. He was drenched in sweat from head to toe. During the cavalry's first impact, he had genuinely believed he would not keep his life.
"Steady! Maintain formation!" He continued shouting, command saber raised, holding the line. He remembered his instructor's words during training: when enemy cavalry charged a square, there might be a second or third wave waiting. The instant your formation wavered, they would rush in to destroy it. The momentum of cavalry at full gallop had terrified him to his core. Had it not been for the long-term continuous drilling that had forged a near-instinctive numbness in the soldiers, they would likely have broken formation long ago.
He dared not change formation. Instead, he ordered a slow retreat toward the Grand Camp, maintaining the square.
"Steady, steady!" He waved his command saber. The other two company commanders did their best to preserve the orderly withdrawal. At that moment, he heard the brisk notes of fifes playing the "Grenadiers' March" from behind. A high-spirited team of grenadiers advanced in orderly columns, forming a neat double-file line beside them to cover their retreat into the camp.
By the time they withdrew to the Grand Camp's gate, the artillerymen and infantrymen on the earthen ramps burst into warm cheers. Except for a portion of officers and NCOs who had participated in the Bopu Defense Battle and various bandit suppression operations, this new army had never fought a pitched battle in such a dignified formation. Now they witnessed the result of their repetitive daily drilling on the parade ground: three hundred infantrymen against three hundred cavalrymen—and the cavalry had gained not even a shred of advantage. Instead, they had left behind a field of dead men and horses. Confidence surged a hundredfold among soldiers and officers alike.
Yang Zeng was immediately summoned before He Ming upon returning to camp. He saluted the highest commander, still trembling:
"I brought the company back! No casualties!"
"Well done!" He Ming punched him hard on the shoulder, nearly knocking the smaller man to the ground. "Record a merit for him! First Class Merit!"
When Tong Yizhen subsequently rushed to the battlefield with his household guards and infantry, he found He Zhanran's unit scattered in complete rout. They were retreating in chaos; most had lost their helmets and weapons, and many bore terrible wounds, tumbling from their horses as they fled.
Tong Yizhen was stunned. It was not unusual for an outpost to lose a skirmish—but these were three hundred elite cavalry, more than capable of breaking infantry three or four times their number. Yet they had been utterly routed, and routed so miserably.
He Zhanran was brought before him in a sorry state: "This humble general is incompetent—"
"How many cavalry does the enemy have?" Tong Yizhen cut him off impatiently. "Where are they now?"
"The Hair Bandits have no cavalry—only... only..." He Zhanran barely managed to swallow a mouthful of saliva turned bitter by wild running and gunpowder smoke. "Their firearms are extremely fierce!"
He reported each event in sequence: the impact against the square, the accurate and continuous fire from two hundred paces, and finally the bombardment by cannonballs that could explode in the air and project bullets:
"The Hair Bandits' firearms are not only sharp—their strict discipline is absolutely not comparable to ordinary pirates."
"You withdraw first!" Tong Yizhen did not entirely believe him. Officers who lost battles invariably exaggerated the enemy's strength and prowess. But He Zhanran's defeat was so thorough that it hardly seemed like a lie.
Since the vanguard had suffered a setback, Tong Yizhen decided not to lead his troops directly into battle—to do so would invite a head-on collision with a high-morale enemy. He already knew from the retreating soldiers that the Hair Bandits had abandoned the camp at the South Gate and the earthworks besieging Chengmai, withdrawing their entire army to a large camp near the coast to the northwest.
He immediately ordered a portion of his mounted household guards and personal soldiers, led by a young officer named Song Ming, to rapidly occupy the empty camp left behind by the Hair Bandits outside the South Gate and raise his big banner. Then he called another personal soldier:
"Go quickly and report to the Commander-in-Chief! I have already captured the Hair Bandits' South Gate Grand Camp! Chengmai has been relieved!"
Subsequently, he urged his infantry to rush forward as fast as possible. He then led his men to the foot of Chengmai's South Gate, calling up to the defenders on the wall to open the gate immediately. The defenders had witnessed the government cavalry's disastrous defeat just moments earlier and had already given in to despair. But now, seeing dust rolling from the direction of the post road and great masses of government troops surging endlessly toward them, they knew deliverance had arrived at last. On the gate tower, the Magistrate, the Assistant Magistrate, and other officials who had been lying prone directing the militia to resist burst into tears. One after another, they kowtowed northward toward the capital, crying "Long Live!"
The military and civilians within the county immediately opened the South Gate. Tong Yizhen led his headquarters troops inside at once and rapidly assumed control of the defense along all four walls. His subordinates hurriedly fanned out to occupy houses throughout the city. For a time, chickens flew and dogs jumped within the county seat; soldiers and officers were everywhere, encircling and occupying buildings, demanding supplies.
For a time the whole city filled with the sounds of cursing, begging, screaming, and crying. Some families were driven from their homes by soldiers; others were simply robbed outright. Some soldiers entered houses to rape women. The county seat descended into chaos—the commoners' crying and the officers' and soldiers' scolding and shouting mingled into a single din.
Chengmai's Magistrate Liu Jingxuan stood at the entrance to the county yamen, lips pale, attended by trembling clerks and runners. He struggled to satisfy the endless demands of officers and soldiers streaming toward him. He had already been slapped several times, and his lips were split and bleeding. Several clerks and auxiliary officials cowered behind him.
The gentry were all terrified. When they had contributed people and money to defend the county seat to the death, they had looked forward day and night to the arrival of the government army to rescue them. They had not expected this "savior" to behave no differently than bandits. Seeing even the Magistrate cuffed about by common soldiers, each of them grew even more anxious about their family properties and their little lives.
"General, this lower official—Chengmai Magistrate Liu Jingxuan—" He had barely started before Tong Yizhen cut him off:
"Enough, enough. The Commander-in-Chief will arrive shortly. Clean out your yamen immediately and prepare to receive him!"
"Yes, yes—it is this lower official's duty." Liu Jingxuan knew the Imperial Court had dispatched a grand army to suppress the Hair Bandits. He had always assumed his only obligation would be to supply grain and fodder. He had not anticipated that the Hair Bandits would actually seek a decisive battle with the government army right beneath the city walls. Secretly, he cursed his bitter luck—he had served as magistrate for several terms and knew that the most difficult thing for local officials was catering to passing high officials and armies. Both were little better than bandits. There had been magistrates who had died of illness—or even committed suicide—because of excessive extortion. Now that the government army intended to station inside the city, his face turned ashen, and the officials and gentry behind him appeared no less uneasy.
"It's just... it's just... regarding the military discipline of your noble unit's brothers—please, may I ask the General to maintain it," he said, trembling.
General Tong surveyed the chaotic scene filling the city. Not far away lay a few corpses with heads cut off. Judging from their clothing, these people were not Hair Bandits.
"This General will naturally maintain military discipline. However, the supply of grain and fodder must also be handled with all your heart."
"Yes, yes, this lower official—" Before he could finish, several disheveled, crying women threw themselves at him, wailing for justice.
"What kind of world is this!" one woman sobbed. "My man lost his life serving as militia defending the city. Before he was even buried, someone cut off his head..."
Tong Yizhen understood immediately. His subordinates had cut off heads to claim as war merit—the practice was common enough in the army. He merely coughed once and instructed his soldiers to drive the women away.
At that moment a runner came racing up: "Master! Master!" His face was red from running, and he had even lost his hat. "The Vice... Masters..." Seeing the many soldiers and generals around the Magistrate, he hastily corrected himself. "North City! North City is on fire!"
Liu Jingxuan was overcome with alarm. He saw flames already rising from several points in the city. He rushed to give orders: "Quick, quick! Beat the gong! Call the Water Society to turn out the Dragon!" He turned back to the runners standing frozen like wooden chickens and stamped his foot. "You lot go too!"
"This group of rotten bastards, making too much of a mess!" Seeing his soldiers behaving so recklessly, Lieutenant Colonel Tong feared the censors would get wind of this and impeach him. And with a formidable enemy at the gates, pushing too far now would invite disaster. He immediately ordered a personal officer to take several dozen soldiers bearing his arrow-token to patrol the entire city. Only after beheading several looting and killing soldiers on the street was order restored.
Half an hour later, a portion of Li Guang's Governor's Standard Camp arrived as well, but his attempt to enter the city was blocked by Tong's men. The Chaozhou soldiers under Lieutenant Colonel Tong seemed to consider the city their personal war trophy, refusing to let anyone else claim a share. Both sides drew their blades; swords cleared scabbards on both sides. Had generals from each camp not rushed out to intervene, the Chaozhou soldiers and Zhaoqing soldiers would have come to blows right there at the city gate.
He Ming stood atop a tower, observing the constantly surging Ming troops through high-power binoculars. Their numbers were staggering—like mercury poured onto the ground, they filled every open space around Chengmai's county seat.
Countless columns, innumerable flags, the clanking of armor, the tramp of soldiers' footsteps, the flapping sound of banners snapping in the wind—all of it surged toward him like a violent tide.
The setting sun sank beneath the horizon. Its fading light shone on the rolling grand army approaching from the east. Armor and spear points glittered. The sounds of war drums, horns, and reed pipes rose from every quarter, accompanying the vast twilight. An unspeakable sense of pressure settled heavy upon his heart.
He Ming had been on the battlefield before. He had fought Vietnamese forces and smelled gunpowder. But many veteran officers in the Field Army, even those from military backgrounds, had never experienced actual combat. Everyone knew from a rational standpoint that a medieval army such as this could not defeat a modernized force. Yet watching this grand army surge endlessly toward them, every face grew grave. Some officers felt dizzy and set down their binoculars, unable to look any longer.
A general ascended a huge rock. Countless helmeted heads surged forward around him. He stood like a reef against a sea of stormy waves. His gaze fixed forward, the command flag in his hand pointing sharply ahead.
More than twenty thousand men and horses arrived outside the county seat one after another, occupying the open ground and hilltops surrounding the city. Infantry set up camp palisades and positioned gun carriages. The whole army arranged itself in three camps, digging long trenches to confront the Fubo Army.
He Rubin arrived at Chengmai only just before dark. He did not enter the county seat, instead establishing his Grand Camp outside the West Gate. Together with Zhao Ruyi, he first inspected the captured heads.
Not only were the heads few—far short of the more than three hundred claimed by Lieutenant Colonel Tong—but the hair on this batch of so-called "Hair Bandit" heads had mostly been cut in a sloppy, ragged manner. Some hair still bore traces of blood; some heads had already turned black, obviously hair cut only a day or two after death.
He Rubin had long experience in military affairs. One look told him the tricks within. As for Zhao Ruyi, he too was shrewd and capable. But with a major battle imminent and the need for officers and soldiers to follow orders, both men remained silent. After the inspection, they immediately ordered the Military Administration Department to record merits for the exertion personnel.
After inspecting the heads, they took the private secretaries and generals with them to ascend the North Wall of Chengmai and gaze upon the Hair Bandit military camp pitched by the seaside.
Tang Yunwen presented the Dutch telescope he had purchased in Macau. He Rubin extended the lens tube and studied the Hair Bandit Grand Camp:
The camp lay about four li distant, surrounded by an earthen rampart roughly a man's height. The shape was neither round nor square, but protruded with numerous large, sharp angles. He did not understand the purpose of these protruding corners surrounding the entire camp, but he knew the Dutch arranged their forts similarly.
On the earthen rampart were installed many round baskets woven from willow branches. Bundles of bamboo, linked together, formed bunkers. Tall towers built from wooden frames stood upright here and there; the tallest was even higher than the county seat's walls, and figures could be seen moving atop it. Trenches had been dug outside the entire perimeter; the defenses were formidable indeed.
Lights twinkled on the distant sea—apparently many ships lay at anchor. Tang Yunwen told him these were all Hair Bandit naval gunships.
Looking at the scale of the camp, the Hair Bandit forces must number at least ten thousand. He Rubin had not expected the enemy to commit everything they had to a life-and-death battle beneath Chengmai. Moreover, the Hair Bandits' combat power seemed not to be underestimated. Lieutenant Colonel Tong's unit had endured a fierce fight merely to drive the Hair Bandit infantry from their camp, and the cavalry had lost more than two hundred men in the process.
He saw what appeared to be a village on the coastline, about four or five li east of the Hair Bandit Grand Camp. "What is that place?"
"Reporting to the Commander-in-Chief," Magistrate Liu Jingxuan, who had been called to accompany them, hurriedly said. "That is Xiaoyingchang. There was once a village there, completely destroyed by an earthquake during the Wanli years. It has been uninhabited ever since."
"General Sha! Dispatch one thousand men to garrison Xiaoyingchang. Block the road, lest the Hair Bandits flee along the coast to raid Qiongshan!" he ordered.
Guangzhou Guard Commander and Governor's Standard Camp Guerrilla Sha Jianbi responded immediately and descended from the wall to make arrangements.
After observing carefully for some time, He Rubin could discern no weakness in the Hair Bandit camp. He understood that tomorrow's battle for the enemy Grand Camp would be a very hard bone to chew—and that losing soldiers and generals was inevitable.
But as long as the Hair Bandit main force was crushed here, Lingao would fall in a single drum beat. This force was probably all the land forces the Hair Bandits possessed. Their tactics would amount to nothing more than defending to the death behind a strong camp and sharp firearms—which did not go beyond his expectations.
(End of Chapter)