Chapter 1082 - Frontal Attack and Flanking
Chen Guangfu was likewise experienced in battle formations. After studying the island for some time, he too found the prospect thorny. This would prove far more troublesome than taking Huang County. The county seat had been lightly defended, its garrison demoralized from top to bottom—it had fallen easily. These village braves, by contrast, had just won a victory at Baimatang. Whether measured by combat power or morale, they were at their peak. He doubted this battle would go well for them.
Clearly, they would have to gnaw through a hard bone.
But if they could not crack this bone, they could not attack Laizhou in peace. Easy or difficult, Qimu Island had to be fought.
Mao Chenglu and Chen Guangfu conferred briefly and settled on launching the attack early the following morning. Mao Chenglu would lead the main force in a frontal assault via the sandbar to fix the village braves' attention, while Chen Guangfu would take the elite troops across the ice to strike Qimu Island from the flank.
"If we take Qimu Island, brother, the first credit goes to you." Mao Chenglu grinned broadly. "I've heard the island has enormous quantities of population, grain, and valuables. Once we've taken it, we brothers can make ourselves a fortune."
Mao Chenglu was playing games. He had already suffered badly at the hands of the Qimu Island village braves during the Battle of Baimatang. Though he had not personally commanded that engagement, the survivors who fled back had all told the same story: the enemy's firearms were devastatingly sharp. They fired far and fast. After just a few volleys, his soldiers had been unable to hold.
Had only one man said this, Mao Chenglu might have dismissed it as excuse-making. When dozens spoke in unison, the words carried considerable weight.
So Mao Chenglu encouraged Chen Guangfu to lead the flanking surprise attack while he himself commanded the frontal assault. No matter how sharp the enemy's firearms might be, they could not match his six Red Barbarian Cannons. When twelve-jin shells came crashing down, no matter how strong the enemy's fortress, it would crumble under the bombardment. Then he would drive the conscripted refugees forward to charge the works and fill the ditches. The enemy would naturally lose their footing, and he would have his opportunity.
As for Chen Guangfu—if he managed to fight his way onto the island, so much the better. If not, it hardly mattered.
Chen Guangfu, naturally, failed to detect this calculation. He assumed that, as the commander of the reinforcements, Mao Chenglu wished to offer him a favor. He agreed enthusiastically, promising that once Qimu Island fell, they would divide the spoils equally. Brother Mao would certainly not be shortchanged.
With the plan settled, both men returned to organize their forces.
Of the nearly ten thousand men Mao Chenglu had brought, only fifteen hundred could truly be called combat soldiers. The Huang County rebels combined with Chen Guangfu's reinforcements totaled five thousand. Though the rebels had conscripted nearly ten thousand people in Huang County and claimed an army of one hundred thousand, actual combat troops numbered no more than three thousand. Mao Chenglu left half to garrison the county seat and took the remainder—along with two thousand auxiliary soldiers—to attack Qimu Island. The rest consisted mostly of impressed refugees.
Because Dengzhou's granaries had been exceptionally well-stocked, these fifteen hundred combat soldiers were fully equipped, all wearing iron armor—quality varied, but at least everyone was armored, which was rare indeed for a Ming-era army. Many of the auxiliary soldiers had also managed to obtain cotton or leather armor. Their firearms were the most impressive element. Beyond the six Red Barbarian Cannons, the fifteen hundred combat troops were equipped with eight hundred guns of various types. In terms of firearms distribution, this was world-class for the era.
These miscellaneous weapons and their ammunition were either loaded onto wheelbarrows or carried on shoulders and backs by conscripted refugees. The six "giant cannons" were pulled by looted plow oxen, creeping slowly toward the sandbar.
Walking at the front were the newly "recruited" refugees. To call them "soldiers" was generous—among them were able-bodied men, the elderly and infirm, and even women. As for weapons and equipment: most clutched wooden sticks, and some had nothing at all. The rebels intended these refugees as cannon fodder and beasts of burden; they had no intention of arming or training them.
Only after several battles, once most had died anonymous deaths, would the surviving veterans be absorbed into the army and become true members of the force. This was the most common growth model among the various rebel armies at the end of the Ming Dynasty. Those who survived to the end emerged as soldiers hardened by a hundred battles—the toughest of the tough.
To prevent refugees from fleeing, mounted house guards patrolled constantly around the great mass of humanity, driving them forward with whips and forcing them toward the designated objective.
Chen Guangfu's force separated quietly from the main body. He brought only five hundred men. Aside from his house guards, personal soldiers, and a handful of night scouts, the rest were veteran army ruffians of many years' service. Every one of them was a fierce character who would risk his life for silver. Hearing that Qimu Island's stockade held tens of thousands of refugees, their eyes had lit up. If they could break through, they would not want for dozens of taels of silver and a few pretty women.
Human markets had formed under Dengzhou and Huang County's walls. Rebels returning from raids sold their captured women to comrades at these markets. Business was brisk.
Everyone had a horse. These men all possessed experience riding on ice, and their horses' hooves were wrapped with anti-slip cloth strips. Chen Guangfu's purpose in mounting them all, however, was not to charge on horseback but to cross the ice surface rapidly. Upon reaching the island, they would immediately dismount and fight on foot—mounted infantry, in effect.
Though dragoons were a European creation, mounted infantry had always existed in China. Maneuvering on horseback and dismounting to fight on foot was common enough in late-Ming warfare.
Because they would be traversing the ice and had heard reports of the enemy's many firearms, these men had all changed into cotton armor—relatively light yet effective against gunfire. Their boots were wrapped with straw rope for traction. Beyond personal sabers and shields, each man carried a javelin. Besides serving as a throwing weapon before the assault, the javelin doubled as a self-rescue tool in case anyone fell through the ice. The Dongjiang Army had operated among the islands of Liaodong for years and possessed considerable experience fighting on frozen surfaces.
In addition to weapons, everyone carried several small earthenware bottles filled with fierce fire oil and slow-burning tinder. They needed only to break onto the island and immediately set fires everywhere.
In Chen Guangfu's view, no matter how many people occupied the island, his five hundred elite soldiers' landing would throw the village braves into chaos. At that point, Qimu Island would fall into their hands with ease.
The column halted at the entrance to the sandbar. The squad leaders and patrol leaders under Mao Chenglu's command busied themselves reorganizing the disorderly mob, barely managing to maintain a semblance of order.
Mao Chenglu rode forward on horseback, approaching the motley crowd surrounded by house guards. He bellowed:
"Everyone risk your lives and kill your way into the stockade! Silver, silk, and grain—take as much as you please! Steamed buns enough to fill your bellies!"
A commotion rippled through the crowd. Mao Chenglu sneered and raised his voice again:
"There are several thousand women in that stockade. Take as many as you can carry—as many as you can get! In troubled times, human life is cheaper than paper. We live today not knowing if there'll be a tomorrow. If you're a man, don't die with your cock pointing at the sky without ever having touched a woman's tits!"
From the crowd—which had seemed somewhat dispirited moments before—several voices rose in approval. Someone shouted: "When a man dies, his cock points at the sky; if he doesn't die, he lives ten thousand years! Even if you're going to die, at least eat your fill and play with enough women before you go!"
The surrounding mob erupted in wild shouts. Under the incitement of these few phrases, the primitive instincts lurking in the hearts of poor men—many of whom had been ordinary citizens less than half a month ago—surged to the surface. Eyes reddened. Morale soared.
Mao Chenglu knew his words had achieved their purpose. He immediately ordered the entire army to advance onto the sandbar.
The sun climbed gradually higher. The wilderness lay bathed in cold white light. On this winter morning in the first lunar month, the wind cut to the bone. The vast rebel horde rolled toward the sandbar of Qimu Island like a flood. The white plumes of breath exhaled by tens of thousands of marching men created a spectacle of its own.
Chen Sigen stood on a watchtower atop the Willow Palisade's bastion, observing the advancing rebels through a telescope.
The sheer density of the approaching crowd made his scalp tingle. What struck him even more was seeing those at the very front—exactly as Zhu Mingxia had predicted—ragged, emaciated commoners with faces the color of wilted vegetables.
They were in tatters. Many walked barefoot through the snow, their skin frozen blue. They knew perfectly well they were marching to their deaths, all for a handful of empty promises.
Recalling what Zhu Mingxia had said to him, he understood that the captain did not mind how many poor commoners died today. If anything, Zhu Mingxia worried that Chen Sigen might grow soft-hearted.
Even if I wanted to be soft-hearted, I couldn't afford to be, Chen Sigen thought. With a formation like this bearing down on us, blood will flow like a river before this Willow Palisade.
The palisade's defenses had been urgently reinforced. The original willow trees had their crowns cut off and their tops sharpened. The pruned branches—selected for thickness and straightness—were lashed horizontally between the trees. Smaller pieces had been fashioned into abatis and erected at grenade-throwing distance. Simply crossing this barrier would exact a heavy toll.
The artillery on the bastions had been positioned with emphasis on the flanks, following Chen Sigen's instructions. The guns could concentrate fire on the enemy approaching from the front or sweep the ice surfaces on either side. After all, the sea on both flanks of the sandbar was now frozen. The enemy could simply descend onto the ice, bypass the Willow Palisade's obstacles, and attack the bastions directly. Accordingly, steep slopes roughly the height of a man had been carved into the coastline near the bastions—these were natural erosion features, merely trimmed by the detachment. Water had been poured over these slopes, freezing them into slick ice.
Chen Sigen noted that six Red Barbarian Cannons had been positioned approximately eight hundred meters from the Willow Palisade. Judging by their appearance, they were culverins firing twelve-pound cannonballs. Such guns had an effective range of nearly two li—formidable weapons indeed.
He had learned from intelligence reports that the rebels were highly experienced in employing firearms and had maneuvered heavy artillery on multiple occasions, repeatedly defeating government forces. Throughout the entire Dengzhou rebellion, the rebels' use of artillery had been brilliant.
Here, the gunners under Mao Chenglu were hard at work. These six Red Barbarian Cannons had all been captured from within Dengzhou City. The gunners had been trained by the Portuguese. A patrol leader supervised from nearby, constantly issuing commands. The soldiers performed their duties with evident skill—setting up gun positions, loading artillery—every motion practiced and efficient.
A gunner raised a wooden ruler, closing one eye to observe the Willow Palisade. They were employing relatively simple, primitive parallax rangefinding. Even so, this was rare among Ming armies of the era.
(End of Chapter)