Chapter 1253 - Human Wall
Shi Zhiqi struggled to bring his nerves under control.
As a former auxiliary police officer, he was accustomed to handling crises. Although this was far beyond any situation he had ever encountered before, his training and instincts took over. He forced his breathing steady and began issuing orders.
The three Trial Year 32 battalion guns immediately returned fire at the garrison walls. Their 75mm shells screamed toward the gatehouse. Though these guns were designed primarily for infantry support with limited range and power, against targets at this distance they remained effective.
Two shells slammed into the wall below the gatehouse, blasting chunks of brick and stone into the air. The third struck the gatehouse itself—not an explosive shell, but a solid shot that punched through the wooden structure, taking out two Portuguese gunners before burying itself in the far wall.
Up on the wall, Mateus cursed. He had expected the Australian guns to be formidable, but he hadn't anticipated counter-battery fire coming so quickly or so accurately. He shouted for his men to take cover and continue firing.
The duel between the two captured naval guns and the three battalion guns continued. Shells flew back and forth across the battlefield. The Australians held the advantage in rate of fire—the battalion guns could fire several rounds per minute, while the naval guns, even with their trained Portuguese crews, could manage only one round every two minutes.
But the naval guns had range and power. Their 24-pounder shells, when they hit, caused far more damage than the lighter battalion gun projectiles. And their explosive shells, with those miraculous copper disc fuzes, detonated reliably, showering the Marines with shrapnel.
The First Expeditionary Force pressed forward under fire.
The Marines maintained their formation with iron discipline, stepping over fallen comrades, closing ranks where gaps appeared. The sergeants kept up a steady stream of commands: "Steady! Maintain formation! Keep moving!"
Shi Zhiqi, despite his fear, felt a surge of pride. These were his men, and they were performing magnificently. The weeks of drilling, the endless exercises, the harsh discipline—all of it was paying off now.
The battalion guns continued their counter-battery fire. One shell finally found its mark, striking the sandbag emplacement around one of the naval guns. The explosion killed two gunners and wounded three more, temporarily silencing the weapon.
But the other gun kept firing. Another explosive shell burst over the Marine line, and Shi Zhiqi saw a dozen men go down. Some struggled back to their feet; others lay still.
"Keep moving!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "Close up! Keep moving!"
The distance closed. At 500 meters, Shi Zhiqi ordered the line to halt.
"Front rank, volley fire! Ready... aim... FIRE!"
A hundred Hall rifles barked as one. The volley swept the wall, and Shi Zhiqi saw figures tumble from the battlements.
"Rear rank, volley fire!"
Another hundred rifles crashed out. More figures fell.
"Advance!"
The line surged forward again. The enemy fire slackened—the defenders were keeping their heads down now. The remaining naval gun fell silent as its crew scrambled for cover.
At 300 meters, Zheng Zhilong made his move.
A horn sounded from the garrison, and the gates swung open. Out poured the main Zheng force—two thousand men in loose formation, their weapons glinting in the afternoon sun.
They charged straight at the Marine line.
Shi Zhiqi's heart hammered against his ribs. This was it—the moment of truth. He raised his sword.
"Halt! Front rank, volley fire!"
The Hall rifles spoke again. The charging Zheng soldiers fell in windrows, but more kept coming. They were brave men, driven by silver and desperation, and they didn't falter.
"Rear rank, fire!"
More men fell. Still they came.
"Typewriters—engage!"
The two "typewriter" machine gun sections opened up. The stuttering roar of the Hotchkiss revolving cannons joined the crack of rifles. The effect was devastating. The charging mass of men melted under the combined fire like snow in a furnace.
But still they came. Zheng Zhilong had committed everything—his guards, his best troops, even his Black Guard and Japanese Guard. The silver had done its work. These men were fighting not just for pay but for their lives and their future.
The distance closed to 200 meters. 150 meters. 100 meters.
"Fix bayonets!"
The Marines slammed their bayonets onto their rifles. The clicking of steel on steel ran down the line like a wave.
At 80 meters, the charge finally broke.
The survivors—perhaps a third of those who had charged—turned and fled back toward the garrison. The Hotchkiss guns followed them, cutting down the fleeing soldiers mercilessly.
The Marines let out a ragged cheer. But Shi Zhiqi raised his sword again.
"Reform! Maintain formation! We're not done yet!"
He looked toward the garrison. The walls still bristled with defenders. The remaining naval gun was being re-crewed. And somewhere in there was Zheng Zhilong himself.
"Forward!" Shi Zhiqi commanded. "To the walls!"
The battered but unbroken Marine line resumed its advance.
(End of Chapter)