Chapter 2178 - Ambush (Part 3)

"Boom—"

The muzzle of the Tiger Crouch cannon spewed thick white smoke, and a "Dangmenzi"—a stone cannonball—whistled out.

This Tiger Crouch cannon was two feet long, weighed thirty-six jin, and was made of wrought iron. It used seven liang of gunpowder and fired over a dozen lead pellets weighing six qian. To prevent the drawbacks of "small pellets and large muzzle" resulting in "weak scattering," a large lead ball or stone weighing thirty liang was "slowly rammed into" the muzzle. The range, converted to metric, was about three hundred meters. It was Chiliarch Yang's greatest reliance. Besides this Tiger Crouch cannon, Chiliarch Yang had a dozen firelocks and dozens of bows and arrows, but these things had no power unless within one hundred paces.

The Tiger Crouch cannon was mostly used to fire canister shot at close range to kill grouped enemies, but the "Kun" were about five hundred paces (about three hundred meters) away, and the canister shot fired wouldn't reach that far. So this shot could only rely on the Dangmenzi that flew the farthest to achieve killing effect.

Ye Canming watched a stone emitting white smoke tumble in the air and smash down toward the formation. In an instant, his heart was in his throat—no matter how many battles he'd fought, the moment a cannonball flew over still made him cold all over. If a cannonball passed through the formation, not to mention a direct hit, even a graze would break tendons and bones. The best outcome would be missing an arm or a leg.

The stone ball landed in a bush more than ten meters away from him. With a boom, grass and mud flew wild. The cannonball bounced once more on the ground before stopping unwillingly.

Crowds of regiment militia surged from the woods like a filthy flood. A few of them were fully armored, holding standard waist sabers. Some were dressed like pugilists performing in the darkest corners of the Jianghu, in short combat gear. But more people were just in ordinary coarse cloth clothes; some wore temporarily sewn "fat jackets"—a crude cotton armor—holding rough swords and long spears. Looking from the Fubo Army's formation, the militia had no tactical order, but obviously, there were many of them.

"Squad 7, Squad 8, form two lines, face the enemy, attention!" Li Gangsheng calmly issued the second command.

The militia charged closer and closer, now less than two hundred meters away. It could be seen that there were a few people behind carrying another Tiger Crouch cannon on a frame.

"Squad 7, eliminate the artillery!"

Squad 7 immediately stopped and opened fire. Sparse gunshots echoed on the hillside.

At this distance, the fire density of one squad was obviously insufficient to hit a rapidly moving gun crew. Through the telescope, the cannon carriers could be seen stumbling and falling, but immediately others came to take over, still fleeing toward this side.

"Quick, run into the woods!" Yang Jiao waved a short halberd, the coiled slow match hissing and burning. Lead bullets constantly grazed the surroundings, breaking branches and sending vegetation flying. Occasionally, a militia member would fall with a cry.

The Kun were firing bird guns at him. Stopping meant seeking death. The only chance to survive was to let the Kun lose sight of him.

"F*ck, running faster than rabbits!" Li Gangsheng cursed involuntarily seeing the gun crew running away disregarding their lives. However, seeing the enemy flee into the woods, shooting further was useless.

"Squad 7, cease fire!" He issued the next command. "Squad 9, form one line, prepare to throw grenades!" The ten soldiers of Squad 9 shouldered their rifles, took out black powder grenades, and stood behind Squads 7 and 8 in a throwing preparatory posture. They would not participate in shooting but would serve as a reserve force for bayonet combat after throwing grenades, joining the battle as the situation required.

"Prepare for combat!" Li Gangsheng shouted.

The waiting time felt as long as a century. Yang Jiao took the cannon and hid in the woods, quietly advancing to a place about three hundred paces from the Fubo Army.

"Quick, load!" Yang Jiao lowered his voice and ordered. "Use iron shot for the Dangmenzi!"

The few gunners were all fellow escapees from Zhaoqing. They loaded pretty well and soon reloaded the shell. Outside, the militia were howling, and the sound of firelock shooting rose and fell.

What the hell use is it at this distance! Yang Jiao cursed secretly—although he himself often fired the cannon prematurely involuntarily when going into battle.

In the distance, the Kun had already formed their formation on the hillside. Yang Jiao aimed by himself for a long time before lighting the cannon.

With a boom, Li Gangsheng saw a puff of white smoke rise from the small woods and cried out inwardly bad. Lead pellets hit like a rainstorm. Fortunately, the Tiger Crouch cannon's power was extremely small, and the spread of the canister shot was large; many pellets flew to who knows where.

Two men in the front Squad 7 were hit by small lead pellets, bleeding from their heads, and fell immediately. The most lethal large iron ball traversed the formation, killing a soldier on the spot. It landed heavily on the mud behind the formation and rolled a few times.

The entire formation remained motionless. This was the result of years of training.

"Squad 7, aim!" He issued the next command. Ten rifles were leveled, dark muzzles aiming at the swarming militia.

The panicked militia began to shoot. They'd rushed to over a hundred meters. The ten firelocks and dozen bows held by the militia were all fired. However, at this distance, neither firelocks nor bows had any accuracy. The militia simply didn't understand aiming and volley fire; they just shot in the general direction. The projectiles loaded in the firelocks were also grotesque: lead pellets, iron sand, and even small stones. Unsurprisingly, all firelocks missed. Only one Fubo Army soldier was hit by a lead pellet and fell. The flying arrows had no power at a distance of over a hundred meters. The archers were still drawing bows and shooting, but only in the third round of shooting did an arrow wound a soldier's thigh. At this time, the firelock men hadn't even finished reloading, and the militia had rushed to within a hundred meters of the military formation.

"Squad 7 attention, ready—fire!" The firing order was given. Ten Minié rifles spewed white smoke, and the crisp sound of the volley echoed in the mountains...

The power of standard rifles was not comparable to the firelocks familiar to the militia. The first volley caused the militia's charging column to stagnate abruptly. At this distance, the Minié rifles rarely missed. The militia charging at the very front were almost swept away. Those killed on the spot were lucky; the most tragic were the severely wounded hit in the torso or limbs by lead bullets who wouldn't die immediately. They groaned loudly, rolling and squirming on the ground. The sounds of miserable screaming dampened the militia's momentum. Some quick-witted militia began to slow down. Only a dozen ferocious militia continued charging at the military formation without slowing down.

"Squad 8 aim, fire!" Facing the enemy charging again, a trace of a ferocious smile appeared on Li Gangsheng's face. "The bravest die first." He gritted his teeth and issued the firing order again. Since the distance between the two armies was less than fifty meters, the effect of this volley was even better than the last one. The militia charging at the very front were killed in rows. Among them, enemies wearing Ming army armor accounted for more than half—these were definitely the most capable fighters among the militia. The ensuing melee became much easier. Li Gangsheng could look straight ahead at a hit militia member wearing a full set of armor. A lead bullet directly shattered his heart-protecting mirror, opening a large hole in his torso, blood flowing.

Successive volleys made the charging militia tremble with fear. Many of the most capable fighters had been killed. The militia still charging in front began to hesitate and slow down. The militia behind, urged by Chiliarch Yang, noisily pushed and shoved the crowd in front. The militia fell into chaos for the first time.

"Squad 9, grenade toss, ready—throw!" With Li Gangsheng's command, the soldiers of Squad 9 pulled the grenade fuses together and threw them at the militia more than twenty meters away.

"Boom, boom, boom!" The explosion power of the compressed black powder stick grenades was in no way inferior to the modern grenades used later, and much better than the "Border Region/Bianqu Made" used by the Eighth Route Army back then. The militia were instantly blown to pieces of flesh and blood. The strike effect of this bombing even exceeded the sum of the previous two volleys.

"All units, charge!" Li Gangsheng issued the final command. He didn't even think about reloading again. Defeating them in one fell swoop while the militia were in chaos was the kingly way. He raised his command sword, and the entire infantry platoon let out a uniform roar "Kill!", pouncing on the panicked enemy like tigers. The path of the charge was a mess, with flying flesh and broken limbs everywhere. The distance of twenty meters was crossed in an instant. The pfft sound of bayonets entering flesh and the crack of bones shattering rang out immediately.

Bayonet fighting was a skill the Fubo Army had practiced hard for many years. Although they had the transmigrators' technology cheat, due to technical levels and raw materials, Lingao was far from being able to self-produce individual assault rifles that could completely eliminate bayonet fighting, such as the M-16, AK-47, or FN-FAL. In old timeline history, even in WWII and the Korean War of the 1950s, all warring parties had records of large-scale bayonet fighting, let alone the Fubo Army using muzzle-loading rifled muskets. And the Fubo Army's opponents, be they the Great Ming, the Manchus, or European colonists, all regarded bayonet fighting (melee) as an important or even primary means of combat. Therefore, the effort the Fubo Army put into bayonet fighting was unimaginable to ordinary people.

For traditional spearmen training, the techniques of exerting and retracting force were passed down from generation to generation and never shown to outsiders. Moreover, even the Ming army's most elite house retainers and personal guards could only manage to drill every five or ten days and eat their fill. They could master the coordination of advance and retreat in battle formation, but they were still far from the scientific training and strict regulatory requirements of the Fubo Army. According to the General Staff's infantry training manual, every infantryman had to perform 2 hours of physical training and more than 1 hour of bayonet training every day. Compared to later regular armies, it might be slightly inferior, but compared to the various armies of this era, it was already a total beatdown.