Chapter 89: Fierce Battle on the Earthen Rampart

The battle was unfolding just as the General Staff had predicted, He Ming thought. But the Ming army had only been repulsed once. Their banners were not in disarray, and there was no sign of wavering among the troops. Judging by the drumbeats and the movement of the flags, the enemy was busy redeploying their forces. This time, they would surely commit their elite main force to an all-out attack.

“The enemy is moving new troops,” the observation posts continually reported. “They’re transporting things out of the city!”

He Rubin was redeploying his forces, actively preparing for a second assault. To counter the rebels’ advantage in firearms, he had gathered a large number of wheelbarrows from the firearms and supply battalions. They were piled high with sandbags and straw bales, all soaked with water. Some carts were even fitted with heavy wooden doors taken from the county town; even the thick, iron-sheathed main gates of the county yamen had been dismantled. On the orders of the central command, Liu Jingxuan personally led his yamen runners to tear down planks and collect carts and bags, lest he “delay the military opportunity.” The army’s carpenters and blacksmiths hastily made the modifications.

He Rubin understood the basic fact that no door, no matter how thick or even iron-clad, could stop a cannonball. What he feared were the enemy’s muskets.

From the several engagements since yesterday, it was clear that besides their powerful cannons, the rebels’ muskets were also “sharp.” The ability to kill a man from three hundred paces was enough to demoralize his soldiers. The rebels might have only twenty or thirty cannons, but compared to the muskets that every soldier carried, the cannons seemed like the lesser threat.

The sandbags and door panels would be used to shield the soldiers during the charge, protecting them from lead shot. Once they reached the trench, these could be used to help cross it. Through his telescope, He Rubin could see clearly: the rebels’ earthen rampart was wide but not high, at most two zhang tall. Apart from a low wall of stacked sandbags, there were no other fortifications on top. As for the watchtowers built from wooden poles, they were too flimsy to hold cannons. At most, they would house a few musketeers and posed no major threat.

While monitoring the Ming army’s movements, He Ming ordered the distribution of high-calorie rations and water to his soldiers. The afternoon’s battle was likely to be extremely fierce and protracted.

“Eat quickly, prepare for battle!”

The second attack began in the afternoon. The assault was led by the elite of the Ming expeditionary force. In the center were fifteen hundred soldiers from the Governor’s Standard Battalion, commanded by Adjutant Wang Daoji, known for his ferocity. On his left flank were a thousand soldiers from the Provincial Standard Battalion under Adjutant Li Guang, and on his right were twelve hundred soldiers under Adjutant Wang Xi of the Training Division.

As the cannons roared, the wheels of hundreds of wheelbarrows rumbled forward, either laden with sandbags or with upright wooden planks, clearing a path. Behind them, the government infantry followed in long columns.

Having witnessed the Fubo Army’s artillery superiority, the government commanders abandoned the dense formations this time. Instead, they spread their men into looser columns, with significant distance between them, to avoid a single cannonball carving a bloody alley through their ranks.

Wave after wave of men surged forward to the beat of the war drums, kicking up clouds of dust. Commanders on horseback shouted and urged their troops on. Behind them, large banners fluttered, surrounded by retinues of personal guards and household retainers, all with swords drawn and arrows nocked, ready to defend their masters from the enemy—or from their own fleeing soldiers.

The cannons on the earthen rampart opened fire again. The thick smoke and bright flashes from the guns sent a tremor through all the Ming generals and officials. They knew what was about to happen to the soldiers and officers running across the open ground. Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on the battlefield.

The black shadows of cannonballs screamed through the air, landing one after another in the columns. Nothing could stop these bouncing iron spheres. Each impact was followed by a chorus of screams and wails. When the smoke cleared, it left behind pools of bodies, mangled limbs, and flesh. As the cannonballs lost momentum and were about to hit the ground, they seemed to slow down enough to be caught by hand. One reckless captain raised his iron spear and swung it, trying to bat the projectile away like an arrow, foolishly attempting to knock it to the ground. The cannonball shattered the spearhead, and the immense force traveled down the shaft, tearing half his body apart. Some men turned to flee but were instantly cut down by the officers of the rear guard.

“Forward, forward!” the commanders ordered, though they themselves were not safe. Besides the cannonballs that killed indiscriminately, men would occasionally fall from their horses without warning. Some officers circled on their mounts, making a show of waving their swords and shouting, but they themselves advanced no further.

As the troops drew closer to the rampart, the artillery fire intensified. When the Ming army reached the 500-meter mark, the artillery began firing shrapnel and high-explosive shells. The projectiles either burst in the air or upon landing, the fragments and iron balls cutting down soldiers in swathes.

“Charge! Charge!” the officers yelled, brandishing their swords. “Charge to the foot of the rampart!”

The soldiers let out a roar like dying beasts and surged forward. The dark mass of their formation rushed towards the rampart. The Fubo Army cannoneers, stripped to the waist, worked with all their might to fire as fast as possible. The roar of the cannons was continuous, and the entire rampart was shrouded in a thick white smoke. Only the watchtowers jutted out, floating like pavilions in the clouds. Below this sea of smoke, the approaching crowd of men rolled forward like a tidal wave. The snipers in the towers had lost their initial leisurely pace of slowly loading, picking a target, aiming carefully, and then marking a tally on the wooden plank beside them. Now, each one rapidly worked the bolt, aimed, fired, and quickly sought another target.

“Target, 300 meters! Canister shot!” Zhang Bolin finally gave the order for canister. The battle had reached close quarters. A dozen cannons were quickly loaded with canister rounds.

“Fire!”

With each recoil of the cannons, 27 canister shots sprayed out, forming a dense wall of lead. Many soldiers were cut down before they even reached the trench.

“Infantry, fire!” He Ming shouted, seeing the government troops press on towards the trench despite the artillery fire. Some soldiers were already throwing sandbags, wheelbarrows, and the bodies of their fallen comrades into the trench, trying to fill it and create a path. Although they were quickly cut down by canister shot, a continuous stream of men followed behind them.

“Sights at 150 meters, fire!”

The cannon smoke was too thick for anyone to see their targets clearly. The infantry set their sights, aimed in the general direction of the enemy, and fired in volleys. The crisp crackle of rifles sounded continuously. Many men were shot down before they could reach the trench. Some tried to retreat, but He Rubin had already sent another two thousand men charging forward, and the battlefield was once again flooded with a tide of humanity. The front ranks, pushed by those behind, lunged forward.

“Charge! Five taels of silver for crossing the trench, ten for scaling the wall!” several officers on horseback galloped along the now-disordered government lines, shouting to boost morale.

“All of you, charge! Two taels of silver for a rebel’s head! Fifty for the head of a rebel officer! Anyone who hesitates or retreats will be executed!”

Wang Daoji led from the front. Half of his personal guards and retainers were already dead or wounded, and his standard-bearer had been replaced twice, but he was still the first to lead his men to the edge of the trench. Some archers had reached the trench and were loosing dense volleys of arrows. The first casualties appeared on the earthen rampart. Men with three-barreled guns also began to fire.

Tian Liang stood on the right flank of his company, his ears nearly deafened by the din of guns and cannons. He saw his company commander—recklessly, as always—jump onto the low wall, waving his saber and roaring, his voice nearly drowning out the sound of the company’s volley fire. Just then, five or six arrows shot out from the smoke. One struck the commander. He grunted and fell from the rampart, and his head was instantly taken by the government soldiers.

The soldiers were stunned, momentarily forgetting to fire. Tian Liang was so shocked his saber nearly fell from his hand. The commander, a man who always excelled in military training and was known for his courage, was dead just like that.

“Quick, Second Lieutenant Tian, it’s your turn!” The company clerk saw Tian Liang standing there in a daze and pushed and shoved him towards the company banner.

For a moment, Tian Liang almost forgot the commands. You Laohu, who was overseeing the battle, saw that a company commander had fallen and ran over, kicking him hard.

“What are you gawking at! Fire!”

Tian Liang snapped back to his senses. He brought his saber down sharply.

“Volley! Fire!”

A sea breeze blew in, scattering the thick gunpowder smoke. A serpent of red fire snaked along the rampart. The soldiers who had reached the trench and were firing arrows or filling it were cut down by flanking fire from both sides, tumbling into the trench. But a second wave surged forward.

Fu Sansi, holding his SKS rifle, kept an eye on the entire battalion’s situation while occasionally taking a shot himself. He targeted officers and projectile-users like archers near the trench. His aim was true, and he was unaffected by the chaos around him, taking down a man with nearly every shot.

Seeing that several sections of the trench were now filled with bodies and sandbags, and more and more Ming soldiers were reaching the base of the wall, he knew the time was right. Though they avoided the direct fire from the front, rifle fire from the flanking angles still cut them down in droves.

However, as more archers and musketeers reached the trench to provide covering fire, casualties on the rampart increased. Fu Sansi felt the moment had come. He grabbed a hand grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it in one smooth motion.

“Throw grenades!” he shouted as the grenade left his hand.

“Grenades! Throw grenades!” The order was passed down the line. The soldiers firing arrows and filling the trench only saw small iron objects being thrown down from the rampart.

The grenades exploded one after another. Although the black powder grenades had only moderate killing power, the effect of many being thrown at once was still terrifying in its force and sound. A second and third wave of grenades followed. At this range, canister shot was no longer effective and had to be fired deeper into the enemy ranks. Hand grenades became the weapon of choice. The government soldiers, crowded by the trench and at the foot of the rampart, had almost no cover from the grenade rain and fell in droves.

Before one wave of men had fallen, the next was already being driven forward by their commanders. Soldiers fell, batch after batch, in the open ground between the bastions. Each volley from the rampart was like a scythe, swiftly reaping a harvest of lives. Smoke shrouded the rampart; those far away could only see the muzzle flashes of the rifles and cannons.

Casualties on the rampart were mounting. Many infantrymen were hit by arrows and the iron pellets from three-barreled guns. Medics continuously dragged away the fallen. The infantry line on the rampart began to thin, and the rate of fire slackened.

The first group of government soldiers, taking advantage of the thinning fire, had pulled out the standard-issue bamboo stakes driven into the slope. Though men were constantly shot and rolled back down, others surged forward. Some were already using ladders or simply their hands and feet to climb. They were immediately met with bayonets, but more and more were climbing up. Some men with three-barreled guns also made it to the top, firing their weapons and then using the heavy iron implements as clubs. Many of the attacking soldiers threw burning fire pots onto the rampart as they climbed. Although these ceramic pots didn’t explode, the resulting flames and smoke caused some confusion among the defenders. The infantry began to be pushed back, their formation in disarray. A captain leaped onto the rampart, his long sword cutting an infantryman’s rifle in two and then stabbing him. He then cut down another soldier who rushed him. Two militiamen with long spears actually retreated before his furious onslaught. Seeing more and more of his own men coming up behind him, the captain’s courage swelled. He charged forward a few steps, pushing back the disorganized militia, and reached out to plant a military banner on the rampart. The morale of the Ming army, both on and off the wall, soared. They let out a fierce howl and charged forward, seemingly on the verge of creating a breakthrough. Lin Shenhe, who had been enjoying himself picking off soldiers one by one with a semi-automatic M14, let out a cry. He rushed over with his M14, bayonet fixed, ready for hand-to-hand combat. But just as the two sides were about to clash, he dodged to the side and yelled, “Fire!”

Behind him, a “Typewriter” mounted on a wheelbarrow immediately let out a deafening roar. A dense stream of hot lead swept away all the government soldiers who had climbed onto the rampart. One man’s head was instantly obliterated, another was torn to pieces by the bullets. Those lucky enough to be missed scrambled and rolled back down the rampart in terror.

Breaches were appearing everywhere, but the militia and the reserve units of each battalion continuously sealed them, driving back the government soldiers who had broken through. The battle reached a fever pitch: on one side, men were locked in a desperate hand-to-hand struggle, while on the other, cannons and rifles continued to spew fire and smoke without pause.

Tian Liang’s position was at one of these breaches, where Wang Daoji’s household retainers and personal guards were concentrating their attack. The company he was temporarily commanding had already suffered one-third casualties. The government soldiers took the opportunity to climb the rampart and engage in close combat. His saber was lost somewhere in the fray. He had fired all the rounds in his revolver and had no time to reload when a government soldier charged at him. In desperation, he threw the revolver at the man’s face, then snatched up a three-barreled gun and swung it, smashing the enemy’s skull.

He had no time to find another weapon; the government soldiers were upon him. At this life-or-death moment, he forgot all his military regulations and, driven by the will to survive, swung the heavy iron weapon left and right, cutting a path through his attackers. Just then, an arrow pierced his thigh. Tian Liang screamed and fell into a pile of bodies on the rampart. A government soldier, seeing the scabbard at his waist and knowing he was an officer, leaped over and raised his sword to take his head, but he was immediately bayoneted by the infantrymen who rushed forward to save their acting commander. The two sides fought back and forth over the spot where Tian Liang had fallen.

On the command platform, the staff officers were getting nervous. They watched as more and more enemies climbed the rampart and engaged in close combat—some fights were happening right next to the cannons.

“Send in the reserves,” Zhu Quanxing ran over to personally request permission to fight.

“Wait a little longer, they can still hold,” He Ming said, raising his telescope to carefully observe every breach on the rampart. Yes, the government troops had reached the top in many places, but at every breach, Fubo Army soldiers and militia were engaged. He was confident that his well-trained soldiers could push back the relatively few attackers.

You Laohu fully lived up to his reputation for being “single-minded” in the battle. He charged into one breach after another with a joyful roar, wildly swinging his frontier army longsword without any technique. While slaughtering a large number of government soldiers, he nearly cut off his own head, but his frenzy boosted the morale of a large group of militia and infantry. They surged forward, following him, hacking and charging, sealing one breach after another. It turned out that the government soldiers’ resolve in one-on-one melee was far inferior to that of the Fubo Army’s well-trained infantry. There were frequent instances of three or five infantrymen with bayonets driving back an entire group of government soldiers.

By 2 p.m., although Wang Daoji had organized repeated, desperate attacks regardless of casualties, his soldiers were being hit by cannons and bullets near the trench, and their losses were heavy. The defense on the rampart gradually became more elastic. The militia filled the gaps left by the fallen infantry, using their long spears to poke the government soldiers who managed to climb up, pushing them back down. The “Typewriters” played a crucial role in sealing the breaches. These terrifying rapid-fire monsters completely destroyed the will of anyone attempting to hold a position on the rampart, sweeping away the incoming soldiers with a rain of lead. The artillery fire also periodically cut off the enemy’s follow-up forces. The government soldiers who made it onto the rampart could not get timely reinforcements, were unable to expand their breakthroughs, and were driven back one by one.

Wang Daoji was still shouting for his men to scale the rampart when a Minié ball struck him. He swayed and fell from his horse. His soldiers could no longer hold on. With a final cry, they turned and fled.