Chapter 90: The First Day's Victory

Wang Xi’s and Li Guang’s troops also routed. All of Li Guang’s personal guards were killed, and he nearly lost his banner. He himself was wounded by a bullet and was only saved with great difficulty. Wang Xi was killed while leading his men across the trench.

He Rubin watched anxiously as his men swarmed at the base of the earthen rampart, repeatedly storming it only to be driven back. At this moment, he saw the reinforcements from the Training Division, whom he had sent to support the attack, retreating in disarray. He was furious and was about to order the drums to beat for another charge when he saw that the troops who had already reached the trench were also falling back. In an instant, the four or five thousand men on the battlefield collapsed like an avalanche, scattering in a complete rout, leaving the ground littered with discarded helmets and armor.

“Should we deploy the ambush troops?”

“No, the enemy hasn’t committed their main force yet. He Rubin’s own garrison and household retainers haven’t moved,” He Ming said, assessing the situation on the battlefield. “Tomorrow, He Rubin will have no choice but to use his last reserves. We’ll use our positions to completely cripple them. When they are demoralized and see enemies in every shadow, we’ll crush them in one fell swoop!”

On the walls of Chengmai, news of the deaths of Wang Xi, the Adjutant of the Guangdong Training Division, and Wang Daoji, the Adjutant of the Governor’s Standard Battalion, sent the morale of the observing officials and generals plummeting. The optimistic atmosphere had vanished. In just one day, two of Guangdong’s established military commanders had been killed in action, and more than twenty other officers of qianzong rank or higher had also fallen. Such heavy losses were enough to qualify as a “crushing defeat.”

He Rubin broke out in a cold sweat. If he couldn’t annihilate the rebels after such devastating losses, he would have a hard time explaining himself to the Viceroy and the Imperial Court. “Beat the drums!” he ordered. He decided to commit his own garrison troops and household retainers to break through the enemy’s fortress in one go.

It was Zhao Ruyi who stopped him. “Our army has suffered a setback, and morale is low today. Another attack will only lead to more casualties. General, you must not act on a momentary impulse. Fortunately, our main force is still intact. Let us withdraw for now and fight again tomorrow.”

The gongs for retreat sounded across the battlefield, though even without them, the government army’s offensive had already collapsed. The Fubo Army gradually ceased fire as the main body of the government troops fled. The wounded government soldiers who could still walk limped back.

The smoke slowly cleared from the battlefield. Only then could both sides clearly see the results of the nearly three-hour-long battle. The trenches, both inside and out, were filled with bodies. The corpses at the foot of the earthen rampart were particularly dense, in some places piled half a man’s height. The rampart itself, and even its slopes, were also strewn with bodies. Blood trickled down the earthen walls like small black streams.

A thick, nauseating stench of blood, sweat, and gunpowder hung over the battlefield.

The infantrymen and militiamen of the Fubo Army, their clothes tattered and their faces and bodies covered in soot, some of them wounded, leaned on their rifles for support. Those who had lost their rifles held captured government spears and swords. They stared at the fleeing government soldiers, their expressions as dazed as if they had just woken from a dream.

Seeing the Ming army withdraw in formation back to their camp, the Fubo Army soldiers, who had just come to their senses, erupted in cheers of victory. They had withstood the fierce assault of four or five thousand elite government troops and stood firm. The cheers echoed along the rampart, one after another, resounding across the entire battlefield.

Compared to the native officers and soldiers, the more emotional veteran officers were almost moved to tears. The army they had personally built and painstakingly trained for two years had finally proven itself to be a true fighting force, not just a parade-ground unit that could march in neat formations. He Ming noticed several veteran officers wiping their eyes and couldn’t help but smile.

“What’s this? Are you all crying? Like a bunch of women!”

“I’m just… happy…” Wei Aiwen, who always projected the image of a steely, German-style hard man, couldn’t help but wipe his eyes. “Our army… we’ve finally succeeded! We won’t be defeated! We’ve won!”

“Little Wei, you’re always going on about the triumph of the will, and now you’re shedding tears,” You Laohu said smugly, shouldering his blood-stained frontier army longsword. He was covered in blood from head to toe, even on his face, but he made no effort to wipe it off, as if showing off his reckless close-quarters combat. “Look at me, I took off a dozen heads in one go…”

As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly collapsed. Everyone present was startled. The army doctor, Zhang Tumu, quickly checked his condition.

“It’s nothing serious. Blood loss from his wounds, plus exhaustion,” he said, opening his medical kit and giving You Laohu an injection. “Take him to the medical tent!”

“Old You is really something…”

“If he keeps this up, he’ll get himself killed sooner or later,” Zhang Tumu said. “He’s covered in wounds. They’re not deep, but you can still die from too much blood loss.”

Dongmen Chuiyu said, “This means You Laohu can’t fight tomorrow. We need to appoint an acting commander for the Third Battalion immediately.”

“Let Lin Shenhe take over. He performed well today,” Dongmen Chuiyu suggested. “He’s mentioned to me several times that he wants to transfer to the army instead of being an ordnance engineer all the time. I think it’s a good idea. Isn’t he an expert on line-infantry tactics?”

“No, he’s not familiar with the Third Battalion,” He Ming considered. “Yu Zhiqian will be the acting commander of the Third Battalion. Lin Shenhe will take his place as a company commander for now. We’ll reorganize after the battle. This fight is almost over. The outcome will be decided tomorrow.”

Although the Ming army still had a large number of troops, He Ming knew that the enemy’s morale was broken. Even if He Rubin used his household retainers and garrison troops tomorrow, their attack was unlikely to be as fierce as today’s. Most importantly, his own soldiers now had the belief that they would win. They would fight even more bravely in the coming decisive battle.

The snipers from the watchtowers all came down. They had played a crucial role in the chaotic battle, not only killing many officers and disrupting the enemy’s attacks on several occasions, but also directly using their rifles to seal off breaches at the most critical moments. Now, their faces were black with gunpowder smoke, their fingers swollen, and some had bleeding hands. But every one of them was in high spirits, carrying bags full of spent cartridges and excitedly discussing their achievements.

“I took down at least three officers! And that general!”

“I’m the one who shot that general! He must have been at least a brigade commander!”

“Bullshit! There’s only one brigade commander. The one you shot was a captain at most.”

…

The total score for the veteran sniper team was 247 kills, a respectable achievement. But as Zhou Weisen said, the enemy was so densely packed that it was hard to miss. He claimed to have shot a general from 1000 meters, but Qian Shuiting insisted that he was the one who got him. The two got into a heated argument.

Qian Shuiting’s total was 14 kills, but he kept the most detailed records, with various symbols on his paper representing the types of targets he had killed: bows, spears, three-barreled guns, flags, helmets, and so on. Zhou Weisen joked that he spent so much time drawing that he had less time for shooting.

Dingding crawled out of a gun emplacement. Today, he felt he had truly understood the meaning of “a narrow escape from death.” Decades later, he would often boast to his nameless grandson about his bravery that day: how the enemy charged at him, and he kept filming until they were a meter away without flinching; how he single-handedly killed seven or eight government soldiers with his camera tripod; and how he dueled with a high-ranking government general, knocking him to the ground, and the general even said, “I’m impressed,” before dying.

In reality, Dingding’s situation had been very dangerous. He was originally filming from the command platform. After the first attack, he handed his professional camera to his assistant and went up to the rampart with a DV camera to get better, more direct footage. He filmed from a watchtower for a while and then entered a gun emplacement used by snipers. He had expected the government soldiers to break at the foot of the rampart like they did the first time, but they managed to charge up. At the height of the battle, government soldiers and Fubo Army infantry were engaged in close combat right outside his emplacement. Several times, the government soldiers tried to break into the emplacement where he was filming, but they were driven back by the bayonets of the soldiers protecting him.

It wasn’t until all the enemies had retreated that Dingding, after resting for a while, came out of the gun emplacement, his hand still clutching the DV camera spasmodically.

“Damn, that was intense… too intense…” he muttered to himself.

The DV footage filmed from inside the gun emplacement was incredibly intense. It was so bloody and violent that parts of it had to be cut before it could be publicly screened.

The medical team and soldiers were clearing the battlefield on the rampart. They kicked everyone they saw, whether dead or alive. Anyone who moved, regardless of whether they were a government soldier or one of their own, was put on a stretcher.

Tian Liang was found among a pile of bodies by the medics. He vaguely felt someone kicking him, and he stirred.

“The second lieutenant is still alive!” a voice said from a distance.

“Get him to the dressing station, quickly.”

Next, he felt something hard being placed around his neck, immobilizing it. Then he was moved onto a stretcher. The movement pulled at his wound, and he let out a sharp cry.

Someone immediately poured a cool liquid with a strong medicinal taste into his mouth. He felt a wave of comfort wash over him, the pain in his wound subsided, and he fell into a deep sleep.

The total casualties for the Fubo Army, including the militia, reached over 300, with more than 100 dead. A quarter of the dead were officers and non-commissioned officers. This casualty ratio was both a source of pride and concern for He Ming and the others. The high number of officer and NCO casualties showed that leading from the front was deeply ingrained in their culture, but the loss of these painstakingly trained core personnel was also a great pity.

The loss of weapons was severe. Not only were hundreds of rifles and many spears damaged, but three cannons were also put out of action. The ammunition consumption was staggering.

Zhang Tumu’s medical tent was a scene of organized chaos. Six or seven hundred wounded from both sides were gathered in the open area outside the main tent. Rows of stretchers lined the ground. The lightly wounded from the Fubo Army squatted to one side, smoking and chatting. Some sat motionless, as if dead, but would groan in pain if touched.

The wounded government soldiers sat together with sullen expressions. No one dared to cry out, except for those in unbearable pain. They watched in fear as the blood-soaked rebels moved in and out of the main tent, from which screams could be heard from time to time.

Zhang Tumu had his sleeves rolled up, his arms covered in blood. His white coat was spattered with blood, making him look like a butcher. The medics around him were in a similar state, all covered in blood. He had already performed several surgeries.

You Laohu was carried into the tent and placed on a clean emergency table. The strong smell of blood and disinfectant woke him up. He saw the medics brandishing large scissors between his legs and was startled, quickly covering his vital parts.

“What are you doing?”

“Cutting off your clothes,” Zhang Tumu said. “How else are we going to treat your wounds?”

“I’m not wounded ‘there’! Can you please tell him not to wave those scissors around? If he cuts it, there’s no replacement!”

“Don’t worry, he’s done this many times,” Zhang Tumu joked. “Clean the lieutenant colonel’s wounds properly.”

When the irritating disinfectant touched his wounds, You Laohu’s face turned pale, but he clenched his teeth to maintain his tough-guy image and refused to cry out.

“No need to be a hero. If it hurts, just shout,” Zhang Tumu said, deftly examining the wounds. “Record! Multiple lacerations on both arms, both shoulders, chest, and both thighs. A deep blade wound on the left rib, no organ damage, no fractures.” He then ordered, “Tetanus shot immediately. Are you dizzy?”

“Dizzy!”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, but it’s not life-threatening yet. Otherwise, I’d have to call for soldiers to donate blood for you. Intravenous injection of 500cc of glucose saline! And another shot of morphine!”

“No morphine,” You Laohu didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

“You’ll be wishing for it when I’m stitching you up,” Zhang Tumu said to the medic. “I’ll go check on the others first. I’ll do the stitching myself.”

Leaving You Laohu, Zhang Tumu performed an emergency surgery on a soldier who had been stabbed in the stomach. He was surprised he could even pull it off, as he had failed his surgery rotation back in the day and ended up in the emergency room.

“Dr. Zhang! One hit by a three-barreled gun!” a medic rushed in.

“Take him to Dr. Ning!”

The balding, slightly overweight Ning Jinghai looked at the wounded man, who was covered in holes and bleeding all over the floor, and complained, “How many is that? Without an X-ray machine, we can’t get all the bullets out…”

“Just save his life first. We’ll deal with the X-ray in Ma Niao,” Zhang Tumu said. “This guy looks like he needs a blood transfusion.”

“Blood pressure and heart rate are dropping!” a medic shouted.

“Quick, atropine injection! IV drip!” Ning Jinghai yelled, then flipped over the wounded man’s dog tag. “Blood type A. Get four or five A-type militiamen for a blood donation!”

The medical department had not yet established a full-scale blood supply system and relied on “blood donors” for clinical use. All the plasma used in surgery was provided on the spot by medics and militiamen who had passed blood tests. If necessary, blood was drawn from healthy militiamen and laborers.

Tian Liang was brought before Yang Baogui. He had just finished stitching up a soldier’s wound and was washing and disinfecting his hands.

“Puncture wound, left leg!” Yang Baogui glanced at him and shouted, “Prepare to remove the arrowhead! Tetanus shot!”

A scalpel cut into his muscle, and a pair of forceps carefully extracted the broken arrowhead from his leg. Yang Baogui carefully checked for any remaining fragments in the wound, then cleaned and disinfected his leg.

Tian Liang groaned and woke up.

“How are you, Second Lieutenant?” Yang Baogui said. “You took an arrow to the leg. You’re lucky. It didn’t hit a major blood vessel or the bone. It went clean through. You’ll be up and about in a month.”

Yang Baogui’s skill in treating wounds was exquisite. No one would have guessed he was actually a veterinarian. He had come to the main camp to treat the mules and horses left behind by the Ming army after the battle. For now, he was moonlighting as an army doctor.

Most of the wounded were not seriously injured. Their wounds were cleaned and stitched. Thanks to the two miracle cures of tetanus shots and antibiotics, many soldiers’ lives were saved. With the help of blood transfusions, IV drips, and surgery, many soldiers who would have otherwise died from their severe injuries were able to survive.

“…In the second anti-encirclement campaign, the Ministry of Health for the first time made large-scale use of self-produced medicines and equipment to treat the sick and wounded. This was also the first time that self-produced antibiotics and tetanus serum were used to treat battlefield casualties. Through the efforts of the medical staff, excellent results were achieved, and many lives were saved…” (From Annals of Health, Volume 1)

The self-produced tetanus serum was made from horse serum. To get the horse blood, the Ministry of Health had to engage in a lengthy debate with Nick, and only after ensuring that drawing blood would not harm the horses’ health did they obtain enough horse serum. The effectiveness of the tetanus serum, which had been produced at great cost, could best be tested in battle.

The captured wounded government soldiers also received medical treatment. This was firstly out of “humanitarianism” and secondly out of “pragmatism”—every person was a valuable source of labor. The one thing the Lin Gao regime lacked most was people.

“Ryan! Stop your prayers,” Zhang Tumu, who was swamped with work, snapped when he saw Ryan, who was in charge of quarantine and epidemic prevention, performing some kind of last rites for a seriously wounded soldier. “The battlefield cleanup is about to start. You’re leading the team, go and report!”

“…In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.” He made the sign of the cross over the dying soldier and turned, saying, “The martyrs need spiritual comfort…”

“Doctor… Chief… I’m still alive…” the wounded man said. “Dr. Zhang said… I’m not going to die.”

“Oh—is that so? God is everywhere…”

“Just go!” Zhang Tumu urged repeatedly. Ryan reluctantly stood up. The so-called battlefield cleanup meant clearing and burying the dead, a disgusting and laborious task. But it was his job, as his specialization was in preventive medicine, specifically disease disinfection and control. And he also had to carry out the tasks assigned by the fake Christian, Dean Wu, supposedly to expand the church’s influence. To this end, he had already given last rites to several dying, seriously wounded government soldiers, all the while muttering to himself about whether what he was doing was appropriate.