Chapter 640 — Artillery Duel
The Number 6 Gunner, standing beside the ammunition box, immediately flipped open its lid, searched for the required number on the table pasted inside, and shouted the answer:
"Elevation four degrees forty minutes!"
The Number 3 Gunner, positioned on the right side of the breech, immediately turned the handle to adjust the cannon to the correct angle. The new gun mount developed by the Mechanical Department not only allowed adjustment of firing direction but also improved the elevation system; an angle indicator was installed directly on the breech, allowing the Number 3 Gunner to quickly dial in the setting without burdening the Number 4 and Number 1 Gunners. Meanwhile, the Number 6 Gunner retrieved a shell from the ammunition box and handed it to the waiting Number 5 Gunner. The shell was old-style fixed ammunition: a spherical solid shot tied together with a propellant bag wrapped in cloth strips and cotton. The Number 5 Gunner placed the shell in a wicker basket and carried it to the Number 1 Gunner for inspection.
"Ammunition correct! Load!"
The Number 2 Gunner received the shell, oriented the propellant bag toward the breech, and inserted the shell into the muzzle. The Number 3 Gunner, holding the rammer, immediately thrust it into the muzzle, pushing the shell all the way to the bottom of the bore. The Number 4 Gunner, standing on the left side of the breech, pricked a long awl through the vent into the bore, piercing the cloth wrapping around the propellant bag. He then withdrew a friction primer, hooked the pull ring on the primer to the lanyard's hook, and inserted it into the vent.
"Ready!"
This dazzling series of complex movements took only a few dozen seconds. The coordination among the six gunners had to be flawless to be busy without falling into disorder. A well-trained M1857 artillery crew could reach four rounds per minute during rapid fire—though the cannon would overheat quickly and fail to fire at such a pace. For now, the artillery on the earthen dike maintained a sustained rate of one round per minute.
"Fire!"
The Number 4 Gunner yanked the lanyard. With a tremendous bang and a long burst of flame, the entire cannon and all the gunners around it disappeared within a cloud of white smoke. The cannon, pushed by the tremendous recoil, leapt backward.
"M1857—cheap price and sufficient quantity." Lin Shenhe, standing beside Zhang Berlin with binoculars, muttered to himself. He claimed to be here to inspect the performance of weapons and equipment and to evaluate the results of artillery training in the field, but in reality he had come to watch the excitement—and to see if there were any new gadgets he could tinker with.
The killing effect of solid shot was immensely satisfying, yet amidst such a surging tide of humanity, it seemed difficult to force the enemy into a rout. Two Ming army columns continued shouting and charging toward the Grand Camp.
"Don't worry!" Lin Shenhe pretended to remain calm. "According to Civil War experience, infantry usually has to persist until they eat canister shot at under a hundred meters before they rout..."
"Boss, this is the Ming Army, not the Union Army or the Confederates." Zhang Berlin regarded Lin Shenhe as the expert among experts—all muzzle-loading artillery gunnery and tactics had been taught by him. "Shouldn't a medieval army like the Ming Army collapse very quickly?"
"That the Ming Army will collapse after one round of shelling is not something I ever said." Lin Shenhe shrugged. "Then again, causing an entire army to collapse from shelling alone is probably something only the Great Qing ever achieved."
According to his observations, the density of shelling was still somewhat inadequate relative to the surging crowd. The current rate of fire represented merely an average level for the Civil War era.
"Quick! Pull quickly!" Soldiers of the Firearms Camp roared, constantly whipping the conscripted laborers and oxen. Red Barbarian Cannons were being dragged toward gun positions one by one amidst cursing, groaning, wailing, and the neighing of animals. The previous night, these heavy cannons had been set up behind the trenches in various camps as defensive weapons. Since the guns were fully four li from the Hair Bandit camp and could not reach at all, Li Baidao was organizing his men to drag the cannons forward, seeking to close the distance before opening fire.
But the movements of the troops ahead blocked the Firearms Camp's advance. The road did not clear until the Chaozhou soldiers launched their attack. Li Baidao dared not delay any longer and hurriedly urged his soldiers to push the cannons forward.
"The enemy is transporting cannons." The observation post relayed the news.
"Where?" Ying Yu pushed his hat back on his head and raised his binoculars. "Got them!" he shouted, then picked up the telephone:
"Berlin, government troops are pushing Red Barbarian Cannons on your front right! Give them a beating with shells!"
"Load solid shot—target distance 1,320 meters!" Zhang Berlin took personal command, holding binoculars to estimate range. "Whole company, rapid fire!"
A few minutes later, the artillery company Zhang Berlin had organized opened fire on the Firearms Camp's moving Red Barbarian Cannons.
Solid shots from 12-pounder Napoleon guns crashed down on the Firearms Camp one after another. The first volley landed among the infantry ranks lining up not far from the Firearms Camp, throwing them into momentary chaos. Li Baidao's face went pale as he watched shells fired from the earthen dike trail smoke over the charging infantry in front and descend straight toward his position!
This is bad! Just as this thought flashed through his mind, the second volley smashed down upon the Firearms Camp.
A shell landed not far away, then bounced and flew into the column. It broke an ox clean in two, and the blood-soaked shell leapt again, bringing down several laborers and leaving a ground of severed limbs and meat. More shells crashed into the column. The entire Firearms Camp descended into pandemonium—men shouting, horses screaming. Runaway horses and terrified oxen stampeded through the formation, ruthlessly trampling the wounded on the ground. Cannons overturned; one gun carriage was struck directly by a shell, its barrel flung upright before crashing back down and crushing the brains out of several unlucky men. The gun carriages, sturdy to the point of clumsiness, fell apart with even a glancing blow from the flying shot.
Li Baidao watched as his most powerful Red Barbarian Cannons either overturned or had their carriages destroyed, sinking into the mud beyond salvage. Oxen and horses—the critical draft animals—had suffered catastrophic losses, and the terrified beasts now ran wild everywhere with blood-red eyes. The surrounding infantry were charged by the stampeding animals, throwing their formations into complete disorder. Curses erupted in every dialect—some shouting "Pujie," others screaming "Fuck your mother!"
Fortunately, the 12-pounder rapid fire did not last too long; Li Baidao managed to escape with his life. But the most valuable and powerful Red Barbarian Cannons in his Firearms Camp lay in ruins. Some barrels had broken in two. Some had cracked. Gun carriages had been destroyed, and cannons had sunk deep into the mud. It would take tremendous effort just to dig them out.
Li Baidao now understood that the enemy's artillery range far exceeded his own. He could no longer even entertain the notion of pushing cannons closer to fire—going any farther forward, he feared, and he might not even have the chance to set them up.
He immediately gathered the remnants and fell back, preparing to deploy two 4,000-jin heavy cannons capable of firing fifteen-jin cannonballs. These two Red Barbarian Cannons could reach as far as three li at maximum range—though what they might actually hit was anyone's guess.
"The Ming Army opened fire!" the observation post shouted over the walkie-talkie. Zhang Berlin started and ducked instinctively. He watched two black shapes tear through the smoke and arc toward them, but both shells landed harmlessly in the ground far from the trench, throwing up nothing more than great plumes of dirt. Two more shells followed—one bounced several times across the ground and finally tumbled into the trench.
Ying Yu called the observation post via walkie-talkie: "Locate the enemy gun position!"
The Firearms Camp's firing position was quickly identified. Ranging showed they were firing from approximately 2,100 meters away.
"At this distance, the Red Barbarian Cannon's range can't possibly reach," Lin Shenhe remarked.
As if to confirm his words, the two Red Barbarian Cannons fired several more rounds, but not a single shell touched the earthen dike. The farthest one only rolled into the trench after bouncing.
Seeing his shells couldn't even graze the enemy's dirt, Li Baidao grew frantic. He shouted: "Add more powder!"
The gunners had already loaded the maximum gunpowder according to regulations. Hearing this order, everyone's face went pale. Cannon bursts were common in the army of that era; once a cannon exploded, the surrounding gunners would hardly survive even if they weren't killed on the spot.
"Add powder!" Li Baidao drew his waist saber and slashed the air threateningly. "Violators—beheaded!"
Under threat of beheading, the gunners added one-third more gunpowder. To prove he was not afraid of overloading, Li Baidao lit the cannon himself.
The 4,000-jin Red Barbarian Cannon erupted with a tremendous blast. The heavy gun carriage recoiled so violently it nearly jumped. Two soldiers who failed to get clear in time were knocked flat, vomiting blood and dying.
This shell finally traveled nearly two kilometers and struck a bastion of the camp—but by that point its trajectory had grown so shallow that it merely smashed against the bastion wall, knocking down a clump of dirt.
"Enemy artillery bearing..." The observation post finally spotted the smoke from Li Baidao's Red Barbarian Cannon through the thick haze of gunpowder.
"Knock out the enemy gun position!" Ying Yu ordered. "I don't want any interference from their artillery."
But even Lin Shenhe could not guarantee to immediately destroy two isolated gun positions at a distance of 2,000 meters using M1857s. Several shells fired in succession all went wide. While everyone was busy aiming and calculating, a tremendous boom erupted from the direction of the Firearms Camp's position, and a pillar of thick smoke rushed straight into the sky.
"Unknown explosion at enemy gun position!" the observation post reported.
"Did the powder magazine explode?" Zhang Berlin hurriedly raised his binoculars.
Lin Shenhe shook his head. "A powder magazine explosion would be much more violent. I think it's a burst barrel."
His estimate was correct. After firing twice in succession with "super-strong charges," a heavy cannon had suddenly burst. The shockwave and fragments killed more than a dozen men around it instantly. Li Baidao escaped catastrophe only by being flung more than ten meters by the blast and landing on a dead horse.
Li Baidao propped himself up and climbed to his feet. His head spun dizzily and his ears buzzed. He shook his head hard, only to find that all the surrounding soldiers had fled—they had even abandoned the intact Red Barbarian Cannon. Several of his personal soldiers ran over to hold him up. Li Baidao wanted to continue loading and firing, but upon inspection he discovered that cracks had already appeared in the barrel of the remaining heavy cannon. Firing another shot would be suicide. He was so furious he slashed his saber wildly through the air.
The whistle of incoming Hair Bandit shells sounded overhead again. A personal soldier snatched the saber from his hands. "Garrison Commander Sir—quickly, take cover! The Hair Bandits are firing again!" Several others seized him and hauled him back.
"The enemy artillery position is finished," Zhang Berlin reported to Ying Yu by telephone.
"Excellent. Quickly organize artillery fire to intercept the enemy infantry!"
Though the 12-pounder cannon fire was fierce, it alone could not force the enemy to waver quickly. Although every landing shell produced tremendous killing effect and caused portions of soldiers to break and rout, they were quickly driven forward again by officers behind them. The main body of government troops had surged to within five hundred meters of the earthen dike. The Fubo Army's howitzers had also joined the roaring chorus, their explosive shells constantly falling among the columns. Although the killing effect was modest, the simple fact that shells exploded upon landing threw the officers and soldiers into great vacillation.
When the government army finally clawed its way to within three hundred meters of the rampart wall, the Fubo Army infantry officers on the rampart raised their command sabers simultaneously:
"Sights 300 meters—Fire!"
Hundreds of Minié rifles crackled in thunderous volleys. Dense rain of bullets swept through the entire vanguard. Hundreds of men were struck and fell instantly. This sudden blow finally broke the already wavering infantry. The road rushing toward the enemy suddenly seemed infinitely distant and impossible. Tong Yizhen beheaded several routing soldiers in succession but still could not stem the tide of men streaming backward. He was shouting loudly, demanding his generals maintain order and forbidding the soldiers to rout. But a bullet suddenly knocked his horse down. He crashed to the ground. His personal soldiers rushed to help him up, and Lieutenant Colonel Tong immediately leapt onto a second horse—but at that moment his standard-bearer's armor exploded before his eyes. The man fell from his saddle without a sound.
This terrified him to the core. The Hair Bandits were shooting with some weapon he could not even see. He knew he was in a very dangerous position and no longer insisted on continuing the attack. He allowed his personal soldiers and household guards to escort him backward. The moment the commanding general retreated, the soldiers ran even faster. The smoke dispersed, leaving only a ground littered with flags, armor, weapons, and corpses.
The soldiers on the earthen dike erupted in waves of heartfelt cheers—they had beaten back the assault. Many had steeled themselves for a desperate struggle, never expecting the government army to retreat so quickly. Pride, contempt, and a fierce sense of accomplishment filled their chests. Many waved their weapons and cheered for their first victory.
He Rubin watched helplessly as four thousand combat soldiers routed under Hair Bandit artillery fire without even approaching the enemy's earthen dike. The Firearms Camp, on which he had placed such high hopes, believing it comparable to Hair Bandit artillery, had been beaten into oblivion before it could even set up gun positions. His face had grown completely dark. How is one supposed to fight such a battle? There wasn't even a chance for close combat! He had already seen that the Hair Bandit cannons shot farther, shot more accurately, and fired far faster than his Red Barbarian Cannons. Compared to the Red Barbarian Cannons, which took ages to fire a single shot, the cannons on the Hair Bandit earthen dike seemed to spew smoke and fire almost continuously, pouring bullets like rain upon the heads of his officers and soldiers.
"Reporting to Your Excellency!" A personal soldier rushed up and knelt. "Leilian Lieutenant Colonel General Zhao was killed in action!"
"What?!" He Rubin was stunned. He quickly raised his binoculars and looked toward the direction of Zhao Qiansi's main attack. Those two thousand men were in full, chaotic retreat.
A great general dead before even reaching close combat! He hurriedly asked: "How did General Zhao die?"
"Reporting to Your Excellency—he was hit by a bird gun..."
"Nonsense!" He Rubin could not contain his alarm. "This Commander saw clearly—his big flag was fully six or seven hundred paces from the stockade wall. How could he be hit by a bird gun?!"
The personal soldier did not understand why His Excellency was so fixated on the cause of death. He quickly replied: "This small one dares not speak falsehood. General Zhao's body has been recovered and is now in the camp. He was confirmed hit by a bird gun."
"Get out!" He Rubin shouted. He drew a rough breath, then bellowed: "Beat drums!"
At the sound of drums, a new wave of fresh troops marched out from the camp. This was the Training Guerrilla's force, combined with the Governor's Standard and the Regional Commander's Standard—the most elite soldiers in this entire expedition. Of course, He Rubin still retained his own Regional Commander's Standard troops and five hundred household guards, but this was his final capital. He would not commit them until the most critical moment.
He called over the battalion generals of the three battalions for confidential instructions.
"Everyone saw what happened." His face was grim. "Hair Bandit cannons are extremely effective—long range, accurate fire. Li Baidao's Firearms Camp was crippled before it could even open fire. We can't count on them. When you spread out your formations, remember this: ranks must be kept loose. Separate squad by squad. Do not crowd your men together like Generals Tong and Zhao did just now, rushing up in a dense mass!"
"Humble generals understand!"
He Rubin continued slowly: "Whichever General's men and horses are first to ascend the stockade—this Commander will record the top merit for him!"
He Ming was very surprised to see the government army rout before even approaching the Grand Camp. He secretly counted: the cannon that had fired the most on the entire earthen dike had expended just over fifty shells. The artillery fire had been far from dense, yet four or five thousand men and horses had retreated just like that. Even for a medieval army—back in the day, the Zulus had fought the British until corpses littered the field before dispersing. It seemed the Ming Army's combat will was not particularly high. Then again, he had heard people from the Great Library's History Research Team say that the difference between Ming Army elites and general troops was enormous.
"The units that just attacked were the Leilian Lieutenant Colonel and Chaozhou Lieutenant Colonel forces." Dongmen Chuiyu had already obtained the latest summary report from the observation posts.
"According to observations: at least 31 Ming officers of Chiliarch rank or above participated in the attack. Our side confirmed killing 5 and probable killing 7. According to sniper reports, Leilian Lieutenant Colonel Zhao Qiansi was hit by a sniper during the battle. Current status—life or death unknown."
Hearing that a sniper had hit a major Lieutenant Colonel, He Ming nodded. The sniper's power was not to be underestimated—after all, cannons, no matter how powerful, could not achieve that kind of precision strike.
"Artillery fired a total of 493 shells: 371 solid shots, 122 explosive shells." Dongmen Chuiyu turned a page. "Destroyed eleven Red Barbarian Cannons."
"Casualties and equipment losses on our side."
"Five lightly wounded. No deaths. No losses."
(End of Chapter)