Chapter 641 — Fierce Battle on the Earthen Dike
The battle was unfolding precisely as the Staff Department had estimated. He Ming observed the field: though the Ming army had lost the first bout, their flags remained ordered and their men showed no signs of wavering. Judging from the drum sounds and the movement of army standards, the enemy was intensifying troop deployments. The next wave would certainly bring elite main forces attacking with full strength.
"The enemy is mobilizing new troops." The observation post relayed a continuous stream of intelligence. "The enemy is transporting things out of the city!"
He Rubin was deploying troops and arranging generals, actively preparing for the second assault. To counter the Hair Bandits' firearms advantage, large batches of wheelbarrows were concentrated from the Firearms Camp and Baggage Camp. Upon these were piled sacks filled with sand and soil, as well as straw bags—all soaked with water. Some carts also carried thick, heavy wooden doors dismantled from buildings within the county seat; even the few iron-sheeted gates from the county yamen had been requisitioned. Magistrate Liu Jingxuan, following the Central Army's orders, personally led runners about the city to dismantle wooden boards and collect wheelbarrows and sacks, desperate to avoid "delaying military opportunities." Carpenters and blacksmiths in the army hurriedly carried out modifications.
No matter how thick the door planks were—even those covered with iron sheets—they could not withstand cannonballs. He Rubin understood this basic logic perfectly. What he was guarding against were the enemy's bird guns.
Judging from the several engagements since the previous day, the Hair Bandits' cannons were undeniably sharp, but their bird guns were equally formidable. The power to take lives from three hundred paces was enough to break soldiers' courage. No matter how many cannons the Hair Bandits possessed—only twenty or thirty—they could not compare to the bird guns, of which every enemy soldier seemingly carried one. In that sense, the threat was not as overwhelming.
Sandbags and door planks would screen the soldiers and block lead bullets during the charge. Once the men reached the bottom of the trench, these could be used to cross it. With the telescope, He Rubin could see clearly: the Hair Bandits' earthen dike was wide but not high—at most two zhang. Apart from a low wall piled with sandbags, there were no defensive works atop it. As for the towers built from wooden poles, they were too flimsy to mount heavy cannons; at most they held a few bird gun shooters, which posed no great threat.
While He Ming watched the Ming army's movements, he ordered high-calorie dry rations and water distributed to the soldiers. The afternoon's battle would likely be fierce and prolonged.
"Eat quickly—prepare to fight!"
The second attack began in the afternoon. The force now launching the assault comprised the Ming army's elite core for this punitive expedition. At the center marched 1,500 Standard Camp combat soldiers from the Governor's Standard, commanded by Guerrilla Wang Daoji, known as a fierce general. On his left wing were 1,000 Governor's Standard combat soldiers under Governor's Standard Guerrilla Li Guang. On the right were 1,200 combat soldiers under Training Guerrilla Wang Xi.
The moment the cannon sounded, wheels began rolling. Hundreds of wheelbarrows—some piled with earth sacks, others erected with wooden boards—advanced at the front. Behind them streamed government infantry in long columns.
The generals had learned from the Fubo Army's artillery advantage. This time they did not adopt a dense formation surging forward en masse but dispersed men and horses into relatively sparse columns, increasing the distance between groups to prevent the Hair Bandits from cutting bloody alleys through them with single cannon shots.
Wave after wave of men surged forward to the beat of war drums. Dust billowed. Generals rode through the ranks shouting, driving their men forward fiercely. Behind them fluttered great flags, surrounded by varying numbers of personal soldiers and household guards, each with sword drawn and arrows nocked, ready at any moment to protect their commanding general—and to cut down any who fled.
The cannons on the earthen dike opened fire again. The thick smoke and firelight that accompanied each cannon blast made every Ming general and official tremble anew. They already knew that along with that smoke and flame came something terrible for the soldiers running forward on the open ground. Everyone watched the battlefield with bated breath.
Black shadows of cannonballs emitted terrible whistling sounds as they descended into the columns, one after another. Nothing could stop these bouncing iron balls. Whenever one landed among the ranks, a burst of screams and wails erupted. When the smoke cleared, piles of corpses and severed limbs remained on the ground. As a cannonball neared the earth, its velocity appeared slow enough that one might think to catch it by reaching out. A reckless Squad Leader raised his iron spear and waved it fiercely like swatting away an arrow, foolishly attempting to knock the ball aside. The cannonball snapped the spear tip; a tremendous force transmitted through the shaft to his arm, tearing half his body apart. Someone turned to flee, only to be instantly cut down by a supervising officer behind him.
"Charge forward! Charge forward!" Generals bellowed their orders. They were not safe themselves; in addition to cannonballs that killed indiscriminately upon contact, occasionally someone would suddenly fall from his horse. Some officers rode in circles, waving swords and roaring pretentiously, but no longer advanced themselves.
As the troops drew closer and closer to the earthen dike, artillery fire grew denser. When the Ming army pushed to within five hundred meters, the artillery began firing shrapnel and explosive shells. Shells burst in the air or upon landing; fragments and iron balls knocked down soldiers in rows and clusters.
"Charge fast! Charge fast!" Officers waved their swords. "Charge under the earthen dike!"
The soldiers let out a thunderous roar and surged forward rapidly like dying beasts. A black mass of men threw themselves fiercely toward the front of the earthen dike. Fubo Army gunners had all stripped to the waist, firing shells as rapidly as they could muster. Cannon reports rose and fell in overlapping waves; the entire earthen dike was shrouded in thick white smoke. Only the watchtowers protruded above, floating like pavilions in clouds. Beneath this cloud layer, the surging crowd tumbled like stormy waves. The snipers on the watchtowers had long since abandoned their leisurely air—the slow loading, the careful target selection, the deliberate aiming, the mark drawn on a wooden board for each kill. Now everyone worked the bolt rapidly, aimed, fired, and hurriedly sought the next target.
"Target 300 meters—canister shot!" Zhang Berlin finally shouted the command to load canister. The battle had finally reached close quarters. More than a dozen cannons quickly loaded canister shot.
"Fire!"
With every jump and recoil of the muzzles, 27 canister balls sprayed outward, forming a dense curtain of bullets. Many soldiers were killed before even approaching the trench.
"Infantry—fire!" He Ming watched as government troops disregarded the artillery fire and closed on the trench. Some soldiers were already throwing earth sacks, wheelbarrows, and the corpses of fallen comrades into it, trying to fill a path across. Though they were quickly mowed down in swathes by canister shot, follow-up waves kept surging forward.
"Sights 150 meters—Fire!"
The smoke from artillery fire had grown too thick to see targets clearly. Infantry simply set their sights and fired volley after volley without aiming. Crisp gunshots rang continuously. Many men fell before approaching the trench. Some retreated, but He Rubin had already committed another two thousand men, pressing close behind. The rolling tide of humanity filled the battlefield once more. The front ranks were shoved forward by those behind, pouncing fiercely.
"Charge! Five taels of silver for anyone who crosses the trench! Ten taels for mounting the stockade wall!" Several officers led personal soldiers, galloping along the chaotic government columns and roaring encouragement.
"Everyone charge for Daddy! Two taels for every Hair Bandit head you take! Fifty taels for a Hair Bandit Chief! Those who shrink back or flee will be beheaded!"
Wang Daoji led the charge from the front. Half his household guards and personal soldiers were already dead or wounded. The standard-bearer had been replaced twice. Yet he was still the first to reach the edge of the trench. Some archers were already nocking arrows and drawing bows at the trench's lip, loosing dense volleys. The first wave of casualties appeared on the earthen dike. Three-eyed gunners also reached the trench and began firing.
Tian Liang stood on the right side of his company. His ears had been nearly deafened by the roar of guns and cannons. He watched as the Company Commander—utterly disregarding life or death—simply leapt onto the low wall, waving his command saber and roaring. His voice was almost drowned out by the whole company's volley fire. At that moment, five or six feathered arrows shot out of the smoke; one struck the Company Commander. He groaned and fell from the earthen dike, and before he hit the ground, government soldiers had already cut off his head.
The soldiers stood stunned, momentarily forgetting to fire. Tian Liang was so shocked that his command saber nearly slipped from his grasp. The Company Commander—who had consistently ranked among the best in military training assessments, who had dared to fight and charge without hesitation—was dead, just like that.
"Quick—Second Lieutenant Tian, it's your turn!" The Company Quartermaster saw Tian Liang still dazed and shoved him under the company flag.
Tian Liang's mind went blank; for a moment he could not even recall the command to shout. You Laohu, who had run over to supervise the battle after a Company Commander in his battalion was killed, kicked him hard:
"Why are you dazing! Fire!"
Tian Liang finally reacted. His command saber slashed down violently.
"Volley—Fire!"
A gust of sea breeze swept over, dispersing the thick gunpowder smoke. A snake of red flame raced along the earthen dike. Soldiers who had been filling the trench and shooting arrows fell into it one after another, struck down by crossfire from both flanks. But the second wave was already surging forward.
Fu Sansi held an SKS rifle, paying attention to the condition of his entire battalion while occasionally squeezing off a few bullets. He specifically targeted officers and projectile troops—archers, three-eyed gunners—by the trench. His marksmanship was deadly accurate, and when he shot, the outside world ceased to exist; it was essentially one shot, one kill.
Seeing that several sections of the trench were now filled with corpses and sandbags, and that more and more Ming troops were surging beneath the stockade wall, he knew the time had come. Although they avoided frontal fire, rifle fire from the oblique angles still knocked them down in batches.
However, with large numbers of archers and firearms troops rushing to the trench and providing covering fire, casualties on the earthen dike were also climbing. Fu Sansi judged the moment right. He picked up a grenade, pulled the ring, and threw in one fluid motion.
"Throw grenades!" He shouted the command at the same instant the grenade left his hand.
"Throw grenades! Throw grenades!" The order echoed along the earthen dike. Soldiers who had been shooting arrows and filling the trench looked up to see many small iron lumps falling from above.
The grenades exploded one after another. Though black powder grenades had a modest killing effect, the power and momentum of throwing many at once was still staggering. Then the second and third volleys of grenades rained down. At this distance, canister shot could no longer play a role—it could only fire into the depth. Grenades became the best weapon. Crowded at the trench, the government soldiers beneath the earthen dike had almost nowhere to hide beneath the grenade rain; they fell dead one after another.
Before the previous wave had even finished falling, the next surge was driven forward by their generals. Soldiers fell dead in batches in the open space between bastions. Every volley on the earthen dike harvested lives as swiftly as a scythe. Smoke shrouded the dike; from a distance, one could only see firelight when rifles and cannons fired.
Casualties on the earthen dike were mounting. Many infantrymen were struck by arrows or by iron pellets from three-eyed guns. Medics constantly dragged away fallen casualties. The infantry line on the dike began to thin, and firepower grew correspondingly sparse.
Taking advantage of the thinning fire, the first batch of government soldiers managed to pull out or chop down the bamboo spikes planted at oblique angles along the earth slope. Though men kept rolling downward after being shot, those behind continued surging upward, batch after batch. They climbed using ladders, or simply hands and feet. Those who crested the wall were immediately met by infantry bayonets—but more and more men clambered up. Some three-eyed gunners climbed as well; after firing, they swung the heavy iron weapons like clubs. Many charging government soldiers hurled burning fire pots onto the earthen dike. Though these ceramic vessels could not explode, the flames and smoke after landing caused considerable chaos among the defenders. Infantry began to be driven back step by step, their formation in disarray.
One Squad Leader leapt fiercely onto the earthen dike. His long saber cleaved a soldier's rifle in two with a single stroke and stabbed him through. Then he cut down another pouncing infantryman. Two militia who rushed him with spears actually fell back under his ferocious slashing. Seeing more and more government soldiers rising behind him, the Squad Leader's boldness surged. He rushed forward a few steps, forced the routing militia back, reached out, and planted a battle flag atop the earthen dike.
Ming troops above and below the wall were electrified with newfound morale. A fierce howl erupted, and they charged forward heedless of death. A breach was about to be opened in the earthen dike.
Lin Shenhe, who had been happily picking off targets one by one with a civilian-version semi-automatic M14, gave a loud shout and rushed over with his bayoneted rifle. Seeing both sides about to engage in close combat, he dodged aside and shouted: "Fire!"
A "Typewriter" mounted on a wheelbarrow behind him immediately emitted a massive roar. Dense, scorching lead bullets swept away every government soldier who had climbed onto the earthen dike. One man's head was shattered on the spot; another was torn to pieces. Those lucky enough not to be hit fled, rolling and crawling back down.
Breaches appeared in multiple locations, but militia and reserves from each battalion continuously sealed them, driving back government soldiers who had broken through to occupy the dike. The battle entered a white-hot stage: on one side, crowds engaged in desperate hand-to-hand combat; on the other, artillery and volleys continued to spew firelight and thick smoke without pause.
The spot where Tian Liang stood was one such breach—exactly where Wang Daoji's household guards and personal soldiers had concentrated their full strength. The company he had temporarily assumed command of had already suffered one-third casualties. Government soldiers took advantage and climbed onto the earthen dike to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Tian Liang lost his command saber somewhere in the melee. After emptying his revolver, he had no time to reload before a government soldier charged at him. In desperation, he smashed the revolver into the man's face, then snatched up a three-eyed gun and swung it round, caving in the enemy's skull with a single blow.
He had no time to find another weapon—government soldiers had already surged in front of him. At the life-and-death juncture, all his military regulations were forgotten. Driven only by the will to survive, he swung the heavy iron implement left and right, smashing ferociously. No one could withstand him. At that moment, a feathered arrow punched through his thigh. Tian Liang screamed and collapsed into the pile of corpses on the earthen dike. Seeing a scabbard at his waist, a government soldier knew he was an officer and leapt forward, saber raised to take his head—but was instantly run through by infantry bayonets as they swarmed in to save their Acting Company Commander. Both sides slaughtered back and forth over the spot where Tian Liang had fallen.
On the command platform, staff personnel began to lose their composure as more and more enemies mounted the earthen dike to begin hand-to-hand combat—some fighting unfolded right next to the cannons.
"Commit the reserves." Zhu Quanxing ran over personally to request battle.
"Wait a while longer. They can still hold." He Ming raised his binoculars and carefully studied every breach along the earthen dike. True, government soldiers had boarded the dike in many places—but at every gap, Fubo Army soldiers and militia were engaging them. He believed firmly that well-trained soldiers could repel what remained of the government attackers.
You Laohu fully exerted his reputation as "One Track Mind" in the battle. With a joyous roar, he hurled himself into one breach after another, slashing chaotically with the Frontier Army Long Saber—no technique whatsoever. While chopping down large numbers of government soldiers, he nearly hacked off his own head. But his craziness drove the morale of the militia and infantry around him. They surged up at his side, slashing fiercely and sealing one breach after another. Facts proved that in one-on-one hand-to-hand combat, the government soldiers' resolve was far inferior to that of the well-trained Fubo Army infantry. Incidents of three or five infantrymen beating back groups of government soldiers with bayonets occurred frequently.
At two in the afternoon, though Wang Daoji organized assault after assault regardless of casualties, his soldiers were hammered by cannon fire at the trench, suffering massive dead and wounded. Meanwhile, the defense on the earthen dike gradually stabilized. Militia filled the vacancies left by dead and wounded infantry, using long spears to stab down government soldiers who barely climbed onto the dike. The "Typewriters" played a decisive role in sealing breaches—these terrible rapid-fire monsters completely destroyed any determination to hold ground atop the earthen dike. Lead bullets pouring like rain swept away oncoming government soldiers. Artillery fire periodically cut off follow-up troops. Government soldiers who did manage to mount the dike received no timely reinforcement, and were driven off one by one, unable to establish a foothold.
Wang Daoji was still shouting for men to climb the stockade when a Minié rifle bullet struck him. He swayed and toppled from his horse. The soldiers could hold out no longer; whistles shrilled, and they fled backward.
(End of Chapter)