Chapter 1122 - Assault
Looking at these two ragged Korean ashigaru, Yahei reflected that since these useless foot soldiers were still alive, he might as well let them live. The Officials preferred prisoners. Now that the Australians had arrived, perhaps this damned world would finally become a different place.
…
The Japanese company cleared the scattered militiamen outside Suwon-dong in their pre-dawn search operations. As Xue Ziliang had expected, the militia had not posted adequate sentries on the perimeter. They had not even prepared simple signal beacons—the most basic alarm system. After interrogating the captured militiamen, Xue Ziliang learned that the Yi dynasty lords had not finished their defensive preparations. Apparently, they had not believed the "Dwarf-Crop-Heads" would strike so quickly.
Xue Ziliang had grown accustomed to the abysmal military standards of this timeline's indigenous peoples—regardless of their civilization level—but such depths of incompetence were rarely encountered. The enemy clearly knew nothing about fighting; their level was inferior even to the Hainan bandits he had fought.
Xue Ziliang stood on a hillside and raised his binoculars to observe Suwon-dong.
The so-called "dong" was not actually a cave—it was a uniquely Korean place-name. Suwon-dong comprised a large stretch of gentle slopes in the interior mountains. The terrain was relatively flat. Though the inclined ground could not retain enough water for cultivation, the pasture grass grew lush—excellent country for grazing cattle and horses.
Lord Kim's estate sat atop a hill on this gentle slope, its form quite different from the Korean fortifications Xue Ziliang had seen: it was a simple mountain fortress. The estate occupied the hilltop, its crown completely leveled into a circular platform, surrounded by thick wooden palisades standing on volcanic rock foundations, with wooden towers and gatehouses. Within the palisades clustered numerous buildings and courtyards—presumably Lord Kim's residence and his bondservants' quarters.
Concentric rings of trenches, abatis, and chevaux de frise encircled the hillside. Only two narrow, sunken roads led to the gatehouse—one in front, one behind. The defenses looked quite formidable—by Jeju Island's standards, at any rate.
Besides the mountain fortress itself, three or four villages and large areas of wooden sheds and corrals were scattered nearby—likely housing for the estate's serfs and tenant farmers.
Below the fortress, five militia encampments had been temporarily established around the hill, mutually supporting the estate. These camps also had palisades and trenches. According to the prisoners, each camp held about four hundred men, equipped with Korean-made cannons and matchlock muskets.
In Xue Ziliang's eyes, this defensive configuration was worthless—impressive-looking but ultimately mere chickens and dogs. However, since the enemy had huddled together in a desperate defensive formation awaiting reinforcements, so much the better—annihilating the enemy's main force and capturing enough prisoners in a single action was far more satisfying than conducting search operations across the entire island.
What Xue Ziliang cared most about was capturing or eliminating the island's local strongmen in one battle—thoroughly dismantling the local ruling class in preparation for the next phase of village consolidation.
Scouts had already marked all possible escape routes from the estate. Xue Ziliang ordered Special Reconnaissance snipers and Fupo Army troops to control these routes and capture prisoners. His forces were limited, so he decided to strike the estate directly in one push, throwing the enemy into complete chaos with a swift blow.
On the morning of April 5th at seven o'clock, the Drawn Sword Corps and White Horse Battalion formed up before the estate. Though the White Horse Battalion carried only bows, arrows, and spears, they still presented an imposing sight—their uniform dress, standardized equipment, and neat formations radiated a killing aura that instantly weakened the knees of the militiamen inside the palisade.
Seeing that these were not real Japanese raiders—just "Korean traitors" with spears, and not many of them—Kim Dae-hae's spirits actually rose. He decided to sally out and give the Dwarf-Crop-Heads a taste of their quality. He led several dozen of his men, brandishing swords to encourage the "militia." Under his curses, punches, and kicks, the militiamen finally shuffled out to form up.
Over a thousand militiamen assembled. Aside from two hundred or so household retainers of the various lords who were properly equipped with decent weapons, most militia carried only the characteristically Korean "short spears." These thrusting weapons, only as tall as a man, had no practical combat value in anyone's eyes—but on Jeju Island, they were considered respectable weapons.
Though Jeju was famous for bows and arrows, few of the militiamen could actually use them. Bows were expensive and required constant practice. Apart from hunters who made their livelihood by them, ordinary tenant farmers and serfs rarely became proficient. So all the archers were household retainers. Additionally, there were fifty or sixty matchlocks of various types—some manufactured by the Yi government for official troops, others left behind by earlier Japanese raiders.
These thousand-plus men stood in ragged formation before the palisade. Kim Dae-hae, trying to improve his odds, kept his forces from advancing too far so they would have the support of the camp's cannons.
Still, even a frog in a well like Kim Dae-hae could see the opposing force was dangerous. Though his side had the numbers, he felt uneasy—a hard fight loomed.
The spring breeze caressed the land. The pasture grass was fresh green, dotted with wildflowers—the beauty of spring on the range. The conscripted militiamen thought of their families at home and wondered when the fighting would end so they could return. The lords had made promises: drive off the Dwarf-Crop-Heads, and each man would receive five dou of barley, plus exemption from this year's tribute and rent—at least a chance to catch their breath.
Suddenly, the Dwarf-Crop-Heads' war drums began thundering. The militia formation rippled with agitation. The household retainers serving as rear guards shouted loudly, struggling to maintain order.
From the center of the White Horse formation, rows of soldiers wearing jingasa field hats began stepping forward. All carried muskets. To the beat of the drums, they advanced steadily and quickly deployed into a line formation.
The drumbeat quickened from slow to urgent. In a single rustling motion, the soldiers raised their muskets to aim. The militiamen grew even more restless. Those in the front ranks squeezed and pushed backward, trying to hide behind others.
Seeing things going wrong, Kim Dae-hae roared: "Shoot! Loose arrows!"
He had not expected the enemy to prepare to fire at this distance. The retainers loosed a ragged first volley. Most arrows fell short; only a few landed near the battle line. The entire formation stood motionless. Then the drums suddenly stopped.
A white cloud of dense smoke erupted from the line, instantly shrouding the entire formation. Lead balls tore through the air with hissing sounds, punching into bodies, ripping through skin and muscle, shattering blood vessels and bone. Blood sprayed from ragged-clothed bodies. Screams, wails, and shrieks engulfed the militia ranks. The front rows collapsed into chaos.
The spring breeze dispersed the gunsmoke. Through his binoculars, Xue Ziliang could see clearly that though the militia formation roughly still existed, it was in complete disorder front and back.
"Sound the bugle! Fix bayonets, charge!" He had originally planned to fire a few more volleys, but now it was clearly unnecessary.
At the stirring bugle call, the Japanese Public Security soldiers leveled their bayonets and began their "wild boar rush" with howls. Yahei led the charge, waving a tachi sword and shrieking as he sprinted.
"Order the artillery to shell the camp with the howitzers," Xue Ziliang commanded. "White Horse Battalion, prepare to advance!"
"White Horse Battalion! Ready!" At the Fupo Army officer's command, the White Horse soldiers leveled their spears, prepared to follow with the next wave.
Xue Ziliang quickly realized the White Horse Battalion's charge would not be necessary. The Drawn Sword Corps' wild boar rush had steamrolled the already-broken militia, who collapsed instantly. These genuine Japanese raiders—eyes red, bayonets gleaming—were exactly what terrified every militiaman who had grown up hearing Japanese raider horror stories. They scattered in complete rout.
The 12-pounder howitzer's explosions intensified the chaos. These thousand-plus poorly-trained militiamen fled in all directions. Even the reserve forces inside the palisade panicked, flinging open the gates to escape.
At first, Kim Dae-hae tried desperately to have his retainers maintain order. When shells began falling and exploding, his resolve to "fight to the death" evaporated. He took to his heels with his retainers, fleeing toward the hilltop estate.
Xue Ziliang folded his arms and checked his watch: barely ten minutes.
He gave the order: "White Horse Battalion, advance! Take as many prisoners as possible."
(End of Chapter)