Chapter 1239 - Penghu
Though Kinmen lay between Anping and Xiamen, it remained twelve nautical miles from Anping. Crossing that distance by sailboat took far too long, and success depended entirely on the fickle conditions within the bay. Achieving a surprise attack under such constraints was virtually impossible. Motorized transport craft averaging eight knots held a decisive advantage.
"The crossing time is simply too long," Ming Qiu said, frowning at the operational plan. "If the enemy reacts quickly enough, they can reinforce from the landward side." Though he lacked experience commanding amphibious operations, he understood they demanded speed above all else. A fleet dominated by sailing ships could not deliver that. Worse, both Kinmen and Xiamen were sizable islands; deploying troops to attack and search them would require considerable time. The operational plan also called for systematic destruction of the locality and abduction of the population—a process that could take three or four days to complete.
If the Zheng family's central command was not immediately crushed and rendered incapable of response, Zheng Zhilong could quite possibly transfer reinforcements from Jinjiang and other locations by the second day. His army was a private force, not some exhausted government detachment that marched a mere dozen li per day; they could likely reach Anping to counterattack within half a day.
Based on historical records of Zheng Zhilong's multiple land campaigns, the Intelligence Bureau and Grand Library estimated his mobile land force during this period at roughly two thousand men. Adding whatever personnel could be mustered from those remaining behind, he might dispatch three thousand troops to Anping at most.
"We needn't concern ourselves with Zheng Zhilong's reaction speed." Dongmen Chuiyu's voice brimmed with confidence. "The Zheng family army—whether in Zheng Zhilong's era or that of Koxinga—performed dismally against any opponent with real combat capability. Their fighting ability and will to fight are both questionable. According to our war games, a single infantry company equipped with machine guns and light artillery is sufficient to rout any reinforcement force." He cited an example: Qing general Ma Degong's surprise attack on Xiamen, where a mere few dozen mounted scouts landed and caused the entire island's defense to collapse. With minimal naval support and no superiority in total troop strength, Ma Degong had seized Xiamen—the Zheng family's core base—with ease.
"So Zheng Zhilong's subordinates are truly that incompetent in battle?"
"The Intelligence Bureau's assessment is that even by seventeenth-century standards, the Zheng family force—whether navy or army—is not a strong one." Dongmen Chuiyu spoke with certainty. "The scale of troops we've mobilized is more than sufficient to complete all campaign objectives."
From that moment, Zuooying Base was raised to the highest alert level. All leave and outings were cancelled.
At 0500 hours on September 27th, Ming Qiu received a telegram from the Navy Department in Lingao: "Commence operation."
He summoned all captains of the First Fleet present at the base and addressed them: "The Senate has decided to declare war on Zheng Zhilong. This fleet will proceed immediately to Kinmen to strike the Zheng fleet and provide cover for Army units landing in the Kinmen-Xiamen area." When he finished, he distributed mission orders to each squadron commander and captain.
The main force of the First Fleet consisted of the cruiser Lichun and four hybrid-powered first-class gunboats, supplemented by five squadrons of sail-powered special service boats. Total warship tonnage exceeded eight thousand tons, mounting two hundred cannons of various calibers. The hybrid-powered vessels were all equipped with rifled guns. Though these comprised only a fraction of the total armament, their range and power were beyond anything the smoothbore guns on the special service boats could match.
Given the limited distance of this operation, no colliers accompanied the fleet. Army, Marine, and logistics detachments, along with supplies, were transported by the thirty-five large transport ships of the Second Transport Group—the H800s were too deep-drafted to operate in ports lacking proper infrastructure.
Another four squadrons of patrol boats coordinated the operation, undertaking miscellaneous supporting tasks.
During the crossing, every warship in the fleet seized the opportunity for targeted training. Squadron commanders and captains hurried to familiarize themselves with the hydrological data of Xiamen Bay and Weitou Bay, and with the intelligence on Zheng family defenses that had been issued just before departure.
That evening, the fleet arrived at Penghu. The sea had remained calm throughout the crossing; all fishing boats encountered en route were detained and escorted to the islands.
The fleet dropped anchor. Joint Logistics personnel established a temporary base on Magong Island, setting up supply dumps and aid stations. Army personnel went ashore for a brief rest.
Though the Navy issued no formal orders for rest, the number of personnel on watch per shift was reduced by half. Everyone rested in rotation, building strength for the attack two days hence.
Li Huamei stood on the deck of the Lichun. The sun had set. With the First Fleet under blackout conditions, only a handful of necessary signal lights remained lit; all others were extinguished. The camp on shore lay equally dark and silent.
Yet the moon was full. Even without artificial light, the anchored ships scattered among the islands and the continuous rows of tents on Magong Island were visible beneath its glow.
Though men and ships were many, no clamor rose from any quarter. Ships lay at anchor in perfect order; no one wandered about on island or deck. The scene radiated solemn discipline. Signal lights on ships and within the camp blinked in sequence, transmitting messages in a code she did not yet understand. Faintly, the sound of passwords carried on the sea breeze reached her ears.
All of this filled Li Huamei, participating in a large-scale Australian operation for the first time, with secret awe. Herself, the young miss, the Ming court, Chinese and foreign maritime merchants alike—all seemed impossibly tiny and insignificant in the shadow of such power.
She was on watch. Since the Hangzhou was undergoing modification and had not joined this operation, she had boarded the cruiser Lichun as a probationary officer—inadvertently achieving the primary objective the young miss had assigned her.
This was the first time in many years she had served on a ship as crew rather than captain. Based on her expertise, Li Huamei had been assigned to the Sail and Rigging Department as a probationer.
Boarding the black "giant ship" had excited her beyond measure—that same feeling from when she first set foot on the Holy Ship, perhaps even stronger. The Holy Ship, after all, had been motionless, too far beyond her understanding to fully grasp. The Lichun, though incredible in many ways, remained within her scope of comprehension. During her years at sea, she had seen European heavy ships of similar size—some even larger. Those three towering masts, the cloud-like sails, the intricate rigging—they had once been her basis for mocking the "Senate Navy."
Assigned now to the Sail and Rigging Department, she had expected to demonstrate her skills before the crew. Senators aside, even the naval officers and sailors they had recruited—though mostly from maritime backgrounds—were laymen when it came to climbing masts and handling sails.
But she was soon disappointed.
The furling and unfurling of Lichun's sails was accomplished by a method she could not quite fathom: the sailor in charge pulled a lever beneath the mast, and a nearby rope winch would whir and rotate of its own accord, raising or lowering the sails in an instant. Compared to the Hangzhou, where raising sails required sailors to line up chanting shanties while hauling ropes and turning capstans, the difference was night and day. Were it a competition, the Hangzhou's sailors would not have finished assembling before the work here was already done.
Such mysterious "automation" could be found throughout the Lichun: weighing anchor, rotating cannons—wherever labor-intensive work existed on the ship, some lever or wheel, once moved, caused the object to move of its own accord. Li Huamei understood vaguely that this was the same mysterious power of water and fire that drove the steam carts and enormous iron cranes the Australians operated ashore. The massive black funnel rising between the three masts, belching thick smoke and white steam, was the embodiment of that power.
She developed a keen interest in this "water-fire power," but the engine department controlled it, and it had nothing to do with her. The Sail and Rigging Department worked exclusively on deck. Apart from encountering those pitch-black figures when returning below to rest, she never saw the engine crew.
If only I could sneak into the engine department sometime, she thought. The idea brought with it a realization of how ridiculous her original ambition had been—to acquire an Australian "fast ship." She and her Chinese and foreign sailors could never crew such a vessel.
To command this kind of ship, the Australians would have to train the entire crew. Relying on herself and the young miss alone was nothing more than wishful thinking.
She sighed. Now, even an Australian pure-sailing fast ship—something like the Haitian—would satisfy her. She wondered what the Hangzhou would become after its modifications.
And thinking of that, she found herself thinking of the young miss, of her sister, of herself—and of Elder Qi. She had always felt subject to forces beyond her control, pushed step by step to this very point.
Here she stood on the deck of the Australian "black ship," wearing their uniform, yet still harboring disloyalty. What would become of her? The thought felt unlucky, yet she could not keep her mind from wandering.
Li Huamei stood alone in the darkness for a long time, until the relief watch arrived. She handed over her shift and descended to the cabin below deck.
As a probationary reserve officer, she was not entitled to an officer's cabin. She slept in the petty officers' large berthing compartment—all hammocks.
Sleeping in a common compartment with a group of men made her deeply uncomfortable. Though everyone knew she was a famous pirate and no one dared try anything, simply watching these men undress for sleep each night unnerved her. The men, for their part, expressed that the arrangement was equally stimulating and awkward. In the end, ship's administration partitioned off a small corner of the berthing compartment with wooden boards, creating a makeshift private space for her.
Li Huamei returned to her "private room," removed her coat, and climbed into the hammock. Loud snoring already filled the outer compartment. Still unaccustomed to such an environment, she could only close her eyes and rest her mind.
In one more day, the fleet would set sail for Anping.
(End of Chapter)