Chapter 2101 - A Hybrid Strategy
The force Yi Haoran had poured his heart into alongside Jiang Suo and Song Ming would likely prove of little use.
Still, the Governor-General had told him: victory wasn't the goal. As long as it wasn't a "crushing defeat," as long as they inflicted casualties on the Hair-Bandits, that would count as "winning."
"As long as the Hair-Bandits know we are not defenseless!" Xiong Wenchan had declared. "You will have rendered great service. Even if all these household troops are spent, I am willing to bear that cost."
Yi Haoran's jaw had nearly dropped. He'd expected instructions to "preserve the new army." This force had cost tens of thousands of taels; surely Xiong Wenchan would treat it as a prized asset and tell him to "deploy it carefully."
Yi Haoran couldn't help but admire the man. He had always derided this official as one who "valued pacification above all." It seemed the Governor-General had more backbone than assumed.
"I shall not fail my mission!"
After deliberation, Yi Haoran decided to deploy on Bangshan—the key point controlling the Gui River. It was a critical strongpoint outside the city. Once the Hair-Bandits seized it, they would command a dominating position over Wuzhou. To bring their superior artillery to bear, this was a place they must attack.
Garrisoning Bangshan, besides the five hundred new troops, Xiong Wenchan had also assigned his elite central guard dubiao of five hundred men, likewise under Song Ming's command.
One thousand battle-ready soldiers represented substantial combat power in the late Ming. Many generals relied on no more than two or three thousand truly dependable troops. For Xiong Wenchan to stake such resources here, Yi Haoran had no thought but to urge his men to "fight to the death."
Watching the faint light in the sky, his servant came to report: everything was ready. Should they set out immediately?
"At once!"
Xiong Wenchan had awakened early—the sky was just beginning to brighten. Since the Australian invasion, he hadn't slept well: dropping off late, rising early. Ever since inheriting the mess Wang Zunde had left behind as Governor-General of Guangdong and Guangxi, Xiong Wenchan had lived in constant anxiety.
Against sea pirates, the most reasonable approach was pacification. Pacify one faction, prop up another, "use bandits against bandits"—whoever won, the government gained. Back in Fujian, he had recruited Zheng Zhilong as a Vice Commander in just that way, then supported him in sweeping up the sea raiders that plagued the coast. Zheng Zhilong's achievements had kept him in imperial favor, and his career had flourished.
When the Emperor promoted him to Governor-General of Guangdong-Guangxi, the expectation was surely that he would replicate that success in a more complex theater. Yet the Australians' appetite was vast. The Qiongya Vice Commandership he had offered at the Piyun Tower meeting had failed to move them. Instead, they'd warned him to seek a transfer while he still could. Now, from the look of things, they aimed at nothing less than carving out a kingdom.
First Guangzhou fell, then Zhaoqing. Whether the Chaoshan Vice Commander could hold his position was doubtful—Xiong Wenchan thought it unlikely.
If Wuzhou fell as well, he might as well hang himself—preferable to being dragged in chains to the capital and executed.
To ensure his survival, Wuzhou must be held. He had adopted a two-pronged plan.
The first track came from County Magistrate Chang Pu of Enping: burn the city and implement scorched earth tactics. Chang Pu's scheme was as follows: the south wall faced the Xi River, and the Australians—arriving by ship—would most likely launch their main assault from the relatively open southern sector. They would therefore leave southern defenses weak, luring the enemy in. Once the Australians breached the walls, fires would be lit across the city to create chaos; they would then counterattack. If the fire and ambush failed, they would break out through the north's Dayun Gate, leaving behind a grain-starved city—forcing the Australians to withdraw.
It was a venomous stratagem. Even if the Australians took Wuzhou, it would be a ruined wasteland—no grain, no treasure. In the chaos, civilian casualties would be horrific. Plague would follow, and with tens of thousands of refugees to feed...
Wuzhou might be a major hub on the Xi River, but the country from Sanshui westward produced little grain, and the eastern and western mountain areas were already on the brink of Yi-people uprisings due to the garrison's withdrawal. The Australians would have to transport grain against the current while suppressing unrest. Their forces would be stretched thin. In the end, they would have no choice but to withdraw.
The second track was Yi Haoran's defense plan. He argued that burning the city—setting aside whether it would work against the Australians—was certain to throw their own forces into chaos given the garrison's organizational standards. More likely, the fire would spark a complete rout before the Australians even moved.
In Yi Haoran's view, by exploiting Wuzhou's terrain and fortifications, a defense of several months was well within reach if properly arranged.
The two rivers converged at Wuzhou. Grain stores were ample. Apart from a narrow strip of open ground south of the city, the surroundings were rivers or hills. They could rely on the Gui and Xun Rivers to continuously supply provisions from the agricultural hinterland upstream. Unless the Fubo Army could take Wuzhou in one overwhelming stroke, a prolonged siege might not starve them out.
Out beyond the passes, under siege by tens of thousands of Later Jin troops, isolated cities had held out half a year—sometimes a year or two—on many occasions. The Australians might be formidable, but against thick walls they would still have to climb. Their numbers were small, their losses intolerable, and they were utterly dependent on logistics. According to Jiang Suo, Australian operations consumed enormous quantities of materiel; typically, one or two major battles would deplete the bulk of their ammunition reserves.
After weighing both options, Xiong Wenchan settled on a hybrid strategy. He ordered trench fortifications dug north of Dayun Gate and atop Bangshan to shield against Australian artillery; heavy forces would defend these positions. Some boats would be filled with sandbags and scuttled in the Gui River shallows to prevent the Australian fleet from entering. At the same time, he prepared for the scorched earth option: grain stores were moved outside the walls and placed under armed guard. Only a skeleton crew of elite soldiers would hold key points inside the city while the main body withdrew to strongpoints beyond the walls. Along the Xi River from Teng County to Wuzhou, substantial forces were deployed to prevent the Fubo Army from raiding their rear and to secure supply lines.
On April 13, at 11 a.m., more than a dozen transport ships sailed out from Changzhou Island and made for the northern bank of the Xi River, south of Wuzhou. Simultaneously, vessels of the Pearl River Task Force West Detachment rhythmically pounded the southern wall with cannon fire, suppressing the defenders and covering the landing.
The landing force consisted of Zhu Quanxing's 3rd Battalion and Zhang Dapao's Siege Artillery Company. The beachhead was a hive of activity. Army soldiers waded ashore from the transports; sailors used derricks to lower barrels and carriages of assorted heavy guns from the ships onto inflatable rafts, then ferried them to the shallows. On shore, the artillerymen assembled a simple crane to hoist and reassemble the cannons. Not far off, three galley ships on the river sent up lazy plumes of smoke as they prepared lunch for the landing troops.
Zhu Quanxing temporarily placed the 3rd Battalion at Zhang Dapao's disposal: demolishing buildings that blocked lines of fire, digging trenches, and erecting simple sandbag emplacements. Since word of the Fubo Army's approach had reached them, most residents in the southern suburbs had already fled.
Only structures that didn't obstruct fire or assault routes were left standing—per Zhu Quanxing's orders. The troops demolished a great number of warehouses and dwellings along the riverfront. Goods and valuables left behind were collected, sealed with official tags, and stored for claimants after the battle. To accelerate the work, the 3rd Battalion's attached engineer company employed explosives. With a rumble, old houses and warehouses collapsed into rubble.
By noon, the soldiers who had been working furiously in the southern outskirts were drenched in sweat and famished. At that moment, the galley ships sounded their steam whistles, and small boats began delivering boxed meals.
Because it was a battle day, the rations were richer than usual. Besides rice, the main dish was "hodgepodge"—a stew of assorted dried meats, dehydrated vegetables, and solid sauce cubes. The only local ingredients were a few vegetables and eggs, which were tossed in and cooked together—all the eggs scrambled into ribbons.
Each man also received a bottle of cool salt soda to quench thirst and three cigarettes to sharpen the mind. The galley cooks ladled out soup, rice, or fried rice noodles, clanging their big spoons and calling out, "Eat your fill, boys! There's more if you need it—eat up so you can win a great victory!"
After eating, the soldiers attacked the work with renewed vigor. The scheduled 2 p.m. completion came at 1:30 instead. The siege mortars, the brigade artillery's 24-pounder howitzers, 12-pounder field guns, and three 130mm Dahl cannons stripped from warships were emplaced behind the ramparts, their black muzzles aimed at Wuzhou's southern wall.
Zhu Quanxing and Zhang Dapao inspected the Fubo Army's positions. Zhu Quanxing had the fleeting impression that even the Ark of the Covenant that brought down the walls of Jericho couldn't match the power of these guns. Zhang Dapao gazed at his beloved artillery, eyes practically glowing. He loved cannons; he loved the roar of their fire and the explosions when shells struck their targets. Artillery was his life, his purpose. His eyes were shells in flight—possessed of the power to annihilate everything.
Those cannons, hauled ashore with such effort, were not to sit idle. The gunners were chomping at the bit, ready to reduce Wuzhou to rubble with their marksmanship.
Yet ammunition reserves were short. The mortars in particular carried only six rounds of shells each. As for the naval guns, stocks were even lower—much had been expended bombarding Zhaoqing, and the shelling en route to Wuzhou had consumed more. By comparison, most of the land artillery had seldom fired; each piece had at least one basic load.
From Sanshui to the Xi River, the chain of logistics depots had been showing signs of strain. Especially the requisitioned civilian craft used to supplement transport capacity—without enough tugs, these vessels had to rely on manpower and wind to make headway against the current. Fully loaded, they moved slower than snails.
(End of Chapter)