Chapter 2105 - Digging Trenches

The engineers' demolition charges set off a commotion among the Ming defenders. The dull rumble and trembling earth made many soldiers uneasy. Some knew the Hair-Bandits possessed formidable artillery and fearsome fire-weapons; they had no idea what new devilry was being attempted now.

Song Ming was a veteran who knew how to calm and discipline his men. He immediately led his personal guards on an inspection tour along the trench line, keeping particular watch for troublemaking old soldiers. These types weren't much use in a fight, but they were experts at running away—and to make escape easier, they would often stir up others to flee with them.

Marching along the trench in gleaming helmet and armor, surrounded by guards with drawn sabers radiating killing intent, he quickly intimidated the wavering soldiers.

Jiang Suo was extremely tense. He hid in the bastion's sandbag emplacement, binoculars pressed to his eyes, watching the Australian movements intently. The Australians had climbed halfway up the hillside, then stopped about half a li from the Bangshan position—just beyond the range of Nanyang rifles, matchlocks, and bows.

The Australians did not attack. After the muffled explosions, the soldiers began digging while lying prone. Jiang Suo knew the Fubo Army had begun their engineering work.

Even in the Marine Corps, field engineering was an important training subject, and as a training exemplar, Jiang Suo was well versed in it. Clearly, the garrison's volleys had made an impression on the Fubo Army—they weren't going to assault the fortifications directly. Instead, they would use engineering to approach and attack at close range.

Jiang Suo's proposal to use trenches against the Hair-Bandits' firepower advantage had worked—he just hadn't expected the Hair-Bandits to immediately counter trenches with trenches of their own, nullifying their advantage instantly.

"What are the Hair-Bandits up to?" Song Ming came over and picked up a pair of binoculars.

Through the lenses, he could see Australians prone on the ground, digging. He had heard the thunder of Australian guns and seen dust flying on the hillside; he had expected an attack to begin. Instead, the Australians hadn't charged at all—they had started digging trenches. Could they be planning to dig a long siege line around Bangshan to starve out the Ming garrison? But that seemed unnecessary. Bangshan was already a dead end; the defenders couldn't hold out long anyway. Yi Haoran had deployed forces here precisely because he judged the Hair-Bandits would launch a rapid assault rather than a prolonged siege.

Looking through the binoculars, the Australian trenches seemed crude—none of the breastworks, artillery platforms, or bastions he had witnessed at the Battle of Chengmai. They didn't look like fortifications meant for long defense. Strangest of all, the Australian trenches weren't parallel to the Ming trenches; instead, they angled steadily closer to the Ming position.

The Australian trench drew nearer and nearer, then veered at about thirty zhang from the Ming position. What had been slanting northeast now pointed southeast.

"These are zigzag approach trenches," Jiang Suo said. "They dig at an angle to get closer, then when the distance is short enough, they charge."

"Those Hair-Bandits are truly cunning!" Song Ming cursed, a chill running through him—the shadow of his close escape at Chengmai still haunted him.

Though Song Ming didn't understand modern tactics, years of military experience made the purpose of the zigzag trenches immediately clear. The Australians weren't trying to blockade them; they were trying to minimize the assault distance and avoid unnecessary casualties. Australian infantry could advance step by step under the cover of their trenches. The firearms and bows the defenders had prepared in abundance would be utterly useless against enemies in a trench.

The best way to deal with these Australians sneaking forward to build works was a swift, violent counterattack—a charge to drive them out of their trenches. But Song Ming had little confidence in his men's close-combat ability or fighting spirit.

"I'll take a squad of archers out andgive them a rain of arrows!" Song Ming said.

Lead a squad of archers out while the Australians were attacking uphill and digging, use the height advantage to shower arrows on the trenches below—it might not kill many, but at least it would slow their digging.

"No. The archers can't go out—once they're in the open, they're useless," Jiang Suo shook his head. "If you want to shoot, it has to be from inside the trench. Never expose yourself."

The Nanyang rifle might be formidable by Ming standards, but in Australian hands, it was merely second-rate gear issued to security forces. The Fubo Army was equipped with Minié rifles—far superior in range, power, and accuracy.

"...And that's not all. The Australians have a repeating rifle. When I was in the Marines, that's what I used. The repeater matches the Minié in range, power, and accuracy, but fires much faster—faster even than a bow." Jiang Suo continued, "Even if the Hair-Bandits here don't have repeaters, the Minié alone is more than we can handle."

Venturing out rashly would gain the archers nothing. In range, power, and accuracy, they were hopelessly outmatched by Australian rifles—like comparing divine weapons to fire pokers. Inside the trench, it was different: bullets couldn't curve, and archers could lob arrows in high arcs without exposing themselves. A few volleys in the right direction might hit something. At worst, it would hurt the Hair-Bandits' morale—their soldiers wore no armor, after all.

"Every battalion has a squad of light infantry skirmishers, all crack marksmen. They specialize in picking off exposed targets and ambushing leaders. If you take archers out there, before you're even within bow range, half of them will be dropped." Jiang Suo picked up a dummy they had prepared earlier—dressed in helmet and armor—and slowly raised it above the parapet.

Before the dummy was even half-exposed, a string of clear, sharp rifle shots—the distinctive crack of Minié rifles—rang out, and the helmet was blown clean off the dummy's head.

Jiang Suo pulled the dummy back. Besides the half-destroyed head, the arm and left shoulder had been shot through. Song Ming sucked in a breath—he had heard perhaps seven or eight shots, and at this range, three bullets had struck! The accuracy was utterly inconceivable.

"No matter what the Hair-Bandits do, we must not leave the trench unless there's no other choice," Jiang Suo said.

It was an extremely passive stance, but against the Australians' superior firepower, hunkering down in the trench and waiting for them to enter their range—then unleashing ammunition and arrows when they charged—was the only viable tactic.

"General, the Hair-Bandits are bringing up artillery!" an observation post came to report.

Both men raised their binoculars. Sure enough, at the bend in the zigzag trench, the Australians were beginning to dig a short, wide trench. Wicker baskets for gabions were being brought up, and laborers were filling them with earth. Clearly, they intended to set up an artillery position there.

The two were watching intently when they failed to notice a light infantryman two hundred meters away raising his rifle, carefully aiming at a gap between the sandbags—the intermittent glint there suggested an important officer was active. The instructors always said: a glint might be binoculars, or it might be the polished plates of a senior officer's armor.

Bang—the bullet came shrieking and slammed into the sandbag breastwork, spraying sand and dirt. Song Ming's whole body convulsed; he nearly collapsed on the spot. Jiang Suo was slightly more experienced; he immediately crouched, hiding his entire body inside the trench.

"What in the—?!" Song Ming was still shaken. He and Jiang Suo had been observing from behind the sandbag breastwork, completely concealed. How had the Hair-Bandits known they were there?

"Light infantry," Jiang Suo said. Cautiously, he peeked out through a gap between sandbags. "This spot isn't safe anymore. Let's move."

The two relocated and resumed observing Fubo Army movements. Through their binoculars, they watched Australians transporting artillery through the trench.

The guns being brought up were small. Jiang Suo recognized them as the 12-pounder mountain howitzers commonly used by the Marines—compact and light, ideal for mountain and paddy warfare. For the Fubo Army to go to such trouble to haul them up the hill, they probably intended to use their firepower to blast open a breach.

Through the binoculars, Jiang Suo could see laborers and soldiers transporting ammunition. Three howitzers had their covers removed. An officer was using some instrument to survey the forward positions, apparently calculating something.

Jiang Suo estimated the Hair-Bandits would soon use these howitzers to destroy the abatis outside the position and open a breach. Since they had few guns, they would likely concentrate fire on one point for a rapid breakthrough—just as it had been done in exercises.

At that moment, the Fubo Army's trench changed direction again, continuing its diagonal approach toward the Ming lines. Song Ming noticed that what had been one zigzag trench had now become three, all extending forward simultaneously—it looked like the Hair-Bandits planned to assault the position from three directions at once.

He immediately summoned his subordinate officers and divided his combat troops and household guards into three groups, each assigned to a reliable leader.

"The moment the Hair-Bandits charge into the trench, engage on my flag signal. Each squad handles its own sector—drive the Hair-Bandits back!" Song Ming instructed. "Five taels of silver to every man who repels them! Double for sergeants!"

He surveyed his men and laughed. "You all know this is a death trap! If we don't drive the Hair-Bandits back, there's nowhere to run! Water's scarce—if they trap us on this hill, we'll die of thirst. Don't even think about slipping away—we're all tied to the same rope. No one's getting out of this alone."

His words had barely faded when, from the Australian position down the slope, white smoke rose, and the dull rumble of cannon fire rolled toward them.

(End of Chapter)