Chapter 2107 - Zigzag Trenches

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

Song Ming was a veteran of many years who knew how to calm and discipline his men. He immediately led his personal guards along the trench line on an inspection tour, keeping particular watch for troublemaking old soldiers. These types were useless in a fight but expert at running away—and to make escape easier, they would often stir up others to flee with them.

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

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

The Australians did not attack. After the muffled explosions, the soldiers dropped prone and began digging. Jiang Suo recognized immediately that the Fubo Army had begun engineering operations.

Even in the Marine Corps, engineering was an important training subject, and Jiang Suo—a model trainee—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 idea to counter the Hair-Bandits' firepower advantage with trenches had worked—the enemy had halted outside their range. He just hadn't expected the Hair-Bandits to immediately respond with trenches of their own, negating the advantage in an instant.

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

"I'll take a squad of archers out and give them a rain of arrows!" Song Ming proposed.

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

"No, the archers can't go out. Once in the open, they're useless," Jiang Suo shook his head. "If we must 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. It matches the Minié in range, power, and accuracy but fires much faster—faster even than a bow," Jiang Suo explained. "Even if these Hair-Bandits don't have repeaters, the Minié alone is more than we can handle."

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

"Every battalion has a squad of light infantry—skirmishers, all crack marksmen. They specialize in picking off exposed targets and ambush leaders. If you take archers out there, before you reach bow range, half will be cut down." Jiang Suo picked up a cloth-and-straw dummy dressed in helmet and armor, and slowly raised it above the parapet.

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

Jiang Suo pulled the dummy back. Besides the half-destroyed head, arm and left shoulder had been shot through. Song Ming sucked in his 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 choice," Jiang Suo concluded.

It was an extremely passive stance, but against the Australians' firepower, hunkering down and waiting for them to enter 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 binoculars. Sure enough, at the bend in the zigzag trench, the Australians were digging a short, wide emplacement. Wicker gabion baskets were being brought up and filled with earth. Clearly, they meant to position artillery there.

The two were watching intently when neither noticed a light infantryman two hundred meters away raise his rifle, aim carefully at a gap between the sandbags—the intermittent glint there suggested an important officer. The instructors always said: a flash might be binoculars, or it might be the polished plates of a senior officer's armor.

Bang—the bullet came screaming and slammed into the sandbag breastwork, spraying sand. Song Ming's whole body jerked; he nearly collapsed. Jiang Suo, slightly more experienced, immediately crouched, hiding entirely inside the trench.

"What in the—?!" Song Ming was still shaken. They had been completely behind the sandbag breastwork. How had the Hair-Bandits known they were there?

"Light infantry," Jiang Suo said. He cautiously peeked out through a gap. "This spot isn't safe anymore. Let's move."

The two relocated and resumed observation. Through their binoculars, they watched Australians transporting artillery up the trench.

The guns were small—Jiang Suo recognized them as the 12-pounder mountain howitzers used by the Marines. Compact and light, ideal for mountain and paddy warfare. The Fubo Army had gone to great trouble to haul them up the hill; they probably intended to use them to blast open a breach.

From the binoculars, laborers and soldiers could be seen transporting ammunition. Three howitzers had their covers removed. An officer was using an instrument to survey the forward positions, apparently calculating ranges.

Jiang Suo estimated the Hair-Bandits would soon use these howitzers to destroy the abatis and breach the defenses. Since they had few guns, they would likely concentrate 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. Song Ming noticed that what had been one zigzag trench had now become three, all extending forward—likely the Hair-Bandits planned a three-pronged assault.

He summoned his officers and divided his combat troops and household guards into three groups.

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

He surveyed his men. "You all know this is a death trap. If we don't drive them back, there's nowhere to run! Water's scarce—if they trap us here, we die of thirst. Don't think about slipping away. We're all on the same rope. No one gets out alone."

His words had barely faded when, from the Australian position below, white smoke rose, and the thunder of cannon fire rolled up the slope.

(End of Chapter)