Chapter 230: Who Is the Rabbit

Under the full-force charge of several thousand cavalry, even covering the distance to the raiding grounds would not take much time.

The Qing cavalry came on with overwhelming momentum. As far as the eye could see ahead, there was nothing but surging horse heads, and riders atop fine steeds clad in solid red or red-bordered armor. Their arrogant, bloodthirsty expressions grew ever clearer, and between heaven and earth, only the thunder of hooves could be heard.

Directly in front of the wagon fort, Zhao Zeng was in command of that sector's artillery battery. He was a professional artillery specialist; Wang Dou had long since delegated to him the authority to decide when to open fire in battle.

Within the barrier line formed by wheelbarrow war-carts and wagons in this area, every few carts flanked a cannon. There were ten medium breech-loading swivel guns, fifteen small bronze breech-loading swivel guns, and fifteen crouching-tiger cannons. All the gunners were tensely awaiting Zhao Shan's order. The intimidating momentum of the charging Tartar cavalry made many faces change color. Watching the warhorses that seemed to blot out the sky and cover the earth as they surged forward, the gunners all felt that the caltrops scattered in front of the cannons were too few, and the area they covered too narrow.

Zhao Shan clenched his fists desperately, delaying the order to fire again and again. The rangefinder beside him nervously reported the distance the Qing cavalry had covered: "Five hundred paces," "four hundred fifty paces," "four hundred paces," "three hundred paces," "two hundred fifty paces."

Zhao Shan abruptly gave the order: "Open fire!"

With a howl of cannonballs, the charging Qing cavalry saw flashes of dazzling fire streak across the Ming army's wagon fort ahead. A great plume of white smoke billowed up, and then they saw fiery iron balls spinning as they hurtled straight toward their faces.

The cannonballs fired by the medium breech-loading swivel guns were slightly larger than an adult man's fist. Whether striking man or horse, the high-speed spinning iron ball would tear out a massive bloody hole; there was absolutely no chance of survival. Even more terrifying, the rapidly arriving cannonballs bounced and tumbled across the hard ground. A glancing hit was mostly not fatal, but the injuries were too ghastly to behold.

Ten iron balls came hurtling straight at them. The Qing cavalry were densely packed. Although they had spread out several horse-lengths apart front to back and left to right, their sheer numbers worked against them, and three cannonballs still smashed directly into Qing men and horses.

One cannonball directly blasted the head off a Qing squad commander. His corpse, clad in three layers of heavy armor, still sat astride the galloping horse, the headless neck spurting great gouts of blood like a fountain. His body twisted desperately, and only after a long while did the headless corpse crash down into the swirling dust around it. Another iron ball directly punched a huge bloody hole in the body of a charging warhorse. The warhorse let out a neigh, stumbled on its forelegs, and hurled the rider on its back several meters away. Before that rider could even stand, he was struck by the horses charging up from behind, and then trampled into meat paste by the surging cavalry.

When a large force of cavalry charges a formation, especially at full gallop, the most terrifying thing is to fall from one's horse. The riders behind, intent on controlling their mounts' momentum, will show no mercy; they simply charge forward and collide. The fate of a fallen rider, nine times out of ten, is to be trampled into meat paste.

This tumbling, collapsing horse also caused a burst of chaos. Several horses behind it tripped over its body, throwing several riders from their saddles. Some suffered fractures, others broken hands or feet. A few men struggled to their feet, only to be bowled over by the horses behind them.

Yet another iron ball hurtled rapidly toward a Qing armored cavalryman. The cavalryman had sharp eyes and quick hands, dodging with lightning speed. The iron ball missed his vitals, but directly tore off his entire right arm. The cavalryman felt nothing at first; he rode steadily on for several dozen more paces before suddenly realizing his right side was empty. He stared in disbelief at the stump of his arm gushing blood. Unimaginable agony surged through his heart, his vision went black, and he tumbled to the ground on his right side.

The remaining cannonballs, after hurtling to the ground, bounced and tumbled violently across the hard surface, leaping left and right. With a series of cracking bone snaps, several horse legs were swept and broken by them, or they directly leaped into horse bellies and human bodies, causing a chorus of screaming horses and shouting men.

There was one unlucky foot soldier. A cannonball took a sharp bounce and grazed horizontally across the right side of his face. The foot soldier's nose was knocked off, his right cheekbone shattered, and half his lip and all his teeth were gone along with it. The foot soldier instinctively touched his face and let out an inhuman shriek.

Only Zhao Shan observed the results of the cannon fire. After the first volley, the gunners of each cannon had no time to watch; they immediately and nervously removed the spent breech chambers and reloaded with pre-packed charges of gunpowder and shot. Zhao Shan continuously barked orders, directing the aimers of the ten medium breech-loading swivel guns to adjust their elevation and range.

The breech-loading swivel guns used wooden wedges of varying thickness to adjust elevation. Under Zhao Shan's shouted commands, the ten medium breech-loading swivel guns, now reloaded with fresh breech chambers, uniformly lowered their elevation. Their dark, menacing muzzles once again aimed at the surging Qing cavalry.

Zhao Shan gave another shouted order: "Open fire!"

The flagman slashed his flag downward. With a series of thunderous booms, the carriage of each cannon involuntarily jumped backward. A great mass of flame and smoke billowed up, and ten fist-sized iron balls again howled toward the mass of Qing cavalry.

Wang Dou stood on the several-meter-high command cart, watching the ten fiery iron balls scream out from his own army's formation and smash viciously into the mass of Qing cavalry. Flesh and blood flew in all directions; men and horses constantly collapsed to the ground. Human shouts and horse neighs stirred up a great chaos.

Wang Dou nodded secretly to himself. Under Zhao Shan's training, these gunners' accuracy had improved considerably. Moreover, the power of these cannons firing in volleys was indeed greatly enhanced.

More importantly, the rate of fire was much faster. Cavalry galloping across open ground could cover ten meters in a second. Those Qing cavalry had charged from over three hundred meters away to just over a hundred meters away, and the Shunxiang Army had already bombarded them twice. Each volley took less than ten seconds, an extremely fast rate of fire.

Wang Dou estimated that before this first wave of Qing troops reached his formation, he could fire at least another volley. Because of the improved gun carriages, once the melee began, they could still fire to bombard the Qing follow-up troops, or even bombard the Qing cavalry at close range from over a hundred paces away, providing continuous fire support.

"Load canister shot! All large and small breech-loading swivel guns, fire together!"

Zhao Shan placed his hands on his hips, satisfied with the results of the cannon fire before him. From just these two volleys, he estimated he had inflicted at least several dozen casualties on the opposing Tartar cavalry.

Of course, with several thousand Tartar cavalry, although the two volleys of cannon fire caused them some chaos and casualties, and the intimidating momentum of their charge had slightly diminished, cavalry charges were always spread out. The distance between front and rear reached twenty paces, left and right spacing was four paces, and the gap between squadrons was as much as fifty paces. Twenty cannonballs against several thousand cavalry still seemed rather few. Wave after wave of Tartar cavalry still surged forward, their overwhelming, mountain-toppling iron hooves flooding like a deluge to just before the Shunxiang Army's wagon fort.

Under Zhao Shan's shouted orders, the ten medium breech-loading swivel guns were adjusted to nearly point-blank angle. At the same time, the fifteen small bronze breech-loading swivel guns were also set to point-blank firing. The rigorous training of the Shunxiang Army showed itself at this moment. Even with several thousand cavalry surging toward them, every gunner's movements remained methodical and unhurried.

Amidst creaking and groaning sounds, all twenty-five breech-loading swivel guns, large and small, now loaded with canister shot, were uniformly leveled. Dozens of pitch-black muzzles glared ferociously at the onrushing Qing elite cavalry. Not only that, on the two flanks and the rear of the wagon fort, the five medium breech-loading swivel guns and ten small bronze breech-loading swivel guns on each side were also all loaded with canister shot and leveled. The Qing troops were not charging their side of the formation, so long-range cannonballs could not hit them, but this close-range canister fire at point-blank range would be perfectly steady and reliable.

At the same time, a chorus of voices rose and fell within the wagon fort: "Arquebusiers, prepare!"

The several thousand Qing cavalry, seemingly sweeping forward with irresistible force, had already charged to within a hundred paces of the wagon fort. The fact that this Ming army unit remained so composed struck them as somewhat strange. But that was no longer a concern; once they crushed this Ming unit, what awaited them was the ecstasy of unrestrained slaughter.

By now, Wang Dou could discern their tactics. They intended to feint a charge at the front of the wagon fort, using the momentum of their horses so their arrow rain could blanket the entire area of his wagon fort. Then they would sweep past on the left and right flanks, circling the wagon fort and firing arrows—a tactic the steppe barbarians had used for thousands of years. Wang Dou could also see ahead several waves, numbering in the hundreds, of Qing knights clad in red and red-bordered armor, urging their horses on like the wind. Every one of them possessed incomparably superb horsemanship; they must be soldiers of the Eight Banners Mongol forces. The red or red-bordered banners within each unit were billowing to the extreme in the wind.

After the Mongols surrendered to the Manchus, their undisciplined nature had indeed changed considerably. Their riding skills were also far superior to those of the Manchus. Precisely because of this, they were often used as cannon fodder to charge formations. Wang Dou could see each of them drawing their bows and nocking arrows, waiting only to charge a few dozen more paces before beginning to shoot.

Wang Dou gave a cold snort: "Today, I will make the armored soldiers of the Eight Banners Mongol Plain Red Banner and Bordered Red Banner meet total annihilation before my army's formation!"

"Abandon the cannons!"

Zhao Shan's hoarse, straining shout seemed to drown out even the iron hoofbeats of several thousand cavalry.

"Fire!"

The flagman beside him slashed his flag down sharply. The Qing cavalry had already charged to within a hundred paces. It seemed as if the entire earth shuddered. With a deafening roar of cannon fire, the twenty-five breech-loading swivel guns, large and small, loaded with canister shot at the front of the wagon fort, collectively spewed out a massive, fierce blast of gunpowder smoke and flame.

Inside the breech chambers of these cannons were packed lead balls and iron pellets as thick as a thumb or a little finger, some even small round stones. The twenty-five cannons fired in volley, and a sky full of hurtling iron pellets blanketed the entire front of the wagon fort.

A chorus of ghastly screams from men and horses rang out. Like wheat falling to the scythe, a great wave of the charging cavalry collapsed dozens of paces before the Shunxiang Army's war-carts. Especially the several front rows of Qing knights were swept completely away. Wang Dou excitedly saw that over half of the several waves of armored cavalry from the Eight Banners Mongol Plain Red Banner and Bordered Red Banner charging at the very front had already fallen. These two Eight Banners Mongol units, judging by the casualties before his eyes, were already crippled.

Like a fierce gale sweeping away leaves, the canister volley from twenty-five cannons rivaled the close-range fire of over a thousand arquebuses, and its power was even more terrifying. A dense swarm of iron pellets, thick as a thumb or a little finger, came hurtling at their faces. Struck by this iron rain, whether man or horse, their bodies were covered with densely packed, thick bloody holes.

Wang Dou saw Qing knights, one after another, either screaming as they fell from their horses, or their corpses tumbling silently to the ground. The horses that were hit either rolled on the ground, a bloody mess of flesh, or neighed piteously, galloping and leaping wildly in all directions with massive wounds, causing even greater chaos around and behind them.

"Fire!"

Ignoring the wails and shouts ahead, a cold, merciless voice rang out from within the wagon fort. After the cannon fire, the several hundred arquebusiers in the front row of the wagon fort aimed at the panicked Qing soldiers surging from behind and pulled their triggers. Another great cloud of smoke billowed up. All the screams and cries of the Qing soldiers were instantly drowned out in the thunderous volley of the arquebuses.

"Fire!"

A large mass of Qing cavalry charged toward the left and right flanks of the wagon fort. The thirty breech-loading swivel guns, large and small, on the two flanks of the wagon fort, in turn sprayed a massive volley of fierce canister shot at them.

"Fire!"

The arquebusiers on the two flanks were no slouches either; a great mass of arquebuses also unleashed the shot and powder in their barrels at them to their hearts' content.

Wave after wave of Qing soldiers and horses collapsed, wallowing in blood on the ground, writhing and screaming in agony. From the main Qing formation, Dudu faintly glimpsed the battle situation opposite him. His face was ashen, and he murmured: "A fierce tiger pouncing on a rabbit... a fierce tiger pouncing on a rabbit..."