Chapter 546: Yangxing Ridge

Vast swaths of firelight flickered; amid dense smoke, a rain of grapeshot pellets sprayed forth, kicking up countless splinters on the pontoon bridge — some planks were even blasted apart.

Slender columns of water shot up from the river as if a sudden rainstorm had descended. On the opposite bank, the dust and smoke raised by the grapeshot merged into a single sheet, and many stones were sent skipping and leaping.

Amid the roar of the falconets, a mist of blood billowed on the pontoon bridge. Swaths of Han troops toppled into the river. After the dense lead pellets swept through, the many Bordered Blue Banner Han soldiers in their blue outer armor trimmed with red let out uncontrollable howls.

“Hit them hard!”

Squad Commander Sun of the artillery camp, his expression ferocious, bellowed at his men.

By the time the large falconets in the formation were turned toward this large pontoon bridge, he already knew that Company Commander Yang was gravely wounded and hanging by a thread; at the same time, under the bombardment of those second-rate Tartars, the artillery camp had suffered, by rough estimate, dozens of casualties — how could he not be furious?

You Tartars have heavy cannon and can bombard us from afar, but my Jingbian Army’s guns are mobile and nimble — we’ll shift them around and hit your infantry exclusively. Let’s see how you like that!

So when he received Zhao Xuan’s order, he said not a word of protest, shouting for his men to hitch the mules and horses to the guns and ammunition and haul them away at once.

Squad Commander Sun ordinarily oversaw the camp’s thirty-five large general-grade falconets; at this moment twenty-five were under his command, while the remaining ten were deployed in the small gun position, commanded by the First Squad Commander who concurrently served as vice squad commander. Each of these large falconets was crewed by five men and towed by two mules; the ammunition carts were likewise pulled by mules and horses.

The gunners also had horses. Suppressing their fury, they mounted up, towed the guns, and quickly reached their objective several li away. The many falconets were arrayed on the bank to the left of the large pontoon bridge.

To seize the moment, they did not even set up cover, setting up the guns right on the open ground by the bank, close to the river, and using grapeshot to fiercely bombard Shang Kexi’s troops who happened to be crossing the river.

However, the moment he observed the artillery’s movements, Wang Dou immediately ordered Zhong Xiancai’s unit to dispatch a full battalion to follow up and protect the safety of these gunners, screening them on the right flank of the gun position.

Because Zhao Xuan’s artillery camp consisted purely of gunners, with few combat or guard troops, they often needed screening by cavalry and infantry battalions. Wang Dou was already considering establishing a unit of arquebusiers within the artillery camp specifically to serve as guards. But including the logistics troops, Zhao Xuan’s artillery camp already numbered over two thousand men; adding another guard unit would likely bring it to three thousand.

This large pontoon bridge was near a bend in the river, the two banks no more than a hundred-odd meters apart.

Typically, the grapeshot range of a six-pounder red-barbarian cannon was over two hundred paces, and that of a falconet over a hundred paces; after the gunpowder improvements, their power was even more formidable, easily able to strike from this bank to the other.

Amid Squad Commander Sun’s roars, the gunners before him, their lips pressed tight, swiftly extracted the spent sub-chambers and inserted fresh ones. Every blast that boomed out sent the Bordered Blue Banner Han troops on the pontoon bridge wailing for their mothers.

After being shelled by the Ujen Cooha artillery camp, every one of them had been seething with pent-up rage, and hearing of Company Commander Yang’s plight only united them further in shared hatred. Their skill was superb, and with the falconets’ rapid rate of fire — able to keep firing for long periods without cooling — they fired incessantly, making the Han troops crossing the bridge wish for death and unable to advance a single step on the pontoon bridge.

Not far to the left, Fu Yingchong’s Divine Machine Battalion had also now recovered their wits. They realized that although the Han Banners’ cannon made a great din, at such a long distance they actually did very little damage to the gun positions.

Their rockets and falconets began bombarding the Qing troops on the opposite bank, and they even launched divine-fire flying crows. They also used mortars to fire ash shells and poison shells. The masses of Han Banners soldiers crowding the opposite bank shrieked and scattered every time these poison shells flew over.

Not to mention the stretch of river by Twin Peaks — for the Han Eight Banners, the only place they could cross the river at this time was this single large pontoon bridge.

Yet, to say nothing of the new army infantry formation of Yang Guozhu arrayed a hundred paces behind the large pontoon bridge, relying on earthen carts — the moment the Jingbian Army’s falconets were set up on this side, they found it impossible to advance even a step. Shang Kexi had already organized multiple bridge-crossing charges, and each time they had retreated with grievous casualties.

Squad Commander Sun once again barked orders. The twenty-five large general-grade falconets, one after another, blasted at the pontoon bridge and the opposite bank.

Amid the thunderous roar of the guns, each falconet spewed a great plume of fierce fire and smoke forward. On the opposite bank and the pontoon bridge, many more earthen carts and mangled corpses were left behind; the surviving soldiers, scrambling and crawling, fled back wailing.

Squad Commander Sun’s guns were all angled obliquely toward the bridge surface — essentially enfilading fire. Could those Han troops possibly push their carts sideways on the pontoon bridge?

Amid panicked screams, the Bordered Blue Banner Han troops retreated like the tide, revealing the great banner of the gūsa ejen on the gentle slope and Shang Kexi’s contorted face. Listening to his subordinates’ tearful accounts, he knew they had done their utmost; facing the Jingbian Army’s grapeshot with flesh and blood, anyone would be terrified.

But why was it like this? Their side possessed the superior divine-might great general cannon — why could they still not cover the army’s river crossing?

He suddenly glared toward the Ujen Cooha artillery camp, his eyes turning red: “What the hell is Kong Youde doing? Bombarding for half a day and the Jingbian Army hasn’t lost a single hair. Do they even know how to fire a cannon?”

At first, when Kong Youde’s artillery camp steadily suppressed the Ming Divine Machine Battalion and the Jingbian Army’s artillery camp, Shang Kexi had cheered and leaped with joy. Later he discovered that the Ujen Cooha artillery camp was merely making a lot of noise — earth-shaking, but with little effect.

The casualties they inflicted on the Ming army were even more negligible. It was the Jingbian Army’s guns that posed a real threat, quickly hauled to the bridge and inflicting severe losses on his river-crossing troops.

Gritting his teeth, he dispatched a messenger demanding that Kong Youde’s artillery camp move toward the bank and first knock out the Jingbian Army’s falconets on the opposite bank. At the same time, the Ming infantry formation not far from the pontoon bridge also worried him; it would be best if several heavy guns came over to bombard Yang Guozhu’s infantry formation on the opposite bank.

…

West of Ru Peak, Huang Taiji furrowed his brow. The results achieved by the Ujen Cooha artillery camp were far less than he had expected.

Initially, the Great Qing’s heavy cannon had suppressed the Jingbian Army’s guns to the point they could not move, which had lifted his spirits — but he subsequently realized it was meaningless and did nothing to help the infantry cross the river.

Their side possessed a huge artillery camp in vain, yet it failed to play its proper role. In contrast, the Jingbian Army, with flexible tactics, used light guns to bombard, inflicting grievous casualties on the Han troops crossing the river.

At this moment, the battle at Twin Peaks had fallen into a stalemate and required large numbers of reinforcements. Shang Kexi wanted Kong Youde to move the artillery camp to the bank to provide support, and he naturally saw this point as well. He immediately issued urgent orders for Kong Youde’s artillery camp to shift toward the pontoon bridge stretch of the river and cover the infantry crossing there.

At the same time, he also hoped Kong Youde’s artillery camp could smash Yang Guozhu’s infantry formation on the opposite bank, or force them to withdraw, clearing space for the follow-up army to cross.

Wang Dou observed all the Qing army’s movements. He lowered his telescope, a smile on his face: “Good, the Qing army’s guns are moving!”

Earlier, when the Jingbian Army’s gun positions were suppressed by the Han Banners’ cannon, the entire army had felt unbearably stifled. Li Guangheng and Wen Daxing had both come forward to request permission to lead some cavalry or night scouts to the Qing camp’s gun position to blow up or seize the guns, but Wang Dou had stopped them.

Without coordination from firearms and cannon, cavalry alone, against a well-ordered infantry formation, would just be throwing their lives away for nothing.

On the flat open plain, both sides’ positions were visible at a glance. Through his telescope, Wang Dou could clearly see that on both flanks and behind Kong Youde’s gun position, masses of elite troops were gathered.

Not to mention the three thousand elite arquebusiers in his banner, and the large numbers of sword-and-shield men, spearmen, and so on — behind his formation, there were also quite a few Manchu and Mongol cavalry.

Just a few li from the gun position, on the left flank, were the Han Banners troops of Shi Tingzhu, Zu Zerun, Wu Shoujin, and others attacking Yangxing Ridge. On the right flank, and along the riverbank, Shang Kexi, Geng Zhongming, and others were currently crossing the river.

Any of them could pose a threat to their own cavalry if they went to seize the guns. Though his men were fierce and brave, Wang Dou did not want to waste them needlessly.

He believed that Kong Youde’s gun position would be brought forward — their side would have plenty of opportunities to strike the enemy camp.

Moreover, the strategy this time was to block the enemy from crossing the river. As long as the Ming army in the rear captured Twin Peaks, it would be victory. On the battlefield, a necessary degree of patience was required. War was not about reckless individual bravery; when one had to endure a beating, one must remain silent and endure.

Sure enough, the moment of opportunity had arrived.

He was confident that within their own firing range, Kong Youde’s artillery camp would be no match for the Jingbian Army’s artillery camp!

…

The shriek of cannonballs was incessant; solid iron shot of varying sizes fell sporadically across the ridge. But neither Han Chao’s defending troops nor the officers and gunners of the supporting Divine Machine Battalion paid them any mind now.

Yangxing Ridge, which Han Chao held, was a narrow, elongated hillock running left to right, not very high in elevation, with very gentle slopes. Heading from the ridge toward the rear, one could occasionally see scattered pines; especially on the gentle summit, there were several dozen tall pines and white poplars.

The soldiers of Han Chao’s Right Battalion, following the foot of the hill upward and relying on earthen carts, had set up several defensive lines. In particular, on the right flank, a full battalion of First-Class troops had been deployed.

Because the small pontoon bridge was behind this hill, reached by following a dirt track down along the right hillside. The small pontoon bridge was the lifeline of the Jingbian Army on the north bank; as a seasoned officer, Han Chao naturally gave it priority protection.

When the Qing army shelled, the arquebusiers of each unit’s Second-Class troops all pressed tightly behind the earthen carts, each man silent. The spearmen of each unit withdrew to the rear of the hill, and the First-Class troops of the rear battalion likewise gathered there.

Han Chao, of course, would not simply defend passively. Every time they launched a counter-charge, the First-Class troops of the rear battalion, each man tough and fierce and possessing a horse, were naturally the best choice for sallying forth. Using the Second-Class troops to defend also better tempered their combat strength.

Because the soil of Yangxing Ridge was soft and loose, cannonballs striking the ground merely kicked up some yellowish-black dirt and did not even bounce much. Unless one was unlucky enough to be struck directly on the spot, one would generally emerge unscathed, so the troops’ expressions were relaxed.

Lei Xianbin even pointed at a cannonball that had struck several dozen paces to the right and said to Lin Jinsi, “What did I tell you? The Tartars’ red-barbarian cannon are useless against our ridge.”

Lin Jinsi had actually been quite startled just now. That iron ball had slammed into the slope; though it did not bounce, the loud boom and the great cloud of dust it raised were quite impressive. If it had happened to land on someone’s head, there would certainly be no corpse left intact.

But outwardly he still agreed, his expression scornful: “The Tartars’ cannon are just for show — they look imposing, but in actual use they’re nothing but a pewter spearhead that looks good but is useless.”

At this, as if recalling something, he chuckled lewdly, his expression rather vulgar.

Lei Xianbin carefully studied the base of the hill: “The big cannon are indeed quite imposing. It’s often said that new recruits fear cannon, veterans fear muskets. Once you steady your nerves, cannon are really no big deal. The second-rate Tartars’ matchlock men, on the other hand, do pose some threat.” (To be continued.)