Chapter 557

"Wang Dou and his men really are coming — singing songs as they march to their deaths?"

On Yijia Ridge, banner after banner of crescent-adorned gold-threaded dragon standards fluttered in the wind, their colors ranging from Plain White to Plain Yellow, along with a towering Taiji flag — these were the banners of the Han Eight Banners' gūsa ejens, plus the great standard of Kim Ja-jeom, Right State Councilor of Joseon.

Along the winding ridges and hills, heavy four-wheeled millstone cannons were mounted atop each ridge, their forward perimeters piled high with hemp sacks and earth baskets, while gunners of the Ujen Cooha artillery corps in cotton-padded armor stood ready in tight formation.

Compared to before, however, these gunners were somewhat fewer in number, and the Portuguese among them had also dwindled by a few.

The sound of drums and music drifted from afar. The sky was high and the clouds clear, the field of view excellent. Kong Youde raised his spyglass and saw a sea of men slowly advancing this way.

In the lens, the most conspicuous sight was an enormous blood-red command chariot banner, bearing the patterns of the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise, along with wave and sun-moon motifs. The towering banner churned ceaselessly against the cold wind.

Before that banner, row upon row of equally crimson sun-moon-wave flags stood above layer after layer of crack armored soldiers, advancing in orderly ranks with a distinctive bearing — that was the Jingbian Army.

From this vantage on the ridge, on the left flank of that force was another body of troops: red cotton armor and indigo waist-length brigandines surging like waves over the undulating ground — that was the Xuanfu Garrison New Army.

The Jingbian Army pressed forward to rousing martial music, crossing fields, crossing ditches and trenches, crossing hills, advancing without pause.

Watching this army, Shi Tingzhu's eyes filled with bone-deep hatred. He gave a savage grin and said, "Wang Dou has grown far too confident. They have no earth-carts or war wagons for cover — just coming over bare like that? Does he think his soldiers are made of iron? Once the cannonballs strike their heads, we'll see if they can keep up that posturing!"

He shouted to the Ujen Cooha artillery camp commander, Eduardo: "Ai-de jala-i janggin, the moment Wang Dou's army enters range, blast them hard!"

Eduardo, still in his Portuguese military uniform, gave a slight bow. Kong Youde shot Shi Tingzhu a cold look and said with displeasure, "Shi Tingzhu, my artillery camp is not yours to command."

He turned to Eduardo expectantly: "Ai-de jala-i janggin, when the bombardment begins, can my artillery camp deal a heavy blow to the Jingbian Army infantry formation?"

Eduardo's expression was grave. He lowered his spyglass and said solemnly, "Sir, although the terrain before us makes many ricochet shots difficult to execute, and some cannonballs will be hard to land accurately on them — and the Ming army is advancing in a horizontal formation with loose spacing between files — still, infantry advancing on foot moves slowly and presents an enormous target. Many cannonballs can still strike them and inflict severe damage on their ranks. Flesh and blood cannot withstand artillery. I believe that after the bombardment, their morale will be very low."

During last month's artillery duel, although the Ujen Cooha artillery camp had come under attack and some gunners had become casualties in the chaos, a tally afterward showed that the majority of gunners remained, and the army's sighting instruments, gunner's rules, and other equipment were still intact. Those gunners had all received excellent training, so the Ujen Cooha artillery camp still possessed considerable fighting strength.

Moreover, because some Portuguese had been killed or wounded in the previous artillery duel, Eduardo was filled with hatred toward the Jingbian Army. He had already hardened his resolve and devoted himself single-mindedly to serving the Tartars. Even their hideous queue of money-rat tails had begun to look far more agreeable to him.

Yet anger aside, in his heart Eduardo's regard for the Jingbian Army had reached an unprecedented level, and his analysis now strove to be as impartial as possible.

Hearing Eduardo's explanation, Kong Youde felt somewhat reassured. Since the establishment of the Ujen Cooha artillery camp, all quarters of the Qing state had placed enormous expectations upon it — only for it to suffer repeated misfortunes. If this time it again failed to perform well...

Kong Youde shuddered and glanced unconsciously toward Huang Taiji's great yellow-dragon parasol several li away. At this moment, on the Han army positions, there were still some gabshiyan elite soldiers overseeing the battle. If anyone showed fear or reluctance to fight, even if they were gūsa ejens or held princely and marquis titles, those Manchus would cut them down without mercy.

Eduardo's words likewise allowed Shi Tingzhu, Ma Guangyuan, Shang Kexi, Liu Zhiyuan, and the others to breathe easier. Looking at their own heavy cannons, then at the great Jingbian Army formation pressing closer in the distance, cruel expressions surfaced on every face.

Eduardo had great confidence, yet deep within, a vague unease lingered. Though he refused to admit it openly, he knew this was the psychological shadow left by past artillery duels with the Jingbian Army. The only way to cast off this shadow was to prevail in the coming cannonade.

Through his spyglass, he saw some of the Jingbian Army's cannons moving ahead of the main force. Because of the terrain, these cannons advanced unevenly — some forward, some lagging, some left, some right — constantly having to choose passable routes over the ground.

They also had some mounted infantry, whose marching speed was slightly faster than the pure foot soldiers. But to maintain formation, and due to the terrain, even their faster speed was limited.

Watching those cannons being hauled forward, Eduardo ground his teeth in hatred. What a pity that at such a distance, trying to hit those tiny, constantly moving targets was simply too difficult, far too difficult.

"The Jingbian Army is about to enter three li!"

Amid a mix of anticipation and anxiety, at last, through his spyglass, Eduardo saw the Jingbian Army's cavalry and infantry passing by some scattered stones and earthen mounds marked with lime — these were special markers set by the Qing artillery corps, allowing them to hit approximate moving targets during an artillery duel without needing to calculate.

Moreover, Eduardo had sent gunners to specifically verify the terrain ahead. Wherever the Ming army's great formation was likely to pass in large numbers during its advance, they could seize the chance to bombard.

To keep ranks tight and orderly, terrain was a critical factor. Ground full of pits and hollows, crisscrossed with ravines, always made it harder to maintain a strict formation than flat, even ground.

Disordered ranks advancing before a relatively well-ordered enemy position meant nothing but one-sided slaughter.

Yet the Jingbian Army's advance defied his expectations. They came on in horizontal formation, ignoring hills, trees, fields, and dry riverbeds. Amid the drum and music, their ranks looked loose, yet somehow never lost their tight cohesion. Perhaps in a very short time, they could assemble into a perfectly ordered, formidable battle array.

Even the Xuanfu Garrison New Army on the left flank, though not equal to the Jingbian Army, still marched in fairly good order.

"A strange army!"

Even as he hated them, Eduardo could not help but admire that army. Yet this also meant that many of the markers would be rendered useless!

He abruptly turned to look at the cannons before him. To maintain firepower, these heavy guns would be divided into three waves, bombarding in continuous rotation. The majority of the cannons would focus their fire on the Jingbian Army's infantry formation.

At this moment, all these cannons were loaded with ammunition. Large groups of Ujen Cooha gunners, holding sighting instruments and gunner's rules, were nervously making their final calculations and adjustments. Because the Jingbian Army was not advancing according to their expectations, many cannons had to be traversed once more.

At last, seeing the Jingbian Army densely enter the three-li mark, Eduardo drew a deep breath, snatched the linstock from a gunner's hand, and shouted in stiff Chinese: "Target distance, nine hundred eighty paces! First cannon wave — fire!"

He touched the linstock to the cannon's fuse, and immediately a hissing trail of sparks flared up.

"Open fire!"

Amid the swan-like calls, great masses of Han army gunners roared. Even Shi Tingzhu and the others howled with the same frenzy.

A thunderous cannonade erupted. Shrieking filled the air as great plumes of white smoke billowed up from the ridge. Dozens of the Qing army's "Divine Might Grand General" heavy cannons belched fierce flames forward in succession. The Battle of Yijia Ridge — an engagement that would be recorded in grand detail in the history books — had begun.

The Jingbian Army's great formation still strode forward in long steps. Whether they could withstand the artillery — both sides waited with bated breath to see.

Wild grass rose past the ankles. Across the uneven fields, all was weeds and remnant wheat stalks. This area had originally been mostly farmland, but due to the terrain, the fields could not form large contiguous tracts; they were fragmented and scattered, with numerous raised footpaths between them.

From the moment the siege of Songshan and Jinzhou began, whether Ming troops or Tartars, they had seized and harvested the wheat outside every fort. Yet some remnants still remained. Over the years, these leftover wheat stalks had grown together with the wild grass, now so lush and entangled that no one could tell which was wild grass and which were wheat shoots.

Although these fields had lain abandoned since the war began, they were fields after all, irrigated and harvested year after year. With the added abundance of wild grass, the ground underfoot was still soft and springy. Only, with deep autumn arriving, the weeds had withered yellow, imparting a sense of bleak desolation.

Han Kaichi gripped his long spear. He had just leaped across a trench several chi wide. The water in the trench had nearly dried up, leaving only some mud and murky puddles.

After crossing the trench, he took care to keep his formation aligned with his comrades. They advanced in open order, with a distance of one zhang eight chi between each squad, and even between individual soldiers, a gap of several chi.

Looking out, all around were endless waves of signal horns, drums, and banners. Like Han Kaichi, soldiers in grayish-blue winter coats and brimmed helmets stretched far into the distance on both sides. As they marched, the bright red long tunics beneath their winter coats occasionally showed, lending them an extra edge of sharp valor.

Winter had arrived, and the inner caps of their helmets had been changed to softer, warmer cotton-wool headscarves. Ming soldiers always wrapped headscarves inside their helmets. After the mid-Ming period, these were generally standardized as lake-blue headscarves, fitted with a scarf ring that could be tied around the forehead, much like the net-scarves worn by commoners and scholars.

The long ranks surged forward over the terrain in undulating waves. Han Kaichi looked to his left: Squad Commander Zhao Rongcheng was mounted on horseback. Further left was Platoon Officer Sun Xuesheng, and beyond him, soldiers of other squads and companies.

To the left of the first rank of arquebusiers at the front of their company was the banner of Company Commander Yi's unit. A crack standard-bearer carried a one-zhang wave-pattern great banner, leading the company's officers and soldiers forward. A burly drummer walked beside him, pounding the march cadence with force.

Company Commander Huang Wei, leading the company headquarters' adjutant, discipline officer, morale officer, and other personnel, along with some guards, rode high-spiritedly behind the great banner. The battalion commander's banner was positioned on the left flank of the four-company formation.

A Jingbian Army battalion had eight hundred combat troops, half arquebusiers and half pikemen. The formation they now assumed was four ranks each of arquebusiers and pikemen, with the pikemen following behind their own unit's arquebusiers. Of these, the first three ranks would fight, while the fourth rank of arquebusiers and pikemen served respectively as reserves and replacements for casualties.

The troops of the Rear Battalion and Right Battalion, one on the left and one on the right, were arrayed in a total of eight ranks, forming a formation extremely long from left to right and extremely shallow in depth. With the Xuanfu Garrison New Army on the right flank arranged in the same manner, and all on the march, the battle line stretched for several li across, its edges seemingly invisible to either side.

However, considering the New Army's combat capability, Wang Dou had them specifically hold one battalion in reserve.

As the great army advanced, the terrain inevitably caused the rows of ranks to bend somewhat, or some soldiers to fall out of alignment. This was unavoidable. As long as the army halted, within a quarter-hour they could dress ranks into perfect order.

Han Kaichi looked to the left and right. There were the mounted soldiers of the First-Class Army's remaining battalions. The Rear Battalion and Right Battalion each had two battalions of First-Class troops, all positioned in the forward and left sections of their respective battalions. They too were formed into squads of arquebusiers and pikemen, each battalion advancing in eight ranks, with a gap of over ten paces between battalions.

Compared to the infantry, they were spread even further apart and moved slightly faster. Still, to maintain strict battle formation, they could not outpace the rest by too much. Before the great battle, some officers had suggested letting the First-Class Army advance first, but in this terrain, mounted troops were not much faster than infantry, and after discussion the commanders had abandoned the idea.

Through the heads in front of him, Han Kaichi also caught sight of some cannons, advancing one to two hundred paces ahead of the army's formation.

In this kind of terrain, those heavy cannons were extremely difficult to move. The artillery camp's gunners constantly searched for passable routes. When they encountered difficult spots, the gunners would fiercely whip the horses, or dismount and haul the guns by manpower. Thus their advance had no formation to speak of at all.

Around them, scattered soldiers from the various headquarters stepped out to provide protection. There were also some Night Scouts, along with grenadiers from the supply battalion guarding the left and right.

As they advanced, the ground rose and fell unevenly, but faintly ahead, the banners and pennants of the Second Tatars and the Goryeo dogs' army formations loomed into view. They had deployed a battle formation even larger than the Jingbian Army and the Xuanzhen New Army combined.

Han Kaijiao did not care. As long as they pressed forward, they could rout them utterly. The only threat was their artillery.

Amid the sound of drums and music, Han Kaijiao and his armored brothers crossed a field ridge, then passed through a cluster of trees. Ahead stood a thatched hut, burned to nothing but broken walls and ruins. Han Kaijiao detoured around it, while Wu Dingguo simply clambered straight over the broken walls.

The whole squad threaded through this area one after another. Squad Commander Zhao Rongcheng barked orders to maintain formation.

The view opened up before them — another vast stretch of farmland, equally thick with weeds, with field ridges hidden deep within.

"Forward! Keep formation!"

Amid the drums and music, the officers' roars rang out from time to time. Looking around, the eight ranks of mounted and foot Jingbian Army warriors, front and rear, slowly regained their strict order.

Looking across the Great Ming, only they could do this. The Xuanzhen New Army on the right flank, having marched this far, was already in disarray front and rear, no longer in formation. Of course, this was relative to the Jingbian Army; to an outside army's eyes, their formation still appeared quite orderly.

Suddenly Han Kaijiao's gaze sharpened. Beside him and ahead, large pits appeared from time to time, with tall mounds of earth and stone beside them, all sprinkled with lime.

"Attention! Entering the Second Tatars' artillery range — front and rear ranks, stagger!"

The shouts of the officers in the division rang out. Han Kaijiao glanced at the warriors in the front few ranks and instinctively shifted a little to the right, rather than keeping the front and rear ranks aligned.

All at once, the piercing sound of swan-whistles rose from the Second Tatars' side. Then cannons roared, white smoke billowed across the mountain ridge, and a great howling filled the air as countless solid iron balls came hurtling toward them.

"The Second Tatars have opened fire!"

Though his will to fight was firm, Han Kaijiao still felt some unease in his heart as he looked toward the direction the cannonballs were coming from.

A chilling howl rushed close. With a thunderous boom, an iron ball weighing over ten jin slammed heavily into the ground several dozen paces ahead and to the right, throwing up a great mass of black mud and tangled weeds, but the cannonball did not bounce.

Han Kaijiao let out a breath of relief. This kind of terrain was still advantageous for their side. Beside him, he could hear the faint sighs of relief from his brothers as well.

Artillery howled, and more and more of the Second Tatars' cannonballs came flying. Fortunately, their aim was poor — some fell short, some fell long. And because of the terrain, even when cannonballs struck the farmland, most could hardly bounce, or rolled only a short distance.

One cannonball slammed fiercely into the ground just a few paces in front of Han Kaijiao. The earth seemed to tremble several times. Flying mud and shredded grass splattered onto Han Kaijiao's armor, and a deep crater appeared before his eyes.

As he passed by, Han Kaijiao deliberately glanced at the crater several times, secretly alarmed. If that cannonball had struck a person, truly not a shred of bone or flesh would remain.

He steadied himself. The pressure from the red-barbarian cannons was considerable, but he firmly believed he could hold on until they reached the Second Tatars' lines.

Yet as they marched on, although many of the Second Tatars' cannon shots missed, some cannonballs still inflicted casualties on the Jingbian Army.

While most of the farmland before them was soft, there were also places where the ground was dry, cracked, and hard — especially where the terrain rose relatively higher.

When Han Kaijiao advanced with the army into a patch of cracked ground, a howling cannonball came slanting in. With a boom, the heavy solid shot smashed into the hard earth, raising a great cloud of dust, then bounced high, spinning rapidly as it hurtled toward the ranks of the Second Battalion marching several paces away, bounding on for over a dozen zhang.

Flesh and blood could not stop the cannonball's rampage. This ten-jin solid iron ball plowed into the crowd like dry weeds and rotten wood, effortlessly carving open a bloody alleyway of flesh.

Coming from an oblique angle, this solid cannonball inflicted severe casualties on multiple arquebusiers and pikemen across the eight front and rear ranks of the Second Battalion.

A mist-like spray of fresh blood and shredded flesh erupted before his eyes. Several ranks away to the right front, half the body of an arquebusier was simply obliterated. Han Kaijiao only saw a blur of dust flash past. Before he could react, not far beside him, a pikeman from his own squad was already rolling on the ground, clutching his thigh.

His thigh had been severed clean at the root, exposing the ghastly white bone within. Blood gushed from the stump like a fountain.

Broken limbs and shredded flesh flew and scattered. Like this soldier, after the cannonball tore through, many soldiers collapsed to the ground.

Though they struggled with all their might to endure, the immense agony still forced agonized screams from their lips.

Han Kaijiao bit his lower lip, grief welling in his heart. That wounded brother had only recently been assigned to the squad as a replacement. He had once been full of hope for the future, vowing earnestly to earn military merit and make his family proud of him. But just as great merit was within reach, he would now have to retire wounded and crippled. All the glory of military merit would have nothing to do with him.

He could not help but want to turn his head and look back. Squad Commander Zhao Rongcheng bellowed, "Don't stop! Keep advancing!"

At that moment, the drums and music within the division grew even more impassioned. The officers' commands rose one after another: "Forward! Stride forward!"

Han Kaijiao cast aside all thoughts and, with his assembled brothers, roared in response: "Forward! Forward!"

Amid the howling artillery, the Jingbian Army continued its advance, accompanied by the sound of drums and music. The unbroken battle formation pressed onward without pause.

……

The Han Eight Banners' artillery on the mountain ridge was mostly aimed at the Jingbian Army. After the bombardment, Kong Youde and the others watched the results with urgent anticipation.

Yet they saw that most of the cannonballs had missed — either falling a little short of the Jingbian Army's ranks, or a little long. After all, from a distance of several li, the gunners could only see tiny human figures; hitting them was truly difficult.

Even where there were range markers, a hair's breadth of error meant a miss of a thousand li. Raising or lowering the muzzle even slightly meant an error of dozens or even a hundred meters — especially when the target was in motion.

The Jingbian Army advanced in dispersed formation, which also reduced the Qing artillery's hit rate. Their array was merely four ranks in front and four ranks behind; viewed from afar, it was extremely thin.

The terrain further reduced the artillery's hit rate and lethality. Some columns happened to be marching behind low hills and slopes — needless to say, this area was mostly farmland, and much of it was soft.

Kong Youde saw one cannonball land not far in front of a Jingbian Army column. Apart from splashing them with mud, it caused no casualties at all. Some cannonballs struck into the Jingbian Army's ranks, only to pass through the gaps between them.

There were also cannonballs that flew into sparse woods where Jingbian Army troops were advancing. The shells went in, but no one knew what effect they had.

Even so, some cannonballs did achieve results. Kong Youde watched with surprise and delight as a solid iron ball, upon bouncing, happened to slam obliquely into a marching column of Jingbian Army infantry. Amid a mist of blood, broken limbs and shredded flesh, along with fragments of armor, flew into the air.

This cannonball inflicted severe casualties on the Jingbian Army arquebusiers and pikemen in the eight front and rear ranks at that spot.

Another cannonball spun rapidly, slicing in from the flank toward a wave of advancing Jingbian Army cavalry and infantry...

"Good! Just like that! Pound them hard!"

Kong Youde shouted his approval. Shi Tingzhu and the others roared with laughter. Across the Han Eight Banners' position, a great wave of cheering rose as well.

Although in this first wave of bombardment the artillery battalion had achieved little — out of ten shells fired, only a few hit — they had at last gained some results. As the Jingbian Army drew closer, they could aim more accurately and achieve greater effect.

They had suffered more than enough from the Jingbian Army's artillery. Now that they could bombard them while the enemy had to take the beating without being able to retaliate — just thinking about it was immensely satisfying!

Edward put down his telescope thoughtfully and passed down the order: "All artillery, fire from the flank as much as possible!"

"Fire!"

"Fire!"

"Fire!"

Amid the roars, the Qing camp's artillery fired round after round. Every part of Yijia Ridge was shrouded in dense smoke.

The Qing gunners who had fired earlier frantically pushed their cannons back into position, using ranging boards to urgently recalculate the distance once more. Other gunners desperately swabbed the barrels and reloaded the ammunition.

Because they were firing in three-round volleys, their barrels had more time to cool. Following the markers, those gunners could also take aim more calmly.

Cannons boomed. Heavy solid iron balls traced long arcs through the air, slamming fiercely into the earth ahead. Kong Youde saw bursts of bloody mist erupt from time to time within the Jingbian Army's infantry formation and the Xuanzhen New Army. He even saw a Jingbian Army battalion commander's banner topple — though it was quickly raised again.