Chapter 804: Red Eyes

The follow-up moves Han Kaixuan had anticipated — such as the Ten-Thousand-Man Enemy — never came into play. The killing power and shock effect of the eastern-route firearms proved greater than imagined, and the foot soldiers’ performance was little better than the famine refugees of the previous day; in fact, when it came to clinging to life, they surpassed them.

After the defenders behind the low wall fired three volleys, the attackers predictably fell into chaos.

Their supporting archers and firearms troops were suppressed by the large rockets from behind the low wall and could not provide effective aid. Seeing that the spearmen behind the low wall also showed signs of charging out, the battalion commander leading the troops, having learned the lesson of the previous day, decisively ordered a retreat. This wave of the roving bandits’ offensive thus ended rather anticlimactically.

But this was only the beginning of a bitter fight. No sooner had this wave of roving bandits retreated, and before the defenders behind the low wall even had time to clear the battlefield, than that wave of bandits withdrew along the road to the opposite plateau face. Among the ten battle formations the roving bandits had on the plateau slope, yet another formation, amid shouted orders, charged down the road and continued the assault on the defensive line.

Then, as soon as this wave of roving bandits retreated, another wave came down. They advanced relentlessly over the corpses of their comrades, giving the defenders not a moment to catch their breath.

That day, the roving bandits launched a full ten waves of attacks on Jia-5. They did not withdraw to camp until the sun was about to set. In front of the low wall, blood flowed like a river, and a piercing stench of blood hung thick in the air.

The defenders behind the low wall went from initial excitement to frenzy, and finally sank into numbness. Each of the roving bandits’ attacks did not last long, but the frequency was high and the intensity great. Often, one wave had just receded when the next arrived. The defenders had no time even to clear the battlefield or carry away the dead before they had to brace for combat again.

In particular, the intervals between each attack were far too short, keeping everyone’s nerves at a high pitch of tension, and their physical strength simply could not hold out. In contrast, the roving bandits on the opposite side only needed to attack once per formation, and then it would not be their turn again for the rest of the day. They held an absolute advantage in troop numbers; it was just that the terrain prevented them from deploying them all.

The defenders guarding the first line of low walls spent that day in ceaseless killing and ceaseless close-quarters struggle, reaching the limits of both body and spirit.

By the morning of the second day, Han Kaixuan had no choice but to transfer defenders from other low walls at Jia-5 to relieve them. By the afternoon of the third day, Sun Chuanting also had to transfer new troops from the Forbidden Trench, West Plateau, and other places to rotate with the defenders at Yuanwang Trench.

In just a few short days, the Shaanxi New Army could no longer find any fresh recruits. Every day, blood and madness played out upon this narrow plateau trench, and every day the roving bandits launched at least ten waves of attacks. Lives were ceaselessly consumed, especially on the roving bandits’ side, where human life was held even cheaper in their eyes.

In the end, both sides fought until their eyes turned red with bloodlust, and casualties grew ever larger. Yet no matter how they fought, the Yuanwang Trench defensive line still stood firm.

…

Five days later.

The tenth day of the fifth month, in the sixteenth year of the Chongzhen reign. The Jia-5 defensive line, afternoon.

Corpses covered the slope, broken banners and equipment lay everywhere. The scorching sun beat down on the yellow earth, the sweltering heat making one’s whole body miserable. The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder smoke and the stench of blood, which, under the fierce sunlight, gave off waves of a nauseating, strange odor.

With a thunderous boom, a Crouching Tiger cannon let out a roar like a thunderclap. Amid a great burst of sharp, acrid smoke and flame, over a hundred thumb-thick iron pellets shot out in a frantic rush. These five-mace pellets swept across, and amid the flying dirt and debris rose patches of bloody mist.

Amid shrill, agonized screams, over a dozen foot soldiers from the Mountain Patrol Battalion scrambled and crawled back in retreat. Some remained on the ground, rolling about. Without exception, bloody holes had appeared on their bodies, the wounds shocking to behold. As they rolled on the ground, they let out sounds of indescribable agony.

“Forward!”

The veteran soldiers holding the line let out furious roars.

The foot soldiers on the slope hesitated, crowding together. Before they could move, from the three stepped cliffs at the intersecting path, dark, ominous gun muzzles poked out again. The crackling rattle of arquebuses erupted, and white smoke billowed from the cliffs. Another swath of foot soldiers on the slope collapsed in unison.

Soldiers who had been shot tumbled to the ground. They clutched their wounds, letting out howls of utter misery.

“Suppress their firearms!”

The veteran soldiers holding the line bellowed, even as they cut down several archers who were trying to flee.

Amid the panic and hesitation, suddenly another cry of alarm rose from the crowd — several round, rolling objects had been hurled out from behind the low wall.

“Ten-Thousand-Man Enemy!”

Amid the terrified screams of the crowd, these objects landed on the slope. A series of explosions rang out, and great billowing clouds of thick smoke rose, mixed with shrill howls. Some foot soldiers who could not dodge in time were blown into a bloody pulp. Not just at this intersection — from every section of the low wall, Ten-Thousand-Man Enemies were thrown out like raindrops. The thunderous blasts came one after another, and the officers and men of the Mountain Patrol Battalion on the slope and road were blasted into howling chaos.

Those struck by the explosions rolled on the ground, dripping with blood, screaming as they struggled and crawled with all their might.

The remaining men could no longer suppress the terror in their hearts and fled howling down the mountain.

“No retreat!”

A veteran soldier in yellow cotton armor tried to stop the rout, but suddenly an arquebus boomed. A mist of blood burst from his chest, and his whole body flew backward, tumbling all the way down the slope — he had been hit by a Jingbian Army hunting cavalryman from behind the low wall.

Arquebus shots rang out one after another. One by one, veteran soldiers who tried to stop the retreat were shot down. The remaining veterans no longer dared to block the way. Just then, spearmen roared as they charged out from behind the low wall. The battalion commander leading the troops seized the moment to shout: “Retreat! All troops retreat…”

Immediately, the soldiers of the Mountain Patrol Battalion retreated like a receding tide, marking the failure of their seventh assault on Jia-5 for the day…

The Mountain Patrol Battalion commander led his remnant troops dejectedly up onto the plateau slope. On the various level platforms sat soldiers of the Mountain Patrol Battalion, with grass-mat shelters erected above them to block the increasingly fierce sunlight. Some camp servants moved about, carrying over buckets of water. It was already mid-fifth month, which by the later solar calendar would be late June or nearly July, approaching the height of summer. The temperature was getting higher and higher. Without grass-mat shelters to block the sun and drinking water to replenish fluids, who could stand for so long under the blazing heat?

However, obtaining grass-mat shelters and drinking water also depended on the skills of each battalion’s quartermaster department. To get grain and fodder, the supply officers had to use every trick in the book. The veteran battalions could not supply the outer battalions in every detail; they had to fend for themselves. In essence, the Chuang camp was a place where the strong preyed on the weak.

The soldiers sat numbly under the grass-mat shelters. Watching these routed troops come up, they merely looked at them in silence. The brutal warfare had already worn away all their passion.

On a platform near the top of the plateau stood a large command banner. Around the banner gathered some slightly more elite-looking soldiers. Old Hu and Kong San stood beneath the banner, and beside them was a fierce-looking young man — their personal commander, Batiao.

The battalion commander came before Old Hu. He hesitated, his expression somewhat ashamed. “Master Hu…”

Old Hu waved his hand. “Say nothing. Take the brothers to rest.”

Kong San handed over a water canteen with some salt added inside, which could effectively replenish the salt the body lost. The battalion commander took it and gulped down half the canteen, only then looking somewhat better.

Looking exhausted, he led his remnant troops up to the top of the plateau. The battalion quartermaster had set up a camp there, where the Mountain Patrol Battalion cooked their meals. Compared to the platform area, the camp allowed the soldiers to rest better.

Some veteran soldiers who had been supervising the battle also went up to the plateau top. As that picket commander passed by, he shot Old Hu and the others a resentful glare.

Old Hu watched these veteran soldiers, dejected and with their ranks greatly thinned, and could not help feeling a bit of schadenfreude. “The veterans took heavy losses this time, eh? Probably over a dozen dead, I reckon?”

He saw that Kong San was just silently gazing down below. After sneaking a glance left and right, he lowered his voice and asked, “So, what do you say? Do we keep fighting?”

Kong San looked down at the trench, where gunpowder smoke hung thick, the sounds of cannons and arquebuses were everywhere, and battle cries never ceased. He said in a deep voice, “We fight. Prepare for the next wave!”

Old Hu sighed and muttered, “When will this ever end?”

The stubbornness of the Yuanwang Trench defenders exceeded everyone’s expectations. In fact, in the eyes of the Chuang camp, the troops defending the trench were not many — the New Army plus garrison troops amounted to roughly twenty thousand men. Yet for this assault on Tongguan, the Chuang camp, counting even the famine refugees, had a total force of three hundred thousand, nearly over ten times that of the Ming army. Even counting the Ming troops defending the Forbidden Trench and Tongguan, a solid tenfold advantage in troop numbers still existed.

But this infuriating terrain and these vicious defensive lines meant that no matter how many troops they had, they could not be brought to bear. The only time they tried to force a massed assault was the disastrous defeat on the third day. So after that catastrophe, the Chuang camp changed their battle plan, making foot soldiers the main force, supplemented by famine refugees, with some veteran troops acting as supervisors.

This change in plan shifted the core of the fighting onto the one hundred fifty thousand outer-battalion foot soldiers. The core veteran battalions could not be committed; at most, they served as supervising squads. The famine refugees were useless. The tough, bitter fighting could only be shouldered by the foot battalions. The terrain was treacherous, the defenders resolute, and all sorts of sharp, lethal weapons emerged one after another. Thus, the foot battalions fought very hard, and the utter lack of any prospect of victory was especially disheartening.

The Mountain Patrol Battalion was participating in battle for the second time today. Two days earlier, they had also attacked Jia-5 and had once managed to break through the second defensive line, pushing right up to the third low wall. That had caused a great stir at the time, and even many veteran battalion officers had taken notice of their presence.

Of course, the result was that the Mountain Patrol Battalion suffered heavy casualties, and in particular, the officers and soldiers within the battalion who were at odds with Old Hu and his faction were all used up. So, when their turn came again today, they were more or less just going through the motions.

But in truth, even if they fought seriously, it was extremely difficult to break into those defensive lines on the opposite plateau slope. That day, the Mountain Patrol Battalion had broken into the second low wall at enormous cost, but then the defenders organized a counter-charge with spearmen and retook the lost stronghold. They fought back and forth inside and outside the low wall. Even now, just thinking about that bloody, grinding seesaw battle still sent chills through Old Hu.

What was especially terrifying were those Shaanxi New Army soldiers, every one of them fearless in the face of death and utterly ferocious.

In fact, their numbers were not large. The various battalions now knew that the Ming army had divided Yuanwang Trench into over a dozen defensive sectors, each with roughly a thousand men, half of whom were New Army troops, and each with three or five lines of low-wall defenses. That meant each defensive sector had only four or five hundred, or five or six hundred New Army soldiers, and even fewer when distributed among the individual low walls.

In contrast, on their side, each corresponding sector always had four or five thousand, or five or six thousand troops, reaching up to ten thousand if the famine refugees were counted. Even though the terrain prevented them from swarming in all at once, with each wave of a thousand men attacking in an endless cycle of rotating assaults… The various battalions all said that if the opposite side were defended only by garrison troops, they would have fought their way across the trench long ago. What a pity.

The Chuang camp’s intent was to trade lives with the opponent, to trade attrition, to wear down their troop numbers and break their will. Now, it seemed, the hoped-for results on all fronts were nowhere in sight. Whether they had managed to wear down the defenders’ numbers was unknown, but it was certain that their own side was being ceaselessly worn down.