Chapter 318: Holding Huangtu Ridge to the Death

Lei Sanxiang was pointing at the northwest of the Ganzhou Basin, at the mouth of a river valley.

The staff officer accompanying the army introduced: "This is northwest of Taipingxu, the mouth of the Longhua River valley. After the Longhua River exits the valley, it flows into the Shangyou River, which then flows east into the Zhang River.

It is currently the dry season—the Longhua River is less than four chi deep and less than thirty zhang wide. The Shangyou River is less than eight chi deep and less than forty zhang wide."

In other words, the Shangyou River could barely accommodate flat-bottomed boats under fifty tons, while the Longhua River was essentially only passable by rafts—transporting grain, pay, troops, or supplies was out of the question.

Lei Sanxiang continued: "The Zhu Bird men fear our navy, so their march route stays far from the Gan River. That means, to enter the Ganzhou Basin, he must go through Longquan County, enter the Longhua River, and then connect to the Shangyou River.

This route happens to bypass our main force and strike directly at our rear! So we block the valley mouth and keep him from getting out. Then we send a detachment to take Huangtianduan, leaving the Zhu Bird men no room to maneuver—trapped and starved to death in the valley!"

Of course, foolishly sending men straight into an ambush wouldn't work—the Ming army had scout riders and Night Scouts who would reconnoiter in advance.

Zhu Dadian had successively wiped out several 'Shovel Kings,' clearly a man who understood warfare—he would never charge headlong into a trap.

Back in the Battle of Sarhu, Du Song hadn't fallen into the ambush purely out of stupidity either; the Jianzhou barbarians' tactics were genuinely exquisite.

Now Lei Sanxiang intended to learn from the Jianzhou barbarians' methods. Modeling his plan on the Battle of Sarhu, he assigned tasks to each of his officers one by one, and finally said: "For this plan to succeed, the most critical thing is having someone delay the enemy—in plain terms, buying time for the main force.

To avoid scaring the enemy off, the force can't be too large. This is a dangerous job of trading life for life—who will go?"

Zhang Moye didn't hesitate for a moment, speaking up: "I'll go!"

Lei Sanxiang said: "Good! You'll take one battalion and one company, and I'll also transfer an artillery banner company to you!"

Lei Sanxiang was silent for a moment, then said: "The Longhua River and the Gan River are over forty li apart, and the entire stretch is hills and mountain ranges—very difficult terrain.

The brothers will have to traverse the mountain paths on foot; within a single day, they may not make it in time.

The hills and earthen slopes at the Longhua River mouth are numerous, but none of them match the defensive peril of Jilin Cliff.

So, in this battle, you'll need to hold out longer—it may even turn extremely bloody. I'm counting on you!"

Zhang Moye clasped his fists: "Rest assured, Regional Commander—this officer will not fail his mission!"

To be safe, Lei Sanxiang sent the battle plan by fast horse to the Guangzhou General Staff Department, and only executed it after receiving approval.

A few days later, heavy rain fell across southern Ganzhou, and the second year of Zhongxuan arrived amid a continuous veil of moisture.

The Ming vanguard had already reached Longquan County. Following Zhu Dadian's instructions, they dispatched several hundred scout riders to gather intelligence in the surrounding area, with particular emphasis on reconnoitering the river valley zone from the Longhua River to the Shangyou River.

A few days later, the scout riders brought back an interesting piece of news—the Southern Xia rebel troops were running short on supplies.

In Ji'an Prefecture, Zhu Dadian was busy working his abacus, calculating how much wealth he had scraped together. Hearing this, the clicking of the abacus stopped. He looked up and said: "Truly?"

He Guodian, the Jiangxi Regional Military Commissioner's Assistant and commander of the vanguard army, said: "Absolutely true. This officer's scout riders learned from Taiping and other places that the rebels are exchanging sweets, dried meat, and similar goods with the local populace for rice and grain, at very low exchange rates. Moreover, in the days before the new year, large groups of soldiers were seen returning to Guangdong along the Gan River."

Zhu Dadian frowned in deep thought.

The Southern Xia rebel troops were all pampered soldiers—the Ming army knew this well. When Lin Qian fought at Poyang Lake, there had been instances of trading with the populace.

But that time, the rebels had uniformly used yuan-yang silver to buy grain from the people. This time, the common soldiers were trading their own rations for food—a fundamentally different nature.

Chu Shixun, the Ji'an Assistant Regional Commander standing nearby, said: "Your Excellency, although the rebels currently control the Gan River shipping lane, it is now the dry season—water transport can only cover the line from Nankang to Ganzhou.

From Guangdong to Nankang, they still must go overland, through the Meiling Ancient Road, crossing the Dayu Ridge.

That road is steep, wide enough for only five horses abreast, and cannot accommodate carts. All army supplies must be carried by porters and pack animals—resupply is extremely difficult.

Moreover, in winter the road is cold and slippery; porters suffer heavy casualties and attrition, and conscription is difficult as well.

The rebels have been besieging the city for over half a year now—by all logic, they should be running short on supplies."

Never mind the Southern Xia rebels—even Zhu Dadian's own Ming troops, fighting on home ground, were short on supplies.

Due to the slave revolts, summer farming had been delayed across all prefectures and counties from Nanchang to the Ji'an Prefecture area, causing a sharp reduction in the autumn harvest—famine was breaking out everywhere.

Zhu Dadian had strained every sinew to scrape together supplies, barely managing to assemble rations for the main army.

Transporting these military grains from Nanchang, Ji'an, and elsewhere to the front-line troops would consume the vast majority of them.

Moreover, the rebels constantly harassed his grain supply lines along the Gan River, even joining forces with several 'Shovel Kings' to raid and disrupt together.

Zhu Dadian had no other choice—he had to win quickly.

Now that the rebels were short on supplies and pulling troops back to Guangdong, perhaps this was the perfect opportunity. As long as he seized Nankang—that vital choke point—the rebels' retreat route and supply line would both be cut at once, and they would collapse without even fighting.

Zhu Dadian's heart gave a violent thump. He commanded: "Transmit this commander's order—the army marches at full speed, advancing into the Longhua River valley!"

Half a month later, the Ming vanguard had reached Chongxingduan. This place was only a little over twenty li from the valley mouth, so the Ming vanguard set up camp here and continued sending scout riders roving in all directions.

Although the terrain around the Longhua River was rugged, it was mainly mountainous—scout cavalry could gallop and roam without obstruction.

The Xia army sentries, however, were unskilled in mounted combat and also short on horses, so most conducted their reconnaissance on foot. The two sides' sentries had already clashed frequently, with casualties on both sides.

The Ming scout riders, after all, had horses. Charging recklessly through the mountain forests, they could always find gaps in the Xia sentries' defenses, slipping into the Ganzhou Basin to reconnoiter at will.

Zhang Moye's defensive arrangements at the valley mouth were soon scouted out in complete detail.

At this time, the Ming main force led by Zhu Dadian had already arrived at Huangtianduan.

This place was fourteen li north of Chongxingduan, with a straight-line distance of forty li to the Zhang River. The entire route was peaks and hills, with difficult roads—extremely safe.

The land here was flat, the terrain open, and villages surrounded the area—suitable for a large army to encamp. Zhu Dadian ordered the main camp set up here.

For days on end, southern Ganzhou had seen overcast rain after overcast rain, putting Zhu Dadian in an excellent mood. Walking through the camp, he took a deep breath of the damp air, paying no mind at all as his military boots became caked with mud.

Chu Shixun, the Ji'an Assistant Regional Commander following behind him, also said with a delighted expression: "The continuous overcast rain in southern Ganzhou will surely dampen the rebels' gunpowder, making it hard to ignite in battle—Heaven aids Your Excellency!"

Zhu Dadian revealed a smile, but still said: "Don't speak too soon."

"Your Excellency is right.

"How much of the army's gunpowder has been dampened?"

Chu Shixun said: "One-tenth dampened."

Zhu Dadian instructed: "Order the soldiers to guard it strictly."

His army had come from afar, marching into southern Ganzhou, and still one-tenth of their gunpowder had been dampened; the Southern Xia rebels, stationed here all along, must have had even more of their gunpowder affected.

The Ming army in southern Ganzhou had been locked in stalemate with the rebels for a long time and knew well that their firearms were formidable while their melee combat was mediocre. With this heavy rain dampening the enemy's firearms—wasn't this a heaven-sent opportunity?

As the two men were walking, a fast horse came from the distance. The rider dismounted and reported: "Reporting to Your Excellency, our scout riders have spotted rebel movements. Over a thousand rebels are stationed at the Longhua River valley mouth, on Huangtu Ridge."

Hearing this, Zhu Dadian said: "The map!"

The personal guards behind him immediately stepped forward and unfolded the map.

Zhu Dadian narrowed his eyes, extended a finger, and searched along the river valley for Yellow Earth Ridge. After a moment he found it at the valley mouth—the name was written very small, utterly inconspicuous.

The dispatch rider said: "Yellow Earth Ridge is a gentle slope higher in the south and lower in the north, facing directly toward the river valley. The hilltop is no more than seven or eight zhang high, and the surrounding terrain is completely flat with no natural defenses to hold."

For this campaign, Zhu Dadian had brought twenty thousand battle troops, gathering elites from five regions—Zhejiang soldiers, Zhenxuan Tusi troops, Southern Zhili camp soldiers, Huguang camp soldiers, and Ganzhou soldiers. In sheer numbers he completely crushed the thousand-odd rebel defenders at Yellow Earth Ridge; taking this little earthen mound probably wouldn't even take a full two hours.

Chu Shixun clapped his hands and said: "Excellent! The rebels must have placed their main force before the walls of Ganzhou, defending both banks of the Gan River. They never expected our army to take the river valley. As long as we take Yellow Earth Ridge, Nankang's gate lies wide open. Your Excellency, give me three thousand troops, and I swear I will capture Yellow Earth Ridge!"

Zhu Dadian was silent for a long while, then slowly shook his head: "The Southern Xia rebels have won victory after victory in naval combat. Their land forces shouldn't be this stupid and clumsy. Nankang's main gate is wide open, and our intelligence faces no obstruction—could this be a trap? Have the surroundings of Yellow Earth Ridge been scouted? What is the movement of the rebel main force?"

The dispatch rider said: "Everything within a hundred li of Yellow Earth Ridge has been scouted—there are no ambushes. The rebel main force is scattered across Ganzhou and Nankang. Additionally, a portion of their troops is positioned northeast of Ganzhou, on the upper reaches of the Gong River."

"Haha, Your Excellency's deception has borne fruit!" Chu Shixun laughed.

Since ancient times, there have been three routes from Nanchang to Ganzhou—east, west, and middle. The middle route follows the Gan River, but that road is now blocked off by the rebels and cannot be used.

The west route is the one Zhu Dadian is currently taking: departing from Nanchang, passing through Ji'an Prefecture and Longquan County (present-day Suichuan County, not the Longquan in Zhejiang), then following the Longhua River Valley into the Ganzhou basin.

The west route is rugged and difficult to traverse, so when large armies pass through, they do not take this road. They all take the east route, passing through Xingguo County, along the upper Gong River, and into Ganzhou.

The east route is also where the official highway from Nanchang to Ganzhou of the Great Ming lies—broad roads, flat terrain, suited for the march of a large army.

Zhu Dadian chose the west route, first to catch the enemy off guard, and second to be able to bypass the rebel main force and strike directly at their rear.

To deceive the rebels, before setting out, Zhu Dadian dispatched over a thousand men on the east route carrying large numbers of banners, raising dust by dragging brushwood to create a show of force, and also ordered the east-route army to frequently send out scout cavalry to skirmish with the rebels.

As it now appeared, the rebels had indeed fallen for the ruse!

Still, Zhu Dadian felt somewhat uneasy. His deception was hardly profound—the rebels had fallen for it almost too easily.

The rebels' navy was as cunning as monkeys. Could their army truly be this stupid?

Just as he hesitated, the staff officer beside him said: "Your Excellency, our army's grain is running low. Chen Ping'an, the Bandit-Suppressing King, has been harassing our supply lines around Ji'an Prefecture. If we do not force a quick battle now, we can only retreat. To remain stalemated any longer may work against us."

In Zhu Dadian's mind flashed the image of Yuan Chonghuan being sliced to pieces by a thousand cuts—among his six great crimes was one of halting his troops without giving battle.

Now, if he, Zhu Dadian, rashly retreated and word of it reached the capital, would he too be branded as one who feared the enemy and avoided battle?

Besides, an arrow loosed from the bow cannot turn back. Since the scout cavalry had already exchanged blows and his strategic intent was exposed, he could only walk this road to the dark end.

Whatever the rebels' intentions, a mere thousand-odd men could never stop his great army. Once he entered the Ganzhou plain, his troops would be a dragon entering the sea—whether to strike straight south at Nankang, or northeast to join with the Ganzhou garrison in pincer attacks on the rebels, would be entirely his call.

Zhu Dadian pondered a moment, then said in a deep voice: "Ji'an Assistant Regional Commander Chu Shixun, hear my command."

"Your subordinate is here!" Chu Shixun knelt on one knee in the mud without the slightest hesitation.

"I am assigning you three thousand troops, and the two thousand soldiers of the vanguard are also under your command! Within three days, take Yellow Earth Ridge!"

The twenty-fifth day of the first month, Zhongxuan second year, early morning.

Chu Shixun led five thousand men out of the Longhua River Valley, and before him lay Yellow Earth Ridge, arrayed in stern defense.

Though Yellow Earth Ridge was only an earthen slope, it faced directly toward the valley mouth, with cannon barrels pointed straight at the valley exit—the Ming army simply could not come out.

To the east was the Longhua River, to the west were rolling hills—both unfavorable for marching. The flat ground in the middle of the valley was only about a hundred-odd zhang wide. A force of five thousand could not deploy properly; charging forward all at once would simply make them targets for the cannons.

Moreover, the trees and vegetation around Yellow Earth Ridge had already been cleared by the Xia army, leaving the field of fire completely unobstructed. The ridge was also surrounded by numerous trenches and cheval-de-frise fortifications, with soldiers shielded behind sandbags—it was built like a small fortress.

Chu Shixun first sent fifty roaming cavalry to circle before Yellow Earth Ridge, trying to provoke the enemy into firing, but the Xia army showed no reaction at all.

The roaming cavalry grew bolder, closing to within three hundred paces—still no movement.

They advanced to within two hundred paces, and some even dismounted and began shifting the cheval-de-frise.

On Yellow Earth Ridge, Zhang Moye lowered his telescope and said in a cold voice: "Fire shots to drive them off."

"Raise muskets!" the front-army Company Commander shouted loudly. The four hundred-odd men under him formed two ranks and together raised their muskets to their shoulders.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

On Yellow Earth Ridge, a sound like hail striking the ground rang out, and thick gunsmoke billowed forth.

Around the Ming roaming cavalry, a series of whistling sounds erupted. Mud splashed around them, trees were struck by bullets and let out dull thuds, and three or four soldiers who had been moving the cheval-de-frise were hit, collapsing on the spot into the dirt, motionless.

The remaining roaming cavalry were startled and hastily fell back.

Seeing this, Chu Shixun cursed: "Utterly reckless fools! Battalion Commander Zhao!"

"Your subordinate is here!" A general wearing cloth-faced armor ran to his horse and saluted with cupped hands.

"Take all the army's cannons to the western hills, and find your opportunity to press forward against the enemy formation!

Battalion Commander Li, take your men east across the Longhua River and circle around to flank the enemy.

Wang Ge, I'm giving you fifteen hundred men to prepare for a frontal charge. You three each go make your preparations—in two hours, the cannon shot will be the signal!"

"Yes!" The three named commanders each went to rally their men, and before long the Ming army formation began to stir.

Neither the western hills nor the Longhua River counted as natural barriers—troops could cross them with ease, only supplies were inconvenient to move through.

On Yellow Earth Ridge, the Xia Vice Regional Commander saw this and said: "General, the Ming army is preparing to get serious."

"Have the soldiers make ready!" Zhang Moye's expression was calm, but his palms were already slick with sweat.

The Ming army outnumbered him five to one, spread out across the hills and the river valley. Gazing into the distance, they were a vast, pitch-black mass—an overwhelming pressure.

Before long, a booming horn sound erupted from within the Ming army formation.

"Moo—" The piercing sound of the great horn rang out.

Suddenly, earth-shaking war cries burst forth from the front of Yellow Earth Ridge as lines of soldiers formed into ranks and charged forward.

"Eight hundred paces!"

On the artillery position, the lookout shouted.

This distance was absolutely precise, for the ground had been measured beforehand and the lookout had landmarks for reference.

Zhang Moye raised his telescope and saw that the river valley in the distance was already packed full of Ming soldiers, like a vast swamp of gray-black mud.

"Five hundred paces!" the lookout called out.

At this moment Zhang Moye saw that the Ming army was broadly divided into three horizontal ranks, each rank five hundred men—exactly the strength under one Company Commander.

Three or four zhang of space was left between each rank. From a broad view it seemed quite orderly, but in truth the formations were ragged—the front-rank soldiers moved at uneven speeds, those in the middle jostled and shoved, and the officers in the rear shouted curses.

"General, Ming artillery has been spotted on the hills northwest of the Ming army!" the Vice Regional Commander suddenly said.

Zhang Moye raised his telescope and looked—the Ming artillery numbered about five hundred men, and all they had were tiger-crouch cannons and light Folangji breech-loading cannons, looking dull and lackluster. The Ming artillerymen were in the middle of loading.

Moments later, dozens of thunderous booms rang out, cannonballs sparsely landing before the Yellow Earth Mound, causing almost no effective casualties.

On the contrary, the Ming troops charging head-on were invigorated by the sound of the cannons and shouted even louder.

It seemed the purpose of firing the cannons was more to embolden the soldiers.

"Three hundred paces!"

The lookout loudly updated the distance again.

"Fire!" said Zhang Moye.

The messenger bellowed, repeating the order.

"Prepare—release!" the artillery squad leader shouted.

Then came a single thunderous boom that shook the entire Yellow Earth Mound to its core—fifteen twenty-four-pounder cannons roared in unison, sending all the mud on the mound churning violently.

Twenty solid shot cannonballs screamed through the air and slammed into the muddy ground before the Ming troops, mud splattering like rain.

One cannonball tore into the crowd, carving a bloody furrow straight through the Ming formation—along a single line, twelve Ming soldiers in total were reduced to scattered flesh and blood, a mist of gore spreading as blood stained the mud dark red.

Two more shots caused casualties as well; the rest all missed their mark.

The first volley was only a ranging shot, meant to calibrate the firing angle. The artillery squad leader held a firing table in one hand and an iron megaphone in the other, shouting at his men: "Lower the elevation to twenty degrees!"

Amid the drifting gunpowder smoke, each gun crew loaded ammunition while adjusting their firing angles.

Moments later, reports of loaded cannons came in sequence from each crew, and the northwest wind scattered some of the smoke, revealing the hazy battlefield.

The artillery squad leader waved his hand: "Fire!"

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The thunderous sounds echoed endlessly through the river valley, the ground trembling beneath their feet, cannon carriages plowing two deep furrows into the muddy earth.

A dozen-odd dark shapes flew at high speed, several cannonballs burrowing into the Ming formation like venomous snakes. A chorus of screams erupted as the Ming battle line seemed to have its flesh torn open by sharp claws, blood pouring freely.

Bombarding Ganzhou City with cannons was useless, and the Yellow Earth Mound lacked troops, so Lei Sanxiang had transferred his best artillery to Zhang Moye. These fifteen were all siege cannons of tremendous power—the force of a single shot was simply not something flesh and blood could withstand.

It was only because the ground in southern Gannan was damp and covered in mud everywhere lately that cannonballs merely gouged large pits upon hitting the ground—otherwise, the ricochet effect would have been even more devastating.

Ji'an's Mobile Corps General Wang Ge soothed his startled warhorse while bellowing: "Hold the formation! Bird-gun musketeers, forward!"

"Bird-gun musketeers, forward!"

The three Ming ranks halted, and the bird-gun musketeers stepped out of formation, loading their weapons with trembling hands under the squad leaders' harsh shouts.

The bird-gun musketeer Ma An judged at a glance that they were still over two hundred paces from the enemy—well outside bird-gun range. But since the officers ordered them to shoot, he would shoot, if only to embolden the vanguard troops.

"Ready!" the squad leader's voice came.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" Another round of enemy bombardment.

A black dot suddenly grew large before his eyes. Ma An had no time to react, staring blankly, hands and feet turning ice-cold. In that instant, time seemed to slow—the cannonball descended gradually, lightly touching the ground, then erupted with a deafening roar.

The cannonball smashed a hollow into the earth and sank into the mud, motionless. A shower of mud clods rained down on his head and face, and only then did Ma An realize he was still alive.

Before he could even congratulate himself, he heard a whoosh by his ear—a cannonball flew past his right side, followed by the muffled sound of bones snapping and sinews tearing. Warm, viscous liquid splattered all over him.

"Fire!" the squad leader's voice came.

The bird-gun musketeers produced a sparse, scattered volley. Ma An reflexively pulled the trigger, but his gun did not fire—the match cord was still burning, but the gunpowder had absorbed moisture.

"Reload! Reload quickly!" the squad leader's voice sounded like a death knell.

At the same time, shouts came from behind.

Ma An looked back to the left and saw a band of fierce cavalry assembling from the far rear. The riders were uniformly clad in blue cloth-armor, their arm guards still gleaming brightly even under the overcast sky. Their warhorses were stout and well-fed, also wearing lacquered leather armor, and kept pawing the ground restlessly.

This unit was the Battalion Commander's household retainers.

"Move the barricades aside, now!" the central Company Commander screamed hoarsely.

"Move the barricades!" the Company Commanders of the east and west units shouted as well.

Ming soldiers threaded through the gaps between the bird-gun musketeers, moving to destroy the roadblocks and fill in the trenches.

In Ming field battles, everything depended on the household retainers. If the retainers could tear open a gap in the enemy formation, the follow-up troops would surge forward with greatly boosted morale.

If the retainers would not advance, no amount of shouting from Company Commanders and squad leaders could make ordinary soldiers charge into melee combat.

That was why, upon seeing the Battalion Commander's retainers preparing to spur their horses forward, the Company Commanders hurriedly ordered their men to clear the roadblocks.

But after they finally cleared the barricades while braving enemy fire, they discovered another trench behind them—five chi wide, seven chi deep, with wooden stakes and inverted spikes planted at the bottom.

This trench had been built with extreme cunning: the opening was covered with branches and rotting leaves, invisible from a distance, only detectable upon close approach.

The Company Commanders reported the situation, and Battalion Commander Wang Ge had no choice but to withdraw the retainers, ordering sword-and-shield soldiers to provide cover while the remaining troops carried sandbags to fill the pit.

Ma An mechanically loaded and fired. Nearly three-tenths of his gunpowder had absorbed moisture and would not ignite at all—the bird-gun fire across the entire line was extremely sparse.

Meanwhile, the Ming troops finally advanced to one hundred fifty paces, barely entering the maximum range of the flintlock muskets. Zhang Moye, who had long been itching to act, gave the order: "Have the line infantry return fire."

Soon, the Xia army's highly rhythmic two-rank volley fire rang out. The Ming rattan shields were like paper before the bullets—pierced through at the first shot. Over a dozen Ming soldiers filling the trench were shot dead, and the rest scrambled backward.

This quickly sent all three ranks into retreat, and the Ming frontal assault was effortlessly neutralized.

At this time, the eastern Ming troops were still crossing the river. Seeing that the central force had withdrawn, they pulled back as well.

The three Battalion Commanders returned to their own formation and received a thorough dressing-down from Assistant Regional Commander Chu Shixun.

But after the scolding, he too felt a headache coming on. Clearly southern Gannan had seen days of heavy rain, damp and muddy—so why was the firing rate of the Southern Xia rebel muskets higher than that of the Ming bird-gun musketeers? And higher by a wide margin at that.

The Southern Xia rebels had always been formidable with firearms. Now they held the high ground, exploiting the terrain advantage, and had dug trenches and erected barricades—they had turned a small earthen slope into a fortress.

Routing a thousand-odd enemies in open field combat was a completely different matter from assaulting a fortress defended by a thousand men.

Chu Shixun glanced at the sky—it was overcast, seeming ready to rain at any moment. But he could not simply wait; the governor-general's tens of thousands of troops were still crammed in the river valley behind.

There was no other way now—he could only fill the trench with lives.

And whose lives?

The household retainers were precious—losing even one was heartbreaking—so naturally they could not be sent to fill the ditch.

The ordinary soldiers under his command had already suffered too many casualties. If their morale collapsed, the entire army would scatter, or even mutiny on the spot. That would not do either.

He could only use the old method.

Chu Shixun said coldly, "Bring the militiamen up!"

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen