Chapter 550: The Ming-Portuguese War (IV)

When the gap in strength is large enough, the leading side can afford to be calm and unhurried.

The same was true for the Transmigrators. After the cannon group landed, it was about time for the evening meal. Although the artillery array had not yet been fully set up, Lord Cao had already begun inviting the guests to disperse, go downstairs, and dine — bluntly turning a war into a nine-to-five rhythm.

That night, setting aside the excited Ming people, the Portuguese holed up inside the great fort naturally had a hard time of it.

Having witnessed with their own eyes a large number of great cannons brought ashore by a devilish power, and the process being so swift, the Portuguese were of course both hateful and fearful.

Yet fear aside, it was of no damn use. The Frankish devils could not even launch a night raid on the artillery array — the field of fire between the two armies had been leveled, and the sweeping light beams that shone all night left any human-shaped object with ideas nowhere to hide.

Fortunately, however, the fort was sturdy.

When Fort São Paulo was built, it adhered to the standard Eastern engineering methods of the era: the gaps between bricks and stones were filled with a primitive cement formula of glutinous rice juice, syrup, sand, and oyster shell powder, making it extremely solid. And some time before, because the clouds of war were drawing near, the Portuguese had even purchased some cement through multiple channels to reinforce the fort and add protruding sections.

This was the Portuguese's sole reliance.

Time: the second morning after the artillery array was deployed.

The straight-line distance between the Lotus Stem Pass Gate and the great fort was two kilometers. After a night and a day of busy work, at the midpoint between the two locations, on a stretch of land four to five hundred meters ahead to the side of the Gate Barrier, the artillery array had been completely set up.

On the gun positions whose ground had been hardened beforehand, stout cannons gleaming with a metallic luster were arranged in a majestic four-row square formation. According to caliber, the smaller cannons were in front and the larger ones behind, and in between, ammunition carts filled with gunpowder and cannonballs were regularly distributed. The artillery array was overall straight and orderly; at a glance, it resembled a crouching ferocious beast, silently brimming with overwhelming killing intent.

At this moment, the Ming Army officers and generals on the gate tower observed the artillery array with complex emotions.

In fact, when the scene of the great cannons landing appeared yesterday, many had already realized what it represented behind the scenes.

As the saying goes, laymen watch the spectacle, experts watch the technique. Among the many military officers invited this time, although there were a few hereditary good-for-nothings, they were after all a minority; the remaining majority were regular officers, all very sensitive to military technology.

Yesterday's amphibious cannon landing operation, to these discerning men, was most shocking first for the word "speed," and only secondarily for "lavishness" and "ingenious devices."

Although these officers usually handled bronze cannons and Frankish guns themselves, and some of the Yao-defense commanders who were in a long-term state of combat readiness even had artillery units in their camps, it was precisely because of this that they understood the terror of deploying cannons before the enemy.

One must know that in the primitive Pearl River Delta environment crisscrossed with waterways and vegetation, even moving a few small Crouching Tiger Cannons into position before an enemy stronghold required massive amounts of manpower, animal power, and time.

Yet yesterday, right before everyone's eyes, great cannons weighing several thousand catties each were forcibly transported from the sea onto land, taking only a few hours from start to finish. Such highly efficient logistical capability was truly unimaginable to old-style officers — and what's more, this was not just one great cannon, but several dozen!

Thinking of the power contained within, among the officers who had rushed over to "work" early in the morning, someone finally spoke: "To deploy such an artillery array in a mere ten days — your Excellency's methods are brilliant, your provisions and arms abundant. This lowly general prostrates himself in admiration!"

The dark-faced military officer who spoke did not sound fawning; rather, his tone carried a heartfelt look of reverence. This man was Xiang Gong, the Lianshan Garrison Commander. He had risen from the ranks, and through bravery in battle, had accumulated merit step by step to be promoted to Garrison Commander.

Xiang Gong was the sort of straightforward military officer who traded his life on the battlefield for military merit, with few twists and turns in his mind. After being shocked yesterday, he went back and thought about it all night. The more he thought, the more he felt this artillery array exuded deadliness inside and out. So this morning, upon seeing Cao Jiangjun, he could no longer conceal his admiration and honestly stood up, cupped his hands, and bowed.

Hearing this, Cao Regional Commander amiably nodded to this nominal subordinate of his, then laughed heartily: "Garrison Commander Xiang, please rest assured and sit a while. Today is the main assault; there are still programs to come later."

Hearing these two exchange such words, most of the people present wore smiles on their faces. However, if one looked closely, the gazes some of them directed at Cao Darao were hard to read... After all, not everyone was straightforward.

After returning last night, as professional soldiers, most of the officers had in fact pondered one question: If one day the "Cao Army" assembled this artillery array and its troops before their own gates, how should they respond?

Most people's answer was "no way to respond."

The rhythm of warfare in the medieval era was very slow. In this southern region of water networks, a war could easily drag on for months and years.

Yet last night, when those with a mind for it thought of this question, cold sweat ran down their backs: a large batch of artillery crossed the water and landed ashore, and in a single night stood before the gates of their own city or fortress, while the messenger sent out for help had not even seen the provincial capital's gates, let alone mustered a large army to come to the rescue.

Glancing sideways at the pillar of the court, the Loyal and Brave Count Cao Chuan, who was chatting and laughing merrily with He Zhen, and then thinking that one day they might be besieged by just as many heavy cannons — many of those present today were naturally weighed down with heavy thoughts.

Just as the commanders on the gate tower were united in heart and chatting cheerfully, with the rising of the morning sun, the Transmigrators' army, having expended enormous resources to set up this artillery array, was finally about to speak.

About 100 meters behind the artillery array, there were several field tents surrounded by sandbag walls. This was the actual command post for this campaign.

Inside the command post at this moment, young officers in field uniforms were everywhere. The tapping of telegraphs and short, forceful commands interwove, creating an intense atmosphere before a great battle.

Somewhat detached from the surrounding atmosphere were three Transmigrators in general's uniforms in a corner. These few showed no pre-battle tension at all, instead leisurely eating breakfast.

"Ai, I heard all imported luxury goods are out of stock?"

Wei Yuan, the broad-waisted and round-bellied temporary commander of the Pioneer Army, asked indistinctly while wolfing down green pepper and potato stewed pork from a military mess tin.

The one who answered was Navy liaison Wang Xiaohui, who had likewise come to "observe." This gentleman, perhaps due to long training in the military, looked fair and plump but stuffed food away without any politeness, likewise devouring it ravenously: "Your intel is way too slow. They ran out last month. No more private quotas from now on. Ai, I heard spare parts can't be supplied, and the equipment at the factory is going to stop."

Wei Yuan shook his head: "Sooner or later. The operation keeps expanding; of course supply can't keep up."

Wang Xiaohui chuckled: "Doesn't matter to me, I quit smoking anyway."

... Just as the officers were chatting, a dark, skinny young officer walked over and saluted: "Report, telegram received from the Fuyuan, inquiring about our side's bombardment time."

At this, an equally dark and skinny Transmigrator officer reached out to take the telegram.

This man was called Yu Mingjie, one of the last batch of Transmigrators to join the great enterprise. He had served in an artillery unit in his "previous life," and after crossing over, he continued in his old line of work. In this campaign, Yu Mingjie served as Artillery Director, not only responsible for the bombardment but also as the Commander for the first half-stage of the campaign.

After taking the telegram and glancing at it, Yu Mingjie reached for the walkie-talkie on the folding canvas table. He first exchanged a few words with the gate tower and the infantry battalion HQ behind it, then he stood up and issued an order: "Reply to the Fuyuan: bombardment to commence in 5 minutes."

"Yes!"

After issuing the order, Yu Mingjie walked out of the tent to the low wall piled from sandbags and said to several staff officers there: "Recalculate firing data. Test fire in 5 minutes."

The artillery staff officers who received the order began observation operations using their battery commander's telescopes.

To train the troops as much as possible and for the sake of the future, the Transmigrators who had come to their senses had already begun promoting a "de-high-technification" campaign in the military. Nowadays, apart from the sparsely manned Special Operations Team and the Army-Navy General Headquarters, other branches no longer had the right to use electronic instruments.

However, the primitive battery commander's telescopes were sufficient under these circumstances. After all, the Portuguese in the castle opposite had no weapons that could threaten this side, so the staff officers could calmly and unhurriedly calculate the firing data.

Soon, in under 5 minutes, the data loudly reported by the observers was marked on the map by other staff officers through map exercises.

Silently watching the staff officers skillfully work on the map, Yu Mingjie, though his face was taut, was filled with deep emotion inside: Turning a bunch of shop assistants and novice scholars into what they are today — only heaven knows the painstaking effort I've poured into this in private, right?

Five minutes later, with a command from Yu Mingjie, orderlies ran to deliver the slips of paper with the firing data written on them to the forward gun positions.

The artillery company commander at the front, after reading the slip, loudly called out the data using an iron megaphone.

First the small cannons, then the large ones. Accompanied by bursts of white smoke and thunderous booms, each gun crew, according to caliber, took turns beginning test firing under the command post's orders.

Attacking Macau City from the landward direction meant advancing from west to east. The moment the morning sun rose was actually disadvantageous for the attacking side, as they had to face the sunlight directly — a disadvantage in both the cold weapon era and the hot weapon era.

However, when the technological gap was large enough, these disadvantages no longer mattered.

The artillerymen at the gun positions fired in turn, stubbornly correcting the firing angle of each cannon while facing the increasingly blinding sunlight. And at this time, as expected, cannonballs fired from the opposing Fortaleza do Monte also landed near the gun positions.

Twenty minutes later, this scattered artillery duel between the two sides temporarily came to a halt.

The "Ming Army" side ceased fire because they had already measured the firing data and the next step was to prepare for a volley. The Portuguese, as the side reacting passively, naturally would not endlessly and mindlessly keep firing.

The reason was simple: the Red Hairs did not have that many cannonballs to waste. The cannons they had on hand could not accurately hit military targets over 1000 meters away, so the Portuguese had little interest in such long-range shooting.

However, certain people did not think so.

Another 20 minutes later, amid military history expert Wang Xiaohui's strange cry of "Huaihai Campaign," the artillery array began its first round of full-scale rapid fire.

This heaven-shaking round of cannon fire sent over 50 iron balls of varying sizes hurtling into the Portuguese castle over a kilometer away. For a time, the artillery position was shrouded in gunpowder smoke. The thunderous roar of 50+ cannons made the Ming people within a 5-li radius feel as if they heard thunder rolling. The officers on the gate tower, being close, felt as if the mountains shook and the earth moved; at this moment, every face changed color.

However, not even 2 minutes had passed before a second volley of Rapid Fire was unleashed, followed by a third, then a fourth... After a loud "Clang!", someone on the gate tower finally overturned a chair amidst the earth-shaking cannon fire and ended up sitting on the ground.