Chapter 551: The Ming-Portuguese War (V)

As productivity rose and humanity's primitive industrial accumulation reached the seventeenth century, artillery arrays formed by multiple cannons had already become a regular sight on the battlefield. In Europe, whether in the ongoing Thirty Years' War on land or the large-scale naval battles that had appeared on the seas many times before, volley fire was nothing new to European soldiers.

But for the ancient and backward people of Ming, this earth-shaking spectacle was a kind of subversion — it overturned the Ming people's worldview, making them realize that an unprecedented power had emerged in this world they thought they knew so well. And power is the engine of all change.

Although the two battleships had opened fire on the waters off Macau before, that was an unexpected incident, and few Ming fishermen were fortunate enough to witness the live broadcast. Today's bombardment, however, was a close-range strike launched from land under the gaze of tens of thousands of eyes — the effect was completely different.

The bombardment was indeed shocking, even for someone from later generations, because this was the first live-fire land artillery group salvo to occur in the Far East in this plane.

The sense of presence brought by the gunpowder smoke and the immense concussive force of the air was not something one could feel from watching the Huaihai Campaign on a television screen. Therefore, the onlookers atop the gate tower, including Regional Commander Cao himself, were all quite stirred during the artillery array's first round of ten-gun rapid fire.

"What a tremendous show of force! I am ashamed, ashamed — this old man was caught off guard for a moment and has made a fool of himself before you all."

The speaker was a fair-skinned, portly gentleman. This man was surnamed Pan, a respected social worthy of Zengcheng County whose family ran a restaurant famous far and wide for its pastries. Master Pan was also among the first group to establish ties with the Cao Clan, which was why he was fortunate enough today to have secured a chair in a corner of the gate tower.

However, during the artillery array's rapid fire just now, Master Pan, a scholar of peace, ultimately failed to withstand this revolutionary strength test. Trembling all over amid the deafening roar of cannon fire, he finally let out a terrified cry, covered his ears, and toppled backward to the ground, chair and all.

Fortunately, Master Pan was surrounded by his own people, so the moment he fell, many hands reached out to help him up. Provincial Graduate Bai, also from Zengcheng, urgently called for a damp towel to wipe Master Pan's face and fan him, which finally brought the old gentleman around.

"Aiya, when this artillery array lets loose, it truly shakes heaven and earth. One cannot blame Master Pan for losing his composure — I, a student, am equally shaken to the core!"

After offering these two smoothing remarks, Bai Laoye noticed the cannon fire had paused briefly. He then turned to an orderly in military uniform, specially assigned for menial tasks, and asked for a flat, round military iron water canteen painted green. He poured two mouthfuls of the tea inside down Master Pan's throat.

Let us set aside the group of merchant-gentry onlookers startled by their own side's cannon fire, and turn to the formation of military officers at the center of the gate tower.

Though they had anticipated this beforehand and no one had just disgraced themselves, the officers still wore the shock in their hearts on their faces. After all, in their daily lives they had only ever seen Frankish cannons and a few large guns fire — when had they ever witnessed a display like this?

The blunt Assistant Commander Ma still stood behind his telescope, his expression blank, his mouth agape, staring at the artillery position ahead now shrouded in rolling white smoke like a fairyland. He muttered to himself, "With such peerless weapons to rely on, Your Excellency must be invincible under heaven!"

"Not necessarily so. Each leads the field in its own time."

Regional Commander Cao had long since recovered his wits by now. Seeing someone feeding him a line, he put on an expression of complete assurance and seized the chance to display a wave of the strategic vision befitting a Grand Commandant: "Nowadays, China interacts frequently with foreign nations overseas, and the methods of manufacturing all manner of military equipment are exchanged back and forth. Thanks to this, the power of firearms grows greater by the day."

"This battle before us is merely a beginning — fighting a lone enemy force right at our doorstep, where neither the timing, the terrain, nor the people are in their favor. But in the future, it will be difficult. The lands beyond are vast, and the day will come when we meet the enemy's main army head-on."

At this point, Regional Commander Cao adopted the expression of a stern teacher: "Gentlemen, the world has changed. We men of the ranks can no longer rely on the old ways of fighting the enemy to the death with blade and spear. Everyone seated on this gate tower today is a fine talent, a fierce general. After this battle, you must all learn to broaden your horizons. You absolutely must not cling to outdated ways, guarding the few tricks our ancestors handed down just to scrape by!"

As the saying goes, whoever has the bigger fist has the discourse power. Hearing Deputy Commander Cao's half-admonishing words, and accompanied by the rumbling cannon fire below the gate tower, all the other officers present except Commander He bowed in unison with clasped fists: "We, your humble generals, have received your instruction!"

The rumbling cannon fire heard atop the gate tower at that moment was not, in fact, coming from the artillery position below. The first round of ten-gun rapid fire from this side had already finished firing; the roaring that continued now was the sound of counter-fire from the Fortress of São Paulo.

In truth, the Fortress of São Paulo had begun returning fire from the third volley of rapid fire onward. The Portuguese, having been on high alert for so long, ordered their gun positions to return fire the moment they confirmed the enemy had formally commenced large-scale shooting.

However, the results of the Portuguese bombardment were very poor: the cannon fire was sparse and ragged, and the destructive effect was bad. One could say that in this opening artillery duel, the Portuguese suffered a complete defeat.

There were many reasons for this.

First, the distance between the two sides' gun positions was approximately 1,200 meters. This distance had been deliberately chosen by the Army. At this range, the refined iron cannons produced by the transmigrators using hammer-forging and drilling techniques — whether 8-pounder or 24-pounder heavy cannons — could all deliver their shells into the enemy fort... pinpoint accuracy to the meter was not required (and in fact, impossible), as long as the shells could land inside a fort the size of a small city, it was considered acceptable.

The Portuguese cannons, however, could not manage this. Although the casting techniques of the Bocarro foundry were the most advanced of this era, they were still primitive seventeenth-century casting technology, so guns of smaller caliber simply could not reach a distance of 1,200 meters.

The remaining heavy cannons that could reach this far also suffered from problems of heat dissipation and structural strength: all native cannons of this era were incapable of sustained fire, or else their barrels would burst.

Furthermore, the gap between black powder and brown powder, the purity of the gunpowder, as well as the professionalism, morale, aiming, logistics, and other factors accumulated on both sides, all combined to produce the final result.

The outcome of the first round of the artillery duel was very clear: one side could fire ten volleys in succession, sending large shells raining down like a dark mass of crows, while the other side, despite holding the advantage of elevation, returned fire that was weak and uncoordinated, with a destructive effect that was far from satisfactory.

Yu Mingjie, stationed at the command post, observed the entire process of the first round of bombardment through his telescope.

At this moment, the position was filled with drifting white smoke, with human figures faintly visible, giving it a somewhat desolate air. This was because, apart from a few wounded and corpses struck by iron balls that needed to be urgently sent to the rear, the remaining soldiers who had finished firing had all taken cover behind fortifications, following orders transmitted from the command post.

War, after all, involves casualties. Although the Portuguese counter-fire just now had been chaotic, some lucky shells had still managed to arc directly into the emplacements surrounded by sandbags. While some of these did not hit anyone, most of the soldiers who were struck died on the spot.

The wounded now being sent to the rear were actually the lucky ones. Most of these men had been grazed on the limbs, or suffered secondary injuries from debris sent flying by the cannonballs.

Yu Mingjie paid no heed to the medics hurrying past his telescope's field of view — this number of wounded posed no challenge at all for medics who had undergone formal training. What concerned him was the overall state of the position right now. Although a naked-eye assessment showed no problems, he still needed to wait for the firsthand reports.

Soon, five minutes after the guns fell silent, the strong wind they had been waiting for exerted its effect: a powerful southeasterly gust swept the gunpowder smoke clean from the position, and everything became clear. At the same time, messengers ran ceaselessly into the tent, reporting the latest situation from the position.

In this round of bombardment, the Ming side had 3 dead and 7 wounded, with a small number of equipment and fortifications damaged. Overall, the casualties were not severe and fell within an acceptable range.

As for the losses on the Portuguese side, they were not insignificant. Through the pre- and post-action observation of multiple telescope lenses and artillery scopes, it was discovered that at least two Portuguese gun positions had been smashed, with cannons toppled and personnel killed or wounded. Additionally, several sections of the fort's own crenellations and fortifications had suffered damage.

After Yu Mingjie compiled intelligence from all sides and assessed the effect of the first round of bombardment, he nodded with satisfaction and said to the messenger beside him: "Order: all gun crews are to inspect the condition of their cannons and promptly replenish ammunition and supplies. The second round of rapid fire will commence in five minutes."

"Yes, sir!"

The messenger loudly repeated the order once, then hurried out of the tent.

As mentioned earlier, in order to prepare for a future where operations are fully expanded and import goods are scarce, the troops nowadays, whether in combat or training, are doing their utmost to eliminate reliance on imported materials.

Walkie-talkies are now limited to private chats among transmigrators; the troops have reverted to the "proper" method of relying on runners and pack animals to deliver orders.

The messenger quickly relayed the order to the commanders of several artillery companies.

The artillery position, upon receiving the order, immediately became bustling with activity. Soldiers began shuttling between the ammunition carts and the gun positions, piling the supplies needed for the next round of rapid fire in advance into the storage compartments reserved behind the gun positions.

Immediately after, the next round of rapid fire began.

This round of strikes completely stunned the Portuguese; this time, they could not even return fire — all their cannons were still in a cooling state and could not be used for firing.

The short, vicious "wave after wave" bombardment pattern continued in this manner. From morning until afternoon, every half-hour, the Ming artillery array would invariably fire several hundred iron balls of varying calibers. These shells blanketed every inch of the Fortaleza do Monte like a plague of locusts, leaving the Portuguese troops with heavy casualties and devastating losses.

Even this primary level of industrialization provided an advantage that the natives could not bridge. Cartload after cartload of solid iron balls — which in the eyes of the Ming people were pure silver — were hurled at the opposite side without the slightest hesitation, inexhaustible, as if they cost nothing at all.

At the beginning, the Portuguese troops still fought back fiercely. However, once the volume accumulated to a certain point, the Portuguese losses became too great to remedy: in every round, some lucky shells would pass through the embrasures in front of the gun positions, accurately drilling inside to kill the soldiers and destroy the equipment within.

Though they could not comprehend the enemy's endless shells and cannon barrels that seemed to need no cooling, under this most brainless, most extravagant, yet utterly unanswerable assault, the Portuguese ultimately made the correct choice: all personnel withdrew into the interior of the fort, abandoning the gun positions above.