Chapter 625: Punishing Rebellion (V)

"Has anyone actually combat-tested the destructive effect of that mortar?"

Facing the young staff officer's opinion on the bombardment, Delegation Leader Sheng Nan did not rush to explain, but first asked a question.

That 170-millimeter-caliber "Gelongde" mortar gifted to Northern Vietnam was an experimental product from the military industry departments. After the test-range data was collected back then, it had been tossed into a storehouse until this time at the front lines.

So very few people had seen the live shelling situation.

But this did not affect the staff officers' ability to calculate the mortar's power. Although no firearm of such large caliber had yet appeared among the Army's standard weapons, everyone had often seen the Navy's 4-pounder cannons firing, and could roughly calculate the mortar's firepower intensity.

"Good that you know." Seeing the staff officers quickly calculate the cannon's power with their pen tips to near exactness, Sheng Nan smiled with satisfaction: "With just this much power, the destructive effect converted from it takes an even bigger discount — what are you worried about?"

Sheng Nan then stretched out his fingers: "170 millimeters, 17 centimeters. Hmph, the cannonball's diameter isn't even as wide as my handspan."

"This level of bombardment, against warships or some kind of soft targets, is still passable. But to use it to bombard a solid fortification wall defense system — heh heh, I can only say you're overthinking it."

A 170-millimeter-caliber firearm, converted, is a 7-inch cannon. This caliber, placed on a World War II super battleship, could also count as a secondary main gun, with quite considerable power.

However, this seventeenth-century mortar appearing at the Zhengjiang Estuary had a fundamental difference from the World War II 7-inch barrel cannon: one fired an iron ball cannonball, the other fired a high-explosive bomb fitted with a contact Responsible For.

An iron ball propelled and launched by black powder is worlds apart in power from the bombs familiar to later generations. Used to smash fortresses, it's not that it's useless, but it falls far short of achieving a devastating, sweeping effect.

"These past two days while you've been doing your homework, I haven't been idle either."

Sheng Nan, having spoken, lay back down on the green canvas folding chair: "According to my observations, the troops in the Southern Vietnam Fortified Zone roughly have an attitude of 'defending the homeland,' so their morale is generally high and their combat skills are proficient."

"Everyone is clear that right behind this defense system is Shunhua. South Yue's national fate now hangs entirely on this one fortification wall, and the soldiers inside should mostly be South Yue's elite."

"So, stop worrying on behalf of the South Vietnamese. That cannon won't accomplish any great matter. This back-and-forth seesaw battle, by my judgment, will continue."

"If that's the case, why not agree to let the cannon go into battle? Looking at your expressions, do you really take that prince for a fool? If we balk and make excuses over such a small matter, how will we operate later on? You must have a view of the big picture!"

At this point, Sheng Nan waved his hand to signal the conversation was over — the Old Man wanted to rest. However, glancing again at these young men hesitating to speak, Sheng Nan ultimately sighed and barked angrily: "Don't think I don't know what you're thinking! Rest assured, the real killer weapon is already on the way. Now all of you get the hell away from me, I want to go back to sleep!"

Commander Sheng's return to sleep ultimately did not succeed.

Not long after, a stream of Northern Vietnam envoys began traveling back and forth to the encampment, constantly reporting the cannon's position and requesting instructions for the next move, harassing the great Commander Sheng beyond endurance.

This blatant, omnipresent anxiety clearly showed the immense pressure borne by the entire Northern Vietnam court, so much so that they could no longer bother to conceal it. In the end, the thoroughly harassed Sheng Nan could only rise and properly don his military uniform: "Let's all go out and take a look."

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Atop the stone mountain, a group of yellow-skinned men wearing iron-gray peaked caps stood with ramrod-straight postures, overlooking this Han ancestral homeland on both banks of the Zheng River.

The Zheng River, flowing from west to east, was placid and still in the dry season, silently dividing this land into two halves, its current flat and smooth as the sea.

As far as the eye could see, the vast surface of both banks of the Zheng River and even upstream was entirely shrouded in astonishingly expansive mountain ranges and primeval forests, verdant and boundless, teeming with birds and beasts — the scenery was breathtaking.

Like the vast majority of islands in the world, the Indochina Peninsula is also a product of orogenic movements across various prehistoric periods.

Since it was orogenic movement, the terrain is identical: mountain ranges and plateaus "extruded" from the earth's surface, with a narrow strip of flat land encircling the mountain bases.

Located at the edge of the peninsula, occupying that narrow strip of flat land, Vietnam's terrain faithfully follows this natural law.

The entire Vietnamese mainland, from Shenglong Prefecture in the north all the way to the southern tip, is a narrow, vertical strip-like continental "skirt hem."

This narrow plain zone, from north to south, is the essence of Vietnam. And the reason the Northern Vietnam court, represented by Shenglong Prefecture, so often claims to be the "orthodox line" is because the area surrounding Shenglong Prefecture is Vietnam's only large-scale grain-producing region: Honghe Pingyuan.

Through all dynasties and generations, the Northern Vietnam power base that occupied Honghe Pingyuan held a hard-power advantage over South Yue, which is why it was always the Northern Vietnam side that initiated wars.

Sheng Nan and the others, now standing on the stone mountain at the river mouth, could see it all at a glance. Looking north, it was a narrow coastline with a constant stream of people surging in. Looking south, it was likewise a narrow coastal strip composed of white sand and tropical forest.

Only, this coastline was now artificially divided into two sections: at the narrowest point on the Zheng River's south bank, a stretch of coast less than 500 meters in distance, upon which was constructed a thick, solid, and sturdy defense line — the seventeenth-century Dongfang Maqinuo.

The next moment, a tremendous roar drew the attention of the soldiers on the stone mountain, and everyone turned their heads, shifting their gaze from the southern defense line to below their feet.

Just as expected, that 7-inch mortar was passing by the stone mountain.

Under the escort of formed units of troops on the perimeter, a large number of conscripted civilian laborers were moving the several-ton steel behemoth forward, using the "cun" as the unit of distance.

Because the land near the coastline was mostly sandy, the first step was to constantly lay logs under the path ahead of the mortar's advance.

Two rows of trackers, ropes borne on their shoulders, were straining with all their might to drag from the front of the cannon. The tremendous roar just now was the work chant of these trackers.

At the same time, there were also constantly rotating hands straining with all their might to push the cannon's iron wheels. Only with everyone working together like this could they slowly move this cannon.

Yes, this majestic and mighty "Gelongde" cannon, ever since disembarking at the Shenglong Prefecture docks back then, had become the object of the Northern Vietnam court's confidence. After the war began, the Northern Vietnam court had, just like this, ruthlessly used civilian laborers to push and drag the cannon cun by cun all the way to the Zheng River front line — it could be called a feat of extreme hardship and tenacity.

By the time the cannon was loaded onto a boat and ferried across the river, it was already evening. Sheng Nan knew that early the next morning, this cannon would surely emit its roar.

One could not blame the Northern Vietnam court for being so impatient; Sheng Nan knew the inside story on this point.

It was now the end of the month, belonging to the tail end of Vietnam's dry season. Thanks to the blessing of the Little Ice Age climate, the current cool dry-season temperature was only around 10 degrees, and no rain was seen around the Battlefield — these were climatic conditions extremely favorable for the offensive side to launch a campaign.

Incidentally, the Observation Group's staff officers could also wear their handsome regular service uniforms to show off stylishly; the temperature, neither cold nor hot, was just right.

But Vietnam's rainy season comes as soon as it comes. Usually, upon entering April, the temperature would rapidly soar to 40-plus degrees, and continuous rain would fall — this was a colossal disaster for an offensive side in a field-battle state. Rising temperatures would lead to plagues breaking out in the army, and falling rain would greatly increase the advantage of the defensive side holed up in the fortresses.

Therefore, the Northern Vietnam court absolutely had to seize this current brief, favorable climate window to stake everything on one campaign, take Shunhua, and unify the realm. Otherwise, they could only, just like before, return home in defeat.

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The next day, early morning.

The moment the morning sun rose over this coast, the impatient "Northerners" army had already concluded the day's first wave of offensives.

The "Southerners" troops garrisoning the fortress line were not alarmed, however. After all, over these past few days, both sides of the offense and defense had already turned the war into a standard three-part routine: offense, shooting, retreat.

So although this latest wave of offense came a bit earlier than before, the Southerners still adeptly blocked the Northerners back.

Yet, the South Vietnamese quickly sensed something was off.

Just 00 meters beyond the battle line, the layer upon layer of the Northern Vietnam grand army had once again gathered. At this exact distance, the offensive side remained motionless in place, and both sides suddenly entered a strange, silent state of confrontation.

The tense South Vietnamese were not given much time to speculate. After about an hour had passed, the tide-like grand army parted from the middle, revealing a pitch-black earthen mound.

Behind the earthen mound was today's main character: the 170 large-caliber mortar with its muzzle pointing at.

A mortar with a short, thick barrel was originally meant for firing at.

Compared to later generations, the Great Yan's current metallurgy and other metal processing crafts were still backward. This Gelongde had a caliber of only 170, but its actual barrel thickness far exceeded 170, and the barrel also had three reinforcing bands.

This scene was, in fact, similar to those late Qing dynasty artifact cannons: the seemingly thick, stout barrel was thicker than a person, but in reality, the muzzle could only fit a fist inside.

Finally, under the operation of the cannon crew of Ming foreign aid, the cannon emitted a deafening roar: a 17-centimeter iron ball was pushed out of the barrel by the black powder gas.

This iron ball crossed the short distance of 00 meters and smashed headlong into the stone barbette at the very center of the defense line, breaking open a breach in the fortification wall, incidentally ricocheting to kill several cannon crew members, and destroying one Frankish cannon.

The Great Yan's military industry products, compared to other powers of this era, were still trustworthy. Although the projectile fired by the mortar did not smash through the barbette, the battle result was still quite good, directly eliminating one Southerners cannon crew.

This barbette sat at the very center of the defensive line. Its multiple cannons could cover the majority of the moat, making it the core strongpoint of the entire front.

Previously, the Northerners had used the method of filling with human lives to level every obstacle and moat in front of this barbette, opening up a 0-meter-wide clear path.

With this one cannon shot today, the Southerners, who had not paid much attention to the passage before, suddenly broke out in cold sweat: if this strange cannon fire kept pounding away, wouldn't the barbette be lost? And if the barbette was lost, wouldn't that one path allow the Northerners to plunge straight into the depths of the defensive line?

The problem the South Yue people realized, the Northerners naturally saw as well. In fact, this was the result the Northerners had been waiting for all along: it was now finally proven that the human lives filled in previously had value.

Next, just as the South Yue people were frantically searching for a countermeasure, another superior technique of Quality Military Industries appeared: the mortar fired 0 projectiles in succession before it began its cooling recovery.

Regarding the military industry techniques of the "Great Ming State," any Northerner who had previously served in Shenglong Prefecture and endured the shelling had expectations. So the moment the cannon muzzle fell silent, the Northerners, familiar with the rhythm, launched a ferocious assault straight at the barbette once more, their morale soaring.

Facing a barbette with its combat power diminished, the greatly alarmed Southerners urgently redeployed their reserves. For the first time, using a brutal, bloody melee of trading human lives, they managed, through countless hardships, to push the Northerner offense back.

However, when the afternoon arrived and the Northerners confirmed the high precision of that great cannon, their morale surged. They adopted an advanced, high-end tactic proposed by the Observation Group: infantry-cannon coordination.

Amidst a tide of battle cries, tens of thousands of cannon fodder, with iron balls flying over their heads, launched wave assaults against the barbette before them.

This time, seeing the iron balls crush their own men and the Northerners together into meat paste, the Southerners could not hold. At dusk, the central barbette on the defensive line, marked as A7 on the map, was declared lost.