Chapter 212: Regimental Cannons

A three-catty iron ball shot in at a perfect angle, slicing off the first Later Jin soldier's thigh like a sharp blade, then without pause cutting open the calf of an armored soldier behind him. It blasted up a cloud of dust upon hitting the ground, then bounced up. The Later Jin soldiers along its path were torn to pieces — severed limbs, shield fragments, and weapon shards flew everywhere. The iron ball carried away the right arm and half the shoulder of the last surplus soldier, exposing the ghastly white shoulder bone with torn muscle remnants clinging beside it. Blood gushed like a fountain from the enormous wound. The iron ball, carrying the flesh and blood of several armored soldiers, bounced a few times on the slope and finally came to a stop.

"Ahh!" Only then did the hoarse, desperate screams ring out. The severed limbs, shattered flesh, and fragments of armor and weapons from these seven or eight Jianzhou bandits scattered across the battle line. The cannonball's drop height was just within the height of the first Later Jin soldier, and it then smoothly formed a ricochet. Its flat trajectory meant its killing range covered the Jianzhou formation behind the impact point.

In the first volley, only this one cannonball hit. The Later Jin formation rippled slightly, then quickly regained calm and continued advancing. Mandarhan gripped a heavy tiger-tooth saber, holding a shield covered with three layers of cowhide before him — though he knew that thing could not block a cannonball. Only then did he turn his head to glance at the spot that had been hit. Three or four armored soldiers struggled desperately in pools of blood; the others were already motionless.

Although a cannonball had hit in the very first volley, he did not panic. He had heard that the Great Khan valued cannons highly, but he thought they were at most useful for sieging cities. He had faced Ming artillery before — hitting was just luck. After this, it would be a long time before their next shot. So he had never taken cannons seriously.

Just as he finished that thought, cannon fire sounded again from the opposite side. The three small cannons — left, center, and right — once more spat out white smoke. Mandarhan's heart lurched violently. An iron ball, trailing a faint wisp of white smoke, shot over like lightning. Twenty paces in front of him, it slammed into the ground with a bang, throwing up a mass of black soil and gouging a deep pit. White smoke still wafted from the hole.

This cannonball did not hit, but Mandarhan was astonished by the speed of the Ming artillery — it far exceeded anything he had known before. He lowered the brim of his helmet. The sun was now further west, its glare even more affecting the Later Jin army's vision. He did not know whether these Ming troops had deliberately chosen the afternoon. Shielding against the sunlight, he widened his eyes and observed the Ming army across from him.

The white smoke from the cannons was blown northward by the sea breeze. Several Ming artillerymen were operating the cannons with practiced skill. Beside each cannon stood a man upright, seemingly issuing commands. One man was ramming something into the cannon's muzzle with a rod. Behind the cannon were two men — one holding something like a fork, the other pressing something against the cannon body. Another man was aiming toward his own side. He quickly raised his hand, and the one holding the torch touched the fork-like tool to the touchhole.

So fast — here they came again. Mandarhan's heart clenched. Sure enough, three more booms rang out. A whistling sound rushed past his ear, then a fierce gust of wind scraped across his face. The sound of an iron ball hitting came from behind him. Mandarhan felt that this cannonball had nearly grazed the top of his head — that faint trail of smoke seemed almost within reach. Screams came from the direction of the central army. His hand began to tremble uncontrollably. Clearly, someone else had been hit.

During these three rounds of bombardment, they had advanced to two hundred paces from the Ming army. To maintain a complete battle line, they could not move too fast. Now they could only endure the beating like this, and even their best armor could not withstand it. Even these utterly ruthless savages could not help but be afraid. Amid Mandarhan's terror, the fourth round of bombardment swiftly arrived. An iron ball rapidly swelled in his vision, striking over twenty paces ahead of him, then bouncing up and hurtling straight at him. Mandarhan could not control himself and let out a great shout, shutting his eyes desperately.

A loud bang, then a horrifying sound of shield splitting and bone breaking came from his right side. Immediately after, something slammed into his right shoulder. Mandarhan staggered, his legs going weak, nearly dropping to his knees. Panic erupted all around him. The top of Mandarhan's head tingled numbly. He hurriedly looked down at his own body — still intact. Only then did his soul return to his body. He turned to look at the thing that had struck him: it was one of his Goshiha. The man's face was taut with bulging veins as he clutched his neck, making hoarse, rasping sounds. Mandarhan steadied himself and finally saw clearly: a fragment of shield was lodged in the man's neck, still bearing a shield's nail boss. Bright red blood pulsed along the edges of the fragment.

He shifted his gaze to where the cannonball had landed. One armored soldier from his Niru was left with only half a body. The cannonball had cut him in two at the waist. Only the lower half remained, beneath which his gaudy, greenish entrails spilled out, continuously oozing filth and shredded internal organs. He lay on his back on the ground, not yet dead, his eyes blinking ceaselessly.

The surrounding Later Jin soldiers stared at the scene before them in terror and halted. One of them even began to vomit. Their morale had been severely shaken by these several rounds of bombardment.

Mandarhan's dull, frozen gaze slowly refocused, then gradually turned into the ferocity of a starving wolf. He suddenly raised his axe and with a furious roar smashed the vomiting soldier to the ground. Immediately after, the great axe fell again, chopping off that soldier's head. His savage eyes swept over his subordinates.

"Anyone who loses to these Ming troops dies this way. If you want to live, follow me and charge to close quarters." He paused, then roared with all his might, "Capture that famous general and carve him up slice by slice to avenge your fellow villagers. All the spoils this time will be divided among you slaves. When we return, your masters will also petition for your merits."

"Kill all the southern barbarians!" The Later Jin soldiers, with no way out, erupted with their savage nature. Roaring furiously, they continued advancing. Some even beat their shields with their weapons, producing a rhythmic sound.

The Later Jin central army's drums quickened their pace. Mandarhan's face bore a ferocious expression. He knew that Kakduli had also realized this Ming army's artillery was extraordinary — they had to quicken their approach. He gave an order to his men, and the formation's speed increased accordingly.

At the Wendeng Battalion's battle line, the three four-pounder cannons were positioned fifteen paces in front of the formation — one each on the left, center, and right. The center one belonged to the farmer-soldier company. It was placed in the gap between the left-side musketeers and pikemen. The cannons of the two combat battalions were at the outermost edges of the entire line, striking the enemies directly in front of them at slightly oblique angles. In front of the two flank combat troops were also three battalion-affiliated crouching-tiger cannons, each with two gunners. Each man carried his own round shield. They all stood there quietly now, able only to watch the four-pounders' performance. Some sailors ran out from behind the battle formation, carrying four-pounder ammunition that had been brought ashore.

"Distance one hundred fifty paces. Gunner's sight lowered by half a notch. Load iron ball. Prepare canister shot."

While the bore-cleaner was swabbing the cannon bore, the farmer-soldier company's gun captain had already issued the command. The Jianzhou bandits were actually still one hundred eighty paces away. He had predicted the Later Jin army's distance at the moment of firing. The gunner cranked the handle at the cannon's breech. A thick, handcrafted iron rod with screw threads slowly rose. The iron ring at its top lifted the breech knob, slightly depressing the muzzle. The loader in front loaded the cloth-wrapped, pre-packaged cannonball into the bore. While he rammed the charge home with the ramrod, another gunner pierced the cloth through the touchhole with an iron spike and poured in the priming powder.

The moment the loader stepped aside, the gun captain issued the firing command. The firer touched the burning match protruding from the linstock fork to the touchhole. The cannon recoiled backward. Just as it was about to stop, several artillerymen rushed up, grabbed the gun carriage, and restored it to its original position. Beside them, several staff officers from the central army carefully observed the effects of the bombardment, rapidly recording them in a booklet with charcoal pencils. These records would serve as the basis for post-battle improvements and drills.

Chen Ying listened to the sound of artillery ahead, his fingers tightly clenched together. Although he still could not clearly see the Jianzhou bandits' situation, the screams coming from the opposite side indicated that they had certainly been hit multiple times. These four-pounder cannons were part of each battalion. In training, he had long experienced the rate of fire of these cannons — even faster than the previous combined firearms. His admiration for Lord Chen's military talent was absolute; he was surely unprecedented and would never be surpassed.

Chen Ying of course did not know that at that very moment, on the other side of the earth, there was a man named Gustavus, whose army likewise had such small cannons. They used three-pounder cannons, which Old Man Gustavus called regimental guns. Under him, artillery became a specialized branch for the first time. Lord Chen was merely pirating the idea.

The Jianzhou bandits were an army that dared to attack. Chen Ying instead thought they were lucky. If any army had adopted a defensive formation before the Wendeng Battalion, these cannons would have pounded them into utter rout like a violent storm.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Chen Ying turned to look. Dozens of heavily armored central army guards and night scouts, carrying bows, ran through the gaps. They also carried a flintlock on their backs but bore no other heavy weapons.

In total, over forty central army guards and night scouts passed through the battle line and arrived twenty paces in front of the cannons. Facing them were the Jianzhou bandits' first-line skirmishers, totaling seventy or eighty men, who had already advanced to seventy paces away. Some Jianzhou bandits had already drawn arrows.

These men were selected from the entire army, mostly soldiers who originally knew archery. Among them were quite a few night scouts recruited from Shanxi Garrison. Chen Xin regarded them as multi-role troops, and their archery training was equally rigorous. Although the Wendeng Battalion did not produce its own bows and arrows, every time they requested supplies from Dengzhou, both items were on the list. Under strict training, many of their archery skills were not inferior to the Jianzhou bandit bowmen.

Unlike the Jianzhou skirmishers, who were very dispersed, they gathered in groups of five or six, avoiding the fan-shaped zones of the artillery fire. They first took down the flintlocks from their backs. Each group was commanded by a Squad Commander, aiming at a particular Jianzhou bandit opposite them. Over forty flintlocks fired in succession. Six or seven Jianzhou bandits fell at the sound. They immediately put away their flintlocks and drew their bows.

Twanging sounds rang out as heavy arrows tore through the air. Both sides began exchanging archery fire simultaneously. Arrows crossed each other in the air with whooshing sounds.

Facing these Ming troops who had formed separate groups, the Later Jin army could only gradually concentrate. These Ming troops were extremely troublesome — they were also skirmishers, and heavily armored at that. Most importantly, their will to fight was very firm; not a single deserter appeared. Although some were hit by the enemy from time to time, at this distance, their iron armor rendered the hits non-lethal. With these men obstructing them, the Later Jin skirmishers could not harass the Ming army's main formation.

With each volley they fired, the Later Jin skirmishers advanced a stretch. The distance between the two sides quickly shrank to thirty paces. Heavy arrows with armor-piercing tips began to inflict damage. Both sides suffered casualties. The Ming troops, being fewer in number, fought while retreating, maintaining the thirty-pace distance.

Some Later Jin soldiers began shooting at the artillerymen behind the Ming skirmishers. This group of Ming cannons was rather peculiar. Now, two thick wooden planks had been added atop the cannon bodies. The several gunners all hid behind them, and the arrows were blocked by the protective boards.

The Later Jin skirmishers failed to achieve their goal of harassing the main formation. Their speed was blocked by this group of Ming troops. The threat of the artillery still remained. The Later Jin main formation behind could not stop. While the skirmishers fought each other like dogs, they advanced to one hundred paces. Having endured multiple artillery strikes, their formation was slightly disordered. A few places that had been punched through appeared rather sparse. But they had finally reached the distance most advantageous for their style of fighting. The sound of gunfire rang out on the outer flank of their right wing — those were the two roving detachments beginning to engage on the north side. But no one had any interest in paying attention to that minor battlefield over there.

Mandarhan's eyes were bloodshot. His Niru had been hit once, and incredibly, seven men had been killed or wounded. Three of them were certainly beyond saving; the other four were also gravely injured, and whether they would survive was hard to say. He had not expected such a small cannon to be so vicious. The most terrifying thing was the rate of fire — so fast that it made the two-hundred-pace distance feel so agonizingly long. After the skirmishers began their harassment, those cannons had finally fallen silent.

This oppressive and fearful feeling drove him into a half-crazed state. After years of surviving battlefields and winning continuously, he had developed a habit akin to bloodlust. The more formidable the opponent, the more it aroused his savagery. Scenes of how he would capture and slowly dismember the Ming soldiers one by one after routing this Ming force kept surfacing in his mind.

Even in such a state, he still did not forget to observe his opponent. The front ranks were a sea of red uniforms. Some scattered arrows from the skirmishers fell into their formation, and a few Ming soldiers collapsed. Not a single person around them turned to look. The rear rank automatically stepped forward one man, filling the gap in the line.

His pupils contracted. Since when had Ming troops ever possessed such discipline? Where exactly had these Ming troops come from?

Ninety paces. The bowmen in the Later Jin main formation began to draw their arrows. Commands rang out from both wings of the Ming army. The entire first rank of Ming soldiers crouched down. Mandarhan was just wondering when the Ming central army's flags waved, immediately followed by the sound of a bugle. Countless muskets were raised simultaneously. The Wendeng Battalion's first line deployed all its musketeers. Each wing had three firearms banner teams, totaling two hundred eighty-eight men. The first rank crouched; the rear two ranks stood. The farmer-soldiers' one firearms detachment of fifty men deployed in a single line in front of the pike formation. The musketeers on both sides of the pikemen totaled sixteen men in the front rank.

Eighty paces. The Later Jin army halted entirely at the sound of a gong. The bowmen began preparing for volley fire, while some other bowmen moved forward to support the first wave of skirmishers.

The Wendeng Battalion's central army signal cannon fired. The assistant battalion commanders' flags on both combat wings moved. Each firearms banner team leader loudly issued warning commands. The central army's bugle sounded once. The standing musketeers in the rear rank extended their flintlocks through the small gaps in the front rank. Over three hundred sixty flintlocks leveled in unison, pointing at the Later Jin army opposite.

The Wendeng Battalion's central army let out a resounding swan call. Those Ming skirmishers still in the front rank jolted as one and threw themselves flat on the ground. All the gunners crouched down, extending the burning heads of their linstocks toward the touchholes. Three hundred sixty flintlock musketeers pulled their triggers simultaneously.