Chapter 322: The Ford

"Quick march!"

Zhong Laosi rode past the column on horseback. After fording the Pingyang River, Zhu Guobin's order came down: the cavalry and mounted infantry were to reach Dagushan by afternoon and cut off the main road from Fuzhou to Niangniang Temple. In Zhong Laosi's company, each squad was assigned one auxiliary soldier, who helped the regular soldiers feed and wash the horses, but whose main role in battle was to serve as a horse holder, to prevent the horses from bolting in panic.

Along the way, scout riders constantly returned from the front. The Dengzhou garrison no longer concealed its movements, instead relying on the cavalry's mobility to race toward the combat zone, aiming to annihilate the Jianzhou bandits' effective strength south of Fuzhou and prepare for the assault on Fuzhou itself. To coordinate with the Dengzhou garrison's strike, Wang Tingshi issued strict orders for the Dongjiang garrison to attack. The Dongjiang troops on Guanglu Island, Haiyang Island, Greater and Lesser Zhangshan, Pi Island, and elsewhere all went ashore to raid. Thanks to the supplies provided by Dengzhou this year, the Dongjiang garrison had begun to recover some vitality.

The vanguard commander and cavalry battalion officer Tan Shen had trained alongside Zhong Laosi for several months, and the two had developed a tacit understanding. After the scout riders headed for the main army, Tan Shen's relay rider also arrived at Zhong Laosi's position and shouted to him, "About twelve hundred Jianzhou bandits are near Niangniang Temple, positioned west of the Fuzhou River. Officer Tan orders your unit to follow quickly, cross the Fuzhou River, and cut off the main road."

"Understood," Zhong Laosi replied curtly, immediately ordering the signalman to relay the command. He actually liked this battle plan very much — no convoluted stratagems, simple and direct. The southern force, loaded onto ships from Lushun, would suddenly appear at Niangniang Temple, displaying a strength of over two thousand men. Relying on field fortifications, they could withstand an assault by three or four thousand Jianzhou bandits, while also causing the bandits to misjudge the strength of the Dengzhou forces.

Meanwhile, the eastern force would serve as the mobile strike element, cutting off their retreat and exploiting the cavalry's high-speed mobility to create a time differential. The entire plan was very easy to understand, far smoother than the operations during the Dengzhou pacification campaign.

Zhong Laosi had been utterly baffled by the hide-and-seek maneuvers of the Dengzhou campaign, and his superiors had offered no explanation whatsoever. By comparison, he much preferred the current approach. This also matched what Chen Daru had taught in the short training course: officers must consider problems comprehensively, but the orders they issue must be clear and concise, and plans must discard those complex so-called stratagems — the simpler the plan, the easier it is to execute. In particular, the course criticized books like Romance of the Three Kingdoms. So Zhong Laosi later concluded that the convoluted maneuver plan for Dengzhou must have been drawn up by Liu Pojun, definitely not by a genius like Chen Daru.

The troops moving with him consisted of seven hundred men from the cavalry battalion, twelve hundred mounted infantry, plus some scout riders from the main army and the Fourth Battalion's scouts. The main force rested once every twenty li; after the horses drank water and ate a small amount of grass, they continued on their way.

The column quickly passed Yuntai Mountain and Dajian Mountain. Dajian Mountain lay southwest of Fuzhou, only fifty li from the city. The Jianzhou bandit scout riders in the area grew more numerous, but they dared not approach and harass this massive cavalry force, merely observing the main road from a distance. The Dengzhou scout riders attacked proactively, in groups of three or five, driving off the Jianzhou scouts.

By now their movements had certainly been exposed, but the Dengzhou army was likewise cavalry, leaving the bandits very little time to send word and withdraw. Zhong Laosi fully understood the importance of speed, constantly urging the marching column onward, while also arranging riding, walking, and rest periods based on the lessons he had summarized during training, to prevent the horses from becoming overly exhausted.

He rode back and forth with the signalman, and when he reached Guan Dadi's platoon, he saw that the pace ahead had slowed. Furious, he rode up to investigate and found that the wheel rim of the Third Company's four-pounder cannon had been damaged, and the axle beneath had snapped as well. Several artillerymen were scrambling to replace it, and the cavalry behind could only detour through the wasteland beside the road, naturally slowing the pace.

"To hell with you lot! I just said no delays to the march — shove it aside!" Zhong Laosi went up and kicked each gunner, one by one, then led the signalman to help. Together they lifted the five-hundred-jin gun carriage and set it down by the roadside.

Once the road was clear, he immediately shouted at the passing column, "No one is permitted to delay the march! Whatever blocks the road — whether cart, cannon, or man, even if it's your own mother standing in the way — throw it into the ditch for me!"...

At the second ke of the wei hour, the army began crossing the Langu River. This river originated in the Langu Mountains, flowed northeast first, then turned southwest to join the Fuzhou River. The crossing point they had chosen had been repeatedly scouted by the special service unit; the water only reached a man's knees, and the current was very gentle. After crossing here, they were only five li from the Fuzhou River. The main road from Fuzhou to Niangniang Temple lay on the river's western bank — once they crossed the river, they could cut off the bandits' retreat.

During the river crossing, the warhorses at the front all obediently followed their riders' commands across. Zhong Laosi's mixed horses, however, were somewhat disorderly, constantly trying to drink the water. The riders cursed as they ceaselessly whipped the horses' rumps. For those that simply could not be controlled, the riders jumped into the river and forcibly pulled the horses' heads up to make them move forward. Some of the mixed horses began to struggle, sending water splashing everywhere in the river.

"Damn mixed horses," Zhong Laosi fretted from the riverbank. "When will they ever replace them all with warhorses for me?"

The bugler beside him laughed and said, "My lord, we're mounted infantry. Even if there were warhorses, they'd go to expand Tan Shen's unit, wouldn't they?"

"Get lost. Can't a man even dream?" Zhong Laosi knew perfectly well that if there were warhorses, they wouldn't be given to him. At most, he could hope for some slightly better mixed horses.

Zhong Laosi raised his eyes to look ahead. To the right were hills large and small, stretching toward Fuzhou: first Dagushan, then Xiulongshan. To the north was Shuangtaizi Mountain, and further north still, the screen-like Dongping Mountain. Ahead, after the cavalry battalion had crossed the Langu River, the foremost company had already deployed into formation.

From the banks of the Fuzhou River, five li away, came the faint sound of short gunfire — the scout riders must have begun engaging the Jianzhou scouts.

That familiar feeling of the battlefield returned, but his heart was very calm. Since the fourth year of the Tianqi reign, Zhong Laosi had participated in nearly every battle of the Wendeng Battalion. To him now, battle seemed like an ordinary job; if he went too long without it, he actually felt a bit uneasy.

"Kill the Tatars!" Zhong Laosi bellowed, spurring his horse into the river...

At Niangniang Temple, foot-boats shuttled back and forth at sea, continuously unloading infantry and supplies. On shore, two breastworks had been erected. In front of the breastworks were the trenches left from digging the earth. They could construct breastworks so quickly thanks to the iron shovel issued to every soldier. These soldiers, of farming background, had no trouble digging earth whatsoever, nor did they find the work tedious. Even after the two breastworks were completed, men kept tirelessly digging holes in front of them, to make the bandits' assault even more troublesome.

By comparison, Dorgon, the Later Jin Minister of Personnel, was loath to do such ditch-digging work. But since he had to face off against the Ming army, he too had to build a fortified camp, so quite a few bondservants were also digging ditches.

Gazing at the Ming army across the way, he felt a chill of fear. In just a single day, they had erected two lines of defensive works, with sharpened stakes made from javelins set up in some places. According to Unage's description at the time, the Gu'an defense line had looked roughly like this — and Gu'an had only had one line. Before him were two. Some passages had been left open for sallies, but behind each passage sat rows of armored long-spear soldiers, with cannons on the flanks. Dorgon had absolutely no desire to launch a frontal assault.

The troops here were all his personal forces. In the Plain White Banner, he had only fifteen niru. If he suffered heavy losses, he would be even less able to restrain that lawless Ajige — not even if Hong Taiji intervened. In Later Jin, everything was decided by strength. He did not believe that the title of Minister of Personnel, which Hong Taiji had arranged for him, carried any real weight.

It was abundantly clear that this Ming army's only valuable assets were its equipment, but that equipment had to be bought with men's lives. If his men were wiped out, the equipment would simply fall into someone else's hands. Shenmi Island had been a bitter lesson — even Dorgon's top enforcer, Kakduli, had been lost there, eventually taken to the Ming capital, Jingshi, and executed by slow slicing. Dorgon had no intention of making that kind of losing deal again.

Because this Deng-Lai force had already made a name for itself in Later Jin, Dorgon only wished to pin them down on the beach, wait for the main army to arrive, and drive them away — ideally without fighting at all. But Fuzhou was his defense sector. Manggūltai was only assisting in the area between Fuzhou and Gaizhou; he could afford to drag his feet, but Dorgon could not. Dorgon had been forced to rush to Niangniang Temple to prevent the Ming army from committing more troops. As it now appeared, there were only a little over two thousand men.

Dorgon glanced behind him at the stern ranks of the Plain White Banner. Last year, Hong Taiji had revised the military system, dividing each gūsa into two wings, each with one meiren-i ejen. A separate juwe-i ejen was also established for the guards, and it was required to separate the marching troops from the cavalry. In practice, most of the marching troops also had horses, but in future battles they would fight primarily on foot, while the cavalry would fight mounted. However, this reorganization was not yet complete and was currently more a symbol of status.

In the original course of history, the true restructuring of the Later Jin army would not be completed until the eighth year of the Tiancong reign. The purpose of this structure was to change the army's organizational method, which had been based on the niru as a unit, turning the niru into a mere population unit rather than a combat unit. This reform corresponded with the Six Ministries, replacing the tribal chieftain system with a system of military ranks — otherwise the Ministry of War would have been nothing but an empty shell. Hong Taiji displayed outstanding political talent. Although the ministers of the Six Ministries were all banner lords, through changes in institutions and structures, he was slowly strengthening administrative power while weakening banner authority.

A meiren-i ejen beside Dorgon leaned in and said in a low voice, "Master, this battle formation cannot be charged. The Great Khan's order to us is to hold Fuzhou and block enemy raids. As long as we hold our ground, it is not worth throwing our lives away against them."

Dorgon nodded. "As long as they don't come out of their lines, I naturally won't attack them. Have the bondservants make shield carts."

"Shield carts?" The meiren-i ejen was surprised. Dorgon had just said he wouldn't attack, yet now he was ordering shield carts prepared.

"We must make a show of it. If the Fourth Beile comes and he wants to fight, we'll have made preparations."

The meiren-i ejen thought of Manggūltai. His Plain Blue Banner had suffered the worst at the hands of this Deng-Lai force, taking heavy losses at both Gu'an and Luanzhou. He couldn't help saying, "The Fourth Beile lost troops and officers at the Daling River, and in the end he didn't get much of a share of the captured people and supplies. He probably won't want to fight."

"I know that well enough. When the Great Khan returns and asks why the Nikan who came ashore weren't wiped out, I can say it was the Fourth Beile's decision, while my Plain White Banner was fully prepared to attack."

The meiren-i ejen suddenly understood. "Ja, your slave understands. I'll have the bondservants make shield carts at once."

He turned his head to look around. The nearby groves of trees had all been cut down by the Ming army the day before, and what remained had been set ablaze. This bunch of Ming soldiers was as detestable as ever. He cursed under his breath but still went to relay the order.

Once the arrangements were complete, he asked Dorgon, "Master, should we bring the Hongyi cannons from Fuzhou City as well?"

Dorgon hesitated for a moment, then finally said, "Not for now. There are only two in total anyway. Let Manggūltai decide."

The meiren-i ejen was about to ask further when a scout horse suddenly came rushing over in great haste. Without even performing the proper salute, the rider shouted, "Master, several thousand Deng-Lai cavalry are approaching from the east! By now they must be nearing the Langu River!"

"What?" Dorgon and the other man were both shocked. If it were infantry, they wouldn't have been afraid in the slightest — even if they couldn't win, they could always retreat in time. But now, several thousand cavalry had suddenly appeared.

"Retreat at once! Every niru is to assemble its troops immediately and rush back to reinforce."

"Master, what about those bondservants?"

Dorgon calculated the distance. The previous ford on the Fuzhou River was roughly thirty li from here — not a distance that could be covered in a moment. And that was precisely where the Deng-Lai troops were most likely to cut them off. Anxiety burned in his heart. "Forget them! Let them fend for themselves. Execute on the spot any who can't keep up! Send the guards ahead to the Fuzhou River ford and hold the official road on the western bank securely."...

At the ford on the western bank of the Fuzhou River, a group of Later Jin soldiers began to assemble. Having spent a long time in Fuzhou, they were very familiar with the surrounding terrain. The sudden appearance of the Deng-Lai cavalry, whose numbers and speed both exceeded their expectations, had caught them off guard. The scout riders had barely delivered their warning before the Ming army appeared at the Langu River, leaving the surrounding Later Jin scouts no time to block them there. Now the Fuzhou River was wider, but it was their last line of defense — otherwise, the main Fuzhou force at Niangniang Temple would be encircled.

Among the scout riders was Taketan. He was now a White Armor Soldier of his niru. Last year, the banner lord Manggūltai had behaved disrespectfully before the throne and had been severely suppressed. Although the horses he had to compensate the other banner lords with were nothing much, his prestige had fallen considerably. Using the loss of Jinzhou as a pretext, Hong Taiji demanded that the Plain Blue Banner station troops between Fuzhou and Gaizhou to prevent further advances by the Deng-Lai forces, and Manggūltai had no good reason to refuse.

There were whispers within the banner that the Great Khan once again wanted the Plain Blue Banner to lose troops and officers, to weaken this Fourth Brother's power. Taketan did not believe such talk, but it was affecting his income. In particular, the Plain Blue Banner had not been conscripted for this campaign against the Chahar, so he had lost an opportunity to acquire free horses. Coming to Fuzhou this time, he had no choice but to ride his own warhorse again — the one that had just put on a little weight. After half a month, that bit of fat was gone again.

Beside him were several armored soldiers wearing clothes made from chum salmon skin, garments marked with vertical black stripes. His niru had suffered heavy losses time and again, and this time it had been replenished with twenty fish-skin Tatars from Ningguta, who had been given land. But it seemed none of them knew how to farm. Without bondservants, Taketan reckoned they would go hungry this year.

These people had once been called the Savage Jurchens in Liaodong, but even Taketan referred to them as fish-skin Tatars, because compared to them, he felt himself a civilized man. Most of these people lived along the coast east of the Heilongjiang River and the Changbai Mountains, leading extremely primitive tribal lives, spending their days in the mountain forests among fierce beasts and venomous insects. Though fierce by nature, their equipment was terribly crude — iron tools and armor were more precious than pearls or ginseng, and most of their arrows were ground from animal teeth or bone. Naturally, they were no match for the Later Jin troops. Once captured, they became excellent supplementary sources of soldiers for the Later Jin army. Once equipped with armor and weapons, these men were terrifying warriors.

"Amuha, prepare the heavy arrows. Those Nikan are about to cross the river," Taketan said to a fish-skin Tatar beside him. This man was one of the rare fish-skin Tatars who understood Mongolian. Taketan could only command the other Savage Jurchens through Amuha.

Amuha hurriedly went and jabbered away at the other fish-skin men. Taketan fixed his gaze on the opposite bank. Fighting had already broken out between the Fuzhou River and the Langu River, with puffs of white smoke bursting forth from time to time. Taketan knew this was that same Wendeng Battalion from back then. This was no secret among the Eight Banners, especially after the battles of Shenmi Island and Jinzhou, where the two sides had been evenly matched in numbers, yet the Later Jin troops had suffered a crushing defeat. Although Taketan had not personally taken part, the fear in his heart ran a layer deeper, and it was not something he could dispel just by psyching himself up.

He understood this Ming army's objective very clearly. The previous afternoon, Dorgon had led the Fuzhou Plain White Banner to Niangniang Temple — nearly two thousand men. If this Ming force cut off their retreat, and with both sides being cavalry, the losses would be catastrophic.

The troops north of Fuzhou were mainly Plain Blue Banner. Manggūltai did not seem in any hurry to come, only dispatching some White Armor Soldiers to reinforce the eastern scouts. Taketan's niru was responsible for the supply line from Fuzhou to Niangniang Temple. He had originally thought it would be quite safe, but now he was facing the enemy he feared most. And he had no choice but to steel himself and press on — otherwise the banner lord would surely kill him.

The Ming cavalry by the Langu River grew more and more numerous. The Plain White Banner's scout riders could not hold them off and fell back toward the Fuzhou River.

On the western bank, the other Later Jin soldiers who had arrived all began to dismount, taking out their foot bows and preparing for battle. This was the only ford in the vicinity. The other crossing point was over a dozen li away, near Dongping Mountain — the Ming army would certainly be unwilling to cross the river there.

The Later Jin scout riders on the opposite bank began crossing the river. Though the current here was also gentle, the water was deep enough to reach a horse's body. The moment they entered the river, their speed dropped drastically. Taketan shouted from the riverbank, urging them to move faster.

The Ming scout riders in pursuit came very quickly, clinging tightly to the tails of the Later Jin troops. Reaching a spot not far from the bank, they dismounted one after another, took out their foot bows, and fired repeatedly at the Later Jin soldiers fording the river.

Several horses that had been hit at the ford raised their heads and whinnied, thrashing up great sprays of water. The last few Later Jin soldiers, unable to get past those horses, came to a halt in the middle and became targets. Their bodies jerked as they were struck; they struggled briefly in the current, then drifted downstream trailing patches of red, soon reaching deep water where their heavy armor dragged them under.

"Shoot in volleys, quickly!" Taketan roared at Amuha and the others behind him. A wave of heavy arrows soared into the sky, only to drop to the ground the moment they reached the opposite bank. "You damn slaves, switch to light arrows!"

Take Tan whipped out his smooth saber, and Amuha glared back at him viciously. "You were the one who told us to use heavy arrows!"

Take Tan shoved his face right up to Amuha's and roared, "Can't you think for yourself whether to use light or heavy arrows, you dog of a bondservant? I'll tell you one last time: use light arrows for volley fire, heavy arrows for close-range shooting. If you screw up again, I'll cut you down."

Amuha finally backed down. He started muttering again with the other wild Jurchens. Only then did Take Tan turn his gaze back. The Later Jin soldiers in the river had passed the danger distance, and those Ming troops were starting to roll up their trouser legs, preparing to force a crossing. He growled under his breath, "Let's see how you cross now!" …

A shout came from the opposite bank, and a group of Ming soldiers came up from behind. They deftly took shields off their horses, and a dozen or so men huddled together and muttered for a moment, then raised the shields over their heads and moved toward the riverbank.

"They're coming!" Take Tan jumped off his horse, grabbed his own great blade and shield. The Ming troops on the other side were gathering in greater numbers; they looked like scouts and pickets. They took out their bows and began volleying toward this side from the riverbank. Take Tan heard the thrumming of bowstrings and hurriedly raised his shield over his head. A series of thudding sounds hit the ground around him. Take Tan's left arm dipped — a muffled *thunk* sounded against it. He didn't need to look to know it was a light arrow; it certainly couldn't pierce his three-layer rawhide shield.

That group of Ming soldiers alternated their fire as they approached the river's edge. Both sides had shields, so the bows did limited damage, but Take Tan soon saw a mounted Ming unit arrive. They began dismounting and forming ranks — they were actually firearms troops.

"Firearms troops ride horses too?" Take Tan felt a surge of resentment. He knew perfectly well his shield couldn't stop a musket shot. It was only fifty or sixty paces from here to the opposite bank; the enemy's firearms could give him just as much grief. He considered briefly, then said, "Pull back. Wait until they enter the river and get close to this side, then shoot them."

The dozen or so armored soldiers of his niru all pulled back at once. Those wild Jurchens were slower again; Take Tan had to beat and kick them before they got the idea, and they all fell back over twenty paces.

"Hu!" The Ming troops on the opposite side had also reached the riverbank. A dozen or so men formed a squad, with men in the rear carrying foot bows and the front rank holding shields in a tight line. At a single command from a leader, the formed Ming soldiers let out a great shout and began wading across the river.

Among the returning Later Jin scouts was a guard officer, a jalan ejen of the Plain White Banner. He immediately began directing the fifty-odd Later Jin soldiers on the west bank: the front rank held square shields for defense, the rear rank readied their bows to shoot. After Take Tan had prepared, he glanced southward. Far in the distance, there seemed to be dust rising. As long as they could hold out for a while, the Plain White Banner's vanguard troops would return and there'd be no problem. But right now, a bloody fight was certain.

Once the Ming troops reached midstream, the Plain White Banner guard jalan ejen let out a great shout. Most of them began loosing arrows with a thrumming sound. Waves of armor-piercing heavy arrows shot into the river. Those Ming soldiers cunningly crouched low, sheltering behind their shields, while the men in the rear returned fire with low volleys. Arrows clattered loudly against the shields on both sides.

White smoke suddenly burst from the opposite bank, followed by a deafening roar. A shield-bearing wild Jurchen in front of Take Tan let out a yelp, knocked back a step by the impact, and nearly fell to the ground. He hastily raised his shield to look and saw that the wooden planks at the back had split into many cracks. He let out a foolish guffaw.

"Keep shielding!" Take Tan hurriedly ducked his head and shouted. The wild Jurchen couldn't understand him and turned his head blankly toward Take Tan. Before Take Tan could find an interpreter, another volley roared from the opposite bank. The wild Jurchen's head snapped backward violently; he collapsed to the ground without even a cry. There was a huge hole in his head, and blood quickly seeped out, staining the earth beneath him red.

"Idiots. Idiots." Take Tan sighed deeply at the capabilities of these wild Jurchens. They had only just arrived and had no idea what a firearm even was, let alone how powerful the Ming firearms on the other side could be. In Take Tan's view, no matter how savage they were now, they weren't worth a single ordinary Later Jin soldier.

He had no time to lament the loss of a fighting man. He hastily raised his own rawhide shield. At this distance from the riverbank, it could stop a lead ball. Even though the shield was valuable, it was better than losing his life.

Arrows from both sides whizzed back and forth through the air. Even the jalan ejen was gradually growing anxious. Take Tan, unable to bear it any longer, hid behind his shield and cautiously peeked out. He saw several Ming shield formations advancing in an unbroken line, front to rear, nearly reaching the riverbank. Take Tan hurriedly gripped the hilt of his great blade with his right hand, waiting for the moment when close-quarters combat would begin.