Chapter 1114: Either Death by Firing Squad, or Seppuku (Please Subscribe)

"Hei-hei-ho, hei-hei-ho, hei-hei-ho."

Amid wave after wave of perfectly synchronized Japanese-style shouts, Yamamoto Jin'emon Shigeshige, gripping a katana in his hand, was so tense that his face and head were drenched in sweat — he was scared to death, and his mind kept flashing with images of dying by seppuku and dying by firing squad. It was as if laid out before him was the hardest multiple-choice question in the world.

Either death by firing squad, or seppuku!

Although the smoke on the battlefield was thick, the Toyotomi matchlock men opposite still spotted the approaching "lobster soldiers" — these Japanese soldiers wearing red breastplates and helmets really did look a bit like lobsters, and cooked lobsters at that, which was rather unlucky!

Bang.

A bullet from the Toyotomi army struck the muddy ground in front of Yamamoto Shigeshige, sending mud and sand flying, some of it splattering onto old Yamamoto's face.

What a close call!

Yamamoto broke out in a cold sweat all over!

Had he walked a few steps faster, he would now be sprawled on the ground, blood gushing out!

Yet even having escaped death, Yamamoto still had a sense that doom was inescapable, because he knew this was not yet the most dangerous moment.

The most dangerous moment would be when the ranks, braving the Toyotomi gunfire, advanced to within thirty paces of the enemy line — at that distance, the matchlock guns used by the Toyotomi army could hit a man-sized target with great accuracy. And at that range, the gunpowder smoke would no longer be enough to shield a lonely, helpless old man like himself.

And what most drove Yamamoto to despair was that he, an old man, was not marching in the middle of the ranks, but was walking on the left side of the formation together with several squad leaders. This formation made it easier for the company commanders and squad leaders to manage the ranks and supervise the fighting, but it also placed them in the most dangerous position — it was practically singling them out as targets to be shot at!

This tactic was utterly unreasonable. How had the Ming generals ever come up with it?

And what was even more unreasonable was that fleeing was forbidden. Hoshina Masanori had already issued a death order: every soldier of the Red Matchlock Army could only fight to the death, and must not flee. Anyone who deserted in the face of battle would have to atone by seppuku! And with no second to assist; if one dared not do the deed, then someone else would do it for him!

There truly was no way out! Yamamoto thought to himself: fail the exam and you must commit seppuku; pass it and you still must commit seppuku. If you don't want seppuku, you have to serve as a target for others to shoot at! Why is the life of a samurai in troubled times so bitter?

At that moment, old Yamamoto turned his head and glanced back to the right. Through the drifting smoke, the old man saw a field strewn with the dead and the dying, lying every which way, all of them red. Some were not yet fully dead, still rolling about and letting out desperate wails!

If he had known, he would never have lived to such an age — how fine it would have been to die in the peaceful years of the Tokugawa era! Why did this body of his never fall ill? Honestly.

The ill-fated old Yamamoto drew a breath of the choking air, then gritted his teeth, puffed out his chest, raised his katana — not the ancestral treasured blade, for that one had been sold off by his wife Okiku — and with stiff, mechanical steps, continued forward.

Just then, a miracle suddenly appeared on the battlefield: the previously dense gunfire from the Toyotomi side grew sparser and sparser!

What was going on? Could it be that the Toyotomi army's matchlocks had overheated and could no longer fire?

As the old man was puzzling over this, he suddenly heard a piercing whistle from somewhere unknown!

This was the order to halt the advance!

The old man hastily squinted and peered ahead. By now the smoke ahead had largely cleared, and only then did he discover that the Toyotomi army opposite was changing formation — the matchlock men were falling back, and the pikemen were moving forward!

It turned out that the Toyotomi commander had mistaken the Red Matchlock Army for a melee unit — because every soldier of the Red Matchlock Army had a gleaming, polished bayonet fixed to his flintlock, flashing cold light that was terrifying to behold! Moreover, this Red Matchlock Army had advanced the whole way without firing a single shot, which was not how a musket unit fought!

So seeing them draw near, the Toyotomi commander hurriedly ordered his matchlock men to fall back — the Toyotomi matchlock men all carried katanas, but a blade could not out-fight a pike!

And besides, if the matchlock men did all the hand-to-hand fighting too, then what were the pikemen behind them drawing their pay for?

But the Toyotomi matchlock men had only just been pushed forward and had not yet had time to dress their ranks when they too realized something was wrong! The smoke ahead had cleared, and they could now see the Nagasaki army opposite — what pikemen were they? They were clearly matchlock men to a man! And they had already formed up in a three-rank firing formation: the first rank kneeling, the second rank leveling their muskets, and the third rank slightly offset from the second, resting their muskets on the shoulders of the second-rank soldiers.

At last, he would not have to die!

Old Yamamoto Shigeshige, who had just been scared half to death, was now full of swagger again. He raised his katana high and shouted: "Kakare—!"

Then with a sudden sweep, he brought the katana slashing down.

More than eighteen hundred flintlocks fired at once! Every flintlock spat out a long plume of white smoke. The battlefield was once again shrouded in smoke so thick it could not be parted, and along the five-hundred-pace-wide battle line, a long dragon of fire and smoke appeared in an instant.

The gunfire merged into one continuous roar, combining into a single heaven-shaking thunderclap. Even Shimazu Mitsuhisa and de Velasco, far away at the Toyotomi main camp, were startled by the tremendous sound! Was this the great cannon of the Nagasaki army opening fire? Such a huge noise — how heavy must the shot be? Surely not an explosive shell?

These two could not possibly have imagined that the blow suffered by their own right wing was far more terrible than being directly hit by a shell weighing several dozen catties!

More than eighteen hundred bullets tore into the somewhat disordered ranks of the Toyotomi army with shrill whistling, mercilessly piercing through everything that stood in their path. The soft thuds of bullets punching through human bodies sounded again and again, and on the far side of each body they raised puffs of blood mist, while also opening up a horrifyingly large wound that left no hope!

In just the first volley, several hundred blood-gushing bodies lay before the Toyotomi line, wails rising one after another, while the survivors were stunned by the scene before their eyes — was this the legendary Avici Hell?

"Quick, reload!"

"One more volley!"

"Move faster!"

Yamamoto Shigeshige and the other officers of the Red Matchlock Army were all shouting at the top of their lungs, urging their men to reload at once!

The opportunity was rare! The Toyotomi army opposite was now in complete chaos, and what had been pushed forward were pikemen, who had no way even to fight back — they could only stand there and be shot!

"Boom—"

Another thunderous roar, and another eighteen hundred-odd lead balls swept across the Toyotomi front like a whirlwind, mowing down a great swath of the bewildered pikemen.

Then came a third volley!

After three volleys of close-range musket fire, even the Toyotomi samurai could not hold. They threw down their pikes and fled, clutching their heads. The Toyotomi matchlock men who had just withdrawn from the front were also dumbfounded. Their officers were still crying out in despair, trying to reform the ranks and return fire, but their formation had already been scattered to pieces by those pikemen who had thrown away their samurai souls — how could they possibly reorganize?

And at the same time, the Red Matchlock Army, having finished its three volleys, had already launched a bayonet charge!

Yamamoto Shigeshige, who moments ago had been terrified out of his wits, now transformed into the "War God of Seventy," brandishing his katana and charging with the matchlock men under him toward the Toyotomi matchlock men — by now he had forgotten his earlier fear of death, and was thinking: if only I had been born fifty years earlier, with my abilities I might well have fought my way to becoming a domain lord! But now I am a bit old, and both my sons are gone. If I really did win a domain, who would inherit it?

The Toyotomi matchlock men were finished. They had no bayonets, had not had time to reload, and had even lost their formation. They were just crowded together in disorder — not samurai at all, but a flock of lambs awaiting slaughter!

Wooo-wooo...

Yamamoto, who had already charged into the enemy ranks, faintly heard another burst of urgent bugle calls! The old man thought: this must be the call for the general assault, surely? The Nagasaki army is about to win a complete victory; the Toyotomi restoration has reached its end!

(End of Chapter)