Chapter 445: Too Brave (First Update, Begging for Monthly Tickets)

Zhu Cilang turned his head and looked toward the direction of Daqiang Ridge. On the low, gently sloping hillside, starting from the area near the high ground, points of firelight lit up one after another, like sparks setting a prairie ablaze, and in an instant covered a large stretch of the slope.

There was no need to guess what these fires were — they were surely torches lit by the Tartar troops who had finished forming their battle lines!

Judging from the pattern formed by the torches, the Tartar troops had arrayed themselves in a roughly rectangular formation. The front was relatively narrow, with greater depth. The troops stretched from the western bank of the Qingliu Stream at the foot of the mountain all the way to the eastern slope of Daqiang Ridge, near the ridgeline.

"Thousand Years, the Tartar troops number about 20,000... and they have already finished deploying! Clearly they left their camp long ago!" Wu Sanfu's voice had gone somewhat hoarse.

Twenty thousand Tartar troops! And they had come fully prepared... their own side had no advantage in numbers at all!

"No matter..." Zhu Cilang remained composed. "With the Qingliu Stream in the way, they cannot charge across. We can deploy at our leisure!"

The Qingliu Stream could be forded; at this season, the water did not even reach a man's waist. But in waist-deep stream water, neither men nor horses could build up a charge; they could only pass through slowly. Nearly half of the Ming troops advancing along the river were musketeers, carrying at least seven or eight thousand matchlock muskets!

In addition, there were the 24 three-pounder battalion guns of four artillery companies, all loaded with lead shot and ready to fire at any moment!

If the Qing troops blindly launched a charge, these muskets and cannon alone would be enough to turn the Qingliu Stream into a Stream of Blood.

"Great Qing, ten thousand victories! Great Qing, ten thousand victories..."

The Qing troops on the hillside let out earth-shaking cheers, shouted in the Manchu language. Although Crown Prince Zhu could not understand them, he had to admit that these Qing troops had formidable spirit!

Zhu Cilang would of course not show weakness, and immediately gave the order: "Light the torches! Light the lanterns! Let the Tartars see our might as well!"

"Aye!"

At the word of command, firelight spread rapidly north and south from the position where Zhu Cilang stood, quickly forming a fiery dragon stretching across the foot of Daqiang Ridge and along the Qingliu Stream.

"The Great Ancestor, the Exalted Emperor, lives again... ever victorious in battle! Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years! Ten thousand times ten thousand years!"

Then the Ming troops also began to cheer, their voices even louder than those of the Qing troops arrayed on the hillside!

"Heh heh, they certainly have loud voices!" Hooge, who was on horseback observing the formations from the ridgeline of Daqiang Ridge's eastern slope, burst out laughing. "But battles are not won by loud voices!"

"My Prince," Luotuo, the meiren-i janggin commanding the Han troops of the Plain Blue Banner, took up the thread with a chuckle, "your slaves have already set up the Hongyi cannons. Shall we fire a few rounds to intimidate these southern barbarians?"

Hooge had brought six 12-pounder Hongyi cannons south with him. Though few in number, they could still be quite useful if employed well. For the Ming troops had few cavalry and many infantry, and what they feared most was having their formations shattered by bombardment.

"Very well!" Hooge laughed. "Aim at... aim at those great banners and fire!"

He had already spotted Zhu Cilang's "Great Ancestor, the Exalted Emperor, Lives Again" banner and six dragon banners. These seven great banners were illuminated by lanterns hung on the flagpoles, making them extremely conspicuous in the dark of night. Although Hooge could not make out the characters and designs on the banners, from their position and the direction in which they were moving, he could roughly judge that they were very likely Zhu Cilang's own standards!

"Aye!"

"Boom boom boom..."

Luotuo answered, and was just about to send someone to relay orders to the Hongyi cannon niru, when the booming of cannon fire had already sounded first.

But it was not the Hongyi cannons of the Great Qing artillery unit roaring — it was the Ming troops' three-pounder battalion guns opening fire, from the direction of Hao Yaoqi and Shi Ruien.

Luotuo pricked up his ears and listened, then said to Hooge: "My Prince, the firing has started to the south and the west! There are a great many cannon, likely no fewer than thirty pieces. Whether they are Hongyi cannons, I cannot tell..."

"They are not Hongyi cannons," Hooge smiled. "Thirty Hongyi cannons firing would shake heaven and earth. How much sound is there now? At most they are Great General cannons."

"Then there is nothing to fear." Luotuo said, "Bahana is a veteran general; he should be able to hold those Nikans back!"

Hooge nodded, raised his hand and pointed at the cluster of Zhu Cilang's moving banners, and raised his voice: "Relay Our princely command: the great banners in the midst of the southern army ahead mark the central army of the Zhu family's little Crown Prince!

In this battle, We want nothing else but the head of Zhu Cilang! Whoever takes Zhu Cilang's head shall be rewarded with six advancements!"

The so-called "advancement" was in fact the Qing dynasty's term for military merit nobility. It was not until the Qianlong era that it reached its "complete form," with nine grades and twenty-seven ranks — that is, twenty-seven advancements. But at present there were not so many advancements. For an ordinary Eight Banners soldier moving upward, the entry-level military merit nobility that could become an advancement was the third-class niru janggin — the four janggin ranks of amban janggin, meiren-i janggin, jalan janggin, and niru janggin were at present both names of appointments and advancements of military merit nobility. The distinction was that when serving as advancements, they had first, second, and third classes, so the four janggin made twelve advancements. Above that there were also first, second, and third class dukes, marquises, earls, and so on.

And six advancements meant an ordinary Eight Banners soldier would leap straight to first-class jalan janggin, roughly equivalent to a rank of the upper third grade!

Where there are rich rewards, there will be brave men — and the Eight Banners soldiers of this era were already brave. Now with rich rewards on offer, the entire army roared with excitement!

The hundred-odd shield carts arrayed at the bottom of the slope by the Qingliu Stream had already been assembled, and began to press toward the bank of the Qingliu Stream, pushed by booi slaves. There were also some matchlock musketeers of the Plain Blue Banner's Han troops, who came running down from the mountain, every man carrying a matchlock musket or a turtledove-foot musket.

The six Hongyi cannons set up halfway up the mountainside had also finished being emplaced by this time, and began firing at the Ming troops deploying on the opposite side of the Qingliu Stream.

Boom boom...

The Qing troops' six Hongyi cannons were aimed at Zhu Cilang's banners. Hitting them was impossible — the two sides were more than six li apart — but the cannonballs flying overhead still frightened Wu Sanfu badly.

"Thousand Years, this position is still too far forward. Perhaps we should move back a little?"

"Move back for what?" Zhu Cilang said impatiently. "The Tartars have only a few cannon, and they are so far away — how could they possibly hit us? If We move any farther back, We will not be able to command."

Not able to command? Wu Sanfu thought to himself: I was the one commanding all along! You were just watching...

"Sanfu," Zhu Cilang, seeing him in a daze, loudly issued his order, "go deploy the troops at once!"

So it turned out that Zhu Cilang did not command anyone else — he commanded only Wu Sanfu alone...

"This subject receives the order!"

Wu Sanfu had no choice but to accept the command, and then summoned the staff officers and dispatch riders of the Model Army headquarters, and conveyed orders to them one by one.

The staff officers were all "Nth-generation nobles" who could talk and write well, had attended lectures at the Nanjing Military Academy, and understood a little of Western military strategy; they were responsible for recording Wu Sanfu's orders. The dispatch riders wore identification flags on their backs and rode horses to deliver orders. If necessary, Wu Sanfu would also send staff officers together with the dispatch riders to deliver orders.

And his orders today were not complicated, consisting roughly of two aspects: first, deployment; second, flying artillery.

Deployment meant having the two divisions, ten regiments, and forty-four battalions that had already reached the battlefield fall back and spread out — fall back to behind the official road, then deploy into a large hollow square.

Of these, the twenty-four Model battalions were divided into two parts: one part of twenty battalions, arranged in two great lines at the front, forming the front face of the great hollow square.

Another four battalions were mixed with four cavalry battalions, placed behind the central army where Zhu Cilang and Wu Sanfu were, forming the rear face of the great hollow square.

The sixteen "pike battalions" were divided into two parts and placed on the two wings of the great hollow square.

This deployment was in fact quite ordinary, nothing remarkable. What was truly formidable was the "flying artillery" — that is, concentrating all four artillery companies and placing them under the unified command of Feng Sizhong, for concentrated use, and moreover for mobile deployment!

That is, having the 24 three-pounder battalion guns maneuver on the official road in front of the Ming army's hollow square, and concentrate their fire. This method of employing artillery had not been taught by the Western instructors, but was given to Feng Sizhong by Zhu Cilang, and was called the flying artillery method.