Chapter 867: What? The Great Qing Is Gone! (Nine)

The Imperial Uncle was of course sagacious, but Oboi's brother Murima was not quite so sagacious.

Today he had brought eight niru of infantry to lie in ambush in Desheng Marsh... The so-called "ambush" was just something Dodo said offhandedly; it did not necessarily mean lying prone in the woods or in the grass.

Although Desheng Marsh was a stretch of wetland and forest that was difficult to pass through, it was not truly without a road. There was no broad official highway, but there was still a road that was not too hard to travel, passing through the southern forested area of Desheng Marsh.

For the Ming army's black-gun mule soldiers, this road was the ideal passage!

If Oboi had commanded these eight niru, he would certainly have used them to block the road — felling some trees and piling up a few sandbags would still have made it very easy to seal the road off.

Once the main road was blocked, the Ming cavalry would not easily get through. But Murima was too honest. Dodo told him to ambush, so he really went and lay in wait by the road. He split his troops into the woods on both sides of this main road, waiting for the Ming cavalry to pass through so he could catch them off guard.

The gunfire Dodo heard was Murima's ambushers firing matchlocks at the Ming cavalry passing by. But Li Yuanyin, who commanded the Ming cavalry making the flanking movement, was himself an expert at ambushes and sneak attacks, so he had long since made preparations. He sent one battalion of cavalry to the front making a great show of force, while the remaining seven battalions of cavalry all dismounted and led their horses on foot, following quietly.

As a result, Murima's ambushers, seeing four or five hundred Ming soldiers riding toward them, hastily opened fire and shot arrows. They did kill and wound some men, and then the ambushers charged out and surrounded the rest on the main road. But they were quickly shot at by the dismounted "black-gun soldiers" advancing on foot — and those were more than seventeen hundred flintlock musketeers!

The firepower of more than seventeen hundred flintlocks completely exceeded what Murima's eight niru could withstand. If they had been able to hold a fortified position, they might have withstood the Ming attack, or at least held out until reinforcements arrived. But now they were scattered on the main road with little to fall back on, so how could they withstand more than seventeen hundred flintlock musketeers?

In no time at all they were beaten into terrible casualties, corpses strewn all along the road. Murima's men were all old peasants who had come out from inside the Pass; how could they endure such losses? In the end they scattered and fled in all directions, and those who were not shot dead all slipped into the woods. Murima himself was grazed on the scalp by a lead ball, his whole head and face covered in blood, and fled all the way under the protection of a dozen or so personal guards, becoming a commander with no troops left. It was only when he was about to rush out of Desheng Marsh that he encountered Daishan's grandson, Aisin Gioro Liuyong, a Third-Class Defender-General, leading three thousand elite armored cavalry.

Liuyong's father Wakda was Daishan's fourth son and a trusted confidant of the Dorgon and Dodo brothers. He had followed Dodo ever since Dodo was posted to Liaodong, and had been enfeoffed as a Commandery Prince. He was the gūsa ejen of the Bordered Red Banner outside the Pass. However, he had died of illness in the ninth year of Shunzhi, and his position had been inherited by his son Liuyong.

Compared with his father Wakda, Liuyong seemed somewhat mediocre. He was a "third-generation Manchu," and had been born into a powerful family, raised in comfort and privilege from childhood, and had never experienced much danger.

Now, seeing a fierce general like Murima beaten until his whole head and face were covered in blood, he immediately grew somewhat flustered. He hurried forward and asked, "Murima, what happened to you?"

"Ran into a tough bunch!" Murima clutched his head. "The ambush failed, and we got shot up by black guns..."

"The southern barbarians' black-gun soldiers? How many?"

"Several thousand..." Murima said. "Every man with a black gun, shooting accurately and viciously!"

"Several thousand!" Liuyong panicked. "Then what do we do? The three thousand elite armored cavalry I brought don't have a single firearm among them!"

"Then fall back to the open ground outside Desheng Marsh and fight them face to face!" Murima gritted his teeth. "I don't believe the southern barbarians' black-gun soldiers can charge like our vanguard battalion!"

Murima was also a first-rate fierce general in the Manchu army. The Manchu vanguard battalion had been founded by him and Oboi together, so naturally he was skilled at cavalry assaults. But he had no vanguard battalion cavalry on hand, only some traditional Manchu cavalry, and they were not even under his own command. That was a bit troublesome.

Just as Liuyong and Murima were gathering their troops and preparing to fight again, Nikan, commanding eight thousand vanguard battalion cavalry, six thousand elite cavalry, and twelve cannons, also ran into big trouble — his twelve 3-pounder cannons had just been deployed when a third of them were knocked out by the enemy's nine 12-pounder cannons. The remaining eight 3-pounders had to shift position immediately.

The effective range of a smoothbore cannon is related to shot weight, powder charge, and barrel length. Although the nine 12-pounders in Wang Qi's hands were not long guns but relatively light short guns, and were cast-iron cannons at that, their effective range was still not something a 3-pounder could match.

So the cannons in Nikan's hands were completely useless!

Without artillery support, the dismounted vanguard battalion cavalry serving as musketeers had to charge hard against the eighteen 3-pounders of a Ming division-level artillery battalion.

But the vanguard battalion cavalry were, after all, a cavalry force that did odd jobs — a branch that could do everything but excelled at nothing. How could they dismount and fight a formed musket battle against elite Ming infantry drawn up in Maurice-style squares?

Nikan steeled himself and sent the dismounted vanguard battalion infantry in three attacks, all of which were driven back by Ming firepower. If Wang Qi, commander of the Ming 10th Division, had not had only one cavalry company and thus no way to cover an infantry counterattack, he would have smashed Nikan's vanguard battalion long ago.

After three failed attacks, Nikan's vanguard battalion cavalry had already lost more than a thousand men and no longer had the courage to launch a fourth assault. Yet he was unwilling to retreat, so he detached two thousand vanguard battalion cavalry and gave them to Balchuhun, who had come from Taiyuan. He had Balchuhun command three thousand Plain Red Banner cavalry, two thousand vanguard battalion cavalry, and eight 3-pounders to hold the Ming army in check, while he himself led more than four thousand vanguard battalion cavalry and three thousand Bordered Blue Banner cavalry in a flanking movement behind the Ming army, seeking weaknesses in the Ming deployment. He had not been gone long when a thunderous roll of drums and a mountain-shaking, sea-roaring cheer came from the center of the battlefield.

Nikan hastily reined in his horse and stretched his ears to listen.

"The Great Ancestor, the Exalted Emperor, lives again... ever victorious! Ever victorious!"

That was the Ming army cheering!

Nikan's heart sank. He thought the Ming army must have launched a counterattack on the front, and that he must find the Ming army's weakness and attack as quickly as possible — once it was over, it would be too late!

The cheering he heard came from Qin Mingtao's 12th Division. Fourteen of the sixteen infantry battalions belonging to this division were now forming Maurice-style squares and, supported by eighteen 3-pounders, launching a fierce assault on Yue Le's left wing.

At the same time, the thirty-two battalions of Gao Jie's force, which had just been running away at top speed, suddenly found their courage again. Under the cover of more than twenty 3-pounders, they launched a counterattack against the cannon fire and bullets of Yue Le's force. Where was any trace of the old battlefield slicksters now?

And when Wang Qi discovered that the Qing cavalry facing him had abandoned their attacks and begun to flank, he had the nine 12-pounders attached to him shift position under the cover of two infantry battalions and begin pounding Yue Le's right wing.

The infantry under Yue Le were all old peasants who had left the Pass to make a living, making up the numbers. They were fine at winning easy battles, but now they were being attacked from both sides by a Ming force that outnumbered them and outgunned them by at least fifty percent, and they immediately began to falter — they had already been fighting back and forth with Gao Jie's troops for most of the day, from early morning until afternoon, and were long since exhausted. On top of that, their casualties were heavy, and they were now on the verge of collapse. If they held on any longer, they would not be fake Manchus but real Manchus!

The Imperial Uncle Dodo had been watching the battle from the high platform the whole time. He too knew that Yue Le was about to collapse, so now he had to commit his elite troops to a counterattack. He shouted to those around him: "Have Jandai lead the bayara troops in a charge... strip armor, tuck lances, and charge the Hongyi cannon position on the southern barbarians' right wing! The southern barbarians' Hongyi cannon position must be captured, or else you will all be executed without mercy!"