Chapter 122: Ambush 2

Tan Tai instantly shot five long arrows, and faint cries of agony could be heard from within the woods.

The Bordered Blue Banner and the two Red Banner Qing troops were rushing over at speed, while the ambushed Qing soldiers were gradually steadying themselves. After several volleys, the arrows from the woods began to thin out. Tan Tai judged that the Ming troops in the woods numbered over two thousand, for each volley consisted of several hundred arrows, and by Ming military convention, the number of soldiers would be several times that figure.

As a long note from a suona horn sounded, under the cover of arrows, a large body of Ming troops wearing bright red mandarin-duck combat jackets charged out from the woods.

These Ming troops came from the Xuan-Da front line—border troops of Xuanfu and Datong who had been pardoned for their involvement in the Shanxi merchants' smuggling.

Ever since the Chongzhen Emperor issued the edict pardoning them and forming them into a death corps, Yang Guozhu, Regional Commander of Xuanfu and Datong, had gathered the more than two thousand soldiers involved in the affair, selected the fierce and brave among them to serve as squad leaders, file leaders, and other mid-to-low-ranking officers, then dispatched a Chiliarch from his own forces to command this army, drilling them day after day.

These border troops who had committed crimes were not the old and weak of the army—on the contrary, many of them were men with fearsome reputations in the ranks.

For what old or feeble soldier could possibly organize and plan participation in such a major undertaking? Even if you wanted to join, no one would have you. These formidable soldiers each gathered around themselves a gang of brawlers and bullies; some of the bolder ones even changed into civilian clothes and personally led wagon convoys deep into the grasslands to trade with the Mongols or Jurchens.

This smuggling was extremely perilous—clashes with bandits and horse brigands were common, and casualties were routine. For the sake of safety, every expedition into the grasslands involved large numbers. Over time, these border troops spontaneously formed small groups, some of over a hundred men, others of several dozen, with leaders drawn from mid-and-low-ranking officers such as squad leaders, Centurions, and file leaders. Some, lacking capital for direct smuggling, simply served as escorts for merchant caravans venturing into the grasslands. Had the Chongzhen Emperor not uprooted the Shanxi merchants root and branch, the Ming border troops would have continued to rot.

This time, all the officers involved were executed, and every border soldier who had participated was thrown into prison. During this period, no one resisted—first, because of the obedience to imperial authority ingrained into their very bones; second, because these two thousand men were not a single unified body—scattered in groups of dozens or a hundred, who would dare oppose the imperial army?

When these border soldier convicts were gathered together and made to watch their former superiors have their heads chopped off before their very eyes, and heard that their family property would all be confiscated and their families exiled, most fell into deep despair. Their own heads could not be saved, the property they had painstakingly accumulated would fall into others' pockets, and their wives and children would be exiled to miasmic wastelands thousands of li away, with almost no chance of survival. Only a small minority were indifferent—men without families or property, who had squandered their smuggling earnings on wine, women, and gambling, and who, knowing they had broken the court's laws, felt that death was death—at worst, they could be reborn as better people in the next life.

But most could not accept this reality. Many lost control of their emotions on the spot—some wailed and wept, others wanted to resist and escape.

Only after several dozen were shot dead by archers did these men quiet down somewhat, but their emotions remained extremely unstable.

Then Zhu Zhifeng, Governor of Xuanfu, read out the imperial edict: their death sentence could be commuted, but they must earn their lives with their own blood.

In this society where family meant everything, the common people considered it only natural to trade their own lives for their families' well-being—and moreover, if they survived by luck, they could earn military merit. Truly, the Sage Emperor was merciful! After more than two thousand men kowtowed in gratitude, the death camp was formally established.

After several months of drilling, these Ming troops were transferred to the Huairou area to familiarize themselves with the terrain. When the beacon fires at Juyong Pass were lit in the early morning, these troops rushed from nearby and lay in ambush within the woods.

The reason they had not been discovered by Qing scouts was chiefly that they hid deep within the forest, while the Qing scouts merely searched the fringes before departing. The Qing had always held Ming troops in contempt and would never have imagined that such a remote place concealed a large ambush force.

Since most of the Plain White Banner Qing troops inside the ambush circle were dismounted, those behind who had not yet entered the Ming archers' range could not charge, and being too close to the woods, they dared not drive their horses straight into the forest. The niru captain leading them saw the situation clearly and, with a single command, wheeled his remaining troops southward, tramping into the weed-choked fields.

This served two purposes: one, to guard against Ming infantry charging out to engage them in close combat; two, to trample a path through with their warhorses, so that once the Ming troops emerged from the woods, they could turn and spur their mounts into a charge.

The Ming troops who rushed out first held shields in one hand and blades in the other, plunging headlong into the Qing formation. A chaotic melee without any formation began.

Of the five niru Tan Tai had brought, one lagged behind; slightly more than two niru had entered the ambush circle, suffering over a hundred casualties from arrows. The remaining five hundred-plus riders had made it into the fields, leaving only about six hundred men fighting the Ming troops.

Tan Tai rose with force from his waist and legs, hurling his longbow at an onrushing Ming swordsman-shield bearer. The soldier hastily raised his shield to block, and Tan Tai lunged forward, his right fist smashing into the wooden shield—the several-inch-thick shield split apart with a crack. Tan Tai's right hand was bleeding profusely across the back, while the tremendous impact knocked the Ming soldier back a step. Seizing the moment of his opponent's daze, Tan Tai pressed forward and threw another punch, snapping the man's head sideways—his cervical spine was broken. Tan Tai snatched the long blade from his hand and swung it in one motion, cleaving a Ming soldier's arm off at the elbow. Tan Tai displayed fearsome prowess, killing or wounding five men in rapid succession, and for a time no one dared approach him.

The Bordered Blue Banner and the two Red Banner Qing troops finally arrived, but seeing the melee underway, they could not spur their horses into a charge. Watching the Ming troops continuously pour out of the woods, the janggiya captain leading the Bordered Blue Banner gave the order—three niru of Qing soldiers dismounted and, weapons in hand, charged into the crowd, while the remaining front-rank Qing soldiers stayed mounted with bows at the ready, seeking opportunities to shoot down Ming troops.

Several li away, one niru of the Plain White Banner was advancing at a trot, with a thousand booi bondservants ahead pushing carts and shouldering loads, hurrying forward.

Though the northern lands in high summer were not as unbearably hot as the Central Plains, marching for long hours under the sun was still wearisome and irritating.

Just then, the niru captain leading the column suddenly reined in his horse and looked around, raising his head—and immediately after, the ground began to tremble faintly. The niru captain's face changed drastically as he roared: "Enemy attack! Follow me, run forward!"

The Qing soldiers spurred their horses forward at once. The niru captain, with no thought for the lives of the booi bondservants, drove his horse straight through the crowd. There was no choice—on the left side of the road were hills and woods, on the right were lush fields; there was no path but forward.

The booi bondservants pushing their carts ahead had no idea what was happening; caught completely off guard, they were knocked to the ground by the charging horses, and a chorus of screams and wails scattered into the air. A thousand booi bondservants with their carts and carrying poles stretched along the road for several li—how could they possibly clear the way in such haste?

The trembling of the earth grew increasingly pronounced, and the thunder of galloping horses could now be heard. Seeing that the road ahead could not be cleared any time soon, the niru captain leading the column had no choice but to send men forward to relay news of the enemy, while he himself turned his force to the rear—now there was nothing left but to fight to the death.

Xu Jin, Assistant Regional Commander of the Yongwei Camp, led three thousand cavalry. After receiving word from hidden sentries that the main Qing force had passed, he rode out from his concealed position in the Shunyi direction and, several li behind the Qing rear guard, gradually built up speed before charging at the Qing troops.

Seeing the Qing cavalry charging head-on at him from several hundred paces ahead, Xu Jin gripped his long-handled brow-blade saber, crouched low over his horse, and spurred forward to meet them.

After the brief charge, the three hundred men of one Qing niru had all been knocked from their horses before they had even covered half the distance to the Ming troops—after all, the two sides were outnumbered ten to one, and the momentum of a high-speed charge simply could not compare.

Xu Jin slowed his horse and, looking at the booi bondservants scattering in panic before him, ordered his troops to round them up and have them clear the overturned carts and other debris from the road. Then he left fifty riders behind to supervise these booi bondservants in cleaning up the battlefield—loading the Ming dead and wounded onto carts, then severing the Qing heads, gathering up the armor and weapons, and heading south to Shunyi.

The melee at the edge of the woods was extremely brutal. More than two thousand Ming troops fought with desperate abandon, while the Qing cavalry's advantage of their horses could not be exploited at all. Both sides packed the road so full that even if the Qing wanted to withdraw from the battle, they could not move. Corpses of soldiers from both sides lay everywhere, and blood had turned great stretches of the road into mud.

The Qing troops had gradually gained the upper hand—first, because they had numerical superiority; second, because the Qing troops who joined the battle later kept shooting down Ming soldiers with arrows. The Qing used longbows with heavy arrows; Ming soldiers struck by them were either killed outright or severely wounded, with most dying instantly from hits to vital points.

Of the more than two thousand Ming troops, only about a thousand remained. The Plain White Banner had suffered nearly five hundred casualties, the Bordered Blue Banner over a hundred. Most of the Ming dead had been killed by blunt weapons.

The Qing favored heavy weapons such as war hammers, wolf-teeth clubs, and iron maces. Whatever armor one wore, being struck by these meant either instant death or shattered bones and severed sinews.

Both sides had gone blood-mad. What astonished the Qing was that whereas Ming troops normally began to rout once casualties exceeded twenty percent, these troops, now at nearly fifty percent casualties, still fought to the death without retreating.

They did not know the origins of this death corps, nor did they know that these Ming soldiers shared bonds as close as kin. Seeing their brothers—men with whom they had once drunk, whored, and gambled—fall in battle, these increasingly decayed border troops had their bloodlust awakened. Some soldiers, with an arm hacked off, still slashed wildly with the other hand; those with half their face sheared away threw themselves bodily onto Qing soldiers, wrapping both arms tightly around them so their comrades could kill the enemy; some, stabbed through the belly by spears with their intestines hanging out, still raised their blades and hacked without regard.

After killing over ten men, Tan Tai was himself run through the thigh by a spear and took several blade wounds to his body. Fortunately, his armor was sturdy, and no bones were damaged.

He had been pulled back behind the main force by soldiers of the Bordered Blue Banner and now leaned against a warhorse, gasping for breath.

Where had these Ming troops come from? This tactic of clearly seeking mutual destruction was something he had never seen. If they kept fighting like this, even if they annihilated this Ming force entirely, his own side would suffer grievous losses—then how could they go plunder Huairou? And worse—the forward scouts ahead, the five white baiyara guards the prince had entrusted to him, were surely lost! How could he explain this to the prince when he returned?

Just as Tan Tai was pondering his options, several riders came galloping from the west of the official road. Tan Tai raised his eyes and knew at once they were his lagging subordinates. A sense of foreboding instantly flooded his mind.

Upon hearing the news that the rear guard had been ambushed by a large force of Ming cavalry, Tan Tai understood everything in an instant.

Not only had he himself fallen into an ambush—Ajige could not possibly be faring well either! The Ming had come fully prepared this time! This was no longer a matter of how many people and supplies they could seize, but of how many men they could bring back!