Chapter 363: Encirclement

A grey heron sailed across the sky, leaving behind a solitary, aloof shadow; beneath the setting sun, the Huangshui River rippled with waves, and willow branches just budding with new shoots trailed along the riverbank, swaying in the evening breeze.

On farmland a full five li wide from south to north, the Great Ming imperial army, holding high the Ming-character banners, clambered out of the zigzagging trenches; the drawn-out wail of horns echoed through the river valley, and they surged more like a torrent than the Huangshui itself.

The twenty-thousand-strong imperial army split into three columns, attacking from the south, east, and northeast of the earthen fort respectively; each column divided into five sentinel units, forming fifteen thousand-man brigades, and each brigade further divided into front, rear, center, left, and right in a formation-within-a-formation pattern, sweeping toward the Huangshui River in an all-out assault.

Liu Chengzong held up a brass telescope and swept his gaze across the battlefield; he held the terrain advantage on all three routes — the northeast road was narrow, the east was blocked by the difficult-to-cross Huangshui — the most easily breached point was the stone bridge to the south, which was also where he expected the main imperial thrust to come.

In that direction, roughly five or six thousand imperial soldiers were making preparations inside the trenches, and along the trench line facing the battlefield, five large shield carts were being slowly pushed to the edge of the trenches at various points.

Then the soldiers in the trenches filed out in a continuous stream, forming battle arrays under the cover of the shield carts.

Although he could not see the structure behind the shield carts, Liu Chengzong could clearly tell these were not war chariots, but large-scale siege equipment.

The front protective panel of the shield cart was very thick, one zhang high and one zhang wide, with a row of cannon and arquebus ports cut into it; the chassis frame, fitted with four pairs of wooden wheels, was roughly one zhang five chi long.

It looked exactly like a wooden fortress, shielding the small army formation behind it as it crept forward, an immensely intimidating sight.

This contraption could protect the enemy troops as they crossed the stone bridge, but only as they crossed the stone bridge, because the forward edge of Liu Chengzong's position was likewise crisscrossed with trenches dug by the Mongol soldiers, and this large-scale equipment would be hopelessly stuck the moment it got past the bridge.

That being the case, the real fighting would erupt inside the trenches.

Liu Chengzong shook his head in silence; it was utterly surreal — the northwestern Ming army, carrying biological weapons, was about to clash at close quarters in the trenches with his own vaccinated troops.

More than the shield carts, what drew his attention was the imperial troops behind them, with their simple formations and an indescribable bearing.

The five shield carts were each assigned to the five company commanders of the southern-route imperial army; the imperial forces, under the company-commander structure, split into five sentinel columns, each column roughly formed by one corps-commander unit drawn from each of the two battalion commanders under a company commander.

Judging by the banners and flags, Liu Chengzong assessed that the quality of the southern-route junior officers was not low.

Their column formations behind the shield carts were simple in structure, clearly tiered, and arrayed within arrays.

The entire unit of over two hundred men formed a column, but that column was composed of two corps-commander square formations arrayed one behind the other, and each square formation was in turn composed of two platoon horizontal formations.

At the front of each horizontal formation were the flag officer and deputy flag-bearer, with the platoon commander, formation flag-bearer, drum-hugger, and horn-blower in the center — a very standard and complete Ming army junior officer corps.

But corresponding to this structure, their soldiers could not even stand in neat horizontal or square formations, clearly lacking training; moreover, their overall equipment level was very low, with large numbers of soldiers wearing guard-unit-style studded brigandines, and quite a few even wearing mandarin-duck padded coats.

All five columns first dispatched by the entire southern-route imperial army looked exactly like this.

Liu Chengzong pointed at the battle formation and said to Yang Yao in a resolute tone, "It's the Guyuan Army."

Yang Yao nodded slowly. "They won't be easy to deal with."

Although these men's equipment closely resembled that of guard-unit banner troops, both Liu Chengzong and Yang Yao knew full well these were not the banner troops of the Lanzhou Guard, but rather the Guyuan Army newly recruited by Yang Qi after Liu the Lion left Guyuan.

Guard-unit military households, being half-soldier, half-farmer and bound in personal servitude, held low status, so their morale, fighting will, and equipment level were relatively poor among regular troops — but formation drill, that fundamental soldier's skill, was inborn for military households.

A banner soldier might not know how to use any weapon besides a hoe, but he would absolutely never march a formation into such a sorry state.

Only Yang Qi's newly recruited Guyuan Army, which had been fighting peasant armies from the moment it was founded and never had the chance to conduct proper drill, could produce this effect.

And the reason Yang Yao said they would not be easy to deal with was that Liu Chengzong's southern-route defenders were three thousand soldiers of the Shooting and Hunting Camp, led by company commanders Wasi and Buchi.

The Shooting and Hunting Camp and the Guyuan Army were identical in composition — both used frontier-army veterans as officers, heavy infantry or household retainers as elite shock troops, and battle-hardened famine refugees as their foundation.

So Yang Yao said, "Pitting half the Shooting and Hunting Camp against twice their number of the Guyuan Army — even holding the terrain advantage, I fear casualties will be heavy."

In Liu Chengzong's eyes, the battlefield situation at this moment was very intriguing… twenty thousand imperial troops advancing west in three columns, and they had even prepared large-scale equipment like shield carts; while he had only ten thousand men at the front — strategically, he was about to be encircled.

The imperial army needed to cross the river, and after crossing, they would have to assault the trenches, then assault the earthen fort, so they had very few mounted troops.

If he fought this battle defensively from the trenches, relying on close-quarters combat until nightfall, it would be very difficult to decide a victor.

Even if he pursued when the enemy withdrew, he would gain no advantage; once it grew dark and one could not see their own hand in front of their face, it would be a blessing if the Shooting and Hunting Camp did not collapse on its own, and with the river and trenches blocking the way, Yang Yao's horse camp could not pursue very far either.

Coupled with the tactical objective the imperial army hoped to achieve — namely, infecting Liu Chengzong's army with smallpox — an interesting tactic took shape in Liu the Lion's mind.

"I want to retreat."

Liu Chengzong turned his head to meet Yang Yao's stunned expression; he nodded, stretched out his arm, pointed northeast, and said, "But you won't retreat. The mountain road there is very narrow, the enemy is few and has no shield carts. I'll transfer a few cannons to you, take provisions, and the horse camp will break through from there."

Yang Yao's mind was still a muddled mess; he nodded as he asked, "How does the Grand Marshal plan to fight — pincer cavalry?"

Pincer cavalry, dividing into five sentinel units, converging attacks from separate advances — all these names, in the final analysis, were the hammer-and-anvil tactic, called orthodox-containment and unorthodox-victory in traditional military doctrine.

That is, pin the enemy down frontally, and use the surplus troops to break through or encircle and annihilate; at the small-unit tactical level it is called dividing into five sentinel units, at the grand-army strategic level it is called converging attacks from separate advances, and flank-assault cavalry is called pincer cavalry.

"I'm going to cede the earthen fort and the trenches to them, lead the army in a westward retreat. After you break through, don't worry about me — drive straight east, raid their main camp. The three garrison regional commanders are busy digging trenches; their warhorses, fodder, provisions, and heavy baggage are all in the main camp."

The way Yang Yao looked at Liu Chengzong turned a little strange.

"They've dug trenches everywhere. You'll break through from the north road; by then they should have already taken the trenches. To turn back and pursue you, they'd need to exit my trenches, cross the river, then pass back through their own one-li stretch of zigzag trenches — they won't catch you."

Liu Chengzong said, "Once you've raided the main camp, if the enemy goes after you, take everything you can carry, burn everything you can't, then bide your time and act according to circumstances. If you can wheel around and hit them as pincer cavalry, then smash into them; if you can't, then head east from the river mouth and move toward Yongdeng Liancheng, and help my brother finish off Gansu's sickly lot."

Hearing this maneuver plan, Yang Yao was quite tempted, but the plan seemed to have one very serious flaw.

What if all three garrison regional commanders were with the army, ignored the main camp, and concentrated solely on striking Liu Chengzong's central army? Using six thousand men of the Shooting and Hunting Camp to hold off twenty thousand troops — there was not much chance of victory.

Therefore, Yang Yao shook his head and said, "If the Grand Marshal's central army cannot hold… perhaps we should be more cautious."

"It's very cautious. The Shooting and Hunting Camp may not be good at much else, but they've followed me on a march of over a thousand li from south to north — retreating is no problem. And aren't there still the Mongol soldiers to the west?"

Never mind retreating — Liu the Lion felt he would not even lose out if it turned into a rout. Every vulnerability he had was patched up perfectly by the imperial army's deployments.

It was already growing late; the imperial army choosing to engage at this hour meant they never intended the fighting to last long — only they were thinking from a position of weakness, gambling on a quick strike to spread smallpox before withdrawing, and certainly never considered that Liu Chengzong, from a position of strength, would retreat.

As for pursuing Yang Yao, on the one hand they could not catch him, and on the other, the river-mouth area had become a no-man's-land because of the smallpox; the Gansu frontier army attacking Liu Chengzu via the north road would also feel their rear was perfectly secure, making it convenient for Yang Yao's long-range strike.

As for retreating, Liu Chengzong did not believe it would put him at any disadvantage — quite the opposite, it was all advantage.

To the west were nine thousand Mongol horse troops prepared for variolation; further west, Liu Chengzong could fall back to the West Datong Fort and join forces with Liu Chengzu; even further west, he could retreat to Nianbo Post, where he could even add over ten thousand more troops.

There were Wang Wenxiu's drill-training infantry camp, the forces Liu Chengyun had built up, and the three thousand Mongol horse troops sent to reinforce Wang Wenxiu.

However, Liu Chengzong had no intention of retreating that far. "One step back, and the sea and sky are boundless. I will only lose this earthen fort, west of which lies open flatland; but the imperial army will run out of grain and sleep. If all goes smoothly, tomorrow we will be the ones encircling them."

Those nine thousand Mongol horse troops to the west alone — they might not be good for much else, but their ability to torment the enemy and keep them awake all night was considerable.

Hearing Liu Chengzong explain it this way, Yang Yao was reassured. He immediately clasped his fists and accepted the order, saying, "Since the Grand Marshal has made up his mind, this humble general will go and be the pincer cavalry. But cannons are too slow; I beg the Grand Marshal to transfer twenty gun-carriage wagons to the horse camp, and I will break through from the north road!"

Yang Yao led the horse troops off to prepare. Liu Chengzong stood atop the city wall, watching the enemy surge toward the west bank of the river like a tidal wave — shield carts pushing onto the stone bridge, infantry riding hide rafts to seize the western riverbank. He drew a deep breath and dispatched mounted couriers, issuing a string of orders to the Shooting and Hunting Camp and the Mongol Fishing Camp to the west.

They were to prepare to retreat, but not retreat immediately; at the very least, they had to fight while pulling back, creating the illusion of being driven from the trenches before retreating. Moreover, to withdraw the entire army in good order, they absolutely needed the Mongol horse troops of the Fishing Camp to come and provide cover.

Otherwise, it would be very difficult to take all the supplies inside the fort with them.

Just as orders were being rapidly relayed through the army, Huang Shengxiao's heavy artillery battery had just deployed its firing line north of the stone bridge; twelve cannons opened fire from an oblique angle upon the imperial column mounting the stone bridge.

Flames burst forth as twelve seven-catty iron balls shot fiercely toward the front of the formation, slamming heavily onto the stone bridge. Iron struck stone, striking sparks that sent the balls rebounding and leaping into the ranks, grinding out trails of blood, shattering flesh and snapping bone along their path.

There was no rout and no fleeing. When the cannonballs smashed through the stone bridge railing on the other side, an eerie silence fell over the bridge, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Behind the shield cart, a lone flag-bearer's pupils dilated in terror. He heard only a few whooshing sounds by his ear. Turning his head, the military formation behind him looked like a field plowed by a harrow — everywhere, brains and entrails smeared the ground.

The front-line centurion struggled up from the ground, staring dumbfounded at the barely one-third of his formation that remained. He saw another centurion's chest punched through by a cannonball, the man's body pinned to the stone bridge railing as if embedded there. The drum-holder who faced the soldiers writhed on the ground — the poor man's spine had been shattered.

And beside him, the deputy flag-bearer's head had been smashed to pulp, the severed neck spraying blood all over his face.

Twelve cannonballs had nearly pulverized two entire centurion companies into broken bones and flesh.

In those brief seconds, terror devoured everyone's minds, so much so that even the wounded forgot to cry out.

It was only when the centurion raised his hand to wipe the blood from his face that he saw his right hand was gone.

He stared at his severed arm and the iron arm-guard, as if all the lost, fleeting memories came crashing back into his mind — he had been dragged down by his own hand.

The soul of the handless centurion, knocked out of him, finally returned to his body. His face twisted with savagery, he used his left hand to pull his severed hand — still gripping its saber — from a subordinate's chest. Raising both hand and blade high in a bizarre posture, he screamed with all his might, something between a roar and a wail: "Advance!"

The troops behind had blocked their retreat. On the bridge, they had nowhere to flee but forward.

At that hoarse cry, the soldiers' minds jolted back to life amid the terror. Men shrieked and howled on the corpse-strewn bridge, until the column formed by the other two centurions charged forward, leaping over the fallen, groaning soldiers, and continued pushing the shield cart ahead.

But the follow-up troops, having witnessed a column torn to pieces with their own eyes, were far from steady. They could no longer walk a straight line. Pushing the shield cart across the stone bridge at top speed, they immediately veered left, advancing the cart diagonally to face the cannon fire.

The small cannon mounted on the shield cart also fired back at Liu Chengzong's heavy artillery unit.

Yet they had barely taken a dozen steps off the bridge when a Frankish cannon beside the trench sprayed a cloud of grapeshot at them, cutting down another swath of men.

In close-quarters combat, the grapeshot sprayed by the Frankish cannon was clearly a more terrifying weapon than the heavy cannons. The handless centurion who had withstood the heavy cannon's bombardment could still order his soldiers forward, and the terrified soldiers had done no more than shriek and howl on the bridge.

But faced with the threat of the Frankish cannon, even if a single shot merely shaved a corner off the column formation, the rest of the unit would instinctively turn and flee, not hesitating to leap into the hundred-pace-wide river.

Heavy cannons were fearsome, but once hit by a heavy cannon, you were almost never the target of a second shot. A Frankish cannon was different — if you dared stand still, the Frankish cannon dared blast you six times in a row.

The situation only improved slightly when the second shield cart was pushed onto the stone bridge. The two shield carts blocked both sides, but each heavy cannon blast nearly overturned them, and the rapid volleys from the Frankish cannons rained lead balls onto the carts like a downpour.

But apart from those high-angle shots that, by sheer luck, dropped into the formation, the cannons could hardly inflict massive casualties on the soldiers protected by the shield carts.

Just then, the Ningxia Garrison border troops attacking from due east also crossed the Huang River and launched their assault on the trench, sharply reducing the pressure on the Guyuan army on the southern route.

But just as the Guyuan army charged toward the trench, they discovered that the enemy would not engage them at all. The cavalry unit had actually hitched up the heavy cannons and fled, and the enemy infantry had also withdrawn from the trench, dragging their Frankish cannons and firing as they retreated.

Seizing the trench proved far easier than they had imagined. Even the enemies on that earthen fort fled in panic, encircled from two sides.

This sent the border troops of the two southeastern garrisons charging toward the earthen fort in high spirits.

But at the same time, in the eyes of the northern-route Yansui army — more precisely, in the eyes of General Tang Tong, who was tasked with attacking the mountain footpath on the northern route — the Marshal's Office army's performance on the battlefield was entirely different.

Three thousand cavalry massed densely in the north of the battlefield, galloping in a charge toward the northern route, so terrifying that he hurriedly ordered his four hundred border troops to form ranks.

They had just formed up when he realized that ahead of the enemy's dense cavalry formation were several dozen long-barreled heavy musket carts. Warhorses dragged the small carts past his battle line, stopping forty or fifty paces away. The soldiers on the carts fired in unison, and a swarm of absurdly large lead balls hurtled toward his tightly packed formation.

The formation was tight against wind, but not against lead balls.

The square formation was blasted apart, and the rampaging cavalry charged in. All Tang Tong knew was that he dodged one long spear, had his saber knocked from his grip by an enemy weapon, barely evaded the trampling hooves — and then a bronze-tinged golden-melon hammer struck his helmet.

Tang Tong's final memory of this battle was a loud clang, and then someone blew out the sun.

Meanwhile, atop the city wall on the other side, Liu Chengzong watched from afar as the horse camp charged eastward beneath the setting sun. Amid the battle cries of the attacking troops storming the city below, he spread his arms wide, laughed heartily, and strode down the horse ramp. Swinging onto Red Flag, he led his troops galloping westward.

"Grand Commanders of the three garrisons — you are surrounded!"