Chapter 478: Suppression

When the ancient riverbeds of the Zhangye Gobi were trampled by the countless marching feet of the Ming army, yellow sand was thrown into the sky, blotting out the sun.

The over two-thousand-strong Zhenyi Mobile Corps was divided into four companies and five columns. The three infantry battalion commander companies each formed a column four men wide, spaced ten paces apart, creating a battle line thirty-two paces wide. The remaining armored cavalry battalion commander company split into two columns to screen the left and right flanks.

Rank after rank of soldiers pressed southward, heads down in the dust. For those within the formation, their vision was completely obscured by the yellow sand; they could see nothing except the back-banners fluttering behind their squad leaders.

Before the marshal's battle formation, which stood in strict readiness, signal flags waved. The artillerymen lit their fuses, and the granular black powder wrapped in silk burned violently within the bronze cannon barrel. Light and shot burst through the gun smoke, skimming low across the battlefield with a deafening roar.

Most soldiers in the Ming columns had no time to react to what was happening. They only heard the tearing sound of wind rush past their ears. A seven-catty iron ball had already shot through the gaps between columns, slamming into the ground far behind them, then continuing its bounding advance until it finally struck the mighty chest of a chestnut warhorse five hundred paces from the front line.

The warhorse collapsed with a mournful whinny, its four hooves flailing ceaselessly until it lost all strength.

No one had time to spare it a thought. Before the marshal's formation, signal flags waved, and the cleaning of barrels and replacing of silk-wrapped charges were completed in one fluid motion. The Zhenyi army formation continued its advance. From the infantry columns on both flanks, one firearms squad leader each was detached, pushing two war carts carrying breech-loading "Invincible Great General" cannons into the gaps.

No earthen mounds had been piled within the encampment. Marshal's Headquarters Chiliarch Tang Tong stood on his saddle, balancing on the back of his mount, his eyes fixed intently on the Ming columns snaking forward through the dust. He was muttering to himself, "Where are your shock troops?"

The tides of war shift in an instant, and he could not say for certain whose reinforcements would arrive first.

So Tang Tong had prepared for two outcomes. Digging in and waiting for relief was naturally the last resort. If he couldn't hold, he would have to run. If he couldn't run, he would die. But if he took the initiative, this was, after all, his battle.

Tang Tong felt no great inner conflict.

On one hand, he had already realized he was among the most comfortable group in the Marshal's Headquarters. They severely lacked central government bureaucrats; the entire system was practically a replica of the Five Dynasties era. The roving bandits followed their chieftains, the chieftains followed the warlords, the warlords acclaimed the generals, and the generals recognized the Marshal.

The power core of the Marshal's Headquarters was Liu Chengzong's small inner circle. Civil officials were practically non-existent. Liu Xiangyu carried far more weight as a figurehead emperor than as a chief civil official.

The only difference between them and a pure military regime was that Liu Chengzong himself was a certified scholar, who valued the scholarly general over brute courage. Even a squad leader could not hold the post if he was illiterate.

Liu Chengzong had established a host of village schools and academies in Hehuang. Those who distinguished themselves in battle were sent to study. The higher one climbed in the Marshal's Headquarters, the fewer illiterate brutes one encountered.

Strictly speaking, the Marshal's Headquarters needed only one type of person, meeting two conditions: first, be educated; second, know how to fight. Tang Tong was exactly that type of person.

On the other hand, Liu Chengzong was neither a beast who preyed on men, nor a barbarian bearing the blood feud of a foreign race. He was merely a rebel — a word that didn't sound very good. Rebellion required capital, and from Tang Tong's perspective, Liu Chengzong's capital was already more than sufficient.

The field chiliarch division of the Marshal's Headquarters he led far exceeded the treatment he had received when commanding troops for the imperial court, in terms of equipment, supplies, logistics, and support from superiors.

The last tiny bit of awkwardness was merely the moral qualm of fighting his old employer under the banner of the Marshal's Headquarters. But in these times when the blue sea runs wild and jade and stone shatter together, where was right or wrong?

Li Si once said: A man's worthiness or unworthiness is like that of a rat; it depends merely on where he places himself.

Therefore, at this very moment, Tang Tong had only one thought: fight alone, and seize victory.

Tang Tong had a clear view of the advancing Ming army's organization. The enemy clearly consisted of four full battalion commander companies, each with five centurion platoons.

The shock troops he was looking for were not the household retainers. In some places, household retainers were called shock troops, but organizationally, retainers belonged to the miscellaneous auxiliaries, on the same level as the scout cavalry, bridge-builders, and the pioneer engineering platoon. To use a fashionable term, both were off-the-books support units.

What he was looking for was the first company of every regiment in the regular army.

According to the Ming army's traditional shock troop selection method, the first company of every regiment was the shock company, the first platoon of every company was the shock platoon, and the first squad of every platoon was the shock squad. They had the highest quality, the highest morale, and the heaviest allocation of equipment, and likewise bore the riskiest missions in war.

Tang Tong believed that in this kind of grinding positional battle, the enemy commander would certainly put his shock troops to use. This suited his intentions perfectly. After all, directly routing over two thousand enemy troops was nothing short of a fool's dream. But the essence of war was to destroy the enemy's strength and seize their spirit. Concentrating superior force to rout a shock company of five or six hundred men was not impossible.

His target was hidden within those five large columns advancing in parallel. It was just that the dust obscured his vision, allowing him to clearly see only the small horizontal ranks at the very front of each column. And within those small horizontal ranks, the soldiers advancing with shields were undoubtedly the shock squads of their respective companies.

The true shock company was hidden among them.

He had originally thought the enemy's shock troops would be carrying heavy artillery. He never imagined the government troops would simply advance in alternating waves amid the clamor of drums and horns. He could vaguely make out that the soldiers on the outer edges of the left and right infantry columns were all carrying chevaux-de-frise, and then he saw a heavy cannon being pushed out from each flank.

Two "Invincible Great General" cannons appeared a hundred paces away. The sight made Tang Tong's soul nearly flee his body. So much so that he didn't bother having the flagman send signals, but leaped directly from his horse's back and shouted, "Enemy cannons, rapid fire three volleys! Take cover from the shot!"

He was very familiar with the field application of the "Invincible Great General." This was Qi Jiguang's breech-loading improvement on the old-style muzzle-loading Great General cannon, made when he was Supreme Commander in Ji Garrison, and it was a Mongolia-specialized model.

The greatest advantage of the previous breech-loader's construction was its high rate of fire; its greatest disadvantage was not gas leakage, but that it couldn't be built large.

Even Western cannons inherently had a windage of about one-fifteenth. Most cannons of this era leaked gas. In fact, as long as the leakage was within a controllable range, it wasn't entirely a bad thing given the material science of the time; it effectively reduced the internal pressure of the barrel and increased the speed of loading the charge.

Without windage in the cannon, a sledgehammer would have to be part of the soldiers' standard equipment to ram the shot into the barrel.

The reason breech-loaders couldn't be built large was that their construction didn't rely on the barrel itself to withstand the chamber pressure, but used a removable chamber instead. This was also why their rate of fire was high.

The old Great General cannons required several or even a dozen soldiers to tilt the barrel before loading, because they couldn't apply enough leverage. The removable chamber of the "Invincible Great General" was much lighter than the whole cannon, but the problem was that it needed to be lifted by hand to be reloaded.

The larger the caliber and the more powder loaded, the greater the pressure on the chamber, so it had to be made larger. Even the largest chamber could only weigh two hundred catties at most; any heavier and it would be very difficult for men to lift, negating the advantage of a high rate of fire.

So Ye Mengxiong was not entirely satisfied with this cannon and further improved the chamber, inspiring later generations. Under the condition of a fixed total weight, using materials that could better withstand high chamber pressures to make the chamber, then obviously, bronze was better than cast iron, and wrought iron or even steel was better than bronze.

Therefore, the chambers of the late Ming "Invincible Great General" were basically all forged. As a field cannon, it was light, durable, and had sufficient killing power. Thus, even with the proliferation of red-barbarian cannons, it remained active on battlefields everywhere.

And because this cannon was a Mongolia-specialized model, its basic usage, besides firing solid shot, was to have one mother barrel paired with three chambers, each chamber loaded with five hundred grapeshot pellets, completing three rapid-fire volleys within twenty breaths.

Amid Tang Tong's shouts, the flagmen and drummers beside him hurriedly waved their flags and beat their drums, and many more joined in the shouting, the sound carrying directly to the front of the formation.

But in reality, the soldiers at the front, protected by the earthen ramparts, were not panicked at all. The front-line battalion commander, Crooked Beam, his eyes appearing deep-set under the shadow of his helmet's brim, glanced back at the central army once, then stood straight and calmly ordered his soldiers to signal with flags.

The five centurions on the front line commanded eight crouching-tiger cannon squads to fire upon the Ming army's heavy cannon teams. At the same time, the remaining soldiers quickly crouched low under the protection of the earthen ramparts, and the soldiers in the rear ranks raised their chest-high shields overhead.

Then, amid the booming of cannons, the squad leaders and centurions at every level crouched down in sequence. Crooked Beam also dropped to one knee only after his subordinates had all taken cover, though he still craned his neck, trying to observe the enemy's movements.

Eight one-catty cannonballs roared toward the Ming artillerymen. Several shots grazed the barrels of the "Invincible Great General" cannons, smashing several Ming gunners to the ground. Only one cannonball struck the gun carriage on the right, but even that failed to destroy it, merely embedding itself inside.

Firing cannons with precision was itself an act with only a chance of hitting the target. In construction, it was no different from a bird gun; both were simply a tube. But its caliber-to-length ratio was much lower, and aiming was more difficult.

Even the most experienced gunner, using a bird gun at a hundred paces, would find it very difficult to accurately hit a cannon, let alone the artillerymen.

The Ming army's suppressive fire was only slightly delayed. Although the wounded gunners on the ground groaned terribly, their cries were quickly drowned out by the roaring cannons.

The first to fire was the unaffected "Invincible Great General" on the left flank. Amid the surging gun smoke, hundreds of grapeshot pellets sprayed out like a shotgun blast, spreading across a width of sixty paces a hundred paces away. Like a violent storm, they struck the earthen ramparts along the entire front line of the Marshal's army with a series of thudding sounds.

Even more pellets flew over the waist-high earthen ramparts, scattering backward like a simultaneous volley from several hundred bird guns. They struck the tall shields raised by the soldiers in the rear; some embedded themselves in the shields, while others pierced through, wounding the soldiers behind them.

The muffled grunts of those hit rang out in succession within the formation. Without turning his head, Crooked Beam could hear the sounds of wounded soldiers being dragged away from the front line.

He braced himself and raised his head for another look. He had just glimpsed the silhouettes of the three Ming columns continuing their advance when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash erupt from the heavy cannon position on the right flank. He quickly ducked his head. In that instant, several hundred more grapeshot pellets sprayed over.

Under the alternating suppressive fire of the two "Great General" cannons, the Marshal's Headquarters soldiers on the front line could only crouch behind the earthen ramparts, listening to the ceaseless whistle of lead pellets overhead, pinned down and unable to raise their heads.

The Ming army's three infantry columns used this opportunity to advance in alternating waves. The entire army was like a great crab. When the "Invincible Great General" on the left flank was reloading, the left infantry column pressed forward; when the "Invincible Great General" on the right flank was reloading, the right infantry column pressed forward. The central army advanced at a quick march during the gaps between the two cannons' firing.

Amid the continuous sounds of gunfire, Tang Tong, in the relative safety of the rear, saw that the cavalry squads on the outer flanks of the Ming army's three infantry columns were not idle either. They used this opportunity to sweep toward both flanks of the encampment's ramparts. He hurriedly dispatched Battalion Commander Li Baliang to lead his unit to the left flank to guard against the cavalry.

As for the cavalry on the right flank, Tang Tong was not worried. The right side of the encampment was a riverbed; cavalry could not charge through. Going over there was merely to circle around and prevent them from escaping that way after being routed.

This couldn't help but make a smile flicker across his tense face: The enemy commander appeared to have victory firmly in hand, so much so that he was being somewhat reckless — what made him think he was certain to win once he charged into close range?

Crooked Beam was infuriated by the endless shelling. What was crucial was that he could hardly retaliate. The only thousand-catty heavy cannon in this chiliarch division was right beside him, but the artillerymen next to it could not load it.

The problem the Ming army's heavy cannons had with being difficult to tilt did not exist for them, because the Marshal's Headquarters' ammunition came in silk cartridge bags. They could stuff the charge in even if the muzzle was pointed downward.

The reason they couldn't load was also because of the cartridge bags. If a grapeshot pellet struck the charge while it was being loaded, the tightly wrapped gunpowder was very likely to explode. The seven hundred grapeshot pellets inside would likely turn any soldier within ten paces into a sieve.

Watching the two general cannons ceaselessly spew deadly shot, shattering the cart panels bracing the wet sand on the outer face of the earth rampart — even the inner planks were punched through repeatedly, wounding the soldiers at the front — Wai Liangzi seethed with fury.

In the past, during autumn defense in Ningxia, watching allied troops use these things to blast the Mongols had left no impression on him; now, with a shower of grapeshot raining down on his own head, he was so enraged he burst out cursing.

The close-range suppressive power of the two alternating Great General Cannons was simply too strong. Even with the earth rampart for cover, the soldiers kept pressing forward to dodge the cannonballs, packed shoulder to shoulder until their formation broke down completely. Jingle guns and heavy arquebuses were all jammed together — there was no way to return fire at all.

If this went on, once the enemy closed in for formation battle, no matter how few casualties they had suffered, the moment they fought it would be a rout.

Because in war, death and wounds are not the most terrifying thing — the most terrifying thing is being unable to strike back, just standing there and taking the beating.

Just then, Wai Liangzi clearly heard that after the general cannon on the left wing had fired, the cannon on the right wing fired very soon after. The interval between the two cannons' shots was a little short, and delight crept onto his brow. He stood up and shouted a few words to boost morale: "Load grapeshot into the lion cannons — silence those two guns!"

Through six full rounds of deathly silent bombardment, Wai Liangzi was the first man to stand. The stunned company commanders, hearing his voice, came back to their senses as well. One by one they rose to rally morale, shouting for the soldiers not to bunch too close and to maintain formation.

Soon, soldiers risked their lives to load grapeshot packs into the lower-bodied two-hundred-catty lion cannons and adjust the angle. But before they could fire, another muffled boom rang out — the enemy's breech-loading-style Great General Cannon had already finished reloading and once again sprayed a swath of grapeshot across the front of the position. In an instant, an artillery squad leader and several soldiers fell.

But at last they struck back. A lion cannon on the right wing roared toward the enemy formation — though it seemed the gunners, in their nervousness, had misheard the order, and fired a shot straight at the advancing formation dead ahead.

There was no shocking sight of a bloody path carved out. The two sides were a mere forty paces apart. The frontmost ten-odd soldiers in the enemy formation, who had been carrying shields and setting up cannon-destroying guns, collapsed soundlessly.

Right on its heels, several lion cannons that had finished loading fired at the same time. Amid the muffled cannon reports, everywhere was the whisper of grapeshot tearing through the gunsmoke. Lead balls trailing smoke traced dense lines across the battlefield between the two armies, finally converging around the two Invincible Great General Cannons.

Like a violent squall, they overturned both cannon crews.

The guns suppressing them existed no longer. Seizing the moment, every company commander at the front of the position issued orders almost simultaneously. The bipods of jingle guns were flipped open one after another, heavy arquebuses were propped on the earth rampart, and beside them, infantry lines of long spears and waist sabers stood ready to defend against a charge.

One after another, the signal flags signifying fire were gripped by the company commanders and raised above their heads. Wai Liangzi said nothing. He merely raised his arm and slowly lowered it. The high, piercing wail of a suona rose behind him, and was instantly swallowed by the muffled blasts of large-caliber firearms going off.