Chapter 704: Misgivings

February 20, the ninth year of the Chongzhen reign, afternoon.

Hong Chengchou pressed south with the main army of eight battalions, placing the four battalions of the Left Contingent in the vanguard as they drove straight toward Ouyang Gun's Qibing Battalion.

The Left Contingent's four battalions advanced rapidly with light packs, reached the battlefield where Bai Guang'en's battalion had been annihilated earlier, and made a brief halt to inspect the site.

It was not that Zuo Liangyu wanted to halt — it was simply that his soldiers could not tear themselves away at the sight of wounded and dead horses.

To avoid leaving these animals for friendly forces, they even began repairing carts, scavenging wheels from the damaged war carts Ouyang Gun had left on the battlefield and refitting them into flatbed carts to haul away horse carcasses.

Zuo Liangyu was perfectly happy to see it.

The enemy had not even taken their wounded and dead horses with them, and had left behind many carts, coin, and grain at the camp. Combined with intelligence gained from earlier skirmishes by scouting cavalry, he judged that this enemy force of four to five thousand men, fearing his overwhelming strength, had retreated swiftly westward.

They were safe.

Since they were safe, letting the troops spend a little time gathering up the livestock was no bad thing.

This, of course, went against the normal principles of warfare, and was certainly not something the elite troops of Changping would ever have done.

But where were normal principles now, and where were the so-called Changping elites? Even the veterans under his command who had come from Changping had long since lost their pride and discipline in this endless, hopeless campaigning.

What was more, the present-day Ningxia Army Corps was even using iron balls in their fire lances — the very soil in which discipline could take root no longer existed.

Just then, a marker soldier arrived from the rear and reported to Zuo Liangyu: "Marshal Zuo, the Supreme Commander has established his field headquarters at the Great Buddha Temple, six li to the northeast."

"Six li?"

Zuo Liangyu furrowed his brow, thinking to himself: Hong Chengchou, why don't you just set up your headquarters inside Ningxia garrison city?

Is he out of his mind?

With the marker battalion and Cao Wenzhao's three battalions in your own hands, you pitch camp six li behind me, and then I advance another three li to fight — just delivering a message would require a dispatch rider to race back and forth over twenty li.

Can that even be called a single unit?

To put it bluntly, if the front line were to... Zuo Liangyu felt that in this campaign, the front line was unlikely to suffer a setback.

But if it did, for rear support to travel ten li would be enough time for him to die eight times over.

The messenger, however, seeing his strange expression, quickly added: "The Supreme Commander also suggests that Marshal Zuo keep some distance from the battlefield. Here is a summary of intelligence on the routed troops compiled by Adjutant General Ding of the marker battalion. Please review it."

Zuo Liangyu's expression grew even stranger at these words.

What the hell kind of nonsensical order is this, he wondered.

I am in pursuit of the enemy, about to command four battalions to charge, encircle, and annihilate them — and you tell me to stay farther from the front line?

Zuo Liangyu even began to suspect that Hong Chengchou had already privately negotiated the price of surrender with Liu Chengzong.

The very moment this thought surfaced in his subconscious, he realized something was wrong with himself.

Before, he had always held the rebel bloc led by Liu Chengzong in contempt, believing that even if they had established a government in He-Huang, they were nothing more than a thrown-together rabble.

But now, he realized that the army he himself was in was the true rabble.

In the past, they had been united under the dragon banner of the Great Ming, but when Ningxia lost contact with the capital and became an isolated army, Hong Chengchou, in order to consolidate military morale and seize land, had resorted to extreme measures.

The result of this patchwork was that guest troops guarded against Ningxia troops, and guest generals guarded against Ningxia generals — everyone was suspicious of one another, and their energies could not be united toward a single goal.

Now this mood of suspicion was spreading; he had even begun to suspect Hong Chengchou.

But indeed, Hong Chengchou's order for him to stay away from the front line was baffling.

There was no logic to it.

He was a veteran of the Guan-Ning frontier; when it came to fighting, he had never feared anyone.

As commander-in-chief, it was Zuo Liangyu's habit to ride under the white tiger banner, circling within a single li of the enemy line.

His habit differed from Cao Wenzhao's. Cao Wenzhao liked to personally lead troops in charging the enemy formation; he, on the contrary, liked to stand with his soldiers and command them as they charged.

For one, this boosted his own side's morale and used his reputation to intimidate the enemy; for another, it allowed him to observe the battlefield closely and issue orders swiftly, responding to the ever-changing conditions of the field.

There was, of course, some risk — such as coming under artillery fire or being struck by an enemy cavalry raid.

But he was not afraid.

Artillery fire required preparation time; cannons could neither be moved covertly nor accurately hit a target at this distance.

As for cavalry raids, many had wanted to raid Zuo Liangyu — from Liaodong to the Central Plains, he had been raided dozens of times by the Later Jin, the Mongols, and the peasant armies. Without exception, every one of those raiding forces had been captured alive by him, becoming badges of merit upon his crimson battle robe.

If you fear risk, why be a soldier? Once on the battlefield, a man has already entered the realm where life and death hang in the balance.

When a general stands with his own soldiers, wherever the horse's hooves tread is already the safest place under heaven.

Zuo Liangyu took the intelligence report, glanced at it dismissively, and then his brow furrowed and his expression grew tense.

Before he was even halfway through, he gave an order to his household retainers: "Relay my command — the four battalions are to leave this battlefield immediately. Head north — no, west — and find a suitable place to pitch camp."

The intelligence focused primarily on descriptions of the rocket projectiles.

The back of Zuo Liangyu's neck broke out in sweat.

Hong Chengchou called them bursting rockets. From launch to landing, in the space of only a few breaths, they could deliver hundreds of bursting shells two to three li away, blanketing the entire battlefield.

He did not dare linger on the battlefield either, nor did he camp nearby. Instead, he took his household retainers and traveled two li to the northwest, a full five li from Marshal Ouyang Gun's camp, before ordering his men to set up the command tent.

The whole way, Zuo Liangyu pondered how to counter the rocket projectiles.

He had no idea how Liu Chengzong's mind worked, how he kept coming up with one unsolvable weapon after another.

The heavy jingal muskets were already hard enough to deal with, and now rocket projectiles were being used on a large scale.

Zuo Liangyu was thoroughly familiar with fire-and-smoke rockets and bursting shells, but he had not yet been struck by Liu Chengzong's rocket projectiles.

Still, from the descriptions given by the routed troops of Bai Guang'en's unit, he could ponder the power of this new weapon.

Simple rockets and bursting shells each had their drawbacks.

Bursting shells had ample power, but when fired from a cannon, the propellant explosion could easily disturb the shell's internal fuse, resulting in a low ignition rate; rockets could be fired in volleys and reach great distances, but unless they set fires, their power was insufficient.

Liu Chengzong's rocket projectiles, however, took the strengths of both — great power, long range, and massed volleys.

Clearly, this was a weapon that would change the shape of warfare.

From over a thousand paces away, without harming one's own forward troops, it could turn the rear ranks into a hornet's nest.

The moment Zuo Liangyu learned the intelligence about the rockets, he immediately pulled back. He soon found a suitable campsite three li northwest of the battlefield and ordered his men to pile up earthen ramparts.

On the other side of the battlefield, Zhang Xianzhong, who had been watching the enemy's every move, was hopping mad.

"Damn it all, might as well have just blasted those bastards!"

While Zuo Liangyu's troops had been idling on the battlefield, Zhang Xianzhong had long since trained six six-tube rocket carts on them.

He simply could not make up his mind, unsure whether he ought to strike.

A strike would certainly yield decent results, but if he held fire and let the Ming army cart away the horse carcasses, they would still have to expend manpower guarding their baggage — one more thing to divide their attention.

Just as he was mulling this over, he saw Zuo's troops suddenly receive orders and rapidly withdraw from the field; for a dazed moment he thought Liu Chengzong had arrived with his army.

Once Zuo Liangyu's earthen mound was built, he climbed it with his brass telescope and scanned Ouyang Gun's encampment, the first thing catching his eye being those several rocket carts in the formation.

Zuo Liangyu was very anxious.

On one hand, the presence of rockets made him wary of advancing swiftly; on the other, he was desperate for a quick victory.

Whether this Marshal's Army retreating before him was a feint did not matter to him.

Because this was not Shaanxi or Gansu.

Gansu's terrain is long and narrow, nearly a thousand li from east to west; Shaanxi's roads are convoluted, where sixty or seventy li as the crow flies could mean a march of two or three hundred li.

Southern Ningxia's terrain is flat, and the entire battlefield east of the Yellow River is not large.

To be precise, the battlefield is the triangle formed by Hongsibu in the southwest, Yanchi City in the southeast, and Hengcheng Fort in the north — from the center point to anywhere, a hundred li in every direction is defenseless plain.

A hundred li is a journey of one day at the shortest, three days at the longest.

Zuo Liangyu therefore knew Liu Chengzong was nearby and dared not let the fighting drag into night; the pitch-black night was far too long and would bring fear and uncertainty.

If these four or five thousand Marshal's Army troops could not be annihilated before nightfall, what awaited them next would be a pitched battle.

In fact, while the earthen mound was being built, Zuo Liangyu had already sent a man to Great Buddha Temple to find Hong Chengchou, proposing a withdrawal and a shift toward Yansui Garrison.

Earlier, fierce cannon fire had sounded from the south, but by the time they drew near it had fallen silent — clearly Zhang Yingchang was finished.

There was little point in them fighting on.

But Hong Chengchou rejected his proposal — not because he did not want to withdraw, but because the Supreme Commander of the Three Borders judged withdrawal to be impossible.

Hong Chengchou had planned his retreat before even dispatching the troops; when marching south he had sent men southeast to contact the Ningxia Rear Guard. The news that came back was dire — the guard city already flew the Marshal's banner, and the triangular serrated flag on the wall, embroidered with a coiled dragon, bore the surname Ding.

Ningxia had no intelligence of any Marshal's Office commander surnamed Ding, but clearly the Rear Guard had already fallen.

Eastward there was only the single route through Rear Guard, Anbian, Dingbian, and Ningsai; south lay the Marshal's Office's Yanqing Brigade; north meant crossing beyond the border into the Ordos, where the Marshal's Office's Monan Governor-General's army was.

No matter which way they went, they would be intercepted.

Hong Chengchou's judgment was: rather than flee before the battle only to be cut off and kicked around, it was better to fight a decisive battle in Ningxia.

At least for now, their morale was serviceable.

But the army having morale was one thing.

Zuo Liangyu himself, seeing the rocket carts in Ouyang Gun's camp and thinking of Liu Chengzong's main force lurking on the gobi, had very little morale left.

Especially now, through the telescope, he could see Ouyang Gun's deployment with perfect clarity.

He was absolutely certain that the enemy had indeed been feigning weakness just now.

When their great army pressed forward, anyone standing a little higher could see the encampments; at least Zuo Liangyu, standing on his earthen mound, could see not only the Marshal's Army's camp but also Hong Chengchou's camp to the northeast.

It was just that the latter was a bit farther off and not entirely clear.

Ouyang Gun's camp, however, Zuo Liangyu could see very clearly.

The Marshal's Army troops were somewhat fewer than his earlier intelligence had indicated — they looked to be not five thousand, but around four thousand.

But there were many carts, many horses, and many cavalry.

On the open field, their western side rested against the Qin Canal, and they had used war carts to build a square rampart. One could tell it was not a professional cart camp; there were not enough war carts, and only the four corners were sealed off.

Outside each of the four corners, a company of cavalry had formed small square formations, dismounted and sitting quietly.

Though he could not make out their specific equipment, many of the cavalry wore red caps.

Zuo Liangyu thought to himself: those are most likely sea-barbarian cavalry under Liu Chengzong; the tribal barbarian cavalry over there have a habit of wearing red caps.

Along the remaining four sides, there were basically two or three war carts linked sideways, then a gap about three to five paces wide, then another two or three war carts.

At this moment, the cart rampart was nearly empty; the infantry were all outside the gaps, within ten paces, digging trou-de-loup ditches with their three-eyed guns reversed in hand.

Zuo Liangyu sighed and said to the subordinate officers gathered around him: "The good news is that no enemy cannon have been sighted, but you gentlemen must not be careless — they may well be concealed within the formation."

"The bad news is that the enemy are elite troops. Every unit is orderly and proper, with no sign of disorder. In all likelihood, they are led by a renegade court officer."

Zuo Liangyu's basis for this judgment was that the experience and composure to face a larger force with a smaller one, remain unflustered in crisis, and command with practiced ease, was not something the arrogant, fierce officers under Liu Chengzong could possess.

That lot always fought with superior numbers and excelled at fleeing; in years of battle reports, there had never been a rare instance of them being surrounded.

Arrogant, fierce officers like that, faced with this situation, would have charged out to their deaths long ago.

Only a Ming army officer, who had fought many desperate battles in his life, would consider being outnumbered quite normal and could remain calm.

Xu Yong stepped forward, clasped his fist, and requested battle: "Marshal Zuo, let your subordinate lead the horse troops to spread out and advance, charge them once, and we will know whether they have cannon in their camp."

Zhou Shifeng and Wang Yuncheng nodded in succession at this. Wang Yuncheng, a Liao-bred officer, likewise clasped his fist and requested battle, saying in a gruff voice: "Storming camps is what your subordinate does best!"

The remaining officer was called Ge Rulin, originally the Hedong Military Defense Circuit of Ningxia — this very area was his defense zone. At this moment, however, he was clearly cowed by the rocket shells, looking left and right and saying nothing.

Zuo Liangyu looked at his three subordinate officers and shook his head. "What for? There is absolutely no need to charge them."

"Yuncheng, take the cavalry and disperse east, west, and south on a twenty-li reconnaissance; report back at once if you encounter the enemy. The Zhou and Ge battalions, bring the divine-weapon cannon and station yourselves east and west of the enemy camp to guard against surprise attacks by enemy reinforcements."

Zuo Liangyu turned to Xu Yong and then said: "Since they want to feign weakness, let us feign weakness for them as well. General Xu, from your own command, select elite cavalry from the Vanguard Company, divide them into ten banners, drive a cart train, and take turns going to the earlier battlefield to haul back the horse carcasses."

Xu Yong, hearing the tasks Zuo Liangyu assigned to the other three, had thought the main assault had fallen to him, and the corners of his mouth were already twitching upward uncontrollably.

At these words, his face fell completely.

"Marshal Zuo, haul horse carcasses?"

Even the other three wore expressions of watching a joke unfold.

Zuo Liangyu, however, nodded very seriously and said: "This is no laughing matter. There are several hundred dead horses over there between the two armies. Bring them back, and if the situation changes, they will be enough to sustain us beyond the border for quite some days."

"Though most likely we will not need to eat them. The enemy commander is steady, but the western bandits' troops are exceedingly arrogant and do not fear close combat. When you go to haul the horse carcasses, once they realize what is happening, they will most likely send cavalry to engage you."

"The remaining two battalions will also make ready. If the clash becomes a stalemate, neither is to move. Wait until the cavalry have finished their fight, then break formation and strike hard. At the very least, we'll inflict casualties on some of their cavalry. We are many, they are few — we will always gain the advantage."

At this, Zuo Liangyu paused and looked at his four commanders. "If the melee yields even a slight advantage, Xu Yong will seize the moment to drive the enemy riders back toward their own formation, wrapping their cavalry around them as we charge their lines. Stick to them so tightly the enemy cannot loose their fire arrows."

"Plunge into their formation, create chaos. Best of all, capture those six fire-arrow carts. Each of the three sides seek out a weak point and strike all at once — smash his formation!"