Chapter 1415: Not Enough Cavalry

1415. Chapter 1415: Not Enough Cavalry

Normally indulging in such things was no big deal, but carrying on this absurdly right before a major battle was a beheading offense under military law. They had thought no one would find out, but once word spread, the theater troupes, fine wine, and the like all vanished.

Amin, the Second Beile and originally the commanding general residing within Haizhou Garrison City, moved out to live in the military encampment outside the city just as these rumors began to circulate.

Though a nephew, Amin ranked alongside Nurhaci's three sons as one of the Four Great Beile. What he relied on, beyond the massive support of the Bordered Blue Banner, was his own fierce valor in battle. In several engagements against other Jurchen tribes and the Ming army, Amin had records of leading the charge and plunging into enemy lines himself, often seizing the foremost merit.

After the Jianzhou Jurchen swept through Liaodong and their power swelled, what originally required leading from the front shifted to commanding vast armies. By this point, Amin's style of warfare still had not changed; he stressed charging straight ahead. His style happened to perfectly match the ferocious combat strength of the Jianzhou Jurchen, and in every major battle, the Bordered Blue Banner under his command served as the vanguard.

"... My lord Beile, just as our horsemen were about to charge through, the Zhao family army's cannons opened fire. I don't know how their cannons fired so fast and so accurately—completely different from the Ming army's methods. Wherever the shells landed, death and injury spread in swaths, even the horses were blasted apart..."

In a military tent outside Haizhou Garrison City, one man stood recounting the battle situation. A dozen or so fierce, imposing men sat arranged by rank, listening intently to the standing man's account. Every face bore expressions of disbelief and alarmed suspicion.

"... The Zhao family army's fire lances are also different from the Ming army's. They can punch through our cotton armor from several dozen paces away. This slave examined the wounds of those hit—it was as if they'd been stabbed by a great iron awl, a hole with the surrounding flesh all rotted..."

At this point, one man could listen no longer and roared in fury: "You of the Nara clan, has a dog gnawed your brains away? You call that a fire lance? Damn it, that's a bloody small cannon! Since when did the Ming dogs' firearms get this formidable?"

"Shut your mouth. Let him speak."

"My lords, everything this lowly one has said is true. We only heard a burst of crackling from the opposite side, like firecrackers. We assumed it was the same quality as the Ming dogs' firearms, so everyone charged forward without a care. But just like scything wheat, row after row collapsed—all dying in this manner." The man giving the report spoke through streaming tears and snot, then dropped directly to his knees in the tent.

"Stand up. Don't put on this womanish display. Continue!" The big man seated in the center of the tent spoke in a muffled voice.

"After being struck by several volleys from this Zhao family army's firearms, we lowly ones truly could not hold on. We gritted our teeth and charged to close quarters, but those Zhao infantrymen were damnably tough—they stood there to the death without retreating, just holding their long spears motionless. Some men couldn't rein in their horses and crashed hard into them, yet they still didn't break, just stood there braced and unmoving. We saw those infantrymen coughing blood, yet the ranks behind them still didn't budge..."

"Utter nonsense. Are the men you're describing even human? What cavalry reaches their faces and they still don't retreat?"

"Absolutely true. If it's not, may this lowly one meet a blind bear on the road at night, may the wolves carry off my cubs. Even at that moment, the fire lances were still firing fiercely, hammering us nonstop from both flanks. The Zhao army men were all like madmen—some kept thrusting forward with long spears, others came out swinging axes to hack. Not only did our cavalry fail to break through, we suffered heavy losses instead..."

"And then you fled back here to save your skin?" someone asked with a cold sneer.

Hearing this question, the reporting Niru Ejen—the company commander—dropped to his knees again and kowtowed ceaselessly, saying: "My lords, this lowly one truly has no face left to live. But at that time, my courage shattered, my mind went blank with nothing but the will to flee for my life. My lords, give this lowly one a blade; I am willing to die before the battle line."

"Spare us these useless farting words. We still have battles to fight ahead. Whether you've got real guts or fake guts, we'll see when you take the field. Get out. And don't go blabbing these matters everywhere."

The big man in the center spoke in a muffled voice. The tear-streaked, snot-faced Niru kowtowed once on the ground, then hastily withdrew.

After this man left, the military tent fell silent for a moment. Only then did someone speak up, his voice full of doubt: "Lord Beile, two Janggin, this battle makes no sense. Our Great Jin does not rely solely on cavalry to decide victory; our infantry is also elite and strong. It's unreasonable that only the cavalry engaged while there's no word from the infantry."

As soon as he said this, someone else picked up the thread: "Didn't you understand? The infantry was shattered by firearms before they even got close. If those cannons are anything like what that coward just described, even the scattered cavalry couldn't withstand them—how could infantry possibly? Men aren't made of iron. Still, that brat is clearly scared out of his wits; how much of his story is believable is hard to say!"

A burst of raucous laughter rose from below. The big man in the center, his face grim, coughed and said in a gruff voice: "At first hearing, I also thought it absurd. But according to what our spies have gathered from the Ming country, the Ming army has fought the Zhao family army several times, and it really was always this style of fighting."

"Can the Ming dogs compare to us men of the Eight Banners?" someone below immediately boomed at the top of his lungs.

The big man stood up. He wore an outer robe of pure-colored sable fur, with a satin-faced jacket underneath—clearly top-grade material from the Great Ming. As for the jadeite thumb ring and the white jade pendant hanging at his waist, nothing more needed to be said. The wealthiest households within the Pass were just about this appearance.

The moment he stood, everyone else fell silent. The big man spoke in a muffled voice: "That brat Tanggūdai may be useless, but he's followed the Great Khan into battle many times and still had six or seven thousand genuine Eight Banners men under him. Even if he couldn't command, his subordinates at least knew how to fight. Yet they were all left dead over there."

Someone gave a dry cough. Someone else smiled but immediately suppressed it. Tanggūdai was a son of the Great Khan Nurhaci; though born of a concubine, it still touched upon matters of ritual propriety—best to avoid courting that ill fortune.

Even though the Bordered Blue Banner, belonging to Šurhaci's line, had its company and battalion commanders who didn't get along well with the other banners, nowadays they didn't dare speak too freely or recklessly. After all, there were men of the Plain Red Banner present here.

But Amin had said such things more than once or twice. Not only did his trusted men know, the other Great Beile knew, and Nurhaci knew as well. Everyone just kept their heads down and pretended not to hear.

Amin, seeing no reaction from the men below, grew somewhat irritated. Just as he was about to speak again, the military officer seated to his left called out in a muffled voice: "Elder Brother!"

After calling out this once, he then spoke in a muffled voice: "All of you, return to your posts and get your men in order. Whether you belong to the Bordered Blue Banner or the Plain Red Banner, all of you rein yourselves in. Someone from the capital is coming to inspect. If you're seen putting on operas and drinking, watch out—they'll seize your men and take your heads. You've also heard what was just said; this battle won't be easy to fight. Otherwise, we wouldn't be making such a massive show of force. Now you all know!"

When this military officer spoke, everyone in the tent rose and acknowledged, their expressions all very respectful. This Jirgalang, though Amin's full blood brother, was nowhere near as arrogant and unruly in his conduct. He treated others with warmth and propriety, often inquiring after their well-being. People frequently sighed that Jirgalang was born into Šurhaci's family at too great a loss; were he a son of Nurhaci, he would surely be one of the Great Beile commanding his own front.

Even the most outstanding Hong Taiji was close with Jirgalang, and everyone said the two were very similar, so their closeness was only natural.

Everyone left the military tent, but one young man remained behind. Compared to the richly attired Amin and Jirgalang, this young man was dressed more plainly. Amin glanced at him, then sneered: "It's only us children without fathers or mothers who take the field. All those dignified figures are busy moving house in the capital, cart after cart of gold, silver, treasures, and women being sent toward Hetu Ala."

The young man laughed dryly twice and said: "Uncle Amin, the Great Khan and the Beile are all mobilizing troops. The Khorchin and the nobles of all tribes are also preparing for a great war. Where is there any moving house? You mustn't speak such words carelessly."

"Yoto, how many fine things did that stepmother of yours' family send back home? You nearly lost your life back then, yet here you are, kindly explaining on their behalf." Amin shot back without the slightest courtesy. A flash of anger crossed the face of Yoto, eldest son of the Great Beile Daišan, then he lowered his head.

The Great Beile Daišan was the most prestigious figure beneath the Great Jin Khan, practically equivalent to the heir apparent. By rights, his eldest son Yoto should not be far behind, and Yoto's maternal family was exceedingly noble and powerful. However, Yoto and his younger brother Šoto's birth mother had died early, after which they were mistreated by Daišan and their stepmother—it even escalated into a major incident where they went missing. In the end, it drew Nurhaci's intervention, who severely reprimanded Daišan. Only then did Yoto and his brother gain their own Niru and status. This was why Amin spoke thus.

Yoto, however, was always quite cautious in his conduct. Amin was long accustomed to reckless abandon, but Yoto dared not join in. Now, aside from the Great Khan Nurhaci, each of the Great Beile had their own spies and informants. There was no telling when a careless remark might be reported upward, and the consequences could be dire.

"Elder Brother, with a great enemy before us, let us speak fewer words on unrelated matters." Jirgalang, unable to watch any longer, interjected to stop him.

Amin did heed Jirgalang's words. He merely sneered and fell silent. Jirgalang nodded to Yoto and spoke again: "When Ming firearms aren't botched, they are lethal weapons. Not to mention anything else—the fire lances of the Goryeo men, the cannons the Ming army left behind, which of those isn't a fine thing? The sharpness of this Zhao family army's firearms is likely no lie. What's crucial now is how we fight. If we suffer another great loss..."

At this point, he glanced at Yoto but did not finish his sentence. Within the Eight Banners, the Bordered Blue Banner had always been targeted to some degree. If they committed any major error, their Niru, population, and occupied lands would be stripped away. But these words were not convenient to speak plainly in front of Yoto.

"How to fight? Press forward, charge through. What's so critical about firearms? No matter how fierce, how many volleys can they fire? As long as we charge into close quarters, what is there to fear?" Amin said with great disdain.

"Uncle Amin, didn't that man who fled back just say that the Zhao family army's infantry stands firm and their formations are solid? Even if we charge to their faces, I fear the fighting will still be bitter." Yoto interjected.

At this, Amin grew serious, yet his manner remained utterly relaxed. Shaking his head, he said: "The cavalry that charged through simply wasn't enough. As long as enough cavalry presses forward, it won't be a problem. How many cavalry did we have in these first few engagements? By the time they reached the enemy, they were already battered and scattered—how many still dared to engage? If the cavalry can't break through, the infantry behind them will also have to endure the cannons and fire lances. How could they possibly not collapse!"