Chapter Twenty-Seven: First Arrival in Liaodong

After the question was asked, everyone fell silent, so Yang Guanggao had to call on people by name. Most of them simply voiced their grievances. Typically, a Ming army on a long march covered no more than ten li a day, which was already considered good. Now they had managed fifteen li, and everyone felt they had done remarkably well. No one dared blame the Emperor for setting the bar too high, so they only spoke of the difficulties, insisting that everyone had done their utmost and could go no faster.

Once all opinions had been aired, Yang Guanggao gave Zhou Yuji a look. Zhou Yuji stood, saluted, and said, “The soldiers of the Capital Garrison receive one tael and five qian in monthly pay, and the Emperor often bestows extra rewards. On the march, our supplies and ammunition are all hauled by the supply train’s heavy wagons; all the men need carry is their arms and armor. Yet we still manage only fifteen li a day. I fear we are not living up to His Majesty’s high hopes.”

Yang Guanggao promptly summed up, “Starting tomorrow, regardless of other factors, the army will march in battalions. The rear-most battalion’s rations will be halved, and the last company of that battalion will be responsible for cleaning the latrines. If a battalion comes in last twice, its commanders will have their pay cut in half.”

The next day, the troops advanced twenty li. The third cavalry battalion came in last, so everyone had only half a meal. Worse still, the third company of the third cavalry battalion had to dismantle and clean the latrines before setting out again.

Thus, the prospect of cleaning the latrines finally spurred everyone’s enthusiasm. Along the way, no one wanted to lag behind; each battalion commander gathered his men to seek ways to improve, and the marching speed increased day by day. At last, on the evening of the twenty-fourth, they arrived outside Guangning. In twelve days, they had covered more than three hundred seventy li, averaging a pace that exceeded the Emperor’s requirements. Exhausted, everyone ate their supper and went to bed early.

On the twenty-fifth of July, Yang Guanggao entered Guangning city to pay his respects to the regional inspector. Wang Huazhen received him warmly and, at the welcome banquet, introduced him to each of the officials and military officers present: “This is Fang Zhenru, the inspector of Liaodong... This is Zu Dashou, vanguard commander of the Pacification Army... This is Sun Degong, also a vanguard commander...” Yang Guanggao greeted them all, bowing to the civilian officials and kneeling before the military men, but as soon as he knelt, he pulled them up and explained that in the Capital Garrison, there was no kneeling in salute—only a military salute, which he demonstrated. The generals looked pleased, while the civil officials seemed unimpressed.

At the banquet, Wang Huazhen raised his cup and said, “I have always believed that without battle, we cannot defend; without crossing the river, we cannot fight. The chief strategist, however, thinks even defense is impossible, let alone offense. I say that precisely because we cannot hold, we must fight; we defend through attack. Once we cross the river, the grain stores of Haizhou will fall into our hands. The people everywhere have long awaited the royal army. When our troops take Niuzhuang, someone is sure to capture the rebel generals and deliver them to us. With the western barbarians bringing four hundred thousand men to support us, Liaodong can be swept clean in a single campaign. Gentlemen, when the time comes, we shall all drink heartily in victory!”

After the officers and officials drank, they all praised the inspector’s brilliant strategy. Yang Guanggao, however, was unconvinced. The Emperor had made it clear: Liaodong could only be held for now, and battle must wait until the troops were well trained. Even the Emperor called an open-field clash between the Capital Garrison and the Manchu bandits a “gift of food.” They knew the Guangning troops’ fighting power; many were newly conscripted from the peasantry and poorly trained. Such an army crossing the river would truly be like meat buns thrown to the dogs—never to return.

After the banquet, Yang Guanggao spoke privately with Wang Huazhen in the study. “Inspector, I have brought the Capital Garrison here to acclimate the soldiers to conditions in Liaodong and to continue field maneuvers. Please assign us a few guides and provide ten days’ rations. We plan to march all the way to the banks of the Liao River, drill there for a few days, and then prepare to return.”

Wang Huazhen naturally agreed. He assigned a captain named Cao Wenzhao with ten guides and ordered the Garrison’s supply train to collect provisions. After two days’ rest outside Guangning, the Capital Garrison set out for the Liao River.

Cao Wenzhao, in his twenties, was a sharp and capable man. He was about the same age as Zhou Yuji, so they quickly became acquainted. Zhou Yuji discovered that Cao could read and had studied military texts—a rare thing among soldiers. During their breaks, the two would discuss how the theories in the military books related to the Garrison’s actual marching practice and both felt greatly enlightened.

It was already very cold in Liaodong, but the Liao River had yet to freeze. Cao Wenzhao led everyone first to Zhenwu Fort. The fort was large and sturdily built, but sparsely garrisoned—about two thousand men. Zhou Yuji asked Cao Wenzhao and learned that Wang Huazhen had scattered his forces among all the forts.

The Garrison then passed through the forts of Xixing, Xining, Pingyang, and Lüyang, finally reaching Xiping Fort, the one closest to the river. Along the way, the Garrison’s speed steadily increased, sometimes covering as much as thirty-five li in a day, which delighted Yang Guanggao and amazed Cao Wenzhao, since the Guangning troops considered ten li in a day quite good.

Deputy Commander Luo Yiguan at Xiping Fort had prepared hot meals for the soldiers. After four days on the road, the weary men could finally rest. They ate heartily and then slept as if dead to the world.

On the fourth day of the eighth month, the Capital Garrison rested for a day at Xiping Fort, familiarized themselves with the riverbank terrain, and on the following day arrived at the confluence of the three rivers. Here, the Liao, Hun, and Taizi rivers met. The narrowest part was only seventy paces across, and the current was very gentle, making it easy to cross.

The army made camp a li from the riverbank. Once camp was set up, they began their routine training. Yang Guanggao ordered two days of drills by the river, then further maneuvers upstream.

Cao Wenzhao was very interested in the Garrison’s training, finding the methods reminiscent of Qi Jiguang, but with improvements—such as how the infantry square could suppress cavalry. Curious, he asked Zhou Yuji, “Which general made these changes to General Qi’s training methods? It’s truly remarkable!”

Zhou Yuji smiled, gestured toward the direction of Beijing, and said, “These improvements were made personally by His Majesty, even the military system and drill methods.”

Cao Wenzhao was startled. He’d heard the Emperor was only seventeen, yet he could further refine General Qi’s methods—truly a sage with boundless abilities.

While the Garrison was training, the Manchu scouts across the river were observing them. With only a river between, their reconnaissance was brazen—they dismounted, stood at the riverbank, and if they couldn’t see clearly, some even stood atop their horses for a better view.

Cao Wenzhao volunteered to lead a squad of cavalry to drive off the Manchu scouts, and Yang Guanggao approved. Cao led his men to the river, ordered them to stay back, then dismounted and walked alone to the bank. Bow in hand, he shot an arrow across. The Manchu scouts had already withdrawn several dozen paces as he approached and now stood about a hundred paces away from him. Cao’s arrow fell into the river after about fifty paces. The scouts across the water laughed disdainfully and returned to the river’s edge.