Chapter Twenty-Nine: The First Battle (Part One)

The Han army advanced to within about a hundred paces of the trench and began attacking with muskets and bows. They were using old-style matchlocks, with long, slender barrels, slow firing rates, and weak power, and archery was not their forte to begin with. Therefore, the capital garrison simply ignored them, watching as they continued forward. When the Han soldiers came within eighty paces, the armored soldiers of the Later Jin began launching volleys, targeting the Ming troops in the trench. The Ming soldiers pressed themselves tightly against the trench wall, minimizing their exposure, so only occasionally would a scream echo from within the trench.

When the Han army drew to fifty paces from the lines, the signalers saw the command flag wave and shouted, “Aim your barrels forward, prepare to fire!” Suddenly, a loud bang rang out—a nervous soldier had pulled the trigger, hitting a Han soldier ahead and knocking him to the ground. The others followed, opening fire and sweeping away a swath of Han soldiers in front.

The signalers, furious, relayed orders from the officers: “Load powder, prepare to fire!” The signalers continued to shout, “Do not fire without orders!” The command flag waved again, and the signalers called, “Fire in three divisions!” The officers immediately took over command of their companies. “First Battalion, First Company, first volley, follow my orders. Fire!” “Reload, await orders for the second volley.”...

Many soldiers, in their first real battle, found that the procedures they had memorized so well now faded blank from their minds; some didn’t even manage to fire their first shot. Yet most were able to follow drill instructions to load and fire, though at a much slower pace than in training.

Yang Guanggao, holding a telescope, watched the enemy’s movements. When the Han army was only twenty paces from the trench, he shouted, “Artillery, fire!” The drummers at his side struck the rim of their drums, sending crisp clapper sounds far across the field. The artillery officers shouted in unison, “Fire!” The cannons in the trench roared, spraying lead pellets in a fan-shaped burst that swept away almost the entire front two rows of Han soldiers; the rest were caught in the aftermath, and scores of Han troops fell to the ground. Those killed outright were fortunate, but the wounded clutched their faces and bodies, their cries of pain truly wretched. The remaining Han soldiers dared not advance further; some fled backward, only to be cut down by the armored troops, and then scattered to both sides. This artillery barrage felled at least two hundred, more than the muskets had managed thus far.

Now the Later Jin armored soldiers were close enough to launch their own volleys with bows. Their archery was far superior to the Han's, and since the soldiers in the trench had to stand up to shoot or reload, exposing themselves more, the effect was much greater. The screams from the Ming troops increased markedly.

But at such close range, the accuracy of musket fire improved as well, and so more Later Jin armored men began to fall. At this moment, the drummers struck three heavy beats, followed by a steady rhythm, and the infantry phalanx twenty paces from the trench began to move forward, one step per drumbeat. The armored soldiers began direct fire at the advancing phalanx, soldiers dropping constantly, but officers drove the men from behind to fill the gaps. When Yang Guanggao saw the two sides were about thirty paces apart, he shouted, “Volley fire in sections!”

The drummers struck a heavy beat, and the infantry phalanx halted. The first row knelt, the second and third staggered positions, and with another resounding beat, three rows fired simultaneously, instantly filling the front with smoke. The first three rows stood their ground, reloading, while the seventh, eighth, and ninth rows moved forward. The seventh row knelt, eighth and ninth staggered, the drum sounded heavily again, and another volley rang out. Then the fourth, fifth, and sixth rows moved up and repeated the process. The battlefield echoed with successive gunfire, and as the smoke from the front line began to clear, it was immediately replaced, leaving the soldiers blind to the enemy ahead.

After three volleys, the drums ceased. The wind slowly lifted the smoke, and the battlefield became visible again. The armored troops lay fallen in droves, yet some had managed to reach the trench, some already jumping in. Yang Guanggao ordered, “Rapid volley fire in sections. Trench troops, repel with bayonets!” The drums sounded, three strikes more urgent than before, followed by three volleys. Then the rhythm changed, with four rapid beats. In the trench, officers’ voices rang out: “Do not reload, after firing use bayonets!”

Three drumbeats followed, and the infantry phalanx, powder loaded, advanced under officers’ command, reaching the edge of the trench. The drums sounded six times in alternating lengths, and officers called, “Fire at will!” The front row fired, then moved to the rear to reload, repeating the cycle and pouring a continuous stream of ammunition toward the trench.

On the other side, the enemy armored troops fell one after another, while Ming infantry in the phalanx were struck by arrows and fell, quickly dragged to the rear by logistics troops, where medics began basic bandaging.

Finally, the enemy could bear no more. Across the field, a golden sound rang out, and the armored troops began a slow retreat, gathering together but still facing the Ming, firing arrows as they withdrew. Yang Guanggao ordered his troops to advance slowly behind the retreating Later Jin soldiers, consolidating the infantry into two formations, each six ranks deep, spaced ten paces apart. Following the drumbeats, the soldiers crossed the trench, advancing step by step, musket fire ringing out continuously.

When the Later Jin armored soldiers neared their flag bearer, their formation suddenly shifted—a group of white-armored soldiers surged forth, hurling javelins and knives, knocking down more than a dozen soldiers in the front rank of the phalanx, then drew long weapons and began hacking at the formation.

These white-armored men wore two layers of armor. Once inside the phalanx, they slashed wildly. The infantry, armed with bayonets, were no match; the front ranks quickly fell into chaos. The fallen screamed in agony, and the unhurt soldiers began to flee in all directions, trying to escape the slaughter. Some even ran toward the rear phalanx, but the military law officers there shouted, “Run sideways, do not charge the formation!” and stepped to the front, cutting down any soldiers who tried to rush their own lines. Witnessing this, those intending to retreat regained some composure—some turned to fight the enemy, others ran to the sides.

The front phalanx was quickly scattered by the white-armored troops, who then charged the second formation. Having witnessed the fate of the first, the company leaders of the second knew what to do. They shouted, “Maintain formation, do not break—fire at will! After firing, do not reload; use bayonets to strike the enemy together!”