Chapter 131: The Meat Grinder (Part Two)

"Boom!"

A deafening, earth-shattering roar erupted from beneath the ground. At that instant, the entire city of Datong trembled violently. Following the thunderous blast, a middle section of the Datong eastern wall buckled upward, then collapsed outward with a thunderous crash, leaving a gap over a dozen zhang wide.

Debris and earth rained down both inside and outside the city, forming a gentle, five-meter-high slope of jagged rubble. While the uneven piles of ruined masonry might have deterred a cavalry charge, they could no longer stop infantry. The once-majestic wall of Datong had finally become a flat, accessible path for the Jiannu invaders.

Before the dust had even begun to settle, three thousand elites from the Two Yellow Banners, led by Baiyintu and Oboi, surged toward the breach. The Datong frontier guards atop the walls had not yet recovered from the shock when the deafening war cries from outside reached their ears. Looking back, they saw the Jiannu forces coalescing into a massive, yellowish-brown wave, sweeping toward the gap.

Panic instantly erupted among the Datong garrison.

"The Jiannu are coming!"
"Fire! Fire at them, damn it!"
"Commander, the wall has fallen! Datong is finished, all is lost!"
"Shut your mouth! If you dare spout nonsense and sow panic again, I’ll cut you down myself!"

Shouts of command, screams of terror, the twang of bowstrings, and wild, frenzied roars wove together atop the wall. Like many defenders before the fall of a city, these frontier soldiers were making a desperate, final stand. In their eyes, the defense of Datong was over; with the collapse of the wall, everything had come to an end.

However, was it truly over?

Almost at the same moment the three thousand Jiannu began their assault, a dense mass of Ming imperial troops suddenly appeared behind the ruined walls, swiftly taking positions behind a pre-constructed low rampart. This force consisted of twenty-five hundred men: the two thousand-man units of Zhang Heshang and Tang Sheng, and Xiao Qi’s five hundred personal guards.

In truth, a single volley from one hundred musketeers would have been enough to seal a gap only ten zhang wide, and five hundred musketeers were more than sufficient to maintain a continuous wall of fire. But Wang Pu would never underestimate the Jiannu’s resolve. Since the breach had been blown, they would never rest until they had forced their way into the city.

Once the Jiannu began their assault, they would inevitably commit wave after wave of troops. Five hundred musketeers could hold the gap for a time, but not indefinitely, as the barrels of the Ming muskets would overheat from continuous fire, causing a drop in accuracy and even the risk of rupturing.

Therefore, Wang Pu had to prepare sufficient forces for rotation to ensure the continuity of his firepower. He was determined to turn this breach into a meat grinder for the Jiannu.

If the Jiannu were set on storming the city through the gap, they were playing right into Wang Pu’s hands. While the invaders possessed at least 150,000 troops, the defenders had over 100,000 rounds of ammunition and more than 10,000 "Dragon King" shells. With this firepower and the natural killing ground of the breach, they might not exterminate every single invader, but they would certainly shatter their courage.

Wang Pu did not believe that after suffering over 50,000 casualties at this single gap, the Jiannu would retain the will to continue. The Jiannu were not the Ming; they lacked a population of hundreds of millions and an inexhaustible source of soldiers. The true Jiannu forces numbered at most sixty thousand—every man lost was one less.

"Aooo..."

As the dust over the breach began to thin, Oboi—a man of bear-like strength, renowned as the greatest warrior among the Jiannu—led the first wave of fifty men up the ramp. The Two Yellow Banners were truly the elite of the Jiannu; every man was a giant, and the fifty behind Oboi were the elite of the elite.

The Jiannu were determined to win this battle. Unlike previous engagements, they had not sent in the Han or Mongol Banners to soften the defenders first; they had deployed their finest from the very start—a move partly influenced by Dorgon’s desire to weaken the strength of the Two Yellow Banners.

"Warriors of the Two Yellow Banners!" Oboi straightened his massive frame and raised his scimitar high. Without even glancing at the Ming troops waiting in formation, he turned to his men and the Bordered Yellow Banner elites climbing the ruins behind them. His thick, bristling beard quivered in the dusty wind as his voice roared like thunder across the ramparts. "Cut down these Southern Ming savages! Tonight, we shall feast and revel in Datong!"

"Aoha! Wuwu! Wayaya!"

All the warriors of the Two Yellow Banners who heard Oboi’s roar bellowed back, their eyes burning with greed and lechery. They knew exactly what Oboi meant by "reveling"—it meant they could plunder wealth and ravish women as they pleased. To these savages, a victory without looting and rape was no victory at all.

"Kill!"

Oboi swung his scimitar forward and took long strides down the gentle slope of rubble. The fifty Bordered Yellow Banner warriors behind him followed, hacking and slashing with excitement. Close on their heels, Baiyintu led fifty Plain Yellow Banner elites onto the slope.

Inside the ruins, behind the low rampart:

The first unit of one hundred musketeers stood in readiness. One hundred muskets rested on the wall, their dark barrels tilted slightly upward, aimed at the Jiannu charging down the rubble. The rampart was only twenty paces from the breach, well within the effective range of the muskets.

At such close range, the musketeers could hit their targets with their eyes closed. Just as Oboi charged forward, the commander of the first unit coldly dropped his hand and shouted, "Fire!"

"Boom, boom, boom..."

Gunpowder smoke filled the air, and the deafening roar of gunfire echoed across the sky. The fifty Bordered Yellow Banner Jiannu charging down the slope collapsed almost simultaneously. At least twenty were struck in vital areas and died instantly; the others, though not killed outright, were severely wounded and unable to move.

Only two Jiannu were not struck, but they were tripped by their fallen comrades and slammed headlong into the ruins, knocked unconscious by the force of their momentum.

Oboi, leading the charge, received the focused attention of the Ming musketeers. At least three lead balls struck his broad chest, and another hit him directly between the eyes. The searing lead pierced his skull and exited through the back of his head, carrying away a large piece of his cranium.

Baiyintu, just reaching the top of the ruins, witnessed this grisly scene. Although Oboi had been struck multiple times, he did not fall immediately. However, the back of his head had been blown away, and his brains and blood leaked out in a horrific, indescribable manner.

Baiyintu was a seasoned veteran who had killed hundreds, but even he could not help but double over and retch at the sight.

The following waves of Jiannu were undeterred by the carnage. They continued to howl and charge forward. Because the gap was less than ten zhang wide, only forty or fifty men could pass at once. They rushed through in batches, effectively delivering themselves to be slaughtered by the Ming musketeers.

"Second unit... prepare."
"Fire!"

As the commander of the second unit gave the order, another deafening volley rang out. Smoke billowed once more, and the fifty Plain Yellow Banner Jiannu following Baiyintu collapsed into a pool of blood. Baiyintu, still dry-heaving on the ground, was not spared.

Two lead balls pierced his body, one shattering his heart. Baiyintu died instantly.

"Aohaha..."

Amidst the overwhelming war cries, another group of Jiannu crossed the gap, waving their scimitars. Once again, the Ming line erupted in smoke, and searing lead balls whistled through the air, easily shredding the chainmail of the invaders. Blood sprayed, and screams of agony filled the breach.

The Jiannu, who had been full of life and murderous intent moments before, now lay limp on the rubble as lifeless corpses. Those who were wounded but still breathing wailed in agony, clawing at the ruins to crawl back outside, only to be ruthlessly trampled by the endless, surging tide of their own men.

The Datong frontier guards atop the walls were stunned. They had never seen such a war!

The fierce Jiannu charged in waves, only to be mowed down by the dense fire of the musketeer battalions. In less than a quarter of an hour, the area within the ruins was piled high with corpses. More than five hundred Jiannu had already been claimed by the Ming muskets.

The thick, pungent scent of blood began to permeate the air. The veteran soldiers who had already fought the rebels were holding up, but the newly recruited militia were all crouched on the ground, retching uncontrollably. Few battlefield novices could remain composed in the face of such a stench and such a horrific scene.

It was a massacre—a total, absolute massacre!

The Ming troops, who had always been the victims, had become the butchers, and the Jiannu, the former butchers, were now the prey. With the deaths of Oboi and Baiyintu, the three thousand Jiannu of the Two Yellow Banners had lost all effective command. They could only mechanically carry out their last order: charge through the gap and into the city!

The three thousand Jiannu continued to rush forward, wave after wave, hurling themselves into the muzzles of the Ming muskets. Having prepared for close-quarters combat, they hadn't even brought their bows, leaving them with no way to strike back, as they never stood a chance of reaching the Ming lines.

Outside Datong:

Dorgon and Yue Tuo, accompanied by officials like Ganglin, Tong Yangxing, and Fan Wencheng, observed the battle from a small hill outside the east gate. Fearing the Ming might have Red Barbarian Cannons on the walls, they kept their distance to avoid being killed.

When the wall exploded, everyone, including Dorgon, had cheered, believing victory was certain. In all their previous campaigns, they had never failed to take a city once the walls were breached. With the superior strength of the Eight Banners, the Ming troops, stripped of their defenses, should have been lambs for the slaughter.

But this time, Dorgon and his commanders were wrong—profoundly wrong.

They were not fighting just anyone; they were fighting Wang Pu. In truth, the Jiannu should have been wary of the Ming musketeer units long ago. Back in Liaodong, Wang Pu’s personal guards had used firearms to defeat Mongol cavalry and had slaughtered two hundred of the chieftain Hong Taiji’s personal guards—the elite of the elite—with ease.

Regrettably, the Jiannu had failed to learn their lesson. Their understanding of Ming firearms remained trapped in the past, unchanged by the fall of Shengjing or the capture of Hong Taiji.

In the end, the Jiannu were merely a brutal, backward tribe. While their harsh environment had forged them into natural, fearless warriors, they lacked advanced tactics and failed to learn or evolve amidst the fires of war. Their only potent weapons, the Red Barbarian Cannons, had been brought to them by traitors like Geng Zhongming, and it was the traitor Tong Yangxing who had helped them replicate the artillery.