The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 729 President Davis: Oh no, I’ve become an abolitionist!

Manassas battlefield, November 1861, 11, afternoon.

General McDowell looked through his telescope and saw a scene that made him doubt his life: 3,000 black soldiers had formed a horizontal formation with the white militia of Virginia, and their bayonets formed a twinkling Milky Way under the rising sun. The black soldiers sang "We Want to Be White" loudly, drowning out the war drums of the Northern Army, and the white militia also stomped their feet to the rhythm, as if they were assimilated by some invisible force.

"Who in God's name are the abolitionists? Us or them?"

Not to mention the white militiamen under him, even McDowell was skeptical about this war launched under the banner of "abolition".

"Freedom belongs to the white man! America belongs to the white man."

The slogans shouted by the Northern Army were weak and powerless. They did not sound like those of abolitionists, but rather like a group of slave owners who firmly believed in white supremacy.

"General, reinforcements from the Southerners have arrived!"

A Union staff officer with a Kentucky accent ran up to General McDowell and told the commander of the Army of the Potomac the intelligence just delivered by the reconnaissance cavalry.

"One last try!" McDowell gritted his teeth, "We can't lose to those niggers!"

McDowell drew his command knife, pointed at the black brigade in front of him, and shouted an order: "Artillery! Aim at those niggers! Blast them all into black pulp!"

His roar was soon drowned out by artillery fire. The solid bullets from the twelve-pound cannon whistled out, plowing a trail of bloody mud from time to time, but failed to shake the horizontal formation of the black regiment.

Zenk O'Hara was squatting, holding up a Confederate flag, which had long been dyed black and purple by the blood of the Union Army. Union artillery shells kept flying over his head, but he didn't even blink, just stared at the Union infantry approaching step by step in front of him.

"First Black Coat Regiment. Stand up!" Zeng Ke O'Hara shouted loudly - shortly after the Union Army's artillery bombardment began, he ordered his men to squat to avoid the shells to avoid unnecessary casualties.

However, on the battlefield where people are lined up for execution, it is easy to make people squat or lie down, but it is a little difficult to make them stand up. Those guys who lack the will to fight would rather lie down and pretend to be dead than fight.

Fortunately, the black bandits don’t have this problem now - you won’t get any points for pretending to be dead!

Following the sound of drums, all the black-clad soldiers on the battlefield stood up.

"Salvo—fire!"

2000 Minié rifles spewed out flames at the same time, and the West Virginia volunteers at the forefront fell like straw.

一个北军上尉的怀表被子弹击穿，表针永远停在他生命中最后的时刻：1861年11月8日下午5时47分。

Suddenly, a cloud of dust rose from behind a forest on the left side of the Union Army. The black cavalry led by Tom, the "Black Knight" of the McMullen family, cut into the battlefield from the flank. The horses' hooves kicked up a cloud of dust. The black horses, black clothes, and black people came roaring like a black whirlwind, with only the tips of the muskets flashing coldly. The miners from West Virginia suddenly froze - they saw the black strong man leading the way riding a big black horse and holding a long spear, like a demon from hell!

"Shoot! Aim at that big black guy!" The Union captain's roar was drowned out by the flag-raising war song of the Confederate infantry. Zeng raised a Minié rifle and locked the sight on the Union captain's forehead. The moment the gun went off, a blood flower exploded on the captain's blue uniform.

"Raise the flag! Raise the flag!" The black tide of infantry began to advance. Johnson, the captain of the white militia, was stunned. He saw with his own eyes a black soldier with a broken arm holding a rifle and fighting to the death until he was hit by a stray bullet and fell. A military judge of the yellow flag sighed and turned to a new page in the merit book to record: "Mark of Charleston, died in battle for his country, and raised the black flag!"

"Crazy, crazy"

On the other side of the battlefield, seeing the last wave of offensive organized by him being crushed by the Confederate black brigade again, McDowell's back of his uniform was soaked with cold sweat and his lips trembled when he spoke.

General Beauregard stood on the top of Henry House Mountain, holding a copy of "Provisional Regulations for the Eight Banners of the United States" and reading it carefully - this was the first time he had seriously read this bill that he regarded as a joke, and the more he read it, the more shocked he became!

Who came up with this idea? Was it to transform the black slaves who only knew how to grow cotton into "white" and crazy fighting berserkers? The person who proposed this bill seemed to have long understood the most greedy and cruel part of human nature.

Could that person be a devil?

He suddenly heard several Virginia militiamen surrounding Lin Shu and begging, "Old man, we killed the Northern Army too, can we get some points for raising the flag?"

"But you are white?" Lin Shu said in stiff English, "You are not Hispanic, are you? You are all blond and blue-eyed, and you are the white flag. Where can you go?"

"But we are poor! We are as poor as the niggers!"

“We want to exchange points for manors”

“I want a nice house!”

"Can I change it?"

It's bad! General Beauregard was shocked. Not only the black slaves have learned bad things, but even the poor white people have learned bad things! If the war continues, the poor people in America will start a revolution just like the poor people in Europe.

Suddenly, the sound of horse hooves was heard outside the tent. General Lee climbed to the top of Henry House Mountain under the protection of a group of cavalrymen. When Beauregard put the charter into his trouser pocket, he found that his fingers were shaking.

"General Lee, this is Nicholas Zhao Si's masterpiece." General Beauregard pointed to the battlefield in the distance. Following his line of sight, McDowell's Northern Army was retreating, and the black soldiers, who were far less in number than them, were chasing them relentlessly.

Robert Lee looked incredulous: "Who is the slave owner and who is the abolitionist, us or them?"

"General Lee, of course we are true abolitionists!" Xianfeng's voice suddenly came. Robert Lee turned his head and saw this short, pockmarked oriental charlatan wearing a gray uniform of the Southern Volunteers, leaning on a cane, limping over and standing beside Robert Lee. He said with some regret: "Fake abolitionists can only stand on the moral high ground and pretend to be saints. They are willing to give black slaves so-called freedom, but will never let black people have the ability to defend their freedom. The real abolitionists will not give freedom to black slaves, but will teach black slaves how to fight for and defend freedom. Therefore, I, you, and President Davis are the real abolitionists!"

Huh? Robert Lee was speechless: What did I do? I didn't do anything, how could I become an abolitionist?
Father Tupolev was laughing as he climbed up the Henry House Hill with a bottle of wine in his hand. The vodka sprayed on General Li's face. "Davasili, do you know the Mamluk slave soldiers? Yes, they are the Mamluks who ruled Egypt and the Ottoman Sultan's guards. In theory, they are all slaves, slaves."

The last shell fired by the Union Army landed on Henry House Hill, and except for stirring up a large pile of mud, nothing was hurt. Tupolev laughed and pointed at the faintly visible black soldiers in the smoke: "Look! These 'black barbarians' are more loyal than the Roman Guards! Did you know that Rome had a black emperor? Lucius Quietus! Although the Senate does not admit it, history tells us." He took a sip of wine, "The master comes from the barrel of a gun, no matter if he is black or white!"

The wooden floor of the Oval Office was almost dented by the anxious President Davis. When Secretary of War Breckenridge rushed in holding a telegram, the blue-gray pupils of the President of the Southern United States shrank to pinpoints: "Manassas has fallen?"

"No! It's the great victory of Manassas!" Secretary of the Army Breckenridge pointed at the words on the battle report with trembling fingers, "The slave brigade annihilated 1500 enemies and captured flags! O'Hara's slave Zengke killed five Union soldiers and led the First Black Regiment to victory. He accumulated points and became the first freeman of the Plain White Banner. According to the provisions of the "Provisional Measures for the Eight Banners of the United States", his descendants will not be bound by the "One Drop of Blood Law Principle"!"

"What?" President Davis was shocked. "How is this possible? How can black slaves have such fighting power? Are you sure?"

The Secretary of the Army shook his head. "It can't be wrong. It was a report submitted by General Robert Lee and General Beauregard together. The slave brigade from South Carolina was like an insurmountable black wall, blocking the Northern rebels who were several times more numerous than them. Both generals said that the fighting power of the black slaves was no less than that of the most elite white warriors!"

There was dead silence in the Oval Office!
Prince Vasily, a Russian advisor in the office, suddenly knocked on the table with the bottom of a vodka bottle: "Dear Mr. President, do you know Sultan Baibars of the Mamluk Dynasty? That Turkic man who was born a slave established his dynasty with a scimitar. The same thing happened in India. Several Delhi sultans were born as slave warriors!" He said drunkenly, "And what you are doing now is even crazier than those Muslim monarchs - you not only give guns to slaves, but also teach them to read and how to really fight on the battlefield!"

Davis suddenly grabbed the "Provisional Regulations of the Eight Banners of the United States" that was waiting for his signature on the desk and threw it into the fireplace. The parchment curled up into ashes in the flames: "Fuck the "Provisional Regulations of the Eight Banners of the United States"! I fought against abolitionists for twenty years, and in the end I became the president of the largest abolitionist regime!"

"President, the Provisional Regulations on the Eight Banners of the United States must be abolished immediately."

"It's too late, the Pandora's box has been opened!" Prince Vasily switched to Russian and said a Slavic proverb: "Whoever releases a caged bear to fight against wolves must be prepared to be smashed in the head by the bear's paws."

(End of this chapter)