The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 766: Mississippi has Red Cliff

In the early morning of July 1863, 7, a south wind was blowing stronger and stronger on the Mississippi River.

Xianfeng stood in the observation post of the bastion on the west side of Vicksburg, wearing the red turban of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom on his head and holding a feather fan made by his "American Cavalry" (Indians) in his hand - this can be regarded as the beggar's version of a feather fan and a turban. If for no other reason, just for good luck.

"Governor, there are only 3,197 nitrate bombs left." Chen Yucheng's voice came from behind. The military adviser from the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom wore a gray woolen uniform of the Southern Army, with a Colt revolver on his waist. His face was a little solemn. "Half a month ago, a merchant ship loaded with Mexican-made shells was intercepted by a Yankee ironclad ship in the Atlantic Ocean."

This will happen sooner or later! Who made the shipyard in New York (now the world's largest shipbuilding industry is in New York!) build ironclad ships as easily as making dumplings?

Although the American ironclad ships cannot compare with the British and French ones, they are more numerous! In addition to ironclad ships, the Northern Federation has also made many wooden hulled ships and converted many merchant ships in the past two years. The paper number of the navy has exceeded 600!

Even the British Empire doesn’t have as many ships as they do, with 600 ships!

This is the confidence that Lincoln had in starting to blockade the Southern shipping!
Xianfeng waved an Indian feather fan. He saw the turret of a Monitor-class ironclad ship in the anchorage of the Northern Army three miles away was turning, with the black muzzle facing the surface of the Mississippi River. Further away, a newly arrived Northern Union transport ship was unloading, and the Northern Army soldiers in blue uniforms were busy like ants.

"Let Zhang Bao dispatch the fireboats." Xianfeng suddenly spoke in a hoarse voice, "Use the recipe from heaven for the kerosene tanks, and mix rubber and sulfur into the kerosene."

The so-called heavenly recipe was actually the one given by Luo Yaoguo. It used the Pennsylvania light oil that Davis had saved before the war, the Brazilian rubber brought by the "Mexican Bullet Lord", and the Japanese sulfur. Stir them together, then pour them into a jar and plug it with a cotton swab.
On the river bank, Zhang Bao's fireboat fleet was making final preparations. Five hundred "black-clad" suicide squad members were carrying pottery jars onto wooden boats, and sticky Pennsylvania crude oil was seeping out of the jars plugged with cotton strips. Lame Tom used the only three fingers left on his left hand to pick open the wax seal, and his sixteen-year-old son Jackson asked tremblingly: "Dad, the Yankee cannon?"

"Shut up!" Tom stuffed half a piece of leftover tortilla from breakfast into his son's mouth. "Remember, after lighting the fuse, jump into the river and swim to the shore." He glanced at Zhang Bao who was giving a lecture not far away, and lowered his voice: "Don't believe the nonsense about one hundred acres or fifty acres. The most important thing is to survive."

Zhang Bao's Taiping sword suddenly chopped down on the wooden boat with a "click" sound: "Listen up! Burn an ironclad ship, and everyone in the team will raise the flag, and everyone will be rewarded with 100 acres! For those who died in the battle, the family will receive 50 acres, and the whole family will raise the flag!" His eyes swept across the crowd and stayed on Tom and his son for a second longer, "Who dares to desert the battlefield?" The tip of the sword pointed at the corpse hanging on the wire mesh, "This is the example!"

Several black priests in crimson robes began to turn prayer wheels and recite the "Black Slave Reincarnation Sutra" - a sutra about dying in battle and being reincarnated as a white master, which was said to be written by Hong Xiuquan.
At the same time, eight broken wooden boats carrying the Confederate "surrender team" had slid into the U-shaped river channel and collided head-on with a Union "Monitor" class ship. Black Gallen from South Carolina was lying on the bow, and the whip marks on his back were very dazzling in the morning light. When the Gatling machine gun on the Union patrol ship "Monitor-7" aimed at him, he suddenly cried out: "Don't shoot, don't shoot. We were all forced by Zhao Si, the yellow monkey."

David Porter, the commander of the Mississippi Fleet, stood on the bridge of the Monitor-7. He squinted at the wounded captives and said, "You said the Confederates are running out of wooden boats?" "Absolutely true!" Galen knocked his forehead against the deck, making a loud noise. "Zhao Si's men only got eight broken wooden boats today, but they still forced us to come and die!"

A staff officer nearby laughed and said, "They've been delivering them for eleven consecutive days. They've delivered two or three hundred wooden boats. They should have all been delivered, right?"

David Porter nodded slightly: "Strengthen vigilance after towing away the wooden boat." That being said, there were only a few steam ironclad ships on the river, and they were all used to tow the wooden boats. How could they strengthen vigilance?

But it doesn't matter. In the past ten days, the Southern Army's "sampan team" has sent a wave every day in the late night or early morning - only one wave a day. Today's wave has been sent, so we can rest assured.

However, these Union Navy officers and soldiers did not notice that in the mist on the river, two hundred sampans were approaching along the reed marshes, and the pottery jars on the bows were filled with terrible "thickened kerosene" - light crude oil becomes very sticky after melting rubber.
The mist on the river was torn apart by the strong south wind, and two hundred fireboats emerged from the reeds like ghosts. Lame Tom huddled in the cabin, holding the flint tightly with the only three remaining fingers of his left hand. His sixteen-year-old son Jackson huddled behind him and trembled: "Dad, the Yankee's cannon..." Before he finished speaking, a South Carolina black flag master had already shouted: "Light it! Burn all the Yankees!"

When the cotton rope fuse of the kerosene tank was ignited, Lame Tom kicked his son into the river and said, "Swim! Don't look back!" But he did not jump off the boat in time. Instead, he limped to the stern and paddled hard - he had to let the fireboat hit the largest ironclad ship so that his son could receive a "compensation land" after he made meritorious service and was awarded land.
With a muffled "bang", the sticky Pennsylvania crude oil mixed with Brazilian rubber stuck to the side of the "Monitor-12", and the flames rushed into the gun cabin through an open gun window, instantly igniting the propellant inside, and the fire began to spread. The Union sailors screamed and jumped into the river, but they were stuck to their bodies by the burning colloid fuel floating on the water and burned to death on the river!
"Team Two, Charge!" Zhang Baoli shouted on the bridge of the USS Zhouquan, and the telescope showed the chaos at the anchorage of the Northern Army. Twelve transport barges were urgently raising anchor, but the south wind made the fire ships very fast. A barge loaded with ammunition was caught by three fire ships at the same time. The green flames of the picric acid shells exploded thirty meters high, dyeing the sky before dawn orange.

Led by the State Right, three 3-ton Glorious-class ironclad ships, puffing thick smoke, rushed towards the chaotic Union Army anchorage. While charging, the cannons on the bow and in the gun compartments fired, pouring shrapnel on the bows of the chaotic Union Army ships!

David Porter, commander of the Union Mississippi Fleet, stood on the bridge of the USS Monitor-7, looking at the scene in front of him. It took him a long while to react. "Full left rudder! Sink those barbarians' broken boats! Quickly." He roared the order, and with the roar of the ironclad boiler running at overpressure, the 14-inch cast iron ram rushed towards the Confederate ironclad "Missouri Glory" in the middle.

At the moment the two ships collided, Colonel Milley of the Confederate Navy was thrown out of the command platform, his forehead hit on the copper compass and blood gushed out. "Captain! The boiler room is leaking!" The New Orleans accent was crying. Colonel Milley wiped the blood from his forehead and looked at the piles of Union ammunition boxes on the river bank: "Order...Run aground!Turn the guns toward the piles of supplies on the shore!"

The Missouri Glory's hull rubbed violently on the river beach, sparks flew, and the ship's gun turned 180 degrees with difficulty. Black powder shells whistled and hit the Union Army's open-air ammunition depot. The first one missed the target, the second one hit a pile of lead bullets, and the third one hit the pile of picric acid shells - the green fireball soared into the air and expanded violently in the air, and it could be seen clearly even dozens of miles away!
"Fire! Fire!" Zhang Bao shouted excitedly while looking through the scope. The "State's Right" he was on also rushed to the river beach like the "Missouri Glory", aiming at a Union Army position and firing black powder shells endlessly. A Gatling gun fort of the Union Army on the shore was overturned by the explosion, and machine gun parts and human body parts flew in the air.

David Porter staggered to his feet on the wreckage of the Monitor 7, and saw an even more horrifying scene in the telescope - three Confederate ironclad ships, the Spirit of Alabama, the Glory of Missouri and the Rights of State, ran ashore one after another, and dozens of large and small naval guns formed cross fire, turning the Union positions, supply storage areas and a barracks into a sea of ​​fire.

And in the U-shaped river bay, there were Union Army transport ships on fire everywhere. The entire Union Army fleet was burning!
"Commander! Urgent message from East St. Louis!" A staff officer cried in Major General Grant's headquarters, "Robert Lee's 150,000 men broke through the Illinois defense line and are storming the outskirts of East St. Louis!"

In the bastion on the west side of Vicksburg, Xianfeng waved an Indian feather fan, and his pockmarked face finally showed a relaxed expression. Chen Yucheng held up a telescope, staring at the fire in the Mississippi River bay, and his voice was full of excitement that could not be concealed: "It's done, it's done, Governor, order a general attack!"

"General attack, general attack!" Xianfeng nodded heavily: "Tell Black Tom, Black Dehai, and Black Zengke to fight hard for me. After this battle, we will go to the West to dominate!"

(End of this chapter)