The Han culture is spreading strongly in Southeast Asia

Chapter 176 Gentlemen, the terrifying white elephant is beginning to weaken
Sometimes the decision made by the majority does not necessarily mean it is correct.

For example, now, when the Burmese soldiers rushed out of the smoke they created amid the roars, they suddenly discovered.

It’s too early to rush in.

It turned out that he had already opened fire about a hundred meters away, and now he was still sixty or seventy meters away from the enemy after running howling all the way.

What? Sixty or seventy meters!

Those who knew the goods immediately felt a cramp in their calves. At this distance, if they were hit by a bullet, even Buddha would be unable to save them.

The 'smart' guy immediately started making small moves, shouting loudly and lifting his feet high, but he still didn't get very far forward.

Most people got carried away, and encouraged by the roars of their comrades around them, they quickly ran into the muzzles of the guns of the Hexian Regiment soldiers.

"Boom!" The gust of wind pushed the smoke rising from the ignited gunpowder forward a little, and a large number of Burmese soldiers immediately fell.

The officers of Kunlun Mountain Hall stared at each soldier sternly, making sure that the soldiers in the four rows in front and behind had opened fire.

"Forty meters!" Outside the front line, the sentry responsible for measuring distance shouted.

The officers on either side of the column heard the shout and immediately began to repeat it in a louder voice.

"Forty meters!"

The soldiers who heard the order also began to repeat it in a low voice, reminding their comrades not to fire before the distance was forty meters, while they never stopped loading their guns.

When they reached forty meters, the sentry suddenly struck the gong in his hand and began to shout:
"Wind, wind, wind!"

This is the rule of Kunlun Mountain Hall. When shooting at the enemy, call out "Wind" three times; when engaging in hand-to-hand combat, call out "Tiger" three times.

Upon hearing the ranging sentry's reminder that the enemy was about to reach forty meters, the officers immediately drew their command sabers and scanned all the soldiers in their row to check the loading status of all of them.

After seeing that everyone had finished loading and holding their flintlock rifles at an angle, he suddenly waved the small red flag in his left hand.

"Fire!"

Forty meters is very close, so the power of the volley gun is quite huge.

The Burmese troops who rushed forward in chaos were bombarded by four volleys of gunfire from more than 40 meters away. More than 200 of them fell in just over ten seconds. The morale of the troops could not be maintained at all, and they retreated screaming.

Damn, we’re doomed if we keep fighting like this!

Minmin wiped the cold sweat from his head. He saw the temperament of Xin Puxin, the Western musketeer, from the Siamese army opposite.

Damn, these must be the Siamese guards. Not many people can fire a volley so calmly from forty meters away.

Minmin Tuo was already a little scared, but when he thought of the hundreds of thousands of acres of fertile land outside Mawlamyine, he immediately got rid of the little bit of fear that had risen in his mind.

But they couldn't fight like this anymore. Min Mintuo ordered his adjutant to continue commanding, and he went to the back and looked at the four or five hundred burly men who had not yet taken to the field.

These people were either members of Min Min Tho's tribe or warriors brought by the commander Bala Min Din from Toungoo City.

Some of them received at least 1,000 acres of land in Mawlamyine, and they were the group that benefited the most after Balamindin came to Mawlamyine.

"You know what we have to lose if the Siamese reach Moulmein.

I'll let the Moubowas charge again, and then it will be your turn."

Min Min said in a deep voice, then pointed at a burly man with four knives on his waist.

"Mang Bao, you take charge. Blend in with the crowd. I see the Siamese like to wait until they're about forty meters away before firing. Wait until they finish their round, then rush over and kill all the enemies!"

On the battlefield, the fighting continued. The Burmese army's second attack was very anticlimactic. Thousands of people formed seven or eight large and small square formations, and retreated one after another after only half an hour of fighting.

Soon, Min Mintuo's carefully planned third attack began.

Mo Zibu rode his horse back and forth on the hill to observe. There was too much smoke produced by the black gunpowder on the battlefield, and he could not see the situation clearly.

At this moment, a breeze blew over from the sea, and several huge pieces of black fog were blown away. Mo Zibu held up the telescope and suddenly found something wrong.

"Hmph, that's a nice thought. You're hiding your elite troops behind the miscellaneous soldiers and want to repel me with hand-to-hand combat. Do you think you're one of Napoleon's old guards?"

Mo Zibu snorted coldly and threw the command flag in his hand to the messenger beside him.

"Order Major Jacques to fix bayonets on the cannon and bring all the grapeshot, so that they can have a taste of their power.

Guangzu, you take the heavy musketeers forward and cover the artillery."

Just as Mo Zibu expected, Mang Bao and others didn't even bring their muskets and hid behind a large number of cannon fodder.

While urging the cannon fodder to continue attacking the hill where Mo Zibu was, he was preparing to start the charge about forty meters away.

They had already figured out that after four consecutive rounds of volleys, the Kunlun Mountain Hall soldiers would have a small pause, and this was the best time for them to rush forward.

On the battlefield, after repelling two attacks from the Burmese army, the soldiers of Kunlun Mountain Hall actually reached a critical point.

Almost every soldier fired six to eight bullets.

At this time, firing a gun was not as simple as pulling the trigger in later generations, but required a series of actions.

In addition, the black gunpowder produced by the Mozibu Arsenal was not up to standard. From materials to technology, it was lagging behind those of Britain, France and the Netherlands, and was not as good as that of the Qing Dynasty.

Therefore, the black powder in Kunlun Mountain Hall did not burn very completely, and there was a lot of residual residue. Up to now, almost 20% of the soldiers were unable to continue shooting for various reasons.

In fact, according to the level of Europe's front-line troops, the horizontal formation should be changed to a diagonal one at this time.

Combine grenadiers, light infantry, and line infantry together, let the line infantry who cannot fire wear bayonets, and form hierarchical firepower in company units.

Then, under the cover of artillery and cavalry, they used a charge-and-charge mode of throwing bombs, firing, and then assaulting to completely defeat the enemy.

However, Mo Zibu had no cavalry, lacked artillery, and the quality of his soldiers was not up to par, so he did not dare to send them out.

Although the Burmese army is even worse and has lower morale, Mo Zibu still doesn't dare to take risks. After all, the enemy is seven or eight times his size. The safest thing to do is to fight them in a line and be shot.

The sound of the hunters' firing rang out. Their greatest role now was not to kill a few Burmese soldiers, but to lure the Burmese army into opening fire.

In an army with low levels of training and organization, the most difficult thing for officers to master is the timing of soldiers' firing.

Of course, if the officers can basically grasp the timing of the soldiers' firing, then this army can be called quasi-elite, just like the current soldiers of Kunlun Mountain Hall.

As expected, under the continuous firing of Wang Wuchu and Li Quan, just like the previous times, the Burmese soldiers fired their flintlock rifles and matchlock rifles at a distance of more than 100 meters. The battlefield, which had just become clearer, was once again shrouded in smoke.

What was different this time was that the Burmese musketeers who had hurriedly finished firing and wanted to retreat were driven back by Mang Bao and his men with punches and kicks. They had no choice but to give up reloading and move forward numbly with their swords in hand.

At eighty meters, the Kunlun Mountain Hall opened fire, a four-round volley. A large number of Burmese soldiers fell down, the first few phalanxes collapsed, and the soldiers ran all over the ground.

But with the supervision of Mang Bao and others, the phalanxes that were not engaged in the battle did not collapse, but continued to move forward.

This time, they were finally within the effective range, eighty meters, and the Burmese army also opened fire, but they only had a small number of flintlock rifles, most of them were matchlock rifles, so they were not qualified to be lined up and shot.

After firing a shot, you can only keep moving forward.

But after all, they were already within the shooting range, and Kunlun Mountain Hall began to suffer casualties.

Sixty meters, it was Kunlun Mountain Hall's turn to open fire, and the second phalanx of the Burmese army in front began to collapse one after another.

Minmin Tuo was well prepared. He sent all the guards around him out as a supervisory team.

Under the threat of the steel knives, the defeated soldiers began to gather at the back and became cannon fodder for the overwhelming third attack.

But this time, the Burmese army could no longer maintain a relatively loose small formation.

After two rounds of eight volleys of gunfire, a large number of soldiers gathered together out of fear, becoming the best targets of Kunlun Mountain Hall, and also perfectly concealing Mang Bao and others.

Forty meters away, there was a loud thunderous explosion, and the Burmese army line was shaken violently. Two or three hundred people fell in the volley of gunfire.

But at this moment, Mang Bao and others who were hiding in the Burmese army suddenly jumped up. They roared wildly, ran with big strides, and the javelins in their hands flew out suddenly.

At a distance of thirty-five or thirty-six meters, the lethality of a throwing weapon like a javelin is still quite astonishing. Twenty or thirty Kunlun Mountain Hall soldiers fell to the ground with screams.

Agang felt a cramp in his calf, and his first thought was to run.

But when he was about to make an unforgivable mistake, the sergeant beside him roared and fired the pistol in his hand.

A Burmese who had rushed over to a distance of more than 20 meters suddenly fell to the ground. The sergeant holding a steel knife shouted loudly: "Sergeant, move forward. Fix the bayonet!"

"Tiger! Tiger! Tiger!" Amid the deafening three shouts of tiger, Agang also roared along.

The high-intensity training, with two drills a day and a break every three days, made him able to pull out the bayonet and put it on immediately like muscle memory.

Even when he formed a tight formation with his comrades, Agang was still confused.

He forgot that he wanted to escape just now. All his thoughts were drowned out by the desire to kill and the roars of tigers.

The non-commissioned officers' attack managed to withstand the Burmese hand-to-hand combat impact. By the time the Burmese army's momentum was halted, the soldiers' bayonet jungle had formed, and the gap just made by the javelins was resolutely blocked by the soldiers behind.

Both sides started fighting desperately with cold weapons.

Blood flowed like a river and screams were heard one after another. Agang didn't remember how many times he stabbed forward, nor did he remember how many people he stabbed to death.

It was not until he felt the pressure eased that he discovered that the Burmese army had been beaten back.

"Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!" The company commander's loud call came to his ears. A Gang didn't think about why and immediately broke off contact with the Burmese army.

The Burmese army was originally being beaten back, but when they saw that Kunlun Mountain Hall was also retreating, they suddenly became stronger. Mang Bao thought that Kunlun Mountain Hall could not hold on any longer, so he roared and took the lead to rush up again.

Then, Mang Bao saw the cruelest and final scene of his life.

Hundreds of grape-sized shotgun shells were blasted out from an eight-pound cannon, and the entire fan was filled with these howling projectiles.

Mang Bao returned to dust in an instant, truly dust to dust.

He was hit directly by the cannon, and all the bones and muscles in his body were turned into meat paste in an instant, with only the part below the knees remaining intact.

After these grapeshot bullets shattered Mang Bao, their kinetic energy did not decay much. All the people in a fan-shaped formation behind him were shot and fell to the ground. Many of them fell into "sleep" without making a sound.

Fifteen cannons, even if they were just firing shotgun shells, were still not a lot for four or five thousand people.

But you can't withstand the artillery fire and then the musket fire. After the musket fire is finished, the infantry will use bayonets to hold on, and then the artillery will be able to fire again.

Mo Zibu clenched his fists and waved them on the hillside. Although his Kunlun Mountain Hall soldiers could not be called truly elite, many tactics could not be implemented.

But they had the courage to fight static battles, that is, to line up in lines and shoot, and they were equally good in hand-to-hand combat. Their artillery was even considered first-class in Southeast Asia.

As for the Myanmar army on the opposite side, its combat effectiveness may be even lower than that of the Yunnan Green Camp.

Mo Zibu can now be sure that the strength of at least his two thousand plus men is almost the same as that of the White Elephant King's Royal Guards.

Further away, British and Dutch officers were also watching the battle.

"It seems that the great white elephant was indeed weakened. The Qing army killed so many of its elite soldiers that the troops protecting Yangon and Pegu were reduced to medieval garbage."

"Gentlemen, it's our turn, otherwise the White Elephant King's ivory will be taken away by that cunning prince." Guard Green said with a big laugh.

"Yes, it's a pity!" Major Marco sighed.

“If Prince An Tai can’t deal with the Burmese army, he will come to us and ask for help at a high price.

And now, we are destined to suffer losses in the distribution of future spoils."

“Moreover,” Major Marco turned and looked at Guard Green, “it is said that the prince intends to form an alliance with France.

King Louis has now found an important ally for free. After all, the Prince's army, even in Europe, can barely be considered an army, not a mob."

Unfortunately, Major Marco's words were just a wink to the blind man. Guard Green turned around and started mobilizing the soldiers before he finished speaking.

A young British guard next to him curled his lips and said, "This Lowlander hasn't been back to Europe for too long, so his mind is not clear.

What are we? A mere guard, a colonial guard at that, with a salary of twenty pounds a year, are we supposed to consider the affairs of state for King George?

"Hahahaha!" A group of young British officers burst into laughter. The British have not even swallowed India yet and are busy trying their best to gain benefits from this continent.

They do not have the same sense of tension as the Dutch regarding Southeast Asia, as if dark clouds are looming over the city and are about to destroy it.

The British East India Company was too lazy to pay attention to the Dutch East India Company's flattery and provocation in Batavia.

(End of this chapter)