1848 Great Qing Charcoal Burners

Chapter 334 A crushing defeat

The shouts of battle and the sounds of gunfire coming from the east gradually subsided and eventually fell silent.

Even without a messenger arriving with news, Xiang Rong, a seasoned veteran of many battles, knew that the feint attack from the east had failed.

Before long, a fast horse galloped in, kicking up dust. The rider tumbled from his horse, staggering to Xiang Rong and Deng Shaoliang, his face a mixture of soot, blood, and terror. His voice trembled with sobs: "General! The brothers on the east side have been defeated! The short-haired guerrillas were prepared, their firepower was too fierce! Guerrilla Zheng was killed on the spot, and our brothers suffered heavy casualties. We couldn't break through and had to retreat."

Although he had long anticipated this outcome, when the devastating news truly arrived, Xiang Rong's old body still visibly trembled.

Xiang Rong closed his eyes, his deeply lined facial muscles twitched violently for a moment, then he took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, and waved his hand to signal the messenger to leave.

"Peng Ni, you cunning devil! I've finally seen through your little trick of feinting and diversion."

Deng Shaoliang's lips moved as if he wanted to say something to comfort Xiang Rong, but he found that any words would be pale and powerless at this moment.

Looking at Xiang Rong's increasingly haggard old face, a sense of sorrow welled up in his heart.

Xiang Rong raised his head, his cloudy, blurry gaze passing over the dark mass of soldiers ahead and landing on the south: "Chen Ruo, we have no way out. Let's charge with our brothers. It's a fight to the death."

After speaking, Xiang Rong suddenly coughed, bending over with the cough. Deng Shaoliang quickly stepped forward to help him up, choking out, "General!"

Xiang Rong waved his hand and stubbornly straightened up: "Now, there's only one way out, to the south. Even if it's a mountain of knives and a sea of ​​fire, an impregnable wall, we can only charge headlong into it. Let's lead the brothers and charge!"

"Shaoliang is going ahead. Take care, General!"

Deng Shaoliang dismounted, removed his helmet and hat, and solemnly kowtowed three times to Rong. He then mounted his warhorse and rode forward without looking back.

There are many seasoned veterans among the old Chu army and the old Zhengan soldiers.

The gunfire from the east stopped so quickly, and many veteran soldiers knew what that meant.

Some veterans clutched the heavy gold and silver in their arms; the precious metals, which were supposed to be cold, felt incredibly hot to the touch.

Upon reaching the front lines, Deng Shaoliang turned his horse around and looked at the anxious and restless veterans ahead. He knew that if he didn't say or do something to boost morale, let alone break through the encirclement, the troops would probably collapse and scatter in an instant.

With Xiang Rong leading the supervisory team in the rear, the heavy responsibility of stabilizing the morale of the troops at the front fell entirely on his shoulders.

Deng Shaoliang drew his sword and shouted, "The gunfire from the east has stopped! Did you hear that? That's good news! It's incredibly good news!"

The Qing soldiers were stunned, looking up blankly at Deng Shaoliang, who was standing on horseback with his sword drawn. How did this turn out to be a good thing?
Deng Shaoliang forced an excited expression onto his face and continued his performance: "The failure of the feint attack on the east side means that the short-haired rebels have deployed a large number of troops on the eastern front and not many troops on the south side. The long-haired rebel camp in the south must now be weak and poorly defended! This is a golden opportunity, a chance for us to break out, created by General Xiang!"

Although Deng Shaoliang's explanation was full of loopholes, it sounded like a drowning man grasping at a straw to the extremely panicked and desperate soldiers.

These Qing soldiers also hoped that what Deng Shaoliang said was true, in order to lull themselves into a false sense of security.

They instinctively looked towards the North Palace troops' positions to the south, where it did indeed seem quieter than expected.

Taking advantage of the momentum, Deng Shaoliang roared hoarsely, "Brothers! If you want to live and enjoy your wealth in Changsha, now is your chance! Follow me, and while the Taiping rebels on the southern front are vulnerable, let's charge through in one fell swoop!"

"If we break through this line of defense, all the rice, meat soup, and women in Changsha will be ours! Think of your parents, wives, and children back home! Think of the good life you'll have when you get back! Will you fight your way out like a man to survive, or will you rot here like a coward? Answer me!"

Fueled by lies and the will to survive, the soldiers began to offer scattered responses, which then coalesced into a frenzied roar:

"rush out!"

"Follow General Deng!"

"Fight back to Changsha!"

Without further hesitation, Deng Shaoliang swung his sword forward and roared with all his might, "Today, I, Deng Shaoliang, will charge alongside you! If we die, we will die together! If we live, we will fight our way out together! When we meet on a narrow path—!"

The veteran Chu soldiers at the front and the elite Zhengan soldiers, whom Deng Shaoliang had personally trained, shouted their last three words with all their might: "The brave shall prevail!"

Under Deng Shaoliang's command, the elite of the Yuezhou camp, three thousand veteran Chu soldiers and Zhengan soldiers, formed a fairly orderly attack formation and began to slowly advance towards the Beidian troops' camp to the south.

The camp of the Northern Palace troops to the south was more than three miles away from the vanguard of the Qing army. It was obviously impossible to sprint the entire distance.

In reality, infantry charges are not like those depicted in many movies and TV shows, where soldiers start running aimlessly from a great distance. Such an action is no different from suicide.

With normal human physical strength, sprinting from hundreds of meters away while carrying a heavy load would leave one exhausted and unable to fight, becoming nothing more than a sitting duck.

Furthermore, the power of a charge lies in the impact of a dense formation.

Once the soldiers start running at different speeds, the formation will quickly break apart, and the momentum will vanish. A disorganized attacking force will find it difficult to defeat a well-prepared enemy defensive formation in hand-to-hand combat.

The core principle of an assault is to pass through the enemy's fire zone as quickly as possible, while conserving energy and maintaining formation.

Slightly trained troops typically advance at a normal pace, or at most a brisk pace, before entering the sprint phase during an assault.

In movies and TV dramas, charging scenes only appear in the last 80 or 90 meters, or even the 30 or 50 meters of the final sprint.

Only by sprinting at this distance can the charging soldiers maintain their stamina for close combat when engaging the enemy.

To bolster their morale, the Qing troops breaking out of Yuezhou fired cannons at the camps of the Beidian troops to the south, which were far beyond their firing range.

With a series of muffled cannon shots, shells whistled southward, but most of the solid iron shells landed on open ground far from the North Palace troops' positions, kicking up a few insignificant clouds of dust.

Meanwhile, on the southern front, the northern front was completely calm and still.

The soldiers concealed themselves behind pre-dug trenches and earthen ramparts, setting up their loaded muskets, flintlock muskets, and matchlock muskets on the ramparts, awaiting the officer's order to fire.

The gunners of the two field artillery companies gripped the firing ropes, their eyes fixed on the seemingly endless, slowly approaching dark shadows before them, waiting for the Qing troops attempting to break through to enter the firing range of the field artillery.

Luo Dagang personally sat atop a watchtower at the front line, calmly observing the Qing army's advance through a monocular telescope.

When the Qing army's vanguard entered within one kilometer of the field artillery positions, Luo Dagang decisively issued the order: "All field artillery units, target the enemy's front-line dense formation, fire!"

As the signalmen on the watchtower raised their flags, the artillery positions in the North Palace erupted with a roar of fire that was far more intense and orderly than that of the Qing army.

The twelve Little Napoleon cannons roared deafeningly. The artillery crews, trained rigorously for three months, operated skillfully and fired with precision. Hot, solid iron bullets burst from the barrels, soaring through the air and crashing into the advancing Qing army ranks.

The small Napoleon cannon that Peng Gang purchased from Russell & Co. was officially named the M1841 6-pound field gun. It had a caliber of 93 mm, a barrel length of 1.52 meters, and a weight of 389 kg.

Like most cannons of the time, the Little Napoleon cannon could fire solid shot, explosive shells, shrapnel, and shrapnel.

Ideally, this distance is more effective at killing soft targets with high-explosive shells (explosive shells).

Unfortunately, the shells sold to Peng Gang by Jardine Matheson & Co. were only solid shot and grapeshot, not explosive shells.

Therefore, the artillerymen of the field artillery company could only fire solid shot at a distance of eight or nine hundred meters.

Fortunately, the Qing army's charging formation was dense enough that even at a distance of eight or nine hundred meters, firing solid shot, a volley from twelve small Napoleon cannons still inflicted more than a dozen casualties on the Qing soldiers trying to break through.

The Qing army was stunned by this sudden, long-range precision strike, and their advance came to a halt.

Deng Shaoliang shouted hoarsely to quell the unrest: "Don't stop! Charge forward! Once you get close to the short-haired man's cannons, they're useless! Supervisory team! Anyone who retreats will be killed on sight!"

Under the officers' reprimands and the gleaming swords of the supervising soldiers, the Qing troops had no choice but to grit their teeth and continue crawling forward, stepping over the corpses of their comrades.

As the distance between the two sides closed to four or five hundred meters, the field copper and iron cannons weighing four or five hundred kilograms and the lighter mountain guns made by the Hanyang Arsenal on the artillery positions also began to join the chorus!

Although these cannons were inferior in range and accuracy to the imported Napoleon cannons, they had the advantage of greater numbers. Even with their sheer number, the casualties inflicted on the Qing army were no less than those caused by twelve Napoleon cannons.

Hundreds of cannons of various types fired solid iron bullets like brooms, sweeping across the dense Qing army ranks wave after wave!

The barrage of comments peeled away the layers of flesh and blood of the Qing army.

The battlefield was filled with smoke and flashes of fire, with severed limbs flying everywhere.

Every step the Qing troops took to break through the siege came at a heavy price.

Their survival instincts made them want to retreat, but behind them was a commando team personally overseen by Xiang Rong, with swords drawn. Anyone who turned to run away would be mercilessly killed as a warning to others.

Advancing meant certain death, and retreating meant certain death. This despair drove many veteran Chu soldiers mad. They let out beast-like howls, their eyes bloodshot, and numbly followed the crowd ahead, continuing to advance.

As the distance closed, the remaining Qing troops, like peeled onions, were exposed layer by layer to the range of the North Palace's cannons.

The deafening artillery fire began to extend deeper into the enemy territory, blocking the Qing army's retreat route and subsequent reinforcements.

As the Qing army's vanguard struggled to advance to a distance of about 160 or 170 paces, a series of somewhat scattered gunshots suddenly erupted from the North Palace troops' positions.

The elite marksmen of the training battalion, equipped with rifled muskets capable of firing Minié rounds, were the first to open fire. These rigorously trained marksmen, relying on fortifications, calmly aimed and fired.

The rifled gun's extremely high accuracy and range, far exceeding that of the smoothbore gun, demonstrated terrifying lethality at that distance.

Nearly a hundred Qing army officers and standard bearers who were at the forefront fell to the ground.

The bullets pierced their chests and limbs with precision. This targeted sniping had a tremendous psychological impact on the Qing army, slowing their advance once again. The Qing soldiers instinctively bent over and ducked like turtles, as if they could dodge the deadly bullets.

Under the relentless barrage of fire from the soldiers in the northern palace, the Qing troops attempting to break through suffered heavy casualties, their flesh and blood flying everywhere. Yet, driven by their officers and their instinct for survival, they desperately crawled forward.

From the watchtower in the distance, Peng Gang witnessed this scene clearly through his binoculars.

Xiang Rong's breakout was a gamble, with a few thousand elite troops leading the charge, a thousand-plus supervisory teams providing support from the rear, and ten thousand ordinary soldiers mixed in, without any civilian militia.

Although a small number of ordinary soldiers broke away from the ranks and fled to the Yuezhou camp behind the rear despite being pursued by the supervising team, the Chu army and Zhengan soldiers' charging formation did not collapse.

For this reason alone, Xiang Rong was worthy of the salary and provisions that Emperor Xianfeng had spent on him.

Ordinary Qing soldiers would not be able to withstand such intense artillery fire, let alone advance under it.

Jiang Yuanshuo, the company commander of the first company of the training battalion, was calmly searching for a high-value target about 130 or 140 paces away.

The company was well-equipped, and the soldiers used the Springfield M1842 percussion cap rifle, which could fire Minié rounds, had a long range, and was highly accurate, enabling them to carry out precise sniping.

Before the battle, Jiang Yuanshuo had already ordered all the gunners in the company to fire freely, specifically targeting Qing army officers, standard bearers, and those Qing army veterans who appeared fierce.

The previous round of firing did indeed achieve remarkable results, killing and wounding many Qing army officers and standard bearers.

Jiang Yuanshuo's gaze finally settled on a Qing general who was fully armored and surrounded by his personal guards and flag bearers.

The man was shouting at the top of his lungs, brandishing his waist knife, trying to rally the troops who were showing signs of disarray and reorganize them into a proper charge.

"It's a big fish!"

Jiang Yuanshuo immediately made a judgment in his mind, believing that if this person could be killed, it would deal a fatal blow to the morale of the already crumbling Qing army.

What Jiang Yuanshuo didn't know was that the Qing army commander he was targeting was Deng Shaoliang, who was leading the charge and breaking through the encirclement on the front line.

The fighter plane is fleeting!
Jiang Yuanshuo quickly moved to the platoon with the best firing position in the company and pointed: "Third Platoon! Everyone, take note! See that Qing army officer on horseback wielding a sword? Everyone aim at him and shoot! If you hit him, I'll treat you to some Fenjiu liquor back in Wuchang!"

The well-trained soldiers immediately understood, adjusted their breathing, estimated the distance with the sights, and steadily placed the long barrels of their guns on the wall, using the sights to firmly lock onto the figure who was still shouting.

"Aim for his upper body!"

Jiang Yuanshuo himself picked up a rifle and joined in aiming.

More than thirty Springfield rifles, their dark muzzles silently locking onto the target.

Deng Shaoliang, who had just cleaved a retreating soldier in two with a single blow, was completely unaware of this. His bloodshot eyes were still fixed on the scene as he roared, "Hold on! Don't retreat! Charge with me..."

Just at this moment.

"put!"

Jiang Yuanshuo decisively issued the order!

boom! boom! boom! boom--!
More than thirty Minié shells, with extremely high initial velocities, instantly traversed a distance of 130 to 140 paces, concentrating their impact on the small area where Deng Shaoliang was located.

Deng Shaoliang's voice abruptly stopped.

His body lurched violently, and he fell off his warhorse. At least a dozen bullets pierced his chest and abdomen at the same time, and the enormous kinetic energy almost shredded his internal organs!

Deng Shaoliang's personal guards tried to rush forward to help him up.

However, it was too late. Deng Shaoliang, who had been shot more than a dozen times and was covered in blood, was no longer moving and was completely dead.

The sudden death of their commander completely crushed the Qing army, which was already on the verge of collapse.

After a brief silence came greater chaos and desperate howls.

The cry of “General Deng is dead!” spread like wildfire across the battlefield. The last shred of discipline and courage of the Qing army vanished with Deng Shaoliang’s fall. The remaining Qing troops completely lost their organization and fighting spirit, and their already crumbling offensive formation collapsed.

The surviving Qing soldiers cried and screamed, retreating like headless flies. The officers' reprimands and the steel swords of the supervising soldiers were useless at this moment, and only exacerbated the chaos.

Seeing that Deng Shaoliang was dead, Jiang Yuanshuo slowly put down the rifle that was still emitting blue smoke.

From the shouts of the Qing soldiers ahead, he learned that the man they had just killed was Deng Shaoliang, Xiang Rong's right-hand man and the pillar of the Zhengan army.

With Deng Shaoliang's death, the outcome of the Qing army's breakout battle was essentially decided.

As Jiang Yuanshuo loaded his rifle, he ordered in a deep voice, "Continue firing and wipe out the remaining enemy!"

Xiang Rong, who had been holding on to his last breath to oversee the battle, felt a metallic taste rise in his throat the moment he saw the front line crumble like an avalanche, but he swallowed it down hard.

He knew it was all over.

Breaking through is wishful thinking, and surviving is a mirage.

The only thing he can do now is to flee for his life like He Chun and Zhang Guoliang, and he can't just stand by and watch the army he built be slaughtered like pigs and sheep without doing anything!

Everyone must die, but at least one should die with dignity.

Xiang Rong suddenly drew the precious sword bestowed upon him by Emperor Xianfeng from his waist and roared at his personal guards and the approximately one thousand elite soldiers who could still muster up, "If we return to camp now, all our efforts will be in vain. The short-haired rebels are only a hundred paces away from us. Do you really want to charge again while braving their gunfire? Follow me and kill them!"

After speaking, Xiang Rong spurred his horse and, against the flow of fleeing people, slowly but firmly moved forward.

The supervisory team and some elite soldiers, inspired by their commander's resolute spirit, followed Xiang Rong and formed a flesh-and-blood dam against the flow of people. They wielded their swords to cut down the fleeing soldiers blocking their way, attempting to drive the crowd away in the most brutal way and reorganize an offensive front.

Under this oppressive force, some fleeing soldiers were swept along and forced to turn around again, numbly and stumbling forward.

The Qing army's lines managed to advance a short distance.

However, this last struggle was futile in the face of the overwhelming firepower of the Northern Palace forces.

When this force, a mix of desperate men and driven rout soldiers, advanced to within fifty or sixty paces of the fortified walls of the soldiers in the northern palace on the southern front.

The various flintlock muskets, arquebuses, and artillery platoons that had been poised on the position for a long time unleashed their final and most deadly volley!
Bang Bang Bang!
White smoke billowed, and bullets rained down!
The dense barrage of bullets was like the scythe of death, sweeping down swarms of people charging at the front!
Blood and bits of flesh splattered everywhere, and screams were drowned out by the deafening gunfire.

The ferocity of the supervisory team and Xiang Rong's decisiveness were no match for the guns and cannons of the soldiers in the North Palace.

This final blow completely shattered the Qing army's will to resist.

Even Xiang Rong's supervisory team was routed, letting out a shout, dropping their weapons, and joining the fleeing crowd.

The defeat was swift and irreversible.

In the chaos of battle, Xiang Rong's warhorse was struck by a stray bullet, fell to the ground with a mournful cry, and threw Xiang Rong violently off the horse.

Xiang Rong fell heavily into the mud and blood. He struggled to get up, but all around him were fleeing soldiers who were running away frantically and only caring about their own lives.

Countless feet trampled over him, with no one caring about the life or death of their commander.

Accompanied by the excruciating pain of broken ribs, the agony of internal organs being crushed, and the fear of suffocation, Xiang Rong's consciousness rapidly blurred.

In his final moments, he seemed to hear the earth-shaking cheers of "Long live the Northern King!" and see the Northern Palace soldiers surging towards him like a tidal wave. In the end, boundless darkness swallowed everything.
What Xiang Rong heard and saw before his death was not a hallucination.

Looking at the collapsing Chu army and Zhengan soldiers, the soldiers of the Northern Palace on the southern front were indeed shouting "Long live the Northern King!" and they did indeed rush out of the walls and trenches to pursue the fleeing Qing army.

On the watchtower, Peng Gang gazed at the battlefield where the smoke of battle had not yet dissipated and the shouts of killing continued, and finally revealed a look of joy.

During this breakout, the Qing army at Yuezhou camp suffered at least two to three thousand casualties, most of whom were the elite veterans of Chu and Zhengan troops who were at the forefront.

After this battle, Xiang Rong was no longer capable of organizing a proper breakout.

The best outcome would be to hold out in the Yuezhou camp and prolong their lives for a few more days.

The outcome of the Battle of Yuezhou has been decided.

(End of this chapter)