The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 930 Long live the Emperor of America!

July 20, 1883, Dakota, United States.

The Missouri River churned with brownish-yellow waves, and the hot summer wind, carrying moisture, swept over him. On the high slopes of the riverbank, the "black, red, and yellow tricolor flag" fluttered in the wind. Hong Tiangui unbuttoned the gold button on his collar, took a deep breath of the scorching air, and saw the East Dakota wilderness shimmering with distorted heat waves through his binoculars.

Five days ago, the 19th Cavalry Division of the Eastern United States was still setting up barbed wire behind that grassy hill, but now only a few discarded blue hats are hanging on the thorn bushes.

The United States West Coast Army's "summer counter-offensive" has finally begun!

"Black Tom, tell the ammunition trucks in the rear to keep up!" Hong Tiangui's voice was not loud. The old black general standing behind him like an iron tower immediately gestured to the messenger, and then reported: "The First Army has boarded the ship, and Red Eagle Khan's cavalry artillery has already deployed on the high ground on the left bank."

The commotion on the riverbank drowned out Hong Tiangui's orders. Three hundred shirtless Chinese laborers, chanting slogans, pushed ten-meter-long steel trusses into the murky river. Amid the dull thud of sleepers hitting the mud, Hong Zhenyi, dressed in a gray woolen military uniform, roared at the blueprints: "Make sure the mortise and tenon joints are aligned! Where's Old Huang's steam hammer?" On the tarpaulin-covered railcar, six plunger-type steam pile drivers spewed white smoke. Huang Shiren's son, Huang Youyi, was running between the locomotives, his "First Engineering Brigade" badge on his chest and his colonel rank insignia on his shoulder covered in mud and dust—a temporary railway bridge was taking shape little by little under the command of this former chief railway engineer and Stanford graduate!
"Report!" A messenger riding a Mongolian ponie pushed through the crowd. "Red Eagle Khan has broken through the second line of defense of the US Eastern Army on the East Coast!"

Hong Tiangui turned his head and saw six plumes of smoke suddenly rising from the meadow on the opposite bank of the river—the 75mm cannons of the Indian mounted artillery were firing rapidly. Further away, warriors with shaved heads and braided hair rode their horses up the hill, their Mongolian scimitars rising and falling, continuously reaping the lives of the already defeated cavalrymen of the 19th Cavalry Division of the Eastern United States.

Another thunderous thud of hooves followed. The lead rider, Red Eagle Khan, brandishing his scimitar, the son of a Mongolized Native American chief and a graduate of the University of California, galloped at full speed, shouting, "Dakota warriors, cut off the heads of the Blue Hats, and you can drink all the wine of St. Louis!"

Union skirmish lines flickered behind the grassy slopes, and machine gun fire erupted like popping beans, instantly causing five or six horses in the cavalry to fall. But more Native American warriors surged from the banks of the Missouri River, and a horse-drawn 45mm rapid-fire cannon, its gun cover flying off, unleashed a short, precise barrage that shattered the Union strongpoint into pieces.

Hong Tiangui tapped his index finger lightly on the binoculars. He saw the fleeing soldiers running north towards a tributary of the Missouri River, and he could see St. Louis, at the confluence of the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers, beckoning to him—the American crown, studded with African diamonds, was gleaming alluringly in the blazing sun.

At the same time, the locks of West Dakota, fifty miles upstream, slowly opened. As the iron gates and chains stirred up the yellowish-brown waves, eight steel behemoths lurking in the artificial lake finally bared their fangs—these were the "Alligator"-class shallow-draft heavy gunboats secretly built by the US West Coast Navy.

"Mark the Union gunboats!" Commander-in-Chief Fang Boqian's roar echoed in the conning tower of the USS Crocodile III. The 600-ton shallow-draft gunboat was cutting through the water, its twin 150mm turrets slowly turning. At the far end of the murky river, two wooden barges towing 6-inch guns were turning, Union sailors frantically cranking the engines.

"Boom boom."

The shells exploded on the water near the stern armor belt of the Crocodile, and the ship only shuddered slightly amidst the loud noise.

"Just tickling me?" the observer chuckled as he reported the parameters: "Distance 800, armor-piercing rounds being loaded!"

"Fire!" Fang Boqian pressed the call button without the slightest hesitation—this Fang, a graduate of the Shanghai Naval Academy, was a bit timid, but not so much afraid of two wooden boats.

Both "King Crocodile"-class barges opened fire simultaneously, and a 150mm high-explosive shell effortlessly pierced through the wooden barge. The orange-red fireball, carrying wood chips and human remains, shot ten meters into the air. Sailors on the other barge screamed and jumped into the river, while the remaining wooden barge was swirled around by the river.

The telegraph keys in the radio room clicked away, and the operator handed over a note: "The Commander-in-Chief is calling to inquire about the naval battle!"

Fang Boqian grabbed a pencil and drew a blood-red arrow on the map, saying triumphantly, "Send a message to His Highness: After the bloody battle fought by our troops, the threat on the waters upstream of the pontoon bridge area has been eliminated. A total of 6 enemy ships were sunk, while our ships suffered no losses! All 'crocodile ships' will now proceed at full speed northeast according to plan!"

Steam turbines roared, propelling the flat-bottomed hull forward. Eight muddy-gray steel behemoths cleaved through the river, chasing after the fleeing Union soldiers in panic along the right bank of the Missouri River. Fang Boqian gazed at the endless cornfields on the north bank, and it was as if he saw himself leading the powerful American West Coast River Fleet, sweeping all the way from the Missouri River to the Mississippi!

At 10 Downing Street, in a meeting of the British wartime cabinet, Liberal Party leader Gladstone, who had just succeeded the suddenly deceased Jewish man Disraeli as wartime prime minister, was ashen-faced: "Damn it, the Americans' Montana-Dakota Army is in complete disarray! President Garfield demands that the Royal Navy immediately bombard every port of heaven!"

The death toll reported from the Dakota front on the telegram was a jarring reminder to everyone: 35,000 dead or missing (basically, none left), 137 heavy artillery pieces gone, and a hundred miles of defensive line on the left bank of the Missouri River collapsed—a full hundred miles of gaps! Now the "Black, Red, and Yellow Legion" of Indian cavalry could move freely on the left bank of the Missouri River, and the rear areas of the Montana-Dakota Army were at their mercy! And the 200,000 Union troops deep in Montana had their rear cut off overnight.
Deputy Prime Minister and Keeper of the Seal, Conservative Party leader Stafford Northcote, frowned deeply: "Didn't the Americans say they had the 'Black, Yellow, and Red Army' surrounded in West Dakota?"

Henry Campbell-Bannaman chuckled wryly, “These Americans are all talk. They haven’t really completed the encirclement of West Dakota. Although they cut the rail line between Denver and West Dakota, there’s still a 200-mile gap between the Army Corps of Montana-Dakota and the First Armored Corps. What kind of encirclement is that?”

“But we can’t just stand by and watch that little Hong Tianwang in the American West devour the Montana-Dakota Army!” Foreign Secretary Granville slammed his fist on the edge of the map. “If we lose this army, it’s hard to say whether the United States will still have the will to continue fighting!” His trembling finger traced across central North America, where the black and red arrow representing the American West was pointing toward the US-Canada border. Time was running out for the Montana-Dakota Army to retreat.

“Gentlemen, we must do something!” Gladstone looked at his First Lord of the Navy.

First Lord of the Navy, Blasi, abruptly stood up: "Gentlemen!" He tapped his red pencil on the giant world map, "Twenty-eight battleships and armored cruisers have assembled in the port of Singapore!" The tip of his pencil slammed down on the port marker in the southeast of the Malacca Peninsula: "Including three Sovereign-class and three Majestic-class!" His voice suddenly rose: "And eight Centurion-class and four Typhoon-class!"

He said excitedly, "The Sovereign-class has a standard displacement of 15,200 tons, four twin 254mm rapid-fire guns, a speed of 20 knots, and 229mm Harvey steel main armor at the waterline! The Majestic-class is even stronger than the Sovereign-class! It is an improved version of the Sovereign-class, with a displacement of 16,000 tons, a speed of 20.5 knots, and 254mm main armor at the waterline! Although the Centurion-class is only a second-class battleship with a standard displacement of 11,500 tons, it also has 254mm rapid-fire guns and a speed of 20.5 knots."

"The Typhoon-class armored cruisers were more than capable of confronting the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's Jingyuan-class cruisers! With a standard displacement of 12,500 tons, four 203mm 45-caliber guns were spread across twin turrets, equipped with 150mm domed armor. Under high-pressure ventilation, the latest steam turbines could achieve an astonishing speed of 25.5 knots! When they were deployed in the Pacific, the Heavenly Kingdom's ironclads, with speeds of less than 20 knots, could only stare in disbelief at their wakes!"

First Sea Minister, Admiral Northbrook, clapped his hands sharply: "As soon as the Far East Fleet enters the South China Sea, it will be able to cut off the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's lifeline in the South China Sea!" He shouted excitedly: "It's time to let Zhang Bao and Ding Ruchang taste the power of the Empire's newest warships!"

Gladstone nodded slightly, his hawk-like gaze sweeping across the room: "I devise a plan for a decisive battle east of the Strait of Malacca—I want all the ships flying the dragon flag in the South Seas to sink to the bottom of the sea!"

The Bismarck City Hall, built by white immigrants from the German region, has now changed hands. The Stars and Stripes are discarded on the ground, and various documents are scattered everywhere.

Black Tom, Red Eagle Khan, Zhao Zai, and a group of generals from the "Black, Red, and Yellow Legion" followed behind Hong Tiangui, all dressed in crisp military uniforms.

"Report! The Missouri Fleet has captured the Sioux City fortress!" A communications soldier, covered in gunpowder smoke, entered the hall. "Commander Fang has captured twelve 8-inch fortress guns! General Zeng reports that the US Eastern Army's armored forces are retreating towards Nebraska! The siege of Bellevue-Weldburg has been lifted!"

The whistles of Native American warriors echoed outside the window, and a black, red, and yellow flag was already flying high above the city hall.

Hong Tiangui took the battle report, the firelight flickering in his pupils.

"Bring me a pen!" He kicked aside a chair, and a charcoal pencil drew a crown in the location of St. Louis. The room's clamor froze instantly, all eyes focused on the charcoal mark. "Gentlemen," Hong Tiangui's voice was not loud, but it overwhelmed the distant roar of cannon fire, "this time next year, I will be crowned in St. Louis!"

"Long live the Emperor of the United States!"

Cheers erupted inside the city hall.

(End of this chapter)