Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 536 Clash (Part 8)

The night was as dark as ink, slowly swallowing the last rays of sunlight from the fields outside Guadalajara.

In the Spanish camp, the relaxation and hustle and bustle of the evening were gone, replaced by a repressive, deliberately maintained silence.

The soldiers were ordered to rest early, but the tension in the air made it impossible for many to fall asleep. They could only stare at the top of the tent with their eyes open, listening to their own rapid heartbeats.

General Toledo ultimately adopted Major Diego's radical suggestion.

The desire to turn the tide and gain glory, along with the fantasy that the three thousand Spanish compatriots in the city might be accomplices, overwhelmed the last shred of reason and caution.

A night raid might be their only hope of turning the tide of the battle.

General Toledo stood in the shadows of the camp gate, gazing at the distant outline of the city, which appeared as a deeper black shadow in the night.

Major Diego stood beside him, his young face flushed slightly with excitement and anticipation.

“General, this is the best decision ever.” Diego’s voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement. “The darkness will conceal our movements, making it easy for us to approach the city walls, and it will also amplify the defenders’ fear. When our soldiers suddenly appear at the city gates, they will surely panic!”

Toledo did not respond, but simply gazed silently into the distance.

The unease in his heart was like a cold snake, lingering and refusing to leave.

But he forced himself to suppress it, trying his best to appear calm and composed as a commander.

Sometimes, glory and victory require taking risks to achieve.

At midnight, the operation began.

More than 3,500 Spanish soldiers poured out of the camp like an undercurrent. More than half of them abandoned their arquebuses and took up spears, swords and battle axes, while the Indian auxiliaries carried crudely made ladders on their shoulders.

Another group of musketeers were instructed not to fire unless absolutely necessary, so as not to reveal the position of the main force.

Everyone was told to approach the city wall stealthily as quickly as possible, then climb up the ladders in one go and engage in hand-to-hand combat with the defenders.

Once they gain a foothold on the city walls and light the signal, the oppressed people inside will rise up in rebellion. With their combined efforts from within and without, Guadalajara will surely fall into enemy hands.

The team made a difficult stealth advance in the darkness.

The moonlight was occasionally obscured by drifting clouds, and the ground was uneven and pitted.

The soldiers could only maintain their direction and formation by relying on the blurry silhouettes of their comrades ahead and the occasional hushed commands.

Every slight sound of a dead branch snapping underfoot, or the clinking of metal equipment accidentally colliding, could cause a pang of fear in those around them, and their breath would catch in their throats.

"Remember, speed, quiet, and courage are the keys to our success tonight!" Major Diego weaved through the assembled ranks, his voice low yet rousing. "Glory belongs to the Kingdom of Spain, and wealth will belong to every brave man!"

Young Carlos gripped the sword passed down from his father tightly, his palms sweating profusely.

The veteran Juan beside him had a solemn expression, gripping his spear tightly. He would occasionally look up at the dark outline of the city wall and mutter to himself, "May the Holy Mother protect us, and may those gentlemen be right."

However, the pitch-black night soon became their first enemy.

Stumbling along, they reached within a few hundred yards of Guadalajara when the soldiers in the front ranks began to let out suppressed cries of pain and screams.

"Damn it! There's a trap here!"

"Trench!...Ah!"

"A sharp wooden stake! My hand!"

The wide trenches, barricades, and chevaux-de-frise that the Xinhua people had dug beforehand turned into deadly traps in the darkness.

The soldiers couldn't see their feet clearly, and many fell into the deep ditch or had their hands and feet pierced by sharp wooden stakes. The advance of the column slowed down suddenly, and the formation began to fall into disarray.

The officers tried to direct the troops around the obstacles or to find flat ground, but in the thick darkness, they could not see the exact locations of the trenches and numerous traps.

Chaos began to spread; soldiers jostled each other, and whispered curses and panicked inquiries began to circulate, halting the advance of the column.

Just then, the perpetual darkness on the city wall was suddenly broken.

A torch was suddenly hurled from the city wall, tracing a bright arc before landing in the obstacle course ahead, briefly illuminating the panicked faces below.

Then, a second, a third... countless torches were thrown down!

At the same time, at intervals on the top of the city wall, lights suddenly appeared. These were lanterns protected by wooden frames, hanging on the outside of the battlements. When lit, they formed a continuous band of light, illuminating an area of ​​nearly a hundred yards at the foot of the city wall in a dim yellow light that was still visible!

The light dispelled the darkness and completely tore away the disguise of the Spanish night raid.

On the city wall, the calm and clear commands of Xinhua officers and the responses of soldiers rang out.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!..."

Before long, several scorching flashes of fire appeared, and a huge solid iron ball roared into the Spanish army formation. Wherever it passed, limbs and torsos flew everywhere, leaving behind trails of blood and gore.

Screams erupted from all sides, sounding particularly shrill in the night sky.

"Forward! Don't stop! Charge across the trench! Once we're under the walls, they can't hit us!" Major Diego roared hoarsely, trying to regroup the troops. "Long columns! Advance!... Set up ladders over the trench!"

Despite the fear of the enemy's fire from the city walls, the soldiers quickened their pace and charged forward madly, driven by their officers' commands and their survival instincts.

They struggled across the moat, knocked down the menacing barricades and chevaux-de-frise that appeared in the firelight, and charged toward the base of the city wall.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!..."

The dense and orderly roar of muskets, like popping beans, shattered the silence of the night.

That wasn't panicked, sporadic shooting, but rather a volley of well-trained fire from ranks!

Hot lead bullets rained down like a storm, striking the Spanish soldiers who were panicked and huddled together, their bodies shrouded in fear by the flashlight.

Screams and gasps of alarm immediately filled the air.

The charging soldiers fell in droves like felled wheat, their blood turning a dark color in the firelight.

The ranks were thrown into complete chaos. The soldiers instinctively tried to retreat, but were pushed forward by those behind them who were unaware of the danger, or ran blindly to avoid bullets, resulting in even more people falling into the deadly trenches.

As more and more Spanish soldiers surged toward the city walls, the Xinhua Army timely replaced their shotgun shells. The deafening roar of the cannons sent countless tiny projectiles covering the battlefield in a wide fan shape, inflicting horrific casualties on the Spanish. While the darkness concealed the Spanish charge, it also amplified the terror of the artillery. Many soldiers, hearing the agonizing screams of their comrades, were terrified and, unable to suppress their fear, turned to flee, only to be forced back by officers and supervising officers at swords.

"Don't stop! Charge! We'll win once we get close to the walls!" the officer shouted hoarsely, slashing down a hesitant Indian sergeant with his sword, attempting to reorganize the attack.

By this point, they all knew that stopping meant becoming easy targets, and only by rushing to the city wall could they have a chance of survival.

After paying a heavy price, Spanish soldiers finally stumbled and broke through the trenches and obstacles, reaching the base of the city walls.

However, an even bigger nightmare was just beginning.

Setting up a long ladder in the dark is an extremely difficult and challenging task.

The makeshift siege ladders needed to be precisely positioned between the crenellations, but under the flickering firelight and shadows, and under the firepower of the Xinhua Army on the city walls, the soldiers were unable to accurately judge the angle and position.

Many of the long ladders were either too steep, causing soldiers to lose their balance and fall halfway down, screaming; or they were not properly secured, and were easily pushed off the city wall by the defenders on the city wall with long push poles, causing the soldiers climbing on top to crash to the ground.

"Idiot! Secure the ladder!" a Spanish lieutenant roared, personally holding up a swaying ladder.

However, the next second, a pot of boiling, pungent liquid was poured down from the city wall, hitting him and the soldiers around him.

Sharp screams rose and fell as soldiers writhed on the ground in agony after being doused in boiling oil, their skin blistering and festering instantly.

The long ladder was also slippery with grease, making it even more difficult to climb.

"Set them on fire and burn them to death!" someone shouted from the city wall.

Several torches were thrown down, instantly igniting the spilled grease.

The area at the foot of the city wall instantly turned into a sea of ​​fire, engulfing the wounded and immobile soldiers and the cumbersome siege ladders.

The air was filled with the horrible, nauseating smell of burning human flesh.

On the other side, the battering ram team, which was trying to ram the city gate, also encountered setbacks.

In the darkness, they could not accurately aim the heavy battering ram at the door crack or the latch. The thick logs struck the sturdy iron gate or the stone wall next to it again and again, producing a dull thud, but with little effect.

Instead, the loud noise perfectly revealed their position, attracting even more intense musket fire and targeted hurling of gunpowder canisters from the city walls.

"Your planks! Lift them up!" shouted the battering ram captain, ordering his soldiers to raise the planks covered with raw cowhide to shield the area above.

However, the gaps in the hastily assembled protective wooden planks at night were huge, and a lit gunpowder canister, hissing and sparking, was accurately thrown in through one of the gaps.

"No!……"

The deafening explosion swallowed the desperate screams. The battering ram and several soldiers around it were instantly blown to pieces, and burning fragments of wood flew everywhere.

The fear of death spread like a plague among the besieging Spanish army.

The darkness amplified all the unknown threats. The soldiers could not see the faces of their comrades, but could only hear screams, explosions, gunfire, and cannon fire coming from the surrounding darkness, as well as the incomprehensible but murderous shouts of the enemy on the city wall.

Oh my God, this place is hell!
Many soldiers, whose nerves were already stretched thin, began to break down and started looking for an opportunity to escape.

"Holy Mary, this is hell!" someone cried out, making the sign of the cross on their chest, and then turned and ran.

"We've lost!...We've lost! Retreat!" Someone shouted first, and panic surged forth like a flood bursting its banks.

Soldiers began to abandon their weapons and turn to flee into the dark wilderness.

The officers tried to stop them, but in the darkness, they were unable to effectively identify and control the troops, and were even scattered by the fleeing soldiers.

"Halt! Get back to your positions! For God, for His Majesty the King!" Major Diego brandished his sword, slashing down a deserter in an attempt to halt the rout, but his voice was quickly drowned out by the greater chaos and panic.

A stray bullet struck his shoulder, causing him to stagger. He was caught by an officer, his face contorted with pain and resentment.

Exhaustion, fear, and despair completely crushed the morale of this army.

After more than an hour of arduous marching, tension and helplessness accompanied them constantly. When they approached the city wall, they were met with the tight defense of the new Chinese, as well as the heavy casualties and desperate attacks they faced. All of this left the soldiers physically exhausted and on the verge of mental collapse.

Even as the dedicated officers continued to shout orders, the soldiers simply fled backwards, or numbly huddled in the shadows or any pitfalls that offered shelter from artillery fire and bullets, no longer willing to launch a futile charge.

Carlos lay trembling in a pit, his father's sword nowhere to be found, his body covered in mud and dark red blood.

He witnessed Juan, who had charged alongside him, being torn apart by a shell, and saw a brave lieutenant who had inspired their morale fall at his feet after being hit by several muskets at the same time.

The dreams of glory and wealth shattered so completely in the face of cold reality and death.

His only thought now is to survive.

General Toledo, mounted on his warhorse, stood far behind, staring in disbelief at the routed army ahead.

In the eerie interplay of night and firelight, the fleeing figures were like ghosts torn apart by a raging wind, struggling and howling as they sank into the boundless darkness.

His fingers gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The warhorse beneath him seemed to sense its master's panic and the terrifying atmosphere emanating from the battlefield, pawing restlessly and exhaling puffs of white steam that vanished in the cool night mist.

His army, the desperate counterattack he had pinned his hopes on, turned into a complete and catastrophic defeat in less than half an hour.

He could even faintly hear the painful groans of the wounded and the cries of the dying carried on the wind.

Toledo turned his gaze to the seemingly impregnable city of Guadalajara, illuminated by the firelight, his heart filled with despair, anger, and disbelief.

This night raid, on which so much hope was placed, ended in such a bloody, chaotic, and humiliating defeat.

They not only failed to make any progress in Guadalajara, but also left hundreds of corpses and wounded soldiers, as well as destroyed siege equipment, at the foot of the city.

After this crushing defeat, the morale of the troops will likely plummet.

The Spanish residents inside the city remained silent throughout the entire battle, failing to mount any significant response.

Guadalajara City still stands like a silent, black behemoth.
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(End of this chapter)