Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 537 Clash (Part 9)

The morning sun pierced through the thin morning mist, illuminating the fields outside Guadalajara.

After last night's bloody battle, this land seemed to have been drained of all life, presenting a heavy and eerie silence, even the birdsong had disappeared.

In the Spanish camp, the usual morning smoke and noise were gone; only the suppressed groans of the wounded could be heard from the tents. The air was filled with the stench of blood, gunpowder, and a faint, almost imperceptible smell of decay.

General Toledo stood at the entrance of the main tent, his gaze sweeping heavily across the camp.

The soldiers sat scattered in twos and threes, most of them with their heads down, as if their souls had been ripped out.

Some people mechanically wiped the blood off their weapons with cloths, while others stared blankly at a spot on the ground, their eyes devoid of their former sharpness, only numbness and...fear worn down by repeated defeats.

“General…” Footsteps approached. It was his adjutant, Major Castro, clutching a crumpled piece of paper, his face grave. “Preliminary statistics on last night’s casualties are as follows: 467 dead or missing, 646 wounded, and a large quantity of weaponry lost on the battlefield…”

General Toledo's eyes twitched a few times, and his right hand clenched into a fist.

Overnight, more than 1,100 people were killed or wounded, severely damaging the unit and depleting its strength.

He closed his eyes, and a string of cold numbers flashed through his mind: the more than three hundred men lost at Lake Chapala, the more than seven hundred cavalrymen wiped out in the Valley of San Martín, plus the more than one thousand one hundred men in front of him...

The army of five thousand men lost more than two thousand men in just seven days!
The loss of troop strength was as high as 40%, a number that would frighten any commander.

Toledo took a deep breath and looked beyond the camp at the silhouette of the city of Guadalajara in the distance.

The city, shrouded in the morning mist, resembled a lurking beast, which had spewed fire and bullets the night before, but was now eerily quiet.

“Those new Chinese…” he murmured, his voice hoarse and filled with endless exhaustion, “Why didn’t they take advantage of our severe setbacks to launch an attack on us from outside the city, but instead chose to stay inside?”

“General, they might be waiting for the troops outside the city to return.” Major Castro thought for a moment and said softly, “It is understood that the Xinhua Army that annihilated our cavalry was all infantry, and it will take them at least two days to return to Guadalajara.”

"Oh..." Toledo gave a wry smile.

The new Chinese are conserving their strength, and then they will launch the most fatal blow against them.

“General…” Major Castro hesitated for a moment, “We need to consider our next military operation now…”

"The next military operation?" Toledo was momentarily bewildered, his thoughts still immersed in the enormous losses and the strange silence of the Xinhua Army.

“Yes, General.” Castro mustered his courage and looked directly at Toledo. “The officers are discussing… it’s time to withdraw.”

"Withdraw the troops?" Toledo frowned upon hearing this. "Our army has only been in Guadalajara for less than a week..."

Now that he's withdrawing his troops and returning to the rear, he's afraid he'll lose his honor and career.

However, if they continue to stay here, once the Xinhua Army has fully assembled, they will surely pounce fiercely and tear them apart and devour them.

Our army has suffered successive defeats, losing 40% of its troops, and its morale is low. In the event of another battle with the Xinhua Army, defeat is highly probable.

In fact, if the situation becomes dire, the complete annihilation of the army is not impossible.

Therefore, the best option is a strategic retreat to temporarily avoid the sharp edge of the Xinhua Army, and then engage in a decisive battle with them once the Governor-General's District has gathered more troops.

"Yes, General, we must retreat!" Colonel Mendoza's face was ashen, his voice losing its usual composure and becoming urgent. "The morale of the troops has collapsed. We have already lost two thousand men, and we no longer have a numerical advantage over the Xinhua. Once those Xinhua troops who annihilated our cavalry return... oh God, we may not even have a chance to retreat!"

“Colonel Mendoza is right…” Lieutenant Colonel Salvador echoed, his eyes darting away, avoiding General Toledo’s gaze. “These new Chinese… they are completely different from any enemy we’ve ever encountered. Their firepower, their discipline, and their various schemes and tricks make them difficult to deal with. Therefore, we need to retreat temporarily and wait for the Governorate to gather more troops before engaging them in a fair and square decisive battle!”

"Yes, temporarily avoiding direct confrontation is not cowardice, but rather a preparation for a better counterattack!"

“That’s right, it’s time for us to retreat…”

Almost all the officers expressed the same view – withdraw the troops, and withdraw them immediately.

In the corner of the tent, Major Diego sat leaning against a tent post, his face as pale as paper.

His left arm wound was wrapped in thick bandages, but dark red blood was still seeping out.

The priest accompanying the army used a red-hot knife to gouge out the lead bullet from his arm, and his shrill screams sent chills down the spines of the soldiers passing by outside the tent.

His former arrogance and radicalism had vanished, leaving only physical pain and immense mental anguish.

He pursed his lips, staring at the ground, and remained completely silent about the retreat suggestion that his colleagues unanimously agreed upon.

The disastrous night raid and the physical injuries were like a bucket of ice water, completely extinguishing his fervor and confidence.

General Toledo's gaze slowly swept over the crowd, finally lingering for a moment on Diego's pale face.

What he saw was fear, anxiety, and the desire to survive, but he couldn't see the courage to continue fighting.

He took a deep breath and nodded heavily.

“...Your suggestion is correct.” His voice was dry and tired, filled with helplessness. “Pass down the order: today the entire army will rest, treat the wounded, and collect...collect the remains of the fallen soldiers. Tomorrow morning, we will break camp and set off, first retreating to Trakpak.”

He paused, then added, more as if trying to convince himself: "We need time to rest, replenish our troops and supplies, and wait for reinforcements from Mexico."

The order seemed to inject a faint vitality into the military camp, a force stemming from the instinct for survival.

The soldiers began to silently pack their belongings, pack up their remaining supplies, and place the seriously wounded on makeshift stretchers.

A silent panic was spreading, a desperate urge to escape the place, and everyone's movements were filled with anxiety and unease.

However, this brief resurgence brought about by the order to retreat did not last long. The next morning, as the sun was just rising, the Spanish were dismantling tents one by one, harnessing livestock to supply wagons, and the soldiers were lining up to depart when the gates of Guadalajara, which had been tightly closed, slowly opened.

The new Chinese army continued to pour out, and after briefly reorganizing their formation, they charged toward the Spanish camp.

"The new Chinese are coming!" Several scouts rushed into the camp like madmen, telling everyone this shocking news.

The Spanish soldiers froze, countless eyes filled with terror as they turned to the city they had once sworn to conquer.

The Xinhua Army marched in an orderly fashion, like a black iron torrent sweeping in. Their steps were steady, their military flags fluttered in the breeze, and their metal bayonets reflected a cold light in the rising sun.

They made no shouts or clamors, only a suppressed, deadly silence, as they slowly advanced toward the Spanish camp.

"The entire army is on alert!"

"Prepare defense!"

"Damn it, get back to your fighting positions!...Quickly!"

"Spearmen, hold the barricade! Musketeers, load your ammunition! Artillery... artillery, damn it, where are our cannons? Move them forward!"

The officers' shouts broke the deathly silence of the camp, but their voices trembled with fear.

The Spanish troops, who were just preparing to withdraw, were thrown into chaos.

The soldiers hurriedly dropped their luggage and bundles, grabbed their weapons, and rushed toward the camp wall amidst the officers' kicking and shouting.

The supply wagons were haphazardly pushed forward in an attempt to create a temporary barrier.

The entire camp was in chaos, and the order that had been maintained during the retreat was completely lost.

The Xinhua Army advanced to a point about 600 meters from the Spanish camp and then stopped.

A bizarre scene unfolded on this plain: on one side stood a disciplined, silent, and imposing black formation; on the other, a chaotic Spanish camp, in utter disarray, like ants whose nest had been destroyed.

That silence carried a tremendous, invisible pressure, weighing heavily on the hearts of every Spanish soldier.

They stopped advancing and firing, simply standing there silently, coldly watching the Spanish camp.

"What are they trying to do? Why aren't they attacking?" a young Spanish lieutenant asked his superior officer nervously, his fingers gripping his sword tightly.

The captain's face was grave. He licked his chapped lips and said in a hoarse voice, "They're waiting... or telling us not to leave so easily."

In front of the main tent, General Toledo and his officers observed the silent Xinhua Army lines in the distance through binoculars, their faces grim.

"General, they're trying to stop our retreat!" Colonel Mendoza said gravely. "They want to pin us down here!"

“It’s obvious…” Lieutenant Colonel Salvador lowered his binoculars, his fingers turning white from the effort, “They don’t want us to leave safely. They’re waiting for their other army to return, and then… to attack us from both sides and annihilate us here.”

A chill ran down the spines of all the officers.

"Then... what should we do now?" an officer asked, his voice trembling.

"A successful retreat for the entire army is no longer possible," Colonel Mendoza said with difficulty. "We can either continue to hold the camp and wait for Mexican reinforcements."

"Either we need to...we need to leave a rearguard force to hold the camp to the death, at all costs, to hold off the Xinhua Army and cover the retreat of the main force."

As soon as he finished speaking, a suffocating silence fell over the area in front of the tent, as if the air itself had frozen.

The officers exchanged glances, their eyes darting around, none of them willing to meet the probing look in General Toledo's eyes.

Leave someone behind to cover the retreat?

Facing the Xinhua Army, which had superior numbers, high morale, and powerful firepower, this was almost tantamount to suicide.

Who wants to stay?

Who would be willing to volunteer and lead their subordinates down this deadly path?

Major Diego struggled to stand up straight, a complex mix of emotions flashing across his pale face—fear, shame, and a sense of despair at being driven to the brink.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he closed it helplessly.

He and everyone else had clearly witnessed the cunning and formidable fighting power of the Xinhua Army.

To fight to the death and survive, well, that takes extraordinary courage and determination.

But the hope is slim.

General Toledo's gaze slowly swept over his officers, seeing faces filled with fear, hesitation, and avoidance.

Seeing this, he couldn't help but sigh slightly.

He understood that not only had the morale of the ordinary soldiers collapsed, but even the courage of these commanders had been shattered in the bloody defeat of the previous night.

The warm sunshine gradually rose higher, but it couldn't bring any warmth to the Spanish camp.

In the distance, the Xinhua Army's ranks still stood silently, like patient hunters, waiting for their prey to make its final struggle.
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(End of this chapter)