1848 Great Qing Charcoal Burners

Chapter 332 Chasing Death and the North
When Zhang Guoliang, Feng Zicai, and other officers of the Jieying Battalion looked up and saw He Chun bursting into the tent, they were terrified, their faces turning pale and cold sweat pouring down their backs.

The tent fell into an instant silence, as if time had frozen.

The main force in the Yuezhou camp consisted of Han soldiers from the Hunan Green Standard Army and Miao soldiers from Zhengan.

The purpose of placing He Chun, a Manchu Eight Banners general, in the Yuezhou camp is self-evident: to act as a military supervisor and monitor them.

Inside the Jieying tent, the two timid captains were terrified. Upon seeing He Chun, they instinctively collapsed to their knees with a thud. But then, realizing what was happening, they instinctively jumped to their feet, their hands involuntarily reaching for their sword hilts. They stared at He Chun warily, waiting for Zhang Guoliang's order.

Zhang Guoliang was extremely embarrassed when He Chun caught him in the act. He was bent over, his face filled with astonishment, fear and embarrassment.

Soon, Zhang Guoliang, who had gradually regained his composure, forced a smile that looked more like a grimace: "General Hehe?! Why...why have you graced my humble camp with your presence? You didn't even give me a heads-up so I could come out and welcome you in."

He Chun completely ignored Zhang Guoliang's nonsense and stepped into the tent. His sharp, knife-like gaze swept over every officer in the Jieying camp, finally fixing on Zhang Guoliang's face: "What? Lieutenant General Zhang, Commander Feng, my good brothers, instead of restraining your troops and sending scouts to investigate the enemy's situation in your respective camps, you've gathered here to discuss leaving now and becoming outlaws?! Hmm? What are your intentions?"

Zhang Guoliang's mind raced. Knowing that denying it was useless, he steeled himself and forced a smile, saying, "General He, please calm down! Please calm down! We are indeed extremely worried about this matter. General He, you have misunderstood. We were just discussing in private who to send and how to investigate the Short-haired Camp. We had no intention of hiding anything from you, General He!"

"Discuss? Discuss abandoning the army and fleeing for your own lives?!" He Chun suddenly raised his voice and shouted sternly, "Zhang Guoliang! Do you know what the punishment is for desertion in the face of battle?!"

Zhang Guoliang knelt down with a thud, forcing a smile, and said, "General He! I'm innocent! How could we be such cowardly cowards who fear death and disregard the overall situation? It's just that... the situation forced us to resort to this desperate measure! We thought that if we could preserve our lives, we could avenge the court and you brothers in the future! The Yuezhou camp must at least have some embers left, right?"

As Zhang Guoliang spoke, he secretly winked at Feng Zicai, who was standing next to him.

Feng Zicai immediately realized what was happening and knelt down on one knee, pressing his hand on the hilt of his sword: "I hope General He will understand that we were indeed...we were thinking of the greater good."

He Chun stared intently at Zhang Guoliang. After a long while, he suddenly slammed his sword back into its sheath with a clang, a gesture that brought a sigh of relief to everyone in the tent.

Then, He Chun did something that left everyone speechless.

He pulled over a small stool, sat down with an air of authority, his anger vanished, replaced by a half-smile, and glanced sideways at Zhang Guoliang: "Oh? Thinking about the bigger picture? Easier said than done! Zhang Guoliang, don't give me that crap! I know exactly what you're up to! I heard everything you said just now, you just think breaking out to the south is a dead end, so you're trying to find another way to survive, aren't you?"

Zhang Guoliang's thoughts were exposed directly to his face, his face flushed red and then turned pale, and he did not respond.

He Chun then changed the subject, cursing, "Damn it, you want to run away without even calling me? What? Do you think I'm a burden? Afraid I'll drag you down? Or do you think I'd be stupid enough to follow Xiang Rong to my death?"

"what?!"

Now it was Zhang Guoliang, Feng Zicai, and the others' turn to be dumbfounded.

All the generals of the Jieying Battalion stared at Hechun with their mouths agape.

The change in style was too sudden; they couldn't process it all at once.

The atmosphere, which had been tense and menacing, suddenly became eerie and comical, filling the main tent of the Swift Camp with a cheerful and relaxed air.

Seeing their stunned expressions, He Chun snorted irritably, "What are you all standing there for? Bring the map over! Let's discuss whether it's reliable or not! If it's a dead end, we might as well gamble with Xiang Rong!"

He Chun and Zhang Guoliang were both seasoned veterans who had fought against the Taiping Army many times when they were in Guangxi.

Both of them had extensive experience in escaping and saving their lives, so He Chun decided to exchange some escape experiences with Zhang Guoliang before making any specific plans.

Zhang Guoliang and others were overjoyed with He Chun's addition.

By taking He Chun with him and running away, they could avoid the hassle of dealing with people at all levels, smoothing things over, and giving an explanation to the imperial court.

They could even mobilize resources that their elite troops couldn't access, such as the warhorses of the Yuezhou camp, for use in an escape.

The Jieying camp only had eighty or ninety mules and horses, half of which were borrowed from fellow villagers in Hunan. There were fewer than thirty actual warhorses.

He Chun was different. He Chun's troops not only had a large number of cavalry to begin with, but even if He Chun wanted to mobilize all the troops in Yuezhou Camp, Xiang Rong could only grit his teeth and accept it.

Furthermore, while Xiang Rong dared to stop the Jieying from leaving the Yuezhou camp, he wouldn't dare to stop He Chun and the others from leaving the Yuezhou camp.

Inside the military tent of the Jieying camp, several Qing generals were huddled together, earnestly and attentively studying the best route for strategic retreat, how to take it, and when to do so.

The generals expressed their opinions freely and spoke enthusiastically, showing a very positive attitude, unlike the dullness they had experienced in Xiang Rong's tent not long ago.

Inside the central command tent of the Yuezhou camp, the tent flap was suddenly flung open, and Deng Shaoliang, the nominal commander of the Hunan Army, practically tumbled in.

Deng Shaoliang's face turned ashen, his lips trembled, and he even forgot his manners, frantically reporting to Xiang Rong, "General! General! Something terrible has happened! He Chun and Zhang Guoliang have escaped!"

Xiang Rong suddenly raised his head, a look of disbelief flashing in his cloudy old eyes. Thinking he had misheard, he frowned and asked, "Chen Ruo, what did you say? Say it again, where did He Chun and Zhang Guoliang go? Did they go to inspect the defenses and scout the enemy's situation?"

Even at this point, Xiang Rong still clung to a sliver of unrealistic hope.

Deng Shaoliang rushed to the table, his hands trembling as he braced himself on the table, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face: "It wasn't an inspection! They ran away! They abandoned us and ran away! He Chun took his three hundred most elite personal guards and, under the pretext of reconnaissance, forcibly requisitioned more than four hundred of the best warhorses in the camp!"

Zhang Guoliang also led over a hundred elite troops from his elite cavalry unit, accompanying He Chun, claiming they were on Your Majesty's orders to scout eastward for enemy intelligence. But... but as soon as they left the camp, they spurred their horses and galloped eastward without looking back! They weren't going to scout at all; they were deserting! Commander!"

"They must have conscripted warhorses and galloped eastward?"

Xiang Rong murmured these words repeatedly. Every word Deng Shaoliang had just said was like a heavy hammer blow to his heart.

The muscles in his old face twitched violently, and his originally sallow complexion instantly turned deathly pale, devoid of any color.

He tried to stand up, but his body swayed uncontrollably.

The pressure from the Hunan authorities, the panic of being surrounded, the blow of the destruction of the Dongting Naval Force, and the desertion of He Chun, Zhang Guoliang and others in the face of battle all weighed heavily on this old general who was already over sixty years old.

"puff--!"

Overcome with anger, a mouthful of bright red blood spurted from Xiang Rong's mouth and splattered onto the table.

Xiang Rong's vision went black, the world spun around him, and he could no longer hold on, falling straight backward.

"General!!"

Deng Shaoliang was so shocked that he rushed forward and caught Xiang Rong just before the back of his head hit the ground.

Xiang Rong's eyes were closed, his face was pale, his breath was faint, and blood was constantly oozing from the corner of his mouth.

"Commander! Wake up! Wake up!"

Deng Shaoliang knelt on the ground, holding Xiang Rong's limp body, tears streaming down his face, his voice choked and hoarse.

"You can't fall! If you fall, all tens of thousands of brothers in the Yuezhou camp will be finished!"

While crying and shouting, Deng Shaoliang frantically tried to wipe the blood from Xiang Rong's mouth with his sleeve, only to find that the more he wiped, the more blood appeared. He hurriedly called for the guards outside the tent to summon the army doctor.

The guards outside the tent rushed in upon hearing the noise, and were stunned by what they saw. They stood around helplessly.

East of Yuezhou Camp.

On the muddy official road, more than four hundred Qing cavalrymen were desperately urging their horses on, galloping towards the distant eastern mountainous region.

Horse hooves trampled through the muddy water, stirring up murky splashes.

At the front of the group were Zhang Guoliang and He Chun, who had fled under the pretext of reconnaissance of enemy positions.

The two men had already changed out of their conspicuous official robes and into cotton robes, while their personal guards had also changed into ordinary people's short jackets, making them look like bandits.

While one's identity can be crudely concealed by changing clothes, the panic and urgency in these people's eyes cannot be hidden.

"Quick! Faster!"

As He Chun galloped on his horse, he kept looking back, even though there were no pursuers behind him except for his own chaotic troops.

Zhang Guoliang appeared even more vigilant. While controlling his horse, he scanned his surroundings with sharp eyes, fearing an ambush by short-haired soldiers nearby.

What are you afraid of?

Less than 35 minutes after the troops left the Yuezhou camp, a sharp copper whistle suddenly rang out from behind the low slope ahead!
Immediately afterwards, several eerie red flags were suddenly raised, and about two hundred Northern Palace cavalrymen appeared from behind the slope like ghosts, quickly forming a line in front of the road and blocking the way.

These cavalrymen were uniformly dressed in indigo cross-collar tunics, well-equipped, and orderly, clearly the elite of the Shorthair tribe.

What's even more striking is that these short-haired cavalrymen carrying muskets did not prepare to charge like traditional cavalry, but instead swiftly and in unison dismounted.

After dismounting, they either stood or knelt, forming a sparse line of fire, raising their dark gun barrels to aim at the oncoming Qing cavalry.

The cavalry patrolling east of the Yuezhou camp was none other than the elite First Company of the Northern Palace's training battalion.

The leading officer was Huang Dabiao, the battalion commander of the training battalion. Huang Dabiao's gaze toward the Qing cavalry was as cold as a hawk's.

Although He Chun and Zhang Guoliang's cavalry were not wearing armor or uniforms, they were very close to the Yuezhou camp, and they were riding genuine Mongolian warhorses.

Even a fool could guess that the cavalry in front of him was definitely a Qing army.

He spat and cursed, "Damn it, that old Xiang Rong is quick on his feet! Sending scouts so fast... wait, these numbers... are they trying to escape?! Brothers, block them! Don't let a single one get away!"

At first, Huang Dabiao thought the Qing cavalry was a scout, but after seeing the approximate number of the enemy, Huang Dabiao quickly realized that the Qing cavalry was not a scout, but most likely a Qing army attempting to break through or escape.

The sudden encounter with the Northern Palace cavalry in the open field caused a commotion among the Qing army's cavalry.

Upon seeing this, Commander Feng Zicai, who was leading the charge, quickly reined in his horse and shouted in surprise and doubt, "There are short-haired men blocking the road ahead! There aren't many of them, they seem to be a cavalry, but why did they dismount?"

Feng Zicai had fought against the Taiping Army. The Taiping Army mainly used infantry in its battles, and cavalry was very rare.

The Taiping Army soldiers who could ride horses, whether they were long-haired or short-haired cavalry.

Needless to say, they are the elite of the elite.

Therefore, despite the small number of short-haired cavalrymen in front of him, Feng Zicai remained on high alert, not daring to underestimate them.

He Chun and Zhang Guoliang quickly rode up to the front. When He Chun saw that the short-haired cavalry in front of him numbered only about two hundred, and that they had abandoned the greatest advantage of cavalry by dismounting, forming ranks, and using guns, he couldn't help but feel contemptuous, thinking that the short-haired bandits were just a bunch of local thieves who didn't know how to use cavalry.

Driven by desperation to escape, He Chun roared impatiently, "A mere two hundred bandits dare to block my four hundred elite cavalry?! Commander Feng, lead your men and charge! Stomp them to death with your horses' hooves! Slash them with your sabers! They're armed with muskets; you'll only get one volley before you get there!"

Upon seeing the short-haired cavalrymen dismount, He Chun intended to bypass them and continue his escape, not wanting to get too entangled with them and attract more short-haired cavalrymen.

But when He Chun looked closely through his binoculars, he discovered that the horses of this group of short-haired cavalrymen were not the Yunnan or Sichuan horses of the south, but genuine Mongolian warhorses, no less than their mounts.

He Chun worried that if he continued to flee past the group of short-haired cavalry, they would catch up with him. Therefore, he decided to use his numerical advantage to overwhelm these short-haired cavalrymen who had horses but did not ride them, who were ignorant of their own limitations and dared to fight on dismount, so as to eliminate any future troubles.

The short-haired cavalrymen were elite troops, and he and Zhang Guoliang's close followers were among the most elite soldiers in the Qing army camp in Yuezhou.

Elite forces clashing, over four hundred against over two hundred, He Chun felt his side had a significant advantage.

Zhang Guoliang felt a sudden tightness in his chest; he keenly sensed that this short hair was unusual.

Their dismounting and lining up were too practiced, and they remained too calm in the face of cavalry twice their size. Moreover, the muskets they carried did not seem to be the bird guns that He Chun had mentioned.

Zhang Guoliang was about to speak up to remind him, but He Chun had already given the order, urging Feng Zicai to rush out.

"Brothers of the Jie Battalion! Charge with me!"

Feng Zicai gritted his teeth, brandished his saber, and took the lead in spurring his horse to accelerate.

Behind them, over a hundred elite Qing cavalrymen also shouted, dispersed their formation, and slowly charged towards the soldiers of the North Palace in front of them like a flood breaking through a dam!
The sound of horses' hooves thundered, and mud splashed everywhere.

To say that the soldiers of the First Company of the Training Battalion felt no tension at all during their first encounter with a cavalry charge in the open field would be wishful thinking.

However, the muskets in their hands gave them great confidence. Their formation did not falter or panic. All the soldiers of the First Company of the Training Battalion stood firm in place, aiming their guns at the Qing cavalry rushing towards them, waiting for Huang Dabiao to give the order to fire.

Huang Dabiao steadily raised the Springfield M1842, the percussion cap version, and aimed it at Feng Zicai, who was charging at the forefront.

"Hold on!"

"Listen to my orders!"

"put!"

There was no complicated process of lighting a fuse, and no smoke obstructing the view.

At Huang Dabiao's command, a series of dense, crisp, and continuous explosions erupted on the front line.

boom!boom!boom!boom!
The gunshots were far crisper than the muskets the Qing army was familiar with, and even more terrifying was their accuracy.

This time, the musketeers of the first company of the training battalion did not rigidly adhere to the doctrine of letting the enemy within eighteen paces before firing.

The "eighteen steps" refers to the musketeers using the Qing army's arquebuses, since those weapons were extremely inaccurate.

Now, they are holding rifled percussion caps produced by the Springfield Armory.

It doesn't need a fire rope, it's not afraid of wind or rain, and it can reach any point within a distance of two hundred paces.

Once the charging Qing cavalry were within 130 or 140 paces, Huang Dabiao gave the order to fire.

The Qing cavalry, charging straight ahead, seemed to have crashed into an invisible wall.

Feng Zicai felt a burning sensation in his shoulder, as if his left shoulder blade had been struck hard by a giant hammer. Immediately afterward, a sharp pain shot through his right leg, causing him to lose his balance instantly. With a muffled groan, he fell off his horse and crashed heavily into the mud.

Feng Zicai was filled with disbelief. At a distance of 130 or 140 paces, he was hit without even seeing how the other party fired the gun.

His cavalrymen were thrown to the ground, their horses and men falling in an instant! Thirty or forty men were shot and fell from their horses, the mournful cries of the warhorses and the screams of the soldiers instantly replacing the shouts of the charge!
"Zicai!"

Zhang Guoliang saw it all clearly from behind, and his heart sank.

He saw that after Feng Zicai landed, his upper body was instantly stained red with blood, and he was struggling in the mud and water, clearly severely injured.

"What...what kind of gun is this?! How can it be so accurate?!"

He Chun, watching from behind, was dumbfounded, gasped, and was horrified!
If two or three people were shot and fell from their horses a hundred paces away, it could be attributed to Short Hair's good luck, that he just guessed correctly.

The fact that thirty or forty people were shot and fell from their posts clearly cannot be explained simply by good luck.

Zhang Guoliang's face turned ashen. His first thought was that these short-haired men were using foreign guns, even though he had never seen such accurate foreign guns before. He hurriedly shouted, "Retreat! These aren't ordinary muskets! They're foreign guns! We can't break through!"

"Scatter! Scatter now! Run into the mountains and forests! Everyone escape! Regroup once you're in the mountains!"

At this moment, He Chun no longer cared about the dignity of a general. He roared at the top of his lungs, pulled on the reins, and rushed off the official road, trying to bypass the short-haired soldiers in front of him and run towards the distant mountains and forests.

Almost simultaneously, several bullets rained down on He Chun. One bullet grazed his right arm, another struck his right leg precisely, and yet another hit the neck of his warhorse.

He Chun's mount let out a mournful neigh, its front hooves buckled, and it threw the unsuspecting He Chun off, leaving him dazed, covered in mud, and in a sorry state.

"General He!"

Zhang Guoliang exclaimed in surprise, his gaze quickly sweeping between Feng Zicai, who was struggling on the ground, and He Chun, who was dizzy from the fall.

In a flash, Zhang Guoliang quickly made a decision. Although Feng Zicai was his trusted and beloved general, he was now seriously injured and on the verge of death, and was a burden.

Furthermore, Feng Zicai was too close to the short-haired soldiers, making it too risky to go forward and rescue him.

The short-haired musket was both long-range and accurate, specifically targeting the leading cavalrymen. First, Feng Zicai was hit, then He Chun was hit, and Zhang Guoliang might be next.

With this in mind, Zhang Guoliang made up his mind. He suddenly pulled on the reins and charged toward He Chun, who was struggling to get up from the mud, and shouted at his confidants and He Chun's personal guards: "Quick! Protect Commander He! We can't worry about Commander Feng anymore! Short-haired Mao's muskets are too dangerous. Retreat quickly, run around Short-haired Mao!"

Hechun's men immediately dismounted and rushed to help the still-shaken Hechun.

Zhang Guoliang even personally bent down and forcefully pushed the obese He Chun onto a spare horse: "General He! Get on the horse quickly! This subordinate will protect you and help you break through!"

Zhang Guoliang glanced one last time at Feng Zicai lying in a pool of blood, a flicker of guilt crossing his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the instinct for survival. He lashed his horse's rump hard with his whip, protecting Hechun as they took a detour and escaped this dangerous place.

Seeing the Qing cavalry scattering like sheep and running around, Huang Dabiao ordered his muskets to be loaded, mounted his horse, and continued to pursue the Qing cavalry.

The soldiers of the First Company of the Training Battalion quickly put away their loaded rifles and mounted their horses.

"Chase!"

Huang Dabiao took the lead, and his more than two hundred riders charged like arrows towards the direction where the Qing army was scattered.

The fleeing Qing army was already in a state of panic, only concerned with whipping their mounts and unable to mount any effective resistance.

The soldiers of the first company of the training battalion quickly caught up with the Qing cavalry who had fallen behind, and opened fire when they got close.

The Springfield M1842 rifle, with a total length of 58 inches (about 1.5 meters), was barely long enough to fire from horseback, let alone reload while on horseback.

After firing the pre-loaded ammunition from their guns, the soldiers of the First Company of the Training Battalion put away their rifles, drew their sabers, and continued to pursue the fleeing Qing cavalry.

Only Huang Dabiao and a few officers did not immediately draw their swords. Instead, they pulled out Colt revolvers from their holsters and chased after the remaining Qing cavalry.

The crisp, continuous sound of pistol shots was particularly jarring.

This new weapon, capable of firing six times in succession, has demonstrated terrifying efficiency in close-range pursuit.

The Qing cavalrymen who fell behind and were overtaken were hit by bullets one after another, screaming as they fell off their horses.

However, pistols have a limited effective range and are only issued to officers.

Most soldiers in the training battalion's first company could only fight with sabers.

They spurred their warhorses to catch up with the Qing soldiers beside or in front of them, and using the momentum of their horses, they slashed or stabbed with their sabers, cleanly and swiftly cutting down the Qing cavalrymen.

The battle turned into a one-sided massacre and expulsion.

The Qing army completely lost its fighting spirit, only regretting that their horses weren't running fast enough.

After pursuing for about forty or fifty miles, seeing that the remaining Qing cavalry were too scattered to be pursued in an organized manner, and that it was already dark, Huang Dabiao worried that if he continued to pursue, his comrades would get separated and accidentally injured. So he ordered the suona to be played to signal a retreat.

The soldiers of the First Company of the Training Battalion reined in their warhorses, their bodies soaked through, mud splattered all over their trousers, but they were still very excited and full of fighting spirit.

During the pursuit, they killed or captured over two hundred Qing cavalrymen and seized over one hundred warhorses, achieving considerable success.

Huang Dabiao stroked the empty Colt revolver in his hand, then looked at the long Springfield rifles on the soldiers' backs, which were no longer usable quickly, and couldn't help but sigh heavily.

"Damn it!" Huang Dabiao cursed under his breath, sighing to his gathered subordinates.

"Brothers, you fought well today! These guns made by the Americans are good guns, they don't misfire, they shoot far and accurately, but the barrels are just too long! They're like dragons off the horse, but on the horse they're like firewood sticks. After firing one shot, you have to rely on your saber to fight for your life!"

Huang Dabiao thought to himself that it would be better if these spears had shorter barrels, making them easier to use for mounted archery.

Anyway, this rifled gun can shoot far enough. Even if the barrel is shorter and some range is sacrificed, it is enough to hit any target within a hundred paces.

Company Commander Jiang Yuanshuo of the First Company of the Training Battalion toyed with the Colt revolver in his hand: "These six-shot revolvers made by the Americans are really good stuff! If every brother in our training battalion could be equipped with one of these, or even one of those short-barreled carbines that the battalion commander mentioned, specifically designed for loading on horseback, today's pursuit wouldn't have been a matter of hacking and slashing, but rather a simple head-on sweep! Not a single one of them would have escaped!"

Upon hearing this, the soldiers of the surrounding training battalion looked at their weapons with deep empathy.

They were the first elite troops of the Northern Palace to come into contact with and master advanced Western equipment, and they had the deepest understanding of the advantages brought by advanced weapons.

Huang Dabiao suppressed his emotions and ordered, "Clean up the battlefield! Take stock of the casualties and spoils! Especially the warhorses, not a single one can be left behind! Go back and report the victory to His Highness the Northern King!"

(End of this chapter)