Volume One: In a World in Chaos, Is There a Path for Humanity? Chapter 31: Tempering the Army I

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There was still half a chapter left, to be finished tonight. Asking for votes, for favorites.

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On the first day, they marched thirty miles. The scouts reported no sign of the enemy that evening. Deng She convened the generals for a meeting in camp. Half argued for forced marches, half counseled against impatience.

Deng She chose a compromise; on the second day, they slightly increased their speed but halted after midday as before. Over two days, they covered several dozen miles. That night, they camped at the base of a small hill by the Six Forks River.

The location, with its back to the mountain and facing the water, was spacious and flat—perfect for encampment. Outside the camp, trenches were dug, horse traps excavated, wooden palisades and chevaux-de-frise erected; inside, high watchtowers were built; two great cannons were drawn up beside the camp gate.

Deng She ordered that no soldier was to sleep without armor at night; bows and sabers were to be kept at their heads, spears and halberds racked outside each tent, seven feet away, ready for battle at a moment’s alarm.

The army was divided into three camps: infantry encircled the outer ring, cavalry held the center, and the gunners guarded the main tent. Next to the cavalry camp, a rope was drawn to form a circle; the cavalry’s lances and halberds were planted outside, horses kept saddled within, with assigned guards.

Flags of seven distinct colors were assigned to the Wen, Chen, Zhao, Guan, Li, Luo, and the central command camps. At any sign of alarm, the army would muster by its respective banners. Around the main camp, twelve warning drums were set with twenty-four veteran soldiers assigned to guard them through the night, ready to sound the alarm at any hint of enemy attack.

Already on the first day of setting camp, Deng She had issued an emergency military order. It was posted high throughout the camp, with personal guards assigned to explain it to the new recruits. There were many new soldiers of varying intelligence and little training; since they had not drilled in formations, the orders could not be complex.

After careful thought, Deng She chose one simple, memorable rule, vital to survival. He wrote with his own hand:

“We seek only to live. Yet the battlefield is a place strewn with corpses. Resolve to die and you may live; hope to live and you may die. All officers and soldiers, when facing the enemy with me—cavalry, infantry, and artillery—if cavalry lose their horses or infantry and gunners their weapons, even if the army is destroyed, there is no merit.”

He could not expect these new recruits to understand flag signals or drum commands, or to follow orders as the veterans did. For now, all they needed to remember was to keep hold of their weapons and know their task on the battlefield. The rest—organization, coordination—would be handled by the thousand-man commanders, who would strictly oversee the hundred and ten-man leaders, passing orders down the chain.

Among the generals, the most skilled at setting camp was not Chen Hu, but Wen Huaguo.

At dusk, Wen rode around the camp for an inspection and returned quite satisfied. He said to Deng She, “Not bad at all, you lot. No wonder you all came up from hard times, everyone works their hearts out. This camp is so well built, not even a fly could get in.”

But Deng She was worried—of what use was a well-built camp? He put himself in the place of Zhang Jujing and Shi Jiaobao. If he were to attack such a camp, how would he do it? The answer startled him: with five hundred light-footed, death-defying vanguards to break open the gates, followed by a thousand seasoned cavalry as the main force, the camp could be easily breached.

It was not the camp’s fault, but the weakness of his soldiers.

He could not guarantee how long these ten thousand new recruits would hold if the enemy mounted a serious assault or night raid. He even feared they might collapse instantly. Two days ago, the Da Ning scouts had proven terrifyingly formidable.

He dared not relax for an instant. In addition to sending out more scouts, he divided the generals into three shifts, two per group, to stand watch at night. His command tent was lit until well past midnight.

The bitter wind howled and circled atop the hill, plunging down and ravaging the camp.

The sky was dense with black clouds. In the camp, it was so dark one could not see a hand before one’s face. The flags planted everywhere snapped in the wind. Lifting the tent flap, Deng She looked down the main avenue through the camp and saw the pitch-black plain beyond.

The camp sprawled across several acres, utterly dark and silent. A patrol of soldiers passed with torches; the clink of armor and weapons rang out, soon swallowed by the wind, adding to the chill of the night.

His armor was icy cold, and even the leather beneath gave no warmth. Gripping the bone-chilling hilt of his saber, Deng She called to his bodyguard, “Where is Zhao Qianhu?”

“He was just seen, probably inspecting the rear camp.”

“When he returns, send him to me.” Deng She glanced at the night—it was just past midnight. They were now only a hundred miles from Da Ning. With a fast horse, it would take a day to ride there and back. To thoroughly reconnoiter, he decided to send Zhao to Da Ning city, to see if the Yuan army had left. If not, they would speed up the march, sixty miles a day, crossing the Xiao Ling River in two days.

Beyond the Xiao Ling River, another hundred miles would bring them to Liaoyang, where tens of thousands of Red Turbans were stationed. Only then would they be safe.

If he were the enemy, would he let this newly formed Red Turban army pass? He didn’t know their purpose, but it was possible they intended to join forces with Liaoyang. Liaoyang’s Red Turbans had already put great pressure on Da Ning—if this new force joined them, the threat would become immediate and real.

The more Deng She speculated, the more uneasy he became. He paced back and forth outside his tent, a strong sense of foreboding growing within him. The more he analyzed, the more convinced he was that the enemy would not let them go; the attack would likely come within two days.

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He suddenly stopped and ordered his guard to summon Wen Huaguo and Chen Hu.

He could not sit and wait for death. He decided to use an old trick again: fake forces on two routes. The main force would march straight across Xiao Ling River; eight hundred old soldiers and select bold, strong men from the new army would take a route forty miles northeast, crossing at Hongluo Mountain.

The two routes would keep thirty miles apart, both making a great show; the main force would close ranks, the detachment would spread out, so the enemy could not discern the truth. If the enemy let them be, all would be well—the two forces would reunite at Xiao Ling River and continue east to Liaoyang. If the enemy attacked, assaulting the main force, the detachment would strike as a vanguard; if attacking the detachment, the main force would gather as a great formation.

Wen Huaguo, just off the previous night’s watch, rubbed his eyes and asked, “Aren’t you afraid the Tartars might split their forces too?”

Deng She’s plan was well considered. He replied, “Wu Henian said Da Ning and Xingzhou together have ten thousand troops. Subtracting the garrisons, I estimate Zhang Jujing and Shi Jiaobao have no more than five thousand for the attack. With only five thousand against my ten thousand, would they dare split up, not knowing which is the real main force?”

Wen Huaguo blinked, conceding Deng’s logic. Still, as an uncle and elder, he felt obliged to advise, “She, you’re good in every way, but you take too many risks. Success once doesn’t mean success every time...” He yawned. “But this time, you have my support.”

Chen Hu also supported Deng She and volunteered to lead the detachment through Hongluo Mountain. This suited Deng perfectly. He was about to take up the command token when a rapid, clear gallop sounded outside the camp.

At midnight, only scouts would ride so swiftly back. Deng She turned, watching as a rider fell from his horse at the camp gates, shining bright as day in the lamplight. The gate guards helped him up and brought him over.

The rider’s helmet was askew, his armor loose, arrows lodged in his shoulder and leg, his body covered in blood. Pushing away the guards, he collapsed to the ground, rasping, “Reporting to the general! Thirty miles out, I encountered a great Tartar army! Five to six thousand strong, with a thousand cavalry.”

“Scout encountered the enemy and fought his way back to report. Judge, what is the military law’s reward?” Deng She, undistracted by the urgent news, insisted on awarding merit first.

The judge was Chen Hu, who understood Deng She’s intent. He announced loudly for all the camp to hear: “For discovering enemy movements, a reward of ten strings of cash; for fighting and being wounded, a bolt of silk. If this leads to victory, there shall be further rewards.”

Deng She personally lifted the rider and spoke warmly, “Money and silk are paltry, but required by regulation. For your loyalty and valor, no amount of gold would suffice.” He asked, “Your name and position?”

The scout was not one of the old bandits, but one of the men Chen Hu had recruited. He replied, “I am Zhang Daier, recently appointed as a hundred-man commander.”

Deng She ordered, “Take Commander Zhang to be treated. Once recovered, he will be transferred to my personal guard and promoted to ten-man leader.”

Only the most exceptional and trusted men could be in the general’s personal guard; even an ordinary guard outranked most hundred-man commanders, let alone ten-man leaders. For Zhang Daier, this was a major promotion. Tears welled in his eyes. “My wounds are not serious, I still have strength and will die for the general if needed.”

Up close, Deng She saw he had not only arrow wounds but a sword cut on his left arm. But he would not send him to die again—he ordered him to be taken away for treatment.

Deng She donned his cloak and gave orders: “Sound the drums and horns.” Now, at the critical moment, he found himself calm and composed. “General Wen, General Chen, return to your camps. When the Tartars arrive, General Wen, hold the main gate, scatter caltrops, keep all inside and do not sally forth. General Chen, keep your men in reserve for General Wen.”

Wen and Chen saluted and each called their guards, departing immediately.

The deep, sonorous drums thundered through the midnight air. The bullhorns summoned the officers, blaring across the camp. Zhao Guo and Li Heshang, on night duty, arrived at a run; as one call faded, Luo Guoqi, Wen Huaguo, He Guangxiu, and Yellow Mule all hurried in.

Deng She remained outside the tent. He handed his saber to a guard and asked, “Where is Zhao Guo?”

“I am here.” Zhao Guo stepped forward, bowing for orders.

The guard presented Deng She’s saber to Zhao Guo. Deng She said gravely, “The scouts report Tartars twenty miles away. You are ordered to supervise the ranks. If anyone below a thousand-man commander retreats with his back to the enemy, execute them on the spot.”

Zhao Guo’s face flushed as he received the saber and the order, then left to choose men for the task.

“Where is General Li?”

“I am here.”

Deng She gazed at him for a long moment, then, softening his voice, said, “When you broke the Tartar Red Army scouts, I personally saw your prowess and was deeply impressed.” He raised his voice, “Today’s battle, I hope to see your might again. If we retreat, the army will be lost; if we advance, there is a sliver of hope. The nine hundred cavalry are yours for now—take them out the camp and lie in wait. Strike when the moment is right.”

He demanded, “Where is the cavalry vice-commander?”

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A burly man leaped up and answered loudly. He was nine feet tall, with a waist ten handspans around, walking like a mountain of flesh. Despite his size, he was agile as a swallow on horseback. His name was Lu Twelve, the best horseman among the old bandits. Deng She had appointed him vice-commander for better control of the cavalry.

“All actions are at General Li’s command.”

Wen, Chen, and Zhao had more critical tasks, while Lu Twelve, newly promoted, lacked prestige. Li Heshang was truly formidable, and there was no better choice for this cavalry strike. But Deng She did not know him well enough to trust him fully in a crisis, so he pointedly assigned Lu Twelve as a check.

Luo Guoqi saw the intent immediately, and Guan Shirong could guess as much.

Li Heshang, blunt as ever, noticed nothing. He only thought that the nine hundred cavalry were the backbone of the army, and Deng She had entrusted them to him—a source of both excitement and pride.

He strode forward, eyes shining, bald head held high. “General, rest assured! If I fail, I’ll bring you my head.”

Deng She nodded and gave his final orders: “Generals Guan and Luo, guard the flanks of the camp. Yellow Mule and He Guangxiu, you will remain with me in the central command. Our Great Song answers Heaven’s call, and yet the Tartars’ secret night assault has already been discovered by me. Gentlemen, unite as one and victory is certain!”

Guan and Luo received their orders sternly and withdrew to their posts.

Deng She stood tall, watching them go. Their crimson cloaks flapped in the night wind. Ever since the Da Ning spy was found, Deng She had exhausted himself considering every possible scenario and preparing countermeasures. So, even as the enemy approached, his orders were thorough and convincing.

The drums beat on. Soldiers roused themselves and assembled by squads, hundreds, then thousands. Thanks to experienced officers shouting commands, the confusion Deng She had feared did not occur. Soon, the wind carried the neighing of horses; the cavalry, men with bits in their mouths and bells on the horses, galloped out. The camp gates went dark as Wen Huaguo took his position.

Torches planted throughout the camp—and even those in the main tent—were extinguished one by one.

Dense night blanketed the world. The drums sounded three times, then ceased; the camp, from noisy to silent, was now still as death. Only the fierce wind swept dust and sand, rattling flags and tents with ominous force.

Wu Henian, who remained with Deng She, glanced up. The thick clouds covered moon and stars; the wind drove the clouds like black waves. Below, tents stood row upon row, layered and sprawling. Dimly, heads could be seen moving at the gates, and now and then a cold flash of spear or halberd.

He had never seen battle before; his legs trembled and, recalling what he’d read in books, whispered, “The wind is blowing straight toward the enemy. General, this is the wind of victory.”

If the wind favors the attack, the banners point forward, the army advances with ease, and all goes well—this is the wind of victory.

Deng She glanced at him. Theories of omens and divination had been common in military texts for generations. He did not believe in such things, being a man of later times. Yet he knew that the great commanders of old used such things skillfully to inspire the troops. This he fully agreed with. So he ordered, “Tell the whole army: the wind of victory is upon us—victory is ours.”

Reminded by Wu Henian, he thought of something: if the wind changed, what then? He quickly sent messengers to all the commanders: “If the enemy uses fire attacks, I will handle the defense. No one is to move without orders—disobey and you die.”

To forestall any trouble, he quietly warned Wu Henian, “In the army, nothing is small. This time, let it pass. But in future, any mention of omens or divination must go through me first. If it is spread without permission, you may be respected, but military law is strict.”

Wu Henian broke into a cold sweat, deeply regretting his words, and hastily promised obedience.

Deng She turned away, ordering all of He Guangxiu’s Koryo troops and the four hundred arquebusiers to assemble at the main tent. Since the recruitment at Yongping, many Koreans had joined, and with those taken at the fall of the city, He Guangxiu now commanded over eight hundred men.

Black night, fierce wind, the whole army crouched in silence. The air was thick with killing intent; the brave grew more stirred, the timid more resolute.

It seemed both an eternity and a moment later. The earth began to tremble slightly, then came the faint sound of hooves. Wu Henian was drenched in sweat, He Guangxiu stared wide-eyed, Yellow Mule held his breath. Suddenly, like a silver jug shattering, the hoofbeats swelled—like a torrent crashing on rocks, thunder rolling, the earth groaned, the camp shook.

Within sight, the banners of the Yuan army fluttered.

Deng She urgently assessed the enemy commander’s thoughts: failing to catch his scouts, the enemy must know he was prepared. Yet, if they pressed on, it meant they relied on their own strength, considering his troops weak. Thus, if they moved, it would be swift as thunder, as fierce as fire.

The two cannons roared, one after another. The Yuan vanguard had arrived at the gates.