Joseon Needs a Coup - Chapter 110
Only Noblemtl
#110. Glory and Terror Mixed (4)
The enemies heading towards the city also saw this and were preparing to respond immediately, but it was too late.
Even under a unified command system, it would take considerable time to respond to a sudden enemy on the flank, and it would be even more fatal for those who doubt whether they can properly organize.
Moreover, since it appeared on the right side, which is the most vulnerable, it is bound to be even more difficult to deal with.
Unlike a charge from the left, which could be countered with a weapon in the right hand, a charge from the right was much more vulnerable to cavalry.
Usually, the hand holding the weapon is on the right side, and when threatened, there is a tendency to block with the left hand, so if an attack is made from the right side, there is bound to be relatively less room to respond.
The trumpeter sang a lilting tune at Harcourt’s signal.
It meant to still run at a gentle pace.
The distance was only about 0.6 miles (1 km), but I didn’t want to tire out my horse by making him run too fast.
Most of the cavalry commanders who had been riding their horses recklessly when the enemy was right in front of them ended up dying because their horses lost their strength.
Harcourt had no intention of making such a rookie mistake in front of those foolish coolies.
He seriously believed that he could ‘reform’ them with gunpowder and lead by showing them the noble fighting methods of civilized people.
I sincerely hope that in my next life, I will be born as a noble and civilized person.
Slowly, but keeping a wide gap, we began to gradually gain speed from the top of the hill to the bottom.
The enemy’s cavalry, still in disarray, sent some of its troops this way to attempt an interception.
They fired from a distance and shouted threatening words to try to instill fear, but Harcourt didn’t even snort.
Rather, he just made a face that seemed to be laughing.
“Gentlemen! From this moment on, we are lifting the veil of hell! It is time to show those barbarians who the real devil is! Let’s fight until Beijing and Tianjin are stained with their blood! It is time to show who is one step ahead in the saddle!”
With his shout, the distance finally began to close properly.
The distance between the two sides was narrowed to approximately 0.3 miles.
It wasn’t a certain distance, but the experience of fighting from the saddle had not been in vain. Harcourt, who instinctively knew that it was time to charge properly, stood on the saddle, firmly gripped the repeater rifle, and shouted.
“charge!”
The riders followed him and opened fire with their Winchesters and revolvers as they encountered the enemy cavalry that was advancing to intercept them.
In such cases, it was quite rare for the cavalry on both sides to get tangled up and engage in close combat.
Often, one side would lose momentum and flee before the battle even began, and in such situations, the side that maintained its morale and formation was more likely to win.
And Harcourt sensed at this moment that the battle was already over. Seeing the cavalry squadrons charging forward without fear of their own appearance, the Qing cavalry began to slow down. Then, suddenly, they turned their backs and began to run away.
It wasn’t an intentional lure. It was just a survival instinct to run away in fear because it was so difficult to deal with.
But such an unplanned escape brought about the worst possible results.
This is because they got entangled with other cavalrymen who followed behind without knowing English.
“Those guys are all messed up!”
“Let’s charge forward like this! Let’s trample them under our horse’s hooves!”
Harcourt fired his repeater rifle, blasting everything in sight.
Several astonished enemy cavalry charged toward him, but the smaller Mongolian and Manchurian horses were no match for the large French warhorses.
The enemy cavalrymen who were rammed were either crushed to death by the huge warhorses of the friendly forces or were forced to meet death.
As the cavalrymen charged into the ranks of the Qing cavalry, a scene like a scene from the Book of Revelation unfolded.
The noise of battle still filled my ears amid the screams of riders and horses.
Those whose tails were caught desperately fought back, swinging their spears and swords in an attempt to survive, while those who still had time to spare began to run away while shooting or abandon their weapons and leave the battlefield.
“Let those who are running away, and intercept those who are still approaching the rear of the main force! We can’t let those bastards kick our infantry’s butts!”
As soon as he gave the order, there was a crashing sound and several enemy riders fell to the ground.
It was horrifying to see his face completely shattered, as if he had been hit directly by a shell. Even a proper blow to the buttstock would not have caused such a brutal destruction.
“Your Majesty, look to the side!”
“Wonderful! I guess my departure for Valhalla will be postponed a little longer.”
“What is Valhalla?”
“Yes, this is the home of true warriors, where niggers and coolies cannot go! Here!”
A few friendly cavalrymen subdued enemy cavalry approaching from the flank.
Looking at the thing he was holding in his hand, it seemed like he was swinging a blunt weapon that looked like an oriental version of a morning star called a ‘pyeon-gon’.
They were the type of people who preferred to use halberds instead of cavalry, and it was certainly much more effective in breaking the enemy’s skulls in melee situations than cavalry halberds.
And then, just then, Harcourt clicked his tongue as he saw one of the enemy cavalrymen who was aiming his gun on the right suddenly get his face crushed by a bullet.
“Ooh.”
The praise came right out of my throat.
I think these are the toughest cavalrymen he’s ever faced.
Although it was a mere cavalry company of about 200 men, the combined force of the massive warhorses and the ferocity of the riders caused the Chinese to flee in disarray.
The warhorses, as ferocious as their riders, also showed their dirty nature by running wild. Seeing them bite their enemies whenever they had the chance, kick them with their hind legs, and trample them with their hooves, I thought that this was the true unity of riders and warhorses.
“Your Majesty, over there!”
While we were beating back the fleeing enemies, one of the platoon leaders pointed towards the horizon with his finger.
There was a fresh cavalry contingent heading there, with something written messily on their yellow flags.
“Now the kids who are ready to properly loosen up are crawling out!”
Harcourt laughed, holstering his repeater rifle in his saddle.
Then he ordered his trumpeter to gather around him again, and the rough but loud sound of the trumpet filled the battlefield.
It was also the sound he missed the most.
“Form your ranks, form your ranks!”
At his shout the cavalry squadron rallied among the dead riders and horses.
Everyone’s faces were covered in a mixture of blood and dirt, giving the illusion of crocodiles crawling out of the swamp.
The Rough Riders ran wild in the war with Spain?
At least for Harcourt, the real Rough Riders were those who were breathing heavily beside him, anticipating more slaughter.
He turned to the cavalry squadron and shouted as loudly as he could, so that even the enemy could hear.
“The enemy cavalry is charging towards us. Gentlemen! Forgive me for telling you to suppress the enemy with copper and gunpowder just now. They are not even worthy of being suppressed with such fancy weapons!”
Everyone laughed at his words. It wasn’t the tough cavalry commanded by Harcourt that was falling and groaning everywhere, but those poor bastards.
“Pull it out, knife!”
At Harcourt’s command, every cavalryman drew his sharp sword. The cavalrymen on the flanks drew their flails instead of their swords and prepared to charge, while the standard-bearer came up to Harcourt and the cavalry company commander, panting heavily.
To those who were running towards death from afar, Harcourt briefly offered condolences, then took out his cavalry sword, kissed its hilt, and placed it on his shoulder.
He felt as if he had returned to his younger self at the sensation he had felt after a long time, but soon he came to his senses and took hold of the reins again.
Then they started running, looking at the men who spread their wings toward them and who seemed to know how to fight on horseback.
The enemy must have judged that the friendly cavalry was tired and made their own judgment, but they misjudged one thing.
These huge and fearsome French steeds were as stamina-intensive as they were large.
Well, even if they had known, they might have done the same.
They showed off their strength and tried to kill the wedge by wrapping it with the wings of the ‘crane’ that the Orientals talked about. At least, they believed that the enemies trapped there would have difficulty surviving, and they trusted in their excellent horsemanship.
But Harcourt thought differently.
With their swords outstretched, the cavalrymen began to charge in a wedge formation to engage the cranes prepared by the Qing.
If they wanted to destroy the crane they had prepared, they would have to split its body rather than break its wings, because a bird with a split body would not survive.
So the hunter’s wedge had to make contact first before the wings could completely envelop them.
And the warhorses, with speed and endurance beyond the enemy’s expectations, charged into the enemy lines, carrying fierce riders who were worthy of them. They also tried to quickly cover their wings, but it was too late.
“Kill the enemies!”
“Wow!”
The cavalry advanced, swinging their long swords and slings in the air. For a split second, time seemed to stop as the horsemen and horses of both sides charged at each other. And the silence that seemed like it would last forever was shattered like a tray dropped by a child.
A chaotic and entangled battle unfolded as the shouts of horses and riders mingled.
There were many types of enemies, some with their necks broken by the swinging of a club, some falling to the ground with their chests pierced by the straightened cavalry sword, and some drawing pistols and carbines and shooting at each other.
Harcourt, unfamiliar with the weapon, swung his cavalry sword and stopped the enemy cavalry that had just dismounted from their horses from charging forward.
He was struck in the head with the back of a sword, but several others rushed in to drag him down.
He calmly calmed the startled horse and looked ahead at the man trying to grab the horse’s reins.
“You stupid kids. If they were Indians, my precious scalp would have been blown off already.”
He sneered and immediately pulled hard on the reins.
Then the horse’s hoof kicked the enemy’s head, and he fell to the ground with his neck broken.
While the horse was making a fuss, Harcourt struck down the enemies who clung to him tenaciously with his heavy cavalry sword like a swarm of flies on a horse’s tail.
Their screams were similar to those of my father when he used to whip black children who were slackers on the cotton plantation when I was a boy.
In the midst of all this, I heard the sound of something breaking, and since my expensive cavalry sword couldn’t possibly break, I figured it must have been the enemy.
As expected, the guy with his head split in half let out a terrible scream.
It was only after Harcourt, who didn’t want to hear the sound, plunged the blade into his neck again that he was able to find some sense of stability.
“Their momentum has been broken! Forward, forward!”
The company commander, who was fighting with the company riders, was heard shouting.
Here and there, lost horses neighed madly.
As the fog of battle slowly cleared, the truth about who was holding out on the ground was slowly being revealed.
The wings of the crane that had been covering the friendly cavalry were shattered, and a wedge was driven into its body.
The crane that the Qing had prepared thus ended its life. And there was no hope of victory for the crane whose life had ended.
They scattered in all directions to save their lives, and the cavalry, whose hostility was at its peak, would not let them go.
“The wings are broken, we have turned the corner, victory is in sight!”
In times like these, Harcourt preferred to let his soldiers act according to their nature rather than control them.
He also opened the way by cutting down the fleeing enemies with his cavalry sword.
And he didn’t care that at the end of that road, only a self-destructive fate might await him.
Because that was the path they had to overcome in the end.
And this path, he defined himself.
It is a path of glory and fear that only those who are worthy have the right to walk.