Chapter Eighty-Eight: The Musket

For cavalry, a distance of two li was by no means far; it could even be said to vanish in the blink of an eye. Li Wenyuan had only just deployed his formation when he saw the Turkic cavalry emerge on the horizon. Now that the enemy had entered his line of sight, Li Wenyuan ordered the main force to halt.

In the height of summer in the northwest, even the wind seemed to have stilled, leaving only two armies facing each other in silent confrontation. Before long, the distant cavalry grew restless and charged toward Li Wenyuan’s formation. Seeing this, Li Wenyuan raised his voice and shouted, “Form up!”

At his command, the First Division’s hollow square quickly arranged itself as they had practiced in training. The outermost three ranks of sword-bearers all dropped to one knee, slanting the butts of their unfamiliar swords into the ground behind them, with the blades pointing toward the oncoming enemy. In this way, much of the force of the cavalry’s charge would be absorbed by the earth beneath the sword-bearers, making the formation more stable and less likely to break under impact. Meanwhile, the musketeers encircled at the center of the square formed three ranks and began loading powder and shot into their firearms.

From afar, the Turkic cavalry leader saw Li Wenyuan’s troops halt and adopt a square formation. But the outer soldiers’ armor and weapons were not the familiar bright armor and long spears of Central Plains infantry. Intuitively, he sensed something was amiss. Still, the cavalry was already in formation for the charge, and it was not so easy to stop once begun, so he gritted his teeth and continued to lead the attack on the First Division’s square.

Within the formation, Li Wenyuan watched the Turkic cavalry surge forward like a tidal wave, thundering toward them. It would be a lie to say he felt no fear at all. The hollow square they had formed was, as far as he knew from the annals of warfare in various nations, a formation highly effective against cavalry. But as for how effective it would truly be, only the coming moments would tell. Yet, as commander, every move he made would directly affect his soldiers’ morale. He knew he could not betray even a hint of fear now. If he showed any sign of dread, the entire army’s morale might collapse, and they would be slaughtered beneath the sabers and hooves of the Turkic cavalry. So Li Wenyuan moved among the ranks, encouraging his soldiers.

“Don’t panic. They haven’t brought bows and arrows. They can’t harm those of you in the formation,” he assured the musketeers. Their gear, modeled after the British musketeer regiments of later centuries, offered little to no armor; their belts carried only powder and shot, and their greatest fear was archery. But facing these bowless cavalrymen, they need not worry about that threat.

“Hold the line—do not break. Their sabers cannot cut through our armor, and their horses are no match for our sharp swords. Hold fast, and tonight we feast on horsemeat!” Li Wenyuan reassured the three outer ranks of sword-bearers.

The sword-bearers also knew that Li Wenyuan, the commander of the Western Regions, was standing with them in the formation, sharing the coming assault. This knowledge helped dispel the last traces of fear from their hearts, though the ground itself seemed to tremble beneath the cavalry’s charge, and a heavy sense of oppression remained. At that moment, one sword-bearer, whose name is lost to time, began to shout:

“Victory! Victory! Long live Huaxia!”

In an instant, the cry was taken up by all the sword-bearers on the outer ranks, their shouts for victory helping to dispel the suffocating fear in their hearts.

Across the field, the Turkic riders heard the Han soldiers’ chant. Among them, those fluent in the language understood its meaning and, unwilling to be outdone, rallied their fellows in a resounding shout of “Uzhulai!”—the Turkic word for “charge.” For a moment, the battle cries from both sides swept away the last shreds of reason among the soldiers on the field.

The muskets in Li Wenyuan’s ranks were flintlocks, accurate within fifty meters and still deadly at a hundred. As the Turkic cavalry closed to within a hundred meters, Li Wenyuan raised his musket and called to the first rank of musketeers, “Fire!” Then, aiming roughly at the oncoming riders, he squeezed the trigger without hesitation.

The flint struck hard against the steel, sending a shower of sparks into the powder pan below, igniting the charge and sending a blast of flame and lead roaring from the barrel toward the enemy now just ninety meters away.

All this happened in a flash. Zhang Juntao, watching from the flank, saw a sudden thunderous explosion erupt from Li Wenyuan’s square, followed by a cloud of black smoke. The foremost rank of charging Turkic cavalry was struck down in a hail of bullets, riders tumbling from their horses. Within the square, after firing, the first rank of musketeers immediately dropped to one knee as they had practiced, clearing the line of fire for the next rank, and began to reload with heads down, ignoring the chaos of battle.

The second rank of musketeers now raised their guns and, at Li Wenyuan’s command, fired at the approaching cavalry. Upon discharging their weapons, they too kneeled and reloaded, giving way to the third rank, who repeated the process with deadly discipline.

Against such a massed cavalry charge, precision was no longer important. All that mattered was knocking riders from their horses, for those who fell would be trampled into pulp by their own comrades thundering behind.

Under Li Wenyuan’s deliberate control of firing rate, by the time the third rank had fired, the first had finished reloading. Instead of returning the ramrods beneath the barrels as was standard, they planted them into the earth at their sides, then stood ready to fire at the next command.

Originally, the procedure was to return the ramrod after loading, but during training, one soldier discovered that if, during stationary volley fire within the square, he simply left the ramrod stuck in the ground after use, he could reload much faster. Li Wenyuan personally observed this demonstration; by the soldier’s method, three rounds could be fired per minute—a result that greatly pleased him and which he quickly ordered adopted throughout the ranks. To make it easier to plant the ramrods, Li Wenyuan even revised their design, having their ends forged into sharp points so they could be stabbed into the earth or other surfaces with ease.