Traveling through the late Ming Dynasty to promote Chinese civilization

Chapter 555 The Torment of Wounded Tartar Soldiers

Liang Xiaoming was taken aback by these words. In later generations, according to the common practice of modern warfare, prisoners of war should not be mistreated or killed out of humanitarian considerations, and the bodies of fallen soldiers should be returned to the other side. However, in the era of cold weapons, Liang Xiaoming was unsure of what the appropriate course of action should be. He did not make a decision on his own and quietly asked Su Hongtu what to do.

Su Chutui winked at him, then "generously" said to those below the city: "War is war, but we are not unreasonable people. You can take the corpses. Our Qionghai Army does not determine military merit based on heads."

The general was delighted to hear this and excitedly returned to report.

Ma Wei couldn't hold back any longer: "General, Regiment Commander, how can you agree to this request? These are Tartars! When they slaughtered our Ming soldiers and civilians, did they ever show any mercy?"

Liang Xiaoming also asked, "Hongtu, it's fine to let the corpses piled up below the city walls. If they rot, it will cause a plague. I can understand that it saves us the effort of cleaning up the battlefield. But aren't we being a bit too generous by exchanging the wounded soldiers who didn't die with them? Once these wounded soldiers recover, they will become murderers who slaughter Ming soldiers and civilians!"

Su Hongtu smiled slyly: "I promised to let them take the bodies back, but I didn't mention the wounded soldiers?"

Liang Xiaoming and Ma Wei were stunned.

Su Hongtu pointed to the wounded Tartar soldiers groaning among the corpses below the city and said, "Brother Ma, I heard that the soldiers in your cavalry battalion can shoot arrows. Why don't you come and practice your skills and see how many arrows it takes to kill a wounded soldier?" Before the short guns were equipped to the troops, Ma Wei had these cavalrymen practice archery for a few months, based on the principle that it's always good to have more skills. As for the results, he couldn't guarantee.

“The cavalrymen have some archery training, but with short guns, their archery skills are so-so. Forget about shooting on horseback, they have no accuracy at all. But they can barely manage to shoot a few arrows while standing still…” Ma Wei answered subconsciously, then realized something and his eyes lit up, “You mean, turn all these wounded soldiers into dead men?”

Su Hongtu grinned and said, "How can I let the Tartars take the wounded soldiers back if they don't become corpses? I can't go back on my word!"

The three men exchanged a glance and burst into laughter. Liang Xiaoming pointed at Su Hongtu and said, "Hehe, you're really got some serious ideas... but I like it." He had to admit that this was the best solution, getting the Tartars to clean up the battlefield without sending the wounded back. Moreover, using a bow and arrow was more convenient than a rifle; the Patriot rifle was essentially a muzzle-loading smoothbore musket, fired vertically downwards without rifling to prevent the lead bullets from falling out.

The cavalrymen, carrying light bows, climbed the city wall and began aiming at the wounded soldiers below who were still able to move. Their archery skills were even cruder than Ma Wei had described, not even deserving the adjective "so-so." After practicing for a long time, they finally fired their first arrow, which missed the target by several body lengths and landed firmly in the ground, startling the wounded soldier who quickly moved aside.

Ma Wei blushed with embarrassment and couldn't help but swear: "Damn it, you guys have been training for more than half a year, how come you can't even hit the target at such close range, and you can't even move?"

The soldiers were so ashamed by the scolding that they wished there was a crack in the ground they could disappear into.

Su Hongtu didn't mind and encouraged them, "It's alright. We'll use muskets as the main weapon and bows and arrows as an auxiliary weapon. Take it slow. If you miss with one arrow, try two. If you miss with two arrows, try three. The wounded soldiers can't move. If you try a few more times, you'll eventually hit the target."

Encouraged by him, the soldiers raised their bows and arrows again and aimed at their targets.

With a "whoosh," the soldier who had fired the first arrow released his second, aiming at the same target. This time, he had made significant progress, striking the wounded soldier squarely in the thigh. The accuracy was average, but the force was considerable, piercing through the muscle and embedding itself firmly in the ground. The wounded soldier, already weakened by a gunshot wound and on the verge of death, was now pierced through the thigh by an arrow, causing him excruciating pain and prompting him to howl in agony.

Su Hongtu praised, "That arrow was quite skillful. You wanted to make him suffer a bit first, right? Shouldn't you shoot him in the chest next?"

The soldier stammered, "Reporting to the commander, I was aiming for his chest..."

"Cough cough cough..." Su Hongtu coughed a few times, changing the subject, "Let's all go together and finish shooting as soon as possible, the Tartars will be coming to collect the corpses later!"

So the cavalry soldiers drew their bows and nocked their arrows, each searching for a target, and the arrows flew out with a "whoosh, whoosh, whoosh."

The soldiers tried their best, but their accuracy remained abysmal. It was quite common for a soldier to fail to kill a wounded soldier even after three or five arrows. The wounded soldiers, on the other hand, suffered terribly. Gunshot wounds had already taken half their lives, and they had to endure the torment of these half-baked archers—arrows would land near their ears, feet, hands, and legs, but never hit a vital spot. This feeling of being on the verge of death, yet refusing to die, was pure agony.

A wounded soldier clutched the arrow shaft in his leg and pleaded, "Please, give me a quick death... I'm bleeding to death..."

At this moment, several Niru Zhangjing (military officers) led a group of armored soldiers to collect the wounded and corpses, followed by a squad of auxiliary soldiers pushing wheelbarrows looted from the local area, preparing to load them. Upon approaching and seeing this scene, one of the Niru Zhangjing flew into a rage, pointing at the wall and cursing, "Ming dogs, you broke your promise! You clearly agreed to let us take the wounded and corpses!"

Upon hearing this, Su Hongtu flew into a rage, grabbed a rifle, aimed at him, and fired a shot with a "bang."

This Niru Zhangjing had participated in the previous battle and knew the power of these muskets. When Su Hongtu raised his gun, he ducked down on his horse, so the shot missed him and struck the horse's neck, leaving a bloody hole. The warhorse let out a mournful cry, staggered, and collapsed to the ground with a thud.

"Watch your mouth. A defeated general has no right to be so insolent," Su Hongtu scolded. "I promised you I would take the corpses, but did I promise you I would take the wounded? If not, why do you say we are untrustworthy?"

The Niru Zhangjing was speechless. Everyone thought that "taking away the corpses" meant that the wounded could also be taken away. Who knew that these cunning Han people were playing word games?

Although they were furious, they were powerless against the circumstances. They had suffered a defeat and needed help from others. There were also countless muskets pointed at them from the wall. They couldn't stand up straight and could only swallow their anger and go to move the corpses on the ground.

This wasn't even the most infuriating part. Because the cavalry's archery was so terrible, after shooting for ages, several wounded soldiers still hadn't been hit. So all the soldiers aimed at these unfortunate fellows, and arrows flew over them like they were free. A dense swarm of arrows landed around the wounded; if accuracy wasn't enough, quantity would make up for it, and eventually, a few arrows pierced the wounded, killing them instantly. The armored soldiers responsible for transporting the wounded could only watch helplessly as their comrades died before their eyes, powerless to do anything.