Volume Two: I Shall Pull the Trigger and Shake the World – 38 – Liaodong II

On the sixth day, the entire army had finished assembling. Zhang Daier led four thousand men ahead. Deng She entrusted him with taking Jiazhou and Suichuan. Luo Guoqi followed with a thousand men; his task was to occupy Eunsan and threaten the eastern reaches. Chen Hu returned to Jeongju, accompanied by another two thousand recruits from the second levy, to bolster the show of force.

Wen Huaguo and Deng She then led the main force toward Deokcheon, Wen Huaguo having set out a day earlier. Deng She brought all the recruits from the second levy as well. They were useless in battle, but they could build bridges, mend roads, and serve as transport troops. Should the siege meet resistance, they could always be used as cannon fodder.

Hong Jixun and the others came to see Deng She out of the city, each offering his share of good wishes. None spoke better or with greater heartfelt emotion than Wu Henian. He said, “The Goryeo people are short and timid. From their generals down to their common soldiers, none can compare with Your Excellency’s tiger-and-wolf host. Once you set out for Pyongyang, victory will surely attend your banners.

“But war is a savage and perilous thing. On the battlefield, blades and arrows have no eyes. When you face the enemy, Your Excellency must take care of yourself and never recklessly expose yourself to danger. The safety of three hundred thousand people in Ssangsong rests upon your person. Pyongyang lies far away, and the journey will be long and arduous, so please eat well along the road. You have always favored light garments and thin furs; at night, when sleeping in military tents beneath the cool winds of the wilderness, you must put on more clothing. Do not sacrifice your health for a moment’s comfort.”

At this point his eyes reddened, and his voice broke. “I know I ought not to say such things. I only regret that I am weak in letters and arms and cannot follow Your Excellency into battle!” His feelings ran so deep that tears streamed down his face. Forcing a smile, he said, “I shall stand on tiptoe here in Ssangsong and await the triumphant return of Your Excellency’s banners.”

Wu Henian had white temples, a dark complexion, and a long neck topped by a high throat. He was ugly to begin with; now his tears and mucus streamed freely, matting his stained beard into separate locks. The sight was almost comical. Ha Gwangsu stood beside Deng She, staring at him in a daze, admiration written across his face. Hong Jixun could not bear it and gave a derisive snort.

Everyone liked hearing kind words, and everyone wished to possess a loyal minister. Though Deng She disliked flattery, he had no desire to humiliate the man. With a loud laugh, he cupped his hands toward them all and said, “Each of you has important duties. Return now. Within a month at most, I shall invite you all to meet again in Pyongyang!”

Hong Jixun and the others bowed deeply in congratulations. Wu Henian fell to his knees and kowtowed. Yao Haogu and Qian Shide had come as well. They watched as Deng She wheeled his horse away and gradually disappeared into the distance. The men exchanged glances: one smiled, another snorted, another noisily drew in his mucus. Their expressions differed, but their actions were the same. None wished to speak with the others.

They split into three groups. Hong Jixun went first; Wu Henian, Luo Lilang, and the other officials of Ssangsong followed; Yao Haogu and Qian Shide brought up the rear.

Qian Shide asked, “What does Your Excellency think of Deng She’s attack on Pyongyang?”

“Heh-heh. If Heaven means to rain, let him go his way,” Yao Haogu replied. “In any case, * will be here soon enough. Pyongyang will belong to us sooner or later, so why not let him do us the favor?” After a moment’s thought, he continued, “Though * is nearly here, that little bastard is cunning. We must prepare for both possibilities.” He turned to Qian Shide. “How are things with Brother Yellow Donkey’s contact inside?”

“We only managed to make contact a few days ago.”

Yao Haogu sighed. “That fellow Deng is a man of talent. I hope he knows what he is doing and does not carry things this far.”

He looked back over his shoulder. Deng She’s great banner had already receded far into the distance. From afar, the army resembled a long serpent, countless red flags flashing among its ranks, brilliant as fire beneath the sun.

The marching columns were arranged in clear order. Goryeo soldiers with black shoulder insignia went in front, Han soldiers with red shoulder insignia in the middle, and the new recruits hauling the baggage behind.

Deng She reined in his mount and stopped by the roadside to watch the army pass. Soldier after soldier streamed before him, heads held high and chests thrust out. They wore straw sandals and puttees, with red cloth wrapped around their heads. Half possessed armor, and nine in ten carried weapons—some long spears over their shoulders, others massive axes in their hands.

The squad leaders marched with their units. Most commanders above the rank of company captain rode horses, clad in armor and wearing iron helmets. The Mongols favored swords, and their influence had spread. Some men of rank wore swords set with gold, silver, and captured jewels in their hilts. Those more practical and plain carried sabers instead, their long black scabbards striking against the saddles.

This was an army brimming with morale. Their experiences had given most of them an unshakable belief that, under Deng She’s leadership, they would pass from one victory to the next. Excitement and hope shone from their dark faces, for victory meant wealth, and victory meant fame.

Fang Mihan was one of them.

Though he bore a Mongol name, he was an utterly genuine Han Chinese. Han people with Mongol names were common enough and nothing unusual. But Fang Mihan possessed one advantage over most of them: he knew what his name meant. In the Mongol tongue, Mihan meant meat.

His parents had given him the name, perhaps hoping to borrow some of the Mongols’ prestige, so that when he grew up he might eat meat every day. But that was only his guess. He would never be able to prove it, because his parents had died when he was very young.

Fang Mihan came from Lintong. Three years earlier, the Song marshals Li Wu and Cui De had broken through Tong Pass, burned Huayin, and invaded Shaanxi. The Mongol military administration in Shaanxi had been powerless to resist, and the government troops could not be relied upon. Local communities began forming their own Green militias. Fang Mihan’s father was a tenant farmer belonging to one of Lintong’s great clans. After laboring all his life without securing even food and clothing, he refused to continue selling his life for them. He fled with his entire family, and from that moment they entered the road of exile.

Mixed into the columns of refugees, they traveled eastward. Shaanxi was at war, Henan was at war, Hebei was at war. They journeyed a thousand miles and found scarcely a place that still resembled human society. Eventually they reached the capital. The capital itself was not at war, but there was no grain. Zhang Shicheng and Fang Guozhen in the south had severed the canal grain routes, and that winter the capital’s roads were lined with corpses from starvation. Fang Mihan’s parents did not survive. Ravaged by illness and hunger, they died one after another.

If even the imperial capital beneath Heaven had come to this, the state of other places could easily be imagined. Fang Mihan fell into utter despair. He had nowhere to go, yet he did not want to die. In a daze, he followed the tide of refugees and continued wandering. At last, he reached Yongping.

In an age of chaos, food was more precious than gold. He was young and could find no work; alone and powerless, he could not seize anything by force. To stay alive, he ate almost everything imaginable. Tree bark, wild grass, dirt—if he could obtain scraps discarded by a wealthy household, that was a feast fit for kings. He still remembered the day he caught a rat, a thing so extraordinary that it filled him with joy. He dared not light a fire, afraid someone would see the smoke and steal it from him. He hid in an abandoned corner and ate that single rat over the course of three full days.

Being young did not mean he could not think. Whenever he found no food and the fire of hunger became unbearable, he would instinctively distract himself by thinking—or rather, by letting his imagination wander without bounds. What he imagined most naturally concerned his name.

Meat. Mountains of meat. Great platters piled high, fragrant and steaming, cooked meat heaped like hills and enough to make one drool at the thought. Not raw, blood-soaked rat meat reeking of decay.

From time to time, he also considered more practical questions. Why was the governor’s dog fatter than he was? The governor was so imposing: he owned one enormously fat dog and many tall, powerful horses. Whenever he went out, more than a dozen men beat gongs and drums to clear the way for him. Anyone too slow to get out of the road was sure to be whipped, and it hurt terribly. He also had a great many beautiful concubines. Speaking of concubines, when would the concubine of Vice Commissioner Wu’s household throw another two steamed buns his way?

Summer came, winter passed, and spring returned. The refugees in Yongping grew more numerous by the day, while food became harder and harder to find. Fang Mihan acutely sensed that the pressure of survival would only increase. He grew thinner and thinner. He was often dizzy and saw stars; now, after walking only a few steps, he would be panting for breath. He began to wonder whether he would live to see another spring.

Many refugees came and went. Some headed toward Liaoyang, some toward Bianliang, and many more toward territories controlled by the Mongol Yuan. They all said they were going to enlist. The army offered grain. In the army, one could seize provisions. Enlistment meant food; enlistment meant survival. Fang Mihan wondered whether he should go as well.

One day in April, Deng She arrived. Eight hundred men took Yongping, and that very night the governor was flayed alive. Chief Steward Liu was stripped naked and hung from the city tower, while Vice Commissioner Wu personally came forward to recruit soldiers for Deng She.

The authorities who had once seemed untouchable were trampled beneath men’s feet in a single day. Shocked though he was, Fang Mihan did not forget to take advantage of the disorder and steal the governor’s dog. He ate his fill and, early the next morning, made up his mind to enlist in Deng She’s army.

He had joined the army, but he was still very young, lacking both strength and courage. In the battle to defend the camp, he was so frightened that he wet his trousers. During the assault on Ssangsong, he improved slightly and was among the second wave to enter the city. In the bloody battle at the Southern Camp, he killed a man for the first time. At Deokcheon, he followed Yang Wanhu and held his ground in the midst of the fighting for half a day.

He was beginning to resemble a veteran, though he was not even a squad leader yet. Many who had enlisted before him had already become company captains, and some were battalion commanders. The most outstanding of them all was naturally Zhang Daier. Fang Mihan could not compare with Zhang Daier, and he envied him. He envied his old companions, who now ate meat at every meal. He swore that he, too, would live such a life.

This year, he was fifteen.

Amid the mingled sounds of hooves and marching men, Fang Mihan moved slowly along with the flood. A great red banner had been planted beside the road. Several dozen cavalrymen in lamellar armor stood solemnly to one side, their hands resting on their swords. Fang Mihan looked up at them, his face filled with awe. Beneath that banner, among those cavalrymen, stood the Great General of the Ten-Thousand Household.

Deng She watched the army passing by, doing his best to smile. A smile held too long made the facial muscles stiff. He rubbed his cheeks and asked Zuo Che’er, “Has General Zhang’s report arrived?”

“No,” Zuo Che’er replied, then added, “It should be here soon. It takes less than four days to get from Ssangsong to Jiazhou.”

Deng She glanced at the sky and ordered, “Increase the marching pace. We must reach Deokcheon the day after tomorrow.”

If Jiazhou did not fall, the army attacking Pyongyang would be unable to descend westward. He could only hope that Zhang Daier’s campaign would proceed smoothly.

Deng She swung onto his horse. Zuo Che’er hurriedly brought several hundred mounted and foot guards to surround him. Hooves clattered, raising a cloud of dust.

They took the passage through West Mountain Pass. Near noon, they entered the mountains. The road was narrow, with vines winding across it. Dense forests crowded both sides, their layered crowns and branches blotting out the sky and sun. Flocks of wild birds, rabbits, and foxes were startled into motion. Antelope fled through the mountains in herds.

Several officers skilled with bows shouted, leapt from their horses, and hurried ahead. Those who made a hit returned dragging their prey with triumphant smiles, greeted by a chorus of cheers. It looked less like a march to war than an outing for hunting and sport. Deng She smiled but did not stop them. Such morale was excellent and needed to be preserved.

Because large armies had recently traveled this mountain road, it was reasonably level and passable. The following day they crossed the mountains and camped that evening at Niyuan, taking along the commander stationed there, Guan Shiyong. At noon the next day, they arrived together at Deokcheon.

Wen Huaguo and Chen Paizi, the thousand-household commander left in charge of Deokcheon, came out ten miles to welcome them. The city could not contain so many men and horses, so the army made camp outside the walls. Deng She entered the city with Zhao Guo, Qing Qianxing, and the others. He did not stop to rest, but went straight to the Deokcheon prefectural offices to convene a council of war.

When they reached the great hall, Zuo Che’er took out a map and hung it on the wall. The generals filed in and took their seats. Deng She removed his helmet and placed it on the table.

“As of now, every army has reached its appointed position on schedule. Luo Guoqi arrived at Eunsan yesterday. Zhang Daier’s division reported last night that it had already engaged the enemy at Jiazhou. Once he begins fighting, the Goryeo forces in Pyongyang will learn of it within three days at the latest. Gentlemen, how are our preparations?”

Lu Qian’er said, “By order of the Great General, all grain, side-box carts, arrows, and siege equipment have been delivered.”

Guan Shiyong said, “It has been ten days since I received the Great General’s order. I have gathered more than a hundred fishing boats, both large and small, and requisitioned six hundred boatmen and fishermen from Niyuan, Deokcheon, and Mengshan.”

Wen Huaguo said, “Yesterday my camp held a meeting on past hardships. Not a single lad is afraid of death. They are all clamoring for the Great General to grant them the honor of serving in the vanguard.”

Ha Gwangsu said, “There are many native Goryeo people from the northwest in my camp. Following Your Excellency’s instructions, I carefully selected ten to serve as local guides. I have brought them along. If Your Excellency wishes to see them, I can summon them at once.”

“There is no need to see the guides yet,” Deng She said with satisfaction. “When the council breaks up, each thousand-household commander may take one back with him.”

He turned his gaze upon the assembled generals. Every one of them was spirited and eager. Wen Huaguo and Qing Qianxing sat at the front.

“General Qing,” Deng She asked, “now that we are setting out, is there anything along our route that you would advise me to know?”

He could hardly ask directly whether Qing Qianxing had old subordinates in the region. Qing had shown admirable restraint and had not brought the matter up himself even now.

“The general’s men are elite,” Qing Qianxing replied. “Success will follow wherever your horses go. To be frank, many of my former subordinates remain in Sunchon, Jasan, and the cities west of Pyongyang. Under the shelter of the general’s mighty authority, it may be possible to bring them over without shedding a drop of blood.”

Deng She’s principal objective was Pyongyang. If Sunchon, Jasan, and the other cities could be taken along the way, so much the better. It would also greatly reduce the pressure on Zhang Daier’s force. He firmly believed that a man should either be trusted or not employed at all.

“Excellent! Every bit of strength saved is strength gained. It could not be better if you are willing to persuade them to surrender. Hmm… You will be handling a matter of great importance, General, and you cannot go without troops. I will temporarily assign you a thousand Goryeo soldiers. Take command of them.”

Qing Qianxing bowed and accepted the order. The army’s vanguard had not yet been decided, and this mission of persuasion would count as one possible claim to the honor.

Wen Huaguo immediately began clamoring for the position as well. Deng She had already made his choice.

“General Wen, you are my left arm and right arm. The troops of the Left Camp cannot be without you for even a moment. Do not contend with the younger men for the vanguard.”

The moment he said “younger men,” everyone understood that the matter was settled. Among the generals, the only ones junior to Wen Huaguo were Deng She himself and Zhao Guo.

After the battle at the Southern Camp, Zhao Guo had been stationed at Jiasan to pacify the Jurchens. He had taken part in none of the fighting at Deokcheon and elsewhere, leaving many military achievements to others. Deng She and Zhao Guo had grown up together; in terms of closeness, no one in the entire army stood above Zhao Guo. Wishing to give him an opportunity, Deng She said, “General Zhao, you have rendered outstanding service guarding Jiasan and pacifying the Jurchens. Yet I know that a treasured sword kept in its sheath can never be content. In this battle, you shall command the vanguard. It is time to show the world your edge.”

Even without being told, Zhao Guo had guessed that Deng She would not summon him back from Jiasan without entrusting him with an important duty. He stammered, and he was a man of few words who acted more swiftly than he spoke. Drawing his saber, he drove it point-first into the earth and said in a deep voice, “I am willing to be the general’s sword.”

With the vanguard decided, the order of the various camps came next.

The scouts would go first, spreading out along six routes: one on each side of the army, and two each to the left and right of the central force. Each route would have twenty-four elite horsemen divided into four waves. The first wave, two riders, would range three miles ahead; the second, four riders, six miles; the third, six riders, twelve miles; and the fourth, twelve riders, twenty-four miles. The scouts carried five-colored flags. Whenever they encountered a road requiring attention or sighted the enemy, they would relay the message backward wave by wave. Each man was given two strong horses, lest his mount lack the strength to continue and he fall into enemy hands.

The Swift Battalion would come second. The army was descending westward through a land of mountains and rivers, where the terrain was rugged and the forests thick with moss and shadow. It was necessary to remain on guard. Three hundred brave and agile fighters were selected to march ahead of the vanguard. Whenever they encountered an obstacle, they would clear a passage, search the surrounding area, and make certain no enemy lay in ambush before allowing the vanguard to proceed.

Behind the vanguard came two hundred-man cavalry companies, linking front and rear and carrying messages and shouted commands. Wen Huaguo’s Left Camp followed behind them. Li Heshang and the other commanders led their own units in succession, each separated from the next by roughly a mile, with another hundred-man cavalry company serving as the link between them.

Next came Deng She’s central army, arranged much like Wen Huaguo’s Left Camp. Last was the baggage camp, escorted by a thousand men under Guan Shiyong. The remaining cavalry and Jurchens marched on either side of the central army and, together with Lu Qianwu’s firearms camp, were placed under Deng She’s unified command. The cannons from the various cities had all been brought along. Six in total were assigned to the firearms camp, together with catapults and other equipment for use during the siege.

The side-box carts and cheval de frise were distributed to the various forces overnight. They would carry them on the march and use them as shelters at night. In the event of a skirmish, they could also serve as cover.

The more than one hundred fishing boats gathered by Guan Shiyong were not intended to defend against the navy of the Western Capital. They were to be used to construct a pontoon bridge across the Daedong River. Deokcheon lay upstream on the western bank, and anyone traveling to Pyongyang would first have to cross part of the river. So long as safety could be assured, some of the baggage might also be placed aboard the boats and carried downstream, speeding the army’s progress.

The plans had been settled, and the ranks were in order. That afternoon, Deng She’s central camp mobilized in full. He went personally among the troops and held a meeting to recall their past hardships.

After nightfall, he organized a swearing-in ceremony for all officers of company-captain rank and above. Deng She vividly described the current plight of Ssangsong:

“We are like a fierce tiger trapped in a cage. North, south, or west—there is no open road in any direction. It is now the end of July. In three months, the weather will turn cold. Our army has no grain, no clothing, and no medicine. How are tens of thousands of us to survive?”

In the end, this battle was being fought to open a trade route. Beneath everything else, it remained a struggle for survival.

“If Pyongyang falls, we shall gain a seaport. From there we can sail west to Shandong and south to the Two Zhes. Shandong and the Two Zhes are all rich and fertile lands. With Goryeo women, Goryeo ginseng, Goryeo salt, and iron, we shall cross the sea under full sail and return with our holds overflowing. What could we fail to obtain?”

Hong Jixun had repeatedly insisted upon it, and Deng She had silently permitted his proposal to traffic in Goryeo women. Once Pyongyang was conquered, they would begin preparations.

Deng She surveyed the generals and tempted them further with fame, rank, and wealth.

“Once Pyongyang is taken, we shall link Ssangsong with the east and west, and everything north of the Daedong River will lie in our hands. Gold, silver, fertile lands, beautiful women, and precious jewels—would I ever begrudge you your rewards? Strive, gentlemen!”

Several hundred officers answered with a thunderous roar.

Ha Gwangsu drew his short sword and pointed it toward the night sky. In a shrill, desperate voice, he cried, “I am willing to be the Great General’s sword!”

At the morning council, he had envied Zhao Guo’s bold declaration and secretly imitated it. Now he had found his chance to display it.

Countless swords and sabers were drawn at once and raised toward the heavens. Hundreds of men shouted together, their voices shaking the roof tiles:

“I am willing to be the Great General’s sword! I am willing to be the Great General’s sword!”

The night wind stirred the torches, and wavering firelight flickered across their faces. Driven by the twin desires to survive and to profit, every man was fevered with excitement.

When the cries had finally subsided, Deng She took out the tiger tally. The assault on Pyongyang would surely be savage. The promise of survival and profit alone was not enough; the soldiers needed to see an immediate and tangible reward.

He said, “By military order: once Pyongyang falls, the army shall have three full days of unrestricted plunder.”

—

1. The Mongols favored swords.

Swords were in widespread use among the Mongols, with sabers ranking second. Their blades were extraordinarily sharp, often inlaid with gold, silver, and precious stones, and crafted with great refinement.

2. Burned Huayin.

In the ninth month of the sixteenth year of the Zhizheng era, “Li Wu and Cui De broke through Tong Pass, and the Director of State Affairs, Shulü Jie, died in battle.” They “broke through Tong Pass and burned Huayin.”

“The people of Wei’nan and north of the Wei River, old and young carried in their arms, rich and poor alike, fled in a winding stream toward the mountains of Yan’an, their cries shaking Heaven and Earth. Then one or two Red Turban horsemen, pretending to be bandits, drove several thousand people before them, robbing, slaughtering, and humiliating them without end. At the Wei River crossing, countless refugees attempted to wade through and were swept away by the current. Lawless men also took advantage of the bandits’ name to plunder and kill, and the suffering was beyond measure. The officials fled with their entire households and possessions; not one seemed willing to serve the state or its people.”