The Tomok Mutiny - Part 2
“One! Stand and fire!”
“““Stand and fire!”””
Mak-dong-i, standing at the front of the front rank, echoed the gapsa’s shout from behind as he lowered his matchlock musket. The sharp bayonet on the muzzle was aimed straight at the cavalry charging toward them.
“Open the pan!”
“““Open the pan!”””
His mouth and hands moved on their own, defying his wildly trembling heart. He parroted the gapsa’s command without thinking and flipped open the lid covering the priming pan.
“Aim!”
“Ai……!”
“Shut your mouths, you little shits! Aim in silence!”
Gapsas yelled from all over as someone messed up. Fortunately, Mak-dong-i went unnoticed. He kept his mouth shut and shouldered his musket.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
The heavy cavalry—not just armored men, but horses too—charged relentlessly. Following his training, Mak-dong-i aimed not at the riders, but the horses.
“Aim for the horses! The horses! I’ll hunt down and kill anyone who shoots a man!”
How the hell do they even know who shot a person? The gapsas seemed just as scared as the rest of them. It eased the tension a tiny bit, if only a little.
“Fingers off the triggers! I’ll chew up anyone with a finger on the trigger! Off the triggers! I told you not to put them on until you fire!”
Even as the heavy cavalry closed in, Mak-dong-i was grateful for all that training. Years of drilling like this let him hold his piss right here on the line. And that wasn’t all.
Thwack! Thwack-thwack!
“Argh!”
“Urk!”
He could ignore his comrades dropping from enemy arrows without a glance.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
He could keep his eyes locked on the cavalry barreling straight at them.
“Ready men, first rank! Fire! Commence shooting!”
And he could pull the trigger on the enemy staring him down.
Bang! Boom! Bang! Boomboomboomboom!
The volley from just over a hundred men turned the world before them into a white haze of smoke. Mak-dong-i didn’t even check if he’d hit before wheeling to the rear of the formation.
“Hey, hey! How’d it go?”
His comrade who’d fired beside him asked in a quivering voice. His face was pale, drenched in cold sweat, but his lips twisted up in a strange grin.
“Did you hit?”
“D-don’t know! Fuck! Don’t talk to me! But… f-felt like it. Yeah.”
Chatting in snatches with his buddy, Mak-dong-i reloaded. He flipped open the frizzen to check the priming, tore open a paper cartridge with his teeth, and poured powder down the muzzle.
“Wh-what about you?”
“Me? Fuck yeah. Blew that bastard’s head clean off!”
“They said no shooting people!”
He drew the ramrod from under the barrel, rammed the powder home, pulled it out, and seated the bullet. Not the old round balls the Ming used, but conical slugs shaped like spinning tops. Called Neuller bullets in original history, they boosted matchlock performance nearly fourfold. The khan’s order to stay beyond 100 paces might as well have been toilet paper.
“Hey! Your leg!”
That’s when his comrade pointed and yelled at Mak-dong-i’s leg.
Mak-dong-i’s eyes bulged at the arrow buried in his thigh.
“Ah, fuck! Why’d you tell me, you shit!”
Pain crashed in the moment he saw it—like a red-hot poker shoved in. Curses spilled out naturally. But his hands didn’t stop reloading.
“Medic! Medic here! Wounded, we’ve got a”
Bang! Boom-boom! Bang! Bang! Boom-boom-boom!
“…wounded man!”
Even amid the renewed gunfire, his comrade pointed him out. A gapsa hurried over, saw the arrow, and asked,
“You there, private! Can you walk?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then get to the surgeon’s tent now!”
“No way! I can hold!”
It didn’t hurt that bad yet. If one leg gave out, he’d hop on the other. Besides, after all that hell, bailing over a splinter in his thigh felt wrong. Before the gapsa could argue, Mak-dong-i limped forward.
The second rank crossed between him and the gapsa to take their turn firing.
Bang! Boom-boom! Bang! Bang! Boom-boom! Boom-boom!
As Mak-dong-i closed his pan lid, the third rank finished shooting and fell back. First rank’s turn again.
“One! Stand and fire!”
“““Stand and fire!”””
Arrow in his thigh, he stood bowlegged into position. A gust scattered the thick smoke. That’s when Mak-dong-i truly grasped the Joseon army’s power.
“Aaaagh, aaaah……!”
“Save me……!”
Pfiii-hiiing! Hii-hii-hiiing!
The heavy cavalry that had charged so fiercely were gone. Amid the mangled corpse piles, the unfortunates still alive groaned. Fallen horses thrashed and snorted blood from their noses.
“Urp, bleeech!”
“Fuckin’ hell……!”
“……!”
The Joseon troops reacted differently to the gruesome sight. Some couldn’t stop puking. Others lowered their guns, forgetting the fight. A few gleamed with savage joy.
“L-left shoulder! Arms!”
The gapsa choking down acrid smoke to bark orders froze at the hellscape. He played it cool and kept commanding.
“100 paces! Stay at 100! But we hit those fuckers at 200! Where’s that guy? Where’s the bastard who said 100 paces?!”
Flushing red, he hunted for the messenger who’d led them in. But the coward had fled back to HQ. Of the vanguard 300 horse, 200 littered that field. The 100-odd that returned weren’t pretty—missing limbs, riderless mounts aplenty.
“Damn it! Goddamn it!”
Unable to hold his rage, he cursed as the Joseon infantry advanced again. Losing 300 cavalry at once—if he couldn’t recoup here, death might be kinder.
Pushing down failure’s terror with death’s, the commander pondered: pit his remaining 700 against them, or call for backup?
Boom! Boomboom! Boom!
No time to think.
“Wh-what! Whoa! Incoming!”
“Take cover!”
Amid the ceaseless Joseon advance, cannon fire boomed from beyond the infantry. Something sliced the blue sky.
It bounced a few times without burying in the dirt, rolling right up to the commander’s horse. A cannonball, head-sized. Too big for field battles—siege stuff.
Hiss……!
“Huh?”
The commander chuckled in disbelief at the oddity from the shell’s holes: white smoke leaking out.
Pfft!
As he grasped it and opened his mouth to yell retreat—
The shell erupted in white smoke. Then—
“……!”
The commander didn’t fully register it. Heat and flash exploded from the shell, and suddenly he lay staring at the sky.
“……!”
“……!”
“……!”
His ears rang like they were full of cicadas. Amid the tinnitus, only screams and shouts pierced through.
He struggled up to assess. His adjutant was right there, pale as death. He reached out for a hand up—but stared at his own arm ending at the elbow. Like a blunt meat chunk with jagged bone sprouting like bamboo.
Blood spurted in pulses, pain and shock stabbing his body.
“Kkh! Pff! Hack! Gack!”
Every breath spewed red blood mixed with soft organ bits. He collapsed again. The sky he glimpsed bled deeper red than any sunset.
“They really expect us to do this?”
“Yeah. Crown Prince’s orders.”
“Ah, fuck. Knew that prick rubbed me wrong from the start.”
“Watch it, or you’ll get done for lese-majeste. Mind your mouth.”
“What’s it matter? Even the king curses when no one’s around. Bet the Crown Prince’d say the same seeing this shit.”
“Shut up. Move out.”
“Yes, sir!”
Grumbling Jeong Yun-hui snapped to at her senior armored cavalryman’s word. She raised the taepyeongso at her waist to her lips, signaling the charge.
Screeeeech! Screeeeech! Screeeee!
Starting with Jeong Yun-hui’s armored cavalryman, the others blew their horns. The shrill notes filled the sky as hundreds of Joseon cavalry thundered toward the Oirat lines.
“Enemy attack! Enemy cavalry! Prepare!”
“Crazy bastards!”
“They’re announcing it themselves! Idiots!”
The Oirats sneered at the horn-blaring horsemen and formed defenses: shields to block charges, spears to skewer, bows to pin down.
“Whoa! They’re shooting arrows!”
“Heads down!”
“Fuck! Gods help us!”
Arrows whistled through the air; the armored cavalrymen ducked. But their eyes stayed fixed ahead.
“Like we trained! Just like training!”
Jeong Yun-hui, who’d griped till takeoff, led the charge. But before spears connected, she wheeled her mount.
“……!”
Her eyes met an Oirat soldier’s through a shield gap. He sneered; she leveled her flintlock musket right back.
Bang!
Finger-sized lead balls and white smoke erupted from her muzzle. Shields stopped arrows and powder smoke, but not bullets.
“Urk?!”
“Aaaagh!”
Multiple rounds preloaded dropped two at once. Satisfied, Jeong Yun-hui left the rest to her comrades and peeled off.
Bang! Boom! Bang! Bang!
Joseon armored cavalry fired muskets at standoff range and withdrew. Each time, two or three Oirats crumpled.
“Fall back! Retreat!”
The hit-and-run complete, the cavalry swung back the way they came. It was just the first pass—not the last.