The Decisive Battle Toward a Brief Finale (1)
The Beiyang Army's General Headquarters stood in Zhili Province.
The conference room seemed torn from the lavish Western interior that enclosed it—Indian carpets and European curtains draped every wall—and a heavy silence filled the chamber.
"Yingkou... has fallen?"
"That is not all. Every fortress and city along the road to Shenyang has already fallen, and our forces in Liaodong are in full retreat."
Yingkou had fallen. This was not merely the loss of one port among the empire's countless cities. Yingkou was the mouth of Liaodong, the city that held the balance so that Manchuria and Liaodong—pressed against the Far Eastern rim of the continent—could sit level with North China's sphere of influence.
"Good God."
Li Hongzhang, Minister of Beiyang, clutched his dry, crumbling face and pressed his fingers to his brow. A groan escaped him. His head throbbed.
"The situation is grave, Your Excellency. French expeditionary movements are already increasing markedly along every front, and the Korean army—which we expected would founder on its supply problems—is gathering straight toward Shenyang."
"Time is short, Your Excellency."
Defeat reports poured in from every quarter, and the generals murmured among themselves. Through that unrest, staff officers of the Beiyang Army urged their colleagues to look the present in the face and took command of the table. Under their hands the empire's theaters unrolled before the room.
Figurines stood at their posts across the tactical map. But every piece on Taiwan and Liaodong—imperial territory—lay on its side, and in their place the red markers of the Korean army were tightening around Manchuria and Liaodong by degrees. Across both theaters, the imperial army was falling back.
And the blue sea? Conditions there were every bit as dire.
The Beiyang Fleet, pride of the Great Qing and the very existence of the Beiyang Army itself, had taken fright at the fierce movements of the French Far East Squadron—which had seized Taiwan and mastered the entire west coast—and now hesitated to leave the Shandong Peninsula. The southern and Fujian fleets had been annihilated long ago.
Beneath that, another red tide was rolling in: the French expeditionary divisions, quiet for a time. An officer clutching a telegram from the defense authorities sighed; the long rest on the Indochina Peninsula's frontier was over at last, and the French were advancing on Yunnan and Guangdong. Without a word he added three or four figurines south of the border.
"Exact numbers are unknown, but roughly thirty thousand have already crossed the river."
"Heavens."
A Banner general with his roots in Liaodong seized the communications officer's arm, his face wild, spit flying.
"L-Lushun? We still have Lushun, don't we? If we send a relief force at once, we might still rally the remnants—"
"General Xucheng, Lushun fell long ago! The Korean army already holds all of Liaodong!"
"B-but if we abandon Liaodong like this..."
It was Nie Shicheng who rescued the flustered communications officer. With a glance he sent the young man far from the table, took the pointer himself, and laid out the state of Liaodong with unsparing clarity.
"Gentlemen, the only way our forces can relieve Liaodong now is a large-scale dispatch of reinforcements. We need full-strength divisions to build a proper defensive line and stabilize the theater."
Even so, more than a few in the room remained stunned—stunned that they were being beaten day after day, and that Empress Dowager Cixi and the imperial princes had placed their bets behind everyone's backs, only to be cleaned out by the Koreans. If they had had that kind of leisure, why not transfer the matter to Zhili Headquarters? What business did the Zongli Yamen have dispatching troops to Liaodong on its own, without so much as a resolution?
Did Cixi and her clique have not a shred of respect for Zhili Headquarters and the Beiyang Army?
"If Shenyang falls into their hands, the enemy will push into Liaoxi. Then the whole of North China enters their range! You must decide, Your Excellency!"
"Frankly, communications with the Manchurian theater have been cut for a long time. The Eight Banners and the hired mercenaries have each gone looking for their own way to live and broken contact with us of their own accord, and the cities and villages that were still holding out raised the white flag a month ago!"
"What the hell has the Forbidden City been playing at?!"
What burst out at last was denunciation grounded in rank and blood. Han officers—men from Zuo Zongtang's Xiang volunteers and the Xiang Army, the New Army faction—led the charge against the Forbidden City.
"They're making us take the fall, Your Excellency! You must not be drawn into Cixi's scheme of handing over full command of the Liaodong theater! Refuse her firmly, and do not intervene until punishment of those responsible is promised!"
"The moment they ignored this headquarters' will and ordered independent operational authority and troop movements, it was already too late even if we refuse Cixi's commands! We must reclaim Liaodong command for Zhili Headquarters now and strike back!"
"Have you all gone mad?! Even if Cixi and the Forbidden City princes are checking us, our territory is being trampled and our people slaughtered! And you talk of responsibility—of a struggle for the initiative—instead of a plan to drive the enemy out!"
"Treason!"
As feeling ran hotter between the two sides, nothing but raw abuse flew from either camp.
"If you love the people so much, go to Liaodong right now!"
"You insolent Xiang militia scraps, swelling with pride just because you received the nation's grace!"
"What? You swine of Manchus!"
Li Hongzhang, unable to endure it any longer, stepped in. However little Beijing's will made sense, they were this country's military officers. If the court had given an order, their first duty was to find a way to defend the nation—not to raise objections.
"Enough!!!"
The thunderclap of his voice stilled the excited assembly. He drew a breath.
"All of you, that's enough. I know perfectly well how grave this is without you wearing your mouths out."
At the Minister of Beiyang's command, the room closed its mouths. A moment later, among men who would only watch one another, Li Hongzhang singled out the chief of staff.
"Chief of Staff. As things stand, can we directly control our forces in the Liaodong theater from Zhili?"
The man trembled briefly where he stood, then stepped forward. He stared at the tactical map for a long time before answering, with difficulty.
"I believe it is impossible, Your Excellency."
"Why?"
"Since the fall of Taiwan, the activity of the French Far East Squadron has increased enormously. Split into two squadrons along the island's north-south axis, they are checking the Beiyang Fleet isolated on the Shandong Peninsula while, together with the dispatched fleet of the United States, they watch the southern waters. Conditions are far too poor for Headquarters to support Liaodong by sea."
"Hrm..."
In the extreme, the means of supporting Liaodong were already fixed. In truth, any approach by sea had been plagued with difficulties since three years before the war began. Li Hongzhang tapped North China with a fingertip.
"A large-scale relief expedition overland?"
"Ah—under consultation among the Forbidden City, the princely households, and the Zongli Yamen, I last saw a relief force of some thirty thousand being organized."
"That won't be enough."
He shook his head with a stubborn set to his face, his expression hardening. The Korean army he had hypnotized himself into dismissing as nothing special had already committed a hundred thousand men to Liaodong. And the unknown reach of their capacity to mobilize was more than enough to plant fear in him.
After a long silence of deliberation, the Minister of Beiyang opened his mouth slowly.
"It seems we'll have to move the Beiyang Army."
"But, Your Excellency."
Nie Zhichao, who had been watching in silence, stepped forward.
"The moment the Beiyang Army leaves Zhili Province, every movement on our side will be laid bare to the French Far East Squadron conducting armed reconnaissance at sea. If that happens—"
"The French expeditionary divisions that have only been probing Yunnan and Guangdong will drive north in earnest. Damn it all."
At the advice of Nie Zhichao—who had dragged out a war against the French in Taiwan for a full two years—Li Hongzhang stared grimly toward Jiangnan. The empire was under threat. From every direction.
"But the moment Shenyang falls into Korean hands, the threat of this war will no longer be merely a matter of France's existence as a great power. The moment Shenyang falls, the empire's greatest enemy will be Korea."
The officers nodded readily. As the Minister of Beiyang said, Shenyang was a vital stronghold among strongholds—in symbol, in politics, and in arms.
Staring at the map, Li Hongzhang let out a long breath and muttered.
"I cannot go before His Majesty and plead for another flight from the capital."
Flight from the capital. Two short words, but the weight they carried was anything but light. Everyone closed his mouth under that heavy shock. After brooding, Li Hongzhang spoke at last.
"Those damned Koreans are pressing us hard, but if we think calmly, they have faced nothing more than husk-like Green Standard troops and a portion of the Manchu Eight Banners. Their rear may be quite heavy—but their supply lines have grown just as long."
He traced the straight road running from Liaodong down the peninsula with his index finger and explained to the officers.
"If we dispatch reinforcements to Shenyang in time, and can settle the hearts of the Liaodong army within a range we can control, the defense of Shenyang is not impossible."
In the end they came back to the heart of the matter. The court needed to send reinforcements to calm a Liaodong thrown into chaos by successive defeats, and further to restore administrative order so the theater could be properly grasped. And the essential condition for that was the presence of capable generals and commanders.
As if he had made up his mind, the Minister of Beiyang turned to the two veteran generals who had barely come back alive from Taiwan, his face apologetic.
"I am afraid I must ask a great favor of you two Generals Nie."
"You need only give the order."
"That you would grant a defeated general another chance—I am overwhelmed."
Both men accepted without hesitation. Their two-year struggle had ended in defeat, but no one in that room had more experience of clashing directly with a great power's army, and both generals were burning to avenge the loss.
"On the authority vested in this Headquarters and in the Minister of Beiyang, I hereby entrust the entire defense of Liaodong to you both. You will assume command of the thirty thousand relief troops prepared in Beijing and the twenty-one thousand of the Beiyang Army stationed in Zhili Province."
"Thank you."
"Shenyang is not merely a city on the border of Liaoxi and Liaodong. It is a rich supply depot, responsible for provisioning all our eastern territories and border fortresses—and it is a sacred site of the imperial house."
He laid his palm gently over the two characters written Shenyang, then went on.
"Compared with the city's north, where wealthy quarters have long taken shape and old mansions stand in rows, the south has urban blocks far too short to form a battle line."
Nie Shicheng answered the advice, seasoned as it was with experience.
"There won't be suitable ground to defend, then."
"But the city's north is different. If we develop street fighting around the maze of alleys and streets, our Beiyang Army—superior in firepower per battalion—can drive the enemy out to good effect."
"We abandon the walls and gates?"
"I expect we can hope for little from their defensive strength. Even when I was handling affairs in Beijing, Shenyang was merely a central city. Almost never did a proposal come up to fortify it like a border fortress."
Both men nodded in silence. If the Minister of Beiyang was right, it was better to give up the defense of southern Shenyang.
"Giving up the line so easily troubles me."
"But those thirty thousand from Beijing you'll command are a great army in name only. They'll be much the same as the ones the Koreans smashed to pieces in Liaodong. In the end, what you must trust is the Beiyang Army I raised with my own hands."
"And those elite troops number a mere twenty thousand. I understand."
Having at last arranged in his mind how the enemy was to be stopped, Nie Zhichao answered.
"Then, assuming we cannot prevent the destruction of Shenyang, we will draw the enemy deep into the city."
"In what manner?"
"We'll have to offer bait. Something large."
"I doubt those cunning Koreans will stab at Shenyang according to our intentions so easily."
"It's a great city of a full hundred and fifty thousand. If the enemy crosses the walls and charges into the south, they will inevitably trade a confused situation with their main body across a separated distance. To smash their vanguard through street fighting after they've entered from the south..."
Nie Zhichao swept the pointer this way and that across the tactical map.
"We deliberately leave the city's left flank open to be penetrated, then cut their center with a massive counterattack."
"That would buy us at least three days."
Nie Shicheng seconded the proposal. To his eye as well, Nie Zhichao's strategy was orthodox. An attacking army is most vulnerable at the moment it enters the walls. Even so, Nie Zhichao had his concerns.
"We can roughly estimate from intelligence and the testimony of stragglers that the enemy is receiving support from a large artillery train. But the most decisive reason Yingkou and Lushun fell was naval gunfire from the Far East Squadron. Shenyang may show a somewhat different result."
"Even so, we cannot precisely predict their advance and their intentions from the procession of defeats stretching south of Shenyang. Even if the two of us go, it seems premature to swear we can drive the Korean army from Liaodong to any real effect."
The two generals murmured together, setting their thoughts in order. Having found some ground they could share, they turned a request upon Li Hongzhang as well.
"During those three days, Your Excellency and the remaining Beiyang forces must show some other movement. Strengthen the defense of Ningyuan, or put Shanhaiguan in order. While we fight a fierce battle in Shenyang for at least three days, at most a week, and hold their ankles—you must make a decision and see this war through to its end."
In the end it was a demand that while they plugged the mouth of Liaoxi and held the Korean advance, he must stake everything on a single throw—whether in the south or at sea. At the inescapable fact that the final decisive battle, on which the end of the war hung, was drawing near, Li Hongzhang's face hardened. He answered with difficulty.
"It can't be helped. Very well."
"We are ashamed to ask it."
"Either we all drown in blood, or we delay the empire's suicide with a victory that leaves nothing but scars."
The air in the conference room sank. He did not want to admit it, but the empire's defeat was finally approaching. A defeat he did not want to believe in.
Only a feeble chorus of agreement wrapped the conference room.