Chapter 118: Ambush

Red River.
A group of soldiers from the Black Flag Army lay in ambush among the mangroves, waiting quietly for the enemy to appear.
The river flowed silently eastward, carrying away many dead branches and leaves, as well as the passing time.
The officers hid carefully deep in the woods, ready to strike at any enemy ship that appeared.
The scorching sun made the officers and soldiers long to jump into the river for some relief, but everyone knew it was just a dream.
Any carelessness could lead to fatal consequences. These days, the French warships had become especially aggressive, often venturing dozens of kilometers into the Black Flag Army’s territory to bombard any threatening targets.
The Black Flag Army fought back in kind, setting up several large and small cannons near the river and bringing out their only steam-powered gunboat. A few days ago, they engaged in a cannon battle—one bronze cannon was damaged, and one soldier died while another was injured. It wasn’t until land-based artillery arrived to support them that the French warships were forced to retreat.
Nevertheless, the Black Flag Army was at a disadvantage in battles on the water. Since then, the French warships had become even more brazen, even daring to break through the heavily guarded areas around Huaid Mansion to scout further afield.
However, reconnaissance on land was different from naval battles. At sea, French cruisers and ironclads could face any enemy warship without fear, but on the narrow river, any weapon could inflict fatal damage on the crew of the warships—after all, the narrow waters put them within range of rifles.
The sun grew hotter, and the sound of cicadas grew louder. Captain Deng Shichang’s forehead was covered in sweat, but he didn’t dare wipe it away. His gaze at the river showed intense desire.
“Captain!” A young officer handed him a water bottle obtained from the Xiliu Camp. “It’s strange—we set out at the same time yesterday.”
“Wait!” Captain Deng said little. “As long as we win this battle, Commander Liu will surely remember your name.”
The officer smiled and lowered his voice. “As long as we go out, we’ll make them suffer.”
To prepare for this ambush, Captain Deng had invested heavily, borrowing Remington and Snider rifles from other units. Now, he had all these breech-loading guns, along with two 60-mm mortars borrowed from the Xiliu Camp and 200 grenades—essentially betting everything on this mission.
But once they reached the ambush site, they realized the scorching sun was unbearable. The water bottles they had filled beforehand were almost empty. “This weather is really tough.”
Complaining, Captain Deng felt his back about to split, but he knew he couldn’t retreat. It would be too humiliating to go back in defeat.
Still, they were too close to Hanoi. Even though there were reinforcements two kilometers away, they couldn’t stay too long. Looking up at the blinding heat, he finally said, “Keep waiting.”
Yet, the expected patrol ships never arrived. The soldiers felt their throats burning. Even hiding in the mangroves, the humid tropical weather drove them crazy.

Deng Shichang’s eyebrows furrowed. Other units had also engaged in ambush battles like this, and it was said they had killed or wounded many French soldiers. But none of them had operated so close to Hanoi as he had—after all, not far away lay a fortress manned by a mixed force of French and Yellow Flag troops.
“Wait longer!” he decided. “We must catch a big fish today.”
Yet the weather remained scorching. He handed his water bottle to a bodyguard, signaling him to risk fetching some water. But before the bodyguard could set off, he crouched down, and the soldiers’ spirits lifted.
It’s coming!
They could already hear the roar of the engines. Captain Deng shouted, “Tell the third platoon—no matter how many French soldiers come, hold your ground!”
The soldiers began loading their bullets, removing the caps from their grenades, and the two 60-mm mortars were ready to fire.
But the French patrol boats, which usually arrived quickly, were surprisingly slow today. It took over ten minutes before Captain Deng could clearly see the patrol fleet.
So many!
There were four French warships—only half of his target. He knew full well that his firepower couldn’t give him an absolute advantage over the French ships, especially since he commanded a reduced infantry company, with another platoon needed to provide support, making him even more vulnerable.
“Ready!”
The French Navy also detested such patrol missions. Their existing gunboats were outdated and had too deep a draft, making it difficult to navigate the winding rivers and rapids. Moreover, the narrow rivers left personnel and equipment entirely within range of light weapons on the banks.
But General Bo Hua’s orders forced them to conduct thorough reconnaissance of the Black Flag Army’s strongholds. After several casualties, they became more cautious. Instead of keeping their ships close together as before, the French now formed a single-file line, with a distance of one or two hundred meters between ships, and about six or seven hundred meters between the four ships.
This way, even if ambushed, only one ship would be attacked while the others could bombard the enemy from a safe distance. But Deng Shichang wasn’t greedy—sinking one French ship would be enough.
The French remained very cautious. Even though these dozens- or hundreds-of-ton gunboats were equipped with 90-mm naval guns and 65-mm cannons, they still feared relentless gunfire from both banks. At such bends, they were even more careful, advancing three steps and then retreating three. But Captain Deng was a patient hunter. He believed that under such heat, everyone wanted to complete the mission as soon as possible.
After several attempts, Lightning finally lost patience. After all, it was only two kilometers from Hanoi—the Black Flag Army couldn’t have penetrated this far. So the engine roared to life, splitting the waves, and a stunning maneuver unfolded before Captain Deng’s eyes.
The ships behind him also accelerated. Watching Lightning turn the corner, they sped up as well. But the next moment, they slowed down, seemingly sensing something.
Captain Deng no longer cared about that. He shouted, “Fire!”

The rifles in the soldiers’ hands—whether Sniders, Remingtons, or the French 1874 or 1878 models—now had their barrels raised and aimed at the people on the deck.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!” Even before the intense gunfire started, two 60-mm mortars came into action. Showing no mercy, a mortar shell exploded on the deck, injuring several crew members.
Then came the real action. Almost simultaneously with another mortar shell hitting the water and creating waves, the Black Flag troops threw grenades onto the deck, killing and wounding many of those exposed there.
Almost at the same time, another scene unfolded. A young officer shouted, “It’s our turn!”
He lifted the bamboo pole he had prepared with both hands, while the fuse was lit. At the top of the seven- to eight-meter-long pole was a four-kilogram explosive pack.
He jumped forcefully into the small boat, with the soldiers behind him rowing hard: “Hurry!”
The fuse wouldn’t wait. All four double-person boats were armed in this way, rowing swiftly toward the Lightning. At the top of each pole was a four-kilogram explosive pack.
The Lightning also began its counterattack at that moment. Though rifle bullets came from all directions and mortar shells exploded above them, the French Navy also launched a counterattack, using 90-mm and 65-mm guns to bombard the defending positions.
However, their firing rate was not satisfactory, and many gunners had already been killed or wounded. The three warships behind them could only see smoke rising above, and behind the turn was their own Lightning. Fearing to hit their own men, they fired very cautiously, resulting in all their first rounds missing.
“Collision!”
Deng Shichang immediately saw a small explosive pack being pushed onto the deck. Then the small boat rowed desperately upward through the gunfire, almost colliding head-on with the Lightning. A huge explosion erupted on the Lightning, blowing away half of its deck. The triumphant officer threw aside the broken bamboo pole and roared twice into the air.
Then there were three more violent explosions. Unfortunately this time, two explosive packs exploded about one meter away from the Lightning. The massive shockwaves overturned one of the boats, while another exploded near the front cabin. Even at such close range, the explosions caused severe damage to the Lightning.
Now, almost no one was left alive on the surface of the Lightning, but one 65-mm gun was still fighting back desperately. Seeing this, the triumphant officer shouted, “Get closer!”
He then threw two grenades, causing another explosion on the deck. Only then did he grab the oars and shout, “Go!”
The French patrol ships also reacted, their gunfire becoming more threatening. In the south, intense gunfire could be heard—the infantry sent to reinforce were blocking the French forces. Seeing that the Lightning was still fighting, Captain Deng had no choice but to give up on capturing it: “Go!”

The gunfire grew more intense. Finally, a warship approached the Lightning under the fire of the Black Flag Army, but the Lightning was already severely damaged—there was a huge hole in its bow, and the deck was piled with corpses and wounded. Many more bodies floated on the river, and just by seeing those red breeches, one could tell the scale of their own casualties.

But aside from firing a few 90-mm shells at the Mangroves and then going to rescue the Lightning, they couldn’t do much. If the enemy could deal a blow to the Lightning, they could deal one to them as well. After such heavy damage, the Lightning would likely be unable to set sail for a month or two, and its crew would also suffer heavy losses. The river was now red with blood, not to mention the Lightning’s deck, which was a mess of flesh and blood.

Not far away, although the Black Flag Army faced significant trouble in retreating and lost over a dozen men, the hundred or so French and Yellow Flag troops chasing them also didn’t fare well. Huang Shouzhong had specifically arranged for a company to support Deng Lian.

Captain Deng firmly patted the young officer standing at the bow, throwing grenades at the Lightning: “Yi Shui, you did great this time!”

Lieutenant Yi was also a typical troublemaker. He opened his water bottle and took a satisfying drink. “This is the feeling I like. After this fight, the French will probably be quiet for another half month.”

Although the French had many inland patrol boats, no one could withstand such constant attacks, especially on such a narrow waterway as the Red River. “We can even blow them up with grenades from the shore—how satisfying!”

Sergeant Deng then remembered another thing: “You! With your love for water, I agree—let him go! Send him to the Water Camp to have a good fight with the French gunboats.”

Yi Shui smiled happily and poured water over his head. “We just love water. I heard the Water Camp has similar explosive boats, only more advanced. After today’s battle, Commander Liu will surely remember my name. I’ll take charge there on my own.”

Sergeant Deng laughed. “You’re my old subordinate. Once you go there, you’ll definitely take charge. By the way, those boats in the Water Camp are called ‘pole bombs,’ and they’re said to be similar to yours.”

……

“The Lightning is severely damaged?”

Upon hearing this news, Liu Yu was extremely excited. “That’s like cutting off a hand from the French! Right, verify it immediately.”

Soon, confirmation came from internal sources in Hanoi—the Lightning was indeed heavily damaged by the Black Flag Army. A few more explosive charges might have sunk it on the spot.

Even so, with two-thirds of the crew dead or wounded, the warship needed to return to the factory for major repairs. It was said that even with Haiphong’s repair capabilities, it would be difficult to fix the ship, and it might have to be sent to Hong Kong or Saigon for months of repairs.

The French were furious and fired artillery at the Mangroves all afternoon, almost leveling them. Then, Bo Hua ordered a company of French troops to be sent from Haiphong, seemingly planning to launch an offensive.

“We will wipe out the Black Flag bandits entrenched upstream in the Red River in early July!”

The indigenous infantry in Hanoi also intensified their training. Boshui planned to use these indigenous troops as cannon fodder, but even as cannon fodder, they couldn’t be as weak and easily manipulated as they were now.
“Come on!” Liu Yu was equally unafraid of Boshui’s challenge. “You only have about three thousand troops now. Let’s see how you handle this.”
“Not to mention the scorching sun above,” Liu Yu grew even more confident. “I welcome any challenge.”
After reorganizing, the Black Flag Army now numbered six thousand men. No matter what kind of challenge Boshui posed, he would have to leave some troops behind in Hanoi. That way, it would be relatively easier for him to deal with the situation. Yet Liu Yu was aiming for a perfect annihilating battle.