Chapter 145: Annihilation

The gunfire ahead intensified rapidly, growing into a torrential barrage that enveloped both sides’ positions in smoke. The Black Flag Army had not counterattacked in yesterday’s battle, but when they did move, it was with unstoppable momentum. Even from a great distance, General Bo Hua could clearly hear the thunderous sounds of combat.

One cannon was ordered to fire blindly, while the previously silent soldiers suddenly came to life. Their red trousers and black boots sank into the mud as the artillery troops moved almost at the forefront of the army, though they were soon overtaken by the infantry.

The Yellow Flag Army was now about 1,500 meters away—less than a few minutes of rapid marching to reach them. The French deployed their finest infantry battalion, two Annamese native infantry companies, along with six cannons, aiming to inflict maximum damage on the Black Flag Army.

Fighting raged at the front line, with several loud explosions heard every minute. Even through the bamboo groves, one could imagine the intensity of the battle. It seemed the Black Flag Army had concentrated all their artillery and ammunition to relentlessly bombard the Yellow Flag Army.

Through his telescope, Colonel Bisselle saw them occupying an uninhabited village marked on the map, engaged in combat with the Black Flag Army. He soon spotted the willow-leaf flag.

Through the telescope, he saw three willow-leaf flags, indicating that the Black Flag Army had deployed about three infantry regiments. But only one of these flags was so strikingly bright. Although many other regiments of the Black Flag Army also bore willow-leaf flags, the two leaves were merely secondary elements on their banners, signifying they were part of the Xi Liu Battalion.

Only this regiment had pure willow-leaf designs on its black flag, indicating it was the strongest and oldest infantry battalion of the Black Flag Army. He had a badpremonition.

In Hanoi, 200 French-Vietnamese troops had been utterly destroyed in front of that very flag, and the reinforcements sent to help also suffered heavy casualties under artillery fire. He would never forget that scene.

“Artillery! Fire on the unnamed village! At full speed!”

Under Colonel Bisselle’s orders, the six steel cannons immediately prepared to fire. Meanwhile, the French vanguard came under fire from the Black Flag Army’s flanks, along with several mortar shells.

Another flag! Another infantry regiment!

The French had grown accustomed to referring to the Black Flag Army’s infantry battalions as infantry regiments. Otherwise, they couldn’t explain to Paris why they couldn’t defeat an enemy with only a few infantry battalions despite having equal numbers of troops.

Though the French knew the Black Flag Army was composed of several infantry battalions organized as infantry regiments, they had become accustomed to calling their battalions “infantry regiments” in their reports sent home, while the Black Flag Army’s regiments were referred to as “infantry divisions” by them.

By now, even Major Bisselle was used to calculating troop strength with this sense of superiority: “Request artillery support from the naval forces—they’ve deployed four infantry regiments, four infantry regiments!”

Still, he was confident he could deal a heavy blow to the Black Flag Army. He could clearly see that the battle in the small village held by the Yellow Flag Army had reached a desperate intensity.

“The artillery is in position; they’ll fire as soon as the range is measured…”
Hearing this, Bissel finally felt relieved. Nearly six hundred soldiers from the Yellow Flag Army were defending the village ahead. Although the Black Flag Army had deployed the entire force of three infantry regiments—almost two thousand soldiers—they were still enough to hold the position for a while. Even without reinforcements, they should be able to hold out for two hours without issue.

The French infantry would only need another minute or two to arrive as reinforcements. But before that, the French would launch indiscriminate bombardment with their six steel cannons, focusing especially on the densely contested areas. Once the artillery bombardment ended, the French infantry would immediately follow up with an attack, driving the Black Flag Army out of the village and then having the Yellow Flag Army take their place at the front.

At the thought of this, Major Bissel felt he had the qualities to become a general. He lowered his head and said to an artillery lieutenant, “Fire quickly! Don’t worry about hitting your own troops—they’re well-prepared!”

But the artillery lieutenant, holding a periscope, shouted loudly, “Bad! They’re coming toward us!”

Major Bissel looked up. He could see clearly what was happening even without a telescope—the Yellow Flag Army was retreating. Groups of them left the unnamed village, abandoning their banners and retreating in disarray. It wasn’t just a small group; hundreds of Yellow Flag soldiers abandoned their banners and everything else and fled.

Good heavens! Colonel Bissel felt as if his heart would burst out of his chest. He saw disaster unfolding right before his eyes. Nearly six hundred Yellow Flag soldiers, nearly half a full infantry regiment, well-equipped and well-trained, had only held out for twenty minutes before collapsing under the Black Flag Army’s attack.

Fierce gunfire still echoed inside the village, but the Black Flag Army’s willow banners were already raised in the center of it. More and more Yellow Flag soldiers fled the village as time passed, with the French reinforcements, who were supposed to attack the Yellow Flag Army, right behind them.

They also saw large groups of Yellow Flag soldiers pouring out of the village and charging toward them. Though still about four or five hundred meters away, the reinforcements unconsciously slowed down. More and more Yellow Flag soldiers emerged, while Sima Tai watched with a sense of pride at the raised banners of the Xiliu Camp. No matter when, the Xiliu Camp had always been the best unit of the Black Flag Army.

George, the Greek adventurer who commanded the Yellow Flag Army, could no longer control his troops. More and more soldiers ignored his orders and rushed past him, their wills broken by the earlier battles. The Black Flag Army had invested heavily in him—using nearly twenty mortars of different calibers to bombard the village with hundreds of shells, turning it into a sea of fire. There was also a captured 65-mm cannon in action. This cannon had shattered the Yellow Flag Army’s morale; after each shot, their officers would shout, “That guy’s coming! That guy’s coming!”

Each shell could directly overturn the simple fortifications relied on by the Yellow Flag Army, causing heavy casualties among them. Meanwhile, numerous snipers and marksmen quickly targeted the Yellow Flag Army’s officers. With every minute of combat, the Yellow Flag Army’s morale faced increasing pressure. When the infantry launched their attacks, they fell into even greater terror. Although the Spencer rifles, grenades, and entrenching tools of the Xiliu Camp were highly effective in village battles, the small explosive charges used by the Black Flag Army terrified them. A small explosive charge weighing four kilograms, thrown as a grenade, could stun an entire squad of the Yellow Flag Army, and when used for breaching, it was even more devastating—four kilograms of explosives could blow up entire buildings, with the resulting shockwave knocking down nearby Yellow Flag soldiers as well. The terror didn’t stem solely from the Xiliu Camp; the other two new camps also performed excellently. They broke through walls and roofs to launch attacks, showing no inferiority to the older camps. This was the power of mobilization—the troops mobilized were all combat-ready. As the entire village was engulfed in fire, the Yellow Flag Army’s casualties grew heavier, and eventually, some of them retreated uncontrollably. Commander George raised his pistol and shouted, “Go back! Go back at once!” But the retreating soldiers ignored his orders. George wanted to enforce military discipline, but one of the deserters already raised his pistol, saying, “You foreigners fight them yourselves; they’re all Chinese.” George could only shoot into the air in despair, facing three powerful infantry battalions of the Black Flag Army. The soldiers retreated frantically out of the village. The French reinforcements who came to help shouted loudly and even fired into the air, but they were no match for the terrified Yellow Flag Army, which continued to retreat. It was a relatively narrow riverbank—enough to accommodate half a company at a time—but if these retreating soldiers overwhelmed the vanguard of the reinforcements, the consequences would be unimaginable. After a brief hesitation, Major Bisselle gave the order, “I order! The artillery to fire rapidly—aim at the deserters! I repeat, aim at the deserters!” “Fire rapidly! Aim at the deserters!” Although it deviated from the original plan, the French artillery still fired at their own troops. The ground shook violently as several cannons roared loudly. Right in front of the retreating Yellow Flag soldiers, several shells suddenly landed, causing massive casualties among them. Continuous artillery fire rained down on the riverbank. The French troops had formed into squares, with bayonets fixed, side by side. A French captain stood at the front, holding a pistol, and shouted orders at the Yellow Flag Army from afar, “Go back!” “Go back!” The French troops chanted this order in unison: “Go back!” Shells continued to explode on the riverbank, landing directly in the river and creating waves that drenched the retreating Yellow Flag soldiers. Behind them was the fierce assault of the Black Flag Army, to the left was the rushing river, to the right were intermittent shots from a Black Flag Army infantry battalion, and ahead were dense shells and bayoneted squares. The French officer shouted in Chinese, “Go back and fight… Infantry companies, remove the safety pins, get ready…”

Before the French forces opened fire in unison, a few soldiers from the Yellow Flag Army suddenly leaped into the river, but more of them ran towards the unnamed village, crying, under the bayonets of the enemy, with only a handful remaining where they were. Major Bissell watched this scene and finally breathed a sigh of relief: “Order the artillery to shift their focus and fire at the unnamed village—open indiscriminate fire.” But after just a dozen shells were fired, the Black Flag Army, which had already taken control of most of the village, began to counterattack. 82-mm and 65-mm mortars fired fiercely at the retreating French reinforcements, causing casualties. Near the temporarily set up artillery positions, several small mortar shells landed. Major Bissell glanced at the unnamed village, where the sound of gunfire was fading. He ordered loudly, “Order the rear guard company to provide cover, take in the Yellow Flag Army soldiers, and begin moving towards the Great Buddha Temple. The artillery shall cover the infantry’s retreat…” What greeted them were the curses of the Yellow Flag Army soldiers and bullets flying from unknown directions. On the other side of the battlefield, countless Yellow Flag banners were trampled underfoot; their corpses were everywhere, along with Yellow Flag soldiers kneeling and raising their hands in surrender. Commander George’s body, severely damaged, was hung at the entrance of the village. The remaining few Yellow Flag soldiers rushed back into the village in panic and were finally taken in by the rear guard company. “These worthless Yellow Flag Army soldiers are completely worthless!” Sima Tai said to the other two battalion commanders excitedly, “One regiment, a thousand men—gone in half an hour, not a single one escaped.” This was clearly an exaggeration. Thirty-six minutes had passed since the bombardment began, and nearly 200 Yellow Flag Army soldiers had escaped. This was due to the promises made by the French, allowing one of their commanders to take control of more than one company. Under difficult circumstances, he managed to lead these troops to retreat in an orderly manner amidst the gunfire, rather than collapsing in chaos like at the beginning, which is why they were captured by the French rear guard. Nevertheless, the Yellow Flag Army, once considered highly combat-effective, was utterly defeated in this battle. In just half an hour, they and their commander were almost completely wiped out. On the other side of the front line, the French were also celebrating their victory. Major Bissell added a perfect conclusion to Major Pohue’s record of service in Annam: “General, four Black Flag Army infantry regiments, along with sixty to seventy cannons, launched a simultaneous attack on the Yellow Flag Army. The Yellow Flag Army fought bravely to the end under difficult conditions, inflicting heavy casualties on the enemy…” “Based on what I saw with my own eyes, at least a quarter of the 8,000 enemy soldiers involved in the battle at the unnamed village were killed. The Yellow Flag Army made outstanding contributions,” said Major Bissell, shaking Major Pohue’s hand tightly and letting out a long sigh as he looked at the bearded Frenchman. “Although the Yellow Flag Army suffered heavy losses, the enemy suffered even more.” “How many casualties did the Yellow Flag Army have?” After careful consideration, Bissell finally decided to report the truth: “540 soldiers participated in the battle, and 170 are still under my care.”

“Excellent! This is the best news I’ve received during my service in Annam!” Major Boisgelin said, shaking Major Bissel’s hand. “Major, after several tough battles, this is the first time we’ve managed to keep casualties under a thousand.”
“Yesterday, our casualties didn’t exceed six hundred, and today they’re no more than four hundred—this is a great improvement.” Major Boisgelin still held Major Bissel’s hand. “This is a significant achievement I leave behind for the colony.”
Indeed, since the Battle of Hanoi, France had suffered casualties of over a thousand in each of its two battles, sometimes even exceeding two thousand. Now, with Boisgelin keeping the figure under a thousand, it was excellent news for the French army.
In fact, the actual casualties were slightly over a thousand, an additional two hundred, and even among the troops withdrawing under the Yellow Flag, there were many seriously injured. But Boisgelin ignored all of this.
“This battle is over, and my service in Annam is temporarily at an end.” Under the twilight, General Boisgelin glanced at the Danphong position in the distance. “Major, I hope you’ll volunteer for the most difficult task.”
“I’m at your service!”
Boisgelin looked at the land before him. “This is land we’ve won with our blood. Today, we’ve established three strong positions here that can accommodate an entire reinforced infantry battalion. Originally, according to our plan, we were to withdraw to Hanoi after the battle.”
“But Colonel Bissel disagreed; he didn’t want to retreat.”
“I know.”
Major Boisgelin nodded. “That’s why I’m entrusting this place to you. I hope you can hold out longer than the Yellow Flag troops, especially since you’re a hero who defended Hanoi to the death.”
Major Bissel replied without hesitation, “I will definitely hold this place.”
“I’ll provide you with two infantry companies, one artillery platoon, two cannons and 300 shells, one engineering platoon, one medical platoon, and four of the best native infantry regiments. Ah… and a warship will provide long-term support.”
“This is much better than my situation in Hanoi. But I hope to have the support of four cannons, as the enemy always brings countless cannons into battle whenever we fight.”
“No problem. This place is 15 kilometers from Hanoi and 20 kilometers from Shanxi. It’s the most important stronghold along the Red River and Shanxi road—won with the blood of countless soldiers!” Major Boisgelin expressed his hopes. “I hope you can achieve another such immortal feat.”
Since taking office, Boisgelin had made gradual progress, but the advancement could barely be described as significant. After three months of fighting near Hanoi, they had only advanced 15 kilometers to Danphong—still 20 kilometers away from Shanxi, or in other words, it took four months.
“As you wish.”
But General Boisgelin carried an even greater burden. “I hope to work with you again.”
“I hope the same.”
Losses are always sad, and the fate of the Yellow Flag troops was already clear to them.
On September 3rd, the main French forces withdrew from Danphong Village, but they left behind two battalions and strong positions centered around the Great Buddha Temple.

As the flood gradually receded, the Black Flag Army also withdrew. The flat landscape here was not a battlefield they preferred, so they suffered particularly heavy losses in this battle. The Black Flag Army lost 700 men in total, roughly equivalent to the complete destruction of two or three infantry battalions, with the two battalions in the front line suffering the most. They urgently needed to retreat to the rear for reinforcements. The Xiliu Battalion also suffered significant losses, but even Liu Yongfu did not expect the two newly formed infantry battalions to have such strong combat capabilities. Nevertheless, he was overjoyed to have completely defeated their long-time rival, the Yellow Flag Army. He went to the battlefield to see for himself—the Yellow Flag Army had indeed been routed, with hundreds of their corpses piled up throughout the village, along with many captives. Several of their commanders were even killed or captured. This filled him with immense joy.