Chapter 178: The Prelude to the Decisive Battle (Part 2)

“It’s the sound of Chinese artillery! Yes, it’s Chinese artillery.”
Almost as soon as the gunfire began, several Europeans in suits couldn’t contain their excitement: “It’s war! It’s war!”
Though they weren’t in military uniforms, anyone could sense the warrior’s spirit in them—exemplified by the elite of Britain.
The British Army was like a two-faced coin: the excellence of its rank and file and mid-to-low-level officers contrasted with the stagnation of the upper ranks. Yet these officers who had experienced the Crimean War stood somewhere in between.
Having fought in the Crimean War, they knew how old their credentials were. These military officers no longer served in colonies for high salaries like younger officers, but they still felt those salaries were well-deserved.
In the Tokyo area, they hadn’t yet seen a single stray bullet, but thanks to the highest battlefield salaries, special allowances, and overseas service benefits, plus the French’s extreme enthusiasm upon their arrival, each of them received generous gifts.
On one hand, they were sent to the Tokyo area as observers, but on the other, they represented England as a third party to negotiate with both sides. France had to show its enthusiasm for England through repeated banquets.
The French didn’t want Britain to send troops to Annam, but they also didn’t want the British to back down completely. They were testing Britain’s limits in an attempt to reach an agreement acceptable to both sides.
So when the British suggested going to the front lines to see for themselves, they always said, “There are no major battles, no good battles… Today, we’ve organized another welcome dance for our dear military officers and observers.”
The situation at the front lines was a complete disaster. The mighty French army had been utterly defeated by these Eastern barbarians and could only huddle in their strongholds. If such news reached Hong Kong, who knew what reaction it would provoke.
Thus, these welcome dances had been held continuously for half a month. Finally, these middle-aged officers decided it was time to get some fresh air and fulfill their duties for their salaries.
“Everyone, keep working hard!”
They had no extra thoughts about the merciless bullets. Each of them had fought in countless battles and was a veteran who had survived the battlefield. If there was anything they feared, it was failure.
“Let’s see how shamefully the French behave,” one officer laughed. “It’s bound to be fascinating!”
“That’s right! It’ll definitely be fascinating. Since Napoleon, their army has been made up of women.”
After the Franco-Prussian War, the French army, once dominant across Europe, had become a laughingstock. Their defeat in Vietnam only added another topic of ridicule: “So these poor French women are now being raped by a bunch of barbarians…”
These officers, who always saw Britain as the center of the world, believed that the French had failed miserably in Vietnam not because their enemies were too strong, but because the French fought poorly.

The lavish feasts and receptions that lasted most of a month further confirmed their views on how degenerate these poor French people were. In Britain, they would welcome a group of soldiers with a bloody rugby match, but these French people had nothing noteworthy beyond drinking. They lacked even the slightest courage; every French officer they encountered feared the Black Flag Army. They claimed to be fighting against hundreds of thousands of barbarians, and some of them could even tolerate the enemy approaching Hanoi. “Understand the tactics of the Black Flag Army and crush them completely!” That was their only thought. For British observers and military officers, it was a pleasant trip, but for Japanese spies, it was a painful experience. In that era, spying was often a voluntary occupation for the Japanese, especially those sent abroad, who faced both hardships and dangers. No intelligence agency could provide enough funds to cover the high expenses of spies, so all overseas spies had to take up second jobs to support themselves, often working as small shopkeepers to raise money and pursue their dreams. As such a spy, Kenzo Shirai was drifting on the Red River, racking his brains to find a solution. The Black Flag Army, which had risen in northern Vietnam, had attracted the attention of the emperor himself. There were already over a dozen books on the Franco-Vietnamese war in Japan, but military and civilian leaders believed they did not know enough about the Black Flag Army and needed more intelligence. However, Japan’s intelligence network focused mainly on Korea and mainland China; Vietnam was not a priority. Before the war, only a few merchants had come here, and after the war, aside from intelligence from third parties, they had nothing significant to report. Even neighboring regions like Yunnan, Guangxi, and Guangdong received little attention from the Japanese. To secure these areas, they sent a certain number of spies to turn these previously unknown regions into well-understood backyards. A key reason the Japanese army was able to defeat the Qing army in history was their excellent intelligence work—they knew the Qing army better than their opponents, with top-notch spies stationed in every part of the empire. Now, faced with the new situation, they hastily sent dozens of spies and had to implement an extensive support plan as an exception. Kenzo Shirai was in charge of the Annam team. He was not a veteran spy but a bankrupt merchant sent there to turn things around due to his connections with the military. He knew Vietnamese, French, and Chinese—skills rarely found among the Japanese, while the other spies sent to Vietnam at most knew some Vietnamese or French.

But Kensan Shirai sat there with a blank expression, not resembling a seasoned spy at all. A few old hands accustomed to dealing with easy marks on the ship had already set their sights on this fat target and were playing cards closely beside him. The game was terrible, yet this man won huge sums of money. Many easy marks were caught this way, but Shirai remained expressionless, unmoved. It seemed he didn’t realize that the stakes in these games were often in the hundreds of guan. In fact, the money he brought with him far exceeded what those scammers could have imagined. He had taken with him the entire budget of the Vietnamese team—besides a few dozen silver coins, there were also 9,000 Black Flag notes purchased at a high price from Shanghai, 20,000 francs, 7,000 pounds, and even 8,000 dollars. It was a vast fortune, yet he narrowed his eyes as if such games meant nothing to him. The gamblers also found it quite boring; this fat target seemed like an old hand in the game, and their tricks had already been seen through. They realized they could only make one last attempt. The man who had won tons of Black Flag notes and francs suddenly stood up, grabbed Shirai’s hand, and said, “Brother, let me use your hand for a moment. If I lose, it’s on me; if I win, it’s yours.” He didn’t even wait to pick up the money on the table before rushing out. But Shirai remained motionless, not even bothering to look up. Seeing that this man wouldn’t budge, the scammers knew their efforts were in vain and packed up, ready to target someone else: “He’s quite an old hand.” But they didn’t see the painful expression on Shirai’s face—something no old hand would show. His face was filled with pain, hesitation, and fear. He even glanced at the river but lacked the courage to jump in. Before those scammers could even act, all the money he carried had been stolen by a Japanese thief with a Kansai accent at the Haiphong dock, leaving him not even a few silver coins. At that time, Shirai thought he had met a kindred spirit—a fellow from his hometown, just two blocks away. They sang together, and the man even invited him to drink wine. He honestly told the ronin his intentions, only for the ronin to declare his loyalty to the empire right away. By the next day, Shirai found that half of his grand plan to serve his country had already been accomplished. He was a businessman who had gone bankrupt before; when disaster struck again, he was even more terrified than before. At least last time he had connections with the military, so he hadn’t lost everything. But now he was at his wits’ end. “Don’t just die like this…” Merchants who survived this chaotic era always had their own ambitions: “I can’t tell anyone about the loss of this money, but what should I do next?”

He immediately found an excuse for himself: “Colonel, since the war began, prices in the Tokyo area have soared, especially the franc and Black Flag currency, which have dropped rapidly, affecting the values of the pound and dollar. I need more funds to carry out intelligence work.” But his request for more funds might not be approved back home, and even if the funds arrived, he wouldn’t have enough left to even pay for food, let alone conduct intelligence operations or maintain such a spy network. “I must get money.” He was a businessman, not one of those delusional samurai: “Who can afford to pay?” He wasn’t sure whether the Black Flag Army’s focus was on Japan or how much they could pay, but suddenly he realized: “I can go to the French and the Black Flag Army.” This wasn’t treason—it was a temporary solution, a temporary compromise by a hero. He would become the greatest figure among all Japanese people: “I’m not selling intelligence; I’m asking what kind of intelligence they have they’re willing to sell to me at a loss.” Selling intelligence to Kenzō Shiraiki and even paying him money seemed incomprehensible, but in the world of intelligence, it was common. Intelligence wasn’t just about knowing what the other side had—it was sometimes also about “making the other side know what…” “This is a wise choice,” he thought of himself as clever. “As long as they offer a reasonable price, I’ll pass on all the intelligence they provide back to my country—that’s professional ethics in business.” “When judging historical figures, we shouldn’t make unfounded criticisms based on temporary or partial circumstances. Just like the great Kenzō Shiraiki, he and Mito were both the most outstanding talents of the Meiji era. Some criticized him for selling Japan’s interests, but after examining archives from various countries, including newly released French archives and Mr. Mito’s personal records, we came to the opposite conclusion.” “Both Mr. Shiraiki and Mr. Mito were men of great vision. He deeply understood the truth of human unity. He was the modern Nanoki Masashige—enduring humiliation to become an outstanding figure in modern East Asian history.” “We must view history comprehensively. Just as we understand Mr. Mito’s ‘Special Self-Defense Corps,’ we must consider the actual circumstances of the time and place to grasp the contributions and sacrifices he made for East Asian integration. Similarly, Kenzō Shiraiki was also a great historical figure.” Edo City, Kyushu Special Province Harmony Association, published in 1929, *As Great as Mr. Mito? A Commemorative Collection for Kenzō Shiraiki*
……
Such minor episodes didn’t affect the continuation of the battle. In fact, no one expected them to have such a profound impact on history. The fighting between the two sides continued. The Black Flag Army was no longer as unstoppable as at first, and the French had barely managed to organize a resistance line, engaging in fierce battles along it. After countless painful lessons, the French were forced to evolve their tactics, especially after receiving large quantities of small mortars and grenades from their home country. They fought back and forth with the Black Flag Army in intense battles.

Yet both sides were well aware that this was merely an opening battle, with the real action yet to come. The soldiers on both sides knew that whether it was a small skirmish or a decisive large-scale battle, every bullet was deadly. Liu Yu said to Liu Suiyun, “Order them to get ready to follow!”

In the past, although the Black Flag Army had experienced several fierce artillery battles, even crushing the French’ last hopes in the Shanxi campaign with intense fire, they rarely used dozens of large cannons in coordinated attacks. More often, they would deploy dozens of small mortars before sending in infantry. But today, they were determined to bring out all their resources—over a dozen types of artillery, from 100-mm mortars to 90-mm guns and Krupp field guns, including both domestically produced and captured or imported ones.

“Boom… boom…”

Even before the battle began, the French troops on the front lines were frantically calling for artillery support, having already heard the sound of the Hotchkiss 37-mm guns. Based on their historical experience, any force equipped with 37-mm guns must be among the Black Flag Army’s elite troops. Faced with such forces, one either launched a desperate full-scale attack to break through or turned to retreat. But now they found themselves in a dilemma: “Has the Black Flag Army gone mad? We need artillery support. Without it, we’ll withdraw.”

“Boom…”

Even this opening battle saw real gunfire—dozens of shells struck, collapsing the two forward gun towers. The infantry immediately seized the opportunity to attack and captured these two strongholds. “What if the French send reinforcements? Should we prepare a reserve force?” “No! I’ll wait for them to come out.”

…

Meanwhile, Erminga also made his first judgment: “We should supply bullets and shells to the front lines, but try not to move our mobile forces… Hmm, give them more ammunition.” “The front is in fierce combat and urgently needs our reinforcements.” “Destroying the Black Flag Army together with General Nigri is our best and wisest choice.”

Hearing this, Colonel Bissel nodded in agreement. “Exactly. We’ll launch an attack together with General Nigri. The situation ahead isn’t dire enough to cause collapse.” He still had great confidence in the defensive lines he had built. Though they had been severely damaged by the Black Flag Army’s onslaught, several key points remained under his control. As long as these points were held, the Black Flag Army could only launch a few fierce attacks, with limited real destructive power. More importantly, Major General Nigri’s entire brigade would soon arrive in Hanoi. With two infantry brigades advancing together, and the Black Flag Army failing to achieve anything beneath the city walls of Hanoi, it would be a godsend. After this battle, perhaps he wouldn’t have to take on these successive defensive tasks anymore? Thinking of this, Colonel Bissel suggested, “We should strive to end all our hardships with a glorious victory.” “I agree with you.”

The relationship between the two of them had always been pleasant, and General Gobat also had high hopes for their partnership.
“We will launch a counterattack at dawn the day after tomorrow, using a combined land and sea approach as recommended by Erminga. Hmm… he also advised me to be wary of the Black Flag Army’s pole mines, which I think is wise.”
To this point, it was unknown that the Black Flag Army possessed pole mines and had sunk several French ships, as the soldiers involved knew that if this became known back home, they would first face military court, especially since it was indeed an accidental incident.
According to their consistent account, it was the Chinese who gathered hundreds of cannons and ships for the bombardment. The French small fleet, after killing thousands of Black Flag Army soldiers and destroying dozens of cannons, unfortunately fell into an ambush, resulting in heavy losses.
However, before Erminga reminded him, Gobat had indeed overlooked this crucial point: “Compared to me, a sailor from the École Polytechnique, the top graduate of the Saint-Cyr Military Academy is indeed someone worth looking forward to.”