POD #1: Qingpu, China, August 2nd, 1860
A bullet whizzed past Frederick Townsend Ward's head just as he stepped past this small garrison post's main gatehouse. It came so close he could feel a bit of his hair get trimmed off.
But he had expected this ambush. Now it was all just execution on his part. He drew his revolver, a Colt Dragoon, and began firing back at the Taiping troops trying to scurry behind cover to reload.
The other troops behind him, a motley mixture of deserters from the British Navy, American, Filipino and Irish soldiers of fortune and unemployed Frenchmen, had dived for cover as a hail of rebel musket balls flew towards them. They only returned fire slowly and sporadically, most of them desperately attempting to find a way out.
"I SHALL NOT ALLOW ANY MAN UNDER MY COMMAND TO BE A COWARD! FORM UP AND CHARGE!" Ward threw his now empty revolver to the side and drew another identical weapon from its holster, continuing to fire as ran right at the Taiping troops covering behind the walls of their barracks. As he got closer, he drew a bowie knife and a hatchet from his belt, hacking and slashing with wild abandon.
Inspired by the heroics of their leader, the 250 man Foreign Army Corps surged forward into the main courtyard, firing wildly before closing in with knives, axes, swords, bayonets and clubs. The rebels, backed into a corner, fought back desperately. One by one, Ward's force began to shrink, but for every one that fell, 4 or 5 rebels fell along with them.
The rebels began to give ground, retreating from the barracks and stables into the fort's main hall.
"Macanaya! They're shooting from our left! Take some firebombs and burn them out! Mr. Burgevine, take your men and follow me!"
Macanaya, Ward's Filipino adjutant, sprinted across the courtyard towards towards a small temple in a corner of the fort. The burlap sack he carried on his shoulders was filled with bottles of lamp oil. Other troopers nearby sprayed the temple with bullets from revolvers and rifles to keep the enemy's head down.
With a mighty heave and a crash of glass, the temple went up in a smoky plume of fire as Macanaya jogged back towards his positions.
Henry Burgevine, Ward's Executive Officer, rallied a couple platoons of men and charged towards the main hall. They took heavy fire from the remaining Taiping troops but quickly managed to close the distance. The struggle was brutal, but after an hour or so of fighting, the guns fell silent and blades were lowered.
By the end of the day, Qingpu would be under the control of Imperial Chinese forces.
"I think I have a future here", Ward thought to himself aloud as he surveyed the burning ruins of the garrison fort from the top of the walls.
"A very bright one indeed."
A bullet whizzed past Frederick Townsend Ward's head just as he stepped past this small garrison post's main gatehouse. It came so close he could feel a bit of his hair get trimmed off.
But he had expected this ambush. Now it was all just execution on his part. He drew his revolver, a Colt Dragoon, and began firing back at the Taiping troops trying to scurry behind cover to reload.
The other troops behind him, a motley mixture of deserters from the British Navy, American, Filipino and Irish soldiers of fortune and unemployed Frenchmen, had dived for cover as a hail of rebel musket balls flew towards them. They only returned fire slowly and sporadically, most of them desperately attempting to find a way out.
"I SHALL NOT ALLOW ANY MAN UNDER MY COMMAND TO BE A COWARD! FORM UP AND CHARGE!" Ward threw his now empty revolver to the side and drew another identical weapon from its holster, continuing to fire as ran right at the Taiping troops covering behind the walls of their barracks. As he got closer, he drew a bowie knife and a hatchet from his belt, hacking and slashing with wild abandon.
Inspired by the heroics of their leader, the 250 man Foreign Army Corps surged forward into the main courtyard, firing wildly before closing in with knives, axes, swords, bayonets and clubs. The rebels, backed into a corner, fought back desperately. One by one, Ward's force began to shrink, but for every one that fell, 4 or 5 rebels fell along with them.
The rebels began to give ground, retreating from the barracks and stables into the fort's main hall.
"Macanaya! They're shooting from our left! Take some firebombs and burn them out! Mr. Burgevine, take your men and follow me!"
Macanaya, Ward's Filipino adjutant, sprinted across the courtyard towards towards a small temple in a corner of the fort. The burlap sack he carried on his shoulders was filled with bottles of lamp oil. Other troopers nearby sprayed the temple with bullets from revolvers and rifles to keep the enemy's head down.
With a mighty heave and a crash of glass, the temple went up in a smoky plume of fire as Macanaya jogged back towards his positions.
Henry Burgevine, Ward's Executive Officer, rallied a couple platoons of men and charged towards the main hall. They took heavy fire from the remaining Taiping troops but quickly managed to close the distance. The struggle was brutal, but after an hour or so of fighting, the guns fell silent and blades were lowered.
By the end of the day, Qingpu would be under the control of Imperial Chinese forces.
"I think I have a future here", Ward thought to himself aloud as he surveyed the burning ruins of the garrison fort from the top of the walls.
"A very bright one indeed."
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