Forty-one military merits!

“Matchlock guns? Impossible.”

Wei Guangde shook his head without a second thought when his father addressed him.

Come on, although he had never served in the military, the information explosion of later generations meant he had seen many things on television or the internet and was quite knowledgeable.

To end cavalry charges, it had to be the invention of the machine gun; only continuous firepower could suppress a cavalry charge.

Trying to defeat a cavalry charge with matchlock guns? The enemy cavalry would have to be incredibly foolish, charging straight into the muzzle. Whether it was a three-stage or five-stage volley, it wouldn't work.

Wei Guangde understood this well—he had seen it in later movies and TV shows, the Western “line-up firing” tactics where opposing sides fired at each other from a hundred or even several dozen meters, turning the battlefield into a haze of smoke.

What impressed Wei Guangde most, however, were the drummers in the phalanx formation. Soldiers advanced in unison to the rhythm of the drumbeats, moving with great precision.

“Father, you keep talking about what to do if we meet the Tatars, but what trouble have you actually encountered? Weren’t you all supposed to stay put and not go north anymore? The Tatars have even withdrawn beyond the Great Wall.”

Wei Guangde was puzzled. A few days ago, when his father and uncle discussed how infantry could break a cavalry charge, he had casually mentioned it, but he hadn’t expected the topic to come up again tonight.

The whole story, however, had never been revealed by Wei Meng or Wu Zhankui before, likely to avoid worrying the youngsters.

Although it was known within the Ming Empire’s capital elite circle that the emperor planned a northern expedition to retaliate against the Tatars, the news had not spread to the common folk, especially not to Jiangxi.

Even Nanjing’s knowledge of the matter was limited to logistical arrangements for the northern troops and the complex political relationship between the two capitals, so the information remained tightly contained.

“Could it be that the Tatars are coming again this year?”

Wu Dong seemed to have an epiphany, suddenly enlightened, and asked his father loudly.

Hearing this, Wei Guangde and Wei Wencai both showed worried expressions as they looked toward Wei Meng.

“It’s not what you think.”

Wu Zhankui felt uncomfortable under his son’s gaze for a moment.

“Uncle, what’s going on then?”

Wei Wencai hurriedly pressed, knowing his father’s reserved nature meant no amount of questioning would yield answers, so he hoped to learn something from his uncle instead.

“Alright, I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone outside, especially not your mother, understand?”

Wu Zhankui looked at his son and nephews, thinking it over briefly before speaking.

After seeing the three boys nod in agreement, he glanced at his brother-in-law and slowly revealed that the emperor planned a northern expedition this year to retaliate against the Tatars.

“The emperor is sending a massive army north to the steppes?”

Wu Zhankui hadn’t even finished his sentence before Wu Dong, Wei Wencai, and Wei Guangde were all stunned by the news.

The Tatars could already reach the capital, and yet the emperor was dispatching a large army northward to regain face.

Well, that ought to have some substance to it.

But the battlefield was on the steppes.

How could foot soldiers chase down the enemy’s cavalry?

Everyone in the room knew about the Tumubao disaster. Though far from the northern steppes, the thought of tens of thousands of capital garrison veterans buried far from home still sent chills down their spines.

Those were experienced soldiers, yet they all perished there.

Now, the troops the emperor was sending certainly wouldn’t be stronger than those.

No matter how surprised others were, Wei Guangde was racking his brain, recalling articles he had read, but he couldn’t remember any large-scale northern expeditions by the Ming army in the later period.

It seemed that after Tumubao, the Ming army had lost the ability to enter the steppes. Especially after abandoning the Hetao region, they lacked cavalry even more.

Don’t ask how Wei Guangde knew Hetao was abandoned; it was just a vague impression, with no knowledge of which emperor made the decision or why.

If he couldn’t recall any northern expeditions, what were they to do now?

After pondering, Wei Guangde roughly outlined the current situation in his mind. There were only two possibilities.

One: the expedition never actually happened; it was just a plan that died on the drawing board, which would explain why no historical records of it existed.

Wei Guangde felt this was the most likely scenario.

The other possibility was that the expedition did take place but yielded little result, so it was scarcely reported in later histories. It was unlikely to have been a major defeat, for such an event would surely not have been omitted from historical accounts.

Both possibilities existed, and it seemed that participating in this northern expedition wasn’t particularly dangerous.

However, the latter possibility still carried some risk. The absence of large-scale battles didn’t mean there wouldn’t be small skirmishes, which could incur casualties.

Well then, based on his judgment, Wei Guangde analyzed the situation further. Since there would be no large-scale frontal battles, and with no access to breech-loading cannons but plenty of matchlock guns, as long as the troops were well-trained, the danger wouldn’t be great. In fact, they might even earn some military merit.

That night, his parents were still debating whether to spend money to raise his official rank. For a military officer, battlefield achievements were naturally the best path to promotion.

Thinking of this, Wei Guangde glanced at his father, then at his uncle, and finally spoke: “Father, uncle, if that’s the case, since we can’t get breech-loading cannons to boost our strength, obtaining a large number of matchlock guns could still significantly enhance our combat power. However, the prerequisite is that the soldiers’ training must keep pace, which will consume a great deal of funds and supplies. Can the garrison provide that?”

“Do you really think matchlock guns are better than swords and spears?”

Wu Zhankui hesitated for a moment before asking his nephew.

“Of course. You know what condition the military households are in, uncle.

Weapons like swords and spears require excellent physical condition and rigorous military training to be effective.

If, as you said, the troops are to be dispatched this year, there won’t be time for proper training, and even recovery of their physical condition will be tight. Under such circumstances, training soldiers to use matchlock guns for ranged combat seems safer.

If the matchlocks are of similar quality to those in our fort, and we have sufficient gunpowder and lead, a few months of training should make them battle-ready.”

Wei Guangde, of course, didn’t tell his father and uncle that the battle might never happen or might not escalate.

Still, in his view, with a large number of matchlock guns and well-trained soldiers, repelling small Tatar cavalry raids would be no problem.

“Our Right Army thousand-household garrison will draw soldiers from two hundred-household units for training. The garrison’s warehouse still holds over a hundred matchlock guns, the same batch as the ones you have; the quality should be good.”

Wu Zhankui nodded slightly.

“That’s settled then. Training over a hundred matchlock gunners...”

Hearing Wu Zhankui’s words, Wei Guangde clapped his hands together, a bit excited as he said.