YM778.TV Chapter 207 - Stampede
The soldiers were gathered and armed, their hearts beating rapidly. Their armour was clean, and perfectly prepared. By now each of them had been informed of the intent. This would be a slaughter, they were aware. With both swords and rifles they would fight, using anything they could get their hands on. It was their opportunity – their time – to test what they had gained under the course of this man’s leadership. To find out just how powerful they were. The scene had been prepared, and now it only lay to them - the actors - to execute on it.
"Do you men have a vision of freedom?" He began. "Perhaps not. It is not a common thing to have. The average man spends his day doing average things. He tills the fields just as his friends do. He swings his hoe, once, twice, again. His station is no higher than that of his father, perhaps it is even lower."
"That man dwells in mediocrity. I do not beseech you to look down upon such a man, instead, I wish for you to look up, and recognize the profundity of your own decisions that you have made. Of the path that you walk, for whatever reason you walk it. You are more than the common man."
"This war, and this here battle – they are worth more than a lifetime’s toll in the field. On these front lines you will find just what sort of man you truly are. And I hope you look forward to it! For I know this: the men of the Red Feather are great indeed. No matter the outcome of this fight, history will remember our names, and what we stood for."
"Now, I ask you this, are you ready for battle? Are you ready to throw everything you have in single minded pursuit of victory? Are you ready to transcend beyond the chains of mediocrity, and swing your sword boldly?"
"YES COMMANDER!" They slammed their fists into their sternums with vigour, stamping their feet on the ground.
"NOTICE THAT FEAR THAT DWELLS WITH IN YOUR CHEST! GRASP IT! FOR THROUGH IT COURAGE CAN BE ATTAINED, AND WE CAN CONQUER ANY FOE!"
"HAH!" A sea of aggression. They were becoming riled up. Adrenaline began to flow.
"RELEASE THE CATTLE!" He bellowed thrusting his sword upwards, before turning and pointing towards the Matsudaira camp. The oxen look at them mildly, chewing on the straw within their enclosure. Whatever odd things the humans were up to – that was of no concern to them.
The temporary wooden fence barring access through the opening was shifted and cleared. One or two of the more curious animals wandered out past it, but the rest were still content with their current positioning, and barely paid it any mind.
A preorganized group of men went to work, wielding long and fat wooden paddles. They swung, and landed their blows heavily, smacking the backsides of any innocent oxen within reach.
"AMOO!" The beasts complained jumping restlessly from the pain, shifting forwards. And yet more were struck, disturbing them – angering them. The pressure slowly built up, with each painful yelp, and then, from the front, it exploded, and they burst into furious charge, straight out of the wall.
And then, the second part of the plan went into motion. A shallow wall of fire was lit along the length of the gap, and the oxen were forced to cross. Disturbed and angry as they were, they did not pay such a small thing any mind, and continued to charge forward, following the ox in front. And soon their enclosure began to empty.
They would not stop. Not for a while. Each of their tails had been dipped in oil earlier, and now, as they crossed that wall of flame, the volatile liquid sprung to life, lending them even more fury and speed.
With the last ox gone, they too followed. "CHARGE, MY BROTHERS! DO NOT FALTER UNTIL THEIR CAMP IS A RIVER OF BLOOD!"
They shot out, sparing the fire nary a glance. Their gaze was focused frontwards. Each man ran on foot, no matter the rank, and yet, with his monkly aptitude, it was Gengyo who comfortably stayed in front.
They had worked hard since their recruitment. Each day. Endurance – as had always been the case for men under Gengyo’s command – took priority. This kind of dash – all but a kilometre in distance – was nothing. They could quite comfortably sprint it, and not be left too winded, even with the equipment that they ran with.
Hard work had made way for opportunity, and now the two lovers embraced, hand in hand, ready to bear witness to a beautifully chaotic night.
The hooves of the oxen beat on the ground, almost indistinguishable from an earthquake. Seeing them lit up, charging towards them, the Matsudaira camp did not know whether to sound the horn. It was not an enemy, but it was undoubtably dangerous. That indecision when confronted with an irregularity cost them a precious few minutes.
By the time the horn sounded, there was not enough time for effectual action.
Needless to say, the oxen covered the distance far faster than their human allies ever could, and they were the first to crash into camp, far ahead. The only thing they could see in front of them was the rear of their fellow oxen. No attempts were made to swerve or falter.
Multiple tents were dotted about directly within their path. Furious with the pain caused by the fire, the oxen charged straight through.
The men were laid in bed, as their commander had ordered, and it was not with difficulty that they drifted off to sleep, after being awake for such a long time. Most were crushed underfoot, not even given the time to leave their beds. Others were pierced by horns, and their corpses were decorated with fallen tent material.
As the cloth inevitably fell over the oxen’s eyes and rendered them blind, it was only cause to make them even more angry. A blinded beast, kicking and bucking furiously from pain, weighing over a tonne. Even one was enough to cause catastrophe, and yet here was unleashed an army in the thousands.
The horn sounded, as the lookouts finally alerted the men. It was likely the screams of their fallen comrades, and the snapping of wood, and the groaning of bones that awoke them first. Matsudaira – already a light sleeper – woke up almost immediately, and exited his tent, not yet even dressed.
The sight that greeted him made him wonder whether he was still indeed dreaming. A herd of oxen - mouths open and foaming - stormed towards him. It was with barely any room to spare that he managed to flee from their path, though his tent was not so fortunate.
In his only just awakened state, he had trouble processing the reason for the chaos around him. He saw more beast than man. It seemed that the gods had turned against them, and this was something akin to a natural disaster.
In all the scrolls he had read, there had never been a chapter on this. Not on how to deal with a stampede. There was likely never a general that had to!
He gritted his teeth. A sword would serve him no good here. To fight it and lash out would be akin to stabbing a spear at water. There was no gain. They merely had need to step aside. And yet how?
There was no good answer. No solid solution. It was a disgustingly suffocating state of affairs. The wave of oxen had already collapsed onto them, and was only continuing to charge forward. The men – by now – should have been alerted to the crisis themselves. They should be attempting to flee. There would be no consensus or order in how they did that, as was to be expected, and so he determined his course of action.
A n.a.k.e.d, swordless commander. A pitiful sight indeed. To dress would be to search through the debris of his destroyed tent, and even then he was not guaranteed to find it. Action was what the moment demanded.
"MEN! FLEE SOUTH! ON ME!" He barked, struggling to be heard over the noise. Some men did indeed hear him, but in their states of panic it did not occur to them that they should obey. They were busy doing all they could to flee from the raging beasts, n.a.k.e.d, just as he was.