Chapter 62 : Battle of Baesan (2)
Chapter 62: Battle of Baesan (2)
The enemy cavalry approached while maintaining a four-column formation. One of them was sticking out—clearly the vanguard.
They looked exceptionally elite. They were our target.
‘The distance... is it about 500 paces?’
They were barely visible, mere dots.
Anyone who’s fired a gun in the military would know—how invisible a target 250 meters away can be.
At double that distance, the horses from both sides were walking at a pace akin to a brisk walk for a person.
It was to maintain formation.
In a column formation, it wouldn't matter, but a line formation’s advance speed varied with terrain, so they had to go at this pace to maintain their formation.
Only after reaching 200 paces would they start running in earnest, achieving the speed of a pastel-colored bicycle with a basket—a leisure ride.
Yes.
There were no cavalrymen dashing like madmen as seen in movies.
Cavalry moved at a brisk walking pace during normal maneuvers and killed at leisure-bike speed.
There was no need to be disappointed with this pace. A person can get seriously injured even when hit by a leisure bike.
That leisure bike wouldn’t have a blade. It wouldn’t weigh more than 100 kilograms at most. And the rider? He’d probably have hit the brakes or turned the handle before impact.
Yet, with bad luck, one could still get a bone broken and end up in the hospital.
So, what about cavalry?
They carried long spears, bows, or swords. Combined with their gear and mount, their weight reached around 300 to 400 kilograms—and they were hell-bent on killing you.
They didn’t need to charge like in the movies, because they could kill just fine without doing so.
Still not scared?
I was scared shitless.
"Shall we send out the scouts now?"
At Eulji Mundeok’s words, I raised my hand.
Four scouts dashed forward at the signal. These scouts, looking for enemy weaknesses, ran alone while everyone else walked.
Let me say this first—their armor was also Dujeong-gap.
Of the eight Dujeong-gap suits, we gave them the four remaining ones after our own use.
“Isn’t it too slow and heavy?” you might ask.
Though speed is considered the essence of a scout, that applies only to recon units observing the battlefield at large.
Scouts inspecting the enemy right before battle were better off heavily armored.
Otherwise, they'd get riddled with arrows before they could report back. Even now, it was evident.
Whoosh!
As the scouts neared the enemy, the enemy fired arrows immediately.
‘So they’re using bows.’
Khan, who played miniature games, once said, ‘Heavily armored cavalry using bows in games is just nonsense.’
—"Seriously, what, heavy cavalry don’t have bows? Why are they always just charging like idiots in games? Real heavy cavalry used bows just fine... Against light cavalry, they held overwhelming advantage in shooting. That's why in battles, light cavalry often charged first against them."
—"It’s probably for game balance..."
Now imagine if heavy cavalry in games could also shoot bows. How terrifying would that be?
But reality had no such balancing patch.
The enemy heavy cavalry aimed their arrows at our chests.
Clang—!
The arrows bounced off our armor.
The scouts, after successfully completing their task, turned back with little damage.
The enemy didn’t pursue.
It was as if they were saying, ‘It’s not time to run yet.’ They focused more on maintaining their formation than chasing four scouts.
‘Good grief, how textbook can you be?’
It would’ve been better if they had broken formation to chase the scouts.
The scouts signaled.
They were not just any northern people with good eyes—they had exceptionally good eyesight.
They could read facial expressions from a hundred paces away. Weaknesses on the battlefield often came from faces, not formations.
Soldiers who looked especially tense.
Those who forgot to tighten their helmet straps.
Those who hung their shields backwards.
Or those whose sword hilts had spun around to the back of their thighs instead of resting in front.
Where there were many such individuals—that was where the weakness lay.
If the scouts saw a weak spot, they were supposed to point to it.
But instead of pointing, all four waved their hands over their heads in unison.
Damn it.
That meant only one thing:
‘No visible weaknesses.’
They were, indeed, elite.
Dugu Huang observed the elite soldiers who had been sent forward.
More precisely, he watched their opponents.
“About... 300 of them? What a mess of weaponry. It looks like they opened up a city market in the cavalry ranks. Their physique’s just as mixed.”
They had combined heavy and light cavalry.
The ratio seemed to be about 4:6, heavy to light.
Dugu Huang laughed.
“What kind of idiotic tactic is that?”
Heavy and light cavalry were completely different types of units with distinct roles.
Heavy cavalry were powerful in short bursts, while light cavalry thrived on sustained movement.
Used together like that, the heavy cavalry couldn’t get a proper charge, losing their impact power, while the light cavalry lost mobility trying to keep pace with the heavy ones.
It was a blunder that gave up both mobility and impact.
And the difference in strength couldn’t be ignored either. They had 300 heavy cavalry. The enemy had only 120 heavy and 180 light.
He chuckled automatically.
“Were they short on heavy cavalry? Even the T’u-chüeh bastards wouldn’t mix them like this.”
Then, four enemy soldiers emerged from the enemy lines and scattered around Dugu’s formation like flies.
‘What are they doing? Recon? Disruption?’
It was an unfamiliar tactic. Dugu’s cavalry seemed annoyed and fired arrows at them, but the arrows bounced off weakly.
“…Not Nubi-gabok, but heavy armor?”
They mistook the outer silk texture of Dujeong-gap for Nubi-gabok. But it made little difference.
‘We just need to charge, break through their cavalry, and strike the flanks of their infantry. That’ll be the end.’
In the past, during the Spring and Autumn period, there had been a tradition of Dojŏn—duels between the commanders of each army.
Though ancient, those Dojŏn often decided the outcome of the entire battlefield.
In modern times, the equivalent of that Dojŏn was the first clash between each side’s elite cavalry.
That’s why the strongest cavalry wasn’t kept hidden but pushed to the front—the morale of the troops determined the outcome of the battle.
‘How pathetic. I worried because they defeated Murong and the T’u-chüeh in the past, but perhaps that was just overthinking.’
The two forces were drawing closer.
And finally, at 400 paces.
It was time to start accelerating.
And at that moment—
“…Huh?”
The light cavalry hiding behind Goryeo’s heavy cavalry scattered left and right like the wings of a raptor.
When cavalry fight infantry, they begin accelerating at around 200 paces (about 240 meters).
At 50 paces (60 meters), they reach “bicycle speed”—their top speed.
But cavalry versus cavalry is different.
Unlike infantry, the opponent also charges, so the engagement begins at double the range—400 paces.
And now, it was 400 paces.
Both sides accelerated.
‘In about 1 minute and 30 seconds, they’ll collide.’
There was no pulling back now.
To survive, one had to charge forward.
Beeeeep—!
A shrill whistle blew from behind.
Even on this battlefield, the whistle signal pierced sharply.
And at the same time—
“Hurrah! Let’s go!”
The light cavalry led by Soyong dashed forward. They charged straight at the enemy.
“Hikkyak!”
With a bizarre cry, they hurled axes and split left and right. A few enemy riders hit by the axes were thrown from their horses.
Meanwhile, the enemy who had started running didn’t return fire.
Not because they couldn’t shoot from horseback—they had accurately hit our scouts earlier while mounted.
But now, they had already lowered their bows, picked up speed, and raised their spears.
Thus, Soyong’s light cavalry flanked the enemy and fired arrows.
Starting at a distance of 100 paces.
Fwaap—!
Shshshshshk!
Their arrows resembled Stormtroopers—not the elite soldiers of the German army in WWI, but those of the Galactic Empire.
They barely hit anything.
‘That’s not what the records say.’
According to Song Dynasty records, “Jin cavalry could hit targets with pinpoint accuracy even from beyond 100 paces,” but that seemed like an exaggeration.
Then again, if that were true, every Jin light cavalryman would have been a Yi Seong-gye. They’d have conquered not just North China but Constantinople within 13 years.
Well, there were guys who saw Japanese troops during the Imjin War, ran away, and returned to court saying, “The Japanese army is a divine force!” so maybe it makes sense.
Anyway, the hit rate of this arrow rain was abysmal.
But that didn’t matter. Killing wasn’t the goal.
The enemy was heavy cavalry—hitting them wouldn’t deal much damage. If it were dense infantry, maybe. But light cavalry's ranged attacks couldn’t pierce through.
Still—
“Hiiiiiiing!”
Since they had fired so many arrows, a few lodged into gaps in the armor, causing some to fall off their horses.
“Wh-what the…!”
Hiiiiing—!
“Get a hold of yourselves, hold it together…!”
But there weren’t many casualties.
Their deaths were purely a matter of luck, and the fallen might have thought, ‘Damn it, how unlucky can I be?’
A few deaths meant little.
But the disruption in formation meant a lot.
“Reform! Reform formation!”
“There are too many arrows! Hey, hey! Don’t panic!”
Humans aren’t centaurs. Even the most skilled riders don’t control the horse as their own body.
And a horse is not a car that goes where its driver tells it.
Horses have senses, and will.
They can run at 30 km/h, yet they usually run at half that speed—just to maintain formation.
In short, this indiscriminate volley wasn’t meant as a “damage skill,” but as a “crowd control skill” to disorient the enemy and restrict their movement. And it worked—the enemy formation was clearly disrupted.
‘Cavalry may seem obsessed with speed, but they’re the type to give up speed entirely to keep their formation.’
Beeeeep—Beeeeep—Beeeeep—!
At that moment, hand signals went up.
The scouts from earlier.
They hadn’t returned but continued doing their job, scattered across the battlefield.
Two of them pointed to a spot.
A gap.
BEEEEEEEEEP!
I blew my whistle loudly and charged toward that spot. 120 organized Gaema Cavalry surged toward twice as many disorganized Armored Spear Cavalry.
“Raise your sak (槊, cavalry lance)!”
Now, it was time for the shock cavalry.
KWAAAAANG—!
After the first clash, about half our lances were broken. Broken or not, we threw our sak at the enemy and drew our melee weapons.
The second most dangerous moment for cavalry was close combat. The first was disengaging. Most deaths occurred during retreat.
So once locked in, you had to finish it.
Swords, spears, clubs—each drew their own close-combat weapons. I drew a flail.
CRACK—!
The enemy hit by my flail was flung aside.
This was a newly introduced weapon alongside cavalry tactics.
Using a blunt weapon to defeat armored cavalry was a tactic used throughout history. Those guys knew it too—many wielded clubs.
‘The Jin army used clubs too, just like them.’
But I chose a flail over a club.
Because of Khan’s opinion.
—“The flail, you see, is basically the ultimate melee weapon against heavy cavalry.”
—“Hmph, isn’t it just a wooden stick tied to a chain?”
—“By that logic, a gun is just gunpowder launching bullets, isn’t it? Anyway, the flail only came around during the Ming Dynasty! It’s later than cannons! It’s easy to learn, and its centrifugal force makes it ideal for hit-and-run tactics. Once the flail came out, clubs got relegated to backup status!”
—“Can you compare it to a game for me?”
—“In game terms... The flail has a pretty wide attack range, so its hit rate is about 4+ on a D6.”
Roll a six-sided die—4, 5, or 6 is a hit. That’s a 50% chance.
“DIEEEE!”
I swung the flail upward from below.
Rattle— Dice rolled in my mind.
The result was 6.
WHAM—!