YM778.TV Chapter 295 - Retreat
Instead, their formation was like that of a snake. When Gengyo stood a kilometre away along that road, he called his men to a halt.
"Perfect," he exclaimed. There was no space for manevouring, which left the advantage with him and his gunmen who only needed a straight and clear shot to send their enemies to the grave. There was a confidence within his chest as he reviewed the facts.
Kenshin barreled his way to the front of his men, in a thoroughly foul mood. They had searched the remains of the forest they had burned and they had not found a single human corpse. It had become obvious to him that it was all a ruse and that he had been dancing to another man’s seductive tune.
Even his horse was pawing at the ground and snorting angrily, unwilling to sit still. Kenshin looked upon Gengyo’s army with a thoroughly irritated frown on his face.
"Is this what killed that bastard Shingen?" He said, asking no one in particular. The irritation grew even more severe when he realized his own nervousness. He had heard news of the battle and he knew that this new player – this ’Miura’ – was a dangerous man. And he had just fallen into his trap.
Looking at his soldiers, with thirty thousand at his back, logic stated that his chances of victory were clear. But, it was Miura that had chosen this battlefield and forced them into this standoff. There was only one reason he would do that: he believed he held the advantage.
Eight thousand men, all of them armed with rifles. No real room to manoeuvre. Running was not an option. But neither was fighting. The battlefield was too unfavourable. He would not willingly walk into another man’s trap.
"Burn it," he said for the second time in a matter of days. "All of our oil, throw it on this damnable road and out into the fields. We will leave this place at a fast march and head for the plains."
"As you say, my Lord," his chief strategist nodded his head in agreement with his Lord’s assessment, and began a chain of orders that soon began a good deal of movement.
They threw one pot down, shattering it against the floor, literring the road in oil. They did not wait to set it alight – it was done immediately. They allowed that puddle to spit up a tree of flame and then the men came to fore with more pots and threw them against the floor, spreading the fire’s wall wide and wider.
It was not long before it covered the entirety of the road and the Uesugi army was already marching away. A dispatchment of cavalry continued to ride back and forth, returning each time with a pot full of oil. They began to lead the flames out into the field, charring the long grass and threatening to set them in flame. Ordinarily, they would burn poorly, but with the immense heat and with the lack of recent rain, it was a possibility that the fire might spread beyond the oil.
Slowly, Gengyo began to clap. His meaty palms met each other in a dry display of approval. "Well done Kenshin, you have avoided a massacre," he said.
"What now, Miura?" Jikouji asked.
"We do the only thing we can do – we go round it. We will have to give it a wide birth indeed, lest the flame spread and trap us," Gengyo told him.
"They will be putting distance between us again," Jikouji said with dissatisfaction. "But at the very least, they will not be able to leisurely pillage the villages on their way. The men are well rested – we can push them."
"Exactly," Gengyo agreed. "He is merely prolonging the inevitable. As soon as he works up the courage to engage us, we will crush him, as we must. There is too much to do and too little time to do it. No matter how great a commander Kenshin might be, I can not afford to spend too much of my time on him."
"Our training is superior," Yamagata stated. "We will not struggle."
"From the lips of a man that has first hand experience with battling Uesugi, that is good to hear," Gengyo said, pulling the reigns of his horse and pushing the animal into the parted grass. Even on horseback, the grass threatened to drown him. The men on foot could do nought but follow the man in front of them.
There was a small mountain in the distance, small enough to still be coated with green grass, but large enough that rock peeked out from its cliff faces. He headed towards that mountain, not willing to risk entrapment should the fire choose to spread. Only once he had reached it could his men finally begin forward again, instead of sideways.
The beating sun was merciless on them as they were forced to continue their march. It was draining beyond belief and dehydrated a man quickly, but with bamboo canteens filled with water, they were able to push through it.
The going was slow with grass and undergrowth to contend with, but with their sophisticated training, the men were able to maintain a more aggressive pace without yet beginning to flag. They were forced to watch as the Uesugi banners disappeared out beyond the horizon and many a man swore to himself that those cowards would pay for their trickery upon the field of battle.