Chapter 58: The Reconnaissance Squad

"Lingao." Beiwei murmured the name, adjusting his Russian-made infrared binoculars. The image was somewhat fuzzy, but the outlines were unmistakable.

He had traveled extensively across China—from the perfectly preserved ancient cities of Pingyao in Shanxi and Fenghuang in Hunan to ruins where only foundation traces remained. He'd seen fortifications in every state of preservation and decay. But a county seat shaped like this was a first: an oval stretched longer east-to-west than north-to-south, like an olive resting on its side.

The town faced south with Gaoshan Ridge rising at its back, the Wenlan River flowing before it. Here the river curved from the south toward the northeast, its bend embracing the city walls in a natural moat that made any man-made alternative unnecessary.

By his estimate, the walls stood roughly seven meters high. The perimeter was modest—perhaps a kilometer and a half in total. Small but formidable: watchtowers crowned each gate, apparently equipped with cannon positions, and the entire wall was clad in brick. The Ming Dynasty had invested heavily in urban fortification, and even this remote county bore the marks of that commitment. Beiwei found himself recalling a visit to an ancient city site in the "Greatest Nation in the Universe"—South Korea—where the so-called "city walls" of slapped-together rocks and mud hadn't risen as high as his elementary school's fence, and the city gate resembled nothing so much as a railway underpass. Truly worthy of a nation that claimed to have spread civilization's sparks to the Four Ancient Civilizations before retiring to a peninsula.

(Note: When first built in the early Ming, Lingao's walls were only one zhang high. During the Jiajing era, to resist wokou, the walls were raised to two zhang, watchtowers were added, and the walls were clad in brick.)

Through the infrared binoculars, he could see the walls lined with bonfires and lanterns, soldiers patrolling back and forth in what appeared to be a state of high alert. Yet even someone with no formal study of ancient warfare could spot the major defensive weaknesses. The east and west gates sat at the olive's pointed ends, completely exposed without flanking cover—attackers could concentrate their assault on either gate without worrying about crossfire. The south gate faced the Wenlan River at the most prominent point of the city's midsection.

Outside the east gate, vague structures were visible but utterly dark—lifeless. South of the south gate, the Linjiang Bridge stretched across the Wenlan River, a long multi-arch stone span built during the Yongle era by Vice-Magistrate Lu Sheng on the foundation of the Yuan-dynasty Taiping wooden bridge. Nine arches carried it over the water.

(Note: Also called Wenshui Bridge; repaired during the Qing, raised and widened in the 1950s, used until the late 1960s, demolished in 1970.)

"Looks like the county already knows we're here," Li Jun said quietly.

"No talking. Stay alert." Beiwei adjusted the binoculars' focus.

At dusk, Ma Qianzhu had found Beiwei and ordered him to lead a small reconnaissance squad upriver, pushing straight to Lingao's walls. "Move as fast as possible to the county walls," Ma Qianzhu had instructed. "Monitor the town's activity. Surveying along the way is not your mission."

Upon receiving orders, Beiwei had immediately drafted three well-rested personnel from the Military Group and one from Communications. They selected essential equipment, prepared briefly, and departed after nightfall.

"Your mission is not combat," Ma Qianzhu had emphasized. "Focus on monitoring. Do not kill unless necessary."

Given this directive, the squad wore camouflage. Besides rifles, they carried a scoped Saiga-308, infrared binoculars, and a two-watt radio.

Night cross-country travel might challenge ordinary civilians, but not soldiers—especially those equipped with low-light night-vision goggles. The only difficulty was the lack of any map for this timespace's Lingao, which made judging their position during movement unreliable. Beiwei had decided to follow the river: according to geographic data from their original timespace, the upstream route ran twelve kilometers to the county seat, with landmarks like Bairren Rapids serving as reference points. Between compass and map reading, they wouldn't get lost even without a guide.

On normal roads, twelve kilometers was a three-hour walk even for civilians. The terrain here was pathless, but staff reconnaissance had shown the Wenlan's banks presented no complex obstacles—four hours at most. In the end, they moved faster than expected. With night-vision goggles in use, the squad marched along the river without rest and spotted Lingao's lights in just three hours.

They selected a small hill across the river for their observation post—a copse of mixed trees positioned between the south and east gates, overlooking the walls across the water. The vantage point was excellent for monitoring both approaches. They established their position and spread snake-repellent powder around the perimeter. September nights in Lingao already carried a chill, and the dew was heavy. They erected small shelters from rain capes and began rotating watch.

"Captain, Command on the radio. They want a situation report," Li Yunxing reported. He was serving as radioman.

"This is Beiwei at the radio."

"This is Ma Qianzhu. How are things?"

"Good. Recon squad reached Lingao at 21:12, lunar September 1st." Beiwei checked his watch. "Currently observing."

"Current Lingao situation?"

"On alert. Approximately twenty personnel patrolling and standing guard along the south wall from west to east."

"Continue monitoring. Report any developments immediately. Over."

Ma Qianzhu ended the call and glanced at the ship's clock—9:30 PM. Over ten hours had passed since D-Day H-Hour. They had unloaded massive quantities of material and equipment; the beach base had begun to take shape. The current camp could resist attack by several hundred local armed forces. But reports from all quarters were far from optimistic. Basic building materials were critically short, and most of the facilities they'd built with such labor were merely temporary. Many essential civilian installations simply could not be established.

Local contact remained at zero. Though Military Group perimeter guards had found extensive signs of human activity, they had not yet encountered any locals. The beacon-tower lookout spotted occasional sail traffic at sea, but Changgong Bay—the main fishing ground for Lingao's fishermen—showed no boats at all. The alarm had clearly scared them off.

At the first day's summary meeting, many Committee members felt the original "turtle strategy" was too conservative. D-Day's events had proved that staying holed up in Bopu Port would only hinder base development. Wang Luobin described their current state as a death spiral: no building materials meant they couldn't build a production base, which meant they couldn't produce building materials, which meant no building materials. Breaking this cycle demanded rapid expansion—establishing an industrial base in a suitable location.

The recon squad's report confirmed that locals were panicking, merely closing their gates for self-defense with no attack on the transmigrators forthcoming. This was the perfect opportunity to expand their control and upgrade the base.

The meeting reached a decision: at dawn tomorrow, they would dispatch a second reconnaissance squad to survey and assess nearby terrain and resources.

"We also need a team to survey and design the Bopu–Bairren Rapids highway." Wen Desi's colored pencil traced a line on the map's transparent overlay. "We'll survey, design, and build simultaneously. Except for essential personnel and equipment to continue unloading, throw all labor and machinery into this project. Connect the two locations within three to four days. By D+5, we can begin construction at Bairren Rapids."

"Both survey teams will need Military Group protection, right?" He Ming asked. "The Military Group requests activating ten militia into active service."

Wen Desi frowned. Manpower was already stretched thin, and once road-building began, labor would be even scarcer. But the Military Group was genuinely overstretched—twenty-one people handling land and sea security and observation. After a full day without rest, four had been sent scouting while the others remained at towers and posts, snatching only catnaps.

"Fine, you can have the people." Wen Desi made his decision. "Two guards per survey team." He glanced at He Ming. "That's workable?"

He Ming nodded. "No problem. The organization has a labor shortage now. Military Group personnel will also participate in work when not on duty."

"You're exhausted from a full day of guarding."

"Bai Yu, Zhao De, Chen Haiyang, and I discussed adjusting the Military Group's duty schedule—everyone on guard duty must contribute two hours of labor daily. I'll lead by example."

Dawn lightened the sky by degrees. D+1's morning arrived upon the First Reconnaissance Squad. They lay in dew-soaked camouflage cloaks, thoroughly wet through.

Through his binoculars, Beiwei watched the personnel on the city walls yawning as they took down and extinguished lanterns. The torches had died, trailing wisps of blue smoke into the pale light.

The vague structures outside the east gate that had been visible during the night proved to be temples. Open ground surrounded the city—extensive wilderness interspersed with rice paddies and scattered village clusters.

Wei Aiwen slowly crawled over to Li Jun's observation position. "Li-ge, let's make a move."

"What do you want to do?"

"Storm the county seat."

"Just the five of us?" Li Jun glanced at the three men sleeping under the camouflage shelter. This kid Wei was a real left-deviation adventurist.

"We've got five semi-autos. Afraid of some primitives? Rush in, spray some bullets, and they'll all scatter."

"Then go put on a raincoat first."

"Why?"

"Dressed like us, we'd definitely be taken for demons and doused with dog blood and filth."

"..." Wei Aiwen had known it was impossible anyway. His real motive was simply wanting to fire his weapon. After getting the SKS, he'd pestered for a Russian R14 scope, then bugged Beiwei for practice time. Yesterday during guard duty, he'd dry-fired dozens of times, and now he was itching to test his marksmanship for real.

Their talking woke Beiwei. "Forget it. The Committee ordered reconnaissance, not combat. Reckless shooting would expose our intentions. Besides, this mission is partly reconnaissance, partly training the team. Weren't you so exhausted when we arrived that you collapsed and slept half the night before waking?"

"I covered half your shift, you know. You owe me," Li Jun said. "I'm over thirty—night shifts are murder on the body..."

(End of Chapter)