Chapter 168: After-Action Review

Inside the headquarters tent pitched on the village beach, the Baitu expedition's officers, NCOs, and cadets from squad level and above had assembled. Nurses from the medical team circulated with tea as pleasantries were exchanged, and the mood was buoyant. Despite a few minor embarrassments, the battle had unfolded according to textbook procedures. Casualties stood at zero.

"We must develop the habit," Xi Yazhou began, "of conducting a thorough review after every operation. Speak freely—nothing is off limits."

The native NCOs held their tongues. Their ingrained sense of hierarchy ran too deep for candor. Xi Yazhou let it pass; such things took time.

"Bivouac and sentry arrangements satisfactory?"

"All arranged."

"Good. Now—this was our first large-unit combined operation, and there were problems aplenty. When that enemy cannon fired, every platoon wavered. We were fortunate their piece was garbage. Had they actually hit someone, we'd have had a total rout on our hands."

"There are no veterans among them," someone offered. "They're all green recruits."

"We need more adaptation training under live fire. Get them accustomed to explosions."

"The real key is more combat experience—"

"Combat will come," Xi Yazhou cut in. "But in their current state, there's a ninety percent chance they'll break at first contact. Running is still preferable to paralysis—just freezing in place, waiting to die. Those 1st Company soldiers burying their faces in the dirt? Truly embarrassing. Were they playing ostrich?" His criticism was brutal and unhesitating.

Wei Aiwen's face flushed crimson. As commander of 1st Company—the Demonstration Company, no less, with an excellence rate exceeding sixty percent—his unit had delivered the day's most humiliating performance.

"I'll impose strict rectification upon our return!" His voice was subdued. "Anyone showing cowardice will be transferred to logistics."

"It was their first taste of combat—fear is understandable," another officer countered. "If we remove them, how do we replace them? Retrain from scratch?"

"I agree it's unnecessary," Xi Yazhou said. "When a unit is weak, commanders should look for reasons within themselves rather than blame the soldiers."

Wei Aiwen felt as though he were sitting on pins and needles; this was turning into a struggle session. He rose to his feet. "I'll make a deep self-criticism—"

"Forget it, Little Wei, relax." Others pulled him back to his seat.

"Skip the self-criticism. When we return, everyone will submit new training plans and methods—we need rapid improvement. And you platoon commanders shouldn't assume your men passed muster. The absence of embarrassment was luck. It doesn't mean you have strong troops."

Old Tiger You and the others grimaced their acknowledgment. Post-battle reviews were never pleasant affairs.

"Now, marksmanship," Xi Yazhou continued. "During the checkpoint engagement, our volleys were utterly ragged. Three platoons firing at two hundred meters, and we scored only a dozen hits? With Minié rifles, that score is unacceptable."

"The soldiers haven't mastered the elevation sights yet. Many still aren't accustomed—"

"On returning, emphasize sight-adjustment drills. Otherwise, against cavalry, we're dead men."

Huang Xiong marveled quietly at the scene. These bald people possessed a truly different military culture. Victory brought no rewards or banquets—only relentless nitpicking of every detail. Could such leadership really inspire men to fight and die? He could not deny this New Army had delivered many shocks, especially the weapons, which were arguably without peer. But their military philosophy struck him as childishly naive. Perhaps overseas barbarian thinking simply differed from Chinese thinking.

"The 12-pounder mountain howitzers exceeded expectations," Ying Yu reported, summarizing the artillery situation. "The drawback is insufficient ammunition—even for low-intensity combat, supply was barely adequate. Unit mechanization remains low, but our establishment is organized to mechanized standards. Besides their own weapons and gear, soldiers are also lugging artillery equipment. It's exhausting. Without the village liaisons serving as porters, many would have straggled."

"The mechanization shortage can't be solved quickly," Wen Desi replied. "Raising or purchasing horses won't happen overnight—Hainan isn't horse country."

"I'm aware. Wu Nanhai can't conjure horses from thin air." Ying Yu shrugged. "My suggestion: given how few horses we have, we expand artillery personnel—"

"Damn—substituting men for beasts?"

"That's the idea."

The transmigrators exchanged uneasy glances. This was the most despised aspect of the old-army system—reviled a hundredfold more than even the Bannermen system.

"I know it's terrible," Ying Yu pressed, "but how else do we ensure gun mobility?"

No alternatives presented themselves. An emergency horse-buying mission was theoretically possible, but purchasing horses in Guangzhou proved difficult. Officials investigated closely, and the markets offered few animals.

"Adding gunners makes sense," Xi Yazhou said, carefully avoiding the phrase "substituting men for beasts." "Currently, each 12-pounder has six gunners. Increasing that to ten would reduce the individual burden while adding firepower."

"We should also develop lighter, shorter weapons for the artillery—easier to carry. Perhaps carbines."

"But if enemies overrun an artillery position, having only short weapons would be inadequate."

"Then six gunners carry short weapons; add four standard riflemen."

"This proposal works," Ying Yu agreed.

"One more issue—our ration standards have problems. Theoretically, it's 0.75 kilograms per man per day. In practice, many consume 1.5 kilograms. This undermines our logistical planning and needs revision."

"A diet deficient in fat and protein causes this," Dongmen Chuiyu said with a helpless shrug. As Agriculture's ration observer, he knew the problem intimately.

"Any feedback on the Grassland Plan rations?"

Wei Aiwen began to speak, but Xi Yazhou interrupted, instead calling on Tian Liang, who appeared to have drifted off.

"Tian Liang—tell us: how has the food been these past two days?"

Tian Liang had not expected to be called upon. He reflexively shot to his feet and saluted. "Reporting, Chief!"

"Don't shout. Just tell us."

"Very—good." He swallowed. It was an honest answer: eating full meals of fine grain, what dissatisfaction could he possibly have?

"Sit. Do all the soldiers feel the same?" Xi Yazhou surveyed the room.

Everyone nodded. One squad leader smiled with embarrassment and stood: "Reporting, Chief—the brothers said if there was meat, it would be even better."

Laughter rippled through the tent, and the atmosphere lightened visibly.

"Wanting meat is good. Currently it's difficult—but when we're richer, the brothers will eat meat every day!" Xi Yazhou wrote out a blank check.

"Really? Chief... Xi?" The squad leader was stunned with excitement. Huang Xiong privately found it amusing. Trusting officers' words? Only if the sun rose from the west. Soldiers eating meat daily—where was such good fortune to be found?

"Of course." Xi Yazhou nodded and gestured for him to sit. "The soldiers probably have no complaints. What about the officers?"

"No fat!"

"Grassland-1 and -2 are good. Grassland-3 and -4 are bland—without the luncheon meat, you can't choke them down."

"We should make oil jars like fish sauce. Add some when cooking."

"Too few vegetables. Eating like this, we'll all be suffering from 'internal heat' before long!"

Food feedback came in abundance, though not as intensely as expected. This was because they had not yet sampled Grassland-5: instant rice cakes. Dongmen Chuiyu had tried one. The taste was truly horrifying.

After the meeting adjourned, the village elders were brought to the headquarters tent. They knelt upon entry and were promptly helped to their feet by Wen Desi.

The transmigrators needed Baitu's people and property. But forcibly relocating over five hundred souls from comfortable homes to an unknown destination would obviously provoke resistance. Following Wen Desi's arrival, the officers had agreed: winning over the village leadership was essential to pacifying the commoners. Violent incidents during transit had to be avoided.

The three elders who entered represented the village's major surnames—two were Fujianese. One was surnamed Lin, a carpenter. Another surnamed Lu, a blacksmith. Both had brought their entire clans, and together they held dominant power in the village. The third was a Cantonese man surnamed Zhang—a shipwright—who had come only with his wife and children.

The Lin clan built ships, though with mediocre skill, producing only small boats. Shipwright Zhang was the core technician. The best-selling 400-liao vessels were his alone to construct. Keenly aware of his minority and outsider status, Zhang kept his shipbuilding secrets close. He took no apprentices. Crucial work like lofting he performed personally; others merely labored without understanding the principles.

Besides the Lin and Lu clans, the village residents consisted mostly of landless farmers and craftsmen who had fled Guangdong and Fujian. Real power rested firmly in the hands of the Lin and Lu families. Shipwright Zhang's technical value earned him a seat at the table, but little more. After touring the village and interrogating ordinary villagers, Wen Desi understood that most were being exploited. Workshops, tools, ships—all production facilities belonged to the Lin and Lu families.

Understanding this, Wen Desi began formulating plans to dismantle their power structure. Shipwright Zhang was clearly the easiest to peel away.

Wen Desi spoke in reassuring tones: all property would simply be relocated to Bopu. Private possessions would be protected. At Bopu, they would continue shipbuilding under transmigrator protection, and all labor would be compensated. Housing and grain supply would be arranged.

The elders obviously did not believe him—but belief was unnecessary. Wen Desi simply needed to reduce their hostility.

(End of Chapter)