Chapter 220: Commendation Rally
Someone said: "Old Zhang, your family may not have much else, but you've got plenty of daughters. How about marrying a few off to the short-hairs? Being that kind of father-in-law wouldn't be a bad deal!"
Old Zhang was Zhang Youfu, the delegate for the County Suburb District. He had had a few too many cups. This wine, "Peerless Hero," had been shipped from Guangzhou—smooth and mellow, nothing like the local hooch that went straight to your head. Zhang Youfu was already tipsy and woozy. He laughed: "That's easy for you to say. No matter how many daughters I have, I can't marry them off to a family with no background—"
"No background? How can you call it no background? Their estate is probably going to be number one in Lingao." One landlord shook his head and sighed. "Just look at this ice lion—I've never seen anything like it in Lingao! I truly have no idea where they obtained the ice. Even in Guangzhou, only the most distinguished families can acquire such things!"
"I heard it was shipped from Bopu. I simply cannot fathom—can you really fish ice out of the sea?"
"Perhaps it's more of their sorcery," someone whispered. "These short-hairs are uncanny. Never mind those self-moving carts and iron oxen. Just look at that iron ship—no sails, no oars... How can it move without supernatural power?"
"But we haven't seen them perform any rituals!"
"You think they'd let you see? Perhaps there are altar boys and virgin girls inside—"
"Altar boys and virgin girls? We haven't heard of any missing children in the county."
"Then what are they shipping boatloads of children from the mainland for? To raise as maids and servants? Why so many?"
"If each baldy has one maid and one servant, that's already over a thousand. Altar boys and virgin girls indeed—I think you've been trying to refine elixirs and become an immortal until you've gone mad."
"Immortal? I'd say these short-hairs already live like immortals!"
"True enough. Just coming here once—this life hasn't been in vain!" A landlord gazed up at the ceiling chandelier, staring for a long moment before sighing. "Seeing all these things I've never seen, eating all these things I've never tasted—next time I'll bring my wife and children to witness this."
Though the atmosphere in the banquet hall seemed warm and the two sides appeared intimate, security was actually tight beneath the relaxed surface—both inside and outside the Commercial Hall. The Army, Political Security Bureau, and police were all on alert, ready to respond to any situation.
Compared to the pampered conference delegates, the security departments were more worried about their attendants—these four hundred-odd people were mostly able-bodied young men. If they caused trouble, it would be a major headache. To prevent incidents at the East Gate Market, that night they gathered all these people under the pretense of hospitality. Each received a boxed meal, but no alcohol. Inside, Zhou Shidi led the plainclothes squad, mingling among them, constantly monitoring the situation.
"Everyone stay sharp!" Dugu Qiuhun spoke in a low voice, wearing a black stab-resistant vest. Around him was an emergency response team centered on the East Gate Market Police Station, reinforced with militia from the Bairren Commune. All wore rattan safety helmets and rattan vests, armed with clubs and shields, ready to suppress any disturbance.
"I say, is all this really necessary—treating them like mortal enemies?" Dongmen Chuiyu thought it excessive. An Army infantry company and six 12-pound mountain howitzers stood ready at a camp outside the East Gate Market, ammunition fully loaded.
Fang Jinghan sneered: "Hmph, if these few hundred natives start making trouble, can we suppress them? This is the heart of our territory." He had been borrowed from the Long-Range Reconnaissance Team to join the emergency response team—because he knew many dialects and could address any situation with announcements.
The dinners of both groups inside and outside finally ended harmoniously. The attendants squatting in the open space eating their boxed meals naturally had no idea that several hundred people were watching them like hawks, ready to deal with them at any moment. They all felt the short-hairs' hospitality was quite agreeable.
The following afternoon, a rally celebrating the defeat of Liu Xiang's pirate gang was held at the newly completed Bairren Stadium. The Executive Committee had long wanted to hold this event. The original plan was merely a small ceremony to award medals and prizes to combat participants. But the Political Consultative Conference changed their thinking. The purpose of holding an exchange meeting with village leaders was to expand their influence into the surrounding areas. Capitalizing on this great victory over the pirates, they should demonstrate to these local leaders the transmigrators' formidable strength and distinctive spirit. So they decided on a two-in-one event: not just the consultative conference, but also a commendation rally with a military parade.
The stadium had been rushed to completion for exactly this purpose. In truth, even now only about half the construction was finished. Though considerable portions remained incomplete, the main facilities were built. By Lingao's standards in this timeline, it already looked impressively grand.
The stadium's temporarily erected wooden tiered stands were packed with conference delegates. Even their attendants were permitted in, seated in stands farther from the main platform. Wu De gave the Bairren Commune and labor crews a day off and organized everyone to observe. Those who could not fit in the stands stood behind the lime lines. Men, women, and children—quite lively. The village delegates curiously examined this tall stone structure they had never seen before (actually stone-faced) and the large expanse of bare, hard-packed ground at their feet—marked with horizontal and vertical white lime lines. Dirt mounds and wooden stakes had been erected on the open ground by the river. Everyone was guessing what the short-hairs were planning.
Colorful flags fluttered in the breeze across the entire viewing platform—the same nylon flags that decorated every holiday in another timeline. Around the stands, Army sentries in Year-One uniforms, fully armed with fixed bayonets, stood ramrod straight.
The transmigrators in the stands harbored different feelings. The Army officers and soldiers in gray octagonal caps, gray uniforms, and leg wrappings inevitably reminded them of that legendary army from another timeline—one that grew from weakness to strength, never defeated. Though they knew they could not replicate such an army, deep in their hearts they still used it as the standard to measure this force they had created, armed, and wholly owned.
Under the warm winter Hainan sun, this rally—named a celebration but actually conceived as a show of force for the county gentry—began.
The loudspeaker's sound gave the villagers and elders their first shock. When Wen Desi loudly announced in his increasingly off-key Lingao-accented Mandarin that the Bopu Campaign Commendation Rally and Bairren Security Regiment Founding Celebration was now beginning, the villagers and elders looked around in amazement. The speaker clearly stood on the stage, yet the sound came from tall poles on all sides, so loud it made their eardrums ache and ears ring. This raw effect was completely different from having speakers placed beside the main platform as in the cinema.
First came commendations for transmigrators who had distinguished themselves in the Bopu Campaign. The list was read aloud: Lin Shenhe, Bai Yu, Meng De, Wang Ruixiang, and seventy-five other naval, army, and ordnance personnel were awarded the "Bopu Defense Battle" sleeve patch. They had earned the right to sew this patch onto their uniforms to display their combat honors.
Dugu Qiuhun, Tan Ming, Qian Shuixie, and one hundred ten other non-military personnel were awarded the "Bopu Defense Battle" shield badge, which could be sewn onto any official uniform.
Next, it was announced that all participating Army and Navy soldiers and laborers would collectively receive the "Bopu Defense Battle" commemorative medal, plus an extra month's pay. Thirty-five soldiers and laborers who had performed exceptionally in combat were individually awarded second-class and third-class merit medals, with two months' and one month's extra pay respectively.
All fallen soldiers and laborers would receive military honors burial at "Cuigang Martyrs' Cemetery." The Executive Committee would also provide compensation to their families: immediate family members of the fallen would each receive 500 yuan in circulation vouchers annually. All their children would be enrolled in "Loyal Heirs School" with all living expenses covered by the Executive Committee. Parents of the fallen would have their final affairs handled by the Civil Affairs Committee.
This level of compensation was unprecedented. Not only were the conference delegates dumbstruck, but even the soldiers, commune members, and laborers found it hard to believe. Whether government troops, village militia, or even pirates and bandits—after battle deaths, compensation for fallen brothers' families was customary. But usually it amounted to just some burial money, varying in quantity. Such thorough care for survivors was being heard of for the first time.
"A single death is worth this much!" Hearing Wen Desi's loud proclamation, translated into various dialects, the people of Lingao County all drew sharp breaths. Truly unheard of. Even the educated among them only knew stories of generals threatening soldiers with death to make them fight bravely, charging forward with no retreat permitted. They also understood the principle of "brave men emerge under heavy rewards"—but that applied to the living. Dead soldiers were of no use; giving their families some compensation was already considered great benevolence. No one had ever been willing to spend so much money to buy a common soldier's life.
From this moment, the people of Lingao County began to realize that the short-hairs' army must be fundamentally different from the Ming army or bandits—their soldiers' lives were very valuable indeed.
"This is probably just talk. Deceiving those ignorant commoners to risk their lives for them," Huang Bingkun continued his agitation propaganda. Honestly, even he did not quite believe it—if the Australians fought wars this way, their court would have gone bankrupt long ago, unless Australia was covered in gold and silver.
"Making such claims in public—how can they be casual words?" The speaker was unknown to Huang Bingkun. By appearance, he looked like a down-on-his-luck scholar who had clearly not passed the examinations. As a xiucai who had passed, Huang Bingkun naturally looked down on such unqualified scholars and was about to mock him when a delegate who resembled a small landlord cut in:
"I also feel this is not casual talk. The short-hairs are mostly honest people." He said he came regularly to grind grain at Lingao's mills, and each time after grinding, the short-hairs would separately bag the brown rice, bran, and chaff, weigh each for him to verify, and then charge accordingly. "There's never been the slightest cheating." He praised them. "Based on this alone, I believe their word is good!"
(End of Chapter)