Chapter 890 - Go/No-Go Gauge

To ensure indigenous workers could correctly master production essentials, Shi Jiantao found himself investing far more than anticipated. After consulting with elders in the industrial sector, the consensus was clear: merely training workers wouldn't suffice. The key lay in providing simple, foolproof inspection equipment that would enable indigenous workshops to accurately determine whether their products met standards.

Standard measuring tools wouldn't solve the problem. Teaching workers to use them properly would itself consume enormous time and effort.

After extensive discussion, the most practical solution emerged: dedicated Go/No-Go gauges for inspection.

A Go/No-Go gauge is an industrial measuring device. When producing large batches, using standard instruments like vernier calipers and dial indicators to measure each piece individually is cumbersome and slow. Since qualified products typically fall within an acceptable range, manufacturers often use paired Go gauges and No-Go gauges designed to specific tolerances.

The principle is straightforward. Different Go/No-Go gauges are manufactured according to different specifications. For inspecting hole diameter, for instance, the upper tolerance limit becomes the No-Go end, and the lower limit becomes the Go end. During inspection: if the No-Go end passes through, the hole is too large—unqualified and unsalvageable, only fit for scrap. If the Go end cannot pass through, the hole is too small—also unqualified, but potentially correctable through rework.

During the Sino-Soviet split, a story circulated widely in Chinese folk tradition about repaying debts to the Soviet Union with agricultural products. When exporting apples, allegedly the Soviets required every apple to be placed in a testing box; only those fitting exactly were accepted. Those that wouldn't fit, or rattled loosely inside, were all rejected as unqualified.

Whether this legend was true or not, the principle was sound: in that story, the box functioned as a Go/No-Go gauge. This system had been applied in European military industry since the eighteenth century, originating in efforts to standardize shell and cannonball specifications for improved range. European artillerymen of the era had realized that the smaller the windage between projectile and bore, the greater the range and accuracy. To inspect cannonball quality on a large scale, arsenals began employing dedicated measuring tools—snap gauges, ring gauges—that functioned precisely as Go/No-Go systems.

The transmigrators now applied the same method, but engineered to be even more "idiot-proof"—ensuring anyone could understand completely after a single demonstration. These specialized gauges were all fabricated from iron to ensure material stability and minimal deformation. Tolerance specifications were adjusted to account for the fact that wooden structural components naturally expanded and contracted with temperature and humidity.

Beyond promoting the dedicated Go/No-Go gauges, Shi Jiantao also placed orders with the General Machinery Plant for several specialized production tools and pieces of equipment, including improved woodworking implements and pedal-operated woodturning lathes for use by the indigenous workshops.

When indigenous workers training in Hong Kong tested the new equipment and measuring tools on-site, the results proved dramatic. Shi Jiantao was so delighted he seized the hand of the General Machinery Plant elder delivering the goods and shook it vigorously—like the Northern Shaanxi Red Army greeting the Central Red Army at Wuqi. The shopkeepers and foremen of the indigenous workshops were equally overjoyed: just when all hope of working for the Australians seemed lost, they discovered they could still earn money after all. Australian lords truly lived up to their legendary reputation for having clever solutions. One by one, they declared they would absolutely produce according to standards.

The shipped Go/No-Go gauges, woodworking tools, and lathes were all sold to the workshops at a price—not cheap, but within their means. Shi Jiantao generously stipulated that payment could be deferred and deducted from future processing fees.

Riding this wave of momentum, Shi Jiantao pushed through an entire outsourcing management system. All ship component suppliers received a material code authorization, which required a one-tael silver certification fee. Each workshop designated as an outsourcing manufacturer for Hong Kong Shipyard had to pass a qualification inspection, with an inspection fee of ten taels.

Naturally, if a workshop didn't purchase the shipyard's tools and equipment or undergo worker training, passing this qualification was virtually impossible. The shipyard therefore also offered "Qualification Review Consulting" and "Training Agency" commercial services—which, of course, also carried fees.

These fees could likewise be offset against processing payments, which held considerable appeal for indigenous workshop owners with limited capital. Shi Jiantao's vision was to attract as many Pearl River Delta shipbuilding workshops as possible, gradually improving their production technology and management capabilities until they could fully support the Senate's main industries. He aimed to transform the entire region's indigenous shipbuilding industry—excepting a few workshops specializing in small boats—into outsourcing enterprises for Hong Kong Shipyard. The ultimate goal: extending Senate shipbuilding standards across all of Guangdong, bringing the indigenous shipbuilding industry under Senate control.

Despite these improvements, a handicraft industry rooted in agricultural society keeping pace with industrialized production remained extraordinarily difficult. Though the outsourced parts now included qualified products, the pass rate persistently hovered around forty percent. Delivery schedules routinely slipped.

Shi Jiantao was forced to focus his primary energy on patrolling and rectifying the outsourcing enterprises. He traveled by steam launch or schooner patrol boat, moving through the Pearl River Estuary under Marine protection, visiting the various workshops. He provided improvement requirements and suggestions wherever needed. Within two months, Hong Kong Shipyard had issued thirteen rectification yellow cards and dispatched over a hundred technician-visits to provide guidance at various facilities. Multiple training classes were held.

By the time summer arrived, the qualification rate for outsourced parts had finally climbed to sixty percent. This figure at last allowed Shi Jiantao to breathe easier. Completing the Planning Commission's orders on time would still prove difficult at this level—but at least it was now possible.

While Shi Jiantao devoted himself entirely to shipbuilding, a new wave of construction surged across Hong Kong Island. This time, the focus was comprehensive expansion of logistics and shipping facilities.

Hong Kong Island's geographic position made it the natural logistical hub for Operation Engine. Supplies destined for Zhejiang, Taiwan, Jeju Island, and Shandong would all be staged from here. The warehouses and freight facilities originally built for a small military land-reclamation team and modest reserves were now grossly inadequate. New warehouses, cargo yards, and wharf trestles rose in rapid succession.

Hong Huangnan had spent over ten days busy in Guangzhou, trying to establish his Carriage 4S Shop there. But Guo Yi, head of the Guangzhou Station, showed little interest in the concept itself—or rather, thought Hong Huangnan was dreaming. He had superficially expressed enthusiasm, declaring he would make the 4S Shop a "key project" in the newly planned "Great World" complex. But the Great World project was still at the stage of digging foundations and laying groundwork; by any reasonable estimate, it wouldn't be finished until 1632. The 4S Shop had effectively become a castle in the clouds. Hong Huangnan sighed over his proposal daily.

Nor did the news of the Joint Logistics Headquarters' establishment and his appointment as Minister bring him any joy—even though this position was equivalent in rank to Dongmen Chuiyu's status. Previously, as Chief Staff Officer, he had merely contributed ideas and plans, someone who exerted effort but bore no responsibility. Now he was a formal department chief with extraordinary responsibilities—and appointed right before Operation Engine launched.

"This is harboring malicious intent," Hong Huangnan muttered to himself, gazing out from the fortress window on Hong Kong Island.

Because he happened to be in Guangzhou, extremely close to Hong Kong Island, the Military Affairs Directorate's order had made him directly responsible for Operation Engine's logistical support.

Standing in the suite reserved for elders on the upper level of the five-story fortress and watching over Saintess Bay was certainly pleasant. But contemplating the weight of the entire logistical operation for Operation Engine made Hong Huangnan's head feel several sizes too large.

Hong Kong Island's so-called "logistical advantage" existed only in geographic terms. Compared to Hainan Island tucked away in a corner, Hong Kong was moderately distant, possessed a natural deep-water harbor, had some freshwater sources, and was situated in the resource-rich Pearl River Delta. Beyond these natural endowments, the material infrastructure for logistical operations was nonexistent.

Extra warehouses, wharves, and all corresponding support facilities—none of it existed. Everything had to be rushed to completion before Operation Engine formally commenced. Building construction wasn't his responsibility, of course; the General Construction Company already had a team on Hong Kong Island under Shi Dafu. New construction crews and elders were being sent as reinforcements. Hong Huangnan estimated completion on schedule wouldn't be a problem.

The problem was that reserves, allocation plans, and transport schedules for supplies remained blank sheets. The Planning Commission had informed him days earlier that 9,000 tons of brown rice and miscellaneous grains could be prepared for Operation Engine. But total quantities of other materials required, how much each point needed, how varieties should be distributed—all of this depended on him, as Minister of the Joint Logistics Headquarters, to formulate specific supply plans.

"Damn it, I have one orderly and one female secretary—how am I supposed to handle something this big?" Hong Huangnan voiced his frustration again in the elder's bedroom. Days earlier, he had already telegraphed Thorpe requesting a logistics staff team be transferred to Hong Kong Island to form a Forward Command.

Thorpe had replied with an "handling immediately" telegram at the time, and then... nothing. Hong Huangnan couldn't help growing paranoid. Was the man plotting something? When the Joint Logistics Headquarters was established, he had been in Guangzhou while Thorpe attended the ceremony. Did his "Vice Minister" have other tricks up his sleeve? Recalling how Thorpe often assumed the posture of "You're the leader, do whatever you want—anyway, here's my opinion" when dealing with Fubo Army heads and Planning Commission leaders, his suspicions seemed increasingly reasonable.