Chapter 913 – Material Preparations

There were quite a few clan landlords in Lingao who lived in tightly-knit extended-family communities. Few were willing to abandon their current communal way of life. These clan landlords wielded strong personal control and influence over their kinfolk—something the Senate particularly abhorred.

Operation Engine required conscripting substantial human resources. Besides naturalized citizens, the clan landlords' populations were also targets of Senate ambition.

As long as the impoverished, marginalized members of the clans could be extracted—removed from the core of the ancestral halls and main lineages—and provided with new lives economically superior to their current condition, they would lose their self-identification as "members of such-and-such family." In the wilds of Taiwan or Jeju Island, they'd have no one to rely on but the Senate; their mentality would shift rapidly.

Meanwhile, the clan landlords remaining in Lingao would lose their threatening strength as their populations drained away. Their economic power would decline accordingly.

Liu Muzhou had originally planned to eliminate the clan landlords outright; Operation Engine presented a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

If these clan landlords refused to send militia, the Senate could justifiably "suppress" them.

Sope turned his attention back to the documents in his hands. He found the plan's standard of 350 grams of brown rice per person per day for refugees, sustained for four months, quite inadequate. Refugee camps had large construction projects requiring refugee labor. Aside from the physical drain of sea transport, massive construction and reclamation work awaited at every destination.

Refugees stranded on Jeju Island would then be shipped onward to Lingao, Kaohsiung, Tiandu, Hongji, and other locations. The timeframe for grain requirements would extend further still. Sope planned to recommend that the Planning Commission expand grain procurement in Southeast Asia.

The first shipment of Siamese rice had already arrived through the efforts of the Vietnam Trade Company, filling the gap left by dwindling Vietnam rice supplies. Siamese rice was mainly long-grain indica; most transmigrators were accustomed to short-grain japonica and found it unfamiliar. But ordinary people long accustomed to semi-starvation weren't so particular.

Another avenue for supplementing refugee grain was local land development. But Jeju Island's soil was thin and unsuitable for large-scale agriculture. Throughout Korean history, Jeju had served primarily as pastureland and a fishing port; agricultural production was meager.

Per the Agriculture Committee's plan, the island would be used mainly for grazing, with land of better natural conditions developed for farming. Allegedly, Jeju's climate was suitable for growing potatoes. Potatoes had a short growing season and high yields; they were rich in vitamins and could serve as both staple and vegetable, effectively supplementing refugees' diet.

The Agriculture Committee had stockpiled seeds for many crops suited to cold northern regions. These seeds were approaching the end of their shelf life. Wu Nanhai had discussed this with Sope recently, requesting that special farms be established on Jeju Island for seed preservation and breeding—killing two birds with one stone.

On the bridge, the transmigrator officers' discussion had concluded for now. Sope ambled over to Fu Sansi. The life vests had just sparked rather heated debate. Sope had known from the start that these newly manufactured life vests weren't ideal: the kapok-filled vests were both heavy and bulky, making tactical movement virtually impossible for the soldiers wearing them. The only saving grace was that if someone fell into the water, the vest did keep them afloat.

What he hadn't anticipated was that the transmigrator officers' debate centered not on the vests' mobility but on their color. Someone had questioned whether such bright life vests violated the principle of "low visibility" in combat.

Of course, this objection was meaningless in this timeline—brightly colored uniforms had been the mainstream of military dress from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century. The Fuboian Forces, organized around volley-fire tactics, also wanted smart, dashing uniforms (except for certain special units)—they just couldn't afford them yet. Life vests were beside the point.

"Sope, how are our detachment's winter uniforms coming along?" Zhu Mingxia asked. "You said you'd bring samples this time for everyone to see."

Sope smiled. "The clothing factory has delivered a batch of trial winter uniforms. I'd originally planned to have a squad dress up so everyone could see the effect, but it's simply too hot today. Let's just examine the samples directly."

Everyone returned to the bridge's conference room. Sope's orderly had already spread out a complete set of northern-region winter uniforms on the conference table. This winter outfit was intended mainly for troops stationed north of the Yangtze and south of the Yellow River in winter. In practice, it could also be used in areas slightly further south or north, like Jianghuai or Hebei.

The "Type 31 Northern Region Army Field Winter Uniform" was made from imported British heavy woolen cloth, chosen for its warmth and water resistance. It featured a short trench-coat style with drawstrings at the hem and cuffs. Since Lingao couldn't produce zippers, the front closure used overlapping double-breasted buttons. It had a buttoned high collar. The uniform included a waterproof hood lined with raw wool fabric—a warm cap was issued separately. The lower half consisted of woolen riding breeches paired with deerskin ankle boots—deerskin possessed excellent insulating and waterproof properties. Because there wasn't enough deerskin available, the mass-produced version would use cowhide for some. The cap was a cotton "three-piece" design—essentially the "Lei Feng cap" style. Wearing it meant soldiers couldn't wear steel helmets. Fortunately, Lingao soldiers rarely needed steel helmets to protect their heads.

Besides the outer coat, there were thin cotton vests and cotton liners as supplementary garments to enhance warmth in low temperatures. After all, Lingao couldn't yet produce wool sweaters or long underwear; soldiers basically wore shirts directly under their coats, which limited warmth.

The soldiers' gloves and warm socks were thickened cotton-yarn labor protection products. Fu Sansi thought these would definitely prove inadequate for warmth. Under current conditions, the ideal military glove would be the webbed cotton mitten, hung around the neck on a connecting cord—warm and easy to make, though in emergencies soldiers had to remove them to shoot. Socks could ideally be made from imported wool yarn; for now, they could only manage rough cotton-yarn socks.

For travel further north—into the Liaodong region, say—this uniform's warmth would be insufficient. So the clothing factory had also produced a prototype military cotton greatcoat as a supplement.

"With the cotton greatcoat, that pretty much solves everything. Back when I was a soldier in Shaanxi, wearing a military greatcoat at night meant I wasn't afraid to stand guard outside even in the bitter cold." Fu Sansi was full of praise for the cotton greatcoat.

Warmth was especially critical for southern soldiers going north for the first time. Currently the Fuboian Forces drew most of their troops from Guangdong, Guangxi, and Fujian. Suddenly arriving in the north, they simply couldn't adapt to winter there; frostbite would be severe. If poorly handled, infected wounds would place enormous burdens on logistics. Southern-born transmigrators would likewise struggle to adapt to the local climate.

The transmigrators examined the newly made winter uniforms, occasionally running their hands over the material. The woolen uniforms looked quite different from cotton ones; with collar insignia, cap badges, and various military emblems added, the complete outfit looked truly imposing—incomparable to the limp cotton uniforms.

"Now this looks like a real soldier," Fu Sansi sighed. "The current uniforms without a belt look like flour sacks—all baggy. They just don't project military bearing..."

The Fuboian Forces' turnout and deportment, if not the best in this timeline, was certainly far superior to both the Ming and the Jurchens. But for transmigrators, the forces still looked somewhat shabby.

"What's this?" Someone picked up a container made from a shell.

"That's an anti-frostbite ointment developed by the Health Department. Each soldier gets one. Medical teams will also stockpile supplies—if necessary, it'll be distributed to refugees as well." Sope said. "Liu San is also organizing Run Shi Tang to develop a frostbite treatment ointment."

To ensure the Northbound Detachment's combat effectiveness, besides sparing no expense to import woolens and wool for winter uniforms, considerable personnel adjustments had been made. Soldiers from Liaodong, Shandong, Henan, and Northern Zhili had been transferred from across the entire army into the 4th Battalion, raising the proportion of troops from northern regions.

The Shandong soldiers had been organized into a detachment-level company unit, then dispersed to reinforce various companies and platoons as guides and interpreters. Besides the Shandong soldiers, units of Southern Fujianese and Hakka soldiers had also been specially formed for the Taiwan landing operation.

Beyond conscripting local militia from Lingao, Dongmen Chuiyu and Wei Aiwen also planned to recruit some "mountain infantry" from among the Li and Miao peoples—primarily cold-weapon troops to be deployed in Taiwan for "security" and "punitive" operations against the Taiwanese indigenous peoples. Zhu Mingxia thought this rather pointless, but he didn't object—at least adding some low-level security forces would reduce the burden on the Northbound Detachment's troop strength.

"Everyone, look at this." Sope produced a wooden case with theatrical flourish. Under everyone's gaze, he opened it with exaggerated ceremony.

Inside were several crude brass cylinders. Puzzled looks appeared on everyone's faces. A few seconds later, Zhu Mingxia finally understood. He whooped, picked one up, and held it to his eye, slowly adjusting the tube.

Inside the case were the telescopes the army and navy had been bickering with the Planning Commission about for ages.

Telescopes were stored in considerable quantities both in the Planning Commission's warehouse and in transmigrators' personal stockpiles. But the army and navy also had enormous demand for them. The army wanted one for every company commander; the navy kept insisting that at minimum, every ship captain should have a telescope—otherwise combat effectiveness would suffer.

Besides infantry company commanders, technical branches like artillery and engineers also needed telescopes. Applications and memoranda requesting optical equipment had long been a dominant presence on the Science and Technology Department's desks.