Chapter 1031: Serving Dinner
The villages and towns along Kong's advance suffered inevitably from the fires of war. The mutinous soldiers, harboring deep resentments, vented their accumulated hatred for the Shandong troops upon the local populace. The places they passed were left in ruins and devastation, though areas beyond their route escaped the direct catastrophe.
Yet news of the military chaos triggered panic throughout Huangxian. The county seat's gates slammed shut, and people scattered into hiding. "Villains" from various villages and local bandits seized the opportunity to cause trouble, raping and looting at will. Amid the fear and confusion, nearly every fortified village found itself flooded with large numbers of people dragging their families along, seeking refuge. Rich and poor alike fled to settlements with walls—for within those stockade ramparts, a pitiable remnant of order still persisted.
Though Lu Wenyuan's stockade was newly built, word that an island stockade guarded by local militia existed spread rapidly. Moreover, Qimu Island was relatively remote. From the second day after Kong Youde's soldiers entered Huangxian, great numbers of refugees began streaming toward Qimu Island—the elderly supported, the young carried, belongings clutched to their chests.
Lu Wenyuan and the others had anticipated this situation and prepared accordingly. Massive cauldrons shipped from Lingao boiled day and night, producing a gruel of relief rations, dried sea blite, and every edible local vegetable and wild herb available. Refugees, regardless of wealth, received a wooden basin and wooden spoon upon entering the camp, then proceeded to the cauldrons for hot gruel.
This method saved many refugees suffering from hunger and cold. It also allowed those who still possessed grain but were freezing to death to preserve their lives.
Only two meals of gruel were rationed daily, with calories calculated at only 1,400 kilocalories. This kept them from starvation and nothing more—precisely as Lu Wenyuan intended. Once loading and transfer operations commenced, if the refugees were all lively and energetic, any resistance would spell disaster. Keeping them half-dead ensured they lacked the strength to fight back.
Because food intake was so meager and calories insufficient, accommodations required particular attention. Long wooden huts equipped with huodilong underfloor heating systems were provided. Though hardly warm as spring, they at least prevented anyone from freezing to death. In the refugees' eyes, the island master was compassionate indeed: gruel to eat, fires to warm themselves, proper houses to shelter in. Doctors patrolled daily, dispensing medicine to the sick. Infants who couldn't obtain breast milk were even rationed rice flour and sugar.
Compared to the arduous journey of braving wind and snow on the roads, Qimu Island was paradise.
But such days were not free. Lu Wenyuan understood clearly that though the refugees felt grateful now, the moment conditions outside improved, they would depart without a backward glance. As the saying goes, it is hard to leave one's native land. The Chinese people's attachment to their homeland runs deep—unless they face a complete dead end, they are unwilling to abandon their homes.
Therefore, he announced to the refugees that anyone wishing to take refuge on Qimu Island must sign a contract to work as his long-term laborer for three years. Otherwise, they must leave the stockade immediately.
The chaotic and terrifying scenes outside became vivid in camp under the deliberate exaggeration of Lu Wenyuan and his associates. He specifically selected a group of local natives—choosing those with children and elderly dependents—and offered five extra pieces of relief sweet-potato flour biscuits per person daily as incentive. Their task: spread rumors among the refugees, guide public opinion, and incidentally collect reports on the refugees' sentiments.
The refugees were already exhausted and frightened by the various flying rumors of terror. Under the threat that refusing to sign the long-term labor contract meant no food and expulsion, Lu Wenyuan's study was soon piled high with documents covered in fingerprints.
For the vast majority of illiterate commoners, only heaven knew what was written on those documents. As for the few who could read—students who had repeatedly failed their examinations, shopkeepers and clerks skilled with the abacus, fortune tellers, and the like—they had been separated under the guise of "preferential treatment for scholars" and concentrated in a long house for supervision and utilization. This served dual purposes: preventing these literates from spreading dissent among the refugees, and putting their reading and writing skills to work for the expanding refugee camp's administrative needs. Lu Wenyuan gave them slightly better treatment to help with paperwork and accounts. Thus, they threw their full effort into helping Master Lu exploit their fellow refugees.
Next, he dispatched numerous refugees as recruiters—all with family dependents. Giving each some dry rations, he sent them to various parts of Huangxian to promote and recruit. Anyone who brought back a refugee received a relief biscuit as reward. These people worked desperately: news that Qimu Island offered food and safety guarantees spread rapidly throughout the county. Many commoners who had taken refuge in stockades and the county seat—surviving without grain by begging—heard that Qimu Island had food rations and set off one after another.
Soon, the refugees gathered on the island exceeded four thousand. Lu Wenyuan decided to commence the first batch of transfers immediately, making room for subsequent arrivals.
He sent a coded telegram: "Serve dinner!"
With that transmission, Operation Generator began.
Summoned by the telegram, the first transport convoy departed from Kaohsiung, Taiwan.
The convoy consisted of five H800 Harmony Wheels, escorted by the first-class gunboats Yufeng and Yangbo. The formation commander was Lieutenant Commander Le Lin of the Navy, captain of the Yufeng, sailing for Qimu Island.
After leaving port, the formation took the eastern side of the Taiwan Strait, riding the Kuroshio Current northward. Averaging eight knots that day, it completed the entire voyage in less than two days, arriving at Qimu Island at dusk on the 29th.
Because the number of refugees transported directly concerned his reputation, the moment the ships reached port, Lu Wenyuan set aside exchanging pleasantries with Le Lin and went straight to inspect the H800 vessels.
The H800s transporting refugees had undergone special modifications to maximize capacity while guaranteeing survival rates. Dr. Zhong had once proposed a plan to "crate transport" people using containers. Despite various advantages, it was ultimately rejected because "human containers" stacked on deck created a high center of gravity, compromising safety. In the end, traditional below-deck cabin transport was adopted. To fully utilize space, double-layered bunks were installed in some cabins.
Roughly calculated, including hanging bunks, each refugee could occupy about 1.2 square meters—not spacious, but considerably better than the 1 square meter per person allotted to sailors on World War II destroyers.
The cabin floors were covered with bundled hay as insulation against the cold.
"Seems a bit insufficient. On land, we light fires for them." Lu Wenyuan examined the hay's thickness.
"It gets warmer the further south we sail—shouldn't be a major problem," Le Lin replied. "Besides, we've got spare hay if needed. Just add a few more bundles."
Le Lin showed him the bundles piled in the hold. "All harvested locally while clearing land in Taiwan. Used for one voyage, then unloaded for composting. Guaranteed clean each time we transport people."
"I'd think the rags on the refugees could be composted too..."
"That's unnecessary—however tattered, they're cotton and hemp products. Wash them clean and make paper. The washing water can be used for composting..."
"Damn, are you being transferred to the Planning Commission?"
Because the cabins would be packed with refugees, ventilators were installed on deck to ensure fresh air reached these spaces. Non-powered fans developed by the Ministry of Technology were mounted at the bow to collect air, which was then distributed into the cabins through cloth ducts. As long as ventilation was maintained, mortality and morbidity rates during long voyages with large numbers of personnel could be greatly reduced.
Along the ship's sides were chutes extending outside the hull—chute toilets installed for the refugee cabins. Excrement and urine discharged directly into the sea, maintaining air quality inside and avoiding sanitary contamination.
Finally, spacious cabins were specially reserved for pregnant women and mothers with infants, ensuring the highest possible infant survival rate.
The H800 type had a cargo capacity of 800 tons and actual standard displacement of 1,200 tons. According to slave trade transport methods, roughly every 2 tons of displacement could transport one slave—at the cost of extremely high mortality. The Senate urgently needed population and could not afford such losses. Transport density had to be reduced.
Whether sailing from Qimu Island to Jeju Island or Kaohsiung, or from Kaohsiung to Hong Kong and Lingao, all voyages were relatively short. Even under poor wind and sea conditions, maximum sailing time would not exceed a week. Food and fresh water could therefore be compressed as much as possible to accommodate more personnel.
The food supply per person per day was relief biscuits equivalent to 1,400 kilocalories, plus 1.5 liters of boiled drinking water. According to the Health Department's calculations, this would sustain refugees safely until arrival in Kaohsiung.
After precise calculations of carrying capacity, cargo types, and cargo volume, the final transport plan from the Joint Logistics Headquarters specified that each H800 would carry 400 people, regardless of gender or age.
The transfer took place at dawn. An infantry company armed with clubs and rifles with fixed bayonets sealed off the entire camp area. Then, while distributing breakfast, camp leaders announced that the refugees would be sent to Zhejiang for "military farming." Taiwan was a desolate wasteland at the time—not only had Shandong commoners never heard of it, but even if they had, they knew it was no good place. Jiangsu and Zhejiang, by contrast, were wealthy lands. Telling them they were going there to reclaim wasteland met far less resistance.
From the barracks to the pier stood a large contingent of propaganda personnel transported from Lingao—all middle-aged women with joyful expressions, greeting refugees enthusiastically, helping the elderly and young, repeating in broken Mandarin: "It'll be good once you reach Zhejiang! Eat as much rice as you want, enough for everyone! Hard work won't starve anyone! The masters are good people!"
In a state of semi-coercion and semi-coaxing, the refugees—their minds scattered from prolonged dietary restriction—were guided almost numbly toward the boarding gangways. The first batch of two thousand refugees boarded the five H800 cargo ships.
(End of Chapter)