Chapter 19: Military Matters

The meeting dragged on for the entire day, ending only after dark. Many details still needed to be ironed out, but they had established a rough framework and a clear direction for their preparations.

A sense of excitement hung in the air. Though the committee had forbidden any discussion of the transmigration outside the office building, small groups of people strolled along the weed-choked running track, their low voices filled with a mix of excitement and discontent.

The reasons for their dissatisfaction were varied: a disagreement over industrial development, a dispute over an equipment list, a personal dislike of another member. But as long as there was dissatisfaction, there was a bond, a shared sense of grievance that brought them closer.

The Executive Committee, still basking in the glow of their “successful congress,” was oblivious to these undercurrents. They were in a closed-door meeting with the core members of the Sports Group.

The “Sports Group,” though ostensibly responsible for physical training, was the embryonic form of their future military. The innocuous name was a deliberate deception.

The Sports Group had remained silent throughout the meeting, a decision made at the behest of Wen Desi. Their business was too sensitive to be discussed openly, even among the core personnel.

The group’s leader was a sales manager named Xi Yazhou. His profession, however, was not the reason for his appointment. He was a former army officer, a graduate of an infantry school, a company commander in a field unit, and a former staff officer. He was the most valuable military asset they had.

His colleagues were mostly demobilized and transferred military personnel. There were not many of them, but their military bearing was unmistakable.

“Chief Wen, this is Bei Wei, formerly of the XX Military Region Reconnaissance Brigade.”

“This is Wu De, formerly of the XX Naval Garrison District.”

“This is He Ming,” Xi Yazhou said, his voice filled with reverence as he introduced the oldest member of the group. “He participated in the Two Mountains Border War as an infantry company commander and was decorated for his service.”

A wave of awe went through the room. The old soldier, nearly fifty, had dark skin and slightly graying hair. He sat with his back ramrod straight.

“Little Xi,” He Ming said, waving a hand, “what’s the point of all this? What’s there to brag about a soldier fighting a war?”

An honest man, Xiao Zishan thought.

“Most of the transmigrators are laymen when it comes to military affairs,” Wen Desi began, choosing his words carefully. “Many have a deep knowledge of weapons, equipment, and military theory, but it’s all on paper. Few have actually served. So, I want to hear the thoughts of the Sports Group. You are the professionals.”

“First, I need to know how many people will be participating. And what is the proportion of demobilized military personnel and core militia?”

“It’s hard to say. Maybe five or six hundred in the end. There are about ten more with the qualifications you mentioned.”

“Then we’ll have to take the route of making every citizen a soldier,” Xi Yazhou said. “Such a population base cannot sustain a specialized armed force of any significant size. Fourteen people, even if they are all Rambos, are not enough. We need to conduct comprehensive military training. Everyone must participate.”

“Even the women?”

“Yes, even the women, except for Auntie Tian. Men of all ages, and women under forty.”

“What will the training be?” Xiao Zishan asked.

“Drill, simple earthwork, disassembly and live-fire shooting of one long and one short light weapon, and simple fighting techniques.

“First, we’ll form a small team of 15-20 people, mainly veterans, to be responsible for early warning and reconnaissance—our standing army. Then, the Sports Group will recruit about fifty young people with better physical conditions for more comprehensive training, as the core militia.”

“These people cannot be taken away from production.”

“Of course,” Xi Yazhou said. “That’s why they are called the core militia. They will just have more training and will serve as the backbone force in battle.”

“What about the time?”

“Basic training is thirty days, ninety for the core militia. If there are good prospects, I would like to train them continuously until the transmigration. And physical training must be continuous—at least long-distance running every day. We just need to find another place for weapons training. Are there many shooting clubs here?”

“There’s one in this county, to attract people from Hong Kong.”

“That’s good. A pity that guns are not easy to get,” Xi Yazhou sighed. “And the ammunition in the club is too expensive. We can only let everyone get a feel for it.”

Xiao Zishan shifted uncomfortably. He had a premonition that they were about to tread on very dangerous ground.

“The problem of weapons is indeed very difficult.”

“Can we get real guns?” Wang Luobin asked, his hope not yet extinguished.

“It’s possible,” Xi Yazhou said, “but it’s better not to think about it. The risk is too high.”

“Then we can only count on the Industrial Group to build them,” Wang Luobin said, disappointed.

“Are we going to build them in this time-space?”

“We have the equipment, the talent, and the materials are not difficult to buy.”

Wen Desi shook his head. “Too dangerous. Illegal firearms are a key target for crackdowns. The police would be on us in days.”

“Then what do we do? We have no way to get weapons.”

“How about trading some ‘dogs’ (airsoft guns) for some real iron at a shooting club?” someone suggested.

“You might as well just go and steal from the People’s Armed Forces Department!” Xiao Zishan objected.

“Chief Wen, how many weapons can we get now? Give me the bottom line.”

Wen Desi hesitated. Hiding even an airsoft gun was risky. But Xi Yazhou was their future military leader. This show of trust was necessary.

“Very few,” he said, the numbers all memorized.

They had a little over ten shotguns of various brands, calibers, and models. Two Emei brand small-caliber sporting rifles. One unbranded East German-made rifled hunting gun, with a few casings but no ammunition. And several Shanghai brand and Gongzi brand Type 64 air rifles.

“Not a single real gun,” someone said, disappointed.

“It’s pretty good,” Xi Yazhou said. “Shotgun pellets can reach 35 meters, and with slugs, 70 meters. It’s not inferior to a flintlock, and a generation ahead of a matchlock. And our rate of fire is our advantage. The small-caliber sporting rifle has good accuracy and a sight. It can be used as a sniper rifle to suppress important enemy targets at long range. The effective range is at least 200 meters.”

“The lethality isn’t great, is it? The enemy will most likely be in full armor.”

“How can there be so much armor? Just a tattered uniform jacket.”

“That’s the Manchus. Our Great Ming is not so shabby…”

Just as the argument was about to devolve into a senseless Ming-fan-versus-Qing-hater debate, a quiet voice came from the corner.

“Just shoot them in the head.”

It was Bei Wei, the former reconnaissance soldier. He had been sitting silently throughout the meeting, a blank expression on his face. Now, a shiver went through the room.

Xi Yazhou nodded. “The Intelligence Group needs to give us a table of the military strength of all forces in the late Ming Dynasty: combat effectiveness, weapons, tactics, classic battle examples. This way we can make targeted plans.”

“No problem,” the Intelligence Group agreed.

The matter of weapons was tabled for further discussion.