Chapter 2793: Triumphant Return

When Tan Shuangxi finally set foot on the land he had dreamed of day and night, what he felt was neither excitement nor joy nor any other stirring emotion—only the restless irritation of having been roasted under the sun for an hour.

Although Bopu was hardly a fine harbor, its role as Lingao's outer port and the convenient waterway connecting directly to Bairen and the County Seat had led to significant expansion beyond what later generations would have recognized.

In Ma Qianzhu's view, Bopu's current scale and the Senate's investment in it were already "highly uneconomical." To accommodate ever-expanding shipping demands, two dredging vessels had been specially built to maintain the anchorage, and a grand artificial breakwater—impressive by seventeenth-century standards—had been constructed. As for the constantly expanding facilities in the port area, the costs were enormous.

From a geographical standpoint, considering Lingao County alone, Hou Shui Bay in the northwest would have made a more suitable port. However, the inertia of existing development and water shortage problems in the northwest meant that Bopu remained the busiest commercial port in the region to this day.

Thus, the level of congestion at Bopu could well be imagined.

The fleet transporting their battalion home enjoyed "priority" treatment, with berths arranged in advance. But the unloading area was too cramped and the accompanying military baggage too plentiful, and chaos ensued regardless, causing severe traffic congestion.

Sergeants shouted back and forth through the crowd, organizing their troops. Only after the entire battalion had lined up for roll call on the wharf did they finally proceed to the "Temporary Transit Camp" under the guidance of dock workers.

The Temporary Transit Camp had originally been the "Quarantine Camp." As Lingao's importance had grown, immigrant quarantine from the mainland to Hainan had been consolidated in Haikou. This sprawling camp now retained only a small section for "Crew and Merchant Quarantine." The remainder had been converted into a military transit facility, serving as a temporary station for personnel and materials departing from and returning through Bopu.

The army was not particularly satisfied with these arrangements, and Qian Shuiting had his own complaints about the military occupying such a large tract of land in Bopu, where every inch of ground was worth its weight in gold. Yet no more suitable location could be found nearby.

In the transit camp, soldiers performed simple ablutions. Whether or not you had washed your face aboard ship, everyone washed again. Haircuts, baths, and shaves had all been taken care of during the brief rest and reorganization before boarding, but after drifting at sea for several days, stubble had returned. Those soldiers with particularly prominent whiskers were singled out by Joint Logistics officers and made to shave.

Tan Shuangxi washed his face while cursing the half-day wasted baking in the sun. Still, the fresh water used liberally and the steaming tea restored his spirits.

"Attention! All personnel change to service uniform!"

As the Battalion Headquarters messenger delivered the order, soldiers hurriedly unslung their backpacks and retrieved their service uniforms.

These were the same uniforms issued when they had departed from Hainan. Apart from wearing them during the initial expedition and a handful of military reviews and ceremonies in Chaozhou, the uniforms had barely been touched, stored with the heavy baggage at the Joint Logistics station in the Chaoshan area all along. The preservation was excellent—unlike their combat uniforms, the old Year One Type, which had been replaced who knew how many times.

Once they had tidied their appearance and changed into service dress, soldiers who had looked somewhat ragged moments before now appeared capable and imposing once more. This was precisely the effect the General Staff had intended.

"Unfurl the colors!" came the order, and battalion and company flags were drawn from their protective covers and unfurled. Red Iron Fist banners and Blue Morning Star Flags caught the breeze and rippled in the wind.

"Whole battalion, form two-column marching order! Advance by sequence!"

As drummers and fifers struck up a brisk marching tune, the 1st Infantry Battalion filed out of the transit camp, leaving Bopu Port behind and setting off along the highway toward Bairen.

Accompanied by the beat of military drums, the soldiers marched with lively steps. The weather was fine. Sunlight glittered on the waves of the Wenlan River. From time to time, a train of barges towed by Daihatsu boats passed along the water, and sailors spotting the column would sound their steam whistles. Some of the more spirited soldiers waved their caps at the boats, which often drew longer blasts in return. Farmers working in the fields straightened their backs, removed the straw hats from their heads to fan themselves, and watched the long procession pass. The bolder ones shouted at the column: "Are you coming back from the north?"

Someone in the ranks answered immediately: "Yes! We fought all the way to Guilin!"

To Tan Shuangxi and the comrades around him, the scene before them was both familiar and strange. He had always enjoyed the soldier's life—tense yet fulfilling, exciting and full of purpose. But this time, he felt the beauty of peaceful existence in a way he never had before. Field labor that had once disgusted him now, viewed from a distance, seemed suffused with warmth.

Up ahead, someone in one of the companies started singing the departure march. The song spread from the front of the column backward.

Tan Shuangxi and the soldiers around him joined in. The joy of homecoming and their love for this place transformed into cheerful singing and bright, spirited eyes.

The column drew ever closer to the East Gate Market. A tall, colorfully decorated arch emerged at the far end of the road. Thick wooden pillars supported a massive plaque bearing three bold characters: Arc de Triomphe—Gateway of Triumphant Return.

Beneath the arch, a welcoming crowd had gathered. As the soldiers arrived, countless firecrackers exploded on either side. Then, from large loudspeakers, came the cheerful strains of "When Soldiers Stride Back Home." People lining the streets waved flags and fresh flowers. Colored paper scraps and streamers drifted down from the rooftops on both sides of the road like festive snow.

"Salute!" came the command. Officers raised their hands in salute while sergeants and soldiers turned their heads in unison to perform eyes right.

Police and temporarily seconded National Army soldiers maintaining order along both sides of the road returned the salute on command. Several children in the crowd followed a leading child's shout: "Salute... to... Officers!" They offered military salutes in various awkward postures, drawing a burst of delighted laughter from the soldiers.

Why do we fight? For noble titles for our wives and protection for our children? No. For glory to our ancestors? No. For the glory of the Senate? No. It is to protect the life we love, to let more common folk live such a life, to let everyone under heaven live such a life. Tan Shuangxi had never been able to understand this complex reasoning before. Now, having experienced life and death on the battlefield, suddenly returning to normal existence, he understood at last.

On this stretch of road through the urban area, the column moved very slowly because the crowd was simply too large. If not for food safety and order concerns that prohibited civilians from giving food to soldiers, the march would probably have been slower still. Even so, many women, children, and elderly crossed the cordon to surge into the column, pressing handkerchiefs, letters, and various small gifts into the soldiers' hands.

An old farmer squeezed his way to Tan Shuangxi's side, grabbing the soldier next to him with a voice mingling anxiety and hope: "My son is a soldier in the 8th Battalion. Have they been withdrawn?"

The 8th Battalion had been formed in Lingao. New recruits supplemented during its formation had come mainly from Danzhou and Lingao. Seeing that the 1st Battalion, which had also departed from Lingao, had returned, it was only natural to think of the 8th.

The soldier was dumbstruck; he had no idea where the 8th Battalion even was.

Tan Shuangxi stepped forward to help: "Old man, we're troops of the 3rd Mixed Brigade. The 8th Battalion belongs to the 1st Mixed Brigade. All battalions are arranging rest and reorganization now; I expect they'll be back very soon too. You can rest easy—the 1st Brigade was in the Guangzhou sector. They took Guangzhou almost without firing a shot. Your son will definitely come back safely. Just wait for him at home."

The old farmer seemed as though he had swallowed a reassurance pill. The anxiety in his eyes gave way to relief, and he clasped Tan Shuangxi's hand repeatedly, thanking him. Using the need to salute as an excuse, Tan Shuangxi quickly extracted his hand and bid the old farmer farewell. The 1st Brigade had indeed taken Guangzhou without paying any real price, but later losses during the public security operations had not been small.

"Brother, you must come back safely," Tan Shuangxi murmured to himself, trotting back into formation.

As the column entered the bustling commercial district, the crowds grew denser still. Some were students organized by their schools, wearing matching uniforms and waving flowers and flags. Others were shop assistants and customers from nearby establishments, abandoning their business for the moment to stand by the roadside imitating the students' cheers, calling out in New Language with accents from both north and south. Windows on the second and third floors of shops swung open. First a Morning Star Flag would appear, held aloft on a bamboo pole, then several smiling faces would pop out, arms waving small flags. Someone, apparently overcome with excitement, leaned half their body out and nearly tumbled from the upper floor, drawing startled cries from both spectators and soldiers alike.

"Mustn't fall down," Tan Shuangxi couldn't help thinking. "Dying like that would be too unworthy." On the battlefield, lives could be spent to measure the value of a hill or a city, but here, life was priceless.

Among the welcoming crowd, many people held paper signs with unit designations and names written on them, scanning the face of every soldier in the column with anxious eyes, searching for someone familiar. But soldier after soldier marched past, leaving them only with anxiety and disappointment.

Probably because he was recognized as a sergeant, people constantly approached to pull at him, inquiring about this or that unit's situation.

At first he hesitated over what could be said and what couldn't. But the crowd gathering around grew so large that stammering would only cause greater anxiety. In the end, he simply answered everything.

"The unit you're asking about isn't from our brigade. They went to Guangxi. We ended up going to Fujian."

"Casualties around Wuzhou were mainly National Army. Fubo Army losses weren't heavy. You can relax, old man!"

"Plague? We were at the frontlines the whole time. I really don't know about that..."

"Fu Sanjin? Which company? There are too many people with that name... National Army Battalion? They're not in our chain of command..."

"Grenadier Company is just behind. Ask the soldiers back there..."

"Artillery 5th Company? Saw them at Shanwei. The Ming troops were cowardly there; should be fine..."

Suddenly, a timid voice broke through: "Brother Shuangxi? Is it really you?!"

(End of Chapter)