Chapter 23: [Wu De][y201]'s New Task (Part 1)
Unsettled, the officials and gentry sent a letter to General Tang in Qiongshan, hoping to persuade him to intervene.
But Liu’s strategy of harassment, on which he had placed such high hopes, found little support among the local militia leaders. The men were unwilling to fight. The defeat of the renowned Huang Family Village militia, even in an ambush with a numerical advantage, had sown fear in their hearts.
Magistrate Wu threatened and cajoled, but the local braves remained unmoved. They reasoned that the pirates had not yet robbed, killed, or burned. And if they were building a road to attack the city, that was a matter for the city, not for them. Why risk angering the pirates and inviting retaliation? Their homes were in the countryside, not behind the city walls. When forced, they would make a half-hearted patrol, circling from a safe distance before returning. The militia leaders, as long as their own lands were not threatened, were equally unenthusiastic. Their men were their kinsmen, their tenants, their long-term laborers. If they died in battle, who would work the fields? In a place like Lingao, where labor was scarce, they were not inclined to waste their men in a fight that was not their own.
The frequent appearance of the local militia along the construction route did not go unnoticed. With the beach camp now secure, the military group, save for a three-man observation post near Lingao County, had been reassigned to protect the road construction site.
Every three kilometers, a watchtower was erected, each manned by a watchman with high-power binoculars and a walkie-talkie. Below each tower, a simple fortification was built, an earthen wall surrounded by barbed wire, housing a four-wheel-drive agricultural vehicle, a motorcycle, and a 2-watt silicon radio. Motorcycles patrolled the route, and the agricultural vehicles served as a rapid deployment force, ready to transport reinforcements to any point under attack.
But soldiers alone were not enough. The construction team was issued a batch of SKS rifles and ammunition, ensuring that at each work point, in addition to a military guard, there were four or five armed workers.
“If you are attacked, hold your position,” He Ming instructed the foremen. “Report it, then open fire. The mobile team will arrive within five minutes. If another point is attacked, just report it.”
The new security measures were effective. The small groups of local braves who came to scout could no longer even approach the construction site during the day. Any suspicious activity was immediately reported, and a patrol of off-road motorcycles was dispatched. The roar of the engines was usually enough to send the militia fleeing in panic. The motorcycle team, on a whim, could have easily chased them down, but Bei Wei, fearing an ambush, had strictly forbidden pursuit. The few they did capture spoke an incomprehensible dialect. Xiong Buyou was summoned to translate. Fortunately, the Lingao dialect had not changed much over the centuries. After some effort, they learned that the men had been ordered to scout. Then came the familiar litany of pleas for mercy: an eighty-year-old mother at home, an eight-year-old child…
From the captives, the transmigrators learned that their road construction had thrown the county town into a panic. The Ming officials and gentry were convinced they were preparing to attack the city. The Executive Committee was surprised; they had expected some resistance, but it seemed the local authorities were more afraid of them than they had anticipated. This first-hand intelligence was a welcome boost to their confidence.
The captives were a small group and were initially slated for release. But the Executive Committee saw an opportunity: a drill for the large-scale acceptance and use of local labor in the future. They were all detained.
The shrill ring of the alarm clock woke Wu De. It was 9 a.m. He had been on duty until 4 a.m. and his eyes felt glued shut. But he hadn’t come to this new world for a vacation. He had come to make a living. If he slept any longer, he might not even get to eat.
As the commander of the fishing boat detachment, he could have slept on one of the more comfortable boats, but the military group was short-handed, and the navy had been called to the front. He had to come ashore.
A veteran of the army and a fisherman’s son, he was a man of rich experience. He found the standard-issue tents too small and crowded. He had struck a deal with the medical team, cleared a patch of woods near their camp, and built his own shelter. He had scavenged a dozen long wooden poles, tied them together at one end, and spread them out to form a teepee-like frame. He had draped it with oilcloth, leaving an opening for a door, and then covered the outside with reeds. He had dug drainage ditches around it and spread sand and plant ash on the floor. It was a decent nest, with a good view of the river, the sea, and his four fishing boats.
To save fuel, two of the boats were kept ready for deployment at all times, while the other two were temporarily sealed. One was used for fishing. Longhao Bay was teeming with fish, shrimp, and edible seaweed. Wu Nanhai had been spending a lot of time on the fishing boat, taking pictures of the catch and scribbling in a small notebook. The other boat was a spare, with a crew on duty at all times, ready to repel any attack from the sea.
He got up, grabbed an aluminum pot and a handful of plant ash, and went down to the river. He washed his face and chewed on a tender willow branch, a makeshift toothbrush. He had been on duty last night, repairing the watchtower, and had slept without a sleeping bag. His body ached, his nose was stuffy, and his head throbbed.
A cold? The thought sent a jolt of fear through him. He touched his forehead. No fever. He chewed on a few more willow branches. The bark was rich in salicylic acid, a natural pain reliever.
He went to the riverside bathing spot, a shallow, sandy-bottomed bay that the construction team had cleared and cordoned off with a net. He stripped and waded into the water. He was too tired yesterday to bathe, but with the current sanitary conditions, skipping a bath was an invitation to skin disease. Every evening, the men would gather here for a chaotic, naked bath. It was a spectacular sight. Wu De, with his rotating shifts, had never had a chance to join in. It was said that bathing together naked strengthened the bonds of brotherhood. He would have to join Committee Member Ma and the others sometime.
The morning water was cold, and he shivered as he washed his hair and body with soap. He washed his underwear and socks with plant ash, carefully conserving the precious soap. He hung his clothes on a tree near his tent to dry.
The camp canteen was open 24 hours, but he had no desire to go there. The food was a monotonous rotation of boiled seafood: kelp soup, squid, shellfish, shrimp, crab… After four days, the novelty had worn off. Last night, someone had cooked a pot of instant noodles, and a crowd had gathered, drooling. To crave instant noodles over fresh seafood… it was a strange new world.
Wu De didn’t mind the seafood; he just despised the way the canteen cooks ruined it. He went to a nearby bay, where the reefs were covered in oysters and barnacles. He pried off a few dozen with a small knife, careful not to take too many. The shellfish died quickly out of the water, and eating a bad one could lead to a nasty case of diarrhea. He sat on a reef and ate them raw, savoring the fresh, briny taste.
Back at his tent, he pulled on a clean set of underwear. He would have preferred to go naked, but there were women on the beach. The water in his thermos was gone. He had been boiling his own water, as the machine condensate supplied from the ship had an indescribable taste. A few days ago, the canteen had started supplying boiled water, a welcome service, though the taste of bleach was a bit strong.
He made a cup of strong tea in the kitchen, the warmth spreading through him. He wondered if Lingao produced tea. Surely the agriculture group had considered such a basic crop.
“Chief Wu,” the cook said, holding out a blackened object. “Try our latest creation.”
“What is it?”
“Smoked fish. Top-grade. We smoked it all night. The taste is guaranteed to be good.”
He couldn’t refuse. The fish was dry and hard, its appearance unsettling. The taste was even worse. It had been smoked without being salted, and the wood used had imparted a flavor not unlike the willow branch he had just chewed. He choked it down with a gulp of hot tea.
“Well? How is it?”
“Brother,” Wu De asked, his voice strained, “what did you do before all this?”
“Me? I studied bioengineering. My name is Hu Yicheng.” The former lumberjack, it turned out, had a knack for animal anatomy and had found a new home in the canteen, where he could continue to practice his skills.