Chapter 39: Cement

Wang Luobin had a complete set of small-scale cement production equipment, but it used a vertical kiln that required a large amount of coal, a resource they currently lacked.

The other necessary raw materials—clay, lime, and gypsum—had all been found locally. The clay from the brickworks’ quarry was ideal, and while the lime produced from shells was low in calcium carbonate, a chalk deposit had been found near the quarry. Gypsum was still missing, but its absence wasn’t critical.

Wang Luobin decided against using the full equipment set, which had strict requirements. Instead, he opted for a simpler method to produce a cement substitute: “artificial pozzolanic cement.” The process was simple: fired bricks, tiles, or pottery were crushed into a fine powder. Alternatively, lime and clay could be calcined directly in a kiln at a relatively low temperature of 600-800°C. The resulting cement was similar to ancient “pozzolanic cement,” which had been used to build the Yunnan-Vietnam Railway and was widely used in China during the Anti-Japanese War.

Wang Luobin ordered a batch of fired red bricks for an experiment. Laborers manually broke the bricks into small pieces. The initial grinding, done with human-powered stone rollers, was painfully slow, yielding only 10 kilograms of powder after an hour.

After grinding and sifting, Wang Luobin mixed the powder with lime and water. The entire construction team watched as the mixture was used to lay a wall. Once it dried, the fired-clay cement proved perfectly usable. While not as strong as true Portland cement, it was an effective binder.

This discovery was a breakthrough. Even Zhao Wu, the mason tasked with smashing bricks, was thrilled. In his fifteen years as a mason, he had always used a mixture of yellow mud, lime, and water. The most sophisticated binder he knew was a plaster mixed with glutinous rice juice. Now, these “pirates” had created a mortar that could bind bricks firmly together simply by grinding up other bricks! He was almost glad he had been captured.

This cement was the transmigrators’ first truly modern industrial product, a critical step forward. But the grinding efficiency was still far too low.

The mechanics team designed and built a simple automated grinding mill using two stone rollers from the quarry. The rollers were connected to a vertical shaft with a flywheel and a set of bevel gears, driven by a chain. An ingenious addition of a wooden wheel and a grain-winnowing fan allowed for automated sifting, separating the coarse particles from the fine. This contraption of iron, wood, and stone could process nearly a ton of crushed brick per day.

With cement secured, the next requirement for the Hoffman kiln was refractory bricks. Fortunately, Lingao had local sources of alumina and silica, and they were able to fire the necessary bricks easily.

With refractory bricks and cement, building the Hoffman kiln was a straightforward task. A few days later, its tall, brick-red chimney belched thick black smoke into the sky for the first time.

“Damn, that’s beautiful,” someone murmured. The smoke, a symbol of pollution they had once despised, was now the most beautiful sight in the world. Watching it, Wang Luobin began to understand why the Great Leader had shown no sentiment for Beijing’s ancient city walls, ordering their demolition while proclaiming that “Beijing’s chimneys should be as dense as a forest.” To the people of that time, the ancient walls were mundane; it was the scarcity of modern industry that symbolized a nation’s progress.

Now, the proud chimney of their kiln stood against the green hills and clear waters of the Wenlan River. To the transmigrators, it wasn’t an eyesore; it was a declaration. Their industrial age had begun.

The kiln needed to be pre-heated. The construction team set off for Bopu to build a wood-drying kiln for the timber processing plant. Wang Luobin didn’t join them. He figured Luo Duo could find the necessary plans in a book.

As he watched the construction team drive off, a thought struck him. He called Mei Wan. “Talk to the timber team and have them build a wood carbonization kiln as well.”

“A carbonization kiln?”

“It’s for making charcoal. Talk to Luo Duo; he’ll know. See when you can get it into production.”

With no coal, charcoal was the next best thing. The dry distillation of wood would not only produce charcoal but also wood tar, a source of many useful chemicals.

The mess hall sent a food cart to the brickworks. By now, Wu De had taught the laborers the concept of lining up. Queuing, he mused, was a fundamental aspect of social order, a product of resource scarcity. In an environment where following the rules meant losing out, everyone learned to rush and push.

Despite the team leaders’ efforts, the lines were still a chaotic mess. Everyone wanted to be first, and only the fear of the transmigrators kept the lines from collapsing completely.

Wu De was generally satisfied with his laborers’ performance. The rivalry between the five team leaders had spurred them to work hard. But their diligence was born of fear. To motivate them, he needed a different kind of incentive.

He decided to start with food. After each captive had received his bowl of thin porridge, Wu De had a basket brought forward. It contained the mess hall’s less-than-successful attempt at salted fish.

“Today, Wang Tian’s team worked the hardest and produced the most,” Wu De announced. “Therefore, every man in his team gets an extra salted fish.”

The promise of a reward made many eyes widen. For men who had lived their whole lives on the edge of starvation, this was a powerful motivator.

“For his excellent leadership, Wang Tian gets two fish.” The reward made Wang Tian’s face beam. The other four leaders looked on with envy. The loss of face was a major blow. They all began plotting to make an example of a few slackers in their own teams that evening.