Chapter 97: The Navy

The Navy Department, strictly speaking, was not yet an officially recognized organization of the Executive Committee. On the official organizational chart, it was listed as the Fishery Production Group and the Bopu Port Affairs Area, subordinate to the Ministry of Agriculture and the Ministry of Civil Affairs, respectively. According to the official division of labor, one was mainly responsible for fishery production and maritime transport, while the other was responsible for managing the various affairs of the Bopu camp area, including the regular maintenance of ships moored in the harbor.

But after some private lobbying by former navy personnel and some navy enthusiasts, these two departments have recently shown a tendency to merge. Although the Executive Committee currently maintains a “no comment” attitude on this, anyone holding a position within the Executive Committee knows that this merger is inevitable.

Unlike the various departments that were busy enclosing land and building houses, the navy people looked down on the brick-and-wood red brick buildings. They longed for a Baroque-style naval building. Before they could build such a building, the Fengcheng became the office of this unofficial navy department.

The Fengcheng completed its historical mission on the day it dropped anchor on D-Day. It could only be moored in the harbor until the transmigrators re-established their petroleum industry. The ship was carefully cared for—it had modern navigational equipment: radar, compass, chronometer… which would play a crucial role in the transmigrators’ future maritime power. In the most dangerous situations, it could also be used as a means of escape.

Various usable furniture, equipment, materials, and tools on the ship were successively dismantled to supply the land. Unused cabins were sealed and locked. A large ship is a complex world, and with a shortage of manpower for care, many blind spots that could not be inspected could not be left.

For the Navy Department, the comfort and convenience on this ship were incomparable to those on land. Although the generator had been restricted to meeting the most basic energy needs, it was more than enough to supply electricity for office and daily life. The ship’s high-power radio could easily contact all ships at sea. The ship had comfortable bedrooms, independent bathrooms, and a well-equipped kitchen. Unlike the vast majority of transmigrators who ate salted fish, smoked fish, and dried fish all day long, the ship had a cold storage. In the ship’s kitchen, they could eat fresh fish, enough to make sashimi, and could continuously produce ice cubes. Various fruit shaved ice were not worth mentioning, and they could even make ice cream with the milk powder they brought. It is said that Chief Wen, who had a preference for the navy, visited the Fengcheng several times for inspection and praised the ice cream and sashimi.

The main task currently undertaken by the unofficial Navy Department is still mainly fishing. There were originally some fishermen living in Bopu. After the transmigrators occupied this place, they fled one after another. But this was, after all, Lingao’s traditional fishing ground. The fishermen who lost their fishing grounds were on the verge of bankruptcy. In the end, the fishing masters had to come forward to negotiate with the transmigrators, willing to pay a portion of their catch in exchange for the convenience of fishing here. The transmigrators agreed to this request: they could reduce the use of their fishing vessels, thereby reducing the consumption of diesel and engine hours. The two sides reached a fishing agreement: the catch of fishing boats in the Bopu area would be divided 2:8. The transmigrators had the right to purchase the fishermen’s share of the catch at the fish market’s purchase price, and they had the right to pay by various means: materials, grain, goods, or silver. At the same time, the transmigrators’ fishing boats could still fish on their own.

Soon, this fishing hegemony was extended to all fishing boats fishing in this sea area. All fishing boats willing to abide by this rule had to go to Bopu to receive a red triangular flag as a marker. To ensure the implementation of this policy, the navy sent out a fishing vessel every day to patrol the fishing area, fishing on the one hand, and supervising the fishing on the other. One was to ensure that no fishing boats concealed their catch or engaged in at-sea transfers, and the other was to expel boats without flags.

“We’ve become fishing tyrants now,” Chen Haiyang stood on the deck of the “Yu-1,” scanning the fishing boats operating in the surrounding waters. He remembered the image of the fishing tyrant from the comic books he read as a child. Back then, his young heart was stirred with extreme disgust and hatred for this unjust system, and a vague admiration for the People’s Liberation Army was also planted. This was probably the most primitive motivation for him to become a naval officer later in life.

At this moment, however, he was upholding this unjust system, and he was one of its creators. The world is sometimes so strange.

“What’s wrong with being a fishing tyrant? The fish catch has been rising steadily, and Wu Nanhai has shut up! If this goes on, it’s only a matter of time before our navy is recognized.” Li Di stood beside him cheerfully, without a trace of guilt. This fat electronics engineer, after shamelessly worming his way into the Navy Department, had proclaimed himself a naval engineer. Every day, he would be in a shed, muttering to himself and tinkering with something, not letting anyone see. In fact, everyone knew that inside was a small steam engine—a steam engine kit bought from abroad, but this machine had not yet operated normally since it was brought ashore.

Chen Haiyang did not continue this topic. Since D-Day, regardless of their political leanings, utilitarianism had basically gained the upper hand among the transmigrators. What was beneficial to the transmigrators was good—right and wrong were largely determined by where one’s ass was sitting.

In the distance, a large fishing boat was spreading its sails and heading west. This was the “Dengyingzhou” on its third sea transport mission. Since its first trip to Guangzhou, this ship had hardly stopped, transporting back large quantities of materials urgently needed by the industrial department from Guangzhou. The Yu-1 was responsible for protecting it in the waters near Bopu, but beyond that, they were on their own. Chen Haiyang sighed: a navy, no matter how modernized, still has limited effect without a material basis.

“Attention! Three large fishing boats spotted 3 nautical miles ahead, no flags!” the lookout, Le Lin, suddenly shouted. He was from Hong Kong, a fanatical military enthusiast, especially of the navy. After joining the navy, he wore a civilian version of the US Navy uniform every day.

“Turn the rudder, heading 120. Ahead two, approach.” Chen Haiyang issued the order. The Yu-1, which had been moving at a slow speed, turned its bow and headed towards the fishing boats.

In the past, such inspections occurred several times almost every day. As more and more fishing boats had their catches confiscated, the number of boats fishing without flags became fewer and fewer, almost disappearing. This time, three appeared at once, which made Chen Haiyang a little suspicious:

“Sound the battle alarm, prepare for boarding and inspection!”

As the ship’s alarm bell rang, the more than thirty people on the fishing boat quickly took their positions, put on their steel helmets, and donned their fire-resistant combat suits—in this era of coastal naval warfare in China, arson was a common means of attack. They prepared their weapons. The Yu-1 had no heavy weapons like cannons. Its most basic firepower consisted of sailors firing volleys with SKS rifles. However, there had been some recent improvements. Although the industrial department lacked metal materials, they had plenty of wood, bamboo, rattan, and animal hides. With the addition of Lin Shenhe, who claimed to have played with every weapon except the atomic bomb, they quickly replicated several ballistae based on available information.

The so-called ballista was the most successful large mechanical crossbow of the ancient Roman era, and also the most famous mechanical crossbow in the world. Strictly speaking, it cannot be considered a crossbow, as its firing mechanism is different from that of a crossbow. The potential energy for firing is no longer mainly stored in the bow body, but in the twisted springs on both sides. The ballista has a nickname: “shield piercer.” The giant arrows it fires can easily penetrate any known shield and armor. A qualified ballista has a lethal range of up to five hundred meters and can penetrate a two-inch thick uniform wooden board within two hundred meters. Moreover, it can fire a variety of weapons, including arrows, javelins, stone balls, incendiary bombs, and so on. In the heyday of the ancient Roman army, each legion was equipped with more than 50 ballistae.

The mechanical crossbow used by the transmigrator navy was structurally no different from the ballista of the ancient Roman era, and even somewhat inferior—the best ballistae of ancient Rome used a large amount of steel and bronze components, unlike the stingy transmigrators, so this transmigrator version of the ballista was a bit clumsier than the real original. A slightly more advanced feature was that it had a 360-degree rotating turntable, on which there was also a low gun shield that could provide some basic protection for the gunner.

The Yu-1 was equipped with two such mechanical crossbows, one on the foredeck and one on the aft deck. Several experimental firings by the navy at sea proved that if fired at 500 meters, hitting the target was entirely a matter of luck. The accuracy was much better when approaching to about 200 meters.

Fortunately, the armament of the various ships on the coastal waters of China in this era was not much better. As long as the transmigrator navy did not get hot-headed and try to dominate the seas with mechanical crossbows, it was still possible to fight small coastal pirates and intimidate merchant and fishing boats. After all, they had more advanced ammunition than the Romans.

“Prepare number 2 ammunition!” the gunnery officer gave the order.

“Number 2 ammunition ready!” A large firecracker-like object was loaded onto the mechanical crossbow.

Seeing the Yu-1 approaching, the three fishing boats hurriedly turned their sails, seemingly preparing to flee. The loudspeaker on the fishing vessel began to play a pre-recorded message in various dialects and Mandarin: ordering them to immediately lower their sails and submit to inspection.

After the recording was played, the sails on the fishing boats were indeed lowered. Some people were still running around in a panic between the deck and the cabins.

“Prepare to come alongside and board.”

This was already a familiar task for them. The boarding team members put on their life jackets, each with a pistol and a machete, and stood by the ship’s rail, waiting for the order.

“Jump.” With the order, five team members leaped over the ship’s rail one by one and landed on the opposite deck. Before they could even get their footing, the roar of cannons sounded in their ears.