Chapter 114: Training

Limited by resources and manpower, the army could only operate so many cannons at once. They could consider making more 12-pounder mountain howitzers for defense. When firing canister shot, they were more effective than the rifles in the hands of the poorly trained new army. They had considerable power, a high rate of fire, and were not too heavy (the cannon weighed no more than 250kg). A donkey or 3-4 men could pull it. They were perfect for placing in the camp and the defensive positions along the Wenlan River.

The New Army lined up outside Bairen City.

Ma Qianzhu, dressed in his Type 87 training uniform, stood before them. He puffed out his chest, held his head high, and tried his best to look like a soldier from the movies.

These former good subjects of the Great Ming, now for the sake of silver and rations, had unhesitatingly thrown themselves into this armed force of unknown origin. They felt no guilt for betraying the court and becoming “Ming traitors,” nor did they show any passion for rising up in revolution. They truly embodied the glorious tradition of “being a soldier to get fed” of the old Chinese armies.

More than 600 heads, shaved clean, still seemed a little unaccustomed to each other. The new military uniforms had not yet been made. They wore cotton training clothes hand-sewn by the women of the Bairen Commune, which naturally gave them no sense of martial prowess. Except for a 10-man squad equipped with standard firearms for demonstration, everyone else used wooden sticks with stones tied to them of equal weight instead.

There was no other way. The logistics department was crying out in distress. The paper patterns for the uniforms had not been made, and the equipment was not even on the drawing board. The military-industrial department had produced many guns, but the calibration was very slow. Paper-wrapped fixed ammunition also required manpower—it would be at least a month before they could see a New Army 100% equipped with 19th-century firearms. Logically, Xi Yazhou, as the future commander of the New Army’s training battalion, should have personally presided over the training, but he fell ill again and was resting, probably recuperating at the farm. Compared to the Navy’s Fengcheng Hotel, the Army had chosen the Nanhai Farm as its place of “corruption.” The environment was good, the food was plentiful, and there were often good things to try that were not supplied by the canteen. Most of the military group’s personnel were either on guard duty at their posts or inspecting the fortifications built by the laborers. In the end, Ma Qianzhu had to convene the New Army training battalion for training in his capacity as acting chief of the general staff.

This was somewhat related to the disagreements at the last military-building meeting. The Executive Committee and the military group had their first major disagreement on the organization and personnel arrangements of the New Army. The Executive Committee hoped that a civilian would serve as the chief of the general staff to strengthen the Executive Committee’s control over the military—if the native soldiers were difficult to trust for the time being, the transmigrator soldiers might not be trustworthy forever either. The military group hoped that either He Ming or Xi Yazhou would take the post. One was the most senior, and the other was a core figure in the military group. Of course, both of them consciously declined the nomination—being a coordinator between the Executive Committee and the young turks of the military committee was not an easy task.

The young turks, lacking the support of the heavyweight figures in the military committee, lost the battle for the position of chief of the general staff. In the end, it was decided that Ma Qianzhu, the chairman of the Planning Committee, would serve as the acting chief of the general staff. The establishment of the New Army was a new beginning, and everything required coordination between various departments. It was more convenient for a member of the Planning Committee to hold the post, which was acceptable to both sides.

Ma Qianzhu knew little about 19th-century armies, nor did he know how the “line-infantry-tactic” enthusiasts trained their troops. But he at least knew that no matter the era, elite armies always had certain characteristics—disciplined soldiers were the enemy’s nightmare. Before starting firearms training, physical fitness, drill, and discipline training would probably last for a month. To these former Ming subjects who were just scraping by a few days ago, his only authority was that of a “chief.” Ma Qianzhu’s entire military experience consisted of three months of military training during university.

Fortunately, the military group had left him a few veterans as instructors, and had also transferred some of the militia from Yanchang Village—their drill training had been personally supervised by Bei Wei and others, and was of the highest current standard.

There was no secret to physical training; it was the divine method of transmigrator exercise: cross-country running. However, the few veterans respectfully declined, saying that this glorious task should be left to Chief of Staff Ma.

Ma Qianzhu knew that he, as the chief of staff, had not yet won their respect, and that these few old soldiers were deliberately waiting to see him make a fool of himself.

“If the conditions are there, we must go on. If the conditions are not there, we must create them and go on!” Chairman Mao’s words echoed in Ma Qianzhu’s heart. To ensure the party’s absolute leadership over the army—no, the Executive Committee’s absolute leadership over the army—he had to persevere and show these people—intellectuals were not to be trifled with either.

With this ambition, Ma Qianzhu spiritedly shouldered his empty firearm, put on his backpack, which was declared to be full of ammunition but actually only contained stones, and announced: “Everyone, maintain formation, take your weapons, get a pair of straw sandals from the logistics department, and let’s go for a 5-kilometer cross-country run!”

The 5-kilometer cross-country run was one-way, which meant you had to come back on your own, but there was no time limit. A month later, everyone had to run back in formation. He firmly believed that for a new army, an orderly retreat was more important than an orderly attack. Of course, a large amount of exercise required sufficient physical strength. Ma Qianzhu, using his advantage as the head of the Planning Committee, had the agricultural department provide more dried meat and salted fish to supply the New Army, and grain was in sufficient supply.

Three days later, Ma Qianzhu’s foot was already blistered in one place, and he realized that if he continued to run in socks, he would soon have no socks to wear. So he quickly switched to foot wraps—he now only hoped that calluses would grow quickly.

During a break, he ordered everyone to lie down in a row, and he lay at the head of the line.

Many people wondered why they had to be so neat even during a break, but they reluctantly obeyed the order.

The former armored vehicle commander, Bai Yu, walked over:

“Commissioner Ma, are you really going to do this?”

“Go ahead!” Ma Qianzhu had the tragic look of a revolutionary martyr going to the execution ground.

“Well, I have to say, it’s been years since I was discharged—”

“I trust you,” Ma Qianzhu closed his eyes, with a look of someone lying down to be beaten, like a dead pig not afraid of boiling water.

“Actually, Commissioner Ma, you don’t have to do this. We PLA never did this, and the American soldiers don’t have this kind of trick either.”

“You talk too much. I am the chief of the general staff. Obey the order!” Ma Qianzhu had an incomparably resolute expression.

“Alright, alright, I’m scared of you,” Bai Yu shrugged. He thought, what kind of business is this? No wonder people say intellectuals are full of twists and turns and love to stick to the book.

“I’m warning you, don’t blame me if something happens,” Bai Yu said as he climbed onto the tractor, started it, and drove towards the crowd. No, he wasn’t going to run them over. It was just a close call, passing by everyone’s heads, carefully shifting into first gear.

The roar of this steel monster and the creaking sound as it rolled over the ground immediately caused a commotion among the people lying on the ground. Some scrambled away.

“Everyone lie still!” he commanded loudly. “No one is allowed to move.”

Although he shouted loudly, the vibration from the creaking tracks, which were dropping dirt on their heads as they rolled past not far from their heads, was still frightening enough. He was sweating all over—Ma Qianzhu himself was not absolutely confident in Bai Yu, but now that it had come to this, he had to take a gamble. If he didn’t show some courage, how could he command these people in the future?

When the shadow of the tractor returned to the garage, he immediately ordered those who had gotten up in violation of the order to step out of the line. They would have to stand in the sun for an extra hour, carrying their firearms and full equipment. Looking at their eyes, he was glad that they had not yet begun shooting practice.

Ma Qianzhu’s tractor training method spread everywhere within a few hours. Someone unceremoniously gave him the nickname “Ma SS.” Du Wen was even more heartbroken and specifically called to question Commissioner Ma why he was using Nazi fascist training methods. She even said repeatedly, “You have disappointed me so much.” According to Dingding’s newspaper, Ms. Du even shed tears on the spot… The next day, when Ma Qianzhu woke up, he found that he had become a gossip figure in the tabloids.

Gossip or not, Ma Qianzhu, who had already embarked on a path of no return, had to grit his teeth and persevere. Fortunately, the specific drill, design, military terminology, and grenade-throwing training were still handled by the former veterans. Otherwise, relying on just a “Militia Training Manual” would have been difficult to sustain.

The first few days of military training were no different from Ma Qianzhu’s past university military training, with drill training conducted by squad. Although the training direction agreed upon by the military group was a tactical model based on 19th-century column and line formations at the company-battalion level, they had no experience or information on how 19th-century European armies trained. Therefore, the basic drill training was still conducted according to the PLA’s drill manual.

Thanks to the experience of drill training in Yanchang Village, plus the on-site demonstration by the Yanchang Village militia, the training was simpler than expected. Ma Qianzhu insisted that everyone use Mandarin to shout commands during training, instead of using translators.

“The Ming official army also used the official language for command, right? It’s not like you have to use Sichuanese to command Sichuanese soldiers when they come.”

The instructors naturally used sticks to help the new recruits quickly grasp the essence of Mandarin. Every day, the training ground was filled with shouts. These peasants, who had joined the army out of necessity, were woken up by a loudspeaker at 5 a.m. and driven to the training ground. The “chief” instructors in charge of training were all fierce and menacing, holding sticks. No one understood what they were saying, but they insisted that people understand their words. Anyone who did not react to their commands or reacted incorrectly would be caned. Gradually, these people, who had never understood what left and right meant, understood the meaning of the commands. Then they were forced to learn to walk in rows of nine. How high their feet should be lifted with each step, how large their stride should be, how their arms should swing… walking like this was as awkward as it could be. They had seen the official army before: apart from marching in formation and turning in circles on the training ground, they had never seen anything like this.