Chapter 123: The Grassland Plan

Huang Xiong, as the squad leader of the third company, also participated in the expedition. He had never seen such a luxurious march. The troops marched along the coast, while the navy’s “Fubo” ship advanced slowly not far away, maintaining the same pace. Every time they camped for a rest, the supply ships would quickly come ashore, and wheeled mobile kitchens would be unloaded from the wide gangplanks.

The mobile kitchens were exquisitely structured, made of thin iron plates, with stoves and chimneys—they were originally meant to be pulled by horses, but now, without horses, they were temporarily transported by boat. The firewood collected by the soldiers was quickly lit, and baskets of food were moved from the ships.

Large pots were set up on the mobile kitchens and began to boil water. The water was pumped from a special water transport ship. This act made Huang Xiong feel outrageously extravagant—he knew that these Australians had to “treat” everything, including the water they drank. They did not drink raw water, nor water from rivers or wells, and they forbade their men from doing so.

For Ma Qianzhu, who organized the logistics, this was not a big deal. The transmigrators did not have enough bleaching powder to provide field water purification, and marching along the coast, the supply of fresh water was also quite difficult—the western part of Lingao was a water-deficient area. Transporting water by boat was both safe and convenient, saving the soldiers the time and energy of finding and drawing water.

The food in the baskets was neither rice nor flour, but pieces of something wrapped in paper, marked with what were called Arabic numerals, and a few characters: “Grassland No. 1,” “Grassland No. 2,” and so on. The paper packages had different colored blocks. Huang Xiong watched with interest as the cooks opened the paper, revealing grayish-white or brownish blocks, which were not very appealing.

When the water boiled, these large and small blocks were thrown into the boiling water. Soon, a peculiar aroma emerged from the pot. The aroma attracted Huang Xiong and the soldiers, who had been walking for half a day without eating. They came to the source of the aroma to see what it was. The pot was cooking something like a paste, brownish-brown. It looked very unappetizing, but the aroma was so strong it made one’s mouth water—especially for this group of people who had been carrying things and walking for half a day.

“What is this?” he asked the cook who was stirring the pot with a ladle.

“Grassland No. 1 and No. 2.”

“What is this?”

“I don’t know. Chief of Staff Ma got it directly from the farm,” the cook sniffed. “It smells good, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Is it a flour paste? I’m not used to eating flour,” said a soldier from Lingao.

“Flour paste? You wish. I think it’s sweet potato flour.”

“No way. We usually eat white rice. We eat sweet potatoes when we go to war? That’s not how it’s done.” In Huang Xiong’s experience, it didn’t matter if the soldiers were usually treated like beggars, poorly clothed and fed, but once they went into battle, they had to be well-fed and well-watered.

“Dinner is served, dinner is served!” the cook banged the pot with a ladle.

The soldiers lined up to get their food by unit number. The first platoon, first squad, got their food first, then the second squad, and of course, the ninth squad of the third platoon was last. The officers of all ranks in the new army, to fully embody the equality of officers and soldiers, had been lining up with the soldiers to get their food since the beginning of the training, and it had now become a routine. Although this system caused some complaints from some officers—plain white rice with salted fish and vegetable soup was a luxurious meal for the soldiers, but it was a bit monotonous and boring for the officers who were used to eating in the logistics canteen. Some would get their food and then secretly go to the canteen for an extra meal. After Ma Qianzhu discovered this problem, he strictly forbade it and ordered the officers to eat with the soldiers—he himself set an example.

After he persevered for a few days with great determination, Ma Qianzhu found that this was not like a 5-kilometer cross-country run, where the longer you persisted, the easier it became. Instead, the longer he persisted, the more painful it became. In the end, he decided to give the officers an extra meal every night. On this expedition, the officers’ backpacks were all packed with an extra 125g can of luncheon meat—this treatment made all the transmigrators’ eyes bulge.

Huang Xiong got a portion of the paste in order, looked at it for a while, closed his eyes, and put a spoonful of “paste” into his mouth. The fresh and savory taste almost disoriented his sense of taste—there was such a delicious thing in the world! He quickly swallowed his entire portion and hurried to the cooking squad to see if there was any left. As a result, the area around the pot was already crowded with soldiers who had gotten there first. Everyone was holding their bowls high, asking for “another spoonful.”

It was the first time the cook had faced such a popular scene. There was only a little paste left at the bottom of the pot, and it was not good to give it to anyone. In the end, he added some water and distributed it to everyone like a soup.

Dongmen Chuiyu nodded and wrote with satisfaction in his notebook, “Grassland No. 1 and No. 2, very satisfied.”

After dinner, the female nurses of the medical team came ashore. They carried boxes with red crosses on them and asked if anyone felt pain or discomfort. Immediately, many people said that their feet hurt or their stomachs hurt.

Tian Liang saw Guo Fu in the nurse team and also shouted that his stomach hurt. The large-scale stomachache scared He Ma, who was leisurely on the boat—so many people had stomachaches right after eating. It couldn’t be food poisoning, could it? Even a large-scale diarrhea would be bad. A show of force turning into a diarrhea parade along the way would be a huge joke. He brought his medicine box and went ashore to handle it himself.

“Your stomach is fine,” He Ma said angrily and patted Tian Liang’s stomach. This time, he really felt the pain.

This stomachache farce quickly ended. The whole team continued to move out. The mobile kitchens were reloaded onto the boats. The soldiers packed up everything, including burying their feces and discarded garbage with earth—hygiene work could not be neglected wherever they went.

These more than 200 people walked on the desolate road, heading towards Baitu Port. The weather was clear, and the soldiers marched to the beat of the military drums. Along the way, they occasionally encountered some farmers and merchants, and sometimes they passed through villages. Seeing them marching in neat formation, many people would watch the fun, but no one hid—it seemed that the “benevolence and righteousness” of the transmigrators had spread to every corner of the county.

The gentry and clan leaders of the villages along the way, in order to build relationships and buy peace, would send people to visit them when they passed by, saying that they had prepared tea, water, grain, chickens, ducks, and pork to reward the army. Xi Yazhou would always say a few words to them and then let the sweating elders go back, but he did not accept any gifts. This made Huang Xiong feel incredible—in his opinion, an army that did not disturb the people or rob them during a march was already a first-class disciplined army. They wouldn’t even take the meat that was brought to their door?

He shared this thought with You Laohu, who laughed heartily, “Meat? You should ask the medical team if they want it.”

“Why wouldn’t they want it?” Huang Xiong was stunned. Could it be that the meat these Australians ate was special?

“You haven’t been with us for long. You’ll understand in the future.”

As night fell, the troops had already completed two-thirds of their journey. The next day, they would enter the mountain march. According to the map reading, Baitu Village was less than 15 kilometers in a straight line from the campsite. Xi Yazhou ordered them to camp and prepare for the next day’s attack.

“Camp! The NCO students of each platoon are in charge!” Xi Yazhou gave the order.

The NCO students from the military and political school who had come with the troops were assigned to each platoon for an internship, to observe how the transmigrator officers commanded and managed the troops. There were also several NCO students in the headquarters. As soon as the order was given, they immediately got busy.

Camping training had been conducted countless times in normal times. Whether for officers, NCO students, or soldiers, they all knew what they had to do. After choosing a campsite, each platoon organized itself, and under the coordination of the NCO students, they assigned their own sections and tasks. They dug wavy trenches according to the drill manual, used the excess earth to build earthworks, and erected barbed wire on the earthworks. Wooden towers were built at the four corners of the camp. The weeds and small trees within 100 meters of the trenches were completely cleared.

At any time, when camping, defensive works had to be set up first. This was the first principle of the Roman army when camping, and it was also the principle followed by the transmigrators’ army, even though they had technical equipment and training far superior to that of this time and space.

The soldiers cut down wooden poles. Two pieces of the oilcloth raincoats from their backpacks were tied together to form a two-person tent. The camping was divided by platoon, with drainage ditches and access roads between each area. According to the plan, the positions that each platoon needed to move to in case of an emergency were also clearly defined. Everything was arranged in an orderly manner.

Seeing that this group of fifteen or sixteen-year-old NCO students could actually do things in an orderly manner, Huang Xiong was amazed—he was not without this ability, but it was the experience accumulated over many years in the army. These NCO students had only been with the Kun people for two months at most. Although they still seemed a bit immature, Huang Xiong believed that with time and a few more battles, these little kids would all become qualified officers.

He secretly found an NCO student from his platoon and asked, “Where did you learn all this?”

“The chiefs taught us, and also this—” the little NCO student took out a worn-out book from his satchel: “Infantry Drill Manual.”

“Just by reading a book?”

“The chiefs taught us with this book. It’s very detailed, how to dig trenches, how to camp, how the troops should be arranged during a march—” the NCO student spoke of this infantry drill manual with a tone of extreme admiration, saying that it “had everything.”

So it’s a military manual! Huang Xiong thought. Isn’t this just talking about war on paper? Although he couldn’t read, he still knew the story of Zhao Kuo. Thinking back, the Australians were indeed particularly fond of reading books. Although soldiers were not allowed in the headquarters, he had peeked inside a few times when he passed by. The most numerous things inside were various books and large paper scrolls. It was simply a scholar’s study.

Are the Australians planning to fight a war by reading books? This was really hard for him to believe.