Chapter 329: Various Factions (Part 2)

Among the civilian officers, those like Pan Da and You Laohu—who either possessed special skills, were accurate shooters, or were skilled in hand-to-hand combat and dared to fight—had a certain status in the army. The others, although they had become company commanders through their passion for the military, had little say in the army. Except for Wei Aiwen, who, thanks to his outstanding performance skills, had climbed to the position of head of the political department using the “magic weapon” of “political work,” and was the highest-ranking among them. Zhang Bolin, with his passion for artillery, took advantage of the fact that the army’s artillery at this stage was mainly muzzle-loading, and the role of the former modern artilleryman Ying Yu was limited. He studied hard under Lin Shenhe on the firing, drill, and tactical use of muzzle-loading artillery, and only then did he gain a foothold in the army’s artillery field.

These two naturally became the leaders of the Young Military Officers’ Club. Due to their age, this club was later called the “80s Party.” The “80s Party” had great ambitions and basically conformed to the four laws: passionate youth, shiny boots, young officers, and gleaming bayonets. Their minds were filled with the German counterattack at Kharkov, the “Spring Awakening,” and they all fantasized about wearing the Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords, in shiny leather boots and smart breeches, standing on a King Tiger tank, commanding thousands of troops.

The reality was: they wore very simple gray cotton uniforms with no lines, the cloth shoulder straps lay limply on their shoulders, and the duty belts—unless they were private items like Wei Aiwen’s—were locally made, not only looking bad but also emitting a stench of animal leather when wet. There were no decorations on the uniforms. Some who had participated in the defense of Bopu had sleeve stripes as a decoration.

Daily life consisted of day after day of leading troops in drills—no tanks, no blitzkrieg. The first thing after getting up in the morning was to take their company to the training ground. Before that, they themselves had been drilled enough by the former PLA veterans in the training corps. Then, a few history enthusiasts with glasses would come with charts to teach all the army officers how the 19th-century army “lined up to shoot,” and the basic tactics and combat formations of the army. In this, everyone’s level was equal, whether you were a former professional soldier or a 21st-century man with glasses. But the results after learning showed that it was very difficult to surpass professional standards—the companies led by professional soldiers performed significantly better in drills than those led by the 80s Party.

The transmigrators who had chosen a military career in the new time and space felt that their combat value in this time and space was as bad as in their original time. Their command value had risen slightly, but it was obviously impossible to show any kingly aura. Everything in the army was hard-won, whether it was the soldiers’ clothes, shoes, or weapons and ammunition, all depended on the packed schedule of the Planning Committee. Every rifle, every cannon had to be fought for. Training ammunition had to be counted and used. Rations were distributed with precision down to each person’s every fish.

The soldiers seemed clumsy. It was not a matter of a day or two for hands used to holding hoes to adapt to weapons, and becoming a qualified soldier was a long road. A simple “eyes right” had to be taught for a whole day. After a day of drilling on the training ground, their throats were hoarse and dry, and even their arms were sore from hitting people, but their company still couldn’t even walk in a basic formation.

After the drill, they had to go to the company to inspect the barracks and chat with the soldiers. Then there was the weekly five-kilometer run, and the monthly “support for construction”—the Executive Committee’s thinking was exactly the same as that of socialist countries and the Romans, believing that soldiers participating in social engineering projects could not only effectively utilize labor but also train the soldiers’ physical fitness.

The army that everyone had worked so hard to build was still only the size of a regiment. They themselves were only company commanders and were not taken seriously at all. This was far from their great ideal of being a “twenty-year-old general” and commanding thousands of troops.

Reality had taught the 80s Party: a powerful army had to be built with one’s own hands, not by pirating one or two new weapons and telling their subordinates a few new tactics to become invincible.

The militaristic ideal of the 80s Party was thus shattered, and the Young Military Officers’ Club was born.

The purpose of the club was to build an unprecedentedly large continental army, roughly speaking, with the scale of the Soviet army, the equipment and uniforms of the WWII German army, and the logistics and firepower of the US army.

However, with Hainan as the main base and the strategic situation they faced, the Executive Committee and the military adopted a military construction approach that focused on the navy. The size of the army was compressed to a level that could only control the entire county and protect the base. The size of the army, including the training corps and auxiliary forces, did not exceed three thousand people.

The small size of the army created problems just like the small army of the Weimar Republic. There were few officer positions, especially senior ones. Promotions and advancements became extremely slow. The navy already had native captains and naval lieutenants, but the army still did not have a single native captain company commander. This phenomenon made the 80s Party very uncomfortable. The natives now had captains who were on par with them. In the future, if there were native naval majors, wouldn’t they be ranked higher than them?

Wei Aiwen spoke passionately on the stage: “…our environment is a crisis-ridden environment. On land, there are the Ming and the Manchus; at sea, there are Zheng Zhilong, Liu Xiang, and various foreign pirates. But what is the current state of our army?” He put on a pained expression. “A mere dozen or so companies, not even a single military horse on the establishment! Cannons are pulled by people, ammunition is carried by people, and there’s not even a shadow of a machine gun!” He took a breath. “The Executive Committee often says that the army must endure for the sake of economic construction. We have indeed endured—without a single complaint.”

As he spoke, he became more and more angry. “Although obeying orders and following commands is a basic principle for soldiers, I must solemnly raise this point here: the personal preference of certain people in the Executive Committee for the navy has created a reality where the navy’s construction is far superior to the army’s.”

He listed the facts. “The typewriter has not been equipped by the army since it went into production. And the navy? Even the special service boats and transport ships without official names have them! Look at the number of cannons. So far, the largest and best heavy cannons produced have all gone to the navy. Even if we just count the numbers, the total projectile weight of a single salvo from the cannons on a few of the navy’s transport ships exceeds the total projectile weight of all our army’s artillery! Comrades, is this phenomenon normal?!”

“Not normal!” Zhang Bolin shouted the loudest in the crowd. The spectacular sight of naval warships sailing at full sail for salvo training had deeply stung him—in contrast, his 12-pounder cannons, pulled by “human mules” for target practice, looked pitifully shabby.

“Comrades, who is it that advances under fire at the front line and plants the banner of victory on the enemy’s fortress? Who is it that defends the regime with bayonets in times of crisis? The army, only the army!” Wei Aiwen waved his hand, turning his head to the side. “Let’s see the navy send a battleship to stand guard in Bairen City!”

“Long live the army!” the people below shouted in unison, stomping their boot heels hard on the floor.

“Comrades, history tells us: the navy is often unreliable. Who was it that stabbed the Second Reich in the back with a despicable knife? It was the pampered sailors of Kiel! Who was it that fired the fatal first shot when the Russian Empire was on the verge of collapse? It was the sailors of the Aurora!” Wei Aiwen’s ability to incite had grown since he became the head of the political department. “The army soldiers who fought hard in the muddy trenches at the front for four years, shedding blood and sacrificing, were thus betrayed!”

He spoke with such emotion, as if he himself were the betrayed German soldier he imagined. This atmosphere infected the few listeners below, and they all began to shout along.

“The size of the army must be expanded! The armaments must be strengthened!” He swung his arm down forcefully. “We have endured for economic construction for too long. Now, the army must make its own voice heard!”

…

Qian Duo was on the late-night watch at the training corps—he was a roving sentry. After his first patrol, he nervously reported to the officer on duty, You Laohu, that there were still people in the training corps headquarters meeting room. Although the doors and windows were closed, he could hear that it was very noisy inside, and someone was singing.

“It’s nothing,” You Laohu said dismissively. “It’s just Director Wei getting drunk. They get together to drink once a month. They always get drunk and talk nonsense. Don’t worry about it.”

After Qian Duo left, You Laohu wondered whether to record this matter in the duty log. It was a rule to record sentry reports, but then he thought that Wei Aiwen’s use of the meeting room was already recorded, and their entry and exit from the training corps camp were also recorded. There was no need for him to do anything extra. You Laohu looked down on this group’s mysterious activities, but he didn’t want to publicize it. They were all comrades-in-arms, and he had to show some loyalty.

The bell for evening prayer had just stopped ringing. Wu Shimang, dressed in a black robe with a silver cross around his neck, walked out of the church with the slow, solemn steps befitting a respected clergyman. The believers who had just finished their evening prayers bowed to him respectfully, and some even wanted to kiss his hand. With a gentle smile, he made the sign of the cross and walked across a wasteland—this was land the church had recently bought for future expansion. Wu Shimang had advised Lu Ruohua to buy another piece of land sooner rather than later, otherwise the land price would be hard to say in the future.

“This piece of land has already cost me two hundred piastres. How much more expensive can it get?” Lu Ruohua didn’t believe it. He had long been resentful of the land prices here.