Chapter 121: The Advance Detachment

The proposal to prosecute “war criminals” was put forward by several members of the Law Club, with Ma Jia as the mastermind behind it.

Although the Arbitration Tribunal, controlled by the Law Club, had been tirelessly promoting the concept of “ruling the country by law”—drafting, or rather, plagiarizing, numerous regulations and actively encouraging the populace to file lawsuits—their judicial caseload remained small.

For Lingao, with a population of just over a hundred thousand, only the summary court in Dongmen Market had enough minor public order and commercial cases to stay busy. The other three courts were desolate, sometimes going a week without a single case. The judges, apart from helping compile laws and regulations, had virtually nothing to do. They were frequently loaned out to other departments for administrative or other tasks.

Idleness was a dangerous signal, and Ma Jia was worried. Moreover, as personnel were loaned out too often, morale and cohesion would begin to fray.

They needed a jolt, something to keep them busy! Ma Jia thought. But the Arbitration Tribunal’s caseload couldn’t be conjured out of thin air. The busiest department was clearly the Political Security General Bureau, but it was essentially independent, and he was unwilling and unable to interfere.

The judicial system lacked a major, eye-catching operation. After the great victory at Chengmai, Ma Jia’s entire focus shifted to the issue of “war criminals.”

To many Transmigrators, the whole “war criminal” issue was a pointless exercise. The men were captured; whether they were to be killed, flayed, or anally violated was at their discretion. What was the point of a trial? And under what law or treaty would it be conducted? In the end, it would just be another self-directed, self-acted play.

However, Ma Jia’s proposal still garnered the support of the majority in the Senate. While “acting according to the law” could sometimes be pretentious, rigid, or even laughable, it was a far more advanced system than one where a few individuals could arbitrarily arrest people on a whim.

And so, Ma Jia’s “war crimes trial” was decided. A special war crimes tribunal was formed, and prosecutors and defense lawyers were appointed.

Of course, from the perspective of fairness, it was absurd. This time-space had no international treaties or laws. The Ming government had never understood, acknowledged, signed, or participated in any such thing.

The so-called “war crimes trial” was simply a method for the Transmigration group to impose its new social order on this era. However, even within the Law Club, there were differing opinions on this approach.

If they were to truly follow the international laws and treaties of the old time-space, the Transmigration group had committed no shortage of war crimes in its battles with the government forces. Yuan Qiusi had hanged dozens of prisoners in the POW camp, and there was the large-scale enslavement of captives…

These acts were certainly sufficient to be classified as “war crimes.” Consequently, a portion of dissenting Transmigrators argued that creating “war criminals” was purely self-inflicted trouble, tying their own hands.

Faced with such doubts, the Senate Standing Committee held a hearing to discuss the necessity and rationality of the “war crimes trials.”

The purpose of the hearing, of course, was not to discuss “fairness” but “rationality.”

“So-called war crimes,” Ma Jia declared at the hearing, dispelling the Transmigrators’ concerns with a single sentence, “are a charge reserved only for the losers.”

Ma Jia also elaborated that the purpose of trying “war criminals” was not simply for intimidation or revenge, but more importantly, to seize the moral high ground and proclaim their own “righteousness.” This was a crucial matter in the ideological sphere.

Thus, the war crimes trials began with great fanfare.

By this time, the attention of the Executive Committee and the Senate had already shifted elsewhere—specifically, to the entire island of Hainan.

The plan to occupy the whole of Hainan, at Wei Aiwen’s suggestion, was named “Summer Awakening.” The results of “Spring Awakening” had been so disastrous that it faced unanimous opposition. As a compromise, the name was seasonally adjusted to “Summer.”

Under the General Staff’s adjustments, the army, after a few days of rest following the parade, began to execute the “Summer Awakening” plan.

“Summer Awakening” mobilized four battalions, divided into two advance detachments, East and West.

The West Detachment, with the 3rd Infantry Battalion as its core and reinforced with artillery, engineering, logistics, and medical units, aimed to occupy Danzhou and extend the Lingao regime’s control zone—the “purple zone”—to the Danzhou-Changhua border.

The East Detachment had a much larger objective. According to the General Staff’s plan, the first phase of expansion was to occupy the four eastern counties of Chengmai, Qiongshan, Ding’an, and Wenchang. It was formed around the 1st, 5th, and 6th Infantry Battalions.

These four counties, like Lingao, were the foundation of Ming rule in Hainan. They were developed early, had large populations, and a relatively deep-rooted governing structure. Capturing them would also signal the complete collapse of Ming rule in Lingao.

As for the southern prefectures and counties, they were sparsely populated. An entire county might have only a few thousand registered inhabitants, and many county magistrate positions had long been vacant. The Ming’s rule there was purely symbolic and could be plucked at any time.

Each detachment, in addition to military personnel, included a county work team personally selected by Liu Muzhou. Each team consisted of Transmigrators and a number of native cadres to immediately begin work and take over the county administration.

The first phase of the occupation of Hainan was exceptionally smooth, a true “conquest by proclamation.” The army, supported by the navy, conducted an “armed parade.” Villages and forts along the way surrendered without a fight. Danzhou was the first to fall. In fact, the army had not intended to storm the city but to set up camp first and then use a combination of persuasion and coercion to force the officials inside to comply—in essence, the “boiling the frog slowly” approach. However, the officials in the city proactively opened the gates and surrendered. This swift success greatly surprised Yu Zhiqian, the commander of the 3rd Infantry Battalion, who had expected the officials to hole up and give him some trouble.

The Magistrate of Danzhou committed suicide with great integrity. This Jinshi official, who had been in office for less than half a year, made no further attempts to provide the Transmigrators with more captives. Knowing it was futile, he took poison in a very straightforward manner.

The surrender was orchestrated by the Danzhou Registrar. He and the local gentry waited tremblingly at the city gate for the arrival of the West Detachment.

The West Detachment, having been rested and resupplied, was in even better form and higher morale than before the Battle of Chengmai.

The message had been sent by the Danzhou Registrar. Like Sun Ruiwu in Lingao, he had despaired of his future as an official in such a remote and troubled prefecture. While not openly defecting, he held a strong “wait-and-see” attitude. Therefore, he neither killed himself nor fled, but remained in the city under the pretext of protecting the official seal to manage the surrender. If the “kūnzéi bandits” could stay for the long term, he had no objection to switching allegiance and serving these Australians.

“I thought we’d have to camp outside the city, but I didn’t expect to get in so smoothly,” Yu Zhiqian, the detachment commander, said arrogantly to Liu Yixiao, the leader of the Danzhou work team.

“The easier things come, the more trouble they usually are,” the work team leader replied with a grim face. “Who knows what these officials are plotting in secret? I think we need to be vigilant!”

The magistrate’s suicide was the Registrar’s account. Who knew if he was really dead or if it was another scheme? Liu Yixiao believed they had to maintain full alertness to avoid being caught by the enemy.

According to regulations, the main body of the army did not enter the city, except for small units to take over the city defenses and key departments. This was not for reasons of benevolence or not disturbing the populace, but because the health department had serious reservations about the sanitary conditions of the local towns. Until the towns underwent necessary disinfection and disease prevention measures, the army generally did not enter densely populated areas to avoid contracting epidemics.

However, for the gentry welcoming them at the city gate, it was a great relief. The Australians truly lived up to the words “commit no offense against the populace”!

After a few polite words, Liu Yixiao followed the Registrar and the gentry to the prefectural yamen. Danzhou was slightly more populous than Lingao, and its market a bit more prosperous. But now the streets were empty, with no pedestrians. Outside the yamen, a dozen or so yamen runners and clerks were scattered about, waiting with wooden expressions.

The yamen was dilapidated, looking worse than some of the pseudo-ancient buildings of the old time-space. Liu Yixiao went in for a look. In the courtyard stood a coffin—this was the magistrate who had committed suicide.

“Open it!” he commanded.

There was nothing pleasant about looking at a dead body, but it was necessary to confirm that the magistrate was truly dead. Liu Yixiao pulled a booklet from his satchel. It was the “Danzhou Basic Situation Compilation” prepared by the Foreign Intelligence Bureau. The first volume contained the resumes and photographs of all the officials in the yamen.

The photos were taken with a telephoto lens and, though not perfectly clear, the facial features were recognizable. Although the face of the man in the coffin was contorted from the poison, it was clearly the same person.

Liu Yixiao sighed and nodded. Brave men always commanded respect.

“Prepare the body properly for burial,” he said. “Are the magistrate’s family members still in the city?”

“Yes, yes,” the Registrar said cautiously, trying to read his expression. “They are all in the rear residence. Would the Master like to see them…”

“No need. Tell them not to commit suicide!” Liu Yixiao had no interest in the magistrate’s family. “Prepare a boat immediately, and send twenty taels of silver as a condolence gift. Let them leave with the coffin.”

“They will be eternally grateful for the Master’s benevolence…”

Liu Yixiao nodded impatiently and asked a few more questions. Most of the yamen runners and clerks in the city had fled. News of what had happened in Lingao had long since reached here, and the functionaries, fearing the same fate as their colleagues, had already packed their valuables and run away.

Liu Yixiao ordered the native cadres in the work team to enter the county yamen, secure the archives and documents, and take inventory of the warehouses. All the rooms were sealed to be dealt with later.

The Danzhou treasury had suffered heavy losses. A few days earlier, the head of the local militia, along with dozens of militiamen and other yamen runners, had looted the county’s silver vault. It was now empty. Other warehouses containing confiscated goods had also suffered some losses, but the grain and salt warehouses were intact.