Chapter 125: The Cunning Plan
“Many are willing to go, but they’re not sure. They’re afraid it’s a trick,” Liu Bin said. “Free food and lodging, plus they teach you to read and write. It sounds too good to be true.”
This wasn’t like men going out to be laborers or soldiers, trading their lives and labor for money—something everyone understood clearly.
“Anything out of the ordinary is suspicious; there’s no such thing as a free lunch.” The common people understood this principle. Moreover, sending their own flesh and blood to a strange place was not something they could be convinced of just by boasting about how good the school’s conditions were or how promising the children’s futures would be.
So far, only four children had been taken in from the village: one was a true orphan, and the others were from families too poor to raise them.
“Let them go and see Fangcaodi for themselves,” Liu Bin said. “Once they see it, they’ll surely be willing…”
Liu Dazhu snorted. “You really don’t know the cost of living if you’re not running a household. Sending one person from each family to Lingao would be over thirty people. Even if they walk, don’t they need food, drink, and lodging along the way? And besides, would they even be willing to go?”
“What should we do then?”
Wang Wu said, “Director Dong said in class: the first rule of rural work is to gain the trust of the people, and the second rule is also to gain the trust of the people. They’re still half-believing, half-doubting us. We shouldn’t push too hard on this for now, lest we arouse more suspicion.”
Liu Dazhu said, “I don’t think we need to be so long-winded. Aren’t we supposed to conscript people? Let’s talk to Captain Liu and just assign young children from each household.”
Wang Wu was stunned. “That’s a new one. If you do that, you’ll scare the common folk to death.”
As they were talking, a few figures in the bushes outside the camp were watching the lights within.
Zhaopu Village was a desolate little mountain village with no large public buildings. Since there were no landlords or other wealthy people, all the houses were made of bamboo wattle walls and thatched roofs. Not only were they unable to house extra people, but they were also very unsanitary. The work team naturally tried to avoid this.
They were staying in a camp they had built themselves.
It had all the standard features of a field camp: earthworks, barbed wire, a trench, and a watchtower, albeit on a smaller scale.
The work team and the guard platoon lived in standard army tents. These coarse cloth tents, painted with persimmon lacquer to a dark green, came in large, medium, and small sizes, as well as specialized functional tents, offering a complete and convenient system.
The earthworks were brightly lit with lanterns and torches, allowing those hiding in the bushes to see the entire camp clearly. But by the same token, the lighting made the area around the camp difficult to approach.
“The security is tight,” Gou Er said with disappointment.
Xin Nari said, “The bandits’ camps are always heavily guarded. A surprise raid is probably impossible.”
The best way to deal with such a fortified enemy was with a fire attack: launch many fire arrows, and once the camp was ablaze, charge in during the chaos. But that was in the past. Gou Er and Xin Nari had both crossed swords with the Transmigrators and knew that traditional methods were not very effective against them. Their guns had a much longer range than bows and arrows. Archers would be scattered by gunfire as soon as they started shooting, and sending men to get close to set fires was out of the question. No one was willing to crawl across an open, brightly lit area with a torch—it was just a suicide mission.
“I’ve counted. There are over thirty bandits, all with muskets,” Xin Nari whispered. “Even if we bring our whole gang, we might not be their match.”
Bandits had little military discipline. They were fine in a fight that was going their way, but they tended to falter in the face of determined resistance and would break after a minor setback. It was hard to expect them to fight to the death.
Gou Xunli gritted his teeth and stared for a long time, unwilling to give up, but he knew Xin Nari was right. Although there were only about thirty men in the camp, they were an iron nut he couldn’t crack.
“A snake can’t move without a head!” Gou Xunli said viciously. “They can’t stay cooped up in their camp all day! Get a good look at the faces of their leaders!”
They lay in ambush for several days but could never find a suitable opportunity to strike. The work team mostly operated within the village and sometimes roamed the surrounding area, but they always went out in groups of at least five, fully armed, and never strayed far from the camp.
No matter where they attacked, as soon as the commotion started, the “bandits” from the camp would rush out as reinforcements, and their side would be at a disadvantage.
“Does this mean there’s no way?” Hu Lanyan said, disappointed.
“I have a plan, but it requires an inside man,” Gou Xunli said. “And it will cost some money.”
Hearing that he had to spend money before anything was even done, Hu Lanyan felt a pang of reluctance. Bandits didn’t like to do things that didn’t bring in cold, hard cash.
“Brother! It’s one thing to provoke the bandits—if I don’t destroy them, they’ll destroy me. But spending money for no return is a losing proposition.”
Gou Xunli said, “Brother, the bandits are after our livelihood!”
Without their livelihood, even the wealth of the world would be for someone else’s benefit. Hu Lanyan sighed. “I understand the principle! Ai! How much silver will it take?”
“Not much. Ten taels will be enough to start.”
Gou Xunli quickly used a few taels of silver to bribe a villager in Zhaopu Village to keep a constant watch on the “bandits’” movements. They would meet outside the village at night. Gou Xunli was interested in every little detail.
He wanted to figure out the work team’s routine to find an opportunity.
When he heard that the work team bought its vegetables from the village daily, Gou Xunli’s eyes lit up.
“Whose house do they buy the vegetables from?”
The next day at noon, the camp’s meal was served as usual.
Rice was cooking in the field pots, the distinct aroma of coarse rice filling the humid air. Next to it, a pot of “comprehensive soup” was bubbling.
The comprehensive soup was made from Ration No. 11—”instant soup cubes”—from the field rations. According to regulations, the troops could add any “safe food” they could gather locally to the soup, including poultry, aquatic products, eggs, and vegetables. Vegetables were especially important. The Transmigration group’s dehydration technology was not yet up to par, and the production of glass-jarred canned goods was too small to supply the frontline troops. The main problem with the field rations was that they were high in calories but deficient in vitamins, which had to be supplemented with locally sourced vegetables.
The first group of soldiers lined up for their meal. They took out their galvanized iron mess tins from their backpacks, chatting and laughing as they waited for the food to be distributed.
According to the Fubo Army’s meal rules, rice was unlimited—eat as much as you can. But there was only one ladle of comprehensive soup.
“There are eggs in it today,” someone noticed, seeing the egg flowers floating on top.
“It’s been a long time since I had meat.”
“This place is so poor you can’t even buy a chicken or a duck.”
The soldiers talked, seeming to have already forgotten that not long ago, they were not much different from the villagers here.
A soldier took a bite and frowned. “What is this? It’s so bitter.”
“It’s bitter melon,” another soldier said, fishing a slice of the green gourd from his soup.
“Can you even make soup with this stuff?”
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it,” the cook said arrogantly. “I don’t have enough as it is.”
Complaints were complaints, but the meal still had to be eaten.
After lunch, the work team sent a few people back to the village to continue their work. Most of the soldiers returned to the camp for political study—the afternoon was hot, and strenuous physical activity was generally not scheduled.
Wang Wu and Liu Dazhu were still writing their reports. Their literacy was not high, and writing reports was a struggle. Not only did they write slowly, but it also took them a long time to express themselves correctly. The lunch that had been brought to their table was already cold.
Suddenly, a corporal ran in. “Trouble! Everyone’s got heatstroke!”
Wang Wu and Liu Dazhu were shocked. Getting heatstroke in the middle of summer could be fatal! Liu Dazhu said, “Let’s go and see!”
On the paths and open spaces between the tents, a dozen men had already collapsed. Some were vomiting violently, others clutched their stomachs, moaning with pale faces. Some were already motionless, their bodies twitching occasionally. Wang Wu smelled a foul odor. He realized several men had diarrhea so severe they couldn’t make it to the latrine.
“Where’s the medic?”
“Medic!”
The corporal ran off to find him, and soon returned, helping the medic who was also clutching his stomach. It seemed he was sick too.
Liu Dazhu said anxiously, “Quick, give everyone medicine! Oh, where’s your medical kit? What medicine should we take? I’ll get it!”
“It’s no use… this… this isn’t heatstroke,” the medic said, his face pale and gasping for breath. “We… we ate something bad…”
“Tell everyone who hasn’t eaten to stop and throw it all away,” Liu Dazhu ordered, while also instructing, “Call everyone back. We need to make stretchers and get them to Danzhou immediately!”
But they were already unable to leave. Of the thirty-five men, twenty-one had severe symptoms, and the rest also had abdominal pain and diarrhea. Only the five or six who hadn’t eaten were unaffected. Even if the work team abandoned the camp and retreated, they didn’t have enough people to carry the stretchers.
“Let’s ask the villagers for help,” Liu Bin said. “The road is rough. It will take at least four people to carry one stretcher.”
Liu Dazhu nodded. “I’ll go find them now.”
He left the camp alone and headed for the village—and never returned.
Wang Wu was back in his tent, busy packing up a document bag, when he suddenly heard a commotion outside, followed by the urgent beat of the “emergency assembly” drum. He was startled—it was the signal for an enemy attack!
The corporal rushed in again. “There are a lot of people coming! They’re all armed with knives and spears!”
Wang Wu ran out of the tent, climbed the earthwork, and looked. In the surrounding bushes and on the hills, shadowy figures were moving about. The glint of blades and spears flashed in the sun.
It was clear these people had hostile intentions. They were slowly closing in, using the bushes and tall grass for cover.
“This is big trouble!” Wang Wu said, using a phrase he had learned from the Australians. “Quick! All able-bodied men, to the earthworks!”
To buy time, he picked up the tin megaphone used for propaganda and shouted, “We are the Australian work team from Lingao! We’ve come to bring medicine and aid to the people! We have no ill intentions toward the people of Danzhou! Who are you?”