Chapter 128: Political Work

The cross-country running route was planned long ago, and they ran it often, so everyone was very familiar with it. There was no need for special route guidance. Zhu Mingxia wore sneakers and carried only a pistol, not even his officer’s sword, making him far more comfortable than the soldiers in their straw sandals and full gear. Therefore, he had more stamina left than the soldiers after reaching the finish line and recovered quickly with a short rest. He held a stopwatch, timing the last soldier of each company to arrive.

The entire battalion completed the five-kilometer run within the twenty-six minutes stipulated in the outline. Because this was the standard five-kilometer route, the Ma Niao base had a rest station at the finish line with a water station and toilets. A large plot of land had also been leveled for the troops to assemble for debriefings.

The last to arrive was the 3rd Line Infantry Company, which was given an extra kilometer to run after completing the five kilometers within the specified time. After all the companies had reassembled, the soldiers were exhausted to death, but they still stood ramrod straight in their formations, awaiting instructions. Each man held his head high, showing no sign of sluggishness despite their fatigue. This pleased Zhu Mingxia greatly: in the past, these recruits had lacked this kind of fighting spirit. The more soldiers were tempered, the more spirit they had. When there was no combat, there had to be repetitive training to keep them in a state of constant tension.

He regulated his breathing, cleared his throat, and began his speech.

“Comrades, your growth amazes me and makes me proud! In the past, you were just ordinary people, enslaved and oppressed. Some of you were even slaves with no personal freedom. You were crushed by layers of officials, plundered by savage bandits, unable to protect yourselves or your families. Even in the best of years, you could only live half-starved. Every day was spent in fear and trepidation. Today, you have become the glorious soldiers of the Yuanen Senate. You—fight to save your compatriots! You—fight to save the world! Under the authority of the Yuanen Senate and the leadership of the Executive Committee, you will liberate all the oppressed people under heaven from the corrupt imperial court and the murderous bandits! You will let all our brothers and sisters throughout the land eat white rice and stand tall as human beings. For this great goal, I train you strictly, and I will train you even more strictly. Only in this way can you defeat your opponents in the arduous wars of the future. If you fail, you will lose everything. The old will be slaughtered, the children will be enslaved, and the women will become playthings. Therefore, you absolutely cannot be defeated. Some say that being a soldier is just for a meal, that it’s not worth risking your life. No! I tell you, being a soldier is not just a job; it is an honor, a responsibility. Your responsibility is to defend the Yuanen Senate and save the suffering people. It is because you are engaged in such a glorious profession that your families are immensely proud and your ancestors are honored! Life is important, but human dignity is more important. Can you tolerate the return of those officials who devour people without spitting out the bones? Can you accept pirates and mountain bandits raping your families before your very eyes? Can you?”

“You, third man in the first squad, first platoon, second company, tell me, ‘Can you?’” Zhu Mingxia asked, pointing at a soldier.

“No, sir!” the soldier shouted with all his might.

“Then you all tell me, can you accept it?”

“No! No!” It was unclear who shouted it first, but soon the entire battalion was shouting “No!” The roar of several hundred men shook the heavens. Zhu Mingxia raised his hand to signal for silence.

“I know none of you will accept it. But some people think: those officials, those bandits, those who once rode on your heads, oppressing you and fattening their own household rats with your blood and sweat. Not a day goes by that they don’t dream of coming back to plunder us. When open robbery fails, they come in secret. The case of Lai Da from a while ago has been reported to the entire army, and the tragic incident with the rural work team was orchestrated by these people in collusion with mountain bandits. They are always thinking of riding on our heads again. They have never given up. Now, they are spreading all kinds of rumors, trying to divide us. Comrades, think back to Bopu. Who defended the Holy Ship in the most critical moment? Who transported the wounded back to Lin’gao from under the walls of Chengmai? The Army and the Navy are the left and right arms of the Yuanen Senate, a single body sharing honor and disgrace. Any rumors about internal conflicts in the army are maliciously spread by the enemy. They fear us, so they try to divide us. We cannot be swayed by rumors. We must unite closely and, in the near future, respond to them with cannons and bullets…”

This was Zhu Mingxia’s true purpose for dragging the entire battalion out for a run. A person is particularly susceptible to others’ ideas when extremely fatigued. If the soldiers weren’t tired, he would create fatigue. The conflict between the army and navy could be debated among the Yuanen, but it absolutely could not be allowed to spread to the troops.

A few weeks ago, Zhu Quanxing, the commander of the 6th Battalion who had just returned to his post, had reminded him: the conflicts among the Yuanen might already be spreading to the army. The “New Style” factions in both the army and navy, in particular, were consciously or unconsciously fanning the flames.

Zhu Quanxing was not a former soldier; he had become an officer in the army purely out of a fanatical zeal. He was a member of the “New Style” faction, but he was very worried about the rivalry between the army and navy, so he had given Zhu Mingxia a special reminder—as the saying goes, you can’t write two ‘Zhu’s with one stroke of the pen.

These disturbances had to be nipped in the bud. The Yuanen Senate’s army absolutely could not become a laughingstock like the Japanese Army and Navy. Zhu Mingxia felt that while he couldn’t control other units, he had to set his own troops on the right course.

The army was growing larger, but Zhu Mingxia felt that the ideological education was still insufficient. Especially in the past year, from war preparations and the anti-encirclement campaign to the pacification war, the army had been run ragged. There hadn’t been much time to focus on the ideological work of the troops. Wei Aiwen used to visit the companies frequently, but in the last six months, he had hardly any companies to visit—of course, the fact that there were almost no troops in Ma Niao was also a factor. He spent his days at the General Staff writing documents and attending meetings, becoming somewhat detached from the grassroots work. When the organization gets bigger, it’s easy to become complacent.

Zhu Mingxia was full of worries, but his face showed nothing. After the soldiers shouted “For the Yuanen Senate and the people!” three times, he led them in singing “The Fubo Army Soldiers Listen Most to the Yuanen Senate’s Words,” and the entire battalion marched back to the Ma Niao Fort barracks in formation.

Upon returning to the barracks, they went through the usual routine of assembly and debriefing before being “dismissed.” The companies were led by their captains to shower. The living conditions at Ma Niao Fort were excellent; each battalion had a large shower room and a boiler house, providing hot showers in both winter and summer. Maintaining hygiene was the most basic condition for ensuring the army’s combat effectiveness, and the Yuanen Senate never skimped on this.

Zhu Mingxia took off his uniform and was about to go to the bathroom attached to his quarters to take a shower and change before checking on the soldiers in each company when an orderly from the Ma Niao Fort headquarters arrived: Fu Sansi wanted him at the headquarters immediately.

“I’m on my way.” Zhu Mingxia quickly wiped his face, changed into a clean uniform shirt his orderly brought him, and went to the headquarters.

Fu Sansi was the concurrent commander of Ma Niao Fort. The weather was getting warmer, and he had been training soldiers on the parade ground all day, wearing only a coarse, undyed military undershirt. Seeing Zhu Mingxia enter, he first handed him an order.

He took it and saw that the order instructed Ma Niao Fort to form a “Northern Expeditionary Detachment” on the spot, with Zhu Mingxia’s 4th Infantry Battalion as its core.

“It’s finally happening!” Zhu Mingxia became excited—although this was expected.

“Yes, this time you’re the detachment commander,” Fu Sansi said.

The Army’s Northern Expeditionary Detachment, in addition to the 4th Infantry Battalion, would be reinforced with a detachment from the Special Reconnaissance Team, an artillery company, an engineer company, and several logistics support detachments, totaling 1,500 men. Zhu Mingxia would be the detachment commander, and they also planned to equip the detachment with a chief of staff and a logistics director, forming a complete, independent combat unit.

“Everything else is easy to handle,” Fu Sansi said. “The 4th Battalion has been kept in a state of combat readiness, and you’ve drilled those boys hard enough. Their military and political qualities are impeccable. The artillery, engineers, and logistics units are also no problem; they are all existing units. The main issue is the horses.”

An artillery company theoretically required 110 horses. If the logistics and engineer units were to be equipped with a certain number of draft horses, another hundred would be needed. The army’s current number of horses was far from sufficient.

If they were to resort to the old method of using soldiers as beasts of burden, pulling carts and pushing wagons, then the total number of men in the detachment would be far more than 1,500; they would need to incorporate a labor force of at least 1,000 men. And given the chaotic state of Dengzhou, relying on locally conscripted labor was probably unreliable.

The Dutch had promised to sell them horses from Japan, but in this era where sea voyages were measured in months, it was unreliable to expect the Dutch to deliver the horses in time.

Fu Sansi scratched his head. “How about I propose to the General Staff that we take Jeju Island first and seize the Joseon Dynasty’s official horses to equip our troops?”

“Would that work? Even draft horses need to be trained for a few days, let alone horses for pulling artillery,” Zhu Mingxia said. He had learned a lot about the organization and combat of armies of that era from chatting with the line infantry enthusiasts.

Fu Sansi said, “It seems we’ll have to buy those donkey-like Dian horses.”

This was the most likely way to obtain a sufficient number of horses in the short term. The former Director Hong, now Minister Hong, had always had a fondness for Dian horses, so all the Yuanen military officers in the Fubo Army knew about this.

Zhu Mingxia offered no opinion on this—he had no idea whether Dian horses were suitable or not. It was his principle not to talk about things he didn’t understand.

“Let’s not worry about that for now,” Fu Sansi said, shaking his head. “First, take a look at the samples of new uniforms and equipment sent by Thorpe.”

On the conference table at the headquarters lay a pile of samples of new uniforms and logistical items for the Northern Expeditionary Detachment, sent by Thorpe’s men. Fu Sansi was to have the soldiers try them out to see if any improvements were needed.