Chapter 50: The Assassination

The men of the 10th Battalion, carrying their mountain-like backpacks, were slowly lining up to disembark. The soldiers of the direct subordinate units were patiently waiting on deck in neat squad formations.

Under the white sun, a morning mist-like smoke enveloped the sea surface of St. Mary’s Bay. The patrolling steamships moving in the distance appeared blurry, only small grayish-white shadows moving. The sound of the patrol boats’ engines was carried over by the cool, crisp wind.

Temporary barracks had been set up near the Central Pier. The troops arriving in Hong Kong and the northern-bound cadres of the Qiongya Detachment were temporarily housed here, awaiting the order to depart.

After the 10th Battalion completed its assembly and roll call at the pier, the entire battalion moved out to the campsite.

Hong Kong had few residents. Only a few militarized agricultural settlements had a small number of farmers and fishermen engaged in agricultural production. Besides them, there were only soldiers and “military workers” serving the army.

The military workers were not only responsible for loading and unloading goods but also worked in the logistics factories on the island. Taking advantage of Hong Kong’s convenience as a transit hub, they imported various raw materials from the outside world to produce food, clothing, vehicles, and ships for the army. It was the logistics headquarters’ largest supply point in the south.

Therefore, there was little commercial atmosphere here. Except for the shops and warehouses in the commercial port area, other places were completely under “military control.” The people walking on the streets were all naturalized citizens wearing various uniforms.

Here, one could feel the tense atmosphere before the war more deeply.

After the 10th Battalion settled down in the barracks, the entire battalion, except for the seasick, went to the training ground for drills in the afternoon.

On the training ground was the 1st Infantry Battalion, which had arrived earlier. The foundation of this battalion was the Senate’s earliest armed force, the Ma Niao Security Regiment. It not only had a long history but had also participated in a series of major battles such as the first and second anti-encirclement campaigns. It had the most honor ribbons on its eagle flag and was one of the Senate’s old guard units. The various battalions established later were all founded with officers and cadres drawn from the 1st Battalion as seeds. The 1st Battalion had long guarded Lingao and was virtually the “Senate’s Praetorian Guard,” thus the sense of honor throughout the battalion was extremely strong, and its tactical and technical level was also the best among all battalions.

“The bayonet is a hero, the bullet is a fool,” the instructor was giving a pre-drill critique on the training ground. “Shooting, grenade throwing, bayonet fighting, demolition, and earthwork are the five basic skills of every infantryman. They are not only necessary on the battlefield but also essential for a Fubo Army soldier. Every infantryman must know them, regardless of rank. Just knowing them is not enough; you must be proficient.”

Two instructors wearing special protective gear were taking advantage of the time before boarding to explain and demonstrate the key points of bayonet fighting to the soldiers, speaking and demonstrating as they went.

When two armies face each other, when soldiers fight to the death, the direct confrontation between people cannot be simulated on paper. If you really face a bayonet, most people’s legs will turn to jelly. Tian Liang still remembered a training session where a Yuanlao officer picked up an SKS with a bayonet and went down the line in his squad, gesturing with it. With a “thwack,” the cold, gleaming triangular bayonet was thrust forward, the tip directly in front of his eyes, and he was asked how he felt. Tian Liang clearly remembered feeling a strong dizziness, his limbs going weak, a chill down his spine, and an inability to hold his urine. The man had been completely drained, and sweat broke out all over his body with a “whoosh.” He gestured with it one by one, asking each person how they felt. Everyone was the same. Some were so scared they lost control of their bladder on the spot, and some simply fainted.

After a brief explanation, the two battalions moved back to clear an open space and began a bayonet fighting competition between their top fighters.

Bayonet fighting training is a face-to-face combat drill between two soldiers. Both sides wear special protective gear, including a head protector. Their faces are covered with an iron mesh, making it impossible to see the opponent’s face. The two opponents hold special wooden rifles, looking like fully armored warriors, incredibly imposing.

The rule is that whoever stabs the opponent’s chest with the first thrust wins.

The bayonet fights were extremely intense, tit-for-tat, with leaps and bounds like dragons and tigers, and the shouts of “kill” were like thunder. When a master entered the field, the fierce battle often lasted only a few seconds, at most a dozen seconds. Suddenly, someone would land the first thrust, a single, decisive blow. The instructor would call a halt, and the opponent would be finished. The intense confrontation would come to an abrupt end, the winner and loser clearly decided. An instructor said that on the battlefield, it’s like this, head-on. Whoever is tougher stabs the other to death with one thrust, no ambiguity.

A thousand pairs of eyes around them were fixed on the dueling brothers on the field. At times, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, only the heavy breathing of the two and the “thwack-thwack” of the wooden rifles clashing. Suddenly, a roar of approval would erupt, followed by thunderous applause, as they cheered for their own battalion, their necks straining with bulging veins. Every company had always valued unity and honor above all else. At this moment, no one could afford to lose face, lest they be ridiculed later.

The 10th Battalion was composed of newly established companies. Although there were many old soldiers, the majority were still new recruits. Compared to the 1st Battalion, which had a high proportion of veterans, they seemed much inferior. In less time than it takes to eat a meal, the 1st Battalion gradually began to gain the upper hand, winning three consecutive matches. The victorious side was triumphant, their applause and cheers not only more vigorous, but also occasionally interspersed with discordant shouts of “10th Battalion softies, go home and practice more.”

The officers of the 10th Battalion couldn’t sit still. A few military caps huddled together to whisper. Lin Fu shouted, “1st Company Commander Huang Xiong, up!”

The 1st Battalion was in an uproar. The 1st Company was the grenadier company, the elite of the entire battalion. The company commanders of this company were all senior officers slated for promotion. And Company Commander Huang Xiong was not only the most senior of all the company commanders in the army—he had been with the Senate from the very beginning—but he had also been a bazong in the Jizhou garrison and boasted that his swordsmanship and spearmanship were family traditions he had practiced diligently since childhood. He would often show off his skills in front of everyone.

Yu Zhiqian of the 1st Battalion would naturally not stand for it. He glanced at one of the fair-skinned, sturdy instructors and shouted at Lin Fu, “Bullying new recruits who have only been holding a rifle for a few months. Battalion Commander Lin, why don’t you go up yourself?”

“I know I can’t beat the men of the 10th Battalion. Let you practice for a few more months, until you’re convinced!”

“No! After today, we won’t have time to dally…”

The officers of the two battalions, afraid of showing weakness in front of their soldiers, refused to back down and began to bicker.

The fat instructor was stunned for a moment, rubbed his chin, and drew a detached bayonet. He looked around at everyone and said, “Hurry up, let’s continue.”

“You bastards,” the instructor raised the bayonet high, “what is our most loyal and reliable partner?”

“The bayonet!”

“You bunch of sissies, I can’t hear you!”

“What is our most loyal and reliable partner?”

“The bayonet!” the answer came like a tsunami.

“What can fearlessly face the enemy charging at us?”

“The bayonet!”

“What can prove bravery and make the enemy tremble at the critical moment?”

“The bayonet!”

Soon, the two battalions reached a final agreement. Each would send one representative, regardless of seniority, for a best-of-three match. The 10th Battalion naturally sent their bayonet fighting expert, 1st Company Commander Huang Xiong.

Yu Zhiqian said in a deep voice, “Fu Fu, step forward!”

Fu Fu was not tall, with a tigerish head, but he was already very sturdy, no longer the weak figure he was when he joined the security battalion. He was neatly dressed in his protective gear and mask. This man, who had once only hoped to become a second lieutenant, was now a first lieutenant and deputy company commander.

The match began without any nonsense.

At the fat instructor’s command, “Begin!”, the bayonet fight started.

The two quickly brought up their rifles and charged at each other, advancing with rapid, shuffling steps. When they were about two meters apart, with a “clack!”, the two wooden rifles instantly crossed and locked. And so, the fight began.

The two alternately advanced and retreated on the field. Sometimes the taller Huang Xiong advanced, and the shorter Fu Fu retreated; sometimes the shorter one advanced, and the taller one retreated. At other times, they moved left and right in a circle, with the crossing point of their rifles as the center, their steps sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Neither of them made a sound, neither shouting “kill” nor thrusting their rifles. The dueling ground was so quiet it was unnerving. The sun beat down, the steam whistle blew its low, slow call, and on the field, you could only see the two of them fighting. You could only hear the two wooden rifles constantly and violently clashing, making a “thwack-thwack” sound, a sound of clashing wood we had never heard before: dull and short. That sound made one’s heart tremble, worried that the wooden rifles would break.

This was the two of them testing each other, as masters often do at the beginning.

“Hooray…” Suddenly, a huge round of applause erupted from the crowd. Amidst the applause, the fat instructor shouted “Stop!” Fu Fu immediately retracted his rifle and stood at attention. Huang Xiong, as if he had been pushed hard, retreated a few steps, propped himself up with his back leg to stop, his hands still tightly gripping the wooden rifle. Without almost any pause, he quickly stood up straight in the attention position.

Some people seemed not to have seen clearly, shaking their heads and asking the person next to them.

A moment later, the instructor commanded, “Begin!” The two brought up their rifles and rushed forward, again in a standoff. The second round began. No one dared to be distracted, their eyes fixed on the two men.

At this time, Huang Xiong seemed to intentionally extend his arms. He had long arms, so his thrust was long. He dangled the tip of his rifle in front of Fu Fu’s face. Fu Fu also intentionally lowered his waist, aiming for the taller Huang Xiong’s lower body. Huang Xiong also had a move. As long as Fu Fu got a little closer or tried to thrust, Huang Xiong would use his height advantage to smash down with his rifle, preventing the shorter man from raising his rifle or getting close. They called this “press-and-strike.” Suddenly, the tall Huang Xiong took a long step and thrust. Fu Fu jumped back three times in a row to avoid being hit. Then, the two advanced and retreated on the field, moving laterally. They took turns thrusting, and for a moment, the sound of “kill” shook the heavens, but neither of them hit the other. You could already hear their loud panting.

It was clear that Huang Xiong was looking for an opportunity to get close to Fu Fu. In the standoff, Fu Fu suddenly made a defensive left parry, but there was no sound of a violent clash of wooden rifles. Instead, amidst Huang Xiong’s excited shout of “kill,” a dull and powerful sound of “thud!” was heard. This was the sound of the rifle tip hitting the chest protector. The referee shouted “Stop!” Fu Fu stumbled back a few steps and almost sat on the ground. At this time, Huang Xiong had already retracted his rifle and was facing the instructor at attention.

Another huge round of applause.

“What happened? What happened?” There were murmurs in the ranks. Many people were also confused.