Chapter 19: Military Matters

The meeting consumed nearly the entire day, finally concluding after dark. Countless details remained unresolved, but they had at least hammered out a preliminary division of labor, sketched a rough framework, and established direction. Everyone departed with a general sense of their responsibilities.

Even so, a restless energy hummed through the group. The Committee had made it abundantly clear that nothing related to the crossing could be discussed outside the office building—yet reality proved otherwise. Small clusters of transmigrators drifted along the weed-choked running track, voices low as they debated the meeting's outcomes and aired their disagreements. Some found kindred spirits through these conversations, forging bonds over shared frustrations.

The sources of discontent varied wildly: the direction of a particular industry, an equipment list, or sometimes nothing more than the way someone had spoken. But where there was dissatisfaction, there grew intimacy—and nothing could please everyone. Small grievances began accumulating from the very start.

The Executive Committee, still basking in the glow of what they considered "a victorious conference, a unifying conference, a successful conference," remained blissfully unaware. At that moment, Committee members had gathered for private discussions with the core members of the Athletics Group.

The so-called Athletics Group was nominally responsible for physical training, but in reality served as the embryonic form of the transmigrators' future military apparatus. The innocuous name was purely a cover.

Throughout the day's proceedings, the Athletics Group had remained conspicuously silent—a deliberate arrangement by Wen Desi. The group's scope was too sensitive for open discussion, even among trusted transmigrator cadres.

The current Athletics Group leader was ostensibly a sales manager, though that had nothing to do with his appointment. He was a former military officer, a graduate of the Infantry Academy who had served as a company commander in a field army before rotating to headquarters as a staff officer. Among the transmigrators, he represented their strongest military foundation.

He had a rather impressive name: Xi Yazhou.

Xi Yazhou and his Athletics Group colleagues were mostly demobilized veterans. Their numbers weren't large, but the military bearing their service had instilled remained unmistakable.

"Director Wen, this is Beiwei—formerly of the reconnaissance battalion, XX Military Region."

"This is Zhao De—formerly of the XX Naval Water Police District."

"And this is He Ming." Xi Yazhou's tone shifted to evident reverence as he introduced the oldest member. "He served as an infantry company commander during the Liangshan rotation war."

The introduction commanded immediate respect from everyone present. The comrade approaching fifty had weathered dark skin and slightly graying close-cropped hair. He sat with his spine ramrod straight.

"Most transmigrators are laymen when it comes to military matters," Wen Desi began, choosing his words with care. "Quite a few know plenty about weapons and theory, but it's all armchair strategy. Few have actually served or so much as touched a real firearm. I'd like to hear the Athletics Group's thoughts—you're the professionals here."

"I'd like to first confirm roughly how many will participate," Xi Yazhou replied. "What's the ratio of veterans to militiamen?"

"Hard to say at this point. Ultimately, probably five to six hundred total. About ten more have the qualifications you mentioned."

"Then we'll have to take the all-people-soldiers approach." Xi Yazhou was decisive. "This population base can't sustain even a modestly sized dedicated armed force." He paused to let the implications sink in. "With fourteen military-trained personnel, even if they were all Rambos, it wouldn't be enough. We need comprehensive military training across the board. Everyone participates."

"Even women?"

"Yes—though Auntie Cao can be excused. All men regardless of age; women under forty."

"What kind of training?" Xiao Zishan hoped it wouldn't resemble the ceremonial drills he remembered from university military education.

"We'll draw up a detailed plan." Xi Yazhou considered for a moment. "The environment we'll face is completely different from modern warfare, so the curriculum needs significant modification. The initial phase will cover drill, basic field fortifications, disassembly and live-fire training with one long and one short light weapon each, plus simple combat techniques.

"First, we'll form a small squad of fifteen to twenty, primarily veterans, for early security and reconnaissance. That will be our standing force. The Athletics Group will also recruit young people in good physical condition for more comprehensive training—a core militia of about fifty. These will be our backbone."

"These people can't be taken off regular duties."

"Of course not," Xi Yazhou agreed. "That's precisely why they're called core militia—they simply receive more intensive training. But when combat comes, they'll form the spine of our defense."

"How much time will this require?"

"Basic training runs thirty days; core militia, ninety. If we identify promising individuals, I'd like to continue their training right up until the crossing." Xi Yazhou ran quick calculations in his head. "Physical conditioning must also continue—daily long-distance running at minimum. The Athletics Group will handle all of this. Weapons training will need a separate location. Are there any shooting clubs in this county?"

"I believe there's one—set up specifically to attract Hong Kong tourists."

"Good. Too bad real firearms are so difficult to obtain." Xi Yazhou sighed. "Ammunition at clubs runs expensive. We can only give people a feel for the weapons—actual training is out of the question."

Xiao Zishan shifted uneasily in his seat. He sensed the conversation was veering toward extremely sensitive territory and wondered briefly whether he ought to excuse himself.

"The weapons issue is indeed very difficult," Wen Desi acknowledged. "Too sensitive by half."

"Is there any way to get real guns?" Wang Luobin refused to abandon hope. Though he claimed to have manufactured countless firearms himself, they had all been fabricated from ordinary steel—a far cry from proper arsenal production. Modern firearms employed a wide variety of materials, over a dozen types of steel alone for different components.

"It's possible," Xi Yazhou allowed. He knew something about the black market. "But I'd strongly advise against it. The risk is far too high."

"Then we'll have to count on Industry to manufacture them." Wang Luobin couldn't hide his disappointment.

"Make them here? In this timespace?"

"We have equipment, we have talent, and materials aren't hard to source. What we produce would be at least as good as Hualong-made firearms."

Wen Desi shook his head firmly. "Too dangerous. Illegal guns are a priority crackdown target. If we attempted manufacturing, the police would come knocking within days."

"Then what? There's simply no way for us to acquire proper weapons."

"How about bribing a shooting club for some real steel?" Someone was dreaming.

"You might as well march up to the Armed Forces Department and ask directly!" Xiao Zishan couldn't contain his objection.

"Director Wen, how many weapons can we actually obtain? Give us a bottom line."

Wen Desi hesitated. These days, even hiding a hunting shotgun could land you in court. But Xi Yazhou was their future military backbone—some show of trust was necessary.

"We have very little." Wen Desi never recorded these figures; they existed only in his memory.

Currently confirmed: over a dozen shotguns of various brands, calibers, and models—some antiquated single-shot types, others the five-shot variety that often featured in crime reports. Calibers ranged from 12 to 16 to 20 gauge. All were old domestic brands: Pigeon, Eagle, Flying Dragon, Double Ring—holdovers from hunting enthusiasts of decades past. Shells, primers, and reloading tools were complete, but the guns themselves showed their age. Some had over thirty years of hard use.

What could actually be called rifles amounted to two Emei-brand small-caliber sporting rifles in decent condition, fitted with competition sights, plus a small cache of ammunition. There was also a rifled hunting gun of unknown East German manufacture, chambered in 8x57mm, with a few casings but no ammunition to speak of.

Rounding out the inventory were several Shanghai-brand and Gongzi-brand air pistols, one being a competition model with proper sights.

"Not a single real gun." Someone sounded deflated.

"Not bad at all, actually." Xi Yazhou's assessment surprised them. "Shotgun buckshot is effective out to 35 meters; slugs to 70. That's no worse than flintlocks and far superior to matchlocks. Plus we have a significant advantage in rate of fire." He nodded thoughtfully. "The small-caliber sporting rifles have excellent accuracy, and with scopes they can serve as sniper weapons to suppress important targets at range. If I recall correctly, small-caliber rifles can achieve an effective range of 200 meters."

"Not much stopping power though, right? The enemy will mostly be wearing full armor."

"Where would they get that much armor? Just ragged uniforms."

"That's the Qing. Our Great Ming wasn't quite so shabby..."

Just as the conversation threatened to derail into the eternal debate between Ming-fans and Qing-haters, a quiet voice emerged from the corner:

"Just aim for the head."

Everyone turned. It was Beiwei—a stocky former recon soldier who had sat expressionless since the meeting began. A small chill ran through the room.

Xi Yazhou nodded his approval. "What level of equipment the enemy possesses—that's for the history experts to determine. The Intelligence Group needs to provide us with a capabilities table covering all the major late-Ming factions: combat strength, weapons and equipment, tactical doctrine, notable battles. That way we can develop targeted plans."

"No problem," Intelligence agreed without hesitation.

They spent the remaining time going over operational details. The weapons issue remained complicated; they decided to gather more intelligence before attempting any solutions.

(End of Chapter)