Chapter 749 – Homecoming (Part 1)

"Fu Fu!" A company runner appeared in the barracks doorway. "The captain wants you!"

Fu Fu immediately set down the rifle he was cleaning, stowed the maintenance kit and weapon, and jogged to company headquarters.

His unit—3rd Company, 1st Infantry Battalion—had just returned from the Qiongshan front to the Ma'ao base camp. Ever since the Chengmai engagement, the 1st Battalion had remained on the Qiongshan front conducting "pressure-maintenance" operations, blockading Haikou, Qiongshan, and other towns. The blockade involved no large-scale combat; aside from the occasional prisoner snatch or shelling into the city, there was little fighting to speak of. The battalion's main task was to assist the Civil Affairs Department in "rural penetration" and "village consolidation," carrying out extensive pacification operations in the area, rooting out stragglers and bandits, and training soldiers for the county militia.

After months of continuous pacification duty, the 1st Battalion was rotated out of Qiongshan and returned to Lingao for rest and reorganization. Soldiers and officers were granted leave in batches.

"Reporting! Private First Class Fu Fu, reporting as ordered!" He saluted at the doorway and announced himself loudly.

Only the company commander was inside. Captain Lin Fu wore the new small-lapel uniform with a full complement of ribbons. He sat behind his desk, laboring over some report. On the wall behind him hung the Army's regimental colors.

Lin Fu nodded. "You're a local, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir! I'm from Meiyang Village—"

"Effective immediately, you are granted one week's leave." Lin Fu handed him an envelope. "Leave begins as of noon today. Here is your pass."

"Thank you, sir!" At the news that he could go home, Fu Fu broke into a wide grin. Of course, Fu Bu'er and his wife were not really family—they were merely employers who had exploited his cheap labor. But among the children of the Fu household, whether bond-servants or Fu Bu'er's own offspring, the bonds ran deep. They had eaten together, slept together, worked together, been beaten together. Fu Bu'er's wife was no kinder to her own children than to the bond-servants; to her, both were merely mouths that consumed food and hands that did work.

"Don't thank me. These are orders from Military Affairs Command," Lin Fu said. "When you're on leave, make sure you dress smartly. Show them the dignity of a soldier."

"Yes, sir!"

Fu Fu left company headquarters. Since being sent off more than a year ago by his former master to join the "Security Regiment," he had not returned to Meiyang Village. Back in the barracks, he packed his weapon and personal kit, completed the handover formalities, then changed into a brand-new version of the military uniform. Soldiers on family leave could not carry firearms, of course, but to foster esprit de corps, Military Affairs Command permitted army and navy enlisted personnel holding the rank of private first class or higher to carry the army bayonet or naval dagger as a mark of honor when off duty.

Fu Fu fastened the bayonet to his belt and examined his reflection in the quarter mirror: quite impressive. The bayonet at his side made him look a bit like the sergeants with their short swords—swords he had envied for a long time. He had heard that the captain had already recommended him when the latest NCO Training Cadre was being selected. Judging by his seniority and performance, he reckoned he was certain to be picked this round.

If only he could have made sergeant before his leave. Fu Fu indulged in a moment of regret: how wonderful it would have been to appear at Fu Bu'er's door wearing corporal's epaulettes, a sword with a red tassel at his hip, in all his martial splendor. What look would Fu Yijin give him? What expression would Fu Bu'er's wife wear? He had secretly loved this young "lady" for a long time, but fear of the mistress had kept him timid. Now, returning home, his courage had swelled, and he was determined to have a proper conversation with the master about the matter.

He turned to check his web belt from the side, then tugged at his integrated puttees to make sure they were neat and regulation according to the Soldier's Handbook. More than anything, Fu Fu hoped that one day he would exchange them for an officer's leather belt and tall boots. He had heard that the captain himself had once been nothing more than a common foot soldier; when Fu Fu first enlisted, the captain had been merely a corporal squad leader.

Fu Fu had no doubt that he, too, would someday be an officer. Although when he was first conscripted more than a year ago he had secretly wept more than once—the hardship and exhaustion of military life aside, there was always the chance of being killed, and the thought had made him contemplate deserting before he even arrived at camp. Looking back now, his two years in the army felt like a rebirth.

Fu Fu pinned on his medal, left the barracks, and headed straight for the base's Servicemen's Club. The club was actually run by the Cooperative; in addition to selling merchandise, it doubled as a tavern and handled savings deposits and postal services.

Fu Fu had spent almost none of his pay. Like most soldiers, he was extremely frugal, depositing every fen of his wages in his club account. Many local soldiers with families had their pay remitted home to help with household expenses—remittance fees were waived.

Fu Fu, of course, had no intention of sending money to Fu Bu'er. He had even heard that Fu Bu'er had once come to the camp demanding to collect his wages and had been sternly rebuked by the officers. Fu Fu was secretly delighted—he would rather serve the Australians than labor for Fu Bu'er again. The days when even an extra bite of pickled vegetables earned him a tongue-lashing from the mistress were not something he cared to relive.

Still, this time he wanted to bring gifts for his brothers and sisters—especially for Fu Yijin. He had been thinking of buying her a compact mirror-case with powder, but the club didn't stock that sort of thing; nearly everything on sale was food or daily necessities.

Fu Fu first purchased some food at the club—prices here were slightly lower than outside, a perk for servicemen. He knew that the Fu household rarely saw meat; coarse rice with pickled-fish sauce counted as a treat reserved for busy seasons. So he bought dried fish, fish cakes, kelp, dried seaweed, and the like, along with two jars of fish sauce and two jars of chili paste. The latter was a new product and very popular among the soldiers.

He also bought a towel and a woven-rattan pith helmet for each person, plus the new military-issue bamboo canteens. The rattan helmet was worn by army and navy personnel during training and work—well-ventilated and shading, very practical in this subtropical climate. Since its introduction, soldiers and civilians alike had welcomed it. As for the bamboo canteen, it came with a fitted rattan sleeve and an adjustable strap that could hang from the belt or sling over the shoulder. It was both practical and fashionable—very popular with the young. At first only soldiers and laborers used them, but gradually people in the communes began adopting them as well. Canteens were now in such demand that cooperatives had to ration sales.

For other gifts, he would have to go to the East Gate Market.

After sending Fu Fu on his way, Lin Fu filled out a leave pass for himself—as an officer, he too had been granted leave. Lin Fu's home was in Salt-Field Village right here in Ma'ao, practically next door; under ordinary circumstances, he could visit on any regular day off. But since returning to Ma'ao he had been caught up in an endless round of debriefings, report writing, training, and exercises, without a single day of rest. Now that he could take consecutive leave, he certainly wouldn't miss the chance.

Lin Fu's family were salt workers. After the transmigrator collective established the Monopoly Bureau, the villagers had been reorganized into a state-owned salt works under the Bureau's umbrella. His relatives were all now factory employees. From letters home, Lin Fu knew the family was getting by well. The Ma'ao Commune, where Salt-Field Village was located, was currently pushing its "New Countryside Construction" initiative, and his family hoped he would bring back some of his accumulated pay as a down payment on a new house.

Lin Fu was naturally supportive of the idea. The houses in Salt-Field Village were built from coarse seaside stone; lacking proper mortar and designed to resist typhoons, they were kept low to the ground. Inside it was dark and damp year-round. In the past, living in such shadowy dwellings had seemed normal enough. But after joining the army—after seeing the houses the Australians lived in and growing accustomed to tall, airy barracks—he now turned up his nose at those uncomfortable, unhygienic stone hovels.

This time, Lin Fu decided, he would take all his savings home and see exactly what these "new houses" looked like and what size would suit. He had heard the prices were quite steep, so he would have to think it over carefully.

Fu Fu left the Ma'ao base. He could have caught a free ride at the harbor—salt boats sailed to Bopu every day, and a word with someone on the dock would let him sit atop the salt sacks for a leisurely voyage—but sailing felt too slow, and the harbor was several kilometers away on foot. It would be faster to catch a public ox-cart near the base.

Thanks to the recent push to build roads in preparation for the campaign, Lingao's public-transportation network had extended considerably. With the influx of government war prisoners and steam road-rollers, construction had progressed rapidly. The highway from Chengmai to Lingao was now fully open and currently being extended toward Qiongshan.

The newly established Public Transport Company had already extended ox-cart service to Ma'ao. A transfer station for the carts had been set up at the base gate.

Fu Fu arrived at the large-span bamboo-canopy platform of the transfer station. A wooden signboard listed routes, schedules, and stops. At present, the Ma'ao hub served only two lines: Ma'ao–Bopu and Ma'ao–Salt-Field Village. Arrival and departure times for each run were clearly posted. Quite a few local villagers had already gathered on the platform, bearing baskets and shoulder poles, bound for Bopu or Bairren. Others were heading only to villages along the way. Thanks to the improved transportation, villagers traveled far more frequently, and many showed greater enthusiasm for selling their products—stimulating the circulation of goods.

(End of Chapter)