Chapter 897 – The Fourth Infantry Battalion

The battalions pulled back from northern Hainan were undergoing rehabilitation training in Lingao. Ten months of counterinsurgency had honed the troops in anti-guerrilla warfare, but the prolonged campaign had taken its toll on military discipline. Scattered operations and garrison duties had eroded organizational cohesion—during much of the fighting, battalions had operated in fragmented platoon-sized elements.

The transmigrator officers, whether of the New Doctrine school or the Old Guard, understood the dangers all too well. Counterinsurgency work was corrosive to regular forces; extended participation led inexorably to a decline in overall combat effectiveness. The Japanese had learned this lesson the hard way during their "cage policy" in North China, scattering strongpoints everywhere—a squad here, four or five men there. For a time, the strategy had suppressed Eighth Route Army operations and battered the base areas. But such extreme dispersal bred lax discipline and strangled training. By war's end, the combat effectiveness of the North China Expeditionary Army had plummeted.

Counterinsurgency belonged properly to local forces and militia. The regular army was a heavy instrument, not meant for such work. To address the problem of local control, the General Staff had commissioned Fu Sansi to establish a special National Army training camp at Ma'ao. Able-bodied men were conscripted from Hainan's various counties and brought there for intensive instruction. Officers and NCOs were drawn from the regular forces, and after training, each county would receive a company—with plans to eventually expand to full three-company battalions.

The 4th Battalion had received no orders for rehabilitation. Apart from a brief stint as garrison in Qiongshan after the Chengmai Campaign, it had never been dispersed. The battalion had remained concentrated at Ma'ao throughout, so there was nothing to rehabilitate. The training orders Zhu Mingxia received were different: "Intensify physical conditioning" and "Commence battalion-wide amphibious training immediately."

From these two directives alone, Zhu Mingxia knew his battalion would be drawn into Operation Engine.

Though the General Staff hadn't yet issued formal orders, the reasoning was obvious. Operation Engine would unfold entirely in coastal regions. Successful population extraction required large-scale ground forces capable of rapid beach landings, extended life aboard ships, sea transfers, and adaptation to northern climates. Such operations had previously been the Marines' exclusive domain—but this operation was too vast for them to handle alone. Their main force was deployed to southern Hainan for counterinsurgency; one company was in Hong Kong, another in Vietnam. What they called a "battalion" for Operation Engine was really only four companies—half the size of an Army infantry battalion. The Army would have to shoulder the primary burden.

As for "intensify physical conditioning," this wasn't merely a paper directive. Accompanying the order was a "special ration allocation" for the 4th Battalion: effective immediately, extra allotments of fats and proteins, and—miraculously—daily meat rations. Not pork or beef, but chicken. Beyond poultry, the Agriculture Department wasn't yet capable of mass-supplying naturalized citizens with meat from other land animals.

The General Staff's intention was clear: fatten up the 4th Battalion to help them endure the northern cold.

Participating in Operation Engine represented a tremendous opportunity. Every transmigrator officer would eventually make general or marshal—at a recent gathering at the South Sea Café, someone had even proposed adding ranks above general: Senior General, Vice Marshal, Marshal Paramount, Grand Marshal. Without such an extensive hierarchy, the argument went, the Empire's greatness and the Fuboian military's glorious prestige couldn't be properly displayed.

Still, advancement through military merit was far preferable to advancement by transmigrator seniority alone. And beyond rank, seniority mattered greatly in the military. "What year did you enlist?" was never an idle question. Whoever reached the next rank first wielded greater voice and decision-making power—and correspondingly stronger influence and factional weight.

Zhu Mingxia calculated the training curriculum beginning tomorrow. Days earlier, he'd visited General Staff to discuss the new courses with key officers, particularly the amphibious training curriculum.

He wasn't from a Marine background himself and lacked knowledge and experience in amphibious assault training. The peculiarities of the Fuboian military meant its training couldn't simply be copied wholesale from old-timeline manuals. Shi Zhiqi of the Marines currently possessed the most firsthand experience in commanding amphibious operations—his expertise would be enormously helpful.

The problem was that Shi Zhiqi was currently in Hong Kong serving as garrison commander. Getting his advice would be troublesome. Xue Ziliang seemed a more practical choice. Though he didn't command the Marines in this timeline, he'd been a member of the U.S. Marine Corps in the old timeline—an experienced professional. Besides, the two were fairly close. Zhu Mingxia often chatted with him during his free time, seeking professional advice.

He made a point of exchanging ideas with other officers—especially Beiwei and Xue Ziliang. Much of his free time went to studying military skills from these two. In his view, they represented the elite soldier standards of China and America respectively. Though he himself came from an elite unit, he recognized the considerable distance between himself and them.

Tactical proficiency, military theory—there was so much he needed to learn. Xue Ziliang in particular possessed training methods, weapons-handling theories, and combat techniques utterly unique to this timeline, along with practical combat experience. Leaving such a man stuck in Special Reconnaissance Command seemed like a waste. No matter how strong Special Recon was, it remained a small team—incapable of determining a battlefield's outcome.

He had also borrowed materials from the Line Infantry Faction, studying the strategies and tactics of the line-infantry era. Though many Old Guard officers sneered at this, he saw it as taking responsibility for his soldiers' lives. Fight with what you have; don't get ahead of yourself; don't indulge in quirky novelties—that was his principle for training and leading troops.

Zhu Mingxia picked up the hand-crank telephone on his desk and turned it three times to connect to the switchboard:

"Connect me to Special Reconnaissance Command."

Xue Ziliang's official title was Deputy Commander of Special Recon, concurrently serving as leader of the Directly Attached Squadron. When not on missions or training, he could always be found at the Command Office by the Bairren City main gate.

The call connected quickly, but Xue Ziliang was out. His female orderly reported: "Commander Xue has taken the team out for training."

"Tell him: Zhu Mingxia needs to speak with him. Please have him call back when he returns."

After hanging up, he cranked the handle twice to signal disconnection.

Should I buy myself a female orderly? Watching the soldiers scattered about the camp in twos and threes, Zhu Mingxia began to consider his personal situation. Ever since the General Affairs Office and Military Affairs Bureau had jointly issued notice that transmigrator officers' life secretaries could be promoted to orderlies, he'd been weighing the idea alongside his training curriculum.

The Female Servant School now had few remaining servants who hadn't been purchased—mostly C-grade or below. For the time being, the General Affairs Office hadn't brought in new resources. Most unmarried transmigrators had decided to wait: once Operation Engine began, there would be a massive influx of girls from Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shandong—far more suited to their aesthetic preferences. Better to make a selection after the operation.

At that moment, two soldiers passing by his window caught his attention. Their conversation made his brow furrow.

"Have you heard? Amphibious training is starting. Apparently they're even bringing in Navy units to train with us—as our instructors!"

"I really don't want to train with those salt fish. Remember that brawl? Those sailors were way too arrogant—even fought with the Garrison Battalion—and then claimed the Army bullies the Navy. Puh! A bunch of lawless pirates. When have we ever picked on them?"

"Exactly. I also heard someone say the Marines think we shouldn't even exist, that we should just disband. Fine then—let them go trudging through mountains to suppress bandits."

"They call us country bumpkins, but they're not exactly from noble stock either. Lots of them were Tanka boatpeople or pirates, going barefoot on deck planks. The kind not even allowed ashore..."

Hearing this, Zhu Mingxia couldn't sit still. He stood and paced his office for a few moments, then changed his shoes and summoned his orderly to issue an emergency assembly order.

The urgent drumbeat echoed across the camp. Today was a rest day; cultural and political studies had already concluded. After sports activities, many soldiers had showered and were washing laundry. At the sound of the drums, they immediately dropped their wash basins and clothes, sprinting toward the barracks. Soon, soldiers in full uniform began forming up at each company assembly point. The air filled with counting-off: "One, two, three, four!" "Twenty-one, twenty-two!" "Full five!" Once the companies had assembled, duty officers led them to the battalion assembly point. An orderly stood behind Zhu Mingxia, recording the time each company completed assembly.

"Reporting to the Battalion Commander! Line Infantry 6th Company, assembly complete, awaiting orders!" Five minutes and six seconds later, the last company arrived.

"Battalion, draw weapons. No ammunition. Full gear, five-kilometer run. Time limit: twenty-six minutes. 6th Company exceeded regulation time by six seconds—under ten seconds, penalty: one additional kilometer. Begin!"

"Light Infantry Company, at the double—march!"

"Grenadier Company, at the double—march!"

"Line Infantry 1st Company, at the double—march!"

...

In the gaps as each company departed, Zhu Mingxia turned to instruct his orderly: "Same rules as usual. Notify the mess hall: the last company to arrive gets no meat with tomorrow's dinner. Give their meat to the first company to finish." Then he adjusted his belt and set off at a quick pace after the troops.