Chapter 1760 - The Police Training Class
Liu Xiang gave a brief overview of Guangzhou's manpower shortage and the recruitment plan that had just been completed.
Pan Jiexin nodded. "A shortage is inevitable. But recruiting a thousand officers all at once does put considerable pressure on training."
"We had no choice," Liu Xiang said. "Without police, we can't enforce many of our policies. Right now, just maintaining order in the urban area is consuming enormous effort—we're relying entirely on the National Army to keep the lid on."
The National Army would soon be deploying to the countryside for pacification operations; it couldn't remain in the city indefinitely as a police force. After all, securing the rural districts was equally important.
Even within the city, word had spread of how chaotic things were in the suburbs. At more remote gates like the North Gate, bandits and brigands operated just beyond the tollhouses. On the Pearl River, pirates were rampant; the Coast Guard patrol boats could only secure the stretch from White Goose Pool downstream to Hong Kong. A bit farther—the lower reaches of the West River from Sanshui to Jiangmen—was beyond their capacity to protect.
"I have a general picture," said Pan Jiexin. "But since we need a thousand officers on the streets all at once and time is tight, we'll have to run an accelerated training. I'd say we compress it to thirty days. What about facilities and logistics?"
"You don't need to worry about that," Liu Xiang said. "Except for some equipment we'll ship from Lingao, we've got everything else ready." He added, "Anything related to police work—we guarantee a green light all the way."
Training police required, first of all, a venue. Ancient cities rarely had public buildings large enough to accommodate a crowd. Apart from various temples and government offices, there was little else. Liu Xiang had chosen the Guangzhou Prefecture Wanshou Palace.
The Wanshou Palace was originally a Taoist temple, but like most such temples, it enshrined a "Long-Life Plaque" for the reigning emperor. On the emperor's birthday—the so-called "Wanshou Festival"—all officials in the city gathered here for a grand ceremony of congratulations. If an emperor died, the palace was used for mourning rites and condolences. At other times, it served as the venue for receiving imperial edicts.
"This temple complex is quite large—more than enough room for the trainees," Liu Xiang said. "I declared that it contained tablets for Ming emperors and classified it as 'enemy property' for confiscation. The palace is now assigned to your use. Workers are currently remodeling the facilities—but conditions are still very basic, and training equipment is lacking."
"The recruits are all patrol officers; the skill requirements aren't high, so training can be simplified accordingly. What really needs work is breaking their petty townsfolk habits." Pan Jiexin had spent several years on police education and training in Lingao and spoke with confidence. "Borrow me a few dozen sergeants from the Fubo Army or National Army—that'll do."
A new sign now hung at the gate of the Wanshou Palace: white background, black Song-style characters reading "People's Security Province, Guangzhou Special Municipality National Police Academy." Two black-uniformed policemen with long truncheons stood guard at the entrance.
Li Ziyu climbed the steps feeling somewhat intimidated. He had been here a few times before—his uncle had brought him every year to kowtow before the "Long-Life Plaque." Of course, the actual Wanshou Festival ceremony was reserved for high-ranking officials; the likes of them weren't qualified to attend. Li Ziyu had always dreaded coming here; the slightest lapse in attire or deportment and his uncle would deliver a stern lecture.
In his hand was an "Admission Notice." Li Ziyu's secondary screening had gone smoothly: both his parents lived in Guangzhou, and he could read and write.
After having his notice verified at the gate, Li Ziyu entered. On the spirit wall directly ahead, the original decorative patterns had been chiseled away and the surface plastered smooth. Carved into it was a shield-shaped emblem. Li Ziyu could only make out the two Chinese characters: "Police."
Beneath the emblem were several lines of engraved regular-script calligraphy, bold and flowing: "Loyal to the Senatorial Council, Loyal to the Nation, Loyal to the People, Loyal to the Law." The signature below read "Wen Desi." Li Ziyu knew the name—the illustrious "Prime Minister Wen," now Military Governor of Guangdong. A tremendously powerful official.
In front of the spirit wall stood two rows of tables with policemen in black uniforms seated behind them. A sign beside them read: "Registration Desk." A queue of people waited.
"One at a time, in order. Line up!" Someone was maintaining order. Li Ziyu already knew how seriously the Australians took queuing and hurried to the end of the line.
After a series of procedures—filling out forms, giving fingerprints—came "purification." By the time Li Ziyu emerged from the bathhouse, the somewhat dashing scholar's air he had once cultivated was gone. He was now a shaven-headed recruit in a black uniform.
Putting on the uniform for the first time felt thoroughly awkward. For someone accustomed to loose, wide-sleeved robes, this outfit was far too tight; the trousers felt constricting too. The shoes were acceptable, but the one-piece puttees wrapped around his calves felt uncomfortably snug.
"Take your things and go to your dormitory—match the room number! One behind the other! No whispering!" The sergeants on loan from the National Army shouted, brandishing bamboo canes. "Single file!"
Li Ziyu hadn't expected the Australians' "Quick Class" to operate under military discipline. He groaned inwardly. But having come this far, there was no turning back. Under the shouts and the canes' "guidance," he found his dormitory and bed.
"Now begin organizing your bunks! Report to the assembly hall in one hour!"
Li Ziyu surveyed the dormitory. It had probably been some sort of temple hall; now it was empty and cavernous, seeming both tall and vast. Double-decker bunks lined the walls—more than twenty of them—over forty men in a single room, sleeping stacked one above the other!
He had never lived in a place like this, let alone shared a room with over forty people.
He checked his bed number: "Lower." That was a relief. If he'd had to climb to an upper bunk, he wouldn't have known what to do.
In a small courtyard several compounds away from the student dormitories, Pan Jiexin sat with a copy of Fundamentals of Public Security Theory, contemplating the next day's lesson.
This wasn't his first time teaching recruits, but this session of the Police Training Class was an ultra-accelerated affair. Neither Liu Xiang nor Mu Min could wait for training to follow the Induction Training Syllabus he had previously drafted. According to that syllabus, short-course trainees studied for sixty days plus a two-week internship.
Now he had to compress everything into thirty days, with theory and practice running simultaneously. After much deliberation, Pan Jiexin decided to train to the bare minimum standard: focus on public-order management, emphasize practical skills, and hammer home discipline.
His training schedule called for police skills, physical fitness, and formation drills in the mornings on the small parade ground; theory study in the afternoons; political education and remedial literacy in the evenings. The final assessment would consist of a written theory exam, a skills test, and a physical-fitness standard.
Since a significant proportion of trainees were illiterate, Pan Jiexin divided them into two tracks: those who could read and write would receive more theoretical instruction and be groomed as future cadres; the illiterate would focus on basic education.
Early the next morning, a brief opening ceremony was held in the main hall—now the assembly hall—of the Wanshou Palace. Both Liu Xiang and Mu Min attended. As Liu Xiang gave his speech, Pan Jiexin sat on the dais surveying the crooked ranks below and allowed himself a wry smile. The disparity in basic quality was stark: on one side, the sergeants on loan stood in disciplined order; on the other, the "social recruits" displayed every imaginable posture, and a few in the back rows were chattering away.
Mu Min whispered with a rueful smile, "Discipline clearly needs a lot of work."
"Don't worry. Formation drills are up next—they'll last about two weeks. Let them experience what discipline means." Pan Jiexin muttered.
"Now, National Police Regional Commander and President of the Guangzhou Special Municipality National Police Academy, Pan Jiexin, will address the assembly!"
First came a burst of crisp applause, then a ragged scatter of clapping.
Pan Jiexin adjusted his belt, rose, and walked to the microphone.
"Comrades! Welcome to the Guangzhou Special Municipality Police Academy. Welcome to becoming proud students of the National Police. I am the Academy President, Pan Jiexin." He gave a sharp salute.
"From this day forward, you are members of the National Police. Though you are still only trainees, not yet formally awarded the police badge, I expect each of you—through study and testing—to prove yourselves worthy of this honored title!"
His stern voice and demeanor made the more lax trainees instinctively straighten up.
Pan Jiexin relaxed his tone slightly. "The word 'police' is unfamiliar to most of you. In the old Ming government, there were only so-called Quick Class and Strong Class runners. True, they performed some of the functions of police. But they were not police—not in our Senatorial Council's sense. Why not? Because under the Senatorial Council, police exist to suppress evil and protect the good, to punish crime, to ensure stability and order in society, and to let the common people work, do business, and live in peace. That is the purpose of police, and the greatest value of our existence. What did the old yamen runners do? More often than not, they preyed on the people!
"To a degree, they did 'keep the peace.' But their peace-keeping came at the cost of the people's interests, to fatten themselves. Many runners committed crimes themselves, terrorizing the populace. They bowed and scraped to the gentry and great families while framing and extorting the common folk. When bandits appeared, they either fled in terror or colluded for a share of the loot. They were nothing but scoundrels who aided tyrants and bullied the weak. I'm sure you've all witnessed such behavior." Pan Jiexin paused, gauged the reaction below, and continued. "Under the Senatorial Council, there are no such corrupt officials and clerks. When the people face oppression, encounter bandits, or are in danger—that is when the police step forward. In another sense, we are the knights-errant of old who upheld justice—except we rely on our own abilities, and what we proclaim is the law, the voice of the Senatorial Council and the people."
(End of Chapter)