Chapter 2148 - Reorganization Training
At the Relief Bureau, all directors had appeared today. Even those unable to attend personally had dispatched secretaries or advisors to "represent" them. One glance at this assembled array conveyed Luo Yangming's understanding: they would discuss money again.
Spring had arrived—the season when countryside existed caught between harvests. Summer grain hadn't yet ripened; autumn taxes remained months distant. Urban expenses naturally fell upon merchant shoulders. Chief Xie also demonstrated pronounced affection for grand projects; within barely a month since entering the city, he'd already issued over a dozen "documents" promoting so-called "Australian New Policies."
Implementing these "New Policies" demanded both manpower and funding. Most original yamen runners had been retained under altered titles, while numerous new personnel had been recruited and organized into various "teams"—the "Public Order Team," the "Investigation Team," the "Propaganda Team," the "Labor Team"...
Presently several hundred individuals "ate the Hair-Cutting Men's rice" throughout and beyond the city—in former times this wouldn't have seemed remarkable, since unofficial staff employed by yamens had numbered even greater. Yet previously, even proper yamen runners received merely a few dou of rice and several hundred cash annually in official wages, relying entirely upon their own "foraging." The Australians didn't recognize gray income, yet they paid full wages: anyone "eating public rice" received two hundred "standard jin" of work-rations monthly. This constituted no large amount, yet basically sufficed keeping families from starvation. Compared to Great Ming's practice of paying essentially no wages, this proved quite progressive—and also formed the fundamental basis for Australian demands regarding "integrity" from public officials.
All this meant Wuzhou Municipal Government's monthly payroll constituted an enormous figure. Beyond that, several thousand prisoners of war and refugees, though not needing family support, still required feeding.
Beyond personnel maintenance, various reconstruction projects each demanded money and grain. Funds and grain Chief Xie had originally levied were being consumed at rapid pace—bureau directors had already petitioned him multiple times to "reduce expenditures."
Unexpectedly, Xie Erren demonstrated complete unconcern, instead delivering quite a lecture to the bureau's Managing Director, old Mr. Qiao, who'd gone presenting the case.
"...The money and grain were spent, certainly, yet they were spent for proper purposes. Money circulates outward, common people receive it, then spend it again—isn't this stimulating the market? You merchants declare daily: 'We open doors for business yet encounter no trade.' Once common people possess money, naturally trade emerges. Who benefits if not merchants?"
This convoluted reasoning left old Mr. Qiao utterly speechless, though the word "economize" now clearly stood off the table.
Since Chief Xie wouldn't "reduce flow," sole remaining option became "opening new sources." Lately the Relief Bureau had accomplished nothing beyond wrangling and arguing over fundraising for various projects.
These past days, the Bureau had deliberated restoring two pontoon bridges. These constituted matters Chief Xie particularly valued, consequently all Bureau gentlemen valued them particularly as well, meeting daily discussing how to raise necessary funds and grain.
Technically, nothing difficult existed about repairing pontoon bridges: the iron chains had been severed, true, yet both ends remained tethered to iron posts on either bank. Following the chains, labor teams had already hauled sunken portions from the river. Missing sections could be forged anew—the city possessed both blacksmiths and pig iron; provided money existed, they could fire furnaces. Simply reconnect links and completion followed.
What prompted bureau members and craftsmen supervising repairs to scratch heads was boat shortage. The Gui River pontoon bridge required fifty-six vessels; Canglong Bridge, Lingnan's longest pontoon bridge, required one hundred forty-two. Moreover, these boats all needed to be fairly large vessels at least three meters wide—small dinghies wouldn't suffice.
Original boats from both pontoon bridges had either been destroyed or lost when bridges wrecked during Wuzhou's Battle. Afterward, the Beiwei Army had gradually recovered some stranded vessels from riverbanks. Regarding local naval warships and civilian craft, some had fled pre-battle, others had been set ablaze during government forces' collapse—barely one in a hundred survived. The Beiwei Army and Relief Bureau had searched exhaustively, discovering only a small number of boats; considering vessel dimensions and tonnage, fewer than thirty proved usable. That didn't even suffice restoring the Gui River pontoon bridge alone.
Constructing new boats remained possible, naturally—local boatwrights were desperate for employment—yet shipbuilding didn't resemble hiring people filling wall breaches with earth, a day's labor for pittance. Boatwrights couldn't work free, and low wages wouldn't serve either—otherwise monthly jobs could stretch to years, with guaranteed leaking within three months of launching. Shipwrights maintained guilds too, colluding among themselves and proving difficult to manage. When bureau directors calculated expenses, all grimaced secretly: without another "Reasonable Burden" round, this simply couldn't be accomplished.
Yet collecting again so soon didn't sit well with wealthy households—barely a month had elapsed since previous collection, and even Great Ming didn't collect taxes at such pace. Though everyone recognized money required collection, none proved willing raising the subject. The room full of people could only sigh and moan.
"Rise! Rise, you lazy dogs!"
Before Yang Erdong could react, a heavy kick landed on his leg, pain jolting him alert. He scrambled to his feet from his position against the wall.
"Fall in!" At this piercing shout, soldiers who'd been scattered along walls of the Three Generals' Residence rushed toward the open square fronting the gate—this constituted the Wuzhou National Army Battalion's first full assembly.
Yang Erdong experienced momentary confusion, yet he understood "fall in." He hurried following others.
When Wuzhou had fallen, Yang Erdong hadn't fled the city in panic like other stranded soldiers. Instead, he'd discarded weapons, stripped clothing from a corpse, and mixed among refugees, planning to slip from the city when opportunity arose.
Yet he hadn't anticipated that once Australians arrived, they'd immediately rounded up all refugees and placed them in centralized housing, issuing daily tokens exchangeable for porridge. Except for local refugees who could return home freely, everyone else was treated as "labor" who had to work for food. Yang Erdong originated from Guizhou and couldn't imitate Guangzhou Mandarin well enough passing as local, consequently he couldn't escape.
After days laboring in work teams, his sturdy physique and household guard experience got him selected for the "Militia Team." Daily duties consisted of standing guard, patrolling, and keeping night watch—far easier than labor teams. Regarding switching allegiances, he harbored little concern: all he knew was soldiering, and what significance existed whom he served? Provided they fed and paid him.
Several dozen Hair-Cutting Men served as Militia Team officers, and even by Yang Erdong's "elite" standards, these constituted rare "crack troops." Setting everything aside, merely how a man stood before you—that straight, sharp bearing and those cold eyes—communicated "I am not someone to trifle with" and rendered rank-and-file obediently compliant. Naturally, some disbelievers existed—who thought Australians won battles solely through superior firearms—and insisted demonstrating their own martial prowess. They invariably ended crying for mothers.
Yet fierce as these men proved, they remained easy managing. First, they didn't assume airs or abuse subordinate soldiers. Second, everyone received equal treatment: when physical labor materialized, everyone participated, officers included. Meals were shared likewise, identical food all around, with no special treatment.
This astonished Yang Erdong, who'd spent years as household guard—what constituted the point of being an officer then?
Before he could contemplate the philosophical question of soldiering's purpose, the National Army Battalion arrived in Wuzhou.
Immediately upon the National Army Battalion reaching Wuzhou with garrisons and defense areas assigned, Qian Duo commenced reorganization training.
Though the National Army had now expanded to four companies, most soldiers were products of hasty expansion, mainly recruited from Ming army deserters. With time so limited, they hadn't received substantial training; military and political quality proved unreliable. National Army Command had issued specific instructions regarding reorganization training.
Qian Duo stood in full dress upon a wooden platform overlooking this makeshift drill ground, surveying the rabble of three companies below.
As previously arranged, the solitary company composed of veteran naturalized soldiers had assumed other companies' defense sectors, affording these three companies time for reorganization.
Regarding physique and health, personnel of these three companies surpassed local averages and basically qualified as military recruits. Yet Qian Duo knew too well: most men had received poor training and lacked combat experience. Old army habits ran deep. Not merely did they regard killing, burning, and raping during battle as commonplace, but shirking and malingering proved endemic.
The three hundred-odd men below wore identical National Army uniforms—everything brand new—and apart from lacking rifles, appeared no different from the Attached Company. Yet the formation proved crooked, and bearing constituted mixed bag. Those fronting at minimum knew to puff chests and retract bellies in displays of "martial bearing," while those rearward stood however they pleased.
"You are now National Army soldiers under Council of Elders command!" Qian Duo bellowed. "Regardless of previous actions, regardless of Ming army rank formerly held, you are now glorious National Army soldiers! You must constantly remember you are soldiers of the Council of Elders and of the people! Take pride being soldiers of the Council's military. Obey discipline, fight without fear. Defend the flag with blood and lives!"
He swept his gaze across the dead-fish stares of National Army soldiers below and roared: "Now hear proclamation! The Military Regulations for All Armed Forces Personnel, approved by the Council of Elders!"
A sergeant immediately stepped forward and howled in voice approaching shriek:
"Article One! All actions are to be taken on command!"
"Article Two! Do not take so much as a needle or thread from common people!"
"Article Three! All captured goods must be turned over to the public!"
...
These military regulations represented nothing novel to National Army troops who'd come from Guangzhou—their personal copies of the Soldier's Handbook contained them. Yet for soldiers like Yang Erdong, who'd been "locally conscripted," everything proved quite novel. By reading's completion, he entertained a second thought: "What constitutes the point of soldiering like this?"
After regulations were read aloud, Qian Duo surveyed soldiers below, who now displayed faint unease signs, and declared in booming voice: "Since founding, the Council of Elders' armed forces have campaigned north and south, never once defeated. All enemies have crumbled like clay chickens and pottery dogs—and it results from this iron discipline! Remember this always!"
(Chapter End)