57. Setting Out on the Campaign

The messenger stood before Yang Fan, panting heavily. Having traveled the entire night, he had first rushed to Zunhua, only to find that Yang Fan was not there. After delivering the military report for the Thousand-Household Office to the Thousand-Household Commander, he had immediately hurried over to the East Mountain Mine encampment.

"What did the Thousand-Household Commander say?" Yang Fan asked.

Looking rather indignant, the messenger replied, "The Commander said, 'Understood.'"

Yang Fan sneered.

Everyone had evidently made up their minds to play deaf and dumb.

"What is the current situation at the Hundred-Household Office?"

"More than forty children who were out digging wild vegetables failed to run back. Everyone else is working on reinforcing the outer wall; no one has gone outside, and they are all safe. The weapons have already been distributed."

"How is the wall coming along?"

"The trench has been dug one zhang wide and seven chi deep. As for the earthen wall, it has only been tamped down to a height of three chi, which is completely insufficient to stop an outside attack. Right now, those fifty cavalrymen have surrounded the town, cutting off all communication between the inside and the outside. The main force of horse bandits could arrive at any moment. There is no longer enough time to finish the wall. The situation is extremely critical."

Yang Fan turned the matter over in his mind. There were only those fifty or so government soldiers stationed at the Hundred-Household Office, which was far from enough to mount a defense. A single charge from the horse bandits would break right through, leaving the rest as lambs to the slaughter.

The top priority was to improve the fortifications, as only enhanced defenses could hold the line temporarily. In addition, reinforcements needed to be sent immediately. Relying solely on the untrained laborers would be useless; the garrison walls were not even long enough for soldiers to stand shoulder to shoulder, let alone hold the position.

The only reason the horse bandits had not launched a direct assault yet was because he had previously ordered everyone to carry a sharpened bamboo pole, which, combined with their existing firearms, made them look like a force of one or two thousand from a distance, deterring the bandits from acting rashly. However, the moment a fight broke out, the ruse would instantly be exposed.

"How many hemp sacks for iron ore powder are left in the warehouse?" Yang Fan asked.

"Reporting to Your Honor, there are still seventy thousand left," a young warehouse attendant replied.

Yang Fan breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, he had purchased one hundred thousand sacks in advance.

"How much barbed wire is left?"

"Reporting to Your Honor, there are still thirty large rolls, which should be enough to fence off about two thousand meters."

"Take all of them."

"Understood."

"Zhang Gada, order the Upper Character Battalion and the Lower Character Battalion to assemble. Bring all the stockpiled muskets, gunpowder, lead bullets, and provisions. We board the boats and set out tonight to reinforce Luanshitan."

"Sir, I have fought in wars for decades. Let me go with you, too; at the very least, I can offer some advice," Zhang Gada said.

"You stay put. Your role here is even more important. Right now, you are the only one who truly understands troop command. You must manage this place well for me and step up the training of the remaining four battalions. Await my orders at any time."

"Understood! Rest assured, sir, I will manage the main camp properly," Zhang Gada replied.

"Zhao Fu, from this moment on, purchase grain and usable military equipment—sabers, spears, and shields. If anyone is selling armor privately, buy that up as well. In short, acquire whatever you can get your hands on. As soon as you gather a batch, ship it to Luanshitan by boat at night."

"Yes, sir."

"How much copper coin is left in the treasury?" Yang Fan asked.

"Around thirty million," Zhao Fu answered.

Thirty thousand strings of coin—not a small sum, equivalent to a hundred tons of copper.

"Bring ten thousand strings of coin to be used as reward money."

"Are there enough boats?" Yang Fan asked.

Mo Zhuo had been in charge of leasing vessels recently. "Reporting to Your Honor, we have currently leased ten large cargo ships, complete with oarsmen and sailors. However, they were meant for transporting iron ore powder."

"Requisition these boats first, and then lease another ten vessels to haul the ore. From now on, these ten ships will be used to maintain transport between the Hundred-Household Office and the outside world. The hulls simply need to be modified: erect wooden planks along the gunwales to serve as shields against arrows. Also, take fifty of the newly recruited hundred and fifty carpenters."

"Understood!" Everyone bowed in unison.

Night had already fallen, but the moon was bright and full, casting its clear radiance across the earth and providing excellent visibility. The boatmen picked up their oars.

One thousand militia members, who had only fired muskets for a single afternoon, were now about to be thrust directly onto the battlefield.

They had been soldiers for a mere fifteen days in total: one day of training on personal and barrack organization, two days of military posture drills, ten days of unit formations, two days of spear-fighting techniques, and half a day of musket practice.

They had not even fully mastered how to operate their firearms.

Though the long spear drill consisted of only three basic movements: blocking, thrusting, and parrying.

Under the sparse starlight and bright moon, squads of soldiers sat silently in the boats. The officers whispered stern warnings: no talking, mind the gunwales, and make sure not to fall overboard in the dark.

Zhao Shuigeng had been assigned to the First Squad of the First Company within the Upper Character Battalion. He deeply cherished the opportunity to join Master Yang's militia, as it had brought about a massive transformation in his family's livelihood.

On the third day of his enlistment, his wife was assigned a job in the kitchen, earning seventy-five pure copper coins a month—roughly equivalent to one hundred and fifty standard copper coins, or one and a half qian of silver. For a female laborer, this was by no means a low wage, especially since he himself received a military stipend of two qian of silver.

Furthermore, his elderly father had found work guarding the warehouse gates, earning fifty pure copper coins a month. Together, the family's monthly income reached four and a half qian of silver.

Coupled with free room and board, he did not have to pay for his own clothing either. The militia issued four sets of uniforms a year, and the old garments could be handed down to his family members. As a result, every single penny of his pay could be saved, amounting to five liang and four qian over the course of a year. He was exceptionally satisfied with this income.

In the Ming Dynasty, ordinary laborers and shop assistants typically earned about one and a half qian of silver a month. Only literate accountants and scribes could manage to earn three qian of silver.

Before setting out on the campaign, Master Yang had made a solemn promise: those who died in battle would receive a lump-sum compensation equal to ten years of military pay; one family member would be arranged with employment; and their children would receive free schooling until adulthood, followed by job placement.

Those who suffered disabilities but retained their working capacity would be given jobs. Those who lost their ability to work entirely would receive a lifelong pension amounting to eighty percent of their military stipend.

All at once, this completely relieved everyone of any worries about the future.

How could the poor ever dare to dream of education? But Master Yang had declared that the children of all soldiers and workers could attend Xinghe Primary School for a tuition fee of just ten wen a month.

It was said that those with good academic performance were exempt from tuition and even eligible for scholarships, meaning not only would it cost nothing, but the children could actually earn money for their families.

The only slight flaw was that recently, the cafeteria's "Ever-Changing Thousand-Flavor Porridge"—so named by the men because its flavor changed every single day, perfectly embodying the profound breadth of Chinese culinary culture—had seen a reduction in oil. Previously, it had featured a thick layer that would burn one's mouth, but now it only floated a few sparse specks of grease.

Squad Leader Lao Xiao, who was from the same village, had whispered to him privately that, according to rumors, the grease had been skimmed off by the man the master called Chief Engineer Fu Lao Liu to use for quenching hot iron.

In the ranks, the men privately cursed Fu Lao Liu as a heartless wretch who skimmed grease right out of everyone's mouths for the sake of his own workshop's interests, condemning him as utterly black-hearted and rotten to the core.

True to the habits of ordinary Chinese commoners, whenever something bad happened, it was inevitably blamed on a malicious sycophant whispering slander in the boss's ear, while the boss himself was assumed to have been hoodwinked.

The militia members conversed in low tones, using it to ease the terror of their maiden voyage into battle. Only when they noticed no officers were nearby did they dare to raise their voices slightly; otherwise, making a racket during a march was a punishable offense.

From the very first day they entered the camp, before every meal they were required to chant the "Song of the Eight Military Rods and Eight Decapitations." Minor offenses were punished with the military rod, while major ones met the executioner's blade.

Only after finishing the song could they eat. Regardless of the tune, anyone who failed to memorize the lyrics had to practice on the side until they could sing it properly before getting their food. If the food ran out by then, they would simply have to wait for the next meal.

This was adapted by Yang Fan from the Seventeen Prohibitions and Fifty-Four Executions provided by Zhang Gada. An army could not fight without strict discipline.

Huang San had been conscripted this time to serve as a porter, and he looked upon the militia members with envy, wishing he too could join their ranks.

They were provided with free food and lodging, their family members were given jobs, their children could go to school and study, and even a physician was available to provide free medical consultations, with medicine priced at cost. Master Yang was truly exceptionally good to his soldiers.