Chapter 204: Mobilization

On the fifth day of the fourth month, Guan Dadi rose early. There was no training today; he planned to go work in the fields and, while he was at it, repair the irrigation ditch beside his family's land. When these ditches were first built, the tunbao organized everyone to dig them together. After the land was distributed, each household maintained them on ordinary days, and after the busy farming season, the tunbao would carry out unified repairs. If daily upkeep was poor, the tun head could deduct points. If too many points were deducted, the land could be taken back.

He went into the courtyard and washed his face, then ate two coarse-grain buns. His younger sister was also up. His younger brother, the one who studied, was not there — last month he took the civil affairs selection exam and was admitted to some science and technology school, then transferred to Weihai. He only gets one ten-day leave every half year and can only come back then.

Out of nearly fifty thousand people in the entire Wendeng Camp system, only a bit over thirty were selected. The Civil Affairs Department specially posted a red honor roll at the tunbao gate, and the tun head came to the door to offer congratulations. Their tunbao had two people pass in total. That school covers room and board and even gives one tael of silver a month. Word is the famous Mr. Liu often teaches them in person. Everyone in the whole tunbao knows this younger brother has boundless prospects. Many well-off families sent matchmakers to propose marriage, making his mother so happy she didn't know what to do with herself. She specially spent five qian of silver to hold a banquet and invited the neighbors to eat. Now whenever she meets anyone, she has to tell them how capable this youngest son is.

Guan Dadi bit into the bun in his hand — it was mixed coarse grains like millet and sorghum. In the Ming Dynasty, Shandong's staple was wheat, which made up about half the grain. The rest — millet, sorghum, broomcorn, corn, and the like — were collectively called guzi by Shandong people and made up the other half. In his right hand he also held a bowl of rice-water, eating the bun with great satisfaction. The rice-water was made by boiling the small amount of rice they bought, and among common folk it often served as a substitute for tea.

Back when they lived in the mountains, they rarely got to eat buns, and many times they didn't even have salt. Only after his second brother joined the Wendeng Camp and they moved down to flat land did their lives begin to improve — far better than before.

Guan Dadi was sturdily built, and a lifetime in the mountains had also made his temperament tough. After arriving at the tunbao, he was extremely willing to work and learned farming very diligently. Even the training for farmer-soldiers he did not find arduous. It was just that, having had little contact with the outside world since childhood, his mind was a bit slow.

Once his younger sister had also finished eating, Guan Dadi picked up his hoe and shovel and went out with her. The two of them herded five sheep — a side business their family started last year. Because their tun land was at the edge, beyond it lay the land of civilian households, some of which were abandoned fields belonging to gentry families that no one farmed. The Wendeng Camp did not dare occupy them for now. The fields were overgrown with all kinds of wild grass, but letting the sheep in to graze was still fine.

His younger sister wore a new blue cotton jacket and skillfully used a stick to herd the sheep. Whenever she saw one drop dung, she picked it up with tongs and put it in the basket on her back. These animal droppings, once dried in the sun, could be used as fuel. Moreover, if any were dropped on the streets inside the tunbao, getting caught meant a fine.

She was fourteen this year, and their old mother was already looking everywhere for a suitable match for her. Guan Dadi, however, did not wish her to marry too soon. At home, the daily cooking, firewood gathering, and sheep herding were mostly done by his younger sister. Once she married, all these tasks would fall entirely on him.

Along the way, Guan Dadi constantly greeted neighbors and farmer-soldiers he knew. Many people were heading out at this hour. These people, mostly of refugee origin, were not particular about formalities. Those with families all brought them along to help in the fields. Everyone went in groups to their respective plots. The land of their jia was all together, quite far from the tunbao. As they walked, eventually only a few neighbors remained on the same path.

After they reached the fields, his younger sister took the sheep to the wasteland, then made a round nearby. First she picked up all the dung she saw and put it in her basket, then she gathered a bundle of firewood, tied it with a strap, bent over to carry it to the roadside and set it down, and then came over to weed the field.

They were intercropping wheat and white radish. Because irrigation was guaranteed, the wheat was growing very well and could be harvested by the fifth or sixth month. The radish had been planted after the start of spring and one crop could be brought in by mid-fourth month. These could be sold or pickled for their own consumption. Because this year the Wendeng Camp was drying salt itself in Weihai, the price of salt was very low — only two or three qian of silver per hundred jin.

His younger sister looked at the crops in the field and said cheerfully, "Big Brother, next month our family is going to harvest so much grain — I'm afraid it'll be over a thousand jin."

Guan Dadi was very fond of this sister. Smiling, he replied, "In the fourth month we'll harvest the radish. You can carry some to the shops at the old camp to sell. After I finish harvesting, I'll plant mung beans and soybeans. After the beans are harvested, I'll plant late millet. That'll be enough coarse grain."

His younger sister said, "Brother, I've heard that cotton sells well this year. The market office is buying it. That saleswoman said they'll take as much as there is. I say we plant some cotton."

Guan Dadi scratched his head. "I, I think this year we should still plant food. If we can't sell it, we can still eat it ourselves. If the cotton doesn't sell, keeping it is useless — we don't know how to spin anyway."

His younger sister said excitedly, "There are people in our tun who know how. You give them the cotton, and for a bit of labor money they'll weave it for you — they can even make clothes."

Guan Dadi chuckled but still did not agree. He had been starved too often and was terrified of hunger; he always felt nothing was more important than food. His younger sister pouted and continued weeding. Guan Dadi, meanwhile, was drenched in sweat, clearing the irrigation ditch along his land. They worked for nearly a shichen before stopping to rest. His younger sister went to the wasteland, drove the sheep to the ditch to drink, and the two of them found a field ridge to sit on, taking out the food they had brought to eat.

His younger sister began singing a mountain song to herself. Her voice was very clear and resonant, and Guan Dadi loved listening to her sing most of all.

After his younger sister finished singing, Guan Dadi chuckled and asked, "Sis, what kind of person do you want to marry in the future?"

"I want to marry a soldier like Second Brother. Look at the propaganda posters all over the tunbao walls — the combat soldiers' uniforms are so handsome when worn, and their monthly pay is high too. In the future, their families can also get land allocated first."

Guan Dadi nodded with a smile. He was just about to continue speaking when he suddenly heard the sound of a horn from the distance. At first it was hard to make out clearly, but it grew clearer and clearer, and was also accompanied by the sound of a gong.

"What horn call is that?"

"Assembly call!" His younger sister mocked loudly. She had gone to watch training several times and had long since learned them by heart, yet this brother of hers, after training so long, still couldn't remember.

"Aiya." Guan Dadi let out a great roar, jumped up, and frantically put on his shoes, while shouting to his younger sister, "Hurry and drive the sheep back! They're beating the gong and blowing the horn — seems like something's happened for them to do this. Let's get back to the fort fast. Don't let it be mountain bandits."

His younger sister said disdainfully, "Brother, since when have mountain bandits dared to come rob the Wendeng Camp? We're so close to those camp soldiers here — even if you invited the mountain bandits, they still wouldn't dare come."

Guan Dadi scratched his head and said nothing more, dashing off back toward the tunbao. On the road, countless farmer-soldiers and tun households were also hurrying back. Many people hadn't even had time to roll down their trouser legs.

Having grown up in the mountains, Guan Dadi had excellent stamina, and his long-distance running had always ranked among the best in the fort. Although he had been farthest away, he instead left the others behind. By the time he reached the drill ground, Zhong Laosi was already using a sandglass to keep time. He hurriedly collected his spear and went to stand at his position in the formation.

As the sandglass neared its end, Zhong Laosi stood at the entrance to the drill ground, using a whip to lash those who arrived last, cursing loudly, "You dog-shit bastards, just crawled off your women or what? Anyone late gets fifty military canes without exception — beat you damned turtle-spawn to death…"

When the sandglass ran out, there were still a few people who were late. They were pressed to the ground and given fifty strokes of the military cane.

Zhong Laosi strode briskly to the front of the formation, opened his rooster-like throat, and loudly addressed them: "First, the serious business. Today we received orders from the Military Command Department. That Dongjiang Town across from our Wendeng — something's happened again, damn it. Still that scoundrel Liu Xingzhi. I said long ago he was no good. Sure enough, it's still him. He stirred up a bunch of people to rebel on Pi Island — Assistant Regional Commander Li Dengke, Mobile Corps Commander Cui Yaozu, Regional Military Commissioners Ma Liang and Li Shi'an, Garrison Commander Wang Cai, and so on. No clearer news has come yet. The Military Command Department believes the Jianzhou bandits are very likely to seize the chance to attack Pi Island. By Lord Chen's order, all units of our Wendeng Camp are to mobilize. What's mobilization? I've taught you before, so I won't say much. Half the combat soldiers are to assemble at Weihai. Today we're going to their vacated barracks for intensified training. Who knows when we'll have to fight. Tell me a year when there's no fighting — anyway, I fight every year. If you want to stay alive like me, starting tomorrow you train seriously. There's a lot to drill — coordination with combat infantry units, coordination with artillery, coordination with cavalry. The better you drill, the better your chance of staying alive. Until the mobilization order is lifted, no going home. If you've got any nagging personal matters, go home and sort them out. Roll call at the end of the wu hour, then we head to the barracks. Anyone late again, I'll cleave him in two with one stroke."

A collective gasp rose from the ranks, but Guan Dadi was not afraid. He only worried that no one would farm the land; he did not fear battle. That seemed to attract him more than this current life, placid as water.

"Dismissed!"

Guan Dadi, in his crisp red military uniform, sat on the threshold of the main house. His younger sister crouched on the ground, weeping as she wound circles of puttees around Guan Dadi's calves. Tear after tear dripped onto Guan Dadi's puttees. Back then, when Guan Erdi had come home on leave before deploying, it was also his younger sister who had wrapped his puttees for him as he left. No one expected that he would never return.

Their mother was bustling in the kitchen, baking flatbreads, hoping to pack more for Guan Dadi to take with him.

Guan Dadi wiped away his sister's tears and said gently, "I won't die. They only said to go to the barracks for training, not to go to war. What's there to fear? I hear the monthly pay is one tael — double what it was before."

His younger sister said through sobs, "Who can say for sure about war? Instructor Zhong also said there isn't a year without fighting. That year they said they were going to fight the Wenxiang Sect demons, but in the end they went and killed Tatars — so many Tatars…" His younger sister looked at Guan Dadi's face and finally began to cry aloud. Guan Dadi did not try to console her further; he lowered his head and stared at the ground. The kitchen, too, fell silent.

His younger sister wept, "Brother, let's not want the land anymore. Let's go back to the mountains and live in our own house. We won't sell our lives for others anymore."

Guan Dadi looked at this sister with tender affection. "How could that work? The house is here. Never mind that deserters, if caught, are beheaded — just tell me, what is there in the mountains? Back then we couldn't even get salt to eat, and even at New Year's we rarely got to eat white flour. Now we can eat it several times a month. If we go back to the mountains, who would be willing to marry you? And what would become of our younger brother?"

The sounds from the kitchen resumed. Guan Dadi tightened his puttees himself once more. This item was called xingchan — exactly the same as later puttees. The Ming army had long had this kind of equipment; it was of great benefit during long marches. Now it was one of the standard-issue items of the Wendeng Camp.

Guan Dadi went inside, took out the issued backpack, and began packing his other things. In truth, there were only a scant few items; everything else was uniformly issued by the army. His younger sister suddenly rushed out the door. Guan Dadi put away his backpack, sat down on his favorite threshold, and stared blankly at the scene in the courtyard.

His younger sister soon came running back, holding several packs of new cigarettes. She bent down and stuffed them into the pocket of Guan Dadi's military uniform. Tears still dripped down one by one. Guan Dadi's throat tightened with bitterness. He knew she had bought these with the money she earned on ordinary days helping the neighbor's wife stitch shoe soles — money she hadn't been willing to spend even when their third brother went off to school.

Guan Dadi took out a pack. Printed on it were the three characters "Wendeng Xiang." On ordinary days he himself couldn't bear to smoke paper cigarettes; he often bought some tobacco leaves and smoked them with a pipe. His younger sister lit one for him. Guan Dadi took a comfortable drag. The tobacco leaves, treated with added liquor, burned with an even mellower fragrance, leaving a slight numbing sensation on his lips. It tasted even better than the paper cigarettes he had smoked before. He couldn't help exhaling a puff of smoke with satisfaction.

Guan Xiaomei grinned. "Brother, what do you think? That saleswoman said this is a new product — better than the old ones."

"Really good." Guan Dadi smiled at his sister, rubbed her head, and said, "The field work all falls on you now. When it's time to harvest the wheat, spend a bit of silver to hire those refugees to help. When it's time to plow, always go ask the jia head — don't miss your turn with the ox, or you'll have to wait until everyone else is done."

By this time, his mother had finally finished baking the flatbreads. She wrapped them all in paper and packed them into his bag. Guan Dadi hurriedly ate lunch and went out. Outside, every household was seeing off their own family members. Two households had just had weddings, and the new wives were weeping with tears in their eyes.

Guan Dadi curled his lip. He turned back to his mother and sister and said, "Don't see me off. I can't stand watching people cry."

His mother said cheerfully, "Who's going to cry? Remember to listen to your officers. Don't spend the silver — save it and bring it back. Later I'll use it to build your brother a big house."

Guan Dadi turned around glumly, walked out through the crowd of people seeing others off, and arrived at the drill ground. Several instructors were already standing there, along with a few officers he had never seen before, all in the new-style uniforms with large lapels and cylindrical brimmed caps on their heads.

The farmer-soldiers quickly assembled. The jia heads of each zongjia counted off their own men, then handed them over one by one to the several officers. Finally, Zhong Laosi and the tun head signed to confirm.

Because everyone was bound to the land and all their property was tied to the tunbao, there was not a single deserter. Over two hundred farmer-soldiers stood quietly on the drill ground. Guan Dadi stood in the front row, looking at the officers on the platform with some envy.

After the officers on the platform and the tun head finished the muster, they chatted and laughed among themselves for a while. Then a mild-mannered instruction officer stepped forward. Guan Dadi recognized this man — his name was Zhao Xuan. He had come to give lectures several times on ordinary days and had once been part of the Wenxiang Sect himself. He had explained all the Wenxiang Sect's tricks for deceiving people to everyone, and now practically no one in the tunbao still believed in that stuff.

"Soldiers, starting today, you are no longer farmer-soldiers. Until the mobilization order is lifted, you are the formal combat soldiers of our Wendeng Camp. Our Wendeng Camp is famed across the land, and each of you has been carefully selected from the tunbao. I believe you will not disgrace the tunbao's name." Zhao Xuan cleared his throat and continued, "The reason for this mobilization, when all is said and done, still comes down to the Tatars. They want to buy off that Liu Xingzhi, take Pi Island, and then follow the coast to seize Lushun. What kind of place is Lushun? By the fastest boat from here, it's only two or three days away. Can we let the Jianzhou bandits occupy it? We cannot. Everyone knows what kind of things the Jianzhou bandits are. I tell you, if the Jianzhou bandits ever come by boat to Wendeng, they'll rob everything from your homes. Your houses they'll take for themselves to live in, and you'll go back to living in shacks. The men will have their heads shaved, the women will have their heads shaved too, and they'll have to sleep with the Tatars…"

Zhao Xuan's spittle flew as he recounted his own revised version of the propaganda. The surrounding family members listened and cursed the Jianzhou bandits loudly. Zhong Laosi felt something was off, but he couldn't go correct him either. This Zhao Xuan was famously good at talking; as long as he didn't speak for more than a quarter of an hour, it was considered giving face.

"Beat the dog Tatars to death!"

"Kill the Jianzhou bandits!"

Zhao Xuan was relatively quick this time. After a quarter of an hour, he ended the mobilization with a round of slogans. The farmer-soldiers below had been worked up into righteous fury. Of all the things Zhao Xuan listed, Guan Dadi could not accept a single one. In truth, he needed no mobilization — the Jianzhou bandits were his irreconcilable mortal enemies, because his younger brother had died at their hands.

"After entering the barracks, we will merge with the farmer-soldiers of the Fourth Tunbao to form one si. Our unit designation is the Second Si of the First Company Commander Department of the Reserve Battalion…"

In the crowd, Guan Dadi spotted his mother and sister. His sister was wiping away tears. Guan Dadi glanced sideways at the comrades beside him — a row of red military uniforms. Everyone looked very spirited.

Guan Dadi murmured, "I like being a soldier."