Chapter 15: Defense Preparations

Gun?

Tang Wen shuddered at the word; it was already 1996, shouldn't the gun ban have started by now according to his memory?

But upon closer thought, the decree was issued mid-year, and it was only early July—probably the documents hadn't even reached local authorities yet.

Even if the ban had been issued, true nationwide gun prohibition wouldn't come until close to the 2010s; even twenty years later, civilians still voluntarily surrendered Maxim machine guns and mortars.

The notorious reputation of coastal fishermen stemmed largely from the fact that their weapons were generally more powerful.

Most inland households owned just one or two homemade guns, but here, acquiring a Type 56 semi-auto or a shotgun was as easy as pie—after all, fishermen who made their living from the sea didn't encounter only kind souls.

If it was just nearshore waters, fine; but some audacious deep-sea fishing vessels even dared to fish beyond the waters of Island Nation and Luzon, and if caught by foreign fishermen, it was every man for himself.

Now that they had weapons, the safety of transport was at least preliminarily resolved.

And since Tang Wen could send people to escort the goods, he naturally had no worry about not receiving the final payment.

"Perfect! When can your truck set off, Xiao Tang?"

Wu Lao Er was also overjoyed, impatiently eager.

"Don't worry, as soon as the deposit is paid, we'll depart—but my truck and escort service aren't free."

Since the contract didn't specify delivery, Tang Wen certainly wouldn't offer this service for free.

"No problem! I'll pay you a thousand per trip—fuel and meals are on me, I'll make sure those two brothers aren't shortchanged!"

"Lao Chen, wait a moment—take me back to get the money, I'll leave as soon as possible!"

"Why the rush? I was just going to visit Xiao Tang's factory!"

Chen Yonggui wasn't really interested in reselling diesel engines; he cared more about how an additional factory could boost the village's development, which was why he was so supportive of Tang Wen.

After all, the young people all wanted to go south to Shencheng for work—those who stayed in the village were few and far between.

But Tang Wen felt uneasy: the original shipyard location was already remote, and even after upgrading, few villagers ever went there—if the village chief suddenly spotted a new shipyard appearing out of nowhere, it would be terrifying.

He thought to himself he'd definitely cover the exterior walls with sheet metal, then quickly dodged:

"Chief, my place is just a big construction site—dirty and chaotic, you shouldn't go there. I'll personally invite you over in a few days when I have time."

"And don't use your car—just let my truck take Lao Wu back to town."

"This… alright then, Xiao Tang, you must really get that factory going."

Chen Yonggui didn't press further, only offered a few more words of encouragement.

Tang Wen also gave orders to the shipyard workers who had come with him, and soon the sound of a truck came from the end of the road.

Trucks were rare in those days; the two men and other villagers stood on tiptoe to see what was coming.

But when Tang Wen's truck came into view, the village chief's eyes widened:

"Is this… a Liberation-brand?"

The protruding hood and extremely retro design could only belong to the Liberation-brand trucks from the founding era—but how long had they stopped production? Who still drove these things now?

But when the shipyard workers drove up close, people realized this wasn't quite the familiar Liberation truck.

Common Liberation trucks usually had a single rear axle, totaling six wheels.

But this heavy truck was different: beneath the cargo bed were two axles, totaling ten tires.

One villager stared longer, then cried out:

"This isn't a truck from a movie! It's a ten-wheeler! Americans drove these!"

As soon as he spoke, others began to notice too—it really did resemble the old American military trucks from war films, especially the unmistakable ten-wheel configuration.

In fact, it was true: due to the shipyard's technical limitations, this truck was actually the 1939 GMC CCKW353 transport truck, rated for a 2.5-ton load, but capable of carrying double that without issue—it had been the main transport truck of the Allied forces in WWII, and many were captured after liberation.

But its technology was indeed extremely outdated: the GMC270 4.4-liter six-cylinder gasoline engine produced only 104 horsepower.

Yet Zheng Hai's red Santana 2000, with its mere 1.8-liter four-cylinder AJR gasoline engine, delivered 100 horsepower—nearly matching the GMC270 despite having less than half the displacement and two fewer cylinders.

The CCKW353 was far too ancient; even in brand-new condition, it couldn't hide the aura of decay all over its body.

Chen Yonggui stared at it dumbfounded—he'd only seen these in his youth, and now they were nearly extinct; any still running had surely been in use for decades.

"Xiao Tang, where did you dig this up from some junkyard? Can it even run?"

"This… don't worry, it just guzzles fuel—it's old, so I bought it cheap."

"Really? But the paint looks brand-new."

"…."

Tang Wen could only feign ignorance again, but thankfully no one complained—in this era, having any vehicle was already impressive; not even a tractor was common enough for every household.

Wu Lao Er was quite satisfied with the imposing ten-wheeler, squeezed into the driver's seat, and pulled out half a pack of Hongmei cigarettes to chat up the drivers:

"Where are you guys from? Where did you work before?"

Tang Shiqi in the driver's seat took the cigarette, lit it, and replied coolly:

"I'm from the north. I used to work in Minsk."

"Minsk?"

Wu Lao Er figured this didn't sound like anywhere in China, so he asked:

"So what size fishing boats did you build in Minsk?"

"The small ones were a few hundred tons, the big ones reached tens of thousands of tons."

"Tens of thousands of tons! Good heavens, you're fishing all the way to Antarctica!"

Wu Lao Er wanted to keep chatting, but Tang Shiqi and Tang Shiba refused to say more—he could only squeeze into the seat and shift the conversation to transport matters.

Since the two weren't responding and were outsiders, Wu Lao Er decided to scare them, exaggerating wildly:

"You don't know about those highway bandits—XX year, eight or nine men with ten guns—they even dared rob XX! Several passersby and drivers were brutalized, they say…"

Tang Shiqi and Tang Shiba showed no expression on their faces, but they absorbed every word.

…

That night, Tang Shiqi returned to the shipyard with the deposit Wu Lao Er had given him and reported to Tang Wen all the highway bandit murders Wu Lao Er had described.

It wasn't just dozens of guns firing in a shootout, but roads littered with explosives to blow up vehicles outright, and even entire villages collectively running side businesses—outsiders had no chance to call for help.

According to Tang Shiqi's description, taking a long journey was like stepping into a bandit den, where wild forest heroes lurked everywhere.

"What? Is law and order this bad?!"

Tang Wen had only seen fragments of this era from his past life, and never realized it had descended into such chaos.

But the information gap, combined with the conditioning from his past life's clickbait accounts, forced him to take it seriously.

He had hoped to open external markets, but now train robberies were happening—robbing travelers on the road didn't even seem remarkable anymore; if not handled well, it would be a real headache.

After listening to Tang Shiqi's advice, Tang Wen decided to slightly strengthen his own defensive forces.