Chapter 485: Eager Enlistment

Hao Er folded the newspaper neatly and slipped it into his backpack. Pedestrians on the street gradually increased, and the tram clanged by. At an intersection, he saw a crowd gathered around a makeshift wooden platform.

The platform held a middle‑aged man in worn military uniform, missing his left arm, his sleeve empty. Yet he stood upright, waving his sole remaining right arm:

"…I once served in the Third Division, fought the Russians at Lüshun! Now my son is in Faguo! He wrote last month that he's been promoted to Sergeant, awarded the Iron Cross! A Deguo general personally conferred the honor!"

The crowd let out gasps of amazement.

"The empire needs more fine young men like this!" the veteran roared, "It's not to send you to die, but to achieve glory! To let the world see the soul of the Yamato people!"

"But…" a bespectacled man whispered from the crowd, "The newspaper said over forty‑thousand died over at the Somme…"

"That is an honorable death!" the veteran glared at him, "To die for His Majesty the Celestial Locust, for the empire, is the highest honor of a warrior! Moreover—" his tone shifted, "the government guarantees the families of the fallen receive a monthly stipend of 30 yen, children's education is fully exempt, taxes reduced! Those who return alive are given priority for civil service positions!"

The crowd stirred. Some began asking how to enlist.

Hao Er didn't stop, kept walking forward. Around the corner stood the torii of the XX Shrine. It was still early, yet over a hundred people had gathered before the shrine. Most were youths of similar age to Hao Er, with a few appearing in their thirties. They clustered in groups of three to five, chatting excitedly, their faces glowing with an almost sacred radiance.

"Did you hear? Deguo's rates have risen again! The basic monthly pay per person is now up to 30 yen!"

"Yingguo offers more! But it's by sea, and they say there are Deguo submarines along the route…"

"What's there to fear! Be loyal to the empire, death is no terror!"

Hao Er scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Sure enough, he saw his classmates Zhongcun and Shankou. They saw him too and waved excitedly.

"Hao Er! You came too!" Zhongcun ran over, his face flushed, "I knew you'd show up! Our class has already enlisted seven!"

Shankou leaned in, lowering his voice: "My uncle works at the Army Ministry; he says this selection is lenient. Height over 1.55 m, eyesight clear enough for the top three rows of the chart, no serious illness. The training period's also cut short—originally six months, now only three, then straight onto the ship."

"So rushed?" Hao Er frowned.

"The front needs men," Zhongcun shrugged, "But that's fine, the sooner you go, the sooner you earn merit. Hao Er, do you want to go to Deguo's side or Yingguo's side?"

"What's the difference?"

"Deguo's route is overland, through the Persian Gulf, Ottoman lands; longer but safe. Yingguo's is by sea, faster, but you might encounter Deguo submarines," Shankou recited, "But Yingguo pays more, and— I've heard Yingguo has tanks! The iron‑clad battle vehicles you ride in, bullets can't pierce!"

Hao Er's eyes lit up. He'd seen tank photos in the newspaper, like moving fortresses, imposing and majestic.

"I want to go where there are tanks," he said.

"That depends on assignment," Shankou said, "But I can have my uncle put in a word…"

As they spoke, a few officers emerged from the shrine. Leading them was a Major, wearing a sabre, expression solemn. The crowd fell silent at once.

"Gentlemen!" the Major's voice rang out, "Thank you for answering the nation's call! From today, you will part from your families and embark on the campaign for the country! This is a road of glory and hardship! Yet I believe the souls of Yamato men will shine upon the world stage!"

The crowd erupted in enthusiastic applause and cheers. Hao Er clapped along, his palms turning red.

"Now begin the physical exams!" the Major gestured, "Those called by name, proceed one by one into the shrine's side hall!"

The exam was simpler than Hao Er expected: height and weight, stripping to check for obvious disabilities or skin disease, vision test, listening to heartbeat. The doctors moved mechanically, each person finished in under three minutes.

"Qualified," the doctor stamped Hao Er's form without looking up, "Next."

Outside the side hall, the qualified youths formed a long line to receive uniforms—not formal dress, but dark‑brown coarse‑cloth training gear with a soft cap. Hao Er received an S‑size, but it hung loosely on him.

"Put it on first," the supplying Sergeant said impatiently, "Fitted gear will be issued at the training camp. Now, go over there to collect your identification tag and the Soldier's Handbook."

The ID tags were two oval aluminum plates engraved with name, hometown, and number. Hao Er's number was "EU-1916-047329". EU denotes the European theater, 1916 the year, and the trailing digits mean he is the 47,329th soldier dispatched to Europe this time.

The "Soldier's Handbook" was a thin pamphlet, crudely printed. Hao Er opened it; inside were basic rules: obey orders, care for weapons, respect superiors, and… "Fight to the last moment, prefer death to surrender."

"Everyone got theirs?" the Major reappeared, "Now, follow me to the station! The train is already waiting!"

The crowd surged toward the plaza outside the shrine, where several military trucks were parked. Hao Er, Zhongcun, and Shankou squeezed onto the same truck. As it started, he glanced back at the shrine's torii. In the morning light, the massive wooden gate appeared solemn and majestic.

He suddenly recalled a history lesson: the XX Shrine enshrines soldiers who have died for the empire since the Meiji Restoration. Now, he too would become one of them.

"Hao Er! Look!" Zhongcun exclaimed, pointing at the roadside.

The street side was packed with well‑wishers: mothers cradling infants, elders with canes, a girl waving a handkerchief. They shouted incomprehensible words, faces showing both tears and smiles. Some children chased the truck, shouting "Board! Board!"

As the truck passed Ginza, Hao Er saw a department store window displaying new suits, priced at 85 yen. He thought that if he didn't go to war, after graduating university and joining a company his starting salary would be about 25 yen a month. To afford such a suit would require three months of fasting and saving.

Now, by fighting a year in Europe, he could earn over 600 yen—enough for seven of those suits and still build a new house for his family.

"Worth it," he muttered to himself.

"What did you say?" Shankou asked.

"Nothing," Hao Er turned his head, no longer looking at the window.

Tokyo Station was under martial law. A green military train was stationed on the platform; the cars had no windows, only a few narrow vents. Armed military police stood on both sides of the platform, expressionless.

"Disembark! Board in order!" the officers commanded loudly.

Hao Er followed the line into the car. Inside were two rows of long wooden benches, already occupied by many. The air was foul, thick with sweat and damp wood. He, Zhongcun, and Shankou found a spot by the wall and sat down.