Chapter Ten: The Enemy Makes a Move

July 23, 1938 — Laojun Temple

“Regimental Commander Li, now that we’re friends, joint operations aren’t out of the question. But surely there has to be an order first, doesn’t there?” Wang Yue and Li Yunlong sat facing each other, sipping Ceylon tea as they traded banter. Wang Yue was already wondering how he might take a little trip to Jiangcheng. Where would he find the time to accompany Li Yunlong in attacking blockhouses? Just look at all the people who had gone into business with Old Li—hardly any of them had ever come out ahead.

“Commander Wang, the Japanese have recently sent quite a few traitors and collaborators into the area around Laojun Mountain. They may well be coming for you. Since that’s the case, why don’t we strike first and force the Japanese to move to our rhythm?” Li Yunlong looked utterly sincere, but inwardly he was calculating how many soldiers would be lost without the Independent Detachment’s artillery support.

“Regimental Commander Li, our missions are different. You’re a combat unit, while we carry out special assignments. We have different responsibilities.” During this period, Wang Yue had also searched the souls of Gu Yufei and Xu Zhongyi, and had more or less figured out their mission. They were actually supposed to continue searching River Source County for the missing Beiyang elder, Wu Ziyu, while also ensuring that Wu Ziyu would never cooperate with the Japanese.

One of the reasons Wang Yue had been granted a unit designation was that he was needed to assist the Military Statistics Bureau with its operations. To a large extent, the recent actions against the villages around River Source County had also been intended to locate Wu Ziyu. Gathering supplies and recruits had merely been incidental.

“In that case, could you lend me one cannon?” Li Yunlong retreated to his second choice. It was true that the Independent Detachment’s autocannons were only thirty-seven millimeters in caliber, but ordinary blockhouses absolutely could not withstand them. For the Eighth Route Army, which lacked heavy weapons for breaching fortifications, such a gun was practically a divine weapon.

“Lending you one is out of the question. But your Minister Zhang bought a cannon and hasn’t had the chance to haul it back yet. You can help him take it home.” Wang Yue smiled. It was not that he could not simply give Li Yunlong a cannon. The problem was that the man had an insatiable appetite for advantages. Once this door was opened, there would be no closing it.

“What did that pauper Zhang Wanhe use to buy a cannon?” Li Yunlong’s eyes immediately lit up. A cannon belonging to Zhang Wanhe was, in effect, a cannon belonging to Old Li. But where had a man nearly destitute enough to bleed from his pores found the money? Had he traded something for it? And if so, what?

Li Yunlong himself wanted to trade goods with the Independent Detachment for weapons. Unfortunately, the detachment’s supplies were abundant, and it had little need for anything. As for grain, the New First Regiment was already going hungry. Where could they find enough food to trade? Besides, the Independent Detachment did not eat potatoes and sweet potatoes.

“I needed steel helmets, so your Minister Zhang sent me three hundred and twenty-one M35 helmets. At the time, I agreed to give him a Hotchkiss thirty-seven-millimeter five-barrel autocannon. We simply didn’t have one in stock then, which is why it has been delayed.” Wang Yue smiled. In truth, when Zhang Wanhe had given him the helmets, he had never mentioned any repayment. It was merely an excuse. Whether Li Yunlong could keep the cannon would depend on his own ability.

“Damn it! Why do you need steel helmets? They’re completely useless. Whenever we capture them, we send them straight to the arsenal as raw material. If you want Japanese helmets, I can supply those too.” Li Yunlong wore an expression of deep regret. Where had Zhang Wanhe gotten those M35 helmets? They had probably been gathered as raw materials from various units on their way to the arsenal. Old Li did not have many helmets in his own hands, but he had plenty of friends. If he “communicated” with them, he could certainly scrape together several hundred.

“Let’s forget about Japanese helmets. Whether Type 90 or Type 18, they’re far too fragile to be of any use. At present, the best helmet available in China is the M35.” Wang Yue refused with a smile. His fixation on M35 helmets was purely personal. After all, even well into the twenty-first century, some units of the Chinese military were still equipped with them. Whether they were useful or not—you could judge that for yourself.

“Commander Wang, does that mean I can simply haul the cannon away now?” Li Yunlong did not dwell on the matter. He was already eager to take possession of the artillery, afraid that something might go wrong.

“Don’t be in such a hurry. You can take the ten heavy machine guns you were promised as well. As for Doctor Bai, you’ll have to wait a few more days. Come and collect her next time.” Seeing that Li Yunlong’s eyes had reddened with anticipation, Wang Yue felt a faint pang of sympathy. Unfortunately, his own foundations were still too murky. More than a month had passed; perhaps the other side already knew who he really was. He had fortified Laojun Temple until it bristled like a hedgehog, and not merely to defend against the Japanese.

As for Doctor Bai, Wang Yue had plans of his own. Three of the medical orderly trainees had not yet been assigned to the Independent Detachment. All three were highly skilled and inclined toward the Eighth Route Army. Once they had completed their training, he could send them over with some surgical instruments and medicines. The only question was how to keep Doctor Bai here.

A sigh. Idealists were truly difficult to handle.

“Excellent, excellent! But how many shells are there?” Li Yunlong sprang to his feet, trembling with excitement. Ten heavy machine guns would pass through his hands, and he could always skim a little grease off the top. At the very least, the ten original ammunition belts would certainly remain behind. The imported cartridges would also have to be replaced with domestic ones—preferably from a small factory. If he were not worried about blowing out the barrels, he would even replace them with lead-headed, black-powder cartridges reloaded in the border region. But when it came to attacking blockhouses, the most important thing was still the number of shells.

“We conduct live-fire drills every day, so naturally we consume a great deal of ammunition. I can only provide ten black-powder, steel-core rounds. They’ll certainly do for anti-armor and anti-fortification work. If you need more later, I happen to have ready-made warheads and steel-core projectiles. Ten silver dollars per set. Buy as many as you like.” For the moment, Wang Yue still did not dare sell too many shells to the Eighth Route Army. What if those shells ended up landing on his own head? Who could say?

As for the empty casings and steel cores, they were leftovers from stripping out nitrocellulose for reloading cartridges. It was said that the explosive charge in the Blackhead torpedoes was made of nitrocellulose, but the Beiyang Navy had worried that fourteen-inch torpedoes would lack sufficient power, so they used TNT instead. Each carried fifty kilograms of TNT, with tremendous destructive force. Thus, when reloading cartridges, they could only dismantle the steel-core rounds manufactured by the Jiangnan Arsenal. The steel-core warheads remained intact, the casings were not deformed, and the primers were still in place. The Eighth Route Army could simply buy them, load them with high-purity black powder, and put them to use.

While Wang Yue and Li Yunlong were haggling, Li Wula suddenly rushed in and reported excitedly. Fighting the Japanese was far more thrilling than fighting bandits and local bullies, at least for these old soldiers of the Northeastern Army.

“Report, Commander! A Japanese squad and more than a hundred puppet troops are pursuing a group of Central Army soldiers. According to their route, they’ll soon pass by Laojun Temple. Shall we take a shot at them?”

“Damn them. We didn’t want to provoke them, yet they’ve come knocking on our door. They’re looking for death. Send a few veterans disguised as Taoist priests and see if they can lure those Central Army soldiers up the mountain. This time, we’ll catch the turtle in the jar!”

Wang Yue felt that he must have been influenced by Nalan Xinde. He was a mere office drone—so why had he become this excited at the mere mention of a battle? And instead of reaching for a rifle, his first instinct had been to grab the battle-axe beside his chair.

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