Chapter 12: The Mess Squad

...Even the fiercest wars have moments of calm in between.

During these quiet intervals, we often find ourselves busy with various matters—some of which, at the time, seemed utterly embarrassing, almost shameful.

Yet, in retrospect, even those awkward moments bring a smile to their lips.

Because when those humiliations occurred, they were connected to certain people who remain fondly remembered from time to time...

...Excerpted from Hu Biao’s diary collection, "Nonsense"...

Just as Hu Biao and the others were about to lose their composure, the middle-aged Gao Yi finally snapped back to reality.

He hastily plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out a watch.

After a brief moment of bewilderment, Hu Biao and the others finally understood—Gao Yi’s so-called plan was to bribe the officer in charge with that very watch.

Not to be underestimated! Though wristwatches were made domestically during the Republic era, production was limited, and most were imported.

One can imagine the price wasn’t cheap—at least dozens of silver dollars; this particular watch was a Swiss Longines, making it even more valuable.

Using it as a bribe had a decent chance of success.

The only problem was, if Hu Biao and the others weren’t mistaken, this Longines belonged to their former company commander.

The commander had been quite fond of this watch, often deliberately rolling up the sleeve of the arm it adorned to prominently display it.

So, Gao Yi must have secretly taken it from the commander’s corpse while cleaning the battlefield.

No wonder when they buried the commander, his wrist was bare.

Soon after, for reasons unknown, the expressions on Hu Biao, Wang Peng, and Zhou Kun grew complicated.

Seeing this, Gao Yi thought they looked down on him for making money off the dead.

Feeling a bit ashamed, he muttered quietly enough for only a few to hear:

"Damn it! What else could I do? When whatever pulled us here from the modern world, we didn’t bring anything with us.

If I didn’t make some dead man’s money, how else would I get us into the kitchen? Even the best cook can’t work without ingredients.

I’m telling you, if it weren’t for necessity, I wouldn’t have touched that watch. I could’ve sold it later as seed money.

Besides, one watch might not be enough—if only I’d grabbed more stuff back then."

After Gao Yi’s indignant rant, Hu Biao leaned over, quietly pulling a gold ring from his pocket and handing it over, whispering:

"One watch isn’t enough. Throw this in with it."

"Exactly! You’ve got to go all in when bribing—no half measures." Wang Peng, the thick-browed veteran of the PLA, produced some silver coins and scattered cash of old currency.

Zhang Wei and Zhou Kun said nothing but silently struggled to pull items from their pockets.

Good grief! Feeling the warmth and strange scent from these items, Gao Yi was at a loss for words.

It turned out all these guys were cunning; each had also made a haul while cleaning the battlefield, just like him.

And they had been hiding their spoils tightly—if it weren’t for the urgency now, they wouldn’t have dared to bring them out.

"You bastards, you’re all schemers," Gao Yi grumbled.

Not long after the insult, it was his turn.

Gao Yi approached the officer and discreetly stuffed the pile of valuables into his hands with surprising skill.

Then, gesturing to the four men behind him, he said under his breath: "Reporting, sir: Hu Biao, Zhou Kun, Wang Peng, Zhang Wei, and I are all specialty cooks."

Glancing at the items, the officer quickly pocketed them.

Without a trace, he began writing down their names and concocting fabricated details.

Most importantly, he assigned them to the mess hall, under the supervision of a certain Zhou Youcai.

With their placement in the mess hall secured, the five breathed a collective sigh of relief.

They then hurried to their new superior’s side, exchanging quiet pleasantries with ingratiating smiles.

During this, Gao Yi immediately took the officer’s package and offered to carry it himself.

Hu Biao and Zhou Kun complimented their new boss, who looked every bit the master chef.

Wang Peng was about to light the last crumpled cigarette in his pocket for old man Zhou Youcai when Zhang Wei—who, it seemed, had long since run out of smokes—respectfully pulled out half a pack of Laodao brand cigarettes and offered them with both hands, saying:

"Boss, for your smoke..."

******

To be honest, their new company commander, Feng Yaozu, seemed well-connected and backed by powerful forces at the frontline command.

He had been gone only an hour or two before returning, riding in on two trucks.

When unloading together, they discovered the trucks were filled not only with hundreds of brand-new uniforms and shoes but also with a considerable amount of weapons and ammunition.

Unfortunately, most of the rifles were Hanyang Type 88s; only a few standardized Zhongzheng rifles were among them.

As for the original German K98 rifles, reportedly only the Training Regiment was qualified to receive those.

Additionally, there were two Czech light machine guns and a single Maxim heavy machine gun, with a modest supply of bullets.

Fortunately, after everyone pitched in to unload, Feng Yaozu began distributing the new uniforms, shoes, and weapons.

Every member of the special operations company was outfitted with fresh gear and given a proper weapon.

Immediately, squad leaders began leading their still-unfamiliar men in training at the temporary camp.

The training was basic—mostly drill formations and firing a few rounds from their new weapons.

Soon, the camp echoed with sharp gunfire.

It’s worth noting that Hu Biao, Zhou Kun, Wang Peng, Zhang Wei, and Gao Yi—the unlucky visitors from the modern world—did not participate in this training.

Instead, they were busy with a more important task: cooking for everyone.

More specifically, after changing out of their grimy, flea-infested uniforms, they watched enviously as the others went target shooting.

Their new superior, Zhou Youcai, glanced up at the sun and spoke in a thick Shaanxi accent:

"Stop staring. We cooks just need to cook. Don’t worry about shooting and fighting.

If you’re good at shooting, that’s not always a good thing.

Back in the third year of the Republic, I served under Governor Lu Jianzhang, then later under Governors Zhao and Feng.

I only ever cooked, never fought.

After over twenty years, all the guys from my village who went to war are dead—some probably don’t even have bones left.

But I’m still here, alive and kicking.

Looks like it’s getting late; the other kids haven’t eaten lunch yet.

Why don’t we get dinner ready early, and we’ll have time for shooting later?

You kids figure out how to divide the kitchen work.

I’ll go get some oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar.

Someone fetch a few buckets of water; someone chop firewood and start the fire; someone cook the rice and wash the vegetables.

The stove isn’t big enough—two of you go build a new earthen stove."

Though as men, Hu Biao and the others regretted not being able to fire a few shots for fun, the prospect of not having to go to battle and living longer more than made up for it.

Eager to make a good impression, each quickly found a task they felt suited for.

Hu Biao went to cook the rice; Wang Peng fetched water; Zhou Kun tended the fire.

Gao Yi and Zhang Wei gathered bricks and clay, preparing to build an earthen stove in the style they had seen online.

None of these tasks seemed difficult to them.

However, before long, these visitors from the modern world—though hardly ignorant or unskilled—encountered some unforeseen troubles...