Chapter 14: A Rare Feast

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...According to a food-ration standard issued for the Nationalist Army in the twenty-fourth year of the Republic, during ordinary training periods, each soldier was entitled to twenty-two ounces of rice per day, or twenty-six ounces of flour. In addition, he was to receive four ounces of fresh or canned meat, two ounces each of dried vegetables and pickled vegetables, four-tenths of an ounce of salt, and three-tenths of an ounce of soy sauce.

During wartime, to ease the soldiers’ strained nerves, the daily ration was increased by two ounces of sorghum liquor and one ounce of white sugar.

Even though one pound during the Republican era consisted of sixteen ounces, the food allowance described above was still more than enough to meet the energy demands of daily life.

Unfortunately, a standard was merely a standard. Throughout the long War of Resistance, such provisions were never truly fulfilled. More often than not, the brothers went into battle against the Japanese with empty stomachs.

They could not even die with a full belly.

...Excerpted from Hu Biao’s collected diaries, Nonsense...

At around six forty in the morning, Hu Biao, Zhou Kun, and three others were squatting in a row, each holding a large bowl and noisily gulping down thin gruel.

Perhaps because there was no oil or fat in the food, while the physical exertion was astonishingly great, these five unlucky men who had crossed over from the modern world had more than doubled their appetites in the little over a week since their arrival.

Even so, less than two hours after eating, they would often begin to feel hungry again.

Under such circumstances, Company Commander Feng Yaozu unexpectedly showed no trace of his usual sternness. Smiling broadly, he walked past the five men and stopped in front of Zhou Youcai, who was smoking a long-stemmed pipe.

He said to the old squad leader, “Squad Leader Zhou, I can see that the brothers have worked hard during training these past few days. So I pulled a few strings and got some pork and white flour from the logistics department. Someone will deliver it this morning. See what you can make with it, and let the brothers have a proper feast at noon for a change.”

The old squad leader answered without hesitation:

“No problem! I’ll make the lads some oil-dressed noodles and pork-stuffed flatbreads. With garlic on the side, they’ll taste wonderful!”

The temporary headquarters of the Special Operations Company had extremely limited facilities. Its so-called kitchen was nothing more than a crude shed, and naturally there was no dedicated mess hall.

At mealtimes, everyone simply carried a large bowl and squatted near the kitchen to eat.

Thus, the exchange between the company commander and the old squad leader reached the ears of every member of the Special Operations Company.

Anyone who had not endured a long period without the slightest trace of oil in his stomach could never understand the bodily craving for fat and protein—a yearning that seemed to rise straight from the cells themselves.

The moment the men heard that they would be enjoying a rare feast that day, they erupted in loud cheers.

That morning was suddenly filled with indescribable joy.

Perhaps because he saw that Young Master Feng, usually so stern and unsmiling, was in an unusually good mood, Zhou Kun swallowed the saliva that had risen at the thought of succulent meat, and a thought suddenly occurred to him.

That was right. “Young Master Feng” was the private title by which the men of the Special Operations Company referred to their company commander, Feng Yaozu.

Over the past two or three days, everyone had used various channels to learn more about their company commander.

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For example, their young company commander came from the Feng family of Wuhu.

The Fengs were one of the city’s most prominent wealthy families, with considerable influence and connections in both officialdom and commerce. Feng Yaozu was the eldest legitimate son of the main branch—in other words, a young master born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

And Young Master Feng had certainly lived up to his upbringing. From childhood, he had been renowned throughout Wuhu for his intelligence.

Originally, the head of the Feng family had planned to send Feng Yaozu abroad to broaden his horizons after he graduated from a university in China, after which he would gradually take over the family business.

But after graduating from high school, Feng Yaozu, deeply troubled by the hardships facing his country, had entered Whampoa Military Academy and become a student of its eleventh class.

His grades there had been equally excellent. Yet before he could officially graduate, the Nationalist Army had gone to war with the Japanese at Lugou Bridge. Feng Yaozu had written a blood oath and called in every favor he could, ultimately becoming a company commander.

In short, this company commander Feng was a young master—a very wealthy one.

That much could be seen from the Leica IIIA camera he often brought out in his spare time to photograph everything with repeated clicks.

During the Republican era, one of those cameras cost three or four hundred silver dollars, and all the film had to be imported. It was hardly something an ordinary person could afford to play with.

Zhou Kun happened to be a serious photography enthusiast himself, and he had long coveted that classic antique camera.

Still, he knew his place. He understood that if he directly asked Young Master Feng to let him play with it, Feng would certainly refuse. So he came up with another approach.

He approached with an ingratiating smile and suggested, “Sir, quite a few of the brothers in the company have grown to adulthood without ever having their pictures taken. Since the weather is so fine today, why don’t we take a group photograph of the entire Special Operations Company? I once studied under a photography-shop master for two months. Why not let me give it a try?”

“All right. After everyone finishes breakfast, we’ll take a group photograph. But you can’t be the one taking it. A company-wide photograph without you in it wouldn’t be complete. I’ll find someone else to help.”

Feng Yaozu smiled as he offered this alternative.

Although he had not been given the chance to handle the antique camera, Zhou Kun was still quite satisfied at the thought that he might end up with a memorable group photograph.

And so, twenty minutes later, all 168 members of the Special Operations Company stood assembled on the training ground, arranged by height.

“Everyone remember this. In a moment, follow me and shout, ‘One, two, three—cheese!’” After calling out these instructions, Zhou Kun gestured to a fellow who had been temporarily recruited to press the shutter, signaling that they were ready to begin.

Having everyone shout together was naturally meant to keep these men—most of whom had never had their pictures taken—from becoming too nervous.

Finally, as the word “cheese” rang out in a cacophony of accents from every corner of the country, the flash lit up with a soft click.

One by one, the faces—tense, curious, frightened, bewildered, and bearing every other imaginable expression—were fixed forever onto the negative...

******

Young Master Feng had not been fooling them. At around ten thirty that morning, a German Opel Blitz truck drove into the temporary headquarters of the Special Operations Company.

As it happened, the men were taking a short break between training exercises.

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The moment they realized what was happening, they swarmed around it.

Sure enough, the truck contained more than a small quantity of ammunition. It also carried a side of pork, some white flour, and a selection of fresh seasonal vegetables.

Perhaps pigs in the Republican era were not particularly large. Once cleaned, the side of pork appeared to weigh only fifty or sixty pounds.

Divided among the nearly 170 men of the Special Operations Company, that amounted to barely three ounces apiece.

Yet the moment the half-carcass was revealed, almost everyone’s eyes went wide.

After all the ingredients had been unloaded into the kitchen, the old squad leader, under the gaze of the entire company, began issuing orders with the imposing air of a great general:

“Hu Biao and Gao Yi, you two start distributing the flour. We’ll need it for the flatbreads and noodles. Zhang Wei, come cut the meat with me. We can render these fatty scraps into oil, then pour it over the noodles and chili. That’ll taste wonderful.

“Braise the pork belly, mince it, and stuff it into the flatbreads. And don’t waste the cracklings. Add a little salt and serve them with the liquor for the officers.

“Wang Peng, go fetch water. Zhou Kun, chop wood and start the fire.”

“Old squad leader, just watch us. We’ll make it perfect!” Hu Biao and the other four answered together, their voices thick with saliva.

Ordinarily, once things had reached this point, the men from the company kitchen would prepare the meal while the rest of the Special Operations Company continued training.

But at a time like this, how could anyone still have the heart to train? Their eyes kept drifting toward the men bustling beneath the kitchen shed.

Fortunately, no one knew why, but Young Master Feng was genuinely in an excellent mood that day.

“You greedy fools, this is all it takes to win you over?” he called out with an amused scolding. Then he raised his voice again:

“All right! Since your souls have already flown into the kitchen, we’ll cancel the rest of this morning’s training. But after you’ve eaten—and eaten well—you’d better show some spirit this afternoon and make up for the time we lost.”

The instant his voice fell silent, another tremendous cheer erupted. Among the cries were:

“Young Master Feng—no, Company Commander Feng, you’re a genius!”

“Don’t worry, Company Commander! This afternoon I’ll put every ounce of strength I have into training!”

“If we can have a meal like this every few days—no, even once every ten days—I’ll sell you this life of mine, Young Master Feng!”

The voices rose and fell in joyous succession, and the morale of the Special Operations Company soared higher than ever before.

Yet not one of the soldiers, their hearts brimming with happiness, noticed the flicker of guilt that crossed Young Master Feng’s face before giving way to an expression of indescribable resolve...

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