Chapter 15: Urgent Military Orders

A group of young, robust men gathered together; fights were nothing unusual among them. The officers, observing, realized that as long as the brawls didn’t get too violent or turn into deadly weapon fights, they generally didn’t fuss over them. As they put it, if a man can’t fight or dares not fight, lacking any fighting spirit, how could he stand up to the enemy? I had witnessed many such fights, even participated in some—landing heavy blows and receiving them in return—so that with certain people there was always some tension. Yet these scuffles never hindered me from entrusting my back to them on the battlefield or protecting their rear.

…Excerpt from Hu Biao’s Diary Collection “Nonsense”…

After being told the special operations company didn’t need to train, no one returned to the barracks to lie down and wait for meals. Instead, they all flocked around the kitchen, seemingly enjoying a lively mix of boasting and banter, savoring the aroma of meat—it was an exquisite pleasure. So when Hu Biao added water three times and kneaded a twenty-pound dough ball with effort, one could overhear the machine gunner nicknamed “Big Bucktooth,” known for his prominent front teeth, boasting loudly with saliva flying:

“I’m not bragging, but I’ve never lost with the Czech light machine gun. Within one hundred and fifty meters, if I aim for the enemy’s left eye, I absolutely won’t miss to the right eye. Bao Fugui, haven’t you been feeling competitive? How about a showdown? Winner takes a meat bun.”

Bao Fugui was the lead gunner of the company’s Maxim machine gun squad. Rumor had it that since both he and Big Bucktooth were machine gunners—one heavy, one light—they didn’t get along well. Just as Big Bucktooth finished speaking, tall and robust Bao Fugui hadn’t yet responded when his assistant gunner, a delicate and fair-skinned young man nicknamed “Little Wife,” shouted back:

“Big Bucktooth, put away your petty tricks. How can the accuracy of a heavy machine gun compare to a Czech light machine gun? Why don’t you compare ranges instead?”

Big Bucktooth laughed through his missing teeth, teasing: “Oh, Little Wife, are you just feeling sorry for your old man?”

Though delicate in appearance, Little Wife was no pushover, as everyone in the company knew. Yet in this dull and grim environment, they were all desperate for some entertainment.

Laughter erupted loudly. Little Wife’s face flushed a deep red as he called Big Bucktooth a “little brat” and lunged at him; they wrestled fiercely. Soon, the smaller Little Wife was at a disadvantage. Bao Fugui quickly joined the fray, pinning Big Bucktooth down and pounding him relentlessly. Yet even then, Big Bucktooth shamelessly cracked bawdy jokes at them. The onlookers didn’t intervene but shouted playful advice instead. Officers like Young Master Feng glanced from afar and pretended not to see.

The chaotic scene was strangely lively.

Kneading dough and watching this spectacle, Hu Biao found the day immensely entertaining.

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While Hu Biao was engrossed, the old squad leader strode over, arms crossed, saying bluntly, “Open your mouth, dummy.”

In just a few days, Hu Biao and the others had come to respect and trust this old sergeant; though unsure why, he opened his mouth obediently. A sudden warmth touched his tongue, and a tempting aroma filled his nostrils. Instinctively, he chewed—crispy and delightful—it was a freshly fried piece of pork crackling.

Back home in Hunan Province, eating pork lard was still customary, so pork cracklings were common. Yet Hu Biao had long disliked them. Now, the taste was irresistible, spreading comfort through his body.

The sergeant smiled and slipped another handful into Hu Biao’s mouth, then quietly did the same for Wang Peng, Zhou Kun, Zhang Wei, and Gao Yi.

What a treat! Eating pork cracklings and watching the fun, these men felt the air itself was filled with sweetness.

If it weren’t for the cook squad collectively sneaking pork cracklings and then being caught and hauled away by Third Squad Leader “Little Henan,” things would have been even better…

******

After a flurry of activity, by half past eleven all the dough was kneaded, waiting an hour or two to rise. Though the lard rendering and meat stewing weren’t finished, they would be close by the time the dough rose, so lunch wouldn’t be delayed much.

As everyone happily imagined a rare feast, suddenly Young Master Feng burst out of the temporary company headquarters like a whirlwind.

His unusually stern face caught Hu Biao’s eye, and his heart sank with a dreadful premonition.

His instincts were right. Young Master Feng hurried over, shouting urgently, “By urgent order from regimental HQ, our unit must reach the outskirts of Luodian, the Xiaotangzi area, before three this afternoon.

“All personnel, attention! Immediately—”

Before Feng could finish, Hu Biao, Wang Peng, Zhou Kun, Zhang Wei, Gao Yi, and the others had already frozen upon hearing “Luodian.”

During the entire Battle of Shanghai, Luodian was one of the bloodiest meat grinders.

Though small, Luodian’s strategic position was crucial: multiple roads led directly to Baoshan, central Shanghai, Jiading, and Songshan.

After the enemy landed, controlling this transport hub was essential for their advance.

Both sides threw massive forces into the fight here.

But compared to the Nationalist infantry, mostly foot soldiers, with limited artillery and air support, the enemy deployed numerous planes, tanks, and heavy artillery, dominating the battlefield with firepower and air superiority.

They even used large-caliber naval guns to bombard Luodian.

Especially the 203mm main guns of the cruiser Izumo—each shot could wipe out an entire infantry company if it landed.

Right—weren’t some of the special operations company brothers just wiped out like that?

So when Hu Biao and the others heard they were headed to Luodian, they felt doomed.

Rushing there could only mean one thing: battle. What else? A banquet?

In frustration, Hu Biao even blamed himself for wasting time in the modern world staring at women in yoga pants instead of watching more wartime videos and learning history.

Had he known the ill-fated 67th Division’s 398th Regiment would be at Luodian, he would have run away without looking back.

In short, upon hearing the grim news, the unlucky five from the modern world stood dumbfounded, exchanging looks that silently said:

“We’re dead. What now?”

Before they could decide, the old squad leader slapped Hu Biao on the back of the head and shouted at the others:

“You bunch of dummies, what are you dazing for at a time like this?

“Didn’t the company commander say? Everyone in the special operations company must move immediately! Anyone disobeying orders, trying to flee, or showing cowardice will be executed without mercy!

“Hurry and pack up the kitchen supplies—necessary ingredients and cooking tools all come along.

“When we get there, we have to cook quickly—the kids in the company are starving.”

That phrase “executed without mercy” snapped Hu Biao and the others fully awake. Going to Luodian might not mean death, but dawdling surely would.

Now sober, the five busied themselves in the kitchen.

They packed all cookware and ingredients onto their backs or into buckets and baskets, ready to carry along with the troops.

With the old squad leader’s help, Hu Biao hoisted a large pot onto his back.

Somehow, perhaps from hearing too many bawdy jokes, an inappropriate old joke popped into his head:

Which branch of the military is the most unfortunate? Of course, the artillery cooks—wearing green hats, carrying black pots, while others fire the cannons.

Damn! Isn’t this exactly his own sorry situation now…