Canteen System Assistance Notes

"Come on, come on, why are you so shy? You're not a kid anymore—let me introduce you to my precious grandson, and by the way, I'm going to propose him a marriage proposal in front of our socialist audience!"

Chapter 368: Melon and the Flying Warrior (Part 1)

(Update)

Hezhuangping in December is a relatively peaceful place.

This village, nestled at a river fork north of Fushi, is quite well-developed, with brick houses and cave dwellings dotted here and there, crisscrossed by waterways and electric wires. However, it's December, and the temperature remains below zero for extended periods. Several 2kW turbo turbines have completely stopped working, and the collective farms are devoid of green, lending a touch of the bleakness characteristic of the Loess Plateau.

After a day's work, a group of Japanese gathered in a circle around the stove and electric light in the cafeteria—well, this was a distinctive organizational meeting of the "Japanese Anti-War League in China" and the "North China Soldiers' Awakening League." Today's activity was newspaper reading. Sakaki Saburo, secretary of the Anti-War League, took charge. He held a thick notebook and read out recent international and domestic events. Beyond the basic activities of criticism and self-criticism, the Anti-War League's organizational meetings also served to keep abreast of global developments and share news. After all, in the information-hungry northern Shaanxi, a steady diet of international and domestic news helped maintain a flexible mindset.

Although the independent nation's air force had been formidable at the start of the war, it had recently become exhausted, unable to muster a large fleet of bombers. Instead, England's Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, began broadcasting a message calling for bombs to be dropped on the independent nation's heads.

The situation in North Africa is similar. Previously, Iraqi ground forces engaged in close combat quickly, forcing the British army to retreat. But now, the Iraqi offensive is weak and it is difficult to advance. However, the British army is not prepared for a counterattack, and a no-man's land of more than 100 kilometers has emerged between the two sides...

Sakaki Saburo's notebooks contained all sorts of newspaper clippings: British, Soviet, and Japanese. He could now read Japanese, Chinese, and English newspapers with ease, and with the help of a dictionary, he could even manage Russian.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the United States just announced an embargo on steel and ferrous alloys against Japan a few days ago. I imagine that life will be difficult for all the steel mills."

"Ah, isn't the United States strictly observing neutrality now? Why did it continue to ban steel after banning scrap steel? Is it to curb those tycoons from continuing to launch invasions?" "Why would the American people come to uphold justice? I think it may be because the army entered Indochina, which is a patriotic colony, and the Americans also shared the benefits.

Yes, the open door policy harmed the interests of the United States.

People want to give Japan a beating."

This news caused a commotion among the Japanese Eighth Route Army soldiers present. Some analyzed the US's motives and the impact it would have, while others worried about whether their relatives working at the steel mill would lose their jobs. But everyone generally agreed that this was definitely bad news for the reactionary Japanese government. However, from a corner of the room, a dismissive voice suddenly emerged:

"Hmph! The British devils embargoed the import without authorization, which was an injustice to the Imperial Country! You non-citizens are still gloating here? No wonder you were captured by the Eighth Route Red Army!"

Everyone turned to look and saw three men huddled in a corner, like three dark shadows. They were Kitabata Saburo, Hanekiri Matsuo, and Sato Hiromasa, all naval pilots. Two of them were Zero fighter pilots, and one was a mechanic from the Land Attack Force. They had been shot down by the Eighth Route Army during the previous Yellow River air battle, then captured by ground troops and brought here.

Although they shot down many planes, they were the only ones captured by the Eighth Route Army. The fragile and lightly armored Zero-11 and Type 96 Land Attack Rifle were completely unable to withstand the heavy attacks of the 12.7mm Lao Gan Ma and 82mm "Hangjian 82". In addition, many Japanese pilots fought stubbornly after landing and were killed by our army or committed suicide. As a result, these three were the only ones alive out of a dozen or so planes.

"Idiots, aren't you sitting here as prisoners of war? You're not citizens, are you? I think you're not the people!" Someone retorted, "Look at you, I don't think you even know what an embargo means. Navy bullshit! Why don't you go back to elementary school and retake your course?"

"Exactly. I guess these guys don't even know that rationing is already in place in the country?"

Hearing this group of "no king, no father" non-citizens begin to slander the Empire, the hot-tempered Kitabata was the first to lose his temper.

"Nonsense! The Empire is a unified nation with abundant resources, unrivaled in the world, and possesses everything. How could it be short of such things as the British, the Japanese, and the American people?"

If this kind of Japanese politically correct statement were to be heard within the Japanese military, it would naturally be universally echoed. However, here, the expressions of the Japanese Eighth Route Army soldiers looking at Kitabata Saburo instantly changed from disdain to pity. "Another person victimized by stupid brainwashing propaganda, he doesn't even know the realities of Japan. Forget the United States, even North Korea has more abundant resources than Japan."

"Do you know that the people who stayed in the country have even their clothes regulated? Men, women, old and young, all have to wear the low-quality and high-priced national clothes - Mr. Kitahata, our textile industry is still developed in Japan, right? So why do people still have no clothes to wear?" "Even so, so what? If the resources of the Empire are insufficient, does that mean that the resources of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere are not as good as those of the British and American people?" Kitabata Saburo said stubbornly.

If I were to ask you, it's you, the non-citizens who serve the enemy, who are causing the Empire's lack of resources! If all the yellow race worked together, and Japan, Manchuria, and China supported each other, coexisting and prospering together, the world would have been peaceful long ago, and the yellow race's dream of standing tall in the world would have been realized!"

This militaristic speech immediately ignited the tempers of all the Japanese Eighth Route Army soldiers present. They were no longer the vanguard of Japan's imperialist dream of "One World, One Country, Four Seas." Suddenly, several people stood up and pointed at Kitabata's nose and started cursing.

Come on! Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, what a joke! Is this how you act when you're helping other countries? You kill, rob, and commit all sorts of evil, and you still expect others to understand you? "Our country was also invaded by the Americans and the British. If you really want to lead the rise of the yellow race, why are you now doing the things that colonized them?"

A sturdy old sergeant leaped onto the table with a thud, dropping his coat to reveal a muscular body. "What a bullshit Empire! How could the Empire abuse my sister while I'm fighting for it on the front lines? You want a fight, Kitabata Saburo! You look so cowardly, you're nothing but a navy bastard! Do you dare to fight me?!"

The situation deteriorated rapidly, and the atmosphere in the cafeteria became increasingly tense. A group of people rolled up their sleeves, grabbed plastic chairs, and looked like they were really planning a full-scale fight.

The ratio of navy to army present was completely unbalanced. Even if the three naval pilots were split in half, they probably still couldn't defeat this group of army soldiers! The timid flight engineer Sato Hiromasa was already scared to death; and in the original time and space, the Japanese naval ace Matsuo Hanekiri had "lost the spirit of the navy" and kept trying to persuade them to stop fighting and ease the atmosphere; only Kitahata Saburo, who was embarrassed, stood with his neck stiff and confronted the army.

"Gentlemen! Stop, stop! Don't fight!

"To change the current situation in Japan, we need to punish not only the knife in hand, but also the murderer holding the knife!"

At the critical moment, Sakaki Saburo threw down his newspaper clippings, found a pair of chopsticks as drumsticks, and started banging on the iron stove. He shouted loudly,

Besides, what will happen if we knock over Tanaka Sang's melons? Sweet melons and big watermelons in the middle of winter! He worked so hard to grow them. If we knock over his hard work, how will we eat melons in the winter?"

In other places, stopping this situation would require the dispatch of patrols or military police to separate the two sides, allowing them to calm down and then slowly resolve the situation. Otherwise, there could be casualties. But here, watermelons and cantaloupes are also very effective.

"Ah! Melon!"

"Who dares to touch my melon?"

"Don't do it, don't do it! There's a melon!"

As expected, the group cursed and swore, then dropped their stances, glared at each other, and sat back in their chairs. Sakaki called a few people over to the kitchen to get some watermelon and cantaloupe to share. After narrowly stopping a fight, Sakaki Saburo approached the three marines who had been isolated.

"Thank you so much, Lord Sakaki."

Kitabata Saburo calmed down and spoke in a dull tone. When his blood ran out, he realized that if a fight had really started, the pilots of the Renhai Airlines would probably be in great danger.

"A defeated general is not worthy of being called a brave general. Thank you for restraining the troops.

Among these people, only you still have the temperament of an imperial soldier."

"This is what we should do. You are a captive now, and beating and scolding you in private is not what you should do. However, there is one thing I need to correct." Sakaki Saburo straightened up and said seriously:

"The soldiers of the Empire are yesterday. Today, we, to stop the war and choose another path, is the recipe for justice."

Chapter 369: Xiaoqiang and the Flying Warrior (Part 2)

Compared to the historical Japanese Anti-War League, which had a membership of approximately 1000 members by the end of the War of Resistance Against Japan, the Anti-War League of Japanese in China and the "North China Soldiers Awakening League" in this time and space have more members, and their origins, backgrounds, mentalities, and intentions are more diverse and bizarre.

To this end, the Eighth Route Army's Enemy Work Department developed several routes for the Japanese prisoners to choose from.

Anyone who recognized the mistakes of militarism and fascism and was willing to join the anti-war movement could join the Anti-War League or the Awakening League and participate in advocating against Japan, compiling materials, etc. Those who performed well could be recruited into the Japanese Communist Party's branch in China after an assessment to carry out further work.

Given that Japan hasn't suffered a series of decisive strategic defeats, such individuals aren't numerous, but there are a number of outstanding activists. For example, Sakaki's roommate, Matsunoda, a 30-year-old sergeant, is now an "instructor's instructor" in bayonet fighting techniques for the Eighth Route Army, having trained many formidable combat heroes. Tanaka Shiken, the watermelon-growing quartermaster, has experience at an agricultural college and is researching greenhouse technology for growing vegetables in winter.

If they were simply against the war, believing it should not have been fought, then such people could be saved. The Eighth Route Army arranged some collective farms for them as prisoner-of-war camps, where these Japanese soldiers could farm, raise livestock, work, and be self-sufficient, and participate in collective activities such as sports games and parties.

The Japanese prisoners who chose this path were the most numerous. Most of them came from relatively poor backgrounds. Although they could not directly stand up and resist the Japanese army after being educated, most of them would become anti-war and peace advocates. Because some Japanese soldiers developed strong war-weariness after being captured and educated, they applied to our army to go home. Initially, the Japanese soldiers in the prisoner-of-war camps could choose to receive travel expenses and go to the Japanese-occupied areas. However, this treatment method was soon stopped - the returning Japanese prisoners of war were actually arrested by the Japanese army and prepared for execution in order to help them become "military gods."

This behavior of the Japanese army was a great stimulus to the prisoners. In response, our army troops in the Taihang and Beiyue areas, together with the special forces of the military sub-district, worked hard to rescue some of the Japanese prisoners. These survivors, with their wounds all over their bodies, quickly transformed into staunch anti-fascists.

Of course, as for those who are stubborn and refuse to repent, they can only be sent to labor camps, public trials, and executions one by one.

Among the new group of Japanese prisoners of war, Matsuo Hanekiri is a very interesting one.

According to the original historical trajectory, this naval aviation pilot should have boarded the Soryu aircraft carrier after receiving the Zero, and passed through the 12th Air Force and Yokosuka Air Force!

After his service in the 19th Air Force, he was transferred to the 204th Air Force in Rabaul.

Compared to his unfortunate colleagues, Hanekiri Matsuo was relatively lucky. He was wounded on September 24, 1943, and returned to Japan to recuperate. He lived to the age of 97.

In this time and space, this Sea Eagle, ferocious and cunning in air combat, was still a 27-year-old young man who successfully completed long-distance voyages in inclement weather. His mother's name was always "You Yi Mang Yi" (he unconsciously called out his mother's name). After being shot down in an air battle over the Yellow River, his road to becoming an ace seemed to end in the land of North China and began to turn to a strange direction.

"So, this way you won't kill me, and I won't have to farm?"

The pilot is a ferocious wolf in the sky, but a fool on the ground. After losing the Zero fighter, Matsuo Hanekiri seemed to have lost his bravery in air combat and turned back into the fisherman's son who ran away from home secretly to apply for the navy.

"Don't worry, Hanekiri-kun, as long as you don't run away, nothing will happen. Although I'm an agronomist, I won't let you fish or farm when you work here."

Tanaka Shiken, a graduate of Sapporo Agricultural School and the Anti-War League's "melon-growing wizard," jumped from the power-assisted cart. He first applied the parking brake and unhitched the packhorse. Then, he jumped back into the driver's seat, flipped the gear lever into reverse, and backed into the unloading area.

"Everyone! Come out and unload!" He untied the white towel on his head, wiped his face, and howled.

"Ow!"

The building's large iron gate opened, and a group of short men wearing mesh hats, large rubber aprons, white gloves, and masks emerged. Matsuo Hanekiri was driven off the truck bed, bewildered, and then clumsily tried to help the strangely dressed men carry the truck's cargo—large, frozen pumpkins and powdered substances wrapped in brown paper bags.

"Milk powder? GB19644-2010?" At that time, Japanese text contained a high percentage of Chinese characters, and Matsuo Hanekiri could understand the inscription on the bag. "Spicy and warm, for baking, huh? What do you do here?" "They specialize in pumpkin spicy hot pot and pumpkin bread? Am I going to work in the food industry?"

——----

"Hakiri-kun! What are you standing there for? Come here, come here! You can work here from now on. I'll give you pumpkin and milk powder until you're tired of it!"

At that moment, the leader, Tanaka Zhiqian, had already reached the front of the building and was beckoning him over. Hanekiri Matsuo reacted quickly, tossed the pumpkin to someone, and hurried to catch up.

Only then did he begin to notice the details of the building—a two-story bungalow constructed of brick and cement, enclosed by a high perimeter wall. It was a rather large structure, but Matsuo Hanekiri had seen many before. However, a fine net, suspended high above the perimeter wall and the building's walls, was suspended on flagpoles, enveloping the entire structure. Outside, a ditch, over a meter wide, held water. However, since it was winter, only traces of the water could be seen beneath the frozen surface: this moat-like ditch, like the net, encircled the entire building.

He stamped his feet and touched the wall, finding that the floor was made of cement, and all windows were covered with screens, even under the door. His professional habit made him estimate the defense capability of this building - if it was reinforced with stacked sandbags, ordinary small bombs would probably have difficulty penetrating it, and it would require a 25-range round to penetrate it.

But why did they build such a house? Strange building, strange people, but now the situation is pressing, Hanekiri Matsuo can only follow Tanaka into the house. However, the first thing that caught his eye was a row of wooden cabinets.

"A set of work clothes, gloves, a mask, shoe covers, a mesh cap, and this." After signing on a table, Tanaka-san walked to the front and began to pull things out of the cabinet, then threw them at him like a ball. "Hakiri-kun! Come on, catch it with the soap."

What is this for?

"Go take a shower! When you work here, you always have to take a shower when you come in to keep clean! You also have to take a shower when you leave. The work in here is hard, so it would be so comfortable to take a shower before leaving!"

What kind of job requires you to take a shower and then change into this kind of clothes before doing it?

Full of questions, Hanekiri Matsuo timidly entered the large bathhouse, ducking around to find a spot in a corner to begin his shower. However, the hot shower was ultimately comfortable, and he couldn't help but relax a bit. He thought that if he could get hot water while working here, he could work harder and use his allowance to buy a large wooden tub—so he could soak in the hot springs after get off work.

"Hakiri-kun! Are you ready?"

“That’s all right, that’s all right!”

"Hurry up! You're too slow!"

A place with a hot shower, this job shouldn't be too difficult, right?

Matsuo Hanekiri finally began to have a little hope for his future. With the idea that "the Navy will probably exchange prisoners of war with the Eighth Route Army", he decided to just go with the flow and live a good life first, so as not to worry his mother who was far away in China.

He changed into work clothes, put on a large apron and gloves, then put on a mask, and finally put on a hat with a circle of gauze on his head, and walked out of the locker room. But the corridor was empty.

People?

"Tanaka-san? Tanaka-san? Where are you?" Hanekiri Matsuo called out, but apart from the echo in the corridor and the noisy background noise, he heard nothing. Voice?

By the time Matsuo Hanekiri realized this, his keen pilot hearing automatically distinguished the background sound from the background noise - it was a low hum of machinery and a strange, continuous clicking sound.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, it was as if countless mouths were chewing and gnawing, but he could not see anything in his field of vision: this fatal contrast made Hanekiri Matsuo feel that these giants that were gnawing at things seemed to be piercing through his skull and gnawing at his soft brain.

"Tanaka-san?" But still no one answered.

He pushed open the largest door that was closest to the sound.

A large room without partitions appeared before his eyes.

Apart from the four surrounding walls and the central pillar, this room has no second-floor slab, no partitions, and even no windows on the first floor; between the pillars, layers of gauze are hung, separating the spaces into pieces; and in these small spaces, steel frames stand tall, with countless tiles and steel plates stacked on them.

"...Comrade Director, when the time comes, please introduce him to the giant earthworms we raise at our factory. Yes, we call them earthworms, but that's to avoid scaring people. Our earthworms are kept clean and hygienic, meeting pharmaceutical standards. How can they be compared to the mantises we keep at home..."

Between the densely packed tiles and the gaps between the steel plates were countless and equally densely packed mantises.

Mantis! Mantis! The boss's mantis!

Crunch, crunch, crunch! A vast swarm of giant mantises gnawed at the pumpkin and powdered milk on the steel tray. Their dense wriggling, overlapping crawling resembled a tumbling, surging flow of brown-black mud. Though rigorously trained, the mentally resilient HNA pilots had never seen anything like this. Matsuo Hanekiri's sanity instantly plummeted to zero, his mind blank, like a rooted tree, unable to move.

"Talk to him about the habits of the giant moth, the key points of breeding, the key to increasing hatching rates, and yes, the effects of making Kangfuxin Liquid. He's got the cultural qualities to be a pilot... Oh. His family are fishermen, and he used to run boilers on warships. If he's in charge of the factory's heating, he'll definitely be a big shot."

As luck would have it, at this moment, a cockroach that happened to have crawled out of the first layer of gauze jumped from a high place and landed on his mask, instantly occupying his field of vision. A jumping cockroach, ah ah ah ga--!

Matsuo Hakiri opened his mouth wide and raised his hands like a mummy, but he couldn't move a muscle. His eyes rolled back and he fainted. "Hey, where are you? Matsuo Hakiri! Matsuo Hakiri! Haven't you finished your shower yet?"

Tanaka Zhiqian's doubtful voice came from behind, and soon, the doubt turned into shouts and the sound of clattering footsteps. Tanaka Zhiqian and the director of the "Border Area Recovery New Raw Material Breeding Farm" rushed into the No. 1 breeding room and shouted: "Turn him over, turn him over, don't choke him!

"Go call a doctor, and another one faints!"

Chapter 370: Winter of Hunger (Part 1)

The Eighth Route Army, controlling the grain-producing plains of Ning Province, the vast anti-Japanese base areas, and the regional canteen headquarters, could no longer afford to eat meat every meal, but they could still ensure a basic supply of rapeseed and grain, eliminating the fear of widespread starvation. As for the Nationalist government, it was just that, a prime example of lying low and letting things rot. Some might starve, some might fatten, and some might die, but without a powerful external force, it would hardly fall on its own.

The Japanese, however, were in a different situation. As a resource-poor island nation, with both raw material production and markets located abroad, they not only had to plunder raw materials from the Chinese-occupied territories but also dump their products there. Consequently, the Japanese mainland was unable to replenish the manpower and supplies of the Chinese Expeditionary Force, which was draining supplies like a black hole to maintain the status quo. Furthermore, Japan had to ship back a large amount of food, coal, and other raw materials, encouraging the Chinese Expeditionary Force to "find their own methods, obtain them locally, and prepare them locally."

Among them, the food supply of the North China Expeditionary Army was like old Biden practicing splits, which was completely exhausted.

"East of Eurasia, winter in northern China. The mountain mists are cold, and the snow falls hurriedly.

"Breakfast with bran rice, my stomach rumbles. Dinner with miso soup, no beef jar." "Three cigarettes, half a bunch of pickles. Searching around, I find half a scallion." "Hunger is unbearable, my stomach is empty. Far east, it's winter with an empty stomach."

Mikitaro, empty-handed, muttered a rhyme he'd never heard of before. Carrying only a wooden shoulder pole, he followed his squad leader, trudging along the mountain path, one foot deep, one foot shallow. The squad consisted of nearly 20 men, none in uniform, not even carrying guns. Instead, they carried shovels, bamboo baskets, shoulder poles, and other items, looking nothing like a march.

The mountain roads in the Lüliang area are steep and full of twists and turns. A fresh snowfall a few days ago left the ground covered with a thin layer of snow. Furthermore, the warm daytime sun melted some of the snow, which then froze back overnight. Consequently, the mountain roads westward from Gujiao became slippery and muddy, making the trek particularly difficult.

Especially when they had been walking from morning till evening and still had little food in their stomachs. "Everyone, stop!"

The leading squad leader, Ishii, glanced at the sun and shouted. A dozen or so Japanese soldiers, all dressed in civilian clothes, stopped and stood up straight. "Rest for fifteen minutes before we set off again. We must reach Kangdajia Town before tonight! Everyone can have some water."

Otherwise, I'd freeze to death if I spent the night in these mountains. Mikitaro thought, silently unscrewing the canteen and taking a few sips. The canteen contained a tiny amount of very light alcohol, with a strong aroma of chili peppers. This was a tip taught to him by a veteran from the independent infantry unit; it supposedly prevented the canteen from freezing in winter and helped speed up blood circulation, preventing frostbite.

However, suddenly, a "bang" sound was heard from the resting squad, and someone was hit by a "three-point hit" from Squad Leader Ishii.

"Asshole! How dare you eat these precious biscuits at this hour!" He angrily grabbed a new soldier by the collar and slapped him again. "If we arrive at the maintenance village tonight and have to spend the night outside, how can you survive without biscuits?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ishii, I'm sorry!"

The recruit's face suddenly swelled up, tears streaming down his face. He mumbled, "But I'm really hungry! I only had a bowl of satsuma taro for breakfast today, and I walked over thirty miles... Your Excellency, please punish me! But I'm really hungry!"

"Damn it! Oh, damn it..." Captain Ishii threw the recruit down, snatched the Morinaga biscuit from his hand, and pulled out a piece. He carefully rummaged in the belt of his cotton jacket and found a tube of syrup that looked like dark toothpaste, and squeezed some for the unfortunate hungry man.

"Just this one piece, no more!" ---------