Canteen System Assistance Notes

She tapped the tip of her pen on the other records on the paper, poked her healthy, slightly flushed cheeks, and nodded happily, "That's right!"

Wind is a divine power, rain is a work of nature, good weather is a human wish, drought, flood, and locust plagues are real disasters—in a country still primarily based on agriculture, weather is always a crucial issue. Beyond farming, a lifeline dependent on the weather, weather is also closely linked to animal husbandry, aviation, military affairs, disaster forecasting, and other fields.

Therefore, any regime with basic capabilities will most likely try to develop its own weather forecasting business. Even if this is based on a simple sense of interests, in the closed rural areas of China, a "master" who can observe the weather and roughly estimate the direction of the weather is always respected.

Modern meteorology, without the support of computers, satellites and other high-tech, relies on the data accumulated by one weather station and meteorologist after another in their boring, repetitive and tedious daily work day after day. On the road to building modern governing capabilities, the Eighth Route Army naturally knew the importance of meteorological work. As early as the Seventh National Congress of the Party in 1939, Chairman Mao and Zhou Gong deployed the meteorological work that was originally scheduled to begin in 1945, setting a precedent for meteorological monitoring, data collection, weather forecasting and research.

This was a complex and long-term task, but the Communist Party at the time excelled at such grassroots mobilization efforts. Because the Siberian-Mongolian High, one of my country's major climate-sensitive regions, was located in northern China, border regions and major base areas utilized existing resources—including students, village cadres, and transport team road crews—to establish a series of meteorological monitoring points, beginning with the simplest medium-term climate research.

A vast amount of simple meteorological data was transmitted through a system that reached deep into the grassroots, and processed electronically to form a dynamic data record of northern China. While this system was rudimentary and the forecasts were not entirely accurate, it was a breakthrough from scratch. The Border Region Government and the Eighth Route Army were able to use this fresh data, compare it with historical data obtained from unusual sources, and make arrangements and guidance for agriculture, infrastructure, military operations, and other areas, thereby reducing the additional losses caused by weather-related events.

At this point, even the Americans extended a helping hand - Major Carlson, who was visiting the border area, contacted the U.S. Navy through the Marine Corps, and the latter had the need to collect meteorological data from all over the world - they found the Eighth Route Army through John King Fairbank, an American visiting scholar and temporary representative stationed in the border area.

The Navy's meteorological intelligence agency, responsible for this matter, requested that the Eighth Route Army compile meteorological data for northern China every three months and send it to the US Navy through John King Fairbank. In return, they would provide the border region with 10,000 sets of handheld and 1,000 sets of fixed aluminum meteorological equipment free of charge, and share meteorological data from Shanghai, Guangzhou, Shancheng, and Wanzai Island with the Eighth Route Army.

However, no matter how great and meaningful the work is, when it is broken down, it is probably just this trivial. Beside the yurt, the smoke from the cooking stove rose to the sky, then drifted down weakly, pulling out a long, thin ribbon of smoke along with the wind. Sudiya's brother switched the reins to the other hand and waved to his family.

"Our little prophet," the elder brother called out, "come on, what's the weather like today?"

"Don't bother her, she's just fetching water—" the old father glared at her, menacing. He reached out to take the horse's reins and urged his brother to put the water from the tin kettle into the tent bag and take it to his mother, who was cooking. He glanced at his daughter, who was holding a notebook and pencil, and wanted to say something, but he couldn't form the words. He could only whisper softly, as if to avoid disturbing her: "When you're done, come over for dinner."

"Hey, Dad."

Sudiya put away the notebook, locked the wooden box of the weather station, checked the mast and anchor rope that fixed the wind vane and anemometer, and then walked home.

Today's breakfast is mutton, sour rice and pickles. The milk skin in the pot is to process the milk squeezed today, which is naturally not eaten on weekdays. Looking at the breakfast on the table, which is decent in quantity but far from being a hearty one, Sudiya said nothing.

In her past, she would have considered this a hearty meal: seeing a grain-based food like sour rice on the table in the morning was a sign of prosperity among herders. But now, Sudiya knew it wouldn't be enough for her recuperating mother and her growing brother...

She dug into her bag, pulled out her lunch box, and pulled out a boiled egg, pushing it toward her ailing mother. Perhaps knowing that another pushover would turn this breakfast into another "egg-giving" event, the girl's mother said nothing. She simply carefully cracked the eggshell, peeled it, and then broke it in half, handing it to her elderly father, who was still eating.

Watching her parents eat the eggs, Sudiya put the food away and stood up from the mat.

"Dad, Mom, I'm full."

"Hey, little Diya, don't you want to eat something?"

"I'm full. I'm going to the town to report data today, so I can eat there." Sudiya picked up her backpack, looked into her mother's eyes, and pretended to be full. "Mom, the aunt and uncle over there who report data are very kind. They never let me come back hungry. I'll go to the town to buy you some medicine."

Weather data was submitted to the school teacher, who would give out a boiled egg every noon. This young woman, with only a primary school education, was one of the earliest students to enter the Ikh Ju League after the CCP entered, and she was also the most educated member of her family. Her motivation for becoming a meteorologist was actually quite simple and straightforward—she could submit a week's worth of data in Ikh Ju League and receive a generous stipend to buy things for her family.

Is this not noble enough?

But no matter how unnoble it is, I still have to ensure the quality and quantity of my work.

Sudiya slung her canvas bag over her back and headed for her group of bay horses. Her brother, who had gotten up early, had already filled the horses' troughs with feed and water. The half-fed foals snorted and pawed, welcoming their owners. "Get ready to go!"

Her bulging canvas bag was filled with her books, her horseback bag contained a portable wind vane and anemometer, and a somewhat aged horse-box carbine was slung to the side. Today, Sudiya not only had to ride her horse 30 kilometers round trip, but also visited another meteorological observation point along the way to collect data and visit her teacher at school to ask some questions about her homework.

She fixed her hair beside the water tank to make herself look a little more energetic. "Hey! Little Diya, our little prophet!"

Her brother came up from behind, opened her backpack without saying anything, and stuffed a flat bag into it. Before she could say anything, her brother handed her a piece of cut milk skin. "Brother!"

"What? Milk is for honored guests. Aren't you our honored guest?" Her brother, who was two years older than her, also smiled. "Okay! Be careful on the road!"

"Um--"

Sixteen-year-old weatherman Sudiya trudged along the vast grasslands, chewing sweet milk wrappers as she trudged along. She wasn't the weatherman featured in the newspapers, but rather one of hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of other weathermen, living in obscurity. But her dedication and accuracy in her work have brought tangible changes to her family.

Bathed in the rising sun, the 3.5m/s level 3 southwest wind on the grassland lifted her hair, the hooves of her chestnut horse trampled the lush grass, and she walked along the path marked by her predecessors on the grassland.

Chapter 462: Originating from the Ordinary (2) The Smelter Pieces Together the Miracle

"So, what exactly did I learn during the years I worked in Shanghai and studied abroad?"

Whenever this voice burst out from Qiu Deping's heart, this question was always like the sound of a gong at the beginning of a performance, hitting his butt with a "Duang" sound, making him jump three feet high in the spiritual world like a juggling monkey with its tail on fire.

Then, the monkey bumped into the inner thorns, covered its head in pain, and cried out, rolling left and right on the sea of ​​emotions, stirring up vague and clear memories in its heart. Then, consciously and unconsciously, these past events forced the young engineer in his thirties to recall his past.

"Yeah, what on earth did you learn?"

--------

Many people have this experience.

Ever since I left school and entered the workforce, much of the knowledge I learned there has become useless. The problems I deal with in real life are more trivial and complex than even the most complex application questions and case studies. And the unspeakable world of human interaction is far more daunting than that of the ivory tower. This isn't to say that what I learned in school is useless, but rather—why is it so awkward?

Qiu Deping is now caught in this deep "awkwardness".

He was an "intellectual" who graduated from junior high school and dropped out of high school. In 37, he was selected by the Central Committee to go to the Soviet Union for further training.

When filling out his college application, Qiu Deping did not follow other students in choosing popular majors such as "mechanics", "military industry" or "electric power". Instead, he chose "aluminum metal materials", a major that was not widely chosen in the Soviet Union at the time, and went to the Moscow Institute of Nonferrous Metals to study courses such as aluminum alloy smelting, tempering and structural mechanism.

In recent years, Qiu Deping has made up for his knowledge gaps in Moscow with unimaginable efforts. In addition to learning course knowledge, he applied for an internship at the Zaporizhia Dnieper Aluminum Smelter, one of the Soviet Union's aluminum processing centers, and learned specific aluminum alloy tempering techniques from the deputy director Yefim Pavlovich Slavsky.

He was struck by the rows of aluminum electrolytic slag at the Zaporizhia smelter, captivated by the massive Dnieper Hydroelectric Power Station, and deeply impressed by this complex hydropower and aluminum industry. So when Qiu Deping, in his fourth year of college, was called back to his motherland to join his country's aluminum industry center, he was thrilled.

Returning to China was not just to complete his graduation thesis and practice. Qiu Deping was extremely eager to replicate the Soviet miracle on the land of the motherland, to let aluminum products fly into the sky and fight against the Japanese invaders, or to enter the homes of ordinary people and become pots, pans or aluminum foil rolls.

But who the hell knows,

My main job after returning to China is to throw cans into the power frequency electric furnace!

The future he imagined was originally like this - on this impoverished land, he would wear a safety helmet and hold a towel to review the construction drawings, first build a factory to produce alumina using the alkaline sintering method, then install thick electrolytic mother cables on the yellow land, bury rows of electrolytic cells, and finally realize the production of electrolytic aluminum.

However, upon returning to China, Qiu Deping discovered that a heavy industrial zone had already begun to take shape in Yulin, northwest Shanxi. Here, planning teams from the Central Industrial Commission tapped the high-quality coal mines of Shenfu and the iron mines of Yulin, initially forming the Yulin Coal and Iron Complex. Later, the excess capacity of coal-fired power plants was transformed into a power source for an electrolytic aluminum plant. In conjunction with the already operational mining railway, a local open-pit bauxite-diaspore mine was utilized. The swift-acting construction engineering corps, working with teams of workers trained in the border region and local and foreign experts, had already begun construction and production.

Qiu Deping's dream of directly participating in the construction of an aluminum smelting plant was shattered. Undeterred, he was soon assigned by the central government to work as an engineer at the local aluminum alloy tempering plant in Shenmu. This was a crucial job. After the beneficiated alumina was electrolyzed into standard aluminum ingots, it then underwent a series of conditioning, heat treatment, and even aging processes to become a usable aluminum alloy before it could be put to good use.

So, his imagined future became like this: in a lab brimming with instruments, he would examine a pile of raw materials and product samples, using a variety of reagents and specialized, complex equipment to determine their cost content and test their physical and chemical properties. Simultaneously, he would likely research reams of data, constantly tweaking the composition and ratio of aluminum alloys, conducting various experiments in an attempt to create a new aluminum alloy that better suited his needs.

But, but... As he began working, the factory not only sent him detailed tables of aluminum alloy ratios, from series 1 to 7, but also a complete set of heat treatment materials. Meanwhile, the materials he used to prepare pure aluminum included not only industrial manganese, copper-zinc alloys, and industrial-pure magnesium, but also a large amount of "recycled aluminum" from unknown sources!

这里边有3系铝锰合金和4系铝硅合金混杂的铝盖板和铝嵌板;有属于5系铝镁合金的户外灯具支架;有属于6系铝镁硅合金，通过挤压成型的铝合金窗框;甚至有源自报废铝合金轮毂，与被广泛运用在飞机上的杜拉铝类同的2系铜铝合金。

Of course, in addition to these things that really looked like waste, Qiu Deping also saw a lot of recycled "corrosion-resistant aluminum cans" - these waste materials were not only huge in quantity and complex in classification, but without exception, they were all made of high-quality aluminum alloy!

铝!

Aluminum alloy cans!

This stuff is so expensive! Even the US wouldn't be willing to use it to make disposable cans!

Whenever Qiu Deping looked at the forms, test reports, and miscellaneous samples in front of him, he felt like crying but had no tears.

His main job now is to combine this assorted "recycled scrap" with standard aluminum ingots produced by the factory to mix and match the "2024 aviation duralumin" and "7075'1 super aviation duralumin" listed in the detailed ratio table. I heard that even the Japanese fighter planes can't use such fine materials. Whenever new "scrap" comes into the warehouse, this aluminum alloy engineer must first sample and test the various classified aluminum alloy scraps, then determine their detailed ratios. Then, referring to the formula and process listed in the numbered ratio table, he will mix the materials for the next batch of industrial frequency electric furnace.

How many kilograms of lamp stands should be added to this pot, how many aluminum alloy wheels should be put into that pot, and how many flattened and cleaned cans should be stuffed into another pot - after round of work, Qiu Deping felt like a medieval alchemist, chopping all kinds of strange things into small pieces every day and throwing them into a dark pot to boil in order to refine expensive gold.

The key is that this trick is very reliable! Samples of 2024 aviation duralumin were once sent to the Soviet Union for testing. According to the comrade who sent it for inspection, the Russian experts almost dragged him to dance a foxtrot.

Although the quality of aviation aluminum products has always been very high under his supervision, Qiu Deping always felt particularly distressed when he saw aluminum products that should have been used being thrown into the furnace as waste.

Although he had reported the matter to the factory director and the organization had also talked to him, telling him that these things were waste products from Europe and the United States purchased by overseas comrades through import channels and asked him not to take it to heart, Qiu Deping still had a hurdle in his heart that he couldn't get over.

Is this what aluminum alloy work is all about?

After reviewing the material feeding schedule for the next production week and making certain adjustments, Engineer Qiu Deping leaned back in his rattan chair, pressed his forehead and relaxed a little.

Excluding the time for the tempering furnace to be overhauled, he now exports approximately 360 tons of various aluminum products to the border region each week. Standard aluminum ingots produced by the electrolytic aluminum plant are transformed here into various aluminum alloys, which are then sent to processing plants to be made into sheet metal, coverings, and components such as military canteens.

Although there's a lot of "junk" mixed in here, and I'm like the general manager of handling the junk...but I've made a lot of contributions after all, right?

"Engineer Qiu! Engineer Qiu! It's time for lunch!" A colleague's voice came from outside the laboratory. Someone knocked on the door. "The cafeteria is open for lunch! It smells so good, right in the corridor! Can't you smell it?" "Oh! I'm busy looking at the plan—" Qiu Deping responded. "What's for lunch today?"

"Sausage and scrambled eggs! We have sausage and scrambled eggs. If you go too late, there will only be eggs left!"

"Oh! That's right, we have to go quickly! Ah"

Their voices were cheerful, their faces rosy, and their steps firm and resolute, revealing their anticipation and hope for the future. Looking at this group of cheerful coworkers, Qiu Deping suddenly felt relieved. What was wrong with collecting scrap? What was wrong with being an alchemist? What was wrong with feeling so disappointed?

What you do is always meaningful.

Chapter 463: Originating from the Ordinary (3) Constructors Build Monuments

Wash the chicken legs, cut them, mix them with marinade, wait for a large basket of frozen chicken legs to thaw, then pour in a bottle of beer, let them blend the flavors of pepper, garlic and salt, roll them up and down in a large basin, waiting to be fried in the pan - in the border area, the person who does this may not necessarily be a cook squad leader or a restaurant chef, but may also be a team leader of a construction team.

Even sheltered in the shade, enjoying a slight breeze, team leader Zhang Beili was sweating profusely. He was preparing tonight's main course for dinner with several workers' families. Someone was stumbling over, carrying a large metal bucket with the word "palm oil" written on it.

"There are so many chicken legs!" a fellow villager came over carrying firewood and sighed, "You guys at the Northwest Construction Bureau 9 are like rich landlords. You're just tricking people into coming back to work by serving these fried chicken legs when you're off duty!" "How can you be so ignorant, fellow villager? Let me tell you, this return to work and recruitment can't be called a scam..."

Before Zhang Beili could finish, the fellow villager laughed, revealing a row of yellow teeth: "You workers are rich! If the landlord really offered fried chicken legs to recruit tenants, I would do it even if I were twenty years younger!" "Go away, you're dreaming. The landlord only gave you three taels, so he must be trying to squeeze a pound out of you!"

"But, Captain Zhang," the firewood seller took the Guanghua coins and put down the pole of firewood, "are you leaving after the seven-day holiday?" "Yes, the building is finished. According to the notice from the bureau, we have another project to attend to, so we won't be here anymore."

"oh--"

The fellow shook his head and walked away slowly.

This is naturally the headquarters of Group 6 of the 9th Bureau of Northwest Construction. The ancillary buildings of the station road maintenance team are their achievements. As a construction unit organized by the border region government, it is not included in the organization of the infrastructure corps. It is mainly responsible for "non-hard bone" projects, sharing some work pressure with the infrastructure engineering corps with a heavy workload.

In the distance, several bungalows and a two-story main station building are their latest achievements: a brick-concrete "small Western-style building" painted white, neat and tidy, quite beautiful, and just passed inspection. Nearby, a group of prefabricated dormitories, with ancillary buildings such as a school, clinic, canteen, and toilets, are their base.

Zhang Beili naturally knew what his fellow villager meant by his regret.

In order to retain construction workers who have been trained in the border areas, know how to use tools, and have a certain sense of cooperation and discipline, Northwest Construction not only compiled formal personnel files for the workers, but also paid relatively good work standards, which is enough to make a certain difference compared to farming at home - this high income allows them to spontaneously form a circle of small markets around their bases wherever they go to work.

It wasn't cheap, but based on the management principle that "adequate wages can solve 800% of management problems," it truly retained workers' hearts and minds. Unlike the "corvee labor" conscripted by Chiang Kai-shek's government, workers returned to the assembly area after the seven-day holiday and didn't simply flee. Over the past few days, team leader Zhang Beili had already seen over a hundred people arrive.

"No, Captain, even if it's just for the fried chicken legs, they have to come back!" A construction worker who was helping knocked his axe on the wood block, leaned on the axe handle, and looked at the people on the road. He said confidently, "Just chop wood honestly. Who is the one who spends his days on vacation messing around with his wife and can't even straighten his back for three days?"

"Who said that, Captain? Look at my elbows, the tendons are so taut, it's impossible to imagine—damn it, who is the gossiper who made up stories about your grandfather..." "Shut up and get to work!" Zhang Beili slapped the young construction worker on the head. "If the fire doesn't burn well and the rice isn't cooked, I'll take your chicken leg."

Cheerful laughter emanated from the construction site. Although single workers had dormitories and those with families were given larger rooms, the constant teasing and boasting on the construction site was unstoppable. The people waiting for the workers to return immediately turned their attention to the unfortunate construction worker, leaving him flushed, his steps unsteady, and unable to even hold his axe steady.

"It's so lively, comrades, what are you doing?"

A sturdy man jumped off the oxcart, bringing with him an older woman. He handed the driver a pack of cigarettes, shook out his flowered shirt, grabbed a white bucket filled with various items, and led the woman towards the gathering point.

"What can I do? Teach young people some life experience."

"Captain Zhang!" Unlike the bronzed muscles of the guard, this voice was simple and honest. The dark-skinned man saw Zhang Beili, who was turning the wind wheel to blow air into the stove, and smiled happily. "Uncle Qiang, Auntie, you are back!"

The team leader raised his head and greeted him. Several family members and fellow villagers nearby also recognized this strong, middle-aged plasterer and greeted him, pausing their "persecution." "It's Daqiang's family—"

"Where's the fried chicken leg? Come sit down and have a cup of tea first."

With one more person working and chatting, the boredom of preparing and waiting seemed to ease a bit. Daqiang, the plasterer, also sat down and drank a pot of tea.

Our family's land is still in Henan Province, so I decided to go and take a look at my son's school. He has good grades and is said to be among the top students in the school. "When saying this, although Uncle Qiang, the mason, sounded a little shy, he held his chest high and was extremely proud.

Then, while drinking tea, he slowly told the story of his visit to his son during the holidays.

My roommate and I first took a ride, then walked, and finally found Suide Middle School. It was so hard to find. It happened to be an exam, and the gate was locked, so I wouldn't be let in. I asked around, and they said they needed quiet time for the exam, and if we were disturbing the kids while they were studying, I'd be held responsible if they didn't do well on the test. If I hadn't been smart enough to offer the teacher a cigarette...

"And then you started chatting with the female teacher at school?"

"Go! Then I waited outside the door. I heard the bell ring and the kids all left the classroom. I guess the exam was over." Feeling his wife's gaze from behind, Master Qiang quickly changed his words, "My kid was among the students. I saw him carrying a bag and slowly walking out."

"Did you see it in the end?" "Yes."

"Hey, Uncle Qiang, we've come this far. Why don't you spend a day with the kids?"

The fire was already roaring, and Zhang Beili sighed with regret. He slid the marinated and starched chicken thighs into the smoking wok. "We got our holiday bonus, didn't we? It's quite a bit of money. You can stay a day longer and come back in time."

"I'm old, this is all I can do!"

Speaking of this, the middle-aged plasterer sighed, but there was not much regret in it. "I have attended so many night schools. At my age, I feel that I really can't learn anymore! I can only write my own name and recognize ten numbers. The child is still young. He can learn, unlike us.

"Now that the things I brought for the kid have been delivered and he's been seen, his mother and I know he's doing fine. That's all that matters!"

Under the skies of northern China, a former farmer leisurely spoke of his aspirations; across the land of northern Shaanxi, a group of newly arrived workers listened to his story. Nearby, the temporary school and clinic of the Northwest Construction Bureau No. 9 were being dismantled and loaded onto trucks, while the workers' families packed their belongings and prepared to load them onto various trucks. Local government officials were negotiating with the construction team about the transfer of some fixed assets that were difficult to relocate.

After a week of rest, the family members will also move to the next construction site with the construction team.

They are like a special group of migratory birds, traveling around the border areas with their circus-like gear. The job pays well, but it is ultimately not as stable as settling down to earth. Even with their families, it is inevitable that they will feel a little melancholy.

"Captain Zhang, where is our next job?"

"It's in the north, continue north along the railway - we're going to build a school - it's not far from here." "Oh, when are we leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow? We'll leave when most of the people are here. There are only a few left..."

Zhang Beili, the team leader, chuckled. He took out the first chicken leg that was put into the frying pan, knocked it on the fence, and put it into the basin on the other side. "Hey! Why think so much? Life will always get better and better.

"Come on—have a fried chicken drumstick first!"

Chapter 464 I Have Returned

(Sorting out the process)

When a DC-3 disguised as a "private plane V" crossed the Gobi Plateau and landed at Huinong Airport in Ningxia Province, the computers and radio stations at the "Fushi Headquarters" in the border area received a message reporting that it was safe. "The bird has returned home."