Canteen System Assistance Notes

A few hours ago, in a residential area in Yun, Shanxi Province, a woman holding a baby looked at her husband and then worriedly at her eldest son, who lay in bed coughing. "He has a fever again, a burning sensation. His knees are swollen, too, so swollen that he can't walk. He has no strength, and he can't eat."

Do you want to go or not?

"The child's father?"

If I go, I will risk being discovered by the Communist Army, or even killed, and I will be doing something that will harm people... But if I don't go, what will happen...

"The child's father!"

"Ah? Ah!"

His wife’s cries finally awakened the man from Shillong and brought him out of his trance.

"I feel so bad when Dalang suffers like this. Why can't I bear this pain for him?" The woman sobbed as she spoke. "Dad, what should I do now?"

"You gossip! I'm so annoyed, so annoyed, crying, crying! Can't you talk less?"

The tangled, repetitive, and radiating feelings of helplessness he'd felt over the past few days surged up from within him, and Longren's voice rose several notches as he blurted out vicious words. But then, his terrified wife, his newborn daughter, and his feverish, delirious son dealt him another soft, harsh blow.

"What should I do? What should I do? I don't know anything about this! If Dr. Oda can't help, what else can I do?!"

Imanishi began to sink into memories.

"As a member of the Mongolian Frontier Colonization Group, working diligently on the lifeline of Manchuria and Mongolia, devoting our lives to the Imperial Country, is the sacred duty of every Yamato citizen!

The citizens of the Great Japanese Nation are outstanding citizens born in Japan, the greatest nation in the world! They are born with the national spirit of enduring hardship and dedicating their lives to their country.

"You are the vanguard of the march into Suiyuan, and you are just like soldiers! Therefore, even though you don't have the identity of a soldier, you must hold yourselves to the patriotic spirit of a soldier!" "Board! Board! Board!"

As soon as the speech, "Strengthening the National Spirit," was completed, the officers on the stage and the Japanese residents in the audience raised their hands, faced east, and chanted "Board Load" three times. Then, accompanied by whistles and sounds from the radio, everyone stood in a line, front and back, left and right, performing radio exercises to "strengthen the national spirit." This scene is still vivid in the memories of the people of Xilong today.

As a member of the Japanese community in Yunzhong, Mr. Imanishi lived this kind of life before the communists came under centralized control. Including their families, the group of less than a hundred people was also part of Japan's "Mongolian Colonization Group." However, unlike in Manchuria, these immigrants were not part of a national colonization group organized by the state and allocated farm tools and land. Instead, they were "self-reliant" Japanese immigrants, arriving almost alone.

The conditions in Jinsui were naturally far inferior to those in Manchuria. It was very difficult to grow rice on the land here, and it was impossible to grow enough rice to fill one's stomach - the Japanese naturally had to eat rice - and it was also difficult for the people of Jinxilong who worked as "supervisors" in the Yunzhong Coal Mine to receive their full wages on time. They were often delayed or deducted, and even the occasional salary was "substitute" in the form of Union Bank notes and military promissory notes.

These were worth less than the Japanese yen, or even the "deficit currency" that had been circulating privately in the city for the past few years. The same salary could buy less and less rice at Japanese trading companies. The family's plight worsened after the eldest son contracted the "sheep disease."

He recalled his own enthusiasm when he responded to the call of the Colonization Corps in Japan: Back then, he and his wife had stood on the stage, chanting "His Majesty, Away!" and praising the Yasukuni spirit of the soldiers who were carving out a new future for the Empire. He imagined transforming his life and enjoying prosperity in the virgin lands conquered by the Imperial Army. But now, not only was his son ill and his family in dire straits, he had also suffered the humiliation of being a prisoner of the Communist army, a disgraced non-citizen!

Damn it! Wasn't the Imperial Army winning battle after battle before? Why did it suddenly become like this?

Why do you want me to live such a miserable life?

hateful!

Malice surged up again, and the people of Jinxilong clenched their fists and couldn't help but look at a small box in front of them, as if it contained the answer to solve the current situation.

Today, Shillong people look down at the box that they have never opened: it is not big, and can be carried with one hand under the arm. It has dark red box boards, iron corners and brass rivets, and there is a "Delicious Morinaga Biscuits" poster that seems to be a bit concealed.

Even after wiping it several times with a cloth, the dust on the box seemed to have seeped into the wood, leaving it gray and hazy, as if it were no different from the identity of the person who had delivered it. Yes, compared to other Japanese immigrants, he had another option—Imanishi was a "remaining spy."

A person who hides among ordinary Japanese residents, carries out certain missions and tasks, and is both a civilian and a spy.

In fact, after capturing the city, the Communist army had already conducted a round of screening of the existing remaining spies, and even arrested those who were selling opium and hoarding goods. They did not make it difficult for ordinary Japanese residents, and just put them under unified supervision - but they themselves were not found.

Imanishi recalled the scene when those adults who seemed to be from the army sent people to see him.

The adults were kind enough to bring someone in a white coat to examine their child, Dalang, and diagnose him with undulant fever—the people of Xillong today didn't understand the mixed Chinese and Western scientific terms, but they knew it was a troublesome and difficult disease to treat. Then, the person gave the child a few white pills, and soon, Dalang's fever subsided, and his joint pain eased.

"Thank you so much, thank you so much!"

At that time, he and his wife bowed deeply to the adults, thanking them for saving, or at least appearing to save, their child.

The adults from the Fortress comforted Mr. Imanishi, saying that while undulant fever was difficult to treat, they had medicine and could risk their lives to keep the child alive—though it was expensive. If Mr. Imanishi couldn't afford it, the Imperial Army would be understanding and only ask him to help out with minor tasks.

"So, what's going on?" asked the man from Xillong.

“It’s not a difficult thing.”

Those people told him that after Yunzhong was attacked by the Communist army, he should go to a courtyard in the middle city of Yunwang, dig out a "jar" buried in a specific location, and then pour the contents of the jar into the nearest well in the city.

"What could be in that jar?"

Is it something that kills people?

Imanishi raised the question in a normal way. He did not refuse this matter, or he never thought of refusing this option.

It seemed to make the adults a little unhappy.

"Konnishi-kun, this is not something you should know. The citizens of the Empire should have this awareness: to strictly uphold the national spirit and serve the public with self-denial in their daily lives.

When the situation requires, we must serve our country for all our lives and be loyal to our country!

Even if it means sacrificing your life, you shouldn't hesitate, but you're thinking about this and that. Are you going to surrender to the ZN people?"

"No, no, no! How could I possibly surrender to the ZN people!" The thought of being labeled a "surrenderer" by everyone made the people of Shillong stand at attention in a morbid manner.

The reflexive answer was, "A man of the Empire swears to serve his country for seven lifetimes and be loyal to his country!"

The bigwigs' faces brightened considerably. They consoled the family, then handed over the small box, their expressions changing: "If you do this well, you might even become a national hero and return to Japan! Once you've emptied the contents of the jar into the well, you can bring this small box to join us in Peking. It'll contain travel permits, travel expenses, and proof of your achievements! Once you return to Japan, you'll be heroes who have dedicated everything to the Empire and expanded its territory!"

"No, Dalang will be fine, don't worry, A Zi."

A look of foolish determination crossed Jinxilong's face. He comforted his wife, "When I went to the shrine to draw the fortune, the priest said it was a very auspicious sign. Dalang will be fine, and neither will I... I just need to finish those things, pour the stuff into the ZN people's well, and come back. Then, we'll leave here, go to Peking, and return to Japan!"

His wife nodded, bewildered. Imanishi's words became even more enthusiastic, and he grabbed his wife's shoulders: "Don't worry, don't be afraid! Look! There's this box!"

"This was given to us by the commander of the army! It contains our passes to go home, our identification documents... and travel expenses! I took a look at it and it's not some 'Union Bank notes' or military notes, it's real Japanese Yen, real Japanese Yen! When we get back, we'll use this money to buy a piece of land and a lot of rice! Then we can eat to our heart's content!" He took out a pair of coarse velvet gloves commonly used in coal mines - anyway, I've never seen the mine owner give these things to many miners - and showed them off to his wife.

"Don't worry! Just wait for me at home! I'll be back soon!"

Chapter 507: Japanese Story: The Disaster of Ignorance (Part 2)

Saburo Sakaki took a deep breath. The air that passed through the canister was dry and stuffy.

His mood was just as absurd and angry.

"Secretary Sakaki," someone nearby said, his voice muffled by the mask, or perhaps it was simply muffled. "Okay, Comrade Yamada, I know—the disinfection procedure."

Sakaki Saburo stepped into a basin filled with bleach and began scrubbing his wellies with a brush. He washed meticulously, not sparing even the slightest trace of dirt from the soles. He then helped another member of the Anti-War Alliance, Yamada Kazuo, clean the stains from his shoes.

Finally, ice-cold hypochlorous acid disinfectant poured out from the nozzles on both sides, drenching their protective suits. The clatter of water droplets mingled, streaking across their masks in streaks. Sakaki Saburo closed his eyes, willing the boiling emotions within him to calm.

An hour and a half had passed since the Eighth Route Army comrades discovered the gas leak accident.

Honestly, this was handled incredibly quickly, Sakaki Saburo thought. From the moment the patrolling soldiers discovered the anomaly, a twitching body, to the moment the chemical defense forces sealed off the scene within 45 minutes, and the moment the military control forces evacuated residents downwind within an hour, the Eighth Route Army handled this matter with near-maximum efficiency.

After that, the chemical defense forces stationed in Yunzhong entered the scene fully armed and identified the composition of the chemical agent - the notorious mustard gas, which was found in the iron barrel that was dug out by a hoe in the middle of the open space - and later, the chemical defense soldiers who entered the scene for rescue discovered some objects carried by the human body.

A "residence certificate" soaked in mustard oil, an amulet sold at a shrine, and a hand-drawn map showing the location of the excavation—these things revealed his identity, his purpose, and the general cause of the incident. "A native of Imashirō, a supervisor at the 'Showa Pit' of the Yunzhong Coal Mine, a 'remaining spy' not listed in the army's records, perhaps developed by a specialized gas unit. He was asked to dig for buried gas canisters." Sakaki tried to calm himself. "I won't say what he planned to do next. Those bastards didn't even give him any protective equipment, and asked him to dig for mustard gas—"

"I'm so confused. This guy probably doesn't even know what he's digging up!"

―—-—―—――

"Assholes! Damn it! If you've got the guts, just release the poison gas yourselves! You didn't even dare to make a gas bomb and release it, yet you let civilians die for you. Do you have any conscience... any bushido at all?" Sakaki's rage burned fiercely. Just now, when he entered the scene to inspect, the Imanishi Ryu man was completely beyond rescue, his body swollen and ulcerated, his mouth full of black blood he'd coughed up and vomited. His death was horrific.

The Tongmenghui doctor Kazuo Yamada, who was traveling with him, judged that this man was not even poisoned by mustard gas - before being poisoned by mustard gas, Imanishi's respiratory tract had also suffered severe edema and obstruction due to inhalation of toxic gas oil, which suffocated him to death - he scratched his throat frantically with both hands in extreme pain, so that there was not a single intact piece of skin on his neck.

And this wasn't the first time these beasts had used such a poison. Yes, there was no doubt that Imashirō was miserable. He might never know why he died, or who had deceived him... Sakaki's decontamination was finally over. He thought as he walked out. Next, he should change into clean clothes in the clean area.

But he is also a hateful person. Sakaki Saburo thought,

If the poison is dug out safely today and then spread and poisoned, almost all the people in Yunzhong City will be poisoned, and the casualties will be even more tragic, including other Japanese residents in the city... Idiots! Those gas villains are no longer human, why would they care about the Japanese? They might even wish these "non-citizens" dead!

But at this moment, outside the clean changing area, shouts, commands, and the sound of people running suddenly rang out. "Secretary Sakaki, huhuhuhu, Secretary Sakaki...! It's bad, it's bad!"

"Wow, Mr. Muro?" Seeing another secretary from the Tongmenghui running towards him, panting like a dead dog after a run, Sakaki took off his gas mask and asked, "What happened? Why are you in such a hurry? Take a breath first and speak slowly." A bad premonition rose in his heart.

"The Japanese district, ah, the Japanese district!" the young man said with a look of fear, "There's been a poison gas disaster in the Japanese district too!"

Kenji Oda was a doctor, a general practitioner. Unlike the others, although he was also a member of the "Mongolian Frontier Colonization Group," he didn't go directly to Jinsui after arriving in China. Instead, he trained for a year and a half at the Fengtian Pharmacist Training Institute.

In this institution, resembling a technical secondary school, he learned how to diagnose common ailments and prescribe medications. However, before completing his three-year program, he dropped out and was dispatched to the Yunzhong region as an emergency medical worker, specializing in treating Japanese patients. Now, he was sitting in Mr. Imanishi's home, treating the bedridden Taro Imanishi.

The woman of the house stayed by the bed, giving water to the older child, who was in great pain, while the younger child slept in a wicker cradle. Kenji Oda removed the thermometer from the child's armpit and checked it. "Mrs. Imanishi, Dalang's intermittent fever might be what medical books call a 'Mediterranean fever.' The last time I went back, I did a lot of research and it seems to be a bacterial infection."

Dr. Oda looked back at the half-grown child groaning in pain in the bed, then dragged the hostess, A Zi, into the next room and said in a low but serious voice, "No matter what bacterial infection it is, it's very difficult to cure at the moment. Besides, Dalang's illness has dragged on for a long time, and he may need long-term treatment in the future."

"That... medicine, medicine, medicine! The child's father gave Dalang medicine! It was medicine from adults in the big city. After taking it, Dalang's fever went away... They said it can be cured. After taking the medicine, Dalang will be cured, right? Doctor Oda, do you have that kind of medicine? How much is it? Any price is fine..."

"Madam! That medicine is actually..." Oda thought about it and decided to tell the truth.

"I have seen the paper packages of those medicines. They contain aspirin tablets. They can only treat symptoms and are useless for treating bacterial infections. If you want to cure your child,

Mrs. Imanishi, the only medication for bacterial infections is sulfa, but it's a controlled drug strictly controlled by the military and sold only in specialty pharmacies in major cities. It's incredibly expensive and often unavailable. Given our family's situation, I'm afraid... "Then, what should we do? Dalang is my child, my child. He came here with us from Japan. How could he die in China?"

No, no…”

Hearing this, Imanishi Murasaki, who stayed at home, trembled all over. She suddenly grabbed Oda Kenji's sleeve, "No, no, no, no, no! My child... Dalang can't die from a Chinese disease! Doctor, doctor, you must save him!"

"Mrs. Imanishi! Please don't scare the child!"

Dr. Oda spoke loudly, and the woman in front of him immediately stopped talking and looked up at him eagerly, waiting for his next words, or... judgment.

Although he'd only been here for less than a year, Kenji Oda had already treated many patients, both Chinese and Japanese. Because the Japanese community was smaller, he even treated more Chinese patients. As a novice doctor, he'd seen countless instances of patients dying from illness while others endured pain. But wasn't a doctor's job to prevent this?

He hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice and said:

"Now the Imperial Army... no, the Japanese Army has withdrawn from this area, and we are now under the rule of the Communist Army. I heard that the Communist Army can use sulfa drugs on the civilian side, and the price is reasonable. In recent days, the Communist Army has also been treating ordinary people in the city. Many of my former patients have gone there for treatment and received medication, and their conditions have greatly improved."

"Ah! The Communist Army, the enemy! We cannot surrender to the enemy..."

Imanishi Murasaki reflexively took a step back, but her maternal instinct made her hesitate. She lowered her head, trembling as she raised her hands to her face. "If only they could save my Dalang, if only they could save my Dalang... The Imperial Army couldn't save my child, even if it was the enemy, even if it was the Communist Army... If only..."

"Don't be afraid, Mrs. Imanishi. The Communist army won't kill innocent people. They only capture soldiers and won't use violence against innocent civilians." Kenji Oda consoled the mother, who was struggling with her thoughts. "You don't need to risk your life. I'll go talk to them tomorrow and describe Dalang's condition so I can buy some medicine."

"Today, I'll prescribe some aspirin for Dalang. After he takes it, his fever will go away. Go get some warm water." He pulled the medicine box from behind and took out the aspirin. "If you have a fever again, you can take one pill. Remember to take it with warm water..."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!"

Watching Oda Kenji start prescribing medicine for Dalang and promising to contact the Communist Army on their behalf in the future, Mrs. Imanishi's sadness turned to joy. She bowed deeply and then hurried to the living room to get a glass of warm water from the thermos.

"Oh, by the way, the consultation fee..."

The father hadn't paid for Dr. Oda's last visit, and the previous medications, it seemed. Mrs. Imanishi thought about the expenses. Medicines were expensive, and so were doctor visits. She didn't know much about medicine, but she knew this little bit.

Because the child's father's salary was always in arrears and paid on behalf of others, the family's financial situation has always been rather tight and they couldn't come up with enough money - Dr. Oda also expressed his understanding of this and asked them to pay later - he is a good doctor and can't always delay paying other people's medical fees, Mrs. Imanishi thought.

But where can I find the money?

"And the travel expenses... these aren't Union Bank notes or military notes... they're real Japanese yen!"

Recalling her husband's words, Mrs. Imanishi saw the small box that had been put back on the upper shelf of the cabinet. This box had been brought to her husband by the important people who had visited him earlier, saying that it contained yen for travel expenses.

At home, I've never seen the child's father open it once. When I asked to withdraw some money for the child's medical treatment or to buy rice, he sternly rebuked me, saying the money was for "critical times" and shouldn't be used now.

Now, this should be considered the key, right?

Mrs. Imanishi found a chair and took the small wooden box from the top of the cabinet. There was a small lock on the box, but this did not bother her. She knew where her husband kept his things. Soon, the key was inserted into the lock, turned, and the lock was unlocked.

"Just take one... Abusing other people's kindness and failing to pay the doctor's fees will be cursed by the god of poverty." Mrs. Konishi Azi thought as she opened the lid of the box.

She saw stacks of yellowed papers tied together with string. They weren't the "Bank of Japan Exchange Notes" with portraits and cursive numbers printed on them. Furthermore, there was a glass bottle nestled among the papers.

This is a hydrocyanic acid grenade with a loose trigger mechanism, very much in the style of the Japanese Army's field gas special forces - if the lady can recognize this thing.

"Hey?"

Whoosh! A sound like a thermos exploding rang out in the Japanese community in the clouds.

Chapter 508: Japanese Stories: The Sorrow of Ignorance (Part 2)

"When we arrived at the scene, it was about 10 minutes after the incident," said Saburo Sakaki, who sighed, "If only we had arrived earlier."

"This was the fastest possible speed under the circumstances, Comrade Sakaki. There's no need to blame yourself."

"Ah."

He nodded and continued to narrate.

"When we arrived at the Japanese settlement, our division—oh yes, the Eighth Route Army's chemical defense troops—had already cordoned off the area. The four victims, two adults and two children, had already been carried out of the house and were receiving medical treatment.

"One of the children was about one year old, wrapped in swaddling clothes... just one child." Sakaki shook his head, as if he didn't want to say anything more. He calmed down and said: "When I arrived, the first aid had already started. Although there were several

Everyone was already dead, but the doctors still tried to save them.

"After all, I am Japanese and can speak Japanese. I took Keimuro with me to work with the Japanese community and understand the situation. Oh, Keimuro is the new member of the Tongmenghui, Keimuro Keiyuki. He came here 40 years ago and is the chief accountant of the First Army. We

I soon got a rough idea of ​​what had happened.”

Saburo Sakaki put down his pen and paper, crossed his hands and clenched his fists, recalling:

"Just over ten minutes ago, someone heard a sound like a thermos flask bursting, along with a woman's scream. Just as the person was about to go see what was happening, a man's roar was heard from the house.