Then the next day, the Border Security Department came to our door.

In the hospital conference room, the hospital president, the party secretary, and the director of the disciplinary committee were all present. Also present was the disciplinary committee officer from the Border Security Department, who was furious. "Hey! How are you doing your management work?"

The clerk practically roared, slamming his fist on the table and cursing, "Dr. Bai, such an important internationalist expert, and you let him run dozens of miles to gamble in a brothel at the village entrance! We're all veteran revolutionaries, and you don't even have a sense of vigilance? What if you say you've been targeted by Guoju's spies and harmed Dr. Bai? How are we going to explain this to the organization?"

On the old wooden table in the conference room stood three colorful glass bottles, emblazoned with confusing labels like "X Xiaobai" and "RIO Premixed Cocktail." One of them was still open. Dr. Bethune was fast asleep on a recliner nearby, clutching another pink bottle.

"Comrade, comrade, put out the fire, put out the fire..."

Dr. Bethune had superb medical skills and excellent medical ethics. His attitude at work was like that of a commando charging at the forefront. However, his personal life outside of work was quite "romantic and free and easy", and the Party Committee of the entire hospital was helpless to deal with him.

The director stepped forward, attempting to mediate: "It's good that he's alright, it's good that he's alright. Thank you, comrades from the Border Security Department, for your help... We'll definitely strengthen management in the future and discuss the issue of revolutionary style with Dr. Bai more often."

"If you can really do a good job, why would we have so much trouble? This time he was drunk and got into an argument with the gamblers in the brothel. A fight broke out. Luckily, those guys were not as strong as him and he knocked them down, so they were not injured." After everyone lost their temper, they also calmed down.

"In just the past few months, how many times have we helped catch him? Last time, he was competing with the kids in the ironworks dormitory, and the time before that, he was drinking at the winery near the ferry." The officer shook his head and sighed. "We're not asking for much. If it really didn't work out, you could just tell us where he went and when he left, so we wouldn't have to go crazy looking for him."

Everyone fell silent again.

"Why not put his horse away?" someone suggested. "Without a horse, he won't be able to get far if he walks."

"No! Dr. Bethune's horse is a teaching aid. It has a portable surgical kit on it. We, the emergency team, learn emergency surgeries from him every day. We absolutely can't put it away," the hospital's Party Secretary objected hastily. "If you dare take his equipment and stop him from teaching or performing surgeries, he'll turn the whole hospital upside down!"

There really wasn't much anyone could do about such an unmanageable guy, especially one whose work attitude was practically impeccable. "So, doesn't that mean we'll just have to send him to the front lines?"

Everyone looked at each other in confusion. Dr. Bethune had always wanted to go to the front lines as a field doctor and directly participate in the treatment of the wounded.

If agreed, then Dr. Bai will definitely enter his workaholic state and will not cause any trouble. However, considering his attitude of charging forward, he will definitely set up the operating table one step away from the line of fire - on the battlefield, bullets have no eyes. Considering his safety and the factors of playing a greater role, the Central Committee currently does not allow him to go directly to the front line. It is hoped that the branches in various places will try their best to retain him for a period of time and wait until the struggle environment on the front line stabilizes slightly.

"Then... let's report to the central government first..."

At this moment, Bethune climbed up from his recliner and, staggering, saw a circle of figures surrounding him. Shaking his head, he spotted the hospital's leadership and a familiar officer from the Border Protection Department, and instantly understood his current situation.

Bethune spread his hands familiarly and raised the bottle which still had a little wine in it.

"Don't worry, guys, I'm fine.

"Work hard and rest well, this is our life, isn't it?"

Chapter 101: The Impartial and Impartial Preserved Fruit Man

Unlike Bethune's current circling of the border region, Evans Fordyce-Carlson's itinerary was to first go around Shanxi Province, then circle back to Haojing, and then go to Fushe to enter the border region. After witnessing the life, training, and fighting in the base area, he became increasingly curious about the "border region", the rear base supporting the anti-Japanese war in North China.

Moreover, this curiosity becomes more intense as the distance gets closer.

It's so strong, as if I'm heading to a utopia in a dream.

"That's not the case. The people there, the Communists there, are just ordinary people like you and me. It's just that they are driven by a firm will, eager to bring a happy and beautiful life to themselves, those around them, and even the people of the whole country."

In Haojing, Carlson met Joan Youn, an assistant to Canadian doctor Norman Bethune. At that time, she was escorting a convoy of medicines sent to Yan'an by the International Association for the Control of Infectious Diseases. So she climbed onto the rear cargo bed of this "Finland Ford car" and took a ride.

"Our trip will take about two days. Do you have any dry food with you?"

Joann rummaged through her bag and pulled out a long fried dough twist, a can of garlic sauce, and a bottle of honey grapefruit tea. "This is what we'll need before we get to the rest stop tonight." "I also have some cookies."

Carlson pulled out a half-eaten box of soda crackers. "My friends gave them to me in Wutai. They're green onion-flavored, and they're pretty good. I'll definitely be able to get through the day with them." "Comrades, there's no need to make do with this!"

The cab of the GAZ was made of wood. The sound insulation was quite impressive. The driver and the co-pilot sitting in the front seat obviously heard their conversation: "We who drive cars always bring stoves and food. Even if we don't have a stove, we can put the lunch box in the stove."

Just heat it up on the engine. It's just a couple of extra pairs of chopsticks, no big deal, and you won't starve your friends!

"Okay! What did you bring this time?"

Joan Yune was already very familiar with the driver. The driver, who had a slight southern accent, reached under the steering wheel and fumbled for a while, then took out a soft package that was warmed by the engine's exhaust heat.

"Oh! It's minced meat and eggplant!"

As he spoke, the car slowed down and stopped at a checkpoint. Several men in Nationalist uniforms blocked the way, surrounding the lead car and chatting with the driver.

The soldiers who were holding up the car at the back jumped out of the car, surrounded it, and supported the team leader. This is a common feature of the Guofu Road Checkpoint. There may not be any control or inspection, but it is easy to be blackmailed. Of course, in response to this,

Yes, if you have enough connections or armed strength, then the inspection will probably be just a formality.

But now it is obvious that the Eighth Route Army does not want to clash with Guo Su again.

"Should we move?" Carlson stared at the crowd gathering in front of him, a little nervous. "They won't open fire, will they?"

"No, don't worry."

Joan broke off a piece of the dough, divided it in half, and handed one to Carlson. "Just wait a moment."

"Hold on?"

Soon, laughter erupted from the crowd ahead. The Eighth Route Army leader and the Nationalist Army officer at the checkpoint exchanged a friendly exchange of arms. After a couple of fistfights, the junior Nationalist officer rubbed his chest, bruised from the blows, and waved toward the checkpoint. The barricades and poles blocking the road were quickly removed, and the convoy resumed its journey.

“It’s amazing.”

"Why did they let us go?" Carlson asked the driver, his words stumbling. Joan translated for him: "This comrade

He asked why the Kuomintang checkpoint let us pass so easily.

already?"

"It's 'official document'!"

"Official documents? Can you get General Jiang Mingsan's pass?" His trip to Shanxi Province made him realize that not all the Kuomintang troops were willing to unite to resist the invasion. Although the Kuomintang and the Communist Party had nominally united to fight the war, the Kuomintang army might still cause trouble for the Eighth Route Army. It was not an easy task to successfully obtain the communication certificate from the Kuomintang army.

"Will official documents work here? Comrade Carlson, do you expect those illiterate soldiers to understand the descriptions on the documents?" Joan sarcastically said, "Oh! Here, the most effective documents are probably the silver documents issued by President Yuan, followed by the paper documents printed by the four major banks. It's very likely that the wonderful green paper printed by the Federal Reserve in your hand will be useless - because they don't understand it at all."

"Hey, that's not that exaggerated." The driver didn't respond.

"Although we don't have the pass for preserved fruits, we can get the support of his officers." The driver laughed and threw a package to Carlson. Carlson opened it and saw that it was loose cigarettes. "Cigarettes?" "Yes, the 'Workers, Peasants and Soldiers' brand rolled in our border area." The driver nodded and continued driving. "We also have guns. With this kind of 'ammunition', there is basically no checkpoint that we can't attack.

"It's one thing on the surface, and another thing underground."

The soldier in the passenger seat recounted his experiences with the Nationalist army. He had been forcibly conscripted by the Nationalist army, and later joined the Red Army, the predecessor of the Eighth Route Army. He explained that in Guosu, there was a so-called chain of contempt among the lower-level officers: the legitimate line looked down on the non-legitimate, the non-legitimate looked down on the miscellaneous warlords, and the miscellaneous warlords could only bully able-bodied men like him. Each despised group would form cliques and factions, forming gangs and clan associations, paying tribute to those above them in exchange for benefits from those below.

"After all, over there, the military pay is basically not even paid to the enlisted men, let alone the small-time officers like me. And the small-time officers can even withhold some food and ammunition. If the enlisted men don't get something, they'll probably starve to death." He wiped the pistol in his hand with a focused expression. "So no matter how many times the higher-ups tell us to, the officers below will always have their own way of making money - taking someone's money is like killing their parents. If dried fruit can be passed down and enforced, then what's the point of revolution?"

The soldier put down his rifle, turned around, and knocked on the leaky window behind the cockpit. He pointed to the cargo floor at the two foreigners:

"We still have some of their goods on our trucks, and their bosses will get a share of the profits after we deliver them to Yan'an. Many of the people selling us supplies are from Kuomintang generals, ha! There are also many southern merchants who smuggle supplies from Sichuan and Yunnan provinces to the border areas, exchanging them for 'northern goods' and return them for profit. We can't control them."

Joan lifted the canvas covering the medicine, revealing the GAZ truck's cargo bed and finding a layer of cut wood. These things still had the rough edges and sawdust left over from cutting, with the aroma of new wood and the stamp of "candied military wood" on them. Carlson knocked on it and found that this was not ordinary wood. It was probably a hardwood board with a long tree age, a "controlled material" that could be used to make rifle stocks.

"Ah, this is really amazing..." he couldn't help but exclaim.

Chapter 102: Carlson, the Hand-Chopping Counselor

Carlson stood dazed on the streets of Fushi City. Jonyoun's motorcade had headed northeast of the city to the Peace Medical School, where he was dropped off along with several guards. According to the scheduled itinerary, Carlson would wait for the External Relations Officer to meet him. He would then meet the legendary Communist leader.

But now, it was still early. He looked at his watch and saw that he still had time to walk around.

Fushi, a small, Y-shaped town nestled in a mountain valley, boasts a bustling atmosphere comparable to the East Main Street of Haojing. The houses along the streets have been renovated. While not the concrete and brick buildings of Haojing and Shanghai, they are not ramshackle shacks either. On the Yanhe River, between the Fenghuang, Qingliang, and Baota Mountains, a relatively wide, flat area has been enclosed: this is Fushi's Grand Market.

"Collect—old clothes, collect—old clothes! Old clothes—exchange—for eggs!"

"A copper pot—a copper bowl—a large copper vat!"

"Baked potatoes! Baked sweet potatoes! Three cents for two pounds!"

The place is bustling with people and pedestrians. The market area is surrounded by wooden fences and has horizontal and vertical squares painted on it. Soldiers on duty stand at the four corners. The vendors or traveling merchants in the middle each occupy a square, put down their shoulder poles or carts, and shout loudly, hoping to attract business.

Carlson took a quick look around. This bustling market was basically a hodgepodge of all kinds of products, including chickens, ducks, pigs, and lambs.

Walking vendors would bring their own goods and try to sell them here for a profit, earning the difference; surrounding farmers would also bring rural products and sell them in exchange for some necessities that they could not produce - this is the function that most domestic markets need to perform, a bit like the square markets in European towns. The only difference is that judging from the white and gray grids on the ground, this market should be fixed rather than formed at regular intervals.

"Li Bo, what's written on that sign? Is that the name of this market?"

Oh! This is the Fushi City Farmers' Market. "Li Bo is Carlson's translator, specializing in handling matters that Carlson's limited Chinese can't understand," he said. "Nearby government offices, military academies, factories, and even people from all over the country come here to buy and sell vegetables, grain, needles and thread, and other items. But, Counselor, Comrade Carlson, I don't think you'll be able to spend your dollars here."

"why?"

"They mainly accept silver dollars, the border region's own Guanghua coupons, small-denomination legal tender, and even stamps. The US dollars you have are not accepted here, and the denominations of the legal tender they exchange for are too high for ordinary vendors to make change." Li Bo had been in the border region for quite a while and knew more. He pointed to the many storefronts on the side of the road that were under renovation.

"If you need anything, you'll have to go to the cooperative to exchange currency, or just go to the consumer cooperative to buy things. Oh! There's also a radio station over there that's open to the public. You can also send telegrams to the ambassador or Washington from there without having to go back to Mountain City or Spring City."

So, go check it out?

Because the journey was smooth, there was still some time before the scheduled meeting time, and waiting here was not an option. In the afternoon sun, Carlson walked towards the "Consumer Cooperative" that Li Bo had mentioned.

According to Li Bo's introduction, over the past year or so, the border area has inherited the original Soviet area's commercial system, and transformed the Soviet area consumer cooperative into a border area consumer cooperative, which is responsible for selling many necessities, consumer goods and even luxury goods; and it has continued the bloodline of the Soviet area bank, established a border area bank based on these commodities and materials, and issued its own Guanghua coupons.

Due to the abundance of supplies, the initial state-owned stores often grew wildly. He knew of stores run by the military, schools, central government agencies, and pre-existing businesses—a staggering 20 to 30 different organizations, each with varying profitability and competitiveness, creating a chaotic landscape. This didn't even include the private capital that gradually joined the border region's trade system. By the end of 1938, the central government had begun to consolidate the previously chaotic commercial system based on performance, leaving behind four larger branches: Guanghua, which focused on agricultural products and means of production; Jiaotong, which specialized in trade goods; Yongchang, which specialized in cloth; and Gongxiao Department Store, which focused on daily consumer goods. These four branches were placed under the centralized management of the Border Region Consumer Cooperative.

The shop Carlson visited was the recently renovated "Fushi Traffic Store." A long line had already formed outside the four-door storefront, and the glass counters inside were filled with a dazzling array of goods.

He noticed that, despite claiming to be a specialty store specializing in trade goods and a relatively high-end establishment, there were still many people coming to buy things. Among them were young students clinging to their eight-treasure rice puddings, budget-conscious workers with families, and merchants buying "northern goods," muttering to themselves as they held their wares. The salesperson, holding a paper trumpet, struggled to maintain order, keeping the lines flowing in and out. At the entrance, many children were looking around, clearly there to see something new.

"Friends, what do you want?"

Carlson weighed his wallet, assessed his purchasing power, and turned to the guards, saying, "Consider this a gift from me to you all." However, the two soldiers shyly shook their heads, indicating they didn't accept gifts. Carlson and Li Bo had no choice but to walk between the counters and start shopping.

Purchasing such a large quantity of supplies at once during wartime was a delightful experience. Furthermore, these "supplies" were not reserved for the rich and powerful, but accessible to many. This allowed Carlson to wander freely among the three-story counters and shelves, searching for his prey.

"I drank a lot of Miss Smedley's coffee last time, so I have to replenish it for her. I heard that Commander Zhu also drinks coffee, so I can give him some, and I can drink some myself when I feel sleepy." Carlson added a large bag of coffee marked "three-in-one" to his shopping cart.

Oh, this is a towel, with a weaving method I've never seen before... Use it to replace the rags that Li Bo and the soldiers have. This cloth is also very soft. I'll buy one for myself: it's necessary, and there will be no problem if I buy it.

After thinking carefully for a while, he took out another stack of towels from the counter.

"Hmm, notebooks, ink, and sticky notes, all of which can be used. Oh, this is for prickly heat powder and mosquito repellent, essential for summer. Mints, fruit candies... eh?

Merlin Cola? Sweets can give people a sense of happiness, and are used to thank the villagers.

The peasant comrades are also very good, they may be useful in the future, so take some with you..."

This one could be useful, that one was definitely needed, and who knew when the next one would be in short supply. After careful consideration, careful deliberation, and careful judgment, Carlson repeatedly took down items from the shelves and counters one by one, putting them into his basket and then into his cart. These were not useless items, so he bought them all first.

After convincing himself and browsing the counters for over a thousand items, Carlson reached the checkout counter. It was only when the salesperson in charge of the calculation called out a number that he suddenly realized, as if awakening from a dream. "Wait! You're right? I bought something worth over a hundred yuan?"

Yes, the total price of your purchase is 110 yuan, 72 cents, and if you're paying in French currency, you'll have to add the handling fee. "Roughly 30 US dollars? If you're paying in foreign currency, go to the accounting office and exchange some!" the salesperson said, clacking away on an abacus.

Good God! I only brought fifty dollars! How come I've spent more than half of that?

Looking at the overflowing shopping basket on the trolley, Carlson thought with a headache: Why can't I control my hands?

Chapter 103: One World, One Dream

The sun set and night rose. After paying the money, he pushed his things back to the cave, and then went to the telegraph office to send a message asking the navy to send him some money. Finally, he received a notice that the chairman had already gotten up and was getting ready for work. He had known about Carlson's visit in advance and was sitting in his cave.

"Welcome, Mr. Carlson. My working hours are in the evening, or rather, my working hours are based on your American time." He started humorously.

The Chairman shook Carlson's hand. "I'm very happy to welcome you here. As the old Chinese saying goes, 'Reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling a thousand miles.' I heard you were with our troops." "Yes. I'm very grateful. Those comrades have taught me a lot."

————-—-—

Carlson walked into the room, a rather small cave dwelling. Inside, there was an earthen bed, called a "kang," which looked like his usual living quarters. There was also an old wooden table and chairs, on which were laid documents, books, and pencils. The only modern features in the room were a ceiling-mounted light bulb and a black metal desk lamp on the table, emitting a fluorescent white glow.

The Chairman put his hands on the table, put away the many books on it, and quietly asked the guard to bring some tea and peanuts.

This was the great man who had led an army of saints across six or seven thousand miles to the Loess Plateau. Carlson sensed that this "King of Red China," "the Nationalist government's bandit chief," and "the Japanese army's most wanted criminal" possessed a strange calm, composure, and mystery. If one truly had to describe him in an American way, Carlson would have preferred to think that this man, revered as the "Chairman," lacked the agility, authority, or cunning of Washington, D.C., politicians. Instead, he possessed an air of the western prairies and wilderness, of a thinker and poet.

"I've come all the way from the Battle of Shanghai, passing through Nanjing, Shangdu, and Haojing, and I've heard many people's opinions on the current situation." Carlson decided to fulfill his duties as an observer. "Do you think we will win?" "Yes."

The Chairman raised his head slightly and lit his lighter. He was smoking the same "Worker, Peasant, and Soldier" cigarettes as the truck driver. Carlson saw that he was simply wearing a shirt with a slogan painted on it and a thick denim jacket similar to the soldiers', which made him look no different.

"As long as the people have the will to endure hardship, the desire to continue fighting, this country will not collapse; but that will can only be built and maintained if the people believe they have hope for a better life - and we strive for that, but it is difficult."

Carlson nodded. To make the majority of the people in this suffering country live a better life was not an ideal that could be achieved by simply shouting "five dollars a day" and then paying the workers. It would require the efforts of many people, a long time, and even more than several generations.

"We train cadres to sincerely help the people solve their problems... A good economic life should be based on economic cooperatives..."

The Chairman puffed on his cigarette and spoke slowly, "But now, our primary goal is to defeat the Japanese invaders. To Japan, China is a glass bottle, and they are but half a bottle of water. If their troops advance, we will turn to another; if they pursue, we will retreat; if they are weak, we will attack. The Japanese are constantly weakening, while we, relying on our people, are gradually growing stronger. To defeat us, the Japanese must gather ever greater forces, but this will only lead to a more severe defeat."

"Because the Japanese military is insufficient, they cannot occupy the entire country. As long as the people are determined to resist, the Japanese will have no way to use political means to control us - and this is what they hope to achieve: to use war to promote political means and thus force the people to surrender.

"Comrade Counselor, the Japanese even believe that if they occupy Jiangcheng and Yangcheng, bomb the mountain city, and create terror, they can force Guosu to surrender. Ha! I don't know where their confidence comes from."

The guard brought tea and some spicy peanuts in crispy shells. They ate as the night wore on, the room lit only by the white circle of the lamp and the aroma of tea rising from the teapot on the stove.

The topic quickly extended from domestic to international. Carlson listened to the Chairman gradually explain the domestic and international situation clearly, and added his own analysis and judgment. He was surprised that this leader in a remote mountainous area of ​​China had a clear understanding of the international situation: for example, the Chairman believed that even if Germany invaded Czechoslovakia, the British would satisfy the Germans' appetite, rather than sending troops to counterattack the Germans as Carlson himself estimated.

"This is determined by the British temperament. They have always been engaged in strategic balancing, or strategic speculation. Britain is not prepared to fight for the Czech Republic," he concluded. "Britain wants to take charge of matters on the European continent, but it does not want to become just one of them."

"What about the United States and Japan?" Carlson wrote down the prediction. "What do you think will happen to the United States and Japan?" "The United States and Japan..."

The Chairman took a few peanuts from the plate and said, "The Pacific Ocean is very big and can accommodate many countries - doesn't it look like this?"

"Japan is an island nation, and its survival resources and exported products all rely on the ocean. The United States is a two-ocean country, and whether it goes to Europe or Asia, it must pass through the ocean. Both sides are competing for maritime power for their own interests." The Chairman held the cigarette and placed two peanuts together. "The initiative for maritime power now lies in the hands of the United States, but will the Japanese be willing to accept this? I don't think so.

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