Canteen System Assistance Notes

Chapter 127 Have You Ever Seen the Light?

Saburo Sakaki felt like he was dead. Whether it was the sumptuous "beef jar" and "offal grilled", the fragrant red bean rice, or the pot of sake that he had never tasted before but had a long and fragrant aroma, everything tasted like chewing wax - or like adding a shovel of coal dust to the furnace of a train.

And this train is heading towards a huge pit filled with wreckage, and this pit is full of people like him.

Sergeant Okubo, who was kind-hearted and good at adapting to the situation, called a few soldiers, collected firewood, and heated a gasoline barrel of hot water for him to take a bath. He also brought

-A barber shaved Sakaki's head.

Of course, this completely extraordinary preferential treatment is not just for the simple enjoyment of Sakaki Saburo - after all, Sakaki is not a soldier of the 109th Division, but can only be

The military god who inspires the Empire to move forward - and the way to do so must be through the "samurai"

The spirit of "Tao" is to commit suicide by seppuku.

"Sakaki-kun, what an honor!"

Sergeant Okubo's voice was rhythmic, as if he was genuinely excited, even envious: "This time, Staff Officer Oda is personally advising you. He's a scholar from the Army University! What an honor!" "Hi."

He responded lifelessly.

Today at the Banbishan stronghold was like Chinese New Year. Aside from the soldiers on guard and patrol, dozens of others gathered in the central open space of the former salt police checkpoint, forming a loose circle. In the center of the circle, kneeling was Sakaki Saburo.

He was wearing a freshly starched suit, had his hair shaved, and had taken a hot shower. His pilot's uniform was neatly folded and placed in front of him. Atop that uniform lay a short sword. "It's not easy to find samurai uniforms here. Please bear with me, Lord God of War."

The voice came from behind. It was Staff Officer Oda, who was wearing a neat officer's uniform, leather boots, and a long sword. In his uniform pocket, he also had an orange Parker pen. He looked at his watch and added, "It's almost time, let's get started."

"Hi."

Sakaki numbly reached out to unbutton his shirt, exposing his abdomen. His movements were slow, dull, and mechanical, as if thousands of silk threads were pulling at muscles that had already lost their ability to react, forcing the owner of this body to "voluntarily" make such movements. And those threads came from an infinite distance, like the roaring, cursing, and swearing voice in his heart.

It didn't seem to be born from the education and experiences he'd received over the past decade. Instead, it felt more like some twisted, corrupted will, a will imposed upon all Japanese. But what it meant, Sakaki couldn't fully comprehend. His hand touched the hilt of the dagger, and it made him shiver.

Trembling, he grabbed the knife.

"The real revenge is to end the root cause of this war of aggression, and to take revenge on imperialism, militarism and those high-ranking chaebols. Only then can we get the revenge of the communists!" Sakaki remembered Guo Sang's words and seemed to understand something, but it seemed too late.

Staff Officer Oda behind him drew his saber and began to recite feverishly, almost like a raving:

Soldiers are born with loyalty and righteousness. If their hearts are not firm, how can they stand firm? If their heart is not absolutely devoted to serving their country, they will not be human even after thousands of trials and tribulations. Military laws and regulations are strict, but if they lose their integrity, they will lose their soul. The souls of their families and country are tied to their king. Losing integrity is a filth without a lasting life!

This was another version of the Emperor's decree, one that Saburo Sakaki had once memorized, one he had once held as his guiding principle, the source of his "fearful soldier's spirit." And now, it was used to slash and kill an Imperial pilot who had simply spoken the truth. Sakaki no longer felt that sacred, only absurdity—and Staff Officer Oda, as if forced to recite it over and over again in a half-mad state, could only reassure himself of this.

He looked around, and among the soldiers around him, there were eyes of regret, curiosity, and reluctance to watch, but there were also more confused, idle, and indifferent eyes.

"Mom, Dad, Fanzi... and Guo-san, I'm sorry." Sakaki tried hard to suppress the trembling of his hands. With rapid breathing, he suddenly stabbed the knife into his abdomen. Then, in an instant, Sakaki Saburo could not hear anything.

Boom!

Three explosions sounded almost simultaneously. At the two machine gun positions in the corner, on the roof of the small building covered with gun covers, Saburo Sakaki looked back in surprise: the exchanges with ordinary soldiers during this period made him realize that the heavy firepower that this stronghold relied on was there - two Type 92 heavy machine guns and an 11-year-old Type 11 cannon.

As a stronghold that had not yet been taken away by the Eighth Route Army, Banbishan had some "capital" to be proud of: according to these soldiers, the combination of these two machine guns and a direct-fire cannon sent down by the brigade allowed them to successfully repel several Red Army sieges, inflicting casualties on them, until other troops from afar arrived to provide support.

And this time, it was obvious that the Eighth Route Army had learned its lesson.

but now!

Sakaki-kun gripped the short knife tightly, and despite the strong dizziness, he rolled forward to avoid the saber that was chopped from behind - then he turned around and threw the knife in the direction of Staff Officer Oda! A roar came from behind.

"Sakaki Saburo! You rebel!" "Kill him!"

Obviously, the flying knife would not hit the target, but now that all the soldiers around were rushed by the sergeants and corporals to defend against the Red Army's attack, the stronghold was in chaos.

Saburo Sakaki bought himself some precious time.

Sakaki's brain reignited, and driven by his rapidly pumping heart, he rolled left and right like a nimble cat. Before anyone could shoot at him, he turned around and hid behind a pile of supplies that could serve as a shelter.

You are the rebels! You bully, threaten, burn, kill, plunder, and commit violence wantonly, even forcing a person to death! You are not even as good as the Eighth Route Army in terms of the spirit of Bushido!

I don't want to die for such a war! Sakaki felt like a drowning man who had surfaced. After seeing the blazing red sun and breathing the fresh air, he no longer wanted to be pushed back into that suffocating place.

It was as if he was back at Shimen Airport, bombarded by the Red Army. No, perhaps even more so. Sakaki Saburo's mind was unusually clear. He pulled something out of a crate in the supply pile, shouted "Leaf grenade!", then knocked it against the wooden crate and flung it towards the crowd. Seeing this, the newly assembled Japanese soldiers scattered in all directions.

But it was just a can of beef.

But unexpectedly, another violent explosion erupted, this time even closer—several fireballs burst forth from the masonry wall. Atop the collapsed masonry, a familiar denim cloak burst forth, accompanied by a rather improvised phrase in Japanese: "Surrender! Hand over your weapons and you will not be killed!"

The battle to eliminate the Banbishan stronghold proceeded extremely quickly.

The local troops, once only able to roll out carts and water-soaked cotton-clad "earth tanks" and then be destroyed by shells fired from the Taisho Infantry Cannons, and forced to retreat amidst the laughter of the Japanese, now, under the guidance of the 359th Brigade, changed their outdated tactics. With a small number of mortars and high-explosive mortars, they took advantage of the Japanese's post-Changle Village shift and the window of opportunity to dig offensive tunnels through the surrounding woods and fields, reaching within a hundred meters of the Banbi Mountain stronghold.

At the beginning of the operation to capture the point, the added step of checking the watches allowed them to use their newly issued watches to simultaneously open the grass-covered tunnel entrance with an error of within ten seconds, use turtle fists to blast away the two machine gun sandbags on the corner of the wall, and then carry out a second blast on the wall under the bombardment of mortars, and rush into the stronghold from multiple directions.

Afterwards, under the suppression of several Jin-made Thompson rifles, the Japanese army paid a heavy price. A Japanese officer who rushed forward with a howling knife became the most conspicuous target. He was hit continuously by the submachine gun and died on the spot.

However, surprisingly, Deng Shijun, the platoon leader of the reconnaissance platoon of the 359th Brigade who was responsible for guiding local troops and guerrillas, actually received nearly ten Japanese soldiers who surrendered voluntarily here. At the shouting of a shirtless Japanese soldier, they put down their rifles at the end of the battle and raised their hands to the Eighth Route Army - this was a rare thing.

Platoon Leader Deng couldn't help but become interested in the shirtless Japanese soldier. After a brief conversation and a reading of our army's prisoner policy, he discovered that the soldier could actually speak some decent Chinese. Seeing his painted face, the soldier seemed very excited:

"Comrade from the Eighth Route Army. I think we've met before! Have you forgotten me? You were the one who captured me last time! Did you save me on purpose? Thank you so much!"

"what?"

Platoon Leader Deng was a little confused. He had seen Japanese prisoners before? Oh, he had captured a pilot wearing a leather jacket before, but he had never seen a shirtless Japanese bald man. He could only answer: "Sir, we are only here to take down this stronghold."

Chapter 128 Beginner Coder

"Be pioneering and enterprising, be bold and careful."

On the wall, there was a framed inscription. Numerous brush-written slogans, such as "Good comments make things easier for comrades," "Code pioneers, leading the world," "Programs are guns, code is ammunition," and "The simpler the statement, the more revolutionary the program," were plastered everywhere.

In these small meeting rooms at the Fushi Canteen headquarters, the first generation of "coders" of the Eighth Route Army are working hard.

Because the main things related to "V Electronics" at that time were highly related to radio, most of the junior code farmers of the Eighth Route Army were born in the field of radio. They, along with this strange "Radio Machine Control Research Office", were also placed under the "Industrialization and Standardization Bureau" in charge of radio and industrial development in the border area.

"Carpenter Tu! I have a..."

"Wait a minute!"

Rejecting Zeng Mian's call, Tu Mujiang stared at the pixelated English text interface before him for a long moment. Then, tapping away, he switched the cursor and typed two slashes ("I") below a line, followed by a string of green text: "Error in stack reference here. Redirect and rerun in the test environment." He then gave a few words of advice to a bespectacled man sitting nearby.

uo

Finally, he stood up and looked back at Zeng Mian: "Comrade Zeng, what's wrong?"

Zeng Mian was frightened when he turned around: "Carpenter Tu! Why do you look so haggard? How late did you stay up?"

what?

Carpenter Tu glanced at the wall clock before realizing what was happening: "It's almost midnight..." He rubbed his bloodshot eyes, grabbed a cold cup of strong tea from the table, and took a few sips. He took a breath and said, "What's going on? Is there a bug?"

"No, it's okay, go and have a rest first!" Zeng Mian grabbed the tea can on Tu Mujiang's desk and covered his teacup with it, preventing him from adding more tea.

"The body is the capital of revolution. If you collapse, our research department's editor

Cheng Neng has only taken 30% of his time, so go and rest! Damn it, I have to report to the instructor!"

"It's okay. Just tell me what's going on... I've put a bed over there. You can lie down there later." Carpenter Tu pointed to a corner of the room where a folding chair with a thin blanket was placed. "Okay, okay, give me back the cup... I'm done and will go to bed."

"This paragraph, the test function, this paragraph, strcpy, this is still a wild pointer without a mother, no memory has been allocated yet..." "Can we add a return? Tu Mujiang, let's return the pointer in the function and prepare a place for it."

"It should be possible. This is a typical problem. Let's try it out. Okay, Xiao Zeng, is this the program written by your newbie? There's not a single comment.

Yes, and no. That one can be considered a genuine intellectual, but he's still a programming novice. I'll emphasize the issue of comments again next time. Make sure to write more and be more detailed. Don't be shy about writing comments. A revolutionary cause cannot tolerate mountains of code.

The sound of keyboards clacking could be heard again. Meanwhile, the young students studying programming together had become like roosters pecking at rice. The former Magic City Special Operations Team member and the former Second Radio Bureau expert were still analyzing the long piece of code with great concentration. Finally, the program ran smoothly.

When the two looked up, time had already traveled to two hours later, it was already four or five in the morning: Unknowingly, the two had waited until dawn: This was good, both of them had violated the instructor's mandatory rest

Instructions.

"Forget it... Let's go get some fresh air, shall we?" "Okay, I'll turn off the machine first."

Tu the Carpenter carefully shut down the programming environment, then saved the program he was working on on the Raspberry Pi computer onto a TF card and locked it in a safe, keeping the key separate. Overseeing the entire process, Zeng Mian had already dismissed several other programmers and finally turned off the lights in the conference room: the next shift would be arriving shortly to continue using it.

I drew the curtains and opened the windows, and the summer breeze from Fushimi blew into the dark conference room, expelling the stuffy exhaust air from the room.

At three or four in the morning, Fushi was completely dark, with only a few dim lights. But they knew that Fushi's newly installed thermal power station had recently begun generating electricity. Together with the rather miniature hydro turbines, it provided Fushi City and a string of industrial plants with a relatively sufficient power supply. At night, hidden behind the thick black curtains drawn for the blackout, countless newly installed energy-saving light bulbs glowed.

And they also have a share of credit for this.

It's a shame there aren't enough Raspberry Pis available. There's only one SMT machine, so we can't buy more. "Carpenter Tu looked off into the distance, a mixture of envy and anticipation," Li Qiang said. "Comrade Li Qiang told me that even the powerful Raspberry Pi has an even more powerful processor, but unfortunately we can't buy it right now."

"Why would I need a Raspberry Pi? Even an STMS2 or STM8, or even the least powerful 51, wouldn't be good enough?" Zeng Mian consoled him. "When the central government first transferred me here, I completely doubted such a thing existed... Programming and automation are truly fascinating..."

"You say it so easily, but I'm afraid those guys would totally disagree! When they started learning the language, not to mention us, even those foreigners who had studied abroad cried." Recalling that period, Tu the carpenter shuddered.

At the beginning, the Central Committee transferred himself and other comrades from the Radio Department, such as Zeng Mian. Comrade Li Qiang, with dark circles under his eyes, showed them the "51 Development Kit", "STM Development Kit" and other components such as single-chip microcomputer training under highly confidential circumstances, and gave them materials such as "C Language, From Beginner to Mastery", "Python Programming in 10 Days" and "Single-chip Microcomputer Development Technology", and then let them start learning on several programming computers built with "Raspberry Pi".

Tu Mujiang, already familiar with electronic equipment before the Long March, was confident. Furthermore, having graduated from the Soviet Frunze Military Communications School, he was well-versed in the peculiarities of electronic equipment. Having mastered tasks like assembling radios and deciphering KMT telegrams, he knew nothing about programming and development.

Then he lost a lot of hair in the pointer, stack, hardware memory and data definition. During that time, almost everyone in the class had the same experience as Li Qiang.

The common problems of hair loss and dark circles are caused by this.

The Electrical Department assigned an instructor to each group, whose main responsibility was to force the programmers to go back and sleep and rest.

"Behind every excellent program is the hard work and sweat of programmers!" Tu Mujiang sighed. "What about C language? From beginner to master, from beginner to grave is about the same."

The two laughed.

On a night in the Yanhe River Valley, the cool breeze blowing into the house should be a comfortable thing, but strangely, this wind feels hot when blowing on people's faces.

"Carpenter Tu," Zeng Mian said after chatting for a while. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and then put it back. This was a computer room after all, and smoking was strictly prohibited. "It's summer, and our computers have air conditioning, but we can't. We can only enjoy the fresh air of the 'air conditioner' when we're working."

"A machine, after all. The silicon chip inside this thing probably has more arithmetic power than all the mechanical calculators besides ours put together."

Carpenter Tu closed the window and headed for his cot in the corner. It was already late, and he needed to seize the opportunity to spend a few hours on the water. Forget about all that stuff, even the light bulbs and paper capacitors we used before were more delicate than humans. These guys are more stubborn than donkeys. If you don't give in, they'll go on strike. And then, if the telegram can't be sent, who will you complain to? These things now are much better.

"Or, if I didn't write a few lines of code correctly and the program doesn't run, who can I blame? If turning on the air conditioner can make the program bug-free, I'd be happy to run the generator and turn on the air conditioner every day."

Chapter 129: Ghost Waves

(This chapter involves some technical descriptions)

Since the birth of radio, it has been closely tied to the military.

The "tick-tick-tick" of information, which could travel at the speed of light, transcended the constraints of telephone lines, freeing messengers' legs and making it possible to command battles thousands of miles away from the heart of a military camp. At the same time, technological limitations, coupled with the inefficiency, cost, and susceptibility to interference of long-distance radio transmission, limited its wider military application. Despite this, nearly all major military powers are actively investing in research and development, hoping to develop radio equipment that is simpler to use, provides smoother communication, and has a longer range. These equipment, distributed to even lower-level units, will enable more effective command.

The Eighth Route Army, hiding in the "ravines", was not at all behind in this regard and kept up with the times in a fashionable way. Even in the cramped conditions of the Red Army during long marches, the famous "Second Department" not only ensured normal radio communications, but also repeatedly deciphered the telegrams of the National Army and warlords, winning the initiative for our army's deployment.

When Liu Helian brought in a canteen and a supermarket and introduced these future technologies and equipment to the comrades in the Central Committee, the Radio Machine Control Research Office naturally became deeply involved in the application of future radio equipment and parts.

In 1937, due to changes brought about by Comrade Liu Helian, the Shanghai underground party comrades re-established contact with the Central Committee and soon found Cai Suhou, a lost party member. In addition to the two highly rare identities of a graduate student at Tokyo Institute of Technology and a mechanical and electrical engineer, this veteran party member also had an even rarer title: he was the owner of the China Electric Enterprise Company, one of the few companies in China that could produce its own electronic equipment!

With the assistance of this early Party member, codenamed "Boss Cai," the Eighth Route Army not only hired numerous electrical engineers and radio operators but also purchased sufficient equipment in batches to assemble dozens of radio stations, significantly improving the equipment levels of various radio stations. All of the major anti-Japanese base areas quickly established direct radio communication with the central government. Eighth Route Army units were equipped with radios down to the brigade level, and some equipment was even allocated to establish radio schools in border areas and radio training courses for various units.

However, in the minds of Comrade Li Qiang and others, simply equipping these traditional radio stations is not the ultimate goal.

After trying everything that could be bought or disassembled in the cafeteria, and after making a KMT telegraph automatic decoder to "practice", Li Qiang handed the job over to Tu Mujiang and Zeng Mian, who were eager to try.

These two professional radio talents were first shocked by the leap-forward communication changes brought about by these circuit boards and silicon chips, and then struggled painfully in the ocean of C language and single-chip microcomputer development. Finally, the two writing teams brought their respective achievements and combined them into the Eighth Route Army's first generation of radio kits.

This is a fairly short and quick project: it is based on the transformation of a traditional radio station and does not use the leather shoes or HackF kits commonly used in future radio development. Instead, it is built using a simple register and STM 8 processing chip and other devices.

The radio operator can use a matrix keyboard to directly input a plaintext message of no more than 512 characters. This message is then automatically encrypted using a very simple DES random number encryption algorithm. Finally, a base-based conversion chip transmits the signal string to the transmitter of a conventional radio station, completing the automatic transmission of the message. If the message exceeds 512 characters, the STM chip automatically splits it into multiple data packets, each with a maximum size of less than 1.b, and then transmits them sequentially.

If you want to receive a message, you only need to switch the device to the "receive" position and wait for the corresponding message to pop up on the LCD12864 LCD display.

Simply put: this is an "ordinary thing" that can encrypt plaintext telegrams in a nearly random manner, translate them into binary signals that can be recognized by radio stations, and finally press the transmission key at a speed of more than a thousand times per minute to complete the telegram sending.

The fashionable Zeng Mian named it "Golden Finger Radio". In fact, this is the "automatic key" in future radio communications: a device that can temporarily store telegrams and then perform automatic "burst" sending functions.

Compared to manually pressed keys, its transmission speed is directly dependent on the operating frequency of the transistor. If it weren't for the fact that the transmitter of the Eighth-Way Radio still uses traditional components and cannot withstand the excessively fast switching frequency, then this modified radio station could even send a long message in a few seconds, completely blinding all interception posts that rely on human ears to monitor!

Tu Mujiang and Zeng Mian quickly invited interception experts from the Border Security Department and the radio departments of several major forces to test the new "automatic key" radio. It was extremely unethical that these two Red Army radio experts did not immediately personally explain the new radio, but instead provided their fellow radio veterans with sufficient traditional equipment to form several monitoring teams.

Finally, Zeng Mian asked them to prepare to intercept a message at a specific time and frequency, and repeatedly emphasized the importance of paying close attention and going all out to prevent interception failure. This is a real challenge!

The monitoring team, assembled from the entire army's elite, immediately became excited. They took their positions, erected antennas, warmed up and inspected the radio, and began preparing with complete concentration. Even if you're a radio expert, our teacher and veteran, don't look down on us like that! With so many of us, we could even hold our own against the Japanese Special High Police, let alone Chiang Kai-shek. Given the frequency band and timing, there's no message we can't intercept!

Then, through their monitoring headphones, they heard a strange, chaotic, sharp, and continuous series of noises, like countless ticking sounds swarming in without any particular order, or the brief playing of some strange musical instrument in their heads. Before they could even move their pens, these strange noises abruptly disappeared into the vast white noise, as if they had never appeared in the first place - the radio waves, like a fleeting ghost, disappeared instantly.

Hmm? What happened?

Suddenly, someone in the monitoring room stood up, looking surprised; someone else scratched their head, still not reacting. At this moment, Zeng Mian walked into the room, as if clinging to a last glimmer of hope. Someone asked him, "Comrade Zeng Mian, is the test about to begin?"

Zeng Mian replied very simply: "Oh, it's over."

Chapter 130: Born Unjustly

Shen Zhiyue was very nervous.