Canteen System Assistance Notes

The 12th Division's mopping-up team followed the trail deep into the jungle, crossing the gradually frozen black soil and going deeper into the jungle. They destroyed one secret camp after another, destroyed one base after another, and their progress seemed to surpass all previous encirclement and suppression efforts. It seemed too smooth.

For this reason, the "rats" who played a huge role in this, especially Cheng Sang, began to grumble, saying "Tai-sun, this is abnormal," "Tai-sun, this is impossible," and "Tai-sun, our casualties are too few." Uemura Seitarou scoffed at this. Is it that heavy casualties in the Imperial Army is what you want to see? Is it that this is normal? You are just a lowly rat, what are you complaining about?

But after much reflection, with these rats, the sweeping team's progress was more than ten times faster than before, and their efficiency was greatly improved. They often discovered previously difficult-to-find animal paths, camouflaged campsites, and pass signs. Without them for the time being, they wouldn't work. The Lieutenant General could only send someone to appease them and then instruct the frontline sweeping team to be more vigilant and cautious when attacking the core area.

The long-lasting siege and mopping-up was also a tiring job for the Kwantung Army. The dense forests in the Northeast meant that they could only go into the mountains on foot to mop up the enemy for a limited number of months.

The weather is getting colder and colder. Except for the few old people who are used to wandering around here,

"Rat", all the Japanese and puppet troops were crawling slowly in the search amid complaints.

But winter wasn't like the other three seasons. There was little food in the Northeast forests. If the Anti-Japanese Allied Forces couldn't hold out, they would surely come out. Finally, it seemed like their persistence had finally paid off.

"Boom!"

A gunshot rang out, and the unfortunate man walking in front fell backward, screaming in agony. A bullet shot out from the ground and pierced his instep. The intense pain made him roll back and forth, screaming in agony. But for a moment, no one dared to step forward to rescue him.

As they gradually approached the "core area of ​​Songzi Lake" described by "Rat", the expedition team began to encounter more and more resistance and trouble: misleading landmarks and roads, incomprehensible layouts and storage points that had long been cleared of defense, and the most painful thing:

mines.

The density wasn't high, but they were incredibly cunning. Almost none of those damned mines were intended to kill; almost all of them were designed to maim or injure: snatching away a leg or a hand, or causing a wound that would inevitably become infected, or even worse, destroying a person's fertility. Division headquarters brought in engineers, but they too began to suffer losses: tandem mines with anti-disarmament features, wooden box mines with release mechanisms, and even some "engineer killers" that couldn't be detected by mine detectors and exploded on sight became everyone's nightmare.

This gang of 'Yang's bandits* is like they've been playing with minefields for decades, practically mastering it. They're constantly resorting to various tactics. Although there have been few casualties in the past few weeks, they've already incurred over a hundred casualties. Even those "rats" haven't encountered such a situation.

Although the trees here can't talk, they can explode. After repeated torments, the morale of the Japanese army was visibly declining.

The unfortunate man's screams finally ceased, and he could no longer scream. He endured the pain and slowly crawled back along the path he had come. Several engineers carefully crawled forward and began laying explosive cartridges for blasting—this was the only proven method to completely eliminate this booby-trapped minefield. The expended explosives were already costing the 12th Division dearly.

Boom!

The explosives exploded with a loud bang, and many mines exploded visibly. After several lives were lost in clearing the booby traps on the trees, a safe passage was finally cleared in the red pine forest.

"There won't be any mistakes this time, will there?" the leading captain said impatiently. "If you make another mistake, you're dead!" "No mistake! No mistake! Madam! There won't be any mistake this time! That must be the core secret camp of Yang the bandit ahead!"

The Japanese vanguards stepped carefully forward across the frozen ground after the explosion. After crossing the hilltop, some valleys hidden in the gentle slopes finally appeared, and in that direction, there were obviously traces of several man-made structures! Finally! Finally found it!

But why was there no resistance? Where did the Anti-Japanese United Army go? They couldn't fly away with wings, so where else could they go?

With Cheng Sang's squad leading the way, the Japanese search party fanned out, advancing. The frozen red pine forest resembled withered bones, stretching from the ground to the sky. The silence was eerie; everyone could only hear their own breathing and the creaking of the footsteps of their neighbors. At that moment, a wooden sign came into view. The translator, who understood Chinese characters, immediately came forward, struggling to decipher the already blurry calligraphy.

"cemetery?"

A row of graves stood in the open space in the woods, covered with snow. Many of them were newly built, and some tattered strips of cloth were still swaying in the wind in the forest, creating a strange atmosphere.

Are all the Yang bandits dead?

Could it be that they have nothing to eat this winter and are starving to death?

It seemed as if a string of wandering souls began to float in the air around the group. As they continued walking, some crooked signs began to appear, as well as pulled ropes and fallen white cloth strips that began to appear in this meter of gravity, as if dividing the area into several squares.

what is this?

A wooden sign nailed to a tree caught the Japanese soldiers' attention. The front half of the sign had broken off, and only the back half was barely discernible. Several large pits, covered by dirt, filled the area with scattered bone fragments, apparently from a burning area. A Japanese soldier, bayoneted on his rifle, dug in the urn a few times, and a foul odor emanated.

Elsewhere, a soldier found several traps on the animal trail. Curious, he lifted the frozen carcasses of the small animals and examined them carefully. "Is this... Hanhala?"

Marmot, this small animal with a strong smell, is not the "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh" emoticon in the minds of all Northeastern people and Northeastern devils at this moment.

But it was something else deadly: the plague.

As one of only two highly contagious diseases to hold the title of Class A infectious disease, Hanlu is considered one of its most important wild hosts. In a world where antibiotics are not yet widely used, if it were to spread, the horrors of the Great Northeastern Plague would be repeated, with even the Japanese not immune!

And now, look at Yang's bandit unit of the First Army of the Anti-Japanese Allied Forces. There are new graves everywhere, quarantine areas for the sick, burning pollutants and corpses, and huge pits for burying excrement and clothing... Isn't it obvious? "Don't move, don't rummage around, this is an epidemic area!"

The accompanying anti-epidemic troops shouted loudly and drove everyone out of this place "already contaminated by germs". Then, ignoring the "rats" who were frantically making excuses, they reported to the headquarters and separated all the expeditionary forces that were at risk of infection. What was waiting for them was not hot meals and warm fire pits, but an anti-epidemic water supply brigade led by the regiment commander wearing a gas mask.

Cut down trees to build houses and quarantine them on the spot! How could such a dangerous disease be transmitted to the imperial army?

After weeks of arduous, treacherous forays through the jungle, the expeditionary force trembled with fear and lacked a single moment of rest. They painfully felled trees in the icy and snowy Lesser Khingan Mountains, dug through the frozen soil, and built wooden huts to shelter from the wind and snow. They then spent long periods of isolation and screening in the bitterly cold wilderness. During this time, a carbon monoxide incident occurred due to poor ventilation caused by heating with a stove, resulting in the deaths of several people.

It was not until the beginning of 1940 that the unfortunate devils were finally cleared of their crimes and released. This "great crusade" ultimately became an anticlimactic operation that came to nothing.

However, for Lieutenant General Uemura Seitaro, the fact that no one had contracted the plague was a false alarm, which was a blessing in disguise. No one cared about the First Army of the Anti-Japanese Allied Forces; they probably all died of hunger and plague.

While he ordered his men to seal off the area and prevent anyone from approaching, he also gave instructions to find a suitable scapegoat in the report to be submitted and to shift all the blame for the campaign to that person.

--------

Therefore, these traitors who led the 12th Division into the "plague encirclement" and gained nothing were once again labeled as "spies" by the Japanese and accused of "intending to infect the Imperial Army with virulent diseases". They died in frustration during the continuous interrogation.

After the war ended, the truth was revealed: the Anti-Japanese United Army had not been infected with the plague at all, but had infiltrated and evacuated by seaplane. The so-called "plague scene" was just a simple arrangement based on the disposal of leftovers and confidential information, used to scare the Japanese.

However, no one wants to "rehabilitate" that person.

Chapter 239: Guazhou's Big Plate Chicken

Driver Yu Weifu deftly removed the barrel-shaped air filter and placed it on the wooden table. The northwest's sandstorms are intense, so the fleet brought some from Fushe to replace the trucks, significantly reducing engine failures. The only drawback is that, unlike the previous paper filters, which could be discarded, these days, they're valuable and painful to discard, and washing them requires wastewater—water is a major concern on the Northwest Passage, and it's not easy to stop.

"Okay, Xiao Wang, click and throw it in."

"Ah? Master, how embarrassing!"

"Hey! I told you to throw it away, so what? Did I lie to you?"

Wang Shunfeng, standing by, tore his lips as he carefully tore off a firecracker from a string, poked it with a piece of burning coal, and then dropped the burning firecracker, which felt like it was burning, into the filter.

Snapped!

The firecrackers exploded in the filter, shaking the entire dusty filter. The thick gray cloud, like a fat cat with its fur standing on end, fluttered and swelled into a ball of dust. When the smoke and dust cleared, the originally dirty filter was surprisingly much cleaner.

Wang Shunfeng poured out the firecracker debris inside, cleaned it briefly, and then put it back into the car as the master required. Unexpectedly, this time the car started up right away, and the previous problem no longer occurred.

"Oh? Is this really possible?"

"Hahahaha! Of course I can succeed! You little brat, if you want to compete with your master, you'll have to eat a few more years!"

Let's go back a little in time.

Along the Northwest Passage, the Eighth Route's transport convoys continued to ply back and forth as usual, carrying Soviet aid and supplies from other countries entering through the Iranian route. Wang Shunfeng was one of them. His convoy consisted of over 300 vehicles, capable of hauling over 900 tons of cargo, of which over 500 tons were actual payloads, and the remainder was supplies for the convoy's own consumption.

There is no other way. The road of more than 2,000 kilometers and 5,000 li is covered with sand and dust, and there are uninhabited areas everywhere. It is not easy to drive. If the team wants to avoid breaking down on the road, they can only bring enough supplies with them.

But things seem to be changing recently. Rumors suggest the Yumen oilfield has erupted and has achieved initial refining capacity, producing 80-octane gasoline. Several convoys ahead of them have sent short radio messages, suggesting they send their empty tankers there to refuel, increasing payload and reducing waste. So, while the convoy rests in Guazhou, they send their empty tankers to Yumen to refuel.

"There are so many ways! These days, who doesn't know how to fix a car? Your car broke down, and you're still waiting for the mechanic to come and rescue you with a crane!"

The master and apprentice drove the car away from the repair area and headed to the loading area to load the oil drums. Master Yu Weifu, clutching a thermos filled with freshly refilled hot floral tea, sat in the passenger seat. "Little one, let me test you. The car's starting cable is broken. What do you do?"

Wang Shunfeng gripped the steering wheel, twisting it with great effort, and replied, "What else can we do? Find the small wire bag in the toolbox and connect a section?" "What if the small wire bag is used up?"

"Take apart...take apart a radio?"

"Huo, you're really extravagant. You're even willing to take apart that semiconductor headset. What if that thing isn't with you?"

"this...…"

Wang Shunfeng was speechless. What else could he do? He'd only just learned to drive, so his instinct was to go find the dozens of skilled men in the auto repair company. Their 10 four-wheel-drive DND (CMP) trucks were loaded with a variety of tools he couldn't name, along with several A-shaped cranes. They could even replace a car's engine, let alone other everyday problems.

"Haha! The mechanic company only has ten vehicles, and they have to take care of over three hundred of us oil-guzzling people. How can they possibly handle it?" Master Yu proudly closed the lid of the thermos and shook his finger. "Of course, we have to catch a mouse!" "Mouse?"

"Yes, mice! If you can find one, a toad is even better! Skin them with a knife, tie their legs to the starting wires, and the car will start just fine! It won't last long, but it should still give you a good 20 or 30 kilometers."

South of Guazhou City, a vast formation of cars, several hundred meters by several hundred meters, was parked in an open field. Walking from one end to the other took considerable time. The two men drove the Ford 917 around and parked on the other side of the field. Here, a number of soldiers in preserved fruit uniforms, under the direction of the road guard, were helping to move things.

"Captain Qiu!"

"Hey! It's Old Yu. Is the car repaired?"

"It's fixed. It's no big deal. It's just a dirty air filter. I just took the kids to learn how to repair a car." Master Yu jumped out of the car and waved to Captain Qiu. "My car is going to Yumen too. Please load some oil drums for me!" "Oh! You are going too! You can just park over there." Captain Qiu turned his head, pulled up an electric horn, and shouted to the people in charge: "Third Company Commander! Load some empty oil drums for Master Yu's car too!"

“Yes!”

Without needing much instruction from his master, his obedient apprentice drove the car over. This worry-free experience gave him a small sense of pride. He paced over to Captain Qiu, who stood before a wooden chopping board, discussing something with the team's cooks. Several soldiers in Nationalist uniforms were nearby, helping to chop wood and start a fire.

"Captain Qiu, what are you doing?"

"What else can we do? Cook! Man is iron and rice is steel. If we don't eat a meal, we will be hungry. We bought some half-grown roosters from the villagers and are preparing to make lunch for everyone!" Captain Qiu pointed to the boiling water on the side. The people in the kitchen were plucking the chicken feathers while chatting. It was very lively.

This is the usual practice of the team. When they can find fresh food on the spot, they generally do not consume the storable food they carry with them. Whenever the team leaves a supply town like Guazhou, the team's food will always be good for a while, and then as the fresh food is consumed and rots, before reaching the next supply point, the food everyone eats will become increasingly terrible. So, at the supply point

Everyone will seize the time and eat more good food.

"Eat chicken? That's great! What else is there to say? Let's eat!" Chef Yu rubbed his hands. "You don't blame me for having two extra pairs of chopsticks, do you? Haha!"

"Of course, the third motor company is about to leave. If you want to follow, you'll have to eat first. But everyone has different opinions on how to eat this chicken."

Chicken wasn't a precious commodity in the border areas, especially after the canteen's daily output of fresh eggs through dishes like *Sukiyomizu (coated with sukiyaki) accumulated over two or three years, eventually finding a few fertilized eggs that slipped through the net and raising white-feathered chickens. However, in other areas lacking sufficient feed supplies and superior chicken breeds, a "winner chicken dinner" was a delicacy reserved for festive occasions.

"If you ask me, it's better to bake it and eat it. It's simple and convenient."

"We've already arrived in Guazhou, and the team has plenty of water. What's the point of eating roasted chicken? If we don't make a chicken stew, eat the meat and drink the soup, what's the point?"

"We're having noodles today. We have Xinjiang Lapi on the bus, so why not get some spicy chicken?"

The cooks, who came from different places, exercised military democracy as they quickly gutted a chicken and prepared for dinner. Today's staple food was noodles, and several burly cooks were adding water and mixing the dough, preparing to throw the noodles into the noodle machine to shake out enough noodles for the entire transport regiment.

Captain Qiu rolled up his sleeves and helped cut up some large, washed potatoes, which he had also brought from Guazhou. "Comrades, this discussion can't be delayed any longer. If we don't come to a decision, we'll miss dinner!"

"I really don't understand why we Eighth Route Army soldiers have to go through so much trouble just to eat, ha!" Master Yu laughed as he watched all this. "We old drivers don't have so many choices when it comes to eating on the road. Eating cannonballs is pretty good! But if you ask me..."

As a native of Shaanxi Province, Master Yu raised his eyebrows and thought for a moment:

"First of all, when eating chicken, you always need that delicious broth. Without the broth, the chicken loses 30% of its flavor."

After this was said, the "Roast Chicken Pie" and "Spicy Chicken Pie" groups looked embarrassed, either wanting to argue or thinking about something. "But making soup takes too much time, and we have over a thousand people here! The kitchen teams of six companies are all here, so it would be a shame to keep everyone waiting." "I think..."

Master Yu clapped his hands and asked, "Which comrade is from Sichuan? When I was traveling along the Sichuan-Shaanxi Highway, I had Sichuan's stir-fried diced pork. The taste was so good that you couldn't forget it for a month! Does anyone here know how to make it?" "Oh! I can!" Someone volunteered and raised their hand. "I knew how to make this when I was in the Fourth Front Army!"

"That's great!"

Master Yu rolled up his sleeves and said, "Let's add the chicken and chili sauce, stir-fry them in a pan, add some red chili sauce and pepper, then throw in the potatoes, add water and boil over high heat. When the soup thickens, pour it over the noodles! Do you know how to make Shaanxi belt noodles? How about I teach you... Oh my! Xiao Wang! Come and help! Your master is going to make a new dish!"

Several Nationalist soldiers nearby watched this vibrant group of Eighth Route Army soldiers, unsure how to join in a conversation so foreign to them, yet somehow filled with envy. The Eighth Route Army had delicious food every day, a harmonious atmosphere, and the officers were unassuming. It was truly wonderful.

The Eighth Route Army said they would pay Commander Tao based on the number of people they helped, but their own Commander Tao Jichang sent them here to help the Eighth Route Army load and unload, but they didn't get paid...

If it were an ordinary caravan, they could still show off their power and get some tribute. However, the group of Eighth Route Army in front of them, with more than 300 machine guns mounted on vehicles, was probably more than their entire division. They could neither fight nor escape, so they could only lower their heads and silently help others do useless work.

These soldiers were already unhappy about their unit being disbanded and transferred from the prosperous Guanzhong Plain to this desolate northwest region. Now, seeing the roosters and hens before them transformed into brightly colored, fragrant chicken nuggets, and the steaming pots filled with rich broth, tempting potatoes, and chili peppers, they felt even more unbalanced.

"Oh, fellow soldiers, you guys have helped a lot today. Would you like to have something to eat with us?"

"Oh! Great! Thank you, sir, thank you, sir... Brothers! The Eighth Route Army boss has cooked for us! There's chicken and noodles! Come and eat!"

Chapter 240: Oil Workers in Yumen

The area of ​​Guazhou, Yumen and Xiongguancheng is a region where multiple forces mix together.

Here are two of the three Ma's in the northwest - Fang and Qing. Many areas in Gansu and Qinghai provinces originally belonged to their traditional sphere of influence, but the situation has changed in recent years.

The first to enter were the Eighth Route Army's Northwest Highway Guards—or rather, to protect Chiang Kai-shek, the Northwest Highway Security Corps. These units, acting in the name of protecting Chiang Kai-shek, were relatively few in number, currently numbering only about six regiments. However, due to the Northwest's unique nature of both transport and security, they were fully motorized. Though small in number, they often escorted larger numbers of trucks, civilian caravans, and even camel caravans, operating alongside Soviet convoys. They were a force the Ma family army wouldn't easily engage in violent action against, and even the Northwest Transportation Office of preserved fruit had to give them a pass.

Otherwise, regardless of who would transport the Soviet aid, the best outcome would be for more than a hundred cavalrymen to be wiped out by machine guns one night.

The next to enter was the 8th Division of the 76th Army. Its commander, Tao Jichang, represented Chiang Kai-shek's influence extending deep into the northwest, arriving here in 1939.

In 38, a "Military Intelligence Agent was killed on the way, and the financial

The case of "being robbed" broke out and fermented rapidly. Several ivory Buddha amulets made by the Military Control Commission's Gaojing Office were found on several soldiers of the 76th Army, and a "catch the criminals red-handed" was made.

The blame was firmly placed on Commander Tao's head.

In this matter, Mr. Tao, a member of a ragtag group, was himself guilty. The Military Control Commission, with the strong support of Mr. Hu Qinzhai, formed a united front and directly framed the case as the Eighth Division condoning looting and suspected communist collaborators. As a result, Tao Jichang resorted to numerous pleas and interventions to avoid imprisonment. He rose from division commander to commander of the Hexi Garrison Command, but his Hunan Army units were completely dismantled, leaving only three small regiments (roughly equivalent to battalions). As for the original organization of the 76th Army's 8th Division, it naturally fell to Mr. Hu Qinzhai, the most loyal of the loyalists.

There is no way. As the leader of a ragtag army and the boss of preserved fruits, this is a necessary process and I have to learn to accept it.

It is more than 100 kilometers from Guazhou to Yumen, and more than ten kilometers from Yumen to the oil mine. If the convoy sets out at noon, it will arrive around the evening of the next day.

Wang Shunfeng was already able to hold the steering wheel, now serving as Master Yu's co-pilot, and needed some practice. Master Yu, who had been steering the car, was holding a thermos filled with countless rounds of scented tea bags and chatting with the people in the rear cargo box through the window.

"Brother Chen, as a factory manager, why are you here in Guazhou if you're not working on the site?" "What else can you do here? Find some workers!"

The man in the back seat, Chen Zhenxia, ​​was one of the few oil professionals in the Eighth Route Army. "This time, the Central Committee finally got me a few engineers with experience in operating a legitimate oil field, but there are too few people in the Laojun Temple Oilfield and too much work to handle. We can't afford to hire any more."

"Um?"

Master Yu was a bit surprised. He turned around and asked, "Brother Chen, the last time we went there, about a month ago, wasn't it said that Minister Weng from the Gansu Province Resources and Oil Mine Preparatory Office came to visit? He said he would send someone here. What's the matter?"

"Of course! Oh, this is such a chore, let me tell you, it's so tiring!" Chen Zhenxia seemed to have opened up and started to pour out his grievances to Yu Weifu.

-―------

A southerner from Chongming Prefecture in Shanghai, Chen Zhenxia, ​​a skilled oil expert who graduated from a technical school, may not have received formal training, but he's a self-taught veteran. He's a true expert at drilling a well and achieving stable production. Since arriving in Fushe in mid-1938, he's been engaged in oil production in the Yanchang District at the request of the Party Central Committee. Over the past year or so, he's personally overseen the resumption of production at three existing wells and the drilling of two new wells. He's also mastered the operation of the imported Hughes drilling system and compiled operational manuals on how to divert and utilize associated natural gas and prevent blowouts.