The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

The next morning, a thin layer of frost appeared in the courtyard of the new regimental headquarters in Baimaling.

Zhao Weiguo stood in front of a newly erected pine sign, carrying a bowl of paste.

He didn't care that the sign was rough and had burrs on the edges; he just pressed a piece of white paper on it and smoothed it out with a broom handle.

The paper contained his "Order No. 1 for the Youth League" written last night.

The handwriting is ugly; each stroke looks like it was drawn with a bayonet, but everyone can recognize it.

Several soldiers who got up early squatted at the entrance of the cave dwelling, holding bowls of porridge and glancing at the sign.

They didn't know what rules the new leader was going to establish, they only knew that yesterday, during the investiture ceremony, this young leader broke the ribs of a disobedient black-hearted boy.

After Zhao Weiguo finished applying the paste, he peeled off the dry skin at the bottom of the bowl and threw it in the corner.

The paper on the sign fluttered in the wind, the words crooked but still glaring.

He turned and walked towards the First Battalion's camp.

The battalion was stationed in a row of low cave dwellings on the east side of Baimaling.

The cave dwelling was shorter than the regimental headquarters. Firewood was piled up at the entrance, and bandages were drying on the firewood. They had been washed several times, but still had faint red marks, like dried blood.

Several soldiers were squatting at the door. When they saw Zhao Weiguo coming, one of them tried to hide his pipe behind his back, but stopped halfway through. He simply left it in his mouth and stared at Zhao.

Zhao Weiguo didn't say anything, but bent down and went into the cave.

The cave dwelling wasn't much warmer than the outside, and it smelled of gun oil, stinky feet, and herbs all mixed together.

There were people lying on the kang (a heated brick bed). One of them was an old soldier with bandages wrapped around his leg. Yellow fluid seeped from the edges of the bandages, but he didn't cry out in pain. He just lay there, staring at the top of the kiln.

People were squatting on the ground, some mending shoes, others counting bullet casings. The people sunbathing by the door turned around, their eyes glancing at him sideways, like a pack of dogs seeing a stranger.

A metallic scraping sound came from the corner. A soldier was cleaning his rifle, but the bolt was stuck. He tried to poke it with a cleaning rod, but to no avail, and spat on the ground in frustration.

Zhao Weiguo walked over and picked up the gun.

The stock of the Hanyang rifle was cracked and held together with wire. He pulled the bolt, but it only moved halfway before rusting shut inside.

"How many guns can you use?" he asked.

As the light dimmed at the doorway, Old Zhou leaned against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

The scar on his face stretched from his forehead to his chin, like a whitish centipede. He didn't salute, nor did he call out to the regimental commander; he just stared at Zhao Weiguo, chewing on a blade of grass.

"About seventy."

"A light machine gun?"

"Two. One is a Type 91 light machine gun, and the other is a Czech-made one. The barrel of the Czech-made one was worn out and hadn't been replaced."

"ammunition?"

"Less than twenty shots per person."

Zhao Weiguo put the gun back in the soldier's hand. The soldier took it, rubbed his fingers on the butt of the gun, and didn't dare to look up.

The cave dwelling was so quiet that you could hear the crackling of firewood burning outside. Behind Old Zhou, an old soldier with a missing front tooth grinned, wanting to laugh, but then held it back.

Zhao Weiguo looked at Lao Zhou for two seconds.

"Old Zhou, starting today, you will be the deputy battalion commander of the first battalion."

Old Zhou stopped talking about the grass roots.

"Within three days, I need a maintenance list and a shortage list for all weapons in the battalion. A rifle that can't be bolted doesn't count as a rifle."

Old Zhou pulled his hand out of his pocket, and the flesh on both sides of the scar tightened.

"When Commander Kong left, he asked me to take charge of the First Battalion."

"This isn't temporary appointment," Zhao Weiguo said in a low voice. "It's the deputy battalion commander position. If you can handle it, great; if not, I'll replace you."

The veterans cleaning their guns in the cave stopped. The veteran with the missing front tooth stuffed the spent bullet casings into his pocket, lowered his head, and pretended to look for something.

Zhao Weiguo turned and walked out, his boots crunching on the frozen ground.

There was no sound behind him. He didn't turn around.

Old Zhou stood at the door, watching the thin figure walk out of the courtyard. He chewed the grass roots in his mouth, spat them on the ground, and rubbed them with his boot.

"Deputy battalion commander?" he muttered, as if speaking to himself.

An old soldier with a missing front tooth came over.

"Brother Zhou, is this kid serious?"

Old Zhou didn't answer. He turned and went into the cave dwelling, picked up the rusted Hanyang rifle in the corner, and pulled hard on the bolt. The bolt didn't move. He cursed and threw the rifle onto the kang (a heated brick bed).

"Clean the gun. Hand in the checklist in three days. If you can't, I'll beat him up first."

The Second Battalion was located west of Baimaling. There was a jujube tree at the entrance, with half a withered leaf still hanging on its branches.

Deputy Battalion Commander Li Dazhu was squatting at the entrance of the cave dwelling, holding a whetstone in his hand, sharpening a bayonet. Seeing Zhao Weiguo approaching, he turned the bayonet over, wiped it on his trouser leg, and stood up.

"Commander."

He didn't salute, but he stood up straight.

Zhao Weiguo sized him up. He was in his forties, with a thin face, high cheekbones, and sunken eyes, but his gaze was steady. The cuffs of his cotton-padded jacket were frayed, and he had large hands with thick knuckles and calluses on the base of his thumb.

"Li Dazhu".

"exist."

"To be the chief of staff."

Li Dazhu paused for a moment, still clutching the whetstone in his hand.

"I?"

"You've been with Regiment Commander Kong for three years; the veterans trust you," Zhao Weiguo said. "The new regiment has just been established, and I need to employ someone they can rely on."

Li Dazhu didn't agree immediately. He lowered his head, rubbed the blade of the bayonet with his thumb, and then looked up.

"Commander, I am not very knowledgeable."

"I don't need academic knowledge," Zhao Weiguo said. "I need someone who can make the veterans of the original Independent Regiment feel that this new regiment is still their regiment."

Li Dazhu was silent for a few seconds. He looked back at the cave dwellings of the Second Battalion. A soldier was peering in this direction from the doorway, but Li Dazhu glared at him and sent him flying.

He sheathed his bayonet back into its leather sheath at his waist and saluted.

"Follow the commander's orders."

The battalion commander of the Third Battalion was still recovering from minor injuries, but the battalion's structure remained intact. Zhao Weiguo didn't alter the core of the Third Battalion, only ordering the commander to submit a personnel and weapons list within three days.

The battalion commander of the Third Battalion was a man in his thirties from Hebei, surnamed Ma, with a black mole on his face. He stood at the entrance of the cave dwelling, listened to Zhao Weiguo's words, and only said one word.

"OK."

When Zhao Weiguo left, Battalion Commander Ma followed him out a couple of steps and lowered his voice.

"Commander, Old Zhou is all bark and no bite. Don't argue with him."

Zhao Weiguo hummed in agreement, but didn't say anything more.

Back at the regimental headquarters, Zhao Weiguo spread out a piece of paper and wrote three orders.

First, the assault battalion designation was abolished, and the original units were split into special service company, guard company, sniper platoon, medical team, and regimental headquarters-affiliated technical squad.

The brigade commander gave them all the tactical rules, triangular formations, marksmanship classifications, and the principle of wounded soldiers taking self-rescue first, and they were all brought into the new independent regiment.

Second, Liu Dashan was appointed as the company commander of the guard company, Lao Hu as the company commander of the special service company, Zhi Zi as the sniper platoon leader, and Chen An as the captain of the medical team.

Third, the 500 new recruits who arrived at the brigade headquarters were divided into three battalions and the regimental artillery, engineer, and communications seed teams directly under the regimental headquarters. Those who had never even touched a gun were first sent to the veterans of the second battalion to be trained.

He handed the order to Li Dazhu, who had just arrived.

After reading it, Li Dazhu frowned slightly.

"The brothers in the assault battalion are probably not happy about it."

"They're not from the assault battalion anymore," Zhao Weiguo said. "They're soldiers from the Independent Regiment."

Li Dazhu didn't say anything more, folded the order neatly, and put it in his pocket.

At 2 p.m., the regimental headquarters courtyard was packed with people.

More than fifty officers at the company or platoon level and above were divided into three groups.

The original troops from Kong Jie's unit stood on the left, their cotton-padded coats tattered, their leggings disheveled, and some still bearing scars from Liushugou on their faces. The old assault battalion members stood on the right, their rifles gleaming, their stances firm, but their numbers were fewer.

The new recruits and officers huddled at the back; they were young, and some even wore their military caps askew.

There was a gap between the three groups of people, big enough for one person to walk through, but no one walked through it.

Zhao Weiguo stood next to the pine sign.

"Independent Regiment," he said, and the courtyard fell silent. "From now on, the Independent Regiment is the Independent Regiment."

The men left behind by Kong Jie, the men brought by the assault battalion, and the newly recruited soldiers all ate from the same pot. Whoever tries to carve up a faction again, I'll withdraw from them first.

No one answered.

"In battle, obey orders, not seniority. Whoever fights well gets promoted. Whoever fights poorly gets demoted. It doesn't matter if you've followed Commander Kong for three years or me for three months."

The wind blew in from the other end of the yard, making the paper on the sign rustle.

Li Dazhu was the first to stand up.

"Follow the commander's orders."

His voice wasn't loud, but his back was ramrod straight.

Liu Dashan spat out the straw from his mouth and took a step forward.

"Follow the commander's orders."

Old Hu took the gleaming copper spoon out of his pocket, put it back in, and stepped forward.

"Follow the commander's orders."

Gardenia didn't speak, but simply took a step forward, the barrel of the Mosin-Nagant rifle on her shoulder flashing in the sunlight.

Chen An, carrying the medicine box, followed behind, his voice trembling slightly, but he still managed to call out.

"Follow the commander's orders."

The former cadres of Kong Jie's unit looked at each other. Old Zhou stood at the front, his face tense, the scar on his face turning white in the sunlight.

An old soldier behind him nudged him with his elbow.

Old Zhou didn't move.

Zhao Weiguo looked at him but didn't urge him.

After about three seconds, Lao Zhou took a step forward.

"Follow the commander's orders."

His voice was hoarse, as if it were being squeezed out of his throat.

After he spoke, people followed suit, some quickly, some slowly, some loudly, some softly.

"Follow the commander's orders."

The sounds weren't perfectly synchronized, but the gaps between the three groups of people in the courtyard were finally starting to close.

Zhao Weiguo looked at them, neither smiling nor nodding.

He knew this was only a temporary respite. The old grudges between the three groups remained, the bloodshed in Willow Gully was still there, and the unfamiliarity in the recruits' eyes was still there. But at least today, they were willing to shout this.

When the crowd dispersed, they surged out.

A veteran from Kong Jie's former unit deliberately bumped into a squad leader from the assault battalion. The squad leader stiffened his shoulder and put his hand on the gun handle, but was glared at by Lao Hu.

Old Hu walked over and pushed the squad leader aside.

"We're all eating from the same pot, the pot isn't even burnt, why are you cooking your own people first?"

The squad leader, with his neck stiff, didn't say a word and turned to leave.

Zhao Weiguo stood there watching, not interfering. This kind of trivial matter could be suppressed today, but it would resurface tomorrow. It takes action, not words.

The meeting is over.

Zhao Weiguo called Li Dazhu into the regimental headquarters cave dwelling and spread out a map of the area around Baimaling.

"Li Dazhu, devise a small battle."

"A minor battle?"

"The supply line from Taigu County to Sanlidian was traversed by a small Japanese platoon of about thirty men every three days, with two mule carts and a light machine gun," Zhao Weiguo pointed to the map.

"A new regiment can't establish its authority through meetings. It needs to fight a battle."

Li Dazhu stared at the map for a few seconds.

"Baimagou. A mountain pass that the supply line passes through, with slopes on both sides and shrubs on the slopes."

Zhao Weiguo nodded.

"How long will it take to get vaccinated?"

"Three days," Li Dazhu said. "Let each battalion get the newly formed personnel and firepower integrated."

"Two days," Zhao Weiguo said. "Three days is too long; the energy will dissipate."

Li Dazhu looked up at him, then looked down again.

"Two days," he said.

He folded the map, tucked it under his arm, and stopped at the entrance of the cave dwelling.

"Commander, what's up with Old Zhou..."

"Don't worry about him," Zhao Weiguo said. "A person who can lead troops into battle knows what he's doing. If he doesn't, he can't be a deputy battalion commander."

Li Dazhu nodded, lifted the curtain, and left.

Zhao Weiguo stood alone in front of the map, his finger resting on the spot marked Baimagou. The oil lamp cast a long shadow of him on the earthen wall of the cave dwelling, making him look like an adult.

Outside the window, the night wind from Baimaling carried the smell of firewood smoke as it blew in. In the distance, new recruits were shouting commands in their young, uninspired voices, one after another, without stopping.