AWB Chapter 128 Army and Immigrant Mobilization
Chapter 128 Army and Immigrant Mobilization
The meeting resumed at 2 p.m.
This time, those sitting in the front row were officials from the Army and the Immigration System. Zhao Dashan sat in the center of the first row, his back ramrod straight. Next to him was Zhou Wenbin, the Director of the Immigration Bureau, a refined man in his forties wearing round glasses.
"Commander Zhao, you go first," Chen Feng said, getting straight to the point. "What's the situation with the army right now?"
Zhao Dashan stood up abruptly: "Reporting to the Commander-in-Chief! The 1st Army Division has a full strength of 12,000 men, comprising three infantry regiments, one artillery regiment, one engineer battalion, and one communications battalion. The framework of the 2nd Division has been established, currently with 3,000 core personnel and a shortage of 9,000." (Revised slightly)
"Where's the equipment?"
"The First Division is fully equipped: 12,000 rifles, 300 light machine guns, 120 heavy machine guns, 36 75mm infantry guns, and 12 105mm howitzers. The Second Division... currently only has 3,000 rifles, and is lacking everything else."
Chen Feng nodded: "Have you seen 'Project Iron Stream'?"
"I've seen it!" Zhao Dashan's eyes lit up. "Commander-in-Chief, if we can equip them according to plan, the Second Division can be formed in six months!"
The "Iron Stream Plan" was proposed by Chen Feng that morning: to equip the Second Division with all its equipment within three months. This included 300 Lewis light machine guns, 1,000 MP18 submachine guns, 36 75mm infantry guns, and 1,000 military bicycles. In addition, a motor transport company would be established—this was the Lanfang Army's first attempt at mechanization.
"What's the problem?" Chen Feng asked.
"Three," Zhao Dashan held up three fingers. "First, production. The arsenal is currently producing two hundred light machine guns a month. Making three hundred shouldn't be a problem, but that would take up the First Division's supply quota. Second, training. New equipment needs time to be familiarized with, especially submachine guns and vehicles. Third, officers. Most of the officers in the Second Division are veterans transferred from the First Division, but the soldiers are all new recruits, and it will take time to get them used to each other."
Chen Feng turned to Liu Yongfu: "Chief Engineer Liu, can the production capacity of the arsenal be increased?"
Liu Yongfu was already flipping through his notebook: "We can replicate the light machine gun production line, and it can be put into operation in two months, increasing the monthly production capacity to three hundred guns. The submachine gun production line has just been built, with a monthly output of one hundred guns. To increase it to three hundred guns... we need to import precision machine tools, which will take about three months."
"Import them." Chen Feng said without hesitation. "Buy them from Germany, buy them from the United States, buy them from Switzerland. Money is not a problem."
"That will solve the problem," Liu Yongfu said. "But President, I must remind you—weapons need ammunition after they are manufactured. Our ammunition factories are already operating at full capacity."
"Build another ammunition factory," Chen Feng said. "Regimental Commander Zhao, how are you going to solve the training problem?"
Zhao Dashan was clearly prepared: "I have already drafted a plan. Each company of the First Division will select one squad to form a 'training team,' which will be assigned to various companies of the Second Division as instructors. The training cycle will be compressed to four months: the first month for individual skills, the second month for squad tactics, the third month for battalion and company coordination, and the fourth month for live-fire exercises."
"The intensity is too high, the soldiers won't be able to handle it."
"So the food needs to be adequate," Zhao Dashan said. "I've calculated it. If we guarantee four ounces of meat, two eggs, and a pound of vegetables every day, the soldiers can manage. But if we do that, the monthly food budget for a division will increase by five thousand pounds."
"Approved." Chen Feng looked at Zhou Wenbin. "Director Zhou, it's your turn. What's the current status of the immigration process?"
Zhou Wenbin stood up, his voice much gentler than Zhao Dashan's: "Commander-in-Chief, according to reports from our observation stations in Xiamen, Guangzhou, and Shantou, since the second half of last year, the six southern provinces of the Qing Dynasty have suffered severe disasters. Guangdong is flooded, Fujian is drought-stricken, and on top of that, there are exorbitant taxes and levies... The current number of displaced people is estimated to exceed 1.2 million."
A low sigh rippled through the hall.
One million two hundred thousand people. This is equivalent to 80% of Lanfang's current population.
"How many can we accept?" Chen Feng asked.
"It depends on the conditions." Zhou Wenbin adjusted his glasses. "If it's just basic food rations and tents, we can accept 500,000 this year. But if we need to guarantee employment, housing, and medical care... we can only accept 300,000 at most."
"I want 500,000," Chen Feng said. "And it's not 'receiving,' it's 'bringing in.' These people aren't refugees; they're future citizens of Lanfang."
Zhou Wenbin smiled wryly: "President, 500,000 people... Just transporting them over would require at least a hundred voyages. We only have twelve cruise ships available right now."
"Chartering ships," Chen Feng said. "I've already had Minister Wang contact Hamburg-America Shipping Company in Germany and Peninsula Oriental Shipping Company in the UK. They can provide thirty cruise ships, each carrying two thousand passengers. The fare... we've negotiated it down to three pounds per person."
"That's still £1.5 million..."
"This money will come from the 'Nanyang Homecoming Fund'," Chen Feng said. "Director Zhou, your task is to set up reception stations along the coast. This includes physical examinations, registration, disinfection, and issuing number plates. Priority will be given to the elderly, women, and children, followed by the young and middle-aged. Those with skills—carpenters, blacksmiths, bricklayers—will be directly assigned to factories. Those who are literate will be placed in schools or clerical positions."
"And what about the rest?"
"Reclaim the land." Chen Feng walked to the map and pointed to several green markers inland in the Persian Gulf. "Here, here, and here, we've already explored them. There's water underground, and we can cultivate farmland. With 500,000 people, we can cultivate at least one million mu of land. In three years, Lanfang will be self-sufficient in food."
Zhou Wenbin quickly took notes, then asked, "President, there's a question... Among these people, there might be revolutionaries."
The venue fell silent instantly.
In 1911, the Qing Dynasty was already on the verge of collapse. Revolutionaries were active in the south, and rumors of an uprising were spreading everywhere.
"I know," Chen Feng said. "And I estimate the proportion won't be low. Of the 1.2 million refugees, at least tens of thousands were influenced by revolutionary ideas."
"So, do we need to screen them?"
"No." Chen Feng shook his head. "As long as they abide by Lanfang's laws and do not engage in subversive activities, we will accept them all. In fact... if they are truly talented, we can use them."
At 7 a.m. on July 1, 1911, the sea breeze in Dubai Port carried the salty smell of oil and seawater.
Chen Feng stood on the newly built "Guanlan Terrace," an open-air platform on the top floor of the administration building, overlooking the entire port. Behind him, Uncle Wang was reporting on the telegrams received that morning.
"A coded telegram from Berlin," Wang Bo handed over the translation. "The German gunboat 'Panther' arrived at the port of Agadir, Morocco yesterday. The French ambassador to Berlin has lodged a formal protest."
Chen Feng took the telegram, his gaze sweeping over the German and Chinese text. His expression remained unchanged, but he tapped the edge of the telegram lightly with his fingers.
"What was bound to happen has finally happened," he said.
"And there's news from London." Uncle Wang handed over another document: "British Foreign Secretary Edward Gray issued a statement in the House of Commons: The British government firmly supports France's legitimate interests in Morocco. If the situation deteriorates, necessary measures cannot be ruled out."