Chapter 138: The Logistics Camp

The Lion Camp launched an investigation into the practice of tattooing the words "Anti-Ming" on the tiger’s mouth of the hand. This task was also assigned to the camp commander.

Although tattooing had traditionally been a form of punishment and public humiliation, the soldiers understood Liu Chengzong’s intentions once they learned of his motives.

Of course, this understanding was built on the premise that Scholar Liu himself tattooed alongside them to show his resolve.

Otherwise, no one would willingly have a mark inked on their body.

If this had happened during the previous dynasty, even if a soldier ended up with a tattooed leg, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. In fact, recruitment would have attracted a motley crew of flamboyant characters.

But in the Ming Dynasty, the founding Emperor set strict laws regarding tattooing, only allowing it for the crimes of robbery and theft. Even the families of traitors were sometimes spared tattooing because the laws did not specify what should be inscribed.

The flourishing tattoo culture of the Five Dynasties, Tang, Song, and Yuan periods was banned by the founding Emperor. Even children entering the Heavenly King Temple had no idea what the images on the statues’ calves represented.

Now, Liu Chengzong led by example, tattooing the words "Anti-Ming" on the tiger’s mouth of his left hand. Suddenly, a few prison guards and auxiliary soldiers with artistic backgrounds became highly sought after in the camp.

Liu Chengzong insisted that tattoo needles should never be shared; after use, each needle had to be boiled in water before being reused.

In truth, they weren’t using traditional tattoo needles but rather sewing and wound suturing needles from the logistics squad.

After Liu Chengzong had the words tattooed on his left hand, it wasn’t long before Chengyun appeared at the fort.

The young man had just been tattooed himself and came running over, clutching his hand. “Brother, you looking for me? It hurts like hell!”

“Hmm, when I was getting tattooed, I saw the squad leader,” Liu Chengzong replied, not yet teasing his brother about being afraid of pain. “The squad leader said you asked the workers to make fifty matchlock guns. Is that true?”

“Yes!” Chengyun nodded confidently. “Hey, I just mentioned it to him—I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, sure, and there’s no way. There are only eight qualified gunsmiths in the workers’ squad. Fifty matchlocks would last us through the winter.”

Just because the logistics squad makes equipment, does that mean the other combat squads don’t deserve firearms?

Liu Chengzong said, “What, your logistics squad isn’t satisfied with just knives, guns, bows, and crossbows? You want fifty matchlocks too?”

The thought made him laugh. In his eyes, the combat duties of the workers’ and logistics squads were light. Regular drills to form ranks and use weapons were enough.

When these two squads worked together, the workers would dig trenches while the logistics squad formed ranks, holding out long enough for the real fighting squads to engage.

If these two squads were expected to fill the battlefield, it would be a desperate situation—better to retreat than fight.

“No, it’s not that complicated. I’m bringing the design to the workers’ squad; you can look at it first,” Chengyun said, pulling a rough sketch from his pocket and slapping it on the table.

It was a simple design for a basic matchlock musket.

Essentially, it was an old musket stock modified with a bent handle, a hole drilled in the middle of the handle to insert a zigzag iron rod. On top was the serpentine for the match cord, and below was the trigger with a curved iron piece serving as a spring.

So rudimentary it was almost crude, but easy to manufacture. Once the barrels were rifled and chambers bored, eight gunsmiths could produce thirty muskets in a month.

Liu Chengzong frowned, puzzled. “What’s the point of making this?”

“I thought of it this way,” Chengyun said. “Look, the logistics squad has the recruitment team, mule and horse team, wagon team, patrol team, and medical craftsmen team.”

Liu Chengzong hadn’t managed logistics before; whenever something was missing, people came to find Chengyun.

If it was available in camp, Chengyun could get it; if not, he still found a way around it in the Yan’an prefecture.

However, he didn’t know the exact duties of each of the five teams, only that the logistics and workers’ squads weren’t organized like combat squads.

Chengyun enumerated confidently, “The mule and horse team takes care of the animals, the wagon team handles transportation, the patrol team secures the surroundings, and the medical craftsmen treat the wounded. As for the recruitment team, ha! That’s the logistics squad’s stroke of genius in Fushi County—they hire locals to serve as laborers.”

Liu Chengzong could understand that.

Recruiting laborers was Chengyun’s specialty. During the three days fighting at Liuguo Town and Li Bi, when they didn’t join forces with Upper Sky Monkey, the logistics squad was empty. Chengyun managed to gather over a thousand people from nearby villages to help.

They gathered medicine, medical craftsmen, and arranged numerous tasks. In the end, Chengyun managed to keep things running reasonably well.

It was obvious the recruitment team was Chengyun’s personal creation after that battle.

“My courage, Brother, you know it—I’m not pretending to be a hero. After you fought at Liuguo Town, when Upper Sky Monkey asked me to care for the wounded, I was scared stiff all night, afraid the government soldiers or fleeing troops would find me.”

Chengyun placed his hand on the drawing. “At that time, I thought—so many wounded soldiers, unable to hold weapons, if they were attacked, they’d be dead. Then I saw your musket and had the squad leader make one for me.”

He clicked his tongue. “At about ten paces, you can shoot accurately with it. It’s much easier to learn than archery and requires little effort. As long as the wounded have one hand, they can shoot. No hope for a second shot, though.”

Liu Chengzong finally understood.

So that was the purpose behind the hand musket. Chengyun didn’t need to explain further, and Liu Chengzong continued, “After the big battle at the front, the muskets and ammo can be packed and ready at the rear. Every wounded soldier who can still hold a weapon gets one?”

Chengyun clapped. “Exactly!”

For a long time, the logistics squad was deemed dispensable. From having only horses and donkeys, they eventually filled out their numbers, but their duties remained unclear.

But ignorance can be remedied with learning, and gaps filled with necessity.

During the battle at Pao Mountain across the Yan River bend, Liu Chengyun single-handedly took on the entire logistics squad’s workload.

He delivered grain, wagons, horses, gunpowder, and supplies to the frontlines; organized personnel to gather medicine and medical craftsmen; and set up places for treating and housing the wounded.

Though not professional, Chengyun got the job done.

Not perfectly, but enough to identify deficiencies.

Chengyun opened up and eagerly shared his experiences with his second brother.

“You can’t have only one wounded soldiers’ camp. At least four are needed: three close to the frontline, one farther back and safer.”

He raised three fingers. “The stretcher bearers must be led by someone capable of triaging—lightly wounded go to one camp, severely wounded to another, and one close to the front for those with gut wounds.”

“After bandaging, the wounded get moved to a more concealed camp farther from the battlefield to rest.”

Chengyun spoke somberly.

These were lessons paid for in blood.

At the last battle, Chengyun set up a wounded camp at the Panlong River mouth east of the prefecture city to treat Upper Sky Monkey’s injured.

In the darkness, without assigned zones or triage, seventeen men died overnight just waiting.

Because of a shortage of mulberry bark thread and wound medicine, seven men bled out without timely treatment.

He knew the need to collect mulberry bark and fine fur in peacetime.

He also knew that before battle, the wounded camps must be prepared: boiling water for sterilizing gauze, knives, and tools; cooling and filtering wheat water for the medical craftsmen to use.

When intestines are exposed due to abdominal wounds, the medical craftsmen spray cold wheat juice on them to stimulate peristalsis and push the intestines back in.

They lacked cold wheat juice during that battle, so they had to lift and shake the wounded on mats. Some intestines went back in, others didn’t, and those men died.

The man whose intestines were pushed back still only survived a few days before succumbing to fever. The medical craftsmen attributed this to infection and lack of heat-clearing medicine.

Therefore, patients with exposed intestines must be treated separately, away from others.

Chengyun cried long that night.

He didn’t know any of the men shot or wounded, with guts spilled, limbs severed, bleeding everywhere.

Thirty-one were brought to him already dead and cold.

Some survived, some didn’t, and some barely made it without much treatment.

He was truly helpless.

He treasured these hard-earned lessons, as each piece of knowledge in his mind was bought with lives.

“Oh, Brother, there’s one more thing I have to tell you—about the wounded.”

Liu Chengyun hesitated, sat down on a stool, then stood again, unable to express himself sitting.

“I noticed none of you have made plans for the wounded.”

Liu Chengzong, still absorbed in thoughts of treating the injured, frowned at this sudden remark.

He looked puzzled. “Aren’t the wounded all healed?”

“Not your border troops. I mean Liu Jiusi, Liu Guoneng, Li Wanqing, Wang Ziyong, Luo Rucai—they have wounded soldiers.”

The Lion Camp had no wounded; from the start, they had ample armor and no medical facilities. Injuries either healed or were fatal, leaving no cripples.

The recent wounded were only a few like Zhong Hu, all long recovered.

Liu Chengzong didn’t know how others handled their wounded, but regarding Upper Sky Monkey’s troops, he said, “They’ve made arrangements. When we merged camps, Upper Sky Monkey’s disabled soldiers weren’t counted as auxiliaries and were all sent to farm at Wang Village.”

“But it’s already frosted,” Chengyun said.

“Your side has also allocated land for disabled soldiers, but the harvest won’t be good this year. I want to find them other livelihoods. Since we’re heading to Shanxi, I’ll arrange something for them before we leave.”

This was a blind spot Liu Chengzong had overlooked.

Leaning back, a smile unconsciously appeared. “Tell me how you want to arrange it.”

His forces were becoming more organized.

Settling wounded soldiers could greatly inspire the morale of others.

Purposefully arranging and ensuring long-term support for the wounded was likely unique among all leaders in northern Shaanxi.

Others neither had the intention nor the ability.

“I heard Company Commander Ren said you asked Liu Chuanzhuan to lead a trading caravan?” Chengyun said seriously, making Liu Chengzong laugh out loud.

“So you call him Liu Chuanzhuan too? So it’s true?”

“He’s the one and only Chuanzhuan. Here’s my plan: many tribes have disabled soldiers, and they’re actually the most loyal. In these times, the disabled can’t survive without us.”

Chengyun didn’t dwell on how he addressed Liu Guoneng but went on with his plan.

“Before we set off, I’ll gather all the disabled soldiers, assess their wounds and characters. Those missing hands or fingers but with one usable hand can join the caravan. Chuanzhuan is already lame; he won’t mind.”

“Those with crippled legs will stay in Wang Village—not farming anymore but apprenticing as craftsmen. After Lion Camp leaves, the iron kiln there will be empty, and we can’t take the drilling machines. Let them make armor plates and rifle barrels... We’ll come back, right?”

Liu Chengzong nodded. “Of course, there’s no way we’ll take Taiyuan.”

“That’s settled then. When we return, they’ll have produced a lot of barrels and plates, haha.”

Chengyun grinned cleverly. “I think we should take good care of the wounded. Even if they can’t fight, they’re useful. Some can still wield weapons despite injuries—eyes, ears, fingers. I plan to include them in the logistics camp.”

“Use them to carry things?”

“No. Most disabled soldiers are like this. We can’t expect them to haul loads. Once we enter Shanxi, Brother, you want to attack Wang Village, right? We’ll surely distribute grain to the people then. We’ll arrange for the wounded to live in villages with strategic terrain—high ground, near mountains and valleys.”

He counted on his fingers. “They’ll resist taxes and bandits, avoid government troops, serve as supply bases when advancing, and refuges for the wounded when retreating. A few villages connected, we’ll root out those bent on betraying us, then distribute land and fields to the rest. What did Huang Chao call it? Tianbu...”

“Tianbu Junping.”

“Right, Tianbu Junping. We’ll act on behalf of heaven to even out the land for the people—not just in Shanxi, but on the eastern route, Yan and Chang rivers—all leveled.”

Liu Chengzong nodded approvingly. “Not bad. Let’s do it your way!”

Though Chengyun’s plan was somewhat idealistic, the direction was sound.

The problem in northern Shaanxi wasn’t land but water. Land could be parceled out, but water scarcity was insurmountable.

The so-called equalization could only apply to villages along the Yan River and its tributaries. Elsewhere, refugees roamed freely—wherever they could farm, they farmed; if not, they moved on.

Last year’s snowfall brought joy, promising a good harvest.

But frost lingering into March this year dampened spirits, signaling a poor yield.

Suddenly, Wang Village in Xingzi River, which once comfortably fed four thousand, could now barely support three thousand. By summer, droughts and locusts might reduce that to two thousand.

In such times, land distribution was less effective.

Liu Chengzong was unaware of Shanxi’s conditions. If there was no drought, Chengyun’s land distribution would work well. If drought struck, the plan to settle people and organize tax resistance would still be effective.

Because in drought, people flee. Those who remain are the ones who can survive on farmland, barely scraping by.

For them, whether or not they pay taxes means life or death.

With Liu Chengzong’s approval, Chengyun stood tall, thrilled. “Then I’ll arrange it. Once done, we can leave.”

“Go ahead. Yang Yao is on his way back too.”

Liu Chengzong clapped his hands. “Don’t forget to call Liu Chuanzhuan and tattoo his tiger’s mouth too. Have him wrap something around his hand for trade... That man’s will is weakest. With merchants everywhere, we don’t want to chase after another iron tag later.”