World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

10 PM, Hurdesa Military Base, 7th Arab Division Barracks.

The camp was built on the edge of the desert, with rows of tan tents arranged in a grid pattern, and a training ground made of rammed sand in the center. Although it was late at night, the training ground was still brightly lit, and hundreds of soldiers were practicing bayonet fighting, their shouts carrying far in the night wind.

Zhou Tieshan stood atop the observation tower, binoculars in hand, watching the training below with an expressionless face. This head of the security department was thin and dressed in civilian clothes, looking more like an accountant than a secret police chief. But those who knew him well knew that beneath that ordinary exterior lay a sophisticated and ruthless political machine.

"Minister Zhou, this is the newly formed 23rd Regiment," said Division Commander Shadiq Al-Nahyan, standing beside him. This general, a member of Arab nobility, was in his forties, sporting a meticulously groomed beard, and spoke Arabic with a distinct Bedouin accent. "The soldiers mainly come from the Nejd region and Yemen; they are brave and skilled in battle, but… their discipline needs improvement."

Through the binoculars, a soldier made a mistake during bayonet training and was kicked to the ground by the instructor. The soldier got up, did not protest, and continued training.

"Corporal punishment is common?" Zhou Tieshan asked, his tone devoid of emotion.

"In tribal tradition, this is a way of urging discipline," Shadiq replied cautiously. "We are introducing the Lanfang Army's manual, but it will take time."

Zhou Tieshan put down his binoculars and turned to the Arab general.

"General Shadiq, do you know why the Arab divisions were expanded from ten to twenty?"

"To strengthen national defense and protect our common motherland." Standard answer.

"That's part of the reason." Zhou Tieshan walked down from the observation tower, with Shadiq following behind. "The more important reason is that the President needs a... reliable mobile force. A force that isn't entirely composed of Chinese, capable of carrying out special missions when necessary."

They walked slowly through the camp. The desert was cold at night, and the biting wind whipped up sand that stung their faces like needles. When the soldiers saw their general, they all stood at attention and saluted, but cast curious yet wary glances at Zhou Tieshan.

"What do you mean by 'special mission'?" Shadik asked tentatively.

"For example, patrolling along the Persian Gulf coast to demonstrate our presence. For example, crossing the border to 'deal with' certain threats when necessary," Zhou Tieshan said softly. "And for example, if one day we need to maintain order in a certain area, and the locals have reservations about the Chinese army..."

He didn't finish speaking, but Shadiq understood. The Arab Division was not only a combat force, but also a political tool—used to demonstrate to the Arab world that Lanfang was not a purely Chinese country, to carry out missions in sensitive areas without inciting ethnic sentiments, and to balance the power structure within the army.

"Do the soldiers know this?"

"They don't need to know." Zhou Tieshan stopped in front of a tent and lifted the curtain. Inside, a dozen soldiers were sitting on the ground eating dinner—flatbread, stewed mutton, and dates—simple food, but plentiful. "All they need to know is: be loyal to the Lanfang Republic and obey orders, and they'll have a much better life than they did in the tribe."

He entered the tent. The soldiers hurriedly stood up, some still holding flatbread.

"Keep eating," Zhou Tieshan said in fluent Arabic, which surprised the soldiers. "I just came to check it out."

He walked up to a young soldier. The boy looked to be under twenty, with a youthful face, but his palms were calloused.

"What's your name? Where are you from?"

"Sir, my name is Khalid, and I'm from Riyadh." The soldier straightened his back.

Why did you join the army?

"For...for military pay, sir," Khalid answered honestly. "Here, I can earn thirty dinars a month. Back home, I wouldn't earn that much in a year."

A few low laughs came from inside the tent. Zhou Tieshan laughed too.

"Honesty is good. Now, are you full?"

"I'm full, sir. It's better than what I eat at home."

Is the training tough?

"It's tough, but the instructors say that the more you sweat now, the less you'll bleed in wartime."

The standard answer was clearly the result of repeated indoctrination. Zhou Tieshan nodded, patted Khalid on the shoulder, and turned to leave the tent.

Outside, Shadiq followed.

"You see, Minister. These soldiers are simple-minded; they enlist for money and food. As long as we provide them with what they can't get back home, they'll be loyal."

"Loyalty can be bought," Zhou Tieshan said, "but it's also the easiest thing to be bought at a higher price. Have your division's political officers been adequately appointed?"

"Each company has three officers, totaling two hundred and forty. They are all Chinese officers fluent in Arabic and have received specialized training."

"Their task is not just ideological education." Zhou Tieshan stopped and looked into Shadiq's eyes. "They also have to monitor them. What the soldiers say in private, what complaints they have about training, what opinions they have about the officers, even what they write in their letters home—all of these things, the political officers have to know."

Sadiq's expression stiffened for a moment. The surveillance system had penetrated directly to the grassroots level, which meant that even he, as the division commander, did not have complete control.

"General, please don't misunderstand." Zhou Tieshan's voice softened. "This isn't directed at you personally, nor is it a lack of trust in our Arab brothers. It's a system. The Chinese troops have the same system. The Commander-in-Chief's philosophy is: trust is important, but oversight is even more important."

"I understand," Shadiq said, bowing his head.

They walked to the command tent in the center of the camp. Inside, several senior officers were having a meeting, and they immediately stood up when they saw the two enter.

"Continue." Zhou Tieshan gestured for them to sit down, then pulled up a chair for himself. "I'm listening."

The meeting discussed the expanded training plan. Twenty divisions, nearly 400,000 men, were to complete basic training and tactical coordination within six months. Numerous problems arose: insufficient weapons, a shortage of instructors, limited training grounds, and soldiers with varying levels of education…

Zhou Tieshan listened quietly, occasionally asking a question or two. Finally, he spoke:

"The weapons issue will be resolved within three days. I'll allocate them from the army's reserves. As for the lack of instructors, experienced non-commissioned officers will be drawn from the 1st and 2nd Chinese Divisions to form an instructor corps. The training grounds… the entire 300 square kilometers surrounding the Hurdasa base will be designated a military restricted area. Is that enough?"

The officers exchanged bewildered glances. Such a large-scale deployment required extremely high authority.

"As for the quality of the soldiers," Zhou Tieshan continued, "we will simplify the training syllabus. We will focus on three things: shooting, earthmoving, and obedience. Other skills can be learned during wartime."

He stood up.

"Gentlemen, time is of the essence. The Arab Division is not just an army, but a model. If this force succeeds, we can build more 'localized' forces in Southeast Asia, Central Asia, and Africa. If it fails..."

He didn't say what would happen if they failed, but everyone understood.

After the meeting, Zhou Tieshan and Shadiq stayed alone in the tent.