Chapter 87: Mobilization Studies

“Do not communicate with each other. No written notes will be provided—remember as much as you can.”
Everyone held their breath. They knew what Liu Yu was about to teach was a tool that surpassed its time, capable of enhancing a force’s combat effectiveness even more than rifles or artillery.
Liu Yu closed his eyes and clarified his thoughts. What he wanted to spread was knowledge.
A pen is always more powerful than a sword!
“The course I’m teaching today is called…”
This course was transcendent in nature. Even during the Republic of China era, the Army Academy invited many foreign instructors—from Russia, Britain, Germany, and Japan. Many of these outstanding officers became top commanders on the battlefields of World War II.
They taught all military subjects, from infantry manuals and field tactics to field fortification, aerial combat, photo interpretation, and command strategies. Anything related to military affairs could be taught, even the most highly classified command guidelines, which they would secretly impart to Chinese students.
There was one subject these foreign instructors would never teach—no matter which country they came from. Its name was simple: “The Origins of War.” Not only did foreign instructors avoid teaching it, but even when Chinese students studied at foreign military academies, such as the Japanese Imperial Military Academy or the Saint-Cyr Military Academy, they were excluded from discussions on logistics.
In modern times, this subject has a new name: total war mobilization. Instructors from all countries regarded it as the most crucial subject of their own nations. Eventually, the Army Academy of the Republic of China did teach this subject—taught by a group of exiled White Russian instructors, people without a homeland, so only they taught it.
Russia’s mobilization during World War I was considered the weakest among the great powers. It could barely even mobilize basic rifle units. On one hand, they relied on a substantial stockpile of weapons and ammunition, and on the other, they received limited supplies on the battlefield. Yet, in some ways, they managed to introduce the concept to the Chinese.
Before the War of Resistance against Japan, the Chinese government finally managed to establish a mobilization system based on divisional areas. But during the eight-year war, millions of conscripts died not from battle but from starvation, disease, or fleeing under a near-slave-like mobilization system. Their suffering could fill many books, but at least it represented a step forward from the old mercenary system.
Even the strongest nations of that era suffered greatly in terms of war mobilization. France’s weakness in World War I stemmed from its complete separation of new and old units, resulting in a significant disadvantage in troop strength. It was the Germans who innovatively mixed old and new units during World War I, giving the troops on the front lines greater strength.
Now, Liu Yu was teaching just such a course—a subject that even the great powers had not mastered until World War II. “Remember, our war with the French is a life-or-death struggle! It’s a war where we have no other choice but to win!”
“I want every young person, every single resource, to be sent to the battlefield and put to use. We must unleash our full potential.”

This was the total war concept proposed by the Germans in the later stages of World War I, also known as a comprehensive war, aiming to tap into all possible sources of war potential. But Liu Yu went further: “How many soldiers do we need for our Black Flag Army?”
“Some say 2,500, some say 3,000, some say 3,500… I think none of those are enough to overwhelm the French. The French have at least 20,000 troops in Vietnam.”
This was the number of troops France had mobilized in Vietnam historically. In fact, if they wanted to, they could deploy even more. What’s more, in Vietnam, a country permeated by Catholicism, the French could easily arm tens of thousands of indigenous infantrymen.
He needed more troops, more weapons and ammunition, more military supplies, and coordinating all of this was closely tied to the war.
In the era of imperialism, the war potential of various imperialist powers was astonishing, but their mobilization capabilities were even more remarkable. Before World War I and World War II, the U.S. military was a relatively weak force; small European countries like Serbia generally had stronger armies than the U.S. However, the key was that after mobilization, they could quickly transform into massive armies of tens of millions.
When Nazi Germany came to power, Germany had only 100,000 troops, but within a few years, it had an army of 8 million fully equipped soldiers. Japan’s regular army numbered only 200,000, but within a year of the war breaking out, it expanded its forces to 1 million.
And more importantly, thanks to the science of military mobilization, new units were no longer inexperienced like in ancient history. The Germans mobilized dozens of waves of infantry divisions, with each new wave including some older units, and these older units would then provide personnel for the new waves.
But total war mobilization was not that simple. It involved bringing an entire country or group into the war effort—it was an art of war. Or rather, the success or failure of war mobilization determined the outcome of a war. Professional soldiers focused on logistics.
When to start mobilization, how to complete it within a few days, how to allocate mobilization waves, how to advance, how to replenish old units, how to reorganize them, how to control strategic resources… This was an extremely complex task.
But Liu Yu understood. He knew the most basic aspects of war mobilization—how to integrate peacetime and wartime operations, how to transition from peacetime to wartime, and how to build up war potential during peacetime.
In this era, such knowledge was unlearnable. Even Japan’s confidential military history manuals for officers did not cover anything related to mobilization, a tradition that continued until Japan’s defeat.
“Once the war breaks out, my Xiliu Camp will carry out the first wave of total mobilization, with a target of 1,000 soldiers…”
This wasn’t just about the army entering a war state—it meant mobilizing every person, every nail, every resource under Xiliu Camp’s control for the war. Everyone was terrified by Liu Yu.
1,000 soldiers were only part of the first wave of mobilization, and the required time was extremely short—just one week. More importantly, this was only the number of soldiers to replenish the old units.

“The Second Mobilization Plan aims to form some of the most urgently needed new units, with the details as follows…”
The entire wilderness was so quiet that not a sound could be heard; even those who were usually the most impatient now listened quietly to Liu Yu’s lecture on mobilization. They knew this was something that couldn’t be learned in any classroom, and it concerned their own fates.
…
“The Sixth Mobilization Plan calls for mobilization… Mobilization location… Time of mobilization… Assembly point…”
Liu Yu had already devised a complete mobilization plan for wartime. Everyone admired his courage, but they also knew the plan was feasible.
Ye Chenglin listened carefully, already thinking about the mobilization plan for his Crow Camp. He realized that his camp would have even stronger firepower and troop strength. If anyone had said two years earlier that his troops could reach such a scale, he would have thought it nonsense.
This plan wasn’t just empty talk—Liu Yu’s entire industrial and economic systems could provide such support once war broke out. Thus, Ye Chenglin nodded repeatedly.
Liu Suiyun remained silent; he had already memorized the entire mobilization plan. Even the most perfect plan needed to be implemented in detail, and he was already planning the mobilization for smaller units.
Liu Yu was confident. He concluded, “Fellow soldiers, we are all military men, and success or failure lies in our hands!”
My fate is not determined by heaven.
…
1882. March 26th.
Colonel Li Weiyeh had never imagined that French government bureaucracy could be so severe. But upon reflection, such cases had been rare in the past.
Due to the change in the head of the Naval Colonies Department, the governor’s plan to send more troops to Hanoi took a full one and a half months to get approval.
Apart from bureaucracy, he couldn’t blame anything else—this was after all the Navy Department!
Of course, the back-and-forth of official documents and communication delays could cause some delays, but this was already the era of submarine cables, with telegrams capable of transmitting messages instantly. Some necessary procedures didn’t take as long.
Still, for the gray-haired Colonel Li Weiyeh, this was good news. The minister’s approval read: “I agree with the instructions you submitted to me in your letter on January 18th regarding Commander Li Weiyeh. Your advice that officers should refrain from using force unless absolutely necessary fully aligns with our department’s intentions.”
The two steamships best suited for colonial service, the “DouLak” and the “Basswar,” were already loaded with coal, carrying enthusiastic soldiers aboard.
In addition to two infantry companies of marines, there were two state-of-the-art mountain guns operated by fifteen artillerymen, along with fifty of the best native infantry selected from Cochinchina. Moreover, the sailors on these ships could provide fire support or form landing companies for land battles.
This was the greatest authority Lu Mei had granted Li Weiyeh to date. There were also 150 obsolete breech-loading rifles in the ship’s hold, which would serve a purpose again in Tonkin.
The ships set sail. The governor personally took off his military cap to bid farewell to the soldiers on their expedition, with white waves splashing at the sterns of the two ships.

All the soldiers cheered once again. Even the Annamite infantry regarded such an assignment as a joyful journey. Though they would be separated from their families, there were no difficulties—more importantly, their pay would increase. They even had hopes of being promoted to officers. Although it was an Annamite infantry regiment, all officers were French or Algerian, with Annamites at most serving as sergeants. To date, only a few had been promoted to lieutenants. Even between an Annamite lieutenant and a French lieutenant, their status was not equal. But these people didn’t expect much; they simply dreamed of glory, and for that, each of them had shed Vietnamese blood.

Li Weiye stood quietly at the bow of the ship, his red breeches standing out sharply against the waves. It was a symbol of French soldiers. When thinking of French soldiers, one could only think of red breeches. Since the Napoleonic era, they had achieved countless feats wearing such red breeches.

“What day is it now?”
The sailors answered in unison, “March 26th.”
“What year?”
This time, it was the Marines who replied, “1882.”

It had been almost four years since Liu Yu arrived in this time and space. Colonel Li Weiye asked, “When will we reach Hanoi?”
“If everything goes well, we’ll arrive in Haiphong on April 1st and in Hanoi on April 2nd.”

Li Weiye’s grayish hair was wet from the waves, but he had never felt more energetic. “Very good. On April 2nd, we will lead the expeditionary force to make history.”

…

His happiness was built on Huang Yao’s suffering. He was also a renowned Vietnamese official, highly trusted by Emperor Tự Đức, and entrusted with great hopes, which was why he was deliberately appointed governor of Hanoi. He was honest in his governance but lacked the ability to turn the tide; all he could do was do his best.

The troops stationed in the city had already gathered, with dozens of Western-style cannons placed at the city gates. The infantry had the best equipment he had ever seen, yet he still felt uncertain. His attempt to lead his troops into the city was blocked; he only allowed Colonel Li Weiye and a few others to enter the city, while the rest could stay in the foreign concessions outside. But he thought ofNguyen Zhifang and his sonNguyen Lin.Nguyen Zhifang was also a renowned Vietnamese official, and his sonNguyen Lin was a Vietnamese prince consort. These loyal father and son had held the same position as him for nine years, also responsible for defending Hanoi. Back then, they had faced only Captain An Ye, who led a ragtag group of French, Malays, and Chinese—no more than 180 men—who easily captured Hanoi, leading to the death of theNguyen family.

Today, he was also defending Hanoi with 7,000 troops, but he had to deal with a French colonel, and his forces were different from before—four or five hundred real French soldiers, just a few dozen Annamite troops, plus two state-of-the-art warships. All of this left him utterly overwhelmed.

Li Weiye stood at the door, asking in an imperialistic tone, “Liu Yongfu’s Black Flag Army has aimed guns and cannons at ships flying the French flag. This is an insult to France and also an insult to the Annamite government, France’s ally, as treaties require mutual support between the two countries. Yet the Annamite government replied that it could not oppose the Black Flag Army, as they had once served it and thus it owed them obligations.”

“Therefore, France has the duty to protect its citizens and tourists and to provide its ally with the necessary means to act—this is why there is an increase in troops in Hanoi. As for me, Governor Huang, I will do everything in my power to ensure that my soldiers maintain a very friendly relationship with the local people.”

“This is not something I can interfere in,” Governor Huang realized. Moreover, this incident took place within Shanxi and had nothing to do with Hanoi.

But he also knew he was but a tiny ant—neither the French nor the Black Flag Army were forces he could deal with. He could only do his best.

He said coldly, “I have no way to deal with the Black Flag Army, as the incident did not occur under my jurisdiction.”

Li Weiye turned away. He already had enough excuses for war.