"Sir, our trench defensive area ends just ahead."

  Three rows of long Cha Ke. Newton heard that Mu Yang had arrived and came over from the office to talk to Mu Yang about the current situation in the defense zone.

  "Which unit is garrisoned in the defensive area ahead?"

  He is from the 3rd Company of the 1st Battalion of the 56th Regiment.

  "It seems we are now at the border defense area of our team. Let's go and take a look ahead." Mu Yang said, lifting his leg to walk forward.

  Just after turning a corner, Mu Yang saw a wide and empty trench, of course, this width was in comparison to the trenches. This wasn't the point, Mu Yang found a group of people in this spacious place, a group of tattered and pale-faced individuals.

  These people were covered in mud and dust, and their original appearance was almost unrecognizable, but their physical characteristics couldn't be changed - they were Asians. What's more, Mu Yang actually found Chinese people among this group of people, yes, Chinese people, a discovery that left Mu Yang somewhat surprised.

  A word flashed in Mu Yang's mind, 'Hua Gong'.

  Moyang certainly knew about the existence of Chinese laborers in World War I, and when he was on the front lines earlier, Joseph Williams had even seen Chinese laborers transporting ammunition and supplies on the battlefield, but at that time, Joseph Williams did not pay attention to those laborers.

  Muyang didn't know that his unit also had Chinese workers now, Claire hadn't told him. It seemed these Europeans really didn't take these Chinese workers seriously.

  "What's going on with these workers?" asked Mu Yang.

  "What's wrong, sir? Oh, these laborers are newly assigned. The original ones were killed by the Germans on the battlefield, so the battalion headquarters reassigned a new batch." Newton replied.

  They're all dead, dead, what a light word, those Chinese people just disappeared like that, silently and quietly, without leaving anything in this world to recall, like smoke and dust, vanished.

  "I was wondering why they are here, why they have guns in their hands and why they don't live inside the fort?" Mu Yang asked three questions in a row, leaving Niu Dun somewhat stunned.

  "Sir, they've been living here all along. Issuing them guns was a command from HQ because of the manpower shortage; sometimes during defense, we need them to go up and hold out too," Newton replied.

  "Why live outdoors with only a canvas shed like this?" Mu Yang felt somewhat displeased, walking forward to inspect the condition of these laborers.

  These laborers were not all Chinese, but also Indians and Javanese. In their rice bowls, Mu Yang saw only black bread and boiled green beans, nothing else.

  These laborers saw an officer approaching and honestly stood up, automatically moving to both sides without being told. Under their dark gray faces, a pair of eyes with white pupils and black irises looked so bewildered. These people rarely spoke foreign languages, and most of them couldn't understand what Muyang and the others were saying, except for a few words like "eat", "sleep", "charge", "fire", "move things", "bullet", and "shell".

  "What do Newtons usually eat?" asked Mu Yang.

  "The War Office regulates their rations, bread, flour, green peas, a little canned goods and greens, that's all," Newton replied.

  "Now that they have been given guns, why can't they enjoy the treatment of soldiers?" Mu Yang asked again.

  Lieutenant Newton hesitated for a long time before squeezing out one sentence: "Sir, I don't know."

  Yes, Newton was just a lieutenant, the lowest rank of officer, how could he possibly know what arrangements those generals made for these coolies.

  Muyang fell silent.

  He should not blame Newton, it has nothing to do with him. Now that even the supplies of their own troops cannot be fully guaranteed, how can they think about improving the food for laborers?

  "How many workers do we have in total?" Murong asked in a low voice.

  "There were originally 30 people, but two died of dysentery two days ago, apparently from drinking unclean water. They were Javanese. There are now 28 people," Newton said.

  Muyang nodded silently, without saying anything.

  In a foreign land, seeing his own countrymen and receiving such treatment, Mu Yang's heart felt uncomfortable. He had already made up his mind to change the food and treatment of these Chinese laborers, as for those Indian and Javanese laborers, they were just lucky to have benefited from the Chinese laborers' good fortune.

  Mu Yang turned his head and said to the laborers standing by the trench wall, "How many Chinese are there here? Come out and let me take a look."

  Moyang's words, spoken in pure and proper Chinese, immediately caused a small stir among the Chinese laborers.

  However, these people were still somewhat timid and no one stood out.

  "One of you come out and talk to me about your situation. I think you need clean water, food, and a place to sleep." Mu Yang said again in Chinese.

  The crowd erupted into another low murmur.

  After a while, a man in his thirties walked out of the crowd and said with a strong Shandong accent: "Officer, what do you want to ask?"

  This fellow was born with a tall and large stature, probably around 1.8 meters in height, with a shaved head that was smooth to the touch, his upper body exposed, a wide cloth belt around his waist, and a pair of tattered, worn-out trousers covered in mud, on his feet were a pair of deformed leather boots that had lost their original shape, but judging from their appearance, they didn't seem to be the kind of leather boots issued by the British army, probably looted from some unfortunate German soldier's corpse.

  "What's your name and where are you from?" asked Mu Yang in a very gentle tone.

  Zhuang Han was taken aback for a moment, then immediately replied, "My name is Wang Daxue, from Tai'an, Shandong."

  Everyone was surprised to see Mu Yang chatting with a Chinese worker in Chinese, whether it was Lieutenant Zach Newton, Mu Yang's communications soldier, or the soldiers of the third squad. Their company commander actually understood the Oriental language.

  Even coolies from China, India and Java were utterly astonished.

  Because, normally these Europeans looked down on these Easterners, and would not even give them a straight glance, only when making them work would they condescendingly utter a few words, those Europeans treated them as the cheapest labor force, using them like cattle.

  To know that now black people have just got rid of their slave status, so do not expect these Europeans to have any idea of equal treatment for Easterners.

  So-called equality and friendship, humility and courtesy are all things that exist among the nobility, circulating among so-called whites, upper-class people. These yellow people cannot enjoy these things.

  Those European soldiers usually ordered these laborers around, beat and scolded them, deducted their food and wages, and who had ever looked at them with respect.

  "How many Chinese workers are there here?" Mu Yang continued to ask, ignoring the surprise of those around him.

  "Sir, there are 16 Chinese people here."

  "Where did they all come from?"

  "There are people from all over, I'm from Shandong, there are four fellow Shandong natives here, also some from Henan, Guangdong and Guangxi, as well as Hubei."

  "When did you come here and what kind of work have you been doing?"

  "I've been here for two years, always following the army, starting with transporting supplies and ammunition. Recently, they suddenly gave us guns and let us fight too." Wang Daxia chatted with Muyang for a few sentences, gradually relaxing a bit.

  "Can you eat your fill?"

  "In the army, it's either a full stomach or a fart, and eating too many beans will make you fart."

  Just as Wang Daquan finished speaking, a few low laughs suddenly spread among the crowd of Chinese workers, and then quickly disappeared.