Anti-Japanese War: From Becoming Chu Yunfei to Rising

Moscow, Kremlin.

The heavy velvet curtains blocked out the last rays of summer sunlight, making the office feel slightly dim and oppressive.

star.Lin stood in front of the huge battle map that occupied an entire wall, his right hand habitually tucked into his worn military uniform jacket, while his left hand held the extinguished pipe.

On the map, the Kursk region.

The black arrows representing the German armored formations and the red squares representing the Red Army's defensive lines were tangled into a chaotic mess of ink in this narrow strip of land.

"Comrade Vasilevsky".

star.Lin didn't turn around, his voice low and hoarse: "What did Vatutin's report say?"

How many more combat troops do we need to fill the 'fortress' on the southern front?

Chief of the General Staff Vasilevsky stood in the shadows, his uniform collar soaked with sweat.

He quickly opened the folder in his hand, speaking rapidly but with barely concealed anxiety: "Manstein's offensive is extremely fierce, and we have suffered heavy losses of anti-tank equipment."

"The divisions at the front urgently need ammunition, especially armor-piercing rounds."

"Furthermore, many of our supply trucks were damaged or destroyed due to German air raids."

"truck."

star.Lin chewed on the word, struck a match, and relit his pipe.

The firelight illuminated his pockmarked and weary face, and the chilling glint in the depths of his eyes.

The heavy oak door to the office was pushed open a crack.

Vyacheslav Molotov walked in.

The People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs had a look of conflict and seriousness on his face.

Beria followed closely behind like a ghost, his eyes quickly scanning the room behind his round glasses: "Joseph, a telegram from the Far East."

Without wasting any words, Molotov placed a telegram marked "Top Secret" in the most conspicuous position on his desk.

star.Lin exhaled a puff of smoke, not reaching for it: "Is that old fox Roosevelt starting another fire in our backyard?"

"It's more complicated than that."

Molotov adjusted his glasses and said in a flat tone, "The Americans put pressure on Chiang Kai-shek and Chu Yunfei."

"They threatened to reduce Lend-Lease supplies and demanded an immediate halt to the 'Sino-Soviet Friendship Truck Factory' project."

"Washington even hinted that if we do not sever our technological ties, the subsequent aid to China will be indefinitely postponed."

star.Lin let out a short, cold snort.

Clearly, he held the Americans in contempt for their hegemonic behavior.

A moment later, star.Lin turned around, as if she had already weighed the gains and losses.

He picked up the telegram, his large fingers tracing the pages: "What was Chu Yunfei's reply?"

"He is a clever opportunist."

Beria suddenly interrupted, his sinister voice echoing in the room: "He suggested that the cooperation be taken underground."

“Remove the ‘Sino-Soviet Friendship’ sign and replace it with the ‘North China Civil Machinery Repair Factory’ sign.”

"The technical experts will stay, their salaries and blueprints will be retained, but the project will be terminated in name only."

star.Lin raised his thick eyebrows, his gaze shifting between Beria and Molotov: "Anything else?"

"As compensation for the 'breach of contract'."

Molotov's lips twitched slightly: "He sent us a batch of Japanese radar wreckage captured on Hainan Island, as well as a large quantity of tobacco products, textiles, and even canned luncheon meat and biscuits."

A brief, deathly silence fell over the room.

Only the wall clock emitted a monotonous "tick-tock" sound.

It's as if a countdown is underway for this distant game.

star.Lin's hand holding the pipe paused in mid-air for a moment.

Then, the corner of his mouth, hidden by his beard, slowly curved into an extremely playful smile, and he let out a soft hum.

Is this what is called 'Eastern wisdom'?

star.Lin casually tossed the telegram back onto the table, the gesture as dismissive as throwing away a rag stained with gun oil.

"Americans want dignity, and he gave it to them."

“We wanted tangible benefits, and he gave them to us.”

star.Lin walked to the window and suddenly pulled back the curtains.

The blinding sunlight rushed in instantly, seemingly trying to disperse the pervasive smoke.

The sunlight also illuminated the bleeding Kursk plain on the map in an instant.

"The current situation is very clear."

star.Lin, with his back to the crowd, looked out the window at the flags fluttering in the sky above Red Square: "The Germans have gathered their last elite troops in Kursk."

"We need American aid, we need their trucks, we need that damn luncheon meat to fill the stomachs of the Red Army soldiers."

He turned abruptly, his gaze sharp as a knife: "At this critical juncture, we cannot afford to offend the Americans."

"Tell our military attaché in China to convey our stance: we are willing to accept Chu Yunfei's proposal."

star.Lin strode back to the table and slammed his pipe handle down on the surface: "We agree to let him take the sign down!"

"I wouldn't mind if it were branded as 'Coca-Cola'!"

"As long as the trucks produced in that factory can run, as long as our experts can still work there, and as long as it doesn't affect our subsequent cooperation, that's enough."

Beria adjusted his glasses, the glare from the lenses obscuring his eyes: "What about the radar wreckage?"

"Take it."

star.Lin gave him a cold glance: "Even if the junk from the Japanese can inspire our radar technology, that's good."

As for those cigarettes and canned goods...

star.Lin took a deep drag on his pipe, his tone softening slightly: "Send them all to the Kursk front."

"Let the guardsmen there have a taste; this is an apology from our 'ally' in the East."

Vasilevsky nodded silently and quickly jotted down notes in his notebook.

"However, we must be vigilant."

Molotov maintained his poker face: "They are trying to walk a tightrope between the US and the USSR; their ambitions are huge."

"He is using us to counterbalance the United States, while also using the United States to develop himself."

"so what?"

star.Lin let out a low laugh, but the laugh didn't reach his eyes: "An ambitious ally is always better than an incompetent piece of trash."

"Chiang Kai-shek only knew how to ask for money, but he couldn't fight any impressive battles, and he also lacked the ability to integrate the internal forces during wartime."

"While Chu Yunfei poses a significant threat, he at least knows how to do business and how to maintain a strategic balance."

star.Lin walked back to the front of the map, and the chaotic Kursk war zone once again occupied his entire field of vision.

“Telegraph him back and tell him that we, the Soviet Union, understand his situation.”

star.Lin's voice turned cold and hard, like granite: "But we also need to make him understand that this kind of 'compromise' has its limits. We support him in driving the Japanese out of the sea in Asia, but the post-war Asian order cannot be decided by the Americans alone. He must also listen to the voice of Moscow."

"Yes."

Molotov closed the folder and turned to leave.

"and many more."

star.Lin suddenly called out to him.

The Soviet leader pointed a finger into the air and said, “Tell our intelligence agents to keep a close eye on that newly established ‘civilian machinery factory’.”

"If the Americans continue to interfere, we need to get more information."

"Yes."

Molotov bowed slightly and went out the door.

The door closed again.

The suffocating oppression returned to the office.

star.Lin tapped the ashes from his pipe into the ashtray, making a series of dull sounds.

"Alright, let's forget about these diplomatic tricks."

His gaze regained its fervor and focus: "The German attack has lasted for five days. Although we have suffered heavy casualties, we have essentially halted the German offensive without even using our strategic reserves."

"Vatutin did a great job, and Rokossovsky also held off Model's armored divisions in the north."

star.Lin's finger jabbed heavily at an inconspicuous little dot on the map—Prokhorovka.

"But Manstein has not given up. His SS Panzer Divisions are assembling here, trying to make one last gamble."

He turned his head, his brownish-yellow eyes burning with a flame that dared not be looked at directly: "Tell Zhukov, tell Vatutin, stop being stingy with your troops."

"I suggest that Konev's Steppe Front and Rotmistrov's 5th Guards Tank Army be committed to the battle!"

Vasilevsky's heart skipped a beat.

These two units were the Soviet army's last strategic reserve and Stalin's last trump card.

"We are going to have the largest tank battle in human history here with the Germans!"

Star.Lin's voice echoed in the empty office, carrying an iron will: "I want to see those so-called 'Tiger' and 'Panther' tanks turned into burning scrap metal!"

"I will break the backbone of the Nazis completely on the Kursk wasteland!" "As for the supplies sent by the Chinese..."

star.Lin paused, his cold smile deepening: "Priority will be given to the 5th Guards Tank Army."

"I hope our soldiers can smoke cigarettes sent by our Chinese allies, eat meat sent by our American allies, and then..."

He swung his arm violently: "Go and send the German fascists to hell!"

"For the Soviet Motherland!"

"Hurrah—!!!"
-
Mediterranean Sea, Malta, the underground command post of the Allied 15th Army Group.

The air was filled with cigar smoke and the strong smell of coffee.

The atmosphere in the operations room was extremely tense, with the Sicilian map on the wall marked with numerous landing points.

A report about the great victory on Qiongzhou Island was like a thorn, piercing his heart.

Chu Yunfei

Alexander murmured the name, his fingers gripping the teacup so tightly they turned slightly white.

He could not forget the humiliation he suffered on the border between India and Myanmar.

That was a new scar on the British Empire.

At the time, this was done in order to maintain the "dignity" of the British army in the colonies.

He ordered his men to create friction on the border in an attempt to teach the Annamese army a lesson.

As a result, the royal troops under his command were severely punished by Qiu Qingquan, the First Army Corps of the Annamese Army, in the jungle.

Not only did they not gain any advantage, but they also caused many casualties.

That was a stain on his military career.

Now, Chu Yunfei, who once made him look foolish, has joined forces with the Americans and Australians to achieve an epic victory in the South China Sea. His reputation is soaring, and even Prime Minister Churchill in China praised the Eastern war general in a telegram.

Alexander, who had been transferred away from the Far East, naturally knew the bitterness of it all.

Brigadier General McMillan, the army group's chief of staff, anxiously waved two documents in his hands, operational plans from Montgomery (British 8th Army) and Patton (US 7th Army): "General Alexander!"

“This is insane! This is utter chaos!” McMillan pointed at the red and blue arrows on the map, his voice trembling with excitement: “General Montgomery insists on landing south of Naples and monopolizing several key highways.”

"General Patton's plan was completely different; he wanted to land at Gerald Bay and then cut directly northwest! This wasn't a coordinated operation at all; these were two completely separate wars!"

"We need a unified and coordinated 'master landing plan'!"

"Sir, someone must force them to act in unison, otherwise there will be huge chaos at the junction of the two armies!"

Faced with the chief of staff's angry proposal.

Harold Alexander, however, appeared unusually calm.

He was sitting in a leather chair, holding not a nautical chart of the Mediterranean, but a translated briefing on the "Battle of Western Hubei" in the Far East.

"No, Mike."

Alexander slowly closed the briefing, raised his head, and a complex light flickered in his deep blue eyes.

His attitude towards Chu Yunfei was always one of fear and disgust, yet he couldn't help but admire Chu Yunfei's command abilities.

“We don’t need a unified plan,” Alexander said dramatically. “Just throw that so-called ‘coordination plan’ into the shredder.”

"what?!"

The staff officers in the operations room were all stunned.

Alexander stood up, walked to the map, and traced the island of Sicily with his finger.

"I studied the art of command of the Chu state in China."

His voice was low, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth: "In Yichang, in western Hubei, Chu Yunfei has well-equipped central troops under his command, as well as local ragtag troops with fierce fighting style."

"If I were in command, I would try to mold them into a standardized combat force."

"But Chu Yunfei didn't."

Alexander whirled around, his sharp gaze fixed on his chief of staff:

“He gave them completely different tasks, taking advantage of their factional conflicts and competitive mentality to make them ‘steal’ credit.”

"The results of it?"

"Those two armies with very different styles, in order to prove that they were stronger than each other, unleashed an amazing fighting force and tore the Japanese to pieces."

"I think Chu Yunfei's command style can be called 'laissez-faire competition'."

Alexander took a deep breath. Although imitating an Easterner who had once humiliated him hurt his pride, he was so eager for victory that he was willing to learn from his “enemy.”

Montgomery was cautious, arrogant, and preferred to proceed cautiously.

"Patton was arrogant, radical, and liked armored assaults."

"They are like those two army commanders on the Chinese battlefield."

“If I force them together, they will only hold each other back.”

A ruthless glint flashed in Alexander's eyes. He slammed his hand heavily on the map: "Therefore, I've decided to adopt 'Chu Yunfei's command model'!"

"This is my final decision."

"Let them fight according to their own ideas!"

"We need to imply to Patton that Montgomery believes the Americans will only hold us back."

"And tell Montgomery that Patton swore he'd get to Messina before him!"

"I want to provoke them into competition. I want them to attack frantically for the sake of so-called 'honor' and 'face,' just like Chu Yunfei drove his subordinates!"

Alexander straightened his uniform collar and said coldly, "If Chu Yunfei can achieve a great victory in Asia using this 'barbaric' method, then I, Harold Alexander, can also send the Germans and Italians to hell in Europe using the same method!"

"Yes, General."

Alexander breathed a sigh of relief, hoping this time he could redeem himself instead of becoming a "clumsy" imitator.

Five days later.

Gera Bay, in the southern waters of Sicily.

On the command ship "Monrovia".

It was dawn.

Before the amphibious landing operation began.

The deafening roar of naval guns shattered the tranquility of the Mediterranean.

The battle has officially begun.

Lieutenant General George Patton stood on the bridge, the wind ruffling his impeccably tailored uniform, but his hawk-like eyes were fixed on the distant, flame-scorched beachhead. He could sense that this landing was unusual—he was unconstrained, meaning he could hunt freely like a wild beast.

"General!"

"A telegram from General Alexander!"

Colonel Hackport, the adjutant, clung to the railing and stumbled onto the deck, having to shout into Patton's ear to drown out the gunfire: "It's about the Far East, good news from the Pacific. Our allies have completed their debriefing on the Battle of Qiongzhou Island ten days ago."

"It's just strange that these British guys would take the initiative."

Before the adjutant could finish speaking, Patton put down his binoculars, raised an eyebrow, and snatched the telegram.

Using the flash of the ship's guns, he quickly scanned the contents: "Ha!"

"Oh, God!"

"Bradley actually did such a great job!"

Pointing at the telegram, he excitedly shouted to his staff, "This guy used to follow Stilwell around every day doing those tedious staff work."

"He's made something of himself now!"

"As the commander of the 38th Army, he actually fought a brilliant armored battle in that place called Qiongzhou Island."

"Even though he lost more than forty precious Sherman tanks!"

Patton instantly saw through Alexander's intentions, but he wasn't offended. Instead, he felt his blood boiling: "He's been hanging out with that Chinese war general Chu Yunfei. It seems he's learned a lot of real skills!"

"No wonder even that Englishman Alexander is imitating Chu Yunfei's command style."

"That's why we don't have a coordinated combat plan today!"

Just as many people have commented.

Patton possessed an extremely strong competitive drive. At this point in time, before experiencing the slapping incident, his personality was like that of a wild beast.

"Is Alexander trying to provoke me in this way?"

"Hmph, he succeeded!"

Patton abruptly drew his ivory-handled revolver from his waist, pointed it at the smoke-filled Sicilian coast ahead, and his voice became arrogant and domineering: "I, George Patton, will never lose to anyone!"

"And we certainly won't lose to Bradley of the Far East!"

“They were facing stubborn Japanese, while I was facing that so-called ‘New Roman Empire’!”

"Pass on my orders!" Patton turned his head, his eyes fixed on his adjutant like those of a hawk. "Order the combat troops to advance at full speed, ignoring the British allies on the flanks."

"Since Alexander has learned Chu Yunfei's tricks, then I'll show him what real speed is!"

"Bradley stole the spotlight in Asia, so I'm going to stir up a storm in Europe!"

"I will cut through the Italian defenses like cutting through a piece of moldy cheese. I will get to Palermo and Messina before that 'old hag' Montgomery does!"

"I will personally hang that bald Mussolini and his bunch of fascist lackeys in their fancy uniforms on the lampposts of Rome!"

"Yes, Sir!" (End of Chapter)