One man's resistance against Japan, I mobilized a million people to aid Shanghai.

Honolulu, Pearl Harbor, Pacific Fleet Headquarters

The tropical afternoon sun was scorching and dazzling, making the gray ship shadows moored in Pearl Harbor sway slightly.

The naval base was as busy as ever, with cranes roaring, transport boats shuttling back and forth, and sailors and workers on the dock making final preparations for the upcoming large-scale mobilization.

This energetic busyness was broken by a dilapidated civilian ship that quietly sailed into the auxiliary dock on the east side of the port.

The civilian vessel was named Seagull. It did not fly any obvious military flags, and its paint was peeling off, giving off a fishy smell and the rusty smell of a long voyage.

But as it slowly approached the shore and the gangplank was lowered, the first person to set foot on Pearl Harbor's soil caused the officer on duty at the dock to instantly shrink his pupils, almost unable to believe his eyes.

The man was tall, but slightly hunched over. He wore an ill-fitting, oil-stained coarse cloth shirt and worn-out work pants. He also wore a tattered straw hat pulled low over his head, which covered most of his face.

However, when he raised his head, took off his hat, and revealed a thin face that, though weathered, still had a resolute outline, the officer gasped.

"General...?! General Douglas MacArthur?!"

MacArthur did not return the greeting, but merely nodded slightly, his voice hoarse and dry:

"Take me to see Chester Nimitz."

"Immediately! Don't make a sound."

Behind him followed five or six equally ragged, haggard-looking but wary-eyed entourage, three of whom were of Asian appearance.

The news struck like a silent bolt of lightning, instantly shattering the Pearl Harbor command.

Ten minutes later, Nimitz, who was working with his staff to rehearse the preliminary plan for the western operation, received an urgent report from his adjutant in a hushed voice.

A flicker of extreme astonishment crossed Nimitz's composed face, but it was quickly replaced by deep thought.

He waved to pause the meeting: "Gentlemen, a fifteen-minute break."

"Halsey, come with me."

In a secluded, windowless, makeshift meeting room on the first floor of headquarters, containing only a table and a few chairs, Nimitz and Halsey met MacArthur, who had been secretly brought in.

Seeing the general who used to be always impeccably dressed, smoking a corncob pipe, and wearing sunglasses in Washington now appearing in such a disheveled, almost fleeing state, even Halsey, a fearless and tough general, showed an undisguised shock in his eyes.

That is the shame of a defeated general.

"Douglas,"

Nimitz spoke first, his voice steady and devoid of much emotion. He gestured to the chair.

"Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"

Water? Or coffee?

MacArthur slowly sat down, his body sinking deep into the back of the chair, as if a tremendous burden had been lifted, or as if his spine had been removed.

He took the water from the adjutant, drank it all in one gulp, and then let out a long breath.

"Chester, Bill...it feels like a century has passed to see you again."

His voice was still hoarse, but it had regained a little vitality.

Nimitz gestured for his adjutant and Halsey's entourage to leave, leaving only the three of them in the room.

The door was gently closed, shutting out all outside sounds.

"Douglas,"

Nimitz leaned forward, his gaze sharp and focused.

"We know what happened in Manila, from intelligence and the few survivors who managed to escape."

"But all we know are fragments, the results."

"We need to know the process, especially the details."

"How exactly did Zhu Ganglie's fleet manage to do that? What is their actual strength? What are their tactical characteristics?"

"You are the only one who experienced the entire process from the highest command level and... came back alive."

MacArthur's eyes dimmed, and pain and shame resurfaced.

He clasped his hands together, his knuckles turning white, and remained silent for nearly a minute before beginning to speak in a voice that seemed to come from the depths of his chest.

"They...are not human."

"At least, their commander wasn't."

He spoke with difficulty, "Manila...we thought it was impregnable."

"Corregidor Island, the defensive line of the Bataan Peninsula... We're preparing a welcoming ceremony like damn fools!"

His narration was intermittent, sometimes excited, sometimes somber.

But Nimitz and Halsey listened intently, not daring to miss a single word.

"They gave no warning, they declared war."

"At dawn, just as the sun was rising, the lookout reported the sighting of an unidentified vessel in the direction of Lingayen Bay."

"Then...like a tsunami, not dozens, but hundreds!"

"Landing craft, transport ships... densely packed, covering the entire sea surface."

"Our beachhead...only had one company, and it was submerged in an instant."

"Their army..."

MacArthur's face showed a look of fear. "The equipment is astonishing, all anti-tank guns, and the infantry squads have more firepower than our platoons."

"Tactical coordination...is terrifyingly precise."

"And then there were the paratroopers. They used a large number of paratroopers to cut off my retreat route."

He abruptly raised his head and looked at Nimitz:

"But the most crucial thing is the navy, Chester! Their navy!"

His voice became excited, "Zhu Ganglie's navy is by no means as weak as we imagine. When I was fighting to the death, I saw at least dozens of large warships anchored in the open sea."

He counted them off on his fingers, one by one, each number striking the listener's heart like a hammer blow:

"Battleships, at least two!"

"It's not an old thing. I've seen the silhouette of one of them. The main gun caliber is estimated to be over 14 inches. It's very fast and has extremely fierce broadside firepower."

"Eight heavy cruisers!"

"They seemed to particularly like this type of ship that combined firepower and speed, and during the bombardment of Manila Bay, they formed the core strike group along with battleships."

"Light cruisers, twelve or more, operating like a wolf pack, responsible for reconnaissance, protection, and close air support."

"Aircraft carrier..."

MacArthur paused, took a deep breath, and said, "No fewer than five, that's my confirmation."

"There may be more smaller or auxiliary aircraft carriers."

"Chester, their carrier-based aircraft... probably number in the thousands."

"And it wasn't just fighter jets, but also a large number of dive bombers and torpedo bombers."

"They had absolute air superiority over Manila. Our planes were destroyed at the airport before they even had a chance to take off."

He smiled bitterly, a smile that looked worse than a grimace.

"What does Manila have? A few old cruisers and destroyers, fewer than three hundred aircraft, and they're scattered all over the place..."

"Faced with such power, we are like militiamen with flintlock pistols facing a fully armed modern army—utterly helpless, Chester. I mean utterly helpless!"

The room was deathly silent.

Only MacArthur's heavy breathing could be heard.

Halsey's face was ashen, and his fists were clenched.

Nimitz's expression was calm and composed, but deep within his grey-blue eyes, a storm seemed to be brewing.

After a long pause, Nimitz asked a crucial question.

"Then... how did you escape?"

"Everyone says you've been captured..."