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

Washington, D.C., White House War Room.

This place is a million times more oppressive than the press conference venue on the South Lawn.

The stark white light shone on the bloodless faces, the air thick with a heavy sense of despair.

The huge map of the Pacific Ocean on the wall, which just hours ago was marked with a powerful red arrow pointing westward, now has its location representing Pearl Harbor covered by a huge black "X".

Roosevelt had regained consciousness, changed into a clean suit, wrapped himself in a thick blanket, and sat in a wheelchair.

His face was ashen, his eyes were puffy, and his lips were chapped, but his sunken eyes had refocused; though bloodshot, they were no longer unfocused.

But the fingers gripping the edge of the blanket were still trembling slightly, revealing the turmoil in his heart.

A more detailed intelligence summary was laid out in front of him.

Each one coldly repeats that unbelievable fact.

Secretary of the Navy Frank had bloodshot eyes and sunken eye sockets, as if he had aged ten years overnight.

He held a telegram that the technical department had just analyzed in his hand, his voice hoarse like sandpaper rubbing together:

"Mr. President...you've confirmed it again."

"It wasn't a conventional sneak attack, nor a submarine infiltration, nor an airborne operation... it was a bizarre appearance."

"Inside Pearl Harbor, on the decks of our aircraft carriers, next to our oil depots, at the entrance to our command center... they appeared out of nowhere, like ghosts."

"Tens of thousands, fully equipped."

He pointed to the wavy symbols marked at various points in the port on the diagram.

"The descriptions from all sources are consistent: the air was distorted, and then they appeared."

"There is almost no warning time."

"Most of our remaining troops were unable to resist during the first wave of attacks."

He paused, his voice choked with emotion: "The Enterprise, the Hornet... According to the last intercepted fragmented communications, these warships lost their main combat positions within one to two hours of the attack..."

"It's possible...it's possible it's already changed hands."

"Changed hands..."

Roosevelt repeated the word, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

This word is more hurtful than "sink".

This means that his prized warships, those sea fortresses named after the Bald Eagle states and heroes, may at this moment be flying enemy flags, with their cannons perhaps pointed towards the Bald Eagle homeland.

"Where's Nimitz? Where's Halsey?" Secretary of War Stimson asked in a deep voice, his face equally grim.

Knox shook his head in anguish:

"General Nimitz was missing and his fate was unknown when the Enterprise was attacked."

"Halsey, Spruance, Fletcher... several task force commanders, according to intelligence, are very likely... dead in battle."

He practically spat out the last few words through gritted teeth.

"150,000... or even more Navy, Marine Corps, and shore-based personnel..."

Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Stark's voice was hollow: "Either die in battle, be captured, or disappear in a sea of ​​fire."

"Honolulu...the city has been taken over by the enemy, and communications have been largely cut off. The exact extent of the losses...cannot be fully accounted for."

The operations room fell into a deathly silence, broken only by heavy breathing.

Everyone was overwhelmed by the unimaginable devastation of the loss.

This was not merely a military defeat; it was a devastating blow to the nation's destiny and a collapse of faith.

The essence of the American Navy's century-long accumulation—the sharpest spear and the strongest shield in the Pacific—was reduced to ashes in a single day, and might even be turned against them.

Roosevelt closed his eyes in anguish.

Images of the sunny South Lawn uncontrollably flashed through my mind: my passionate speech, the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd...

This contrasts sharply with the chilling despair in the operations room at this moment, creating a hellish scene.

He felt dizzy and quickly supported his forehead with his hand.

We cannot fall, absolutely not.

He is the president, the person this country cannot afford to lose right now.

After a long while, he opened his eyes again.

The grief in his eyes was forcibly suppressed, replaced by a kind of fortitude that arose from being driven to the brink of despair.

"Gentlemen,"

Roosevelt spoke, his voice still hoarse, but carrying an undeniable power.

"The time for mourning has come to an end."

All eyes were on him.

"Pearl Harbor was lost, the fleet was lost, that's a fact."

He slowly scanned each person.

"But the bald eagle has not lost the war, much less the future!"

He pushed his wheelchair closer to the huge map and pressed his finger firmly on the long coastline of the Bald Eagle's west coast.

"Crying and complaining won't change anything. There's only one thing we need to do now: take revenge!"

"Avenge the 150,000 soldiers who died at Pearl Harbor!"

"Avenge the lost fleet!"

"Avenge our trampled national flag and honor!"

His voice gradually rose, carrying a desperate and ruthless tone.

"From this moment forward, Bald Eagle, enter the highest level of total war mode!"

"Everything for the war, everything in service of the war!"

"I command:"

"Activate the highest authority of the Wartime Emergency Production Act!"

"All civilian factories that can switch to producing military supplies should immediately transform at full speed!"

"Car factories make tanks and airplanes! Washing machine factories make artillery shell casings!"

"All daily necessities will be subject to the strictest rationing system, with priority given to the military and defense industry production!"

"Tell the Bald Eagle people that from today onwards, their butter will be reduced, but their bullets and bombs must be plentiful!"

"The Navy!"

He looked at Knox. "I need you to come up with a solution immediately!"

"Rebuild a powerful fleet, and within a month, create a defensive force capable of withstanding Zhu Ganglie on the west coast, right on our doorstep!"

Knox took a deep breath, forcibly rousing himself:

"Yes, Mr. President!"

"We also have shipyards on the East Coast, and new ships that are about to be completed."

"Although the construction cycle for capital ships is long, we can prioritize the conversion and construction of light aircraft carriers and escort carriers!"

"By simply adding a flight deck to a merchant ship's hull, even if it can only carry a dozen or twenty aircraft, the sheer number can create a powerful near-shore air defense and anti-submarine barrier!"

He thought quickly, and spoke faster:

"At the same time, dedicate all our resources to producing aircraft! Fighter planes, bombers, torpedo bombers!"

"Not only the naval aviation force, but also the army aviation force will be expanded to the largest scale!"

"Even if Zhu Ganglie had our aircraft carrier, he wouldn't be able to have as many skilled pilots and a complete logistical system as we do in the short term!"

"As long as we maintain firm control of the airspace over the west coast, his fleet won't dare to approach our homeland easily!"

"We can use shore-based air forces and a large number of light aircraft carriers to build an aerial iron curtain!"

Roosevelt nodded. Knox's thinking was clear, and it was currently the only feasible defense strategy.

"Great! Let's follow this approach and immediately develop a detailed plan. I need to see the solution and a list of required resources within 24 hours!"

"The Army!"

Roosevelt turned to Stimson.

"To retake Pearl Harbor, we'll still need the army. Tell me your contingency plan."

Stimson had already straightened his back, his eyes flashing with a resolute determination.

"Mr. President! The Navy has suffered a temporary setback, but the backbone of the Bald Eagle is the vast land and hundreds of millions of people!"

"I suggest we immediately launch a nationwide mobilization!"

"Recruiting all healthy men aged 18 to 60! Target: 30 million!"

"Thirty million?!"

Someone nearby gasped.

This number is staggering. The total population of the Bald Eagle is only 2.5 million, which means that almost one in eight Bald Eagles will have to wear a military uniform.

Stimson slammed his fist on the table:

"Yes, thirty million!"

"We must make Zhu Ganglie understand the consequences of angering us. We will not only kill Zhu Ganglie, but also make those who follow Zhu Ganglie in committing evil pay the price."

"This is not just defense, but also building up strength for a future counterattack!"

"Every family and every community across the country must participate in this war that concerns the life and death of the nation!"

"We will fight Zhu Ganglie to the death!"

Roosevelt's brow furrowed deeply.

Thirty million... that's a huge number.

Such a large-scale mobilization would completely drain the country's young and middle-aged workforce, causing incalculable impacts on industrial production, agriculture, and social operations, and could even trigger serious social problems.

The Bald Eagles have never mobilized on such a scale.

"Henry,"

Roosevelt's voice was heavy. "Is this number... too aggressive? The impact of full mobilization..."

"Mr. President!"

Stimson interrupted him, his tone sharp.

"Now is not the time to consider the consequences! Now is the time to consider survival!"

"If Zhu Ganglie could conjure up an army to send to Pearl Harbor out of thin air, who can guarantee he wouldn't send it to Los Angeles, San Francisco, or Seattle?!"

"We need soldiers, we need a lot of soldiers, to guard every coastline, every city, every bridge and factory!"

"We need troops to replenish what will inevitably result in devastating losses in the future!"

"Hesitation means defeat; this may be our last chance."

He looked at Roosevelt, his eyes burning:

"Think about it, if we can't quickly build a wall of flesh and blood, and Zhu Ganglie finishes digesting the spoils of Pearl Harbor and launches an attack with our fleet and planes... then it will be too late!"

"We must prepare to fight an unprecedentedly brutal war on our own soil!"

"Thirty million is the absolute minimum!"

Roosevelt was caught in a painful struggle.

Stimson is right. Zhu Ganglie's methods are unpredictable, and the threat is real and imminent.

But mobilizing 30 million people... that's practically gambling with the nation's fate.

He could almost see skilled workers being pulled from factories, causing production lines to grind to a halt; farms being left uncultivated, leading to reduced yields; and social unrest...

Time ticked by, and the operations room was eerily quiet as everyone awaited the president's decision.

Finally, Roosevelt exhaled as if he had exhausted all his strength, and his eyes regained their sharpness and determination.

He nodded slowly, his movements heavy as a mountain.

"Okay... thirty million."

"Draft a conscription law and submit it to Parliament. I will personally address the nation."

"but,"

He stared intently at Stimson, saying, "The mobilization must be carried out in stages and with a focus on key areas, prioritizing ensuring that there are enough workers in critical defense industries."

"The initial batch of soldiers could be made up of African Americans and farmers."

"At the same time, a program was launched to send women and eligible non-combatants to factories and farms to replace them."

"We can't afford to lose our composure first."

"Yes, Mr. President!"

Stimson nodded emphatically, a ruthless glint in his eyes.