World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"The commander of the Fifth Division is named Amir, who was originally a military commander of the Hashemite family. The commander of the Sixth Division is named Khalid, who comes from a coastal tribe in Oman. Both of them are very capable, and their troops are well-trained." Little paused, "But they are Arabs after all. Asking them to cross the ocean to fight for the homeland of a Chinese country, I'm not sure what they're thinking."

Chen Feng walked to the window—actually, there was no window; the third basement level only had ventilation openings. He looked at the national flag of Lanfang on the wall: a yellow dragon standing proudly against a red background.

"Three years ago, when we started building the Arab forces, Liu Yongfu asked the same question," he said slowly. "I said, trust is built through fighting. You give a man a gun, teach him how to use it, pay him a salary, respect his beliefs, train with him, and shed blood with him—over time, he will become your brother."

He turned around: "Now, the Fifth and Sixth Divisions have been in service for a year and a half, and have participated in three border conflicts, all with good results. Last year, in the fight against pirates in the Gulf of Oman, Khalid's troops lost seventeen men, but no one retreated. If that's not enough to prove loyalty, then I don't know what is."

"But Borneo is different..."

"It's precisely because they're different that they're the best test." Chen Feng walked back to the sea chart. "Let them go to a completely unfamiliar place and fight for a goal that seems unrelated to them. If they can still complete the mission, then we'll never have to doubt their loyalty again."

Li Te fell silent. It wasn't that he didn't understand the principle, but as a military commander, he had to consider all the risks.

"There's one more thing," he changed the subject, "When will Minister Wang's 'Mars' satellite be launched in Borneo?"

Chen Feng glanced at the calendar on the wall—today is January 17th.

"February 1st," he said. "Wang Wenwu has already made the arrangements. On that day, rallies will be held simultaneously in Pontianak, Singkawang, and Sanfa, the three main Chinese communities, demanding autonomy from the Dutch authorities. The Dutch military and police will definitely suppress them, and as soon as bloodshed occurs, our fleet will set sail immediately."

"An excuse?"

"Protecting our overseas citizens," Chen Feng said calmly. "According to international law, a country has the right to send warships to protect its citizens abroad. The Dutch suppressed Chinese gatherings, so it's perfectly legitimate for us to send a fleet to 'protect our compatriots.'"

李特点头：「那幺舰队2月2日出发，航程大约十八天，2月20日前后抵达婆罗洲海域。运输船队晚三天，2月5日出发。」

"No." Chen Feng shook his head. "The transport fleet departs on February 4th."

"But……"

"Do as I say." Chen Feng's tone was firm. "I want the Dutch to see our warships first, and when they're terrified, the landing force will arrive immediately. The psychological and physical attacks must be coordinated to give them no chance to breathe."

"Understood."

Chen Feng glanced at the nautical chart again and suddenly asked, "How is the submarine force deployment going?"

"They're in position." Li Te pointed to the Straits of Malacca and the Sunda Strait. "Twenty-four U-IX submarines have been deployed, divided into four wolfpacks. Their mission isn't to attack merchant ships, but to monitor them. If any third-party power—such as Britain or Japan—attempts to intervene, the submarines will report immediately and, if necessary… issue a warning."

"Is it permissible to fire if necessary?"

Li Te hesitated for a moment: "According to international law, submarines need to issue a warning before attacking surface ships..."

"We're not international," Chen Feng interrupted him. "We're going home. Anyone who tries to stop us from going home is an enemy. There's no need for warnings to enemies."

These words were spoken calmly, but the murderous intent within them sent a chill down Li Te's spine.

"Yes, sir." He stood at attention. "You may fire if necessary."

"Alright." Chen Feng patted him on the shoulder. "Li Te, the navy is the vanguard in this operation. If we fight well, the Dutch might surrender directly; if we don't, we'll have to land a strong attack, and many people will die. You have a heavy responsibility on your shoulders."

"Rest assured, President." Litt straightened his back. "The Navy has been preparing for this day for three years. The four Bismarck-class ships are four keys to unlock the door to our home."

"I believe you." Chen Feng walked towards the door, then stopped. "By the way, Uncle Wang will be departing with the transport fleet."

Li Te was taken aback: "Uncle Wang? He's almost seventy this year, isn't he? Conditions are tough there in Borneo, and there's war going on..."

"It was his own request." Chen Feng's voice lowered. "He said that more than forty years ago, his father was killed by the Dutch. He wanted to go back, light incense at his father's grave, and tell him: His son has returned, with a fleet and an army."

The command center fell into a brief silence.

A low humming sound came from the vent.

"I understand," Li Te finally said. "I will arrange the best cabin for him and send people to protect him."

"No." Chen Feng shook his head. "No special treatment. Uncle Wang doesn't need protection, he needs to witness. Let him be with the soldiers, let him see how the fleet fires its cannons, how the troops land. This is the moment he's been waiting for forty years."

After leaving the Navy Command Center, Chen Feng went directly to the Army Command.

The headquarters was located in a three-story concrete building within the military camp in the west of the city. Upon seeing the convoy, the guards at the gate immediately stood at attention and saluted.

Chen Feng did not go to the office, but went directly to the training ground.

It was 2 p.m., and the sun was shining brightly. On the training ground, soldiers were conducting tactical drills. It wasn't a traditional infantry formation, but rather a platoon-level coordinated operation—machine gun teams, mortar teams, and assault teams working together to advance through a simulated obstacle course.

Liu Yongfu and Zhao Dashan were watching from the viewing platform.

"Commander-in-Chief." The two men saluted Chen Feng immediately upon seeing him.

"Continue." Chen Feng waved his hand and picked up his binoculars to look at the training ground.

An infantry squad is attacking a simulated machine gun bunker. The machine gun team is providing frontal suppression, the assault team is flanking from the flanks, and the mortar team is providing support from the rear. The movements are clean, efficient, and perfectly coordinated.

"Which division is this?" Chen Feng asked.

"The 2nd Battalion, 3rd Regiment, 1st Division," Zhao Dashan replied, his tone filled with pride. "This is a fully trained unit that ranked first in the entire army in last year's assessment."

Chen Feng nodded and put down his binoculars: "What about the Arab division? Are they training today?"

"The Fifth Division is conducting live-fire exercises at the firing range, and the Sixth Division is conducting field training outside the city," Liu Yongfu said. "Commander-in-Chief, would you like to go and take a look?"

"To the shooting range."

The army firing range is located ten kilometers outside the city, in a walled-off desert wasteland. As the car drove in, the continuous sound of gunfire could be heard.

The Fifth Division is conducting a squad-level machine gun shooting assessment. The targets are not fixed, but moving—the targets move rapidly along a track, and the shooters must identify, aim, and fire within three seconds.

Chen Feng and the others stood on the observation tower, watching through high-powered binoculars.

A machine gun team was firing. The lead gunner was an Arab man in his thirties, with a scar on his face and focused eyes. The assistant gunner was beside him, responsible for loading ammunition and observing. The moment the moving target appeared, the machine gun fired—a short burst, three shots, all hitting the bullseye.

"Excellent marksmanship," Chen Feng praised.