World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Wang Wenwu took a deep breath: "So your plan is to reach a peace agreement before a complete collapse?"

"That's right." Chen Feng nodded. "A collapsed Japan is not good for us. A good Japan is one that retains its basic structure, can pay reparations, can open its markets, and can be controlled by us. But to make that structure obey, we have to break a few of its bones first."

After Zhou Tieshan finished recording the orders, he suddenly asked, "Commander-in-Chief, do you think... we might have gone too far? Historically, excessive oppression of the defeated by the victorious nation often sows the seeds of revenge."

This question brought a brief silence to the room.

Chen Feng walked back to the window and looked at the Dubai sky. After a long while, he spoke, his voice calm:

"Director Zhou, do you know why I chose to fight that battle in the East China Sea?"

"To establish our naval power in the Far East?"

"Not entirely." Chen Feng turned around, his eyes sharp. "More importantly, it's to shatter a myth—the myth that yellow people are inferior to white people. Japan won the Russo-Japanese War, but the Western world said it was by chance, that the Russians were too stupid. Now, we are showing the world with an even greater disparity and a more complete victory: Asians can not only defeat Europeans, but also use the most advanced technology to execute tactics they can't even imagine."

He paused, his tone growing serious: "But for this myth to stand, there can be no mercy. The Sakura Kingdom must be utterly subdued, so subdued that they dare not even entertain the thought of revenge. Subdued until the next generation of Sakura people speak of Lanfang not with hatred, but with awe. Subdued until they are willing to actively learn our language, imitate our system, and buy our goods."

"So this knife," he said finally, gesturing with his finger in the air, "must be cut slowly, cut deep, cut to the bone. So that they will remember this pain, remember it for a lifetime."

Donghai-Changjiang battleship

The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, wafted into the bridge. Zhang Zhen, wearing a dark blue woolen overcoat, stood in front of the radar screen. On the screen, a dozen or so green dots were moving slowly, like a swarm of fireflies crawling in the darkness.

"Closest distance 25 nautical miles, heading 080, speed 14 knots," the radar officer reported. "Target characteristics analysis... a 7,000-ton cargo ship, possibly a grain transport vessel."

Chen Qiming added from the side: "Route analysis shows that these ships are trying to take nighttime, near-shore routes to avoid our main patrol areas. Some are even sailing within three nautical miles of the coastline, using radar clutter from the land for cover."

"Smart," Zhang Zhen nodded, "but not smart enough."

He walked to the nautical chart table, which was densely marked with the hunting records of the past two months. From Kyushu to Honshu, from the Sea of ​​Japan to the Pacific Ocean, red arrows and black crosses wove a web of death.

"Where is the submarine force located?"

"The U-19 formation is at the northern entrance of the Tsushima Strait, the U-22 formation is near the Tsugaru Strait, and the U-25 formation is off the east coast of Honshu." Chen Qiming moved his finger across the nautical chart. "As per your request, we have formed a three-layered interception network. Large merchant ships basically dare not take long-distance routes anymore. Now these..." He pointed to the radar screen, "are all adventurers taking a chance."

Zhang Zhen stared at the dots of light for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, "What's the date today?"

"October seventeenth."

"Two months and seven days," Zhang Zhen calculated. "The sinking tonnage must be close to 800,000 tons, right?"

"798,000, this morning's battle report." Chen Qiming's voice was lower. "Sir, some submarine captains have privately complained... that they feel uneasy about shooting at merchant ships too much. Yesterday, on the 'Kasuga Maru' that U-19 sank, there was a child on the lifeboat, who looked to be under ten years old. He was the captain's son, who was accompanying his father to see the captain."

The bridge fell silent. Several young staff officers glanced furtively at Zhang Zhen.

Zhang Zhen's face remained expressionless as he walked to the observation window and gazed at the dark sea outside. A few fishing lights flickered in the distance, so faint they seemed about to be swallowed by the darkness at any moment.

"Do a good job of psychological support," Zhang Zhen said. "Tell every officer and soldier: they are not civilians in TS, but are carrying out a strategic mission. Every torpedo, every round of shelling, is paving the way for final peace. When the war ends, history will remember their contributions."

He looked back at the radar screen: "Now, execute the order. The cargo ship 25 nautical miles away, send the Huaihe to intercept it. Same procedure as before—warn it first, if it doesn't stop, sink it. Save the crew if possible, keep them under centralized custody, and release them when they dock again."

"yes!"

The order was given. The Yangtze transmitted the command to the Huaihe, three nautical miles away, via light signals. The 40,000-ton behemoth began to turn, its eight main guns gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

Zhang Zhen returned to his cabin and closed the door. He took a leather notebook from the drawer and opened it. Inside were not combat records, but some scattered text:

On September 25, the "Fusō Maru" was sunk. Of the 43 crew members, 31 were rescued. The captain refused to leave the ship and sank with it.

On October 3, Kure Harbor was shelled, destroying Dock No. 10. Fires were observed spreading in the civilian area, but this was unintentional.

*On October 12, U-22 reported sinking the fishing vessel "Dai-2 Shōni Maru," with all eight crew members being fishermen. The captain requested psychological counseling.*

He wrote on the latest page:

October 17th, tonight more will die. They could be fathers, sons, husbands. The evil of war lies in turning killing into numbers, turning evil into a task. But I must do it, because the cost of not doing so is far greater. May history forgive us all.

He closed his laptop and locked it in the drawer. When he pushed open the hatch and walked onto the bridge again, his face regained its steely composure.

"Huaihe reports: The target refuses to stop and is accelerating away," the communications officer said.

Zhang Zhen glanced at the radar screen; the dot was indeed accelerating, rising from 14 knots to 16 knots, desperately heading towards the coast.

"Fire warning rounds," he ordered.

Seconds later, three flashes of light appeared on the distant sea—the Huaihe's 105mm secondary guns had fired three jets of water 300 meters ahead of the cargo ship. According to international practice, this was a final warning.

But the cargo ship didn't stop; instead, it began zigzagging, clearly trying to make aiming more difficult.

"Foolish." Zhang Zhen shook his head. "Order the Huaihe: Sink it."

The order was transmitted via radio. One minute later, the Huaihe's main guns opened fire.

Even aboard the Yangtze, the deep rumble could be felt. The shockwaves from the simultaneous firing of eight 380mm cannons sent ripples across the sea. The shells flew through the air for over thirty seconds, and then—

hit.

The first shot missed, exploding twenty meters to the port side of the cargo ship, the shockwave shattering the portholes. The second shot hit the bow directly, blowing that section of the hull away. The third shot struck the bridge, the flames instantly engulfing the superstructure.