World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Name?" Wang Dashan asked.

"Li Erwa, from Sichuan, enlisted in March of this year," the clerk replied.

Wang Dashan removed the identification tag from the soldier's neck and wiped the sand off it. The aluminum tag was engraved with: 4th Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Regiment, 1st Mechanized Infantry Division, Li Erwa, 1916.

"Write it down. When we get there and erect the monument, have his name engraved at the very beginning." The battalion commander stood up. "Because he was the first Lanfang soldier to die for this land."

The soldiers silently buried their comrade, piled up stones to make a simple grave, and stuck a sharpened wooden stick in the ground as a marker.

When the convoy set off again, the atmosphere was even heavier, but something was gathering—not sadness, but an almost ruthless resolve. They had paid the price, and this land had to pay it.

On the afternoon of the sixth day, the navigator suddenly shouted, "Commander! Coordinates checked! We've arrived!"

Wang Dashan raised his binoculars. Ahead, at the edge of the desert, a thin, dark blue line appeared—that was the Persian Gulf.

Further along the coastline, the outlines of several mud-brick houses can be vaguely seen. Map caption: Hurdesa.

He grabbed the radio microphone, his voice hoarse but clear:

"Attention all battalion, target ahead. Slow down, form ranks, check weapons and equipment. We're going to march in squarely."

More than three hundred vehicles regrouped, their military flags, now cleansed of sand, unfurled at the front of the vehicles. The roar of engines blended into a single sound as tracks and wheels rolled over the last sand dunes.

When the first jeep drove into the village of Khordesa, dozens of Bedouins stared in disbelief at the army that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. They wore tattered robes, led emaciated camels, and their eyes were filled with terror and bewilderment.

Wang Dashan jumped out of the car and, through a translator, said, "Tell the villagers that we are the army of the Lanfang Republic. From today onwards, this place is under the protection of Lanfang. We will not harm civilians or plunder property, but we need to requisition this land to establish a military base."

The Bedouin elder asked, trembling, "Are you... going to drive us away?"

"No." Wang Dashan shook his head. "You can stay, you can even work for us—build houses, dig wells, and we'll pay you. But there's one condition: you must abide by the laws of Lanfang."

He turned and took the folded flag from the jeep.

"Find the tallest pole."

The soldiers removed a truck antenna, tied a shovel handle to it with wire, and made a makeshift flagpole. Wang Dashan personally unfurled the flag—on a red background, a golden dragon raised its head as if about to take flight.

There was no music, no ceremony. The flagpole was planted in the sand in the center of Holdesa Village, and Wang Dashan pulled the rope, raising the flag slowly.

The midday sun shone down without obstruction, and the red flag with a golden dragon fluttered in the wind of the Persian Gulf. At a British naval observation post near the Sinai Peninsula, a British lieutenant raised his binoculars and saw that striking red dot on the horizon.

He rubbed his eyes, checked again, and then rushed to the telephone:

"Command! This is Observation Post Number Three! An unidentified flag has appeared in the direction of Holdesa! Repeat, an unidentified flag has appeared in Holdesa! The color is... red, with a gold pattern on it, like... like a dragon!"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a calm but tense voice:

"Continue to observe. Do not fire, do not make contact. I will report to Cairo Command immediately."

The lieutenant put down the phone and raised his binoculars again. The flag fluttered stubbornly in the desert wind, like a drop of blood on the side of the map of the British Empire.

Meanwhile, in the village of Hurdsa, Wang Dashan sent a short message to Dubai, 1,200 kilometers away, via radio:

「龙旗已升。坐标北纬29度47分，东经48度31分。时间：1916年8月28日12时17分。」

The radio waves traveled across deserts and oceans. Twenty minutes later, the telegram was on Chen Feng's desk.

After he finished reading it, he got up and walked to the world map, where he affixed a small red dragon flag sticker to the northwest shore of the Persian Gulf.

Next to the sticker were densely packed Union Jacks. The closest one was less than five centimeters away—equivalent to fifty kilometers according to the scale.

Chen Feng tapped the map lightly with his fingers.

"The game has begun."

Outside the window, in Dubai Harbour, seven River-class destroyers being built for Britain are being fitted out. Further away on the slipway, the keel of the Yellow River battleship's sister ship is being laid.

The clanging of steel, the sparks of welding, the roar of steam engines—these sounds combine to form a battle song of the industrial age.

And in the distant land where the song cannot reach, a brand new flag is flying over the ancient land. It is small, it is lonely, but it stands very straight.

At 5:00 a.m. on August 29, 1916, the War Cabinet meeting room on Whitehall Street in London was filled with smoke.

Eight people sat around a long oak table, their faces grim and uncertain under the dim light of the chandelier. The ashtray on the table was overflowing with cigarette butts, empty coffee cups were scattered about, and several telegrams were passed around among them—each paper crumpled at the edges.

"Gentlemen," Lord Horatio Herbert Kitchener, Secretary of War, tapped the table with his knuckles, his voice hoarse like sandpaper, "let us confirm the accuracy of the intelligence once again."

Sir Mansfield Smith-Cumming, head of MI6—the 57-year-old intelligence chief known for his composure—unusually showed signs of fatigue. He adjusted his monocle and opened the file in front of him:

"The first intelligence report states that at 12:17 PM on August 28th, a red flag with a gold dragon was raised in the Koldesa area, about 8 kilometers east of the Sinai Peninsula. The witness was an observation post of the Royal Army's 42nd Division, which was later inspected by a reconnaissance unit. The flag was approximately three meters by two meters in size, and the material appeared to be a nylon blend. It unfurled fully in the desert wind."

He paused and turned to the second page.

"The second intelligence report states that at 2:30 PM that same day, an army of approximately 18,000 men established a camp in the area. The unit designation was confirmed as the 1st Mechanized Infantry Division of the Lanfang Republic Army. Their equipment included over 300 wheeled and tracked vehicles, 36 105mm howitzers, over 100 mortars, and an unknown number of machine guns, estimated to be over 500. The troops were highly disciplined and constructed makeshift fortifications within two hours of arrival."

"The third intelligence report," Smith-Cumming's voice lowered, "was received at three o'clock this morning. Our informant in Istanbul confirmed that on August 20th, Ottoman Sultan Mehmed V signed the Mesopotamian Concession Agreement while on his sickbed. Lanfang obtained a ninety-nine-year concession of 8 square kilometers of land surrounding Basra in exchange for arming ten Ottoman divisions. Khordesa... is on the boundary of the concession zone."

Dead silence.

First Lord of the Navy Arthur Balfour was the first to break the silence. He picked up a cigar, cut off the end, lit it, and took a deep drag. Smoke rose before his aged face: "So, Chen Feng used several ships of arms to buy half of Arabia from that dying Ottoman empire?"

"It's not a purchase, it's a 'concession'," Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey corrected, but with a hint of sarcasm. "Nominally, the Ottomans retain sovereignty, but in reality... for ninety-nine years. By then, who will remember the Sultan of Constantinople?"