World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

The morning mist drifted slowly between the cliffs at the entrance to Pearl Harbor, like a thin, milky-white veil. Vice Admiral Rodman stood on the bridge of the battleship USS Pennsylvania, his binoculars held high for twenty minutes. On the eastern horizon, the rising sun had just peeked out with its golden edge, turning the clouds amber.

"It's almost time," the chief of staff whispered beside him. "The target has entered the 200-nautical-mile zone, is traveling at 22 knots, and is in full formation."

Rodman lowered his binoculars and rubbed his sore eyes. The 58-year-old veteran had woken up at four in the morning, an inexplicable premonition keeping him awake. In his thirty-eight years of naval service, he had seen fleets from countless nations—the imposing and robust British Grand Fleet, the sharp and aggressive German High Seas Fleet, and the sophisticated, Eastern-style Combined Fleet of Japan. But the fleet arriving today represented a completely new and indefinable force.

"Has the reconnaissance plane taken off?"

"PBY 3 and 5 are in position and will conduct their first escort and identification flight at 50 nautical miles. As per your orders, the pilots have all received strict instructions—professional, courteous, and without provocative maneuvers."

"Very good." Rodman raised his binoculars again. "Let's see what kind of force Mr. Chen Feng has brought."

Two hundred nautical miles away, the battleship "Huaihe" cut through the deep blue waters of the Pacific Ocean, leaving a broad and straight trail behind it.

Chen Feng stood on the open observation deck on the right wing of the bridge, the sea breeze whipping the hem of his dark blue uniform backward. After seven days at sea and the test of storms, his face showed no fatigue, only a calm focus. Behind him, Wang Wenwu was holding a folder, reporting on the final preparations.

"A confirmation cable from Pearl Harbor indicates that President Wilson secretly arrived last night and is staying at the officers' villa within the naval base. As scheduled, we will have our first informal meeting two hours after docking."

"Who are the US representatives attending?"

"President Wilson, Secretary of State Lansing, and Vice Admiral Rodman, Commander of the Pacific Fleet. Here we are you and me." Wang Wenwu turned a page. "In addition, Vice Admiral Rodman specifically mentioned his hope to arrange 'friendly exchanges' between the officers and sailors of both navies, including mutual visits by ships."

A faint smile appeared on Chen Feng's lips: "He wants to see our trump card."

"I'm afraid so. But we were prepared."

"Captain Zhang," Chen Feng said, turning to the bridge.

Zhang Haitao immediately stepped forward: "Commander-in-Chief."

"Notify the entire ship to conduct a final inspection before entering Pearl Harbor. I want every screw tightened and every deck surface spotless. We're not here to show off, but if others want to see it, we need to show them the best condition."

"Understood!" Zhang Haitao saluted and strode back to the bridge. His booming voice echoed throughout the ship via the intercom: "Attention all personnel, we will arrive at our destination in one hour. Final checks of all areas, equipment preparation, and military bearing and discipline! Let the beautiful people of Lijiang see what the Lanfang Navy is all about!"

Four thousand five hundred crew members began to operate like intricate gears. Sailors lined up along the deck, using brushes and rags to clean up the last traces left by the storm. The turret shields were polished until they reflected images, and the radar antennas slowly rotated for testing under mechanical drive. On the flight deck, ground crew were giving two seaplanes a final check.

Wang Wenwu watched all this and said softly, "They are very excited."

"We should be excited." Chen Feng's gaze fell on the approaching horizon. "This is the first time the Lanfang Navy has entered the core naval port of a traditionally powerful nation on an equal footing. A hundred years ago, our ancestors arrived in San Francisco by sailing ship and were treated as laborers. Today, we are arriving in a 45,000-ton battleship."

His words were calm, but Wang Wenwu sensed the immense weight behind them.

8:17 a.m.

"Thirty degrees to port, aircraft spotted! Two!" the lookout's voice came through the loudspeaker.

Inside the bridge, everyone's gaze turned to the port sky. Two black dots were flying in from the direction of Pearl Harbor, gradually growing larger, and could be identified as the distinctive shape of the PBY "Catalina" seaplane—a high-mounted monoplane, twin engines, and a boat-shaped fuselage.

Zhang Haitao looked at Chen Feng: "Commander-in-Chief?"

"Proceeding as planned. Friendly and professional."

The order was given. The crane at the stern of the deck began to turn, its mechanical arm suspending an AR-1 seaplane, a type of seaplane used by the Lanfang Navy, which slowly descended to the sea surface. This aircraft featured an all-metal fuselage and a more streamlined shape, and its performance far surpassed that of most seaplanes of that era.

Captain Li Zhenhua, the pilot, sat in the open cockpit, making a final check of the instruments. He was twenty-five years old, one of the first batch of naval aviators trained by Lanfang itself, and had also received six months of training in Germany, accumulating over eight hundred hours of flight time.

"Zhenhua, remember," the squadron leader gave his final instructions before boarding, "Demonstrate professionalism and do nothing that could be misinterpreted as provocation. But also show them that our pilots are no less capable than anyone else."

"clear!"

The plane gently touched the water, splashing up white spray. Li Zhenhua pushed the throttle, and the two 550-horsepower engines roared, propelling the plane to accelerate across the sea. Thirty seconds later, the nose lifted, and the AR-1 gracefully detached itself from the water, soaring into the sky.

Almost simultaneously, the second plane was also launched.

At an altitude of 2,500 meters, Major Thomson, the captain of the US PBY, stared wide-eyed. He reported to base via radio: "Pearl Harbor, this is Reconnaissance 3. The target ship has launched two... appearing to be single-engine, twin-float seaplanes. Wait, they're climbing very fast, and their shape is very... streamlined."

The co-pilot leaned out the window: "God, that looks more advanced than our plane."

The two AR-1s quickly climbed to the same altitude as the PBY, then flew parallel to it at a distance of 500 meters. Li Zhenhua issued an internationally recognized greeting via light signals. The PBY responded by waving its wings.

Major Thomson couldn't help but call out again: "Pearl Harbor, the target carrier-based aircraft has established visual contact with our aircraft. The other pilot's maneuvers are very disciplined, and the aircraft's performance... based on observation and judgment, far surpasses that of our current seaplanes. Repeat, far surpasses."

After a few seconds of silence on the other end of the radio, Lieutenant General Rodman personally replied: "Maintain observation and continue escorting. Record all details."

"clear."

For the next twenty minutes, the four aircraft formed a temporary flight formation over the "Huaihe" formation. The American aircraft was on the left, and the Lanfang aircraft was on the right, maintaining perfect spacing and altitude difference. When the formation turned, Li Zhenhua's AR-1 performed a standard roll, not to show off, but to demonstrate the aircraft's maneuverability and the pilot's control.

Major Thomson watched the clean, precise roll and muttered, "Where did these Asians... come from?"