World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

The transport boat docked. Rodman stood up and straightened his uniform. As a soldier, his duty was to be prepared. And today, he saw the challenges he might face in the future, challenges that were more severe than he had imagined.

"General," the chief of staff whispered, "the bonfire party tonight..."

"Proceed as scheduled." Rodman regained his usual composure. "Remember, we are the hosts. We must demonstrate the magnanimity and grandeur of the Meilika Navy."

"Yes."

But both of them understood that the tone of their conversation over the campfire tonight was completely different.

At 6 p.m., a bonfire was lit on the beach at Ford Island, Pearl Harbor.

This is a traditional way for the Meilika Navy to socialize—building bonfires on the beach, grilling food, singing songs, and sailors from different ships sharing stories. Tonight, to welcome the Lanfang delegation, the Pacific Fleet Command is hosting an even larger party.

Six bonfires were arranged in a semi-circle, with a long table piled high with food around the largest one: roasted pork chops, corn, bread, fruit, and kegs of beer. The sailors of Meilika had already gathered in small groups, some with guitars, others already playing wrestling.

The beach fell silent for a moment when the Lanfang delegation arrived.

Captain Zhang Haitao led fifty sailors and officers from the "Huaihe" ship. They had all changed into clean service uniforms, which were different from the white uniforms of the US military—the Lanfang Navy's summer service uniforms were light khaki—but they were neat and uniform and full of spirit.

Lieutenant General Rodman personally greeted them: "Welcome! I hope this relaxed approach makes you all feel comfortable."

"It's a very unique tradition," Zhang Haitao said with a smile. "We also have some sailors who have prepared a performance, and we hope it won't disappoint everyone."

"I'm really looking forward to it."

Soon, the two groups began to communicate. Language was a barrier, but the young sailors had their own ways of communicating—gestures, showing photos, and sharing cigarettes. Some Lanfang sailors who knew basic English became temporary translators.

Captain Li Zhenhua was surrounded by a group of American pilots. They were full of curiosity about the AR-1 he was piloting, and asked him one question after another.

"Can the aircraft's structure withstand that kind of maneuvering?"

Is maintaining a liquid-cooled engine very complicated?

How many flight hours do you have during training?

Li Zhenhua answered patiently, neither boasting excessively nor deliberately concealing anything. When he mentioned that Lanfang naval pilots had an average annual flight time of over 300 hours, several Meilika pilots widened their eyes—their standard was 150 hours.

Around another campfire, Lieutenant Colonel Zhao Zhiqiang spoke with the artillery officers from Meilika. The conversation gradually shifted from artillery firing to fire control systems.

"Your radar...can it really lock onto targets in bad weather?" Major Merika asked.

"Yes, that's possible. However, every technology has its limitations, and radar can be interfered with," Zhao Zhi answered honestly. "That's why we've kept a complete optical system as a backup."

"This integration approach is very advanced. Who proposed it?"

Zhao Zhiqiang paused for a moment: "This is one of the fundamental principles of our navy's development. Specifically, it's a direction established by the President and the Equipment Department many years ago."

Not far away, Chen Feng and Rodman sat around a relatively quiet campfire, with drinks instead of alcohol in front of them. Wang Wenwu accompanied them.

"Captain Zhang and his men left a deep impression on me," Rodman said. "Professional, confident, yet very humble."

"The navy is a technology-based service, and professional competence is fundamental," Chen Feng responded. "There are many things we can learn from the history and experience of the Mirikka Navy."

"But today on the 'Huaihe' ship, I saw many things we can learn from it." Rodman looked directly at Chen Feng. "Frankly speaking, the sophistication of some of the technologies exceeded my expectations."

Chen Feng smiled slightly: "Technology is always advancing. Ten years ago, the advent of the dreadnought rendered all old battleships obsolete overnight. Today, perhaps we've reached another turning point."

It's subtle, but the message is clear.

Rodman picked up his glass and took a sip: "Change requires resources, time, and... a clear objective. What is the objective of the Lanfang Navy's development? To protect trade routes? To maintain regional stability? Or is there a longer-term plan?"

The questions were direct, with the frankness of a soldier.

Chen Feng pondered for a few seconds, then answered just as frankly: "The size of a nation's navy should match the scope of its interests. Lanfang's trade spans the globe, from the Persian Gulf to Southeast Asia, from the Indian Ocean to the Pacific. We need a navy capable of protecting these interests. That's all."

"What if the interests of other countries conflict with yours?"

"Then we need diplomatic wisdom to avoid conflict," Chen Feng said calmly. "The navy's existence is not for waging war, but to ensure that our voice is heard seriously at the negotiating table. I think this should be a common concept for the navies of all responsible countries."

Rodman nodded. The answer was impeccable, but he sensed the underlying meaning—Lanfang had defined its interests globally, and their naval buildup was precisely to support that definition.

The atmosphere on the beach grew increasingly lively. A Lanfang sailor took out a bamboo flute and began to play a melodious oriental tune. Several Meilika sailors clapped along to the rhythm. Then, a Meilika sailor performed on a country guitar; although the Lanfang sailors couldn't understand the lyrics, they could feel the emotions in the music.

Around the largest campfire, the sailors from both sides began a friendly arm-wrestling match. A burly and beautiful sailor from Kazakhstan won three consecutive matches and was raising her arms to receive cheers. At this moment, a sailor from Lanfang, who was not particularly strong but looked very capable, walked over.

The surroundings quieted down.

The two shook hands, their elbows resting on the makeshift wooden crates. The referee yelled "Start!" and their muscles tensed instantly.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds… the two sides were evenly matched. The faces of the Meilika sailors were flushed red, while the veins on the arms of the Lanfang sailors bulged. Rhythmic cheers rang out from all around, both the Meilika and Lanfang sailors applauding the perseverance of both sides.

In the end, Lan Fang's sailor won by a narrow margin. He stood up and immediately reached out to help his opponent up. The two patted each other on the shoulder, and enthusiastic applause and whistles erupted around them.

Rodman watched this scene thoughtfully: "Sometimes, the conversations between sailors are more telling than the dialogues between diplomats."

"Because sailors are more direct and sincere," Chen Feng said. "They know that on the vast ocean, professionalism and mutual respect are more important than anything else."

The party lasted until nine o'clock in the evening. As the campfire gradually died down and the sailors began to pack up, a subtle connection had been established. They exchanged souvenirs—the Lanfang sailors gave handmade Chinese knots and small handicrafts, while the Meilika sailors gave naval badges and postcards.

Many people shook hands and hugged each other when saying goodbye.