World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Jericho shook his head.

"The citizens of Mumbai are marching. They are chanting 'Britishers out of India,' smashing British shops, and burning British cars. The colonial government has lost control of the situation."

He turned around and looked at everyone.

"And your Admiral Jellicoe, the pride of the Royal Navy, is hiding in the harbor, watching all of this happen."

The conference room was deathly silent.

No one dared to speak, no one dared to move.

King George V walked back to his seat and finally sat down. His voice sounded tired, as if he had exhausted all his strength.

"Now, who can tell me what to do with Jericho?"

This problem is more difficult than any of the previous ones.

First Lord of the Admiralty, Jellicoe, opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately said nothing. Admiral Jellicoe was his cousin; he couldn't speak. To speak would be to show favoritism; to remain silent would appear heartless.

Army Secretary Kitchener did speak up, but he did so cautiously.

"Your Majesty, while General Jericho may have made mistakes, holding him accountable now could negatively impact morale. The soldiers will think, 'If we're punished for every defeat, who will dare to fight?'"

"So you mean no punishment?" King George V looked at him.

"It's not that we won't punish them, it's that we'll punish them after the war is over."

King George V gave a cold laugh.

"Wait until the war is over? By the time the war is over, we might not even have India anymore. What's the point of punishing us then?"

Foreign Secretary Gray said softly, "Your Majesty, the most important thing now is to stabilize the situation. Jericho's problem can be discussed in more detail later."

"Let's think things through," King George V repeated. "You always say 'let's think things through.' When Singapore fell, you said let's think things through. When Burma fell, you said let's think things through. When Iran fell, you still said let's think things through. And what have you come up with after all this thinking?"

No one answered.

King George V stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the Thames appeared particularly gray under the gloomy sky. In the distance, Big Ben, the clock tower of Parliament, had just struck three, its chimes echoing in the damp air.

"Regarding Jericho," he finally spoke, without turning around, "let him stay in Mumbai. If he can lead the fleet out, he'll atone for his sins. If he can't—"

He didn't finish his sentence. But everyone knew what it meant.

If you can't get out, then don't come back.

Walter Long, the Secretary of State for Colonial Affairs, suddenly spoke, his voice very soft.

"Your Majesty, if Jericho can't break through, what will happen to the Mumbai fleet? That's our only remaining Asian fleet."

King George V turned around and looked at him.

"Mr. Lang, what do you think is left of that fleet? Eight damaged warships, a group of soldiers with broken morale, and a commander who dares not leave port—even if such a fleet were to break out, what could it possibly do?"

Lang fell silent.

King George V returned to his seat and sat down.

"Alright, let's put Jericho aside for now. Now, let's move on to the next question—what about Egypt?"

This problem is more difficult than the previous one.

Kitchener stood up, walked to the map, and pointed to the location of the Suez Canal.

"Your Majesty, we have approximately 50,000 troops stationed in Egypt. Of these, 20,000 are British and 30,000 are local Egyptian colonial troops. With reinforcements brought in from the Mediterranean, we can field around 80,000 men."

King George V looked at him.

"Eighty thousand people, is that enough?"

Kitchener was silent for three seconds.

"The Lanfang people number 120,000 in the Sinai Peninsula. Add their tanks and artillery... 80,000 men, and we can't hold them off."

"What should we do then?"

Kitchener gritted his teeth.

"We can blow up the Suez Canal. If we blow up the canal, the people from Lanfang won't be able to cross."

A commotion broke out in the conference room.

Destroying the Suez Canal—the culmination of a century of British imperial efforts, a lifeline connecting Europe and Asia—would be tantamount to admitting defeat and abandoning Asia.

King George V remained silent for a long time.

Then he asked, "What will India do if the canal is blown up?"

Kitchener did not answer.

He couldn't answer. Blowing up the canal would completely isolate India. No reinforcements, no supplies, no hope. India could only wait to die.

"Your Majesty," Foreign Minister Gray suddenly spoke up, "perhaps we can negotiate with Lanfang."

King George V looked at him.

"Negotiation? Negotiate what?"

Gray took a document out of his briefcase.

"These are the conditions that Lanfang previously transferred through Meilika."

King George V took the document and read it through.

Then he slammed the file on the table.

"A public apology, admission of a premeditated attack, handing over Jericho, compensation for all losses, and relinquishing all privileges in Asia—is this negotiation? This is surrender!"

Gray lowered his head.

"Your Majesty, I know this is harsh. But..."

"But what?"

Gray looked up at him.

"But we have no choice now. We can't win if we fight. We can't wait for reinforcements. If we sue for peace, at least we can preserve something."

King George V stared at him for a long time.

Then he laughed. That laugh was uglier than crying.

"Mr. Gray, tell me, what can peace preserve? Singapore? Burma? Iran? Or India?"

Gray didn't say anything.

King George V stood up and walked to the window.

"Even if we sue for peace, will Chen Feng agree? He's already in the Sinai Peninsula, and in a few days he'll be able to cross the canal. Will he stop?"

No one answered.

Outside the window, it started to rain. Fine raindrops pattered against the glass, blurring the view. The Thames became hazy, the Houses of Parliament became hazy, and all of London became hazy.

King George V looked at the hazy scene and suddenly felt very tired.

He recalled his father Edward VII's dying words: "George, the British Empire looks large, but it is actually very fragile. Once it begins to decline, it cannot be stopped."

He didn't believe it at the time. He thought his father was old and too pessimistic.

Now he believes it.

The meeting finally ended at 6 p.m.

The ministers filed out, each with a look of exhaustion and despair on their face. No one spoke, no one greeted them; they simply walked silently out of the meeting room, out of 10 Downing Street, and disappeared into the London night.

King George V was the last to emerge, standing on the steps by the door, watching the cars gradually disappear into the distance.

His private secretary, Lord Stanfordham, approached him and said softly, "Your Majesty, it is time for you to return to the palace. It is getting dark."

King George V nodded, but did not move.

He gazed at the twinkling lights in the distance—the lights of London, lights he had watched grow up. Three years into the war, these lights had burned every night, never extinguished. German airships had bombed them, but they couldn't put them out.

But now?

The threat now comes from the East. From those with yellow skin and black eyes. They are not Germans, not British, not Europeans. They are another kind of people, another civilization, another force.

They are conquering territory in Asia, approaching the Suez Canal, and changing the world's landscape.

Meanwhile, the British Empire, the once invincible empire on which the sun never sets, is suffering defeat after defeat before them.