World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chapter 709 A person who isn't ruthless won't live long.

Secretary of State Robert Lansing walked in, carrying a new stack of documents. His expression was somewhat grave, and he had noticeable dark circles under his eyes—he hadn't slept well again last night.

"Your Excellency, General Pershing is calling. The advance force of 14,000 men has arrived at the port of Saint-Nazaire and is assembling at its designated positions."

Wilson nodded, took the telegram, glanced at it, and placed it on the table.

What was the French reaction?

Lan gave a forced smile.

"The French were overjoyed. General Joffre personally went to the port to greet them, saying it was a 'great day.' Parisian newspapers reported it on their front pages, saying, 'Merica has arrived; can victory be far behind?'"

Wilson gave a cold laugh.

"Victory? Fourteen thousand men are not even enough to fill a tooth in the European theater."

He stood up and walked to the huge world map on the wall. On the map, the British red was fading piece by piece, replaced by the Lanfang golden dragon flag—Singapore, Burma, Iran, all changed color. India's red remained, but it was now surrounded by black arrows. Along the Suez Canal, Lanfang's 120,000 men were watching intently.

"The Lanfang people attacked too fast," he said, without turning around. "They were so fast we didn't even have time to react."

Lansing walked over to him and looked at the map as well.

"Yes, in just one week, they've lost half of Asia. The British are like a wounded lion now, bleeding everywhere."

Wilson turned around and looked at him.

"Lansing, what should we do?"

Lansing remained silent for a few seconds.

"Your Excellency, this is a dilemma. If we help the British, we will offend Lanfang; if we don't help the British, we will offend Britain. And we need both Britain and Lanfang."

Wilson walked back to his desk and sat down.

"That's why I have a headache." He rubbed his temples. "The British are our traditional allies. We share a common language, a common culture, and common values. As for Lanfang, they're halfway around the world from us, completely unrelated. Logically, we should help the British."

He paused.

"But Lansing, look at this map. The British are doomed in Asia. They've lost Singapore, Burma, Iran, and India won't last long either. Even if we send troops, what can we change?"

Lansing thought for a moment.

"It won't change anything. Asia is too far away, and our main force is in Europe. By the time our fleet circles halfway around the world and arrives in India, it will be too late."

"Yes," Wilson nodded. "So we can only help Britain in Europe. We can't, and shouldn't, get involved in things in Asia."

He picked up Chen Feng's telegram and read it again.

"I won't be an enemy of Meilika," he murmured. "Chen Feng is telling me: You fight your Europe, I'll fight my Asia. We'll keep to ourselves."

Lansing paused for a moment.

"Your Excellency, do you mean...?"

Wilson looked up at him.

"What I mean is, we'll leave Asian affairs to the British and the Lanfang people to handle. We'll focus on fighting in Europe."

Lansing remained silent for a few seconds.

"And what about the British...?"

"I'll explain to the British," Wilson said, standing up and walking to the window. "They're in a bind right now and don't have the energy to turn against us. As long as we contribute more on the European front, they won't say anything."

Outside the window, sunlight shone on the lawn and on the busy gardeners. Everything looked so peaceful, as if separated from the war by another world.

"Lansing," Wilson suddenly asked, "what do you think the world will be like after the war ends?"

Lansing thought for a moment.

"I don't know, Your Excellency. But things will definitely change. Britain is no longer the leader, Germany is severely weakened, Lanfang has suddenly risen to prominence, and we..."

"What about us?"

Lansing looked at him.

"We could be the biggest winners if we handle things well."

Wilson nodded.

"Yes, the biggest winner," he said softly, "but only if we handle it well."

Wilson walked back to his desk, picked up his pen, and began drafting a reply to Chen Feng.

He wrote it, crossed it out, and wrote it again. He wrote it three times, but he was still not satisfied.

Lansing stood to the side, looking at the crossed-out drafts.

The first draft read: "The government of Meilika expresses deep concern over Lanfang's military actions and calls on both sides to resolve the dispute through peaceful negotiations..."

Too soft. Chen Feng could only sneer at that.

The second version reads: "Mirika has no intention of interfering in Asian affairs, but hopes that Lanfang will respect the existing international order..."

Taixu. What is the existing international order? An order established by the British? On what grounds does Chen Feng respect it?

The third version reads: "Merica will fully support its European allies, but will not antagonize Lanfang in Asia. We hope both sides will maintain communication to avoid miscalculations..."

Too long. Chen Feng didn't have time to read a long article.

Wilson threw down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

"Lansing, what do you think Chen Feng wants to hear?"

Lansing thought for a moment.

"He wants to hear our stance. A clear stance. Not ambiguous diplomatic language, but 'We won't attack you, and you shouldn't attack us either.'"

Wilson opened his eyes.

"It's that simple?"

"It's that simple." Lansing nodded. "Chen Feng is a pragmatic person. He doesn't like empty talk, he only likes concrete things. Tell him the truth, and he'll know what to do."

Wilson paused for a few seconds, then picked up his pen and began to write again.

This time, he only wrote one sentence:

"Merika has no intention of being an enemy of Lanfang. Merika will not concern herself with Asian affairs. As for European affairs, Lanfang should not interfere either."

After he finished writing, he read it once and handed it to Lansing.

"How is it?"

Lansing glanced at it and nodded.

"Okay. Simple, direct, no beating around the bush."

Wilson looked at it again and then signed his name.

"Send it out. In plaintext."

Lansing paused for a moment.

"Plain text? Your Excellency, if plain text is sent out, everyone will receive it."

"Yes." Wilson stood up, walked to the window, and said, "Let the British see, let the French see, let the whole world see—Merica doesn't want to fight Lanfang. They fight their Asia, we'll take care of our Europe."

Lansing hesitated for a moment.

"Your Excellency, won't this make the British feel like we're abandoning them?"

Wilson turned around and looked at him.

"Lansing, the British need us now, not the other way around. What can they do? Turn against us? Would they dare?"

Lansing thought for a moment and nodded.

"Understood."

He turned to leave, but Wilson called him back.

"etc."

Lansing stopped.

Wilson walked up to him and looked at him.

"Lansing, do you think what I'm doing is right or wrong?"

Lansing remained silent for a few seconds.