World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

That evening, Wilson received three special guests at the White House.

Jack Morgan sat on the sofa, a glass of whiskey in his hand, legs crossed. He was the head of the Morgan Group, the most powerful banker in Maryland. His father, J.P. Morgan Sr., had single-handedly saved Maryland from a financial crisis, and now his goal was to make Maryland the world's financial center.

John D. Rockefeller II sat across from Morgan, a glass of red wine in his hand, looking relaxed. He was the heir to the Rockefeller Group and the wealthiest oil tycoon in Maryland. His father, John D. Rockefeller Sr., had founded the Standard Oil empire, and his ambition was to extend its reach across the world.

Frank Vanderlip stood by the window, his back to everyone, smoking a cigar. He was the chairman of Citibank and the godfather of the financial world. He didn't like to talk, but every word he spoke was more effective than a thousand words from others.

Wilson sat behind his desk, watching the three men.

They are the true rulers of the Meilika.

Members of Congress listen to them, newspaper editors listen to them, judges listen to them, and even he, the president, was put in power by them.

"Gentlemen," Wilson began, "have you all read that agreement?"

Morgan nodded.

"I've seen it. The British really went all out this time."

Rockefeller smiled.

"The dollar becoming the international currency—Morgan, you must be laughing in your sleep!"

Morgan smiled too.

"Laughing in my sleep? I didn't sleep at all last night. I kept thinking about how to settle this score."

He stood up, walked to the window, and stood side by side with Vanderlip.

"Your Excellency, do you know what this means?"

Wilson nodded.

"I know. With the US dollar becoming the international currency, Meilika can use a printing press to buy resources all over the world."

Morgan shook his head.

"It's not just that. It's not that simple."

He turned to look at Wilson, his eyes gleaming.

"If the US dollar becomes the international currency, it means the whole world will use the US dollar. Central banks will need to hold US dollar reserves, international trade will be settled in US dollars, and cross-border investments will be priced in US dollars. At that time, the Meili Card will be able to—"

He paused, as if searching for the right word.

"You can just lie down and collect money."

Van der Lip finally spoke. His voice was hoarse, but every word was like a nail driven into a plank of wood.

"Your Excellency, do you know why I support sending troops?"

Wilson looked at him.

Van der Lipp exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Because war is the best business. If Britain wins, we feast. If Britain loses, we starve."

He walked back to the sofa and sat down.

"Furthermore, think about it: if Britain loses and the Germans win, will they recognize the international status of the dollar? No. They will use the mark, their banks, their financial system. In that case, we won't get a single penny."

Morgan nodded.

"Van der Lipp is right. Helping Britain is helping ourselves."

Rockefeller also spoke up.

"Your Excellency, you have another concern—Lanfang."

Wilson looked at him.

Rockefeller continued, "You're worried about a direct conflict with Lanfang. But think about it, if we help Britain win in Europe, how long can Lanfang hold out in Asia? They rely on Germany and Japan. If Germany loses, Japan will be fighting alone. At that point, Lanfang will either have to sue for peace or be suppressed and beaten by us."

Wilson remained silent for a few seconds.

"Rockefeller, you've never been to Asia. You have no idea how powerful Lanfang is now."

Rockefeller smiled.

"Your Excellency, even the strongest are only temporarily powerful. They have industry, we have oil. They have an army, we have gold. They have four Bismarck-class destroyers, we have—we can build ten."

He stood up and walked over to Wilson.

"Your Excellency, what you're worried about isn't Lanfang's army, but its navy. But a navy can be built. As long as Meilika operates its industrial machinery at full capacity, building ten battleships a year, it can surpass Lanfang in two years."

Wilson looked at him without saying a word.

Morgan walked over to him.

"Your Excellency, we know you have concerns. But think about it, how will history books write it a hundred years from now? Will they say that President Wilson hesitated at a crucial moment and missed the opportunity for Maryka to become a world leader? Or will they say that President Wilson had foresight and courage, leading Maryka to glory?"

Wilson fell silent.

The three people looked at him, waiting for his answer.

After a long silence, Wilson finally spoke.

"We can send troops. But there's one condition."

Morgan's eyes lit up: "What are the conditions?"

"Merica will not fight directly against Lanfang. We will handle the affairs of Europe. The affairs of Asia are for the British to deal with themselves."

Morgan thought for a moment and nodded.

"Sure. Anyway, Lanfang is in Asia, across the Pacific Ocean, so they can't be attacked in a short time."

Van der Lip nodded.

"Agreed. Deal with Europe first, then consider Asia."

Rockefeller spoke last.

"Your Excellency, it's settled then. We'll handle Congress. We'll handle the media. You only need to do one thing—"

He paused.

"signature."

November 26th, 10:00 AM.

Asquith walked into the Oval Office again.

This time, Wilson's attitude completely changed.

He sat behind his desk with a smile on his face, but that smile was much more genuine than yesterday's.

"Mr. Prime Minister, Mirika is willing to send troops."

Asquith's eyes lit up.

"How many?"

Wilson held up one finger.

"At least one million."

Asquith was stunned. One million. One million Mulka soldiers. Enough to tip the scales across the entire European battlefield.

But before he could even rejoice, Wilson added another sentence.

"But there is one condition."

"What are the conditions?"

"Merica will not directly fight Lanfang. You can handle things in Asia yourselves. Merica's battlefield is in Europe."

Asquith remained silent for a few seconds.

He recalled George V's words before his departure: "No matter the cost, get Milica to send troops."

Regardless of the cost.

He nodded.

"Can."

Wilson looked at him and suddenly asked a question.

"Prime Minister, do you know why I insist on not fighting Lanfang?"

Asquith shook his head.

Wilson stood up and walked to the huge world map on the wall. He pointed towards the Pacific Ocean, his finger lightly touching the deep blue sea.

"Because the navy of Meilika has no chance of winning against the navy of Lanfang now."

Asquith walked up to him.

"Your Excellency, Lanfang has only four Bismarck-class battleships. The Merika has sixteen—"

"Sixteen ships?" Wilson interrupted him. "Of the sixteen you mentioned, half are in the Atlantic and the other half in the Pacific. And do you even know what the fire control radar of the Bismarck-class ships is?"