Chapter 772
Stilwell: We can get the Chinese to do this difficult task!
It's still Tokyo.
The order to deal with Ryoji Shifang has been issued, but it has not satisfied everyone.
On this day, the cold autumn rain did not stop as night fell.
Instead, the rain fell even more finely, like countless cold needles piercing the heart.
In a narrow alley in Shinjuku Ward.
The izakaya with its red lanterns cast a dim and ambiguous light in the rain and mist.
This place was originally a gathering place for black market merchants and lower-class laborers to vent their desires.
However, due to increased restrictions on supplies, the situation has become increasingly sluggish.
In a corner of the Yoshinoya izakaya, sat a middle-aged man wearing an old suit.
In front of him was a pot of cheap liquor and a meager plate of pickled radishes.
The man's name is Kenji Sato.
His official identity was that of a mid-level civilian official in the Military Affairs Bureau of the Ministry of the Army, who was specifically responsible for compiling data on the allocation of supplies within the "Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere".
But in reality, he was a full-fledged triple agent.
Perhaps, it has two sides.
Looking at the "Third Quarter Military Supplies Loss Table of Showa 18" in his hand, which had just been calculated and was destined to be altered and embellished by his superiors, he was filled with despair.
At this moment, Japan has no oil and no high-quality steel.
There wasn't even enough cotton left to make military uniforms.
The so-called "retreat" and the so-called "great victory".
In his eyes, the person who handled the data, it was a complete scam.
Especially a few days ago, after news spread that the crazed military policeman Ryoji Shikata had driven Representative Tanaka to his death.
Kenji Sato completely snapped the last thread of his loyalty.
"Boss, another pot of liquor, please."
Kenji Sato tapped the table, his voice a little hoarse.
The owner, an old man with a hunched back, slowly walked over: "Sato-san, this is the last bit of stock. If you want any more, we'll have to dilute it with water."
"Watering it in is fine, as long as it makes me feel a little drunk."
Just then.
The sliding door of the izakaya was pulled open with a "whoosh".
A man wearing a baseball cap and a blue work shirt walked in. He folded his wet umbrella and used it to cover half of his face. His gaze swept around the store and finally landed on Kenji Sato.
The man walked straight to the seat opposite Sato, didn't order anything, but took out a crumpled pack of "Golden Kite" cigarettes from his pocket, took one out and handed it to him.
"Can I borrow a light?"
Kenji Sato glanced at the cigarette, his pupils contracting slightly.
On the cigarette holder.
There is a barely noticeable pinhole; this is the secret signal for the connector.
"I don't smoke, and the matches got damp."
Kenji Sato replied in a low voice, his palms already sweating: "A damp match won't light the fuse, but it can light the way home."
The man in the baseball cap lowered his voice and said in a pure Kyoto accent, "I am 'Red,' and I have brought what you asked for."
Kenji Sato's hand trembled slightly. He looked around to make sure the persistent Special Higher Police plainclothes officers weren't nearby before lowering his voice and asking urgently:
"What about the boat tickets?"
"A ship ticket to Shanghai!"
"Don't rush."
The Japanese Communist Party underground member codenamed "Red" (actually a double agent employed by the Allied intelligence network) looked at him coldly: "We need to inspect the goods first. What exactly is this intelligence you mentioned that is 'enough to shake the foundations of the General Staff'?"
Kenji Sato took a deep breath and pulled out a small square wrapped in layers of oil paper from the inner pocket of his pocket.
It was a roll of miniature film.
"This is the original stenographic record of yesterday's Imperial Conference, along with a copy of the draft of Operation Shogo prepared by the Ministry of the Army, and the original draft of the 'One Hundred Million Deaths' mobilization order issued by Hideki Tojo to all the General Headquarters."
Kenji Sato's voice trembled, but the greed and will to survive in his eyes overwhelmed his fear:
"I risked my life to get this by secretly taking a picture of it from the vice-official's safe."
"This contains records of the locusts' wavering, the Tojo's madness, and the real data of the impending collapse of the younger brother's country."
"Red" didn't reach out to take it, but stared at Sato with a scrutinizing gaze: "Sato-kun, do you know what it means if these things fall into the hands of Americans or Chinese?"
"It means I can live!"
Kenji Sato growled hysterically, "I don't want to die! I don't want to be like Representative Tanaka, driven to death at home by that mad dog, Ryoji Shikata!"
"I don't want to be drafted to Manchuria or the Pacific!"
"I've seen through it all!"
"This country has gone mad! The Tojo cabinet is full of lunatics!"
"He wants to drag everyone down with him!"
"All I need is a boat ticket to Shanghai!"
"And gold!"
"You made that promise!"
"Red" looked at the elite bureaucrat before him, whose face was contorted with fear, and a sarcastic smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
Is this what they call the elite of the "locust country"?
In the face of death, what difference is there between him and a street ruffian?
"very good."
"Red" took an envelope from his canvas bag and slid it across the table.
"Inside here is a transfer order for a senior employee of the South Manchuria Railway Company, and a first-class ticket for the Asama Maru, which sailed from Yokohama to Shanghai."
"With this, you'll be a high-ranking official going to Shanghai on business, and no one will stop you."
"As for gold."
"Red" then took out two heavy "small yellow fish" and gently tapped them on the table, making a dull but enticing sound.
"This is the deposit. When you get to Shanghai, someone will give you the rest."
Kenji Sato grabbed the envelope and gold bars, stuffed them into his arms like a vicious dog pouncing on its prey, and then quickly pushed the oil paper package over.
"Take it away, take it away!"
"Red" calmly put away the film, stood up, and lowered the brim of his hat.
"Sato-kun, have a safe journey. But I must remind you, life in Shanghai isn't easy these days either. Don't think that escaping Tokyo is like going to heaven."
"As long as you stay away from that madman Tojo, anywhere is paradise!"
Kenji Sato downed a large gulp of cheap shochu and laughed nervously.
"Red" ignored him and turned to walk into the rain.
After several transfers, this roll of film, which recorded the highest secrets of the Japanese Empire and the internal rifts within the ruling group, was transported from Tokyo to Yokohama via a secret underground transportation line, and then sailed across the ocean on a merchant ship from a neutral country.
A week later.
This intelligence was placed on the desk of the U.S. Office of Strategic Services in Kunming.
……
China.
Kunming, Wujiaba Airport.
P-40 fighter jets painted with shark mouth patterns and massive C-46 "Commando" transport planes are frequently taking off and landing on the runway.
The headquarters of the U.S. Army's 14th Air Force is located not far away.
"My God, what a crazy nation!"
General Joseph Stilwell, clutching the newly translated intelligence summary in his hand, paced excitedly back and forth in front of the desk piled high with maps.
His thin, rigid face was flushed red with excitement.
"Claire, look at this!" Stilwell slammed the intelligence report down in front of Chennault: "The Japanese locusts seem to be wavering!"
"That old bastard Tojo is plotting some kind of 'one hundred million die for the Emperor' plan for a decisive battle on the mainland. What a crazy plan."
"Fortunately, they've already split up internally!"
Chennault was not as agitated as Stilwell: "General Stilwell, is the intelligence source reliable?"
"Absolutely reliable!"
Stilwell shouted, "This is what we got for five hundred dollars and the lives of David and his gang."
“We have received information that the Japanese who provided the intelligence has boarded a ship. Once he arrives in Shanghai, China in half a month, we can have the Chinese arrest and interrogate him.”
Look here.
Stilwell pointed to a passage in the intelligence report: "'Tojo's purge of the pro-peace faction triggered atrocities by the military police, and public resentment in Tokyo boiled over.'"
"what does that mean?"
"Claire, this means that Japan, like a rotten onion, is rotting from the inside out!"
"We must deliver the final blow to this dying beast!"
"I order the 14th Air Force to immediately execute the strategic bombing plan targeting the Japanese mainland!"
"I'm going to use B-29s or B-24s, armed with incendiary bombs, to bomb Tokyo! To bomb Osaka!"
"If we just drop a few bombs on the roof of their palace, these terrified Japanese will definitely start an internal strife!"
Chennault put down the intelligence, sighed, and looked at his superior with a tone of helplessness and firmness.
"General Stilwell, I also want to bomb Tokyo."
“I even thought about throwing a bomb on Hideki Tojo’s dining table.”
"but."
Chennault stood up, walked to the huge map of the South China theater, and pointed heavily at the area in northern Guangdong and southern Jiangxi.
"Our current mission is to help the Fourth War Zone launch a counter-offensive in the direction of Guangzhou."
"This is a crucial battle on the South China battlefield!"
"If we can open up the southern section of the Yuehan Railway and take Guangzhou, we will regain a sea outlet!"
Chennault turned around and looked Stilwell straight in the eye: "My lads, my planes, and even every drop of gasoline are now being used to support this operation."
“The front line is calling for air support every day. My pilots have to sortie three to four times a day. They are so tired that they can fall asleep in the cockpit.”
"General Stilwell, don't forget, they participated in the fourth phase of the counter-offensive in North China!"
"At this critical juncture, you want me to deploy a heavy bomber squadron, along with a large number of escort fighters, to carry out a bombing mission thousands of kilometers away?"
Chennault shook his head, his tone resolute: "This is not a wise decision."
"I cannot abandon the Chinese soldiers bleeding on the ground for a symbolic political victory."
"A symbolic victory?!"
Stilwell instantly exploded: "This is strategy! Do you even understand strategy?!"
"As long as the Japanese mainland is in chaos, the Japanese army in South China will be like water without a source!"
"Moreover, this is a political offensive!"
"This is a great opportunity to prove our worth to Washington."
"President Roosevelt also wanted to see us bomb Tokyo, Japan, rather than blowing up bunkers in the mountains of Guangdong, China."
That's your politics, not mine!
Chennault was also furious. He was a stubborn man, and once he decided it was for the sake of the war, he wouldn't budge an inch, even when facing his superiors: "I am the air force commander, I am only responsible for the battlefield!"
"If we're going to carry out long-range bombing, one B-29, that oil-guzzling behemoth, flying to Tokyo would be enough for ten sorties of my P-40s!"
"Our current fuel reserves are only enough to sustain the offensive in South China, and the next aid shipment is full of tanks and ammunition that the Chinese want!"
"General, let me make this clear: as long as the fighting on the South China battlefield continues, I will never divert our main force to bomb Japan. This is not in line with our previously established strategy."
The two men stood facing each other across the desk like two angry bulls, the air thick with tension.
"Okay, very good!"
Stilwell, enraged, laughed coldly. He grabbed the military cap from the table and slammed it onto his head: "Since you can't reason with me here, I'll go find someone who can make the decisions!"
"He is the supreme commander of the China Theater. I refuse to believe that he has no interest in bombing Tokyo!"
"Even if it's just for the sake of saving face, he will definitely support me!"
Chennault looked at him coldly: "General Stilwell, I must remind you that the combat effectiveness of the Nationalist troops in South China is far inferior to that in North China. If your misjudgment leads to the failure of friendly ground forces due to a lack of air cover, you will not be able to bear the responsibility."
Stilwell knew it perfectly well.
What exactly did Chennault mean?
At the height of his fame, Stilwell is now showered with glory.
This is not because his command is particularly excellent, nor because he is particularly capable.
Instead, he chose the most suitable partner.
Chennault had always resented Stilwell's bossy attitude towards him.
Especially given the current state of the air force, which is already quite "exhausted," Stilwell is unable to secure more fuel and assistance for them.
Instead, in order to please the "war commander," a large amount of resources were allocated to the Chinese Air Force.
This greatly displeased Chennault.
Of course, this dissatisfaction was not unique to Chennault.
There are also many military and political figures in the United States who are inclined towards Europe, particularly Britain and France.
Ultimately, Chennault made a mistake, but Stilwell got away scot-free.
However, when Stilwell made mistakes, Chennault was often held jointly liable.
This kind of thing is just awful.
It was understandable that Chennault was unwilling to take risks with Stilwell, and Stilwell understood this as well.
"I will show you that my decision was absolutely right..."
Stilwell left those words behind, turned and strode out of the headquarters.
……
"Get the car ready! To the airport!"
Stilwell got into the jeep and yelled at his adjutant, "I need to fly to Chongqing immediately! I need to see Chang Ruiyuan!"
Dorn held a newly updated schedule in his hand, glancing hesitantly at the enraged Stilwell.
"General, uh, I'm afraid you won't be able to see Chairman Chang if you go to the mountain city."
"What do you mean?" Stilwell frowned. "Is he still in North China and hasn't returned, or has he hidden in some air-raid shelter again?"
Dorn said cautiously, "He is indeed still in North China."
"Why is he still in North China? Wasn't the Kaifeng Conference already over?"
"It is said that he is personally overseeing the reorganization and reorganization task."
Stilwell stroked his chin, his eyes becoming playful: "If Chang Ruiyuan is unwilling to return to Shancheng..."
That means the center of power has gradually shifted from that foggy city to the north.
"Where is the 22nd Army Group located now?"
"According to the information we received earlier, the 22nd Group Army has arrived in Shanxi Province and is expected to reach Chongqing within half a month to undertake garrison duties."
"Half a month."
Stilwell slammed his hand on the car door, startling the driver.
"It's been too long, we're not going to the mountain city."
"Let's go to Kaifeng too."
"I'm going to see our old friends."
"General, what's going on?" Adjutant Dorn asked, looking puzzled.
Stilwell replied confidently, "Perhaps we can have the Chinese carry out this mission independently." (End of Chapter)