Chapter 790
A policy of befriending distant states while attacking nearby ones: An alliance with Fra
Joseph Stilwell strode down the corridor, a thick draft of joint operations tucked under his arm, and pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Chinese delegation's operations room.
The figure he was so eager to find was not in the room.
Only Shang Zhen was standing in front of a map covered with red and blue arrows, slowly sorting through top-secret telegrams.
Where did he go?
Stilwell frowned, his blue eyes revealing undisguised anxiety: "I must finalize the details of the amphibious landing operation for the Southeast Asian counter-offensive with him immediately."
Shang Zhen turned around, locked the folder in his hand into the safe, and a faint, enigmatic smile appeared on his lips: "General Stilwell, the chief advisor is no longer in Cairo."
Not in Cairo?
Stilwell froze abruptly, the draft he was holding under his arm nearly slipping off: "At this crucial juncture that will determine the future of the world, he's left the conference table?"
Shang Zhen walked to the window, glanced at the British military police patrolling outside, and lowered his voice to a minimum.
"Just last night, the chief advisor secretly left on a private jet, heading to another city."
Shang Zhen's gaze was deep and unfathomable: "Just as he had previously revealed to President Roosevelt, he was going to meet with General de Gaulle."
These words struck Stilwell like a thunderclap.
His perpetually tense nerves instantly and keenly sensed the turbulent undercurrents behind this action.
"You bypassed the British to court Free France?"
Stilwell gasped for breath, his pupils dilating slightly in shock.
Shang Zhen dusted off non-existent dust from the cuffs of his military uniform, his tone eerily calm.
"Not only that."
"The Chief of Staff's trip not only received the strong support of the Chairman, but also the tacit approval and consent of President Roosevelt himself in last night's private talks. He specifically instructed that you must know about this matter, Chief of the General Staff."
Stilwell fell completely silent.
He took off his military cap and vigorously rubbed his cheeks with his rough hands.
A massive geopolitical game, orchestrated by China and the United States to bypass Britain and reshape the power of established European powers, is quietly taking shape on this land of endless yellow sand.
……
That same afternoon, the atmosphere in the Cairo conference hall reached a fever pitch.
Franklin Roosevelt sat steadily in his wheelchair, his eyes behind his pince-nez glasses radiating an unquestionable authority.
He didn't even glance at Churchill's ashen face, but instead leaned slightly toward the Chinese delegation.
"In order to completely crush the war machine of the Far East fascists, the United States of America will increase its military aid to China without reservation."
Roosevelt's booming voice, delivered through a translator, resonated clearly in the ears of every British general.
"The U.S. has pledged to continue arming China with 30 fully U.S.-equipped infantry divisions, on top of the existing commitments."
The sound of pens scratching in the room stopped instantly, leaving only heavy breathing echoing in the air.
"This is just the first step."
Roosevelt's heavily nasal voice continued to echo: "We will increase the total aid to sixty fully-equipped infantry divisions!"
"In addition, Washington will provide the China Theater with an additional twelve heavy artillery regiments and three fully-equipped armored tank regiments."
Chang Ruiyuan sat upright in the main seat, his expression unchanged.
All of this came at a price. In the not-too-distant future, the main force in the amphibious landing operation against Japan would be the Expeditionary Force, not the U.S. Marine Corps.
He tapped his cane lightly on the thick Persian carpet, stood up, and nodded slightly to the crowd.
It was as if this enormous sum of money, which had shaken the world, had already been secured.
……
The deafening roar of the engines tore through the thin air at 10,000 feet.
Inside this secret private jet, painted with the emblem of the Republic of China (ROC), the cabin lights were dim.
He sat upright in the leather chair, holding a newly deciphered encrypted telegram in his hand, his brain rapidly filtering the information on the telegram that was enough to shake the world order.
Presumably, at the Mena Palace Hotel in Cairo, Stilwell should have already learned the truth about Shang Zhen's sudden disappearance from him.
The image of the American old man, a mixture of shock and anxiety, is vividly clear in my mind.
This is a tacit, high-level understanding.
The latter part of the telegram also confirms this.
The enormous aid offered by Roosevelt was a generous "down payment" from the US president to China for sending troops to destroy the old colonial system, and also a tacit political authorization for him to fly to North Africa at this moment to meet with the forces in the British backyard.
The special plane pierced through the clouds under the glaring sunlight and slowly landed in Algiers, North Africa.
The hot, salty Mediterranean winds blew through the white, colonial-style villa.
The air was filled with the bitter aroma of freshly ground black coffee, which mingled with the scent of old oak furniture, creating a somber atmosphere reminiscent of a declining empire.
The dark green officer's uniform looked exceptionally upright in the dappled light and shadow.
Sitting in front of him was a man of extremely tall stature, dressed in the uniform of a French general.
Charles de Gaulle.
The exiled president of Free France had his legs tightly crossed.
His deep-set, azure eyes exuded arrogance, but his taut jawline betrayed his extreme thirst for support from a major power.
"General de Gaulle, your coffee is getting a little cold."
He picked up the white porcelain cup, his gaze sweeping coldly over the reflection on the water's surface, his voice steady and without a trace of inflection: "Just like the situation your country is currently facing in Europe."
De Gaulle's back stiffened almost imperceptibly, and his sharp gaze locked onto the face of the Eastern warlord.
"You flew secretly across the Mediterranean from London and Washington to see me, surely not just to taste this cup of bitter coffee."
"The Republic of China is very pleased to see an independent and strong France restore its full legitimate status as a great power after the war."
He put down the porcelain cup.
The bottom of the cup struck the tray with a sharp, penetrating sound.
"But as many parties have agreed, in this new world, the old colonial system that relies on exploitation for survival must be completely dismantled."
He leaned slightly forward, his aggressive gaze piercing through de Gaulle's defenses.
"We hope to see a new world order that is more united and integrated."
"In this order, China needs the support of France, and France, in turn, needs a strong Eastern ally that will not be manipulated by Britain, the United States, or the Soviet Union."
De Gaulle fell into a long silence.
His mind was churning with a fierce struggle between various interests.
Accepting this proposal would be tantamount to giving up some overseas interests, but in return, it would bring national dignity that is sufficient to curb British and American infiltration and control.
France's position was precarious. What good was it for a defeated nation to wear the clothes of a victor?
They are not on the list of the world's top four.
In an attempt to confront the Soviet Union and the United States, Europe will inevitably unite.
The British fought them for nearly a thousand years.
Whether to trust the Chinese or the British, the French still have their own scale in their hearts.
Soon, de Gaulle slowly loosened his hands, which were tightly clasped on his knees, and a very complex smile appeared on his lips.
"France is willing to forge this necessary friendship with China on key geopolitical issues."
He suddenly stood up and extended his large hand.
Someone else also stood up, and their right hand, gloved in white, clasped tightly with the other's.
The two "disappointed" individuals reached a consensus.
A dark web, powerful enough to tear apart British hegemony in the Far East, tightened its grip under the scorching North African sun. ...
The Cairo venue the following day.
The scorching sunlight made the huge glass windows scalding hot.
The topic at the conference table sharply shifted to the post-war status of Southeast Asian territories.
Churchill's obese face wore an air of self-righteous arrogance as he impatiently tapped the map of Southeast Asia in front of him.
“The legal right to rule these lands should be returned to the European colonial powers without reservation after the war.”
Before he could finish speaking...
Chang Ruiyuan then coldly raised his eyes.
He didn't even look at Churchill, but slammed the document about the Indochina Peninsula on the table.
"Our Republic of China government absolutely does not agree with this argument that turns back the clock of history."
Chang Ruiyuan's voice was so cold it seemed to carry shards of ice, instantly freezing the air in the conference room.
The translator nervously translated these forceful words into English, which echoed in the empty hall.
"Whether it's Vietnam or other parts of the Indochina Peninsula."
Chang Ruiyuan stared intently at the British and American dignitaries opposite him: "The post-war fate of these war-torn nations should not be decided by European countries in a meeting. We do not accept such political deals, and we oppose all forms of hegemonism."
Under the watchful eyes of everyone.
Chang Ruiyuan slowly stood up and then said loudly, "I suggest that the political status of all Southeast Asian countries must be decided by a public and transparent referendum by the local people."
Churchill abruptly pulled the cigar from his mouth, his face instantly turning purplish-red, as if he had been greatly insulted.
"Follow the Wilson principle, implement thorough national self-determination, and fully respect the wishes of the indigenous people."
Chang Ruiyuan raised his voice without backing down, ending his speech with a resounding finality: "Whether we support them toward independence or choose another form of government, on behalf of the National Revolutionary Army and the National Government, I declare that we will defend this principle to the death!"
A deathly silence fell over the conference table.
A suppressed commotion erupted in the British delegation's seats.
Roosevelt adjusted himself into a comfortable position in his wheelchair, discreetly rubbing his chin with his fingers, a look of amusement in his eyes.
The Wilson Principles were, after all, proposed by US President Wilson after World War I.
Its political ideal was to establish an institution to end international wars and safeguard world peace. This was the core of its political views and the origin of the League of Nations, the predecessor of the United Nations.
As one of the four major powers today, China enjoys legitimate and special rights once the United Nations is established.
Therefore, Chang Ruiyuan was naturally happy to fight for the Americans.
This confidence comes not only from the Americans, but also from...
……
a few days later.
The Giza pyramids cast long shadows at dusk.
The warlord's private plane landed at a field airfield on the outskirts of Cairo.
In no time, the jeep kicked up clouds of yellow dust and sped toward the Mena Palace Hotel.
Zhou Zhirou, in the passenger seat, handed over a thick diplomatic briefing, her voice brimming with barely suppressed excitement.
"The meeting room was in complete chaos during the few days you were away."
"At the meeting, the Chairman directly challenged Churchill, proposing that the post-war status of Southeast Asian countries must be decided by the local people through a referendum."
Churchill was so angry that he threw down his cigar, but the Americans chose to stand by and acquiesce, and the two sides are still arguing.
Zhan Shuai looked at the British barbed wire fencing rushing past the window, a cold, sharp smile curving his lips.
Chang Ruiyuan's political tactics have always been ruthless. Under the banner of national self-determination, he tore the fig leaf of the British to shreds, which greatly facilitated his arrangements in North Africa.
But the real killer move is yet to come.
The jeep braked suddenly and stopped in front of the heavily guarded main conference building.
At this moment, the Cairo Conference has entered its final day.
Closed-door deliberations on the final draft of the Cairo Declaration are underway.
The heavy oak double doors were pushed open forcefully by the guards.
Zhan Shuai, still covered in the lingering smoke and dust of battle, strode steadily into the conference room.
The dull thud of leather boots on the carpet instantly silenced the previously noisy meeting room.
British Foreign Secretary Cardogan stood at a long table, holding a draft document in his hand, his face flushed.
Just now, he was trying his best to play word games on the issue of territorial ownership.
Chang Ruiyuan sat in the main seat. When he saw the newcomer enter, a hint of approval flashed in his eyes. He nodded slightly, gesturing for him to take a seat.
Zhan Shuai walked to his seat, but instead of sitting down immediately, he reached out and picked up a copy of the half-translated English draft from the table.
His gaze swept quickly across the pages, his cold eyes instantly locking onto the carefully crafted words.
The British made the suggestion.
Regarding islands such as Manchuria, Taiwan, and Penghu, the wording should be "must be relinquished by Japan."
He slammed the draft document onto the center of the table with a loud thud.
"Lord Cardogan."
"The so-called 'abandonment by Japan' is a false proposition full of diplomatic traps."
"To whom does the sovereignty relinquished belong?"
"Will it become a trusteeship, or a piece of meat for certain countries to covet again?"
Churchill's plump cheeks twitched slightly, but he remained silent, attempting to suppress the questioning with the power of a great nation.
"There is no room for ambiguity in our territory."
His knuckles tapped out an undeniable rhythm on the smooth mahogany wooden table.
“On behalf of the Far East Theater, I put forward the absolute core recommendations in the final draft of the Cairo Declaration.”
"First!"
"It must be clearly stated that all islands in the Pacific Ocean that Japan has seized or occupied since the start of World War I in 1914 shall be placed under U.S. trusteeship."
"second!"
"Territory stolen from China by Japan!"
Zhan Shuai's voice suddenly rose, like a booming bell, reverberating in the eardrums of every attendee: "For example, Manchuria, xx, xxxx, etc., must be clearly and unambiguously marked—'Return to China'!"
It's 'returning,' not 'giving up'!
The meeting room was deathly silent.
U.S. Chief of Staff Marshall and Stilwell exchanged a glance and both chose to remain silent.
Churchill's fingers tightened around his cigar, but upon seeing Roosevelt's indifferent expression, the resentment in his eyes could only turn into a helpless snort.
"Since your country insists, then we have no objection."
The warlord slowly sat down, the creases in his military uniform as straight as knives.
After the British remained silent, the Americans went on to explain other aspects.
The Chinese side listened quietly throughout, without uttering a single word.
Territorial gains are not without cost; at the very least, the so-called "Philippines" landing operation must not affect the European landing operation.
Time was running out for the Chinese side; the expeditionary force had to end the war in Southeast Asia within six months, which would inevitably come at a greater cost.
Fortunately, in this feast of dividing the world's discourse power...
The great power of the East, with the strongest stance, firmly nailed its own territory to the final draft of history. (End of this chapter)