diymy Chapter 742 Helplessness
Chapter 742 Helplessness
He stood up and walked to the window.
In the distance, towards Mumbai, some dark dots could be vaguely seen moving—those were British reconnaissance planes, still futilely monitoring them.
"Chief of Staff, what do you think Jericho is thinking right now?"
The chief of staff thought for a moment.
"I'm thinking about how to get back alive."
Scher shook his head.
"No. He was thinking about how to die in a more dignified way."
He turned to look at the chief of staff.
"You know, when a person knows he's going to die, he thinks about two things. One is how to live, and the other is how to die with dignity. Jericho knows he's not going to live, so he's only thinking about the second thing now."
The chief of staff remained silent for a few seconds.
"General, do you think he will come out?"
Scher thought for a moment.
"Yes. He will come out once the Lanfang people take Mumbai by land."
Why?
"Because being trapped in the harbor and waiting to die is more shameful than going out to fight and die."
He walked back to the window and looked at the port in the distance.
"Chief of Staff, tell the fleet to remain on high alert. Jellicoe could come out at any moment."
The chief of staff nodded: "Yes, sir!"
Mumbai, headquarters of the British Far East Fleet.
Jericho sat in his office with three telegrams in front of him.
First report: Grad has fallen, and the Lanfang army is advancing into the Indian interior.
Second report: Karachi has fallen, and the Lanfang Marine Corps has landed.
Third report: From Dhaka, 300,000 people from the Sakura Kingdom are approaching.
He read it three times, his hands trembling slightly.
The chief of staff pushed open the door and came in, his face ashen.
"General, a call from London. Asking when we can launch our attack."
Jericho looked up at him.
"Attack? How? There are four Bismarck-class destroyers waiting for us outside. How can we attack?"
The chief of staff remained silent.
Jellicoe stood up and walked to the window. Outside, in the harbor of Mumbai, were his eight capital ships and five cruisers. That was Britain's last remaining asset in Asia. No, one could say it was the last remaining asset of the entire Royal Navy!
But now, they're just a pile of scrap metal—unable to get out, unable to fight back, and left only to wait for death.
"Chief of Staff," he said softly, "call London back."
The chief of staff took out paper and pen.
Jericho remained silent for a long time.
Then he said, "We can't do anything about it. Four words."
The chief of staff was stunned.
"General? Just this once?"
Jericho turned to look at him.
"That's it. We're powerless. What else can we say? That we're too afraid to go out? That we can only wait to die?"
The chief of staff lowered his head, wrote a telegram, and turned to leave.
After the door closed, Jericho stood alone by the window.
He looked at the warships anchored in the harbor in the distance, at the soldiers walking on the decks, and at the sea that shimmered in the sunlight.
He suddenly remembered thirty years ago, when he had just joined the army. Back then, he was a young lieutenant, and he was so excited that he couldn't sleep when he first boarded a warship. At that time, he thought that he would serve in the Royal Navy for the rest of his life, maybe become a captain, maybe become an admiral, maybe participate in a great naval battle and go down in history.
Thirty years later, he became a general and participated in a series of naval battles.
In the battle of the Arabian Sea, twelve capital ships fought against two Lanfang warships for three hours without a victory. The whole world saw those photos and witnessed the humiliation of the Royal Navy.
Now, he is trapped in Mumbai harbor with eight ships of defeated soldiers, and dares not go out.
go down in history?
It's more like being infamous for eternity.
He gave a wry smile.
In the distance, on the horizon, several dark dots can be vaguely seen.
Those were German warships. Four Bismarck-class ships were waiting for him.
He suddenly recalled General Nelson's words: "Britain expects everyone to do their duty."
Perform duties diligently.
Did he fulfill his duties?
he does not know.
All he knew was that he might never be able to get out of there again in his lifetime.
February 14th, evening, Glad.
Wang Guojian stood on the roof of the former British colonial government office building, holding a telescope and looking at the darkening sky in the distance.
In a day and a night, 40,000 men and over 100 tanks captured Grad and the port of Mokran. News has already come from Yang Guoyan's side that the port of Mokran also fell this afternoon.
Chen Dalei climbed onto the roof and handed over a telegram.
"Commander, General Li Te is calling. Karachi has been secured, and the 1st Marine Division is advancing inland."
Wang Guojian took the telegram, read it, and then nodded.
"What about Yamamoto Kazuo?"
Chen Dalei hesitated for a moment.
"Still in the jungle. Advance is slow. The British have laid too many mines."
Wang Guojian remained silent for a few seconds.
"Jungle warfare is tough. Tell Yamamoto Kazuo there's no rush. Take it slow. We're almost there; Dhaka is practically an isolated island."
Chen Dalei nodded and turned to relay the order.
Wang Guojian continued to look at the distant sky.
The setting sun was sinking below the horizon, turning the entire sky blood red. In the distance, at the edge of the desert, some dark dots could be vaguely seen moving—those were the follow-up troops, gathering towards Glad.
He suddenly remembered a question.
What are the British doing now?
London should have already received news of the fall of Glad and Karachi, right?
That old fox Asquith is probably cursing right now.
He smiled.
Go ahead and curse. After you're done cursing, there'll be even more for you to curse.
Karachi, the former office building of the British colonial government.
Li Te sat behind his desk with three maps spread out in front of him: a map of Karachi city, a topographical map of western India, and a strategic map of the entire Indian territory.
Chief of Staff Lin Huaiyuan pushed open the door and came in.
"General, a telegram from Division Commander Wang Guojian. Grad and Mokran Port have both been captured. Division Commander Yang Guoyan is advancing northeast, with Hyderabad as his target."
Li nodded.
"What about Yamamoto Kazuo?"
"Still in the jungle. We've advanced another three kilometers today."
Li Te remained silent for a few seconds.
"Three kilometers. I walked three kilometers in three days."
Lin Huaiyuan gave a wry smile.
"Jungle warfare, there's no other way. The British laid too many mines."
Li Te stood up and walked to the map. He looked at the location of Dhaka, then at the location of Karachi, at the red line running from west to east, and at the black line running from east to west.
The pliers are slowly closing.
"Tell Yamamoto Kazuo, no rush. Take your time. We'll be quick on our end, and then we'll be hunting in central India!"
Lin Huaiyuan nodded: "Yes."
Li Te turned to look out the window. Night was falling in Karachi, and the lights of the distant mosques were on, with long chants coming from the loudspeakers on the minarets.
He suddenly remembered a question.
How long will this war last?
he does not know.
But he knew it was coming soon.
Deep in the jungle towards Dhaka.
Kazuo Yamamoto leaned against a tree, looking at the telegram.
"No rush. Take your time."
He gave a wry smile.
Not in a hurry? The soldiers of the Sakura Kingdom are dying one after another in the jungle, how can you not be in a hurry?
But he also knew that rushing wouldn't help. In jungle warfare, rushing meant certain death.
He folded the telegram and put it in his pocket.
Kenta Doihara walked over and sat down next to him.
"General, another thirty-seven have died today."