diymy Chapter 756 All-out attack, full-force attack.
Chapter 756 All-out attack, full-force attack.
Chen Feng answered it himself.
"This means that from today onwards, no one will dare to look down on Lanfang anymore. No one will dare to bully the people of Lanfang anymore. No one will dare to say that Asians can't beat Europeans anymore."
A commotion began to rise from the audience.
Some gripped their guns tightly, some straightened their chests, and some began to redden their eyes.
Chen Feng continued.
"Some of you are missing arms, some have broken legs, some have shrapnel embedded in their bodies. But you won. You won with your lives."
He paused.
"Those brothers who died, they didn't have the chance to stand here. But they stand in our hearts."
Some people in the audience started to shed tears.
It flowed silently without a sound.
Chen Feng looked at those people, at those tears, at those clenched fists.
Then he said, "Zhao Dengyu."
Zhao Dengyu stepped forward and stood at attention.
Chen Feng took an exquisite wooden box from Wang Wenwu and opened it. Inside was a brand-new epaulette, with a gold background and two gold stars.
He personally put the epaulets on Zhao Dengyu's shoulders.
"Zhao Dengyu has been promoted to lieutenant general. He will be in full command of the operation against Egypt."
Zhao Dengyu stood there, motionless.
Then he saluted.
"Thank you, Commander!"
Below the stage, 120,000 people simultaneously raised their right hands.
In that instant, the only sounds in the square were the synchronized salutes and the fluttering of flags in the wind.
Chen Feng returned the courtesy.
Then he stepped down from the reviewing stand and walked toward the wounded soldiers.
The first wounded soldier was in a wheelchair; he had lost both legs. He saw Chen Feng approaching and tried to stand up, but he couldn't.
Chen Feng squatted down and pressed down on his shoulder.
"Don't move."
The wounded soldier was stunned.
Chen Feng looked into his eyes.
"What's your name?"
"Reporting to the Commander-in-Chief, my name is Zhang Dashan, from the 1st Company, 2nd Battalion, 7th Regiment, 3rd Division!"
Chen Feng nodded.
"Zhang Dashan, you've done a great job. Lanfang will remember you."
Zhang Dashan's tears welled up instantly.
He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but it felt like something was stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word.
Chen Feng patted him on the shoulder.
"Take good care of yourself. Once you're fully recovered, go home and visit your family."
He stood up and walked to the next one.
The second wounded soldier lay on a stretcher, his entire body wrapped in bandages, only his eyes showing. Those eyes were looking at Chen Feng, bright and clear.
Chen Feng squatted down and took his hand.
The hand was wrapped in bandages, with only a few fingers sticking out.
"Does it hurt?"
The wounded soldier shook his head. He shook it slowly and forcefully.
Chen Feng looked into his eyes for a long time.
Then he said, "What's your name?"
The wounded soldier opened his mouth, uttering a hoarse voice: "Li...Li Tie...Third Division..."
Chen Feng nodded.
"Li Tie, live well. To live is to win."
Tears welled up in the wounded soldier's eyes, streaming down his cheeks and soaking his bandages.
Chen Feng stood up and walked to the next person.
One, two, ten, dozens.
He visited every wounded soldier. Some could speak, some couldn't. Some had names, some couldn't even say their names clearly. But for each one, he knelt down, looked into their eyes, and said "thank you," and "live well."
Wang Wenwu followed behind, his eyes red-rimmed.
Zhao Dengyu stood aside, watching all of this without saying a word.
A young staff officer asked in a low voice, "Chief of Staff, what is the President doing...?"
Li Tiejun shook his head.
"Don't ask. Just watch."
After visiting the last wounded soldier, Chen Feng returned to the reviewing stand.
He looked at the tens of thousands of people below the stage, at the soldiers standing, sitting, and lying down, at their mutilated limbs and bright eyes.
Then he raised his right hand.
"Long live Lanfang!"
Ten thousand people raised their right hands at the same time.
"Long live Lanfang!"
The shouts were deafening and lingered for a long time.
Chen Feng stood there, looking at the bustling sea of people, and suddenly a question came to mind.
How many of these people will make it home alive?
he does not know.
But he knew that as long as he was there, he would make sure they lived like real people.
U.S. military command post in northern France.
Pershing sat at his desk, holding the battle report from Sinai. He had read it three times, each time with a furrowed brow.
Chief of Staff Hubbard stood opposite him, waiting for him to speak.
Finally, Pershing put down the telegram and looked up.
"Four hundred thousand men. The entire army was wiped out."
Hubbard nodded.
"Alanby has surrendered. The British Egyptian Corps is gone."
Pershing stood up and walked to the window. Outside, American soldiers were drilling, and the sounds of battle cries could be faintly heard. The young men were wearing brand-new uniforms, their faces bearing the naivety of someone who had never been on the battlefield.
"Hubbard, how long do you think this war will last?"
Hubbard thought for a moment.
"I don't know, General. But the British are finished, and the French won't last much longer."
Pershing turned to look at him.
"So, what are we even fighting for?"
Hubbard was stunned.
"General, do you mean—"
Pershing walked back to his desk and sat down.
"This is a European war. The British and French fought the Germans for four years, and millions died. What are we here for? To collect their corpses?"
He picked up the battle report and waved it around.
"The British are finished now. The French are struggling alone. As for the Italians, that two-faced Boselli will definitely betray them again. The Germans are almost at their limit, but they're still fighting."
He paused.
"Tell me, what's the point of us continuing to fight?"
Hubbard was silent for a few seconds.
"General, do you mean... a ceasefire?"
Pershing nodded.
"This can end now. If we keep fighting, it'll only be our beautiful young men who die. Why should we?"
He stood up and walked to the telegraph machine.
"Send a telegram to Washington, suggesting a halt to the offensive and preparations for peace talks."
Hubbard hesitated for a moment.
"General, what about the president...?"
Pershing looked at him.
"I am the frontline commander. I have the authority to make recommendations to Washington."
Hubbard nodded and began drafting the telegram.
Pan Xing stood by the window, looking at the gray sky outside.
He recalled three years earlier, when World War I had just broken out. He was then a colonel fighting on the Mexican border. At that time, he felt that European wars were far removed from Mirica's reality.
Now, hundreds of thousands of Mérica soldiers are on the French front, taking bullets for the British.
He didn't know if it was right or wrong.
But he knew it was time to stop.
The Oval Office, the White House in Washington, D.C.
Wilson sat behind his desk, holding Pershing's telegram in his hand. He glanced at it, then placed it on the table.
Secretary of State Lansing stood before him, waiting for him to speak.
Wilson remained silent for a long time.
Then he said, "No. Send him a reply: All-out attack, full-force attack."
Lansing was stunned.
"Your Excellency, Mr. President? General Pershing's suggestion is—"
Wilson interrupted him.
"I know. But I disagree."
He stood up and walked to the huge world map on the wall.
"Lansing, look."
He pointed to Europe.
"The British are finished. The French won't last much longer. The Germans are still holding on. And those Italians, that opportunist, will definitely turn against us again."