Chapter 151: A Dangerous Idea

Outside Lashu City, in a ruined temple, the air was still thick with the smell of lingering gunpowder smoke and blood.

Jiang Anguo watched the three "Japanese spies" frantically decoding the cipher, and a bold, almost insane idea suddenly sprang to mind.

Since he held a senior Japanese Army spy and even got hold of the code book, could he perhaps "play the enemy's game"?

His thoughts drifted across the Pacific, thousands of miles away. The time point was early summer 1942. According to history, Nan Yun Zhongyi, nicknamed the "Gambler", should be leading a massive Combined Fleet, lunging toward Midway.

Japanese Army generals were all gamblers.

Midway, the turning point of the Pacific War, the Japanese nation's soul‑crushing cliff.

Jiang Anguo did not want to be a traitor, nor did he have any desire to help the Japanese. Yet his position forced him to view the war with a perspective beyond ordinary humans, even cold‑blooded. He hoped the Japanese could gain some tactical edge in the Pacific, even a grim victory.

Why?

Because it would make the Americans more wary of Japan, forcing them to pour more resources and time into confronting the Japanese in the Pacific. Consequently, the Americans would have to increase their material allocation to the Asian theater, using the Chinese battlefield—a huge quagmire—to tie down more Japanese forces.

How cruel!

War is a political tool! And the essence of politics is to exchange the smallest cost for the greatest benefit.

If Japan won at Midway, the US forces would inevitably shift their strategic focus, slowing the pace of the Europe‑first policy. In that case, strategic pressure on the Chinese front might ease, and international aid routes could gradually open.

In the public's teasing, Nan Yun Zhongyi was famously called a "renowned anti‑Japanese general." Why? Because he was too steady, too conservative, even arguably lacking confidence.

Think of Pearl Harbor: the first wave was so successful that American airfields were crippled, battleships sunk, and air‑sea supremacy fell into Japanese hands. With such a once‑in‑a‑lifetime advantage, Nan Yun Zhongyi surprisingly did not launch a third wave to destroy oil depots and shipyards. Had he had a bit more ruthlessness and landed to occupy Hawaii, the course of the Pacific War might have been completely rewritten. The Americans might truly have been forced to retreat to the West Coast, meaning the Allies would need at least three to five more years before a counter‑offensive.

Of course, history has no "ifs." Many factors are involved, first of all logistics: occupying Hawaii would mean a supply line stretching six thousand kilometers, a nightmare for Japanese Navy logistics.

A deeper reason was the Japanese Army's old problem: discord between the army and navy. The navy fought hard to seize territory, but the army refused to allocate troops to defend it; the supplies the army wanted, the navy withheld. Each side thought itself the pride of the Imperial Army, while the other was "something else."

At this moment, the Japanese focus remained on the Southern Army, not on dispatching troops to capture Hawaii.

Thinking of Nan Yun Zhongyi, Jiang Anguo felt a pang of frustration. In the Battle of Midway, the Japanese held the four fleet carriers Akagi, Kaga, Soryu, and Hiryu, plus two escort carriers, while two carriers went to the Coral Sea, spreading their forces thin. Yet they still enjoyed a six‑to‑one absolute superiority, plus air superiority with Zero fighters. Their opponent, Nimitz, had only the Enterprise, Hornet, and the Yorktown, which had been badly damaged in the Coral Sea and was only just patched up for battle.

What was the result?

Despite absolute superiority, poor reconnaissance and hesitation to change bombs, Nan Yun Zhongyi's lack of confidence caused fatal chaos. Carrier aircraft that should have returned ran out of fuel and circled, planes awaiting re‑arming stayed in the hangar, and ultimately US dive bombers exploited the timing gap, turning the four carriers into instant infernos.

That battle directly accelerated the Japanese defeat.

The Japanese carriers were scattered, while American industry was so powerful that it repaired the Yorktown in three days, even as it rushed toward Midway, continuing repairs en route.

"Perhaps I can give them a little heads‑up first?" Jiang Anguo stroked his chin, a hint of cunning in his eyes. "Without mentioning the sensitive Midway, I could first provide some intelligence on the Coral Sea, since that's also a Japanese offensive focus. If this information proves accurate, the Japanese Headquarters will trust the next intel I send."

It was a dangerous gamble. He was playing with fire, yet hoped the blaze would burn brighter and longer.

…

In the mist‑shrouded mountain city of Chongqing, the fog hung heavy.

In the sitting room of the Chairman's residence, the atmosphere was somewhat solemn; the setbacks in the Myanmar Campaign had left the Principal looking weary.

"Principal, good news."

The door was pushed open, and Dai Li's characteristic soft voice drifted in. He clutched a freshly translated urgent telegram and hurried forward.

"Oh? What good news?"

The Principal, seated on the sofa, turned slowly. His complexion was gaunt; for him, the only truly reassuring news in recent years might have been the Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor last year. The United States finally entered the war, and China's resistance was no longer a solitary struggle; the crushing fear of national ruin that had weighed on his heart finally eased a bit.

Dai Li briskly approached the table, handed over the telegram, and whispered, "It's news from the Myanmar front: the th Division has successfully arrived at Lashu and is now resting there; the situation is stable."

"Great! It's secured!" The Principal slapped his thigh hard, his fist clenched tightly.

The th Division was his prized asset, the elite among the Nationalist Army's elite. The unit was equipped with Soviet‑supplied weapons to Huaxia, essentially a Soviet‑armed division; its tanks were a mix of Soviet, Italian, and British models. Although Soviet supplies were scant, the main issue was the excessively long Soviet supply line—from Xinjiang to Xi'an and then onward to the front—making logistics truly difficult.

A monthly transport capacity of five hundred tons was tiny compared with Hong Kong's six thousand tons per month; losses along the route meant very little arrived at the front.

If this unit were to fall in Myanmar, the loss would be more than just a few thousand troops; it would also shatter the morale of the entire nation's soldiers and civilians. That heartache was akin to cutting flesh.

Of course, many ordinary people had no idea where Myanmar was.

"What about the Japanese movements?" the Principal steadied his emotions and asked anxiously.

Dai Li's expression grew a bit solemn, and after a hesitation he said, "Principal, according to the detailed telegram from Lashu, the situation is somewhat… unexpected. The Japanese 56th Division headquarters appears to have been knocked out."

"What?!"

This time, the Principal sprang up from his seat, leaning forward, unable to believe what Dai Li said: "What did you say? The 56th Division headquarters was knocked out? Do you mean the unit dubbed the 'Dragon Brigade'—the Japanese elite?"

Dai Li nodded, but his tone was uncertain: "The frontline reports are still brief, so we cannot answer definitively. Principal, Military Command is further investigating. However, according to the intelligence reported by the Independent Regiment led by Jiang Anguo at Lashu, it is indeed the case. They raided the Japanese temporary command post, and the fighting was intense. Yet we still do not know how many senior Japanese officers were killed, or whether the division commander Watanabe Masao was among them."

Jiang Anguo was also learning the art of embellishment.

The Principal's breathing grew rapid. If a Japanese division headquarters had truly been destroyed, it would be an earth‑shaking triumph! Even killing a regiment commander would be a rare victory since the resistance began.