Chapter 244: British Arrive in Chongqing

After much difficulty we finally secured a big victory, and the crucial point was that the danger overhead was eliminated!

The party‑spoiler has arrived!

"Principal, General Wei Weier, Commander‑in‑Chief of the British‑Indian Forces, requests an immediate audience with you."

The Principal's smile froze instantly.

"Wei Weier?" he repeated the name, his brows knitting into a sharp V, "What does he want?"

In Chongqing's bureaucratic circles, the name Wei Weier is practically synonymous with "trouble" and "arrogance." As Commander‑in‑Chief of the British‑Indian Forces, he led the British Army in Myanmar that had been beaten by the Japanese into abandoning armor, later replaced by Yalishanda, yet he has always looked down on the Chinese forces.

The conflict between Stilwell and him is known to everyone.

"He didn't say what it was, only that there is a matter of ten‑thousand‑fold urgency concerning the Allied Forces' future in the Asian theater," the aide replied.

"Allied Forces?" the Principal sneered, already understanding about seventy‑or‑eighty percent. He walked to the window, gazed at the mist‑shrouded mountains in the distance, his eyes turning cold and profound.

The Allied Forces are a joke; even without the British, they've cursed the British countless times in private. As for the Americans, which of them isn't just looking to profit?

"I understand," he said slowly, "He has come for those British soldiers captured in Myanmar."

He Yaozu felt a chill in his heart. The Principal's guess was spot on. Since the defeat in Myanmar, tens of thousands of British troops were taken prisoner, becoming a sore spot for London.

Churchill repeatedly pressured Roosevelt, but the Americans themselves, after suffering the loss of two Aircraft Carriers—the Lexington and the Yorktown—at the Coral Sea battle, were already overwhelmed and simply could not spare themselves to rescue the British.

Now the Americans are of no help; Wei Weier, a desperate rabbit grasping at straws, can only crawl under the crooked‑necked tree in Chongqing—a tree he usually never even notices—to beg for a miracle.

"What a party‑spoiler," the Principal muttered, the good mood sparked by Jiang Anguo instantly vanished. He turned, waved at the aide, "Let him in."

The Principal had already learned from Dai Anlan about the British situation: the British always abandon the Expeditionary Force without prior notice, causing sudden gaps in every engagement, which the Japanese Army then exploits.

What baffles the Principal even more is that you British can be caught by the Japanese while fleeing, and crucially be annihilated as a unit.

Even Yalishanda was seized by the Japanese; the Principal had already seen in the newspapers a photo of Terauchi Hisaichi accepting Yalishanda's surrender.

Conversely, although the Expeditionary Force was also on the losing side, its performance in Myanmar was commendable; moreover, it killed at least ten thousand Little Devils, though its own casualties also exceeded ten thousand.

But this one‑for‑one casualty count is acceptable to this ruler.

Moreover, they have gained American approval, willing to increase aid to China, not only weapons and gear but also artillery and aircraft.

Soon, the tall Wei Weier, dressed in a crisp British Army uniform, entered the office accompanied by a translator. A hint of fatigue and anxiety lingered on his face, yet he still strived to preserve the dignity of a British Imperial general.

"Esteemed Principal," Wei Weier first performed a standard military salute.

"General Wei Weier, please sit," the Principal gestured to a chair, yet remained seated, lifting the white porcelain teacup on the desk and lightly skimming the tea leaves with the lid, a demeanor neither salty nor bland.

Wei Weier got straight to the point, without idle chatter: "Principal, I have come on behalf of His Majesty the King and the Indian Government to request a matter of utmost importance."

"Oh?" the Principal blew a puff of steam, took a sip of tea, then slowly lifted his eyes, "General, China and the United Kingdom are both members of the anti‑fascist alliance, mutual assistance is natural. What urgent matter could have driven you to come to Chongqing in person?"

Wei Weier inhaled deeply, as if making a great resolve: "It concerns our prisoners of war in Myanmar. According to our intelligence, they are being brutally abused by the Japanese Army, their health dire, lives at risk. We… we hope the Chinese Army can launch an offensive, push into Myanmar, and rescue them."

Having finished, he stared nervously at the Principal, awaiting his reply.

The office fell into silence.

The Principal did not answer immediately; he merely lowered his head, watching the drifting tea leaves in the cup as if they concealed the mysteries of the whole world.

After a long while he slowly set the teacup down, producing a faint "tap" that rang especially clear in the silent room.

"General Wei Weier," his voice was calm, without a ripple, "I fully understand your feelings. We cherish the life of every Allied Forces soldier equally."

He first gave him a reassurance.

"But," he turned, "you also know that rescuing POWs is not a simple rescue operation. It is a large‑scale, meticulously planned military campaign. To defeat the Japanese Army's main force hundreds of miles behind enemy lines and open a supply route, what does that require?"

He did not wait for Wei Weier to answer, continuing on his own: "It requires absolute air superiority, powerful Armored Troops, endless logistical support, and moreover a ground force capable of shouldering this heavy responsibility with strong combat power."

He stood up, walked to the map, and pointed at the vast jungle of Myanmar.

"General, please tell me, do we have these now?"

Wei Weier's complexion flashed red then white; he opened his mouth but could not speak. He knew the Principal was stating the truth.

The Principal turned, looked at Wei Weier, and a faint, compassionate yet utterly helpless smile appeared on his face.

Just at dawn today, my Air Force carried out a successful air raid on the Japanese Army's Wuhan airport. It is a great victory, but only a tactical one. The Japanese will retaliate like enraged mad dogs, dispatching more aircraft from the mainland and the Pacific. My th War Zone's millions of troops are now under unprecedented pressure.

He paused, his tone growing heavy: "General, forgive my bluntness, but right now our priority is to defend ourselves, to hold Chongqing, to protect our only remaining sanctuary. We lack Tanks, aircraft, and artillery—those were handed over to the Japanese by you in Myanmar. We have no surplus strength to launch an uncertain campaign to rescue your prisoners."

This excuse is airtight.

It both highlights China's predicament and elevates the value of the recent air‑strike victory, while attributing the "non‑rescue" to the Japanese's "mad retaliation." He deftly kicked the ball back.