Chapter 557: Sea Sickness

In the command center, Marshal and the Expeditionary Force generals were still repeatedly negotiating and haggling over the conditions for dispatching troops.

No one noticed that at this moment in Yangon Port, the Nankai Fleet under Jiang Anguo had already slipped away silently, sailing southward to commence the next operation.

Attack the Andaman Islands!

The Andaman Islands, situated south of the Myanmar Sea, were originally a British colony under Indian administration, located southwest of Yangon, about 650 km in a straight line from Yangon, which converts to roughly 350 nautical miles.

Everyone says Singapore is important, as it controls the maritime traffic routes of the Indian Ocean and the Pacific Ocean.

This archipelago's location is critical; it is a key island for the Japanese Army to enter the Indian Ocean from Southeast Asia.

As long as this island is seized, ships entering Singapore can be controlled.

The Andaman Islands lie directly in front of Singapore; if they are not opened, no ship can reach Singapore.

Therefore, the Andaman Islands are an important node on the shipping route.

Capturing it will both cut off the Japanese Army's route to India and give the Nanko Navy a new defensive outpost, laying the groundwork for later containment of the Japanese forces in Singapore.

However, although the archipelago is suitable for anchoring large warships, it is not fit for a long‑term garrison; the first problem is supplies.

Stationing warships here clearly requires an additional transport supply line, with Yangon responsible for delivering provisions to the Andaman Islands.

Jiang Anguo had already made meticulous arrangements: the main force of the Nankai Fleet poured out, led by the battleship Zhenhai and the heavy cruiser Dingyuan, with eight destroyers arrayed on both sides to form a tight escort formation.

One of the destroyers was still under repair after being hit by a torpedo from the Japanese South‑China Fleet earlier.

To coordinate the navy's attack, he specially formed a maritime transport unit dedicated to ferrying army troops onto the Andaman Islands.

Three Arthur Middleton‑class transport ships, called the Whale class by Nanko.

The ships have a standard displacement ___ tons, a full‑load displacement ___ tons, a length of 489 feet, a beam of 69 feet 9 inches, a draft of 27 feet 4 inches, a speed of 18.4 knots, and when fully loaded can carry 82 officers and 1,255 soldiers.

This ship is a big fellow and was only launched this year by the American Army for transporting soldiers.

Its armament is also considerable; evidently the Americans are at a disadvantage at sea, so they equipped many anti‑aircraft guns.

Its weapons include four single‑tube 3‑inch/50‑caliber dual‑purpose guns, two twin‑mounted 40 mm machine guns, eight single‑tube 20 mm machine guns, and four. 50‑caliber machine guns.

Fully loaded with soldiers from the 2nd Regiment of the 201st Division, the transport is personally led by Regiment Commander Hu Dali, following the fleet southward.

When the fleet set sail, the sea was still relatively calm; the soldiers stood on the transport's deck, spirits high, each rubbing their fists, eager to capture the Andaman Islands and earn battle honors.

Hu Dali stood at the bow, gazing at the distant sea, and said firmly to the soldiers beside him, "Brothers, this southward move, taking the Andaman Islands and containing the Japanese Army, we cannot let the 201st Division lose face!"

The soldiers answered in unison, their voices loud, but this lofty morale did not last long.

As the fleet left Yangon Port, the sea gradually grew turbulent, the wind and waves increasing, and the transport ship pitched and rolled violently, swaying side to side and heaving up and down like a fallen leaf drifting with the waves.

Before long, some soldiers began to show signs of seasickness.

A young soldier clutched the rail, his body slightly hunched, his face as pale as paper, his forehead drenched in cold sweat, his throat churning; finally he could not hold back, bent over and vomited, a gut‑wrenching heave that even brought up bile.

"It's unbearable… so unbearable…" he muttered weakly while vomiting, his voice as thin as a mosquito's buzz.

A comrade beside him tried to help, but could not stand steady either, only holding the rail, his face equally pale, his mouth stained with unwashed grime, his voice hoarse: "I… I can't hold on… my head's spinning, the world's turning…"

Such scenes were common on all three transport ships.

The soldiers who had been standing in orderly rows were now mostly slumped in all directions; some vomited while gripping the rail, others curled up in the cabin corners, hands clasped tightly around their stomachs, brows furrowed, faces turning blue.

Still others lay on the deck, motionless, lacking the strength even to speak, eyes hollow, faces full of pain.

The crew were no exception; the sailors steering the transport gripped the wheel tightly, straining to keep the ship steady, sweat beading on their foreheads, their expressions equally grim.

"These winds and waves are too strong… the ship is tossing wildly, it can't be steadied!" one sailor said while holding the wheel, his voice trembling, clearly also suffering seasickness.

"Hold on… just a little longer, we still have to escort the soldiers to the Andaman Islands!" another sailor gritted his teeth, suppressing the churn in his throat, replying firmly.

They were navy soldiers exchanged by Jiang Anguo, already accustomed to wind and waves, professionals.

Yet this time the sea was fiercer than any before; even so, they dared not relax a bit, for if the transport faltered, the lives of the thousands of soldiers aboard would be at risk.

Hu Dali stood at the hatch, watching the scene, his face growing ever more solemn. He too felt seasick, his stomach churning, but as Regiment Commander he had to steady the troops and could not collapse.

He braced the doorframe, inhaled deeply, and shouted to the soldiers, "Brothers, hold fast! This bit of wind and wave is nothing; we are warriors of the Expeditionary Force, how can we be beaten by such a trivial difficulty?"

As soon as he finished, a soldier weakly called out, "Regiment Commander… I really can't hold on… my head's spinning badly, I can't even stand…"

This kid was clearly trying to sabotage.

Hu Dali walked to him, crouched, patted his shoulder, his tone much softer: "I know you're uncomfortable, just hold on a little longer; once we reach the Andaman Islands we can rest properly. We can't give up—if we retreat, all the preparation will be wasted. We must defend this position for Nanko, for the common folk!"

The soldier nodded laboriously, gritted his teeth, tried to lift himself, but as soon as he raised his head he vomited again.

Hu Dali said nothing more, simply handed him a handkerchief silently, then stood and continued to soothe the other soldiers.

Because he had just finished vomiting himself.

The food he ate yesterday had already been mostly vomited out.

Time passed slowly; the fleet had been sailing for eight hours and was halfway to the Andaman Islands.

At that moment, a communications soldier rushed to Hu Dali, his face pale, reporting, "Regiment Commander, it's bad! Our Non‑combat Casualties have already exceeded thirty percent; a third of the soldiers are lying down from seasickness and cannot fight!"

Hu Dali's heart sank sharply; one bout of seasickness, he hadn't expected the situation to become so severe.

He hurried onto the deck, his gaze sweeping over the soldiers before him, his mind full of anxiety.

The regiment that had once been at full strength now had only a handful of soldiers able to stand, most curled up in corners, enduring the torment of seasickness.