Chapter 262: Handover Preparations

After Mutou left, the room fell into a brief silence. Shimada still stood by the window, their gaze piercing the rain curtain toward the silhouettes of the few warships that had luckily escaped the East Sea catastrophe in the harbor. Rainwater streamed down the glass in winding ribbons, like the tears flowing from this nation.

Xiaocun Xin let out a light cough, breaking the silence: "General, were the words you just said to General Mutou… sincere?"

Shimada slowly turned around, with no expression on their face: "Sincere words? Xiaocun, in these times, sincerity is a luxury. We can only speak the truth."

"Then what is your truth…?"

"The truth is, the Navy needs the Army to go to Europe." Shimada walked back to the table, lifted the already cold tea, "It's not to watch them suffer—though Mutou thinks so. It's because if the Army doesn't go, the national treasury will collapse, and the Navy won't be able to keep even these last few ships."

He sipped the cold tea, the bitter taste spreading in his mouth: "Do you know how many officers and soldiers on the Tonegawa are starving now? Do you know that the wounded in the Navy hospital, lacking medicine, have to endure suppurating wounds? Do you know that the families of those fallen soldiers still haven't received any compensation?"

Xiaocun lowered their head: "I know. The Foreign Ministry receives petitions every day…"

"So this isn't revenge; it's survival." Shimada set down the teacup, voice low, "If the Army goes to Europe, the nation can obtain foreign exchange, import food and medicine, and the Navy can survive. As for what the Army thinks… " He shook his head, "Let them go."

Outside, the rain grew louder.

The Army Department's argument

Meanwhile, in a secret room of the Yokohama Army Headquarters, Mutou faced an old telegraph machine, his brows tightly knit. His aide stood nearby, holding a codebook, awaiting orders.

"General, do we really have to send a telegram to Tokyo?" the aide asked cautiously, "Once sent, there's no turning back."

"Send," Mutou finally said, "but not to the Army Ministry—rather to Grand General Utsunomiya's private line."

The aide was stunned: "Grand General Utsunomiya? But he's already… "

"He still wields influence in the General Staff," Mutou cut him off, "Half of those young, vigorous officers are his protégés. To get the Army to accept this disgraceful plan, we must first persuade him."

Shimada arrived at the port early, inspecting the few warships still seaworthy. On the deck of the cruiser Tonegawa, sailors were scrubbing the deck, their movements mechanical and silent. After the defeat in the East Sea, the Navy's morale had hit rock bottom.

"General," the captain hurried forward, "what brings you here?"

"Just looking." Shimada waved a hand, stopping the captain from ordering a full assembly, "That's it, keep working."

"How's the food?" Shimada asked.

"…It's enough to eat, but the quality is poor. The rice is mixed with half other grains, the vegetables are only pickled radish, meat comes once a week, less than two taels per person."

"What about medicine?"

"Painkillers and antibiotics are exhausted. The seriously wounded have been transferred to the Army hospital; the lightly wounded… have to tough it out."

Shimada stopped, looking toward the distant horizon. There, a cargo ship bearing the Lanfang flag was slowly entering the port, its draft deep, clearly laden with cargo.

"What ship is that?"

"Lanfang's 'South Ocean', said to have brought five thousand tons of rice and a batch of medicines," the captain whispered, "It was specially arranged by Chen Feng, claimed as 'humanitarian aid'."

Shimada's mouth twitched. Humanitarian aid? Such a lofty phrase. But the reality is that the rice could save many lives, including the families of Navy personnel.