Chapter 565: Meilika Does Not Need War to Win the World

The applause sounded for the first time. At first it was scattered, then it quickly spread into a wave. Republican Senator Henry Cabot Lodge—Wilson's political opponent—was also clapping vigorously.

Wilson waited for the applause to subside.

"Therefore, I formally request Congress to grant the President the necessary authority to take all measures to protect Meilika citizens and interests. These measures include but are not limited to: strengthening naval escort forces, resolutely countering actions that threaten Meilika shipping, and coordinating with allies to ensure the dignity of international law is upheld."

He did not say "declare war". But everyone understood—this was a war authorization.

"I want to emphasize," Wilson raised his voice, drowning out another round of applause, "our objective is not conquest, not retaliation, but protection. We do not aim to destroy Deguo, but to force Deguo back into the ranks of civilized nations. If we ultimately have to use force, it will be for a just and lasting peace—a peace that allows every nation, regardless of size or strength, to survive safely."

The final few sentences he spoke slowly, heavily.

"Forty‑three lives must not be lost in vain. Their blood calls for justice and also for wisdom—calling us to find a path that both defends principles and avoids greater disaster. This path is not easy to find, but we must find it. Because the responsibility of leading the world is not only to display power, but also to display conscience."

When he concluded his speech, instead of the usual rousing finish, he gave a slight bow and then stepped down from the podium.

The applause lasted three minutes.

West Wing of the White House, oval office.

Wilson returned to his office at two p. m. He had hardly eaten anything at the post‑speech luncheon, drinking only half a glass of water. Now he sat in a high‑back chair by the fireplace, eyes closed. The fire burned brightly, yet he still felt cold—a chill that seeped from his bones.

The door was knocked lightly.

"Come in."

Secretary of State Lansing entered, holding a freshly printed newspaper bulletin. "The response is very enthusiastic. The Senate majority leader told me the authorization bill can be submitted tomorrow, and passing it within three days is no problem. The House may debate for an extra day or two, but the outcome will not change."

Wilson, without opening his eyes, asked, "When will the Yingguo ambassador arrive?"

"Half past four. He requested the meeting time be extended to an hour."

"Give him ninety minutes," Wilson finally opened his eyes, "have the Army Secretary and the Navy Secretary see me at four o'clock. Also, inform General Rodman that he should come at eight a. m. tomorrow."

Lansing quickly jotted in his memo, "You really want to send him to Lanfang?"

"It must be done," Wilson stood, walked to the world map, "we saw the 'Huai River' in Hawaii, but that was just a ship. We need to know how strong Lanfang's entire industrial system is, and exactly how great their military potential is. More importantly—" his finger pointed to the Persian Gulf on the map, "we need to know how many chips Chen Feng had in his hand when he said 'Lanfang will also fall.'"

"If he truly has six Bismarck Class battleships, plus the ones under construction..."

"That would mean the balance of power in the Pacific has already shifted," Wilson turned, "so General Rodman's mission is clear: see with his own eyes, hear with his own ears, and then come back to tell me what price we would have to pay to respond if Lanfang truly sides with Deguo."

Lansing hesitated, "Mr. President, regarding the NY-107 Incident... the Naval Intelligence Department's latest analysis, would you like to see it now?"

"Bring it over."

The document was thin, only three pages. Wilson skimmed it quickly, his complexion growing darker.

The core conclusion of the analysis report was clear: Yingguo destroyers Brave and Vigilant left their stations in a manner "not in accordance with standard escort procedures." The sonar record showed that before the so‑called "suspicious contact" appeared, there was no reliable evidence of submarine activity in the area. The timing of the two destroyers' departure was "coincident in an unsettling way."

The report did not state outright "this is a conspiracy," but every trained intelligence officer could read the subtext.

Wilson tossed the document onto the desk. "At four o'clock have Beck (the Army Secretary) and Daniels (the Navy Secretary) review this report. Then tell them that the content of my afternoon conversation with the Yingguo ambassador does not need to be known to them."

"Understood."

At four o'clock, Army Secretary Newton Beck and Navy Secretary Josephus Daniels arrived on time. After reading the report, both wore grim expressions.

"This is…" Beck chose his words carefully, "an extremely dangerous game."

"And it's a game played with Meilika lives," Daniels' voice held restrained fury, "if this is true, the Yingguo should be condemned."

"We have no conclusive evidence," Wilson said calmly, "the sonar record can be interpreted as a misjudgment. The commander could say he was being cautious in checking a vague signal. In court, this is at most a judgment error, not a crime."

"But morally—"

"There is no moral court in politics," Wilson interrupted, "the current question is what to do next. Beck, how long will Army mobilization take?"

When the professional issue was raised, Beck regained his ministerial composure: "Full mobilization requires eighteen months. But if we only send troops to Europe, the first five divisions can be ready to embark within six months, provided the navy can guarantee the safety of the transport lines."

Wilson looked at Daniels.

"That is the crux of the problem," Daniels pointed at the Atlantic chart, "if we want to protect the transport lines we need to commit many destroyers and cruisers as escorts. But what about the Pacific? If Lanfang truly has six Bismarck Class ships, and perhaps some we don't know about… our Pacific fleet is insufficient."

"Therefore General Rodman's assessment is crucial," Wilson concluded, "the mobilization order will not be issued until after I finish speaking with the Yingguo ambassador. But preparatory work must begin—secretly. I don't want the newspapers tomorrow to report 'Meilika is preparing to send troops to Europe.'"

"The public is already calling for it," Beck said with a wry smile.

"The public does not know the cost of war," Wilson's voice suddenly grew harsh, "they are now shouting for participation because they have only seen forty‑three deaths. When they see forty‑three thousand deaths, they will no longer shout. Our responsibility is to think through each step before emotion drags us along."

After the two ministers left, Wilson stood alone by the window.

Outside, the snow on the White House's south lawn had not fully melted, leaving mottled white patches on the withered yellow grass. A few guards patrolled in the distance, their breath forming white vapor that appeared hazy in the dusk light.

He recalled Chen Feng's words in Hawaii: "Meilika does not need to win the world through war. Time stands on Meilika's side."