novelAbuy Chapter 67 You are not orphans, the motherland has not forgotten you.
Chapter 67 You are not orphans, the motherland has not forgotten you.
He turned around and looked at everyone:
"So technically, we have a crushing advantage. That leaves only one question: politically, how do we fight?"
The meeting room fell silent. Everyone understood what Li Te meant—fighting a war is easy, but the chain reaction afterward is the most difficult to handle.
"Captain," Xu Wen adjusted his glasses, "I suggest a three-step approach. First, upon arrival, conduct a deterrent bombardment, targeting an uninhabited island or barren mountain to demonstrate our firepower. Second, send a formal note to the Dutch authorities via public channels, demanding they cease violence, hand over the perpetrators, and compensate for the damages. Third, if they refuse, gradually escalate the pressure, such as by blockading the port or seizing the ship."
"What if they still don't give in by the third step?" Zhao Tieshan asked.
Xu Wen paused for a moment, then said, "Then let's move on to the fourth step—selective destruction of military targets. But this must be strictly controlled; only military facilities should be targeted, not civilian targets."
"And then?" Li Te stared at him. "After the fight, do we leave or stay? If we leave, what if the Dutch retaliate against the local Chinese? If we stay, how long? What will the British and French do?"
A series of questions left Xu Wen speechless.
"So," Li Te walked back to his seat, "what we need is not a perfect battle plan, but a clear strategic objective. The President said: 'Strike with authority, and know when to stop.' What does 'know when to stop' mean? My understanding is: we need to make the Dutch bow their heads and admit their mistakes, we need to ensure the safety of the local Chinese, and we need to show the world that they cannot afford to pay the price for bullying the Chinese."
He paused, then raised his voice:
"As for the specifics of how to do it... Lin Hai!"
"exist!"
"Notify the entire ship that I will be speaking on deck in one hour," Litt said. "All off-duty personnel, attend. Engine room, prepare to increase speed to 28 knots. Gunnery, inspect all main guns and ammunition. Navigation, plan the patrol and surveillance routes after arrival in Java."
"yes!"
Everyone stood up, preparing to leave.
"Wait a minute," Li Te called out to them, standing up from his seat. "There's one more thing."
He looked around at everyone and said, word by word:
"Tell everyone that we might die on this trip. The Dutch might go mad, the British might get involved, even the Japanese, the Germans... nobody knows what will happen. If anyone wants to back out, they can say so now, and I won't blame them."
No one moved.
Zhao Tieshan was the first to laugh out loud: "Captain, three years ago I sailed from Tianjin to Southeast Asia, and then from Southeast Asia to the Persian Gulf. What was it all for? Wasn't it all for today? To be able to sail back on our own Chinese ship and support our compatriots—even if I die, it's worth it!"
"Exactly!" Zhou Dayong wiped his face. "My father died in the Yellow Sea in the year of Jiawu (1894). Before he died, he said that his biggest regret in life was not seeing China have its own ironclad warships. Now I not only see them, but I'm also sailing one... I have to see them a few more times for my father."
Chen Qiming nodded vigorously, his eyes shining brightly even though he didn't say anything.
Looking at this group of people—a group of young people whose average age was less than twenty-five, who were miners, farmers, and students three years ago—Li Te suddenly felt something stuck in his chest.
"Okay." He said only one word. "Then go and get ready. See you on deck in an hour."
At five o'clock in the morning, the deck of the "Guangfu" was full of people.
All 1,200 officers and soldiers, except for those on duty, were present. Dressed in dark blue training uniforms, they stood in neat square formations in the cool morning breeze. The beams of searchlights swept across their young faces, which showed fatigue, tension, but even more so, a long-suppressed flame.
Li Te walked onto the platform at the front of the bridge. He changed into his formal captain's uniform, the gold epaulets gleaming slightly under the lights.
Without a microphone, he had to shout at the top of his lungs.
"Attention all!"
Twelve hundred pairs of eyes were focused on him simultaneously. The deck was so quiet that the sound of waves crashing against the hull could be heard.
"Five minutes ago," Li Te began, his voice carrying far through the silent night, "I received authorization from the President. The 'Restoration' has changed its course and will no longer be heading to Colombo. Our new destination is—"
He paused for a moment, making everyone prick up their ears.
"Java. Batavia."
A suppressed commotion arose from the crowd. Some gasped, others clenched their fists.
"Why go to Java?" Li Te raised his voice. "Because just this morning, Dutch colonial police and soldiers opened fire and massacred our compatriots in Batavia!"
He held up a copy of the telegram in his hand:
"This is an urgent telegram from the 'Dragon Eye' intelligence network. Forty-seven dead, over a hundred wounded. Bodies piled up at the docks, blood flowed like rivers. And the last thing the local Chinese Chamber of Commerce sent us was: 'Where is our motherland?'"
He practically shouted the last four words.
A deathly silence fell over the deck. Then, the first sob came from a corner. Soon, the sobs joined in. Many of these young sailors were themselves refugees from Southeast Asia, whose families and friends still lived under the colonial rule of the Dutch, British, and French.
Lee Teh paused for a few seconds, waiting for his emotions to calm down slightly, before continuing:
"Three years ago, when we left Pontianak and embarked on our journey into exile, someone asked me, 'Ritter, will we ever be able to come back?' I said yes. He then asked, 'How long will it take?' I said I didn't know."
His voice lowered, but each word carried more weight:
"Now, I think I have the answer. Going home is not just about returning to that land. Going home means being able to sail our warships to pick up our brothers and sisters when they are being bullied abroad. It means being able to point to the yellow dragon flag on the mast and say—'Our motherland is here!' when someone asks, 'Where is our motherland?'"
He pointed to the mainmast. There, a huge yellow dragon flag fluttered in the night wind.
"So now, I command!" Li Te's voice rose again, "'Restoration Ship,' turn south! Speed 28 knots! Destination—Java Batavia!"
"We must tell the Dutch: Those who kill my compatriots will be brought to justice, no matter how far away they are!"
"We want to tell all overseas Chinese: You are not orphans, your motherland has not forgotten you!"
"We also want to tell the world: Times have changed! Chinese people are no longer lambs to be bullied! We have ships, cannons, and a backbone—whoever dares to reach out again will have their claws chopped off!"
"Everyone—" He took a deep breath and shouted his last words with all his might:
"For our compatriots! For our motherland! For—to go home!"
A brief silence.
Then, a thunderous response erupted from the deck:
"For our compatriots! For our motherland! For our homeland!"
"For our compatriots! For our motherland! For our homeland!"