usatvline Chapter 728 Happy Cooperation
Chapter 728 Happy Cooperation
Hindenburg shook his head.
"This war has exceeded everyone's expectations. Three years ago, everyone said it would be over before Christmas. Three years later, we are still fighting, still dying, still at a loss. Only God knows who will win."
He looked at Umberto.
"But there's one thing I do know."
"What?"
"Germany will not lose."
Umberto looked at him.
Hindenburg's voice was soft, but every word was as heavy as a stone.
"Because Germany can't afford to lose. If they lose, they'll have nothing left."
At the same time, across the Atlantic, in New York.
Unlike the snow-covered landscape of Berlin, New York mornings are bright and sunny. A sea breeze blows in from the Atlantic, carrying a salty, briny scent. The Statue of Liberty stands tall in the harbor, its torch gleaming in the sunlight.
The docks at the port were packed with people.
Huge banners hung from the building: "For Melaka! For freedom!" Another banner read: "Send our children to Europe! Bring victory home!"
Thousands of young people lined up, waiting to board the ship. They wore brand-new military uniforms, carried brand-new rifles, and their faces showed excitement and nervousness. Some kissed their girlfriends goodbye, some hugged their families and cried, and some stood alone to the side, silently watching it all.
An eighteen or nineteen-year-old stood in the line, clutching a photograph in his hand. The photograph showed a blonde girl with a sweet smile. He looked at the photograph again and again, then carefully folded it and put it into his breast pocket.
An old soldier next to him patted him on the shoulder.
"first?"
The young man nodded.
The veteran smiled, revealing a set of yellow teeth.
"Don't be afraid. When you get there, you'll find that war isn't so scary."
The young man's eyes lit up: "You've fought in wars?"
The veteran nodded.
"Yes, I fought. In Mexico. That's how I boarded the ship, that's how I set off, that's how I said goodbye to my family. Once I got there, I realized it wasn't such a big deal. Bullets can't hit you, cannonballs can't explode you, and if you're lucky, you can come back alive."
Just as the young man was about to speak, a long whistle blared from a distant ship.
The massive troop transport ship slowly approached the shore, already packed with people. These were the first wounded soldiers returning from Europe—missing arms, broken legs, faces bandaged, being pushed off in wheelchairs. They were silent, expressionless, a stark contrast to the new recruits about to board.
The young man looked at the wounded soldiers, his face turning pale.
The veteran patted him on the shoulder.
"Stop looking. Let's go."
On the viewing platform at the pier, Jack Morgan stood there, holding a glass of champagne, looking down at the sea of people.
Rockefeller stood beside him, also holding a glass of champagne, also looking at the sea of people.
"Morgan, how many are in this batch?"
Morgan glanced at the documents in his hand.
"Today's departure is the fourth batch, 50,000 people. The first two batches have already arrived in France, and the third batch is at sea."
Rockefeller nodded.
"Has Congress approved the budget?"
Morgan smiled.
"Approved. Three billion US dollars. Enough to send a million people there, with plenty left over."
Rockefeller laughed too.
"Three billion. Morgan, do you know how much profit that three billion could generate?"
Morgan thought about it.
"Loan interest, arms orders, post-war reconstruction contracts—at least double."
Rockefeller raised his glass.
"To double."
Morgan also raised his glass.
"To double."
The two wine glasses clinked together, making a crisp sound.
In the distance, the troop transport ship began to slowly depart from the port. The deck was crowded with soldiers, waving their hats and bidding farewell to the crowds on shore. The crowds on shore also waved, shouted, and wept. The sounds mingled together like a chaotic yet tragic symphony.
Morgan watched the ship's silhouette gradually disappear into the distance and suddenly asked a question.
"Rockefeller, how many of those people do you think will come back?"
Rockefeller remained silent for a few seconds.
"I don't know. Maybe half, maybe a third."
Morgan nodded.
"Then let's say one-third. The living will remember the opportunities we gave them. The dead will remember nothing."
He turned and walked down from the observation deck.
Rockefeller followed behind.
The two got into the car, the door closed, and the car slowly drove away from the port.
Behind them, the troop transport ship grew farther and farther away, smaller and smaller, until it finally disappeared on the horizon.
Dubai, January 2nd.
The sun had just risen above the sea, bathing the entire city in a golden-red hue. The minarets of the distant mosques stood out sharply in the morning light, while the nearby docks were already bustling with activity. Workers were carrying goods, vendors were hawking their wares, and fishing boats were leaving the harbor—everything seemed no different from usual.
On the second floor of the Presidential Palace, in Chen Feng's office, the aroma of tea wafted through the air.
Laval sat opposite Chen Feng, a freshly brewed cup of Longjing tea in front of him. He had been in Dubai for a long time, and in the past few days he had met with Chen Feng five times, each time talking for four or five hours, all about the post-war period.
This is the sixth time.
This is also the last time.
Chen Feng picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then put it down.
"Mr. Laval, has there been any response from Prime Minister Clemenceau?"
Laval took a telegram out of his briefcase and pushed it in front of Chen Feng.
"President, this is the Prime Minister's personal reply."
Chen Feng took the telegram and read it. Then he looked up at Laval.
"Did the Prime Minister agree to my proposal?"
Laval nodded.
"Agreed. France is willing to establish a postwar strategic partnership with Lanfang. African affairs are open to discussion. Matters concerning the permanent members of the League of Nations are also open to discussion."
Chen Feng smiled.
"Okay. Very good."
He stood up and walked to the huge world map on the wall. He pointed to the vast landmass of Africa.
"Mr. Laval, do you know how many colonies France has in Africa?"
Laval walked over to him.
"I know. West Africa, equatorial Africa, Madagascar, Djibouti—a total area of over ten million square kilometers and a population of over fifty million."
Chen Feng nodded.
"Ten million square kilometers. Fifty million people. Abundant resources and a strategically important location. If these resources can be developed, France can not only feed itself, but also half of Europe."
Laval looked at him without saying a word.
Chen Feng continued, "After the war, Europe needed reconstruction. Germany needed coal, Britain needed food, and France needed money. Africa could provide all of these."
He turned to look at Laval.
"But the prerequisite is that Africa must be stable. There must be no rebellions, no independence movements, and no interference from other countries."
Laval's eyes narrowed.
"What the Grand President means is—"
Chen Feng walked back to his desk, took a document from the drawer, and pushed it in front of Laval.
"This is the agreement I drafted. Take a look."
Laval took the document and quickly glanced through it.
The core content of the agreement consists of only three points:
First, Lanfang recognized France's colonial sovereignty in Africa. Lanfang would not support any African independence movement, nor would it engage with any anti-colonial forces in Africa.
Secondly, Lanfang's companies can enter Africa to participate in resource development and infrastructure construction. However, they must form joint ventures with French companies, with the French holding no less than 51% of the shares.
Third, in the post-war League of Nations, France would become a permanent member of the Security Council with veto power. Lanfang would fully support France's position in international affairs.
After reading it, Laval looked up at Chen Feng.
"President, this agreement—is very fair."
Chen Feng smiled.
"As long as it's fair. I'm just worried you'll think it's unfair."
Laval remained silent for a few seconds.
"President, may I ask a question?"
"ask."
"Why are you so interested in Africa? Lanfang has such a large territory in Asia, isn't that enough?"
Chen Feng walked to the window and looked at the shimmering sea outside.
"Mr. Laval, do you know what a 'global strategy' is?"
Laval shook his head.
Chen Feng turned around and looked at him.
"A global strategy means not just focusing on one place. We need to occupy Asia, advance into Africa, win over Europe, and defend the Americas. Only by casting a wide net can we catch the biggest fish."
He walked back to his seat and sat down.
"Africa is a treasure trove. It's rich in resources, has a large population, and holds a strategically important location. But France has been operating there for a century and has deep roots there. If Lanfang tries to force its way in, it will only result in mutual destruction. So, it's better to cooperate. France will provide the land, and Lanfang will provide the capital. We'll develop it together and make money together."
Laval remained silent for a long time.
Then he reached out his hand.
"President, it's a pleasure to cooperate with you."
Chen Feng grasped his hand.
"It's a pleasure working with you."