Canteen System Assistance Notes

Soon, a warship, slightly fatter than Nagato, but not much taller, came into view. Surrounded by a group of auxiliary vessels, it slowly approached from its anchorage. The highly magnified image revealed its identity with its triple-mounted turrets, two forward and one aft, its single funnel, and its distinctive stern catapult.

At this moment, the Nagato and other ships seemed to have weighed anchor and set sail. She was sailing out of the anchorage with a small fleet - the moving Yamato slowly passed the Nagato which was setting sail. The two ships rarely entered the same frame of the camera and were photographed together.

"Wow! That Yamato looks short and fat, but compared to the Nagato, it's incredibly huge!"

"Of course! The Yamato weighs over 70,000 tons, while the Nagato weighs less than 40,000 tons. If the Yamato were a girl, and gained some weight, she could take on two Nagatos!"

The 1.8-meter-long ultra-telephoto reconnaissance lens from Xiantong Company was highly effective. At an altitude of 12000 meters, observers with excellent eyesight could even discern the number of gun barrels on a turret. They marveled at the sheer size of this "world's most powerful battleship" at the time, and also at the power of "imperialism, after all, is still imperialism."

"It's a shame the special-number aircraft can't bomb, otherwise I'd really like to know how many bombs such a powerful battleship can withstand - I wonder when we'll be able to build such a large battleship?"

"I'll have to wait until we drive out the Japanese invaders and unify the country. With Chiang Kai-shek's army still around, we probably won't be able to build one. But we were all told in class that battleships are a thing of the past. By the time we're able to build large ships, I'm afraid they won't be around anymore..."

Listening to the enthusiastic discussion of the three crew members, Liu Helian inexplicably felt like he was looking at a baby.

Even in this history where China has brought about changes, it will probably miss the "romantic" era of battleships - World War II was the last twilight of large ships and big guns - from now on, even if China develops faster and better than in history, it will probably not build battleships, an outdated type of ship, but will aim at giant ships, cruisers or aircraft carriers.

However...it seems we can look forward to the Yamato's "destined rival"?

Liu Helian also fell into a "ransom" of thoughts. Because the data of the Nagato had been made public, it was not a confidential matter. And the Yamato in the same frame with Nagato,

By comparing the data, we can get a lot of data.

In the upcoming World War II, it will naturally have extremely important intelligence value.

There will always be people who want these photos, and the central government will definitely use them to exchange for something; and if I and the CCP add variables to this period of history in this way, then what will be the fate of the Yamato and Musashi in this time and space, and even the later Shinano three ships?

Comrades, we have to go to the Yawata Iron and Steel Works and Nagasaki Shipyard soon! Maybe we can take pictures of the Yamato's sister! Liu Helian ordered, "Get ready, we'll take one more round and then we'll continue!"

"Aerial target... spotted?"

The Yamato, which boasted of being able to spot stars with the naked eye during the day, saw Zhang Yuan shielding his forehead with his hand to block out the sunlight, squinting his eyes and looking up at the zenith. "Port side, Red-015! Seems to be approaching!" "Seems?"

He then heard a voice coming from the brass tube in front of him, "Target altitude? Target speed?"

Because the faint dot was so high, Zhang had to half-kneel down and raise the fixed telescope to its highest point, trying his best to observe it: "It's too high, we can't measure the distance! The speed... the speed may be over 270 knots!" "270 knots? Too high to measure the distance?"

The voice from the brass tube carried a hint of sarcasm. "The maximum usable range of the Dongguang telescope is ten thousand meters! At such an altitude, and at a speed of 270 knots? Someone like you, a member of the Zhang clan, can still be called a cat's eye? You truly bring shame upon us!"

"Keep watching!"

"Hi!"

Indeed, this number was indeed strange. How could there be a plane that could fly so high and so fast? Zhang Yuan took out boric acid eye drops and dripped them into his eyes, then blinked hard - sure enough, the strange little dot disappeared and could no longer be seen.

It seems that I did make a mistake... Not only do I have to apologize to my senior from the military department tonight, but I also have to eat two servings of blueberry jam...

Chapter 567 Ambassador Sosa's Wonderful Night in the Fog Valley

Carlos Martíns Pereira en Sosa was the Brazilian ambassador to the United States. At about 1:12 a.m. on December 21, 1941, he was inexplicably awakened by a rapid knock on the door by the telephone.

"who is it?"

He comforted his wife and crawled over to answer the phone. The voice of the beautiful female director of the embassy came from the phone: "Ambassador Carlos, hello, it's Sana."

"Tsuna? Tell me, what happened that's so important that you'd bother me right now?" Under normal circumstances, the ambassador would be happy to receive a call from someone proactively, but now, he just felt irritated and furious. "It's early morning now, early morning!"

"Mr. Ambassador, the embassy has received an urgent telegram from the State Department, requesting that you prepare as soon as possible. The U.S. State Department, authorized by President Roosevelt, has formally summoned you." "Ah? Now?"

"Yes, now." The female voice on the phone was quick and steady. "The embassy has sent a car, and it will be downstairs soon." As if to suit the occasion, with a loud engine sound and an equally loud brake sound, the ambassador was illuminated by the car lights in the dark night.

After hurriedly washing, dressing, and stuffing two soda crackers into his mouth, Ambassador Martins finally rushed out of the house and got on the car sent by the embassy.

He threw his fat body onto the back seat and found that the driver

The driver, his secretary and the translator didn't even get out of the car. Before he could even sit down, the driver stepped on the accelerator and the car rushed out with a scream.

"Fuck!" the ambassador swore in Portuguese. "Where are we going?"

"Go to the State Department building in Foggy Bottom, Mr. Ambassador. I'm contacted by Secretary of State Cordell Hull. They need you there as soon as possible to discuss a matter of vital importance." The secretary's Portuguese flowed like a machine gun, blasting a flurry of documents into Ambassador Martins's hands. "This is extremely important. Please pay close attention to it—it concerns the outbreak of war between the United States and Japan."

Foggy Bottom is located in Washington, D.C., and at that time the U.S. State Department and the War Department had not yet moved, and both were located in a multi-story building complex that was later called the "Truman Building."

The United States had just declared war on Japan, and the war had only been going on for a dozen days. Everything was still in chaos and confusion. Naturally, the State Department building in Foggy Valley was brightly lit and bustling with activity even in the early hours. "Ambassador Sousa, hello. I apologize for disturbing you so late at night, but this is an urgent matter, and I must be responsible for America."

"Hello, Mr. Hale, no need to say more - this is my duty, please speak."

In a corridor littered with wastepaper, folders, and stationery, U.S. Secretary of State Hull came out to greet the ambassador and extended his hand cordially. This humble gesture made Martins feel better, and he nodded in response to Hull's greeting, shaking his hand and hugging him.

"Time waits for no one, let's get started as soon as possible."

Hull opened a half-open door—a very beautiful walnut door, Martins thought—and then he saw a row of people sitting across from a long table, staring at him.

Besides Secretary of State Cordell Hull, the room also included Secretary of War Henry Lewis Stimson, Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox, and Presidential Representative Harry Lloyd Hopkins. These four men stood like wooden stakes across the table, joking for a long time. Meanwhile, near the table, against the wall, a stern-faced man flipped through a newspaper, turning it over and over. Another middle-aged man, standing in front of the intimidating figure, seemed rather reserved.

The ambassador knew some high-ranking US military officials, one of whom was the US Fleet Commander Ernest Joseph King; he did not know the other one, but from the style of his clothes and the flying wings logo, it was not difficult to tell that he should be a senior general of the Army Aviation Corps.

In a small room, gathered the most powerful people in the United States at the time, and this group of people all turned their eyes to Ambassador Sousa.

Ok, now it's the ambassador's turn to be nervous.

——――————

"I'm summoning you today for no other reason than to ask you a few questions. Please assist me. General King and General Arnold will only be observing and will not ask any questions." Secretary of State Hull sat down in a chair, had the waiter make a cup of coffee for the Brazilian ambassador, and then, straight to the point, pushed a newspaper in front of Ambassador Sousa. "Do you understand this matter?"

Sousa took the newspaper—it was familiar to him. It was the São Paulo Evening News, the kind he often sees in Brazil. He received it regularly in his diplomatic mail, keeping up with what was happening back home. Why would an American read a Portuguese newspaper? The ambassador looked puzzled, but soon Stimson stood up and pointed to a small square in the corner of the front page.

According to an unnamed source, a Taiwanese national in Japan was injured in the bombing in Tokyo yesterday. Renowned social activist XXX has called on the government to pay more attention to the safety of Taiwanese nationals overseas.

? ? ?

"Nonsense, these critics who can only open and close their lips and fart."

The ambassador wanted to say something like this: São Paulo is always full of strange people. But why did Americans suddenly become concerned about this? He thought for a moment and said, "Your Excellency, Secretary of State, first of all, I thank you for your concern for the safety of our citizens abroad. Now that the United States and Japan are at war, our country has already called on Japan to respect the legitimate rights and interests of our citizens in Japan. We hope that you will also... "

No, no, no, not this," Stimson interrupted the ambassador, but he quickly adjusted his tone, "I'm very sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Ambassador, we just want to know if this news is true." "Ah, so, as far as I know, it's completely fake news."

The Americans in front of him showed disappointment, so Ambassador Martins struck while the iron was hot and said firmly, "No Chinese expatriates were injured in the bombing.

This news is just the usual groundless speculation of critics.”

"So, Mr. Ambassador,"

As soon as he finished speaking, Secretary of the Navy Knox followed up and confirmed: "Is it true that Tokyo was bombed?"

"Of course, otherwise how could this news come out? Your country is already at war with Japan, so wasn't the bombing carried out by your own bomber force?"

Ambassador Sousa was puzzled, and when he saw the Americans covering their faces in embarrassment, he became even more confused. "Although I don't understand military affairs, your country launched bombers from the Philippines to attack the Japanese mainland just ten days after the war broke out. I have to say that this was an extremely bold, decisive, and imaginative action."

"Well, Ambassador Sousa,"

Special Envoy Hopkins, who had been huddled nearby, finally spoke, freeing the situation from its strange awkwardness. He pulled a document from under the table and held it up to his face for inspection. "I have the President's authorization to inform you of something."

"Please tell me."

"This bombing was not actually initiated by American air power," Hopkins said. "It was initiated by China. Our special envoy reported to us just this afternoon...no, yesterday afternoon—that this bombing was actually initiated by the Chinese."

The Chinese? The Chinese launched an air raid? Did China declare war on Japan? Sousa tried to recall the distant Eastern country in his mind, but unfortunately

The impression this country left on me was even weaker than that of Japan.

He could only respond in a non-committal way: "Oh, so that's how it is. It seems this is indeed something worth worrying about."

"So, we'd like to ask Ambassador Sousa to help us understand exactly how much of Tokyo was bombed by the Chinese, how much damage was caused, and whether it was really as they advertised on the radio—" Stimson's tone was rapid and urgent. He quickly pushed aside the pile of documents on the table and, together with Hull, placed an enlarged photo of the first mate on the table. "It would be even better if you could mark it here."

"Mark it here?"

The ambassador looked at this "bird's-eye view of Tokyo," a photo clearly stitched together from movie stills and taken from the rooftop of a hospital, and he was about to rant in Portuguese: "Hey, hey, hey, Secretary of State, ministers, Mr. Presidential Envoy, even if you want me to mark the bombing locations, can't you just give me a proper aerial map?"

"Oh, you could mark it on this map, if that's convenient for you." Hopkins took out a Tokyo Spring Tour/Tourist Map and placed it aside. "Japan is very strict about keeping their intelligence secrets—in wartime, we don't have any other options for the time being."

"Dear Secretary of State, Minister, Presidential Envoy... I personally would be very willing to assist your country."

Ambassador Carlos Martíns Pereira en Sosa covered his fat forehead in embarrassment, trying to maintain the proper etiquette of a diplomat, "It's just that

Assisting in the investigation of the bombing involves many parties, and I also need to report to the country.

I'm afraid it will take some time to prepare the report and contact the embassy in Tokyo. Please allow me to return to the embassy first, uh... three days later, I can submit the relevant information to your country's diplomatic department, is that okay?"

"I fully understand your thoughts and concerns, but the current situation is extremely urgent. Please allow us to take some extraordinary measures."

Secretary of State Cordell Hull, also adopting the decorum and style of the State Department, rang the bell and called the secretaries and employees in the office building to come in. They pushed in small carts, and behind the carts were long cables carrying paper, pens, telephones, and telegraphs.

"We are here to meet any of your work needs, and the State Department will cooperate with any of your work and communication needs—all of us—and we hope you will receive the necessary clearances and critical intelligence as quickly as possible.

"America needs to confirm the authenticity of this bombing as soon as possible and learn more information.

"I hope Ambassador Sousa can make it easier for me."

Chapter 568 "Bombing Tokyo"

Across from Bailongchi in the mountain city lies a small alley, and within that alley stands a small gatehouse. A plaque hangs on the gatehouse: "Dongtian." This is where Dongtian Restaurant, a moderately sized gourmet spot in the mountain city, is located. This area, which will be known as "Zhengyang Street," is located in one of the city's most central districts. Dongtian Restaurant, a well-established restaurant in this area, is renowned for its authentic Sichuan cuisine, a reputation that has spread far and wide.

Contrary to many stereotypes, Dongtian Restaurant serves excellent Sichuan cuisine, not limited to spicy and heavy flavors, but also offering light and refreshing dishes, as well as rich and sweet dishes. So, although the restaurant's former patron, the Shancheng Minsheng Company, and its boss, Lu Kuixianrun, have moved to Gaojing in the north in recent years, the northern goods merchants still love to dine here, keeping business booming.

Similarly, Gu Renfa, a veteran political scholar, also likes to come here.

"Why is this little cave closed to guests today?"

Gu Renfa had been planning to visit a friend today, but the friend he'd met yesterday had an urgent matter and was summoned by his superiors, forcing him to cancel. As a result, the former Tongmenghui veteran, who didn't even get lunch, had to ask the porters to take him back.

But he thought about having lunch outside first, but in the end he was turned away. "Today, the Dongtian Restaurant was surprisingly full: the small gatehouse used to have a spacious lobby with more than ten tables for diners to eat and drink, but today, all ten tables were filled, and several people were waiting on the benches at the foot of the wall.

"Hey, hey, sir, this... I don't know what's wrong today, it's really not right. It's not even noon yet, and the place is already full of people - sir, why don't you sit in the waiting area for a while..."

"Go, go, go! You idiot, how come you were born with a pair of blind eyes? This is an honored guest!" The shop assistant was interrupted. The front desk clerk on duty came over and said, "Sir Gu, I'm really sorry. Our idiot has only been here for a short time and lacks some eyesight. I'm really sorry to have disturbed your interest."

The waiter apologized with a smile. As a "lobby manager" who had worked in the restaurant for many years, he naturally knew this former member of the Shaanxi Provincial Government and now unemployed Chief Gu.

I heard that many years ago, this man was the right-hand man of the once-popular official Yang Changqing—but a few years ago, Shaanxi Province was practically under the control of the Eighth Route Army, and Commander Gu's position as a member of the Shaanxi Provincial Government could only be held remotely. In the end, I heard that due to factionalism, even remote official duties were no longer possible, and he could only stay at home...

However, as a catering service organization, we still have to serve such wealthy customers well. The waiter lowered his voice and said, "Sir, how about this-

-Behind the second door building, someone will set up a table and a seat for you. You will be there for a while.

Son, today's dishes are 20% off, so I'll give you a discount, how about that?"

Don't strike a smiling face, especially since Mr. Gu Renfa has no position or power now, relying on his old connections to eat idle food. Now that others are giving me face, I just follow suit. If Mr. Yang were still alive, how could I have fallen into this situation?

He suppressed his inner discontent, nodded, and walked into the restaurant, sitting on a table and a chair. The waiter came over attentively to wipe the table and asked the officer what he wanted to order. "What are the new dishes today?" More @books @group to 7751-11838

"Sir, although the table is full today, our dishes are always the freshest." "Then...what did the people at that table order? Why haven't I seen it before?"

Gu Renfa raised his chin and pointed toward another table. At that table, several people who looked like peddlers sat in a circle, chatting loudly while eating a large platter of colorful dishes. What was this? Mr. Gu, a regular customer, had never seen this dish before and asked in surprise.

"Oh! That's sweet shaobai, a favorite among those traveling north and south. Sir, would you like one too?" "Nonsense! Sweet shaobai is braised pork and glutinous rice with brown sugar and red bean paste. How can it be so fancy?"

"Sir, you don't know this," the waiter explained, unfazed, as if he were familiar with the dish. "Today's sweet Shaobai is different from the usual. It's 'Eight Treasures Sweet Shaobai.' This dish uses eight main ingredients: braised pork, glutinous rice, red bean paste, and brown sugar. We also add candied dates, raisins, dried fruit, and wolfberries. It's supposed to enhance the flavor and bring good luck..." "And what's that big bucket of stuff?"

"Sir, that's 'Eight-spice Fried Chicken', which is made by mincing the best chicken, pressing it into chicken nuggets, and adding flour, salt, baking powder, pepper, garlic powder, chopped green onions,

Eggs, milk, and then fried in hot oil. It is salty, fragrant and crispy.

thing...…"

Why are there only eights? Gu Renfa shook his head. This kind of storytelling dish made him lose interest, so he ordered some "today's specials" for himself and threw a few banknotes.

So he sent the boy away.

Sichuan and Chongqing restaurants, like Beijing's teahouses, are more or less places for casual conversation and the exchange of information. Gu Renfa munched on a small dish of boiled peanuts while listening intently to the small talk of those around him.

Unfortunately, in this huge Dongtian Restaurant, everyone seemed to be talking about the same topic today - they were all gossiping about the Eighth Route Army in the north recently sending planes to bomb the Japanese pirate capital of Tokyo - although there was a sign on the wall saying "Don't talk about state affairs", the waiters didn't say anything to stop the diners from chatting today.

"How wonderful! Life is about to become clear!"

This was an elderly man who drank another cup of white wine while talking, frightening his family members who hurriedly urged him to drink slowly. "The Japanese invaded our territory and massacred our people. Now our capital has been bombarded. It can be said that it is not time for retribution!"

....The Red Bandits, having made decisions before their allies, attacked and bombed the capital without authorization, first adding difficulties to the subsequent mediation efforts of the British and American allies, and then showing no concern for the cultural relics that are the crystallization of human civilization.

Tyrannical and violent, acting recklessly...”

There was another man in a long gown, holding a teacup. His gestures revealed him to be a man of culture. He spoke to his table mates with great enthusiasm: "(Those red bandits) truly lack the magnanimity of a great nation. Such impulsive actions will not only fail to aid the war of resistance, but will bring disaster to our compatriots abroad and bring shame to our country!"

"I'm afraid that's not what this gentleman said. Have you heard that the American ambassador made a special trip to the Eighth Route Army Office in Hongyan Village to invite Eighth Route Army representatives Dong and Deng to visit Washington and attend the international conference? It seems the Allies are very happy about this matter..."

"So...so what?"

We don't have to go around in circles that often. Wasn't the mountain city bombed so badly by the Japanese before? How could they bomb us, but we also bomb them? I think the Eighth Route Army did a great job! It's a pity that there are too few planes. If they could bomb Tokyo to the ground, it would be even better!"

Many of the "rude" and "unrespectable" fellows around him chatted loudly with each other to express their dissatisfaction with the words of the "cultured man". Gu Renfa shook his head and said nothing. He took a sip of the "eight treasure tea" that was served to him and sighed in his heart.

The great Republic of China was overshadowed by an Eighth Route Army soldier. It was such a shame.

He felt neither disgust nor praise for the Eighth Route Army's bombing. He was just unhappy that they had become the "top stars". Gu Renfa, who was forced to stay at home, just missed the glory of his time under Yang Changqing. He thought that he was also so popular at that time, unlike now, when he couldn't even be a provincial government committee member.