EBE Chapter 1171 White House Meeting
Chapter 1171 White House Meeting
"Let you Russians be arrogant!" The soldiers of the Northern Division waved their fists.
"Let's have a taste of Tsarist Russia's power!" The other side was not to be outdone.
Snowflakes were blown up by the fighting crowd and scattered in the air. Some people were beaten black and blue, and some fell on the ice, but soon got up and continued fighting.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle pierced the sky.
"Stop it!" The patrol team of the Northern Division rushed over after hearing the news.
"Stop!" The officers on the Russian side also shouted loudly.
The soldiers who were fighting in a group slowly separated, each of them panting and adjusting their uniforms in a mess.
"You bunch of bastards," the officer of the Northern Division shouted angrily, "are you trying to cause trouble for the division commander?"
"Report to the commander," Lao Zhang wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, "They were the first to provoke us!"
"Shut up!" The officer glared at him and said, "Go back to the camp!"
The Tsarist Russian officers on the other side were also scolding their soldiers in Russian. Under the scolding of their respective officers, both sides walked towards the two banks in dismay.
"Just wait and see, Maozi!" someone whispered.
"I will break your legs next time we meet!" The other party fought back.
Watching the soldiers leave, the officers on both sides shook their heads. On this tense border, even a simple fishing trip can spark sparks.
The fishing rods and tackle abandoned on the ice silently witnessed this sudden "battle".
Washington, White House.
The sun shone through the curtains onto the long table in the conference room, but the atmosphere was particularly solemn. American President Coster sat at the head of the table, with intelligence from the Far East spread out in front of him.
"Everyone," Koster said in a deep and powerful voice, "We have just received an urgent request from Tsarist Russia. Their situation in the Far East has reached a critical point."
Sitting on his right was Congressman Adams, the top congressman, who nodded: "Yes, Mr. President. Tsarist Russia's Foreign Minister Sergei has made it clear that they need our support, especially military and economic assistance."
"The exercises of the Northland Division of China on the border," Defense Secretary Stimson took over, "have already posed a substantial threat to Tsarist Russia. According to our intelligence, that unit is well-equipped and has a strong combat effectiveness."
"The problem is," Treasury Secretary Morgenthau interjected, "our resources are already very limited. The European battlefield requires a lot of material and financial support. Can we afford to invest more in the Far East?"
"This is exactly what we need to discuss," Coster looked around at the group. "We have to find a balance between supporting our allies and our own interests."
"Mr. President," Adams suggested, "perhaps we could consider providing some indirect support, such as intelligence sharing and economic assistance, rather than direct military involvement."
"This is indeed a feasible plan," Stimson nodded in agreement, "We can help the Tsarist Russia improve their defense capabilities by providing military advisors and technical support."
"But we cannot ignore China's attitude," Koster reminded, "Their rise in the Far East is an indisputable fact. We must act cautiously to avoid exacerbating the conflict."
There was a brief silence in the conference room, with everyone thinking about how to find the best solution in this complex international game.
"Then," Koster finally said, "we will prepare in this direction. Congressman Adams, please communicate with the Russian side as soon as possible to clarify our position and support methods."
"Yes, Mr. President," Adams nodded.
After the meeting, Koster sat alone in a chair, looking out the window at the White House garden. The situation in the Far East was like a chess game, and he had to make the most prudent move in this game.
Beilongcheng, China, the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency.
Inside a modern office building, the atmosphere is tense and busy, with intelligence officers walking through the corridors and phones ringing one after another.
Li Ming, the intelligence team leader in charge of American affairs, walked quickly to the director's office, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
"Come in." The calm voice of Director Yan Shuangying came from inside.
Li Ming pushed the door open and saw Yan Shuangying sitting behind his desk with several documents spread out in front of him. He raised his head and looked at Li Ming sharply.
"Director," Li Ming stood at attention and saluted, "I need to report to you the latest intelligence about the United States."
"Go ahead." Yan Shuangying motioned him to sit down.
"According to the information sent back by our informants in Washington," Li Ming said, "the United States has already begun discussing the matter of Tsarist Russia's request for assistance."
Yan Shuangying frowned slightly and motioned for him to continue.
"President Coster and Congressman Adams are holding an emergency meeting in the White House," Li Ming continued, "They are discussing whether to provide military and economic assistance to Tsarist Russia."
"What is America's attitude?" Yan Shuangying asked.
"At present, they tend to provide indirect support, such as intelligence sharing and economic assistance, rather than direct military intervention," Li Ming replied.
Yan Shuangying sneered: "No matter what support they provide, it won't change anything. The Far East is our territory, there is no doubt about that."
"Yes, Director," Li Ming added, "but they are also considering helping Tsarist Russia improve its defense capabilities by providing military advisors and technical support."
"Let them go," Yan Shuangying stood up and walked to the window, "The Northern Division is ready. This time we are going to take back the lost territory in the Far East in one fell swoop. No one can stop us."
&34;Then should we...&34;
"Continue to monitor America's movements," Yan Shuangying interrupted, "but remember, we have only one goal - to take back the Far East. As for how they want to support Tsarist Russia, that's their business."
"Understood, Director." Li Ming stood up and saluted, then quickly left the office.
In the Chinese president's office, sunlight shines through the curtains onto the large desk.
Su Zhengyang sat at the table and dialed the number of the U.S. Department of Foreign Affairs with a focused look. After the call was connected, he stated his identity in a calm voice.
"I am Su Zhengyang, the President of China." His voice was not loud, but it revealed unquestionable majesty.
The voice of the foreign minister came from the other end of the line, with a hint of politeness and caution: "Hello, President Su. I am glad to receive your call."
"I want to tell you directly," Su Zhengyang said straight to the point, "China will definitely take back the Far East. This is our territory, there is no doubt about it."
There was silence on the other end of the line, and the Foreign Minister's voice seemed a little hesitant: "President Su, we understand your country's position, but we hope that this issue can be resolved peacefully."
"Of course we hope for peace," Su Zhengyang said meaningfully, "but any country that tries to interfere in this matter will be regarded as an enemy."
"President Su," the foreign minister said with a hint of nervousness in his voice, "we do not want to be an enemy of China."
"Then please remain neutral," Su Zhengyang said firmly, "We will solve the Far East's problems ourselves."
There was silence again on the other end of the line, as the Foreign Secretary seemed to be thinking about how to respond.
"I hope America can understand our determination," Su Zhengyang continued, "This is not just a territorial issue, but also the dignity of our country."
"We will seriously consider your opinion, President Su." The Foreign Minister finally replied with a hint of helplessness in his tone.
"That's good." Su Zhengyang said and hung up the phone.