Chapter 201: Preparations
In October 1938 in Hong Kong, this bustling metropolis where Eastern and Western cultures converge still maintained a facade of calm and extravagance amid the torrent of the times, but behind the scenes, various forces intertwined, with intelligence and conspiracies permeating like the mist over Victoria Harbour.
In a mid-sized hotel in Kowloon, all rooms on a certain floor had been booked by a group of special guests.
These people had varied skin tones, mostly white, speaking with heavy American accents. They were the three core recruiters entrusted by John—Holder, Flanders, and Fur—as well as the pilots, ground crew technicians, and a few experienced tank soldiers they had painstakingly recruited from various parts of the United States.
Over 120 people, an undeniably conspicuous group, so they tried to keep a low profile in their actions, but the crisp efficiency and defiance unique to soldiers or technicians were hard to completely conceal in their expressions.
At this moment, in a larger suite in the hotel, smoke filled the air.
Holder, Flanders, Fur, and several representative figures with prestige among the pilots were sitting around a round table, discussing their next steps with grave expressions.
A simple map of China lay open on the table, with Hong Kong marked by a red circle, and distant Wuta County in Shanxi reduced to a tiny dot almost poked through by their fingers.
“Gentlemen, we now face a serious problem.”
Fur, burly in build with a resolute face, who had been John’s old superior during his service in the U.S. military, now furrowed his brows, speaking in a low voice, “We have successfully arrived in Hong Kong, but our real test is just beginning. How to get safely from here to Shanxi and join General Su’s troops—that is the biggest problem we face now.”
Flanders, a lieutenant in the logistics department of an armored unit during World War I, who looked more like a scholarly technical expert, adjusted his glasses and added, “I’ve inquired, and currently, land routes from Hong Kong to the inland North China are almost completely cut off or controlled by the Japanese.
Sea routes can reach some coastal ports, but the journey afterward remains long and dangerous.
Moreover, such a large group of white people traveling thousands of kilometers by land would be too obvious a target. The Japanese aren’t fools; they won’t let us pass so openly.”
Holder’s lung disease had worsened; incessant coughing echoed in the room. He irritably grabbed his hair: “Shit! Are we just going to sit here trapped? I’m not here in Hong Kong for a vacation!”
The group buzzed with discussion, the atmosphere heavy with oppression and anxiety.
These were no easygoing men. They had gathered here solely for the money, hoping to join General Su’s troops in China and earn high commissions, but the current predicament left them feeling helpless.
At that moment, a somewhat silent man in the crowd, with exceptionally sharp eyes and an aura distinct from the others, spoke up.
He was about thirty-something, of medium build but with a ramrod-straight posture, his jawline hard as if chiseled by a knife. His name was Jimmy Doolittle.
If the transmigrator Su Yaoyang were here and heard that name, he would probably jump in shock.
Jimmy Doolittle, in real history, was the renowned U.S. Air Force general famous for his outstanding contributions to aviation technology and for leading the “Doolittle Raid” on Tokyo during World War II.
He was a true legendary pilot, holding a doctorate in aeronautical engineering, having broken flight speed records multiple times, a pioneer in the aviation world.
At this moment, this big shot was unexpectedly among the recruited personnel, undoubtedly a huge “surprise” or rather “variable.”
Doolittle’s voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable authority: “Gentlemen, perhaps we don’t need to go by land or sea.”
His words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.
As the group puzzled over this, a hotel server knocked and entered, delivering a telegram just forwarded through secret channels.
Fur took the telegram, quickly tore it open, and read it.
His expression changed with the content—from initial puzzlement to shock, then to disbelief.
“Oh my God…” Fur set down the telegram, rubbed his temples, and said in an incredulous tone, “This is a telegram from General Su in Shanxi… he… he suggests that we…”
He paused, as if organizing his words, then took a deep breath and said, “He suggests that we try to charter or purchase two to three large transport planes in Hong Kong, then… fly directly to Wuta County! They will prepare a simple airstrip for us there!”
“Boom!”
This news exploded in the room like a bombshell.
“What?! Fly there directly?!”
“Is he crazy? How far is it from Hong Kong to Shanxi? We don’t even know the routes there!”
“Wuta County? What the hell kind of place is that? A simple airstrip? Built with what? Can it even be safe?”
“This is suicide! We’re pilots, not army suicide squads!”
“Hey, you son-of-a-bitch bastard, what did the army suicide squads ever do to you?”
Instantly, voices of doubt, exclamations, and even angry curses rose one after another.
Most believed Su Yaoyang’s plan was utterly fanciful and insane. To them, it was tantamount to sending them to their deaths.
However, after hearing Fur relay the telegram’s contents, Doolittle’s eyes suddenly lit up with keen interest. He stood, walked to the map, and carefully studied the approximate position and distance from Hong Kong to Wuta County in Shanxi.
“No, gentlemen, I think this plan is not entirely unfeasible.”
Doolittle’s voice rang out again, overriding the noisy discussion. He turned, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with the calm confidence unique to an aviation expert.
“First, regarding the range.”
Doolittle pointed at the map and said, “The straight-line distance from Hong Kong to Wuta County in Shanxi is about one thousand to one thousand one hundred miles.
If we can get planes like the Douglas DC-3, their standard range can fully cover this distance with margin to spare. The key is precise navigation and grasp of weather conditions.”
“Second, regarding the simple airstrip.”
He continued, “As long as there’s relatively flat open ground, building a dirt runway suitable for transport planes to take off and land is technically feasible.
There were plenty of such examples in World War I. Since General Su dares to propose it, I believe he has his considerations and preparations.”
“But… Jimmy, what about the airspace there? Are the Japanese blind?” someone immediately retorted.
Doolittle smiled faintly: “That’s indeed the biggest risk. But we can opt for night flying or use complex weather as cover.
Moreover, China is so vast; Japanese air reconnaissance can’t cover every area. As long as we plan meticulously and catch them off guard, the odds of success are still high.”
Fur also frowned: “Even so, we know nothing about the terrain or radio communications there—this is too risky!”
Doolittle looked at Fur sharply: “Fur, we’re all soldiers… or rather, former soldiers. Risk-taking is part of our profession. If we can’t face even this challenge, why did we come all this way?”
His words rang with conviction, giving pause to some of the fierce objectors. Doolittle’s prestige and technical prowess in aviation were beyond doubt; his analysis lent a touch of realism to this seemingly mad plan.
Fur now spoke up, holding another document—the bank draft voucher delivered with the telegram: “Gentlemen, one more thing. General Su… to support our purchase or rental of planes and cover our initial expenses, has wired us one hundred thousand U.S. dollars in advance payment through a Swiss bank. This is real money, not empty promises.”
“One hundred thousand U.S. dollars!”
The figure made everyone in the room gasp.
In 1938, one hundred thousand U.S. dollars was an absolute fortune, enough to buy a brand-new DC-3 transport plane. This fully demonstrated Su Yaoyang’s sincerity and determination.
The allure of money, combined with Doolittle’s highly persuasive technical analysis and the thrill of unknown adventure, began to sway those who had opposed.
Doolittle pressed the advantage: “Gentlemen, since General Su dares to propose such a plan and has paid such a high price, I believe he’s not joking.
This may be our only chance to reach Shanxi safely and quickly. And if the plan succeeds, it will be a feat worthy of aviation history!
Imagine: piloting transport planes across thousands of kilometers of enemy territory to land successfully in an enemy-rear base! What glory and excitement!”
His words were highly inflammatory, igniting flames in many hearts present. The pilots who already craved adventure and achievement began to gleam with excitement in their eyes.
After heated debate and Doolittle’s strenuous persuasion, plus the “catalyst” of one hundred thousand U.S. dollars, this group of unruly pilots and technicians was ultimately convinced by Doolittle.
In the end, they decided to accept Su Yaoyang’s “crazy” plan and attempt an unprecedented aerial smuggling operation!
Next, with Doolittle, Holder, Flanders, and Fur at the core, this group of “overriver dragons” began active maneuvers in Hong Kong, leveraging their white identities to frequently contact the British government and various connections and channels, secretly seeking and negotiating to purchase or rent large transport planes, while studying routes and collecting weather data to prepare for this heart-pounding aerial journey.
