AWB Chapter 80 Victory Celebration Banquet
Chapter 80 Victory Celebration Banquet
Li Te stood there, the medals on his chest weighing heavily. He looked at Chen Feng, a young man even younger than himself, and saw a light in his eyes that Li Te had never seen before.
That wasn't excitement, nor was it pride.
It was a sense of relief... finally having waited for this moment.
The ceremony lasted for an hour.
Chen Feng shook hands with each of the main officers of the "Restoration" ship, and presented each of them with a silver or bronze lion medal. Chief Engineer Zhou Dayong's hands trembled when he received the medal, Gunnery Officer Zhao Tieshan, an old soldier, had tears in his eyes, and Navigation Officer Chen Qiming—the twenty-year-old technical school graduate—burst into tears.
Finally, all officers and soldiers lined up to pass through the dock.
One thousand two hundred and three people, divided into twenty square formations, wearing identical dark blue training uniforms, their steps were not exactly synchronized—most of them were miners, farmers, or peddlers just a few months ago. But each of them stood ramrod straight and held their head high.
The crowd on the shore watched them, watched these people with the same skin color and the same faces as themselves, watched them step off a world-class warship that they had built themselves.
Something took root at that moment.
When it was the turn of the ordinary sailors, Chen Feng walked to the front of the line.
"Name?" he asked the first young man.
"Reporting to the President! Chen Amin! From Xinhui, Guangdong!" The young man's voice trembled with nervousness.
"What do you do on the ship?"
"Turret B, Loader Number Two!"
"Are you scared to go out this time?"
Chen Amin paused for a moment, then shook his head vigorously: "Don't be afraid! Our ships... our ships are bigger than theirs! Our cannons are more powerful! Our speed is faster! What's there to be afraid of!"
His words were blunt, and everyone around him laughed.
Chen Feng smiled and patted him on the shoulder: "Well said. Go back and get some rest, and give my regards to your parents."
"yes!"
He asked them one by one. The loader, the engine room crew, the signalman, the cook… each one said a few words. Uncle Wang watched from behind, calculating the time in his mind—it would take two hours to finish asking them all. But Chen Feng didn't stop; he listened carefully to each name and answered each question seriously.
By the time the last sailor had passed, it was already three o'clock in the afternoon.
Chen Feng returned to Li Te's side and pointed in the direction of the administration building: "Let's go, the celebration banquet is ready. Today, everyone in Hong Kong will have a special meal, half a catty of meat and an egg."
"I'm sorry to have troubled the President," Lee said.
"It's money we should spend." Chen Feng walked alongside him. "You're risking your lives at sea, what kind of people are we if we can't even afford a meal back home?"
The celebration banquet was held at the newly built "Fuxing Square".
This place was originally planned as a city center park. The turf hasn't been laid yet, the saplings have just been planted, but the square has already been paved with cement. Under the temporary shed, there are rows of long tables and benches. On the tables are large bowls of stewed meat, rice, vegetables, and rare fresh fish—caught that morning in the Persian Gulf.
The officers and soldiers of the "Guangfu" ship sat together with some civilian representatives, without being separated by rank. Chen Feng pulled Li Te to sit at the middle table, where high-ranking officials such as Liu Yongfu were seated, along with a few randomly selected sailors.
Chen Amin was lucky enough to be chosen again and sat diagonally opposite Chen Feng. He was so nervous that he could barely hold his chopsticks.
"Don't be nervous." Chen Feng put a piece of meat on his plate. "It's just like eating at home."
"Thank you, Commander..."
"Tell me about it," Chen Feng said, turning to Li Te, "the details of what happened in Java."
The table fell silent.
Li Te put down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth: "At dawn on April 2nd, we received an urgent telegram from 'Dragon Eye' Nanyang-7. The Dutch opened fire in Batavia, killing 47 and wounding over 100. The last sentence of the telegram was: 'Where is the motherland?'"
He paused, his voice calm, but everyone at the table put down their chopsticks.
"I consulted with Dubai, and the President replied with authorization for us to proceed at full speed. There were three principles: protecting the lives of our compatriots is the top priority; the operation must be escalated in a controlled manner; we must project authority but know when to stop."
"It took us 51 hours to reach the waters off Java. The Dutch ship 'Seven Provinces' was in port. It was a pre-dreadnought, with 240mm main guns and a speed of less than 18 knots. The maximum range of the coastal defense guns was six kilometers, and we stopped eight kilometers away."
Li Te took a sip of water and continued:
"I chose the Waiting-for-Husband Cliff on the west side of the harbor as my shelling target—it was a barren mountain, uninhabited. I sent a message to the Dutch authorities in plain text, informing them that we were going to conduct an artillery calibration exercise. They did not reply."
"At 8:00 AM sharp, all eight main guns fired simultaneously, high-explosive shells with delayed fuses. All eight hit their mark, shearing off twenty meters from the mountaintop."
His description was concise, yet the scene was already vivid. The people at the table held their breath, and even the tables in the distance fell silent to listen.
"And then?" Liu Yongfu asked.
"Then the Dutch took the initiative to send a telegram requesting negotiations," Litt said. "I let them send representatives aboard the ship. Seven came: the port authority chief, the garrison commander, the treasurer, and so on. I made three demands: compensation, protection of rights, and the handover of the nineteen men who fired the shots."
"Did they agree?" Li Mingyuan asked.
"We agreed to the first two conditions, but we're haggling over the third." A cold smile crept onto Li Te's lips. "They said they wanted to guarantee the personal safety of those people and that the transfer would only take place after a 'symbolic trial' in a Dutch court. I said that was fine, but we want to supervise the trial and accept the outcome. If the transfer isn't completed after the trial, we'll take matters into our own hands."
A few soft laughs rang out from the table.
"And then?"
"Then they tried him," Li Te said. "In the port authority's meeting room, in twenty-five minutes, he was convicted of 'manslaughter,' discharged from the military, and handed over to us. He's now being taken to the mine."
Chen Feng remained silent throughout, simply listening. Only after Li Te finished speaking did he begin to speak:
What was the reaction of the local Chinese community?
Li Te's expression softened somewhat: "We sent someone ashore to contact Mr. Chen Jinfu, an elderly man from the Chinese Chamber of Commerce. He cried and said that his fellow villager, Chen Afu, and his family of three—his son was sixteen and his daughter was six—had at least caught their enemy. I left them some money to buy medicine and told them to find a way to notify us if anything like this happens again."
Chen Feng nodded and raised his teacup:
"You did a good job this time. Not good because of the firing itself, but good because you handled the timing, target, and degree of firing perfectly. You hurt the Dutch, but you didn't corner them; you gave the Chinese hope, but you didn't give them unrealistic fantasies."
He looked across the entire table, and also at those further away who were listening intently:
"This will be Lanfang's guiding principle from now on—to have power, but not to abuse it; to have a bottom line, but to know how to adapt. Let's toast Captain Li Te, and all the officers and men of the 'Guangfu'!"
Everyone raised their glasses.
The tea and plain water swayed in the cup, reflecting the afternoon sunlight.