On the eve of the fall of Liaodong, he led his troops in a remonstrance against the young marshal.

"Electrification throughout the country!"

Zhang Xueming pondered for a moment, and then delivered a telegram that would go down in history.

The telegram should specify the following points.

"First, this afternoon, the Northeast Army Air Force engaged in battle with the main force of the Japanese Combined Fleet off the Liaodong Peninsula."

"Three aircraft carriers were sunk: Akagi, Kaga, and Ryujo; two battleships were sunk: Hiei and Kirishima; one heavy cruiser was sunk: Mikuma; and several other ships were severely damaged or destroyed."

"Our air force suffered no losses and all returned safely."

He paused here, his tone suddenly rising several notches:

"Secondly, before this battle, 220 carrier-based aircraft from the Japanese 1st Air Fleet invaded Fengtian."

"Our air force dealt a heavy blow to the enemy over the Hun River, shooting down 211 enemy aircraft. The Japanese 1st Air Fleet no longer exists."

"Third, the main force of the Japanese navy has been devastated by our Northeast Air Force, and its naval power has no possibility of invading the Northeast again in the short term."

"This battle is sufficient proof that the warships of the imperialist powers are not invincible."

"The Northeast Army is willing to take this battle as a prelude to call on compatriots across the country to unite and jointly resist foreign aggression."

"All Chinese descendants, regardless of north or south, or faction, have the responsibility to defend our land and resist enemies."

"The Northeast Army opened its doors to all young people across the country who were interested in aviation, recruiting pilots, establishing flight schools, strengthening our air force, and protecting our airspace."

"From then on, the roles of offense and defense shifted between the enemy and ourselves. China's airspace and territorial waters were no longer places where the Japanese could come and go as they pleased."

After he finished speaking, he glanced at Zhang Zuoxiang, who nodded slightly. He then glanced at Tang Yulin, who had already picked up the second bowl of wine.

Clearly, he wasn't very interested in this flowery telegram.

Wang Jiazhen's pen moved swiftly across the paper. After finishing writing, he read it aloud from beginning to end and revised a few wordings.

The phrase "sunk" was changed to the more formal "confirmation of sinking," and "no loss to our air force" was changed to "all our participating aircraft returned safely."

The telegram included specific times and sea areas of engagement, and was signed at the end with the full name of the "Northeast Border Defense Army Air Command".

"Commander, the telegram is ready. Please take a look." Wang Jiazhen handed the paper in his hand to Zhang Xueming.

Zhang Xueming took the telegram, glanced at it, then took the pen from Wang Jiazhen and added four large characters at the top of the telegram.

"A great victory at Fengtian!"

Then he handed the paper back to Wang Jiazhen, saying, "Send it out immediately!"

"Send a copy to all newspapers and radio stations in major cities such as Beiping, Tianjin, Shanghai, Nanjing, Hankou, and Guangzhou."

"The Military Commission of the Nanjing National Government also issued a copy, so that they could see how the Northeast Army fought the Japanese."

Wang Jiazhen stood at attention, saluted, and then quickly ran towards the command post.

The celebrations at the airport continued.

Tang Yulin had already toasted three times when he grabbed a young Mustang pilot and insisted on arm wrestling with him. If the pilot lost, he would give the pilot his jar of strong liquor.

The ground crew surrounded the planes that had just landed, touching the bullet holes in the wings and marveling at them.

A ground crewman counted the bullet holes on a Mustang and shouted back to his comrades:

"It's like a damn rain of knives falling from the sky!"

Zhu Wudi was surrounded by a group of staff officers. Some offered him cigarettes, some offered him wine, and some offered him towels to wipe his face. He took the towel, wiped his face, then turned it over, folded it up, and returned it to them.

Then he pulled out a sweat-soaked notebook from his pocket, opened it to a few staff officers, and explained the key tactical points he had summarized from today's air combat.

The optimal dive angle for Mustangs to fire anti-aircraft guns, the safe distance for torpedo bombers to drop mines, and the timing of coordination between bomber formations and fighter formations.

His voice was loud and clear, and the staff around him were so engrossed that their eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Several people immediately took out their notebooks to take notes, and the scene instantly turned from a celebration into a tactical seminar.

Li Changkong wasn't surrounded. He found a plane wheel and sat down next to it, leaning against the tire, stretching his legs out on the ground, and looking up at the night sky of Fengtian.

He still couldn't speak, but a smile remained on his lips.

His long-cherished wish was fulfilled in one day, giving him a dreamlike illusion.

A ground crewman came over and handed him a military water bottle. He took it and took a sip. It was cooled boiled water, not alcohol. He gave the ground crewman a thumbs up.

Zhang Xueming stood by the track and watched it all unfold.

A night breeze blew by, carrying the aroma of liquor and the lingering smell of engine oil. He took a deep breath and felt that this was the best-smelling air he had breathed since he came into this world.

.........

The next day, China was completely ignited by Zhang Xueming's telegram.

The first newspaper to receive the telegram was the Morning Post in Beiping.

When the editor on duty saw the two "good news" at the beginning of the telegram, he thought someone was joking.

When he read the words "two battleships", the teacup in his hand fell to the ground and shattered.

In that era, aircraft carriers were not as famous as battleships, which were a symbol of a nation's naval strength.

Two of these powerful battleships were sunk by the Northeast Army in one fell swoop.

He didn't bother to clean up the broken pieces; he grabbed the telegram and rushed into the editor-in-chief's office, slamming the paper on the table, his voice trembling:

"Editor-in-chief... Editor-in-chief, look at this... The Northeast... the Northeast Army blew up the Japanese battleship!"

The editor-in-chief took the telegram and read it through; he could hardly believe his eyes.

He then watched it a second time, and this time he was so excited that he trembled all over. He slammed his hand on the table, stood up, and called all the editors and reporters outside the office in.

"Tomorrow's front page! No, today's extra edition! Print it now! Make the headline as big as possible! Major victory for the Northeast Air Force! Two Japanese battleships sunk! Hurry!"

At four o'clock in the morning, the extra edition of the Morning Post was carried onto the streets of Beiping by newsboys.

Before dawn, while the streetlights were still on, newsboys shouted at the alley entrance:

"Breaking news! Breaking news! The Northeast Army has sunk the main force of the Japanese navy!"

The shrill sound jolted those still asleep out of bed.

In less than fifteen minutes, the first batch of special editions was sold out, and even the printing presses, which were burning hot, couldn't keep up with the speed of the rush.

Some people who couldn't buy a newspaper simply gathered together and listened to someone who had bought one read it aloud.

Meanwhile, in the telegraph room of the Shanghai newspaper "Shen Bao," the telegraph clerk stood up immediately after copying the telegram, not even bothering to pick up the chair that had been knocked over by his knee.

His hands were trembling as he held the telegram, and his voice was hoarse when he rushed into the editor-in-chief's office:

"Telegram from Fengtian! The Northeast Army Air Force has annihilated the main force of the Japanese Combined Fleet! We suffered no losses!"

The editor-in-chief of Shen Bao had experienced the Xinhai Revolution, the Northern Expedition, and the Central Plains War. He had witnessed so many major events that he could write a history of modern Chinese journalism.

But when he heard the news, he didn't even notice that the cigar in his hand fell onto the table and burned the tablecloth.

He remained silent for a good ten seconds, then stood up and walked to the window.

I pushed open the window, facing the hazy dawn over the Huangpu River, my back to everyone in the office, my shoulders trembling slightly.

The entire layout team is working overtime.

His voice trembled slightly, "Today the newspapers have been reprinted with four extra pages, all reporting on the great victory in Fengtian."

"Have the commentary department write an editorial titled: 'After this battle, who dares to think that China has no one to rely on?'"

On that day, the Shenbao newspaper devoted an entire front page to the news of the great victory in Fengtian, with the headline in red and the font so large that only a few words could fit on a single newspaper.

"Great Victory at Fengtian! The Northeast Air Force sank two Japanese battleships and annihilated the main force of the Combined Fleet!"

The subtitle reads, "None of our side suffered losses, creating a miracle in the history of world air combat!"

The front page also featured a group photo of pilots from the Fengtian Air Force, an archived photo taken during a previous propaganda campaign by the Northeast Army.

The young people in the photo, dressed in flight suits, stand in front of the plane with spirited expressions and confident smiles on their faces.

The Ta Kung Pao, Xinwen Bao, Minguo Ribao, and Zhongyang Ribao followed suit, with the front pages of all the newspapers dominated by news of the Fengtian victory.

Some newspapers used "historic victory" in their headlines, some used "unprecedented great victory," and some simply used four huge characters, "Great Victory for China."

Commentators from major newspapers stayed up all night writing editorials.

Some people start with the First Sino-Japanese War, describing the Chinese navy's disastrous defeat in the Yellow Sea, the humiliation of ceding territory and paying indemnities under the Treaty of Shimonoseki, and the frenzy of foreign powers carving up China, before turning their attention to today's great victory in Fengtian.

"The humiliation of the First Sino-Japanese War has finally been avenged!"

Within a single day, news of the great victory in Fengtian spread like wildfire throughout China.

From Harbin to Guangzhou, from Shanghai to Chengdu, from Tianjin to Kunming, every city with a newspaper was reporting on this unprecedented victory with great enthusiasm.

Students in Beiping took to the streets to celebrate, holding up banners written with calligraphy brushes.

"Long live the Northeast Air Force!"

"Down with Japanese imperialism!"

"Return our territory to us, and strengthen our China!"

Some of the foreigners in the Shanghai concessions frowned when they saw the Chinese people cheering in the streets, while others stood thoughtfully by the window, watching the crowd below.

In their offices, government officials in Nanjing circulated detailed battle reports from Fengtian. Some applauded in admiration, some remained silent, and others hurriedly began to reassess the strength of the Northeast Army.

In a teahouse in Guangzhou, a storyteller improvised a short story about the "Great Victory of Fengtian" and sang it among the tea drinkers while tapping his bamboo clappers.

When the song reached the line "Silver airplanes fly in the sky, Japanese battleships sink in the sea," the entire tea room cheered and threw coins onto the stage like rain.

In the Japanese concession in Tianjin, the atmosphere was quite the opposite.

The officers of the Japanese garrison turned ashen-faced after seeing the newspaper. Some tore it to shreds and threw it on the ground, while others sat in their offices, smoking silently all night.

The streets of the Japanese concession in Tianjin were unusually quiet. The Japanese officers who usually strode around with their swords at their sides had all suddenly disappeared.

Occasionally one or two would appear on the street, but they would walk quickly with their heads down, not daring to make any eye contact with the people around them.

The Japanese expatriates in the concession gathered in the community hall to listen to the officers read out the military headquarters' internal report. When they heard the words "the Combined Fleet has been severely damaged," a suppressed sob rose in the hall.

.........

At this moment, in Fengtian City, Zhang Xueming was sitting in his office, reading through newspapers from various places about the Fengtian victory.

His desk was piled high with newspapers, from the Morning Post in Beiping to the Shen Bao in Shanghai, from the Ta Kung Pao in Tianjin to the Huazhong Daily in Hankou.

Every newspaper's front page featured the great victory at Fengtian, and every newspaper's editorial praised the Northeast Army.

Wang Jiazhen stood to the side, holding a statistical report in his hand, and was reporting on each item one by one.

"Commander, according to incomplete statistics, all 23 major newspapers in the country reported our army's great victory on their front pages. Sixteen of them published special editions, and seven of them reprinted the news for three consecutive days."

"A total of 376 congratulatory telegrams were sent from various places, including military and political organs and social organizations in 21 provinces across the country."

"In addition, there were 41 congratulatory telegrams from overseas Chinese organizations, from Southeast Asia, North America and Europe."

"The San Francisco Chinese Association called to say that it has raised US$200,000, which will be transferred to Fengtian soon to support the construction of the Northeast Army Air Force."

Zhang Xueming put down the newspaper in his hand, leaned back in his chair, and tapped his fingers lightly on the table twice.

"How's the nationwide recruitment of pilots going?" he asked.

Wang Jiazhen turned to a page of the report:

"Progress has exceeded expectations."

"Just three days after the notice was issued, the number of people who signed up from various places had exceeded two thousand."

"Among them, 120 are overseas Chinese pilots who have returned from overseas. Some of them have served in the air forces of Europe and the United States, and their flight hours are generally over 500 hours."

"In addition, more than 300 students from various universities have signed up, expressing their willingness to learn to fly from scratch."

"The registration points in Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou are already overwhelmed. Yesterday, the registration point in Shanghai had to be temporarily moved to the playground of a middle school because there were just too many people."

"Two thousand people..."

Zhang Xueming repeated the number, then stood up and walked to the map on the wall.

The map marks the location of Fengtian Flight School in red and several alternative sites for the new flight school in blue: Harbin, Changchun, and Jinzhou.

He tapped the marks one by one with his finger, as if placing pieces on a chessboard.

"Admission standards cannot be lowered."

He turned to Wang Jiazhen and said, "Physical condition, education level, and psychological quality—every aspect must be strictly controlled."

"We don't need two thousand men to make up the numbers; we need two thousand men who can fight."

"Have the flight school refine the selection process further. Those who fail the physical fitness test should be eliminated immediately, those whose vision does not meet the standards should be eliminated immediately, and those who fail the anti-vertigo test should also be eliminated."

"But there is one condition: overseas Chinese pilots and those with flying experience will be given priority in admission, placed in separate classes, and their training will be accelerated so that they can be on fighter jets within a month."

Wang Jiazhen quickly jotted it down in his notebook. After finishing, he looked up at Zhang Xueming, seemingly wanting to say something but then stopping himself.

"Speak your mind."

Zhang Xueming figured it out.

"Commander, there's one more thing."

Wang Jiazhen closed his notebook, considered his words carefully, and said, "People from Nanjing have come."

Zhang Xueming raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Who?"

"Chen Cheng."