**Chapter 823: The Era of Global Ebullition (1)**

May 1, 1942. Before dawn, a warm sea breeze blew across the airfields of the Mariana Islands, the Marshall Islands, and other Pacific islands within 3,000 kilometers of the western Hawaiian chain capable of supporting heavy bombers. Sufficiently far from the "meat grinder" of the western Hawaiian front, the air here was fresh; the faint scent of kerosene, diesel, and engine oil was too thin to be unpleasant.

Japan and China had reached a consensus that Japan would take primary responsibility for the strategic direction of the Hawaiian Islands, so the pilots about to enter battle were almost entirely Japanese. The airfields were brilliantly lit as short-statured Japanese pilots lined up neatly, each with a solemn expression, listening to their officers' final instructions.

"...Gentlemen, for this sortie, you will have fighter escorts. According to the plan, the fighter formations will protect the bombers at all costs to ensure the completion of the mission. However, the battlefield is ever-changing; the 'American devils' will surely fight like cornered beasts and will attack your bombers at any price. Therefore, please be prepared for the worst. Once the US forces break through our fighter screen, you must skillfully use the machine guns on your bombers to protect yourselves! We await your return. I shall treat you all to a drink!"

At different airfields, commanders gave similar speeches. The officers and men of the bomber units felt no dissatisfaction, because the commanders giving the pre-battle instructions would personally participate in the combat, rather than commanding from safety just because of their higher rank.

As the briefing ended, all the commanders raised their arms and shouted, "Japan! Banzai!"

In the past, it would surely have been "Great Japanese Empire, Banzai." After the Tokyo Blood Night, the Great Japanese Empire no longer existed. But shouting "Long live the nation" was undoubtedly the best mobilization model to encourage morale. The Japanese troops all followed their commanders in shouting, "Japan! Banzai!"

The commanders waited for the shouting to stop, then yelled, "As planned, all units, sortie!"

The bomber crew members immediately moved into action in their groups. In this brief interval, some Japanese soldiers not participating in the mission gave their friends headbands inscribed with "Long-lasting Martial Fortune" (Budo Chokyu). The departing men tied the bands around their heads, saluted the comrades who gave them, and ran quickly toward their assigned bombers.

The greatest advantage of land-based bombers taking off was that they could carry a full load of fuel. All heavy bomber fuel tanks were filled to capacity. Although the range of heavy bombers rarely required drop tanks, given the vastness of the Pacific, the Chinese H-5 bombers (Hong-5) were all equipped with drop tank interfaces, providing an additional 800 kilometers of range.

The propellers reached full power in less than a minute after starting, and the heavy bombers began to move slowly. On the runway, Japanese ground crew waving glow sticks directed them according to procedure; the different colors were bright yet soft in the night, providing clear guidance to the pilots.

The heavy bombers, comparable in weight to blue whales, began to taxi rapidly on the runway, the friction between tires and pavement producing a rumbling sound. The wing flaps were adjusted to provide maximum lift. The rumbling suddenly diminished as the nose lifted and the front landing gear left the ground; moments later, the rumbling ceased entirely as the rear gear also left the earth. The thirty-plus-ton bombers, relying on their own power, broke free from the ground and soared into the sky.

On the ground, hundreds of new computers were calculating at full speed. Output data constantly appeared on fluorescent screens, with more entering new magnetic drums. Although these magnetic drums were far from the level of later hard disks, they already far exceeded earlier models; their storage capacity and read speeds were more than ten times that of previous equipment.

This was modern warfare. While other nations still relied on human calculation, China had begun to enter the electronic age. Although the United States lagged behind China, it at least had one foot in the door and the other about to cross the threshold. The confrontation between two superpowers that had appeared a hundred years early was unfolding across every cutting-edge technological field.

The Chinese computer clusters ran at full capacity just to serve the operations. In this large-scale campaign, Japanese fighter units provided full escort for the bomber formations to ensure they destroyed twenty-three small Hawaiian islands. A hundred Japanese beaching landing ships would cross over a thousand kilometers to beach directly on those islands after the bombers had destroyed them.

Thereafter, Japanese fighters would engage US fighters at any cost to provide air cover for those twenty-three islands, buying time to build temporary airfields. As soon as an airfield was completed on any island, the Japanese would immediately dispatch planes there, building an air defense system centered on that island to fight the US forces to the death.

Both Prime Minister Ishiwara and Combined Fleet Commander Yamaguchi knew clearly that the goal of this campaign was not just to occupy these islands, but to increase the efficiency with which the Japanese army exhausted the US military. If the previous war of attrition was like bleeding from a ruptured vein, the purpose of this campaign was to sever a main artery, letting the blood spray from the cut with unstoppable intensity.

The heavy bombers had large cabin spaces and were equipped with automatic flight devices, so even after nearly seven hours of flight, the crew members still possessed sufficient energy. Under round after round of escort and guidance—like knights protecting a queen—the bomber formations arrived precisely at the combat zone. When they could see the outlines of islands through gaps in the clouds, the crews' attention was drawn to the fierce dogfights already unfolding in the sky. In the battlefield the bombers were about to enter, the US and Japanese air forces had already begun a violent aerial battle.

The voice of the bomber formation commander came over the radio: "All aircraft attention, begin bombing as planned. Disregard other fighters. I repeat, begin bombing as planned, disregard other fighters."

Although extremely nervous, all the pilots in the formation obeyed the order, pushing and pulling their control sticks to begin descending toward their targets.

Regardless of how much consideration the command system had given or how many calculations had been performed, actual combat was not complicated—at least for the bomber pilots, who didn't need to consider so many things. All they had to do was follow their daily training, dropping their assigned bombs in the simplest and most effective way from a height of 800 meters onto the islands below.

The standard for judging a bomber pilot's excellence was whether the aircraft could pass directly over the target and, while doing so, maintain the most suitable speed. Before dropping, they had to accurately determine wind direction and make precise adjustments to the bombs based on climatic data.

These tasks had originally placed high demands on the crew members, but with computers, they were even relieved of these complex calculations; what they had to do was simple and straightforward.

After precisely executing their simple operations, the crews only had time to look back at the results. They saw circular walls of fire appearing on the islands nearly ten kilometers away, firewalls that covered the entire islands with magical, startling speed. Violent explosions formed small mushroom clouds rising into the sky.

Before the crews could high-five in celebration, a new order from the commander came over the radio: "Proceed immediately to the next target."

At this time, President Roosevelt was in bed with his lover, Lucy. After a bout of pleasure, both were satisfied. Roosevelt held Lucy and soon fell into a deep sleep. Paralyzed for twenty years, Roosevelt had rarely been able to sleep soundly. But beside Lucy, while he was clearly aware of his physical disability, he was also able to fully accept it. When truly coexisting with his reality, the inconveniences became entirely acceptable, and the feeling of pain dissipated significantly.

Lucy had just fallen asleep when the telephone rang. She opened her eyes, without the tension and unease she used to feel when they were having an affair. Even if Washington's upper crust had known and looked the other way, Lucy would always feel uneasy when awakened by a call while in bed with Roosevelt. An affair was an affair, after all; any interruption from legal channels would make her feel unsettled.

Now, that unease had vanished. Lucy answered the phone somewhat tiredly, asking in a low voice, "Who is it?"

The person on the other end was clearly taken aback, pausing for a moment before asking, "This is Chief of Staff Marshall. Has the President retired for the night?"

"Please wait a moment," Lucy said. She put the receiver aside and gently shook Roosevelt's shoulder. When his eyes opened slightly, she whispered in his ear, "It's Chief of Staff Marshall."

Roosevelt's eyes snapped open. He first lay flat on his back, then used his arms to prop himself up, dragging his body toward the headboard to sit halfway up. Lucy had already covered the receiver with her hand before passing it to him. Roosevelt took the phone and said, "This is Roosevelt."

"President, the Chinese military has launched a massive offensive against Hawaii... no, it's the Japanese army," Marshall corrected himself precisely. In truth, the US had long known it was the Japanese army attacking Hawaii, but in Western habit, Asia was China and China was Asia. The Japanese were just Chinese people on the Japanese islands. So they habitually referred to the Asian Allied Forces as the Chinese military.

The Westerners truly didn't think they were wrong; they knew that across China's vast territory, people's appearances varied by region. Northern and Southern Chinese looked different. But these differences were minimal compared to those in Europe. And the appearance of Japanese, Koreans, and Chinese was indistinguishable. From a bloodline perspective, they were the same race.

In fact, after studying He Rui's papers on racial distribution, many Europeans found this view reinforced. According to He Rui, the Bering Strait was once a land bridge; during the Younger Dryas, temperatures dropped and the area froze, allowing Indians to enter the Americas from Asia. This actually proved that Asia was indeed the Asia of the Chinese, and that the original inhabitants of the Americas were also Asian, only now decimated by Europeans, leading to a change in the race of the Americas.

Marshall's precise mention of the Japanese this time was not because he intended to become an expert in human migration, but because he found China had also intensified its troop commitments in the South Pacific. The Japanese offensive was likely one link in a massive offensive across the entire Pacific.

Hearing this, Roosevelt remained silent for a long time before replying, "Can we hold out?"

Marshall answered over the phone, "We can hold for now, but the General Staff is very worried about a massive offensive in the South Pacific as well."

Roosevelt was now fully awake. After a moment's thought, he replied, "I'm returning to Washington immediately."

On May 2nd, Roosevelt returned to Washington. Marshall, meeting him at the airport, smelled a faint scent of French perfume on the President as they sat in the car. Marshall didn't care how many women were around Roosevelt; he cared about Roosevelt's ability as a national leader. Just as Marshall, a Christian, didn't care that He Rui had two wives but focused on He Rui's political, economic, and military capabilities instead.

"President, the Hawaiian Islands have come under heavy bombardment. Twenty-six small islands have lost contact. Furthermore, the Japanese bombed Kauai, causing major damage to the airfields there," Marshall briefed him on the situation.

Roosevelt didn't answer immediately. He didn't understand military matters himself; although the President is the Commander-in-Chief, Roosevelt always believed his task was to raise money for the military, not to actually influence their decisions.

Sure enough, after Marshall finished his briefing, he raised what he believed must be done: "President, at this stage, we must immediately dispatch 5,000 fighters to the Hawaiian Islands to make up for the combat losses."

Hearing "5,000 fighters," Roosevelt's face changed slightly. He hadn't expected to need to maintain the Hawaiian battle with such intensity so soon. But for the United States, 5,000 fighters wasn't a huge number. Roosevelt simply nodded and continued to listen silently to Marshall.

Marshall's expression had turned grim. "President, would you be willing to visit Oak Ridge?"

On May 3rd, Roosevelt, accompanied by some cabinet members and the chairmen of the House and Senate Military Affairs Committees, arrived at Oak Ridge. Congressman Carl Vinson, Chairman of the House Naval Affairs Committee, had heard rumors about Oak Ridge but had never been there. He had once searched for the name on a map but couldn't find an Oak Ridge related to military industry. The places marked as Oak Ridge on the maps were all tourist spots or timber forests. None looked like military installations.

Now personally at Oak Ridge, Vinson saw a massive site surrounded by barbed wire. Dozens of meters inside the wire was a high wooden wall that stretched for miles—he couldn't see the end of it.

Between the wire and the wooden wall, military vehicles full of soldiers patrolled the road from time to time. The soldiers were armed with live ammunition, clearly ready to attack intruders at any moment. Listening to the briefing from the General Staff officer, the roughly 1,000 Tennessee families living there had only two weeks or less to move; protests and appeals were futile. The area was subsequently declared a restricted military zone, and no one was allowed to enter without military permission. The final cost for the entire 68,000 acres of Oak Ridge was only $2.6 million, or about $47 per acre.

"That's not much money," Vinson muttered to himself.

Entering Oak Ridge, the security at the gate was tight; even the presidential motorcade underwent strict inspection, with no slackness due to the status of these figures. Passing the check and entering within the walls of the Oak Ridge base, Congressman Vinson saw a giant poster featuring the classic three monkeys covering their eyes, ears, and mouths, signifying "See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil."

Vinson was intrigued by this interesting image, but soon realized it was just one of many security posters found everywhere at Oak Ridge.

To secretly manufacture nuclear weapons, the United States had gathered as many as 75,000 people at the Oak Ridge base. But because of security, these workers were completely isolated; they didn't know what kind of work they were engaged in or its significance.

Oak Ridge was highly secretive at the time; no markings for it could be found on public maps. Even in leaked photos of children, the kids were only identified by their first names, not their surnames, to prevent outsiders from identifying which scientists were working there.

One of these posters made Vinson look for a long time: it depicted a man collapsed on the ground, with the sign reading, "This is the only way he gets a day off."

Although such high-intensity work wasn't rare in America—it had been part of American tradition since the era of slavery—seeing it so brazenly used as propaganda made Vinson feel the pressure within the base. Oak Ridge workers weren't allowed to tell anyone what they did; scientists and workers had to work around the clock. When could they rest? According to the sign, working until you collapse "is the only way he gets a day off."

Other things that left a deep impression on Vinson included signs on two restroom doors reading "Whites" and "Coloreds."

On the left, a small boy received a security badge; on the right, a man spoke on a dedicated work telephone.

A group of children at Oak Ridge were participating in something like a fire drill; some were all white, some all black. At this time, black children could not go to school with white children. Seeing that racial segregation was well maintained within the Oak Ridge base, Vinson felt satisfied. However, he was surprised to see black people working at Oak Ridge. Why were there black people at such an important research base? Vinson couldn't understand what they were used for.

While waiting to visit the nuclear facilities, a puzzled Vinson asked the officer in charge of receiving them, "Excuse me, what are the black people used for here?"

The officer, fearing he might misunderstand Vinson's meaning, first asked, "Congressman, are you asking about the black employees?"

Hearing this, Vinson became even more confused. He furrowed his brows and asked, "Are the black people here divided into two types?"

The officer didn't dare speak further and answered vaguely, "The black people here are indeed somewhat different; there are considerable distinctions."

Vinson probed, "Are some of the black people not used for nuclear radiation tests?"

The officer truly didn't know how to answer that. The black people in the base weren't used for radiation tests; they were experienced construction workers or manual laborers. Because the selection process at Oak Ridge was extremely strict and the base needed a large amount of heavy labor, these black people were descendants of black slaves who had been loyal to whites for several generations and had white guarantors. Naturally, the US military couldn't use these people for experiments.

As for nuclear radiation tests, the officer felt he couldn't explain that to Congressman Vinson. Near the test site, some black people, released prisoners, and poor whites had indeed been relocated to live in semi-confinement. This was to test what effects nuclear explosions would have on humans outside the direct kill zone.

Not telling Vinson about these things wasn't because the officer felt bad for the black people, nor did he see any moral problem. It was simply a military secret that couldn't be told to anyone without explicit authorization. So the officer brushed off the question.

Congressman Vinson felt displeased; he thought the US military had degenerated, allowing even black people to enjoy the same rights as whites. The Congressman believed this was the beginning of America's decline!