The Channel Pact - Germany&UK Coop AAR

The following events took place May 15th, 1943, Chengdu, China(Occupied by Pact forces)

“A most curious situation indeed” Laurence nodded
As the men climbed the long, perilous stairs that led up to an old Buddhist monastery, Vincent and Laurence discussed the changing situation in China. Behind them, four Ironside escorts threaded in silence, ominous and alert. They did not trust this jungle. Nobody did. Above them, they could hear the low humming of a squadron of British strategic bombers flying overhead, their shadows casting eerie figures on the clouds below. Messengers of death.

“What we know for sure, is that he is a though one. How he managed to survive for four years in a country swarming with Japanese counterinsurgents, even I do not know.”
“I do not trust him” Van Geyte responded. The men paused for a while to catch their breaths, and the Field Marshall continued.
“Chiang Kai Shek.” The name worked electrifying, and the alertness of the group rose to even higher levels. This area had only been liberated a week ago, and it was very likely that there were still leftover Japanese forces lurking about. Nobody knew why the leader of the Kuomintang had chosen such a specific location for this meeting. For all they knew, they could be walking straight into a trap.
“He is a sly fox to evade Japanese intelligence for all this time, for sure. But is he sly enough to flatter us as his new overlords, only to stab us in the back later on?”
“I don’t know. I guess that’s why we came here: to find out”


At last the men had reached the old buddhist temple, which now looked more like a fortified stronghold than a place where placid monks used to mutter their daily prayers. Several guards were standing on the walls to guard the gate, dressed in murky Great War military uniforms, possibly dating back to the Qing Empire itself. As the lookouts saw the men approaching below, they frantically began pointing at the newcomers and shouting, while adressing other, invisible guards behind the gate.

The men approached the temple, their hearts beating faster as their anxiety grew. The Ironsides had taken up a box formation around De Nil and Van Geyte, and gripped their rifles tightly. More shouts sounded from behind the sturdy brick walls.
“The foreigners are here. Go get Chiang.”
“What?” De Nil looked up at the Field Marshall
“That’s what they are saying. Go get Chiang”
“Wait, what? Now you speak Chinese all of a sudden?” De Nil frowned in amazement.
“Mandarin, to be precise. Picked it up in ’36 when I was on that mission to China”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. Look” Laurence pointed at the gates, which were now being opened for the group. The men entered the domain of the monastery.

As they entered, they found themselves surrounded by a wall of rifles pointing in their direction, while the largest and probably most dominant soldier in the group began shouting at De Nil and Van Geyte.
“Fang xia wu qi tou xiang! Fang xia wu qi tou xiang!”
Van Geyte whispered “My god, these people their dialect is horrible” before calmly raising his hand
“Wo di ming zi shi Laurence Van Geyte, ta men jiao wo zuo Zheng fu zhe. Kao zhe wo di jun dui, wo dan du di cong Berlin sha chu yi tiao xie lu dao Chengdu. Dui kang wo di hua, ni jiu hui chang dao bi ni men zui feng kuang di xiang xiang hai yao tong ku di si wang.”
The soldiers collectively lowered their rifles and looked at eachother apprehensively, trying to figure out what to do.
“What did you tell them?”
“They demanded that we lower our rifles. I responded that I am Van Geyte, and that I have conquered an Empire from Berlin to Chengdu. I explained that opposing me would result in a more painful death than they could ever imagine.” De Nil surpressed a chuckle.

In truth, Laurence did really have the look of a war-beaten conqueror: Even when away from the battle, his face looked as if forged from steel, and his bright blue eyes were capable of coercing anyone who attempted to stand in his way. The deep scar he had gotten in the trenches of World War One was a nice plus to his ability to instill fear, aswell. And if his grizzled look was not capable of compelling his enemy to submit, then his Luger surely would: There was not a sharpshooter in the world with a better aim than the Field Marshall, who seemed to see sharper, hear sharper and smell more intense than any other human being. Being here, on this front, was no other than genetics for him: He was made of passion and determination, a man destined to fight. De Nil, on the other hand, was a compassionate but strict man of traditions, and probably the greatest admiral to ever walk the earth. Many who knew the two noted De Nil to be like the water, while Van Geyte was like the rock.

While the soldiers discussed amongst eachother whether they would dare to face the Field Marshall’s wrath, De Nil turned to his friend.
“I suppose you don’t speak Japanese as well?”
The Field Marshall stroked his Luger, and responded
“I speak a much more efficient language with Hirohito. That of steel, and fire.”

The soldiers were finished conversing. Valuing their lives more than their duties, they allowed the group to pass without handing over their weapons. As the circle opened, Laurence grabbed an insignificantly small and cowering guard to make a clear inquiry “Jiang jie shi zai na?”. The guard pointed a shaking finger at the main hall of the monastery, up another set of stairs. Laurence looked at the crude red main hall situated high above them, and despaired.
“Just great, more bloody stairs”


To be continued

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