On the morning of October 31st, Nagata Tetsuzan arrived at the office of Prime Minister Katō Tomosaburō at 7:00 AM. Having not seen him for several months, Prime Minister Katō was even more emaciated than Nagata had imagined. His skin presented a pale, bluish hue, his cheekbones protruded sharply, and his cheeks were deeply sunken.

Despite his physical frailty, the gaze of the incumbent Prime Minister and Admiral Katō Tomosaburō remained bright and sharp, his voice calm and focused. "Nagata-kun, Tanaka-kun told me you have some ideas."

"Engage with the orthodox, win with the surprise. If we wish to secure victory in the first phase, a decisive surprise move must be accomplished through a landing operation," Nagata Tetsuzan laid out his plan. He saw Katō's gaze sharpen; evidently, Admiral Katō had also considered this direction.

"The Army believes that the enemy intends to force our forces in Korea into two large-scale campaigns. Only by relying on our well-trained officers and men to force the enemy into a single, decisive battle can we shatter their attempt. If we win, the enemy's elites in Korea will be wiped out, and we can pursue victory across the Yalu River into Manchuria and Mongolia. Even if we do not achieve total victory, a single campaign could push them back to the Yalu River, avoiding a war of attrition where we are worn down layer by layer. Your Excellency, given the Army's high level of training and the Navy's absolute superiority, a landing operation cannot fail."

Admiral Katō pondered this. Nagata saw more and more sweat accumulating on his forehead. In the cool temperature of late October, a large drop of sweat was already sliding down his cheek.

At this moment, a knock sounded at the door, and someone said, "Excuse the intrusion."

Nagata had not expected the person to open the door without waiting for a reply. It was a military doctor wearing a stethoscope and carrying a satchel. Holding a tray, the doctor bowed to Katō and Nagata, walked to the Prime Minister's side, helped him remove half of his uniform jacket, and rolled up his shirt sleeve.

Nagata looked at the tray; on it lay a syringe and a bottle of... morphine. The doctor skillfully administered the injection to Katō, listened to his heart sounds with the stethoscope, and then measured his blood pressure.

Katō wiped his face with a towel. Noticing Nagata's astonished look, he spoke in an even tone, "The abdominal pain has intensified recently. To avoid delaying official duties, I use morphine for pain relief. Nagata-kun, is the concept you described the will of the Army Ministry?"

Nagata was momentarily speechless. He realized now that the light in Prime Minister Katō's eyes did not stem from his physical body, but was fueled by the burning of a resolute soul within that frail shell.

The doctor finished measuring the blood pressure and bowed. "Your Excellency, please take care."

Katō did not reply, merely waving his hand to dismiss the doctor.

By now, sweat had stopped seeping from Katō's forehead. He asked, "The Army Ministry has formulated such a concept; what do they hope the Navy will do?"

Suppressing the surging emotions in his heart, Nagata spoke sincerely, "The Army Ministry wishes to request that Your Excellency, in your capacity as Prime Minister, propose the formation of a Joint Landing Operation Command. The Navy would assume the role of Commander, and the Army would appoint the Vice Commander. The landing operation itself would be directed by the Army Vice Commander."

Admiral Katō looked Nagata up and down for a moment, then smiled with a hint of mockery. "Heh, Nagata-kun, did Excellency Tanaka agree to your proposal?"

Nagata remained silent, pulling out a letter signed by Tanaka and others, and presented it to Katō with both hands. Katō did not open it immediately. He held the letter, deep in thought. Nagata noticed that Katō didn't even seem to realize his arm was trembling involuntarily. This was a sign of terminal illness, not to mention his bloodless, pale face. All these signs indicated that Katō did not have long to last.

If the Prime Minister were to change, this plan would take a long time to coordinate again. Though he felt a pang of cruelty, Nagata spoke up. "Your Excellency, both the Army and Navy understand the necessity of sincere cooperation. If Your Excellency were to resign due to illness, Excellency Tanaka would also step down. As long as you two are present, cooperation between the Army and Navy can be facilitated. If Your Excellency cannot issue the order immediately, this plan likely cannot be realized. When that time comes, the Army will have to push forward step by bloody step through the mountainous terrain of Korea, while the Navy's powerful fleet can only cruise aimlessly at sea. Is this what Your Excellency wishes to see?"

Katō's already pale skin turned a shade whiter, and his involuntarily trembling arm continued to shake. Finally, Admiral Katō spoke. "You said earlier that you want to thoroughly shatter the enemy's plan for two campaigns through one large-scale operation. Can you explain that?"

"This subordinate's analysis comes from a question of common sense. exactly how many elite troops does He Rui have? Imperial Army officers study at the Academy for over a year, and by the time they graduate from the Army War College, they have spent fifteen years learning. He Rui has been back in the Northeast for seven years. I hear he studied the German education system and vigorously promoted compulsory education. Even if his education reforms were successful, it has been no more than three years since he began large-scale training of NCOs. The scale of troops these NCOs can lead is at most 150,000 men."

Admiral Katō suddenly understood, and he felt a surge of appreciation for Nagata. The Navy had also analyzed the Army's recent defeat. Including Admiral Katō himself, no one could figure out where He Rui had gotten so many elite troops. As a Great Power, the Japanese Navy knew very well that without an army capable of flexibly utilizing advanced equipment, mere possession of that equipment would not lead to victory.

The Sino-Japanese War and the Russo-Japanese War had both proven this point.

From the battle reports, the Northeast Army's true advantage lay in aircraft. Although the Northeast Army also used equipment seen on the European battlefields, such as flamethrowers, the real reason for their victory was their flexible and courageous combat model.

Nagata Tetsuzan's analysis, starting from the quantity of qualified NCOs, cut right to the heart of the matter. Assuming every soldier in the Northeast Army had a five-year primary school education, they might hold a slight advantage over the Japanese Army in literacy. However, the number of NCOs the Northeast could produce in six years was far inferior to Japan, which had been industrializing for decades.

The number of Northeast Army NCOs was indeed only sufficient to lead 150,000 elite troops. From known combat situations, the Northeast Army had 80,000 troops attacking the Kwantung Leased Territory and 160,000 attacking Korea. Deducting logistics units from this total of 240,000, and applying the Japanese Army's organizational ratios, the combat troops numbered between 150,000 and 190,000. This matched Nagata Tetsuzan's assessment perfectly.

If the Japanese Army deployed more than 300,000 troops into the campaign, their strength would be on par with the Northeast Army, and their number of elite units would exceed them. Of course, such an explanation was still not enough to fully persuade Admiral Katō, but Katō had his own problems he had to face.

Katō opened Tanaka Giichi's letter. After reading it, he did not give Nagata a direct answer, simply saying, "I understand."

Nagata bowed and took his leave. Once Nagata was gone, Katō called his adjutant. "Prepare the car."

The adjutant answered hurriedly, "Your Excellency, the car is ready."

"To the Navy Ministry," Katō said, attempting to stand. But after two exertions, he found he could not rise. The adjutant quickly supported Katō to his feet, while asking with some confusion, "Your Excellency, didn't you say you were going to visit His Majesty's Grand Chamberlain?"

As he walked forward with the adjutant's support, Katō ordered, "Send someone to inform the Grand Chamberlain that due to military affairs, I will be late. Please ask for his understanding. I will certainly visit him today. This matter is grave; please ask the Grand Chamberlain to remain in the Palace."

The adjutant quickly passed the order down. After helping Katō into the back seat of the car, the adjutant sat in the front and ordered the driver, "To the Navy Ministry, immediately."

***

In 1896, under the leadership of the Meiji government, three three-story Baroque-style red brick buildings rose up across the moat from the Sakuradamon Gate of the Imperial Palace in Kasumigaseki, Tokyo, where Japanese government agencies were clustered. Among them, the one directly adjacent to the Imperial Palace was the Ministry of Justice. Next to it, located on the side of Sakurada Avenue, was the "Daishin-in" (Supreme Court). The final building was the Navy Ministry, overflowing with Western style.

The organizational structure of the Japanese Navy was similar to that of the Army. The Navy General Staff, known as the 'Gunreibu', occupied one floor within the Navy Ministry. Operational plans were formulated by the Gunreibu and submitted to the Emperor, the Grand Marshal of the three armed forces, for review. Once approved, they were handed over to the Navy Minister for responsibility, who then passed the plans to the Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet for execution.

The Navy Minister, the Chief of the Navy General Staff, and the Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet were known as the "Three Chiefs."

Upon arriving at the Navy Ministry, Minister Katō immediately summoned Admiral Yamashita Gentarō, Chief of the Navy General Staff, and Vice Admiral Takeshita Isamu, Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet.

Commander Yamamoto Isoroku was currently receiving a briefing from Admiral Yamashita Gentarō. Since returning from his studies in the United States, Yamamoto Isoroku had been teaching at the Naval War College. Just a few days ago, he had received transfer orders to report to the Gunreibu.

Today, October 31st, several officers formally becoming staff members of the Operations Section of the Gunreibu received Admiral Yamashita's address. Afterward, Yamashita kept Yamamoto behind alone. Before he could say more than a few words, Yamashita's adjutant ran in and whispered something. Admiral Yamashita immediately ordered, "Yamamoto, go to your work." With that, the Admiral followed his adjutant and briskly walked out of the office, leaving Yamamoto, who was bowing in farewell, standing there.

Yamamoto didn't think any major event was occurring. Now that the war had entered a stalemate phase, both sides would avoid meaningless skirmishes to gather strength for the next strike.

Leaving the Chief's office, Yamamoto headed straight for the Operations Section. The Section Chief immediately shoved a stack of charts at Yamamoto, ordering him to formulate a bombardment plan. Yamamoto, however, requested data and battle reports regarding the Northeast Air Force from the intelligence room and began to study them carefully.

After reading the material, Yamamoto formed a preliminary judgment. The vast ocean offered no cover; aircraft at high altitude could easily capture the wake of a fleet in transit. In clear weather, a surprise attack was impossible. As for bad weather, shore bombardment by the fleet would be madness. Under normal circumstances, the Northeast Army would certainly acquire the Japanese fleet's position first and complete preparations in advance.

Just as he made this judgment, the Chief of the Operations Section came over to inquire about the staff's work results. Seeing Yamamoto reading battle reports with great interest, the Chief walked up to him and said unhappily, "Yamamoto-kun, how much of your work is completed?"

Yamamoto Isoroku had no interest in doing such meaningless work to begin with. Annoyed, he simply said, "Significant progress has been made."

!

The Section Chief, already anxious, saw Yamamoto's unserious attitude and decided to make an example of him. He shouted, "Then please tell me, Yamamoto-kun, what is your work progress!"

Although Yamamoto had a cheerful and humorous personality, he was extremely diligent in his work. Seeing the Section Chief's reaction and noticing that everyone in the office was looking over, Yamamoto stood up calmly and said clearly, "My work progress so far involves the discovery that our capital ships are not suitable for approaching the range covered by the enemy air force. Although my understanding of air forces is limited and I cannot judge the distance accurately, areas near enemy airfields are unsuitable for naval vessels, including cruisers, to approach."

Seeing that Yamamoto was pretending to have actually worked and sounded plausible, the Section Chief prepared to show him no mercy. He demanded loudly, "What led Yamamoto-kun to make this judgment on distance? What formula did you follow? What equation? Or what theory?"

Under the gaze of the Gunreibu staff officers, Yamamoto walked to a blackboard and erased all the numbers already written on it. Even though these numbers had been copied onto the blackboard, Nagumo Chūichi felt rather unhappy seeing the figures he had laboriously transcribed being wiped away.

Yamamoto Isoroku picked up a piece of chalk and began writing numbers rapidly. Blessed with a good memory, he wrote very fast. When he finished, he turned to the numbers and explained, "This is the deck armor of our battleship *Kongō*. This is the *Kongō*'s side armor. This is the armor thickness around the *Kongō*'s funnels. This is the deck armor of our cruisers..."

Everyone was bewildered, unsure what Yamamoto Isoroku's purpose was in listing these. Yamamoto did not play any pranks; he simply listed the iconic data clearly, then put down the chalk, clapped his hands, and calmly asked a question. "If this armor were hit by a high-explosive shell with a 200-kilogram charge, traveling at a speed of 100 to 150 kilometers per hour... Gentlemen, which armor could withstand it?"

The naval officers were stunned. Where in the world was there a high-explosive shell with a 200kg charge? The ratio of explosive charge to shell weight was roughly between 1:100 and 1:50. A 200kg charge would imply a shell weighing at least 10 tons. Even the *Queen Elizabeth*-class battleships that had dominated the European war had main gun shells weighing only 879 kilograms.

As for the speed, it was even more absurd. The muzzle velocity of a 381mm naval gun—the speed at which the shell leaves the barrel—was 700 meters per second. That was roughly the fastest a shell could fly. At that speed, flying 140 kilometers would take 200 seconds, not an hour.

But Nagumo Chūichi remained silent. He was already certain that Yamamoto Isoroku was not joking but was discussing a very realistic problem seriously. The answer just hadn't been revealed yet.

The Operations Section Chief, however, was furious. He sneered, "May I ask Yamamoto-kun, what shell flies at such a slow speed?"

Yamamoto Isoroku answered calmly, "If a Northeast Army aircraft, loaded with 200 kilograms of high explosives, impacts our ships sailing at 20 kilometers per hour at a speed of 130 kilometers per hour... Oh, I suppose you gentlemen are more accustomed to the unit 'knots,' while aircraft speeds are customarily calculated in kilometers."

The operations room instantly fell silent. The staff officers began simulating this scene in their minds, and then were all struck speechless by the possibility. Although the Operations Section Chief was angry, it didn't mean his military standards were lacking. The Japanese Navy General Staff would never let a non-elite officer serve as Section Chief.

Therefore, possessing high-level calculation abilities, the Section Chief had already calculated Yamamoto's hypothesis physically using formulas for kinetic energy, impulse, and work.

Plugging in the empirical formulas for the explosive power of high explosives, the Chief discovered that even the battleships currently possessed by the Japanese Navy—their superstructures could not withstand such a death impact. If luck was bad and the magazine was detonated, the battleship would sink.

Forcibly suppressing the intense emotions in his heart, the Section Chief walked up to Yamamoto Isoroku and said politely and respectfully, "Yamamoto-kun, please come with me."

The two walked out of the operations room one after the other. The staff officers remaining in the room all looked grim. No one had expected that airplanes could be used this way! Moreover, this usage even achieved a long-held expectation of the Navy: that shells could possess the thinking ability of a human.

Currently, the Northeast Army held total superiority in aviation, and they had no navy... The Japanese naval officers, who had originally thought they could sail the Chinese coastline at will, discovered that things were not that simple.

A Lieutenant Commander couldn't help but say, "This is just a sudden whimsical idea of Yamamoto-kun's. I don't believe the Northeast Army would necessarily think of it!"

Although the Lieutenant Commander spoke loudly, he clearly lacked confidence. Nagumo Chūichi sighed inwardly. He remembered an event from the past, an inappropriate joke He Rui had made when he was drunk.

That time, Nagumo Chūichi and Yamaguchi Tamon were drinking with He Rui, and they spoke of battles between aircraft and warships. He Rui, somewhat inebriated, had said to Yamaguchi Tamon with a very serious expression, "If you fill a plane with explosives and crash it into a warship, at least it would look very terrifying."

Although Yamaguchi Tamon had a rough personality, he was not a rigid man. Hearing this, however, he did not laugh. Instead, he said somewhat unhappily, "He-kun! How can you use soldiers' lives like that!"

He Rui had laughed heartily at the time, not taking it seriously at all. Nagumo Chūichi had also been very puzzled by He Rui's reaction. However, the matter had indeed left an impression on Nagumo. From a purely military perspective, such an exchange ratio did have its rationality.

Recalling the past, Nagumo Chūichi suddenly felt that this moment was just like that one. In Nagumo's eyes, He Rui was a strategic talent with an extremely thorough understanding of military theory. The application of aircraft was a strategic decision. If a plane actually crashed into and sank a Japanese battleship—even if only one battleship was sunk—someone in the Navy Ministry would likely have to commit seppuku.

Nagumo Chūichi believed that with He Rui's cold, extreme strategic thinking, he definitely had such a contingency plan. And a person with a jumping personality like Yamamoto Isoroku could also think of such a possibility. Some say that two extremes will share common expressions.

Nagumo Chūichi could no longer figure out his own mood. Should he rejoice that this possibility had been revealed, or feel terror that this possibility had been revealed?