chapter 419 – indian independence

Being a good son-in-law, Alan Wilson, though half a world away, did not forget to advise his father-in-law, and the telegram simply meant not to get your hopes up; neither Kashmir nor Hyderabad was a problem that could be solved by majesty or coordination.

“Unsurprisingly, you will return without success, but just do your best to do so with a clear conscience. I am sure there is no possibility of London accusing you of anything; it is not an easy job.”

Not surprisingly, Mountbatten’s trip to Kashmir was unsuccessful, and persuading the Maharaja to agree to annexation to Pakistan was fruitless. For this reason, some Pakistanis, seeing that Mountbatten was unsuccessful in persuading the Maharaja of Kashmir to be annexed to Pakistan, thought that he was intentionally biased in favor of India; similarly, many Indians complained that Mountbatten had not persuaded the Hyderabad Tuktuk, which was supposed to be annexed to India, to be annexed to India, and thought that he had taken care of Pakistan. At this point, he no longer wanted to manage.

He had not wanted to come to British India in the first place, but had been brought here by the Cabinet’s tactics, and now that he was unable to coordinate the outcome, it was more important not to coordinate, and to make India and Pakistan independent in a hurry.

Regardless of what remaining issues to be resolved, the independence of India and Pakistan can no longer be delayed. The dates of independence for India and Pakistan were March 14 and March 15, seven months later than in history.

The British Indian colonial establishment was united across the board, buying out precious time for the restoration of the British Empire. And all levels of government at this time were dispensing brand new rupees to everyone in the name of celebrating independence.

As planned, Mountbatten was to attend the independence ceremonies of each of the two countries as a sign of justice. At the moment, it was his greatest desire to spend whatever it took to get through both Independence Days safely. As long as the pacifists and Hindus did not clash on those two days, and as long as there was no friction between the British and the natives, all would be well.

Since Pakistan’s independence came a little earlier, Mountbatten first had to go to Karachi for Pakistan’s independence ceremony and then return immediately to Delhi for India’s independence ceremony. Before that, after arriving in Karachi by airplane, Mountbatten took a bus to Government House. The crowds watching on Mountbatten’s way to Government House were far greater than when Jinnah arrived here a few days earlier.

That evening, Ali Jinnah held a grand banquet both to celebrate Pakistan’s independence and to welcome Mountbatten to Karachi. Mountbatten was not going to speak, but after finishing his toast, Jinnah politely asked his guest to say a few words as well, and Mountbatten, on behalf of the British Empire, expressed his good wishes to the soon-to-be-independent Pakistan.

The rest of the day would wait until Pakistan’s Independence Day arrived, and after attending Pakistan’s celebrations, he would have to return to New Delhi for India’s independence celebrations.

Recently the biggest news in the world, naturally, also reached Newfoundland, but Allen Wilson did not leak the news with the locals, all as if they did not know, because Newfoundland is also in a similar situation.

Allen Wilson, who was holding back his feelings, just pulled a couple of lines with Vivien Lei, a couple of actresses, and you could tell from his face that he wasn’t in a very happy mood.

“Alan, didn’t you say it was only a matter of time?” Fei Wenli softly consoled, hoping that the moody man would be able to dissipate his anger, “You’ve already done your best for things over there, don’t worry about it.”

“Colonial independence is a historical trend, what’s there to be upset about.” Pauline Gaudet, not quite understanding Alan Wilson, blurted out, “Aren’t you guys in England ashamed?”

“You Americans don’t feel ashamed, what are we ashamed of.” In the other three women’s slightly changed faces, Ellen Wilson directly exploded, “How about I make a bet with you, you will never see the United States withdrawing its troops from the Japanese territory in your lifetime, obviously now Japan is just like a colony, and you are still talking about pretending to have a sense of morality in front of us in the United Kingdom, this is really ridiculous. The most ridiculous thing in this world is the Americans, the same killing and setting fire to people, have to find a reason that everyone finds hypocritical, can’t fool anyone and still revel in it themselves.”

“You think you Americans have a sense of morality when you call for national self-determination? That’s because there are still large numbers of people around the world who are following the British and French, and you, the United States, are just trying to dig your heels in when you feel you have power.”

“Alan!” Vivienne’s brow furrowed as she called out softly, “Pauline doesn’t understand any of this and doesn’t mean it.”

“Beautiful lady, I apologize for the rudeness just now.” Allenwell apologized softly from the admonition, and resumed his moral appearance, “If I were an American, I would have done the same thing, patriotism is always not a bad thing, and Miss Pauline’s words just now make perfect sense from an American point of view.”

British India’s will to independence has long been a consensus, Allen Wilson heart inevitably lost can only accept the reality, to change the words, or to start from the land under their feet.

First of all to struggle hard, and then talk about the other, Allen Wilson physically, no matter how laborious, but also the first few women in front of the eyes to be satisfied, first of all, to develop a schedule, to live together with a few women to separate.

“It’s only not long, seems like the body has strengthened a lot.” Ingrid Bergman wore a satisfied look, indicating that she gave favorable comments on this fancy reception, it’s good to be young.

“Recently practiced from being a lumberjack, very lumberjack.” Alan Wilson, who was carrying his pants, looked back at Ingrid Bergman and helplessly said, “Knowing that you have a good figure, you don’t need to pose, but also pay attention to it.”

“Now know afraid? Wasn’t it very impulsive just now?” Ingrid Bergman gave Alan Wilson a blank look, but also began to put on the coat, a lowered head dissatisfied, “and pinched red, you make it difficult for me to explain.”

Allen Wilson stretched out his arms and legs to lie on a chair stuffed with fur, the curved corner of his mouth holding a home-made cigarette, the smoke chips falling down in drips, his two cold pinpoint-like gazes shooting straight into Ingrid Bergman’s eyes, praising the Nordic hardware under his breath, “In fact, from the point of view of Hitler’s summary of the appearance of the superior peoples, only you, the Nordic and Eastern European people, are are the ones who fit that blonde description of his, the Germans on the contrary don’t have so many so-called superior national traits.”

“And you know what Germans think?” Ingrid Bergman was already fully dressed, and there was no longer any trace of the flirtation that had just taken place in the room, and then the two of them ended the exchange with a verbal argument that would leave no evidence.

“Prepare the food, the girls will be back soon.” Alan Wilson got up and went to the kitchen, which was a whitewashed room. There were a few smoked hams hanging from the rafters, potted flowers on the windowsill, guns hanging from nails, and the rare large mugs, china and pewter utensils, and a few portraits of Queen Victoria.

A long, narrow, rough wooden table was well set with many bowls and spoons, and a bunch of onions hung high above the table; and on the side of the recessed fireplace were some spices.

In fact, one could still tell from this house that Newfoundland, somewhat isolated geographically, lived up to its paradisiacal location. If a number of people hadn’t fought in the World Wars, it would be like being stuck in an isolated space in the glory days of the British Empire.

He pushed up the window and peeked out. The sun was nearly set. The streets were a blur of houses and windmills, a pale blue; farther out there was only a blackened wilderness; and the air smelled of wood-burning fumes from the kitchens of the families.

The ponies were out walking at dusk. Their heads, black and shaggy, were reflected in the tops of the gates. He flicked the cigarette out of his hand, and there was a shower of sparks, and the horses immediately retreated to the side, and then fled.

Vivien Leigh, who had been out on location, had returned, unassuming of a big star, carrying a gift from a local citizen, and with a big smile that just seemed to warm her heart.

The days of the time management guru would continue, and 10,000 miles away on the subcontinent, the days of the British Empire had come to an end, and the meter flag, which had been flying high over the subcontinent, was about to be lowered.

It was Pakistan’s Independence Day, when the National Convention of Pakistan opened, declaring Pakistan officially independent.

Mountbatten was invited to address the National Assembly, where he called for an end to the violence, claimed that the partition of India and Pakistan was not a severing of ties, but the beginning of a new relationship, and asked Pakistan to maintain its special friendship with Britain.

Following Mountbatten’s speech, a parade celebrating Pakistan’s independence began. Ali Jinnah, Mountbatten and his wife boarded an open car together and drove slowly in the forefront of the parade. The march was three kilometers in total, and they stood on tenterhooks in the car because of prior intelligence that extremists were going to throw bombs at the open-topped car.

That afternoon, Mountbatten flew back to New Delhi in a hurry to attend an independence event for another part of British India.

Nehru announced from the Indian Legislative Assembly that “at twelve o’clock midnight, when the world is in silence, India is about to embark on a new life of independence and freedom.”

Meanwhile silence reigned in the Viceroy’s house at Mountbatten. He sat alone in his study, thinking. To tell the truth, deep down it was hard for Mountbatten to feel the loss of the largest colony of the British Empire in his term, yet it was hopelessly the only option.

The boundaries between New Delhi and Delhi were gone, countless citizens of Delhi had flooded into New Delhi, which was previously only inhabitable by the British, next to the sign that previously held the countdown to independence, and countless peasants in the countryside around Delhi had heard the news of the independence celebrations and had flooded into the capital of the Republic of India.

His wife, Edwina, walked in and spoke softly and comfortingly as she listened to the looming cheers, “Louis, you did your best, the independence of the subcontinent was not your fault. Now act like a gentleman and be honest.”

“Of course, my dear.” Mountbatten took a deep breath and squeezed out a smile, “Let’s celebrate with the Indians.”