The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 1028 Times have changed, this is the final battleship showdown!
On the morning of April 25, 1914, the North Sea was shrouded in thick fog. Commander John Jellicoe, commander of the British Home Fleet, stood on the bridge of his flagship, HMS King Henry VIII, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the railing. Behind him, the 16-inch guns of four King-class battleships were faintly visible in the morning mist. Behind the four King-class battleships were four less powerful Prince-class battleships, equipped only with 14-inch guns.

These eight powerful battleships were the main force of the Royal Navy's Home Fleet's "ambush squadron"!

"Admiral Madden's decoy fleet has reached its designated position." Chief of Staff Rear Admiral Chatfield handed over the telegram. "Hood has sent a signal that German reconnaissance aircraft have spotted them."

Jellicoe nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the nautical chart spread out on the table. Charles Madden's four Hood-class battleships were positioned at the entrance to the English Channel, like a carefully laid decoy. This decoy fleet also included two escort carriers, HMS Attacker and HMS Defender, as well as five large cruisers and ten destroyers.

“Tell Madden,” Jellicoe’s voice was low and firm, “to follow the plan exactly. Once the Germans take the bait, immediately retreat north and lure them into our encirclement.”

The officers on the bridge exchanged glances. The plan was extremely risky—if the Germans didn't take the bait, or if Madden didn't retreat in time, the entire decoy fleet could be annihilated. But Jellicoe believed that, given Scheer's character, he would definitely pursue the seemingly fleeing British fleet.

"What's the weather report?" Jellico asked the weather officer.

"Visibility will be less than five nautical miles in the next six hours, and thunderstorms are possible this afternoon," the meteorologist replied. "This is very unfavorable for our air operations."

Jellicoe frowned. He had been hoping that Beatty's carrier strike group could come to his aid from the Faroe Islands, but now it seemed that the weather might be the biggest variable.

"Notify all ships to prepare for night battle." He finally ordered, "If the battle cannot be resolved during the day, we will launch a torpedo attack by destroyers at night."

At 11:30 a.m., the sky over Beihai, which was covered with light gray clouds, was suddenly torn apart by the roar of engines.

A strike group of thirty Junkers 14 twin-engine bombers swooped down from the clouds, their 500-kilogram armor-piercing bombs gleaming deadly in the sunlight. Through the cockpit window, Flight Wing Commander Colonel Hans Rudel could already see the outline of the British decoy fleet below—four Hood-class battleships lined up in a column, two escort carriers following behind, and numerous escort cruisers and destroyers patrolling the area.

"Attention all aircraft!" Rudel roared over the radio, "Prioritize attacking the carriers!"

Almost simultaneously, the British fleet reacted. The anti-aircraft guns on the HMS Rodney, a Hood-class battleship, opened fire first, their 4.5-inch guns unleashing a dense barrage of bullets. On the flight decks of the escort carriers HMS Attacker and HMS Defender, twelve Sea Vixen biplanes were scrambling to take off, but the German dive was too fast.

The first 500-kilogram armor-piercing shell struck the stern of the HMS Defender directly, and the shockwave from the explosion threw two Swordfish torpedo bombers parked on the deck into the sea. Immediately afterwards, a second bomb penetrated the Defender's hangar deck and exploded near the ammunition magazine.

The hull of the USS Defender shuddered violently, followed by a series of devastating explosions. Fuel and ammunition ignited, and flames erupted from every hatch. Within five minutes, the escort carrier tilted and sank to the bottom of the sea, leaving only a massive vortex of fuel and floating debris on the surface.

HMS Attacker fared slightly better. Although its steam turbines were damaged by two near misses, the captain decisively ordered the release of smoke to temporarily conceal the ship.

Meanwhile, the Hood-class battleships HMS Howe and HMS Anson were also targeted. HMS Howe's B turret was hit directly, and its two 15-inch main guns were destroyed. HMS Anson's aft deck caught fire, but the anti-aircraft fire of both ships remained fierce, shooting down three Junkers 14s.

"Results confirmed!" Rudel shouted excitedly, "One escort carrier sunk, two battleships damaged!"

However, he was clearly celebrating a little too soon!

As the German bombers finished dropping their bombs and began to climb, twelve Sea Vixens biplanes that had previously missed intercepting the Junkers bombers suddenly swooped down from high altitude. Taking advantage of the momentum from their high-altitude dive, these British carrier-based aircraft pounced like raptors on the pulling-up Junkers 14s.

Squadron Leader Major Richard Bell's aircraft opened fire first. He maneuvered the Sea Vixen into a near-vertical dive, its four Vickers machine guns on the wings spitting deadly flames. 7.7mm bullets lashed the fuselage of a Junkers 14 like steel whips, and the German bomber's right engine immediately burst into black smoke as it spun and plummeted into the sea.

"Maintain the dive angle!" Bell shouted over the radio. "Use potential energy to gain speed!"

This tactic was probably the only one the "Sea Fox" could use against Junkers aircraft. Although biplanes were not as fast as the monoplanes of the Junkers 14 in level flight, they were able to briefly catch up with climbing German bombers by using the extra speed gained from a dive.

The rear gunner of a Junkers 14 strafed the enemy aircraft, bullets grazing Bell's wing. But the British pilot did not back down, continuing to fire as he pursued, only diving down when he was less than fifty meters from the enemy plane, whereupon his wingman immediately took over the attack position.

The air battle lasted less than ten minutes, but the results were significant. Five Junkers 14s crashed into the sea, trailing thick smoke, while Britain lost only two Sea Vixens. However, the disadvantages of this biplane fighter were already evident, and its elimination was only a matter of time.

"Immediately arrange for the HMS Howe and HMS Anson to evacuate to Scapa Flow." Admiral Madden stood on the bridge of the HMS Hood, his face grim. "The rest of the ships shall remain on alert and continue their eastward patrol."

The two damaged Hood-class cruisers turned northwest under the escort of five large cruisers. Although one of HMS Howe's main gun turrets was destroyed and HMS Anson's aft deck was still burning, their propulsion systems were largely intact, allowing them to continue sailing at a high speed of 24 knots.

Madden looked southeast at the horizon; he couldn't see the smoke from the German fleet yet. But he knew they were there—the planes had spotted them!

Just two minutes earlier, Madden had received a telegram that a Short seaplane had located the German fleet!

At midday, a tense atmosphere hung over the Dunkirk field airfield in France. Twenty Lightning torpedo bombers were neatly lined up on the runway, and ground crew were loading them with 450mm torpedoes.

French Naval Air Commander Colonel Pierre Durand stood in the control tower, gazing at the formation of aircraft outside the window. These twin-engine torpedo bombers were France's latest shore-based attack aircraft, each capable of carrying a 450mm torpedo with a combat radius of 400 kilometers. "Attention, all crews!" Durand picked up the microphone. "Intelligence indicates the German High Seas Fleet is operating near the English Channel. Our mission is to attack their battleships and relieve pressure on our allies!"

As the takeoff order was given, twenty Lightning fighter jets took off in succession, flying in close formation towards the northwest. The formation quickly entered the cloud cover, using it as cover to approach the target area.

"German fleet spotted!" the observer in the lead aircraft suddenly shouted. "Bearing 310, distance approximately 30 kilometers!"

Duran raised his binoculars and saw the steel behemoths of the German High Seas Fleet advancing in battle formation on the distant sea. The steel wall formed by five Bismarck-class and five Moltke-class battleships was awe-inspiring.

"Keep low!" Duran shouted over the radio. "The German fighters are all at high altitude!"

However, they underestimated the German air defenses. As the Lightning fighters approached the German fleet, twelve Fokker F14 monoplanes suddenly swooped down from the clouds. Lieutenant Richthofen led the charge, his aircraft weaving through the French formation like the Grim Reaper.

"Disperse!" Duran roared, but it was too late. The 105mm anti-aircraft guns on the German escort cruisers also began to roar, shells exploding into deadly black clouds in the air.

Ultimately, only eight Lightning bombers successfully dropped their torpedoes, two of which hit a German large cruiser, and the other sank a destroyer. The French paid a heavy price, losing twelve bombers in the process.

While the remnants of the French "Lightning" torpedo bomber were still fleeing at low altitude, a gap was suddenly torn in the clouds over the North Sea.

Thirty British Atlantic Sentinel twin-engine attack aircraft swooped down like the Grim Reaper, their 500-pound armor-piercing shells under their wings gleaming menacingly. These British shore-based aircraft, under the cover of clouds, silently approached the German fleet that was engaged in combat with French torpedo bombers.

The alarms of the German lookouts sounded almost simultaneously with the whistling of the first bomb!

"Enemy aircraft! Over starboard!"

The Bismarck's anti-aircraft gunners had just turned their guns southeast—where several French torpedo bombers were still circling—when they heard the roar of engines overhead. Twelve Atlantic Sentinels had already swooped down to less than a kilometer in altitude, their bombs clearly visible beneath their bellies.

"Fire! Fire!"

The roar of the 105mm anti-aircraft gun was deafening, but it was too late.

The first 500-pound bomb landed near the bow of the Moltke-class ship Clausewitz, creating a water curtain as high as 30 meters. The second bomb hit the 150 mm armor on top of the B turret directly; although it did not penetrate the armor steel, the shockwave from the explosion cracked the gun mount's rotating mechanism.

The most deadly bomb was the third one—it pierced the foredeck of the Clausewitz like a sword and detonated inside the hull. Black smoke immediately billowed from all the hatches, and German damage control crews rushed toward the fire with fire hoses, only to be driven back by the intense heat.

"Hard to port! Emergency evasive maneuver!"

Admiral Scheer roared from the bridge of his flagship, the Bismarck, but the nightmare for the German fleet had only just begun. Another bomb exploded on the side of the Gneisenau near its bow, and seawater rushed in through a three-meter-long gash.

The barrage of anti-aircraft guns finally wove a fiery net in the air. Two Atlantic Sentinels were directly hit, turning into fireballs and crashing into the sea. But the British pilots seemed oblivious to fear, continuing their dive and bombing run. Several more bombs then landed on the already damaged Clausewitz and Gneisenau, not fatally, but enough to leave the two battleships, totaling over 9 tons, smoking!
"Results confirmed!" the lead aircraft shouted as it pulled up. "One Moltke-class battleship's main gun has malfunctioned and caught fire, and one Bismarck-class battleship is flooding and listing!"

On the bridge of the Bismarck, Admiral Scheer stared at the damage control report, his face so grim it could drip water.

“Commander,” Chief of Staff Major General von Trotta whispered, “The Clausewitz’s B turret is stuck, there is a fire in the bow compartment, and the Gneisenau is taking on a lot of water and needs to be slowed down and its list controlled.”

Scheer's gaze swept to the northwest—there were the British's four Hoods there, and two of them were already damaged!
Scheer looked up at the sky; dark clouds filled the sky, and a storm was likely brewing soon. At that point, the annoying planes should be gone! He finally spoke, "Order the two damaged battleships to return to port immediately. The rest of the ships, maintain battle formation and continue the pursuit!"

At 3:20, the sky over Beihai became increasingly gloomy.

Admiral Madden stood on the bridge of the HMS Hood, his eyes fixed on the nautical chart. The staff had just marked the latest position of the German fleet in red pencil—less than 30 nautical miles away!

"Report!" The meteorologist suddenly burst onto the bridge. "The air pressure has plummeted, and the wind speed has reached 25 knots. A torrential downpour is expected within ten minutes!"

Madden abruptly looked up out the porthole. On the distant horizon, a dark wall of rain was advancing at a visible speed. The first raindrop struck the bridge glass with a sharp "plop," followed by a second, then a third.
"Send a telegram to the HMS King Henry VIII immediately!" Madden grabbed the communications officer. "The message is as follows: 'A storm is approaching, visibility is rapidly decreasing. The enemy's main force is less than 30 nautical miles away. Requesting immediate rendezvous. Repeat, requesting immediate rendezvous.'"

The communications officer's fingers flew across the telegraph key, and the radio waves raced westward through the increasingly dense rain.

(End of this chapter)