The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 998 Europe Wants to Be Unified? Did We Agree?
February 15, noon, in the central waters of the North Sea.

The German fleet had been sailing for thirty-four hours and was less than two hundred nautical miles from the Norwegian coast. Suddenly, the lookout on the Scharnhorst sounded an alarm:

Smoke detected at 30 degrees to starboard! Approximately 8000 meters away!

Knorr immediately raised his Zeiss binoculars. On the distant horizon, a thin column of smoke was indeed rising, standing out starkly against the grey sea and sky.

“It’s the British freighter ‘Glasgow Merchant’,” the communications officer quickly flipped through the ship identification manual. “Registered tonnage 5800 tons, usually carrying coal, sailing from Cardiff to Bergen.”

Knorr's face was ashen. If the ship sounded the alarm, the entire operation could be ruined.

“Sink it,” he said coldly, his voice sounding as if it came from an ice cellar.

Ten minutes later, the Scharnhorst's 150mm secondary guns roared to life. Three capped armor-piercing shells struck the cargo ship precisely at the waterline. Before the British crew could even launch the lifeboats, the ship began to list to starboard. Coal floating on the sea surface spread around the hull like black blood.

“Don’t waste time rescuing those who have fallen into the water,” Knorr put down his binoculars, the lenses of which were covered in splashed seawater. “Keep moving forward, every minute of our time is precious!”

Early morning of February 16, off the coast of Trondheim.

A thick fog blanketed the Norwegian coast, reducing visibility to less than 100 meters. The German fleet anchored at its designated position; the sound of chains scraping against the anchor holes only startled the seagulls on the shore, but the Norwegian garrison was nowhere to be seen!

The world war had been raging for years, but Norway had been living a peaceful life. No one expected that their country would become a battlefield of the world war overnight!

However, even if they are on guard day and night, they cannot change their fate of being drawn in and occupied.

Soldiers from the Prussian Guards Division on the troop transport ship began transferring to smaller boats, carrying MP-1885 submachine guns, the latest secret weapon from the Berlin Arms Factory.

"Action!" General Goldz whispered the order, his boots clicking on the icy deck.

The first assault team consisted of thirty specially made rowboats, each carrying twenty fully armed mountain soldiers. Their oars were wrapped in woolen cloth, and even the splashing sound was deliberately minimized. On the lead boat, the Norwegian informant held a flashlight covered with a red cloth; its light shone like a faint firefly in the fog.

Meanwhile, the 280mm main guns of the "Frederick the Great" had been loaded, and the gunners were aiming at the coastal fortifications through periscopes. Krupp-made delayed-fuze shells were pushed into the breech, and the propellant charges emitted a pungent smell of gunpowder.

At 4:30 a.m., the first green signal flare rose into the sky—this was the code signal for the assault team to take their positions.

"Fire!"

The main guns of the "Frederick the Great" roared deafeningly, the muzzle blasts creating a circular crater in the surrounding seawater. The shells pierced the night sky, striking the ammunition magazine of the coastal defense battery precisely 11 seconds later. The massive explosion illuminated the entire harbor as if it were daytime, and the shockwave shattered all windows within a one-kilometer radius.

When the Norwegian defenders were awakened from their sleep, the German commandos had already stormed the dock. Their MP-1885 submachine guns displayed terrifying firepower in close-quarters combat, and the Norwegian defenders' breech-loading rifles were simply no match for them.

In the commander's bedroom at the port fortress, Colonel Olafson was awakened by the explosion. He grabbed the Colt revolver from beside his pillow and rushed to the window, the sight before him sending chills down his spine.
German mountain troops surged ashore like a tide, and all six of the harbor's coastal defense guns had been destroyed. Even more alarming, the direction of the telegraph station was eerily quiet; no alarms had been sounded. In the dock area, he clearly saw the telegraph station chief, Hansen, leading the German troops while holding the flag of the German Empire.

“Traitor,” he said through gritted teeth, but five minutes later he joined the ranks of those guiding the “German officer.”
At 8:00 AM sharp, the Black Eagle flag was raised on the flagpole of Trondheim City Hall. The German forces took control of Norway's most important ice-free port in just three and a half hours, suffering fewer than fifty casualties—mainly frostbite from the cold seawater during the landing. The port's railway hub remained intact, and all five Norwegian warships anchored there surrendered.

At the oak conference table in the city hall, General Goldz was listening to reports from various units. His adjutant was taking notes on parchment with a gilded pen:

"The railway hub is under control and heavy equipment can be transported immediately."

"Three hundred Krupp 210mm shells were seized from the arsenal."

"Five Norwegian Navy gunboats, including the Neptune, surrendered."

He nodded in satisfaction and turned to the communications officer: "Send a signal to Wilhelmshaven—'The hammer has fallen, Norway is broken.'"

February 17, 10:2 AM, Admiralty, Whitehall, London.

First Sea Lord Sir Robert Hood stormed into the conference room, his face ashen, his hand trembling as he pointed at the telegram. His expensive bespoke suit was soaked by the pouring rain outside, and his gold watch chain swayed violently at his chest. "The Germans have launched a surprise attack on Norway!" his voice boomed like a rooster being strangled. "Trundheim, Narvik, and Bergen have all been attacked simultaneously! The telegram is from King Oscar II of Sweden and Norway himself!"

The meeting room erupted in chaos. The Royal Navy's high command, who had been celebrating the convoy's successful entry into the Baltic Sea, were completely stunned!
"Impossible!" Second Admiral Wellesley slammed his fist on the table, causing the ship models on it to tilt precariously. "The German main fleet has been intercepting our convoys in the Baltic Sea the whole time!"

He suddenly froze, his face turning deathly pale. A terrifying thought struck him like lightning.

"Unless they reach Wilhelmshaven in the North Sea via the Kiel Canal," Lord Hamilton's voice trembled so much it was almost inaudible, "they deliberately let Fisher into the Baltic Sea so they could take Norway by surprise!"

Worse news followed. The communications officer practically stumbled in:

"Oslo II's second telegram! German forces have taken control of Oslo Bay!"

"Sweden declares neutrality and closes its airspace and territorial waters!"

"Urgent telegram from Copenhagen: German troop transport ships are passing through the Kattegat Strait!"

Lord Hamilton grabbed a gilded bell and shook it wildly: "Immediately recall Fisher's fleet! Order all available ships to assemble immediately and prepare to intercept the returning German fleet in the North Sea!"

February 18, dawn, central Beihai.

On the bridge of the battleship "Majesty," Admiral Fisher stared at the newly deciphered telegram, his fingers almost crushing the thin paper. A coded telegram from the British military attaché in Denmark stated that the German High Seas Fleet had completed its operations in Norway and was returning at full speed to Wilhelmshaven.

"Full fleet, turn 240 degrees!" he roared into the megaphone, his voice distorted and discreetly piercing the copper tube. "Speed ​​up to 18 knots! We must intercept the Germans before they get home!"

Inside the boiler room, the stokers frantically shoveled high-quality Welsh coal into the furnace. The pressure gauges trembled violently, pointing to the dangerous red zone. The warship's keel groaned under the strain as it turned at high speed, and the sea outside the portholes tilted at a terrifying angle.

At noon, the lookout's scream pierced the tense atmosphere:
"Smoke column! A large smoke column has been detected to the northwest!"

Fisher rushed onto the open bridge, the biting North Sea wind tearing at his uniform. Through his binoculars, dozens of plumes of smoke, like a black forest, moved slowly across the leaden sky on the distant horizon.

"It's the German fleet!" the gunnery officer screamed. "Approximately 15000 yards away!"

But at that moment, a burst of orange-red flames suddenly erupted at the horizon. The deafening explosions could be heard even from this distance—the Germans had destroyed five captured Norwegian warships, and the towering flames became the most conspicuous roadblock, blocking the British fleet's path as it intercepted the German fleet.

Meanwhile, all the German warships were speeding across the sea at full speed!

"Damn it!" Fisher slammed his fist on the iron fence. "They're stalling for time! They're trying to escape!"

As the British fleet struggled to maneuver around the burning wreckage, the German fleet had already disappeared into the thick fog of the North Sea. Only one German destroyer, straggling behind, was hit by the main guns of HMS Majesty and slowly sank in a towering column of water.

Port William at noon on February 19.

The docks were packed with cheering crowds; women waved handkerchiefs embroidered with the Black Eagle flag, and children threw flowers at the returning fleet. Tirpitz stood on the reviewing stand, his chest adorned with medals. Behind him, Prince Wilhelm, Emperor Wilhelm's representative, was personally presenting Admiral Gortz with the Order of the Blue Max.

"The entire territory of Norway is under our control," Tirpitz reported excitedly. "Our casualties were only 892, and we captured all of the Norwegian Navy's ships!"

But as Prince William departed, Tirpitz's smile quickly vanished. He turned towards the North Sea, his voice low and barely audible to those around him: "The British won't let this go."

Yes, this war has only just begun. Controlling Norway means Germany has a stranglehold on Russia's northern border, but the British Empire will never tolerate the German flag being raised on Scandinavia.

In faraway St. Petersburg, the Tsar faced his most difficult choice yet—whether to continue bleeding on the muddy Eastern Front or to launch a desperate counter-offensive.
On the other side of the Atlantic, will the United States of America, which has already leaned towards the German Empire, change its stance and transform from an "English-speaking country" into a "German-speaking country" because of Germany's victory and Russia's collapse?
Meanwhile, in the far east, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's battleships were idle between Rabaul and Port Moresby. Their "fake war" with the British was probably no longer worth playing along.

No one knows yet when or how this yellow-skinned navy will intervene in the war while the two major European powers are fighting in the North Sea. But one thing is certain: the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, which now has the Pacific Ocean, will certainly not do nothing!

(End of this chapter)