What the hell is a private enterprise?

Chapter 247 has arrived.
Falkland is a transliteration of the word; the original is Falk-land.

"Land" means land, while "falk" used to be "f**k," but was later changed to "falk" for aesthetic purposes.

Why is it called the F**K Islands? Because it really is a F**K place. It has no decent resources and is not in a key geographical location. Even the most shameless bulls don't know how to squeeze any oil out of it.

In addition, with the government's finances dwindling and internal expenses increasing, the clash ten years ago was something the British did not want to happen at all.

To be honest, the British Empire has lost far too much territory, so it doesn't matter if it loses another piece. If someone were willing to spend a pittance to buy it, they might actually sell it, and they wouldn't make any money if they just left it unsold.

Even if they ultimately succeeded in defending the island, the loss of two Type 42 destroyers and the huge expenses were particularly glaring, making it a huge financial loss.

The Falkland Islands, which were saved at such a great cost, now only have a symbolic presence of marines, and not even one or two warships.

Captain Brad woke up in a private room at a dance hall on the island, pushing away two whimpering, hot native women on top of him.

While being tens of thousands of kilometers away from home is indeed no less than exile, the distance also has its advantages:

The camp has been effectively on holiday since the 23rd, with almost no one dutifully on duty; they're either drinking or out having fun.

For Brad, Christmas Eve was just the beginning; there was a performance at the camp today organized by a local music school, and the female teachers there were supposedly…

"Zzzzz, C Company, assemble immediately! Brad, did you hear me? Pull up your pants and get over here!"

Since the camp wasn't far away, and the walkie-talkies were sufficient for daily communication, Brad instinctively asked:

"Major Tyron, I've been fighting all night. What's the rush? Is the camp on fire?"

"Damn it, Brad, hurry up and bring C Company over here, Hans is attacking."

"Excuse me?"

Brad felt like God was playing a joke on him. This godforsaken place, Hans?
However, upon hearing the major's angry voice, he quickly flagged down a motorcycle and asked the driver to take him to the camp.

……

Two hours ago.

Tang Wen changed into a double-breasted marshal's uniform of the D series, and looked seriously ahead with dark circles under his eyes.

Now, aboard the destroyer Carl von Schoenberg, he cuts through the waves at 61 knots, as if flying over the sea.

After studying naval tactics all night, he was not in good condition, but his fighting spirit was stronger than ever before.

As it turns out, battleships have terrifying endurance and durability, far beyond what human power can overcome.

If it weren't for the fact that he would be very busy today, the ship girls could have studied tactics with him until dawn.

He was supposed to sleep until 9 a.m., but he quietly got up at 6 a.m. to get dressed and then escaped the Bismarck at the fastest speed he had ever done.

After getting out of bed, he discovered that the fleet was only 200 kilometers away from the Falkland Islands and was about to enter the radar's detection range.

After much deliberation, Tang Wen decided not to waste the Christmas buff skill and used 3800 gold coins to buy the Tier VI German destroyer Carl von Schoenberg from the armory.

Its performance is nothing special, with a speed of 36 knots and a standard 8% short-term afterburner.

However, after adding a 5% speed flag and a temporary 50% speed bonus, the destroyer's speed directly reached 61.2 knots and could be maintained for half an hour.

Who could resist a destroyer with a speed of 60 knots?
Even though he had spent a lot of gold coins, Tang Wen still stood on the bridge of the Karl with great enthusiasm, feeling the ship's hull rise and fall rhythmically due to the high speed.

The 2,000-ton-plus Carl is now traveling at a speed equivalent to 113 kilometers per hour. The collision of air with the bridge produces a sharp crackling noise, and the metal pipes everywhere are vibrating continuously.

The high-speed smoke generators of battleships were also tested. The Bismarck, which was used in the test, increased its speed from 28.5 knots to 41.1 knots after being hit by three layers of buffs.

At the same time, once the high-speed smoke generator was turned on, it unscientifically formed a massive cloud of smoke that covered the bow and stern of the ship, reaching a height of sixty or seventy meters, just like the thick smoke billowing out of a steam train.

The battleship, shrouded in thick smoke, was completely invisible to the naked eye. From the outside, it looked more like a rapidly moving storm cloud, making it hard to believe that a 50,000-ton battleship was hidden inside. The high-speed smoke generator produced a wide-ranging smoke effect, which usually took about a minute to dissipate, thus forming a moving smoke cloud 1.2 kilometers long. This also allowed heavy cruisers to be hidden inside for a joint advance.

The USS Carl, as a destroyer, also has smoke generators, but they cannot cover itself when moving at high speeds; it can only release them and then hide inside.

With a 50% speed boost, the Carl, despite having limited fuel, was able to fight the two battleships to the very end.

Tang Wen calculated the chances of success brought by the temporary buff, thinking that the ship girl should have woken up by now. He took a deep breath and flashed back to the Bismarck.

Just as I sat down on the bridge, the ship girl timely pushed open the hatch and came in carrying a plate:

"Breakfast is here. Although it was prepared a bit hastily, and I'm not entirely confident about it. It's a French breakfast, isn't it? Well then, have a good appetite, Commander. It's just past seven in the morning, so I need to hurry."

Jean Bart looked no different than before, and stood quietly to one side after putting down his breakfast.

Tang Wen:......

Although everything seems normal, I still have this persistent lower back pain.

There's still a little distance to go. I wonder if the Falkland Islands will react as slowly as the land of beef and football.

Based on past practice, there might be some unexpected surprises.

……

"Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep..."

Fernando ripped the hat off his face, got up from the deck chair, and immediately silenced the annoying warning.

There are radar stations on the Falkland Islands, intended to prevent surprise attacks, but everyone knows they are useless.

Moreover, false alarms are common in electronic systems these days, and there are often fishing boats and cruise ships around. Normally, Fernando would routinely ask to confirm his identity, but today is Christmas.

Because he lost a bet, he had to come back to work halfway through the Christmas Eve celebrations yesterday. Bored, he listened to the radio all night and is now extremely sleepy.

"Beep beep, beep..."

Press it off again.

"Beep beep beep, beep beep beep beep..."

This time the ringing was even more urgent, and Fernando jumped up.

Radar has an automatic filtering program that issues warnings based on different target levels; something like this is generally not a fishing boat.

I shook my head and looked at the screen; it immediately detected seven targets.

One small and six large ships sailed in a standard formation, heading straight for the islands with a consistent course and a speed of no less than 30 knots.

Without a doubt, the probability that these 7 ships are civilian vessels is 0.0001%.

Fernando thought it over and couldn't find a second suspect besides Old Mi.

That's a bit strange. Maybe the Pacific fleet is returning home?
Without any panic, he picked up the microphone and asked a question on the public channel:
"This is the Falklands base. You are about to enter the waters under Falklands jurisdiction. Please state your identity and purpose. Thank you."

"This is the Second Fleet on the high seas, currently on a mission."

"Okay, please..."

Fernando's voice stopped abruptly, and he repeated:
"Which Second Fleet are you from?"

(End of this chapter)