World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

He walked to the nautical chart and pointed to the Kongo's current location: "So, as the last old naval commander of this era, what should I do?"

No one dared to answer.

Kato turned around, looking at every face in the command room. These officers were all young, most not even thirty. They should live, should see tomorrow's sun, should get married and have children, and should grow old.

But they wore the uniforms of the Imperial Navy and bore the glory of the Empire.

"I order," Kato's voice suddenly boomed, filled with unquestionable authority, "First, all non-essential personnel, prepare to abandon ship immediately. Prioritize the wounded, especially the young. Other warships, seek opportunities to retreat!"

"Sir!" several officers shouted at the same time.

"That's an order!" Kato roared. "Second, all personnel still capable of fighting, hold your posts to the last moment. Main guns continue firing southeast, even if the hit rate is zero. Secondary guns, prepare to intercept any possible close-range attacks."

"Third..." He paused, his voice lowering, "I, Kato Tomosaburo, Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet, will perish with the Kongo. This is not martyrdom, this is... an apology. An apology for my misjudgment, for the loss of the Imperial Navy's most elite force."

The command room was deathly silent. Several young officers began to cry, but the older officers quickly covered their mouths.

Major Matsumoto was the first to stand at attention and salute. Then came the second, the third…

Kato returned a crisp military salute, then waved his hand: "Go. Carry out orders."

With red eyes, the officers began organizing documents, destroying codebooks, and preparing to evacuate. Kato walked to the communications station and sat down.

"Connect me to the ship's broadcast system," he told the communications officer.

The communications soldier hesitated for a moment: "Sir, the broadcast system might..."

"Give it a try."

The communications officer operated the system for a while, then nodded: "The connection is established, but it only covers a portion of the area."

"That's enough." Kato took the microphone and took a deep breath.

His voice, transmitted through the remaining broadcast system, reached every corner that the Kongo could still hear:

"To all officers and men of the Kongo, this is Tomosaburo Kato."

"At this moment, we are experiencing the most difficult battle since the founding of the Imperial Navy. The enemy is so powerful that we cannot even see them. We have lost the Kirishima, we have lost the Haruna, and the Hiei is also in imminent danger."

"Many people will ask: Did we lose? I would say: Yes, tactically, we lost. We lost to more advanced technology, more powerful firepower, and longer range."

"But in spirit, we will never lose."

"From the Tsushima Strait to Pearl Harbor, from the Indian Ocean to the Pacific, the glory of the Imperial Navy has been forged by countless warriors like you. Today, we may not leave these waters alive. But our spirit, our courage, and our glory will forever be etched in the annals of the Empire."

"Now, as Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet, I issue this final order: all wounded and non-essential combat personnel, prepare to abandon ship immediately. Those who can still fight, fight with me to the very last moment."

"We didn't fail. We just... took the first step."

"Long live the Emperor, the Heavenly Locust!"

The broadcast ended. Kato put down the microphone, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

In the engine room, Chief Engineer Onodera heard the announcement. He smiled and said to the technical officer beside him, "Did you hear that? The Commander-in-Chief is going to die with us."

"us……"

"We won't run away," Onodera said. "What is the job of a mechanic? To keep the ship moving. As long as this ship is at sea, as long as it can still move, we have no reason to leave our posts."

He glanced at the wound on his leg—the steel pipe had been sawed through, and the wound had been simply bandaged. He stood up, leaning against the wall, and limped toward the control panel.

"Alright, guys," his voice echoed in the engine room, "let's give the Kongo its last bit of power, let it fight to the very end like a true warrior."

In turret B, Yamada Ichiro also heard the broadcast. He wiped the sweat and blood from his face and said to his crew, "The commander-in-chief said that those who can still fight should stay. Those of you who want to leave can leave now."

No one moved.

Morishita was the first to speak: "Commander, I'm not leaving. My parents are in Nagasaki, and they know I'm on the Kongo. If I escape today, they'll be ashamed in front of their fellow villagers."

"I'm not leaving either."

"Me too."

"Leave."

Yamada's eyes reddened. He turned away, pretending to adjust his scope, and secretly wiped away his tears.

"Alright." His voice was slightly choked. "Then let's fire the last shell. Load! Target southeast, all guns fire simultaneously!"

"yes!"

The two 356mm main guns roared once more. This was the Kongo's last active firing of the day.

Thirty seconds later, the response came.

Not one or two, but thirty-two 380mm armor-piercing rounds, flying in from 25,000 yards away, like Death's roll call, checking every vital part of the Kongo.

The first shot hit the front ammunition depot. Although the blast door functioned and prevented a secondary explosion, the shockwave killed all the ammunition handlers inside.

The second shot struck the remaining parts of the bridge, completely destroying any possible command capability.

The third shot, the fourth shot, the fifth shot...

As the eighth shell pierced the main armor belt and exploded directly above the engine room, Chief Engineer Onodera was pressurizing the boilers. He heard the sound of steel tearing above him, and then the ceiling collapsed.

Finally, what we saw was the pointer on the boiler pressure gauge, steadily stopped at the red line position.

"Enough...enough..." he murmured, closing his eyes.

In turret B, Ichiro Yamada felt the turret tilting and disintegrating. The blast door was blown off, and seawater rushed in.

"Brothers..." He only managed to utter those two words before the seawater submerged the turret.

In the pre-command room, Kato Tomosaburo felt the ship sinking rapidly. The tilt angle exceeded thirty degrees, and everything that wasn't anchored was sliding.

Major Matsumoto tried to pull him away: "Sir, we..."

"You can leave," Kato said calmly. "That's an order."

"But……"

"This is the final order, Matsumoto-kun." Kato looked at him, his eyes showing no fear, only calm. "Tell the living that we did our best. Tell future generations... to keep up with the times, or they will end up like today."

Matsumoto saluted while crying, then turned and rushed out of the command room.

Kato sat alone in a chair, straightening his military uniform and putting his cap on properly. He took a framed photo from a drawer, containing a picture of him, his wife, and son. The photo was taken at the naval residence in Yokosuka; his son, only five years old, was riding on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "Dad... can't come back."

Seawater rushed in through the cracks in the door, quickly submerging ankles, knees, and waist...

Kato Yusaburo closed his eyes, clutching the photo frame tightly in his hand.

At 7:09 AM, the battleship Kongo, the flagship of the Combined Fleet, sank at 125°02′E, 28°49′N.

Of the 1,247 officers and men under the captain, only 89 survived.

The Imperial Navy's four most elite Kongo-class battlecruisers were completely annihilated within thirty minutes.

Until the moment they sank, they didn't even see a shadow of the enemy.