World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Matsumoto felt his throat go dry: "Where are we being transferred to?"

"Osaka, or Nagoya. In short, somewhere far from the coastline. Someone will contact you later with the specific arrangements." The managing director's voice lowered. "Matsumoto-kun, I know this is difficult. But please remember: what we lose today, we must take back in the future. Mitsubishi... no, all of Japan needs people like you to survive and rebuild our industry."

The call ended. Matsumoto held the receiver, not putting it down for a long time.

Outside the window, the chaos at the port continued. A cargo ship, hastily departing, had crashed into the dock, its hull splitting open and flooding. The crew desperately tried to repair it, but to no avail.

Further out at sea, several small fishing boats were frantically rowing towards the shore. The fishermen had clearly heard the wind and were trying to get back to land before disaster struck.

Matsumoto put down the microphone, walked to his desk, and opened the bottom drawer. Inside was a pistol and a small box. He opened the box, and inside was a gold medal—the "Medal of Contribution" awarded to him by the Navy Ministry when the battleship Kirishima was launched.

He held the medal in his hand; it felt heavy. The front of the medal was engraved with the outline of a warship, and the back had a line of small print: "For the glory of the Imperial Navy."

Glory. How ironic that word sounds now.

He put the medal back in its box and locked it in the drawer. Then he picked up the phone and began issuing orders: stop production, organize evacuation, transfer data, evacuate personnel…

Every order felt like burying the cause for which one had dedicated one's life.

But as the managing director said: people must survive. As long as people are alive, there is still hope.

But this hope seems so faint and so distant at this moment.

Yokosuka Naval Base, Watchtower, 9:30 AM

Lookout Jiro Ono held up his binoculars, carefully scanning the sea towards the entrance of Tokyo Bay. His eyes were sore and tired; he had been on duty for six hours straight, but he dared not relax for a moment.

Since news of the defeat in the East China Sea arrived, Yokosuka Naval Base has been on high alert. All operational ships have been withdrawn to the inner bay, all coastal defense batteries have been put into combat readiness, and the watchtowers are manned 24/7.

"Any discoveries?" asked the old soldier next to him. His surname was Tanaka, and he had served as a lookout in Yokosuka for twenty years. During the Russo-Japanese War, he watched the Togo Fleet set sail from this lookout tower.

"No, senior." Ono put down his binoculars, rubbed his eyes, and said, "The sea is calm, with only a few fishing boats around."

"Fishing boats?" Tanaka frowned. "Fishing boats are still out at sea at a time like this?"

Ono raised his binoculars again and looked carefully. It was indeed a fishing boat, two or three small wooden boats, casting their nets near the mouth of the bay.

"They're probably fishermen who don't know the situation," Ono said.

"Or..." Tanaka's voice suddenly changed, "or it could be a disguise."

"camouflage?"

"Yes. Anything is possible during wartime." Tanaka took the binoculars and carefully examined the fishing boats. "Look at their waterlines, they're so deep. Ordinary fishing boats wouldn't carry that much cargo."

Ono's heart tightened. He looked again and, sure enough, the waterlines of those fishing boats were much deeper than normal, as if they were carrying very heavy things in their holds.

"Should we report this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Wait a minute." Tanaka continued to observe. "It could be... it could be that the fishermen loaded ballast stones onto the boat, or..."

His words came to an abrupt end.

Because at that very moment, several dark spots appeared on the distant horizon.

It was very small, so small that it was almost invisible. But Tanaka had been a lookout for twenty years, and his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's.

"What is that..." he murmured, adjusting the telescope to its maximum focus.

The black dots are slowly getting bigger. One, two, three, four...

It's not a fishing boat. Fishing boats don't have that kind of silhouette.

It was a larger, heavier, more...heart-stopping silhouette.

"Ono!" Tanaka's voice suddenly became shrill. "Sound the alarm! Highest alert! Quick!"

Ono froze for a moment before reacting and lunging at the alarm lever on the wall. The piercing alarm instantly resounded throughout the watchtower and then spread throughout the entire Yokosuka base.

"Enemy ships spotted! Four large targets! Bearing 150! Distance...distance indeterminate! Too far!" Tanaka roared into the communicator, his voice cracking with excitement. "Battleships! At least four!"

The officer on duty spoke incredulously from the other end of the communicator: "Are you sure? Did you see it clearly?"

"I'm sure!" Tanaka roared. "I've been watching ships in Yokosuka for twenty years! That's a battleship! And not one of ours! It's...it's Lanfang's!"

The entire base instantly erupted in excitement.

Gunners at the coastal defense forts rushed to their positions, frantically adjusting the gun elevation. In the harbor, the few remaining destroyers began to light fires and weigh anchor, but their progress was despairingly slow. On the docks, soldiers and workers ran in panic; some ran towards air-raid shelters, while others stared blankly at the sea, as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

On the watchtower, Ono and Tanaka continued to hold up their binoculars. The dark dots became clearer and clearer, their outlines becoming more and more distinct.

Four enormous ships. Dark gray hulls, towering superstructures, and massive cannons pointing skyward. They were arranged in a neat single column, sailing unhurriedly toward Yokosuka.

"Are they...are they going into the bay?" Ono's voice trembled.

"No." Tanaka's voice calmed down, a desperate calm. "They won't come in. They'll stop when we can't reach them, and then..."

He didn't continue.

But Ono understood.

Then, fire.

Bridge of the Yangtze River, 10:15 AM

"28,000 yards from Yokosuka Port," the radar officer reported. "Maximum range of the coastal defense artillery confirmed: 18,000 meters, approximately 19,600 yards. We are at a safe distance."

Zhang Zhen nodded. He stood in front of the observation window, holding binoculars. The outline of Yokosuka Port was clearly visible through the lens. In the port, several small ships were moving frantically, and people were running around on the dock. The entire base looked like a hornet's nest that had been stirred up.

"They've spotted us," said Deputy Captain Chen Qiming.

"Of course we'll find it." Zhang Zhen put down his binoculars. "That's exactly the effect we wanted."

He walked back to the chart table. A detailed map of Yokosuka Port was already spread out on it, marking the main facilities: docks, warehouses, barracks, command center…

"Have the priorities been determined?" Zhang Zhen asked.

The operations staff officer immediately replied, "Confirmed, sir. First priority: Dry docks No. 1 and No. 3. Those are the two largest dry docks in Yokosuka, capable of accommodating battleship repairs. Second priority: Ammunition depots and fuel depots. Third priority: Command center and communications facilities."

Zhang Zhen carefully examined the map. But he didn't hesitate for long.