World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Preserve strength? Preserve what strength?!" Okaichi sneered. "Do they even have any strength left to preserve? All four Kongo-class ships are sunk, and what's left are just old, worn-out junk! What's the use of keeping that junk? They might as well take it out and fight it out; at least they can die like soldiers!"

"Your Excellency," the Under Chief of Staff tried to persuade, "this is not the time to act impulsively. What we need is a comprehensive strategy, not..."

"Strategy? What strategy?" Okaichi interrupted him. "The enemy has already come to our doorstep! They're killing your people right on your doorstep, bombing your port! What's the point of talking about strategy now? What's needed now is guts! Backbone! The spirit of Bushido!"

He walked to the map and jabbed his finger sharply at Yokosuka: "If they can shell Yokosuka today, they can shell Tokyo Bay tomorrow! The day after tomorrow, they can shell Osaka and Kobe! If we don't fight back and just endure this, the empire is finished! Utterly finished!"

The generals remained silent. Some agreed with Okaichinosuke, believing a strong counterattack was necessary; others were more rational, knowing that attacking now would be tantamount to suicide.

"I propose," Hasegawa Yoshimichi began, "that we immediately convene an Imperial Council meeting and demand that His Majesty the Emperor order the navy to attack! If they do not attack, they will be disobeying the imperial decree and becoming traitors!"

This suggestion made the atmosphere in the office even more tense.

"Lord Hasegawa," the Deputy Chief of Staff said in a deep voice, "do you know the consequences of doing this? If we force the navy to attack, resulting in the destruction of the last remaining fleet, then the Empire will truly have no naval defense capabilities. At that time, Lanfang can blockade our ports at will and cut off our sea transport lines. We will collapse on our own without even needing to land."

"Then let them land!" Okaichi roared. "If they dare to land, the army can annihilate them! We could do it during the Russo-Japanese War, and we can do it now!"

"Times have changed, Your Excellency," the Deputy Chief of Staff retorted without backing down. "Lanfang's artillery support capabilities are ten times stronger than the Russians' back then. They don't need a large-scale landing; they only need to capture a few ports, establish forward bases, and then advance slowly with naval artillery support. And us… how long can we hold out? A month? Three months? Our food reserves are only enough to feed the entire country for two months. And after two months?"

The office was deathly silent.

Okaichi glared at the Vice Chief of Staff, his eyes practically spitting fire. But he knew the man was right. As Minister of the Army, he knew better than anyone the Empire's food and resource situation. Japan was an island nation, heavily reliant on imports. Once sea routes were cut off, collapse was only a matter of time.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" His voice lowered, carrying a sense of frustration.

"Peace talks." A collective gasp filled the office as the Deputy Chief of Staff uttered those two words. "While we still have leverage in negotiations—we still have a complete army and a homeland defense system. Before Lanfang completely blockades our ports, we should start peace talks as soon as possible and strive for relatively favorable terms."

"Peace talks are tantamount to surrender!" Hasegawa Yoshimichi roared. "There has never been a precedent in the history of the Empire for surrendering to an Asian country! This will be a permanent disgrace!"

"It's better than the country falling apart," the Deputy Chief of Staff said calmly.

The argument erupted again. The pro-war and pro-peace factions, the hawks and doves within the army, clashed fiercely in the small office. Everyone was red-faced and visibly angry, each convinced of their own correctness.

While they were arguing, the shelling continued in Yokosuka.

Round after round of shells rained down, destroying everything in the harbor: docks, warehouses, piers, barracks...

The achievements of the navy over the past few hours were reduced to ruins.

All of this was being monitored in real time by politicians and generals in Tokyo via telephone and telegram.

But there's nothing they can do.

Aside from arguing, blaming each other, and shifting the blame to the Navy, they can do nothing.

This is a despair that goes deeper than shelling.

A kind of despair that knows the enemy is there, knows the homeland is being destroyed, and yet is powerless to do anything about it.

Okaichi finally slumped into a chair, covering his face with his hands.

"Notify the Prime Minister's Office," his voice came through his fingers, hoarse and weary, "to request an emergency cabinet meeting. Also... notify the Ministry of the Navy that Minister Yamamoto must attend."

He lowered his hand, his eyes bloodshot: "Tell Yamamoto that if the Navy wants to have a place in the Empire, it needs to come up with a plan. A plan that allows us to... end this war with dignity."

A young staff officer asked cautiously, "Your Excellency, do you mean...?"

"What I mean is," Okaichinosuke stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the Tokyo sky outside, "we might... really need to prepare for peace talks."

After saying that, he seemed to age ten years in an instant.

The sky outside the window is blue, and the sun shines brightly. But beneath this sky, the fate of a nation is sliding into an unknown abyss.

Berlin, Sanssouci Palace, Wilhelm II's study, 7:00 AM

Kaiser Wilhelm II, dressed in a Prussian general's uniform, paced back and forth in his study, which was covered with a heavy Persian carpet, clutching a newly arrived telegram in his hand. His left arm—the somewhat withered arm—was pressed tightly against his side, but his right arm was waving, and his face was filled with an almost childlike excitement.

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" He stopped in front of a huge world map, tapping heavily on the East China Sea with his white-gloved fingers. "Four Kongo-class battleships! The four most elite warships of the Japanese Navy! Annihilated within an hour! Gentlemen, do you know what this means?"

Three other people were standing in the study: Chief of the General Staff, Field Marshal Moltke the Younger; First Minister of the Navy, Field Marshal Tilpitz; and Foreign Minister von Yago. Their expressions differed—Moltke the Younger looked grave, Tilpitz's eyes were burning, and von Yago maintained the typical caution of a diplomat.

"Your Majesty," Moltke spoke first, his voice low, "this means that the Lanfang Navy's combat power far exceeds our previous estimates. The actual performance of the Bismarck-class ships may even be stronger than the technical specifications provided by the German shipyards."

"Not just strong, it's overwhelming!" Wilhelm II turned around, his eyes gleaming. "Twenty-eight thousand yards! A hit rate of over ten percent! Can our warships do that? Tell me, Admiral Tilpitz, what are the long-range firing scores of the capital ships of the High Seas Fleet in exercises?"

Tilpitz straightened his back: "In calm seas, at a distance of 18,000 meters, the average hit rate is about three to five percent, Your Majesty."

"Three percent and ten percent! That's the difference!" Wilhelm II walked to the massive oak desk, picked up another document, and said, "Furthermore, according to our intelligence, the Lanfang people also used some kind of advanced fire control system in the battle, capable of detecting and targeting at night and in fog. Do we have that...?"

Tilpitz's expression turned somewhat unnatural: "Our engineers are developing similar equipment, but progress is slow. The British are also researching it, as are the French and Americans. But the Lanfang people... they seem to have already deployed it in actual combat."

"That's the key!" Wilhelm II slammed the document back onto the table with a loud "thud." "Technology! New technology is changing the rules of war! And the Lanfang people are ahead of everyone else!"