World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

The cargo ship clearly hadn't detected the torpedo. At that distance, it was virtually impossible for a merchant ship to detect a torpedo launched from a submarine. By the time they heard the sound, it was too late.

Three minutes and fifty seconds.

"Hit!"

The first torpedo struck the midships of the cargo ship. Even from six kilometers away, even at a depth of 120 meters underwater, Li Wenbin could feel the muffled explosion. Through the periscope, a fireball erupted from the midships, and the ship jolted violently.

The second torpedo hit the stern. A larger explosion likely struck the engine room or fuel tanks. The cargo ship began to list rapidly, its bow rising, and flames illuminated half the sea.

"Record: Two hits, target sinking rapidly." Li Wenbin's voice was calm, but his hand holding the periscope handle was slightly sweaty.

He saw figures running on the cargo ship, saw lifeboats being lowered, and saw several people jumping into the sea. In the firelight, those figures were very small, very small, like ants.

"Should we...should we go up and rescue them?" the vice-captain asked in a low voice.

Li Wenbin lowered the periscope: "Dive to a depth of 150 meters, heading 120, speed 6 knots."

"But those people..."

"This is war," Li Wenbin interrupted him, his voice cold and hard. "They chose to go to sea during wartime, so they have to take the risks. So do we."

The submarine began its descent. Silence filled the command center. Although sinking the enemy ship was a victory, no one cheered. Everyone understood that there were likely thirty or forty crew members on board, now adrift in the icy water, awaiting rescue that might never come.

Li Wenbin walked back to his small cabin and closed the door. He took out a notebook from the drawer, opened it, and wrote down today's date:

"On September 5th, at 0400, the Japanese cargo ship 'Hokkai Maru', approximately 6,000 tons, was sunk. The estimated crew size is 40; the chances of survival are... unknown."

He stopped writing and looked at the line of text. Then he closed the notebook and locked it back in the drawer.

A knock came at the door.

"Come in."

The first mate pushed open the door and came in, his face somewhat pale: "Captain, sonar report: there's high-speed propeller noise from the northeast, possibly a destroyer. It's about fifteen nautical miles away and heading this way."

Li Wenbin immediately stood up: "Silence! Shut down all non-essential equipment! Maintain depth at 150 meters, turn course 180 degrees, and reduce speed to four knots!"

"clear!"

Like a fish in the deep sea, the submarine silently changed direction, gliding into deeper, darker waters. Behind them, the cargo ship, Hokkai Maru, was sinking, its crew struggling in the icy water.

Meanwhile, in Tokyo, far away, in those warm meeting rooms, no one knew that yet another ship had sunk.

But we'll find out soon enough. Then there will be more meetings, more arguments, more despair.

That's the meaning of a blockade. It's not about killing them all at once, but about bleeding them dry little by little until they can't take it anymore, until they beg for mercy.

Li Wenbin put his headphones back on and listened to the sounds coming from the sonar: the sound of the destroyer's propellers getting closer and closer, followed by the sound of depth charges hitting the water.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The explosion rang out in the distance, causing the submarine to shake slightly. But it wasn't close enough to hit them.

"Continue descending to a depth of 200 meters," Li Wenbin ordered. "Maintain silence and wait for them to pass."

The depth charges were still going off, but getting farther and farther away. The destroyer clearly had no precise location and was just dropping bombs blindly.

An hour later, the sonar reported that the destroyer had departed. Only then did Li Wenbin order the ship to surface to periscope depth, raise the antenna, and send a telegram:

"U-19 reports: At 4:12 AM, a Japanese cargo ship, approximately 6,000 tons, was sunk. Location: 35°10′N, 129°50′E. Encountered an enemy anti-submarine vessel, which has been evaded. Patrol mission will continue."

The radio waves traveled through the dark seawater to the distant command post.

On the sea, the last remnants of the Hokkai Maru sank. Only oil slicks and debris remained on the surface, along with a few lifeboats adrift. The crew members huddled together, shivering in the September night wind.

Will they survive until dawn? Will they be able to wait for rescue?

Tokyo, Minister of the Navy's office, 9:00 AM

Yamamoto Gonbei looked at the three reports in front of him; each one felt like a red-hot iron, burning his eyes.

First report: Kure Port was shelled this morning, destroying Dock No. 3 and severely damaging two destroyers under construction, resulting in 67 casualties.

Second report: Near the Tsushima Strait, the cargo ship "Hokkai Maru" was attacked and sunk by a submarine. Of the 42 crew members, only 11 survived.

The third document, the "Outline for Preparations for Decisive Battle on the Homeland" submitted by the Ministry of the Army, requires the Navy to "depart from port with all remaining ships to cooperate with the Army in coastal defense operations and, if necessary, carry out suicide attacks."

"A suicide attack." Yamamoto uttered the word, a mocking smile on his face. "Using our last few still-operational ships to ram Lanfang's battleship? Is this the army's 'strategy'?"

Sitting opposite him, Chief of the Naval General Staff Shigetaro Shimada lowered his head and said, "Your Excellency, the Army's attitude is very firm. Minister Okaichi said at the Imperial Conference this morning that if the Navy continues to avoid battle, it is a 'traitor' and should 'commit seppuku' to atone for its sins."

"Seppuku?" Yamamoto sneered. "Fine, let him send the military police, I'll do it right now. But before I do, let the army tell me how they plan to deal with those four Bismarck-class ships? With bamboo spears? With samurai swords? Or with their coastal defense guns that can't even hold the coast?"

Shimada didn't dare to reply. The office was deathly silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock.

Yamamoto stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the Tokyo sky was overcast; it looked like it was going to rain again. The city's residents were unaware that just last night, dozens more families had lost sons, husbands, and fathers.

"What's being transported on the Hokukai Maru?" he asked.

"According to the survivors, it was food. Food being transported from Korea to Osaka." Shimada's voice was low. "There were thirty-one Korean laborers on board, and only eleven Japanese crew members."

Yamamoto closed his eyes. Korean laborers. Those conscripted coolies, the first group to be sacrificed in the war.

"How long can our food reserves last?" he asked an unrelated question.

"If sea transport routes are completely disrupted... nationwide, it will take a maximum of two months. Major cities may see even shorter shortages, starting in about a month."

One month. Yamamoto smiled bitterly. In other words, even if Lanfang didn't land, and even if the army could hold the coastline, Japan would collapse from hunger in a month.

Meanwhile, those idiots in the army are still clamoring for a "decisive battle on home soil" and "suicide attack."

"Shimada-kun," he turned to the Chief of the Naval General Staff, "do you think we should start preparing... for what's to come?"