World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Will it work?" Kitchener asked sarcastically.

"No," Gray readily admitted. "So we need other options. But certainly not to put all our eggs in one basket on an offensive with little chance of winning."

The meeting reached another deadlock. Prime Minister Asquith rubbed his temples, feeling a splitting headache. The 63-year-old Liberal leader had aged ten years in this war. He looked at the First Lord of the Admiralty, who had remained silent: "John, what's your opinion?"

All eyes were on Jericho.

The 56-year-old admiral sat ramrod straight, his uniform impeccably tailored. A thick document lay open before him, but he barely touched it throughout the entire meeting.

"Mr. Prime Minister," Jellicoe began, his voice steady, "from a military perspective, I agree with Sir Haig and Mr. Lloyd George's assessment. The Western Front is not currently ready to launch a decisive offensive."

Kitchener's face darkened further.

"But," Jellicoe changed the subject, "we can't do nothing either. A collapse on the Eastern Front would be catastrophic, and if the Germans manage to redeploy their troops smoothly, the pressure on the Western Front will reach a breaking point within two months. By then, we won't even have a choice."

"So what's your suggestion?" Asquith asked.

Jellicoe took a deep breath: "A decisive battle at sea."

The room fell silent for a moment.

"What did you say?" Kitchener frowned.

"A decisive battle at sea," Jellicoe repeated. "The German High Seas Fleet has been holed up in Wilhelmshaven, but if we use enough bait, such as attacking their coast or blockading their trade routes, they might come out. Once they do, the Grand Fleet will have the opportunity to fight them in the North Sea."

"What about the risks?" Lloyd George asked immediately.

"Very large," Jellicoe admitted. "Naval battles are full of uncertainties. A thick fog, a command error, could lead to disaster. And even if we win, the losses could be very heavy."

"Then why fight?" Gray asked.

"Because this is the only option that can change the strategic situation in the short term. It can also bring hope to the people!" Jellicoe stood up and walked to the map of the North Sea on the wall. "Gentlemen, please take a look."

He pointed to the map: "If we defeat the German fleet at sea, or even just severely damage it, it will have three effects. First, German morale will suffer a devastating blow—the navy is a symbol of their national pride. Second, we can strengthen the blockade against Germany, causing their economy and war machine to collapse even faster. Third…"

He turned around: "Third, and most importantly, we can free up our resources. If the German navy is no longer a threat, we can divert forces from our home fleet to support other fronts, or even... threaten the German mainland."

Kitchener's eyes lit up: "You mean, landing?"

"Not now," Jellicoe shook his head, "but at least it's a possibility. Moreover, a naval victory would give the French confidence, give the Russians a chance to breathe, and show the world that Britain still holds naval supremacy."

Lloyd George pondered, "But what if you lose?"

"Then we might lose control of the North Sea," Jellicoe said calmly. "The Germans might break through the blockade and obtain the supplies they desperately need. The war will drag on, and... we might even lose the war."

This frank answer made everyone gasp.

"So this is a gamble," Asquith said slowly.

"Yes, Prime Minister," Jellicoe nodded, "but war itself is a gamble. The Germans won the gamble on the Eastern Front. Now, it's our turn."

Silence fell again in the meeting room. Everyone was weighing the pros and cons.

Kitchener was the first to speak out: "I support it. It's better than dying on the Western Front."

Haig hesitated for a moment: "If the navy can divert the Germans' attention, even for just a few weeks, it will be a huge help to the Western Front. I...agree."

Lloyd George looked at Gray: "Edward, what will the diplomatic implications be?"

Gray pondered, "If we proactively seek a decisive battle, it will be interpreted as Britain's eagerness to break the deadlock, which could affect the neutral countries' confidence in us. But if we win, all the problems will be solved. If we lose..."

He didn't finish speaking.

“If we lose,” Jellicoe continued, “then the diplomatic repercussions will be the least of our worries.”

That's a cold statement, but it's true.

All eyes eventually focused on Asquith. The prime minister closed his eyes, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table.

A minute later, he opened his eyes.

"We need more details," he said. "General Jericho, how much time do you need to develop a complete operational plan?"

"Three days," Jellicoe replied immediately. "In fact, the Naval Staff has always had contingency plans in place. They just need to be adjusted based on the latest intelligence."

How many ships do you need?

"All of them," Jellicoe said. "All the capital ships of the Grand Fleet, all the cruisers, all the destroyers that can go to sea. This is not an attack, this is a decisive battle. We must give it our all."

Asquith took a deep breath: "What are the odds of winning?"

"It's impossible to calculate, Prime Minister," Jellicoe said honestly, "but I can assure you that every man in the Royal Navy will fight to the last."

Another long silence followed.

The chimes of Big Ben echoed through the conference room from outside the window—four o'clock in the afternoon. The sound of the bell pierced through the heavy walls and reverberated.

Asquith stood up. He looked around at everyone present, the most important minds in the empire, the people who decided the fate of millions.

"Gentlemen," his voice was soft but firm, "we have no other choice."

He looked at Jericho: "Let's make a plan. I want to see the complete proposal in three days. If it's feasible..."

He paused, as if gathering his strength.

"If feasible, the Royal Navy will launch an attack. In the North Sea, a decisive battle will be fought with the German High Seas Fleet."

After the meeting, Jericho did not leave immediately. He remained alone in the conference room, standing motionless in front of the North Sea map.

The door opened, and Foreign Secretary Gray walked in.

"John," Gray walked up to him, "Are you really ready?"

Jericho didn't turn around: "Nobody's really ready, Edward. But some things have to be done."

Gray paused for a moment: "Do you know what this means? If you lose, the British Empire's century-long maritime dominance will come to an end."

"I know," Jericho finally turned around, "so I won't lose."

His tone was calm, but Gray sensed the weight in it. It wasn't confidence, it was responsibility—the resolute resolve that a man carrying the fate of the entire empire on his shoulders had to possess.