World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Now, this navy is about to embark on a high-stakes gamble.

The gamble paid off, and the empire continued.

I lost the bet...

Jericho dared not think any further.

He returned to his desk, picked up a pen, and began to write a letter. Not an order to the Navy, not a report to the Cabinet, but a private letter.

The recipient was his wife.

"Dear Florence..." he wrote the beginning, then stopped.

What should be said? That he's going to command a decisive battle that could decide the fate of the empire? That he might die? That if they lose, their lives will be turned upside down?

Jellicoe put down his pen. He didn't write anything more.

Some things are just unspeakable.

Some responsibilities must be borne alone.

He opened the drawer and took out a photograph. It was a picture taken last Christmas, of the whole family together: his wife, two sons, and a daughter. Everyone was smiling, as if the war were something from another world.

Jericho stared at the photo for a long time.

Then, he carefully put the photo back in the drawer and locked it.

I stood up and turned off the desk lamp.

The office was dark. Only the cold moonlight shone in through the window, illuminating the routes and symbols marked in pencil on the nautical chart.

Those lines will determine the fate of countless people.

And Jericho will be the one to write it.

Three days later, at 10 Downing Street, a special wartime cabinet meeting was held.

The atmosphere was even more somber than three days ago. This time, there was one more person in the conference room—Vice Admiral David Beatty, Commander of the Battlecruiser Fleet.

Betty was forty-five years old, tall, with a meticulously trimmed mustache, and a confident air that bordered on arrogance. He sat next to Jericho, his back ramrod straight, as if ready to receive orders at any moment.

Jellicoe spoke first. He spent a full hour explaining the battle plan in detail.

"...In summary, the plan is codenamed 'Judgment Day.' In the first phase, Vice Admiral Beatty will lead a fleet of battlecruisers forward to attack German merchant shipping routes in the Denmark Strait and bombard facilities surrounding the port of Hilness. The objective is to lure the German reconnaissance fleet into action."

He pointed to the map: "In the second phase, Beatty's fleet will engage the German Hipper's fleet, fighting and retreating, leading them to a predetermined area in the central North Sea. In the third phase, I will lead the main force of the Grand Fleet to ambush them in that area. Once the main German fleet appears, we will immediately encircle them."

After Jellicoe finished speaking, he looked at Prime Minister Asquith: "The entire operation is expected to last forty-eight to seventy-two hours. The outcome will be decided within that timeframe."

Asquith paused for a moment, then turned to Betty: "David, what are your thoughts on this plan?"

Betty stood up, her voice booming: "Mr. Prime Minister, I believe this is an excellent opportunity. The Germans have been hiding for so long, and now we finally have the chance to lure them out and annihilate them in one fell swoop. My fleet is fully prepared."

"What about the risks?" Lloyd George asked. "You might be facing the entire German High Seas Fleet."

"Then let's face it." Betty said without flinching. "The Royal Navy has never been afraid of battle. And I believe Admiral Jellicoe's main fleet will arrive in time."

His words were full of confidence, even a touch of fanaticism. Kitchener looked at him with admiration, while Gray frowned slightly—this kind of personality could be a double-edged sword on the battlefield.

"How's the intelligence support?" Asquith asked Major General Hall.

Hall stood up: "We have deciphered some of the German Navy's codes. Although we cannot decode all communications in real time, we can roughly determine their movements. In addition, we have a large number of submarines and reconnaissance ships in the North Sea, which can provide early warnings."

"What's the weather like?"

"The weather bureau forecasts that Beihai will be mostly cloudy with intermittent light fog over the next three days. Visibility will be moderate, posing a challenge for both sides, but it may also provide cover."

All questions have been asked. Asquith surveyed the conference room: "Now, let's vote. Those who agree to implement the 'Judgment Day' plan, please raise your hands."

Kitchener was the first to raise his hand. Then came Haig, who hesitated for a moment but still raised his hand.

Lloyd George looked at Jellicoe: "John, how confident are you?"

"Fifty percent," Jellico said honestly. "There's no such thing as 100 percent certainty in a naval battle."

Lloyd George was silent for a few seconds, then raised his hand.

Gray was the last. He looked at the Prime Minister, then at Jellicoe, and slowly raised his hand: "God bless the Royal Navy."

"Passed," Asquith said. He didn't raise his hand, but as Prime Minister, his tacit agreement was the final authorization.

He looked at Jericho: "John, what else do you need?"

"The official cabinet authorization document," Jellicoe said, "and... secrecy. If this plan were to leak, it would be a disaster."

"Security measures have been implemented," Hall said. "Only those in this room know the full plan. The fleet commander will only receive phased orders."

"Very well." Asquith stood up. "Gentlemen, the fate of the British Empire is entrusted to the Royal Navy."

He walked up to Jericho and extended his hand: "Good luck, General."

Jellicoe shook his hand: "We will do our best, Prime Minister."

The meeting ended. Everyone else left one by one, except for Jericho and Betty, who remained.

Asquith closed the door and looked at the two men: "Now, tell me the truth. How confident are you really?"

Jericho and Betty exchanged a glance.

"Forty percent," Jericho said softly, "if all goes well."

"What if the Germans don't follow our script?"

"Then we'll have to improvise," Betty said. "That's how naval warfare is; there are no perfect plans, only on-the-spot decisions."

Asquith nodded. He took a file folder from his drawer and handed it to Jellicoe: "This is the official authorization from the Cabinet. From this moment on, you are in full charge of the Royal Navy's operations. No more requests for instructions, no more reports. Until... until the end of the battle."

Jericho took the file bag, feeling its weight in his hands.

"There's one more thing," Asquith said. "If...if the situation turns unfavorable, you have the right to decide to retreat. Preserving the fleet is more important than winning a battle."

These words were spoken softly, but Jericho understood. The Prime Minister was giving him a way out—or rather, leaving the empire a way out.

"I understand, Prime Minister," Jericho said.

"Go," Asquith patted him on the shoulder, "go do what you need to do."

Jericho and Betty saluted and turned to leave.

Walking down the corridors of Downing Street, Betty exclaimed excitedly, "This day has finally come! John, we're going to make history!"

Jericho wasn't as excited as him. He simply nodded: "Let's get the plan done first. David, remember your mission—lure the enemy, not engage in a decisive battle. Don't linger."

"Don't worry," Betty grinned, "I know what's good for me."

The two walked out of 10 Downing Street. The London sky was overcast, and it looked like it was going to rain.