World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"So the Emperor's demands are..." Hipper's voice was somewhat hoarse, "...that we execute the ambush plan while also being prepared for a decisive battle with the main British force at any time?"

"That's right." Scheer lit a new cigarette. "A contradictory order. But we must carry it out."

Franz von Hipper, commander of the German reconnaissance fleet, was fifty-four years old and known for his calm and cautious demeanor. At this moment, he stared at the sand table, his brow furrowed.

"This would make my mission extremely dangerous," he said. "If I act as bait to lure Betty into pursuit, I have to make him feel like he has an opportunity, but I can't actually let him entangle me. Once we engage in battle, my fleet will likely suffer losses."

“I know,” Scheer said, “but this is the only plan that can get the Emperor to agree. We must make this operation look like an attempt to ‘seek a final battle,’ while in reality, our target is simply Betty.”

Hipper paused for a few seconds, then asked, "Will Betty chase after him?"

"He certainly will," Scheer said confidently. "David Beatty is the British general I've studied the most. He's belligerent, confident, and craving honor. If he sees your fleet attacking British targets, he'll charge at you like a bull seeing a red flag."

He walked to the other side of the sand table and pointed to the Norwegian coastline: "My idea is to have your fleet attack the merchant shipping routes through the Denmark Strait. That's a vital passage for Britain to import iron ore from Norway. As long as you make a big enough commotion there, Beatty will definitely come out from Scapa Flow to intercept them."

"Then I'll fight and retreat, leading you to the location of the main fleet," Hipper continued his train of thought. "But the problem is, the British won't only have Beatty. Jellicoe's main fleet is likely behind them. If we ambush them too close to the British coast, we might get surrounded."

Scher nodded: "So the ambush point must be carefully chosen. It needs to be far enough away that Jericho can't provide support in time, but close enough that Betty feels it's safe to pursue."

His finger moved across the sand table, eventually stopping at a spot in the middle of the North Sea.

"Southeast of Dogg Beach, about 56 degrees north latitude and 5 degrees east longitude," he said. "It's about 200 nautical miles from the British coast and about 150 nautical miles from us. If Beatty catches up here, it will take Jellico at least six hours to get here from Scapa Flow. Those six hours are our window of opportunity."

Hipper calculated the distance and time: "My fleet has a speed of 26 knots, and Beatty's is also around 26 knots. If I start my retreat from the Denmark Strait, it will take about four hours to reach the ambush point. During this time, Beatty will be firing behind me the whole time."

"So your fleet may suffer damage," Scheer said frankly, "but it's a necessary price. You have to convince him that he can catch up with and annihilate you immediately. Only then will he chase after you relentlessly."

Hipper stared at the ambush point, his mind racing through all the possibilities. As the commander of the reconnaissance fleet, he knew his fleet's strengths and weaknesses better than anyone else.

German battlecruisers—von der Tann, Moltke, Seydlitz, Dörlinger, and the more recently commissioned Lützow—were fast and heavily armed, but their armor was relatively weak. British battlecruisers—HMS Lion, HMS Princess Royal, HMS Queen Mary, HMS Tiger, HMS New Zealand, and HMS Indulgence—were similarly fast, heavily armed, and similarly lightly armored.

This is a duel of glass cannons. Whoever hits the opponent's vital point first wins.

"I need more light cruisers and destroyers," Hipper said, "not for fighting, but for creating smoke and confusion. If fighting breaks out, I need to use smoke to cover our retreat and disrupt the British aiming."

"Sure," Scheer agreed immediately. "I'll give you all of the Fourth Reconnaissance Group. The submarine force will also cooperate. Deploy submarines in the ambush area beforehand; if Betty does come after us, the submarines can give him a surprise."

"Submarines..." Hipper mused. "If we ambush them with submarines during our retreat, we might be able to weaken Beatty's fleet in advance."

"But that might alert him," Scheer shook his head. "No, the submarine should be saved for the crucial moment. The most effective strategy is to have the submarine suddenly appear when Betty enters the ambush zone, thinking victory is in sight."

The two discussed for another half hour, adding countless details—communication frequencies, signal identification, evacuation routes, weather response, and the transfer of the wounded…

By 1 a.m., the plan was basically finalized.

Scheer walked to the window and opened it. A cool sea breeze rushed in, dispelling the smoke in the room. In the night of Wilhelmshaven, the harbor lights twinkled, representing the warships anchored at anchor.

"Franz," Scher suddenly said, "do you remember the first time we met?"

Hipper paused for a moment, then laughed. "Of course. 1898, Kiel Naval Academy. You were a tactics instructor, and I was a newly graduated ensign."

“You weren’t as cautious back then,” Scheer recalled. “In your graduation exercise, you commanded a torpedo boat and single-handedly ‘sank’ a cruiser. All the instructors said you were too reckless, but I said you had guts.”

"Then you gave me an 'excellent' rating," Hipper said. "That was the first major evaluation of my military career."

Scherr turned to look at him: "Now, I need you to show that courage again. But add the caution and experience you've accumulated over the past eighteen years. This mission... will be extremely difficult."

"I know," Hipper said calmly, "but it is my duty. If Germany needs a decoy fleet, then I should command it."

Scher nodded. He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured two glasses of whisky. The whisky was from Scotland—the last batch imported before the war.

"For victory." Scher raised his glass.

"For Germany." Hipper clinked glasses with him.

The two drank it down in one gulp. The strong liquor burned their throats, bringing a brief warmth.

"When do we leave?" Hipper asked.

"The day after tomorrow at dawn," Scheer said. "You leave first. I'll depart six hours later, keeping radio silence. We'll meet in the designated area."

"What about communications?"

"Maintain complete silence. Do not use radio unless in an emergency. The British have been monitoring our communication frequencies."

Hipper nodded. He walked to the sand table and took one last look at the small flags.

The British fleet was red, the German fleet was blue. In a few days, they would become real warships and engage in battle on real seas.

"I'm thinking about something," he suddenly said.

"What?"

"What if... what if we really encounter Jellicoe's main fleet? According to the Emperor's orders, we should seek a decisive battle."

Scher remained silent for a long time. The sea breeze outside the window stirred the curtains, making a soft rustling sound.

"Then we shall fight," he finally said. "But the goal of the fight is not victory, but survival. Bringing back as many warships as possible is victory."