World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

The flagship of the German reconnaissance fleet, the "Lützow".

Franz von Hippel also stood in the thick fog, but his mood was completely different from Betty's. His face showed no excitement, only deep worry.

"Commander, the British are still in pursuit," the adjutant reported. "Heading 105 degrees, speed 22 knots. About fourteen nautical miles away."

"Fourteen nautical miles..." Hipper glanced at the nautical clock; it was 4:40 AM. "Where is Admiral Scheer's main fleet?"

「最新推算位置在北纬56度05分，东经5度45分。航向315度，速度16节。预计一小时后抵达汇合点。」

One hour. Fourteen nautical miles.

Hipper quickly did the mental calculations. If Betty maintained her current course and speed, she would reach approximately 56°20′N, 4°30′E in an hour. That position was about 25 nautical miles from the rendezvous point.

It's still too far.

Scheer's main fleet needed Beatty to be within twenty nautical miles to ensure they wouldn't miss him in the dense fog. Beatty needed to be within fifteen nautical miles to form an effective encirclement.

"We need to slow down further," Hipper decided. "Order the entire fleet to reduce speed to 20 knots. At the same time, have the light cruiser 'Frankfurt' fire several flares to the southeast."

"Fire flares?" the adjutant asked in surprise. "That would reveal our position!"

"We need to expose ourselves," Hipper said. "We need to show the British that we're slowing down, that we're panicking, that we're trying to find something with flares. That way, Betty will be more convinced that we're afraid, and she'll be more daring in her pursuit."

The adjutant understood. This was a brilliant psychological tactic—feigning weakness to lure the enemy.

The order was relayed. A few minutes later, several blinding white lights suddenly appeared in the fog to the southeast. The flares descended slowly through the air, illuminating a small area of ​​the sea and faintly revealing the outline of the "Frankfurt".

"The British will see," Hipper whispered. "Now, it's just a matter of whether Betty takes the bait."

He walked onto the bridge and went to the chart table. The staff were updating the situation map based on the latest intelligence.

Two blue arrows representing the German fleet are approaching—his reconnaissance fleet is coming from the northwest, and Scheer's main fleet is coming from the southeast. Between the two arrows is a red arrow representing Beatty's British fleet.

Like a giant pair of pincers, slowly closing.

"Commander," the communications officer reported, "we have received a telegram from submarine U-52. They have detected multiple plumes of smoke near 56°30′N, 4°E, which they believe to be the main British fleet, and it is quite large."

Hipper's heart skipped a beat: "The main British fleet? In that location?"

"Yes. The submarine captain confirmed that at least six large warships were visible, heading northeast at a speed of approximately 18 knots."

Hipper rushed to the nautical chart. The staff officer quickly marked the location—56 degrees 30 minutes north latitude, 4 degrees east longitude.

That location was about forty nautical miles to his northwest, about sixty nautical miles to the northwest of Scheer's main fleet, and about twenty nautical miles to the west of Beatty's fleet.

"Jellicoe..." Hipper murmured the name, "He's here too. And closer than we expected."

The atmosphere on the bridge instantly became tense. If the main British fleet was indeed in that position, the entire battlefield situation would be completely altered. It would no longer be a German attempt to lure and annihilate Beatty, but could potentially escalate into a full-scale decisive battle between the main British and German fleets.

That was not part of the plan.

"Send a message to Admiral Scheer," Hipper decided swiftly. "The main British fleet has been located approximately forty nautical miles northwest of us. I recommend a reassessment of the battle plan. Repeat, I recommend a reassessment."

The telegram was sent through an encrypted channel. Hipper stared at the nautical chart, his mind racing, calculating all the possibilities.

If Scheer decides to proceed with the original plan, the main German fleet will meet Hipper's fleet at the rendezvous point an hour later. However, at that time, Beatty's fleet will be about twenty nautical miles to the northwest, and the main British fleet will be about forty nautical miles to the northwest.

The German fleet would be caught in a pincer movement between the two British fleets.

If Scheer decides to cancel the plan, then Hipper's fleet must quickly shake off Beatty and retreat eastward. But that would mean all their previous efforts would be wasted, and they might even be overtaken and engaged in battle during the retreat.

Either choice is fraught with risk.

"Commander!" the lookout suddenly shouted, "More smoke on starboard! The British are accelerating!"

Hipper rushed to the porthole. In the thick fog, he could indeed see the plume of smoke growing thicker and denser to the northwest. That was a sign that the boilers were running at full power as the warship accelerated.

Betty took the bait.

He saw the flares and the German fleet's "panic" behavior, and judged that Hipper was in trouble. So he decided to speed up the pursuit and try to catch up with the Germans before they "escaped".

A perfect decoy tactic.

But at that moment, Hipper felt a chill. He knew that the faster Beatty pursued, the closer he would get to Scheer's main fleet, but also the closer he would get to the British main fleet.

Three parties, more than fifty warships, and nearly 100,000 sailors, are converging on the same point in the thick fog of the North Sea.

That point is about to become the focus of history.

"Attention all crew," Hipper said through the intercom, taking a deep breath. "Maintain course and speed. Load main guns, but do not fire without orders. We need to get the British a little closer... just a tiny bit closer."

His voice was calm, but the hand holding the megaphone was trembling slightly.

It's not fear, it's responsibility.

As bait, he must lure the enemy to the right position, but not let the enemy bite him too early.

As fleet commander, he had to complete his mission, but also do his best to save the lives of his young men.

This balance is too difficult to maintain.

Outside the window, the thick fog persisted.

The sea was as calm as a gray mirror, reflecting the sky and the shadowy steel figures moving through the fog.

The calm before the storm is always particularly oppressive.

At 5:30 a.m., it was still dark.

The thick fog showed no signs of dissipating; on the contrary, it appeared even more indistinct due to the refraction of the morning light. Visibility had dropped to less than three hundred yards, and warships could only maintain communication through light signals; those a little further away disappeared completely behind the gray-white curtain.

Jellicoe stood on the bridge of the Iron Duke, his brow furrowed. He had been standing there for nearly two hours, barely moving. His coffee had long since gone cold, but he was oblivious.

"General, here's the latest estimated position." The staff officer handed over a map of Shanghai.

On the map, the red and blue arrows are very close together. Beatty's fleet is at the far east, about twelve nautical miles from Hipper's fleet. Hipper's fleet is in the middle, about fifteen nautical miles from Scheer's main fleet. Jellicoe's own main fleet is to the west, about twenty-five nautical miles from Beatty and about forty nautical miles from the main German fleet.

An irregular triangle, with each vertex representing a massive fleet.