World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

The fog over Beihai Park resembled some kind of living entity, slowly writhing in the twilight light.

At 6:20 p.m., visibility had dropped to less than 800 yards. On the bridge of the Iron Duke, Admiral John Jellicoe stood with his hands behind his back before the chart table, like a granite statue. His fingers tapped unconsciously on the edge of the table, the only body language he used when he was nervous.

"Betty's last telegram was sent at 6:05 PM." The voice of First Sea Lord Vice Admiral Frederick Study was particularly clear in the quiet bridge. "He said he was approaching us at full speed, heading 270 degrees, at 23 knots. The German main fleet is in pursuit, about fifteen nautical miles away."

Jellicoe didn't look up; his gaze remained fixed on the pencil-marked symbols and lines on the nautical chart. The red arrows represented the British fleet, and the blue ones represented the German fleet—now, two red arrows were approaching, a blue arrow followed closely behind, and the other, larger red arrow was his main fleet, unfolding in battle formation like a slowly spreading steel net.

"Distance?" Jericho asked, his voice so calm it betrayed no emotion.

The navigator quickly measured: "Betty's fleet is currently estimated to be about 22 nautical miles from our ship, bearing 035. If both sides maintain their current course and speed, we expect to enter visual contact range in one hour."

"What about the main German fleet?"

"According to Betty's report and our sonar detection," Intelligence Officer Rear Admiral William Hall interjected, "Scher's main force is about fifteen nautical miles behind Betty, in roughly the same bearing. But in the dense fog, the positioning error could be three to five nautical miles."

Jellicoe finally raised his head. His eyes appeared unfathomable in the dim light of the nautical lamps. "Error," he repeated the word, as if savoring its meaning. "At sea, error means death, but it also means opportunity."

He walked to the porthole. Outside was a gray and white chaos, with the occasional blurry outline of nearby warships visible—the Orion, about five hundred yards behind his ship, followed by the Monarch, the Conqueror… a total of twenty-four dreadnoughts lined up in a steel column ten nautical miles long, each with more than a thousand sailors waiting at their battle stations.

A battle that could decide the fate of the empire awaits.

"General," Study approached him, lowering his voice, "do we really want to maintain the battle line? In this fog, column formations are difficult to maneuver, and if the Germans attack from the flanks..."

“If the Germans attack from the flank,” Jellicoe interrupted him, his tone still calm, “that means they know our location. But the key point is, they don’t.”

He turned to face all the officers on the bridge: "Gentlemen, think carefully. Scheer was chasing Betty, and his attention was completely drawn to the fleeing prey. In such thick fog, his reconnaissance was severely impaired. He thought he was hunting, but he didn't realize he was charging towards another, much larger hunter."

"Are you sure he'll do things the way we expect?" a young staff officer asked.

Jellicoe shook his head: "I'm not sure. But naval warfare is never a game of certainty. We can only bet on probabilities, and right now, the probabilities are on our side."

He walked back to the chart table, his finger tracing the possible course of the German fleet: "Schär has two options. First, he realizes the danger, stops the pursuit, and turns to retreat. But based on my understanding of the German naval command style, after achieving an initial 'victory'—sinking two of our battlecruisers—he is unlikely to easily give up the opportunity to expand his gains."

"Second," he tapped his finger on the chart, "he continued the pursuit and was led here by Betty."

That position was directly ahead of the starboard side of the main British fleet's battle line, forming a near-vertical angle.

"Crossing the T-shaped head," Study murmured.

This word put everyone on the bridge to a jolt.

Crossing the T-bend – the most ideal and deadliest tactical position in naval warfare. When a fleet's column passes perpendicularly ahead of another fleet's column, only the lead ship's guns can be pointed at the enemy, while all the main guns of the entire battle line of the latter can unleash their firepower. It's an absolute crushing of firepower density, a situation every naval commander dreams of.

"But how can we be sure that Scheer will crash right into that spot?" Major General Hall asked.

"We can't guarantee that," Jellicoe admitted, "but we can create the conditions. Order the entire fleet to adjust its course to 080 degrees and reduce its speed to 16 knots. We must move slowly through the fog, like a silent net. Meanwhile..."

He paused, then looked at the communications officer: "Send a message to Betty, in plaintext."

"Plain text?!" the communications officer repeated in shock. "General, the Germans will definitely intercept it!"

"We need to let them intercept it." A sharp glint flashed in Jellicoe's eyes. "The telegram reads: The main fleet has arrived at 56 degrees 15 minutes North latitude, 5 degrees East longitude, and is forming battle formation to support your unit. Repeat, forming battle formation."

Study gasped. "Are you... telling Scheer our location and status?"

“I was telling him part of the truth, but omitting the crucial parts,” Jericho said. “He would know where we were, know that we were ‘forming a battle formation’—meaning that in his mind, we weren’t ready yet, we were still adjusting our deployment. This would encourage him to accelerate the pursuit, trying to catch Betty before we completed our deployment, and then turn away.”

He walked to the megaphone and connected to the ship's broadcast system: "Attention all ships, this is Fleet Commander Jellicoe. In the next hour, we may encounter the main force of the German High Seas Fleet. This is not an encounter battle, this is an ambush. We will fight a conventional naval battle in the most conventional way. Maintain formation, maintain discipline, and maintain patience. When the order to fire is given, I want every gun to be pointed at the correct target."

His voice was amplified to every corner of the Iron Duke, to the neighboring Orion, to the even more distant Monarch, and to every warship in the entire fleet.

"You will write the history of the Royal Navy. God bless you all."

The broadcast ended. Silence fell over the bridge, broken only by the deep rumble of the engines and the regular ticking of the navigation clock.

Jericho returned to the porthole and looked at the increasingly thick fog outside.

He silently calculated the time, distance, and speed in his mind.

He was placing a bet, risking his entire fleet, risking the fate of the empire, on a high-stakes gamble.