World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

The bridge of the "Lützow" was half destroyed.

Although the fire caused by the previous hit had been brought under control, thick smoke was still seeping into the bridge from the damaged ventilation ducts, making it difficult to breathe. Franz von Hipper leaned against the tilted chart table, covering his mouth and nose with a damp cloth, trying to filter the smoke from the air.

His forehead was still bleeding—a cut from flying shrapnel during the explosion; the wound wasn't deep, but the bleeding hadn't completely stopped. The ship's medic gave him a quick bandage and suggested he go to the medical room, but he refused.

"At times like these, the commander must remain on the bridge," he said calmly, so calmly that even the medic dared not contradict him.

Now, as he looked at the report delivered by the damage control officer, his heart sank deeper and deeper.

"Damage Report for the 'Lütsov': The forward main gun turret is completely destroyed, the B turret's rotating mechanism is jammed, and only the X and Y stern gun turrets remain usable. There are two breaches amidships, with a total flooding exceeding 4,000 tons. Boiler room No. 3 is completely destroyed, and boiler room No. 4 is partially damaged. Current speed... maximum 18 knots, but it is recommended not to exceed 16 knots, otherwise the breaches may widen."

Hipper put down his report and looked out the window. His warship, Germany's most advanced battlecruiser, now limped along like a lame giant in the thick smoke and darkness. The ship was noticeably listing to port, and each wave's crash increased the angle of the list slightly.

"Can you still fight?" he asked softly.

The captain—an elderly naval colonel with graying hair—gave a wry smile: "It can fire its guns, it can sail, but its maneuverability... is practically zero. The turning radius is twice as large as usual, and acceleration takes three times as long. Commander, to be honest, the 'Lütsov' is a sitting duck right now."

Hipper nodded. He knew what the captain hadn't said—in this state, if the Lützow were to be bombarded again by the main British fleet, it wouldn't last five minutes.

The communicator's red light suddenly lit up. It was the flagship's dedicated line.

Hipper took the receiver: "This is Hipper."

"Franz," Scher's voice came through the receiver, crackling with static but still clear, "I need you to make a decision. A difficult decision."

Hipper listened quietly. Everyone on the bridge watched him, watching the expression on his face change from calm to surprise, to solemnity, and finally to an almost detached calmness.

"I understand." After hearing Scher's plan, Hipper only said this one sentence.

He put down the receiver and turned to face the officers on the bridge. Smoke and dust blurred everyone's faces, but he could see their eyes—young eyes, tired eyes, fearful eyes, but still loyal eyes.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voice not loud, but everyone heard him clearly, "Admiral Scheer has a plan. A plan that can save the fleet, but it will require our sacrifice."

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink into everyone's hearts.

"The British are now in the perfect tactical position. They are like hunters encircling the deer, and we are the deer being hunted. The only way to break this situation is to create chaos—distract the hunters and give the deer a chance to break out of the encirclement."

He walked to the observation window and pointed to the muzzle flashes of British guns faintly visible through the thick fog: "Those flashes, each one represents at least one large-caliber naval gun. Right now, most of them are pointed at our main fleet. But what if... what if a sufficiently conspicuous German fleet suddenly changed course, not to flee, but to charge at the British?"

The captain gasped. "You mean... a suicide charge?"

"It's a diversionary attack," Hipper corrected, but his tone remained largely unchanged. "We'll use ourselves as bait to draw British fire. When their guns turn on us, the main fleet will suddenly turn and charge, crashing into the middle of the British battle line. If successful, we can create chaos, break the T-shaped formation, and then use the cover of night to disengage."

He looked around at everyone: "This decoy fleet will be composed of the remaining ships from the reconnaissance fleet. And the 'Lützow' will be the flagship of this fleet."

A deathly silence.

Then, the gunnery officer spoke first: "Commander, we only have two stern gun turrets left that are usable. And our speed..."

“I know,” Hipper interrupted him. “Precisely because we are slow, precisely because we are badly wounded, we are the best bait—the British will think we can’t escape and will attack us first. And…”

He looked at the captain: "Do you remember what you just said? The 'Lütsov' is a sitting duck now. Since it's a sitting duck, let's make it an obvious one."

The captain was silent. A few seconds later, he straightened his back and gave a crisp salute: "Yes, sir. The 'Lützow' will carry out the order."

The other officers also stood at attention. There were no cheers, no slogans, only a heavy, almost tragic determination.

Hipper nodded. He connected to the ship's intercom and took a deep breath—the smoke and dust made his throat itch, but he suppressed a cough.

"Attention all ships, this is Fleet Commander Hipper."

His voice was transmitted through the megaphone to every corner of the warship, to the boiler room, to the ammunition depot, and to every combat position where there were still people.

"I know you are all exhausted, and you know our warships are badly damaged. But the war is not over, and our brothers—the entire German High Seas Fleet—are still in danger."

He paused for a moment, choosing his words.

"Sometimes, at sea, a warship's value lies not only in how many enemies it can sink, but also in how many friendly ships it can protect. Today, the 'Lützow' has the opportunity to do just that. We have the chance to use ourselves as a shield to open a path to survival for the entire fleet."

"This is not an easy order. I know many of you will be afraid, wondering why it is us. I cannot answer that question. I can only say that as soldiers, as the German Navy, we have certain responsibilities to bear."

His voice gradually became firm.

"So now, I order: all those still able to fight, return to your positions. Load the main guns, prepare the engines to full speed—though we don't have much full speed left. We are to turn, not to flee, but to the enemy. We are to charge the British fleet, to draw their fire, to create chaos, and to create opportunities for Admiral Scheer's main force, with every gun, every torpedo, and even our own hull."

The only sound on the radio was the hissing of electricity, but Hipper could imagine it—he could imagine the boiler operators gritting their teeth and persevering in the high temperatures, the gunners loading shells in the smoke-filled turrets, and the young signalmen sending out light signals while trembling.