World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

The "Von der Tann" and "Mooch" will probably need about four weeks. The "Seydlitz"... "Hipperton paused, "at least three months, and even when it's repaired, its combat effectiveness will be greatly reduced. In fact, Marshal, I think she should be retired."

"The Emperor will not agree," Tirpitz shook his head. "'Seidlitz' is a hero of Jutland, a symbol of the Imperial Navy. As long as it can still float, it must be repaired and it must fight."

Hipper seemed to want to say something, but in the end he just nodded.

That afternoon, the Sanssouci Palace in Berlin issued an official commendation: Hipper was promoted to Admiral, Dönitz was promoted to Lieutenant Commander and awarded the Iron Cross First Class, and all participating officers and men received two months' extra pay. The front-page headline read: "Great Victory in the North Sea! Heroic Fleet Inflicts Heavy Damage on British Forces!"

But beneath these glamorous headlines, in the port hospital, the groans of the wounded never ceased; in the mailboxes of the families of the fallen, death notices were being delivered; in the dry dock of the "Seidlitz," workers shook their heads at the massive breach—the cost of repairing this ship was almost enough to build half a new one.

Meanwhile, in London, the British Admiralty was holding an emergency meeting. Admiral Jellicoe, his face ashen, offered his apology: "...This was my mistake; I underestimated the audacity of the Germans and the threat posed by their submarines. I request punishment."

First Sea Lord Jackson looked at him coldly: "Discipline? The most important thing now is to solve the problem. Why are our anti-submarine measures so flawed? Why did a submarine get right under our noses? And why do the Germans always manage to slip away right under our noses?"

No one could answer those questions. The meeting room was deathly silent.

Finally, Navy Minister Balfour broke the silence: "Gentlemen, it seems we need to change our strategy. If we can't capture them in a direct confrontation, perhaps we should... tighten the noose. Starting tomorrow, all sea transport to Germany, regardless of destination or flag, will be subject to inspection. We must end this war with hunger, not with cannon fire."

He paused, then added, "Of course, this might anger some neutral countries, especially... those that have been selling things to both sides."

He didn't name names, but everyone knew who he was talking about: Lanfang, that emerging Asian nation that was making a fortune in the war.

Meanwhile in Dubai, Chen Feng had just received a coded telegram from Port Wilhelmshaven. The telegram was simple: "The ship has arrived safely, the transaction is complete. The Germans are very satisfied and have begun inquiring about the progress of the 'heavy agricultural equipment.' Wang."

Chen Feng put down the telegram, walked to the world map, and planted a small blue flag in the North Sea, signifying that the German Navy still existed and was still capable of fighting.

Then, at the Verdun location, he planted a red flag.

The battle there had just entered its bloodiest phase. And his next card—the "agricultural equipment" capable of crushing barbed wire and trenches—was about to be played.

The time is almost ripe.

London, Whitehall, second-floor conference room of the Admiralty building, 10:7 AM, July 11, 1916.

A long oak conference table was covered with a dark green velvet tablecloth, and set with a silver kettle, a porcelain ashtray, and neatly arranged stationery. Sunlight streamed in through the tall, arched windows, casting bright dappled patterns on the polished floor, but it couldn't dispel the heavy atmosphere in the room.

Before the huge map of Europe on the wall, First Sea Lord Admiral Henry Jackson rested his hands on the edge of the table, staring at the western line stretching from the Swiss border all the way to the North Sea. The solid red line represented the German defenses, and the dashed blue line represented the Anglo-French forces—in the Verdun area, the blue line was pressed into a dent; in the North Sea, a newly inserted black tack marked the "Sinking Site of the Iron Duke".

There were twelve people in the conference room: three admirals from the Navy, four generals from the Army, two officials from the Foreign Office, and the private secretary of Prime Minister Herbert Henry Asquith. In front of each of them lay a newly printed report entitled “Assessment of the North Sea Encounter on July 7 and Subsequent Strategic Recommendations.”

The air was thick with the mingled smells of cigars, sweat, and anxiety. Outside the window, newsboys were hawking their morning papers on the streets of London, the headlines still revolving around the shelling of Newcastle and the sinking of the Iron Duke three days earlier. In the third year of the war, the patience of the British people was wearing thin.

Admiral Jackson turned around, his graying eyebrows furrowed. "Gentlemen," he said, "we can't go on like this. Three days ago, the Germans bombarded our port, sank a battleship on our doorstep, and then simply walked away. The people are asking: What is the Royal Navy doing?"

Lord Kitchener, the Minister of War, said in a deep voice, "Let's put the naval issue aside for now. The French are on the verge of collapse at Verdun. Pétain sent an urgent telegram yesterday saying that the Germans have deployed new troops—Asians wearing German uniforms—who are fighting extremely brutally, completely disregarding casualties. The French have lost another 40,000 men in the past week."

"Asians?" Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey raised an eyebrow. "Japanese? What are they doing on the Western Front?"

"We're not sure either," Colonel Vernon Kell, head of MI5, said, his voice dry. "But intelligence indicates that Japan did indeed send eight divisions to the Eastern Front under the guise of 'labor export' to fight for Germany. Now it seems they may have been transferred to the Western Front."

Sir Grey's face darkened: "This is a serious violation of international law! Japan is an ally of Britain, at least in theory!"

"Theoretically, yes," Colonel Kyle said with a wry smile. "But they had a secret contract with Germany, paying each soldier twenty pounds a month. When money is involved, alliances are worthless."

A brief silence fell over the meeting room. Only the ticking of the gilded clock on the mantelpiece sounded particularly jarring in the quiet.

The Prime Minister's secretary, John Caudley, cleared his throat: "Gentlemen, the Prime Minister has asked me to convey his message: we must take decisive action. Public opinion needs a victory, France needs support, and the Navy... needs to save face."

General Jackson walked to the map and pointed to northern France: "I propose a large-scale offensive here—in the Somme region. The force should be led by the British Expeditionary Force, with troops drawn from the Imperial colonies. We must use overwhelming numerical superiority to tear a gap in the German lines."

"What are the specific plans?" Lord Kitchener asked.

"Concentrate forces on a 25-kilometer front north of the Somme." Jackson drew a line on the map with his baton. "The first phase involves unprecedented artillery preparation—I plan to use at least two thousand artillery pieces to bombard the German fortifications for seven days. Then, the infantry will charge and break through in one fell swoop."

An army general frowned: "General, this plan sounds a lot like... Verdun. The French tried it, and it ended in a stalemate."

"No, it's different." Jackson shook his head. "First, our artillery fire density will be twice that of the French. Second, we will deploy newly formed machine gun corps and mortar units. Third, and most importantly—the main German force is tied down at Verdun, leaving the defenses on the Somme River relatively weak."

He paused, then emphasized, "Moreover, this campaign will be entirely dominated by Britain. The French will only need to provide support on the flanks. We want to prove to the world that the British Empire is still the master of this world, not a second-rate player that can only borrow money from the Americans and fill trenches for the French."