World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Sir Grey cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Colonel Goodnor's report is here." He pulled a few pages from his briefcase. "According to HMS Queen's observations, the battle took place in stormy weather with extremely poor visibility. HMS Hood, while turning to seize the inner circle, was hit by a shell that penetrated its relatively weak deck armor, detonating the secondary ammunition magazine and subsequently affecting the main ammunition magazine..."

"Weak?" Kitchener interrupted him. "The Hood's armor was designed by the Lanfang people! When we took it over in Dubai, Chen Feng personally guaranteed that it was 'world-class protection'!"

"But the design intent was different." Belfort finally found a starting point for his explanation. "The Hood-class was a battlecruiser, designed for high speed and firepower, intended to hunt enemy cruisers and protect shipping lanes. Its armor could withstand cruiser-level guns, but against the Bismarck-class's 380mm main guns..."

"So we're supposed to use a warship with 'different design intent' to intercept Germany's newest battleship?" Kitchener's voice rose. "Who made that decision? The Admiralty? Or the Operations Command?"

The temperature in the study suddenly dropped.

Asquith slowly raised his head: "It was the operation plan I approved, Lord Kitchener. According to the Admiralty's assessment, two Hood-class destroyers have a tactical advantage against two Bismarck-class destroyers. We judged that the Germans would not engage in a decisive battle in such bad weather; it was merely a deterrent patrol."

"Misjudgment," Kitchener said coldly.

"Yes," Asquith readily admitted, "a misjudgment. But now is not the time to assign blame, gentlemen. Now is the time to decide what to do next."

He stood up and walked to the map of the European theater of operations on the wall. His finger traced from Scapa Flow to the North Sea, finally stopping at the location marked in pencil—the coordinates of the Hood's sinking.

"How long can the news be kept under wraps?" Asquith asked.

Belfort gave a wry smile: "At most twenty-four hours. The German radio stations may already be broadcasting news of the victory. Although our newspaper adheres to wartime censorship, the sailors' families will soon receive notices of their deaths, and rumors will spread faster than telegrams."

"What will the public reaction be?" Sir Grey asked worriedly. "The Hood was open to the public before, and many people have been on board. It is... a symbol of the Empire."

"It's a symbol of defeat." Kitchener's words were sharp as a knife. "Now we face the reality: the Royal Navy has been sunk by a German warship in five salvos in a battle of capital ships. This reality will destroy morale at home, embolden the Germans, and make our allies doubt our strength."

Asquith turned around: "So we need an explanation, gentlemen. An explanation to the public, an explanation to our allies, and more importantly—an explanation to ourselves."

A faint rumble of thunder came from outside the study. The rain intensified.

Two hours later, the same group moved to the underground conference room of the Admiralty building on Whitehall Street. This time, even more people attended: First Sea Lord Admiral John Jellicoe, Chief of Naval Intelligence Rear Admiral Reginald Hall, Director General of Naval Shipbuilding Sir Eustace Tennyson-Derncourt, and several key cabinet members.

A North Sea nautical chart was laid out on the long table in the conference room, and the location where the Hood sank was marked with a striking red circle.

"...So, according to the observation report from the 'Queen's', the battle unfolded roughly as follows." Colonel Goodnow's report had been transmitted back in full by telegram and was now being relayed by a naval staff officer.

The officer who had given the retelling closed his folder and stepped aside. The conference room was deathly silent.

"Five salvos." Admiral Jellicoe finally spoke, the hero of the Battle of Jutland looking ten years older now. "At Jutland, we lost three ships, but that was the result of hours of fighting and numerous hits. Five salvos... this is more like a duel than a naval battle."

"It was more like an execution," Kitchener said in a low voice.

"General," Sir Tennyson Dencourt—the white-haired shipbuilding expert—adjusted his glasses, "I'd like to confirm a detail. The report says the fatal blow penetrated 'relatively weak deck armor.' Compared to what is this weakness?"

Belfort looked at Intelligence Chief Hall. Major General Hall cleared his throat: "According to the initial design data provided by Lanfang, the Hood-class's horizontal armor thickness is between 76 and 102 millimeters, and the main armor belt is 305 millimeters. The Bismarck-class's 380-millimeter shells can penetrate about 200 millimeters of horizontal armor at a distance of 10,000 meters."

"So theoretically it shouldn't be able to be penetrated?" someone asked.

"In theory," Hall carefully chose his words, "but in actual combat there are many variables: the angle of impact of shells, the mass of armor, and... design trade-offs. In order to achieve high speed, the Hood-class ships have a hull length of 262 meters, which means that the armor needs to cover a larger area, and may be weakened in some non-critical areas."

"So," Kitchener's voice was as cold as ice, "the Lanfang people sold us a defective product?"

A commotion broke out in the conference room.

"My lord, this is a serious accusation," Balfour said immediately. "The performance of the Hood-class battleships in the Battle of the East China Sea is evident to all; they managed to escape unscathed from an attack by four Kongo-class battlecruisers—"

"That was in the Pacific! Facing Japan's 356mm guns!" Kitchener slammed his fist on the table, making the pencil on the nautical chart jump up. "And yesterday in the North Sea, it faced the Germans' improved 380mm guns, bought from Lanfang! The same seller, selling better weapons to the enemy, and inferior ones to us! This isn't a defect, this is betrayal!"

"We need evidence, Lord Kitchener," Foreign Secretary Sir Grey attempted to de-escalate the situation. "Lanfang is a neutral country, and they have the right to sell weapons to both sides in the conflict. As for the performance differences, it's possible the Germans paid a higher price for custom modifications—"

"Or perhaps the Lanfang were plotting against us from the very beginning!" Kitchener wouldn't listen. "Think about it: they sold capital ships to both Germany and Britain at the same time, but Germany's Bismarck-class ships were delivered much faster and had a more modern design. Why? Because they needed to ensure a balance of power between the two sides, to keep the war going! That way, they could continue selling arms and continuing their war business!"

This idea exploded like a bomb in the meeting room.

The young naval staff officers whispered amongst themselves, while the older officers wore grave expressions. Asquith noticed that even the usually composed Admiral Jellicoe had a deeply furrowed brow.

"I agree with some of Lord Kitchener's points," said Chancellor of the Exchequer McKenna. "From an economic perspective, Lanfang certainly profited greatly from this war. But we cannot assume they deliberately sold substandard equipment based solely on speculation. We need a technical assessment, a comparison of the actual performance data of the Hood and the Bismarck."

"That data is on the seabed!" Kitchener roared. "The Hood is 3,500 meters below the surface, and we haven't even recovered the wreckage! As for the Bismarck's data, will the Germans give it to us? Will the Lanfang people tell us the truth?"