World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Scher put down his coffee cup and walked to the chart table.

The lights shone down from above, cutting the North Atlantic into two halves of light and shadow. His finger pointed to the Denmark Strait, then slowly glided along the southern coast of Iceland, finally stopping at a coordinate marked in red pencil—XX degrees North latitude, XX degrees West longitude.

This was the last intelligence report sent by the submarine command four hours ago: a British transport convoy is sailing southeast, with an unknown escort force, and is expected to enter this area between 6:00 and 8:00 this morning.

Scher's finger lingered on that coordinate for a few seconds before retracting.

Is the intelligence true or false? Could the British be using this fleet as bait? Where is their main fleet? Is it in Scapa Flow, or has it already set sail?

he does not know.

But that's war. Decisions are always made with incomplete information.

"Navigator".

"Yes, General."

"What is our exact location now?"

The navigator immediately leaned over the nautical chart and used a compass and protractor to make calculations. Thirty seconds later, he looked up: "Latitude XX degrees XX minutes North, longitude XX degrees XX minutes West. Speed ​​20 knots, heading 240. Approximately 90 nautical miles from the convoy's expected route reported by submarine command."

Ninety nautical miles.

At a speed of 20 knots, it would take four and a half hours.

At a speed of thirty knots, it only takes three hours.

Scheer paused for a few seconds, then said, "Notify the engine room to increase speed to twenty-four knots. Course unchanged."

"Yes."

The order was given. Deep within the ship, the engine speed began to increase, the vibrations shifting from a low hum to a sustained resonance. Outside the porthole, the darkness was torn apart by the increased speed, and the sound of waves crashing against the bow grew louder and more urgent.

Scheer walked back to the porthole.

Twenty-four knots. Not too fast, not too slow. Enough to accelerate quickly when needed, but not to reveal the fleet's top speed too early. If the British were indeed lying in ambush ahead, they needed to keep a trump card up their sleeve.

This was a lesson he learned from the Battle of Jutland.

In that naval battle, his reconnaissance fleet prematurely revealed its speed advantage, causing the British battlecruiser squadron to evade prematurely and miss the opportunity to annihilate the enemy. He often wondered afterward: if he had slowed down and waited for the enemy to get closer, would the outcome have been different?

There are no answers. War has no "what ifs."

But the lessons learned will stay in your mind and become the basis for your next decision.

4:35.

A report came from the sonar room.

It's not about finding a target, it's about finding an anomaly.

"General, the passive sonar has received a weak signal, azimuth 290, characteristics unknown." The sonar operator's voice came through the microphone, tinged with barely suppressed tension. "The signal is too weak to identify. But... it doesn't sound like ocean noise."

Scher did not move.

"Continue listening. Report every thirty seconds."

"Yes."

The bridge fell silent. No one spoke, no one moved, only the navigator's voice, ringing out the ship's position every fifteen seconds, as rhythmic as a pendulum.

4:40. 4:45. 4:50.

The reports from the sonar room became clearer with each iteration.

"...Signal strength improved, confirming it's mechanical noise."

"...Initial assessment indicates multiple steam turbines, rotational speed characteristics...British warship."

"...The estimated distance is over 15,000 meters, so it cannot be precise."

Above 15,000 meters.

At this distance, passive sonar can only detect the presence of something, but not what it is. It could be a battleship, a cruiser, or three destroyers and a supply ship.

But Scheer knew what it was.

He walked up to the radar screen.

On the pale green screen, the dots of light were sparse, like fireflies. The dot representing the Bismarck was in the very center, with the Tirpitz five kilometers to its right rear, and four destroyers spread out on either side. This was their own fleet.

At the edge of the screen, at the 290-degree angle, a new spot of light is flashing.

No. It's not a new light spot.

There are three.

The radar officer's voice came through, twice as fast as usual: "General! Contact confirmed! Bearing 289-293, distance 13,000 meters, three targets! Characteristic analysis... large ships, suspected to be battlecruiser-class!"

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the bridge.

No one gasped, no one panicked. But everyone stopped breathing for a moment—Scher could tell from their stiff backs.

13,000 meters.

For a warship traveling at 30 knots, this is a 20-minute journey.

This is the critical point for optimal range for a 380mm main gun.

For this hunt, which had been awaited for four days, this was... the beginning.

Scher walked to the radar screen and bent down.

Three dots of light were slowly moving across the screen. Judging from their course, they were heading southwest—forming an angle with the Bismarck's course. Following this trend, the two sides would meet within visual range in forty minutes.

But that was the British time.

For Germans, time is now.

Can radar identify ship types?

The radar officer stared at the screen, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead: "Analyzing propeller characteristics... Target one, suspected Hood-class. Target two, Target three, suspected Daring-class." (Not sure if it can be identified, let's assume it can be identified here.)

Hu De-class.

Brave level.

Scher's pupils contracted slightly.

The Hood-class battlecruisers were the fastest warships in the Royal Navy, with a speed of 32 knots and eight 381mm main guns. A few months earlier, their sister ship, HMS Hood, sank under the guns of the Bismarck. Now, their second ship has arrived.

The Brave-class, the so-called "large light cruisers", had four 381mm main guns and paper-thin armor. Their only advantage was their speed of 32 knots.

The three warships had a total of sixteen 381mm guns.

Two Bismarck-class ships, each with sixteen 380mm guns.

The quantities are the same.

But in terms of quality... my advantage lies with you!

Scher's lips twitched slightly. It wasn't a smile; it was some more complex expression.

"Signal to Tirpitz: Enemy ships spotted, three in total, one Hood-class and two Courageous-class. Prepare for engagement. Maintain radio silence and use signal lights."

"Yes."

The signalman ran to port and raised the signal light. The light flickered in the darkness, like some ancient code.

Thirty seconds later, a response came from the direction of the Tirpitz: "Roger. The Tirpitz is ready."

Scher nodded.

He walked back to the porthole and looked at the still-dark northern sea. Thirteen thousand meters away, three British warships were sailing, their crews perhaps sleeping, perhaps changing shifts, perhaps drinking hot cocoa in the mess hall, completely unaware that shells were aimed at them in the darkness.

This is the advantage of radar.

One-way transparency.

"Notify the engine room to prepare for full speed. Load armor-piercing shells into the main guns. All units, prepare for battle."