World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

The small boat docked at the gangway of the Huaihe. Scheer climbed the gangway, each step steady, using the swaying footboards. The training of a Prussian soldier allowed him to maintain his dignity even in his weakest moments.

At the top of the gangway, Major General Lan Fang stood there, saluting him.

"General Scheer, welcome aboard."

Scher returned the greeting. His German had a strong Prussian accent, but the interpreter could understand him.

"General Zhang," he said, "thank you for coming."

Chang Chen stepped aside to lead the way: "Please."

Captain's cabin of the Huaihe, March 13, 11:00 AM

The captain's cabin wasn't large, but it was very tidy. There was a chart table, a few chairs, a bookcase, and a round porthole. Sunlight streamed in through the porthole, casting bright patches of light on the floor.

Zhang Zhen invited Sher to sit down. A simple tea and snack set was already laid out on the table—black tea, biscuits, and several cans of condensed milk from Lanfang. There was no red wine, no steak; those weren't served on warships.

Scher sat down and picked up his teacup. His hand was steady, but Zhang Zhen noticed that his Adam's apple bobbed slightly when he took the first sip.

That's a reaction that only occurs in people who haven't had hot drinks for a long time.

"General," Zhang Zhen said bluntly, "the Commander-in-Chief asked me to tell you: Lanfang cannot openly participate in the war. At least not now."

Scher nodded: "I know."

"But we will do everything we can," Zhang Zhen said. "The two supply ships have enough heavy fuel oil, fresh water, food, and medicine. Enough to fully refuel your two ships, with some left over for backup."

He paused for a moment, then added, "We also have a group of engineers—fifty men—who can help you repair the warship. Our engineers are familiar with the Bismarck-class design and should be able to resolve the ammunition supply problem for the A turret, as well as any other damage."

Scher's eyes lit up.

"Turret A..." He paused, "How do you know there's something wrong with Turret A?"

Chang Chen smiled.

"General, we received the battle reports from Lanfang," he said. "After engaging the Queen Elizabeth, the rate of fire of the Bismarck's A turret dropped significantly. This can only be a problem with the ammunition feed mechanism. We are the most familiar with the ammunition feed mechanism for 380mm guns worldwide—we designed it."

Scher remained silent for a few seconds.

"Your information," he said, "is more advanced than our own intelligence agencies."

"This is Lanfang's advantage," Zhang Zhen did not deny.

There was a knock at the door. The adjutant reported, "General, the engineers have boarded the Bismarck and Tirpitz and begun testing."

Zhang Zhen nodded and turned to Scheer: "Three days. The engineers said it will take three days to complete the major repairs. Meanwhile, the supply ship will refuel and load up the ammunition for your two ships."

Three days.

Scher repeated the word to himself.

Three days later, his warships will be ready for battle again.

Three days later, he can continue fighting.

Three days later...

"General Zhang," he looked up, "does Commander Chen have any further instructions?"

Zhang Zhen remained silent for a few seconds.

He stood up and walked to the chart table. Two charts were laid out on the table—one for the North Atlantic and the other for the Indian Ocean.

"Yes," he said. "The President asked me to tell you: the attack on British shipping lines is not limited to the North Atlantic."

Scher paused for a moment, then asked, "What do you mean?"

Zhang Zhen pointed his finger at the center of the Indian Ocean.

"General, Britain's war machine relies on two things: domestic industry and the resources of its colonies. Wool, wheat, and meat from Australia; jute, tea, and rubber from India; and oil from the Middle East. All these resources must be transported back to Britain through the Suez Canal."

His finger moved along the route: from Australia westward, across the Indian Ocean, to the Gulf of Aden, into the Red Sea, through the Suez Canal, into the Mediterranean Sea, and finally to Britain.

"This route," he said, "is longer than the North Atlantic route, and has weaker escort forces. And—it's closer to Lanfang."

Scher's gaze fell on the nautical chart.

Indian Ocean.

He never thought about the Indian Ocean.

The German Navy's operational area was always the North Sea and the North Atlantic. The Indian Ocean was a British inland lake, within the British sphere of influence, and the waters of a neutral country—a place German warships had never set foot in.

but now……

"You mean," he said slowly, "to send the Bismarck into the Indian Ocean?"

"This is the President's suggestion," Chang Chen said. "Of course, the decision is yours."

Scher remained silent for a long time.

He looked at the Indian Ocean chart, at those unfamiliar place names—Mumbai, Colombo, Singapore, Perth. Those were all British colonies, British ports, British shipping routes.

If he could get into the Indian Ocean, if he could cut off those shipping lines...

"General Zhang," he finally spoke, "how do we get from the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean?"

Zhang Zhen's finger traced across the nautical chart: "Head south, around the Cape of Good Hope. The distance is about three thousand nautical miles. At a speed of fifteen knots, it will take eight days."

Scher quickly calculated in his mind.

Fuel. The Bismarck currently has 17% fuel, and with resupply, it can reach over 80%. At 3,000 nautical miles and 15 knots, it needs approximately 200 tons of fuel—about 40% of its total fuel. That's enough.

Ammunition. We have over 500 rounds left, and with resupply, we can have over 800 rounds. Enough for a medium-sized naval battle.

Damage. The engineers will fix it within three days, at which point the performance will be restored to over 90%.

"General Zhang," he looked up, "did Commander Chen say where we can get supplies after we reach the Indian Ocean?"

Chang Chen smiled.

He took a sealed document from the drawer and pushed it in front of Scher.

"This was prepared for you by the Lanfang Naval Headquarters. It marks the coordinates of three ports that can provide supplies in an emergency. They are all in the Indian Ocean, far enough away from the main shipping lanes, and well concealed."

Scher took the document but did not open it.

He looked at Zhang Zhen and remained silent for a few seconds.

"General Zhang," he said, "I don't know how to thank you enough."

Zhang Zhen shook his head.

"General, the Grand Commander once said: 'In international politics, there are no permanent enemies, nor permanent friends. But in this era, Germany and Lanfang have a common adversary.'"

Scher nodded.

He knew who his opponent was.

It's not Britain, it's Maryland.

That country that's watching from the sidelines, waiting to clean up the mess. That country with the world's most powerful industry, frantically building ships. That country that, once it enters the war, will completely change the balance of power.

"General," Zhang Zhen stood up, extended his hand, "I wish you a safe journey."

Scher stood up and took that hand.

"General Zhang," he said, "if one day Lanfang needs Germany..."

He didn't finish speaking. But Zhang Zhen understood.

He nodded.

Scheer turned and walked out of the captain's cabin.