World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

At 5:40 a.m., on the bridge of HMS King George V.

Jericho held the telegram sent back by the Renown in his hand, having already read it three times.

"The two Bismarck-class ships did not fly any national flags."

He looked up at the markings of the twelve capital ships on the nautical chart table.

Chief of Staff Crowley stood beside him, his brow furrowed. "General, no national flag. This... is very strange. If they are Germans, why aren't they flying a flag? Without a flag, they are an unidentified vessel, and we..."

“We have even more reason to intercept them,” Jellicoe interrupted him. “A warship that doesn’t fly a flag can be considered a pirate ship on the high seas.”

Crowley hesitated for a moment, then said, "But General, what if they are from Lanfang..."

"Why don't the Lanfang people fly flags when they go to sea?" Jellico retorted. "Don't they know the consequences of not flying flags? Or are they deliberately not flying them, hoping to avoid being recognized?"

Crowley did not answer.

Jellicoe walked to the window and raised his binoculars. In the distance, the outlines of the two ships were already faintly visible—just as described by the Renown, Bismarck-class, without a flag.

He quickly deduced the scenario in his mind.

Scenario 1: They are Germans. They don't fly a flag, hoping to slip through unnoticed and secretly escape to the Arabian Sea. Once they discover they are being intercepted, they will immediately raise a flag and flee or fight as a belligerent nation.

Scenario Two: Those are people from Lanfang. They're not hanging a flag... what? Did they forget to hang it during training? Impossible. It must be intentional. Why would they intentionally not hang a flag?

He suddenly remembered a detail—many days earlier, the Lanfang people had sent two Bismarck-class ships to the Atlantic for "training," which happened to be when the Bismarck and Tirpitz needed supplies the most.

There is still no evidence of that incident, but everyone knows what really happened.

Now, the Germans have finished repairing it and are leaving. The Lanfang people sent out two more Bismarck-class ships, again without flying flags.

coincidence?

Jericho didn't believe in coincidences.

"Crowley," he suddenly said, "what do you think the Lanfang people are up to?"

Crowley thought for a moment: "General, I think... they're testing us."

"What are you testing?"

"They're testing whether we dare to make a move," Crowley said. "If those two ships really belong to the Lanfang people, they're not flying their flags because they want to see if we'll open fire. If we do, then..."

"That gives us a pretext to declare war," Jericho chimed in.

Crowley nodded.

Jericho remained silent.

If that's the case, then he absolutely cannot be led by the nose. He must not fire first.

But what if they were Germans? What if those two ships really were the Bismarck and Tirpitz, and they were released for fear of accidentally harming the Lanfang people...?

Then he would be a sinner of the Royal Navy. Twelve capital ships, waiting for seven days, only to watch the Germans slip away?

"General," the sonar officer's voice came through, "the target continues to move southeast. The distance is decreasing; it's now about thirty nautical miles."

Thirty nautical miles.

At a speed of 18 knots, in another two hours they will be able to cross the Arabian Sea and enter the depths of the Indian Ocean. By then, the twelve capital ships will be unable to catch up.

Jericho's fingers tapped lightly on the chart table.

Once, twice, three times.

Then he looked up.

"Order the entire fleet," he said. "Prepare for battle. Main guns aimed at the target. Once within 22,000 meters, on my command—fire."

Crowley looked up abruptly: "General!"

“I know what you’re trying to say,” Jellicoe interrupted him, “but it’s the only option. If they’re Germans, we absolutely cannot let them go. If they’re Lanfang people—”

He paused for a moment, then said, "Then let's treat them as Germans."

Crowley was stunned.

"General, what if we've made a mistake...?"

"If they call the wrong country, just say the Germans are cheating, pretending to be a neutral country by not flying their flag," Jellicoe said. "Let the diplomats argue about diplomatic matters. Our navy only cares about fighting."

He walked to the window and watched the two ships getting closer and closer.

"Pass on the order."

At 6:00 AM, on the bridge of the Huaihe ship.

Zhang Zhen held up his binoculars, looking at the dense array of ship shadows on the distant sea.

The British fleet is deploying.

The twelve capital ships were arranged in three columns, forming a huge semi-encirclement. Battleships were in the center, battlecruisers were on the flanks, and destroyers patrolled the perimeter of the formation like hounds.

That was the standard Royal Navy battle line formation – once completed, all the main guns could simultaneously aim at the target, creating crossfire.

"General," the adjutant's voice trembled slightly, "they are deploying their battle line. The main guns are being raised."

Zhang Zhen nodded.

He had seen it long ago. The turrets were slowly rotating, and the muzzles were rising, aiming in this direction.

"Order all stations," he said. "No firing without my order. Fire control radar remains locked on the target, but the main guns must maintain zero elevation."

He turned around and looked at the reporters.

Reporter Fang was already pressed against the porthole, his camera propped up on a makeshift platform, the lens pointed towards the British fleet. His three companions were positioned at several other windows, in the same posture, with the same focused attention.

"Reporter Fang," Zhang Zhen walked over, "Are you scared?"

Without turning her head, reporter Fang said, "I'm afraid. But I'm even more afraid of not being able to get the shot."

Zhang Zhen nodded and walked back to the porthole.

He raised the binoculars again.

The British fleet's battle line was essentially complete. The largest warship in the center—HMS King George V—had its guns aimed in this direction. To its flanks, the Centurion and Ajax were also adjusting their gun angles.

The distance is 23,000 meters.

It's still outside of effective range, but it's coming soon.

Zhang Zhen gripped the railing tightly.

He suddenly remembered what Chen Feng had said: "As long as the British open fire, Lanfang will have the perfect pretext to declare war."

"President," he wondered, "would they open fire?"

Then he laughed.

They definitely will.

Because someone like Jellicoe couldn't afford the cost of letting the Bismarck go.

At 6:02 a.m., on the bridge of HMS King George V.

Jellicoe stood by the window, holding up his binoculars, staring intently at the two approaching ship silhouettes.

The distance is 22,000 meters.

It has entered effective firing range.

But the two ships still didn't react. They didn't turn to escape, didn't raise their main guns, and didn't accelerate. They just slowly sailed towards them at a speed of eighteen knots, like two unsuspecting cargo ships.

"General," Crowley's voice trembled slightly, "they still aren't in a fighting stance. All the gun barrels are at zero, and there's no sign of any combat readiness on the deck."

Jericho did not answer.

He saw it.

On those two ships, sailors were even walking around on the deck—not at their combat posts, but just lounging around. Some were leaning against the railings, some were wiping the deck, and some were smoking.

If they were Germans, they wouldn't do this. They should have been in a state of combat readiness long ago.

But if it's someone from Lanfang...