World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Jericho's hands trembled slightly on the binoculars.

He remembered the day the HMS Hood sank. He remembered the day the HMS Queen Elizabeth sank. He remembered the day the HMS Resolution sank.

Those two Bismarck-class battleships were traded for seven capital ships of the Royal Navy at the cost of four old German battleships.

Seven ships.

If we let them escape today, how many more ships will be added?

"General," Crowley spoke for the last time, "we still have time. We can wait until they raise their flags. Maybe they've just forgotten, maybe..."

That's enough.

Jellicoe put down his binoculars and turned to look at Crowley.

"Crowley," he said, his voice unusually calm, "do you know what it means if we let them go if they're Germans?"

Crowley did not answer.

"It means that our twelve ships waited for seven days in vain. It means that all the Royal Navy's efforts in the Indian Ocean have been in vain. It means that those two Bismarck-class ships will continue to slaughter our merchant ships, continue to sink our warships, continue..."

He paused, then continued, "Let the British Empire bleed."

Crowley lowered his head.

Jericho turned to face the microphone.

"The entire fleet," he said, emphasizing each word, "target: two Bismarck-class destroyers ahead. 22,000 meters away. Main guns of all ships, fire freely."

There was a moment of silence in the megaphone.

Then came the replies from the ships: "King George V received." "Centurion received." "Ajax received." "Revenge received." "Lamilis received..."

One call after another, like the Grim Reaper calling roll.

At 6:03 a.m., all ten 356 mm main guns of HMS King George V simultaneously spewed fire.

The sound of cannons shattered the silence of the early morning.

The shells whistled across the sea and flew toward the two flagless warships twenty-two kilometers away.

On the bridge of the Huaihe ship, Zhang Zhen clearly saw the ball of fire through his binoculars.

The British flagship has fired.

In that instant, countless thoughts flashed through his mind—Chen Feng had made the right bet, Jericho had been tricked, and history was about to be rewritten—but those thoughts were fleeting, because the next instant, he saw those dozens of black dots flying toward him.

"hidden!"

He roared and shoved the adjutant next to him to the ground.

The shrill sound of shells tearing through the air grew closer and closer—a sound Zhang Zhen had heard countless times, but each time he heard it, it was as chilling as the first time.

Then, an explosion.

The first shell landed 200 meters to the port side of the Huaihe, creating a water column that was 30 meters high, with seawater cascading onto the deck like a waterfall.

The second and third shots landed on the starboard side, also nearly missing their mark, but the shockwave caused the ship to shake violently.

Fourth shot—

It hit directly.

A deafening roar came from the bow, as if the entire Huaihe had been slammed by a giant's fist. Zhang Zhen felt the steel plates beneath his feet tremble. Alarms blared throughout the ship instantly, and red emergency lights flashed incessantly.

"Damage control report!" Zhang Zhen jumped up and shouted into the megaphone.

"Sir! The bow has been hit on the port side! The secondary gun deck has been struck, and a fire is spreading! Flooding is minor and under control!"

Zhang Zhen turned to look at the reporters.

Reporter Fang lay on the ground, but his camera was still raised, and the shutter was being pressed frantically—he captured the moment the British fleet opened fire, the moment the shells fell, and the moment the Huaihe was hit.

"Reporter Fang!" Zhang Zhen roared, "Are you alright?"

Reporter Fang scrambled to his feet, his face covered in dust, but his eyes shone with an alarming light: "It's alright! I got the photos! I got them all!"

Zhang Zhen nodded, turned to the microphone, and took a deep breath.

Then, facing the entire ship, he repeated it in Chinese:

"This is the Huaihe, a ship of the Lanfang Republic Navy. We have been attacked without warning by the British fleet. All ships—free to fire! Repeat, free to fire!"

There was a moment of silence in the megaphone.

Then came the gunner's voice, laced with barely suppressed rage: "Gunner, sir! Main guns are being raised! Target—HMS King George V! Fire!"

The Huaihe's four twin-mounted 380mm main guns were raised simultaneously, their muzzles pointing at the British flagship 22 kilometers away.

The fire control radar had already locked onto the targets—the Huaihe's radar had been locked onto them ever since the British entered its radar range.

Eight armor-piercing shells whistled out.

At the same time, cannon fire came from the direction of the Pearl River—Zhou Zhenguo had also ordered his troops to open fire. Eight 380mm shells were fired, also aimed at the Centurion.

At 6:05 a.m., on the Arabian Sea, sixteen shells of the Lanfang lineage crossed paths with the first volley of shells from the British fleet.

The war has begun.

Forty seconds later, the observers on the Huaihe ship erupted in cheers.

"Hit! HMS King George V has been hit! Starboard secondary gun deck!"

Through his binoculars, Zhang Zhen saw a fireball erupt from the starboard side of the British flagship. The flames illuminated the sea in the morning light, and billowing black smoke rose into the air.

The fire control radar hit its target in the first round of firing.

This is the technological gap—the British optical rangefinding relied entirely on the gunner's experience at this distance, while Lanfang's radar could accurately tell the gunner: the target is there, 22,000 meters away, heading 120, speed 21 knots.

The shells will naturally fall.

But the British launched their second volley.

This time, however, we weren't so lucky.

One of the three twin-mounted 381mm main guns of the battlecruiser HMS Repulse hit the Huaihe.

The shell penetrated the port secondary gun deck and exploded in the storage compartment. The shockwave knocked several sailors who were fighting the fire to the ground, and shrapnel swept across the bulkhead, leaving numerous dents.

"Sir! The port secondary gun deck has been hit! Three people are injured! Fire is being fought!"

Zhang Zhen nodded: "Keep fighting. Have the Pearl River focus fire on the Counterattack, take out the faster one first!"

Zhou Zhenguo's voice came through the megaphone: "Pearl River received! Target—Counterattack! All guns fire!"

The Pearl River's eight 380mm main guns opened fire again. This time, they weren't aiming at the Centurion, but at the battlecruiser that was maneuvering at high speed.

Forty seconds later, the observer's voice changed: "Hit! The Repulse has been hit in the bow! The bridge has been hit! Thick smoke is rising!"

Zhang Zhen raised his binoculars.

Smoke was billowing from the bow of the HMS Repulse, and its speed had dropped from 28 knots to 25 knots. Its forward main guns were still firing, but noticeably slower—the bridge had been hit, and the command system was certainly damaged.

"Well done!" Cheers erupted from the bridge.

But before the cheers had subsided, another shell hit the Huaihe.

This time it was amidships. A 356mm shell penetrated the secondary gun deck and exploded inside the ship. The ship shook violently, and several crew members who were operating the equipment fell to the ground.

"Damage Control Report!"

"General! The central compartment is flooded! Three compartments are submerged! The drainage pumps are running, but the inflow exceeds the outflow!"

Zhang Zhen's heart tightened suddenly.

Water entered.

The Bismarck-class ships were most vulnerable to flooding. Although their protective design was excellent, if the amount of water entering the ship got out of control, their speed would decrease and their maneuverability would be lost.

"Keep the water intake below thirty tons per hour!" he roared. "If it exceeds that, report it immediately!"

"yes!"