World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

At 8:00 a.m., the battlefield situation had become extremely intense.

From the UK perspective:

The Renown sank

The Repulse was heavily damaged, and its speed was reduced to eighteen knots.

Centurion was severely damaged and withdrawn from the battle line.

HMS King George V was hit by four bullets, reducing its speed to nineteen knots.

Eight warships, including HMS Revenge, HMS Ramirez, HMS Royal Oak, HMS Monarch, and HMS Conqueror, are still engaged in battle.

Lanfang's side:

The Huaihe was hit by seven shells, its speed dropped to 20 knots, and both main gun turrets were disabled.

The Pearl River was hit by five shells, its speed dropped to 23 knots, and one of its main gun turrets was disabled.

Zhang Zhen stood in the wrecked bridge, watching the British warships still approaching on the radar screen.

Eight ships.

There are eight more.

How long could the Huaihe River hold out? He didn't know. But he knew he had to keep going.

"General," the adjutant approached, "the Pearl River has signaled, asking if we need cover for our retreat."

Zhang Zhen shook his head.

"Reply: The Huaihe and Zhujiang ships will advance and retreat together."

He walked to the porthole and looked southeast.

There was nothing there yet on the sea level.

But he was waiting.

Waiting for those two ships.

Waiting for those two flags.

Waiting for that moment that will turn everything around.

At 8:20 a.m., about 50 nautical miles from the battlefield.

The Bismarck sped southeast at thirty knots. The hull trembled—not from damage, but the exhilarating tremor that emanated from deep within the keel during a full-speed charge.

Scheer stood on the bridge, peering through his binoculars. There was nothing there yet, but he knew that in forty minutes, he would be able to see the battlefield.

"General," the radar officer's voice came through, "a large number of ship signals detected approximately 45 nautical miles ahead. At least fifteen ships. Engaging in combat."

Scheer's hand paused on the telescope for a moment.

Fifteen ships.

That was the entire main force of the British.

The Huaihe and Zhujiang are currently engaged in combat with fifteen British warships.

"Full speed," he said, "faster still."

The engine room replied, "General, that's the limit. Any faster and the boilers will explode."

Scher was silent for a second.

"Then let's blow it up," he said. "It's on me if it explodes."

There was a moment of silence in the megaphone.

Then reply: "Yes".

The Bismarck's speed began to climb from thirty knots—30 knots two, 30 knots five, and 30 knots eight.

The ship's hull trembled more and more violently, and the porthole glass emitted a sharp, resonant sound, as if it might shatter at any moment.

But it's running.

The Tirpitz followed closely behind.

Scher stood by the window, watching the sea getting closer and closer.

"Soon, General Zhang," he thought.

Hold on a little longer.

We've arrived.

At 8:00 a.m. sharp, the sun had fully risen.

The Arabian Sea was dyed a dazzling golden-red, but that wasn't the color of dawn—it was the color of flames, the color of blood, the color of burning steel.

The bridge of the Huaihe is completely unrecognizable.

Three 356mm shells struck the once-sturdy structure in succession. The first shell blew away the observation platform on the starboard side, the second overturned the chart table, and the third penetrated the aft wall of the bridge, exploding inside. Two staff officers were killed instantly, and three operators were seriously wounded and collapsed to the ground, their blood mixed with engine oil flowing on the floor.

Zhang Zhen stood before the shattered porthole, blood still seeping from the wound on his forehead, but he paid no heed to wipe it away. His left hand rested on the window frame, while his right hand held up binoculars, his eyes fixed intently on the British warships still firing in the distance.

Eight ships.

After two hours of fighting, the British lost one ship and severely damaged two others, but still had eight ships left.

"Report damage!" His voice was hoarse, but still steady.

The damage control officer's voice came through the intercom, trembling slightly: "Sir, the port side is flooded! Four compartments are submerged, the pumps are running at full speed, but the water intake still exceeds the displacement! Speed... speed has dropped to twenty knots!"

"Main gun status!"

"Turret A is still operational; Turret B's ammunition feeding mechanism is damaged, and its reload speed is halved! Turrets C and D... are all disabled!"

Of the four main gun turrets, only one and a half remain.

Zhang Zhen gritted his teeth.

"Turret A, continue firing. Target: HMS King George V. Turret B, load high-explosive shells. Engage those destroyers. Don't let them get close!"

"yes!"

The gunner's voice came through the megaphone: "Turret A, received! Target: HMS King George V, armor-piercing shells loaded—fire!"

The Huaihe's last remaining main gun spewed fire once more. Two 380mm shells whistled towards the British flagship.

Forty seconds later, the observer reported: "Hit! HMS King George V has been hit at the stern!"

Through his binoculars, Zhang Zhen saw a fireball erupt from the stern of the British flagship. Its speed had dropped to eighteen knots, and it was slowly disengaging from the battle line.

Well played.

But what's the cost?

He turned to look at the silent officers on the bridge. The navigator lay dead in a pool of blood. The communications officer, his head bandaged, was still working. The three young operators were covered in grime and tears, but no one spoke.

No one cried.

Because there was no time to cry.

Meanwhile, aboard the Pearl River, Zhou Zhenguo was frantically directing his warship.

The Pearl River was in slightly better shape than the Huaihe, but only marginally. Five shots hit, one main gun turret was disabled, and its speed dropped to 23 knots. But it kept firing, still weaving through the hail of bullets at a high speed of 28 knots, like a wounded beast that became even more ferocious.

"Hard starboard! Twenty-eight knots!" Zhou Zhenguo roared. "Don't let those two battleships outflank us!"

The Pearl River drew a huge arc across the sea, narrowly avoiding the crossfire from the Revenge and Ramirez. The shells landed fifty meters to starboard, sending up columns of water that cascaded onto the deck like waterfalls.

"Main guns, prepare!" Zhou Zhenguo pointed to the approaching target on the radar screen. "Target—Monarch! Concentrate fire!"

The Pearl River's three remaining main guns simultaneously turned. The fire control radar locked onto the target, and the gunners loaded armor-piercing rounds.

"put!"

Six shells flew out of the cannon.

Forty seconds later, the observer's voice came through: "Two hits! The Monarch's hull has been hit! The superstructure is on fire!"

Zhou Zhenguo raised his binoculars. The British battleship was smoking, and its speed had dropped from twenty-one knots to eighteen. It began to turn, attempting to disengage from the battle.

"Don't let it get away!" Zhou Zhenguo roared. "Keep fighting!"

But just then, the lookout's voice changed: "Captain! Port! Two British battlecruisers are approaching! It's HMS Repulse and—no, HMS Repulse is heavily damaged, that's…that's HMS Conqueror!"

Zhou Zhenguo turned to port.

Two high-speed warships were charging at full speed, their smokestacks belching black smoke. The one in front was the HMS Repulse—it was still firing, though its bow was on fire and its speed had dropped to eighteen knots. The one behind was the HMS Conqueror, intact, and was flanking them at a high speed of twenty-six knots.

"Hard to port!" Zhou Zhenguo roared. "Turn the main guns to port! Attack the Conqueror first!"

The Pearl River swerved wildly on the sea. Its three main gun turrets slowly rotated, their muzzles pointing at the approaching Conqueror.

The distance is 18,000 meters.

"put!"

Six shells flew out of the cannon.

The Conqueror was also firing. Its four twin-mounted 381mm main guns simultaneously spewed fire, and eight shells flew toward the Pearl River.

Forty seconds later, both hit their targets simultaneously.

The HMS Conqueror was hit in the bow, its forward main gun turret was blown off, and thick smoke billowed out.