World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

At 9:15 a.m., the Bismarck and Tirpitz opened fire.

Eight 380mm shells flew toward the British fleet. Forty seconds later, the observer reported: "Hit! HMS Revenge has been hit at the stern! Speed ​​is decreasing!"

Scheer stood on the bridge, watching the fleeing British warships.

"Keep fighting," he said. "Let them remember this day."

The Bismarck's main guns fired again.

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Huaihe ship, reporter Fang was frantically pressing the shutter.

He captured the moment the Bismarck opened fire, the moment the British warship was hit and caught fire, and the moment the German flag fluttered in the sea breeze.

He also took a picture of Chang Chen.

The general leaning against the window frame, covered in blood, but with a relieved smile on his face.

That was the best photo he had ever taken.

"General," he walked over and knelt down beside Zhang Zhen, "you need to go to the infirmary. Your injury..."

Zhang Zhen shook his head.

"Wait a minute," he said softly, "Let me watch for a little longer."

He looked out the window at the two German warships.

They were hunting down the fleeing British warships. The muzzle flashes on the sea were like countless falling stars.

In the distance, a British warship is sinking. Another is on fire. Several others are desperately fleeing eastward, abandoning all formation.

That was the Royal Navy of the British Empire.

The world's most powerful navy.

They are on the run.

Chang Chen smiled.

The reporter later recalled that kind of smile was the kind of smile one would have only when someone has accomplished their mission.

"Reporter Fang," Zhang Zhen suddenly said, "do you think what happened today will be written into history books?"

Reporter Fang paused for a moment, then nodded vigorously.

"Yes, General. You definitely will."

Zhang Zhen nodded and closed his eyes.

"That's good."

Outside the window, the sound of artillery fire continued.

At 9:20 a.m., the Bismarck completed its final blow to the Conqueror.

After being hit by six 380mm shells, the battlecruiser finally gave way. The hull broke apart, and it slowly sank to the bottom of the sea. Only oil slicks and debris remained on the surface, along with dozens of life rafts crammed with British sailors.

Scher didn't even glance at the life rafts.

"Next," he said, "the Ramirez."

The Bismarck's main guns turned again.

But just then, the communications officer's voice came through: "Sir, the Tirpitz reports! New ships spotted to the southeast! Suspected British reinforcements!"

Scher paused for a moment.

reinforce?

He raised his binoculars and looked southeast. Sure enough, several plumes of smoke appeared on the horizon. Not one or two, but at least five.

"Radar report!"

The radar officer's voice came through: "General, five large warships have been detected to the southeast, approximately forty nautical miles away, at a speed of twenty-one knots, approaching this direction. Identified as... three Vengeance-class and two Queen Elizabeth-class!"

Scher's heart tightened suddenly.

Three Revenge-class battleships and two Queen Elizabeth-class battleships—that's five battleships. Adding the eight still fleeing the battlefield, the British had thirteen remaining.

There were only two ships, the Bismarck and the Tirpitz.

"General," the gunner's voice came through, "what do we do?"

Scher was silent for three seconds.

He looked at the two Lanfang warships in the center of the battlefield. The Huaihe was still smoking, and the Zhujiang was slowly sinking. They were no longer capable of fighting.

He looked at the fleeing British warships. Though utterly routed, there were still eight of them. If they could rejoin five more fresh ships…

"Withdraw," Scheer said.

There was a moment of silence on the bridge.

"General?" The gunner couldn't believe it.

"Withdraw," Scheer repeated. "Stop fighting on the Ramirez. The entire fleet turns, heading 280, speed 28 knots. Take the Huaihe and the Zhujiang with you—tow them back if you have to."

The order has been issued.

The Bismarck and Tirpitz turned simultaneously and headed toward the two Lanfang battleships in the center of the battlefield.

At 9:30 a.m., the Bismarck sailed alongside the Huaihe.

Scheer stood by the starboard window, looking at the wrecked warship. The bridge of the Huaihe was almost sheared off, the deck was riddled with shell craters and debris, and water was still gushing from the breach on the port side. But it was still afloat, its crew was still running on the deck, still fighting the fire, still trying to keep the ship alive.

"Launch the small boats," Scheer ordered. "Take our damage control team and go help them."

Two small boats were launched from the Bismarck, carrying twenty German damage control personnel, and rowed toward the Huaihe.

Meanwhile, the Tirpitz was also approaching the Pearl River.

Zhang Zhen stood on the dilapidated bridge of the Huaihe, watching the approaching German warship.

The Bismarck. Scheer's ship.

It's here. It's really here.

"General," the adjutant's voice trembled with tears, "the Germans have come to rescue us!"

Zhang Zhen nodded.

He was too weak to speak. He had lost too much blood, and his vision was blurring. But he was still standing, leaning against the window frame.

Reporter Fang walked over and helped him up: "General, please sit down. The Germans are here, we're safe now."

Zhang Zhen shook his head.

"Let me watch," he said softly. "Let me watch them come."

He watched the two small boats approach the gangway of the Huaihe, watched the German damage control team climb onto the deck, and watched them rush towards the fire with the Lanfang sailors to plug the breach.

He watched the massive Bismarck anchored beside him, and saw the red, white, and black German naval ensign fluttering in the sea breeze.

Then he laughed.

The reporter later recalled that kind of smile was the kind of smile one would have only when someone has accomplished their mission.

"Reporter Fang," Zhang Zhen said, "did you take a picture?"

Reporter Fang nodded, his eyes red-rimmed: "It's all filmed, General. Everything's been filmed."

Zhang Zhen nodded.

Then his body swayed and he slowly slid down to sit.

The reporter was shocked and quickly knelt down to help him up, crying, "General! General!"

Chang Chen had his eyes closed, but a smile was still on his lips.

"It's nothing," he said, his voice growing softer, "I'm just... a little tired..."

Reporter Fang looked at the blood-stained face, the bloodstain running down the forehead, and the blood-soaked military uniform.

His hands were trembling.

But he still raised his camera and pressed the shutter.

Click.

That was a picture of Chang Chen leaning against the window frame, eyes closed, a smile on his lips.

That was the last scene on the bridge of the Huaihe ship.

On the bridge of HMS King George V, Jellicoe stood by the window, looking at the two German warships in the distance.

They were rescuing the two Lanfang warships. Damage control team members were climbing up and down, and small boats were shuttling back and forth. Germans and Lanfang crew members were fighting side by side, plugging leaks, fighting fires, and trying to keep the two dying warships alive.

And what about his fleet?