World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Zhou Zhenguo listened to the sounds, his gaze fixed on the nautical clock. The second hand ticked away, making a soft clicking sound.

6:15.

"distance?"

The naval officer looked up: "23,000 meters, still within effective range."

Zhou Zhenguo nodded.

"Signal: Japanese landing ships, begin moving to designated positions. We will open fire in thirty minutes."

The communications officer pressed the key. Signal lights flashed, transmitting the order to the landing ship five nautical miles away.

Thirty seconds later, a reply came: "Received from Sakura Country. Moving in progress."

Zhou Zhenguo stepped off the bridge and onto the open observation platform on the starboard side. The sea breeze brushed against his face, carrying a salty, fishy smell. He raised his binoculars and saw the landing ship slowly turning, heading towards Singapore. The spray from its bow was particularly striking in the morning light.

Lin Huaiyuan followed him out and stood beside him.

"Commander, do you think the British might discover us beforehand?"

"Yes," Zhou Zhenguo said. "Their reconnaissance planes came yesterday, and they'll definitely come again today. But so what if they're discovered? They can't escape, they can't be defeated, they can only wait to be beaten."

Lin Huaiyuan remained silent for a few seconds.

"What if they...fire at the Japanese landing ships? Those ships have no armor; one shot would sink them."

Zhou Zhenguo put down his binoculars and looked at him.

"Do you know why I let the Japanese make the first move?"

Lin Huaiyuan shook his head.

"Because I want the British to see clearly—the landing ships are here, the soldiers are here. They have two choices: either attack the landing ships, or wait for us to attack them." Zhou Zhenguo's voice was calm. "If they attack the landing ships, our naval guns can be aimed more easily. If they don't attack, by the time we finish firing our naval guns, the Japanese will have landed too." (Actually, the editor couldn't wait to open fire on the Japanese landing ships.)

He paused for a moment: "No matter which you choose, you'll lose. The only difference is whether you lose faster or slower."

Lin Huaiyuan thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Understood."

6:20.

Chaos reigned in Singapore's harbor.

It wasn't the kind of panicked chaos, but the kind of chaos where you "know something bad is going to happen but don't know what to do." On the docks, coolies abandoned their goods and ran into the city. In the shops, shopkeepers frantically closed windows and boarded up doors. On the streets, women in their pajamas carried their children and ran towards the church, glancing back as they went.

Inside the Governor's House, Sir Shenton Thomas stood by the window, watching the fleeing crowds outside.

The adjutant rushed in: "Sir! The port authority reports that reconnaissance aircraft have spotted two large warships approaching, within 20,000 meters! There's also a landing ship moving towards the port!"

Sir Thomas did not turn around.

"Are you from Lanfang?"

"It should be. The dimensions of those two ships perfectly match those of the Bismarck-class ships in the intelligence."

Sir Thomas remained silent for three seconds.

"Where are the Japanese? Are the landing ships full of Japanese people?"

"Yes. Intelligence indicates that Japan has amassed 100,000 people in Borneo. This should be the first wave."

Sir Thomas closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Three years ago, when he first arrived in Singapore to take office, officials in London patted him on the shoulder and said, "Shenton, Singapore is the Gibraltar of the East, impregnable. You'll be living a life of luxury there."

As solid as a rock.

He opened his eyes and looked out the window at the people fleeing for their lives.

"Send a telegram to London," he said, his voice hoarse. "Say... Singapore has been attacked by the combined fleets of Lanfang and Japan. Requesting urgent reinforcements."

The adjutant was stunned for a moment: "Sir, this...this is tantamount to a declaration of war."

Sir Thomas turned to look at him, his eyes filled with an indescribable weariness.

"Child, their warships are already at our doorstep, what's the point of talking about declaring war?"

6:25.

The atmosphere on the bridge of the Zhenyuan warship grew increasingly tense.

Zhou Zhenguo had returned to the bridge and was standing by the window, staring at the navigation clock. The second hand ticked away—thirty-five seconds, thirty-six seconds, thirty-seven seconds…

The gunner's voice came through: "Final checks on all turrets completed. Ready to fire at any time."

Zhou Zhenguo nodded.

Lin Huaiyuan walked over and handed over a telegram he had just received: "The Japanese landing ship has sent a signal: it has reached the designated position and requests to open fire."

Zhou Zhenguo glanced at the telegram and put it aside.

"Reply: Wait."

He paused, then said, "Send it in plaintext."

Lin Huaiyuan was taken aback: "Plain text? Everyone can receive it?"

"Yes. So that the British can receive it too."

Lin Huaiyuan didn't ask any more questions and turned to pass on the order.

Three seconds later, the radio waves were transmitted from the Zhenyuan's radio room, using plain text—the kind of public channel that everyone can receive—spreading in all directions:

"Sakura Country Landing Ship: Your request has been received. Proceed as planned. Awaiting firing order."

This telegram was received not only by the Japanese people, but also by the British troops in Singapore harbor.

Not only the British army received it, but merchant ships from various countries lurking in the Strait of Malacca also received it.

Not only did the merchant ships receive the message, but the presidential palace in Dubai, Downing Street in London, and the White House in Washington also received it at the same time.

6:28.

Sir Thomas stood in the port's gunnery command post, holding the intercepted telegram in his hand.

"Waiting for the order to fire..." he murmured. "They haven't fired yet? What are they waiting for?"

The adjutant pointed out the window: "They're waiting for those two battleships to come into optimal firing range. They're 22,000 meters away now, and in a few more minutes, they'll be in their most comfortable firing position."

Sir Thomas looked at the two enormous moving objects in the distance, then glanced out the window at the three cruisers anchored in the harbor.

On the cruiser's deck, sailors were running around in a flurry of activity. Some were trying to weigh anchor, some were loading shells into the turrets, and some were standing on the deck staring blankly into the distance—they knew an enemy ship was coming, but they didn't know what to do.

"Signal the cruisers," Sir Thomas said. "Weigh anchor immediately and maneuver out of harbor. If you can get away, get away; if you can't, fight."

The adjutant went to relay the order.

But it was too late.

It was exactly 6:30.

On the bridge of the Zhenyuan, Zhou Zhenguo watched the second hand of the marine clock pass the number "12" and nodded slightly.

"Fire."

Press and hold the fire button on the gun.

In that instant, all eight 380mm main guns of the Zhenyuan simultaneously erupted in flames—not a single deafening roar, but eight consecutive shots, causing the entire ship to lurch slightly backward. The muzzle flashes were dozens of meters long, particularly dazzling in the morning light. The shells flew out of the breech, piercing the sky with a sharp whistle.

Immediately afterwards, all eight main guns of the Jiyuan opened fire.

Sixteen shells, leaving sixteen faint trails, flew toward Singapore Port.

There was a suffocating silence in the bridge for three seconds.

Then the observer's voice came through: "Hit! Cruiser number one has been hit twice!"

Zhou Zhenguo raised his binoculars.

In the distance, the old cruiser moored at the dock was engulfed by two massive balls of fire. The first shell struck amidships, blasting a huge hole; the second struck stern, directly detonating the ammunition magazine. The entire ship shuddered violently in the explosions, then slowly listed to one side.