Chapter Thirteen: Those Fake Nobles (Seven)

  These chapters laid the groundwork for the plot, and I counted the number of troops participating in the Battle of Jutland. Since many warships were not yet in service in 1915, my numbers differ from historical records - don't be surprised. Also, it's been a long time since I wrote 4,000 words...

  At 11:03 on the morning of the third day, Beatty's fast battlecruiser force was racing south along the Danish coast, only three hours' steaming from the edge of the Heligoland Bight.

  At lunchtime, British sailors and engine room technicians lined up in neat rows to go to the dining hall for meals. In order to ensure that the sailors had enough physical strength in the cold early spring, the kitchen prepared biscuits, bread, and thick coffee made from solid chocolate chips that could stand upright in a cup with a spoon. The navy was always strict in hierarchy, but in the officers' dining hall, a glass of British favorite beer was not strictly bound, and junior officers occasionally raised their glasses to toast each other, creating a relaxed atmosphere. In fact, everyone thought that the Royal Navy was advancing gloriously on its glorious path.

  The sailors and junior officers of the First Battlecruiser Squadron were in high spirits, but inside the Lion's command tower, it was a different scene. At 11:27, three Short Type 184 seaplanes searching south and southwest ran out of fuel without finding any German patrols as expected and had to return to their mother ship, Engadine. Commander David Beatty, normally debonair, sat with his cap tilted slightly back on his head, his red-rimmed eyes fixed intently on the distance between the fast force and the treacherous waters of Heligoland Bight, occasionally pulling out his pocket watch to check the time.

  "Old friends, however, are not afraid to let the atmosphere of a decisive battle turn into a pale and powerless pursuit...” Betty seemed to remember something, and in the direction of Skagerrak Strait, she drew a cross with a pencil, bent over the chart to calculate the distance between Oran and Wilhelmshaven. After a long time, Betty spat out the pencil from her mouth, and drew another route from Oran to the coast of Jutland with a dotted line, saying fiercely: "Lampard, is there still no news of the Grand Fleet putting to sea on the Scapa Flow side?"

  For the possible outbreak of war in Europe, Germany and Britain had done their homework before the war, deploying enough scouts on each other's fleet ports and routes. Both sides were well aware of this, while doing their best to sweep away and kill each other's hidden spies, the main fleets would usually choose to sail out at midnight to ensure the concealment of the departure, but this could only delay the time for the spies to confirm and send back intelligence.

  As usual, Betty should have received intelligence on whether the Pacific Fleet would make a night attack in the morning, but it was almost noon and the expected intelligence had not yet arrived.

  "If Slade wants to do something, the Grand Fleet will not be idle!" Betty's doubts left Osmond-Brooke speechless, fortunately, Vice Admiral Limpard intervened: "Commander, shall we break wireless silence and ask the fleet commander?"

  "It's clear that we have the upper hand, but because of our fear of Seilam's strength, we're shrinking back, and this feeling is really not great!" Betty stroked her crooked military cap, dropped the pencil in her hand, and let it roll to the position of the North Sea on the sea chart, saying indifferently: "The Great Ocean Fleet, I'm afraid the Navy Headquarters is also in doubt..."

  ****

  At 12:12 on the third day, Admiral Jellicoe's Grand Fleet was racing northward into the central North Sea.

  This is a powerful yet fragile iron fleet.

  It is said to be powerful because this fleet has twenty dreadnoughts, a number that not only makes old naval powers like France, Russia and Italy ashamed, but also makes the Grand Fleet envious. The famous Dreadnought battleship, the Bellerophon-class, St Vincent-class, Neptune-class and Colossus-class battleships, which were once unmatched, the Orion-class battleship, the ancestor of super-dreadnoughts, the Iron Duke-class and King George V-class battleships equipped with 15-inch main guns, the Iron Duke-class with ballistic computers and fire control directors, are piled up in this steel fleet. The 100 12-inch main guns, 60 13.5-inch main guns, and 40 15-inch main guns are enough to make any country's navy tremble with fear.

  This was not the whole of the British fleet, for with it were eight armoured cruisers, eight light cruisers, fifty-two destroyers, six auxiliary cruisers and one seaplane carrier.

  The main force of the fleet's scouting power was Rear Admiral Robert Arbuthnot's 1st Cruiser Squadron and Rear Admiral Herbert L. Heath's 2nd Cruiser Squadron, the former having two Edinburgh-class armoured cruisers (HMS Duke of Edinburgh and HMS Black Prince) and two Warrior-class armoured cruisers (HMS Warrior and HMS Achilles), the latter having two Minotaur-class armoured cruisers (HMS Minotaur and HMS Shannon) and two Warrior-class armoured cruisers (HMS Cochrane and HMS Natal). Supporting and covering were Rear Admiral L. M. Robertson's 4th Light Cruiser Squadron with two Birmingham-class light cruisers (HMS Adelaide and HMS Nottingham), three Arethusa-class light cruisers (HMS Undaunted, HMS Fearless, and HMS Arethusa); Captain C. J. Wintour commanding the 4th Destroyer Flotilla, Commodore J. R. P. Hawksley's 11th Destroyer Flotilla, and Commander A. J. Stirling commanding the 12th Destroyer Flotilla with a total of fifty-one destroyers, three scout cruisers (HMS Blonde, HMS Boadicea, and HMS Bellona), the destroyer HMS Oak serving as flagship for the Grand Fleet's transport ships, and six auxiliary cruisers for rescuing personnel, and the seaplane carrier HMS Engadine.

  Of course, before admiring this fleet, no one can deny its weakness. The Royal Navy's dreadnought fleet had a large number of main guns with strong firepower, but its defensive strength was indeed not commendable. Not to mention the coverage area of the waterline belt armor, which was only 1 meter higher than the waterline, the 10-12 inch waterline main armor and 11-inch turret front armor could hardly withstand the German battleship's primary guns at a distance of 9 kilometers, which is the standard combat distance for dreadnought-era naval warfare. The tragedy goes far beyond that, with the excessive pursuit of main gun caliber, number, and broadside firepower, British dreadnoughts generally had longer hulls, and their watertight subdivision design and protective capabilities were repeatedly weakened. On November 1, 1914, the British battleship Audacious, a King George V-class warship, sank after being hit by just one torpedo, which was a manifestation of its inadequate watertight subdivision defense.

  Although the Royal Navy still trusted in their warships' firepower and the blessings of the sea god, this confidence had shrunk greatly in both spirit and substance. Just as Jellicoe basically agreed to advance and retreat together with the battered Admiralty, he did not dare drag this battle of annihilating the First Scouting Fleet into a decisive battle that would determine the situation in the North Sea!

  "What about the signal lamps? Hall didn't know that this was a war of split-second changes, and any oversight or delay could lead to irreparable consequences?" Both Germany and Britain were among the top two technological powers. In order to prevent the Germans from using some wireless interceptors and directional search devices secretly deployed along the Jutland coast, the Royal Navy was accustomed to maintaining radio silence during navigation, that is, only receiving but not sending telegrams.

  John Jellico, with no cards to play, was forced to pace back and forth in the command tower of the flagship Iron Duke, waiting for Admiral William R. Holland, codename "Signal Lamp", to fulfill his promise of intelligence support.

  ****

  Although the High Seas Fleet had taken precautions to maintain secrecy, slipping out of Jade Bay under cover of night to avoid British observation, the empty bay at dawn could not conceal the fact from British intelligence. At 7:35 on the morning of the 3rd, confirmed reports from British agents were sent out that "the main body of the High Seas Fleet had sailed during the night, destination unknown".

  The recipient of the telegram was Lieutenant Jackson of the Naval Intelligence Division, who was said to have "contempt for all civilian scholars and cryptographers". He strode quickly into Room 40 with the telegram in his hand and asked the codebreakers: "Where is the call sign of the German Fleet flagship now?"

  The cryptanalysts, having made no progress on the cryptanalysis, threw up their hands and he quickly turned around and left, refusing to stay one minute longer with "civilians". Lieutenant Commander Jackson returned to his office and prepared a brief analysis of the situation based on his own understanding, which he intended to submit to Captain Holt, Director of Naval Intelligence. At 8:01 that morning, just as Lieutenant Commander Jackson was leaving the building, he heard some shocking news:

  The Anglo-French fleet has suffered a disastrous defeat in the Mediterranean, news of which is spreading like wildfire through the streets of Greater London. The First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, and the First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir Arthur Wilson, have just tendered their resignations to the Prime Minister!

  Confusion and dizziness were rampant at the Admiralty, with the unprecedented defeat and the fall of the First Lord of the Admiralty exacerbating the long-standing inefficiency and disorder of the Royal Navy. Lieutenant Jackson leaned against the damp and moldy walls in the dark corridors of the Admiralty for a long time before digesting the news and remembering his duties. He stepped into Admiral Hall's office, only to be told that Hall had gone to an emergency meeting of the Defence Council, and the disheartened lieutenant had no choice but to follow normal British Empire procedure and hand over the intelligence and analysis reports to the Naval Staff Office.

  For a long time, the British Admiralty was headed by the First Lord of the Admiralty, a civilian appointed by the Prime Minister, who was responsible for naval affairs in peacetime and became the Chief of Naval Staff in wartime. The impact on the Royal Navy of Winston Churchill and Arthur Wilson resigning at the same time can be imagined: Admiral Sturdee, who had been promoted to his position by Churchill, sat dejectedly on a sofa, as if he had lost his last hope; the young and vigorous staff officers were struck down by defeat, their faces clouded with failure; the old buildings of the Admiralty were besieged by London residents who had rushed to the scene, and the deafening questions and furious anger outside the windows made everyone think of escape, evasion, and self-justification. As a result, top-secret intelligence from the Intelligence Department was carelessly stored in the dusty archives as scrap paper by the Operations Division.

  "The Grand Fleet has sailed, Betty, the Royal Navy's next Nelson, you must stand out boldly and turn the tide!" The shouting of the London residents surrounding the Admiralty grew louder, while Commander Jackson was cautiously listening in his dimly lit office.

  ****

  At 2 pm on the 3rd, led by Beatty, the First Battle Cruiser Squadron cautiously slipped into Heligoland Bight, making a dash across the German defensive circle 200 miles off Heligoland. The old general Moore's Second Battle Cruiser Squadron remained outside Heligoland Bight, keeping half an hour's distance from Beatty, responsible for receiving and supporting.

  An hour's search revealed no sign of the 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron, and the expected arrival of the Slime fleet was nowhere to be seen. The news that should have come did not arrive, but the news that shouldn't have arrived came pouring in: the Grand Fleet had put to sea on the night of the 2nd, and the resignation of Churchill and Admiral Wilson was imminent.

  "Commander, we have already penetrated 20 miles into the Heligoland Bight!" The unfamiliar waters, possibly mined, with submarines and ocean fleets lurking, brought immense pressure, prompting General Lampad to remind him cautiously.

  Betty hesitated for a moment, then agreed to Lampard's implicit meaning. At 15:05, the massive First Battle Cruiser Squadron began to turn around and head north at a speed of 20 knots.

  Dozens of warships on the Heligoland Bight sea surface opened countless chaotic circles, surging northward. The pocket watch in hand flew away, and another hour passed, but the first battle cruiser squadron still couldn't find any small boats with German iron crosses and black eagle flags.

  "Unable to determine the location of the Grand Fleet's main force, the expected First Scouting Force had yet to appear, and even the Third Scouting Force was not on the Heligoland Bight defensive line!" As the planner of the battle, David Beatty's honor and reputation were at stake. The pride of the British Empire, which had existed for a century with its reliance on the ocean, finally had its calm demeanor shattered by the explosive emotions that had been building up, and the pent-up pressure was vented without restraint on the surface of the Heligoland Bight. All the pressure converged into his fist, which then slammed against the 11-inch armor plating of the command tower. "Where are those damned Germans?!"

  His frozen hands burst open, and the bright red blood seeped through his pure white gloves. Vice-hand Lampard hastily summoned medical soldiers, at this time, the lofty watchtower of the Lion Corps transmitted a message that made people's spirits shake:

  "Four light cruisers discovered in northwest direction, 20,000 yards away, heading northeast, judged to be four Nürnberg-class light cruisers!"

  "It's the Third Reconnaissance Fleet! It's the Third Reconnaissance Fleet!" General Lamped, who had hastily covered the wound on Betty's hand with a handkerchief, involuntarily raised his head, his face flushed with excitement.

  "The pride of the Fisher clan, the glory of the Royal Navy, the benevolence of the First Lord of the Admiralty! On 3rd March 1915 at 15:43 hours, I, David Beatty, will redefine the meaning of 'high'!" Beatty let out a long, almost imperceptible sigh, and muttered to himself, before turning back to the staff in the conning tower with a fierce expression: "First Battlecruiser Squadron, go forth, destroy them, annihilate them! Before I slaughter the Seydlitz squadron, I wouldn't mind savoring a light appetizer!"