Chapter 8: The Otaku's Fleet (7)

  November 17, 1914, Scapa Bay, northern Scotland.

  The farewell telegram of the Invincible, Ravenson's panic, Jellico's conservative caution, and the final moment's mistake, everything was like a rapidly switching slide, replaying in David Beatty's mind.

  The waves gently rocked the first battle cruiser fleet's temporary flagship, Tiger. The unfamiliar warship, the unfamiliar cabin, and the vast fleet shrouded in dusk made David Beatty lie restlessly on his narrow iron bed, unable to fall asleep.

  "Young people, perhaps we should go to the officers' club for a drink..."

  Admiral Fischer, who had been idle at home, came to visit in the dead of night, and with the support of General Lampard, he pushed open the door and turned on the wall lamp in the commander's room, illuminating the dark and decadent cabin with a dim yellow light.

  The distant and desolate Orkney Islands, on a deep November night, everywhere was seeping with a chill. The narrow streets could not see the sailors sneaking out to get drunk, nor hear the unrestrained singing of "Blue Britannia", the fervor at the beginning of the war was like this cold and icy night, Scapa Flow was at the point of defeat.

  A black sedan glided like a ghost over the Mainland of Orkney, the strong wind blowing through the half-open window, battering David Bett's frail body. The officers' club had closed down, and Lampard drove around the few streets of Orkney Island for half a day before finding a pub that was said to be open all night.

  As he walked through the half-closed gate with a bell, he was surprised to hear that the tavern known for being open all night had also closed down. The bald-headed boss, who was yawning continuously, pointed at the half-closed gate with his mop, causing Lanpade's face to turn red with embarrassment.

  The tavern's half-closed door was an unwritten rule of English taverns, indicating that only familiar customers were accepted. The authentic Englishman Lampard had to lead the marshal and lieutenant general, carrying a few bottles of brandy in small iron cans, and flee back to the carriage compartment in disarray.

  "In 1904, I became the First Lord of the Admiralty. At that time, the Germans were sharpening their knives, while our Royal Navy was in a state of decline. So I carried out drastic reforms and offended many aristocratic gentlemen." Admiral Fisher took a sip of brandy, leaned back softly against the rear seat of the carriage, and gazed at David Beatty with a sigh: "In 1910, I was forced to resign. At that time, I thought it was all terrible. Why did my passionate efforts only earn me open and secret attacks from the enemy? It wasn't until this complete retirement that I realized those ideas were laughable..."

  "Ridiculous?" David's devastated expression slightly relaxed, he turned back and asked in surprise: "Marshal, why?"

  "Complaining and blaming are useless, instead of complaining about heaven and others, it's better to strive to put yourself on a higher stage!"

  "Marshal..." Looking at the old marshal who came to comfort himself in a hurry, David-Betty felt ashamed of his recent mood swings.

  "The Battle of Dogger Bank proved the value of battlecruisers, and the Invincibles and Indefatigables were no longer usable. The dreadnoughts were restricted by their speed and would not only fail to support the battlecruiser squadron but also drag it down."

  After retirement, Fisher lived a comfortable life, and the old admiral patted the young man's shoulder, saying: "Jellicoe is indeed talented, but his personality tends towards caution. However, the essence of war is violence, and mediocrity in war means incompetence! Therefore, next spring when the Queen Elizabeth-class battleships enter service, they will not join the main fleet sequence. Instead, they will be commanded by Vice-Admiral David Beatty!"

  Fischer ignored Lampard's stunned expression and gazed at Betty, whose breathing was getting heavier and heavier, saying firmly:

  "David Beatty, don't lose heart, Dogger Bank is not your fault! Our Mr. Churchill is bent on his Dardanelles landing, I have a premonition that next spring and summer we will have another battle with the High Seas Fleet, one that will be a hundred times more brutal than Dogger Bank and decide who will be master of the seas and the fate of nations!"

  ****

  November 17, 1914, Berlin, Germany.

  The Battle of Dogger Bank, two German battleships sank, with a death toll of 2,300. When the battered High Seas Fleet and the crippled "unsinkable" Moltke returned to Wilhelmshaven, all Germany was in an uproar.

  The residents and dockworkers who rushed to the scene stared blankly at the heavily damaged Mauke, unable to imagine what kind of blow the Sylph fleet had suffered; in front of the Berlin Naval Headquarters, there were anxious families, and what the navy left them with might be incomplete relatives, or perhaps just a pale and powerless death notice.

  It seems that someone has leaked the sky of Berlin, or the sky is writing a melody of sorrow for me. The gloomy clouds have been lingering over this ancient city for a long time, and the annoying fine rain is sprinkling on the blue dome of Charlottenburg Palace, wetting the face of the goddess of victory, and dampening the flying curtains of the main palace.

  At three o'clock in the afternoon, a light rain could not stop the enthusiasm of the German people. The gate of Charlottenburg Palace was crowded with celebrating German civilians. In a few minutes, the Navy Awards ceremony will be held at Charlottenburg Palace, and there will also be a grand celebration tonight.

  The heroes of the Dogger Bank Sea Battle marched into Schloss Charlottenburg under a black umbrella. The lavishly decorated White Hall was filled with retired Admiral von Tirpitz, General von Moltke, who had been heavily criticized, and Admiral Capelle, who had almost been driven out by young hotbloods, as well as the forced-to-resign Ingelow and Admiral von Heeringen. On the dais covered in expensive red carpet, the Emperor of the Empire wore his ancestral armor, with a rarely seen sharp blade at his waist, his left hand grasping a white glove as usual, looking pleased but also somewhat unnatural.

  "In peacetime, a man of my temperament may be considered unsuitable for command of a fleet."

  Just before taking the stage as the future commander of the High Seas Fleet, Admiral Reinhard Scheer made a profound remark to Hipper and Ritter von Hildebrand, adjusted his uniform, chose the blood-red carpet to walk up to the podium, and gave an imperial salute.

  Scheer was not a Junker nobleman, as an officer corps he swore allegiance to the Emperor, he was one of the bravest warriors in the Empire, but this did not mean that he saw himself as a knight of the House of Hohenzollern.

  Reinhart Scheer, wearing the shoulder straps of an Admiral and decorated with the Iron Cross First Class and the Red Eagle Order First Class, holding in his hand the appointment as Commander-in-Chief of the High Seas Fleet, walked down the steps with a stern face.

  "Perhaps today is worth remembering for everyone present, as the Great Ocean Fleet will turn a new page..."

  Franz von Hippe, a colonel, gave Heidi Wang a slight pinch on the shoulder and walked towards the rostrum. Under everyone's gaze, Hippe first performed a standard military salute, followed by a noble knight's salute.

  General Hipper took over the command of the High Seas Fleet and the Third Battle Squadron, walking down with a dignified air. The eyes were focused on Wang Haitian, a young man who was only 36 years old and had already won two naval battles.

  "Thirty-six years old, was I a light cruiser captain or a lieutenant commander who wasn't even in the mainstream of the fleet?" The old generals, who had lived for over a hundred years and were only wearing major general or colonel ranks, looked at each other and sighed.

  "A new page!" Wearing a military uniform without any insignia, Wang Haiting muttered to herself and finally moved her feet.

  Ahead of him was the stage where he had fought bloody battles, ahead of him were his opponents whom he could only look up to. The otaku worked hard to move forward, stepping on the stairs and climbing onto the magnificent podium.

  Looking at the emperor with two tufts of whiskers, who could be considered elegant but was actually hysterical, Wang Haitian slowly raised his right hand.

  "General, perhaps you should be more steady..." The Emperor took the general's shoulder badge and brooch from the attendant officer and pinned it on the otaku's shoulder and chest, savoring the taste.

  "Of course, Germany belongs to the great House of Hohenzollern!" King Haider, who rarely spoke steadily due to his stutter, puffed out his chest adorned with the Grand Cross of the Iron Eagle and the First Class Iron Cross, and proclaimed.

  The thunderous applause erupted from the audience, lasting for a long time. In the era of ironclad warships, it was extremely difficult to sink a battleship with a displacement of 20,000 or 30,000 tons. In the previous life's Dogger Bank Sea Battle, the sinking of just one main battleship shocked the world, and in the Battle of Jutland, Germany lost an old-fashioned battleship and a battlecruiser, while Britain lost three battlecruisers, which was enough to stun the globe. And in this life, the sinking of five main battleships at Dogger Bank was nothing short of epic, and Wang Haiting's wisdom and bravery were beyond praise.

  After going through all the ceremonial procedures, at that moment when she turned back, Wang Haitian vaguely saw the emperor's slightly trembling cheek and the eyes of Imperial Navy Minister Kapeller with a hint of anger.

  However, the house man did not care, because under the stage there was Tirpitz's calm smile, Ingenohl and Hebbinghaus' relief, and the cheers of naval colleagues and subordinates.

  "But Germany is also mine!" Before walking down the stairs, she added a sentence with unprecedented confidence in her heart.

  The confidence of an otaku is not the arrogant self-mutilation of Kaiser Wilhelm. Although Wang Haitao is neither a history Ph.D. nor a chemical genius, and can occasionally pretend to be profound by quoting Kant's famous sayings or Nietzsche's sighs, he cannot play with dark politics and financial speculation, but the otaku still has reason to feel confident.

  Crossing over is not as simple and easy as writing a novel, history is always full of unknowns and deceptions. Even if you are a Ph.D. in history, the history books you've read may not be the real history; even if you are a Ph.D. in chemistry, maybe just one missing part or instrument can make your hands and feet cold. Even if you were born into a royal family, you may not be able to manipulate intrigue, occasionally changing history, but the butterfly effect that follows will also send you to eternal damnation. Even if you've done your homework, without the support of status, it's unrealistic to try to change the national strategy of a first-rate powerful country with a perfect system as a small person.

  But these are the results of twenty years of hard work by an otaku who has finally seen through them.

  In 1894, Wang Haitian entered the Naval Academy with his cleverness, and had to relearn navigation and command from scratch. In 1897, Wang Haitian wrote down his past life's fragmented memories of asymmetric warfare, but was dismissed by experienced old sailors as science fiction. In 1898, the post-90s generation Wang Haitian was exiled for his rebellious behavior against Tirpitz. In 1914, when Wang Haitian saw Tirpitz as an obstacle to Germany's salvation, the Emperor jumped out from behind the scenes. Before the Dogger Bank Sea Battle, Wang Haitian remembered the joke-like story of the Magdeburg incident, and just as he was relieved that the intelligence had not been leaked, David Beatty's bold interception gave him a shock.

  History and reality do not allow for even the slightest cleverness. If it weren't for the three years of painful experience as a student at the Kiel Naval Academy, if it weren't for the sixteen years of drifting overseas, if it weren't for experiencing the open and secret struggles between nobles and commoners, if it weren't for the education of Tirpitz and Ingenohl, Wang Haitian would not have been able to escape with his life from the shallow waters of Dogger Bank relying on hearsay knowledge and Zhao Kuo-style armchair strategizing.

  Now, Wang Haitian, who has been promoted to Admiral of the Imperial Navy and Commander of the First Reconnaissance Fleet, has finally transformed from a humble floating duckweed into one of the top figures in the empire. The renowned Defflinger-class, Seydlitz, Moltke, Deutschland, and the soon-to-be-launched Mackensen-class battlecruisers will become the sharpest swords in his hands, and the tens of thousands of seasoned veterans from two naval battles in the First Reconnaissance Fleet will be his greatest reliance to defy fate.

  "Twenty years of professional career, two naval battles, guarding the family and the faith of Germany, as well as a fleet of fast ships that can conquer and fight, a group of colleagues who fought side by side with me, history, I must make you leak!"

  As Wang Haiting stepped down from the podium, Berlin's drizzle gradually lost its momentum, a ray of dawn broke through the sky, and the 1914 sky slowly cleared up.

  The update is a bit late, but the word count is solid; stayed up all night yesterday, had an exam today and killed off quite a few brain cells, came back feeling dazed and confused, probably made some mistakes in this chapter...