novelAbuy Chapter 503 The Marshal's Worries
Chapter 503 The Marshal's Worries
"The casualties were smaller than expected."
"Because the battle only lasted eighteen minutes." Behnke paused. "Scher specifically emphasized in the telegram: this was a tactical victory, but with limited strategic significance. The British lost a capital ship, but their shipbuilding capacity remains, and..."
"And they'll retaliate fiercely," Tirpitz continued. "Benk, have you ever seen a wounded lion? It becomes even more dangerous, even more unpredictable."
Behnke did not refute. He took a large gulp of brandy before saying, "His Majesty the Emperor is already asking about the next phase of the plan. He wants more victories like this."
"More?" Tirpitz turned his head. "We only have two Bismarck-class battleships. The British have more than twenty capital ships. Two against twenty?"
"His Majesty means...we can place another order. Xiang Lanfang."
Tirpitz gripped the railing tightly. The white marble was icy cold. "It's Lanfang again."
"They have good stuff, Marshal. We must admit that."
"I admit it," Tirpitz said softly, "but relying on someone else's good things is like handing over the hilt of a sword to someone else while you only hold the blade. Sooner or later you'll cut yourself."
The balcony door was suddenly pushed open.
Wilhelm II emerged, followed by a group of excited generals and politicians. The emperor's face was flushed red with alcohol and passion, and his eyes gleamed.
"Alfred! What are you doing hiding here?" Wilhelm II laughed as he walked over, slapping Tirpitz hard on the shoulder. "Today is a victory for the navy you built! You should be in the center of the banquet hall, receiving toasts from everyone!"
"Your Majesty, I am considering the next step." Tirpitz bowed slightly.
"Next step? Of course, it's to keep pushing!" Wilhelm II waved his arms, as if commanding an imagined naval battle. "We'll strike again! This time, not just two ships, but all our capital ships! We'll utterly crush the Royal Navy in the North Sea and make the British kneel and beg for peace!"
A roar of approval erupted from the crowd. Colonel Raeder led the chant, "His Majesty is wise! The German Navy is invincible!"
Tirpitz watched this scene unfold. He saw the burning fervor in the Emperor's eyes, the fawning smiles on the faces of those around him, and the brightly lit Berlin skyline in the distance. In that moment, he clearly sensed that something had spiraled out of control.
"Your Majesty," he said, keeping his voice as steady as possible, "I think we need to carefully assess the situation—"
"Caution?" Wilhelm II interrupted him, his smile fading slightly. "Alfred, what did you build the navy for? To forever hide in port and be 'cautious'? No! It was for fighting! For victory! Now that victory has come, you say 'caution' is needed?"
"I'm just suggesting—"
"I heard your advice." The emperor's voice turned cold; though a smile remained on his face, his eyes were devoid of warmth. "But now, I want to hear the cheers of victory, not pessimistic analysis. Understand, Marshal?"
Tirpitz paused for two seconds. "Understood, Your Majesty."
"Very well." Wilhelm II smiled again, turned to the crowd, and said, "Gentlemen, let us return to the banquet hall! Tonight, let us toast to every brave warrior of the German Navy! To Admiral Scheer! To all the officers and men of the Bismarck! To the glorious future of Germany!"
The crowd escorted the emperor back indoors. The balcony door closed, shutting out the noise once more.
Behnke looked at Tirpitz's tense profile and said softly, "You shouldn't have said those things tonight, Alfred."
"If we don't say it tonight, we might never have the chance again." Tirpitz downed his drink in one gulp. "Let's go, we should head back. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."
"Including preparations for the next naval battle?"
Tirpitz did not answer. He took one last look at the night sky, then turned and walked into the banquet hall.
Indoors, the revelry continued.
It was one o'clock in the morning in Marshal Tirpitz's private study.
The study, located on the second floor of his house in the western suburbs of Berlin, was small but filled with books, documents, and nautical charts. A huge world map hung on one wall, and detailed charts of the North Sea and the Baltic Sea were on the other. The desk, made of old-fashioned oak, held only a lamp, an ink bottle, a fountain pen, and an open document.
Tirpitz didn't turn on the main lights, only letting the table lamp illuminate a small area on the table. He put on his reading glasses and was carefully reading the complete combat report sent back by Admiral Scheer.
The report was very detailed, recording almost every minute of decisions and reactions.
"...At 05:34, the enemy ship turned, attempting to cut into the inner circle. I judged its intention to close the distance and increase the hit rate, so I decided not to evade and continue firing..."
"...05:41, fourth salvo, both sides achieved hits. Our ship's No. 2 boiler room was damaged, with steam leaking, but the main engine was unaffected. The enemy ship is clearly on fire..."
"...05:46, fifth salvo. A shell was observed to have struck the enemy ship amidships, with the impact point located between the superstructure and the main armor belt. Approximately ten seconds later, a violent explosion occurred inside the enemy ship..."
Tirpitz's finger paused on the last paragraph.
He picked up a magnifying glass and carefully examined the diagram attached to the report—a hand-drawn sketch of the hit location by Major General Muller based on his memory. A red dot was marked amidships of the HMS Hood, exactly above the main armor belt and below the lifeboat deck.
That area...
Tirpitz took a document from his desk drawer. It was a "Potential Rival Analysis Report" that had been attached to the Bismarck-class design data provided by Lanfang six months prior. The report mentioned several "design features" of the Hood-class, including a passage written in cautious language:
"...In pursuit of high-speed performance, this class of ship has a relatively long hull, resulting in a corresponding increase in horizontal armor coverage. In non-critical areas, the armor thickness may not be sufficient to completely withstand the dive-bombing impact of large-caliber shells..."
When Tirpitz first saw this passage, he simply took it as a technical, objective description. But now, considering Scheer's report...
He put down the magnifying glass, took off his glasses, and rubbed his sore eyes.
There was a gentle knock on the study door.
"Come in."
The butler, Hans, came in carrying a tray with a pot of coffee and some dark bread. "Sir, you haven't rested yet. Madam asked me to bring you some food."
"Put it on the table." Tirpitz didn't look up. "Hans, what time is it?"
"1:20, sir."
"Thank you. You can go and rest now."
Hans hesitated for a moment. "Sir, what will tomorrow's newspaper say?"
Tirpitz finally raised his head. "I will write a great victory. I will write about the glory of the German Navy. I will write everything people want to hear."
"And what is the truth?"
"The truth?" Tirpitz smiled wryly. "The truth is that we used someone else's technology, on someone else's designed warships, to fight a battle whose outcome they probably already predicted. And then we called it 'the German victory.'"
Hans fell silent. He had served the Tirpitz family for thirty years, since the marshal was a young officer. He had seen far too much.
"Go and rest, Hans," Tirpitz said gently. "There's a lot to do tomorrow."
After the butler left, Tirpitz rose and walked to the world map. His finger traced the North Sea, stopping at the location marked in pencil—the coordinates of the Hood's sinking. Then he glided south, across the English Channel, and stopped in the Atlantic Ocean.