Chapter 205: Willing to Join Chikuma in the Yellow Springs

7:12 a. m., Chikuma heavy cruiser bridge.

Captain Shimazu, a Colonel, clenched the telescope with both hands. The sight before his eyes made the veteran naval officer who had fought in the Russo‑Japanese War almost lose his footing.

Four Vajra‑class battleships, the Imperial Navy's greatest symbols, turned into burning wreckage on the sea within half an hour. Mist Island and Hazelnut Name had already sunk, leaving only massive oil‑slick whirlpools and floating debris. Wise Comparison's hull tilted more than forty degrees, the deck crowded with sailors leaping into the sea to escape; sinking was only a matter of time. And the flagship Vajra… just three minutes earlier, Shimazu saw with his own eyes that the 32,000‑ton giant's bow rose high, then plunged vertically into the sea, raising a gigantic whirlpool hundreds of meters in diameter.

"All… all destroyed?" Shimazu muttered to himself, his voice dry as sandpaper.

"Sir!" the communications officer stumbled over, holding the freshly received telegram, "Wise Comparison's last message: abandon‑ship order issued, survivors are evacuating. The captain… the captain chose to go down with the ship."

Shimazu closed his eyes. The captain of Wise Comparison was his classmate; they had graduated together from Etajima, served together on destroyers, and were promoted together. Now that perpetually smiling, chubby man had sunk with his ship into the East Sea's bottom.

"How is the damage to Chikuma?" Shimazu inhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm.

"The hull has multiple hits, but the Armour Belt held. Speed can still maintain 28 knots, Main Gun intact, torpedo tubes intact," the chief engineer reported, relatively optimistic.

"What about the other ships?"

"Green Leaf and Clothing Hat lightly damaged, Exquisite Height and Nachi moderately damaged but still combat‑ready. As for destroyers… Morning Tide, Great Tide, Full Tide have sunk; the other ten can still fight, but…"

The communications officer hesitated, lowering his voice: "Morale is low, sir. Many destroyer captains are asking over the radio… asking whether we should retreat."

Shimazu snapped his eyes open: "Retreat? Retreat where? Sasebo? Port Wu? Behind us are Lanfang's fighter planes, ahead is the unseen enemy main fleet! Our only path—"

He walked to the chart table, his finger pounding the southeast direction: "—Charge forward! Find those unseen bastards, close the distance with torpedoes! Only then is there a sliver of hope!"

Operations staff Major Matsuda's face turned pale: "But sir, the enemy ships are at least 25,000 yards away, and are covered by cruisers. If we charge, we'll end up like Mist Island…"

"I know they'd sink like Mist Island," Shimazu cut him off, "but if we don't charge, we'll be like Vajra, singled out and sunk while we can't see the enemy. At least by charging, we can choose our own way to die!"

He looked around the officers on the bridge. These young men were at most thirty years old, the youngest only twenty‑two. Their faces were filled with fear, confusion, and a resistance to death.

Shimazu understood them. Who doesn't want to live? Who doesn't want to return to Japan, to their families? But they are the Imperial Navy, the strongest fleet in Yazhou. If they flee like this today, they will become a laughingstock of history, a disgrace to the Empire.

"Gentlemen." Shimazu's voice suddenly steadied, "I know you're afraid. I am afraid too. I'm forty‑eight years old, have a wife and two daughters. My elder daughter is to be engaged next month; I promised to hand her to her groom myself. But now… I may not be able to."

He paused, a flash of tears in his eyes, quickly replaced by resolve: "But we are soldiers. From the day we donned this uniform, we swore allegiance to Heavenly Locust, allegiance to the Empire. Today, the Empire's navy's most elite four battleships sank before our eyes. If we flee now, how can we answer the four thousand fallen comrades? How can we answer Commander‑in‑Chief Ito Yuko in the spirit of heaven?"

The bridge fell silent. Only distant explosions and faint cries for help could be heard.

"I command." Shimazu straightened his back, "All vessels still able to fight, head southeast at full speed! Target: the general area where the enemy main fleet is located! Destroyers forward, cruisers behind, use torpedoes to carve a path! This is a death charge, we do not seek survival, only to fire torpedoes at the enemy before we sink!"

He looked at the communications officer: "Send a signal to all ships: 'The Empire rises or falls, this is the moment. Gentlemen, join me in the journey to the Yellow Springs.'"

"Sir…" the communications officer's voice trembled.

"Execute the order!" Shimazu roared.

A few minutes later, the signal flag rose on Chikuma's mast. Light signals were passed among the remaining fleet. Over the radio, Shimazu's voice reached every ship via the public channel:

"I am Shimazu, captain of Chikuma. Vajra, Wise Comparison, Hazelnut Name, Mist Island have already been shattered. Now, as the highest commander on site, I order all vessels still able to fight to launch a death charge southeast. Our only goal: locate the unseen enemy and sink them with torpedoes!"

"I know this is a road of no return. I know most of us will die. But this is the Imperial Navy's final glory, the only thing we can do for our sunken comrades."

"Gentlemen, those who are willing to go with me, please answer."

After a brief silence, the first response crackled over the radio:

"Green Leaf received. Will join Chikuma in the Yellow Springs."

"Clothing Hat received. Death charge, commencing."

"Exquisite Height received."

"Nachi received."

"Early Spring destroyer received."

"White Dew received."

"Village Rain received…"

One after another, the remaining seventeen warships—four heavy cruisers and thirteen destroyers—all answered the order.

Shimazu's eyes grew wet. He spoke into the microphone, his voice choked: "Thank… thank you, gentlemen. Then, let us begin. All fleet, heading 135°, maximum battle speed! Charge!"

Early Spring destroyer, bow deck.

Torpedo officer Lieutenant Koga knelt beside the torpedo tube, trembling as he inspected the fuze of a Type‑93 oxygen torpedo. This torpedo, nicknamed "Spear" by the sailors, measured 610 mm in diameter, weighed 2.7 tons, had a range of 40 km, and was the pride of the Imperial Navy.

But today, that pride seemed utterly ridiculous.

"Torpedo officer…" a young loader whispered, "Are we really going to charge?"

Koga looked up. The loader was only seventeen, named Tanaka, from a small fishing village in Hokkaido. He hadn't even been to Tokyo three months before boarding the ship.

"Are you scared?" Koga asked.

Tanaka nodded honestly: "I'm scared. I… I haven't even had a romance yet. The village girl, Sayuri, said when I return she'll… she'll…"

He couldn't continue, his face flushed bright red.

Koga smiled, patting his shoulder: "Then think of Sayuri. Think of marrying her when you go back, having three children, building a house on Hokkaido's coast. Think of that, and you won't be afraid."

"But torpedo officer, can we really go back?"

Koga fell silent. He stared toward the southeast horizon, where there was nothing but endless blue. Yet beyond that blue, the unseen enemy was using giant guns with ranges exceeding 25,000 yards, picking off Imperial warships one by one.

"Tanaka," Koga said softly, "Do you know why I chose to be a torpedo man?"

"Because… because I'm strong?"