Chapter 222: I Watched Ships at Yokosuka for Twenty Years! Those Were Battleships!

Matsumoto felt his throat dry: "Where are we relocating?"

"Osaka, or Nagoya. In any case, stay away from the coastline. The detailed plan will be relayed to you later," the Executive Director's voice lowered, "Matsumoto, I know this is hard. But remember: what we lose today must be reclaimed in the future. Mitsubishi… no, all of Japan needs people like you to survive and rebuild our industry."

The call ended. Matsumoto held the handset, not letting go for a long while.

Outside the window, the port's chaos persisted. A cargo ship, hurrying to depart, collided with the dock, tearing a huge gash in its hull that was flooding. The crew frantically tried repairs, to no avail.

Farther out on the sea, a few small fishing boats were rowing desperately toward shore. The fishermen clearly heard the rumors and wanted to reach land before disaster struck.

Matsumoto set the handset down, walked to his desk, and opened the bottom drawer. Inside lay a pistol and a small box. He opened the box; inside was a gold medal—the Contribution Medal the Navy Ministry had awarded him when the Mist Island battleship was launched.

He held the medal, heavy in his hand. The front bore the silhouette of a battleship; the back bore a line of small characters: "For the glory of the Imperial Navy."

Glory. How ironic that word sounds now.

He returned the medal to the box, locked the drawer, then picked up the phone and began issuing command after command: halt production, organize evacuation, transfer data, disperse personnel…

Each order felt like personally burying the lifelong cause he had fought for.

But as the Executive Director said: people must survive. As long as people live, there is hope.

Yet that hope now seems so faint, so distant.

Yokosuka Naval Base, Observation Tower, 09:30 a. m.

Lookout Ono Jirou raised his binoculars, scanning the sea toward the entrance of Tokyo Bay. His eyes were sore and gritty after six continuous hours on duty, yet he dared not relax.

Since news of the defeat in the East Sea arrived, the Yokosuka Base entered maximum alert. All movable vessels withdrew into the inner bay, the coastal artillery batteries went to combat readiness, and the observation tower maintained a 24‑hour double shift.

"Any findings?" the veteran beside him asked. His surname was Tanaka; he had served as a lookout at Yokosuka for twenty years, and during the Russo‑Japanese War he watched the Dongō fleet set sail from this tower.

"None, senior." Ono lowered the binoculars, rubbed his eyes, "The sea is calm, only a few fishing boats."

"Fishing boats?" Tanaka frowned, "Are there fishing boats out at a time like this?"

Ono raised the binoculars again, looking closely. Indeed they were fishing boats, two or three small wooden vessels casting nets near the bay mouth.

"Probably fishermen unaware of the situation," Ono said.

"Or…" Tanaka's voice suddenly changed, "Or it's a disguise."

"Disguise?"

"Right. In wartime, anything's possible." Tanaka took the binoculars, examined the fishing boats, "Look at their draft; it's too deep. Ordinary fishing boats wouldn't carry that much."

Ono's heart tightened. He looked again; indeed, those boats' drafts were considerably deeper than normal, as if heavy cargo filled their holds.

"Should I report?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Hold on." Tanaka continued observing, "It could also be… maybe the fishermen loaded ballast stones, or…"

His words abruptly stopped.

At that moment, farther on the horizon, a few black dots appeared.

Very small, almost invisible. Yet Tanaka, with twenty years as a lookout, had eyes as sharp as an eagle's.

"What is that…" he muttered, turning the binoculars to maximum focus.

The black dots grew slowly. One, two, three, four…

Not fishing boats. Their outlines aren't like that.

They were a far larger, heavier, more… unsettling silhouette.

"Ono!" Tanaka's voice suddenly sharpened, "Pull the alarm! Highest level! Now!"

Ono froze briefly, then sprang to the alarm lever on the wall. A shrill alarm blared, echoing through the observation tower and across the entire Yokosuka Base.

"Enemy ships detected! Four large targets! Bearing 150! Distance… distance indeterminate! Too far!" Tanaka roared into the handset, his voice cracking with excitement, "Battleships! At least four!"

From the other end of the handset came the duty officer's incredulous voice: "Are you sure? Did you see clearly?"

"I'm sure!" Tanaka shouted, "I've watched ships at Yokosuka for twenty years! Those are battleships! And they're not ours! They're… they're Lanfang's!"

The whole base boiled instantly.

The gunners of the coastal artillery batteries rushed to their positions, frantically adjusting gun elevations. In the harbor, the few remaining destroyers lit their boilers and cast off, but their speed was hopelessly slow. On the docks, soldiers and workers ran in panic; some fled to air‑raid shelters, others stared blankly at the sea, as if unable to believe what they saw.

On the observation tower, Ono and Tanaka kept the binoculars raised. The black dots grew clearer, their outlines sharper.

Four massive ships. Their hulls deep‑gray, superstructures towering, massive gun barrels angled toward the sky. They formed a tidy single‑file line, moving toward Yokosuka at an unhurried pace.

"Are they… are they entering the bay?" Ono's voice trembled.

"No." Tanaka's voice steadied, a desperate calm, "They won't come in. They'll stop at a range we can't reach, and then…"

He didn't finish.

But Ono understood.

Then, fire.

Chang Jiang Bridge, 10:15 a. m.

"Distance to Yokosuka Port, 28,000 yards," the radar officer reported. "Coastal artillery maximum range confirmed, 18,000 meters, about 19,600 yards. We are at a safe distance."

Zhang Zhen nodded. He stood by the observation window, binoculars in hand. Through them, Yokosuka Port's outline was clear. In the harbor, a few small vessels moved in panic; on the docks crowds rushed, the whole base a swarming hornet's nest.

"They've spotted us," Deputy Captain Chen Qiming said.

"Of course they'd notice," Zhang Zhen put down the binoculars. "That's the effect we wanted."

He walked back to the chart table. On it, a detailed map of Yokosuka Port was spread, marking main facilities: dry dock, warehouses, barracks, command center…

"Is the target priority order set?" Zhang Zhen asked.

The operations staff officer replied immediately, "Confirmed, sir. First priority: Dock 1 and Dock 3. Those are Yokosuka's two largest dry docks, capable of housing battleship repairs. Second priority: ammunition depot and fuel depot. Third priority: command center and communications facilities."

Zhang Zhen studied the map. But he didn't hesitate long.