Chapter 345: Continuing to Lure the Yingguo

Deguo reconnaissance fleet flagship "Luzov".

Franz von Schippe also stood in the thick fog, but his mood was completely different from Betty's. There was no excitement on his face, only deep worry.

"Commander, the Yingguo are still pursuing," the adjutant reported, "Course 105°, speed 22 knots. Distance about fourteen nautical miles from us."

"Fourteen nautical miles…" Schippe glanced at the chronometer, 04:40, "Where is Admiral Scher's main fleet?"

"The latest estimated position is at latitude 56°05′ N, longitude 5°45′ E. Course 315°, speed 16 knots. Expected to reach the rendezvous point in one hour."

One hour. Fourteen nautical miles.

Schippe quickly calculated. If Betty maintains her current course and speed, in one hour she will arrive at roughly latitude 56°20′ N, longitude 4°30′ E. That position is about twenty‑five nautical miles from the rendezvous point.

Still too far.

Scher's main fleet needs Betty to come within twenty nautical miles to ensure she won't be missed in the thick fog. She must be within fifteen nautical miles to form an effective encirclement.

"We have to slow down further," Schippe decided, "Order the entire fleet to reduce speed to 20 knots. At the same time, have the light cruiser 'Frankfurt' fire a few illumination flares toward the southeast."

"Fire illumination flares?" the adjutant exclaimed, "That will reveal our position!"

"Exactly, we need to expose ourselves," Schippe said, "We want the Yingguo to see that we are slowing, that we are panicking, that we are trying to use illumination flares to find something. That way, Betty will be more convinced we are afraid and will chase more boldly."

The adjutant understood. It was a subtle psychological tactic—showing weakness to lure the enemy.

The order was relayed. A few minutes later, several blinding white lights suddenly lit up in the fog to the southeast. The illumination flares descended slowly in the air, lighting a small patch of sea and faintly outlining the 'Frankfurt'.

"The Yingguo will definitely see it," Schippe whispered, "Now we wait to see whether Betty bites."

He walked onto the bridge and approached the chart table. The staff officers were updating the situational map based on the latest intelligence.

Two blue arrows representing the Deguo fleet were closing in—his reconnaissance fleet from the northwest, Scher's main fleet from the southeast. Between the two arrows, a red arrow represented the Yingguo Betty fleet.

Like a huge pair of tongs, slowly closing.

"Commander," the communications officer reported, "We have received a telegram from submarine U-52. They observed multiple smoke plumes near latitude 56°30′ N, longitude 4° E, judged to be the Yingguo main fleet, massive in number."

Schippe's heart jumped. "Yingguo main fleet? At that location?"

"Yes. The submarine commander confirmed at least six large warship silhouettes, course northeast, speed about 18 knots."

Schippe lunged to the chart. The staff quickly marked the position—latitude 56°30′ N, longitude 4° E.

That spot was about forty nautical miles to his northwest, about sixty nautical miles to the northwest of Scher's main fleet, and about twenty nautical miles west of the Betty fleet.

"Jeliko…" Schippe whispered the name, "He's also arrived, and closer than we expected."

The atmosphere on the bridge instantly grew tense. If the Yingguo main fleet were truly at that location, the entire battlefield situation would change completely. It would no longer be Deguo luring Betty into destruction, but could turn into a full‑scale decisive battle between the Yingguo and Deguo main fleets.

And that was not part of the plan.

"Send a telegram to Admiral Scher," Schippe decided quickly, "We have detected the Yingguo main fleet approximately forty nautical miles to my northwest. Recommend reassessing the operation plan. Repeat, recommend reassessment."

The telegram was sent out via an encrypted channel. Schippe stared at the chart, his mind rapidly calculating various possibilities.

If Scher decides to continue the original plan, then in one hour the Deguo main fleet will rendezvous with Schippe's fleet at the meeting point. But at that time the Betty fleet will be about twenty nautical miles to the northwest, and the Yingguo main fleet about forty nautical miles to the northwest.

The Deguo fleet will be caught between the two Yingguo fleets.

If Scher decides to abort the plan, Schippe's fleet must quickly shake off Betty and retreat eastward. But that would squander the earlier effort and might lead to being caught and forced into battle during the retreat.

Whichever choice is made, it is fraught with risk.

"Commander!" the lookout shouted suddenly, "Starboard side, smoke plumes increasing! Yingguo are accelerating!"

Schippe rushed to the porthole. In the thick fog, the smoke plumes to the northwest indeed grew denser and thicker. That was the sign of the warships' boilers running at full power during acceleration.

Betty took the bait.

Betty saw the illumination flares, saw the Deguo fleet's "panicked" behavior, judged Schippe to be in trouble, and therefore decided to accelerate the pursuit, trying to bite them before the Deguo "flee."

A perfect bait tactic.

But at that moment, Schippe felt a chill. He knew that the more urgently Betty chased, the closer she would be to Scher's main fleet, and also the closer to the Yingguo main fleet.

The three sides, over fifty warships and nearly one hundred thousand sailors, were converging in the thick fog of the North Sea toward the same point.

And that point was about to become the focus of history.

"All ships, attention," Schippe took a deep breath, speaking into the megaphone, "Maintain course and speed. Main Gun loaded, but do not fire without orders. We need to let the Yingguo get a little closer… a little bit closer."

His voice was calm, but the hand holding the megaphone trembled slightly.

It was not fear, but duty.

As bait, he must draw the enemy to the right position, but cannot let the enemy bite him too early.

As fleet commander, he must complete the mission, yet also preserve the lives of his young subordinates as much as possible.

This balance is too hard to grasp.

Outside the window, the thick fog persisted.

The sea surface was as calm as a gray mirror, reflecting the sky and the steel shadows sailing through the fog.

The calm before the storm always feels especially oppressive.

At 05:30 in the morning, the sky remained dim.

The thick fog showed no sign of dissipating; instead, the refraction of the morning light made it even more chaotic. Visibility had dropped to less than three hundred yards, and the warships could only rely on light signals to stay in contact; those farther away vanished completely behind the gray‑white curtain.

Jeliko stood on the bridge of the "Iron Duke", his brows tightly knit. He had been standing there for nearly two hours, hardly moving. The coffee in his hand had long gone cold, but he didn't notice.

"Admiral, latest estimated position," the staff officer handed over the chart.

On the map, the red and blue arrows were already very close. The Betty fleet was at the far east, about twelve nautical miles from Deguo Schippe's fleet. Schippe's fleet was in the middle, about fifteen nautical miles from Deguo Scher's main fleet. Jeliko's own main fleet was on the west, about twenty‑five nautical miles from Betty and about forty nautical miles from the Deguo main fleet.

An irregular triangle, each vertex a massive fleet.