Chapter 353: Decision in the Dire Situation

The turret shuddered, and two 305‑mm shells flew toward the British Army. But Huo Si Te knew this was mostly a symbolic retaliation—aiming was almost impossible in such chaotic conditions.

Suddenly, the turret jolted violently, more fiercely than ever before. All lights went out, emergency lights flared, and the red glare made the turret's interior look like hell.

"Hit!" someone shouted, "We've been hit directly!"

Huo Si Te felt warm liquid flow into his eyes. He brushed his face and found blood. Some fragment had struck his forehead.

"Casualty report!" he roared.

"Han Si... Han Si is motionless!" Fuli Ci's voice trembled with sobbing.

Huo Si Te struggled to crawl over. Han Si lay beside the loading machine, a terrible wound gaping in his chest, blood staining his uniform. The twenty‑year‑old, who a minute ago was loading shells, now breathed no more.

Huo Si Te closed his eyes, inhaled deeply. Then he opened them, his voice cold: "Move him aside. Fuli Ci, take the loader's position. Others, check the guns' status. As long as the artillery can fire, we keep firing."

But the turret could no longer rotate. The hydraulic system was damaged, and they were stuck at the current bearing.

And the Emperor herself was slowly sinking.

At 18:35, on the bridge of the Frederick the Great, She Er Admiral witnessed the disaster at the front of the entire German Column.

"Lu Zuo Fu" caught fire and slowed dramatically. The Emperor listed severely, clearly beyond repair. "Bomer"—an old pre‑dreadnought—was hit by at least three large‑caliber shells, the hull split in two, and it was sinking rapidly.

Meanwhile, the British fire showed no sign of weakening. On the contrary, they seemed to be hitting more accurately.

"Admiral!" Te Luo Ta seized his arm, his face pallid, "We must disengage immediately! The front of the whole fleet is being smashed!"

She Er stared at the chart, then at the hellish scene outside the window. He knew Te Luo Ta was right. Continuing like this was not a battle but a massacre. The German High Seas Fleet—years of his effort building and commanding—could be annihilated this afternoon.

But turning to disengage under dense enemy fire was equally perilous. During a turn, battleships present a larger broadside silhouette, making them easier targets. Moreover, a chaotic turn could cause collisions, worsening the situation.

He had little time to think.

"All fleet," She Er's voice was hoarse yet firm, "execute 'combat turn'. Each ship simultaneously pivots 180 degrees in place, maintaining formation. Once the turn is complete, heading 000, full speed away."

Combat turn—this was a high‑difficulty tactical maneuver honed by the German Navy for years. All battleships of the fleet would turn 180 degrees at the same time and place, allowing a rapid disengagement while largely preserving formation. The risk was enormous; a single ship mistiming or mis‑angling could trigger a chain‑reaction collision.

"Simultaneous turn..." Te Luo Ta inhaled sharply, "in this thick fog and artillery?"

"We have no choice," She Er said, "communicate the order by any means: radio, lights, flag signals. I want every captain to understand—at 18:40 sharp, the entire fleet turns. One second early or late could kill everyone."

The order raced wildly. Amid the roar of guns, explosions, and alarms, the captains of the German fleet received this near‑suicidal command.

But they were the German Navy, renowned for discipline and rigorous training. Despite the dire situation and continual hits on battleships, the order was executed resolutely.

18:40 sharp.

Across a sea stretch ten miles long, the German High Seas Fleet's thirty‑plus capital battleships began to turn simultaneously.

It was a breathtaking sight—massive steel hulls carving white arcs across the water, smoke billowing from funnels and released smokescreens, shells still raining down, erupting countless water columns.

Some battleships were hit during the turn. "Sili Xi Ya"—another pre‑dreadnought—was struck on the bridge halfway through, crippling its command system, causing the turn to go awry, nearly colliding with the trailing "Bo Sen".

Miraculously, most ships completed the turn. The fleet resembled a massive sea serpent, executing a U‑shaped loop on the water, shifting from a southwest sprint to a northeast escape.

Across the British fleet, Jie Li Ke saw the scene through a telescope.

"They're turning to disengage," Si Tu Di said, admiration and regret in his tone, "a beautiful maneuver. But that means they've slipped out of our T‑head."

Jie Li Ke nodded. He knew the perfect tactical window had passed. The Germans had broken free from the trap, though at a cost.

"All fleet," he said, "adjust heading to 045, increase speed to 18 knots. We will maintain contact but not rush the pursuit. In this thick fog, chasing too fast could run us into torpedoes or a melee."

He paused, adding, "Moreover, night is falling. Night combat isn't our strong suit."

The communications officer sprinted to relay the order. Jie Li Ke kept his eyes on the fleeing German fleet. Smoke and darkness rapidly swallowed their silhouettes.

The first phase of combat ended. The British achieved a huge tactical victory—crippling several German capital ships, sinking at least one, while sustaining almost no loss.

Strategically, however, the battle was far from over. The German fleet remained, still capable of fighting. The night‑time North Sea concealed further unknown dangers.

"They'll come back," Jie Li Ke whispered, unsure if to himself or the officer beside him, "or we'll go after them. This war... today is just the beginning."

On the sea, the surviving German battleships fled desperately toward the northeast under smoke and night cover. Behind them, the British battle line slowly altered course, like a predator unwilling to rush the kill, continuing its patrol through the fog.

The sea breeze carried the scent of gunpowder, char, and a faint whiff of fuel oil from the sunken warships.

The bridge of the Frederick the Great shuddered violently amid the water column from the eighteenth near‑miss shell. Sea water poured over the observation window like a downpour, turning the already hazy view into total chaos.

Rearhard She Er, Admiral, clutched the edge of the chart table to avoid falling. The front of his uniform was splashed, dark‑blue fabric mottled with water stains, like an ominous omen.