Chapter 356: Jellicoe's Doubt

"This may be the last order I give you. So I want to say: it has been my honor to serve alongside you. No matter what happens after today, you have already proven the courage and loyalty of German sailors."

He took off the voice pipe headset and looked at the captain: "Turn us. Course 270, straight for the Yingguo battle line. Light up every light that can still light, sound every whistle that can still sound. We will let the Yingguo people see clearly—the German Navy would rather die than retreat."

The Lützow carved a clumsy but resolute arc across the sea.

Behind her, the Derfflinger, the Seydlitz, the Von der Tann—the scouting fleet's surviving battlecruisers, along with several light cruisers and destroyers, also turned one after another, following their flagship, charging toward that wall of death that kept spewing fire.

In the thick fog and the darkness of night, this battered little fleet, like moths drawn to flame, pressed forward without hesitation.

On the bridge of the Iron Duke, Admiral John Jellicoe raised his binoculars, his brow furrowing ever tighter.

"What are they doing?" he murmured, more as if asking himself.

In the direction he was observing, several Deguo warships—from their silhouettes, mainly battlecruisers—had suddenly broken away from the retreating main Column, reversed course, and were charging straight for the Yingguo battle line. Moreover, they had switched on every light they could; searchlights pierced the night and smoke, as if deliberately exposing their own positions.

"A suicide charge?" Major General Sturdee had also seen this. "Has Hipper gone mad?"

Jellicoe did not answer. He lowered his binoculars and strode back to the chart table. The staff officers had already marked the positions and courses of those Deguo warships based on reports from the lookout posts.

"Course 270, almost directly toward us," the navigating officer said. "Speed... not fast, roughly sixteen to eighteen knots. Loose formation; they look badly damaged."

"It's a decoy," Rear Admiral Hall, the intelligence officer, judged. "They want to draw our fire and create an opening for the main fleet."

Jellicoe stared at the chart. The blue arrow representing the Deguo main fleet was accelerating away to the northeast, while these few turning Deguo warships, like thin splinters breaking off from the arrow, thrust in the opposite direction toward the Yingguo battle line.

A classic sacrifice tactic. Using the sacrifice of part of the fleet to secure the safety of the main force.

But the question was—why now? Why use these obviously heavily damaged battlecruisers? The Deguo main fleet, though damaged, still had most of its warships intact and combat-capable. If they truly wanted to sacrifice, why not sacrifice some old pre-dreadnoughts?

Unless...

Jellicoe snapped his head up: "Order the entire fleet, emergency course adjustment to 030! All Main Guns remain on alert, but do not open fire on those charging enemy ships for now! Focus on monitoring the Deguo main fleet's movements!"

"Admiral?" Sturdee was puzzled. "Those Deguo warships have already entered within ten thousand yards! If we don't fire, they may launch torpedoes, or even ram us!"

"Their goal is not to ram," Jellicoe said, his eyes fixed on the Deguo main fleet's position on the chart. "You see, Scheer's main force is accelerating, but the course hasn't changed—still breaking away to the northeast. If these warships were truly on a suicide charge to cover the main force's retreat, then the main force should seize the opportunity to turn, change course, and use the window while our attention is drawn to break away. But they haven't."

His finger tapped the chart: "So Hipper's charge isn't covering a retreat—it's covering an assault. Scheer wants us to turn our guns toward these conspicuous targets, and then his main force will suddenly turn and charge at the weak point of our battle line."

"But our battle line has no weak points..." Sturdee said, then halfway through, suddenly understood. "Unless we adjust our course and firepower to deal with Hipper, causing formation chaos or making some warships unable to fire."

"Exactly." Jellicoe nodded. "So we'll do the opposite. Ignore Hipper, maintain formation and course, and keep a close watch on Scheer's main force. If Scheer really turns to assault, we'll give him another T-head crushing blow during his turn."

The order was passed along. The entire Yingguo battle line began to slowly turn, twenty-four dreadnoughts like a giant sea snake carving an elegant arc across the sea. The turrets still pointed to the northeast—the Deguo main fleet's position.

As for those Deguo battlecruisers charging ever closer, the Yingguo warships only harassed them with secondary guns and medium-caliber guns; the Main Guns did not fire a single shell.

This reaction clearly exceeded the Deguo's expectations.

On the bridge of the Friedrich der Große, Scheer saw the Yingguo fleet's reaction through his binoculars.

"They didn't take the bait." Trotha's voice carried disappointment, but also a trace of relief—at least Hipper would not sacrifice himself in vain.

But Scheer's expression grew even grimmer.

"No, they took the bait," he said, his voice low. "Only the direction of the hook isn't what we thought."

He pointed at the chart: "You see, Jellicoe adjusted his course, from 080 to 030. This angle... this angle is just right."

The navigating officer quickly calculated, then drew a sharp breath: "My God... this new course will put our main fleet, in twenty minutes, crashing into the front of their battle line again!"

Scheer closed his eyes. He felt it—that sense of powerlessness of being completely seen through and completely controlled by a more brilliant opponent.

Not only had Jellicoe not fallen for the trick, he had turned the trick against them. By adjusting course, he appeared to be responding to Hipper's charge, but was actually resetting a trap. And the Deguo main fleet, in order to maintain Distance from the Yingguo fleet, was forced to hold its current course—with the result that... it would crash into the T-head once again.

"We must turn immediately!" Trotha urged. "If we turn now, there's still time!"

"Turn to where?" Scheer opened his eyes, his voice carrying a calm that bordered on despair. "East? That's shallows and minefields. West? That's the Yingguo fleet's embrace. North? That would extend the time we're exposed to gunfire. South? That's the direction we came from; Beatty's remnants may still be there waiting to pick up the pieces."

Every direction was a dead end.

This was the most terrifying thing about naval warfare—when you lose tactical initiative, the ocean, this seemingly vast space, suddenly becomes as narrow as a prison.

"Then what do we do?" a young staff officer's voice trembled.

Scheer did not answer immediately. He walked to the observation window and looked outside. Night had fully fallen; the thick fog turned an eerie silvery-gray under the moonlight. Visibility fluctuated—sometimes he could make out the silhouettes of distant Yingguo warships, sometimes he could see nothing at all.

Under these conditions, traditional tactics were nearly useless. Fire control systems failed, formations were hard to maintain, and even where the enemy was could only be guessed.

Perhaps... perhaps chaos itself was the opportunity.