Chapter 361: Scheer's Desperate Gamble

On the bridge of the Friedrich der Grosse, Reinhard Scheer faced a similar decision, but in even more dire circumstances.

"Consolidated damage report." Chief of Staff Rear Admiral Trotha's voice was hoarse—he had been working for eighteen hours straight. "Emperor confirmed sunk, survivors approximately four hundred, currently being rescued by destroyers. Derfflinger exploded and sank, no survivors reported. Seydlitz heavily damaged, retreating east under escort of two destroyers, but whether she can make it to port is unknown."

With every name he read out, the temperature on the bridge dropped another degree.

"Pommern collided with Elbing and sank. Hessen and Hannover moderately damaged, speed restricted. Light cruisers Wiesbaden and Frauenlob confirmed sunk. Destroyer losses... at least five, possibly more."

He set down the report and looked at Scheer. "Total: one battlecruiser lost, one pre-dreadnought, two light cruisers, five or more destroyers. Three battleships and one battlecruiser heavily damaged. Capital ships still able to fight... fifteen, four of which are damaged."

Fifteen. They had set out with twenty-eight.

Scheer closed his eyes. He could almost hear Marshal Tirpitz sighing in Berlin, hear Kaiser Wilhelm's fury at Sanssouci Palace, hear the weeping of the families of fallen soldiers.

But he could not think about these things now. He was the fleet commander—the lives of over forty thousand men, or at least the lives of those who remained, still hung on his decisions.

"What about the Yingguo?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly calm.

"Based on reports from reconnaissance submarines and rear-guard destroyers," the communications officer replied, "the Yingguo main fleet is approximately twenty-five nautical miles to our southwest. They don't appear to be pursuing at full strength; instead, they seem to be adjusting formation and heading. Beatty's remnants are farther to the west."

"Not pursuing..." Scheer murmured, walking over to the chart table. "What is Jellicoe waiting for?"

Trotha came over and pointed to two spots on the chart. "He's waiting for us to make a choice. If we take the Horns Reef channel, he'll block us from the west. If we detour through the Denmark Strait, he'll intercept to the north. Either way, he wants to fight a decisive battle after dawn under favorable conditions."

"So he won't fight at night," Scheer concluded. "He'd rather let us escape than risk a melee in the dark."

"But our rear guard reports," the communications officer added, "that Yingguo destroyer squadrons are pushing forward to reconnoiter. The closest have already approached to within fifteen nautical miles."

"Those are eyes, not fists," Scheer said. "Jellicoe is using destroyers to see where we are and where we're going, but his main fleet is holding still."

He stared at the chart, his mind racing. Take the Horns Reef? That was the shortest route, but navigating the minefield at night was suicide—even with a pilot, even familiar with the channel, in such poor visibility, a single mistake would send an entire warship onto a mine. And the channel was narrow; if Yingguo destroyers caught up and launched torpedoes, there wouldn't even be room to evade.

Take the Denmark Strait? That meant a wide detour, adding at least six hours. And at dawn they might run straight into the Yingguo main fleet—in the fleet's current state, fighting another daylight decisive battle would be suicide.

Both choices were dead ends.

Unless...

Scheer's eyes suddenly lit up. He pointed to a stretch of water on the chart, west of the Horns Reef channel. "What if we don't go through the channel itself, but sail right along the edge of the minefield?"

Trotha was taken aback. "Along the edge? But the Yingguo know those waters well—they patrol there frequently..."

"Precisely because they know it well, they may think we wouldn't dare take that route," Scheer said. "Think about it: Jellicoe assumes we'll either take the channel or go the long way around. So he'll either block the channel exit or intercept to the north. But what if we stay outside the channel, hug the edge of the minefield, and make a straight dash for Wilhelmshaven at top speed?"

He drew a line on the chart—from the fleet's current position, due east, cutting almost straight across the North Sea toward the Deguo coast. The line clung to the western edge of the Horns Reef minefield, passing within perhaps less than two nautical miles of it at the closest point.

"That requires precise navigation," the navigator said. "The slightest deviation could put us into the minefield. And sailing so close to it—if Yingguo destroyers spot us and use torpedoes to force us to alter course, we could run onto the mines ourselves."

"Which is why we cannot be detected," Scheer said. "Complete radio silence throughout, strict blackout. Maintain formation contact using only the dimmest light signals. Destroyers screen the perimeter but don't push too far forward. We'll slip past right under the Yingguo's nose like ghosts."

Trotha stared at the course line, cold sweat beading on his forehead. "This is too risky, Admiral. If even one ship's navigation is off, if even one ship's engines break down, if we're spotted by even a single Yingguo destroyer by chance..."

"Staying put is riskier," Scheer cut him off. "Wait for dawn, wait for Jellicoe to sort out his formation and catch up, and we won't even have the chance to take a risk."

He looked around the bridge, at every exhausted and anxious face.

"Gentlemen, I know this decision seems mad. But sometimes, in a desperate situation, the most reckless course is the safest—because the enemy won't expect it."

He walked to the voice pipe and drew a deep breath.

"Attention all ships, this is Fleet Commander Scheer. We will execute the following plan: heading 090, speed increased to 18 knots—the maximum speed the damaged ships can sustain. Objective: sail along the western edge of the Horns Reef minefield and return directly to Wilhelmshaven."

"During the voyage, the entire fleet will maintain radio silence and strict blackout. Only identification lights at minimum brightness are permitted. Destroyer squadrons will fan out on the perimeter but remain within five nautical miles of the main force, ready at all times to respond to Yingguo destroyer reconnaissance."

"This is a gamble. Gambling that our navigation is precise, that the Yingguo reconnaissance net has gaps, and that we can find a way home on this dark sea."

His voice carried through the loudspeakers to every Deguo warship. Aboard Friedrich der Grosse, aboard König, aboard Grosser Kurfürst, aboard every ship still able to sail, sailors listened to this mad plan—some with fear, some with despair, but others with hope rekindled in their eyes.

At least they were doing something. At least they were trying to go home.

"Now," Scheer said, "execute orders. May God protect the Deguo Navy."