Chapter 407: Sinking the Iron Duke

"Report damage!"

"Engine room taking on slight water! Sealing now!"

"Battery pack two shorted! Switching to backup power!"

The second and third depth charges exploded, but at a greater distance. The destroyer clearly lacked precise targeting, merely dropping shells in the general area.

"They're gone," the sonar chief exhaled, "moving away."

Deng Nitzi wiped the sweat from his forehead—he hadn't even realized he was sweating. "Resurface to periscope depth. Check torpedo status."

"Torpedo room report: all torpedoes normal, sir."

"Very good." Deng Nitzi raised the periscope again. In the view, the Iron Duke had moved closer, its massive side profile nearly filling the lens. "Distance 1500 meters. Torpedo tubes ready, tubes one through three, fire!"

Three torpedoes shot out from U-68's forward tubes at 44 knots, carving three barely visible white bubble trails six meters below the surface.

The torpedoes would need about a minute to reach the target. That minute was the longest minute of Deng Nitzi's life.

Inside the submarine, everyone held their breath, hearing only their own heartbeats and faint explosions outside the hull. The sonar operator, wearing headphones, listened intently. The torpedo's propeller whine faded, then—

The first muffled boom. Propagating through water, it sounded like distant thunder.

The second, louder, nearer.

The third, deafening, making even the air inside the hull resonate.

"Hit! All three hit!" the sonar operator shouted excitedly.

Deng Nitzi snapped the periscope around. In view, the Iron Duke's stern erupted in a massive fireball, thick smoke billowing upward. The hull tilted sharply to starboard, speed dropping abruptly. Nearby Yingguo battleships fell into chaos; some turned to evade possible remaining torpedoes, others fired toward the submarine's presumed location—but the shells fell on empty sea.

"Tubes four through six, fire!" Deng Nitzi ordered. Since they were already exposed, he wagered everything.

Another three torpedoes launched. This time only one struck, hitting the already damaged stern of the Iron Duke. It was enough. The massive battleship listed fifteen degrees, and sailors on deck leapt into the sea like ants.

"Dive! Maximum depth! Full‑speed retreat!" Deng Nitzi retracted the periscope. Now it was their turn to flee.

Above, the depth‑charge explosions roared again, this time more frantic and chaotic. The Yingguo fleet had to rescue the sinking flagship, hunt the Deguo submarine, and continue blockading Xi Pe Er's fleet— they were stretched thin.

On the bridge of the Feng De Tan En, Xi Pe Er saw the shocking scene.

First, the Iron Duke's stern suffered three successive massive explosions, smoke and flame devouring half the hull. Then the Yingguo fleet fell into disorder, and the previously tight encirclement developed a gap.

"Submarine!" Colonel Mu Le shouted, "our submarine!"

Xi Pe Er had no time to celebrate. He seized the moment: "Entire fleet, turn left 90 degrees, charge through the gap! Maximum combat speed!"

The Deguo fleet surged like wolves breaking free of a trap, slipping through the Yingguo fleet's chaos. The destroyer released a final smoke screen, covering the main ships' withdrawal. Yingguo battleships tried to reform a pursuit, but the sinking of the Iron Duke drew too many resources—rescuing survivors, watching for any remaining submarines, re‑establishing command…

Two hours later, the Deguo fleet entered the dense fog at the edge of Norwegian territorial waters. Yingguo pursuit vessels lingered along the boundary line, then gave up—pursuing into neutral waters would be a serious diplomatic incident.

Xi Pe Er finally allowed himself to sit. He took the cup handed over by his adjutant, his hand trembling slightly—only now was the adrenaline beginning to wane.

"Casualty report," he rasped.

"Feng De Tan En took three small‑caliber hits, causing light damage, seven killed, nineteen wounded," Mu Le reported, ""Mao Qi"'s bow was severely damaged, taking on about 800 tons of water, but the watertight compartments held, no sinking risk. Twenty‑three killed, forty‑one wounded."

"Saidelitz?"

Mu Le's expression darkened: "The rear Main Gun turret is completely destroyed, the forward Main Gun turret's hydraulic system failed, it can only be operated manually. The starboard side was hit by a 13.5‑inch Shell, tearing a four‑meter‑long gash. The engine room took on water, so speed is limited to 15 knots. Casualties… fifty‑seven killed, over a hundred wounded. Moreover, her captain Feng Ai Ji Di, Colonel, was killed; the shell struck the bridge directly."

Xi Pe Er closed his eyes. Feng Ai Ji Di had been his friend for years; they graduated together from the naval academy, were promoted together, and endured the life‑and‑death trials of the Dutch‑German front together. Now he was dead, killed in a "political performance" mission.

"What about the submarine? The one that saved us?"

"U-68, commanded by Lieutenant Karl Deng Nitzi. They successfully evaded the Yingguo destroyers' chase and are en route home. However…" Mu Le paused, "they've exhausted all torpedoes and were damaged by depth‑charge attacks, now can only cruise underwater at four knots. Returning to port will take at least three days."

"Send a telegram to Lieutenant Deng Nitzi," Xi Pe Er opened his eyes, his gaze steady, "I, Franz Feng Xi Pe Er, and all officers and crew of the special mixed fleet owe him a life. If he returns safely, I will personally apply for a merit medal for him."

"Yes, sir."

Communications officer Walter stuck his head out again: "General, Berlin calls. Your Majesty the Emperor… is "satisfied" with the outcome."

"Satisfied?" Xi Pe Er chuckled wryly, "we lost over a hundred men, all three capital ships were damaged, Saidelitz is nearly a wreck, and all we got was a shelling of a port and the sinking of a battleship. Your Majesty calls that 'satisfied'?"

Walter dared not reply.

Xi Pe Er waved his hand: "Reply: Mission accomplished, fleet en route home. Detailed battle report to follow. Also… inquire where Lanfang's two new battleships are."

July 10, Wilhelm Port.

The scar‑riddled fleet drifted slowly into the harbor. Thousands gathered on the quay—officers, sailors, shipyard workers, and reporters who had rushed in on the news. When Saidelitz appeared, the crowd gasped: its starboard side bore a massive gaping wound, the deck was littered with charred marks, the rear Main Gun turret was skewed, its barrel pointing skyward like the limb of a dead giant beast.

Marshal Tirpitz himself came to the dock to greet them. As Xi Pe Er stepped down the gangway, the old marshal moved forward, clasped his hand tightly, and said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he uttered only, "Well done."

At the subsequent battle debrief, Xi Pe Er recounted the combat in detail, especially emphasizing Deng Nitzi and U-68's decisive role. When the Iron Duke's sinking was mentioned, the officers in the conference room let out restrained cheers.

But Marshal Tirpitz was concerned with more than that: "How long will it take to repair our losses?"