Chapter 495: Shells Cutting Through the Rain Curtain

5:34 a. m.

"Distance 12,000 meters!" In the Bismarck's fire control room, Gun Captain Lt. Colonel Karl von Müller shouted into the speaking tube, "Target confirmed, enemy ship on the right! All Main Guns, prepare—"

Shel stood at the firing command post behind the bridge, holding a pair of binoculars. Though he could see nothing, the sense of ceremony mattered. He felt the ship's hull vibration shift—eight 380 mm Main Guns completed their final angular adjustments, and the breech firing mechanisms were ready.

"Fire!"

"Fire!"

The order was transmitted simultaneously by electric bell and shouts. The Bismarck's midsection jolted violently, and the four twin turrets sequentially spewed orange‑red flames dozens of meters long. The muzzle blast tore a vacuum in the sea surface, instantly vaporizing and dispersing the surrounding rain curtain. An 800‑kilogram armor‑piercing shell ripped through the air, emitting a high‑pitched scream like a train in a tunnel, and sped toward the target 12,000 meters away.

Shell flight time: about 25 seconds.

Shel lowered the binoculars and turned to the radar screen. "Prepare to record impact points."

"Muzzle flash! 30 degrees to starboard!"

Hood's lookout shouted with a hiss. Almost simultaneously, the radar officer confirmed, "Enemy ship firing! Calculating trajectory—"

Wellesley didn't even have time to order evasive action. Eight German shells had already ripped through the rain curtain and fallen.

The first salvo was a test. Four shells landed 200 meters ahead of Hood's port side, sending a massive water column thirty meters high, the sea water crashing onto the deck like a waterfall. The other four, long‑range shots, raised another wall of water behind the starboard side.

"Near miss! No damage!" reported the damage control center.

"Return fire!" Wellesley's voice was as hard as iron. "Target the enemy flagship, all Main Guns, salvo!"

Colonel Tuo Wei personally repeated the order into the speaking tube: "Turret A, Turret B, Turret X, Turret Y—fire!"

Hood's first full salvo.

The roar of eight 15‑inch guns vibrating together made the entire battleship feel as if a giant had kicked it. John Miller, in the magazine, felt the steel deck beneath his feet jolt violently, and the overhead lights flickered wildly. The motor whine of the rotating turrets, the metallic clatter of shell loading, the exhaust after firing—all these noises blended into a continuous low‑frequency rumble.

"Second round! Quickly!" the turret officer shouted again.

Miller and his teammates rushed toward the next shell. Their motions were mechanized: untying the securing cables, pushing it onto the cradle, inspecting the propellant bags, activating the hoist. Sweat soaked each sailor's coarse canvas uniform.

On deck, a shell was in flight.

In the Bismarck's fire control room, the observer stared at the stopwatch.

"Impact points… near miss! Two on port, two on starboard! Target still on original course!"

"Adjust 50 mils to the left, reduce distance by 200 meters." Lt. Colonel Müller's voice was steady, "Second round, load—"

"Enemy ship returning fire!" the radar officer shouted suddenly, "Eight shells, trajectory calculation… impact points around our ship!"

Shel felt the ship begin to turn. Helmsman Bernhard was executing a Z‑shaped maneuver, the standard evasion. But the 40,000‑ton giant turned clumsily, even slower in the storm.

The first British shell landed 50 meters off Bismarck's port side. The second was closer—20 meters. Sea water splashed onto the bridge's side window, blurring the view.

"Near‑miss shell fragments hit the port secondary gun position!" damage control reported, "Three personnel lightly wounded, main guns unharmed."

"Don't stop!" Shel said into the speaking tube, "Keep firing!"

The Bismarck's second full salvo fired thirty seconds later. This time, the adjustment took effect.

"Hit! Our ship's midsection hit!"

In Hood's bridge, the lookout's scream made everyone's hearts sink.

Wellesley rushed to the port side window. He saw—a ball of orange‑red flame stubbornly burning in the rain between Turret B and Turret X, on the lifeboat deck area. Black smoke poured from the breach, then was blown away by the gale, but the fire was clearly spreading.

"Damage report!" Tuo Wei shouted into the communicator.

"A shell hit the lifeboat deck behind Turret B! A 380 mm armor‑piercing shell penetrated the upper armor and exploded inside the boat storage! The fire has spread to ventilation shaft No. 2! Damage control team is en route!"

"Can the fire be contained?"

"The rain is heavy, General! But the explosion ignited paint and wood—"

Before the words finished, Hood's third full salvo was fired. The ship shuddered again, this time mixed with an ominous metallic tearing sound.

Wellesley stared at the burning area. The flames illuminated the nearby deck; he saw twisted steel, scattered lifeboat fragments, and a few tiny figures sprinting through the fire—damage control team fighting desperately.

"General," Tuo Wei walked up to him, lowering his voice, "We can't keep firing like this. In this storm, our gun dispersion is too great. The Germans have the initiative, and they have two—"

"I know." Wellesley cut him off. He walked back to the chart table, his finger pointing at the two markers representing Hood and Bismarck. The two ships' headings were almost parallel, distance 11,000 meters, both sides using their full broadside fire against each other. This is the most classic battleship duel formation, but also the one that strains protection and firepower the most.

As for Hood, being a battlecruiser, its original design emphasized speed and firepower; its protection… was intended to counter cruiser‑class guns.

"Relay the order." Wellesley looked up, "Port rudder twenty degrees. We will cut into the inner circle, close the distance, and concentrate all Main Gun fire on Bismarck. At the same time, order the Queen Ship to turn right and loop, dispersing the enemy's fire."

"General, closing the distance means—" Tuo Wei began, then stopped.

"It means we become easier to be hit, but also our Hit Rate will increase." Wellesley looked at his captain, "Colonel Tuo Wei, do you have a better suggestion?"

Tuo Wei was silent for two seconds. "No, General."

"Then execute it."

The order was given. The helmsman began turning the massive rudder wheel over six meters in diameter. Hood's 40,000‑ton hull slowly tilted left amid the swell, the bow cutting the waves as it began to alter course.

In the magazine, John Miller felt the ship's tilt angle change.

"We're turning!" Tom shouted.

"Keep working!" Miller pushed him back to his post, "Turning isn't your concern! Get the shells up!"

But Miller knew in his heart. Turning meant a tactical shift. It meant the commanders above thought the current approach wasn't working. It meant… the situation might not be good.

He looked up at the steel ceiling above, as if through the layers of deck he could see the burning lifeboat deck. Explosion sounds came faintly, like a muffled thunder.