Chapter 496: Deadly Turn

In the Bismarck's fire control room, the observer suddenly shouted excitedly, "The enemy ship is turning! About 20 degrees to port! They are trying to cut into the inner circle!"

She Er immediately grasped the opponent's intent. "They want to close the distance, trading Hit Rate for survival." He walked to the chart table, calculated quickly, "We are on a heading of 310 now; after they turn… they'll be within ten thousand meters."

"Should we increase the Distance?" Chief of Staff asked.

"No." She Er shook their head, "Continue the duel. Issue the order 'Tirpitz'—concentrate fire on the same target. Two ships versus one ship; at close range our advantage is greater."

"But Hood's 15‑inch guns can still penetrate our Armour Belt at close range—"

"Then sink her before she penetrates us." She Er's voice was cold, "Prepare the fourth salvo. Aim at the mid‑section of the hull; that burning spot is an excellent target marker."

The order was relayed. Bismarck's turrets rotated again, the eight barrels depressed slightly—Distance was closing, the trajectory flattened.

Meanwhile on Hood, the turn was more than half complete.

Wei Er Si Li saw through the port window that Bismarck's silhouette grew clearer through the rain. The Deguo battleship's lines were bulkier than Hood's, the superstructure lower, the four Main Guns resembling crouching beasts. The ships' Distance had shrunk to nine kilometers—at that range, even in a storm, Hit Rate would rise sharply.

"All Main Guns, aim near the enemy's waterline!" Tuo Wei personally commanded the fire, "This time we must pierce her armor!"

Hood's fourth salvo.

Eight shells burst from the barrels. Almost simultaneously, Bismarck's fourth salvo came across.

This time, both sides scored hits.

The first hit, a 380‑mm shell, struck the base of Hood's X turret.

The explosion's shockwave traveled along the hull, and John Miller in the magazine felt a violent, high‑frequency tremor through the steel plates beneath his feet, as if a giant hammer were pounding the ship. The overhead lights went out instantly; seconds later the emergency lights flickered on, casting a grim pallor.

"Turret damage report!" an urgent shout came through the megaphone.

"X turret is jammed! Cannot rotate!" the turret officer replied with static hiss, "But the guns can still fire! The loading mechanism is normal!"

"Continue firing!"

The second hit followed immediately.

That shell struck Hood's starboard hull near the mid‑section, piercing a thin bulkhead and exploding in the officers' quarters. Flame and fragments swept three compartments, killing fifteen on‑call officers and sailors on the spot. The fire alarm wailed mournfully.

Meanwhile on Bismarck, Hood's two 15‑inch shells also found their marks.

One hit the forward A turret's face—320‑mm sloped armor absorbed the blow, the shell ricocheted and erupted a water column at sea. Yet the impact jammed A turret's rotation for thirty seconds.

Another, more lethal: it struck Bismarck's starboard mid‑section, only five meters above the waterline. The shell pierced the 150‑mm upper Armour Belt, exploding in the corridor outside boiler room No. 2. Fragments breached the boiler room's bulkhead, and scalding high‑pressure steam surged out instantly.

"Boiler room No. 2 damaged! Casualties… at least twenty!" the damage control report came, "Steam leaking, but the main engine is unaffected!"

She Er's expression remained unchanged. "Continue firing. Fifth salvo, aim below the enemy's fire point. I suspect a weakness in their armor layout."

"General, should we—" Chief of Staff began, intending to suggest a maneuver.

"No." She Er cut off firmly, "Whoever backs down now loses. Keep firing."

Hood's bridge was already a wreck.

A near‑miss fragment pierced a portside window, glass shards scattering inside. A communications officer was hit in the neck; the medic was bandaging the wound, yet blood spurted from the fingertips. Wei Er Si Li's forehead was also cut, blood streaming down his cheek, but he felt nothing.

"X turret has regained rotation! But its speed is only half normal!" Tuo Wei reported, "General, our fire output has dropped by a quarter."

"What about the Queen Ship?"

"She is on the starboard flank holding Tirpitz. But Gu De Nuo reports Tirpitz's return fire is weak; there may truly be a problem."

Wei Er Si Li stared at the chart. Distance between the ships: eight thousand five hundred meters. Too close; for a lightly protected battlecruiser like Hood, that range is almost fatal.

But he had no choice. The turn was complete; now Hood faced Bismarck almost directly, all eight Main Guns could bear on the target. And Bismarck, due to Hood's turn, needed to fine‑tune its gun angles.

"All Main Guns, final corrected fire." Wei Er Si Li wiped the blood from his face, "and then…"

He did not finish, because Bismarck's fifth salvo had already been fired.

Eight shells, flight time under fifteen seconds.

The first shell was a long‑range round, passing over Hood's mast and exploding to port aft.

The second, a near‑miss, lifted a water wall twenty meters off the starboard side.

The third… struck the command tower beneath the bridge. The 320‑mm command tower armor withstood direct penetration, but the massive shock knocked everyone inside to the deck. Communications were down for ten seconds.

The fourth and fifth were both near‑misses.

The sixth hit Y turret's face—ricocheting.

The seventh skimmed the stern, tearing away a large section of deck.

The eighth—

John Miller in the magazine heard a strange sound.

It wasn't an explosion, nor a metal tearing sound, but a dull, deep thud, as if someone were hammering the battleship's spine with a giant hammer. The sound came from above, passing through layer upon layer of deck, growing lower in pitch, yet the vibration grew stronger.

Then he felt heat.

Not the dry heat of a boiler room, but a scorching, gun‑powder‑tinged wave of heat, pouring in from ventilation ducts, deck seams, and all directions.

"What…" Tom began, and the entire magazine's lights went out.

The emergency lights did not come on.

Absolute darkness. Only the heat wave roiled.

"Corporal?" Tom's voice trembled.

Miller groped and grabbed the youngster's arm. "Don't panic. It could be a circuit fault." Yet he didn't believe it himself. A circuit fault wouldn't produce this heat, this… ominous, increasingly strong vibration.

Running footsteps echoed overhead; many were sprinting and shouting, but the thick deck muffled the sounds. Then a massive crash— not an explosion, more like a huge structure snapping.

"We have to go up!" Miller hauled Tom toward the lift, "Quick!"

They reached the lift doors. The doors were closed. Miller pulled the handle hard—nothing moved. It was jammed.