Chapter 604: Hunting Hour

The Tirpitz did not return fire.

It was waiting.

Waiting to enter optimal range.

08:03.

Distance 13,000 meters.

Hofmann ordered, "Main Gun, aim at Brave, three rounds of simultaneous fire, covering fire."

The Tirpitz's eight 380‑mm guns roared in unison.

The first round fired simultaneously, a long‑range shot. Shells fell ahead of and behind Brave, the spray of water almost engulfing her.

The second round fired together, adjusted. One shell hit near Brave's port waterline.

That shell tore through the armor and detonated three meters below the sea surface. Sea water rushed in wildly through the breach, flooding three boiler rooms instantly. Brave's speed dropped straight from thirty‑two knots—to thirty, twenty‑eight, twenty‑five knots—

"Damage control report! Severe flooding on the port side, uncontrollable!" the damage control chief's voice screamed through the intercom.

Yuehanxun knew it was over.

A speed of twenty‑five knots at a distance of 13,000 meters against a thirty‑knot Bismarck Class battleship was a death sentence.

"Keep firing!" he shouted, "Put every shell to use!"

Brave's gunners went berserk. They loaded, aimed, and fired at maximum speed, ignoring how low the hit probability was. Four guns spat fire desperately, like the final roar of a dying beast.

But the Tirpitz showed no mercy.

Third round simultaneous fire. Fourth round simultaneous fire. Fifth round simultaneous fire.

08:19.

Two more 380‑mm shells struck Brave. One exploded beneath the bridge, blowing the entire combat command room away. The other pierced the main deck, detonated above the magazine, igniting the stored propellant.

Brave shuddered violently in the explosions, the hull beginning to list to starboard.

Yuehanxun lay amid the bridge wreckage, his lower body pinned by steel beams, unable to move. He heard the sound of water rushing in, the blasts, the crew running and screaming. Then he heard a voice shouting, "Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"

It was the first officer's voice.

He wanted to shout "Do not abandon ship," but only blood welled from his mouth.

08:27.

Brave's bow slowly rose as the stern sank beneath the sea. It lingered on the surface for about thirty seconds—like a dying man's final gaze upward—then began to sink.

Within three minutes, it vanished completely.

Only oil slicks, debris, and a few scattered liferafts remained on the sea.

On the Tirpitz, Hofmann lowered his binoculars.

"Target: Glory." he said, "Full speed ahead."

Beidi's finger froze on the binoculars for a full five seconds when she received the news of Brave's sinking.

That was the battleship under his command. That was the men he had brought. That was…

He shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind.

Now was not a time for grief. Brave was gone, Glory was near its end. He had only himself—and the approaching Bismarck.

From 07:50 until now, he had taken three 380‑mm shells. One hit the secondary gun deck, sparking a fire that was extinguished. One struck beneath the bridge, blowing the radio room apart and killing thirteen signalmen. One hit near the port waterline; damage control had sealed the flooding, but the speed began to fluctuate.

And the Bismarck kept closing.

12,000 meters. 11,500 meters. 11,000 meters.

The closer the distance, the higher the Hit Rate. Beidi knew that if the Bismarck entered within 10,000 meters, he might not last twenty minutes.

"Hard right rudder!" he shouted, "Full speed, southeast!"

Queen Ship traced a huge arc on the sea, trying to increase the gap. But the Bismarck, like a festering wound, clung to its course, and the distance not only failed to widen but kept shrinking.

Beidi called out to Glory repeatedly, but there was no response.

He called Jielike; the reply was always, "Full speed, coming, hold on."

But how much longer must he hold on?

One hour? Two hours? Or…

His gaze fell on the radar screen—blank. He could only guess by feel: where was Jielike's fleet now? Eighty nautical miles? One hundred? Or farther?

He didn't know.

He only knew that at this rate, he wouldn't last until Jielike arrived.

08:43.

The lookout let out a sudden, altered shout: "Left rear, new ship silhouette!"

Beidi raised the binoculars.

The bow of the Tirpitz was emerging from the sea surface. It was coming. It had sunk Brave and Glory, and now it was after Queen Ship.

Two Bismarck Class battleships, one left and one right, were maneuvering to encircle Queen Ship.

Beidi lowered the binoculars, standing at the port window, watching the two German battleships draw ever nearer.

He suddenly recalled, months ago, when Hood sank, the sailor he had pulled from the sea had said, "We saw nothing."

Now he saw.

He saw it clearly.

"Send a report to Jielike," he said, his voice so calm it surprised even himself, "Queen Ship, last known position as follows…"

Sheer stood at the port window, watching the three dots on the radar screen merge into two, then one.

Brave had vanished. Glory's signal was fading. Queen Ship moved on the screen like a hunted deer, darting left and right, yet never escaping the encirclement.

"Tirpitz report: Glory's speed decreasing, combat expected to be resolved within twenty minutes," the communications officer's voice came from behind.

Sheer nodded.

"Continue to close in on the Queen Ship. Within ten thousand meters."

The Bismarck's Main Gun was still firing. Every forty seconds, its eight 380‑mm guns spouted a flash of fire. Around the Queen Ship, plumes of water rose and fell like a sea that was boiling.

Eight fifty‑one.

Another Shell struck the rear of the Queen Ship. This time its speed clearly dropped—from thirty knots to twenty‑eight, then from twenty‑eight to twenty‑six.

Tirpitz reporting, Glorious sunk. Closing in on our ship.

She Er watched the rapidly approaching light dot on the radar screen.

Two male lions, one lone female lion.

The hunting time has arrived.

"Full speed ahead," he said, "within ten thousand meters, fire at will."

Eight fifty‑eight.

Two Bismarck Class battleships deployed ten thousand meters to each side of the Queen Ship, beginning the final encirclement.

Shells came from both directions. The Queen Ship was hammered repeatedly by two giants; each hit made the hull shudder violently. The forward Main Gun turret was pierced, stuck at a fifteen‑degree elevation. Half the bridge was blown away, and the navigator fell dead on the spot. The side hull was torn open with several large gashes, sea water rushed in, and speed fell below twenty knots.

Betty stood in the ruined bridge, refusing the life jacket handed over by a subordinate.

"Has the telegram been sent?"

"Sent, General. Final coordinates."

"Good."

He walked to the porthole—there was no glass left, only a twisted frame. He watched the two Deguo battleships, watched their gun barrels flicker in the firelight, watched the shells raise plumes of water on the sea surface.

He recalled many things. He recalled his younger self, the excitement of boarding a battleship for the first time. He recalled the Japan‑Germany Sea battle, the few hours he faced the German reconnaissance fleet. He recalled the news of Hood sinking…