Chapter 621: Two Bismarck Class Ships Can Take Out Six Yingguo Capital Ships

New York, White House

Evening sunlight slanted through the window, stretching long shadows across the floor.

Wilson sat behind his desk, holding a telegram. The telegram had been forwarded from London—a summary of the Yingguo war report and an informal intelligence analysis.

He stared at it for a long time.

Secretary of State Luobote·Lanxin stood by the window, waiting for him to speak.

Finally, Wilson set the telegram down and lifted his head.

"Two Bismarck Class ships," he said, "have taken out six Yingguo capital ships."

Lansing nodded: "The intelligence department has confirmed the figure. Moreover, Yingguo's losses may be greater—Queen Ship and Agincourt were also heavily damaged and cannot fight for three months."

Wilson was silent for a few seconds.

"How many losses did the Deguo suffer?"

"All four King Class battleships sank. Eight thousand sailors, fewer than two thousand survived," Lansing paused, "but Bismarck and Tirpitz escaped. They are now somewhere in the Atlantic, fate unknown."

Wilson stood and walked to the window.

Outside the window was the White House's south lawn. Several tourists were still taking photos—this spot hadn't been left yet. A woman cradled a child while a man photographed them. The child reached out, trying to catch a pigeon flying by.

"Lansing," Wilson said, "you claim the Deguo used four old battleships to exchange for six Yingguo new battleships. How does that balance out?"

Lansing thought for a moment: "Strategically, Yingguo lost. They lost their capital ships. Tactically, Deguo didn't win either—its capital ships can't return now."

Wilson turned to look at him: "But what if those two Bismarck Class ships survived? What if they returned to Deguo?"

Lansing gave no answer.

Wilson walked back to his desk and retrieved a document from a drawer. It was an intelligence summary the Navy Department had sent last week, its cover stamped "Top Secret".

He opened it and found the page:

"Lanfang Republic Navy: Six Bismarck Class battleships in active service. Three are confirmed at Dubai Port, one in Borneo, two locations unknown. Dubai shipyard is constructing an unidentified large vessel, estimated displacement over fifty thousand tons, suspected new battleship."

He closed the document.

"Six Bismarck Class," he said, "there may be warships even stronger than the Bismarck Class. Lansing, do you know what that means?"

Lansing was silent for a few seconds.

"Mr. President," he finally spoke, "I know what you are worried about. But if our participation drags Lanfang into the water…"

"That would be a disaster," Wilson finished for him, "two Bismarck Class can take out six Yingguo capital ships. Six of them? And that fifty‑thousand‑ton giant as well?"

He walked back to the window, his back to Lansing.

"We are building the Colorado Class—four ships, thirty‑two thousand tons, twenty‑one knots, 406 mm guns. Sounds powerful, right?" he paused, "but Bismarck Class can reach thirty knots. Our fleet can't catch them. They can choose engagement distance at will, strike when they wish, retreat when they wish."

He turned: "Lansing, this is not an equal‑strength opponent."

Lansing stepped closer: "Mr. President, although Sher's fleet knocked out several Yingguo battleships, its own losses were heavy. Those two Bismarck Class ships may now be waiting to die in the Atlantic. Do they still have enough fuel? Enough ammunition? Are the damages repaired?"

Wilson looked at him.

"Meilika's industrial level is ten times Lanfang's," Lansing said, "the Colorado Class is already under construction. Newport News, Bethlehem, and San Francisco shipyards are building simultaneously. In three years we will have ten new battleships. In five years, twenty. If quality lacks, quantity compensates."

He paused: "We still have time. After all, we are not on the front lines yet—the participation bill is still being debated in Congress. Lanfang can't find a reason to move against us."

Wilson was silent.

He returned to his desk, sat down, and stared at the spread Congressional memorandum draft. It read, "Request for Authorization to Protect Meilika Citizens' Freedom of Navigation on the High Seas and Take Necessary Measures."

Participation.

He had pondered the word for a long time.

Since Chen Feng said those words in Hawaii, he had been thinking.

Now, he thought even more.

"Lansing," he finally said, "you tell me, what does Chen Feng want?"

Lansing was startled: "Mr. President?"

"What does he want?" Wilson repeated, "He doesn't want to join the war, doesn't want Lanfang drawn into it. Yet he also won't let us join peacefully. He drew a red line in Hawaii, sent supplies across the Atlantic—what does he actually want?"

Lansing was silent for a long while.

"Mr. President," he finally said, "I think he doesn't want Deguo to win nor Yingguo to win. He wants the war to drag on as long as possible."

Wilson looked at him.

"The longer it drags, the later Meilika's fate arrives," Lansing said, "The longer it drags, the more time Lanfang has to build ships. The longer it drags, their fifty‑thousand‑ton giant can enter service. The longer it drags, they can close the industrial gap with us."

He paused: "He's buying time."

Wilson nodded.

"Buying time," he repeated, "buying time until we are all exhausted, until we are all wounded, then he steps forward and decides the outcome."

He stood and walked to the window.

Outside, the sunset was sinking into the Potomac River. The sky was lead‑gray, the water iron‑blue, and only along the western horizon a thin strip of lingering gold‑red remained.

"Then are we still joining the war?" Lansing asked.

Wilson gave no answer.

He watched that line of lingering red fade piece by piece, watched night fall, watched the White House lights flicker on one by one.

Then he said, "Wait a moment first."

Lansing nodded, saying nothing.

He knew what this "wait" meant.

It meant watching and waiting, letting Yingguo and Deguo continue to wear each other down, letting Lanfang keep building ships, letting Meilika keep hesitating.

It meant the war was far from over.

Night had already grown deep.

Sher stood at the porthole, gazing at the star‑filled sky. The Southern Cross had risen to mid‑air, shining like four diamonds set into velvet.

"General," the junior officer said softly as he walked over, "both telegrams have been sent. The German Navy has already replied 'Received.' As for Lanfang… there is no response yet."

She Er nodded.

He originally didn't expect an immediate reply. Lanfang is thousands of miles away; receiving the telegram takes time, discussion takes time, decision takes time. Maybe three days, maybe a week, maybe never a reply.

But he must wait.

Because this is the only hope.

"How much Fuel?"

"31%. Tirpitz 27%."

She Er was silent for a few seconds.

"Reduce speed to ten knots," he said, "let the destroyer come alongside to take on Fuel. Saving a little is a little."

"Yes."

The order was given. Through the megaphone came the engine room's reply: "Speed reduced to ten knots. Main engine condition stable."