Chapter 637: Arab Sea Battle 2

"Secondary guns ready," he said, "but the target is not a destroyer. It's a capital ship."

The gunnery officer froze for a moment: "General, the destroyer is approaching; if we don't fire..."

"Whether we hit or not, we'll discuss later," She Er interrupted, "but if we waste firepower on the destroyer now, the Yingguo capital ship will seize the chance to close in. Then we won't be able to escape."

He paused: "Let destroyers handle destroyers. Z-10, Z-12, Z-15, Z-18—go engage the Yingguo destroyers. Capital ships only handle capital ships."

The order was issued.

Behind Bismarck's flank, four Deguo destroyers accelerated together, breaking out from both sides of the capital ship to meet the six Yingguo destroyers.

10:55.

Distance 22,000 meters.

"Fire," She Er said.

Bismarck's four twin 380mm Main Guns erupted in a blaze. Eight shells whistled toward the Yingguo fleet 22,000 meters away.

Forty seconds later, the observer's voice came: "Crossfire! The nearest shell is about 200 meters from Revenge!"

She Er nodded.

First round crossfire. Calibration successful.

"Second round, fire."

Another eight shells.

This time, the observer's tone changed: "Hit! Determination was struck by one shell! Location—aft deck!"

She Er raised the telescope.

Through the lens, Determination's stern was smoking. Flames rose from the aft deck, blown away by the sea wind. The warship's speed slipped slightly—20.5 knots, 20 knots, 19.5 knots.

"We hit!" suppressed cheers erupted on the bridge.

She Er did not smile.

"Maintain distance," he said, "turn to 150°, speed 30 knots."

Bismarck traced a huge arc on the sea, speed rising from 28 knots to 30 knots. Tirpitz followed closely.

The two Deguo battleships, like two male lions toying with prey, roamed at a distance, running while firing.

Capital ships duelled at 20,000 meters, but the destroyer battlefield was nearer and more brutal.

Captain Major Haiyinliqi Feng Andelu of Z-10 stood on the open bridge, the sea wind tossing his hair into disarray, but he had no time to tidy it. He held a telescope, staring at the six approaching Yingguo destroyers ahead.

"Captain," the executive officer's voice came from behind, "the Yingguo are spreading. Three to port, three to starboard, trying to encircle us."

Feng Andelu nodded.

"Send Z-12 and Z-15 to port, Z-18 with us to starboard," he said, "don't let them approach the capital ship."

The order was issued. The four Deguo destroyers split into two groups, heading toward the six Yingguo destroyers.

11:10.

Distance 10,000 meters.

Feng Andelu ordered: "Main Gun ready. Target— the foremost one. Fire."

Z-10's four 105mm Main Guns fired simultaneously. Shells flew toward the Yingguo destroyer 9,000 meters away. First round missed narrowly. Second round hit.

The Yingguo destroyer's bridge was hit, the explosion tearing away half of the bridge structure. Its speed dropped from 30 knots to 25 knots, and it began to smoke.

"We hit!" the executive officer cheered.

Feng Andelu did not cheer. He stared at the wounded destroyer, watching it still advance and still fire.

"Keep firing," he said, "fire until it sinks."

But at that moment, the lookout's voice changed: "Captain! Port side! Two Yingguo destroyers are closing! Distance 8,000 meters!"

Feng Andelu turned to port.

The two Yingguo destroyers were sprinting at full speed, their smokestacks belching black smoke, bows cutting the sea like two raging beasts.

"Turn! Full left rudder!" he shouted, "Main Gun aim at port side!"

Z-10 turned wildly on the sea. But it was too slow. No matter how fast a destroyer turns, it cannot outpace a shell.

The first shell landed 50 meters off the port side, the spray soaking the deck.

The second fell at 30 meters, shrapnel swept the bridge, and an observer fell.

The third—

direct hit.

Feng Andelu felt the deck beneath his feet jolt violently, nearly toppling him. He grabbed the bridge rail and barely steadied himself.

Then the explosion sounded.

Z-10's midsection was hit. The shell pierced the thin armor, exploding in the engine room. Flames spewed from the breach, black thick smoke billowing upward. The hull's shudder grew more violent, speed dropping straight from 30 knots—28 knots, 25 knots, 20 knots—

"Damage control report!" Feng Andelu roared.

From the megaphone came a changed voice: "Captain, engine room destroyed! Main engine stopped! Taking on water— water intake uncontrollable!"

Feng Andelu closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them.

He walked to the porthole, watching the approaching Yingguo destroyers. They were still firing, muzzle flashes flickering in the sunlight.

"Abandon ship," he said.

The executive officer was stunned: "Captain—"

"Abandon ship!" Feng Andelu cut him off, "get everyone onto the liferafts. I will stay till the end."

The executive officer opened his mouth, but said nothing in the end.

He saluted, turned and rushed toward the deck.

Liferafts were lowered one after another. Sailors jumped into the sea, swimming hard toward the tiny rafts.

Feng Andelu stood on the bridge, watching them.

Another Shell hit Z-10. This time it struck the bow. The explosion blew the forward Main Gun away, and fragments sprayed in all directions.

Feng Andelu's body swayed, but he did not fall.

He gave one last glance at the German Navy flag still fluttering on the mast.

Then seawater rushed into the bridge.

11:35.

On Bismarck's bridge, the communications officer's tone changed: "General, Z-10… Z-10 has sunk. Eleven rescued. Major Feng Andelu… KIA."

Sheer's hand clenched on the rail.

Eleven. Z-10's full complement was 150.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.

"Position," he said.

The navigator pointed at the chart: "General, our current position is latitude XX°XX′, longitude XX°XX′. Distance to Yingguo main fleet about 22,000 meters. Distance to Z-10's sinking location about 15 nautical miles."

Fifteen nautical miles.

Too far. Nothing can be done.

Sheer walked to the port window and raised the telescope.

Through the lens, the Yingguo fleet was still in pursuit. The flames of the Resolute had been extinguished, but speed had clearly dropped—the Shell that hit the deck clearly caused damage. The other four ships kept full speed, 21 knots, like four tireless beasts.

"General," the gunner's voice came, "Tirpitz reports they hit the Royal Oak, apparently causing flooding."

Sheer nodded.

Royal Oak. That is the oldest ship of the Revenge class, launched in 1914, and had participated in the Battle of Jutland. If it floods…

"Target switch," he said, "Royal Oak. Focus fire."

Bismarck's Main Gun slowly turned.

Sixth salvo. Seventh salvo. Eighth salvo.

The observer's voice kept coming: "Near miss… cross fire… hit! Royal Oak port side struck! Flooding!"

Sheer saw through the telescope that the old battleship's port side was smoking. Its speed dropped from 21 knots to 19 knots, and it began to break away from the battle line.