Chapter 1089: Knocking

On the deck of a ship on the vast Atlantic, washed clean by the salty, cold seawater, a group of sailors was performing their routine duty, swabbing the wooden deck with mops. Beneath these wooden planks was cold steel armor, and below that, compartments for various purposes, and further down, even thicker armor, along with the magazine and fuel bunkers.

This was a maritime behemoth, the largest ever built in human history, a truly great product of civilized wisdom. Tens of thousands of tons of steel floated on the sea, carrying a whole series of flammable and explosive items, including fuel and shells. This huge warship was the German Navy’s most powerful battleship—the Grand Admiral Raeder.

Although the title of the world’s largest battleship had already passed to the Japanese Navy’s Yamato, which had already been launched, this warship could still be said to be one of the most powerful battleships on the sea, capable of challenging any opponent without question.

This battleship was equipped with 8 massive 380mm cannons. Although they were a good deal smaller than the 9 460mm heavy cannons on the Yamato, they had a higher rate of fire and more terrifying accuracy. It had to be said that the Germans’ skill in mechanical engineering was indeed incomparably profound; they had played with machinery to a peak that was difficult for others to reach.

In conjunction with the modified automatic loaders, these 8 380mm cannons could put out a dumbfounding rate of fire, even faster than its sister ship, the Malefactor, which was in service with the British.

The new captain stood on the bridge of this warship, his hands clasped behind his back with a hint of pride. As one of the new generation of young naval commanders, he had already grown accustomed to not using his own eyes to find distant targets. Because in a higher position on this warship, the world’s most advanced radar system was installed, which could help this powerful sea fortress to discover any threatening target in advance.

“Heil Führer! A message just came in. The 17th Destroyer Reconnaissance Flotilla has not found any enemy naval targets.” An officer from the radio room walked to the captain’s side, stood at attention, and then reported the contents of the telegram tucked under his arm. Everyone on this warship was filled with a sense of pride. Every one of them was proud to be able to serve on a battleship named after a living naval Field Marshal.

“Gentlemen, our purpose in coming here is actually very simple… We are here to tell the British that we have arrived,” the captain said, standing at his post and speaking loudly to everyone on the bridge. “I haven’t decided what method to use to tell them. Do you have any good suggestions?”

“Sir! We don’t have any great ideas, but the loudest mouths on our ship are probably those 380mm cannons. You could try using them,” the fire control officer suggested, his voice laced with a hint of a smile.

The new captain nodded. He had, of course, deliberately asked his men in this bantering tone. This time, he had been ordered to command a fleet, with the Grand Admiral Raeder as its flagship, to sail to the vicinity of Iceland to show off its power.

Their purpose this time was actually very simple. It was to shatter the German Navy’s embarrassing “fleet in being” status, and to develop the future German Navy into a powerful, global, offensive force.

“Heil Führer! The fleet’s 10-degree turn to starboard is complete. Heading is east-southeast by 10 degrees. Distance to Iceland is 17 nautical miles,” the helmsman, his hands firmly on the ship’s wheel, reported the warship’s position, his eyes fixed on the sea far in front of the warship. The waters of the Atlantic were still stormy and turbulent.

The bridge of a battleship had always been protected by thick armor, but now the heavily armored bridge was no longer just the command center of the warship. Because it was also installed with precious electronic equipment—radar, and some other important devices, such as an enemy radar-wave warning system, which was also installed here.

“Heil Führer! General! We have already reached the best shelling position. You can give the order to fire,” the colonel in charge of artillery reported loudly, his hands behind his back as he stood at his post, reporting that all the warship’s cannons were ready.

The sharp bow cut through the seawater. On the centerline of the 40,000-ton battleship, the four turrets, protected by thick armor, had already turned to the ship’s port side. The eight long and huge gun barrels bobbed up and down with the rise and fall of the warship, their dark muzzles looking sinister and terrifying.

“Then, let’s knock. Tell the people who live here that they have a visitor,” the captain said, standing at his post. He looked through the window at the small island on the distant sea, which was no different from a black dot, and in a cold tone, he slowly gave his order.

The fire control officer, who was standing straight at his post, repeated the captain’s order, his tone just as mechanical and programmatic. He gave the order to fire to the communications officer. “All main guns, fire at intervals. Shoot!”

The officer standing next to him was also standing bolt upright. After hearing the order, he turned his head slightly and repeated the command into the voice pipe. A few seconds later, the first twin-linked main turret, just in front of the warship’s bridge, spewed a bright tongue of fire. The entire warship trembled slightly with this flash of light, and then a deafening sound was transmitted through the armored doors into the command room.

Anyone who has not heard the majestic roar of a 380mm main gun cannot imagine how terrifying it is. These cannons fired one after another, at slight intervals, sending their heavy shells to the distant island of Iceland. They had to fly over a long distance, and then they would slam into the Grindavík area, destroying the few buildings there, as well as the Allies’ already-bombed-out field airfield.

After just a short interval, the quiet Grindavík was hit by a devastating blow. A shell landed on the side of a street, but the powerful explosion immediately engulfed the entire street. The lampposts were thrown into the air by the powerful force. Stones and rubble, mixed with shrapnel, flew everywhere, embedding themselves in the outer walls of the surrounding buildings.

The cataclysmic sound of this shell had not yet subsided when another shell followed in chorus. A huge explosion once again kicked up a sky-blotting cloud of black smoke. The explosion had blown the roof off a building and had thrown it against the wall of another.

The Germans had come, stronger, more confident, and with more backing than ever before. This time, their arrival was not silent, like in the U-boat war, but with a thunderous momentum, they had stood directly at the gates of the British. This time, they had swapped places with the British, who had ruled the world’s oceans for a hundred years. This time, they had swapped places with the British of the last war.

They were no longer cowering in their own ports, relying on coastal defense guns to barely hold off the enemy’s blockade. They were no longer like ostriches, squatting in their own ports, waiting for the war to end. They were no longer sitting on the shore, and then, at the end of the war, sending out their own powerful warships, to helplessly scuttle themselves in the enemy’s port.

“Do you hear it? The cannons are knocking. One after another, they are knocking on our hearts! And they are also knocking on the hearts of the enemy!” the captain, standing at his post inside the beautiful bridge of the battleship Grand Admiral Raeder, exclaimed, his hands behind his back. The Führer had given the German Navy a stronger soul. This strength had made every officer of the German Navy long for the thing called victory.

The second round of shelling began amidst this exclamation. The reloaded giant cannons once again fired fiercely, and another round of shells flew towards the distant horizon, towards that island full of volcanoes.

And at this very moment, in the British naval base on Iceland, the King of England was asking his subordinates just what had happened. Their warning systems had been all but destroyed during the German bomber raid on Iceland, so their reaction to the German offensive was very slow.

“General Dowding has just confirmed the news. It’s not German bombers! The lookouts have also confirmed it. They haven’t seen any German bombers in the airspace over Iceland,” an elderly minister explained the current situation to His Majesty the King, who was in a state of panic. The one after another of explosions in the distance was also making this minister’s heart pound.

Standing beside him was a high-ranking officer of the Royal Navy. At this time, he knew he could not escape the King’s questioning, so he had no choice but to stand up, brace himself, and explain, “This is probably a naval bombardment from the German navy. They have battleships, so it’s probably their battleships that are shelling our towns, like Grindavík.”

“A bombardment? Where is our navy? The German navy can already shell the place where I am with impunity, and our navy cannot even effectively intercept or counter-attack? This is the worst news I have ever heard.” Although the expression on his face showed that His Majesty the King was somewhat flustered, the good etiquette he had received made his words very tactful.

“Our main naval force has just returned to the East Coast of the United States. Many of the ships need to be repaired in Canada. A small number must be repaired in American shipyards to be able to continue to sail…” the naval general said, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he spoke. With the old veteran of the Royal Navy, Dudley Pound, not here, the burden he had to bear was indeed not light.

“Damn it! Our air force can’t take off to engage the enemy, and our navy, because of a stupid plan, has been sent to the South Atlantic to circle around and waste fuel,” an official beside the King muttered in a low, complaining voice. “And now we’re letting a single German battleship come here and show off its power.”

“Draw up a plan. Either get us out of this damned base and back to Canada, or get our warships here to stop this from happening again,” the King said, having heard the complaint, but without reprimanding him. After he had said this, he left the command room with his men.

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