pappabearbooks Chapter 190 A Good Omen
Chapter 190 A Good Omen
Wang Zhenguo thought for a moment: "If the target is within 15,000 meters, after the radar provides the azimuth and range data, the fire control computer can calculate the firing parameters within 30 seconds. From the main gun's rotation to the completion of loading, it will take another 40 seconds. In total... about 70 seconds."
"Seventy seconds," Lin Hai repeated the number. "That means it takes more than a minute from the time the target is spotted to the time the first salvo is fired. During that time, the Japanese may still be trying to find us with their optical instruments."
He surveyed all the officers present: "This is our chance. See them before they see us. Aim at them before they aim at us. Take down their command ship or their most heavily armed ship with the first salvo."
The meeting room fell silent as everyone digested the tactic.
"But that's the ideal scenario," Political Commissar Zhao Wenyuan calmly reminded us. "What if the radar malfunctions? What if the Japanese are lucky and suddenly appear at very close range from the fog? What if our first round doesn't hit a vital point?"
"Then fire a second round, a third round, until all the shells are used up," Lin Hai's answer was simple. "At the same time, retreat at full speed and move towards Bismarck's formation."
He walked to the window and looked at the azure sea outside: "I know that on paper, four against one is a clear disadvantage. But naval warfare is not a simple numbers game. Equipment, training, tactics, morale, and luck all affect the outcome."
He turned around, his gaze sweeping over every face: "The Fuxing was one of the first main warships of the Lanfang Navy. When we were launched, the President himself came to cut the ribbon. He said that this ship was not just a pile of steel, but a symbol of the Lanfang Navy and the hope of all Chinese in Southeast Asia."
His voice wasn't loud, but every word struck the hearts of the crowd like a hammer blow.
"Now, the Japanese want to sink this ship, to shatter this symbol, to extinguish this hope. Can we let them succeed?"
"No!" the twenty-odd people answered in unison.
"Then show them everything you've got," Lin Hai said finally. "Let the Japanese know that Lanfang's warships aren't something they can just move around as they please. Meeting adjourned, everyone back to your positions."
The officers left one after another, each with a more determined stride than when they came in.
Zhao Wenyuan was the last to leave, stopping at the doorway: "Captain, what you said was very good. But I still want to ask—do you really believe we can win?"
Lin Hai looked at the political commissar he had worked with for many years and suddenly smiled: "Director, do you remember when we first received the ship and went out to sea for training?"
"I remember. Back then, many officers and soldiers were novices, and they had to practice loading shells dozens of times."
"Back then, some people wondered if we, a group of people who had never sailed such a large ship before, could handle this 45,000-ton warship?" Lin Hai asked. "But we sailed it well. Not only did we sail it well, but we also defeated the more experienced German instructor ship in the exercise."
He walked to the porthole and looked out at the vast sea: "So I believe that anything is possible with human effort. As long as we are well prepared and give it our all, nothing is impossible."
Looking at the captain's retreating figure, Zhao Wenyuan suddenly felt much more at ease.
"You're right, Captain. It's all about human effort."
He pushed open the door and left to give final pep talks to his respective battle stations.
Lin Hai stood alone on the bridge, pulling a photograph from his pocket. It was a picture of his daughter, fourteen years old, attending high school in Dubai. On the back of the photo, in her childish handwriting, she had written: "Dad, come home soon."
He pressed the photo to his chest and closed his eyes.
"Dad promises you, I will come back. I promise."
Forty nautical miles behind the Fuxing, four Bismarck-class battleships were quietly following at a speed of eighteen knots.
On the bridge of the Yangtze, Rear Admiral Zhang Zhen, the fleet commander, was receiving reports from each ship. All the reports indicated that everything was normal and ready.
But Zhang Zhen knew that the real test was yet to come.
"Sir," the chief of staff approached, "we've just received the latest orders from headquarters. We're required to close the distance to thirty nautical miles by the morning of August 4th, the expected engagement time. Meanwhile, six reinforcement submarines will arrive at their designated positions tonight."
"Thirty nautical miles..." Zhang Zhen calculated, "That's at the edge of our main guns' maximum range. If the Fuxing is really attacked, it will take us twenty minutes to get within effective range."
"The command's assessment is that the Fuxing bullet train can hold out for at least twenty minutes."
Zhang Zhen remained silent for a moment. He knew Lin Hai; he was an excellent captain and a formidable opponent. But facing four Kongo-class destroyers, twenty minutes might be too long.
"Tell all ships," he finally ordered, "that starting from the evening of August 3rd, enter a state of first-level combat readiness. All main guns are to be loaded with armor-piercing shells, and fire control radars are to be operational 24/7. If a distress signal is received from the Fuxing, or if a large-scale artillery barrage is detected, proceed at full speed and prepare for engagement."
"yes!"
The order was relayed. A tense atmosphere suddenly gripped the four giant ships. The sailors inspected every shell, every machine; everyone knew that the moment was drawing ever closer.
Deeper in the ocean, around the designated battlefield in the East China Sea, eighteen submarines silently took their positions like deep-sea sharks. They shut down all unnecessary equipment, retaining only the most basic life support systems and sonar monitoring equipment.
In the U-19 submarine, Captain Li Wenbin sat in the command center, watching the ripples on the sonar screen. The surroundings were quiet, save for the natural noises of the deep sea—the calls of whales, the movement of schools of fish, and the surge of ocean currents.
But it won't be long before this place becomes a furnace of steel and fire.
"Captain," the first mate whispered, "do you think a fight will break out?"
Li Wenbin didn't look away from the screen: "Yes. Definitely."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because both countries want to prove that they are the leader in Asia," Li Wenbin said calmly. "And the sea is the best arena for this duel."
He recalled the scene before their departure, when Commander-in-Chief Chen Feng personally came to the submarine base to see them off. The young commander-in-chief told all the submarine captains, "You are the hidden blades of the Lanfang Navy. You are unseen most of the time, but in critical moments, your strike may be more lethal than the main guns of the entire fleet."
Now, the Dark Blade has been unsheathed, hidden in the deep sea, waiting for the moment to drink blood.
Time ticked by. In the South China Sea, the Fuxing bullet train continued its northward journey. In the East China Sea, the Bismarck formation followed silently. Around the Japanese archipelago, a group of submarines lay in wait.
Meanwhile, on the Japanese Combined Fleet's side, four Kongo-class destroyers were charging towards their designated positions at a speed of twenty knots. Kato Tomosaburo stood on the bridge of the Kongo, watching the dark clouds gradually gathering on the horizon ahead.
"It's fogging up," he muttered to himself. "A good omen."