pappabearbooks Chapter 56 is amazing!
Chapter 56 is amazing!
Inside the B turret of the "Guangfu"
After listening to the broadcast, loader Chen Amin's eyes lit up. He turned to gunner Zhou Tiezhu and said, "Gunner, the captain's words are truly insightful."
"Hmm." Zhou Tiezhu was checking the gears of the ammunition hoist without looking up. "But it's no use just talking; we have to do it well. Amin, check the spare propellant packs; the humidity can't be too high."
"yes!"
Amin opened the storage box and carefully inspected each packet of propellant. These yellow packets were wrapped in a special waterproof cloth, printed with the Lanfang Navy emblem—a yellow dragon encircling a gear.
"Commander, do you think... after we finish this battle, we can go home?"
"Which home should we go back to?"
“Borneo,” Amin said. “My parents are still in Pontianak. Three years ago when I left, my mother cried and said, ‘Son, you must come back.’ Now that we have such powerful ships, we should be able to fight our way back, right?”
Zhou Tiezhu stopped what he was doing and looked at the eighteen-year-old lad. Amin's eyes were full of expectation, the kind of expectation unique to young people, the expectation that the future will be better.
"Yes, we can." The old gunner nodded vigorously. "We definitely can. Once we've built ten or twenty of these ships, we'll sail back to Southeast Asia. If the Dutch gunboats dare to block our way, we'll show them what a real warship looks like."
"Then I'll be the first to fire!" Amin said excitedly.
"Alright, you can fire first." Zhou Tiezhu laughed. "But now, do your job well first. Fighting isn't about passion, it's about training, discipline, and perfecting every single detail."
"clear!"
Noon, 17 degrees north latitude, 65 degrees east longitude
The sun was high overhead, and the surface of the Indian Ocean reflected a blinding white light. The temperature rose above thirty-five degrees Celsius, and the deck was scorching hot.
In the mess hall of the "Kuangfu" ship, sailors were taking turns eating. The mess hall was spacious and bright, with real tables and chairs instead of benches, and electric fans installed in the ceiling—although the wind was not strong, it was a luxury in this kind of weather.
"The food is pretty good today." Signalman Wang Xiaohua took a bite of rice and pointed to the braised fish pieces on his plate. "Fresh fish, not salted fish."
"I heard a fishing boat followed us yesterday and delivered the goods this morning," said Xiao Li, the radar operator at the same table. "We're celebrities now; people gather around us wherever we go." (Shouldn't we be able to stop the boat to buy the goods?)
"It's more than just watching." Another sailor lowered his voice. "I heard that the Chinese chambers of commerce in several nearby ports have sent small boats to follow our fleet from a distance. They're watching to see if we're really as powerful as the legends say."
Wang Xiaohua looked up: "Then we need to perform better."
"Of course. By the way, did you see the British? I went up to the deck for some fresh air just now and saw those sailors on the deck of the 'Intrepid'. They all looked like they had crawled out of a coal pile, covered in black soot."
"They burn coal. Unlike us, we're all clean and tidy."
"That's not all," Xiao Li said mysteriously. "I overheard a conversation on the bridge. They said the British engines are almost at their limit. Our engine room is only at 60% capacity now, it's a breeze. They're barely keeping up, working like crazy."
The sailors exchanged smiles, smiles that contained pride, relaxation, and a sense of superiority that said, "We know you don't."
This sense of superiority is not arrogance, but confidence based on facts.
Meanwhile, on the Intrepid, the situation was quite different.
Dauntless Sailors' Meals
There were no tables or chairs, only long benches. Sailors lined up with their tin trays to receive food—biscuits as hard as rocks, overcooked corned beef, and a spoonful of mushy peas.
Tom Harris—the former loader of the main gun turret—sat down in a corner with his tray. He was covered in a mixture of coal dust and sweat, and his fingers were blistered from the burns.
"It's fucking corned beef again," complained the sailor next to him. "I bet this beef was cured during the Boer War."
"It's good enough to have something to eat," Harris said, munching on a biscuit. "It's better than shoveling coal in the boiler room."
"Speaking of the boiler room, have you heard? Boiler B is leaking, and now it's all thanks to the other three. The chief engineer said that if we continue sailing at full speed for another 24 hours, at least one more boiler will break down."
Harris stopped chewing: "Then what do we do?"
"What can we do? Pray that monster ahead will take pity on us and stop for us," the sailor said with a wry smile. "But I doubt it. It's obvious they're just messing with us."
A somber atmosphere permeated the restaurant. The sailors whispered amongst themselves, their conversation revolving around the mysterious warship ahead.
"I heard that the ship was built by Chinese people."
"How is that possible? Chinese people can build warships?"
"Absolutely true. My cousin works in naval intelligence, and he said that the 'Lanfang' built a large shipyard in the Persian Gulf, and Germans and French people go there to buy ships."
"Then let's go fight them, wouldn't that be..."
"Isn't that what? Sending them to their deaths?" an old soldier chimed in. "You young people haven't seen real naval warfare. I know what battleships look like when they're exchanging fire. With our 12-inch guns, I reckon we wouldn't even be able to create a dent in that ship's armor."
"But we have ten cannons!"
"Their one cannon is worth two of ours." The veteran pointed to the plate. "It's like you have a bunch of peas and there's a steak on the other side. What's the use of quantity? The quality is far inferior."
Harris listened, his heart sinking deeper into his throat. He had joined the navy because he admired Nelson and dreamed of expanding the empire's territory. But now, for the first time, he wondered if the empire was truly as invincible as the propaganda portrayed.
"Hey, look outside!" someone suddenly shouted.
The sailors rushed to the portholes. They saw that several hatches on the side of the "Revival" ship ahead were open, and some sailors were pushing something onto the deck.
There were several canvas deck chairs.
Several Lanfang sailors were lying on deck chairs, some reading, some drinking tea, and one... was actually fishing!
"They...they're fishing?!" Harris's jaw nearly dropped.
"And they're using an electric winch." The veteran next to him squinted. "Look at that reel, it spins by itself. These guys really think the Indian Ocean is their backyard."
What's even more infuriating is that a Lanfang sailor seemed to notice the crowd gathered on the "Dauntless" and even waved with a smile.
That smile was so friendly it was almost blinding.
"They're laughing at us," a young sailor gritted his teeth.
"No," the veteran shook his head. "Laughter is based on treating you as an opponent. They didn't treat us as opponents; they just... didn't take us seriously."
This statement is more hurtful than any sarcasm.