Masters of the Ocean, Part II

Aside from skirmishes involving submarines or small flotillas, actual naval battles were exceedingly rare. In particular, the Decisive Fleet Battle between battleships—a doctrine the Japanese military of my original timeline had so fanatically championed—was rarer still.

After all, considering the astronomical cost of a single battleship, who in their right mind would throw such an expensive asset into something as trivial as a "war"? It might be an imperfect analogy, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was not unlike the reason modern nations hesitate to deploy nuclear weapons in active conflict.

It cannot be overstated: the true purpose of a battleship was never to engage in "naval combat." It was a silent threat, a declaration that said, "We can reduce your coastal cities to the Stone Age with our overwhelming firepower." It was also a form of economic coercion, forcing the rival nation to build their own battleships and blow twenty percent of their national budget into thin air.

Yet, the Kaisermarine was about to commit the utter madness of throwing twenty of their painstakingly built, state-of-the-art dreadnoughts directly into a pitched naval battle.

While the Kaisermarine was itching for a fight, the French Imperial Navy was equally desperate to lure them into the Mediterranean. In a situation this transparent, the French Navy's course of action was simple.

"Reroute all merchant vessels toward Marseille."

They simply shifted the shipping lanes away from the Atlantic and straight into the Mediterranean.

"Admiral Hupper! No matter how strictly His Majesty the Kaiser ordered us to force a Decisive Fleet Battle, sailing into the Mediterranean is nothing short of suicide!"

"...I am well aware, Erich. But if not the Mediterranean, where on earth are we supposed to wage this 'Decisive Fleet Battle'?"

This was precisely why the concept of a decisive fleet battle was little more than a fantasy. If the enemy's navy was clearly superior, why would they ever agree to a fair fight? Consequently, it was also the very reason battleships were so utterly useless.

"Admiral, why don't we simply play the French Navy at their own game?" Erich Raeder proposed. If battleships lacked utility, they just had to create some. The French Navy had rerouted all their shipping lanes to the Mediterranean and practically broadcasted their maritime supply plans to the wind, as if begging the Germans to enter. Why couldn't the Germans do the exact same thing?

"Hmm?"

"Let's take our battleships on a grand tour along the French coast. We make it look as though we are on the verge of launching a massive amphibious landing."

"And the location...?"

"Normandy, of course."

It was a stone's throw from Paris, positioned right at the French army's rear, and highly favorable for an amphibious assault. If the German military were to plan a landing, Normandy was the only logical choice. The French could not possibly ignore the vulnerability of Normandy; even they would have invaded there if the roles were reversed. Granted, the English Channel was heavily fortified with coastal artillery and torpedoes, much like the Mediterranean. While slightly better than the Mediterranean, a single misstep could easily lead to the same disastrous fate that befell Winston Churchill when he crawled into the Baltic Sea. Still, the fact that it was better than the Mediterranean and held immense strategic value as a landing site outweighed all its drawbacks.

"In terms of both quantity and quality, our Kaisermarine holds an overwhelming advantage over the French Navy. If we accept the potential loss of one or two battleships and proceed with caution, it is entirely feasible."

"And if the French Navy stubbornly remains in the Mediterranean...?"

"Then all the better. We coordinate with the Army and prepare a real landing operation. We can bypass the naval blockade entirely and bring this war to an end."

"Yes, Raeder! Brilliant!"

"Indeed, Admiral. Let us instruct the staff to draft a genuine landing plan."

From that day on, the gathered German battleships paraded back and forth across the English Channel, putting on a grand show.

"Have you ever heard Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture?"

"Yes, Admiral. The overture commemorating the day Napoleon retreated from Russia."

"Then you must also know that the climax of that overture features actual cannon fire?"

BOOM! CRASH! BOOM!

Rounding the northern waters of Scotland, the German fleet arrived off the coast of Normandy and began gleefully pounding the shore with their massive guns. Naturally, the German battleships did not escape unscathed from the return fire of coastal batteries and torpedoes. But what did that matter? If the price of securing Normandy and threatening Paris was merely one or two battleships, it was an absolute bargain.

Willing to sacrifice the very battleships they had so fiercely cherished, the Germans poured down a relentless bombardment with the sole intent of reducing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Normandy to rubble. This unexpected move caught the French Navy completely off guard, leaving them utterly paralyzed.

"We must set sail immediately to intercept those German pirates!"

"Are you mad? Even with the English Channel fortified, engaging the German fleet there is nothing short of suicide!"

"And what if they actually launch a landing? What do we do then?"

The French Navy had never imagined the Germans would exert such intense pressure on the Normandy coast. To make matters worse, the Imperial German Navy was proceeding with extreme caution, clearly learning from the precedent of Churchill, who had lost ten battleships in the Baltic. They conducted thorough reconnaissance, swept mines diligently, and maintained a safe distance while delivering long-range shore bombardments. The French could fight them if they chose, and perhaps they might even win, given the treacherous nature of the English Channel. However, their chances of victory would be infinitely higher in the Mediterranean, where their fleet could fight alongside coastal artillery and pre-laid torpedo nets.

"We must wait in the Mediterranean! If we crush the Kaisermarine in one decisive blow, we can turn the tide, land at Cuxhaven, and strike directly at Hamburg!"

"We cannot risk it! If this isn't a bluff and they actually land, France is doomed!"

Ultimately, the French Navy had no choice but to prepare for battle in the waters off Normandy. Yet, the French naval high command decided to exercise just a fraction more caution.

"...We must remember the precedent of General Augustin Dubail, who was utterly crushed in Alsace-Lorraine by the German Armed Cooperative Alliance."

"Which means...?"

"Even without Shtal at the helm, the Germans have always been filthy, deceitful bastards skilled in bluffs and trickery. They likely know exactly what we are thinking. Let us rattle them a bit more."

The French Navy executed a plan they had held in reserve until the absolute last moment. Even in the midst of war, there were many ways to communicate with the enemy. One could send an envoy directly, use a neutral nation as an intermediary, or simply make a scene in the press. France chose the third option: leveraging the media.

They had openly published a formal challenge to a duel in the waters off Corsica for the entire world to see. Western Europe truly was the birthplace of performative media warfare. On one hand, they stroked the German Navy's ego, hinting, "If you truly desire a Decisive Fleet Battle, grant us this minor geographical advantage, and we shall fight you immediately." On the other hand, they baited them, sneering, "The German Navy is a pack of cowards fleeing from a real fight."

Of course, now that the German Navy had established a flawless strategy targeting Normandy, this media manipulation by the French was nothing but a desperate gasp. Admiral Hupper and his deputy, Erich Raeder, merely scoffed at the headlines.

"The frogs must be getting truly desperate."

"At this rate, we can begin preparing for the real landing operation."

"Hahaha!"

"Haha, indeed!"

The Kaisermarine, which had endured endless humiliation as a budget-devouring monster, had never known such joy. Yes, they were ecstatic—right up until Wilhelm II eagerly snapped up the bait dangled by the French.

The jovial atmosphere of the German High Seas Fleet, which had been merrily planning its landing operations, instantly turned as grim as a funeral parlor.

"It... it seems His Majesty the Kaiser... was not particularly fond ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of... the landing operation."

"Indeed. No matter how much parliament whined, this is the fleet he built with his own hands, is it not? He wants to see his beloved fleet... in glorious action... sob!"

The Kaisermarine was Wilhelm's personal toy. He yearned to elevate his own prestige through a spectacular victory in a Decisive Fleet Battle. Consequently, he could not bear the thought of his precious battleships being slowly chipped away by petty torpedoes and submarines off the coast of Normandy.

"Admiral... perhaps we could try reasoning with His Majesty just once...?"

Admiral Hupper shook his head.

"Without the Kaiser, there is no Kaisermarine. The Army may belong to those Junker bastards, but neither you nor I are Junkers, are we?"

"...No, we are not."

"Do not forget that our true rival is none other than Erich Ludendorff's Armed Cooperative Alliance. The moment His Majesty averts his gaze from the Kaisermarine, his favor will shift entirely to the Cooperatives."

"..."

In the first place, the Kaisermarine could never have boasted its current grand scale without the Kaiser's absolute backing. Both Admiral Hupper and Erich Raeder owed their very livelihoods to him, as did the massive fleet of battleships. This was especially true in the current political climate. Members of the Junker nobility who had dared to move their troops independently without the Kaiser's explicit orders—as they had always done in the past—were routinely stripped of their power and placed under house arrest. The illustrious Moltke had already met his end on the gallows, and Hindenburg was confined to his estate, counting down the days to his forced retirement.

"...Turn the fleet toward the Mediterranean."

"Admiral..."

"I know."

A beautiful dream had vanished in an instant, shattered by the Kaiser's whim. The High Seas Fleet of the German Empire—a colossal, floating cemetery—steered around Spain, sailed through the Atlantic, and passed the Strait of Gibraltar.

"We did it! It worked!"

"The Germans actually fell for our pathetic bluff! Now, all we have to do is wait for them at Corsica!"

One way or another, the Germans were now bound for the designated "duel arena" of Corsica.

"Even so... our fleet size is superior. We will use that to overcome any geographical disadvantages."

During their two months of preparing for the landing in the English Channel, the German Navy had maintained an exceptionally cautious posture. No matter how lavishly the Kaiser funded them, these battleships were hard-won assets. For a continental power like the German Empire, every single battleship was irreplaceable. They moved as slowly and deliberately as possible, constantly monitoring coastal batteries, assessing torpedo threats, and clearing mines wherever they could. Naturally, once they entered the Mediterranean, the German fleet slowed to a crawl. The German Empire possessed virtually no reconnaissance data on the Mediterranean, and with no way of knowing what traps the French had laid, they had to proceed with extreme trepidation.

"Surely His Majesty the Kaiser won't demand to know why we are advancing so slowly?!"

"Please, let's hope not..."

While this agonizingly slow pace drove Admiral Hupper and his deputy to the brink of madness, it presented a golden opportunity for the French Navy, which prided itself on swift, aggressive maneuvers.

"Look at them! The Germans are moving slower than snails!"

"Shall we have some fun surrounding them with torpedoes and mines?"

While the German fleet crept forward, the French Navy swiftly saturated the inner Mediterranean with torpedo nets and mines—even cutting off the German rear. The mines laid along the Germans' path of advance might not have posed a fatal threat, but the ones seeded along their route of retreat certainly did. The German fleet's path was being systematically sealed.

"Alright, the mines are set. What next?"

"An ambush, of course!"

A slow-moving heavy infantry unit was always prime prey for swift light cavalry. The same principle held true at sea.

"Look there! A German battlecruiser is crawling at less than three knots!"

"Scramble the high-speed torpedo boats immediately!"

The moment the German battle line showed even the slightest gap, French torpedo boats and submarines would dived in, unleash a volley of three or four torpedoes, and vanish. By the time German destroyers scrambled to form a defensive screen, the small craft had already slipped away. The French Navy had fully realized that no matter what provocations they threw, the Kaisermarine would refuse to break their cautious pace.

"A-Admiral! The French battle line is in sight!"

"If we strike now, we can easily break their fleet, deploy our submarines, and blockade the French coast!"

"...No."

"Sir?"

"It is glaringly obvious they have laid torpedoes ahead and are waiting to bait us! And look at that island—doesn't it seem highly likely that the Italian grand fleet is lurking just behind it?"

True to form, the Germans did not budge. The French admiral smacked his lips in disappointment.

"Tsk, they didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠take the bait this time either."

To make up for the missed opportunity, they launched a night raid using small, high-speed boats. Harassed at every turn, the Imperial German Navy crept forward, finally arriving in the vicinity of Corsica. Along the way, they had already lost a battleship and a battlecruiser, along with numerous other auxiliary warships. Had they rushed forward blindly—the way they had marched through Belgium—their losses would have been catastrophic.

"French battle line spotted dead ahead!"

"All hands, prepare for engagement!"

It was the dawn of a clash that would never be seen again: the commencement of the ultimate Decisive Fleet Battle.