Flooney Island 1940

Fright

"Enemy ship spotted, bearing 094, distance 25 to 30 nautical miles." The executive officer, Major Lockfie, passed the binoculars to Andreas, who, after observing for a while, frowned deeply and turned to a young officer beside him, saying, "Chief Petty Officer, alert the crew."

"Yes, sir! All hands to battle stations! We are about to engage the enemy ship..." the Chief Petty Officer announced over the intercom.

"Contact Greyhawk and Hunter, Lockfie," the colonel instructed calmly.

Lockfie, the executive officer, moved to the radio, and moments later, responses from the two escort ships were received.

"Enemy ship spotted." Lockfie glanced at a soldier on the port side, and the young soldier immediately responded, "Bearing 087, distance 25 to 30 nautical miles." Lockfie repeated the information, and the escort ships confirmed they were ready for combat.

"It's the British," Andreas stated coldly. "Didn’t expect one hiding here."

"They are ambushing us," Lockfie remarked. "Our last engagement with the HMS Elizabeth severely damaged our radar system, yet the naval headquarters assured us this area had been thoroughly scouted."

"It’s not that simple, Lockfie," Andreas’s eyebrows knitted together; he almost instantly understood the whole situation.

"Leston’s team was the bait. They know the Führer cherishes his armored troops; they’d have to bring them back even if their tanks were wrecked. Especially since it’s Leston von Manstein. He’s important, Lockfie. But it's impossible for him to lead such a team northwards by himself anymore, this vanguard team crossing France has suffered heavy losses."

"So they called us to pick them up on the way?"

"It’s hardly on the way, although we only altered our course by a hundred nautical miles. But that’s enough for them; they want revenge for the Elizabeth we sank days ago and to delay our progress northward. They’re buying time—hard to starboard! Maintain course!"

Andreas instructed the young helmsman beside him, who stood up straight, "Yes, sir!"

He then turned to the signalman behind him, "Use relative bearings for all directions."

"Yes, sir!" the radio operator relayed, "All hands, this is the bridge, use relative bearings for all directions! I repeat, use relative bearings for all directions!"

"Maintain current heading."

Andreas once again raised his binoculars, observing for a moment, then said, "The issue is, the cipher to fetch Leston was sent directly from the naval headquarters in international waters. They wouldn’t place such a big bet without certainty. This fleet would play a significant role if it continues north."

"So, was the intelligence leaked here?" Executive Officer Lockfie said resentfully, "How could they possibly c***k that code? It's Enigma!"

Andreas's expression was grave, as he too couldn’t answer this question. If the great Germany could only be confident in two things they possessed, one would be the invincible AB Army Group, and the other, the Enigma cipher machine.

"What's important now is to win this battle," the colonel stepped out of the bridge onto the upper deck.

As if to accentuate the atmosphere of the battlefield, the previously calm Atlantic suddenly became tumultuous. The Kastelin pitched and heaved dramatically, with Andreas, binoculars in hand, standing on the deck. The biting cold wind blew through his brown hair as he scrutinized the approaching enemy ships, his gaze eagle-like, his expression stern yet calm, exuding an aura of decisiveness. This was the true Andreas von Xince, the "Lion of the Seas," who never shied away from battle.

Leston also arrived on the bridge: "Andreas, what’s the situation?"

The colonel glanced at his friend and said flatly, "Leston, return to your cabin, and remember, keep yourself safe."

Leston pressed his lips together, acknowledged with a nod, and turned to leave.

The brink of war was imminent, and Andreas had to focus entirely.

The opposing warship was ready for combat, its gun turrets slowly turning, their dark muzzles aiming straight at the Kastelin. Andreas wouldn’t give them the chance to fire. The Greyhawk and Hunter had already flanked from both sides. He returned to the bridge and commanded loudly, "Hard starboard to 087, prepare the gun turrets!"

"The turrets are ready!"

The Kastelin sharply turned, tilting the entire ship to a terrifying angle. The colonel, bracing against the wall, connected to the radio: "Hunter, prepare for right flank cover."

"Received, sir."

"Greyhawk, prepare to fire!"

Just as the colonel finished speaking, a whistling sound came from afar, followed by a fierce explosion. Andreas rushed out of the bridge, and the Greyhawk was now engulfed in flames in the distance.

"Damn it!" the executive officer, Lockfie, cursed softly in the combat room. Then, the signalman received a call from the Greyhawk: "Requesting permission to abandon ship!"

Andreas cast a deep look towards the Greyhawk, then turned to the signalman and said, "Permission granted."

The Greyhawk was too close. The colonel pondered, acknowledging the formidable strength of the Royal Navy. Captain Vincent was always so impulsive; the Greyhawk had already been severely damaged in the fight with the HMS Elizabeth. But now, he couldn’t afford to think about that; a fierce naval battle had already erupted. Facing a fleet composed of a battleship and two escort ships, the German navy, still recovering from the last battle, was at a disadvantage.

A quarter of an hour later, the battle was in full swing. Andreas was moving back and forth between the deck and the bridge. The Kastelin took a solid hit at its stern, and the crew were frantically fighting the fire, while the enemy’s British battleship was also in dire straits, its deck showing terrifying wounds, spewing thick smoke.

Suddenly, a whistling noise tore through the sky, and the nearby Hunter exploded violently! The fierce fire illuminated the entire sea, and Andreas looked up to see three dive bombers.

"Anti-aircraft guns!" Andreas shouted to the gunners, as the Kastelin's anti-aircraft cannons rose high. All the crewmembers turned pale; French warplanes were here, old models though they were, their posture was one of desperate determination!

Before the Kastelin had a chance to retaliate, the three French planes dived swiftly, dropping several bombs. Some were shot down by the anti-aircraft fire, and one plane was hit in the tail, crashing into the sea in flames. However, several bombs inevitably struck the Kastelin’s massive hull.

Fierce explosions rocked the ship continuously. Andreas steadied himself, commanding the helmsman, "Hard starboard!"

The helmsman clenched his teeth, but could only watch helplessly as the British warship’s guns fired rounds of red light. The Kastelin, already battered, was powerless to evade further attacks. His face pale, the helmsman looked at Andreas, "Sir..."

Andreas surveyed the bridge; all eyes were on him, waiting for his final command. He realized they couldn’t escape the carefully laid trap; never had he anticipated the presence of three dive bombers here.

Standing in the bridge, Andreas took a deep breath and issued his last order: "Crew, prepare to abandon ship."

"Captain! We..." Lockfie emerged from the combat room, his expression grave. Andreas just shook his head, glanced at him, and said, "Lockfie, go. We... we’ve lost."

With red eyes, Lockfie bit his lip, rushed out of the bridge, and directed the crew to evacuate.

The explosions on the Kastelin seemed unending, and the crew’s evacuation seemed hopeless. Colonel Xince stood in the bridge, staring blankly as the explosion approached, his thoughts sinking into the depths of the Atlantic. This was his fault.

"Andreas!"

At the moment the explosion struck, the colonel saw his closest friend, Leston, rushing towards him, embracing him tightly.

A burst of intense red light enveloped them, and Andreas closed his eyes.

This was the first time he faced such a devastating defeat.