Chapter 19: Digging Traps Await Your Arrival

"They're here!"

In the dimly lit submarine cabin, a sturdy and steady German naval lieutenant adjusted the view of the periscope by manipulating its handles within a narrow range. Just over two months ago, Karl Ritter Falkenberg was merely a machinist mate on the old U-2 submarine. Thanks to a thrilling naval battle, he emerged as a naval hero in the mainstream media of Germany, and good fortune followed suit. After undergoing a month and a half of military academy training, he swiftly made the challenging leap from petty officer to lieutenant, then joined the U-100 submarine unit as its executive officer.

The U-100 was a Type VII B submarine, the most powerful submarine model in the Imperial Navy at the time. Originally designed for operations in the Atlantic, its new mission was to lay in ambush in the shallow waters near the eastern coast of England.

While the periscope was practical, continuous observation could strain the eyes. It was common practice for the captain and executive officer to take turns observing. Falkenberg was fortunate that the British fleet appeared during his watch!

Upon hearing the report from his assistant, the young blond captain sprang from his chair. As they had just set sail, the officers and sailors aboard were all clean-shaven and their uniforms exceptionally neat. However, upon their return from a voyage, the situation often presented a stark contrast.

The captain and executive officer swapped positions, and the captain, who was accustomed to wearing his cap at a jaunty angle, grasped the periscope and rotated it halfway. "Hey, indeed, big fish! If only we could swallow them whole... Retract the periscope and dive to a depth of 50 meters! Sonar operator, track the target's position!"

Since they were already at periscope depth, further submerging required only a slight adjustment of the ballast tanks. The black submarine glided silently like a shark of the natural world into the dark depths—50 meters, not far from the seabed.

The crew members took their positions, not a single unnecessary syllable or movement. At first glance, they resembled a group of frozen sculptures. On a starry night, it was difficult for those on board to spot the periscope rising and falling in the distance. Yet, those inside the submarine could peer at the surface through this simple optical device, prioritizing the detection of the opponent often meant gaining the upper hand in an attack. However, the limitation preventing submarines from becoming invincible killers was the effective range of torpedoes! The German G7 torpedoes theoretically could travel 6 kilometers at a speed of 40 knots, but in naval battles, torpedoes with a straight trajectory seldom hit targets beyond 3000 yards. Unless the submarines could launch a dozen or more torpedoes like a flock of torpedo bombers, compensating for accuracy with quantity!

The essence of submarine warfare, in the words of the submarine ace Otto: "One torpedo! One ship!"

By 1940, the Type VII B submarines, equipped with four bow and one stern torpedo tubes and capable of carrying fourteen torpedoes, were considered powerful. They were in no rush to attack; tactical considerations were more critical.

When the British fleet passed through this area with a roar, the U-100 and its companions would surface like underwater ghosts and, like clockwork, dispatch signals to the naval headquarters in Kiel and the operational command headquarters in Amsterdam.

"Big ones didn't come, but the small ones did. Well, at least we won't return empty-handed tonight!"

Watching the staff officer move the positions of the white ships on the battle map, Logan's words sounded rather indifferent. In terms of strategic significance, the British fleet led by the "Hood" and "Queen Elizabeth" was undoubtedly more substantial than the two Nelson-class ships leading this fleet. However, what was most difficult to predict in this operation was the mindset of the enemy commander—if Logan could accurately gauge the opponent's intentions, he would be akin to a modern-day Zhuge Liang, able to sweep through enemy forces effortlessly on any battlefield!

As fellow naval commanders, General Kurt Freik had more say regarding their British adversaries. "They probably still think our operation in the central part of the English Channel is just a feint, or... they think we plan to launch landing operations simultaneously in the English Channel and Wash Bay! In fact, with the logistics capabilities of the German Navy, it's better to concentrate our landing operations in one area rather than three as outlined in this plan!"

"Well, theoretically, yes. But General, if you had participated in the Battle of Dunkirk and the Battle of White Island, you would know how helpless and tragic infantry are against enemy naval guns. I don't want to see our infantry land under the fierce defensive fire of the enemy, only to be suddenly struck by intense shelling from behind. I know that pain... all too well!" Logan sighed deeply at the end.

Freik looked at Logan somewhat disappointedly. If the German Navy were strong enough—even if it could only engage the British Navy head-on—there would be no need for such complex and convoluted tactics to ensure the smooth implementation of the landing operation.

Richtofen, from a noble family, seemed not to enjoy the atmosphere of complaint. He confidently said, "Our navy will rise eventually, but for now... our primary goal is to defeat the British Navy. Since the British fleet has come to us, shouldn't we make our landing fleet withdraw?"

Although naval vessels fell under Freik's overall command, the first reaction of this vice admiral was to look at Logan.

Not yet 28 years old, Colonel of the Imperial Air Force took a moment to ponder. "Let's wait a little longer! When the British fleet opens fire, our ships can scatter and flee! But in doing so... the navy will inevitably suffer significant casualties!"

"Significant" was a cautious term used by Logan; in reality, including combat personnel, there were less than 2000 naval officers and soldiers around Wash Bay at present. A standard ferryboat was usually manned by only seven or eight sailors, while a yacht typically had only two or three crew members—although the landing fleet seemed powerful, it was largely a facade!

Freik seemed to feel slighted by the understatement. He stepped forward and said, "Rest assured, we can endure the disaster of Narvik. This loss won't break the German Navy! Besides, I have a premonition that our submarines will perform great deeds in this battle!"

Since the outbreak of the war, German shipyards had been rushing to build various types of submarines. However, the German submarine force was still far from reaching the ideal size. Even with full mobilization, only 41 submarines were deployed in Operation Poseidon, 18 of which were conducting reconnaissance and vigilance in the North Sea, while 23 were stationed in the English Channel and the western region. Only two task groups were truly engaged in combat: one was the Hill submarine group lurking northwest of Wash Bay, with nine submarines deployed in a fan-shaped formation; the other was the Braun submarine group lurking west of White Island, with twelve submarines arranged in an invisible pocket.

"Let's hope so!" Logan took out a cigarette box and absentmindedly lit one. Between puffs of smoke, a frontline report came in: the landing fleet in Wash Bay was under heavy artillery fire!

"Retreat!" Richtofen calmly issued the order.

Soon, a wireless telegram containing only the word "Hawthorn" was sent out. This was just one of the 59 codes in Operation Poseidon. Frontline commanders only knew the codes relevant to their headquarters and acted according to the corresponding operational plans upon receiving orders. In this way, even if the British could fully decipher the "Enigma" code, they would not be able to learn the true operational plan of the German army. However, this was just a stopgap measure; ensuring that their own communications were not decrypted by the enemy while deciphering the enemy's communications as much as possible was the true way to go!

Wash Bay was a relatively open bay. Under the cover of night, it was difficult for just a dozen British warships to form a tight interception net. Moreover, there were three small German submarines and a squadron of AR-95 biplane torpedo bombers lurking in the harbor. About half an hour later, a frontline report came in: apart from four ships sunk and two heavily damaged, the rest of the ships were rapidly retreating from Wash Bay.

Shortly after, another report came in: the first squadron of AR-95 conducted a surface attack under the cover of darkness. Although no hits were observed on enemy ships, the British fleet was forced to withdraw to avoid the attack.

Ten minutes later, the communication officer finally brought good news: the second squadron of AR-95 successfully attacked the British fleet, and it was initially judged that a British destroyer or a small cruiser was sunk. The British fleet temporarily suspended its artillery fire, allowing most of the ships to flee at full speed to the Danish waters.

The battle on the eastern side of the English Channel unfolded exactly as planned. Logan shifted his gaze to the east. Was the commander of the British fleet hesitating to enter the strait?

"In this situation, if the British still can't figure out our main attack direction, then they deserve to be sent to prisoner-of-war camps!"

"But it's almost 10 o'clock now. If they enter the English Channel at this time, they won't be able to come out until dawn!" Richtofen said to Logan as he approached. "Entering is a dead end, retreating is also a dead end, hehe! A masterpiece, truly a masterpiece!"

Indeed, this complex battle plan, from planning to implementation, took less than a month and was the culmination of Logan's wisdom and that of many German staff officers. There was a time when he secretly worried that his hair might rapidly thin like Keitel's...

"I guess they won't enter the strait tonight!" Freik suddenly said.

In fact, whether they entered or not would not surprise Logan.

"Yeah, quite possibly! If the main British fleet doesn't enter the English Channel today, we can move the bombers deployed at the northern French airports to Dutch and Danish airports tomorrow morning and attack the two Nelson-class ships with full force! What do you think?" Richtofen turned to Logan, the planner of Operation Poseidon, and also the man who stood in front of the Führer.

Logan stroked his chin, pondering for a moment. "I guess Charles Monton Forbes Marshal might just bet against us!"

Richtofen looked at the much younger Air Force Colonel somewhat strangely. "So what you mean is..."

"Wait and see! With the first aerial bombing group and the first submarine battle group, our current forces should be enough to deal with two Nelson-class ships!"

Logan's gaze remained fixed on the group of white ships hovering on the west side of the English Channel on the map. Hood, Repulse, Queen Elizabeth, and Malaya—these familiar names, would they become his prey?