"Suspend Fire!"
As this calm and seasoned voice echoed in the command room of the British light cruiser "Bend", the 8 warships of the 11th Temporary Fleet of the British Home Fleet had been shelling the German targets on the Isle of Wight for a continuous 15 minutes.
Based on the caliber and quantity of guns possessed by this task force, the amount of ammunition delivered in one salvo was equivalent to that of a German 1939 Infantry Division's artillery regiment.
Through internal ship phones, the order to cease fire was quickly relayed to the main gun turrets onboard. The five single-mounted 7.5-inch guns fell silent, and due to the "fleet salvo" firing pattern, the flagship remained silent, and the six destroyers and one escort ship belonging to the fleet also quieted down simultaneously.
The enclosed compartments were already oppressive, and before the storm arrived, the air became even more stifling, causing irritability. Taking advantage of the lull in the shelling, officers strolled onto the bridge in twos and threes, smoking or chatting.
Due to the heat generated by the propellant, the temperature inside the gun turrets was comparable only to the boiler room on the ship. Therefore, most gunners left the stuffy and cramped spaces to get some fresh air on the deck. The main gun turrets located on the fore and aft decks opened their hatches and observation ports to facilitate heat dissipation. Even the bold German Stuka bombers had to return to their nests to sleep at night, and after yesterday's fierce battles, it seemed that the German Navy's submarines had returned to French ports to replenish torpedoes, so they hadn't posed much threat to the British ships crossing the sea today. As for the German tanks ashore, they were only good at being fierce on land. If they dared to confront the British fleet on the beach, they would surely be bombed back to pieces!
Drawing on cheap cigarettes, the gunners occasionally chatted about the strategic situation like officers. The Germans occupied Norway and swept through Western Europe, relying on their powerful air force and armored units. Now, by nailing such a big nail on the Isle of Wight, they were completely despising the supremacy of the Royal Navy. The High Seas Fleet of the German Empire was indeed powerful during the reign of the Kaiser, but in the end, it lay rusting on the icy seabed of Scapa Flow; the Deutschland-class armored cruisers were impressive, but the "Graf Spee" shamefully scuttled under the siege of the British fleet. Having just gained control of the Atlantic coastal ports, Admiral Reader and his generals were getting restless again. Did they think they could challenge the maritime hegemony established by the British Empire for hundreds of years with the Schanhorst sisters and a few Deutschland-class battleships? They were daydreaming!
With the moist sea breeze blowing vigorously, the ribbons on the sailors' brimless hats fluttered vigorously. The John Bull sailors who had been in the oven for a while greedily enjoyed the coolness outside. Suddenly, the distant sound of explosions made everyone instinctively alert. Urged by the officers, the gunners and sailors hurried back to their positions at the fastest speed. Each main gun of the destroyer pointed toward the coast, but the order to fire was still not given. The distant sounds of gunfire and explosions continued one after another. After about 5 minutes, the sailors felt their warships accelerating. In this dark night, they could only see the white splashes rising on both sides of the ship through the portholes or observation ports. As for the direction the fleet was heading and its combat objectives, they were completely unaware. The distant sounds of gunfire and explosions could only stimulate their imaginations.
Those who knew had their worries, while those who didn't know enjoyed peace of mind. After about 20 minutes, the "Bend" finally issued a new fleet order via light signals (the British naturally feared their wireless communications being intercepted by the Germans):
"Fleet slow to 5 knots, maintain firing line, prepare for rapid fire of three rounds!"
"Adjust firing parameters, load high-explosive shells, prepare for rapid fire of three rounds!" In circumstances unknown to outsiders, the gunnery officers in each turret were shouting loudly.
The muzzles of the ship's guns continued to rise, with angles exceeding 30 degrees, indicating that the target was quite distant.
In the oppressive and stifling waiting, the "Bend," belonging to the "D-Class Cruiser Second Batch," also known as the Delhi-class light cruiser, took the lead in declaring the shelling. The destroyers and escort ships followed closely behind, and the rumble of gunfire instantly drowned out the occasional thunder from the sky!
Unaffected by external influences, the British gunners completed one reload after another at training speed. After just a couple of yawns, the destroyers and escort ships in the fleet completed the first volley. The 6-inch guns of the "Bend" were slightly slower - after the final roar, the sea calmed down. Normally, the fleet needed to wait for the correction parameters from friendly forces, adjust the firing parameters themselves, and then proceed with a new round of shelling.
In the absence of enemy threats, some gunners, as usual, emerged from the turrets, and a few officers gathered on the bridge one after another. Chatting was an important way to spread news and share information. In the time it took to smoke a cigarette, officers and sailors learned the reason for this shelling: the British ground forces attacking Portsmouth suddenly encountered German artillery fire. To ensure the realization of the operational objective of capturing Portsmouth before dawn, the navy had to clear all obstacles for their army!
According to the telegram from the shore allies, the German positions seemed to be located in the southern central part of the Isle of Wight, quite far from the coast. Therefore, the fleet had to temporarily head south to ensure that the 120mm naval guns of the destroyers could also be effective.
With few opportunities to face the German army head-on, British sailors were not as terrified by the sight of German tanks as their army counterparts. However, in Britain, the strength of the German military had been exaggerated to the point of omnipresence, especially in recent days, when the British Navy had also suffered from the might of the German air force. Near the mouth of the Thames, German bombers sank five ships, including the British anti-aircraft light cruiser "Gin Sling," in half an hour, spitting fiercely at the doorstep of the British Empire. In the Strait of Dover, the Stuka formations similarly wreaked havoc on a shelling fleet centered on two heavy cruisers in half an hour, once again demonstrating their formidable offensive power!
The wind on the sea continued to blow vigorously. Suddenly, the strange sound of shells approaching from the sky came, a sound familiar only when shells were flying. Naturally, naval officers and sailors were not unfamiliar with this. Everyone ran to their cabins or gun turrets at the first opportunity, some in panic, others crawling and scrambling, but in the pitch-black world, no one would notice how awkward their behavior was at the moment.
In the blink of an eye, shells with large angles swooped down, causing one thick pillar-like water spout after another on the undulating sea surface. The British seemed to be in a contest to demonstrate their seamanship - as long as they could
navigate through all the water spouts by turning left and right, they would surely receive the adversary's award for seamanship.
Facing a not-so-powerful enemy, the navy from the civilized kingdom maintained their usual barbaric style. The leading British light cruiser charged forward without a care, completely ignoring the wet bridge and deck. The following destroyers imitated, maintaining a tight firing line as they continued southward along the coastline.
As the saying goes, "old habits die hard." Faced with the sudden shelling, aboard the "Bend," in the bridge command room, the 58-year-old veteran ship captain, Colonel Birell Huomo, commanded calmly:
"Signal all ships to maintain formation, don't rush to fire! Foster, calculate the position of the enemy's guns!"
There weren't many shells coming from the direction of the coast, and for the time being, they hadn't directly caused casualties on the destroyers. Judging from the angle at which the shells fell, the guns should be located far away - but from the direction, it was clearly not fired by the German artillery positions previously bombarded by this destroyer squadron!
Standing beside Birell was Lieutenant Commander Anthony Hudson, 37 years old. As usual, he wore a pure white naval cap, a pure white naval uniform, and pure white leather shoes. With a handsome face, gentlemanly demeanor, and noble background, he was the epitome of a naval prince charming, highly sought after at balls. He furrowed his brows tightly, gripping his binoculars to search toward the coast. Before Foster, called upon by the captain, gave the calculation answer, he pretended to be solemn and said:
"13,000 to 15,000 yards... toward Portsmouth... 4-inch guns... 6 of them!"
Birell stood expressionless, as if he hadn't heard the words at all. Half a minute later, the second wave of shells came, and Foster, a tall and thin Royal Navy lieutenant commander who specialized in technical calculations, finally reported anxiously: "The distance is around 14,000 to 15,000 yards, toward Portsmouth, 6 guns, caliber... between 4 and 5 inches!"
"Very well!"
Finally, Birell moved his lips. After the gunfire subsided, the command room was quiet, at least those within five steps could hear his voice clearly.
"That's the coastal gun battery outside Portsmouth. We're a bit close to them, but ignore it. Wait for the army to send the correction parameters for the impact point, and we'll continue the shelling!"
Except for the communication officer's reply of "Yes," the other officers in the command room remained silent in the darkness, knowing how the young and talented deputy captain would look. With his qualifications, commanding a light cruiser was no problem, but the Royal Navy always gathered elite talents from the military, and the competition was much fiercer than in the air force and army.
After a full 5 minutes, the army finally transmitted data via radio: the impact point of the previous three volleys was still two or three kilometers away from the German artillery positions, not only failing to stop the German guns from obstructing the British attacking forces but also accidentally injuring a small reconnaissance unit of the British army.
Birell's face remained as hard as iron. "Maintain course, all ships adjust firing parameters, prepare for rapid fire of three rounds!"
Before the widespread use of radar, night battles were one of the major headaches and challenges that naval forces of all countries sought to overcome. The Royal Navy was no exception. Long-range shelling in the complete absence of targets could only rely on nearby observation posts for correction. After two such adjustments, the allies onshore finally sent a telegram: "The German shelling has stopped. Please continue suppression!"
On the pitch-black sea surface, the 8 British warships lined up in a single-file column began a steady and sustained shelling. Unconsciously, they had moved a distance toward Portsmouth, but the German artillery fire from that direction had strangely ceased...