In the North Sea of January, the biting wind and raging waves painted a scene reminiscent of over twenty years ago when it had once again become a deadly perilous area due to the war. Countless mines turned it into a treacherous domain. Three main minefields emerged: the one near the Thames Estuary and the Strait of Dover in the southwest, the one on the west side of the Danish Peninsula, and the northern minefield. The first was a mixed minefield laid by the British and German navies for operational needs, where most ships had been hit since the outbreak of war; the second was laid by the German navy for strategic defense, also known as the "Western Wall at Sea"; the last one was laid by the British navy to prevent the German fleet from entering the Atlantic and exploiting Norwegian waterways for transporting iron ore. It had the largest area of deployment and consumed the most mines. During the war, it had indeed sunk some German ships. Therefore, whether it was German submarines, transport ships, or surface vessels, they all traversed the northern waters of the North Sea with extreme caution.
Under the gloomy sky, a dozen ships of various sizes were sailing smoothly on the surface near the Norwegian coast. The leading vessels, although smaller in size and seemingly lacking ocean-going capabilities, were equipped with peculiar net-like devices towed behind them, resembling those used by road cleaners. The six combat vessels, enjoying superior treatment, had similar shapes despite their varying sizes, featuring a bow with a vertical waterline transition—known in the German Navy as the "Atlantic Bow." This simple name aptly reflected their combat purpose.
Minesweepers led the way, destroyers escorted, and three heavily armored battleships formed a single-file column. The leading vessel, towering like a floating iceberg, proudly flew the crimson flag of the Third Reich's navy in the wind. Since the days of Schwerin's "Rainbow," the country had never seen such a mighty battleship. From the moment construction began, it became the spiritual symbol of the entire German maritime ambition.
After 1515 days of construction and rigorous training for a full five months, the German maritime behemoth, the "Bismarck," finally emerged. With nearly 2200 officers and crew on board, it was equipped with the most advanced radar, radar warning devices, radio direction finders, and other electronic equipment of the German Navy. Upholding the traditional emphasis on protection, it boasted high-quality armor up to 320 millimeters thick along its waterline. Combined with meticulously designed watertight compartments, it was dubbed the "unsinkable fortress at sea"!
"Admiral, the headquarters has sent a coded message: our reconnaissance aircraft spotted four major British warships off Pentland Firth (the northernmost bay of Scotland, adjacent to the Orkney Islands) an hour ago. Two of them can be identified as already anchored. It is estimated that there are only 2 to 3 cruisers and some destroyers patrolling the waters between Iceland and Scotland, and no ships have been found in the Danish Strait!"
In the warm shipboard command room, Lieutenant Commander Eber Mayer, 27, held the telegram folder and reported the just-received encrypted message to Admiral Otto Scheriacos, 49. The 22-year age gap neatly spanned the years between two wars. Born in 1918, most Germans endured a disastrous childhood, but those serving in the German High Seas Fleet had an even worse experience—they lacked the long history of their British counterparts. In fact, until 1900, the German Navy was just a coastal defense force. Their rapid rise was thanks to a robust industry and Kaiser Wilhelm II's ambitions for the sea. In just over a decade, the German High Seas Fleet became the world's second-largest in tonnage and impressed the world with its resilience. The brutal Battle of Jutland didn't break them, but those once illustrious names vanished after Scapa Flow. Some of those ships, after sinking and being salvaged, were dismantled as scrap iron, while others still lie on the cold seabed of northern Scotland.
Scheriacos didn't look at the telegram but instead glanced through the porthole. A squadron of gray single-engine fighters flew from east to west ahead of the fleet. They belonged to the German Luftwaffe's 4th Air Squadron stationed in Northern Europe, tasked with providing air cover for this fleet when weather permitted. Under Hermann Göring's leadership, the formidable Messerschmitt fighters had never served the Navy so actively!
"We must be near Bergen, Colonel!" Scheriacos said almost to himself, posing the question to Captain Lindemann, who was engrossed in a complicated nautical chart—the first commander of the "Bismarck." This naval captain, lean and with large ears, had been jokingly dubbed "sea elephant" by his colleagues. Calm and steady, he was well-loved by his subordinates—leading the "Bismarck" was indeed a perfect fit for him. He greatly admired Bismarck's words and considered them his life motto: "I shall pour out the last drop of blood for the Fatherland."
Upon hearing the fleet commander's words, Lindemann, in a semi-mutter, replied, "Smooth sailing all the way. We've traveled 20 miles west of Bergen! I'd love to charge into the Atlantic in one go and sink every British ship sailing there!"
The rear admiral nodded at the young communications officer, indicating he could leave. Then, with a touch of emotion, he said, "Hey, after so many years, we finally have a chance to directly confront the Royal Navy of Britain. How proud it makes one feel! But we must win this battle convincingly. A result where both sides suffer is simply unacceptable!"
Finally, Lindemann raised his head, turned to glance at Scheriacos, and the cornflower badge he wore—a mark indicating his origin in the German U-boat force, yet he had chosen a path vastly different from Dönitz's. As General Lütjens, the commander of the German Navy, remained behind in the Bay of Biscay as the overall commander of Operation "Trojan Horse," with the "Gneisenau" and "Prinz Eugen," Scheriacos was fortunate to command the most powerful fleet of the Third Reich since its entry into the war. Though his name was not as prominent as Lütjens', he was still recognized as a "wise commander" in the German Navy. In the original timeline, he successfully organized Operation "Rheinübung," commanding the "Scharnhorst," "Gneisenau," and "Prinz Eugen" to escape from Brest Harbor, passing through the layers of British sea and air blockade lines between the English Channel and the Dover Strait. This operation marked the first time since the 17th century that a foreign navy challenged the British Navy in the Strait area, stirring up waves of protests from Britain's political and naval circles: If the German Navy could break through the most vigilant sea areas, what else could they not accomplish?
"Do you think we should leave the Rodney to the submarine fleet or the bomber fleet?" Lindemann asked in a calm tone.
Siriakos raised an eyebrow casually. "I don't like that thick-skinned monster, nor do I want our latest warships to engage it at close range. You know, just one secondary gun from the enemy could destroy our delicate radio equipment or optical instruments, and then we'd have to return to port for repairs! No, that's unacceptable. We should complete this great operation and then comfortably head out to the Atlantic, severing Britain's maritime supply lines until they withdraw from the war, fearing the formidable combat power of the German Navy."
"Exactly! I prefer to operate in the Atlantic rather than spend all day in the empty Baltic Sea. I'm tired of operating in an inland sea with no enemies!" Lindemann said quickly, seemingly proving his outstanding reflexes. It was said that in the original historical timeline, Fleet Commander Lütjens hesitated for a moment upon spotting the Hood, but it was Lindemann who ordered to open fire, muttering to himself, "I will never let a warship be destroyed so miserably."
The two commanders exchanged words, albeit not entirely in agreement in terms of command style or personal interests, but their rigorous attitude and professional spirit made them function smoothly like two interlocking gears in the vast war machine. After passing through the waters outside Bergen, the fleet continued northward at a cruising speed of 18 knots and eventually entered Trondheim Harbor, which had been extensively refurbished by the German Navy. Here, not only were two of Germany's latest land-based radars installed, but also a large number of anti-aircraft guns were positioned. The German Luftwaffe deployed two fighter squadrons nearby, and the winding fjords served as natural protection. Moreover, the location was geographically distant from British mainland air bases, making it an important forward base and supply station for German surface vessels entering and leaving the North Sea.
Upon entering Trondheim Harbor, the accompanying four 1936A-class destroyers eagerly refueled—they were the first batch of new destroyers commissioned by the German Navy after the Battle of Narvik, embodying the typical characteristics of German destroyers: high speed, powerful firepower, and strong protection. Their standard displacement was about 500 tons higher than that of the 1934-class destroyers, but their range was still a meager 2000 nautical miles, less than half that of the contemporaneous British J-class destroyers!
While the destroyers were busy refueling, the sailors on board the Bismarck, Scharnhorst, and Admiral Hipper were busy setting up torpedo nets around the berths and covering the bridge, funnels, gun turrets, and decks with special camouflage nets, seemingly preparing for a long-term stay. In fact, even Fleet Commander Siriakos couldn't say for sure when the fleet would leave Trondheim and break through the British naval blockade into the Atlantic. In terms of distance, at a speed of 30 knots, they could reach the waters off northern Ireland within 18 hours!