Underwater, the sounds of "boom, boom" went unnoticed by anyone. The wake left by the six torpedoes racing across the surface of the sea also failed to attract attention. The cloak of night provided an ideal cover for the German submarine's assault.
"Quick! Quick! Load the next set of torpedoes. Immediately turn and target the next set of objectives," ordered Colonel Dönitz.
"Yes, sir."
The submariners hurriedly loaded the torpedoes, while the submarine maneuvered into position. Dönitz was evidently intent on striking as many targets as possible in this round.
The HMS Warspite, the second of the Queen Elizabeth-class battleships, was a formidable vessel with a displacement of 33,000 tons, equipped with four twin-mounted 42-caliber 381mm guns, each delivering a fearsome punch. However, when compared to the German Navy's 380mm 50-caliber guns, it was undeniably inferior. In terms of artillery technology, Germany held a distinct advantage.
The Queen Elizabeth-class and Revenge-class battleships had become the mainstay of the Royal Navy, serving as key assets against the German fleet. Yet, doubts lingered within the ranks regarding their ability to confront Germany's powerful battleships. Previous naval engagements had clearly illustrated the might and technological superiority of the German forces.
As midnight approached, the sailors aboard Warspite had long since retired for the night.
One British sailor, yawning as he emerged from the mess, sought a moment of relief. Although the ship boasted restrooms, he preferred to relieve himself directly into the sea. However, just as he had unfastened his trousers, his bleary eyes widened in horror.
"My God! What is that?" he exclaimed, suddenly alert. He distinctly saw two wakes racing toward their battleship, resembling torpedoes slicing through the water.
"Damn it, those are torpedoes! Get up! We're under enemy torpedo attack!" the sailor shouted, his voice echoing across the still night sky, drawing the attention of numerous watch personnel.
But it was too late.
Two 533mm heavy torpedoes struck the hull of the HMS Warspite with devastating force.
"Boom! Boom!"
Instantly, massive explosions erupted, flames bursting forth from Warspite's side. The detonations of the torpedoes ripped apart the battleship's underwater armor. Despite its formidable 330mm armor, it was unable to withstand the assault.
The shockwave sent sleeping sailors tumbling from their bunks, some suffering injuries from the fall.
Seawater poured in through the breached armor, worsening the dire situation of the battleship.
"My God! What's happening? Have we been hit?"
"Damn it, could this be some kind of accident?"
The sailors aboard Warspite scrambled toward the hatches, fully aware that remaining on the ship was perilous if they truly faced an attack.
As they rushed outside, they beheld the side of the ship wildly taking on water. Damage control teams immediately sprang into action, but in the enveloping darkness, their efforts to seal the breaches were fraught with difficulty.
Meanwhile, in the command center, Admirals Jellicoe and Beatty were shaken by the explosions.
"What's happening? Did the magazine explode?" Jellicoe furrowed his brow, hoping that such an incident would not occur at this critical juncture.
"It doesn't appear so! It's Warspite. She seems to have been hit," Beatty replied, his complexion turning grim.
"Hit? How could this be?" Jellicoe clearly struggled to comprehend it. After all, this was the Grand Fleet's home port, their stronghold. With so many warships and fortified coastal defenses, it seemed inconceivable that they could fall prey to a surprise attack.
"Boom! Boom!"
Just then, two more thunderous blasts resounded. Another battleship's side erupted in blinding light.
Jellicoe and Beatty stared, dumbfounded.
And this was merely the beginning; soon after, two more explosions echoed in the night.
"Damn it, it's a submarine! The Germans have launched a surprise attack!" Beatty exclaimed, frustration mounting.
"Warspite, Warrior, and Conqueror have all been hit!" Jellicoe's face turned pale. He remembered the docking positions of every capital ship in the Grand Fleet. The torpedo strikes on these vessels would undoubtedly spell disaster. Even if they weren't sunk, the damage would cripple their combat effectiveness in future engagements, making victory in upcoming battles increasingly elusive.
As the series of violent explosions unfolded, Scapa Flow descended into chaos. Powerful searchlights flickered to life, sweeping across the surface of the water in search of targets. Destroyers began to mobilize, preparing to hunt down the despicable attackers.
Meanwhile, aboard U-037, the German sailors were busy loading torpedoes.
"Tube one is loaded!"
"Tube two is ready!"
Colonel Dönitz felt a sense of urgency. The explosions had already begun, and although he was uncertain of their success, he needed to launch the remaining six torpedoes as quickly as possible and then escape. Otherwise, their own survival would be in jeopardy.
"Tube six is loaded!"
"Launch immediately!" Dönitz commanded.
The submarine had completed its turn, now aiming at new targets; all that remained was to fire the torpedoes. The prospect of hitting their targets was a secondary concern.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The six torpedo tubes unleashed their deadly payloads, racing towards their respective targets.
"Quick, dive and make our escape! Pray to God we survive and return to Germany!" Dönitz urged.
U-037 fled the scene as Scapa Flow erupted into chaos.