Major General Benjamin stood transfixed, watching the *Barham* succumb to the depths; its perseverance until now had been nothing short of remarkable.
During the recent skirmish, the *Barham* had been struck anew, a 380mm shell and a 343mm shell hitting it simultaneously. One projectile slammed into the stern, obliterating its steering gear and causing catastrophic flooding. The other tore through the *Barham*'s underwater armor. Despite its formidable 330mm thickness, the 380mm shell breached it effortlessly, resulting in a gaping hole below the waterline. Torrents of seawater surged into the stricken vessel, leaving the damage control teams with no opportunity to plug the breach. Their attempts to secure the watertight doors met with failure.
Ultimately, the *Barham* overturned due to excessive flooding and quickly sank beneath the waves.
"Damn it, the *Barham* is gone. Which ship will be next? The *Malaya* or our flagship, the *Queen Elizabeth*?" Major General Benjamin silently mused, his confidence in victory all but extinguished.
At this moment, the British Navy's main fleet was swiftly advancing southward, hundreds of warships arrayed across the sea, exuding an aura of formidable strength.
However, aboard the *Revenge*, Admiral John Jellicoe remained furrowed in thought.
"General, General Beatty reports that the *Queen Mary* has been sunk," a communications officer announced.
"I am aware," Jellicoe replied, his expression devoid of emotion.
The atmosphere in the command tower grew thick with tension. The Royal Navy had lost yet another battlecruiser, leaving them with only two remaining. It was a daunting challenge for Vice Admiral Beatty to defend against six German battlecruisers with such limited resources; further bad news was likely imminent.
As anticipated, mere minutes later, the communications officer returned with grim tidings.
"Admiral, Major General Benjamin reports that the *Barham* has been sunk."
Jellicoe's countenance darkened, as if a storm were brewing within him. The loss of yet another battlecruiser and battleship meant that they had now sacrificed five capital ships before facing the German fleet. This was a significant blow to the Royal Navy's formidable strength.
The officers in the command tower dared not utter a word, fearful of provoking Jellicoe's ire.
"How long until we reach the battlefield?" Jellicoe inquired.
"Sir, at our current speed, we should arrive in approximately half an hour," an officer replied.
"Half an hour? Order all ships to prepare for battle. Upon arrival, we will engage immediately. This time, we shall make the Germans pay dearly for their blood!" Jellicoe commanded, his resolve solidifying amidst the heavy losses. His singular focus was on sinking German warships and avenging those already lost.
Yet, he was acutely aware of the formidable challenge that lay ahead.
The battle raged on. The six ships of the German 1st Battlecruiser Squadron continued their assault on the remaining two British battlecruisers.
Shells rained down around the *Tiger* and *Princess Royal*, sending plumes of water skyward. The deluge soaked the decks, intensifying the anxiety among the British sailors, many of whom were pale with fear. They understood the gravity of their predicament; a misstep could see them follow the fate of the sunken vessels.
"Boom!"
A cataclysmic explosion reverberated across the sea.
The *Princess Royal* was engulfed in flames and smoke.
"What happened?" Vice Admiral Beatty demanded.
"Sir, the main turret of the *Princess Royal* has been hit. It appears the ammunition magazine was detonated," an officer reported, his face ashen.
Beatty closed his eyes in despair. Following such a blow, it was clear that the *Princess Royal* was beyond salvation.
Indeed, the vessel's bow was nearly obliterated, and in under two minutes, it sank beneath the waves.
The British battlecruiser squadron was now reduced to a single ship, still under the relentless assault of the German battlecruisers. How much longer could they endure? Only fate could determine.
"Excellent work! Surround the British *Tiger* and sink their remaining battlecruisers!" Vice Admiral Hipper commanded, exhilarated.
If he could eradicate the British battlecruisers, it would represent a monumental victory.
Yet, Hipper's ambition remained unfulfilled. Just as the *Tiger* faced imminent peril, the British main fleet arrived.
"Fire!"
At Admiral Jellicoe's command, the six *Revenge-class* battleships unleashed a barrage.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
With a thunderous roar, the 381mm shells, propelled by the wrath of British sailors, struck at the German 1st Battlecruiser Squadron.
After a moment of hesitation, Hipper ordered a retreat, recognizing that preserving his forces was paramount. He would not sacrifice his ships for the *Tiger*; that would be an unwise gamble.
"Inform the Commander and the 2nd Battlecruiser Squadron that the British main fleet has arrived. Particularly alert General Spee to seize the opportunity and eliminate the British *Queen Elizabeth-class* battleship," Hipper instructed.