"General, the current situation is extremely dire. The *Indomitable* and the *Montagu* have both been sunk, along with several other battleships. As for the armored cruisers, both the *Minotaur* and the *Naglfar* have also been lost," reported a staff officer to Vice Admiral Cavison on the bridge of the *HMS Edward VII*.
The *Edward VII*, the flagship of the fleet, had been fortunate, though. Despite being the fleet's flagship, it had not been targeted by the German naval aircraft. This was not due to any tactical brilliance, but simply because the flagship's flag had been lowered before the battle began. The Germans had not realized that this ship was the fleet's command vessel.
After all, the *Edward VII*-class battleships, of which there were eight, were nearly identical in appearance.
Vice Admiral Cavison, upon hearing the report, said nothing. The German naval aircraft were methodically massacring the fleet. One massive warship after another was struck, bursting into flames, and eventually sinking.
The once-proud Royal Navy was no longer as arrogant as it had been just days ago. Only a short time earlier, they had been mercilessly firing upon German infantry in Le Havre with their powerful naval guns, tearing apart the enemy's soldiers. But now, it was as if the roles had reversed, and they were the ones being hunted down by the German forces.
"Order all ships to continue westward. The German aircraft are launching from land. To avoid their attacks, the only option is to distance ourselves as much as possible from the shore," said Cavison.
"Yes, sir," the staff officer replied, nodding.
When there was no way to counter the German aircraft, fleeing had become their only option. However, even Cavison had little confidence in their chances of escape.
"Sir, the German planes are dropping torpedoes and bombs. But from my observations, it seems they only carry one torpedo or one bomb at a time. After releasing their payload, they immediately depart. While their attacks are devastating, their capabilities are limited. If we can just hold out until they run out of munitions, we might survive," an officer said.
Cavison paused, then nodded in agreement. "Indeed, that may be our only hope. Perhaps we still have a chance to escape!"
Of course, the idea of escaping unscathed was impossible. But if they could save most of their fleet, it would still be a rare victory—far better than being completely sunk here. As for providing support to the infantry or helping them hold Le Havre, Cavison dared not mention it again. They were already fighting for their own survival, and any hope of aiding the army was lost. The British Expeditionary Force would have to rely solely on itself.
"Pass the word to all ships. Let them know to hold on as best they can. If we can just make it until the end, we will be able to retreat safely to Britain!" Cavison ordered.
As the fleet endured the relentless attacks from the German aircraft, morale was quickly plummeting. If they could stabilize the morale of the fleet, or even lift it somewhat, it would greatly aid their continued resistance.
Sure enough, when word spread that the German aircraft would soon be forced to return due to depleted munitions, the British sailors and officers breathed a collective sigh of relief. They could only pray to God, hoping the bombs and torpedoes wouldn't land on their ships. If they were fortunate, they might still survive.
"Boom! Boom!"
Loud explosions rang out aboard the British *Devonshire* armored cruiser, a massive ship of over 10,000 tons, which was now engulfed in flames and smoke. As the smoke cleared, the sea was left barren.
In the explosion, a bomb had pierced the deck armor, then continued to penetrate the ammunition stores below the turrets, causing a chain reaction. Hundreds of 190mm shells exploded, tearing the *Devonshire* apart into fragments.
Seeing another of their ships sink, Cavison couldn't help but twitch his mouth in frustration.
"This is the last one. Soon, the German planes will run out of ammunition. After that, we won't suffer any more losses," Cavison told himself internally.
Of course, this wasn't the first time he had reassured himself in such a manner. Every time he said this, not long afterward, another of their ships was sunk.
The German Navy's 3rd and 4th Air Groups soon exhausted their munitions and were forced to return for reloading. They had inflicted tremendous losses on the British fleet, sinking five battleships and four armored cruisers. Yet, given the size of the British fleet, these losses were not catastrophic.
"God bless, the German planes have left! We're safe!" Cavison's face displayed a look of relief.
"Long live the British Empire!" cheered the other British sailors.
However, mere minutes later, their cheers froze on their faces as over a hundred more planes appeared from the eastern sky.
"Impossible! How could this be? Didn't the German planes leave? How are they back so soon? Even if they reloaded, that should take time!" Cavison shouted in fury.
It was, of course, the German 5th and 6th Air Groups that had returned. They had delayed their departure to coincide perfectly with the 3rd and 4th Air Groups' return to base, allowing the new groups to continue the assault on the British fleet without interruption.
For the British Navy, this was anything but good news. They now had to face yet another wave of attacks from the German aircraft—attacks they could not defend against.
The morale of the fleet plummeted even further, reaching rock bottom.
The 5th and 6th German Air Groups, like the earlier groups, began their ruthless assault. One British warship after another was sunk in despair, unable to escape the relentless pursuit of the aircraft. No matter how they tried to flee, there was no escaping the torpedo planes' onslaught.
When the 5th and 6th Air Groups had used up all their bombs and torpedoes, few British warships remained afloat.
The 3rd and 4th Air Groups returned to the battlefield to finish the job, sinking the last of the struggling British ships to the depths of the sea.