At six in the morning, just as dawn broke, the German High Seas Fleet sprang into action. One by one, seaplanes took off over the water, heading southward. Their mission was to comb through a 200-kilometer radius, tasked with locating the British fleet.
Meanwhile, the main force of the High Seas Fleet also began to head south. Although the fleet's maneuvers had become increasingly cautious, the objective of defeating the British navy remained unchanged.
Standing on the bridge of the *Bavaria* battleship, Admirals Reinhard Scheer and Franz von Hipper watched dozens of seaplanes taking off to carry out reconnaissance.
"With this many seaplanes, there's no way the British can escape this time—unless they retreat back to the Irish Sea. Otherwise, their only fate is annihilation!" remarked Admiral Scheer.
"Indeed, sir. If the British flee back to the Irish Sea, I propose we lay a vast minefield at both ends, sealing off all exits. This way, they would be permanently trapped. Alternatively, we could station our submarine units at both ends of the Irish Sea. Should the British attempt to break out, they'd suffer heavy losses under our submarine attacks," Hipper suggested.
"That's an excellent idea. I'll bring it up with Naval Command. However, whether it will be approved is uncertain. After all, once we lay those mines, they'll pose a lasting danger to shipping even after the war. The bustling ports along the Irish Sea could be silenced by this blockade," said Admiral Scheer.
The Irish Sea's coastal regions were undoubtedly some of Britain's most developed areas, thriving on maritime trade. If mines choked these waters, turning them into a dead zone, it would spell doom for local commerce.
Of course, for Germany, this was of little consequence. In the aftermath of this war, Britain would swiftly fall from its former dominance, ceasing to be a global power or the political and economic heart of the world. Germany would rise in its place, with Berlin becoming the epicenter of global politics, and its industrial cities assuming the role of economic hubs.
While the High Seas Fleet scoured the waters for the British, Admiral John Jellicoe and Vice Admiral David Beatty, both weary from a sleepless night, sat down for strong coffee. Only a coffee so bitter it nearly brought tears could help them muster some strength.
"Admiral Beatty, it seems the Germans aren't going to give us a chance for a sneak attack. This time, we'll have to confront them openly," said Admiral Jellicoe with a rueful smile.
All of yesterday, they had waited for the German raiding squadron, hoping to cripple it before turning their full force on the main body of the High Seas Fleet. Regrettably, the raiding squadron had never appeared, leaving their plan dashed.
"Sir, even in a head-on battle, we aren't doomed to lose! After all, we now have more capital ships than the Germans—two more, in fact. While our ships might be slightly outmatched in terms of performance, with a bit of luck, we might yet claim victory in this decisive battle," Vice Admiral Beatty replied, his confidence unwavering. Though he couldn't quite pinpoint the source of his optimism, he found it preferable to despair.
"Yes, Admiral Beatty. We still have a fighting chance. Let's hope we don't have the same wretched luck as last time," agreed Jellicoe.
Though luck is intangible, it often plays a crucial role in naval warfare. A lucky side has a far greater likelihood of victory. A direct shell hit on the gun turret versus a devastating strike on the ammunition hold could spell the difference between survival and certain death.
"When will Admiral Martin's fleet be able to join us?" Jellicoe asked.
"In about an hour, sir," Beatty replied.
With the Germans unwilling to take the bait, the Joint Fleet's strategy had been forced to adapt. Originally, Admiral Martin's squadron had served as a decoy, but it was now ordered to merge with the main fleet to strengthen their line of battle against the German High Seas Fleet. If they remained spread out and were intercepted, they'd risk being picked off one by one, leaving them with no chance of success.
Admiral Jellicoe nodded. "Let's hope God favors the British Empire this time. We cannot afford another loss."
"God will protect the British Empire, sir. We shall defeat the Germans!" declared Beatty with conviction.
High above, a German seaplane drifted through the clouds. Beneath the cloud cover lay the combined fleets of Britain, France, and Italy.
"God above! Weren't the British supposed to have only 12 capital ships from the Americans? With their own ships, they should have barely twenty in total. But here we count no less than thirty-six!" exclaimed the pilot.
"How should we report this to the flagship? Should I send the transmission directly?" asked the radio operator seated behind him.
"Report it as it is. Once you've sent the transmission, we'll drop down from the clouds and pass over the British fleet for a closer look. Let's see what's really going on here!"
"Very well, though it's a bit risky. Still, I doubt the British can catch us," he replied.
Minutes later, the seaplane descended from the clouds and flew directly over the Allied fleet.
"It's the French and Italian flags! The British haven't just acquired ships from the Americans—they've drawn the French and Italians into this fight as well," the pilot exclaimed.
"Quickly! British seaplanes are in pursuit. We have to evade them and report back to the flagship!"
The German seaplane immediately climbed, skillfully dodging bullets from the British seaplanes in pursuit.
Little did they know that the report they'd just transmitted had left Admirals Reinhard Scheer and his officers stunned. The British fleet boasting thirty-six capital ships was, without a doubt, an unexpected and formidable surprise.