Germany: The Thousand Year Empire

Meanwhile, aboard HMS Ark Royal.

The orderly quickly handed the telegram to Callahan.

Every officer on the bridge turned his eyes toward that sheet of paper at the same time.

Even though they already knew what it likely contained, the orderly still looked at Callahan with a trace of expectation.

But as Callahan opened the telegram and read every word, that final expectation shattered.

"Stop all preparations for attack."

His voice was low, almost hoarse.

"Issue surrender orders to all warships."

"Contact the German warships and prepare for handover."

He paused.

"The war is over."

Callahan actually hesitated.

For a brief moment, he wondered whether he should change the order from headquarters.

After all, the authority to decide the fleet's command was still in his hands.

But when he realized that starting a war would change nothing and only increase casualties, Callahan chose to accept everything.

The command room fell into deathly silence.

Outside the window, the white fog seemed like grief itself, impossible to wipe away.

On the German aircraft carrier Wilhelm, the scene was completely different.

The command post was engulfed in cheers.

Raeder smiled faintly, facing the six o'clock sun.

With the English Channel crisis resolved, and with Britain's shipbuilding industry and existing navy about to be annexed, Germany would truly become the world's number one naval power.

Germany had finally crossed the barrier named England and sailed toward the distant deep blue.

"Issue my order."

Raeder's voice was steady, but every officer could hear the suppressed excitement within it.

"Notify the Greek Navy, Belgian Navy, Dutch Navy, and Iberian Navy."

"They are to take possession of all ships of the British Royal Navy."

"If there is resistance or any attempt to escape, sink them immediately."

Raeder sat in the command chair and looked at the cold sun piercing through the clouds.

His thoughts drifted further and further away.

Battleship HMS Warspite.

Encar did not obey the order.

He lit a cigarette with the flame from the telegram, then prepared to fight for the Royal Navy until the final moment.

"Hard to port."

"Adjust Number One Turret."

"Prepare to fire."

"Fire."

Bang!

The battleship's main gun struck the rear side of a German destroyer.

The great splash that rose from the sea was illuminated by the morning sun, turning a fierce shade of red, like blood flowing from Warspite herself.

The final telegram reached Encar's hands.

There was no long list of demands.

Only a few short words.

[Hoist the white flag. Final warning.]

Encar smiled.

He tossed the telegram into the trash can and continued.

"Number Two Turret, prepare."

The next second, more than a dozen Stuka dive bombers swept across the sky.

Warspite, like an exiled knight, fired her anti-aircraft guns into the air, performing her final opera for Britain.

From this point onward, Britain would struggle to ascend to the throne of the world's leading powers again.

The planes dove down, braving gunfire and morning glow, like gulls soaring through an oil painting.

Aerial bombs destroyed the turrets.

The sharp blades were struck down.

The armor was pierced.

Several bombs destroyed Warspite's feet.

The sailors who served aboard this vessel struggled amid the fierce flames, but the bombing did not stop.

The pilots had received clear orders.

Sink.

Destroy.

Woo.

The piercing whistle of falling death sounded again.

This time, it heralded Warspite's destruction.

A high yield aerial bomb slid into the magazine, triggering a chain explosion that shook the entire ship violently.

Black smoke and flames surged everywhere.

A few minutes later, the damaged hull could no longer bear the mission of battle.

With a shriek of twisting metal, Warspite sank to the bottom of the sea, fulfilling her final destiny.

There were not many ships like Warspite.

But there were some.

Two destroyers attempted resistance and were sunk.

Two cruisers attempted to flee. One was destroyed on the spot, while the other narrowly escaped at first, only to be crippled by a submarine and finally perish in raging flames.

Other surrendering naval vessels also performed final acts of delay, postponing the German landing for various reasons in order to buy a brief window of opportunity.

London.

Buckingham Palace.

George VI pushed open the door to the Queen's bedchamber.

Hunter, who had been dozing, was startled awake by the sudden noise.

Just as he rose, before he could see who had entered, the submachine gun in Noka's hand had already opened fire.

Bullets struck the expensive floor, yet failed to stir even the slightest fear in George VI.

He looked coldly at these two key figures who had led Britain to this point.

There was no resentment in his eyes.

Only sorrow.

If even young people of this age were rebelling against the current government, could they truly win by escaping to Canada?

George VI shook his head.

Then he nodded to his mother and took her hand.

"It is time to go, Mother."

Seeing that no one had come to arrest them, and seeing that everything had fallen silent, Noka felt the intense pressure on his mind suddenly loosen.

The next moment, he fainted.

Only Hunter remained, left alone to savor the hollow victory.

In order to delay enough time to transfer as many scientists and weapons engineers as possible, Churchill demanded that the surrendering cabinet convey the intention to surrender to Germany, while the coastal defense forces continued to hold out under the guise of rebellion.

MI6 already had a contingency plan.

They secured a small group of key scientists through drugs or methods close to kidnapping, then placed them aboard American freighters heading for Iceland.

At the same time, many agents were left behind to conduct counter-espionage and sabotage behind enemy lines.

Berlin.

At eight o'clock, the long night was replaced by brilliant sunlight.

Jörg had waited anxiously in his office all night.

Finally, the telephone rang.

He picked up the receiver.

Leah's tired voice reached his ears.

"Mr. President, at seven twenty-five this morning, we received an armistice notice from the British Ministry of Foreign Affairs."

"They are willing to organize a peace conference."

"At the same time, they informed us that their coastal defense forces have rebelled and requested our assistance in suppressing the rebellion."

"I understand, Leah."

Jörg let out a long breath.

"Go get some sleep."

After hanging up, he snapped his fingers.

The attendant who had been waiting by the door walked in and whispered, "Führer, brandy or wine?"

As an attendant who had served the President for many years, she understood what this choice meant.

If the Führer asked for brandy, the news was not good.

But if he asked for wine…

The Blood of Christ meant victory.

"Wine."

Jörg smiled.

"Open that vintage bottle King Wilhelm left for me."

The atmosphere infected the attendant, and a slight smile appeared on her lips.

"Yes, sir."

The door closed.

As if remembering something, Jörg picked up the receiver again and continued issuing instructions.

"Heinz Guderian?"

"Cancel the landing operation."

"Order the 101st Airborne Task Force to complete deployment in London as quickly as possible."

"Assign part of the men to maintain curfew and control traffic."

"The rest are to seize high-value factory districts, shipyards, and military airfields."

"Ensure the structural integrity of those sites is maintained and prevent British sabotage."

After hearing the news, the receiver fell silent for a brief moment.

Then Heinz Guderian asked hesitantly, "Commander-in-Chief, have we won?"

"No, Heinz Guderian."

Jörg's voice was calm.

"We have not won yet."

"We have merely opened the gateway to the open ocean."

"We have merely won a war without smoke."

Jörg could hear the cheers from the other end of the line.

He could almost see little Heinz Guderian back home raising his arms in excitement.

"This is worth celebrating, Commander-in-Chief."

Heinz Guderian's voice was filled with undisguised joy.

"Absolutely worth celebrating."

"I will notify the Air Force immediately and tell them to speed up."

Jörg hung up the phone.

Then he picked up the stemmed glass and walked alone to the floor-to-ceiling window.

The deep red liquid swayed in the glass.

His shadow was stretched long by the sun.

....

[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]

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