Chapter 1 Skagerak's Gold (1) Second update

In May, the wind from the North Atlantic Ocean came slowly, and the sad light rain fluttered, falling on this remote and cold island chain in the northernmost part of Scotland.

The Queen Elizabeth battleship sounded its whistle and slowly sailed into the somewhat empty and lost Scarpa Bay under the guidance of the navigation ship. The whistle of the Queen's return disappeared in the rainy season, and on the headlands that extended to the North Sea, the amplifier of the watchtower dozens of meters high again sounded a heart-wrenching alarm.

The small window was filled with a breath of pride, and even a few cactus balls were not patient with the British tide, and their heads were hanging down and they lost their vitality. The military police patrolled at the end of the corridor, and the sound of crackling leather boots landing into the narrow room through the half-closed door, knocking on the heart of the major general who was under house arrest.

"Maybe it was a U-boat, or a white whale doing nothing, who knows!"

Lampard stood in front of the windowsill, and said nothing, and reached out to put down the blinds. The room that was about to get mold suddenly became dim, leaving only the faint light exposed by a small light in front of the desk. Lampard lit a cigarette for himself and sat in a squeaking chair in disheartenness.

Moving away the thick handwritten data and captain's log, Lampard, a soldier with poetic temperament, found his target - a stack of clean letter paper that exudes the smell of ink and water from the pen.

A line of beautiful and beautiful English fonts that caught my eye - "Skagerak's Gold", Lampard's indifferent expression finally loosened a little.

"It is a sad story. It does not belong to the Nordic pirates, does not belong to the Red Bearded Pirates, and does not belong to the Age of Discovery. The story is not long, and the guns are not cold there; the place of the story is not mysterious, it is in the busy Skagrak Strait; the plot of the story is not legendary, because it is the eternal cup of a nation, I call it Skagrak gold!"

Lampard's eyes began to turn red slightly, and memories flew to March, passing through the fire of Scargerak and came to Scarpa Bay.

The Royal Princess sank, the Deadly Sinking, the Australian sank, the Tiger sank, and the fast fleet returned to Scapa Bay at that dusk, the setting sun was as blood, and the undeserved flying catkins were flying on the islands of high latitudes, resounding through the desolate Mass, the trembling of gentlemen and the bells of churches.

On the dock, one defeated battle patrol after another slowly approached the berth. The miserable situation of the fast fleet made the cable-tied sailors almost unable to stand. The Lion lost its turret, the superstructure of the Fortune Superstructure was completely distorted, and the side of the New Zealand side was torn apart, and the Queen Elizabeth waterline was obviously above normal levels.

"God, is this still the Royal Navy in my memory?!"

This was the initial confusion among Orkney Island residents, but it was even more sad when it was still behind.

The gangway of the battle patrol was put down, and a group of unkempt, sailors with bandages or iron pins limped and helped their injured companions or carried them down the ship, silently suppressing their repressed heading towards the base naval hospital. The injured army finally became a little sparse, and the dead, wrapped in a shroud or covered with just a small piece of waterproof cloth, were carried off the battleship and piled up on the silent dock.

The young corpses lined up from the dock to the buoy and were still extending. Everyone wanted to retain respect for the deceased, but as the mortal lines of death grew longer, they gradually realized a terrible fact.

"Children, who can tell me where the Bordeaux went?" The breath of failure spread like a plague. Uncontrollable voice suddenly broke out from the crowd of silent observation on the shore. A middle-aged woman in a Scottish servant skirt searched in a battleship berth without success. After she was frigid, she stumbled out and grabbed a private carrying a stretcher and said incoherently: "My child is on the Bordeaux. His name is Yasin, Alex Yasin. He is an honest child. He never lies. He likes to blow the bagpipes very much. Please tell me where he is?"

"Major General, please forgive me. Don't we have... ten fast battleships?" The deputy commander of the Scapa Bay Base is a position to support the veteran generals who have launched the front-line. Lampard could not imagine the big men who once dominated the navy inquiring the cruel facts in an almost cheating tone: "Where did you hide the remaining five fast battleships?"

There was no War Warfare. The War Warfare that had withdrawn from the battle earlier was not in Scapa Bay, and the two escorted destroyers were gone, all of which caught the senior officer of the Fast Fleet off guard.

Lampard clearly remembered the panic when Betty could not find the War-wearing Speaker, the tears of regret when Betty saw the fallen sailors, and the decadentness of Betty sitting in the Commander's lounge. Yes, the Royal Navy's "Sea Cavalry" and one of the tough guys in the British Empire cried. The military caps and medals were placed on the table, and the bullet-filled pistols were held in their hands until the loyal guards forced all tools that could threaten their lives.

As the commander of the fast fleet, Betty was destined to bear more. Lampard knew that any language was pale and powerless, and was superficial and artificial, so he took the initiative to take over the aftermath. At this time, the medical officers and nurses at the base had all dispatched, and the left-behind sailors, the officers and soldiers of the shore defense forces who were not on duty, as well as local residents and church priests voluntarily joined the rescue team.

At dusk, the large fleet also came back, and the tragedy of the fast fleet seemed to be replicated on the main fleet. The shaky warships were lying on the ship first, and they could not use flowers and champagne. The Orkneys only saw a group of wounded soldiers who were distracted and lost their fighting spirit, and a white shroud that could not be seen at first sight.

The evacuated pier was crowded again, with countless sailors wearing unwiped smoke on their faces, wearing tattered naval uniforms and messy bandages on their heads interspersed among the chaotic crowd. Perhaps they could find the target, and then a few sailors who had escaped from death cried bitterly, perhaps they could find nothing, so they sat on the cold pier and cried loudly.

"Why did I survive alone? The entire Ruby number is gone? Why did I stay alone and stay alone in this blind world!"

The wounded soldier who had just been carried into the hospital corridor woke up. He crawled up with pain, pulled the nurse's clothes like crazy, put his underwear on his body stiffly, and grabbed the door and left.

The nurse who was called up was naturally unwilling to give up. Lihua led a group of naval military police to find the "sexual demon" sailor with rain, so they were shocked.

The seventeen-year-old man looked like a handsome private, with a beautiful face wrapped in red women's underwear around himself, and his lips were painted with the most vulgar lipstick, swaying in front of the newly erected cross under the slope breakwater.

"We agreed that whoever was killed in the gun team, the survivors must put on women's clothes for the dead and dance the most vulgar dance in England." The sailors were still dancing the "dance" without any funnyness, but shocking, and their young and tender faces were filled with snot tears and blood that oozed out after the bandage broke. "Look, Fombie's little Rummenigge did what they said, Fombie's little Rummenigge never broke his promise, but... But I don't want to dance these erotic dances. I just want you all to survive, you all can survive!"

On the outside of the dock, several soldiers of the wounded warriors started fighting after a disagreement. They seemed to have hatred of being so swelled up, and they used their teeth to bite each other and suffocate them with the untied bandages. But in less than thirty seconds, they all stopped again. Scar, who had just entered the night, had a light snow falling from the bay, and the searchlights were pale in the general harbor, and the injured soldiers hugged each other again. The enemy who seemed to be entrusting his life became his own person.

"No more fight, even if you escape when the leak is blocked, only fifty-one of the more than 900 officers and soldiers of the Ajax escaped, and only fifty-one of the last nine hundred people left!"

Tens of thousands of soldiers were crowded on the docks and breakwaters. They were reluctant to receive treatment and returned to the warm rescue station. Some had given up their unrestrained search. They knelt on the ground and cried and kissed the soil of Britain. Some were still continuing. They shouted at the names of all their comrades who could remember. They wrote down the names of their warships on the wooden boards with blood and lime. They lifted every shroud and tried to find any brother who had lost and could not return home.

"Who saw Rodman? Some saw Rodman?!" Private Alan, who escaped from death, was still working hard until a big hand grabbed him.

"Child, don't look for it anymore. There are only six people who survived the reckless number, and only six people from beginning to end!"

The speaker was the gunman with a 4-inch cannon, the current supreme commander of the Reckless and sergeant.

"No, Sergeant, Rodman must be alive." The young man was angry. He turned around, his face full of bloodthirsty and ferociousness. "The German shells came, and the turret ammunition depot was exploded. Rodman and I were thrown off almost at the same time. How could I survive, but Rodman died?! Rodman fought until the last moment, but I couldn't help at all. How could I survive, but Rodman died?"

The rough fingers were burned by the burning cigarette. He cheered up and glanced at the afterglow like God's help. Lampard found a pen in a gap. He unscrewed the cap and personally experienced death. The major general who picked up the pen and wrote it on the paper.

"At 8:35, the Conqueror battleship sank. This new battleship was only shot at a critical part on the port side in the previous battle, and a sailor was injured. However, at the end of the peak decisive battle, a German 350mm armor-piercing bomb made all the efforts of the Conqueror officers and soldiers in vain."

"This battleship is defined as a super-dreadnought by our newspaper. Super-dreadnought is a new word full of temptation and imagination. However, as early as the Battle of Dogel Sands, our super-dreadnought has been exposed. It's ridiculous that everyone pretended not to know and resolutely advanced on the way, until the Conqueror battleship was pierced through the main turret by just one 350 armor-piercing bullet, and the ammunition depot sank."

"General, the Gendarmerie Command asked me to inform you that the trial of the Military Court will be held three hours later, that is, at 14:45. The Gendarmerie Command will send military vehicles to pick you up at 14:00..."

The sound of guards knocking on the door came from outside the door, and Lampard's body trembled until the heart-wrenching footsteps left and then he recovered from calmness.

"Old friend, I don't have much time anymore, we have to keep it tight..."

The shrill alarm sound of the military port was finally lifted, but the sad light rain continued, and the unstoppable wheel of fate continued.

"In fact, it is not easy for the large fleet to withdraw, because the Germans are very greedy and they have many requirements. The Eleventh Destroyer released smoke on the right side of the large fleet. This task is not easy, because even a near-lose bomb that deviates from the target can completely destroy them. Compared with the Eleventh Destroyer, the Fourth Destroyer is more respectable, because the young man used blood and scrap iron to smash a road to the Ocean Fleet and released four torpedoes at 1,000 yards. Don't laugh at these mere four torpedoes, the Eleventh Destroyer paid the price for this is annihilation."

The clock was still ticking, and the snow-white letter paper was flowing smoothly than the sonnets, full of delicate and sad strokes of poets. Lampard did not write quickly, because he always incorporated his emotions into history that might not go far in his life, and had to mention the tip of the pen to wipe the white mist on the lenses.

"The pursuit of the Ocean Fleet was slightly bound by the heroic Eleventh Destroyer Fleet. The young man's blood did not flow in vain, because the Germans of the Eleventh Destroyer Fleet could only embarrassingly accept the fact that they could not catch up with the Great Fleet."

"At 9:12, the battle between the light ships ended. We unexpectedly gained the Fourth German Reconnaissance Fleet. These four light patrols were eager to make contributions, broke away from the cover of the ocean fleet and entered the battlefield, but were surrounded and annihilated by our two suited patrol fleets and the Fourth Light Patrol fleet. Since then, only the sporadic exchange of fire from destroyers that cleaned the battlefield, and the once prominent main ships roared deeply on the cold ocean floor."

"The naval battle was never the end of a war, but it was just the beginning. On the afternoon of March 4, 1915, before the Great Fleet and the Rapid Fleet had returned to Scapa Bay, we received a telegram from the Admiralty. In this peak battle in the North Sea, we sank three battleships, four battleships, and one battleship was completely destroyed, and two battleships and four battleships suffered heavy damage. However, the proud Admiralty said unconscience that 'The German fleet attacked its prison guards, but was still locked in jail'."

"Maybe it is important to maintain stability in Downing Street, maybe it is important to calm the London riots, maybe it is important to regain the trust of the free world in us, but it is unfair to the soldiers who once fought bloody battles in Jutland in the Scarglake Strait. The brilliant gold in Scarglake should not be buried deep in the sea, it must be deeply excavated because there is something wrong with our navy. We should face it instead of using one lie after another to make excuse and perfunctory, so that the true knowledgeable people lose the ability to speak at a crossroads that can determine the fate of the Royal Navy!"

The half-closed door was pushed open, and the military police flashed outside the door. A military prosecutor walked in and showed Lampard the subpoena and handcuffs issued by the military court.

"Prosecutor, if the rules of confidentiality are not violated, I want to know the result of General David Betty's trial..." Lampard stuffed the newly completed "Scarglack's Gold" into the cabinet and locked it, calmly stretching out his hands to the military prosecutor.

"Although I feel very sympathy for you, but..." The prosecutor did not coerce Major General Lampard in the military court for as many as six charges. He looked around with caution, and shook his head with a wry smile.

...
Chapter completed!