Everyone wanted to betray their allies, and that was precisely how the tragedy unfolded. Once the retreat signal was sent, the Anglo-Japanese forces all turned tail and fled at full speed, plunging the battlefield into complete chaos. Warships differed in speed. Once engines were pushed to their limits, the original battle formations collapsed instantly. Everyone was focused on saving their own lives. No one stayed behind to cover the retreat. They had intended to betray their allies, but never expected both sides to think the same way. In the end, they not only betrayed their partners, but also dragged themselves into disaster. Defeat collapsed like a landslide. The Anglo-Japanese combined fleet staged, through its own actions, a full scale “Great Escape at Sea.” In the distance, beneath the cover of rolling waves, shapes occasionally surfaced, quietly observing the entire battlefield. For the sake of this battle, they had been lying in wait underwater for a full day and night, all for this very moment. From the moment the fighting began, Major Wallace, the submarine commander, had kept his eyes fixed on the main display without the slightest relaxation. Only when the Anglo-Japanese fleet finally broke and routed did his taut nerves ease somewhat. The images transmitted back were not especially clear, but they were sufficient for determining enemy positions. As soon as enemy warships entered the attack zone, the atmosphere inside the submarine grew tense once more. Major Wallace said, “Ignore those small fry up front. Our mission is to pin down the enemy’s main force.” Unaware of the trap ahead, the Anglo-Japanese fleet now shared only one thought: run. They did not need to be the fastest, only faster than their allies. In terms of speed, the Royal Navy held an advantage. The overall performance of the Far Eastern Fleet’s warships was superior to that of the Japanese Navy, and coupled with greater experience and seamanship, they naturally ran faster. The quicker ships surged ahead, while the slower ones were forced into the role of rear guard. From this perspective, the Japanese allies truly deserved thanks. Fortunately, the Japanese ships at the rear fought desperately, buying precious time for the retreat. Otherwise, even escaping with half the fleet would have been a matter of sheer luck. Yet Admiral Michel found no reason to rejoice. Although he had managed to open some distance from the Holy Roman Navy, his flagship, the Elizabeth, had already been singled out by enemy aircraft. More than a dozen aircraft were still circling overhead, dropping bombs at irregular intervals, clearly intent on hounding them without letting go. It was not only the Elizabeth. Any warship of decent size was now receiving special attention. A large enough number of ants can even kill an elephant. That was no joke. One only had to look at the Elizabeth to see it. She was riddled with damage. One third of her main guns were out of action. Casualties among officers and men had exceeded two hundred. Even the propulsion system had been affected. Even if she managed to limp back to Cam Ranh Bay, she would require at least several months of repairs. There was no question of returning to combat in the short term. Then, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air. “Torpedo!” Someone shouted, and a violent explosion followed immediately. The struck destroyer began to tear apart, slowly sinking beneath the waves. Admiral Michel, who had narrowly escaped disaster, broke out in a cold sweat. The enemies in the air had not yet been dealt with, and now enemies beneath the water had appeared as well. Under normal circumstances, they could have traced the direction and hunted down the submarine. But not now. They were in full retreat and had no time to spare. As if a signal had been triggered, once the first torpedo detonated, explosions followed one after another. Almost every deafening blast was accompanied by notable results. Realizing what was happening, Admiral Michel urgently ordered, “There is an ambush. Order the fleet to disperse and break through separately.” There was no alternative. With the fleet retreating en masse in a single direction, it was like lining up targets on a firing range. Even if one target was missed, the second or third would still be hit. Seeing British warships at the front fall victim, Admiral Itō Sukeyuki, who was lagging behind, felt no relief at all. Instead, his expression grew increasingly grave. At this point, anyone who still failed to realize they had fallen into an enemy trap might as well not have lived this long. The greater the British losses now, the more thorough the enemy’s preparations had been, and the lower the chances that they themselves would make it out alive. Approaching him, Akiyama Saneyuki suggested, “Commander, we should separate from the British! The Empire has already sacrificed too much for this war. At this point, there’s no need to stay tied to them. In the eyes of the enemy, we’re just small fry anyway.” This was not misplaced confidence. The number of aircraft overhead made it obvious that the Far East Fleet was receiving more attention. Such treatment was determined by strength. Compared to the formidable Royal Navy, the Japanese Navy lagged far behind in both achievements and reputation. The hardware gap was even greater. Constrained by domestic industry, most of Japan’s major warships were imported, with full domestic production still a long way off. A country incapable of independent military manufacturing naturally drew little attention. Being overlooked was not entirely bad; at least escaping danger became considerably easier. Before Admiral Ito Sukeyuki could make a decision, a tremendous explosion reverberated—“BOOM!”—and the warship began to shake violently. Everyone in the command room was thrown about, scattered and unsteady. “We’ve been hit!” Those were Admiral Itō Sukeyuki’s last conscious thoughts before succumbing. … The brutal battle continued. Stragglers either surrendered or were sunk, leaving the sea strewn with debris and faintly visible human figures. Luckily, the deafening explosions scared off the sea creatures; otherwise, the unfortunate souls in the water would have fed the sharks. Nightfall saved the remnants of the Anglo-Japanese fleet, though it was little consolation. After this engagement, the Far Eastern Fleet and the Japanese Navy were effectively neutralized. Less than one in ten of the main capital ships over ten thousand tons survived, and losses among auxiliary vessels were incalculable. Those that escaped were mostly fast cruisers, suitable for raiding and commerce disruption, but hopeless for turning the tide of war. The blood-soaked battlefield did not diminish Admiral Alister’s good spirits. Such a decisive, clean victory far exceeded even his expectations. “Order the fleet to cease the attack, rescue personnel overboard, and tally the losses.” A victor must naturally show the composure of one. The battle had been won so now it was time to secure prisoners. These were prime laborers, and in the upcoming campaign in the Indochina Peninsula, their blood and sweat would be needed. … “Your Majesty, good news! This afternoon, the Southeast Asian Fleet engaged the Anglo-Japanese forces in the Strait of Malacca and achieved a resounding victory!” Grabbing the telegram, Emperor Franz, who had been preparing to rest, suddenly found sleep impossible. After verifying the message several times, he broke into a long-missed smile, visibly relaxed. Although the exact results were still being tallied, and even the losses of their own fleet were only roughly estimated, it in no way diminished the magnitude of the victory. Two dreadnoughts and five older battleships were sunk, one older battleship captured… The main forces of the British Far Eastern Fleet and the Japanese Navy had essentially been neutralized. Without their main warships to serve as combat anchors, even if the remaining enemy vessels escaped, the Anglo-Japanese fleet was effectively rendered a hollow shell. Their fate in the following days was to be hunted down by the Holy Roman Navy. They wouldn’t even need to engage personally as the fleets of Spain and the Netherlands in Southeast Asia could inflict the necessary punishment. The victory at the Battle of the Strait of Malacca not only reversed the situation in the Far East but also sent ripples across the global stage. The myth of the invincibility of the Royal Navy was shattered—not primarily due to military capability, but due to the loss of confidence this defeat instilled worldwide. In pure military terms, the Far Eastern Fleet had, at most, only 15% of the strength of the Royal Navy. Even if entirely destroyed, the Royal Navy’s overall power remained superior. But confidence is not measured in simple numbers. The Anglo-Japanese forces, despite having overwhelming advantages, were outmaneuvered by the Southeast Asian Fleet. Who could now guarantee the Royal Navy would triumph in the battles to come? Especially for the member states of the Oceanic Alliance, they were now forced to reconsider whether to continue the war. Participation in this conflict, aside from British persuasion, was primarily driven by interests. However, these interests were contingent upon defeating the Holy Roman Empire. A defeat would mean catastrophic losses. Since the war had only just been declared and fighting had not formally begun, it was still possible, with a certain price paid, to withdraw without total ruin. While this created hesitation within the Oceanic Alliance, it could also stimulate the allies’ willingness to participate. Even without clearly defined postwar gains, the member states were familiar with the consistent approach of the Holy Roman government. Under a proportional distribution model of effort and reward, those hoping to secure postwar benefits had to contribute meaningfully. Merely “going through the motions” would yield nothing more than token rewards after the war. If nothing unexpected occurred, the British would soon find themselves stretched thin. Even if the British government abandoned the Far East, could they ignore the Indian Ocean? Without the Far Eastern Fleet to constrain them, the Southeast Asian Fleet’s advance into the Indian Ocean was inevitable. To safeguard the maritime route between the British Isles and India, Britain would be compelled to deploy additional forces. But detaching a fleet was no simple matter. Although the Royal Navy was enormous in scale, the number of truly mobile forces available at that moment was limited. The home fleet had to restrain the Holy Roman Navy, and overseas squadrons had to maintain trade routes. Pulling out a force capable of countering the Southeast Asian Fleet was far from easy. After a moment’s reflection, Emperor Franz made his decision: “Immediately release the results of the naval battle. Order the Ministry of Propaganda to launch a worldwide media campaign to shake the morale of the Oceanic Alliance. Notify our allies to print a batch of leaflets overnight, so they can be dropped over the British Isles during tomorrow’s aerial operations.” Such an opportunity, if not seized, would be an affront to providence itself. Would the British public withstand such a blow—less than a week into the war, already suffering air raids and naval defeats? If a capable leader were to exploit this internally, stirring unrest at home, the effect would be even greater. Franz soon abandoned the idea of acting personally. Intelligence officers had a difficult task and this order was already pushing their limits. Internal strife in Britain had only been possible in the absence of external threats. In the current dire situation, even the opposition could not afford to act foolishly. Political struggles required the survival of the British Empire itself and no one could sacrifice national interests for mere politics. Even if a few individuals failed to grasp the situation and tried to create chaos, vested interests would not allow such reckless behavior.
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