As the roar of aircraft filled the skies, the battle for the British Isles that would shock the world officially began. The first clash was, naturally, a brutal air battle. Below them lay the opposing naval fleets. At this point, neither side had any room left to retreat. Fighter planes tore into one another high above, while beneath them warships fought a battle of life and death. The Continental Joint Fleet had already become entangled with the Royal Navy, and the decisive confrontation that would determine the fate of the two camps had finally opened its curtain. The Holy Roman Empire’s Chief of the General Staff, Morkes, had personally arrived at the front to direct multinational operations. Crown Prince Frederick himself served as the supreme commander of the allied forces. The level of personnel involved alone made one thing clear. This was a war where victory was mandatory and failure was not an option. In truth, these appointments were made out of necessity. The position of supreme allied commander could not be held by just anyone. Ability came second. What mattered most was status or prestige, enough to keep the allies coordinated and under control. The Holy Roman Empire was not lacking such figures. However, once the concern of “excessive merit threatening the throne” was taken into account, the list of suitable candidates shrank dramatically. In theory, Franz was the ideal choice. With the authority he had accumulated over the years, all he needed to do was stand there and everyone would fall in line. No one would dare stir trouble. Unfortunately, reality did not allow it. During wartime, domestic affairs required even more coordination, and the empire could not function without the emperor holding the center. Under these circumstances, the position of supreme allied commander naturally fell to Frederick. After all, the most important duty of the allied commander was to manage relations between the various forces. Actual battlefield command was handled by professional officers. If one looked closely at the Holy Roman Empire’s personnel arrangements across different fronts, a clear pattern would emerge. In Southeast Asia, Central America, the Near East, and other primary theaters, the highest military commanders were all members of the imperial family. From this perspective, the war also served as a means for the imperial house to tighten its grip on the military. That things had not spiraled out of control was largely because Franz held firm at the top. On a deeper level, it was because the emperor had been generous enough. He knew how to win hearts, extending his rewards all the way down to the common soldiers. At this point, everyone had the same thought. Win the war as quickly as possible and start dividing the spoils. Power was fine, but it was nothing compared to the allure of land. Such was the general trend of events. Even if a handful of people harbored other thoughts, they could only keep them buried deep inside. The object of loyalty in the Empire had always been the emperor. This was a tradition that had lasted for more than a thousand years, not something a few new ideas could overturn in a short time. Especially in the Holy Roman Empire, where the aristocratic system was still at its peak, such influences were even weaker. If the military had no objections, then the government had even less right to object. In the Holy Roman Empire, the separation of military and civil authority was no joke. Any politician who dared to reach into the military would have been finished long ago. Commanding a force of over a million men for the first time, even if his role was mainly to coordinate relations, Frederick still felt enormous pressure. This was nothing like the previous ceremonial appointment. This time, real work had to be done. With the armies of more than a dozen nations gathered together, merely untangling their relationships was difficult enough, let alone conducting joint operations. If combat effectiveness were calculated purely on paper, one plus one did not equal two in this situation. Even reaching one point six would count as good coordination. In fact, the more countries that joined the coalition, the more diluted its combat power became. In essence, this campaign against the British Isles meant fighting a war while dragging along a group of utterly unreliable allies. No matter how badly these allies dragged things down, the coalition was still necessary.
Even the tiny state of Monaco had sent a single company to make up the numbers. Beyond the need for cannon fodder on the battlefield, there were even greater political considerations. From a long-term perspective, the more states were bound together now, the stronger the forces would be to suppress backlash in the future. The postwar international order would be more stable, and the Holy Roman Empire’s hegemony would be further consolidated. At the Calais Allied Command Headquarters, watching staff officers hurry back and forth and listening to the constant beeping of telegrams, even the normally composed Frederick felt an inexplicable surge of irritation. Waiting in anxiety was the hardest thing to endure. It would almost have been better to go to the front lines and watch the battle in person. Yet the belief that a prince should not place himself in danger had already taken deep root in Frederick’s mind, leaving him no room for impulsive action. Time ticked by second by second, and the fighting only grew more intense. The English Channel was shrouded in smoke, and even the color of the sea had changed. The roar of artillery drowned out the sound of the waves, deafening to the ears. From time to time, aircraft fell from the sky, slamming into the sea and sending up sprays of water. The slaughter on the surface of the sea was even more brutal. Thunderous explosions proclaimed the splendor of great guns and massive warships, while rolling waves reflected the afterglow of the setting sun. This was the most glorious age of big guns and battleships. It was also the moment when that era began its decline. The arrival of aircraft carriers had already changed the nature of naval warfare. The raging winds and waves of the Atlantic could only give the era of big guns and battleships one final breath of life. The Battle of the English Channel was destined to become their swan song. More than four hundred warships from both sides lined up and charged straight at one another, trading broadsides head on, like two knights locked in a duel. No matter how exhausted they were, no matter how badly damaged their ships had become, for the sake of a knight’s honor, neither side was willing to retreat. In the chaos of battle, both fleets completely lost their formations. Taking a hit was no longer worth mentioning. By this point in the fight, it was almost impossible to find a single ship that remained unscathed. Some unlucky destroyers and cruisers were dragged into battles between battleships, and the result was nothing short of tragic. There were even ships so cursed that they were blasted cleanly in half. Amid blood and fire, both sides fought with red eyes. Rational thought had all but vanished, leaving only a single goal echoing in their minds. Destroy the enemy. Some hot-headed crews, after their hulls were critically damaged, simply steered their ships forward and rammed the enemy directly. The scenes were brutally heroic. As time went on, the number of sunken ships continued to climb on both sides, perfectly embodying the saying that a general’s glory is built on the sinking of hundreds of ships. This was a battle of evenly matched forces. The Royal Navy possessed the highest level of professionalism and a larger total number of ships, yet it was outnumbered in dreadnoughts by the allied fleet. In the age of big guns and battleships, superiority belonged to whoever had larger hulls and heavier firepower. To tie down the extra dreadnoughts fielded by the Holy Roman Navy, the Royal Navy had no choice but to send three to five ordinary battleships into close combat, risking annihilation to hold them back. Thanks to refined tactics and coordination, both sides fought fiercely and with skill. The allied fleet’s numerical advantage in dreadnoughts failed to translate into decisive dominance. There was no helping it. Pulling multiple national navies into a single battlefield increased ship numbers, but made sustained tactical coordination nearly impossible. On the surface it looked like a unified force, but in reality each navy was still fighting its own war. Coordination within national fleets was acceptable, yet once allied forces mixed together, performance dropped sharply. Judging purely from the naval engagement, the battle remained evenly balanced. No one could yet say which side would emerge as the final victor. Compared to the deadlock at sea, the air war was far clearer. Just by counting the number of aircraft falling from the sky, one could already tell who held the upper hand. A gap was still a gap. It was not something that could be erased with a few slogans or empty rhetoric. That said, compared to the previous air battles over London, the British Air Force had clearly grown more mature. The moment the fighting broke out, they surged forward in a single wave and nearly pushed back the Holy Roman Air Force by relying on a sudden numerical advantage. Unfortunately, they were still just a little short. As reinforcements arrived from the rear, that brief advantage was quickly overturned. The early initiative they had gained was rapidly worn away. By the final stage of the battle, all they could rely on was sheer resolve, throwing themselves forward to desperately hold the enemy back. The ocean became a boiling pot of ‘dumplings.’ There were airplane-filled dumplings and warship-filled dumplings, with various other ‘flavors’ mixed in—an all-you-can-eat buffet that left the sea’s appetite thoroughly whetted. As the sky gradually darkened, it became increasingly difficult to clearly lock onto targets. Both sides were forced to sound the signal to withdraw. By then, the surface of the sea was already a complete wreck. Nightfall saved both sides from further slaughter. As for what tomorrow would bring, no one could say. After the ceasefire, both sides dispatched rescue vessels, sweeping the sea with searchlights to pull survivors from the water. Enemy or ally made no difference. Anyone still alive was hauled aboard. At this moment, no one had any appetite left for fighting. Even if opposing ships crossed paths, they would pretend not to see one another and quietly move on. Of course, the most important reason was that the rescue ships were unarmed. Ramming into each other would have been absurd. Around midnight, Crown Prince Frederick, who had been waiting anxiously at headquarters, finally received the battle reports from the day. The naval battle had not been lost. For the Continental Alliance, that alone was an encouraging piece of news. Their standards were, indeed, that low. For the Continental Alliance, whether the naval battle was a victory or not did not really matter. As long as they did not lose, or at least did not lose too badly, it counted as a strategic success. Yet after reading the reports in detail, Frederick found it impossible to feel happy. Mutual destruction was normally good news. The Continental Alliance possessed stronger industrial capacity and could replace ships far more quickly. A war of attrition posed no real problem. The problem was that some allies had been completely wiped out, and not just one of them. During the daytime battle, the navies of Montenegro, Sardinia, the Two Sicilies, and Belgium were annihilated to the last ship. The Greek navy was reduced to a single surviving destroyer, while the Nordic Federation navy had suffered losses exceeding half its strength. The navies of those countries had never had many ships to begin with. Even if they were wiped out entirely, the military impact was limited. The political repercussions, however, were enormous. As the supreme commander of the allied forces, Frederick now had to provide the aggrieved parties with an explanation they could accept. Greece and the Nordic Federation, despite suffering heavy losses, were easier to deal with. On the battlefield, shells had no eyes. If blame had to be assigned, it could only be blamed on bad luck. At worst, they could be compensated with a few extra warships when the spoils were divided after the war. The countries whose navies had been completely annihilated were a different matter. This could not be brushed aside so casually. Being wiped out to the last ship without an outright defeat was bound to make allies overthink the situation. If they were to accept reality, there had to be proof that they were not treated as cannon fodder during the daytime battle, and that total annihilation fell within the bounds of normal battlefield losses. Unfortunately, this was something that could not truly be explained. Even if survivors and the navies of other countries could testify, the aggrieved parties would simply choose to ignore it. Politics was often no different from dealing with children. Most of the time, the ones who cried got fed, while the well-behaved children who did not make a fuss were quietly overlooked. With such a rare opportunity at hand, failing to play up their misery and demand compensation would be an insult to the sacrifices their navies had made. If nothing unexpected happened, this was only the beginning. In the battles to come, there would be more and more troubles of this kind. Take Monaco, which had sent only a single company, or Montenegro, which had sent a single battalion. Once they reached the battlefield, they were candidates for complete annihilation at any moment. Land warfare was still manageable. At worst, such units could be placed in the rear to serve as logistics troops, or assigned to maintain order in occupied territories. In the past, the Holy Roman government had organized joint campaigns many times without suffering total wipeouts. Their experience in handling such matters was fairly extensive. This time, however, the situation was different. Armies could be held back, but warships could not be kept in reserve. In naval warfare, every additional ship meant one more chance at victory. Even a single destroyer of a thousand tons could become the final straw that broke the camel’s back. If the naval battle continued to remain deadlocked, and the air force gradually gained the upper hand, once amphibious landings were fully launched, the enemy would certainly target the troop transport ships. Small countries could only send limited forces. Often, a single transport ship was enough to carry everything. If luck ran bad and they happened to run into an enemy attack, they might be sent straight to the bottom to feed the fish. There was no helping it. To maintain an alliance, at least on the surface, fairness had to be preserved. The care given to small countries also had its limits. No matter how many troops they sent, they still had to set foot on the battlefield at least once. Otherwise, not only would other allies have complaints, even their own officers and soldiers would not accept it. Duty was duty. No matter how troublesome it was, the work still had to be done. And beyond these issues, there were the logistics of multinational forces, coordination during wartime, fire support at critical moments, and countless other matters that all required careful management. The position of supreme commander was, in reality, a role that combined politics, military affairs, and diplomacy into one. Because of the special nature of war, the supreme commander was also granted the authority to make on-the-spot decisions. High rank and great power had never been easy burdens to carry. What they were facing now was only the beginning of the trouble, still far from its peak. Closing the battle report, Frederick’s frown deepened. After a brief hesitation, he asked, “Chief of Staff, with such heavy losses in today’s fighting, what results did we achieve?” The losses were indeed staggering. According to incomplete statistics, thirty-seven warships had sunk during the daytime battle alone, including three conventional battleships. Almost every ship had suffered damage to varying degrees. Fortunately, the super battleships were heavily armored. Even the worst-hit ones were merely crippled rather than sunk outright, and could still be salvaged. Three hundred and eighteen aircraft had been shot down by the enemy, with over a thousand more damaged. Nearly all participating aircraft required major repairs. This was the air force’s heaviest loss since the war began. As for personnel casualties, too many countries were involved to compile accurate figures in a short time. Preliminary estimates put the number of dead at no fewer than ten thousand, with the wounded exceeding fifteen thousand. Morkes waved his hand and said, “The final tally is not ready yet, but their losses will not be small either. Based on battlefield conditions, we can be sure the enemy lost more aircraft and had more ships sunk. That said, it cannot be generalized. We held an advantage in the air, so we should have come out ahead there. As for the navy, it is harder to say. We field more new-model battleships, while the enemy used older ships to tie us down. It is normal for them to lose more ships under those circumstances. When damaged ships requiring repairs are taken into account, which side holds the naval advantage in the short term is still uncertain.”
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