Republic of China: German-equipped divisions massacred as warlords guarded the nation's borders

Chen Zijun looked at the sixty troop transport ships scattering and fleeing on the sea, and suddenly spoke.

"Uncle Yang, keep firing the main guns of Fortress 380. Start firing the 280 guns as well. The 280 guns have a shorter range than the 380, but don't let any of the troop transport ships that are still within our range escape."

"clear!"

Yang Yanzhao had been waiting for these words.

Four 380mm twin-mounted fortress guns and four 208mm coastal defense guns were all readjusted, their massive barrels slowly rotating to lock onto the troop transport ships still within range.

Boom!! Boom!! Boom!!

An 800-kilogram armor-piercing shell is like a hammer hitting an egg when it comes to dealing with an troop transport ship.

With a single shot, a 3,000-ton troop transport ship was torn in two. Scrap planks, steel fragments, and human bodies flew into the air together. Seawater rushed in ten times faster than the soldiers could climb out of the ship.

three minutes.

Eighteen shells.

Six troop transport ships sank.

Each ship was crammed with six or seven hundred fully armed Japanese soldiers.

Those who didn't manage to escape the ship's hold were trapped inside the metal shell and sank to the bottom of the East China Sea along with the warship.

But here is the problem.

The remaining fifty-four troop transport ships are desperately heading out to sea and will soon be beyond the effective range of the fortress cannons.

Chen Zijun frowned.

He picked up the communicator and connected to another channel.

"Zhou Dehai".

"Here!" came a rough voice from the other end.

Zhou Dehai, former captain of the torpedo boats of the Jiangzhe Fleet, was in charge of training the four British-made torpedo boats after Chen Zijun acquired the shipyard and speedboats from Baldon last year.

"Are your four speedboats ready to attack now?"

"Young Marshal! The torpedoes are fully loaded, the fuel tanks are overflowing, the brothers' eyes are practically popping out of their sockets! We're just waiting for your word!"

"Alright. Depart from port, full speed ahead. Target: the fleeing Japanese troop transport fleet. Bomb as many as you can."

"Yes, sir!"

As Zhou Dehai hung up the communication, the engines of four S-class torpedo boats on the dock roared simultaneously. White sprays of water shot out from the sterns, and four black silhouettes shot out of the breakwater like arrows, heading straight for the open sea.

But Chen Zijun knew that four speedboats were not enough.

Far from enough.

More than fifty troop transport ships were scattered in at least three directions as they fled. Even if each of the four speedboats carried six torpedoes, they would only have a total of twenty-four. Moreover, although the troop transport ships were not heavily armed, they always had some machine guns and rapid-fire cannons on their decks, and pursuing them in the dark would be extremely risky for the speedboat pilots.

He was silent for two seconds.

Then he picked up another phone.

This is a red, secure telephone. Moranzhi had connected him to a secret direct line two weeks ago.

At the other end of the route was the Shanghai Independent Fleet, anchored 200 kilometers downstream on the Yangtze River at the Gaomiao Naval Commander's Mansion Wharf.

Calling it a "fleet" is a bit of an exaggeration. It consisted of only one old cruiser, the Rongchou, plus two small gunboats and two old-fashioned torpedo boats. But it was already quite remarkable. In the coastal areas of China at that time, there were only two or three surface forces that could muster this much equipment.

The phone rang four times before it was answered.

An aged and cautious voice came from the other end.

"Who is it?"

"Commander Lin..."

Chen Zijun's voice was as calm as if he were chatting. "I am Chen Zijun."

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Lin Chengzhang, captain of the cruiser Rongchou, was a veteran of the Beiyang Fleet during the late Qing Dynasty. He had served in the Yangtze River Patrol Fleet during the Beiyang period. Later, during the warlord era, the navy was divided among various warlords. Now, due to the recent Zhili-Fengtian War and the current Zhejiang-Fengtian War, he and his small fleet of dilapidated ships are stuck on the upper reaches of the Huangpu River, claiming to be "independent," but in reality, they are neither here nor there. Zhang Jialiang's men and Qi Yingcai's men had approached him before, but he had not given a response.

Because he couldn't see the wind direction.

But tonight, the wind direction is as clear as it gets.

The Hiei sank.

That's a 30,000-ton battlecruiser.

It was torn to shreds by that twenty-five-year-old from Wusongkou.

"Young Marshal Chen... Young Marshal Chen." Lin Chengzhang's voice was a little dry. "What are your orders?"

"Simple." Chen Zijun leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the teacup on the table. "There are over fifty Japanese troop transport ships heading north out to sea. They're carrying two divisions of Japanese soldiers. I don't want them to escape."

"You mean...?"

"Commander Lin, although the Shanghai Fleet is nominally independent, it is still a Chinese warship in the end. More importantly, my father, Chen Yuhe, has always been mindful of the old Beiyang Army and has provided you with support. Now it is time for you to repay the Chen family."

Chen Zijun's tone suddenly turned serious. "Of course, you can choose not to read these things, but sixty-seven compatriots died on Nanjing Road today. Are you and your brothers willing to avenge them?"

There was another silence on the other end of the phone.

This silence lasted much longer than the last.

Chen Zijun didn't urge him.

He knew that Lin Chengzhang was hesitating and what he was thinking.

Take sides.

Once the Japanese troop transports are hit, the Shanghai fleet will no longer be "independent." It will have to be incorporated into Chen's army. Moreover, the Rongchou, which he commands, is called a cruiser, but it's actually a 30-year-old relic with a displacement of only 2,500 tons and a main gun caliber of only 120mm. It's more than enough to deal with troop transports, but what if it encounters returning Japanese destroyers…

"Commander Lin," Chen Zijun interrupted his hesitation. "After this battle, I will fund a complete overhaul of all the ships in the Shanghai fleet. The men's pay will be the same as my German-equipped divisions, twenty-four silver dollars per person per month. In addition…"

He paused.

"I am currently building a real Chinese navy. Commander Lin, wouldn't you like to pilot a real cruiser, or even a 10,000-ton heavy cruiser?"

A heavy breathing sound came from the other end of the phone.

Then came the hoarse yet resolute voice of an old soldier.

"Young Marshal! Lin Chengzhang's life belongs to you from tonight onwards!"

"Full fleet, depart immediately! Bearing northeast, full speed ahead! Gunboat squadrons, intercept the fleeing troop transports! Torpedo boats, follow your Captain Zhou! Rongchou, lead the charge!"

"Okay." Chen Zijun hung up the phone.

The corners of her mouth curved upwards slightly.

That night, the dilapidated dock on the upper reaches of the Huangpu River was brightly lit.

The Rongchou cruiser's boilers were running at maximum power. Two small gunboats followed closely behind. Two old-fashioned torpedo boats were the first to rush out, leaving two white trails in the night.

About six hundred sailors.

Most of them never fought a real naval battle in their lives.

But tonight, everyone's eyes are shining.

Because they finally knew who they should fight for.