Reich Marshal of the Belkan Reich

RM Vol 4: War – Chapter 44: Case Yellow (Day 13 – The storm that is approaching)

The Atlantic winds carry with them not the chill of the sea but the fiery heat and burned oil. Admiral Addison never thought he would come to meet Lord Gort face to face, but here they are, standing in a smoking harbor as the shoreline of Dunkirk falls under barely contained chaos. The two veteran officers can only look at each other mutely, at first, before both direct their gaze to the crimson backdrop that borders on fantastical. They truly don't know what to say, things fall apart much too fast for any of them to reasonably react, much less plan around. Gone are their well-trained poker faces, what's left are just fellow men trying to make sense of the situation.

On the shoreline and piers of Dunkirk, soldiers, sailors, and officers intermingle with one another. They can be seen running around to aid the injured, bandaging their wounds, or draping blankets over their shivering bodies to fight hypothermia. Many of the men being cared for are soaked like wet rats, either due to their venture into the sea or the searing heat of the burning ocean a mere swim away. Even now, life rafts and some civilian vessels are being used to find more survivors from the Grand Fleet. Judging from some of the shoutings and cries in the direction of some sinking ships, there must still be many stranded, unable to extricate themselves due to environmental hazards. Admiral Addison would have joined the rescue effort without Lord Gort's insistence on keeping him at the harbor. The Admiral barely made it out alive, he would be a fool to risk himself and potentially cost the Royal Navy another experienced officer.

Lord Gort's fear is not unfounded, for in addition to the burning hazard, there are munition cook-offs from many sinking warships. Only the most heroic yet dispensable of them all are given the choice to seek survivor in that aquatic Hellscape. Addison is clearly too important to risk himself like that. The Royal Navy officer understands the necessity of Lord Gort's intervention, yet, it doesn't mean that it sits right with him as a man.

Inhaling a breath of turbid, dry air, Addison says while exhaling harshly.

"What should we do now?"

Instead of answering immediately, Lord Gort takes a good look at the soldiers on the beach and the few small crafts coming in and out of Dunkirk's shore. Already, he can see the signs of an overdrafted medical unit, with doctors and nurses unable to keep up with the constant influx of patients. From the vessels that got stranded near the evacuation site, Lord Gort and Admiral Addison ordered the salvage of some supplies from them if possible. The inherent risk for the salvage teams aboard is astronomical, but it's the only way they can have any hope of getting enough medical reserves. Sighing, Lord Gort replies.

"We have lost most, if not all of our evacuational capability in an hour. What can we do other than trying to save as many of your seamen as possible while having my boys dig in for a tough fight? With the many casualties we are pulling in by the minute, it's also nigh impossible for us to stage any meaningful breakthrough. I don't think any of us are comfortable with ditching all the wounded for a last huzzah?"

As expected, Addison shakes his head. "I would sooner kill myself than abandon my casualties to an unknown future."

"Ah, then I sure hope you're at least comfortable with a Lee-Enfield." Lord Gort adds.

"Do we fight to the last man, then?" Admiral Addison ponders. "I don't fancy throwing the lives of my men away, especially on a battlefield not of their choosing."

"I am not that heartless..." Lord Gort says. "We hold, trying to do as much damage as we possibly can to the enemy. However, I won't stop my soldiers from giving up when they think they have hit their breaking point."

Addison nods with a forlorn gaze back at his burning fleet. "For as long as we can reasonably can then."

"For as long as we can..."

"Lord General, sir!"

Suddenly, the two men's attention is seized by a soldier on a nearby observation post. Standing on a bell tower of a church that offers a good view of the harbor and nearly all of the city, the soldier shouts down at them while pointing his finger out at the sea.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"We got vessels abound! Not ours!"

Lord Gort and Admiral Addison share a look before rushing to the bell tower with their retinue of army and navy personnel. Reaching the top of the bell tower, they are given binoculars to scan the smoky horizon. Out in the sea, with the crimson dawn acting as their backdrop, lies a barely visible formation of distinct warships. Evidenced by their tumblehome designs, the incoming fleet is not Erusean or any other neutral nation that the Royal Navy knows of. No, this is definitely the Belkan Reichsmarine. Only they have the gall to destroy the Grand Fleet and then make an approach as if to taunt their adversary.

"Bloody Hell, are they posturing?" Lord Gort asks in annoyance, worrying that the existence of that fleet will further break their morale.

Only Addison, who has much more experience in naval warfare, understands the true danger of such an approach.

"Oh no, this is much worse. Gort, my good sir, we may need to clear the shoreline. Immediately."

"... Oh sod off. Do as he say!" Lord Gort realizes what's about to go down thanks to Addison's reminder.

Departing from the bell tower, Gort's aide starts coordinating a retreat from the beach and back into the city.

"Since they're already here, the Belkans won't shy away from shelling us to kingdom come with their naval guns. But still... "Eyeing the vessels leading the approaching Reichsmarine detachment, Admiral Addison comments. "Is it just me or do their battleships seem humongous? I know that there may be some optical illusion at work, but I don't think even my flagship looks that dreadful."

"If you ask me that question, who would I bloody ask?" Lord Gort replies. "But if you're feeling that something is wrong, then I guess there really is something wrong with that fleet."

Admiral Addison shrugs. "We already established that the Belkans are hiding their true strength. Before, they were also the ones who called out the Ustians for drafting a big battleship design with 17-inch guns. I wouldn't be surprised if they invoked their right to build something even bigger than that. All the while misleading the whole world that they're only slinging around 15-inch rifles."

"Big guns don't equal the instant annihilation of your fleet, Admiral."

"No, it's not."

BOOM

"What the Hell?" Lord Gort shouts when he hears something got launched. "Was that another cook-off?"

"No! Look!" Admiral Addison says while pointing at where the Grand Fleet is sinking. "One of our warships just fired its guns!"

It takes a few seconds, but Lord Gort finally finds the daring vessel in the middle of a group of abandoned husks. "Wait... Is that?"

"Well, I'll be damn... That's HMS Howe! She's a subclass of the King George V-class of battleship, featuring improved survivability and firepower!" Addison adds.

"She seems to be flooding... Though it seems to be controlled and there's no raging fire on board the vessel." Lord Gort comments. "There are still sailors aboard that ship..."

Addison sighs wistfully. "After the loss of multiple capital ships out of Spain, we thought it was prudent to revise the protection scheme and firepower for our new vessels. Clearly, we still failed, mostly, but if the Howe is still floating and fighting now, then at least we were on the right track... It just wasn't enough. I can only compliment the crew of the Howe for literally sticking to their guns till this point."

"You think they will make a difference?" Lord Gort asks grimly as he once again lays his eyes on the Belkan fleet displacing water toward their location.

"Alone?" Addison replies. "Not possible. Unless there are still some vessels out there that can aid them. Although given what we saw earlier... It will be a miracle and a half."

Lord Gort smacks his tongue. "I hate it when I can't refute that pessimism."

"It's this pessimism that kept me alive all the way till this war... At least, that's what I would like to think." Addison tries to put on a smirk but ultimately fails.

Despite his best efforts, he won't be able to smile, knowing the slaughter that's about to come.

"May God have mercy on all of us." Addison mutters, his plea carried by the bitter breeze.

There's a storm that is approaching, and it's by no means a natural one.