Chapter 118: Ireland, Annihilated

“Irish fleet destroyed, our forces have secured victory! Prepare to defend against the Scottish fleet,” declared Dr. Roger, the commander of the Welsh forces. “This is not the time to lower our guard; the Scottish troops could arrive at any moment.” He wondered what Prince Treacy was doing at this moment. Surely, their fleet must have reached the northern part of Ireland by now.

“Lord Roger, the Scottish forces seem to have appeared to our northeast,” reported a reconnaissance commander, spotting enemy movements and informing Roger. Roger paused to consider before asking, “Where exactly are they now? How far are they from us? Are they within the firing range of our heavy artillery shallow-draft ships?”

“Reporting, Lord Roger, they have entered our firing range.”

“Then do not report to me further. Let them act freely! Just eliminate them. They can temporarily watch over part of my fleet, but the defense line to our northeast must completely annihilate them.”

“Yes, sir!”

Meanwhile, north of the Isle of Man, the Scottish and Irish fleets were locked in a fierce battle. So far, each side had suffered losses exceeding half their forces, with the Irish fleet particularly drained of vitality. The heavy artillery shallow-draft ships had mostly been shattered by the opposing battleships. Yet despite this, the Scottish fleet had not gained any decisive advantage; their battleships had also sustained severe damage. Even their aircraft carriers had come under the attention of lighter Irish carriers. These light carriers primarily served as escorts, carrying supplementary fighters and bombers for the main carriers. Consequently, their decks held a fair number of bombers and torpedo planes. Thus, the Irish fleet, with its four light carriers, was effectively equivalent in strength to a fleet with full-sized carriers.

“Mutual destruction? That’s fine. I can trade attrition with you. By now, I suppose our fleet has completely wiped out the Welsh forces?” Prince Charlie thought, but the fact remained that his fleet had lost communication, and he dared not entertain the possibility that his own forces had been completely annihilated.

“General Little Nelson—the son of Marshal Old Nelson—how could his combat effectiveness be so poor? Surely, even some unscrupulous commanders shouldn’t be able to defeat them,” he reasoned. However, the grim reality suggested the Irish fleet might have already been wiped out. Unfortunately, Prince Charlie could no longer consider this possibility. His only hope was that the Welsh fleet would not arrive too soon.

Within the Scottish camp, Prince Quill was also dissatisfied with the outcome. Their battleship main guns were damaged, and aircraft carrier decks were impaired. He too hoped the Welsh fleet wouldn’t arrive quickly. Compared to the Irish, the Scottish fleet was somewhat luckier—they were only deploying about one-third of their total forces. Moreover, when facing the main Welsh fleet, their communication systems had remained intact. Thus, before their fleet’s destruction, Hesbron had reported their status to Prince Quill.

“The Welsh don’t care if their planes get damaged. They bombard our ships with them and engage our main forces head-on. So far, their losses seem minimal; they’ve likely lost only about one-fifth of their aircraft. Judging by current conditions, they can still replenish these losses,” Hesbron speculated accurately. Against the Irish fleet, the Welsh had also lost a fifth of their aircraft, leaving them with about three-fifths remaining. In warfare, air supremacy is crucial; indiscriminate use of aircraft for bombing to inflict some damage is a cardinal military sin. If the Welsh had lost one-fifth, the Irish should have suffered similarly. That would leave only three-fifths remaining on both sides. Prince Quill’s assessment was precise: if they could annihilate the Irish forces here, they would secure greater air superiority when confronting the Welsh.

Suddenly, a booming cannon shot from the north of the Isle of Man caught their attention. It was not the sound of artillery from the Irish group, but rather from some distant direction. Had the Welsh fleet finally arrived? Weren’t they supposed to have set out from the south? Why were they appearing in the north? Prince Quill was utterly baffled. Perhaps they had taken a long detour just to launch a surprise attack.

And indeed, that was exactly the case.

It was unmistakably the Welsh fleet, yet their formation mirrored that of the Irish fleet attacking the Welsh. Because of this near-identical formation, Prince Charlie had failed to recognize the fleet as Welsh, even suspecting that their own fleet had been wiped out and the Welsh forces were returning from another direction. This fleet was only missing a few light cruisers and heavy cruisers compared to his own. Regrettably, their destroyers seemed entirely absent. Destroyers had the thinnest armor and weakest firepower—if they had all been sunk, that was plausible. This fleet was specifically targeting the Scottish forces, so they must have known these were their own troops.

“Send them a signal to ask if they are our allies,” Charlie ordered. Knowing their communication systems might be damaged, he could only think of alternative ways to contact them.

Five minutes later, a grim message and a cannon blast arrived simultaneously. The fleet was not their own; it had launched a saturation attack on their light carriers. This tactic, developed by the Soviet Union before the Terminator War, involved an all-out barrage when possessing sufficient combat power. It was definitely the Welsh fleet—no other forces could have engaged in this battle. They had taken such a long route just to deliver a sudden, crushing blow. Worse still, their base had no fleet defense. It seemed the Welsh intended to forcibly assault the base. Since bases were typically located along the coast for operational convenience and identification, battleship artillery could easily reach them.

“Hello, Charlie. Surprised? I’m here!” a sudden voice crackled over the comms.

“Brother, if you’re here, then our Irish fleet must be completely destroyed, right?”

“Oh, destroyed? That’s Roger’s responsibility. My mission was simply to take a detour and reach behind you. By now, I suppose they’ve been wiped out. Sorry for the trick. So, will you surrender, or shall I finish you off? My guns are already aimed at your base.”

“Hmph, brother, have you ever seen a prince surrender? I’d rather die than yield.”

“That’s understandable. Sometimes endurance and survival are just stepping stones for future revenge. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many restoration movements in history, right? Anyway, I cherish your fleet. I’ll take you down first so I can borrow your forces. Farewell!”

A tremendous explosion rocked the Irish base—the sound of a 410mm shell from an Elizabeth-class battleship. Although the base was not directly hit, the arrival of the Elizabeth-class battleship signified that the base’s destruction was only a matter of time.

Two minutes later, the Irish fleet’s command system completely collapsed. It was customary that once the commander-in-chief perished, the army effectively became leaderless, allowing the Welsh to seize control of their command. It seemed the next phase would be a direct confrontation between Scotland and Wales.

－－－－－

A brief aside:

I never thought to try voice-to-text before, but today I gave it a shot. It was quite fast—I managed about three thousand words in roughly two hours.