William Ericsson, a 23 year old salary man who works a 8 to 6 job for six times a week in a massive cooperation. A man who didn't have anything interesting about himself, besides his hobby. A ship enthusiast who loves the ships of history like cruis...
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But you know what, I don't want to. . . . . Cause everyone who reads this already understands that fact. :)
Disaster . . . If Admiral Kempf could describe the retreat from the unknown fleet, it would be with one word; Disaster. Not only did Kempf lose most of his battleships, he lost whole sections of his destroyer squadrons, dozens of cruisers, and almost all of his transports. Even as the last of the transports where making their retreat with one of the few battleships left defending the small ship line, it still wasn't enough.
Even as Kempf watched the last of his ships pass the storm wall and into safety, he never did let down his guard. The smoke, fire and overall poor condition of the ships also did little to help claim his nerves.
It was only after his fleet reached a rough distance of 30 kilo meters away from the storm wall did Kempf let his body relax as a heavy breath left his still body. Slumping down against a guard railing, Kempf slumped his head down as he stared at his shaking hand. Swallowing hard and grabbing it with his none shaking hand, Kempf steadied his hand.
"Just what kind of monster did we stumble upon?" Kempf quietly asked himself as he reached for his hat. Removing his cap, he allowed his short cut hair to flow in the cold wind as he stared at the very cap he wore. The symbol of an eagle holding onto an anchor while spreading its wings out was the symbol of the navy. A symbol, he could only see falling from grace after the defeat he suffered.
". . . This battle . . . Was just a waste of materials and manpower. . . So many young man, and for what?"
. . .
Firing their guns again for what felt like the hundredth time this day, Graf Spee along with her sister ship continued to fire off their 11inch triple barrel guns. Landing hits on most of the outlaying transports and a few pot shots at the trailing dreadnought. The deck of the said Dreadnought was left in flames as the guns that still worked fired back with little to no effect.
Even as the dreadnought listed to the side and slowed to a near crawl, it still fought on. Something Spee could respect out their new enemies. "Fight all you want, a cornered dog will only do so much before it's finally put down." Spee softly spoke out as her guns fired yet again.
Direct hits all across the dreadnought's deck. More flames sprout up as one of the main guns explode. Falling down, the barrels of the destroyed gun fall onto the deck of the ship. Letting out a soft sigh, Spee slowly relaxes herself into the captain's seat of her ship as she watches the distant battle slowly come to a halt as the nearly destroyed dreadnought finally passes through the storm wall.
"Looks like our jobs done." Spee off handle said as the enemy fleet disappeared beyond the wall.
"Looks like it sister, shall we start heading back?" Called a bored voice. Spee, quickly closed her eyes as she tilted her head to the side, as if she was putting any thought into what she was doing next, she corrected her head before responding.
