Chapter 13: Awakening of the Sea God

September 6, 1940, Friday.

On the terrace of a garden-style villa in the port of Amsterdam, German Air Force Colonel Hans Rogen eagerly watched as the He-111 and Ju-88, with iron cross emblems painted under their wings, roared across the strait. Since August 20th, the German Air Force had established a stronghold on the Isle of Wight, shooting down 299 British fighters and 126 bombers in fierce aerial combat, reducing the Royal Air Force to only one-third of its strength at the beginning of the Battle of Britain. They had effectively gained control of the airspace over southern and southeastern Britain.

The tiny Isle of Wight had become the fulcrum for shifting the course of the Battle of Britain, and the young officers had every reason to be proud of their victories!

Drawing from the preparatory experience of the "Fortress" operation, Rogen once again insisted that any documents related to Operation "Wrath of the Sea God" should not be transmitted via radio. Though traditional paper communication was slower, its reliability was maximized. To test British decryption capabilities, Rogen inserted a minor "plot" unrelated to the main operation, ensuring that even the most superstitious generals would realize that the British knew more than they let on – even the number of hairs on their legs!

As he watched the swarm of German bombers disappear into the distance, Rogen turned to the north. Everything was in place, all they needed was the favorable weather conditions of the North Sea – the so-called "east wind."

"Colonel, urgent dispatch just arrived from High Command! The generals are assembling in the conference room!"

"Ah!" Rogen turned to see his adjutant, Karl August, briskly approaching from the stairwell. Although Rogen couldn't yet be sure if this young Air Force lieutenant was a spy planted by the British or the Soviets, in normal military matters, he had no reason to suspect. At 22, August had shown more coordination and military discipline than Hartmann – a testament to his upbringing in a military family and formal military education. Whether he would rise to command depended not only on combat experience but also on personal character.

"The battle is about to begin!" remarked the younger lieutenant, gazing eagerly at the deep blue sea before them.

In the conference room, all the key members, including Chief of Operations Wolfram von Richthofen, his deputy, Kurt Frey, and Major General Wilhelm Flieger of the General Staff, were present. As the army only had a feinting role in this operation, only General Flieger was sent as the senior liaison officer.

Von Richthofen quickly reviewed the documents sent by High Command. "Gentlemen!"

Everyone in the room snapped to attention.

"According to forecasts from meteorological stations in Norway, the North Sea and Britain will experience clear weather for the next week! Therefore, High Command has ordered Operation 'Wrath of the Sea God' to commence today, with the Operations Headquarters responsible for all phases of the operation!"

There was a subdued yet excited cheer in the room.

With the command issued, the German communications station in Amsterdam broke radio silence, followed by increased activity in radio stations across northwestern Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, and France. Encrypted messages were transmitted invisibly. Shortly afterward, the German Air Force reconnaissance planes began hourly flights over important military targets along the southern and southeastern coast of England. Additionally, in the afternoon and evening, over 1,200 German fighters and bombers conducted concentrated bombings on the "Greater London Defense Ring" south of Cromer and east of Brighton!

All of this made the British realize that the German forces across the Channel were finally taking action!

Later that evening, the naval and air forces assembled for training along the Baltic coast in northeastern Germany began to transfer to designated airfields or ports. The battleship "Gneisenau" led the main fleet, accompanied by the German battleship "Admiral Scheer," the heavy cruiser "Prinz Eugen" (repaired in June), and several destroyers, entering the North Sea from the Baltic Sea via the Kiel Canal on the night of September 6, temporarily anchoring in Wilhelmshaven.

The large-scale German mobilization did not escape the notice of British intelligence personnel. On September 6 alone, German radio monitoring departments intercepted as many as 52 suspicious radio signals, managing to decrypt 7 of them, all related to the large-scale German mobilization: air force movements, army deployments, and fleet gatherings, timely and accurately. Despite the defeat of the Expeditionary Force and the inability of the Luftwaffe to dominate continental Europe, the formidable intelligence network built by Britain continued to operate. While lurking in various corners, they gathered intelligence and relayed it back home through various means – though radio communication was the fastest, it also posed significant risks of exposure.

The number of British spies captured by German intelligence overnight wasn't Rogen's concern. As he had predicted, the next morning, dozens of British bombers flew over ports in France such as Le Havre, Cherbourg, Dieppe, and Calais, all of which were heavily populated with transport ships. Although the German military had prepared for this, deploying numerous anti-aircraft guns around these ports and using Bf-110 fighters for interception, these twin-engine fighters were not yet fully capable of night combat, and interception efficiency remained low. As a result, the British bombers successfully dropped dozens of tons of incendiary bombs, inflicting significant losses on personnel and ships gathered in the aforementioned ports – a situation eerily similar to historical events.

Before dawn, on the northern side of the Dover Strait, British coastal artillery sentinels remained vigilant. This was the narrowest point of the English Channel, with only 34 kilometers separating the two coasts. Even a fast boat could make a round trip in an hour, and a slow transport ship could do so in five hours. What made it even more dangerous was that the Germans had deployed long-range artillery in the area around Calais. These guns, with calibers exceeding 150 millimeters, could easily reach across the strait, reminiscent of the Paris Gun during World War I – a testament to the Germans' current strength, far superior to that of 1914!

"Commander, there seems to be ships on the sea! More than one!" A British soldier, who usually boasted of having "sharp ears," urgently reported to his sergeant.

The older non-commissioned officer bit his lower lip. "Jim, you better not joke about this situation!"

The young soldier swore, "Of course, if there's nothing out there, I'll voluntarily stay in the darkroom for a week and let mice nibble on my toes!"

"All right! Everyone back to your gun positions!" The sergeant called out to his subordinates while picking up the phone. "Brigade HQ? This is 3rd Battalion, 1st Company, 2nd Platoon, Sergeant John Carmichael speaking. We suspect German vessels are active on the sea, possibly laying mines... Confirmation? Commander, it's critical, I can't give you an accurate percentage... Yes, sir, understood!"

After hanging up the phone, the sergeant muttered to himself, furrowing his brow as he stared at the pitch-black sea.

A minute later, two crisp sounds followed by two bright flashes streaked towards the sea at an angle greater than 45 degrees, counting to six on the stopwatch before erupting into blinding light, dispersing the darkness shrouding the sea.

"Damn Germans! Do they think there aren't enough mines in these waters?" The sergeant clenched his fists, teeth gritted. In his line of sight, there were forty or fifty small boats in the Dover Strait – minesweepers, minelayers, and torpedo boats. It was a mystery how they had silently slipped into the strait without triggering the numerous mines laid by both sides. From afar, they seemed to be stationary, but upon closer inspection, they were slowly drifting with the current – mines weren't interested in these small vessels, and their slow speed allowed sailors to detect and avoid nearby floating mines. Such meticulous patience was probably only possible for the meticulous Germans!

Coastal artillery and mine-laying were nothing new to British soldiers. Since the outbreak of war, both adversaries had laid thousands of mines in the English Channel and the North Sea, creating three major minefields in the northern North Sea, Dover Strait, and the western side of the Danish Straits. The first two minefields were set up by the Royal Navy to block enemy passages, while the latter was Germany's famous "North Sea Wall" – designed to defend against British fleet raids and assaults.

With a mix of British and German mines, any passage left by either side was now nonexistent. It was clear that if the British fleet dared to venture into the Dover Strait, they would inevitably encounter an unknown minefield and suffer heavy losses under the joint assault of the German Luftwaffe and coastal artillery!

Such a straightforward reasoning was not lost on the British. The phone in the fortress rang, and the sergeant picked it up, listening intently before loudly calling out to the gunners at their positions, "Men, load the high-explosive shells! Six thousand yards straight ahead, let's give them hell!"

The gunners were astonished at the distance of six thousand yards – the audacious Germans had actually brought mines to the north shore! Since it was right under their noses, it had to be taught a lesson, right?

Moments later, heavy artillery mounted in reinforced concrete emplacements roared to life. Although some of these guns dated back to the previous century, and some had even participated in the Battle of Jutland in 1916, their age didn't hinder the Royal Navy from rearming them for coastal defense.

Amidst the thunderous roar, heavy shells rained down on the German minelayers and ships near the coast. Torpedo boats were swift and quickly accelerated away, but minelayers and armed vessels moved more slowly, helpless amidst the successive bursts of white water pillars, almost every salvo causing a ship to capsize or fall silent.

Seeing the German ships on the sea utterly defenseless, the British coastal artillery unit rejoiced, but it lasted only two or three minutes before the south shore erupted with a thunderous sound comparable to that of the north shore. In an instant, large-caliber German shells whistled down, causing a cataclysmic explosion around the British coastal fortress. Due to their inferior range, most of the British coastal guns soon fell silent and were retracted into their shelters via dedicated tracks, leaving only those mounted in turret-style bunkers to continue bombarding the enemy on the sea.

With the withdrawal of the German minelayers, debris, lifebuoys, wooden barrels used for water storage, and various bottles and cans floated on the sea's surface. These weren't the threat; the real danger lay beneath the surface – drifting mines, anchor mines, and the German's unique magnetic mines. Even without interference from German coastal artillery and air force, it would take the British navy at least two days to clear a safe passage from the mines, meaning the Dover Strait would be impassable in the short term!