Tricking the British

Time passed swiftly, and a year had elapsed almost in the blink of an eye. Akado, seemingly forgotten by time and circumstance, was stationed in a modest office on the outskirts of Hamburg, Germany. His only company was two chairs and a brand new typewriter—a machine he had purchased with his own salary. This typewriter was considered his private property, a luxury not afforded by the struggling German industry or the depleted military budget, which would not allocate funds for a gadget unrelated to combat for a mere second lieutenant.

During this period, Akado received a letter from Hitler, who reported modest achievements in Munich. His speeches had garnered the appreciation of many dignitaries and nobles, and the support from capitalist groups for Hitler was growing significantly. At this moment, Akado was still only an ensign, his position unchanged after a whole year. Meanwhile, far away on the Scottish seas, a significant event was unfolding—a knight was making his first move against the Treaty of Versailles. About seventy German warships, which had once exhausted the British during the Battle of Jutland, were now being escorted to Britain to be divided among the world powers, soon to become the enemy's arsenal.

On these ships, fierce British soldiers boarded and escorted the German sailors away from their posts with rifles. These sailors, frustrated and helpless, lined up and walked off their beloved battleships. "Push off! You think you've won? No! We were betrayed! Fool! I will fight back! You'll see!" shouted a German navy captain, who was then pulled out of the line and wrestled with two British soldiers in a chaotic scene.

On the flagship of the German High Seas Fleet, an old hand grabbed the telephone, his voice tired yet firm, "I am General Ludwig. I refuse to let the enemy water their flowers with German blood. I order all officers to be on standby at Tonghai Valve, ready for my next command."

General Ludwig von Ruth ended the call and looked wearily at the three officers before him. "Gentlemen, our fifty years of hard work will soon sink to the bottom of the sea at my command."

"Sir, we have fought under your command on all fronts, and have followed your countless orders. This order alone shames us, yet we must execute it," one officer said, saluting sharply in the Prussian military style.

"We will never surrender our battleship to the British! I'd rather sink with it!" another officer declared, his voice resolute.

General Ludwig waved them to silence. "Major Wells, have most of the sailors been sent back home?"

The middle-aged officer who had been silent stepped forward, "General, the British have already sent more than half of our men back. In a few days, we'll have fewer people and can execute the plan."

"It's hard for you to stay and accompany this old bone," General Ludwig said with a self-deprecating smile, gripping the chair handle to stand. "If we destroy everything, it's hard to say if the British will let us leave. I wish you could follow the sailors back home; you are all rare talents of the German navy."

"Our lives have been dedicated to the High Seas Fleet, General! If God decrees the fleet's destruction, I hope to accompany it through its final journey," the first officer replied, his voice breaking with emotion.

"Colonel Guba, thank you," Ludwig said, managing a weak smile.

On June 21, 1919, a seemingly peaceful day, General Ludwig picked up the telephone with a trembling hand and issued the most significant command of his life: "Operation Rainbow begins! All battleships, sink!"

In the distance, seagulls chirped, the sea breeze caressed everyone's face, and two British soldiers smoked on the deck of a German destroyer. Approaching them were three officers in British navy uniforms. The soldiers stood to salute promptly.

"Everything normal?" the middle British officer asked with a smile, reflecting the general euphoria of the victorious English.

"Report, Colonel Mered! All normal here! The Germans can't pull any tricks!" one soldier responded loudly.

Suddenly, the deck beneath them trembled slightly. Colonel Mered frowned, looking towards the distant German battleship Frederick the Great, his eyes widening in alarm.

"God! The battleship Caesar! How is it tilting? Quick! Alert everyone! Keep an eye on the Germans! Quick!" After a brief pause, he regained his composure and issued commands loudly.

He motioned to the two soldiers, "To the cabin! If you encounter any suspicious German soldiers, open fire! We're taking over this ship now! Hurry!"

Before Colonel Mered could finish, the destroyer beneath them, numbered G102, shuddered again, the hull tilting slightly to the right. The soldiers grabbed their rifles and ran towards the cabin, followed anxiously by the two other English officers, pistols drawn. Colonel Mered, however, remained on deck, silently leaning on the railing, watching the nearby battleship Catherine begin to sink slowly.

"Who are you? The British are not allowed here! We haven't handed over the warship to you yet!" shouted a German from behind.

"Back off! Or we'll shoot!" an English officer yelled back.

Gunshots rang out.

In the distance, more gunshots sounded, and the once silent German High Seas Fleet seemed to stir back to life. The Germans, using the terrain to their advantage, counterattacked with pistols they had managed to keep from being confiscated, relying on a limited number of bullets to prevent the British from entering the cabins.

Soon, the battleship Frederick the Great, the flagship of the German High Seas Fleet, sank. A massive vortex appeared on the sea surface, swallowing the entire steel behemoth. The command flag of the German High Seas Fleet stubbornly flew until the end. Subsequently, the Catherine also disappeared beneath the waves, and the sea erupted into chaos. The warships of the German fleet sank one after another, catching the British completely off guard as they scrambled to secure the remaining vessels.

About 47 German ships, including almost all the battleships, sank to the bottom of the sea, leaving only 23 ships of the over 70-strong German High Seas Fleet rescued. Colonel Mered leaned on the railing of the destroyer G102, smoking a cigarette, watching the remaining German warships floundering in the sea. Thanks to a timely response, the destroyer did not sink. The soldiers had killed four German officers and managed to close the sea valve in time, though the ship had tilted forty-five degrees and seemed on the brink of sinking.

On a British barge, the remaining German naval officers were held together, their identity guns and sabers confiscated, and half of them handcuffed. Yet, their faces bore triumphant smiles—they had succeeded. The German High Seas Fleet had not fallen into the hands of the British or the French.

The news spread to Germany as if it had wings, and the nation rejoiced. German diplomats sprang into action, doing their utmost to secure the return of these heroes who had executed the astonishing "Operation Rainbow."

Meanwhile, Akado was busy with his brand-new typewriter, composing a report. He had completed his task brilliantly; both the 103rd and 105th regiments under his command were now well-prepared to face gas attacks. As the High Seas Fleet vanished, the German Army had been reduced to 920,000 men, most of whom had lost their heavy weapons. Artillery and machine guns had been destroyed, and the elite German troops were on the verge of collapse. In contrast, the newly formed 103rd and 105th regiments stationed in Hamburg maintained their combat effectiveness and continued their daily training.

As the situation continued to spiral out of control, the 105th regiment received orders to head to the Ruhr area to quell the increasing riots there. The head of the 105th regiment, Kruzer, visited Akado's office before departing. He sat across from Akado's desk, casually knocking his legs, and threw his white gloves onto the coffee table. Glancing at Akado's new typewriter, he began, "We're leaving this afternoon for the Ruhr area. President Frederick Ebert found that the old units couldn't handle maintaining order, so he's deploying new defense forces. The chaos is growing."

"People will soon realize that such disorder only hampers their own progress. Only proper order can help Germany stand again," Akado replied, continuing to type without looking up. Kruzer didn't mind; he knew how deeply Akado understood German politics and military affairs, having gained much from their discussions. He respected the second lieutenant despite his lower rank.

"Sometimes I even suspect you've been a general, Akado," Kruzer said with a smile. "I've written to recommend you, and the letter should reach Berlin in a few days. Good luck."

Akado stopped typing and looked up at Kruzer, surprised. "I've only been a second lieutenant for a year. Even with your recommendation, my promotion might be delayed due to my lack of experience."

"As you said, for the future of Germany, it's worth a try," Kruzer laughed.

With that, the head of the 105th regiment took his leave, having truly written a letter to the new army command in Berlin praising Akado's work. Before departing, he also gifted his old Prussian sword to Akado, a gesture of deep respect and acknowledgment of his capabilities.