Reborn In 17th century India with Black Technology-Chapter 1188: WWI: Battle of the Atlantic (3)

30th February 1701

The waves crashed relentlessly against the hull of the flag-bearing Sovereign-class battleship, but the ship was far from alone. Dozens, no, hundreds of warships cut through the sea alongside it, advancing in tight formation like an arrow released from a bow string, which sees only its aim and nothing else. Their wakes overlapped and merged, turning the ocean behind them into churning white foam.

On the decks, sailors of different nations moved with purpose. British crews adjusted sails and lines, Dutch gunners checked powder and shot, while French and Italian officers barked short commands, their voices barely carrying over the wind and surf. Flags snapped sharply in the salty air, and the smell of oil, tar, and wet iron hung heavy over the fleet. What had once been a collection of separate navies now moved as a single mass, a cold, machine of war and a tool of destruction.

Admiral Edward Russell stood on the bow of the ship, his eyes squinting as he stared intently toward the south. It had been nearly two years since the Naval Battle of the Mediterranean, and he still could not forget that day. A day when he had been only a hair’s breadth away from death, a day that forced him into the most humiliating situation of his life, a day that still haunted him like a shadow etched into his heart.

Throughout Europe, the victory against the Bharatiya Empire in the Mediterranean was publicised as a great triumph. The narrative claimed that the Empire could not fight back at all. Those who had participated in the battle, Dutch Admiral Sir John Devitt, French Admiral Anne Hilarion de Costentine, Comte de Tourville, Italian Admiral Marco Antonio Giustiniani, and others, and most importantly himself, who nominally served as the commander of the British fleet, were praised as the greatest heroes of Europe, the greatest naval commanders in the world, and all sorts of such nonsense.

But he, along with the other commanders who had actually fought in the battle, knew the truth. They had not won through sheer dominance. The victory came only because the enemy had retreated after learning that the Portuguese and Spanish would also be joining the coalition. Even while being outnumbered, the enemy had managed to mow down hundreds of ships like scythes cutting grass. If not for his keen instincts and experience, which led him to quickly board a safety boat and retreat, he would have been a dead man as well.

"Shiver!"

He clutched his left arm, which was trembling uncontrollably, gripping the railing so tightly that red marks appeared on his wrist. He experienced such shivers every time he thought about that day.

"But!"

His eyes sharpened, and the trembling abruptly stopped as he clenched his fist with all his might, his bones crackling under the force.

’I am no longer the same person. I will not look down on you anymore. I will treat you as the greatest enemy and use every tactic at my disposal, whether underhanded, shameful, or dishonourable. None of that matters anymore. Only victory does.’

His resolve was unquestionable. His eyes radiated a fierce intent to fight, to overcome the foe that had once trampled upon his dignity, his honour, and his peace of mind. This time, he would defeat the enemy and bask in the glory that truly belonged to him. Unlike last time, this glory would be hard-earned and genuinely his, not a fabrication used by monarchs to unify the hearts of peasants. He would no longer have to endure the contemptuous gazes of nobles who looked down on him, for they knew the truth of that day just as well as he did.

Bharatiya Atlantic fleet

"Your Excellency, the Europeans are approximately four kilometres away."

Yashvardhan Keshav received the report from the communications officer, who had just deciphered the signal flash sent by a scouting vessel. He nodded in acknowledgement and slowly walked to the bow of the ship.

"What is their formation?"

"They seem to have sent their smaller ships ahead, sir. These vessels are spread across a wide area and remain in constant motion, shifting positions every few minutes."

"Tch!"

Yashvardhan felt a foul taste in his mouth. Turning toward one of the officers beside him, he asked in annoyance, "Officer Krishna, can we take down those pesky insects?"

Rear Admiral Krishna Nambiar stroked his chin for a moment before giving an answer without hesitation.

"Affirmative, sir. With the newer targeting systems, we can indeed hit the light frigates and clippers with high accuracy. However, sir, the new system is only installed on the Maharaja Ramachandra Class and the Ramachandra Class battleships. The Delhi Class is not equipped with it yet."

Krishna Nambiar looked at the admiral with curiosity, waiting for his decision. ’Would he really use high-tech ammunition so early in the war, and just to take down small fry?’ he wondered.

Yashvardhan thought for only a brief moment before shaking his head.

"No. The main batteries of the Ramachandra Class and the Maharaja Ramachandra Class are meant for enemy battleships. These rounds are far too pivotal if we want to come out on the winning end. Using them to take down small frigates and clippers would be far too wasteful. Not to mention, these shells cannot be replenished easily."

’So should I give up on attacking the light units spearheading the fleet?’

He knew this was the logical choice. He could wait for the enemy battleships to enter range, then engage them directly while letting his own light units handle the European light forces. But he was unwilling. He could not allow the enemy to dictate the rhythm of the battle.

In terms of firepower, the Empire held an advantage due to its advanced weaponry. However, in terms of ship specifications, speed, manoeuvrability, and durability, the differences were not significant. Although confident, he could not guarantee that the 170-odd light warships under his command could engage the Europeans’ 180 light warships and emerge unscathed.

Moreover, the primary role of light warships was never to engage in frontal combat. They were meant to assist larger vessels and add flexibility to the battlefield. If all light warships were tied down, then larger frigates and clippers would have to fill that role. But then, who would perform the frigates’ duties? Would the answer be to split the available forces, assigning half to their original tasks and the other half to act as a substitute for the lighter units?

If that happened, what would become of the battle?

He clearly remembered that the European Mediterranean Fleet outnumbered the Bharatiya Fleet by over 2.63 times in battleships, 2.67 times in heavy frigates, and 1.27 times in standard frigates.

Yashvardhan even began to suspect that this was exactly what the enemy wanted.

’Sigh.’

’I have to admit, this enemy is quite capable.’

The battle had not begun, and the enemy had not even made a single move, yet countless traps had already been laid out before him. If he used the Full-Metal battleship battery on the enemy’s light warships, the Europeans could simply wait at a distance until his fleet exhausted its ammunition. Even if tens of thousands died, the reward would be a Bharatiya fleet stripped of its claws.

On the other hand, if he chose to wait and engage the enemy battleships directly, he would be forced to commit his light warships against the enemy’s light fleet. This would be like chaining one of his legs to a ten-kilogram rock. He could still move, but never at full potential. And once he fell into any one of the traps, he would be forced onto the defensive, losing the initiative and regaining it would cost immense effort.

’So I must deal with those light warships, but without using the main batteries of the Ramachandra Class, and without handing the task entirely to the light units either. Then how do I do it?’

Minutes passed. He considered countless possibilities, yet none felt right. Just as irritation began to creep in, an old memory surfaced from his days as a cadet at the Naval Academy.

He remembered the European naval instructor who held weekly seminars. Hundreds of cadets would gather in the auditorium. He had been one of them.

"The greatest asset a commander can have is sight.

The enemy will try to constrain your vision, try to narrow your options, and make you think that you have limited options, options that are almost in favour of the enemy and to the detriment of your own.

BUT!

You should never ever think you are constrained.

The ocean is a plain with no geography, no strategic landmark, or high ground.

Mould it to your needs.

Sight.

See outside the constraints, peer open the narrow canal the enemy has put you in, and see the wider world.

When you do that, all the books on tactics you have read, you have memorised, and burned into your minds will transform into not tactics or strategies, but your instincts.

Instincts that let you make a proper decision in the midst of the battle, giving you the ability to see outside the constraints."

Yashvardhan Keshav was pulled back to reality.

The confusion in his eyes vanished, replaced by clarity and a burning excitement.

A crazy plan, one that had never been attempted before, began to take shape in his mind.