Chapter 1591: Chapter 733: They Are My Closest Friends and Family! (Part 2)
He looked at Tirpitz, “Alfred, you go issue the order. Rember, it’s warning shots, and the target must only be unoccupied waters. I want to hear the guns but see no unintended results. Understood?”
“Yes, Minister! Task will be completed!”
Vice Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz imdiately stood up. Although he regretted not being able to directly bombard the port, just letting the naval guns roar was enough to excite him. He saluted and almost marched out of the command center with a charging pace.
Soon, the piercing battle alarm sounded across the ships of the xican Special Fleet.
The 127mm main gun of the destroyer “Quautemoc” slowly rotated, its slender barrel pointing toward the distant horizon. The 76mm rapid-fire guns on other frigates also raised their barrels.
“Fire!”
As the order was given,
“Boom—! Boom—! Boom—!”
The massive gunfire shattered the morning calm of Maine Bay, with plus of white smoke spewing from the gun barrels. Shells whistled through the sky, flying towards the designated unoccupied waters, creating towering columns of water upon impact.
In the coastal defense command at Portland Port, Maine, United States, chaos was rampant.
“Radar confird! They’ve opened fire! Shells crossed our territorial waters, landing outside our territorial line!” a radar operator loudly reported.
Commander Brigadier General Hudson grabbed the communicator. His eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and extre tension, he felt his heart leap into his throat upon hearing the gunfire.
“Return fire! Return fire imdiately! Aim at those xican bastards’ flagship! Show them who’s the boss here!” Hudson roared into the communicator, his voice hoarse with excitent.
However, the command room was plunged into an awkward and eerie silence. Several staff officers and operators exchanged looks, none executing the orders, only the beeping of the equipnt could be heard.
Hudson looked at the inactive control panel, his anger intensifying, “Are you deaf?! I ordered you to fire!”
His deputy, a young Captain, approached with a reluctant expression, whispering almost inaudibly for only the two of them to hear, “General, we have no shells left.”
Hudson froze, turning sharply to stare intently at the deputy, “What did you say? Say it again?”
The deputy swallowed hard, his throat dry, “I said the stock of coastal defense shells, especially 127mm and larger, was mostly ‘disposed of’ during last month’s ‘Non-Core Asset Optimization Inventory.’ We currently don’t have enough shells for even one volley. The logistics departnt says new supplies will take at least three weeks to arrive from South Carolina.”
“Disposed of?!”
Hudson’s voice rose sharply, filled with disbelief, “Sold them all?! Who authorized this?! Damn it! Those were our shells!”
He shook with fury, completely forgetting the satisfaction and approval he felt when he signed off on the asset disposal docunt that brought considerable “extra funding” to his unit.
He slamd the control panel, making the coffee cup on it jump, “Bastards! Useless! A bunch of leeches! At a critical mont, we can’t even fire a single shell! I wish I could sacrifice my life for Arica, shed blood on the battlefield! But now, even when the enemy stands at our door peeing on us, we can’t damn well fight back?!”
He waved his fists, his face flushed, spitting and cursing from the bureaucrats who approved the shell sales to the inefficient logistics, and finally at the xicans taking advantage of the situation, as if trying to vent all his frustration and fear through this tirade.
Hmm… seems quite patriotic.
As he paused in his rant, gasping for breath—
“Whoosh— Boom!!!”
A shell whistled ominously close, followed by a deafening explosion!
The thick bulletproof glass windows of the command room buzzed, dust falling from the ceiling. The explosion clearly deviated from the intended unoccupied waters, landing near the port’s outer breakwater, sending not only water but shattered concrete flying into the air.
“They’ve fired on us!!” soone scread.
Just a mont ago, Hudson, full of grandiloquence and eager to die with the enemy, was now petrified by the nearby explosion. Reflexively, he dove under the sturdy oak desk, his nimbleness belying his middle-aged bulk.
Clutching his head, curled under the desk, any trace of his previous “heroic sacrifice” vanished, leaving only shock and disarray on his face.
Others in the command room were similarly terrified by the off-course shell, creating a scene of chaos.
After several seconds without further attack, Hudson cautiously peeked out from under the desk, his face pale and voice trembling, “Quick! Contact Washington! Contact the Atlantic Fleet, tell them the xicans… the xicans have attacked us! They’ve really opened fire! We need support! Imdiately! Now!!”
anwhile, in the command center of the “Tenochtitlan,”
The atmosphere similarly tightened instantaneously due to the off-target shell.
Rutjens Rear Admiral imdiately looked towards the gunnery departnt, harshly questioning, “What happened?! Which ship fired? Why did the target deviate from the intended area?!”
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