Chapter 58: Mutual Destruction between Britain and America at Sea, The Jinx The Sun

When the British government angrily delivered its sternest diplomatic note to Washington, accusing it of blatantly supporting rebel bandits and of armed intervention in the domestic affairs of the British Empire, the gentlemen in Washington had a collective, blank-faced reaction.

This script is entirely wrong! Didn't we just successfully pin the blame for Chicago on the European fellows?

How is it that in the blink of an eye, the blame has been tossed right back at us?

Besides, can you British civil servants show a shred of creativity? Do you really have no other excuse besides "interference in domestic affairs"?

The most absurd part of it all was that Logan knew what had happened even earlier than the gentlemen in Washington.

"You were right, Britain is truly newsworthy!"

Back at the newspaper office, Richard said this to a dust-covered Logan.

——Ignoring all objections, Logan had made a trip to France, declaring his intention to plant a few reporters across the water in Ireland.

——Given Britain's habitual lack of human decency, there was a good chance they would one day lose their minds and launch a major purge against the Irish, and the reporters would prove useful then.

Sure enough, no sooner had Logan returned than his reporters sent back a major scoop!

Britain truly was devoid of human decency—they had been beaten like dogs!

Upon seeing the photographs of Fatty Churchill in the report, Logan nearly split his sides laughing!

It was worth it! For this single photograph alone, the entire trip had been completely worthwhile!

In his memory, although Fatty Churchill had suffered repeated defeats, he should never have been captured.

Now that he had become a glorious prisoner of war, would this version of Fatty Churchill still manage to smoothly become the British Prime Minister?

Logan made up his mind: he had to carefully preserve this front page of the Sun!

Yes, a disheveled and dirt-smeared Fatty Churchill proudly graced the front page of the Sun!

And the front-page headline was so breathtakingly explosive—

"The United States is Waging an Undeclared War Against the British Empire!"

The Sun had managed to secure several crystal-clear photographs: smiling Irish Republican Army fighters leaning against a gleaming Browning M1917 heavy machine gun;

A group of men operating a US-made 81mm mortar;

And even an open wooden crate filled with oil-paper-wrapped, clearly inscribed US-made artillery shells.

When the gentlemen in Washington finally learned from the Sun that the British Empire had suffered a loss, their heads nearly exploded with stress.

The White House hurriedly convened an emergency press conference, issuing a pale-faced, triple denial:

"The reports by the Chicago Sun are pure nonsense!"

"Its statements do not represent the position of Washington!"

"The federal government absolutely has not provided, and never will provide, any form of military assistance to any organization in Ireland! This is a barefaced rumor!"

The White House attempted to smooth things over and quell the storm, but at this exact moment, the wheels of history seemed to be drifting wildly off course!

——Right on the heels of the Sun's report, during a routine operation along the East Coast to crack down on bootlegging, the United States Coast Guard intercepted and detained a British-flagged vessel named the Pocomoke.

Along the East Coast, the British colonial territory of the Bahamas was particularly notorious for bootlegging alcohol into the United States.

Situated at the northernmost tip of the West Indies, the Bahamas commanded the crucial maritime traffic arteries connecting North and South America, serving as a vital gateway in and out of the Caribbean. Its westernmost islands faced the Florida peninsula across the water, a distance of less than sixty nautical miles.

Previously, Bahamian liquor merchants would transport alcohol out to international waters, where Americans would retrieve it and pilot the goods back to their mainland.

Following the massive nationwide gambling binge that had just taken place, gamblers who had lost their shirts desperately needed alcohol to vent their sorrows, causing the demand for booze along the East Coast to skyrocket!

As a result, the Bahamas decided to step into the fray directly, sending British-flagged vessels to haul cargo straight to points three nautical miles off the eastern coastline, thereby improving transport efficiency.

And then, they were caught red-handed by the Coast Guard!

This should have been nothing more than a routine law enforcement action, but at this particular juncture, it was imbued with an entirely different significance.

For instance, the Sun went completely wild with excitement!

"The Maritime Arena Battle Begins! Coast Guard Strikes Heavy Blow, Detains British Smuggling Ship!"

The Sun analyzed the situation with the fervor of an intracranial climax: "We might not be able to beat the Englishmen on land, but at sea, the United States of America fears no one! Our shipbuilding capacity has long since blown that sunset-bound old empire out of the water!"

"Washington is playing a grand chess match; a war could break out at any second, and the US and Britain will formally declare war!"

This bout of war-crazed fantasy was so extreme that even media peers in the United States could no longer stomach it.

The Sun was mocked for being "so deranged in its anti-British sentiment that it had lost its mind," and for "always fantasizing about making big news and dreaming up absurd, utterly impossible scenarios..."

However, London saw things quite differently.

The succession of "provocations" left the British government burning with rage.

After its demands for Washington to immediately and unconditionally release the ship and its crew went unheeded, Britain announced it would dispatch destroyers to escort British-flagged merchant vessels from the Bahamas to ensure their "freedom of navigation remained unmolested."

The United States Navy was the first to feel that its pride had taken a heavy blow. Would someone please translate for me what this "freedom of navigation" business was supposed to mean?

In tit-for-tat fashion, the US Navy immediately dispatched a destroyer to the same waters to "provide security guarantees" for the Coast Guard's law enforcement operations.

And so, when the Coast Guard's fast patrol boat once again intercepted a British smuggling vessel, not far away in the open sea, a US Navy Wickes-class destroyer found itself locked in a standoff with a Royal Navy V-class destroyer.

The radio waves were filled with the fiery, uncompromising warnings shouted back and forth between the two commanding officers.

The captain of the Wickes-class destroyer was a hot-tempered man of German descent. When his warnings yielded no results and he sought to demonstrate his resolve, he roared into the voice tube: "Train the guns on the waters directly ahead of the British ship and fire a warning shot!"

The gears of fate began to mesh in an absurd manner.

The gunner responsible for the main battery was a pure-blooded young man of Irish descent.

Over the past few days, his head had been filled to the brim with the Sun's drumbeat of hatred regarding how "terribly evil Britain was," and right before setting sail, he had received an obituary notice regarding his younger brother—who had gone to the Irish homeland to join the resistance and unfortunately fallen in battle.

At this moment, through the crosshairs of his gunsight, he stared fixedly at the destroyer flying the Union Jack. In his ears echoed the captain's order for a "warning shot," but in his mind played the telegram announcing his brother's death.

Hatred instantly overwhelmed his reason.

He locked the crosshairs in the center of the sight onto the bridge command tower of the British ship: "You British executioners! Go to hell!"

"Boom!!"

The 100mm main gun spat out a massive tongue of fire and billowing smoke! The shell hurtled forward at tremendous muzzle velocity, covering the extremely short distance to strike the British ship's bridge command tower with pinpoint accuracy!

The American captain was dumbfounded; he had only wanted to fire a warning, so why had they gone straight to a direct hit?

Yet the centuries-old tradition of the Royal Navy was simply this—if you dare to fire the first shot, I will never give you the chance to fire a second!

There was no need for the British captain to issue an order (perhaps he was no longer in any condition to do so); the British gunners retaliated with a fierce, almost reflex-driven counterattack!

There was no need for precise aiming; it was pure, direct-fire combat!

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Scorching artillery shells shrieked across the narrow expanse of water, slamming viciously into the American vessel.

At such close range, escape was impossible—driven by the instinct for survival, the American gunners could only fight back with all their might!

The two destroyers were essentially trading blows at point-blank range, aiming straight for each other's throats! Shells flew back and forth, the deafening roars of massive explosions echoed endlessly, shards of steel shrapnel flew in all directions, and fire and thick smoke instantly swallowed them both!

Meanwhile, aboard the smuggling vessel, the captain yelled into the radio with a voice on the verge of tears: "Stop shooting! Stop shooting! I surrender! I accept the penalties! Is all this really necessary?! We're fighting over a boatload of liquor!!"

He figured he must be the unluckiest smuggler in history: merely hauling a bit of bootleg booze, by what grace or virtue had he managed to trigger a full-scale naval war between two great nations?

The news swept back to the shore like a tidal wave.

Logan, who had been completely unprepared for this: Ah?

The Sun, which had merely been mouthing off for effect: Ah...

And almost everyone else turned upon the prophet of doom, roaring: "Shut your mouth!"