Chapter 8: Undersea Cables and a Greater Conspiracy

Fifteen minutes later, Sergeant Luluche and Sergeant Klose, under the orders of Colonel Lister, returned to the post and telecommunications office near the beach, accompanied by a group of officers and soldiers from the army group’s direct communication battalion’s cable-laying platoon.

This location was also where Luluche had just crossed earlier that afternoon—after being overwhelmed by the French forces’ tear gas remnants, he had dashed out of the post office, fainted on the nearby beach, and was eventually revived by the waves.

At first, Luluche found it odd: why was the post office built so close to the sea? Could it be that the postal workers preferred the “prime seaside office views”?

But after arriving and reviewing the blueprints and documents provided by his superiors, Luluche quickly recalled the reason:

This post office in the town of Nieuwpoort served as a relay station connecting two segments of underwater telegraph cables. Because local communication demand in the town was low, building it by the sea was a cost-saving measure.

Contrary to what many might imagine in later times, laying underwater telegraph cables was actually a very inexpensive method of long-distance communication, even cheaper than land cables.

There was no need to dig trenches or acquire land; the cable could simply be laid by dropping it into the sea and dragging it along with a warship. As early as 1866, humanity had completed the first transatlantic underwater cable.

Along the coasts of Belgium and the Netherlands, Siemens had assisted the telegraph companies of both countries in 1908 to lay an underwater cable crossing the English Channel.

This cable ran from Wilhelmshaven in Germany, through The Hague in the Netherlands, to Blankenberge and Nieuwpoort in Belgium, before crossing the channel westward.

Therefore, when Luluche and his team were dispatched to repair the cable, they carried the original Siemens construction blueprints.

...

“Sergeant Schweinsteiger, can you fix it? Have you pinpointed the break yet?”

Inside the equipment room of the post office, several technical non-commissioned officers had been fiddling with the devices for quite some time.

Luluche, growing impatient, urged Schweinsteiger, who had just been revived during dinner.

Their platoon leader had fallen in battle, making Schweinsteiger the acting platoon leader and the top technical expert. He had formally studied electrical engineering and worked for Siemens before the war.

He had been unconscious all afternoon and was still coming to terms with Luluche’s sudden takeover of command—he wondered how many merits this young man had earned in just a few hours, suspecting favoritism.

Yet, he remained responsible. When urged, he retorted with a sharp reply like the other technical experts:

“Don’t rush! The fault is far more complicated than we expected! The break isn’t nearby, maybe not even on the beach! Let me test again!”

Since Luluche was less experienced in repairs, he quietly fell silent and waited.

After several minutes of repeated checks, Schweinsteiger finally shrugged, pointing at the readings on the Siemens MBR08 dual-arm bridge meter:

“This is troublesome. I estimate we won’t fix it tonight. According to the bridge meter, the break is over three kilometers away!”

Luluche was taken aback and instinctively asked, “What does that mean?”

Schweinsteiger snorted and pointed north with his thumb: “It means the break isn’t on land but extends at least two kilometers out into the sea. How are we going to fix that? Swim out there?

We must request an auxiliary engineering ship, locate the break, haul both ends up, reconnect them onboard, then lay it back on the seabed.”

Luluche was surprised; he hadn’t expected the initial assessment to be so wrong.

To ordinary people, when a small town at war suffers a telegraph cable break, it was usually because the land section had been bombarded—like the cruiser that had been harassing the German forces from the sea today, whose 150mm shells often left deep craters on the beach.

...

Who would have thought that the intact section lying on the seabed was the one broken?

“Fine, since the break is underwater, we really can’t fix it alone and need the navy’s cooperation. What bad luck,” Luluche sighed, signaling the team to call it a night. The technical officers began packing up the bridge meter and magnetometer.

Luluche, accompanied by his trusted Klose, prepared to report back to the regiment headquarters under cover of darkness.

But as soon as he stepped out of the post office and was chilled by the cold sea breeze, he shivered involuntarily.

Suddenly, a spark of insight flashed in his mind, as if he had grasped a thread that made many things fall into place.

“Sir, what’s the matter?” Klose noticed he had stopped walking and thought he might be unwell.

“Nothing. I just suddenly thought of a possibility that ties together several earlier events,” Luluche murmured, his thoughts becoming clearer.

“Klose, have you ever wondered why that Britannian light cruiser has been loitering there all day?”

Klose replied, “Isn’t it providing fire support for the French and Belgian ground attacks on the opposite shore? The cruiser fires several rounds before each enemy charge.”

Luluche shook his head: “They wouldn’t choose a Linx-class for cross-shore bombardment. This light cruiser only has two 150mm guns but six medium-caliber rapid-fire secondary guns—it’s designed to hunt torpedo boats.

If I were the Britannian navy minister and wanted a cruiser for fire support, I’d send a Weymouth or Chatham-class with all eight 150mm main guns.”

Klose was intrigued, feeling as if his mind was expanding: “Sir, I know you’re sharp; just tell me the answer.”

Luluche said, “I suspect the cruiser’s real mission was to sabotage our cable! That’s why Schweinsteiger found the break at least two kilometers offshore.

That enemy ship sailed directly over our cable, then precisely dredged it up from the seabed, cut it, and maybe even took a long piece to prevent us from repairing it!”

As Luluche spoke, Klose immediately understood and recalled a case from the start of the war, something all communications units were trained on.

He exclaimed, “Ah! I remember! Isn’t this like the incident on August 5?

On August 4, Britannia declared war on us, and the next day they sent a cruiser to cut our transatlantic cable!

But wait, they acted so fast and accurately because that cable ran through the English Channel relay, and they had the blueprints beforehand, allowing precise location.

But today’s cable doesn’t pass through Britannia. Only Siemens and the owners have the blueprints. Where did the enemy get the coordinates?

Did we leak them? Or is there a spy? It must be the Belgian telegraph company who gave the blueprints to their allies!”

Though Klose wasn’t adept at intelligence analysis, the options were few: the two owners—Belgium and the Netherlands—and the contractor Siemens. One of these must have leaked information.

Klose ruled out Siemens betraying their country and naturally suspected the Belgians, which made sense given their alliance with Britannia.

But Luluche thought differently.

He stood in the cold wind, contemplating, letting the breeze cool his overclocked brain. After a long moment, he said, “I don’t think so. The enemy must have hastily thought to share the information, not planned it in advance—

First evidence: after occupying this post office, we found the original blueprint copy Siemens had archived for the Belgian telegraph company.

I just checked; it still bears Siemens’ official review stamp.

This shows the Belgians fled so hastily when losing this town that Captain Andri’s cavalry reconnaissance arrived too quickly, and the local Belgian security forces didn’t even realize our army had arrived first.

Therefore, the Britannians sending the cruiser to sabotage the cable was a reactive measure, not a premeditated plan.

That explains why when Captain Andri first arrived, the cable was intact, only breaking after dawn today.

Siemens wouldn’t betray us without reason; the Belgians lost the blueprints unexpectedly.

So, in my view, the prime suspect is the Dutch telegraph company from the neutral Netherlands.

Though the Netherlands maintains neutrality and hasn’t joined the war, their foreign trade and financial sectors lean toward Britannia.

The communications companies there are likely more pro-Britannian than pro-us.

It’s quite possible the Dutch national telegraph company has a mole who, after our army took Nieuwpoort, leaked the blueprints to the Royal Navy at Britannia’s request!”

Luluche couldn’t completely exclude the possibility that the Belgians copied and leaked the blueprints themselves, but he preferred to warn the upper echelons to watch for Dutch spies.

Having studied World War I espionage history, he knew the Dutch telegraph company cooperated extensively with Britannia’s military.

Even if this time it wasn’t the Dutch, raising the alarm was a no-lose proposition.

Perhaps he could even gain promotion from it—though he wasn’t particularly concerned with rank, he was eager to escape the frontline and the deadly firefights.

Only by quickly becoming a senior officer and leaving the front could he ensure his survival.

Klose, after hearing the platoon leader’s thorough analysis, stared wide-eyed as if witnessing a ghost.

Is he even human? How does his mind work?

From measuring a cable break to analyzing enemy cruiser tactics, he deduced so much on his own—unbelievable.

“So, are you going to report all this to Colonel Lister? But even knowing this won’t help us in the immediate battle, right?”

Luluche shook his head: “I’ll prioritize what needs to be said now and have the colonel radio the request tonight so we don’t delay the mission.

As for my analysis, it might not be useful within a day or two, but I believe it will prove valuable in this campaign eventually.

And your job is to keep all this strictly confidential. Honestly, I didn’t expect to deduce so much myself, or else I would have kept it in my head, letting my left and right brain wrestle it out.”

Klose snapped to attention: “Sir, rest assured! I’m absolutely loyal to you! Not a word will leave my lips!”

Luluche waved a hand: “Let’s go back to the regiment.”

A few minutes later, Luluche arrived at headquarters and succinctly reported the repair situation, sharing only what was appropriate.

Colonel Lister, upon hearing the damage was severe and that naval assistance was required for repairs, did not blame the communications platoon.

He sighed, then immediately ordered the regiment’s radio operator to contact division headquarters via the FU-08 radio set, and to have the division relay other psychological warfare deployment instructions.

After giving orders, the colonel kindly urged Luluche to rest: “You should sleep now. There will be much for you to do early tomorrow morning. Get your strength back; I’ll arrange the nighttime defense.”

Luluche was sent to rest in the cellar.

That night, however, he could not truly sleep, only dozing lightly.

Especially in the latter half of the night, the sounds of artillery fire grew louder in town, with waves of shouting and charges rising higher.

French, Belgian, Britannian, and German forces all fought fiercely, nearly clearing the town’s ruins all over again.