"God! There are still so many planes? What are we supposed to do?" General Mayo cried out involuntarily when he saw the second wave of carrier-based aircraft from the German Navy Carrier Fleet.
Although the previous wave of carrier-based aircraft had sunk only two of their Battleships, several more had been damaged, some of them severely. Now so many more carrier-based aircraft had arrived—they were clearly trying to drive them onto a dead end!
"General, what should we do?" Lieutenant General Henry Wilson looked utterly panicked. By now, he was completely at a loss, with no idea what to do.
General Mayo closed his eyes in anguish. "May God bless us!"
Indeed, the American fleet was now beyond saving. They could only place their hopes in the illusory God, hoping that God would protect them. Unless God performed a miracle, the American fleet had no other way out.
It was foreseeable that the German Navy's second wave of carrier-based aircraft would once again inflict devastating casualties upon them. Then, the German Navy's Atlantic Fleet, which had been trailing behind them all along, would seize the chance to beat a dog in the water, sinking every American warship that had narrowly escaped the air raid or had been crippled yet failed to sink. This time, they not only had no chance of victory, but were also highly likely to be wiped out to the last man here. Such a price was simply too great for them, utterly beyond their expectations.
Before the war began, General Mayo had conducted simulations of this battle. The best possible outcome was naturally for the American fleet to defeat the German Navy and win, allowing the United States to completely occupy the Azores. The worst outcome would merely have been their defeat and the Azores falling