Strait of Gibraltar
The French Navy stood ready in battle formation, waiting for the Mediterranean Fleet to come knocking.
The Royal Navy still took the risk of dispatching a fleet to receive them. They did not dare venture deep into the Mediterranean, but meeting them at the mouth of the Strait of Gibraltar was still feasible.
The British even intended to strike the French Navy from both front and rear. Of course, the French were not unprepared either. They had the support of the Spanish, while the Bulgarian Navy had long since made ready for battle.
The Holy Alliance had laid out a pocket formation, simply waiting for the British to take the bait. In any case, aircraft taking off from mainland Spain or Morocco would need only a dozen or so minutes to reach the Strait of Gibraltar.
If they had merely wanted to deal with the Mediterranean Fleet, the Bulgarian Navy would have charged in long ago. The Mediterranean was not that large; with the many overwhelming the few, and such an absolute advantage in hand, this British fleet would have become history long ago.
They had deliberately left an opening in order to lure more Royal Navy capital ships in, then use the geographical advantage and the air force's power to deal the Royal Navy a crushing blow.
"Commander, another hundred nautical miles ahead and we'll enter the Strait of Gibraltar. It seems your plan has fooled the French!" Major General Juste said in delight.
Hearing this, Admiral Thomas showed no joy whatsoever. The plan was proceeding too smoothly. With the Mediterranean Fleet being so large, how could it possibly pass right beneath the enemy's eyes without being spotted?
Even for the sake of secrecy, Admiral Thomas had already cut off his own arm to save the