Chapter 14 of 100
Chapter 14
6 min read1,555 words
The next morning, the "Lead Duck" warship designed by Wilhelm II once again caused a stir at the Naval Design Bureau. However, half a month later, those at the center of the storm were no longer the emperor, but the design team.
Following Wilhelm II's instructions, Tirpitz quickly found the data on the American "Olympia" and the Japanese "Chiyoda." With the expertise of professionals, the level of detail in the data far exceeded what Qing Ying had seen in the "Jane's Fighting Ships" yearbook. Three days later, Tirpitz placed a stack of dozens of pages of data in front of the designers at the Naval Design Bureau.
When these conservative and dull-witted individuals saw the two actual examples, they were instantly stunned. Tirpitz's subsequent words made them even more anxious, and they quickly abandoned their current work to begin a comprehensive simulation and analysis of the two designs. Tirpitz had already made it clear that if they did not find the flaws in their previous designs and design a warship with the same tonnage efficiency as these two examples within a month, everyone would be immediately dismissed from the Naval Design Bureau, and new people would be recruited from the shipyards! After all, the Naval Design Bureau offered excellent benefits, so there would be no shortage of applicants from the shipyards!
Faced with the threat of losing their jobs, the designers burst with incredible energy. As professionals, they also developed a great interest and curiosity in these designs, which were completely different from their own country's heavy gun designs, eager to uncover the secrets. For a month, the entire design bureau meticulously studied these two foreign examples, working late into the night. Due to confidentiality, Tirpitz did not have all the front-line data, which caused some difficulties in the reconstruction and simulation of the warships. However, these people, who had deep expertise in warship design, could still make accurate judgments through forward and reverse reasoning, along with some intuition and experience, and continue to tackle the next challenge.
By the end of December, the designers at the Naval Design Bureau finally managed to fully simulate the two example cruisers. Unlike the hollow data provided by Tirpitz, the simulated designs included complete blueprints and rigorous calculations, which were personally reviewed by Tirpitz, confirming the fundamental changes. Through this simulation, the designers realized how wasteful their previous designs had been in terms of displacement. They felt ashamed and embarrassed, especially after using the term "lead-cast duck" to describe the emperor's design.
The fact that these two existing examples were seen by the 11-year-old second son of the German Emperor in a magazine, while the professional naval department was less informed than a child, was truly unacceptable. While the design bureau personnel were busy with simulations, the naval department began to integrate data and analyze the performance of active warships from various countries. Through this integration, Tirpitz was surprised to find that only the United States and Italy had initially grasped the essence of tonnage utilization in warships, while other major powers, including Britain, France, and Russia, were still solving problems with tonnage, just like Germany had done. Even the British shipyard that built the Chiyoda did not continue with its design in subsequent warships.
Realizing this, Tirpitz decided to implement strict confidentiality, but this meant that only a handful of people in the design bureau understood the concept. The broader community of ship designers in Germany continued to follow conservative paths, which was detrimental to both domestic bidding and foreign exports. After some thought, Tirpitz decided to use the pretext of "evaluation training" to gather the 63 A-level and 140 B-level ship designers with warship design qualifications in Berlin in batches for a month-long closed simulation and practice. This would improve their skills without arousing suspicion.
In the following months, the designers immersed themselves in the new methods and simulations. Although the design bureau had a head start, they were only able to replicate the design of protected cruisers. To extend this to armored cruisers or even battleships, they still had a long way to go. Seeing the significant changes in the German shipbuilding industry under his influence, Qing Ying felt a strong sense of achievement: this way, there would be no more large ships with small guns!
Time passed quickly, like a white horse passing through a gap. It had been half a year since Qing Ying's arrival. In the Berlin Palace, the cold of winter gave way to the warmth of spring, and the once-dull green trees were now vibrant, with tender new buds sprouting on the lush lawns.
As time went by, Qing Ying's excitement about changing the German Navy gradually faded, but his concern about the impending Sino-Japanese War grew. In the historical war, the Qing Dynasty suffered significant losses on both land and sea, losing not only decades of hard work in fortifications and fleets but also ceding Taiwan and paying a huge indemnity of 230 million taels of silver! Although Qing Ying wanted to change this, the scope of the war was too broad, and careful planning was needed to avoid not only failing to save China but also losing everything he had gained after his arrival.
Sending an expeditionary force to Korea to fight the Japanese? This was clearly impossible. From any perspective, this idea was not practical. After dismissing this unrealistic notion, Qing Ying thought: if he couldn't help on land, could he assist the Beiyang Fleet at sea?
This was highly feasible!
In the last 20 years of the 19th century, as maritime interests became increasingly prominent, countries outside the mainstream also recognized the importance of navies, and the industry of selling warships abroad suddenly became very popular. Countries like the Qing Dynasty, Japan, Brazil, Chile, and Spain had all purchased warships from industrial powers like Britain, France, and Germany, with the Qing Dynasty being the most active. More than half of the main warships in the world's eighth-ranked Beiyang Fleet were built in Germany, and the famous "Dingyuan"-class ironclads were a monumental achievement of German shipbuilding a decade ago. Selling warships had become the most profitable and employment-boosting business, and countries like Britain and France were eager to get involved. If, on the pretext of selling warships, Germany sold them to the Qing Dynasty just before the war, this profit-driven action, though controversial, would reduce most international pressure—after all, other countries had done similar things, and Germany had not received orders from the Qing Dynasty for years, making it reasonable!
Historically, the Qing Dynasty's series of failures were closely related to the loss of sea control. After Japan gained complete control of the seas, it could freely transport supplies to the Korean front and launch amphibious operations, capturing Lüshun and Weihai. If the Qing Dynasty had control of the seas, Japan's supply lines would be disrupted, and its army would be limited to the Liaodong Peninsula. Even if the Qing army lost territory in Liaodong, as long as they retained sea control, the overall situation would not be as dire. In such a case, even if the Qing Dynasty had to cede territory and pay reparations due to land defeats, the amount would be much smaller than in history.
As for whether Germany could help the Beiyang Fleet regain control of the seas, there was no doubt. During the First Sino-Japanese War, the Japanese Navy, although dominant in East Asia, was a laughing stock to European powers and not worth mentioning. Without even mentioning France and Russia, the German Navy, even before its full development, could easily destroy the Japanese Navy several times over. Moreover, the Beiyang Fleet was not far behind the Japanese Combined Fleet, and with Germany's assistance, turning the tide would be as easy as taking something from a pocket.
However, while Qing Ying had this idea, the Qing rulers, despite Japan's massive military buildup, were still immersed in the "Tongguang Revival" dream, believing that Japan would not dare to attack them, leaving no opportunity for Qing Ying to intervene. Worried, Qing Ying could only stay and wait for the spark of war—the outbreak of the Donghak Peasant Revolution in Korea.
In the past half year, Qing Ying, living in the Berlin Palace, experienced the European education of a century ago. He woke up at 7:30 AM and went to bed at 10:00 PM. The curriculum included seven subjects covering foreign languages, arts, sciences, and military history. Unlike ordinary education, the palace provided one-on-one specialized tutoring, with all teachers being top-tier talents hired by Wilhelm II. These teachers not only had solid knowledge but also excellent teaching methods. Even when Qing Ying least wanted to attend class, he would gradually become interested in their lessons.
With the mind and rationality of an adult, despite Wilhelm II doubling his workload for a global tour, Qing Ying felt no pressure. To avoid appearing too extraordinary, he deliberately lowered his accuracy to below 85%, just above the 80% threshold set by Wilhelm II. After the final exam, Qing Ying walked through the palace garden, breathing in the fragrant air, and let out a long sigh. After months of waiting, a mature opportunity had finally arrived!
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