Chapter 81

As the spring breeze caressed his face, the grass grew lush and the orioles flew, the cold of winter gradually receded, and warmth permeated the air. In the early morning, the Baltic Sea, shrouded in a misty haze, resembled a young maiden draped in a light veil, elegant and serene, with a clear and ethereal beauty. The sea shimmered, and gentle waves rolled, while a few seagulls glided over the surface, their clear cries adding a touch of vitality to the dreamlike and beautiful scene.

A broad, flat asphalt road ran along the coast, one side bordered by a gray breakwater, the other by lush greenery. At the end of the road, a cluster of towering buildings rose from the vast plain. From a distance, four massive dry docks could be faintly seen, built along the coast, surrounded by piles of steel and other materials. The factories were staggered, and warehouses were scattered, already exuding a grand and imposing atmosphere of a heavy industrial base.

A black car, emitting a faint blue smoke, slowly made its way through the newly constructed factories. The car bore a gold-embroidered emblem of the House of Hohenzollern, its brilliance a testament to the absolute authority of the Second German Empire. In the back seat, a tall and handsome young man sat upright, squinting his eyes as he took in the scene before him in the early morning sunlight.

Under the azure sky and in the bright morning light, the giant workshops, like beasts, were neatly arranged, vast and majestic, with the sound of machinery and thundering engines. The car passed through the open gates, and the roar of the machines surged forth. On the shipyard, figures moved about, and a crane lifted a massive steel plate over a dense framework of steel. Occasionally, a bright orange cutting torch, accompanied by thick black smoke, swiftly sliced through large steel plates. As the young man drove through the newly built coastal shipyard, he felt a surge of grandeur and power within his chest, and he couldn't help but want to let out a loud cry.

Two years ago, Qing Ying had proven the feasibility of Wilhelm's "lead duck" and pointed out the excessive tonnage in the design of German naval warships. In return, Wilhelm not only agreed to his round-the-world voyage but also approved the construction of a shipyard in the coastal town of Neuhagen, near Rostock. After two years of construction, the first phase, which included four shipyards capable of building 3,000 to 4,000-ton vessels and their supporting facilities, was completed. With a staff of over 1,600, including designers, technical workers, and logistics personnel, the small shipyard officially opened for business.

Since Wilhelm knew that Qing Ying was not adept at management, he only gave him the nominal title of shipyard owner, allowing him to be a hands-off manager, while entrusting the daily operations to an elderly family member named Bremmer. The management of Wilhelm's vast fortune, worth over 2 billion marks, was similarly handled. Qing Ying was actually quite satisfied with this arrangement. His original purpose in establishing the shipyard was to develop advanced military technology, not to satisfy his desire for management. Now, with the shipyard running smoothly without his involvement, he was content, especially since he received a substantial monthly income in marks.

At the end of the 19th century, shipbuilding was one of the most profitable industries in Europe. Despite Qing Ying being in Berlin and not engaging in any advertising, the enormous profits from maritime shipping still attracted capitalists to expand their fleets. In this context, Qing Ying's newly opened, relatively unknown shipyard managed to secure orders for 8 merchant ships from two shipping companies. Initially, Qing Ying suspected that Wilhelm had used his influence to ensure these orders, but when he visited other shipyards and saw the busy shipyards, he realized the era he was in.

The furnaces roared, molten steel poured, and the machines thundered. In the heart of the Second Industrial Revolution, Qing Ying watched as sheets of steel were rapidly cut and shaped into precision products, the sparks flying. Even though he was familiar with modern automated machinery, he still marveled at the advanced level of German industry. German skilled workers and precision engineering remained unparalleled, even after the devastation of two world wars, let alone in the prosperous late 19th century. No wonder Wilhelm, with such formidable power, was confident and eager to redivide the world.

"Your Highness, we are almost there."

As Qing Ying's thoughts wandered, a man sitting in the front passenger seat turned around and spoke to him. He was a tall, robust figure in a black suit, Qing Ying's bodyguard, Loen. Qing Ying nodded slightly and looked ahead to a solitary four-story, light yellow building standing between the shipyard and the workshops, surrounded by green trees, a stark contrast to the monotonous and rigid appearance of the surrounding factories. As he gazed at the main design office of the shipyard, Qing Ying clenched his fists, a look of anticipation on his handsome face.

The shipyard was built to the standards of constructing 4,000-ton military warships, and the main design personnel and technical workers had no issues with their qualifications or skills. This meant that, despite having only four shipyards, the industrial and design foundations were fully capable of building warships for the military. With Tirpitz's Naval Law enacted two months ago, Qing Ying had an idea to take on the four small cruisers mentioned in the law.

Historically, the "Gazelle"-class small cruisers, which Germany began building in 1898, were a disaster in terms of firepower, speed, and cost. To improve the navy's combat capability and secure the substantial profits from building warships, Qing Ying had no reason to waste the resources at his disposal. As soon as Tirpitz's Naval Law was enacted, he instructed the shipyard's design team to start working on the cruisers. It was now February 1897, and the designs were likely ready.

In addition to the small cruisers, Qing Ying had a more significant goal: to see if there was an opportunity to develop Germany's submarine fleet ahead of schedule.

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When it comes to submarines, almost everyone knows of their formidable power. Due to their high stealth and threat, submarines have been an indispensable part of navies even in the technologically advanced 21st century. During World War I, submarines had a golden opportunity to showcase their capabilities, as the technology of the time made it difficult for the warring nations to counter the underwater threat.

Since submarines joined the naval family, countering them has been a major challenge for navies worldwide. The method of attacking submarines is straightforward: since the submarine's hull cannot withstand impact, a special bomb that can explode underwater can be used to destroy the submarine's pressure hull. Although the principle of depth charges is simple—consisting of a detonator, a contact pin, a spring, and explosives—their explosive power is sufficient to pose a lethal threat to submarines. However, to attack a submarine with a depth charge, a crucial condition must be met: the anti-submarine ship must first know where the enemy submarine is located!

In 1906, the British developed the first sonar device capable of detecting submarines. It worked by listening to the noise of the submarine's propellers to determine its location. However, this ideal anti-submarine effect was only achieved in a controlled pool. In the turbulent open sea, the original sonar's shortcomings became immediately apparent. The ocean is not as calm as a pool; currents, tides, waves, and underwater fish all produce various sounds that severely interfere with the operation of the hydrophone. Additionally, the technology of the time had various flaws, making the sonar's effectiveness in actual combat even more limited. It often mistook ocean currents and fish for submarines, ignored the presence of submarines, or reported locations far from the actual position. Once the submarine crew felt the vibrations from distant depth charges, they could simply stop the submarine, and the passive sonar would lose the target, making it difficult for surface ships to pose a threat.

During World War I, the ineffectiveness of anti-submarine tactics can be illustrated by a set of statistics: over the four years of the war, German submarines sank over 5,000 Allied merchant ships, totaling a staggering 13 million tons, nearly strangling the maritime lifeline of the British Empire. In return, Germany lost fewer than 180 submarines, with a loss ratio of nearly 30 to 1. Anti-submarine tactics only matured in late 1943, with the introduction of escort carriers, anti-submarine patrol aircraft, sonar, radar, and radio direction-finding, which finally neutralized the threat of the submarine wolf packs. In the 30 years prior, during World War I, none of these conditions existed!

The engine roared, and a gentle breeze blew. Soon, the open-top car slowly stopped in front of the building. Qing Ying took a deep breath and strode inside.

Thank you, Xue Piaopiao, for your generous support... The author will work even harder!

Please consider adding this to your collection... Writing is not easy.

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