Chapter Seventeen: The Master Strategist

On September 9, 1888, under the personal direction of Emperor Frederick III, the Imperial General Staff held a secret strategic war-game that would later become renowned. The participants included the Imperial Army led by Moltke and the Imperial Navy under Feng Chengqian. The German Second Empire never officially published the results of this exercise, but the caliber of those involved made its significance clear.

Gathered around Moltke were illustrious generals such as Waldersee and Schlieffen, whose names were already legendary. Feng Chengqian, on the other hand, was accompanied by a group of young officers in their twenties and thirties. Remarkably, in the decades that followed, each of these officers would become a celebrated figure in the Empire’s military history.

The officers assigned to play the role of the hypothetical enemy included Erich Ludendorff, Bernhard Demlin, Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria, Prince Heinrich, Albrecht of Württemberg, Felix Bussemer, Alexander Freytag-Loringhoven, Otto Beylo, Erich von Falkenhayn, Fritz Beylo, Josias Heeringen, Georg Bruchmüller, and Max Hoffmann.

Of course, among those responsible for planning the German Army’s operations at the time, there was no shortage of talent. Before the exercise began, Waldersee boasted that he would defeat these reckless young men within twenty-four hours. Yet, the war-game did not conclude in a day; instead, it lasted a full week.

Although the final judgment declared the German Army victorious, the young officers led by Feng Chengqian surprised the proud Moltke, Waldersee, and their peers. More importantly, they did not disappoint Emperor Frederick III.

At the conclusion of the exercise, Frederick III publicly commended Ludendorff and his fellows, promoted their ranks, and even elevated Hoffmann—then still a reserve officer—to the rank of army second lieutenant.

The first outcome of this exercise was Moltke’s formal resignation at the end of September. Frederick III did not attempt to persuade him otherwise, letting Marshal Moltke retire in peace. Waldersee was appointed Chief of the Imperial General Staff, and Schlieffen was promoted to Quartermaster General of the Imperial Army.

At the banquet celebrating Waldersee’s appointment, Feng Chengqian turned his attention to Schlieffen, who at this moment was merely a supporting figure.

Feng Chengqian knew that in a few years, Schlieffen would become the protagonist. The military strategy he would propose—bearing his name—would secure his place as the Empire’s most famous strategist and lay the foundation for the Empire’s military doctrine for decades to come.

“General, congratulations,” Feng Chengqian said, as Schlieffen received both the appointment as Quartermaster General and the rank of Imperial Army General.

“Count, you are too kind. The same congratulations are due to you,” Schlieffen replied.

Feng Chengqian smiled. With so many talented young officers emerging, Emperor Frederick III, pleased by their success, bestowed upon Feng Chengqian the honorary rank of Rear Admiral in the Imperial Navy.

This was only an honorary rank; until he graduated from the Imperial Naval Academy, Feng Chengqian remained a civilian official.

“In a few years, General, you will surely become Chief of the General Staff,” Feng Chengqian glanced around and said, “Then there will certainly be an even grander banquet.”

“Count, I have never entertained such thoughts,” Schlieffen replied modestly, in stark contrast to Waldersee’s bravado.

“It doesn’t matter whether you’ve thought about it. If not for you, Waldersee would never have become Chief of the General Staff.”

“How so?”

“If the General’s plans had been fully implemented, the outcome of the exercise would have been very different.”

“I only assisted the Marshal. How can I claim credit?”

“You are too modest, General. From what I know, you are the true architect.”

Schlieffen smiled faintly, making no further comment.

“I am curious—if your plan had been carried out, what would the result have been?”

“I fear we will only know when war breaks out.”

“Not necessarily,” Feng Chengqian paused. “The strategic plan you proposed in the exercise emphasized attacking in the west and defending in the east. That is, concentrating forces to strike France, executing a sweeping flanking maneuver to bypass France’s border defenses, invading from the north via the Netherlands and Belgium. The core is rapid victory—defeating the French faster than at Sedan, marching on Paris. Once France surrenders, the army can pivot east and crush the Russians.”

Schlieffen remained silent; this was indeed his concept.

“One thing I don’t understand, General: how much time do you plan to spend defeating France?”

“That depends on the actual conditions.”

“What conditions?”

Schlieffen knew Feng Chengqian was prepared and would not stop until he had an answer. “In my view, the situation on the eastern front is decisive.”

“You mean, the army can attack in the west for as long as it can hold the east?”

Schlieffen nodded, confirming this idea.

“Have you considered that the Russians may never break our eastern defenses?”

“Well…”

“Our ability to rapidly shift and concentrate forces between fronts relies on our well-developed rail network,” Feng Chengqian paused. “Do the Russians have anything similar in European Russia? If we begin with a defensive posture in the east, we can fully exploit the advantages of interior lines. Russia has no basis for a successful offensive.”

Schlieffen nodded thoughtfully, understanding Feng Chengqian’s point.

“So Russia will find it hard to achieve anything in the east. The key is whether the Empire can win quickly in the west, not become mired in a war of attrition.”

“Count, your meaning?”

“If it were me, I’d concentrate the bulk of our forces in the west, leaving minimal troops in the east—perhaps one-tenth of the army.”

“That is far too risky.”

Feng Chengqian smiled. “The greater the risk, the greater the reward.”

“But…”

“I understand, General. East Prussia is the Empire’s heart. If it falls, the Junker aristocracy would tear us apart.”

Schlieffen forced a bitter smile; he shared this concern.

“But if we do not achieve overwhelming superiority in the west, your strategic plan cannot succeed.”

“Well…”

“If I’m not mistaken, your plan centers on a right-wing assault—striking the French left flank, avoiding frontal battles, and cutting straight to Paris, forcing French surrender. This grand sweeping attack depends primarily on force concentration.”

“You’re right, Count. Force deployment is paramount.”

“But once we enter France, our advantage evaporates.”

“You forget, General, our ability to deploy heavy forces in the west depends on our robust rail network. Once we invade France from Belgium, there is no railway infrastructure to support large-scale operations. Even if there were, the enemy would sabotage it, making it unusable.”

“You mean…”

“It’s clear: the deeper we advance into France, the more our logistics will lag behind, the greater the strain on our forces, and eventually we will be unable to move forward.”

Schlieffen nodded, realizing he had overlooked this point.

“Thus, a quick victory is the key in the west. Any delay will lead to disaster,” Feng Chengqian paused, then continued, “If the western front turns into an attritional war, do you still believe we can win in the east?”

“Well…”

“If both fronts become wars of attrition, the Empire’s resources will be exhausted within three years, and defeat will be inevitable.”

“You are right, Count. A swift victory is essential; forces must be concentrated on the western front.”

Feng Chengqian smiled. “General, we cannot see only one side and ignore the other.”

“You mean…”

“Of course, defeating France quickly is ideal. But if not, the western front will become a graveyard for soldiers,” Feng Chengqian looked at Schlieffen, “So, General, how confident are you in defeating France within a few weeks of war breaking out?”

“Well…”

“We must also consider whether Britain will intervene, dispatching an expeditionary force to the continent once France appears beaten.”

Schlieffen’s brow twitched, his expression growing more serious.

“If so, the situation will worsen, and our chances of rapid victory in the west may vanish.”

Schlieffen nodded thoughtfully, earnestly considering the issue Feng Chengqian raised.

“General, I believe we need a contingency plan.”

“A contingency plan?”

“If we cannot win quickly in the west, we must hope to defeat Russia with lightning speed in the east, resolving the dilemma of fighting on two fronts, then turning to face Britain and France in the west,” Feng Chengqian paused. “Admittedly, British support would greatly strengthen France, but Britain’s strength is at sea, not on land. If we can defeat France before Britain completes mobilization, we can still win. Even if not, we may be able to force Britain and France to negotiate before exhausting our resources.”

“If that is so, we must draft a more detailed strategic plan—not just a military one.”

“General, you are absolutely right. As Imperial soldiers, we must plan further ahead than others and prepare thoroughly for any contingency,” Feng Chengqian smiled. “Fortunately, we still have ample time. France and Russia have not yet the means to declare war upon us.”

“Count, your reputation is well deserved. But is it not a waste for you to devote yourself to the navy?”

“General, you are too generous. I am still an outsider when it comes to the army. With a commander like you, the Imperial Army will surely be invincible, unstoppable.”

They both laughed, and Schlieffen’s regard for Feng Chengqian grew.