Chapter Fifty-Nine: Soldiers of the Empire

"You're not joking, are you?" Feng Chengqian set down the imperial edict, looking in disbelief at Tirpitz, who was smiling from ear to ear.

"It's all there in black and white, nothing to doubt," Tirpitz replied with evident delight. "These past few months, His Majesty has mentioned you often. To be honest, as Commander of the Navy, my role is mostly ceremonial. The naval development plan you drew up has been carried out to the letter. Although you chose to resign and we understand your reasons, you must consider—do you really want to spend your life like this?"

"And why not?"

Tirpitz shook his head with a smile. "If you were truly that sort of man, I'd retire to the countryside at once."

"General..."

"I know exactly what kind of person you are, and so does His Majesty." Tirpitz glanced at the edict in Feng Chengqian's hands. "His Majesty's view is that, if entering politics would stir up gossip, then serving the empire in the military would leave no room for idle speculation."

Feng Chengqian could only shake his head with a bitter smile; he did not share that opinion.

The edict was explicit: the German Emperor had formally summoned Feng Chengqian to serve in the imperial military. With universal conscription in the German Empire, every citizen was bound to heed the empire's call, and the Emperor was the highest authority.

In this matter, Feng Chengqian had no choice at all.

"Well? After Christmas, report to the Naval Command."

"I never agreed it had to be the navy."

"So you want the army instead?" Tirpitz chuckled. "Marshal Schlieffen's health is failing—he'll likely retire next year. As far as I know, your relationship with young Moltke isn't great; he has always looked down on you. I can't imagine you'd want to endure that in the army."

"So you're saying only you are willing to take me in?"

Ignoring the remark, Tirpitz continued, "The Crown Prince specifically asked me to tell you he hopes to enter the Naval Academy with you."

"The Crown Prince?"

"Your Christmas gift is here: an Imperial Navy Medal of Honor."

Feng Chengqian was momentarily stunned, then sighed inwardly.

"You remain an honorary Rear Admiral of the Imperial Navy, but as you know, honorary rank isn't the same as actual rank. If you wish to become a true naval officer—"

"I never said I did—"

"Whether you want to or not, as long as you're an imperial citizen, you must heed His Majesty's call."

Feng Chengqian sighed again. In this empire, the Kaiser wielded supreme authority—he could impose his will on any subject.

"Have you decided?"

"What decision is there to make? His Majesty has already arranged everything. What else can I do?"

"Good, then. After Christmas, I'll send someone to fetch you."

Feng Chengqian nodded, saying nothing further.

"I won't keep you any longer. If you find yourself bored, come and find me. You'll always be welcome back—all you need is to untie the knots in your heart and relax. No one wishes to see you so dispirited."

"Dispirited?"

"Whether you are or not, you don't belong here," Tirpitz said, glancing around. "This morbid, deathly place—leave it for when you're eighty."

Feng Chengqian smiled and shook his head; he didn't think himself dispirited at all.

Over the past few months, though he hadn't traveled, he’d spent much time delving into the era—he’d read all three books by Alfred Thayer Mahan, President of the U.S. Naval War College, and devoured numerous works and documents, greatly enriching his knowledge.

Once Tirpitz had left, Feng Chengqian reread the imperial edict.

Before his resignation, the Kaiser had promised him a suitable position. Clearly, the Kaiser had not forgotten, and kept his word.

To join the Imperial Navy as a professional officer was not a bad outcome.

The problem was, he would have to start from scratch.

For Feng Chengqian, now thirty-seven, that was a daunting prospect.

Luckily, he wasn't the only one starting over; the Crown Prince, sharing his ambitions, was in the same position. Feng Chengqian learned later that, upon hearing the Kaiser’s decision to summon him to the navy, the Crown Prince willingly resigned his army cavalry commission and joined the Imperial Navy.

On January 4, 1913, Feng Chengqian returned to Berlin and, together with the Crown Prince, reported to the Imperial Naval Academy.

According to military procedure, until graduation both were considered naval ensigns in the reserves, only receiving their sub-lieutenant commissions upon receiving their diplomas.

Amusingly, prior to this, Feng Chengqian was already an honorary Rear Admiral of the navy, and the Crown Prince a cavalry major general.

Of course, attending the Naval Academy was mostly a formality. Unlike other cadets, neither was assigned a fixed curriculum; instead, the school opened a "green channel" for them—so long as they passed all examinations, they could graduate directly.

For Feng Chengqian, this was hardly a challenge.

In Feng Chengqian's original era, everyone underwent genetic modulation before birth, granting them remarkable learning abilities. While basic knowledge was acquired via "information input methods," exploratory knowledge still required study. In this era, photographic memory was a rare gift, but in Feng Chengqian’s time, it was common to all.

Thus, he completed in half a year what others needed three or four years to accomplish.

With his help and the academy’s special treatment, the Crown Prince also finished in under a year, graduating by the end of 1913.

By then, under Tirpitz’s leadership, the Imperial Navy had begun to take shape.

On January 1, 1914, Feng Chengqian and the Crown Prince reported to Naval Headquarters and were both appointed staff officers by Tirpitz.

At this point, the Imperial Navy possessed four Nassau-class, four Helgoland-class, five Kaiser-class, and two König-class battleships, as well as two Moltke-class, one Seydlitz-class, and one Derfflinger-class battlecruisers. Two more König-class battleships and two Derfflinger-class battlecruisers were under construction. The planned capital ships included four Bayern-class battleships and four Mackensen-class battlecruisers, with one more class of battleship and battlecruiser in the design phase.

In addition, the navy had nearly three hundred armored cruisers, light cruisers, and destroyers.

In both number of warships and total tonnage, the Imperial Navy ranked second only to the British Royal Navy.

However, the gap with the Royal Navy remained stark.

Even counting eight obsolete battleships that could be modernized, the Imperial Navy had just twenty-three battleships and four battlecruisers, while the Royal Navy, after building the Dreadnought and Invincible, possessed twenty-two battleships and ten battlecruisers of the newer types. By the end of 1914, the Royal Navy would add six more capital ships, while the German navy could only launch four.

Clearly, the Royal Navy’s advantage was intact.

Feng Chengqian’s first task at Naval Headquarters was to find ways to narrow the gap, for he knew that, barring major historical changes, within a few months the world would be engulfed in a global war.

Even if history took an unexpected turn, since Britain was already exhausted by the naval arms race and facing financial ruin, the likelihood of war instigated by Britain, France, and Russia in 1914—or at the latest, 1915—remained high.

Of course, Feng Chengqian could not share what he knew with anyone.

Fortunately, it was the Imperial Army, not the navy, that would take the field first.

As a land power, even with a strong fleet, the German Empire would have to secure victory on the ground.

Unfortunately, Marshal Schlieffen had already passed away, and the army was now under the command of young Moltke.

How capable was Moltke?

From what Feng Chengqian knew, his abilities fell far short of his uncle’s—Field Marshal Moltke the Elder, one of the empire’s founding triumvirate. In the history familiar to Feng Chengqian, it was young Moltke’s string of errors after the war began that cost the Germans their chance to take Paris and win a rapid victory within six months, turning what could have been a short, decisive war into a drawn-out struggle.

Was the current Moltke any different from the one Feng Chengqian knew?

He held out little hope, especially after learning what Moltke had done as Chief of the General Staff.

To begin with, the first thing Moltke did after taking office was to tamper with Schlieffen’s strategic plan.

Feng Chengqian did not consider Schlieffen’s plan flawless—there was room for debate—but Moltke’s revisions were even more egregious. For instance, Moltke’s redistribution of forces on the Western Front was enough to doom the German Army. The core of the Schlieffen Plan was a wide flanking attack—outflanking the French border defenses by marching through the Netherlands and Belgium, striking Paris from the north. If the Germans took Paris, France would be defeated, surrender or not. Rapid victory over France was the key to German success. To this end, Schlieffen concentrated forces for the offensive, leaving only minimal troops to hold the border. Yet Moltke violated this principle, diverting troops from the main attack to reinforce the border, which was not nearly as critical.

What would be the consequence?

Feng Chengqian immediately saw that, with a weakened right wing, the Germans would fail to seize Paris as planned, giving France time to mobilize and blunt Germany’s initial momentum, eventually holding the line north of Paris. During this period, France would be on the brink of defeat, but Russia would enter the war as an ally, and Britain would soon follow.

At that point, the empire would find itself mired in a two-front war on land.

At sea, the situation would be equally dire.

Clearly, Moltke was not to be relied upon.