Chapter 109: An Adventurous Journey

December 31, 1914—the final day of the year—Ludendorff launched the offensive codenamed "Red Beard" on the Eastern Front, targeting the Russian forces in Poland. On the same day, Conrad, Chief of the Austro-Hungarian General Staff, committed six hundred thousand troops to attack Russian forces in Silesia.

This was the largest battle since the outbreak of the war.

Reinforced, Ludendorff deployed eighty divisions, approximately six hundred thousand German soldiers. Alongside the Austro-Hungarian forces, the total strength reached about 1.2 million troops. Opposite them, the Russians had three army groups totaling roughly 1.8 million soldiers, with 1.2 million facing the Germans directly.

Though numerically superior, the Russians held no initiative.

In truth, the Russians had already lost the battle before it even began.

In the first month of the war, the Russian army fought aggressively. Particularly in Silesia, after capturing Lemberg, they achieved their first significant victory. However, successive defeats at Tannenberg and the Masurian Lakes at the hands of the Germans exposed their weaknesses.

With winter’s arrival, the Russian army’s most glaring problems surfaced.

Their logistical support was abysmal, utterly incapable of matching the German supply system.

Beginning in November, Russian soldiers in Poland subsisted on merely two bowls of porridge daily. Many units resorted to plundering local civilians to sustain themselves. By December, as temperatures plummeted, soldiers had to dismantle their own homes for firewood. Ammunition shortages were dire—frontline troops had only five bullets each before the battle, and many heavy artillery pieces were abandoned due to lack of shells. Supply failures led to an even graver issue: mass desertions and rampant insubordination. To restore discipline, hundreds of deserters were executed in the first ten days of December alone.

Clearly, the Russian forces had devolved from a disciplined army into a disorganized rabble.

Against a well-disciplined, highly capable, and well-supplied German army, it was no surprise that the Russians suffered humiliating defeats.

On this very day, Feng Chengqian boarded the fast cruiser Berlin.

The day before, he had received his appointment from Tirpitz, officially becoming captain of the Berlin. The German Emperor even held a farewell banquet in his honor.

In many ways, the Berlin was Feng Chengqian’s brainchild.

During his tenure as Imperial Navy Minister of War, Feng resolutely opposed lavish construction of battlecruisers but supported the development of fast warships.

His reasoning was straightforward—Feng had a clear understanding of the operational value of fast vessels.

As mentioned earlier, battlecruisers were a product of the Royal Navy’s maritime doctrine. Their primary mission was to hunt down enemy armored cruisers across vast oceans, safeguarding Britain’s sea lanes. The German Empire, however, lacked such extensive overseas sea routes—or at least had not reached Britain’s level of global maritime dependence.

The Imperial Navy had only two main missions: to decisively defeat the Royal Navy in fleet engagements, and to disrupt British maritime supply lines. To this end, it focused on two distinct classes of warships: battleships for fleet battles, and cruisers designed for commerce raiding. The Bayern class represented the former, while the Berlin was the latter.

In fact, Feng had once planned to build the Berlin-class fast cruisers.

Unfortunately, before the Berlin was laid down, Feng left the Imperial Navy Department. His successor, Tirpitz, did not fully follow Feng’s development plan. As a result, the Berlin became a unique vessel, with three sister ships remaining only in planning stages.

Nonetheless, the Berlin’s performance was indisputable.

This warship displaced 21,000 tons fully loaded and was powered by twelve oil-fired boilers and four Parsons steam turbines, producing a maximum output of 72,000 horsepower. It featured four shafts and four-bladed propellers, achieving a top speed of 31 knots and a cruising speed of 18 knots. Carrying 5,400 tons of heavy fuel oil, it could travel 8,800 nautical miles at cruising speed or 2,300 nautical miles at full speed. Armament included two triple turrets of 280 mm/52 caliber main guns, eight twin 150 mm/45 caliber secondary guns, eight 88 mm anti-aircraft guns, and four rapid-fire guns designed to counter small vessels. Armor protection consisted of a main belt up to 180 mm thick, armored bulkheads of 150 mm, turret and conning tower armor at 250 mm, and 80 mm thick horizontal armor—slightly superior to contemporary armored cruisers.

These specifications reveal the Berlin’s clear tactical purpose.

Put simply, the Berlin could suppress any armored cruiser under any circumstances. For example, its six main guns had a maximum elevation of 42 degrees, giving a range of 28,000 meters—longer than most armored cruisers’ main guns, which rarely exceeded 22,000 meters. Thus, in encounters with armored cruisers, the Berlin could open fire first and maintain a favorable engagement distance using its range advantage. Additionally, its speed surpassed all armored cruisers of the time, rivaled many light cruisers, and even outpaced all battlecruisers, granting it the ability to evade battlecruisers altogether.

The Berlin was clearly designed for commerce raiding operations.

Tactically, the Berlin was not intended to engage battlecruisers directly, but it retained the capability to threaten them. Its 280 mm main guns could deliver deadly blows within effective range, though its armor was only sufficient to withstand fire from light cruisers.

Compared to the Imperial Navy’s capital ships, the Berlin’s defining features were speed and endurance.

Even the then-under-construction Derfflinger-class battlecruisers had a maximum speed of only 27 knots, with existing battlecruisers falling short of that. Due to tactical doctrine, the endurance of the Imperial Navy’s capital ships seldom exceeded 6,000 nautical miles.

The Berlin’s higher speed was intended to evade enemy battlecruisers, while its greater endurance enhanced sustained operations on the open ocean. The Empire had few overseas colonies and even fewer naval bases abroad, making resupply during extended ocean deployments difficult for commerce raiders.

The Berlin also had the ability to switch from oil to coal fuel.

Its mixed-firing boilers were designed with overseas supply constraints in mind. Obtaining coal was far easier than heavy fuel oil in distant theaters. Notably, at the time, 90% of merchant vessels sailing the world’s oceans still used coal-fired boilers.

In other words, the Berlin could replenish its coal by seizing merchant ships when necessary.

The ship’s crew numbered over six hundred, including thirty-seven officers. Tirpitz granted Feng’s request to personally select the crew for the Berlin, assembling the finest team in the Imperial Navy.

Of course, Feng chose fewer than a hundred officers, mainly staff officers.

Among them were several of Feng’s countrymen—ethnic Chinese who had come to the German Empire as laborers during the Kiel Canal expansion, later gaining quasi-citizenship and joining the Imperial Navy after the war began.

However, most were ordinary seamen.

Becoming an officer was nearly impossible for these Chinese laborers during peacetime, as Imperial Navy officers were trained exclusively at the Naval Academy, which admitted only full citizens, not those with quasi-citizenship.

Nonetheless, wartime promotions were possible.

At that time, dozens of ethnic Chinese had already been promoted to officers in the Imperial Army.

Feng naturally paid special attention to these Chinese seamen.

He appointed a sailor named Zhang Dongqiang as his personal attendant, responsible for his daily needs as his adjutant.

When the ship set sail, many military families gathered at the dock.

Unlike the High Seas Fleet’s brief departures and returns, the Berlin would be at sea for months, with no guarantee of return.

Seeing the crowds, Feng felt deeply moved.

At least these soldiers had someone to care for; he himself had no such ties in the world.

“Captain…”

After a moment, Feng realized Zhang Dongqiang was calling him.

“Time to weigh anchor.”

“All right, let’s head to the bridge.” Feng didn’t need to worry about the anchoring—the first officer Strang and second officer Wolf, both with over ten years’ service, handled it.

Before ten o’clock, the Berlin, towed by a steam launch, left the dock.

On the departure channel, the first officer sounded the ship’s whistle.

Onshore, waving hands of families and loved ones tried to hold back their departing kin.

Feng did not watch this scene, nor did he want to. He knew that the six hundred-plus men following him into the unknown ocean might never see their families again. Their only solace during long voyages and battles was the hope of reunion.

War is merciless, but soldiers caught in it are not without feeling.

Under the blazing sun, the Berlin sailed out of Wilhelmshaven and into the channel leading to the North Sea. Along the way, steam launches and barges piloted the ship to avoid nearby minefields.

Thus began the Berlin’s unprecedented and perilous journey.