Chapter Forty-Two: Acting with Discretion

On the first day of the new year, 1896, Feng Chengqian welcomed a stroke of good fortune.

That morning, Emperor Frederick III of Germany, in recognition of Feng Chengqian’s contributions to expanding the empire’s territory in the Far East, elevated him to the title of “Duke of the Far East” while allowing him to retain his hereditary title of “Count of Brandenburg.” His annual stipend was raised to two hundred thousand imperial marks, with an estate in East Prussia.

For anyone, such honors would be remarkable, even if the title of “duke” was little more than an empty distinction.

Feng Chengqian, however, took no pleasure in it. He understood all too well that the more honors the Kaiser bestowed upon him, the more inextricably he would be bound to the German Empire—a fate he did not desire.

Yet, he could not refuse the imperial reward.

After handling these matters, Feng Chengqian found an excuse to leave Berlin and made his way to Wilhelmshaven, devoting himself entirely to preparations for the construction of two capital ships slated to begin the following year.

This time, Feng Chengqian set aside grand ambitions and resolved to produce two solid, respectable warships.

As before, before any design work could commence, it was necessary to determine the principal specifications of the warships based on the construction budget and the navy’s tactical requirements, especially the displacement, which was directly tied to costs. Once the basic performance indicators were set, the fundamental parameters of the warships could be established.

It took Feng Chengqian two full months to finalize the basic specifications.

He made no excessive demands: the standard displacement was set at sixteen thousand tons, roughly equivalent to the “Empress Augusta” launched in 1895. The top speed was twenty knots, just slightly higher than the “Empress Augusta,” and not especially impressive among contemporary capital ships.

When it came to the detailed design phase, disagreements with the designers arose once more.

The crux of the issue was that the displacement was set too low, while Feng Chengqian required balanced firepower, protection, and speed, all at least on par with contemporary battleships. To most designers, this was nearly impossible unless the displacement was increased by three thousand tons.

Feng Chengqian refused, as that would greatly inflate construction costs.

The result was that designers believed only a shorter hull would allow for sufficiently thick armor, thereby balancing the three primary attributes. However, this compromised the arrangement of the ship’s armament, failing to meet Feng Chengqian’s requirements.

Ultimately, the conflict centered on the configuration of the ship’s guns.

Feng Chengqian was well aware of the design’s limitations, so he offered two alternatives: four twin-gun turrets or three triple-gun turrets.

The designers preferred the former.

The sticking point was turret placement. Feng Chengqian insisted on all turrets aligned along the centerline, while the designers, wishing to keep the hull length reasonable, advocated the traditional layout: two turrets on the sides and one each fore and aft along the centerline.

Feng Chengqian adamantly opposed the traditional arrangement, and so the second proposal was selected.

The designers, unable to overrule him, had no choice but to concede.

Feng Chengqian was not being unreasonable. After settling on the turret layout, he compromised on caliber, agreeing to use 300mm 45-caliber main guns instead of the soon-to-be-developed 350mm 40-caliber guns. However, he required that the design allow for the eventual installation of twin 350mm turrets, meaning the barbettes had to be built with adequate strength.

This was, in fact, a reasonable demand.

By October 1896, the final design was settled: the new capital ship would carry three triple-gun turrets, two forward and one aft, all mounting 300mm 45-caliber guns. The standard displacement was 16,500 tons—five hundred more than originally specified, primarily to strengthen the barbettes for future upgrades to larger guns. The main armor belt was 300mm thick, the turret faces 320mm, the conning tower 360mm, with an 80mm armored deck.

This was, by any measure, a very well-balanced battleship.

Unfortunately, as steam turbines had not yet been developed, this class—eventually named the “Deutschland” class—still could not be considered a modern battleship, but rather a pre-dreadnought, with a significant gap compared to the new warships that would appear later.

Nevertheless, both the “Deutschland” and her sister ship “Prussia” had a sound foundation.

Over a decade later, both ships underwent modernization: displacement increased to 22,000 tons, they were rearmed with 350mm guns and fitted with steam turbines, their coal-fired boilers replaced with oil-fired, and main engine output boosted to 80,000 horsepower, pushing top speed beyond 27 knots. Though their armor was not further strengthened, as capital ships the “Deutschland” class still enjoyed better protection than the later battlecruisers.

In truth, all warships designed under Feng Chengqian’s direction shared this hallmark: after extensive modernization, even if they could not match the latest dreadnoughts, they were more than a match for battlecruisers. Thus, there was no need to build battlecruisers a decade later.

This foresight saved the Imperial Navy a fortune.

Each capital ship was a costly endeavor. If a ship had to be retired after just ten or twenty years due to obsolescence or inability to modernize, the loss would be tremendous. More importantly, given the Imperial Navy’s shipbuilding pace, if capital ships only served for ten or even twenty years, they could never surpass the mighty Royal Navy. Increasing the pace would only arouse British suspicion and rapidly worsen Anglo-German relations, forcing Germany to face the world’s strongest adversary before it was ready. Only by extending warship service lives could the Imperial Navy quietly build its strength beneath Britain’s notice and, when the time came, explode forth in battle and defeat the Royal Navy.

A decade later, when the German Empire became the world’s second naval power, much of the credit belonged to Feng Chengqian.

It could even be said that without his meticulous strategic planning, Germany would never have had the means to challenge Britain.

In strategy, discretion is no vice.

This prudence extended to the navy’s secondary ships as well—cruisers and other auxiliary vessels.

Once funding was secured, Feng Chengqian began reorganizing the Imperial Navy’s auxiliary forces, deciding to lay down a new class of light cruisers in 1897.

As with capital ships, his foresight again proved decisive.

Previously, cruisers—despite their versatility—had long been neglected, designed primarily for economy. Feng Chengqian changed this mindset, insisting from the outset that Imperial cruisers must possess global range and, even after twenty years and modernization, remain formidable platforms. Thus, their designs had to be forward-looking.

Most notably, he introduced turrets to cruisers for the first time.

Until then, cruiser guns were exposed, mounted on open pedestals with only splinter shields at best; no nation had thought it necessary to fit proper turrets.

The new class, later named the “Berlin” class, was equipped with three triple 150mm main turrets.

Though the “Berlin” class did not stand out in terms of the number of guns—contemporaries might carry twelve or even sixteen—its firepower density in any direction was superior to other cruisers of the time, sometimes double that of its peers.

However, Feng Chengqian overlooked one issue: such advanced design greatly increased construction costs.

In the end, only four “Berlin” class ships were built in two batches before the high expense forced the project to halt, and Feng Chengqian had to direct the shipyards to design a more economical cruiser.

Nevertheless, the “Berlin” class made the Imperial Navy’s battle line more complete.

Only four were built—a truly understated approach.

That year, Feng Chengqian’s most important achievement was not in planning battleships or cruisers, but in sending envoys to America to recruit an engineer named Holland.

Feng Chengqian was acutely aware of the future importance of submarines in naval warfare, yet had sadly missed the earliest opportunity.

While he was in the Far East, Holland had come to the German Empire, trying to sell submarines to the Imperial Navy, but had been rebuffed. After repeated setbacks in Europe, Holland traveled to America, where he persuaded the U.S. government to fund construction of the world’s first submarine.

By the time Feng Chengqian sent for him, Holland’s submarine was already under construction in America.

To lure Holland to Germany, Feng Chengqian offered an impressive salary and full authority over submarine design for the Imperial Navy.

That very year, Feng Chengqian allocated five hundred thousand imperial marks for submarine design and construction.

As with battleships and cruisers, Feng Chengqian took a discreet approach, knowing that the Royal Navy would soon recognize the value of this new weapon and invest heavily in submarines. In the history he knew so well, the Royal Navy possessed the world’s largest submarine fleet at the outbreak of the First World War, while the Imperial Navy’s was negligible.

To avoid British attention, Feng Chengqian adopted a “small steps, quick tempo” strategy: before the technology was mature, only one submarine of each type would be built as a prototype, construction would be deliberately prolonged, giving engineers time to learn and incorporate new advances as they emerged.

By the time all this was finished, it was already the end of 1896.

In the coming year of 1897, aside from the simultaneous construction of two “Deutschland” class battleships, many other significant events would occur. In Feng Chengqian’s view, this already restless world was stepping ever closer to global war.