Chapter Forty-Five: Slow Accumulation, Sudden Burst

Empire Saga Flicker 3389 words 2026-04-13 04:06:53

The seeds of the Russo-Japanese War had already been sown, yet the conflict would not erupt immediately.

Although Japan had failed to capture the Liaodong Peninsula and Taiwan as it wished, it still gained considerable benefits from the First Sino-Japanese War and needed time to digest the spoils of victory. Russia was an even more formidable adversary, possessing not only a powerful army but also the world’s second-largest navy. For Japan to challenge Russia, it would require more time to prepare, as well as to win over potential allies like Britain and the United States.

The same held true for Russia.

Despite the fact that no one in the Russian ruling class, including the Tsar himself, took Japan seriously, and Russia’s military strength was indeed formidable, before the completion of the Trans-Siberian Railway, Russia lacked the logistical foundation to launch a large-scale war in the Far East and thus lacked confidence in defeating Japan.

Many believed that the war would not break out until after 1905.

The reason was simple: the Trans-Siberian Railway was projected to be completed in 1905.

According to many, Japan lacked the courage to challenge Russia preemptively; it would be Russia that started the war at a suitable time, choosing to strike after the railway’s completion, when it could quickly dispatch troops to the Far East and then deal with Japan.

Clearly, Feng Chengqian saw things differently.

In the history with which Feng Chengqian was familiar, it was not Russia but Japan that initiated the conflict—and Japan chose to do so before the Trans-Siberian Railway was complete.

The key question was whether Japan had the courage to challenge Russia proactively.

Feng Chengqian knew very well that under the sway of militarism, there was nothing the Japanese would not dare to do. Not only did they challenge a decaying Tsarist Russia, but they even dared to provoke the United States at the height of its power.

In Feng Chengqian’s eyes, this was a genuine opportunity.

At the end of the year, Feng Chengqian submitted a revised imperial naval shipbuilding plan to the Kaiser.

By then, Chancellor Bismarck had passed away. Frederick III personally oversaw Bismarck’s funeral, posthumously recognized him as a national hero, and granted Bismarck’s descendants hereditary titles. Yet Frederick III did not immediately appoint a new chancellor, leaving the position vacant.

Feng Chengqian did not accept any appointment from Frederick III, continuing to serve as Minister of Naval Warfare.

After Bismarck, Frederick III appointed Otto von Caprivi as acting chancellor, temporarily vested with the powers of the office and overseeing imperial affairs large and small.

This was a very shrewd decision.

Though Caprivi too was of military background, a retired major general, he was gentler than Bismarck and more adept at resolving domestic conflicts. By giving Caprivi the reins, Frederick III hoped he would resolve the increasingly acute tensions within the empire, especially between traditional powerholders and the rising bourgeoisie, thus maintaining internal stability and fueling development.

More importantly, Caprivi’s influence was far less than Bismarck’s.

To put it bluntly, having Caprivi serve as acting chancellor allowed Frederick III a greater say and more direct control over governmental affairs.

Bismarck had rarely been interfered with by Frederick III when he was in office.

For Feng Chengqian, this was also a blessing, for Caprivi would not oppose naval expansion as Bismarck had—at worst, he might grumble a little.

As a result, Feng Chengqian’s revised shipbuilding plan encountered no opposition at year’s end.

According to Feng Chengqian’s blueprint, the Imperial Navy would, over the next five years, build new capital ships at a rate of one and a half per year, aiming to have ten in service and six under construction by the end of 1903, while simultaneously expanding the fleet of auxiliary vessels.

If implemented, this plan would allow the Imperial Navy to surpass Russia and become the world’s second strongest by around 1905.

Of course, being second was not Feng Chengqian’s ultimate goal.

To avoid provoking Britain, Feng Chengqian publicly declared that the navy’s expansion was solely to counter new threats from the Baltic region—specifically, that the Tsar had decided to enlarge his navy and increase the Baltic Fleet by half, posing an overwhelming threat to the empire’s navy.

Curiously, this justification was hardly convincing.

The real reason for the Tsar’s expansion was not the Baltic, but the threats emerging in the Far East.

Nevertheless, Feng Chengqian had found a sufficiently plausible reason for the fleet’s expansion.

Securing funds was one thing; spending them wisely was another.

After securing the appropriation, Feng Chengqian spent a month focused on technical matters, meticulously planning the construction of the new capital ships.

After more than a decade, Feng Chengqian had become thoroughly familiar with the empire’s technological strengths and weaknesses. Relatively speaking, the Second German Empire held clear advantages in artillery and specialty steel production. For instance, the naval battles of the First Sino-Japanese War had already proven that German-manufactured heavy guns outperformed British ones, even those of larger caliber, and German armor plate was also superior. Yet in more traditional areas like propulsion systems, the empire had no such edge.

In fact, the propulsion systems of its warships constituted the empire’s greatest weakness.

When planning the new capital ships, Feng Chengqian had to accept a hard truth: even after five more years, the empire might still be unable to produce viable steam turbines, whereas Britain would be able to manufacture practical turbines within two or three years, maintaining its lead in propulsion.

With no better option, Feng Chengqian had to stick to the old approach—developing new technology while equipping ships with proven propulsion systems and providing ample space for future retrofits, thus extending the vessels’ service lives.

That said, the empire’s shipbuilding capabilities were by no means negligible.

Thanks to advanced artillery, German ships could be equipped with smaller-caliber guns yet deliver firepower equal to their British counterparts. In design, Feng Chengqian insisted on triple-gun turrets, rather than the more conventional twin turrets, to facilitate future upgrades.

Given the rapid pace of technological advancement, Feng Chengqian again adopted a strategy of incremental, rapid development for building the capital ships.

According to his plan, over the next five years, the empire would build eight capital ships across five classes—two in each of three classes, and one each in the other two.

To save on design costs, Feng Chengqian proposed a highly forward-looking concept: the “standard ship class.”

In essence, this was a simple idea—several classes of ships would share similar hull designs, with specifications adjusted according to needs, technology, and shipbuilding capability, each fitted out differently to minimize design expenses.

Though advanced, this concept was quickly embraced by the empire’s naval engineers.

In 1899, the Wilhelmshaven Shipyard submitted a design proposal for the new class of warships to the Admiralty. Having collaborated with Feng Chengqian many times, the shipyard’s engineers were well aware of the minister’s preferences and tailored the design accordingly. After a month of review, Feng Chengqian officially approved the construction plan, and the ships were named the “Nassau” class by Crown Prince Wilhelm.

Unlike the familiar “Nassau” class, this vessel, equipped with twelve coal-fired boilers and three triple-expansion steam engines, featured a single funnel. Three triple-gun turrets were arranged along the centerline—two forward, one aft—while eight twin 150mm secondary turrets flanked the fore and aft bridges. Thanks to this arrangement, the “Nassau” class could unleash one hundred percent of its main battery and fifty percent of its secondary battery in a broadside, minimizing the length of the main armored belt and greatly enhancing protection.

The main drawback of the “Nassau” class lay in the elevated position of the second turret, which raised the center of gravity and impaired stability.

Yet this was no insurmountable problem.

In subsequent modifications, the class eliminated auxiliary armor at the bow and stern, added supplemental armor outside the main belt, and increased deck armor thickness. This increased draft by 0.4 meters, lowering the freeboard and improving stability.

In a sense, the “Nassau” class was the first true “dreadnought.”

Although, due to technical limitations, it did not use steam turbines but retained the less efficient triple-expansion engines, in all other respects it was indistinguishable from the dreadnoughts being built by the Royal Navy.

The advent of the “Nassau” class dealt the Royal Navy a tremendous blow.

Feng Chengqian attached great importance to secrecy.

It was not until two years later, in 1901, when the Nassau was launched and began fitting out, that the Royal Navy realized this was a revolutionary warship. Before that, they had ignored Fisher’s warnings and continued building “pre-dreadnoughts” as usual. By the time they awoke to the threat, both the Nassau and Westfalen had completed fitting out. It was not until the end of 1902 that the Royal Navy began constructing the HMS Dreadnought.

At that point, few people recognized what was truly at stake.

In terms of fleet size, the Second German Empire remained far behind Britain—even in 1903, counting all ships under construction, its navy was only about thirty percent the size of the Royal Navy. But the German fleet’s capacity for accumulation now far outstripped that of its rival; most of the new warships designed under Feng Chengqian’s leadership could serve for ten or even twenty years, while the vast majority of British ships built before the Dreadnought would be obsolete within a decade.

So, ten years from now, would the Royal Navy still hold the advantage?