Chapter Seventy-One: Going to the Grassroots

Regardless of whether it was the Franco-Russian alliance or the Austro-German bloc, neither side had any intention of pausing hostilities.

The feverish enthusiasm for war that gripped both camps at the time was founded upon a deeply flawed assumption: each believed the coming conflict would resemble the Franco-Prussian War, and both were confident they could defeat their adversary within a matter of months and claim ultimate victory.

Had they foreseen that the war would drag on for years and bring about the downfall of three empires, their optimism would have been tempered.

Clearly, blind optimism—especially the pervasive confidence among the military high command—became a primary force fueling and propelling the war.

Over the next two days, the German Empire declared war successively on Britain, Russia, and Serbia, while Austria-Hungary declared war on Russia and France; France, in turn, declared war on Austria-Hungary, and Serbia declared war on Germany. It would not be until mid-August that Britain would declare war on Austria-Hungary.

On August 6th, Feng Chengqian departed Berlin, heading for Wilhelmshaven to report for duty.

According to the Kaiser’s arrangements, he now held two positions: operations staff officer at the Imperial Navy Command, and Royal Naval Special Envoy. Moreover, the Kaiser had made adjustments to naval appointments. Though Tirpitz had greatly contributed to the development of the Imperial Navy after Feng Chengqian resigned as Minister of Naval War, his years of service had proved him to be a manager and planner by nature—not a commander adept at leading fleets in battle. On August 5th, the Kaiser appointed Crown Prince Wilhelm as Chief of the Naval Staff and Admiral Scheer as Commander of the High Seas Fleet. Tirpitz still held the dual posts of Naval War Minister and Commander, but real power had shifted to the Crown Prince. Rear Admiral Hipper, a rising star, became commander of the Battlecruiser Squadron. Spee, who succeeded Tirpitz as commander of the Imperial Far East Fleet, was promoted to Vice Admiral.

This series of personnel changes was essentially orchestrated by Feng Chengqian; the Kaiser merely issued the decree.

At this moment, Feng Chengqian was the true soul of the Imperial Navy. Among these arrangements, Scheer was his greatest concern.

Though Scheer had been highly recommended by Tirpitz and had performed admirably, Feng Chengqian was uneasy about him, lacking a better candidate. If it weren’t for his own low rank and brief tenure in the navy, he would rather personally command the High Seas Fleet.

Fortunately, the Kaiser had promised that if Feng Chengqian could prove his command ability on the battlefield, he would be granted a higher position.

Upon arriving at Wilhelmshaven, Feng Chengqian received word that the French army had launched an offensive and entered the Alsace region.

Clearly, this was not good news.

Though only a navy lieutenant commander, Feng Chengqian could not afford to be constrained by rank. That afternoon, he sent a telegram to Tirpitz, urging him as Naval War Minister to request from Army War Minister Falkenhayn that the German Army not reinforce its flanks in response, but instead focus on the grand right-wing envelopment. Diverting troops to strengthen the flanks would inevitably hinder the offensive.

It was unlikely he could persuade Moltke the Younger, so his efforts centered on Falkenhayn.

At this point, Feng Chengqian realized that the French counterattack—seemingly inconsequential—might well disrupt the German offensive.

He even worried the Kaiser might lose clarity at such a moment.

It must be remembered: the long-standing Franco-German resentment centered on the Alsace region.

Alsace and Lorraine lay along the Franco-German border. Historically, both belonged to the German Confederation, but were long dominated by France. Before the Franco-Prussian War, they were French territory, later ceded to the German Empire, a loss France bitterly resented.

Whether the French attack stemmed from confidence or other motives, their offensive in Alsace would inevitably affect the German Army.

Moltke’s insistence on deploying more troops to the flanks was strongly tied to the possibility of French attacks on Alsace and Lorraine.

Now that Moltke’s fears had materialized, he had even greater reason to reinforce the flanks.

Is such a move meaningful?

France had not completed its war mobilization; only about 400,000 troops guarded the border defenses, and some had to be diverted to bolster the northern front. Clearly, the French counterattack towards Alsace was tactical, lacking the strength to penetrate deep into imperial territory, nor could it threaten the Empire seriously. The population of Alsace was primarily Germanic and had lived under imperial rule for nearly half a century; the French could not expect support from the locals, nor could they hope to hold the region for long.

In fact, so long as the German Army maintained its offensive on the right, the French counterattack would collapse.

To put it simply, the Germans had no need to adjust their offensive plans for this, nor to divert troops from the main front to deal with the French attack.

Feng Chengqian saw this clearly.

Unfortunately, Moltke the Younger was muddled.

Even after Tirpitz intervened and Falkenhayn contacted Moltke, urging him to press the right-wing offensive and quickly capture the fortress at Liège to ensure the grand envelopment was unhindered, on August 8th, Moltke still withdrew eight divisions from the right to reinforce the Alsace defenses, and planned to use reserve units gathered there for a counteroffensive.

Upon receiving the news, Feng Chengqian could only sigh in secret.

Moltke was too stubborn—or rather, too self-assured. At this rate, the powerful German Army and hopes of victory would be squandered in his hands.

The pity was, Feng Chengqian could not shake Moltke’s position in the army.

All he could do was exert his utmost to fulfill the Kaiser’s mission: to defeat the world’s strongest navy on the maritime battlefield.

On August 9th, Feng Chengqian met Scheer for the first time.

When Feng Chengqian served as Naval War Minister, Scheer was still an ordinary naval officer. Though he was a loyal follower of Tirpitz and had met Feng Chengqian twice, he had not left a deep impression nor gained favor.

There was another reason for this.

In Feng Chengqian’s eyes, Scheer was cautious to a fault, his command style and tactical thinking deeply influenced by the Royal Navy, believing that preserving fleet strength was more important than anything—even winning sea battles. He failed to recognize the difference between the Imperial Navy and the Royal Navy.

For Britain, the navy was not only the guarantor of national interests but the foundation of national security itself.

For the German Empire, the navy was merely a tool to expand living space and national interests.

The key distinction is that the Royal Navy could not afford losses—especially heavy losses. If it lost its command of the sea, Britain would lose not only its global interests but its very security, possibly even face national extinction.

The German Empire had no such worries. Without command of the sea to start, if its navy failed to seize it, it had no reason to exist. Put directly, if fear of losses kept the fleet cowering in port, such a navy would be useless to the Empire. Alternatively, even if the Imperial Navy lost its entire fleet in battle, so long as the army remained strong, national security would be basically assured, and defeat at sea would not mean the end of the Empire.

This difference meant the Imperial Navy could not simply copy Royal Navy doctrine.

Preserving strength was important, for a powerful navy was the basis for expanding global influence and reaping the spoils of war after victory on land. But if preservation meant fear of challenging the enemy or shrinking from battle in port, it was meaningless.

Scheer’s first impression on Feng Chengqian confirmed his assessment.

Though Feng Chengqian did not say it outright, he could not help but worry that Scheer might become the Imperial Navy’s own Moltke the Younger.

If that proved true, he would have to replace him quickly.

“Count, what are you thinking?”

“Nothing, only that I was two days late in coming to see you...”

“You are too courteous, Count. His Majesty has already given instructions, allowing you to choose whichever unit you wish. If you prefer to remain in the High Seas Fleet Command, I would be most pleased.”

“I appreciate the general’s kindness, but as a lieutenant commander in the Imperial Navy, I still need more experience.”

“Do you mean...?”

“I have only been here two days and am not familiar with the fleet’s situation.”

“In that case, it’s not too late for you to give me your answer in a few days, Count.”

Feng Chengqian smiled politely and said, “Very well, then I will not intrude further.”

Scheer was equally gracious, and as Feng Chengqian stood, he personally opened the door for him.

Truthfully, Feng Chengqian himself was uncertain about his next steps; he simply felt that remaining at the High Seas Fleet Command offered little future.

In the German Empire, imperial favor was one thing, recognition by the army quite another.

In this martial nation, only through feats in battle could one earn the army’s respect. The emperor’s favor merely made it easier to achieve such feats.

So, where should he go?

On his way back to his quarters, Feng Chengqian pondered this question.

Though he was both a duke and count of the Empire, with hereditary estates, nobility was common in the German army; such status was not the basis for preferential treatment. In fact, not even the princes received special treatment in the military.

Once, Emperor Frederick III began as a second lieutenant and worked his way up, eventually becoming a corps commander.

“Count, please wait.”

Hearing the call, Feng Chengqian stopped and saw he was being hailed by a middle-aged man he did not recognize, wearing the uniform of an Imperial Navy vice admiral.