The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 1011 Bismarck: Hood, you just wait!

On April 15, 1888, in the Berlin Imperial Palace, the light from bronze chandeliers cast a magnificent shadow on the gilded ceiling. The boots of Navy Minister Albrecht von Stösch echoed dully on the marble floor. The battle report in his hand felt like a red-hot iron, making everyone uneasy.

“Your Highness,” Stoch saluted Crown Prince Regent William, his voice hoarse, “the results of the Battle of the Norwegian Sea have been confirmed: four Heligoland-class battleships sunk, and six battleships and battlecruisers heavily damaged. The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom’s two Yinglong-class battleships sustained only moderate damage, while the British also lost one Invincible-class and one Dreadnought-class.”

Crown Prince William abruptly stood up, slamming his gilded cane onto the oak table. The young prince, who had just lost his grandfather (William I had died in March) and whose father, Frederick III, was critically ill, was horribly pale. "Four Heligoland-class ships? Sunk by two pieces of Eastern junk?" His voice rose sharply. "Did those yellow-skinned monkeys use black magic?!"

The Iron Chancellor, Bismarck, rose from his chair, his gray beard trembling slightly in the lamplight. He unfolded several blurry black-and-white photographs—profile shots of the "Heavenly Kingdom" taken by a German reconnaissance airship at great risk. "Your Highness, it wasn't magic that sank our warship," he said, pointing to the imposing hull in the photographs. "It was 360mm main guns and a 3-ton steel behemoth. According to intelligence, their main armor belt was at least 50mm thicker than our Heligoland-class ships."

A deathly silence fell over the conference room. A 55mm difference in artillery caliber and a 50mm difference in main armor thickness—in an era dominated by steel warships, this represented a massive technological gap!
William stared at the two towering turrets in the photograph, his fingers trembling involuntarily: "Why doesn't Germany have warships like these? Isn't our Krupp factory the best in the world?!"

“Because the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom was a superpower with 2000 million square kilometers of territory and 6 million people.” Bismarck’s voice was cold but full of rationality. “They only maintained an army of 100 million, and poured all their military spending into the navy. As for us.” He pointed to the newly occupied East European Plain on the map, “The Empire now needs to digest 50 square kilometers of black soil, and needs to integrate the Kingdom of Norway, the Grand Duchy of Finland, and the United Duchy of Romania into the Hohenzollern dynasty, instead of gambling with giants.”

Naval Chief of Staff Tirpitz suddenly interjected: "Once integration is complete, we will have most of Europe's industrial resources! This will allow us to build the world's most powerful battleships, 4 tons, with 380mm main guns!"

“How many years will it take?” William interrupted him.

“If the Empire can complete the integration of half of Europe, the first ship can be commissioned within ten years,” Tirpitz said through gritted teeth. “The first ship can be named ‘Bismarck’ in honor of His Excellency the Chancellor’s achievement in unifying Germany.”

Crown Prince William looked at Bismarck: "Your Highness, then let's negotiate with them!"

“No,” Bismarck shook his head, “negotiations should not be proposed now.”

"Then what should be proposed?"

Bismarck said, "Now is the time to attack! The Empire cannot beg for peace after a humiliating defeat; it should sit at the negotiating table as the victor!"

William slammed his scepter heavily on the spot where Paris stood: "Then let Moltke's army crush them! Force peace talks with victory!" He suddenly turned to look at Bismarck, "Furthermore, I want the blueprints for this 'Bismarck' on my desk as soon as possible!"

At the same moment, in the Prime Minister's office at 10 Downing Street, London, the Marquess of Salisbury's cigar emitted blue smoke in the conference room. Lord Admiral George Hamilton's report seemed to dim the crystal chandelier: "...If it weren't for those two 'Yinglong-class' ships from the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, the German fleet would be bombarding Portsmouth right now."

First First Lord of the Navy Arthur Hood unfolded a nautical chart, marking the trajectory of the "Heavenly Kingdom's" shells penetrating the Heligoland-class armor at a range of 8000 meters. The descendant of the renowned naval commander Viscount Sergio Hood, his voice hoarse, said: "Our Orion-class 343mm guns are no match for them. According to frontline observations, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's 360mm shells maintain vertical trajectory at 10000 yards. The Dreadnought's main armor is practically paper to them."

Chancellor of the Exchequer William Harcourt jumped to his feet: "My God, does this mean all our active warships are now scrap metal?"

"Therefore, we must immediately launch a new generation of battleship design program." Hood pulled a roll of blueprints from his briefcase. "The Naval Design Bureau proposes building a 40,000-ton super battleship with 15-inch main guns."

"Let's name the lead ship 'HMS Hood'!" Salisbury suddenly slammed his hand on the table, cigar ash falling onto the bow line drawing on the blueprints. "In memory of all the Hood family members who sacrificed their lives for the Royal Navy." He paused, "Including Admiral Hood, who died in the Pacific War. I hope we can use them in the next war!"

Lord Hamilton frowned: "But the budget..."

“The British Empire can go bankrupt,” Salisbury said, staring out the window at the Thames, “but it must never lose the sea.”

Suddenly, Secretary Sir Hack rushed in, clutching a telegram he had just received: "Urgent military intelligence! The Germans have begun bombarding Paris!"

In the morning light, the earth trembled in the eastern suburbs of Paris. Lieutenant General von der Goltz, commander of the German 3rd Army, stood atop an observation tower on a hill in northwest Paris, his hand holding a Zeiss telescope motionless. The Prussian general, in his fifties, had graying temples damp with morning dew, but could not conceal the sharpness in his eyes.

Beneath his feet, the most elite artillery formations of the German Reich were awakening. Along a twenty-kilometer front stretching from the Montreuil Heights to the Vincennes Forest, at least 2000 cannons stood like a steel forest. The barrels of 210mm Krupp siege guns pointed skyward, gunners of 150mm rapid-fire cannons were wiping grease off their shells, and the muzzles of 280mm mortars were large enough to fit an adult's head.

The sound of messengers' hooves echoed between the artillery positions. Staff officers, kerosene lamps in hand, unfurled battle maps on the dew-covered grass. Gun commanders shouted firing data, while loaders chanted commands as they pushed shells into the breech.

"All artillery units, prepare in three minutes."

In the morning mist, the first test-fired shell whistled through the sky. The 210mm shell exploded into an orange fireball on Montmartre, the shockwave ripping off roof tiles for three city blocks.

"Entire formation corrected! Azimuth increased by 5 mils, distance decreased by 200!"

The gunners quickly turned the crank handle, and the hydraulic recoil mechanism of the 210mm gun emitted a dull hydraulic hum. The loaders had already pushed the second shell onto the feed rail.

"The whole group—release!"

Twelve 210mm heavy cannons roared simultaneously, their muzzle flashes sending up clouds of grass. Shells traced deadly parabolas through the air, and seven seconds later, the Paris City Hall square was engulfed by six fireballs. Granite columns snapped like matchsticks, and the bronze statue of the unknown hero of the Paris uprising was overturned by the shockwave, smashing through the stained-glass windows of the City Hall.

Through Goltz's binoculars, the Vincennes Forest positions across the Seine began to roar. Hundreds of 150mm rapid-fire guns rained down bullets at a rate of eight rounds per minute, erasing French machine gun positions, forward fortifications, and anti-tank gun emplacements one by one. The flashes of exploding shells were like fireflies on a summer night, continuous and endless.

"Report! The 280mm mortar position is ready!"

Thirty-eight 280mm mortars slowly raised their short, thick barrels. The loaders used pulley systems to lift 300-kilogram concrete-breaking shells, with 50 kilograms of propellant already loaded into the breech.

"Target—Paris' eastern defensive position! Three rapid-fire rounds!"

The earth trembled. When the 280mm shells landed, they blasted a huge mud pit in the defensive zone outside Paris, and everything in the area covered by the force was blasted into the air. The smoke and dust from the explosion rose three hundred meters into the sky, forming a menacing mushroom cloud under the rising sun.

On the railway east of Paris, ten 280mm railway guns were being adjusted for firing. These massive cannons, salvaged from battleships, were now mounted on train chassis. Each shot sent the earth trembling.

"Target—Notre Dame Cathedral!"

The first shell missed its target, exploding into a column of water hundreds of meters high in the Seine. The second shell struck the west tower of Notre Dame directly, the Gothic spire slowly tilting in the flames before finally crashing through the entire roof.

As Notre Dame's bell towers collapsed amidst the shelling, in a bunker thirty meters below the Palais des Popes, Blanqui paced slowly with his arms crossed. The shockwaves from the shells caused the kerosene lamp flame to flicker violently, casting dim and disorienting shadows on Moor's wrinkled face.

“It’s the seventh day,” Dombrovsky muttered in French, his finger tracing the streets marked with artillery fire on the map. “Montmartre is almost completely razed to the ground, Père Lachaise Cemetery looks like it’s on the moon, and now even Notre Dame…”

Friedrich suddenly slammed his pencil on the table: "Does the enemy intend to destroy all of Paris with artillery?" He turned to the silent Karl Moore, "Moore, say something!"

Moore slowly raised his head, his gaze behind his glasses piercing through the billowing smoke: "No, the enemy doesn't want to destroy all of Paris. They don't even want to take Paris! They want to end the war, to remain victorious, retaining everything they've seized, in preparation for the next war!"

Blanqui turned to look at Moore: "Carl, you mean..."

Moore sneered, “Bismarck wasn’t a fool. He knew where the limits of the German Empire were. He also knew where the bottom lines of Britain and the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom were. If Germany dominated France, then Britain and the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom would continue fighting! And the German navy was no match for the British and Taiping Heavenly Kingdom’s navy. If the fighting continued, the German Empire would become a second Napoleonic Empire, trapped on the continent until it died! So now that we are proposing peace, the Germans will be very happy.”

(End of this chapter)