The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 906 Steampunk, Steel Torrent

On November 1, 1882, in a small meeting room deep inside the West Wing of the White House in Washington, D.C., the atmosphere was so somber it was almost frozen. Several urgent telegrams, recently received, lay scattered on the heavy oak table, their edges crumpled and wrinkled.

"Sunk?!" A roar erupted from President Garfield's throat, making the crystal ashtray on the table vibrate. "That was our newly purchased 'Rafale' class! Less than six months later, it sank into the North Pacific trench?! Can anyone tell me what happened?!"

His face was ashen. He looked around at the cabinet members sitting around the table. Everywhere his gaze fell, everyone had their heads bowed, and no one dared to face the president's wrath. The newly purchased Rafale had been sunk by the US-West Allied Navy, and an even more powerful Typhoon had been moderately damaged. If they hadn't escaped quickly, they probably would have been gone too.

“Tell me! Just three months ago, Secretary Hunt!” Garfield suddenly pointed to Secretary of the Navy William Hunt, who was sitting below him with cold sweat beading on his forehead, and his voice rose sharply. “You were still confidently touting in the Special Appropriations Committee of Congress that these British-made Rafale fighters were the best commerce raiding weapons! That they were the nemesis of all Taiping Heavenly Kingdom transport ships on the Pacific route! Because they were fast enough to catch up with all the American West freighters that tried to escape; and their cannons were powerful enough to tear apart any Taiping Heavenly Kingdom escort vessels that dared to resist! How eloquently you described it! How inspiringly you spoke!”

The president's voice was filled with the rage of someone who had been swindled out of their money: "The ships that can catch up with it can't beat it, and the ships that can beat it can't catch it—that's your exact words! Secretary Hunter! And now?! Who's chasing it in the Pacific?! Who's smashed it in two like a piece of scrap metal and sunk it into the sea?! Huh?! The face of the United States Navy, our taxpayers' precious money, just like that, was easily thrown into the bottom of the Pacific Ocean by a bunch of yellow-skinned engineers hiding in warships and... and those quacks... what the hell?!

Minister Hunt was incredibly aggrieved. The Rafale-class battleships were legendary vessels, renowned since their inception as the "Flying Fish Killer" and "Flying Eagle Killer," capable of easily defeating the fast battleships of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom. To acquire them, Minister Hunt had pleaded countless times with the British, refusing even a single penny in kickback! And yet…
He swallowed hard. "Mr. President... this... this was an accident... we..."

"An accident?!" Garfield interrupted abruptly, his eyes practically spitting fire. "The main force of the Pacific Fleet just suffered heavy losses on Oahu, forced to downgrade from a fair fleet battle to relying on commerce raiding tactics! We spent a fortune buying what you call the best ships from our allies! And what was the result? After only a few sorties, with hardly any decent results, one 'Rafale' has already sunk! Will the 'Rafale' and 'Typhoon' (the successors to the Rafale-class, which the US hasn't even bought yet) be next? Is the British shipbuilding technology still up to par? Or is this just a blatant act of technological blackmail against America?! Hunter, I need an explanation! One that will convince Capitol Hill and the entire American public, not a bunch of worthless excuses!"

Hunter's palms were sweaty, and his shirt clung tightly to his skin. He knew the source of the president's anger—it wasn't just about a sunken ship, but about the United States' setbacks in the Pacific, which were making the prospects for war increasingly bleak.

“Mr. President,” Hunter’s voice was dry and hoarse as he tried to grasp at the last straw, “according to the urgent battle report from Brigadier General Howard on the USS Thor… it’s not that the Rafale isn’t good enough… it’s just… it’s just that the enemy… they used… weapons that are beyond our comprehension…”

“Weapons?” Garfield’s brows furrowed, his face screaming, “What nonsense are you spouting?” He leaned forward, exuding an air of menace. “What kind of weapons? Did they conjure up from behind those ‘angels’ of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom? Or are they sea monsters summoned from the ocean?!”

Hunter, forcing himself to speak, almost desperately shouted, "It's black magic! Mr. President! Brigadier General Howard repeatedly emphasized in his report! He saw it with his own eyes! The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's super battlecruiser—it exhibited an incredibly high speed that completely defied the principles of steam power! Up to 24, even 25 knots! This far exceeds the theoretical limits of existing triple-expansion steam engines! And! And its main guns… God… its first test firing… achieved 'stretching'! That's not a phenomenon that can be explained by conventional gunnery training! It's definitely… a kind of… ancient Eastern secret… witchcraft! Or… magic!"

The meeting room was deathly silent, save for Hunter's heavy breathing.

Secretary of State Brian frowned deeply. Secretary of War Robert Todd Lincoln (President Lincoln's son) gripped the armrest. Everyone's brows were furrowed, their faces grave—because they all knew that the Navy Secretary's words about black magic might be true!

That's fucking ridiculous!
“Dark…magic?” Garfield repeated the word, emphasizing each syllable with a mixture of anger and helplessness. “Minister William H. Hunter, although it’s quite possible we really do live in a magical world. But…”

He abruptly stood up, his hands slamming onto the table, his gaze sharp as a knife: "Minister Hunt, have you considered a simpler, more materialistic, yet more shameful explanation—perhaps… the technology we bought from our British allies is inherently outdated? Or perhaps the engineers of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom have broken through the bottleneck of the triple-expansion steam engine and built a better machine? Just as they did in the pharmaceutical, power, steel, and chemical industries! And you, our naval elites, would rather believe in some vague 'witchcraft' than dare to admit that we may have already been left behind by an Eastern country in some areas?!"

Hunter opened his mouth, as if he wanted to argue, but faced with the president's cold gaze, he could only slump back in his chair, speechless. The air in the conference room seemed to have been sucked out, making it suffocating.

“Mr. President,” Secretary of State James G. Bryan finally broke the awkward silence after a long period of silence. His tone was steady as he attempted to steer the conversation back to a more realistic strategic level. “While Secretary Hunt’s observations are… absurd, the high-speed warships mentioned in Brigadier General Howard’s report are a real threat that we cannot ignore. The existence of the ‘Jinghai’ seriously threatens the survivability of our Pacific commerce raiding fleet. If its speed and firepower are as described in the report… then relying solely on the existing ‘Rafale’ and ‘Whirlwind’ classes will make it difficult to effectively complete the blockade mission. And a fleet decisive battle…” He paused, his gaze sweeping over Lincoln, “is even riskier, and the timing is even more premature.”

Brian's meaning was clear: our meticulously designed maritime strangulation strategy had already shown huge cracks before it even began, in the face of the enemy's unexpected "high-speed battlecruiser." The maritime initiative that we had barely maintained after losing our main force in the Battle of Oahu seemed to be slipping away at an accelerating rate.

"The time isn't right? When will it be?!" Garfield suddenly looked at Brian, his anxiety causing him to lose some of his usual composure. "Do we have to wait until the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's battlecruisers are cruising outside New York Harbor before the time is right?! Brian! Lincoln! Do you think we can drag the British into this by declaring war on the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom now?"

“Mr. President!” Secretary of War Robert Lincoln spoke immediately, his tone resolute. “Declaring war on the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, given the current imbalance of naval power, is undoubtedly a tremendous strategic gamble! It would require an unprecedented level of mobilization and an incalculable expenditure of resources! Our ally, Great Britain, is also unprepared; they need time to complete the construction of their new heavy battleships. But—”

Lincoln's voice suddenly rose, sounding full of hope: "Mr. President! We are not without solutions! The difficulties at sea do not mean we are equally helpless on land! On the contrary! Our greatest advantage lies on land!"

He pulled a thick document from his briefcase and slammed it down in front of Garfield. "This is the latest plan submitted by Army Commander-in-Chief General Sherman this morning! 'The Denver Offensive'—the timetable for the general offensive!" Lincoln's gaze swept over everyone present, his expression one of unwavering resolve. "Given that Pacific shipping is temporarily threatened by the 'Jinghai,' we cannot afford to delay any longer and allow the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and the Western rebels more time to reinforce their front lines! The original plan was to launch the general offensive after breaking their Pacific supply lines, but now the situation has changed! We must launch a decisive, all-out offensive on land before their defenses are further consolidated, crush the main force of the Western Allied forces, and capture Denver Fortress! Once Denver is taken, the core of the Western rebels' resistance will be destroyed! Subsequent mopping-up operations will be much easier!"

"A full-scale land offensive?" Garfield's brow relaxed slightly as he picked up the outline of the plan and quickly flipped through it. "Sherman? How confident is he?"

“Mr. President,” Lincoln replied immediately, his tone filled with absolute trust in the Army Commander-in-Chief, “General Sherman has assured me over the phone that the 1st Armored Division, equipped with MK.1 steam tanks, has completed all high-intensity combined arms training! All tanks, all crews, all supporting steam-powered infantry, artillery, and support units are at the highest level of readiness! They are ready for battle at any time! This force—” Lincoln’s finger pressed firmly on the first page of the document, “is our deepest and sharpest dagger hidden in this war that will determine the fate of the United States! A battering ram that can shatter any solid defense! Its power will far exceed our understanding of conventional weapons!”

Lincoln's words resonated deeply, like a shot of adrenaline injected into the somber conference room.

“The 1st Armored Division…” Garfield murmured the name, a glimmer of light piercing through the gloom in his eyes. “MK.1… Sherman…” He closed the file, then looked up. “Is it really… as powerful as you say? Powerful enough to ignore the rebels’ ‘Zhao Si Defense Line’? Powerful enough to crush barbed wire, trenches, and their Gatling guns?”

“Absolutely true!” Lincoln answered decisively.

Garfield paused for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping across the faces of several key cabinet members before finally settling on the point on the map that symbolized Denver, the fortress of the American West. A decision quickly took shape in his eyes. He straightened up abruptly, his voice regaining the decisiveness befitting a president: "Make arrangements, Mr. Brian, Secretary Lincoln. Cancel the afternoon congressional briefing! I'm leaving for Maryland tomorrow—no, this afternoon! I want to see with my own eyes…our trump card! This steel torrent that General Sherman placed such high hopes on!"

(End of this chapter)