World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Tirpitz gazed at the Emperor's gleaming medals, but his thoughts drifted to the silent British battleships across the North Sea. Nevertheless, he nodded: "Very majestic, Your Majesty."

"Tell me, have you seen the battle reports from the Eastern Front?" Wilhelm II walked to the table, picked up a document, and said, "Three hundred kilometers! One million men! The Russian bear has had its spine broken! Now, the entire Eastern Front is under our control!"

"Yes, Your Majesty. This is a great victory." Tirpitz carefully chose his words. "General Ludendorff's command and the bravery of the soldiers at the front deserve the highest praise."

"Not just the army!" Wilhelm II waved his arms. "The navy must also get involved! The Eastern Front proved the invincibility of the German army; now it's the navy's turn! I want the British to know that the German sword is not only invincible on land, but it can also cleave through the waves at sea!"

Tirpitz's heart sank. He had a premonition of what the emperor was about to say.

"Alfred," Wilhelm II approached him, looking directly into his eyes, "I have decided that the High Seas Fleet must set sail. We must seek a decisive battle with the British main fleet, and achieve a Trafalgar-like victory in the North Sea!"

"Your Majesty..." Tirpitz took a deep breath, "Please allow me to describe the current state of the navy."

"The current situation is that we have the best warships and the bravest sailors in the world!" Wilhelm II interrupted him. "The 'King' class, the 'Kaiser' class, the Westphalian class! Which one isn't superior to the British's old relics?"

"Your Majesty, the performance of the warships is only one factor," Tirpitz said, trying to remain calm. "The Royal Navy has an overwhelming numerical advantage. They have twenty-eight dreadnoughts, we only have eighteen. They have nine battlecruisers, we only have five. And..."

He paused. "Moreover, they control the exit from the North Sea. Once our fleet leaves port, it will face an attack from the entire Grand Fleet. This is not a fair duel, but a gamble."

"War is a gamble!" Wilhelm II raised his voice. "Wasn't the Eastern Front a gamble? When we committed all our reserves, who knew the Russians would collapse so quickly? But we won! Now, it's the navy's turn!"

Tirpitz felt a wave of powerlessness. He knew the Emperor's character—impulsive, vain, and craving military glory. Once an idea took hold of him, it was difficult to change.

"Your Majesty," he said, changing his perspective, "even if we are to launch an attack, we should adopt a more cautious strategy. We can use a small fleet to lure the enemy, strike their cruiser squadrons, and deplete their strength, instead of seeking a decisive battle with our main force from the outset."

"No!" Wilhelm II declared resolutely. "What I want is a decisive victory! A victory that will force the British to their knees in surrender! A victory that will go down in history!"

He walked to the window, his back to Tirpitz: "Alfred, you don't understand. The victories on the Eastern Front were glorious, but those were on land, against the Russians. The whole world was watching—watching if Germany could challenge British naval supremacy. If we could defeat the Royal Navy at sea, then..."

He turned around, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism: "Then, Germany will truly become the world's superpower! Britain's century-long maritime dominance will come to an end! And all of this will require the navy to achieve!"

Tirpitz fell silent. He knew further persuasion was futile. The Emperor, blinded by the victories on the Eastern Front, believed the same miracle would be repeated at sea.

"Go and prepare," Wilhelm II patted him on the shoulder. "Tell Scheer, tell Hipper, tell every sailor—Germany needs a naval victory. The Reich needs them to make history."

"...Yes, Your Majesty." Tirpitz saluted and turned to leave.

As he stepped out of Sanssouci Palace, the June sun stung his eyes. Tirpitz looked up at the sky, recalling the moment twenty years earlier when he first presented his theory of the "risk fleet" to the Emperor.

Back then, the emperor was just as enthusiastic and ambitious.

But the enemy wasn't that powerful back then, and the situation wasn't that dangerous.

"Marshal," the adjutant greeted him, "Back to the Admiralty?"

Tirpitz nodded and got into the car. As the car started, he suddenly said, "To Port Wilhelmshaven."

The adjutant hesitated for a moment: "Now?"

"Now," Tirpitz closed his eyes, "before the Emperor issues the formal order, I need to see Scheer and Hipper. We must devise a plan—one that satisfies the Emperor's vanity while preserving the main force of the fleet."

The car drove through the streets of Berlin. Newsboys on the street were hawking extra editions: "Great victory on the Eastern Front! Russia retreats 300 kilometers!"

Pedestrians eagerly bought the items, their faces beaming with excitement and pride.

Tirpitz watched this scene with a chill in his heart.

The army's victory is pushing the navy into the abyss.

As the founder of the navy, he could only watch helplessly as all of this happened.

Dubai, the presidential residence.

Chen Feng put down the telegram in his hand and walked to the map. His finger traced eastward from Poland, stopping near Minsk.

"Three hundred kilometers," he said softly.

Wang Wenwu stood behind him, holding another document: "Commander-in-Chief, this is a detailed battle report just sent by the intelligence department. The Russian army may have suffered more than 1.2 million casualties, with about 200,000 captured. The entire eastern front defense system has completely collapsed."

"That's too fast," Chen Feng said, turning around. "It's at least three months faster than we expected."

"Yes," Wang Wenwu nodded. "The Germans committed all their reserves, and with the continued attrition warfare waged by six Japanese divisions, the Russian army's already fragile supply lines finally broke. They collapsed completely."

Chen Feng walked back to his desk, picked up his teacup, and took a sip. The tea had gone cold, and a bitter taste spread across his tongue.

What's the reaction from London?

"There hasn't been an official statement yet," Wang Wenwu said. "But our intelligence agents in London reported that there were meetings all night in Whitehall yesterday. This morning, Prime Minister Asquith's motorcade went directly to Buckingham Palace, presumably to see the King."

Chen Feng smiled and said, "The British are getting anxious."

"How can we not be anxious?" Wang Wenwu walked to the map, pointing to the western front. "The Battle of Verdun has lasted four months, with casualties exceeding 700,000 on both sides, yet the front lines have barely moved. Preparations for the Battle of the Somme are underway; Britain has poured in its last reserves. Now that the eastern front has collapsed, Germany can transfer at least thirty divisions to the western front..."