Chapter 322: The Navy Needs Victory

Tirpitz looked at the Emperor's shining medals, but his thoughts were on the silent British battleships across the North Sea. Yet he still nodded: "Very imposing, Your Majesty."

"Tell me, have you seen the Eastern Front battle report?" Wilhelm II walked to the table, picked up a document, "Three hundred kilometers! One million men! The Russian bear's spine has been broken by us! Now the entire Eastern Front is under our control!"

"Yes, Your Majesty. This is a great victory." Tirpitz chose his words carefully, "General Ludengdaofu's command, and the frontline soldiers' bravery, both deserve the highest praise."

"Not only the Army!" Wilhelm II waved his arms, "The Navy must act too! The Eastern Front proved the invincibility of the German army; now it's the Navy's turn! I will let the British know that Germany's sharp sword can cut through the seas as it does on land!"

Tirpitz's heart sank. He sensed what the Emperor was about to say.

"Alfred." Wilhelm II stepped before him, staring into his eyes, "I have decided: the open sea fleet will strike. We must seek the British main fleet for a decisive battle, a Trafalgar‑style victory in the North Sea!"

"Your Majesty…" Tirpitz inhaled deeply, "Allow me to state the Navy's current situation."

"The current situation is that we have the world's finest battleships and the bravest sailors!" Wilhelm II cut him off, "'King' class, 'Caesar' class, Westphalia class! Which one isn't superior to the British old relics?"

"Your Majesty, ship performance is only one factor." Tirpitz tried to stay calm, "The Royal Navy holds an absolute numerical advantage. They have twenty‑eight Dreadnoughts; we have only eighteen. They have nine battlecruisers; we have five. And moreover…"

He paused: "Moreover, they control the exit of the North Sea. Once our fleet puts out of port, we must face the whole fleet's encirclement. This is not a fair duel, but a gamble."

"War is a gamble by nature!" Wilhelm II raised his voice, "Wasn't the Eastern Front a gamble? When we pressed all reserves forward, who could have known the Russians would collapse so quickly? Yet we won the gamble! Now it's the Navy's turn!"

Tirpitz felt a wave of helplessness. He knew the Emperor's character—impulsive, vain, craving military glory. Once a notion forms in his mind, it is hard to change.

"Your Majesty." He changed his angle, "Even if we launch, we should adopt a more cautious strategy. We can use a small‑scale fleet to lure the enemy, strike their cruiser detachments, wear down their strength, rather than seeking a main‑fleet showdown from the start."

"No!" Wilhelm II said resolutely, "What I want is a decisive victory! A victory that makes the British kneel and beg for peace! A victory that will go down in history!"

He walked to the window, back to Tirpitz: "Alfred, you don't understand. The Eastern Front victory was glorious, but it was on land, against the Russians. The whole world is watching—watching whether Germany can challenge Britain's maritime hegemony. If we can defeat the Royal Navy at sea, then…"

He turned, his eyes flashing with fanatic light: "Then Germany would truly become the world's overlord! Britain's hundred‑year rule of the seas would be declared ended! And all this requires the Navy to achieve it!"

Tirpitz fell silent. He knew further persuasion was useless. The Emperor had been intoxicated by the Eastern Front triumph, believing the same miracle could be repeated at sea.

"Prepare." Wilhelm II patted his shoulder, "Tell Scher, tell Schipper, tell every sailor—Germany needs a maritime victory. The Empire needs them to make history."

"…Yes, Your Majesty." Tirpitz rendered a military salute, turned and left.

As he stepped out of Wuyou Palace, the June sun stabbed his eyes with pain. Tirpitz looked up at the sky, recalling the scene twenty years ago when he first presented the "Risk Fleet" theory to the Emperor.

Back then, the Emperor was equally enthusiastic and equally ambitious.

But the enemy then was not so powerful, and the situation then was not so perilous.

"Marshal." The adjutant approached, "Returning to the Navy Department?"

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

The adjutant was startled: "Now?"

"Now." Tirpitz closed his eyes, "Before the Emperor formally issues the order, I want to meet Scher and Schipper first. We must devise a plan—a plan that satisfies the Emperor's vanity yet preserves the fleet's main force."

The car rolled through Berlin streets. A newsboy on the curb shouted the headline: "Eastern Front great victory! Russian retreat three hundred kilometers!"

Pedestrians rushed to buy copies, faces alight with excitement and pride.

Tirpitz watched the scene, but his heart was ice‑cold.

The Army's victory was pushing the Navy toward the abyss.

And he, as the Navy's founder, could only watch helplessly as it unfolded.

Dubai, Presidential Office.

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 whispered.

Wang Wenwu stood behind him, holding another document: "President, this is the detailed battle report just delivered by Intelligence. Russian losses may exceed 1.2 million, about 200,000 captured. The entire Eastern Front defense has completely collapsed."

"The speed was too fast." Chen Feng turned, "At least three months faster than we expected."

"Yes." Wang Wenwu nodded, "The Germans threw all reserves forward, and with the six divisions of the Sakura Nation's sustained attrition, the already fragile Russian supply line finally broke. One collapse stretched for a thousand miles."

Chen Feng walked back to his desk, picked up a teacup and took a sip. The tea was cold, its bitter taste spreading across his tongue.

"What's the reaction in London?"

"No formal statement yet." Wang Wenwu said, "But our informant in London reports that White Hall held an all‑night meeting yesterday. This morning Prime Minister Asquith's motorcade went straight to Buckingham Palace, presumably to see the King."

Chen Feng smiled: "The Yingguo are anxious."

"Can they not be anxious?" Wang Wenwu moved to the map, pointing at the Western Front, "Verdun lasted four months, both sides suffered over 700,000 casualties, yet the front barely moved. The Somme offensive is being prepared; Britain has poured out its last reserves. Now the Eastern Front has collapsed, Deguo can shift at least thirty divisions to the Western Front…"