Chapter 381: The Navy Department's Resistance

At the same time, the William Port Naval Headquarters.

Admiral Tirpitz sat in his office, a thick stack of repair progress reports spread before him. Outside, the rain grew louder, water streaming down the glass and blurring the warships in the harbor into a gray‑blue shadow.

A knock sounded, and before he could respond the door was pushed open. In walked Major General Te Luota, his complexion darker than the sky beyond the window.

"Message from Berlin," Te Luota placed a telegram on the desk. "It came from the Emperor's Aide Office. They ask us to immediately assess a… proposal."

Tirpitz took the telegram and read it quickly. His brows furrowed, his gaze shifting from confusion to shock, finally hardening into cold anger.

"Bismarck Class battleship? Lanfang willing to sell?" His voice was soft, yet each word squeezed out like from between his teeth. "Thirty million pounds per ship? Paying with loans offset by gold?"

"Yes," Te Luota nodded. "The Emperor wants us to give a professional opinion within twenty‑four hours—how authentic the technology of these two ships is, whether they can quickly achieve combat readiness, and what impact they have on naval strategy."

Tirpitz rose and walked to the North Sea chart on the wall. He stared at the red markers denoting the Yingguo fleet, at the location of Scapa Bay, and at the blockade line across Dover Strait.

"Technical specifications…" he muttered to himself. "41,000 tons, 380 mm Main Gun, 30 knots speed… If these figures are true, these two ships are more advanced than any of our designs still on the drawing board."

"But is the problem real?" Te Luota asked. "Lanfang, that nation, didn't exist a decade ago. Are they truly willing to sell Bismarck Class ships? Those are the most powerful battleships in the world!!!"

"But they do have a modern navy," Tirpitz turned around. "The 'Yangtze' and 'Yellow River' virtually annihilated the Allied fleet in the East Sea; our intelligence captured blurry photos. Though the exact specs are unclear, the hulls are indeed massive."

He returned to his desk and picked up the telegram again: "Moreover, Chen Feng… cannot be judged by ordinary standards. He turned a desert into an industrial base in a decade, built a navy that even Yingguo dare not underestimate. If he truly produced a more powerful battleship, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Then how do we reply to Berlin?" Te Luota asked. "If we recommend purchase, it admits our own shipbuilding program has failed. If we advise against it…"

"The Emperor will think we are hindering naval modernization," Tirpitz took the floor, smiling wryly. "It's a trap, Te Luota. Whoever we answer, someone will get hurt."

He sat down, picked up a steel pen, and wrote several keywords on a blank sheet:

Technical authenticity?

Rapid combat readiness?

Strategic impact?

Is the cost worthwhile?

"One by one," Tirpitz said. "First, technical authenticity. We need more detailed data—armor layout, propulsion system configuration, fire‑control system model, ammunition stockpile. We cannot draw conclusions from a few photos and verbal specs alone."

"Will Lanfang provide them?"

"If they truly wish to sell, they will," Tirpitz began scribbling quickly. "Send a telegram to Berlin, requesting the Lanfang envoy to furnish the following: detailed line drawings, armor distribution maps, propulsion system parameters, specific weapon system models and manufacturers. Also, ask them to arrange for our technical staff to board the ships for on‑site inspection."

"The Emperor will think we are dragging our feet."

"Then let him think so," Tirpitz's voice rose suddenly. "Te Luota, this is a sixty‑million‑pound deal! That's one‑third of Deguo's gold reserves! We cannot decide on a whim. If these two ships have design flaws, if their performance data are exaggerated, if they crumble in combat… we become the nation's criminals!"

Te Luota fell silent. He knew the old admiral was right, but also understood the Emperor's current mindset—a drowning man clutches at any floating object.

"Second question," Tirpitz continued, "rapid combat readiness. Even if all data are true, even if the ships are flawless, how long will our crews need to become proficient? A brand‑new fire‑control system, larger Main Guns, more complex propulsion… Without at least six months of training, these two ships are live targets on the battlefield."

He wrote on the paper, "Six‑month training period."

"Third, strategic impact," Tirpitz rose, returning to the chart. "Two battleships, even the most advanced, can they shift the balance of power in the North Sea? Yingguo has twenty‑four dreadnoughts and a dozen battlecruisers. Two ships cannot overcome an absolute numerical disadvantage."

"But they could serve as a strike force…" Te Luota attempted to rebut.

"And then?" Tirpitz turned, his gaze sharp. "We send these two prized battleships into the North Sea, only to be surrounded and sunk by Jeliko's main fleet? Te Luota, naval battles are not knightly duels; they are mathematics. Firepower density, numerical superiority, logistical support. Two ships cannot change the math."

He returned to his desk and sat heavily. "Finally, the cost. Sixty million pounds, of which twenty million is gold. Do you know how much rubber, oil, food that gold can buy? How many submarines it can build? How many shells, rifles, machine guns it can produce?"

"But the Emperor needs a symbolic victory…"

"A symbolic victory won't save Deguo!" Tirpitz finally erupted, his fist slamming the desk, splattering ink. "Te Luota, have you ever been to the front? Have you seen the battlefield at Verdun? I have! The soldiers fought in mud, ate among piles of corpses, died in terror! They need shells, food, medicine, not two steel leviathans a thousand miles away!"

His chest rose and fell, breathing rapid. Te Luota had never seen the old admiral so agitated.

Silence lingered for a minute. Only the patter of rain outside, drizzling.

"Apologies," finally Tirpitz calmed, wiping the splattered ink with a handkerchief. "I lost my composure."

"No, Admiral, you are right," Te Luota said softly. "But the question is… will Berlin listen?"

Tirpitz stared at the telegram on the desk, at the phrasing from the Emperor's Aide Office—urgent, eager, full of expectation.

"They won't listen," he said finally. "So we must respond in another way."

He picked up the steel pen again and began drafting the formal reply:

"To Your Majesty the Emperor: The Navy Department has received the proposal concerning Lanfang's Bismarck Class battleships. Preliminary assessment indicates that, if the technical parameters are accurate, the class indeed possesses world‑leading capabilities. However, to ensure the transaction aligns with Deguo's interests, we recommend the following steps: 1. Dispatch a technical delegation to Lanfang for on‑site inspection; 2. Request complete technical documentation for verification; 3. Formulate detailed acquisition and training plans. Until these steps are completed, we advise against a final decision. Your loyal servant, Tirpitz."

After finishing, he handed it to Te Luota: "Send it as is. The wording must be deferential, but the content clear—we need time to verify, we cannot decide hastily."

"The Emperor will be displeased."

"Then let him be displeased," Tirpitz rose, moving to the window. "Te Luota, my duty is not to curry favor with the Emperor, but to protect Deguo's navy, to protect this nation. If I lose my post for speaking truth, so be it. At least I can sleep at night."

Te Luota took the telegram draft and turned to leave.

Tirpitz stood alone at the window, watching William Port in the rain. Inside the harbor, the 'Frederick the Great' was still under repair; workers toiled in the downpour, welding sparks glaring against the dim backdrop.

He recalled the night of the German‑Japanese‑Lanfang sea battle, the warships that sank under artillery fire, the youths who perished in the icy sea.