A bad idea was still an idea. No matter how low the cost effectiveness might be, as long as it could save lives at a critical moment, the Russian government had no choice but to accept it. In the original timeline, by the end of 1904, the Trans-Siberian Railway had already been completed. Although it could not operate normally, on average it could still send out a few trainloads a day. Those few wagons did not look like much, but at crucial moments, the supplies they carried could determine the outcome of a war. The gap in logistics had to be filled one way or another. Turning to smuggling was simply the Russian government grasping at straws in desperation. After the European War ended, all major countries tacitly decided to abandon airships. Aside from a small number of transport airships, the skies were almost entirely taken over by airplanes. The Russian Empire also had an airship unit, but because of poor cost effectiveness, its size had always remained very small. When the Russo-Japanese War broke out, the airship unit was not sent to the Far East. The reasons were the high cost and the fact that senior commanders knew their airships were already useless. There was no helping it. Airships had a limited service life. After ten or twenty years without equipment replacement, they did not even dare conduct routine training flights. Completing combat missions was out of the question. Transporting them all the way to the Far East was also impossible. The old airships Russia had in service could not even fly to the destination on their own. In contrast, the Holy Roman airship forces were different. Although they had been removed from combat roles, the logistics units still maintained full organizational structure. Unlike Russian bureaucrats who merely went through the motions, the Holy Roman military replaced weapons and equipment as soon as their service period was nearly over. Even though removing airships from combat roles hurt the producers, only the combat airship production lines were shut down. Transport airships continued to survive tenaciously. They were used not only by the military but also in civilian sectors. If the cost effectiveness had kept up, airships might have stood alongside trains, ships, and automobiles as the fourth major mode of transportation. Even a developed country like the Holy Roman Empire found the operating cost too high. Other developing countries had no chance at all. Even if they wanted to buy them, they simply did not have the money. Under these circumstances, retired airships from the military were in a very awkward position. There was no foreign market for them and no domestic demand either. Capitalists were greedy, but they also had to consider risk. Airships equipped by the military performed very well, yet their maintenance requirements were extremely high. After all, these machines flew in the sky. If anything went wrong, it could easily lead to the destruction of the vessel and the loss of everyone on board. Selling them off to the Russians solved all these problems. Once the transfer was complete, the airships would be sent directly to the front. Even after sales service could be skipped entirely. If an accident happened during a flight, it would certainly be blamed on the Japanese, and if not the Japanese, then on the crew for not following the proper operating procedures. It would absolutely never be considered the fault of the airship itself. Judging from how aggressively the seller was pushing the deal, it was clear that the Austrian government had done an excellent job with internal secrecy. Even their own people had no idea that the government was already preparing itself psychologically for the possibility that the Russian government would default on its debt. Preparation was necessary, because Russia had a history of defaulting, and not just once. They were habitual offenders. On the surface, Russia still looked like the sure winner. Even with logistics problems emerging, the outside world remained optimistic about the Russians. As for the soon to be opened Trans-Siberian Railway, both the Russian government and international observers believed in it wholeheartedly. According to the so-called experts, once the railway was operational, it would be able to transport fifteen million tons of goods per year. Even if one million Russian troops were fighting on the front line, their logistics needs would be met with ease. Franz had no idea how those numbers were calculated, but he did not believe the Russians could achieve anything close to that. Forget about the Trans-Siberian Railway. Even the line from Moscow to Saint Petersburg would fail to meet that theoretical figure if one track of the double line were removed. It was not a problem of rail capacity, and it was not because the trains were too slow. The real issue was organizational capability. In the original timeline at the end of the Second World War, the Soviet government had once achieved a record monthly transport volume of 1.45 million tons. Yet that peak lasted only for a single month, and due to climate limitations, the annual transport volume of the Trans-Siberian Railway still could not exceed ten million tons. To bring that point forty years earlier and then increase capacity by fifty percent on top of Soviet performance was impossible unless the Russian government received some sort of miracle. Taking the technological level of the era into account, there was no need to challenge the limits of maximum capacity. As long as Russia could reach even one tenth of that theoretical figure, they would be able to defeat Japan with overwhelming force. It was unfortunate, but transporting 145,000 tons of supplies each month was just another unreachable dream. At least until the supporting facilities and management systems around the Trans-Siberian Railway were fully developed, it was not feasible in any way. Since the outside world generally believed the Russians were going to win, no one thought the Russian government would go bankrupt. As long as they won the war, the losses could be shifted elsewhere. Even though Japan was poor, as long as one searched carefully, there was always something to squeeze out. If it really came to the worst, they could still use labour as compensation. Unlike certain idle and lazy workers elsewhere, Japanese labourers were just as high quality. … While Russia and Austria were trying to find ways to support the Russian army’s logistics at the front, the situation in London had also grown tense, with the air filled with the scent of gunpowder. Integrating industrial capacity was a thankless task. To the capitalists, the bigger picture mattered far less than making money. Naturally, no one had any goodwill toward the Campbell government pushing this policy. Public opinion was fiercely critical, as if the Campbell government were the ones destroying Britain. The opposition seized the chance to launch an impeachment motion in Parliament. If King Edward VII had not personally supported Campbell, and if Campbell’s rivals had not hesitated to take over such a mess at this moment, the occupant of Downing Street would probably have already changed. Being scolded was tolerable. Any government that truly worked hard would be cursed sooner or later. As long as they succeeded in the end, their tarnished name could be cleaned up. Judging from the way Prime Minister Campbell now looked ready to bite someone’s head off, things clearly were not going well. With certain people fanning the flames, the effort to integrate industrial capacity was viewed by the public as collusion between the government and the financial groups, a plot to swallow up everyone’s enterprises and monopolize the market. Protest after protest followed. The thunderous slogans of demonstrators echoed across the British Isles, as the small and medium capitalists made their stance clear with real actions and said “no.” Resistance did not come only from below. Even the major financial groups lacked enthusiasm. A “market monopoly” sounded wonderful in theory, but once put into practice, it became obvious that many industries simply could not operate this way. Low entry barriers were one reason, but more importantly, for social stability the Campbell government required that no one lay off workers and no one raise prices. In essence, the core advantages of a monopoly lay in streamlining corporate structure, lowering production costs, and controlling pricing. Now that these were off the table, what was the point? For the financial groups in particular, it was a disaster. They were used to making fast money, and had no interest in quietly running real industries. As the twenty percent in the “Pareto Principle or eighty–twenty rule,” the financiers were striving to control one hundred and twenty percent of the world’s wealth. Naturally, they had no interest whatsoever in the Campbell government’s plan. With opposition from top to bottom, the plan could not be pushed forward. After several months of effort, Prime Minister Campbell could only stare helplessly at an empty result. Even though the government had already implemented tariff barriers, Britain’s sluggish industries still showed little improvement. Fierce international competition was one factor, but the more important problem was that Britain had begun to walk down the old path of the high-interest loan empire seen in the original timeline. More and more domestic financial groups had fallen in love with the financial sector, and fewer and fewer were willing to work honestly in real industry. The British government was not especially strong. Its policies could influence the domestic economy, but it did not have the authority to impose a final, decisive command. Without capital injection, these declining industries struggled to grow even with government support. One could only say that Campbell was too impatient. If he had slowed down and waited for the earlier economic policies to take effect, allowing the public to see that investing in real industry could also be highly profitable, people would naturally have joined in. But clearly, Campbell could not wait, and neither could Britain. The turbulent international situation told them they had to move quickly. Secretary of Industry Henry Burks said, “Public opposition is growing louder. All sectors of society are against government intervention in the economic market. It is already impossible to integrate domestic industries in a short time. The Industry Office is preparing to adjust the plan and activate the backup option.” Politicians who charged ahead without looking back were always the minority. Most preferred to adapt as the situation changed. With the plan collapsing before their eyes, the Industry Office, as the executing body, naturally had to think of a way to clean up the aftermath. Hearing the words “activate the backup option,” Campbell’s expression grew even darker. There was no helping it. Put nicely, it was a “backup plan.” Put bluntly, it was sacrificing national interests to appease the financial groups in exchange for their cooperation in the next phase. Of course, that “cooperation” would only come if the government abandoned the plan to integrate industry. Home Secretary Azevedo said irritably, “If it failed, then let it fail. Since no one cares about the bigger picture, why should we be the ones to play the villain?” This was the truth. The more Azevedo understood the country, the more hopeless he felt. After the Holy Roman Empire’s powerful rise, the once formidable British Empire now retained only its outward shine. Free trade had created Britain’s glory, and free trade was also leading Britain down a road with no return. Under the free trade system, British capital roamed the world and earned enormous profits. Even though the Holy Roman Empire had a larger economic output, the British still held more influence in global capital markets. Holy Roman capital earned money from industrial and commercial products, while British capital extracted windfall profits by harvesting “less informed investors” across the globe. Britain had long run a trade deficit in international markets, yet the profits gained by British capital were not less than those of the Holy Roman Empire. In fact, they were often even greater. In a sense, this was the core reason why previous governments, even knowing that the trade deficit was growing year by year, still refused to withdraw from the free trade system. Only in the Campbell era, after resentment from domestic industrial and commercial sectors had built up to its limit and the tensions could no longer be contained, did the government finally take the painful step of cutting itself free. Once that step was taken, everyone realised how fragile Britain truly was. Falling behind in new technological fields was frustrating enough, but the real problem was that even traditional industries once seen as national strengths were now suffering from a lack of capacity. Having borne humiliation from all sides, Azevedo could no longer restrain his frustration and had begun to vent without restraint. Chancellor of the Exchequer Asquith said, “Calm down, Sir Azevedo. Britain is at its most critical moment. We cannot let anger cloud our judgment. The plan to integrate industrial capacity may be progressing slowly, but it is not without results. In at least the steel and coal sectors, resources have become more concentrated, and an increase in output is only a matter of time. Although the pace is slower than expected, these months have not been wasted. Under the cover of the Russo–Japanese War, the Empire has purchased large quantities of scarce materials from overseas. With these supplies, we will not be at a disadvantage in the short term.” His explanation only made the atmosphere in the room more tense. Everyone was focusing on the hidden meaning behind his words. Not falling behind in the short term meant that in the long-term competition, Britain would inevitably find itself at a disadvantage. Secretary of War Marcus Katzel said, “We can discuss this back and forth all we want, but in essence none of it solves the real problem. As an island nation, it is unwise for us to compete head-on with the Holy Roman Empire in industrial strength. Do not forget that they are the dominant power on the European continent, and now that Russia is busy pushing eastward, they can no longer restrain the Holy Roman Empire at all. If this becomes a long confrontation, the enemy we face will not be just the Holy Roman Empire, but also the European world that shelters under their wing. From a military standpoint, instead of waiting for the enemy to prepare and challenge us on their terms, we should strike first while we still hold the advantage. No matter what method we use, as long as we can inflict serious damage on, or even annihilate, the Holy Roman Navy, the situation will immediately turn in our favor. Even if we cannot destroy the Holy Roman Empire in one blow, we can at least force them to behave themselves for another twenty years. With the strength of our Royal Navy, accomplishing this should not be difficult.” Hearing Marcus’s proposal, the Navy Secretary, Swinton, could no longer remain seated and argued, “Do you think we do not want to do that? The problem now is that the Holy Roman main fleet simply stays put in the Mediterranean and refuses to come out. In their home waters, under the protection of air units and coastal artillery, even if the Royal Navy dares to sail deep inside, it will be difficult to achieve anything.” The greater the power, the greater the responsibility. As the dominant arm of British military power, the Royal Navy naturally bore the duty of defending Britain. All decisive war plans drafted by the government were centered on the navy. And the Royal Navy had lived up to its reputation. For the past two hundred years, it had crushed every obstacle in its path and secured the empire’s century of glory through battle after battle. But even the Royal Navy had limits. If the enemy refused to leave their stronghold, there was little the British could do. Marcus, the Secretary of War, did not back down and argued back, “If the enemy refuses to come out for a decisive battle, then we must find a way to force them out. At this point, surely no one still dreams of peacefully coexisting with the Holy Roman Empire. Since we must fight sooner or later, we might as well strike first, disrupt their rhythm, and increase our chances of victory.” Was Marcus truly warmongering? The answer was no. If more options existed, he would not want to fight the Holy Roman Empire now. Once the war began, it was not only the navy that had to advance; the army would also be forced to step forward. To name just one example, the Cape of Good Hope would have to be defended at all costs. If that crucial port fell, the route from the British Isles to India would become extremely difficult to maintain. And not only the Cape. Persia, Southeast Asia, and every region bordering the Holy Roman Empire would face threats. Yet avoiding war was no longer possible. The British government had already poured the nation’s full strength into supporting the navy, while the army, treated like an unwanted stepchild, could only survive on whatever scraps were left.
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