Beiyang Dream

Chapter 16 The History of World War I: Changde wins, don't come any closer!

9:45 a.m., Berlin, Prussian War Academy.

Chang Desheng put a period at the end of the last question on the math exam.

He took forty-five minutes out of the hour-and-a-half exam.

I glanced up at the clock at the front of the exam hall—forty-five minutes left until the exam was over. Enough time to check my work three times!

He carefully checked the questions. Ten major problems—algebra, geometry, trigonometry, and calculus—all at the level of a ninth-grade student in a German secondary school. The questions were serious, but the Germans were straightforward; they didn't play tricks on him. For a small-town student and a science major from a 211 university, who had been through the rigorous middle and high school entrance exams in China, they were practically free points.

He only raised his hand after confirming that all the answers were correct.

Major Goldz, the proctor, walked over, took the exam paper, glanced at it, and then at the name—Chang Desheng. He then glanced at the Qing student, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

Chang Desheng stood up, gently pushed the chair in, and turned to leave the examination room.

As he walked out of the examination room, Hideki Tojo had just finished the last question and was about to review it from the beginning. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a figure moving, and when he looked up, he saw Chang Desheng's back disappearing through the door.

Tojo's heart skipped a beat.

Is it really finished? Forty-five minutes?

Impossible. This test was no easy task. He drew three auxiliary lines before figuring out the third geometry proof, and he spent almost half a sheet of scratch paper calculating the seventh calculus problem for finding extrema. Could the mathematics at Beiyang Military Academy be taught this advancedly? I've never heard of such a thing!

He glanced to the side and behind him—Duan Qirui was sitting there, scratching his head and counting on his fingers, his face almost pressed against the exam paper.

Tojo withdrew his gaze, thinking to himself: Could it be that the guy surnamed Chang just filled in the blanks haphazardly and handed it in? It's possible.

He took a deep breath, forced himself to focus, and recalculated each problem one by one.

......

Duan Qirui was unaware that the chief of the Japanese Army Academy was plotting against him. He now felt like a complete fool—we were all fools, and he could no longer mock Cao Kun.

There were a lot of questions on the test paper that he couldn't understand at all—good heavens! Those word problems were all in German, and he had to guess at some of the words. Even with the "system of quadratic equations" he could understand, he calculated it three times and got three different numbers, but he still didn't know which one was correct, so he had to take out an eraser and flip it back and forth...

As for the geometry and trigonometric functions problems, he stared at the diagrams for a long time, but his mind was completely blank.

Fortunately, there were multiple-choice and true/false questions, so I could still guess.

He filled in all the dishes he knew how to make—there weren't actually many—then looked up, wanting to glance ahead a few times.

I looked up and was stunned.

The seats in front are empty; everyone at Changdesheng is gone.

Further ahead, there was a Turk wearing a little red hat, anxiously tugging at his big beard, clearly not knowing anything about it.

Duan Qirui's anger flared up: "Where the hell are you, Chang? You ran off right after the exam? Didn't you even offer your brother a hand?"

He gripped the pen, his fingers turning white. For the last half hour, he filled in the blanks with a mix of guesswork and deduction. Right or wrong? Well, he'd leave it to fate.

.......

The second subject was physics.

When the exam papers were handed out, Duan Qirui was even more dumbfounded. He was from an artillery background; he could manage math, but physics was a complete mystery—artillery firing didn't require any mechanics, optics, or electromagnetism!

He glanced at Chang Desheng. The guy had already turned to the second page, his pen moving rapidly without stopping.

Duan Qirui had learned his lesson this time. Before Chang Desheng could even hand in his paper, he started sneaking peeks—multiple choice questions, A, C, B, D… true/false questions, right, wrong, right, right…

He glanced at the papers while copying them onto his own, his palms sweating. Major Goldz paced around the exam room, and he had to wait for the major to move to the other side before he could quickly catch a glimpse of the paper.

After glancing at seven or eight questions, Changde had already raised his hand and handed in his paper.

Duan Qirui cursed under his breath and quickly filled in the rest of the blanks. At least he had copied quite a few answers for the multiple-choice and true/false questions, but for the essay questions... he'd just scribble a few sentences.

.......

The third session was in English.

Duan Qirui wanted to curse as soon as he saw the exam paper. He could accept that the German military academy entrance exam required German, but why the hell did they have to test him in English? He couldn't even keep up with German, who had time to learn English?

Oh, that freak Chang Desheng has the skills to learn.

He glanced ahead. Chang Desheng was reading a reading comprehension passage, his eyes scanning quickly, as if he were reading a Chinese newspaper.

Duan Qirui thought to himself: Maybe I should acknowledge Chang Desheng as my elder brother... No, no, we're here to study military strategy and warfare, not to take the entrance exam for the University of Berlin... What's the use of doing well in math, physics, and English? Can we take the exam?

Okay, stop overthinking and get to copying.

He couldn't possibly pass the English essay, so he'd just copy some multiple-choice and true/false questions. As he copied, he calculated: he hadn't done half of the math, copied some physics, and now he'd copy some more English… Could he even pass one of the three subjects combined?

......

After finishing the three exams in the morning and having lunch, Chang Desheng sat in the fourth exam room, the "professional exam," and spread out his blueprints for city construction.

Duan Qirui was still sitting behind him, his face dark.

I didn't do half of the math problems, and guessed the other half. For physics, I copied Chang Desheng's multiple choice and true/false questions, and made up a few random sentences for the essay questions. I also copied some English questions.

Now that they're taking the professional exams, he applied for artillery, while Chang Desheng applied for city construction, so they can't copy each other at all.

Fortunately, Duan Qirui had a decent foundation in artillery, so he should be able to pass the test.

Chang Desheng was unaware that the person behind him had copied his physics and English—and even if he did, it wouldn't matter; if Duan Qirui could actually get into the War Academy by copying, he wouldn't mind either. More classmates meant more opportunities, even though this classmate didn't particularly like him.

He is currently focused on designing a coastal defense battery.

This task cannot have the slightest flaw. He had done the math: he had to get as high a score as possible in math, physics, English, and construction. Because he needed those points to make up for his weakness in "tactical planning."

He had studied the "Moldi Authentic Questions Collection" once, but relying on that to get a high score in tactical scenarios was unrealistic. Especially since this time his opponents included four students from the Japanese Army Academy—the Japanese Army Academy is the Japanese branch of the Prussian War Academy, and those students must have thoroughly studied the "Authentic Questions Collection" and done similar scenarios countless times.

It will be difficult for Changdesheng to surpass them in this area!

Therefore, we cannot afford to lose a single point in the first four rounds.

So he focused intently, his pencil tracing clean, crisp lines across the drawing paper. Gun emplacements, ammunition depots, observation posts, trenches… he drew them with the same precision and accuracy as he would in a CAD drawing project in his past life.

This is his profession from his previous life, how could he not draw it well?

......

The tactical scenario test began at 1:30 PM.

When the test papers were handed out, Chang Desheng glanced at them and gasped in shock.

This time, it was his turn to have a headache.

The task requires him to play the role of a French infantry division chief of staff in 1895, to devise a defensive plan east of Verdun, to delay a German infantry corps that has already made a breakthrough for at least 72 hours, and to buy time for the Verdun elements to deploy.

In addition, his division only had 72 hours to carry out his defense plan.

A French division held off a German army for 72 hours?

Chang Desheng held his pen, twirling it twice. He thought to himself: If the French army had this kind of ability, would Manstein's plan have succeeded? This question is giving France far too much credit!

He stared at the map—east of Verdun, the Meuse River plateau, a hilly area. The map was a contour map, marked with rivers, roads, and villages.

He quickly retrieved the "True Questions of Moltke" from his mind. Were there similar questions? Yes, there was one about French defense in 1870. But that was a linear defense, focusing on defending key points, unlike this question.

He never actually took any serious tactics classes. During those few months at the military academy, he only learned the basics; he never practiced staff work.

Submit a blank exam paper? No way. He's a top student, he has been since first grade. Submitting a blank exam paper is worse for him than death.

Writing nonsense? That's even worse.

How could a top student write something like that? He always sang seriously in music class when he was little, even though he had absolutely no musical talent and was tone-deaf...

He stared at the map, and images suddenly flashed through his mind—not from the past exam papers, but from his computer screen in his previous life. Muddy trenches, crisscrossing barbed wire, the rattling of machine guns, and the mud pillars created by artillery shells exploding in the no-man's-land.

He played Verdun and Isonzo for far too many hours.

A thought struck him like lightning: I don’t fucking know the standard answer from 1895, but I know how this place was defended in 1916!

I gambled.

He took a deep breath, spread out the sketch paper, and picked up a pencil.

The first step is to start calculating the costs.

A French infantry division, approximately 15,000 men. The division's artillery, assuming 36 75mm cannons. Key point: The question states "equipment already in trial use may be used," and specifically notes "a Gatling gun company (12 guns) may be attached."

The construction period is only 72 hours... That's not enough!

Fortunately, the tactical objective was not to "defeat the enemy," but to "delay for 72 hours."

Chang Desheng thought it over and realized that pursuing "victory" was impossible; he could only pursue "efficiency"—to exchange the least casualties for the longest possible time.

After figuring it out, he started drawing on the map.

It's not about drawing pretty attack arrows, it's about drawing construction plans.

He marked three thick, jagged lines on the map with a pencil—the main resistance line, the reserve positions, and the last line of defense. The lines weren't straight; they were zigzag, marked with a bend every twenty or thirty meters to protect against artillery fire and flanking attacks.

He connected the lines with thin lines—traffic trenches—marking their width and depth.

In front of the main position, he drew shaded areas—barbed wire barriers. He marked the density: "It is recommended to set up 3-5 layers of barbed wire, with a depth of no less than 50 meters."

He marked several crosses on key passageways in the barbed wire area—this was a minefield.

Then he started marking the firing points.

He didn't spread out the 12 Gatling guns. He selected six key terrain features—two ridges, a gentle slope, two ridgelines, and a river bend. He marked each spot with two small triangles, placed one Gatling gun in each location, and wrote next to each: "Strong machine gun nest, reinforced with concrete, cross-fire."

He marked the artillery positions on the reverse slope behind the main position, writing down three locations—Position 1, Reserve Position 2, and Reserve Position 3. Next to them was a note: "Pre-set before battle, movable during wartime."

He then drew small circles on several high grounds—these were artillery observation posts—and connected them to the artillery positions with dotted lines: "I suggest setting up telephone lines."

Then he began writing instructions. Not tactical statements, but engineering specifications.

"The core idea of ​​defense: not to hold the position, but to maximize the damage to the enemy, transforming defense into a systematic attrition process..."

"Phase 1 (Enemy Preparation): When the enemy artillery is preparing its fire, all our personnel, except for a few observation posts, should retreat along the trenches to reserve positions to avoid artillery fire. After the enemy shelling ends, quickly return to the forward positions."

"Second phase (enemy approach): When enemy infantry enter our obstacle zone, machine gun fire will be fired from the side, and artillery will conduct intercepting fire on the obstacle zone."

"The third stage (enemy breakthrough): If local positions are lost, artillery will concentrate on bombarding the breakthrough point and subsequent echelons to create conditions for our reserve forces to launch a counterattack. The counterattack will be carried out at night or dawn in company and platoon units, with the goal of restoring positions rather than annihilating the enemy."

Phase Four (Retreat to Reserve Position 2): If Position 1 is lost...

"Then, all fortifications were designed according to the 72-hour emergency construction standard, and the earthwork operations required the assistance of engineers."

He stopped writing here and looked at the drawing he had made.

On the map, the hills east of Verdun were divided into "kill zones" with pencil lines. In a real battlefield, even with the equipment level of the 1890s, it would take mountains of corpses and seas of blood to break through!

He suddenly hesitated.

How many points would this get? Would the German instructor think he's crazy? Or… a genius?

More importantly, he has already turned the Sino-Japanese War into a Schrödingerian issue. If he were to deliver the World War I assignment more than 20 years ahead of schedule, wouldn't history really be ruined by this little butterfly?

He shook his head.

Who cares? How World War I goes is none of my business. What I want now is to get into the War College, to get those two hundred taels of silver, and to get that real-world job recommendation—if I put these three things together, my plan to overthrow the Qing and become president will have made some progress, right?

He picked up his pen and wrote on the last line of the answer sheet:

"This plan is based on maximizing the use of existing technology. The core lies in changing the defensive philosophy: from 'holding the position' to 'wearing down the enemy before they can hold the position'."

After finishing, sign and hand in the paper.

When I walked out of the examination room, the afternoon sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow on the gray stone walls of the War Academy.

Chang Desheng stretched, his mind racing again: he should be close to full marks in math, physics, and English; the city construction should be fine; and as for tactical planning… well, he'd leave it to fate. A top-three finish was within his reach.

He glanced back at the examination hall door.

Hideaki Tojo came out from inside, his face calm, but his brows were slightly furrowed, as if he was also calculating his own score.

Their eyes met, but the moment they looked away, their gazes met briefly.

Chang Desheng smiled and turned to walk towards the embassy carriage.

Little did he know that the answer sheet he submitted would, hours later, lie in Major Golds's folder. The major would then carry the folder down the long corridor and finally knock on the dean's office door.

"Come in."

Lieutenant General Brauchitsch sat behind his large oak desk, reviewing a document. General Waldersee sat on the sofa beside him, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Your Excellency Dean, Your Excellency General," Gortz said, standing at attention. "The tactical scenario exam papers have been collected. There's one... that's rather unusual."

"Special?" Brauchit looked up.

"It's that Qing Dynasty student, Chang Desheng." Goltz placed the folder on the table, pulled out the top answer sheet, and spread it out.

Brauchitsch and Waldersee's eyes fell on the drawings.

The room was silent for a few seconds.

Waldersee put down his coffee cup, leaned forward, and stared at the jagged lines, shaded areas, and cross marks on the map.

"This is..." He frowned, "Defense?"

"Yes, Your Excellency," Goldz said, "but his method of defense... is somewhat different."

Brauchitsch had already picked up the "engineering manual" and was quickly skimming through it. The more he read, the more his brow furrowed.

When he saw the last sentence, "From 'holding the position' to 'wearing down the enemy before they can hold the position,' his hand stopped moving."

He looked up and met Waldersee's gaze.

Neither of them spoke.

Outside the window, the autumn wind of Berlin blew, and the leaves on the linden trees on the main street rustled.

At this moment, the history of World War I seemed to truly... tremble.

Chang Desheng, don't come any closer!