Chapter 123
Chapter 123
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: Show Me the Panzer
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“I’m going insane.”
That was my first impression when I faced the “tanks” that the German automobile companies had brought as prototypes.
Schlieffen and Ludendorff couldn’t hide their bitter smiles, as if they hadn’t anticipated such an outcome.
The tanks that appeared here were utterly bizarre in both form and performance.
Haa... I’d only told them to build tanks, so why had everyone reverted to childhood, unleashing their wild imaginations and creativity unchecked?
I couldn’t fathom what they’d heard from my endless explanations at the briefing.
I could forgive some greed to win the competition with my generous heart, but this was greed taken way too far.
“Next up is Opel’s turn.”
No sooner had Ludendorff spoken than the Opel staff headed to the test site with tense expressions.
The evaluation criteria for checking the prototype tanks’ performance consisted of four items.
Mobility, firing capability, armor, and off-road traversal ability.
All were essential qualities for a tank, so only the one that best satisfied these four standards would survive the competition and claim the approval.
Ah, of course, tanks don’t have hands.
Ku-rung!
Soon, accompanied by the ground-shaking roar unique to tanks, Opel’s entry emerged from the garage.
And I sighed, inwardly reciting the wise saying that no expectations mean no disappointments.
‘These bastards were told not to build department stores, yet they all brought multi-turret tanks.’
Their flexible thinking nearly made me curse out loud.
I wouldn’t complain if it were something like an M3 Lee or B1 bis.
But Opel seemed to dream of a German Empire version of the P.1000 Ratte, hauling out a twin-turret behemoth.
That alone gave me a headache, but the doubled main guns made the chassis look precarious—would it even roll properly?
“Huh? Wh-what?”
“Oh no...”
Ku-rung—thud!
And my prediction hit the mark.
During the mobility test, Opel’s tank crawled forward like a snail inching along before the engine apparently failed midway, breaking down completely.
“Tch, broken again.”
“Looks like Opel won’t be joining us.”
The Opel executives and engineers, who had chased fantasies, bowed their heads darkly at the curt assessment from me and the other judges—no, project leads.
Sigh, you lot should just go make trucks.
“I’m starting to doubt this project.”
Was it the parade of failures that caused it?
Minister Ainem grumbled and glared at me.
I felt wronged, though.
‘Did I expect it to be this bad?’
One tank handled mobility decently but exploded during firing due to some design flaw. Another couldn’t clear the pre-dug trench and flipped right into it.
At least they’d all made the armor sturdy enough to shrug off machine-gun fire, but with everything else a mess, disappointment was inevitable.
“Still, Benz is next.”
As if to lighten the grim mood, Ludendorff forced a bright tone.
Yeah, even so, Benz had to be different.
Hoping they’d deliver a proper tank, I watched the Benz engineers head to the site.
And among them was former Daimler technical director Wilhelm Maybach.
“The other companies’ tanks are a total disaster.”
“They got greedy to win the contest. But that’s all the better for us. Their failures will make our tank shine brighter.”
Wilhelm Maybach gazed at Benz’s tank with eyes full of confidence.
Before leaving Daimler, Maybach had wanted to collaborate with Benz on the tank.
Benz’s technical prowess was renowned in the German Empire—no, the world—and pairing it with Daimler’s superior engine tech would guarantee victory, he’d thought.
But Daimler’s leadership hadn’t just rejected his proposal; they’d picked a fight, accusing him of unauthorized talks with a rival, pressuring the orphan he’d been at 15 to leave on his own.
After Gottlieb Daimler—the pioneer of German internal combustion, father of the motorcycle, Daimler’s founder, and the man who’d taken in young Maybach—passed away, relations with management soured irreparably.
So Maybach’s bid to work with rival Benz was the perfect excuse for them to oust him, and he’d been forced to leave the company he’d devoted his life to.
Afterward, like in the original history, he planned to start his own firm, but first, he couldn’t stomach leaving without payback against Daimler’s execs.
To settle that grudge, he approached old friend Karl Benz from Gottlieb’s days and joined Benz’s tank project.
Benz welcomed him with open arms.
Maybach was one of Germany’s top auto engineers, creator of the Mercedes series, hailed as the “King of Design” even by proud Frenchmen—a living legend.
No reason to turn away someone offering help.
Of course, hearing Maybach joined Benz spurred Daimler’s execs to pour everything into their own tank.
But Maybach had faith, against Daimler or anyone.
He’d listened most intently to Hans at the briefing, so he knew exactly what the project leads wanted.
No needless greed.
Stability and reliability were paramount.
Master those, and performance would follow.
Ku-rung!
“Wh-what?”
“Why is that tank so fast?!”
As the test began and Benz’s engine revved, surging forward relentlessly, Hans and the project leads jumped up in shock.
And rightly so—unlike the others, mostly slower than walking, this one was vastly superior.
Roughly 10 km/h, by my estimate.
Far faster than the Renault FT-17’s top speed of 7 km/h.
And enabling it was the engine Maybach himself designed.
True to his “King of Design” moniker, he excelled at auto design, but his true mastery was internal combustion—auto engines.
He and Gottlieb had pioneered the gasoline engine, the era’s top engine expert, and he knew a lumbering steel beast like a tank needed more power than car engines provided.
So he’d poured his soul into a tank-specific engine, and with its mighty heart, Benz’s tank raced the site (by era standards).
Even Hans stared dumbfounded, as if questioning its feasibility, while Ainem, Ludendorff, and others lit up like proper gear had arrived.
Of course, the Daimler staff watching Benz dominate stomped in panic.
“Director, Benz’s tank is outperforming our expectations. Is this okay?”
“It’s fine. If we don’t believe in our tank, who will?”
Paul Daimler—Gottlieb’s son, new technical director after Maybach’s exit—calmed the jittery staff.
As expected of Maybach.
The partner his father had admired in his youth still flaunted his genius.
Paul, who’d unwittingly taken his spot due to execs, felt regret at the news but burned with rivalry as a fellow engineer.
Of course, his talent and experience paled against the legend.
But he compensated with effort and youthful flexibility.
To rattled execs, he’d declared:
“We can’t beat Maybach and Benz playing by the rules. To win, we must go all-out, no holds barred, and build something astonishing.”
And Paul’s astonishing tank? A massive land battleship.
Utterly opposite Hans von Choi Baron’s demands, but head-on against Maybach meant certain loss.
Just like the other firms that’d twisted the leads’ faces.
But Paul’s difference: he didn’t half-ass greedily around Hans’s specs—he built a proper land battleship from the start.
And Daimler had the tech to realize it.
Benz and Maybach nailed it.
Benz’s tank perfectly embodied what I wanted.
Especially when it blazed across the site like it had chugged a steam pack—even this Baron Hans von Choi couldn’t hide his awe.
What sorcery on that engine made a tank fly like that?
Ah, era standards, of course.
Word was Wilhelm Maybach built it—maybe solicit his tech collab for plane engines too.
Engine power hugely impacted aircraft performance.
Plus, his Maybach firm, founding next year, made Zeppelin engines pre-WWI.
If they did airships, planes were doable.
‘Discuss with the Wright brothers later.’
As I pondered Maybach collab, Daimler’s tank test began last.
Though the winner seemed clear.
Ku-gu-gu-gung!
“Ooh?!”
But when Daimler’s creation appeared, I was speechless.
“...Mk series?”
Indeed.
Ignoring me, Daimler built a land battleship—and eerily, it resembled Britain’s Mk series.
Minus the rotating turret atop the hull.
‘I’ve seen that in WoW... mph!’
As I writhed over unspeakable words, Daimler’s tank plodded through tests at matching snail pace.
Appearance aside, its battleship limits doomed it to low scores vs. Benz.
So I regained composure to reject it—but a snag arose.
“So big... and beautiful...”
Our Prussian soldier uncles were utterly smitten by the steel monster advancing.
They looked like boys spotting their first cool robot toy.
If it’d flopped like the others, fine—but it rolled decently, if slower than Benz.
“Make both.”
“Pardon?!”
Post-tests, the call was to adopt both Benz and Daimler.
I was horrified.
“What inefficient nonsense? We don’t have the budget!”
“Baron, in the German Empire’s history, the army budget has never once been short.”
Ainem brazenly uttered what would’ve earned Chancellor von Bülow’s instant tirade.
But with him like that, I was powerless.
I was just the concept guy and project lead; adoption authority lay with Prussian War Minister Ainem.
Moltke seemed indifferent anyway.
‘Damn, is this right?’
Just mass-produce Benz from the start—too many?
Clinging to faint hope, I eyed Schlieffen and Ludendorff.
“I... think it’s fine.”
“Agreed.”
Alas, even they’d long fallen for Daimler’s.
Schlieffen said,
“Imagine it, Hans. Daimler leading, Benz pack following. Doesn’t just thinking it make your heart race?”
Damn, it’d look badass as hell.
“Then, we adopt Benz and Daimler tanks both.”
As I lost words, Ainem seized and nailed it.
Thus, the German Empire’s next-gen tank was decided.
Never dreamed it’d be a 1+1 deal.