Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Approaching Danger
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November 1901, early in the month.
I'd received a letter from the Schmeisser father and son saying the submachine gun prototype was complete, so I was heading to Suhl—home of the Bergmann arms factory—for the first time in a while.
According to the letter, there were still plenty of improvements needed, but the firing mechanism itself had no issues.
The faster-than-expected development speed filled me with quiet anticipation.
If this prototype turned out well, it might not be a bad idea to formally request investment from the military.
But if there's good news, bad news is sure to follow.
And unfortunately, it hit right where I cared most: the radio development plan had hit a snag.
Reginald Fessenden, the pioneer of radio technology, had turned down my offer.
He appreciated the proposal, but since he was already working for the U.S. Weather Bureau, teaming up with me would be difficult.
I got it.
From Fessenden's perspective, no amount of money was worth crossing the ocean to a distant Germany with no ties, just to develop radios for me.
Still, it was disappointing.
In the end, I had no choice but to reluctantly give up on recruiting Reginald Fessenden.
Now, Tesla was my last hope.
But I hadn't heard a peep from Tesla either.
If he was going to refuse, he could at least say so like Fessenden did with one line—instead, the silence left me wondering if he was even interested, which was just frustrating.
Last time I checked, his people confirmed he'd received the letter, so there was no chance it had been overlooked by mistake.
Was he deliberately ignoring it, or still mulling it over?
Either way, since I was the desperate one, I should send another letter to Tesla.
This time, I'd add a firm request for a reply.
'Speaking of America, I just remembered—President William McKinley was assassinated not long ago.'
It happened on September 6, 1901, the day before the Boxer Protocol was signed.
'And on the day the protocol was signed, Li Hongzhang suddenly died.'
He must have been shocked by the whole Prince Chun affair.
Makes sense— in the original history, he lingered and passed away after the protocol anyway.
Meanwhile, Prince Chun returned to the Qing court with his head still firmly attached.
What right did Empress Dowager Cixi and the Qing imperial family—who'd abandoned the people and fled the Forbidden City—have to reproach him?
On the contrary, they were busy glorifying Prince Chun's actions to salvage the Qing court's shattered prestige after the protocol.
Because revolutionaries like Sun Yat-sen were using the incident to stir up Chinese people fed up with Qing incompetence, ramping up their activities.
The Xinhai Revolution might even come sooner than in the original history.
Anyway, back to America: the ones targeting McKinley's life were none other than those anarchists who popped up every so often to stir up assassinations.
McKinley was rushed to the hospital after being shot, but he died on the 14th, a few days later.
Following William Harrison, Abraham Lincoln, and James Garfield, Tecumseh's Curse had claimed another president.
'But the real issue isn't McKinley's assassination—it's his successor.'
Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt Jr.
The man whose name graces the world's most famous teddy bear, but his historical actions were anything but cute—a grizzly through and through.
'A passionate American hegemonist and imperialist.'
Of course, America had already begun shedding its Monroe Doctrine non-interventionism under McKinley and Cleveland before him.
But it was Theodore Roosevelt who officially enshrined American imperialism.
From now on, America would aggressively expand into the Pacific, Caribbean, and South America.
'Did Theodore Roosevelt ever clash with Germany?'
There was one near-miss during his presidency.
The Venezuelan crisis of 1902-1903.
Venezuelan President Cipriano Castro refused foreign debt repayments and kept provoking, so the German Empire and Britain teamed up for a naval blockade.
In the original history, Britain and Germany accepted U.S. mediation and it ended peacefully, but if America or Germany had dug in, it could've sparked a clash between the U.S. Navy and Imperial Navy.
'No point poking that bear.'
The Venezuelan crisis would pass uneventfully unless Wilhelm II suddenly lost his mind and ordered a full occupation—which he wouldn't.
Better to let it follow the original history than stir up the hornet's nest that was the United States.
'War with America? Perish the thought.'
What a horrifying, nightmarish idea.
I shook my head and leaned back in my chair.
"Welcome, Baron!"
As soon as I arrived at the Bergmann arms factory entrance, a familiar voice greeted me after ages.
Theodor Bergmann, president of Bergmann Waffenfabrik.
He'd come out to meet me personally.
"Long time no see, Mr. Bergmann. I heard the submachine gun prototype is ready."
"How's the performance?"
"Ah! You have to see it with your own eyes. I was skeptical at first, but it turned out way better than expected."
Oh. As expected of the team that made the MP18 in the original history?
Brimming with excitement, I followed President Bergmann into the factory.
The interior was as bustling as my first visit.
In the distance, I spotted the Schmeisser father and sons hard at work.
"Mr. Schmeisser!"
"Ah! Baron!"
Louis Schmeisser greeted me with a bright smile.
Sons Hans and Hugo smiled and bowed too.
"You've heard about the prototype, I see."
"Yes. That's why I rushed over."
"Haha, in that case, let's take a look right away."
Louis turned to his sons.
"Boys, fetch the prototype."
"Yes, Father."
The Schmeisser brothers nodded and disappeared.
Soon, they returned with a sizable wooden crate.
'There it is.'
The submachine gun I'd been waiting for.
"Go ahead, open it."
Feeling like a kid on Christmas, I slowly pried open the box.
But the moment my eyes fell on the first prototype the Schmeissers had proudly crafted, I froze solid.
'Sten...?'
Why the hell is this here?
"Uh... Is this really the submachine gun you and your sons made, Mr. Schmeisser?"
"Of course!"
Louis Schmeisser declared confidently with a grin.
But I couldn't muster a smile.
No matter how I looked at it, this was a Sten.
The submachine gun infamous by nicknames it should never have: trench grenade extraordinaire, plumber's nightmare, death's tap dance machine—a legend in all the wrong ways.
The cheap gun icon cranked out by the tea-drinkers across the Channel.
'Why a Sten instead of the MP18?!'
It wasn't impossible.
The Sten was inspired by the MP18's evolution, the MP28, after all.
And thankfully(?), it at least had a wooden stock.
Still, the overall look screamed Sten.
If I had to guess, early Mk. I?
Mk. II or III—the true legends—would've had me in tears.
"Baron, you don't look pleased. Anything wrong?"
"Ah... It's just the appearance is so different from what I imagined."
"Ah, that."
Louis Schmeisser sighed.
Fortunately, the Schmeissers hadn't planned to make it look like this originally.
"Remember in your last letter, you said to maximize productivity and cut costs as much as possible without sacrificing performance?"
"True, I did say that."
Not that I meant make a Sten.
I'd even qualified it with "if possible."
"And this is the result."
"Oh..."
"But it's just a prototype. We can fix the looks easily enough."
"Yes, please do. Even so, this pipe-lookalike won't pass muster for military supply."
"Hahaha, fair point."
Louis burst out laughing, clearly understanding.
"Don't worry, though. Ugly as it is, the performance is solid."
"That's a relief."
Good thing it was only skin-deep like a Sten—the guts seemed fine.
"Yes. My second son Hugo was a big help."
"Oh, really?"
Hugo Schmeisser scratched his head shyly under my gaze.
Young as he was, the talent was real.
"Could we test-fire it?"
"Of course. Mr. Bergmann, range ready?"
"Yes. Let's show off our ugly girl's firepower!"
We laughed heartily, leaving the chuckling president behind as we headed to the range.
Louis Schmeisser's eldest, Hans Schmeisser, would handle the demo.
"Magazine is the 32-round box type, as requested."
"Ammo is 9x19mm Parabellum, right?"
"Naturally. DWM was picky at first, but they straightened up quick once I showed your introduction letter."
"Haha."
Of course they did.
The Kaiser backed me.
"Rate of fire?"
"Around 500 rpm. Aiming for at least 600 minimum, so more tweaks needed there."
"Got it."
A bit low, but usable for a submachine gun.
"Let's begin."
I donned earplugs and watched Hans at the ready.
He aimed at the human silhouette 50 meters out with practiced ease.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tang—!
The range echoed with the crisp chatter unique to submachine guns.
A few seconds later, the mag emptied, and the shooting stopped.
"What do you think, Baron?"
"Impressive."
I eyed the shredded target dummy.
The Schmeissers delivered.
They made guns that kicked ass.
As Hans reloaded, I asked,
"Hans, what's your take on using the submachine gun?"
"Firepower's great. Much lighter than a rifle, perfect for mobility. But durability needs work—this rate of fire already feels shaky."
Hans added more: semi-auto mode would be nice, bayonet unnecessary, etc.
Hugo nodded, jotting it all down.
"Excellent shooting, Mr. Schmeisser."
"Thank you. We'll refine it further and show you something even better next time."
Louis glanced at the prototype fondly.
"And make it look more gun-like."
"Please do."
Hahaha!
The Schmeissers and I shared a laugh.
The surprise Sten debut threw me, but for a first prototype, the performance was solid.
Another half-year to a year of tweaks, and it'd be a firearms masterpiece.
"Until next time."
Satisfied with the day, I returned to Potsdam lighthearted.
"Baron, a letter for you."
"A letter? From America?"
"No, from Count Schlieffen."
"The Chief of Staff?"
But waiting for me was an unexpected letter from Chief of the General Staff Alfred von Schlieffen.
'What could Schlieffen want suddenly?'
Last saw him at Victoria Dowager Empress's funeral; too busy since with Prince Chun and all.
I puzzled over the envelope and tore it open.
"...!"