Chapter 985: The Great Trial (7)
Volume 9: New World Order · Chapter 27
Napoleon I once remarked that the Prussians were hatched from a cannonball. While perhaps an exaggeration, the militaristic tradition of Prussia was deep-seated; utilizing military force to resolve problems was a foundational pillar of its culture.
Even though the World People's Liberation Army had utterly shattered the Wehrmacht, Marshal Cheng Ruofan had not truly understood the depth of this reality until he set foot on German soil.
The map of Germany had undergone a de facto redistribution. East Prussia, the ancestral homeland of the Prussian state, had seen a significant portion of its territory ceded to the newly established Kingdom of Judah. The eastern part of the country, centered on the former capital of Berlin, was now occupied by the Soviet Union as the German Democratic Republic. The region currently under Chinese control was effectively West Germany.
As Cheng toured West Germany, he discovered that despite its reputation for being "not militaristic enough" compared to the East, the public displayed a staggering seamlessness in accepting militarized organization. Tens of millions of West Germans rapidly and proactively aligned themselves with the military administration. From the requisition and distribution of basic supplies to record-keeping, the retained German officials at all levels proved not only cooperative but highly competent.
In fact, after the Chinese occupying forces introduced computerized management systems, the West German bureaucracy operated with an efficiency that bordered on the uncanny.
By contrast, when computerized management had been introduced to the Chinese government five years earlier, it had met with severe growing pains and various glitches. Even now, it barely functioned normally, facing constant internal friction and resistance.
But when Chinese soldiers with sidearms entered their offices, the German civil servants immediately executed their duties with solemn precision, showing not a trace of maladjustment. This performance left Cheng Ruofan in awe.
Personal impressions aside, Cheng’s objective was the efficient utilization of West German resources to complete a total transformation of the country. On September 10th, the Nuremberg Tribunal concluded its trials of German colonial crimes.
While Germany had its share of colonial sins, its territories had been limited and were stripped away entirely after the first war, making the task of establishing guilt relatively straightforward.
Once the monuments to colonialism were dismantled and streets renamed, the stage was set for the next phase of reconstruction: the trial of Nazi crimes and the elimination of their influence.
At this point, however, Cheng was forced to prioritize meetings with envoys from other European nations. Almost every one of them brought requests for stable raw material supplies and market access.
The Eastern European nations, with their weak industrial bases and limited export capacity, had their issues resolved relatively quickly. Western Europe was more complex. France, seeking the leadership of the West, was pushing hard for the Coal and Steel Community. Italy, meanwhile, was negotiating with both blocs but was visibly beginning to lean toward the West.
After a series of meetings, Cheng telegrammed the Center, reporting on the progress and suggesting: "Prioritize the utilization of West German industrial resources; rebuild the West German economy."
The leadership under Li Runshi quickly approved the suggestion. West Germany sat at the heart of Western Europe with a formidable industrial foundation; controlling it granted China immense influence over the continent at this stage. A rapid recovery of the West German economy could also be used to pressure other European nations into making economic concessions—particularly regarding Chinese investment and equity stakes in European firms.
He Rui had placed great importance on this during his life. Once a gap was opened in the ownership of European enterprises, China did not need to destroy them. It could influence their direction through its holdings, effectively infiltrating the European economy silently and comprehensively.
This method was quiet, yet devastatingly effective. For instance, if China wished to control the European automotive industry, it could offer export orders or market quotas for China, Africa, and Asia as a condition for equity stakes in European firms.
China did not require direct control over the European economy. By ensuring that specific firms willing to cooperate with China grew into industrial giants, it would naturally trigger an influx of European capital and talent, creating the necessary influence over the sectors China sought to manage.
From a national perspective, making sufficient influence was enough. This influence did not even require the European industry to obey Chinese orders immediately. It was enough that cooperation with China remained a permanent possibility within their development path.
This was a high-level form of statecraft. There are ten thousand paths a nation can take, but as long as one of them—cooperation with China—remains profitable and open, European firms would naturally gravitate toward it once other paths were blocked.
Having received the Center’s approval, Cheng set out to execute the plan with all his might. Orders were issued to German corporate heads who had been cleared of Nazi ties, summoning them to the current West German capital of Bonn for a conference.
While these entrepreneurs feared they might be sent to concentration camps or even executed upon arrival, they all reached Bonn by the September 19th deadline.
To their surprise, the meeting was not held on the 20th, nor were they arrested. Instead, they were left free to stay in hotels while waiting for news. This allowed the business leaders, many of whom had not seen each other in some time, to begin cautious exchanges.
The last such massive gathering had occurred over a year ago, when the Nazi government had ordered industrial adjustments to counter the bombing. Seeing old acquaintances alive after the firestorms brought a mix of joy and mourning for those who had perished. Soon, they began to speculate on the purpose of the meeting called by "His Highness."
Indeed, the European media had given Marshal Cheng Ruofan a nickname: "The Chinese Prince." During He Rui’s life, he too had been granted many titles by the Western press, the most popular being "The Chinese Elector," "The Chinese Khan," and "The Great Emperor of China."
In the European context, "Great Emperor" was synonymous with "The Great"—a title reserved for those whose status and influence far outstripped that of an ordinary monarch.
To the Europeans, Cheng Ruofan was He Rui's confidant and student, and the current supreme commander of Chinese forces in Europe. "Prince" was the title that most befitted his station.
The German business leaders reached no consensus in their discussions. To them, China was too distant and inscrutable. If there was one agreement, it was that any firm that failed to obey the orders of the "Chinese Prince" would surely meet a bitter end.
Cheng was not ignoring the entrepreneurs on purpose. He had just received a report from the West German administration stating that the blueprint for the reconstruction of Germany, which he had previously ordered, was complete.
Within the briefing room, Cheng had been listening to reports for five hours. As a senior officer, learning foreign languages—particularly those of potential adversaries—was a basic requirement. Cheng had focused on German during his academy days and, through subsequent study, had become fluent enough for normal communication.
Reconstruction was a highly technical field, and the translators worked to provide precise renderings of specialized terminology.
After five hours, Cheng finally asked a single question: "Exactly when did you begin this design?"
The German official answered cautiously: "Beginning in 1937, the urban planning department received the mandate for a total national urban redesign. In the subsequent reporting phase, the project was halted due to the exorbitant funds required for its execution. In early 1940, the task was restarted. By 1942, it was suspended once more following a report. If you count those two instances, this is the third time."
"Why was it restarted in 1940?" Cheng asked, though he already had an idea.
The official replied respectfully, "Report, sir: after the defeat of France in 1940, the capital pressure on the Reich was reduced, and the project was resumed."
The answer matched Cheng’s own conclusions, and satisfied that the man was being honest, he did not press further.
After a moment’s thought, Cheng ended the meeting. Once the Germans had left, he turned to the Chinese comrades responsible for infrastructure. "Have you calculated the scale of reconstruction required to meet the standard of every German household having a car?"
The infrastructure specialist hesitated. During He Rui’s life, China’s massive infrastructure boom had begun. The foundation of that construction was the assumption that every Chinese family would own a private vehicle. At the time, the sheer scale of the vision had left the planning departments speechless.
Most members of those departments were still riding bicycles or taking buses; few owned cars themselves. He Rui’s grand design was beyond their imagination.
Cheng’s current request did not shock them as much as He Rui’s had, yet seeing the current state of Germany, they wondered how a nation in ruins could enter an era where every home had a car.
Seeing their look of embarrassment and confusion, Cheng smiled. "We are currently trialing Nazi Germany, and we are trialing the colonial crimes of all Europe. Trials alone cannot eliminate colonialism, for the European public truly believes they reaped the benefits of that system.
"To thoroughly eradicate European colonialism, the people here must experience for themselves that they can live better without it. Only through such a comparison will they accept that colonialism was a historical crime.
"Giving the German public cars is not an extraordinarily high standard of living. Even Hitler knew that if people were to drive, they needed autobahns. If our urban design results in the German people crawling through gridlock—or being trapped in it entirely—it will cause massive losses. And by then, the cost of widening roads by tearing down buildings would be far too high!"
The logic was sound. While the specialists still found the implementation daunting, they accepted Cheng’s point. Finally, they promised: "Give us a week, Marshal. Although we will be borrowing most of the parameters and data from the domestic models, we will provide a self-consistent design in seven days."
"Thank you for your hard work," Cheng replied.
Just as the specialists were preparing to begin a marathon of overtime, Cheng added: "Develop the basic concepts, then bring in the Germans to work with you. I’ve toured the country; their population is simply not large enough. China can design cities for ten million people, but that is impossible here. The Germans know their own land; let them provide suggestions on population and supporting industries."
"Yes, we shall do as the Marshal requires," the team answered.
As they were about to leave, Cheng’s brow furrowed, and he called them back once more. "One more thing: you’d best bring in the comrades from the economic department. Monopolies are a severe issue in Germany. Your design must account for this. We must break the back of the German monopolistic system!"
Urban planning was complex enough; the inclusion of economic anti-monopoly concepts left the specialists looking at one another in doubt. Ultimately, they could do little more than offer a hesitant agreement.
Had the German entrepreneurs in Bonn overheard the exchange, they would have been convinced the title of "Chinese Prince" was well-deserved. Had He Rui not already been dubbed the "Chinese Emperor," they might well have called Marshal Cheng Ruofan the "King of Germany"—or even the "German Kaiser."
To plan Germany from such a height was an achievement that even the Emperors of the Second Reich had never reached.