Edel, the crown prince, was acutely aware of the pressing need for funds to support his ambitious plans. On a crisp morning, he made his way to the office of King Carol I, where he found Prime Minister Sturley already in attendance.
"Your Excellency Prime Minister," Edel greeted, receiving a nod and a formal salute from Prime Minister Sturley in return. As he entered, he noticed King Carol I, his father, lost in thought over a telegram.
"Is there any news from my father?" Edel inquired, his voice tinged with concern.
"The government's finances are strained," the Prime Minister replied, hinting at the need for foreign loans. Edel understood the financial pinch was partly due to his recent military reforms and industrial equipment purchases. The government's coffers were stretched thin, a fact that weighed heavily on his mind, though he chose to remain silent on the matter.
Sensing the crown prince's discomfort, Sturley tactfully excused himself, "Your Majesty, I'll return another day."
Once the Prime Minister had departed, Edel seized the moment to discuss his new venture with King Carol. "Father, I plan to build a car factory."
The old king looked up, curiosity evident in his eyes. "Why?"
Edel explained his rationale with clarity, "The army currently relies on horses for logistical support, consuming resources at three times the rate of human personnel. Their speed limits our operational capabilities, and the further they travel, the slower and less efficient they become. Automobiles, on the other hand, do not suffer from these limitations and can significantly enhance our transport of domestic materials, especially in regions without rail connections."
"And how much do you plan to invest in this project?" the king inquired.
"A half million pounds should suffice," Edel responded confidently.
King Carol, still deeply invested in military affairs, agreed without hesitation. "I'll have the treasurer allocate the funds. Proceed as you see fit." Edel felt a surge of satisfaction, his father's support bolstering his resolve.
Back in his room, Edel pondered over potential partners for his automotive venture. The major car-producing nations—Britain, France, Germany, and the United States—each offered unique advantages and disadvantages. The British market was dominated by luxury vehicles, which didn't suit his needs. France's industry was too fragmented, and Germany was not an option for self-production at this time. His thoughts then turned to the United States, where he could leverage existing expertise to his advantage.
Edel decided to reach out to Standard Oil to facilitate a connection with Henry Ford, aiming to co-invest in a company focused on heavy trucks. The proposal was transmitted across the Atlantic, landing on Ford's desk in Detroit. For Ford, still entangled in patent disputes with the Selden Syndicate, this was an opportunity to expand and innovate free from legal constraints.
Within days, Edel received a telegram from Ford himself, expressing agreement to the proposal and his intention to discuss the contract in person.
More than twenty days later, Henry Ford, accompanied by his assistant, arrived to meet Edel. "His Royal Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you," Ford greeted, with a polite bow.
"Mr. Ford, I'm delighted you could join us in person," Edel replied, extending a hand. "What are your thoughts on the automobile factory proposal I outlined in the telegram?"
Ford was direct, "I plan to invest 500,000 pounds to establish the factory. You, Mr. Ford, would contribute your technology in exchange for a 20% stake. We aim to build the largest car factory in Europe. Your role would be to design a robust, easy-to-maintain vehicle capable of carrying 1.5 tons. Additionally, your technicians would train our workforce, while we send delegates to learn from your operations in America. I trust you find this proposal agreeable?"
This proposition caught Ford by surprise. His company had not yet launched the iconic Model T, and Edel's focus on utility vehicles aligned perfectly with his own vision. The investment would significantly bolster Ford's assets.
"Your Highness, may I request a couple of days to consider?" Ford asked, prompting a rapid, almost anxious affirmation from Edel.
After Ford and his assistant departed, Edel chastised himself for his impatience. Meanwhile, Ford, back at his lodging, deliberated over the offer with his assistant. The terms were highly favorable, yet the enormity of the decision warranted careful consideration.
Two days later, a visibly tired but determined Ford returned to Edel. "Your Highness, after careful reflection, I am pleased to accept your proposal. It is a testament to the potential of Ford."
Elated, Edel announced the formation of Europe's largest auto manufacturing venture with Ford. The new company, named Volkswagen, would produce Model A cars and other vehicles designed by Ford. The Romanian royal family would finance the project, owning 80% of the shares, while Ford's technological input earned them a 20% stake. Future Ford models would also be prioritized for production in Europe under this new entity, with the royal family holding the right of first refusal on any shares Ford might sell.
The car, in theory, should be able to travel up to 200 kilometers a day without encountering any significant issues. According to the current standards for vehicles, this car could be made roadworthy with just a few simple repairs. Furthermore, the car's capacity to transport a large number of artillery, ammunition, machine guns, and various other logistics equipment is a significant advantage.
It has been estimated that a division would need approximately 800 vehicles to achieve rapid maneuverability, defined here as covering 60 kilometers per day. This speed is nearly double the marching pace of 30-40 kilometers per day, which is typical of the current European powers, thus positioning it as a relatively fast force. Consequently, the national army, supplemented by a few heavy artillery regiments, would require around 15,000 vehicles. According to the deal negotiated between Edel and Ford, the production cost of a truck is currently about 200 pounds, potentially decreasing to 150 pounds with assembly line efficiencies. This figure, however, exceeds the reorganization costs, leaving Edel and Prieshan in a contemplative silence upon reviewing these figures.
"Your Highness, the government will never approve this expenditure, and our national finances cannot support such an investment," Prieshan stated first, breaking the silence.
"I understand. We may need to start with just one division and wait on the rest until our financial situation improves," Edel conceded, acknowledging the fiscal constraints.
Upon returning to the palace, Edel was approached by the chief guard who had news from the United Kingdom: "Your Highness, the British have constructed a new type of warship equipped with uniform heavy artillery, capable of reaching speeds of 21 knots."
Edel immediately recognized the description. "A dreadnought," he muttered under his breath, realizing that the advent of this powerful class of battleships marked the onset of a new era in naval warfare. Although this development wouldn't greatly affect Romania's modest navy directly, its implications on global military dynamics were profound. The inevitability of a world conflict seemed more apparent, and Romania's best strategy now was to strengthen itself to negotiate favorable terms when the time came.
Edel felt a sense of urgency, a spectator in the grand scheme of global politics, as he observed the ripple effects of Britain's naval innovation. Following the British announcement, major powers like Germany, France, the United States, and others indicated their intentions to follow suit. Germany's Kaiser declared that the Nassau-class would also adopt a dreadnought-inspired design. Russia admitted financial constraints but showed interest in future developments, while France deliberated on funding their dreadnought initiatives. Japan expressed intentions to purchase and study British designs, and Italy along with Austro-Hungary adopted a wait-and-see approach.
The international disputes and discussions triggered by the dreadnought were complex, and Edel found himself deeply engrossed in these developments. Amidst these considerations, the chief guard brought another significant update: the first phase of the national arsenal's construction was complete. Eager to inspect the progress, Edel decided to visit the site the following day.
Accompanied by the factory manager, Valisia, Edel toured the newly completed facilities on the outskirts of Bucharest. Valisia, who had studied economics in Germany and had experience managing his family's small arsenal, had a keen understanding of cost control and production enhancement. Recognizing his capabilities, Edel had previously financed the consolidation of several domestic factories under Valisia's management, forming a larger, more efficient military manufacturing complex.
"Your Highness, this is the main timber workshop for stocks and gun bodies," Valisia explained as they walked through the plant, which reminded Edel of the utilitarian Chinese architecture of the 1950s, characterized by its brick and tile structures and haphazardly strung electrical wires.
"Let's proceed to the assembly workshop," Edel suggested, feeling a tad impatient.
In the assembly workshop, Edel observed workers meticulously assembling rifle parts. His primary concern was production capacity. "What is the current output?" he inquired.
"Given that most workers are still in training, our output is somewhat limited. Currently, we can produce up to 150 rifles per day," Valisia reported, noting the constraints posed by the workforce's learning curve.
"And what about the artillery?" Edel pressed further, keen on understanding the full scope of the arsenal's capabilities.
Valisia responded with slight embarrassment, "The heavy artillery workshop is still in the debugging phase. The training for workers is quite demanding, and we're only managing to produce eight 75mm artillery pieces per month. The situation with the 105mm light howitzers is even more challenging due to our inexperience with 100-caliber productions. We're heavily reliant on German expertise for the main rifled guns, and currently, we can only produce two or three of these per month. The larger calibers, 150mm and 210mm, are still in the training phase, and production has not yet commenced."
Realizing the challenges ahead, Edel understood that reaching the desired production levels would require at least two to three years of dedicated effort. He then asked about the production of machine guns and ammunition.
"Your Highness, we are able to produce 60 Madsen machine guns and 30 Maxine machine guns per month. As for ammunition, we can currently produce 3 million rounds for the 7.92 rifles and 3.5 million rounds for machine guns monthly. Our capacity for various shells reaches about 1,000 tons per month," Valisia detailed.
Despite these figures, Edel felt that the ammunition production was still insufficient. He knew that producing military-grade ammunition was a complex process, requiring precise engineering and rigorous quality control. He encouraged Valisia to expedite the training of workers and also considered the possibility of introducing a dedicated ammunition production line. However, the stark reality of Romania's financial limitations weighed heavily on his mind.
Reflecting on the fiscal challenges faced by Romania, a small country with historically strained finances, Edel couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and determination. As a former street writer turned crown prince, he was all too familiar with making do with limited resources but remained committed to his vision of strengthening the nation's military capabilities. With a heavy heart and a mind buzzing with strategic calculations, Edel left the arsenal, pondering the complex path ahead.