With a substantial amount of money in hand, Akado returned to Berlin, where he ingeniously acquired even more funds through dubious means. He strategically channeled these funds into several small companies under his control, fostering their growth and generating further wealth. It was a move few could have predicted: the obscure Bailanhua Group, under dubious financial maneuvers, acquired a little-known beverage company in the United States, which produced the now-iconic Coca-Cola. Simultaneously, the group took over a German car engine manufacturer barely known outside its local market, BMW Motors. By early 1921, this group orchestrated the merger of Daimler Motors and Mercedes-Benz, leading to the creation of a new automotive giant in 1922, Daimler-Benz AG.
By mid-1922, the enigmatic Bailanhua Group made another bold move by injecting $1.5 million into the struggling Krupp factory, a major arms manufacturer on the verge of collapse due to financial woes. Rumors swirled that the real power behind Krupp was now Gustav Krupp, who, out of gratitude, permanently reserved a room in his mountain villa for the owner of the Bailanhua Group. The group's ventures extended to the Far East, where they acquired a modest synthetic metal company in Japan, part of the Sumitomo Consortium, and rebranded it as Rhine Metal Co., Ltd. They also established factories in southern China to produce rubber and other commodities, which were clandestinely shipped back to Germany. Some of these were stockpiled as strategic materials for the National Defense Forces, while others were sold commercially to fund the stretched national defense budget.
This vast asset management endeavor was internally dubbed the "irrigation plan" within the IDF, a critical component of Akado's covert strategy to expand the IDF's capabilities. This plan laid the groundwork for the ambitious "Pluto Plan," which also funneled substantial resources into Akado's private ventures. With hefty capital investments, these projects saw rapid advancements, including the nearing completion of liquid fuel rocket technology and the secretive testing of ballistic missiles in the mountains of southern Germany. Progress was also made in Einstein's atomic energy research, with simulation experiments planned once the data was processed. Collaborations with German factories neared fruition, perfecting the synthesis of artificial rubber and promising self-sufficiency in Germany's critically needed industrial raw materials.
Despite the dire financial climate domestically, Akado managed to secure large sums from the United States, the Soviet Union, and China, sustaining his vast and secretive industrial-technological empire. In 1922, the signing of the "Washington Naval Treaty" by the United States, Britain, Italy, France, and Japan, which set limits on naval ship tonnage, presented an opportunity for the German navy, still reliant on outdated World War I battleships, to modernize. Buoyed by diplomatic successes in the Soviet Union and China, Navy officials saw hope in the General Command of the National Defense Forces. "Since it's called Commander-in-Chief, shouldn't it at least include the Navy?" the Navy Commander-in-Chief posed in Seekert's office. Seekert agreed without hesitation, relinquishing his control over Colonel Akado to the Navy.
The Navy Commander-in-Chief then assured Seekert that under his leadership, the navy would integrate fully into the National Defense Forces, not as a separate entity. With this assurance, Seekert dispatched Akado to the British Embassy, where, with the aid of his old friend Lieutenant Colonel Smith, Akado assured the British ambassador that Germany had no intentions of challenging British naval supremacy. This meeting not only solidified Smith and the ambassador's trust but also expedited the approval of the German naval ship renewal plan, originally slated for 1925, to 1922. This allowed Germany to commence construction of new warships on already prepared docks. Although the Allies, considering French concerns, capped the tonnage of new German ships at 10,000 tons, the German navy was invigorated, with many high-ranking naval officers meeting the representative from the Young Wehrmacht, Lieutenant Colonel Akado Rudolph, during these negotiations.
Seizing the moment, Akado proposed a revolutionary shipbuilding plan, previously developed by Americans during World War II, involving modular construction techniques. This method allowed ships to be built in sections, with standardized parts pre-manufactured for rapid assembly during wartime. The German Navy adopted this method, stockpiling parts for destroyers and merchant ships, aligning with Akado's vision where destroyers would handle air defense and anti-submarine duties, sharing common equipment with civilian ships to expedite fleet formation. By late 1922, the German standard transport ship "Hercules," with a full-load displacement of 7,000 tons, was launched, setting the standard for future German merchant ships, troop carriers, and passenger vessels. Plans for a 20,000-ton super-merchant ship also commenced, featuring minimal superstructures and large cargo holds equipped with heavy-duty elevators for efficient cargo handling.
Akado and Admiral Erich Dreyer envisioned a future German Navy comprising aircraft carriers, destroyers, large cruisers, and submarines, equipped with fighter aircraft for long-range strikes, avoiding direct engagements with enemy battleships. Initially skeptical about the effectiveness of aircraft carriers and submarines and the reliability of destroyers, Admiral Dreyer's perspective shifted after Akado demonstrated the potential of liquid fuel rockets for long-range assaults at a private estate outside Berlin. Convinced, Dreyer lost interest in the traditional battleship-centric navy. Thus, by late 1922, the future German Navy was planned to mirror the U.S. Navy of 2014, featuring naval aviation, marines, aircraft carriers, destroyers, and submarines. However, to appease traditionalist navy generals, construction continued on three smaller Spey-class battleships, used by Akado to mislead both the British navy and conservative elements within the German navy, as well as domestic spies.
Akado worked tirelessly, dispatching carefully selected personnel to the Soviet Union to secretly establish a German training base. Soviet engineers and workers had already selected the site and begun laying out airport runways and other infrastructure, paving the way for German trainers and students to arrive by train to Moscow. This air force school, agreed upon by Akado and Seekert and founded by Akado, located about 220 kilometers southeast of Moscow, was nominally a training facility for the Soviet Air Force but was actually controlled by the Germans. Originally planned for 1925, the school began operations in 1922 due to Akado's efforts, training approximately 450 air force pilots and commanders for Germany every six months—twice the historical number. Additionally, over 1,000 aircrew and management personnel were trained, who also conducted secret military exercises in the forests of the German plains, exploring and validating the air-ground integrated offensive tactics that Akado had championed.
However, the challenges facing the National Defense Forces persisted. Germany's financial crisis, far from abating with Akado's arrival, erupted with increased ferocity. The nation's fragile economy teetered on the brink of collapse, forcing Chancellor Ebert to frequently summon General Seekert to discuss reducing military expenditures, though these meetings yielded little success.
Late one night, the phone rang in the office of the Coalition Arms Control Committee. A British duty officer, weary from the late hour, answered: "This is the Coalition Arms Control Committee! Who are you looking for?"
"Your last action was discovered! So the four French officials died unclearly! A great opportunity was wasted! This time I hope you will not live up to my good intentions! Write it down! Command, Office of Special Affairs, Colonel Akado Rudolph! Stare at him! You will be rewarded!" The caller quickly hung up.
In the committee's office, a dozen or so officers, increased in number since the incident with the four French officers, sat together. They represented various countries, serving as both protectors and witnesses for one another.
"What do you think?" asked the oldest Belgian officer in the room, a colonel and the highest-ranking officer present.
"At least, we can't let four French colleagues die in vain! Is everyone right?" a young English official responded.
The Belgian colonel surveyed the room, noting no objections, and nodded. "Since everyone agrees! Then arrange the manpower! Keep an eye on this German colonel named Akado Rudolf! If you find something, report it immediately!"
In the early months of 1922, a peculiar incident involving the deaths of four French officials in Germany stirred considerable controversy and speculation. The officials perished in a bizarre traffic accident that involved a collision of three cars. Given the rarity of such accidents during a time when car ownership was not widespread and streets were relatively empty, particularly at 8 p.m., suspicions naturally arose. The timing was particularly contentious as the officials were en route to inspect a German military barracks, which added layers of intrigue and conspiracy to the narrative.
The German government's lackluster cooperation with France in the investigation only fueled further doubts, concluding the inquiry with a mere designation of the event as a traffic accident. On behalf of Seeker, the German representative presented a firm stance to the Allied Arms Control Committee, suggesting that the nocturnal activities of the French officials were inherently suspicious. This assertion managed to garner some sympathy from certain members of the committee, further straining the already tense relations between the Wehrmacht and France. Accusations flew back and forth at an international conference, exacerbating the diplomatic friction.
As 1922 drew to a close, the German mark suffered severe depreciation. German Chancellor Ebert reached out to the French and British prime ministers, highlighting the dire economic straits and requesting a temporary cessation of the hefty war reparations mandated by the Treaty of Versailles. The French Prime Minister, Raymond Poincaré, however, dismissed these appeals, leading to heightened military activities along the Franco-German border and escalating tensions to a near-breaking point.
In a dimly lit conference room in Paris, French senior officials convened an emergency meeting to deliberate the situation. The military brass advocated for a forceful approach to dismantle Germany's influence over Europe. However, Poincaré expressed significant reservations, aware that such aggressive moves could alienate key allies like the United States, Britain, and even the Soviet Union, and potentially plunge France into a multifaceted crisis.
During the heated discussion, one general passionately argued, "Mr. Prime Minister, we must make the Germans pay the price! The blood of our compatriots cannot be shed in vain!" Poincaré, however, countered with a reminder of the nation's financial constraints post-war, questioning the feasibility of supporting a large-scale conflict.
Another general scoffed at the concerns, suggesting a swift military campaign given Germany's reduced troop strength. He envisioned a scenario where German leaders would be forced into submission. Yet, Poincaré pointed out the potential backlash from the United Kingdom and the United States, emphasizing that the Treaty of Versailles acted like a leash, restraining France's actions.
In an attempt to find a middle ground, Colonel Charles de Gaulle proposed a limited military action to occupy the Ruhr, an industrial heartland of Germany, using the pretext of German rearmament activities which had recently come to light. This plan, he argued, would not only cripple Germany's military capabilities but also avoid provoking British hostility by exposing German defiance.
The meeting ended with a reluctant approval from Poincaré for de Gaulle's strategy, though the Prime Minister remained skeptical about its success. De Gaulle himself harbored doubts, predicting a tougher resistance than anticipated.
Meanwhile, in Germany, the French plans did not go unnoticed. Major Gaskol of the German Defense Forces Intelligence Section received crucial intelligence about the impending French actions and promptly reported to Colonel Akado, who had masterminded the expansion of Germany's intelligence capabilities. Akado, anticipating the French moves, had already positioned divisions strategically near the Ruhr area, setting the stage for a significant counter-operation.
Akado decided to shift from a defensive to a provocative strategy, intending to use the French aggression as a catalyst for broader strategic gains. By allowing the French to occupy the Ruhr and encouraging passive resistance from the local populace, he aimed to expose the French aggression while simultaneously pushing the German government to ramp up military spending, thereby indirectly strengthening Germany's strategic position.
As the French forces commenced their operation, the Germans executed their countermeasures, leading to a complex interplay of military and political maneuvers that would significantly influence the subsequent diplomatic landscape in Europe. Both sides, entrenched in their respective agendas, remained oblivious to the broader repercussions that their actions would unleash on the already volatile European theater.