Upon hearing these words, Smith immediately experienced a sense of surreal déjà vu. While the others in the room did not share this feeling, their reactions varied greatly.
In the mid-19th century, the German-speaking regions were in the midst of a rising tide of nationalism. This ideology, born from simple rural sentiments and fueled by the Napoleonic Wars, grew rapidly and became an undeniable force by the middle of the century. As this tide surged, the goal of national unity and solidarity among the German people became increasingly clear.
Amidst this tide, more and more Prussians, Bavarians, Saxons, and even Austrians began to see themselves not merely as citizens of individual states, but as Germans.
The man before them, Johann Niglas Dreise, was a living testament to the evolution of German national consciousness. In 1787, the year of his birth, the German states were politically fragmented, and ideologically they were a disjointed collection of territories. The Holy Roman Empire, which had once been a powerful entity, was nearing its end. However, during his youth, the invasion of Napoleon's armies brought about a complete revolution in Dreise's thinking, and the ensuing political struggles only deepened his sense of German nationalism.
But nationalism was a completely different matter for the Junker aristocracy. While even the most conservative Junkers could not escape the influence of this rising tide of nationalism, figures like Bismarck, who represented the more enlightened faction of the Junkers, could not deny the existential threat that this ideology posed to the old order dominated by the Junkers.
The Junkers of the German-speaking regions were landowners who derived their power from the loyalty of their subjects and the military strength that came with it. In other words, they were a warrior class that had evolved from the medieval world, holding power through their control of land, subjects, and armies.
However, the foundation of rising nationalism lay in capitalism, particularly the growth of industry and commerce. This shift not only detached people from their ties to the land, but also created new, broader communities—namely, the bourgeoisie and the proletariat. It is not an exaggeration to say that the development of capitalism fundamentally undermined the economic foundation that allowed the Junker class to exist. Therefore, the nationalism spurred by capitalism was naturally unwelcome by the Junkers.
What was more troubling was that nationalism provided the masses with a grand narrative—the national narrative—that encouraged loyalty to a community that might not even be real. This, in turn, undermined the political foundation of the Junkers, who were shocked to find that the loyalty of their subjects no longer lay with them, but with something beyond their control. This realization was enough to make all the Junkers wary.
Thus, when the words were spoken, the Hohenzollerns, along with General Ron, could not help but show a slight displeasure on their faces. At this moment, they likely realized that, while Dreise was undoubtedly a brilliant engineer, he was far from a Junker and was closer to the bourgeoisie, whom the Junkers despised.
But what could they do? No matter how much they secretly despised "commoners" like Dreise, they still had to rely on these "commoners" to develop and produce the rifles that armed their armies. Form always trumps substance, and no matter how uncomfortable they were with these men, they had to coexist with them. As the saying goes:
"My lord, times have changed!"
So, the brief discomfort was quickly forgotten by the Junkers, and the focus returned to Dreise's rifle, which could fire fifteen shots in one minute.
"Truly, you are the pride of Prussia!" said William I, beaming with delight. He emphasized the word "Prussia" and lovingly stroked the latest model of Dreise's rifle in his hands. He turned to Dreise and asked:
"How did you manage this?"
At that moment, the second shooter had fired his final round. Smith glanced toward the first shooter, who was still struggling to push the bullet and powder into place with a ramrod. However, apart from Smith, no one else was paying attention to him anymore.
"I must confess, Your Majesty," Dreise's distinctive voice drew Smith's attention back:
"The rifle's incredible rate of fire is actually thanks to a young man who made a series of improvements on my design. It is his work that has enabled this rifle to achieve such lightning-fast speeds!"
Smith pondered Dreise's words. He acknowledged
people to pledge their loyalty to the nation, even if this nation was an imagined community. This, in turn, weakened the political foundation of the Junkers, as they realized that the subjects on their lands no longer owed their allegiance to them, but instead to something beyond their control. This realization was enough to raise alarms among all the Junkers.
Thus, after hearing those words, the Hohenzollerns and General Roen could not help but display subtle displeasure on their faces. At that moment, they perhaps more deeply realized that while Mr. Dreise was undoubtedly a brilliant engineer, he was certainly not a Junker. Instead, he was closer to the bourgeoisie, which the Junkers had always viewed with disdain.
But what could they do about it? No matter how much they looked down upon "common folk" like Dreise, the very rifles that their military relied on were designed and produced by these "common folk." This was a reality they could not escape. No matter how dissatisfied they were, they still had to coexist with these people. As the saying goes, "My lord, times have changed!"
Thus, the brief moment of displeasure was quickly cast aside, and the focus of attention returned to Dreise's rifle, which could fire fifteen rounds in a single minute.
"You are truly the pride of Prussia!" Emperor William I said with a broad smile, subtly emphasizing the word "Prussia." He lovingly caressed the latest model of the Dreise rifle in his hands and looked at Dreise, saying, "How did you manage to achieve this?"
Just as he spoke, the second shooter had already fired his last shot. Smith glanced at the first shooter, who was still struggling to ram the bullet and powder into the rifle with a ramrod. But now, everyone in the room, except Smith, had stopped paying attention to him.
"I must confess, Your Majesty," Dreise's distinctive voice pulled Smith's attention back to him. "The rifle's incredible rate of fire is actually due to a young man who made a series of improvements on my original design. It is thanks to him that this rifle can achieve such a lightning-fast firing speed!"
Smith pondered Dreise's words. The statement acknowledged the young man's contribution while also making it clear that the young man had achieved this success by standing on the shoulders of Dreise, the giant. It was a clever way to give credit without seeming to take the achievement as his own. Truly, a man who knew how to navigate such matters.
"Oh?" Emperor William I's interest was piqued. "It seems you not only possess genius-level intelligence, but also a keen eye for discovering other geniuses! Who is this young man? Is he here with us?"
"Of course," Dreise said, revealing a prepared smile. He gestured toward the third shooter at the target range. "That shooter over there is the one."
Everyone's gaze shifted to the third shooter. Without needing any signal from Emperor William I, Dreise called out, "Paul! His Majesty the King wishes to meet you!"
The shooter named Paul immediately responded by raising his rifle with one hand and jogging toward the group with the Prussian army's standard "marching walk." Upon reaching the group, he planted the rifle butt on the ground, brought his heels together with a sharp snap, and stood even more upright. If he had been wearing a Prussian military uniform instead of civilian clothes, he would have looked no different from a soldier.
Once he had come to attention, the young man announced in a crisp voice, "Your Majesty the King, retired artillery sergeant Paul Mauser reporting for duty!"
The sound was like a thunderclap in Smith's ears. He stared at the unassuming figure before him, astonished, blaming himself for not recognizing such a legendary figure in light weaponry right away.
Meanwhile, Emperor William I was inspecting the retired artillery sergeant with satisfaction. Having come from a military background himself, he felt at ease around soldiers. Looking at Paul Mauser's face, he spoke with a mix of surprise and admiration:
"You're so young! How old are you? What position do you hold under Mr. Dreise?"
Paul Mauser's response was as crisp and to the point as ever:
"I'm 24 years old, and I'm an assistant engineer."
Upon hearing this, Smith felt the atmosphere shift awkwardly, though what was even more strange was how different Paul Mauser's personal history seemed from the one in the history books.
Clearly, Paul Mauser's birth year had not changed. It was still 1862, and he was 24 years old, which meant he was born in 1838, just like in history. He claimed to be a retired artillery sergeant, so his military experience appeared unchanged as well.
However, historically, in 1862, Paul Mauser should have been back in his hometown of Oberndorf, Württemberg, working at his father's armaments factory. In his spare time, he would have been improving his rifle, which would go on to evolve and eventually be officially named the Gewehr 71 nine years later, becoming the first standard-issue rifle with metallic cartridges for the newly formed German Empire. Interestingly, this rifle was indeed influenced by Dreise's 1841 design.
But now, Paul Mauser's personal history had taken a turn at some point before 1862, leading him to cross paths with Nicholas Dreise and become his assistant engineer. What strange twist of fate had brought this about? If the timing and setting were right, Smith would have loved to chat with this future light weaponry giant.
"Impressive for such a young man!" Emperor William I exclaimed again. "Mr. Dreise said the fast rate of fire of this rifle is thanks to you. Would you be willing to explain your work to me?"
"It would be an honor, Your Majesty!" Paul Mauser said, still carrying himself with the demeanor of a soldier. He raised the new Dreise rifle in his hands and demonstrated:
"Based on Mr. Dreise's rotating bolt mechanism, I made some improvements. In his original design, there was a needle tube behind the bolt, which had to be pulled back before opening the bolt and pushed forward after closing it. The reason for this was that the firing pin was quite long, and this mechanism was needed to shorten the overall length of the bolt assembly. Otherwise, the entire bolt would become too long, affecting shoulder aiming."
The Hohenzollerns and General Roen nodded in agreement. As military aristocrats, they were all quite familiar with military technology and had a clear understanding of the Dreise needle gun's principle, which had been in service with the Prussian army for 21 years. Paul Mauser continued:
"However, this design had its drawbacks. The shooter had to complete five actions to load and fire: pull back the needle tube, open the bolt, load the bullet, lock the bolt, and push the needle tube forward. While this was faster than muzzle-loading firearms, it still had room for improvement. My design incorporates a slanted surface on the bolt and a corresponding feature on the firing pin. This allows the firing pin to be engaged during the process of opening the bolt. After pulling it back, the bullet is loaded, and when the bolt is pushed forward, the firing pin is blocked by a catch. Even if the bolt is laid flat, the firing pin won't move forward, and the rifle is ready to fire."
As he spoke, Paul Mauser's hands were in constant motion, demonstrating the actions on the new Dreise rifle, so the Hohenzollerns could better understand what he was describing.
"Ah, so that's how it works!" The Hohenzollerns exclaimed in unison after Paul Mauser finished his explanation. Smith wasn't surprised, as "engaging the firing pin while opening the bolt" was a key feature of the classic Mauser bolt action. It seemed that while Paul Mauser's personal history had changed, his technical choices had remained the same.
Frederick, holding his precious son, watched with curiosity. He leaned in close to Paul Mauser's shoulder and asked:
"But doesn't this shorten the firing pin's travel? Can it still penetrate the paper casing and powder to strike the primer?"
"You're right. The firing pin's travel is indeed shorter, and the pin itself is also shorter," Paul Mauser replied. With a "click," he opened the bolt, moved a lever on the side of the receiver, and removed the entire bolt assembly. He then turned it 90° so the firing pin was exposed and showed Frederick just how short the firing pin was. He continued:
"As you said, this design wouldn't be able to penetrate the paper casing and powder of the old Dreise cartridges. However, the new Dreise rifle no longer uses those old paper cartridges. Instead, it uses this new type of cartridge!"
With that, Paul Mauser reached into his ammunition pouch and pulled out a cartridge, handing it to Frederick. Frederick held it up to examine it closely, and the others gathered around to get a better look. The cartridge was now within arm's reach of Smith, allowing him to study it carefully.
There was no doubt about it; this was a cartridge. And it was strikingly different from the dull paper cartridges. The rear of the cartridge gleamed with a golden light under the sunlight in Potsdam, dazzling and bright, making Smith's heart skip a beat. He knew that this gleam could only belong to brass.
This was a metallic cartridge!
"This..." Smith was at a loss for words.
Given Smith's understanding of small arms, he of course knew what the use of copper-cased metallic fixed ammunition meant for light weapons. Of course, even in 1862, the use of copper-cased fixed ammunition was not unprecedented, but no rifle about to be issued to troops had ever used such ammunition.
It's important to note that in this year, both sides of the American Civil War were still purchasing large quantities of muzzle-loading smoothbore guns to equip their massive armies, with only a few elite units using breech-loading rifles; meanwhile, European powers considered muzzle-loading rifles that fired Minié balls as the weapon of choice for their armies, and they were using them extensively!
As everyone focused on the bullet, Paul Mauser had already nonchalantly reloaded his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He took a wooden box from a younger assistant and spoke again:
"This bullet is truly a revolutionary piece of ammunition. Unlike paper-cased cartridges that are prone to dampness and deformation, it has a shell made of tough and highly malleable brass, which means the powder inside will be much less susceptible to external moisture, and it is also less likely to deform from impact. Furthermore, because of the excellent malleability of brass, it forms an airtight seal when fired, fundamentally solving the air leakage issue that plagued the traditional Dreyse rifle!"
The room erupted in admiration again.
Anyone who had used the Dreyse rifle knew that it had a problem with air leakage, as the entire rifle's seal was only a bowl-shaped bolt locked in place by friction at the rear of the chamber. It was clear that this couldn't withstand the high temperature and pressure of gunpowder gases. Moreover, as shooting continued, the accumulation of gunpowder residue would make it even harder to maintain airtightness. But now, with just this small brass cartridge shell, the issue of airtightness was resolved—what a great solution!
However, Paul Mauser wasn't finished. He raised the wooden box and waited for everyone's attention. Smith looked inside and saw that the box contained disassembled parts and cross-sectional views of the bullet. Before crossing over, Smith had seen similar teaching aids in defense education courses, such as a model of the structure of a 56-style rifle cartridge, which made it easy to understand the design of the bullet. It seemed that the item in Paul Mauser's hands had the same purpose.
"The role of the brass shell doesn't stop there; it also provides a more suitable position for the primer," Paul Mauser said, pointing to the cross-section of the cartridge in the box. "Now, the primer can be placed at the center of the bottom of the shell. This means the firing pin no longer has to penetrate the paper shell and powder, nor does it have to endure the pressure and heat from the burning powder. It only needs to strike here to ignite the cartridge. This improvement creates a better working environment for the firing pin, allowing it to be shorter, thicker, and have a longer lifespan. The firing pin in the old Dreyse rifle lasted no more than 200 shots, but the firing pin in this new Dreyse rifle lasts over 5,000 shots!"
Another round of astonished exclamations followed. This didn't affect Smith much; his attention was focused on the bullet's shell.
Unlike the more common bottleneck-shaped cartridge cases in later rifles, this one had a straight cylindrical shape, and at the base, there was a noticeable protruding rim. In the context of the 21st century, this was certainly an outdated design, but considering that it was 1862, this was undoubtedly a forward-thinking design.
Soon, Smith's attention shifted to the center of the base of the shell, where the "primer" Paul Mauser had mentioned was located. Even without being a seasoned military enthusiast, Smith knew that in later professional terminology, this part was referred to as the "primer pocket," although he wasn't sure if the term "primer pocket" had even been coined in German at this time in 1862.
Moreover, the design of this "primer pocket" was quite different from what Smith knew. Having read much of the material sent to him by "Smiling Willi," Smith knew that the most common primer designs in later years were the Berdan and Boxer types, distinguished by the presence or absence of a fixed, raised primer pocket on the shell. But the design before him was different. The base of the shell had a deep depression in the center, and at the center of this depression, there was a tubular protrusion where the primer was installed. Compared to the more refined Berdan and Boxer primers, this design was clearly influenced by the firing mechanism of the earlier flintlock rifles, making it more primitive but still functional—an ingenious design, to say the least.
While Smith was pondering this, Paul Mauser clearly prepared to conclude his speech:
"So, the key to the new Dreyse rifle's rapid-fire capability lies in simplifying the loading and firing process and using the new brass-cased fixed ammunition. But I must emphasize once again that my work is entirely built upon the foundation laid by Mr. Dreyse. It was his inspiration that led me to think about breech-loading rifles and rapid fire. Without his help, I would never have been able to complete this!"
"You are truly humble, Mr. Mauser. This is a remarkable achievement!" Emperor William I said again, with admiration in his voice. Then, he glanced at the rifle in his hand and turned to Dreyse:
"I've noticed that, in addition to Mr. Mauser's improvements, this new rifle has some design changes. These must surely be your contributions?"
"I must apologize, for I am getting on in years, and my eyesight has failed me. I can barely hold a pen steady," the 75-year-old Nicholas Dreyse said humbly. "I didn't make many changes to the new rifle—just three things: one is the improved shape of the stock, which makes it more comfortable for soldiers to hold; second, the rear sight was redesigned due to the change in muzzle velocity; third, I designed a safety for Mr. Mauser's new bolt. If there is any other contribution, it would be the use of cast steel for the barrel, which significantly lowered the cost of the rifle. There's also the new sling, but those are minor changes. The main changes are those three—"
"I'm afraid I only made a few small adjustments!"