I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 955: Research Dilemma

The proposal to station the "League of Nations Army" in Greece was passed by a significant majority despite the furious opposition of the British representative.

The next day, representatives from multiple countries organized their own troops to be sent to Greece.

The smallest contingent was sent by Holland, consisting of only one combat group of 12 soldiers.

(Note: During World War I, the smallest tactical unit of European armies was the "combat group," typically composed of 12 to 16 men and commanded by a sergeant, similar to the "squad" in modern armies.)

Queen Wilhelmina tried her best to restrain from angering any side, as Holland faced England, whose powerful navy was not something Holland could risk provoking.

Romania symbolically dispatched two combat groups, totaling 20 men, transported by aircraft.

This gesture not only demonstrated Romania’s support for the "International League," but also proclaimed to the German and Austrian armies: Shire’s transport aircraft could deliver Romanian soldiers wherever they wished to go.

Belgium sent the largest contingent, an infantry company of 250 men from the 9th Reconnaissance Brigade, who spoke German and studied the lifestyle of the Germans. Albert I believed they could potentially play a greater role within the "League of Nations Army."

This was Belgium’s declaration to everyone that it was France’s most steadfast supporter.

Although Belgium shared a geographic position similar to Holland, facing the formidable England, its proximity to France and good relations with Shire gave it the full confidence to adopt a tougher stance.

Albert I even proudly told Major General Eden:

"This is Belgium’s most glorious moment; we can finally stop caring about the whims of the English."

"Perhaps you would say we still need to care about what France thinks."

"No, Major General! We are friends with Shire, who gives us respect, benefits, and security, something the English have never provided us!"

This is one of the reasons other small countries were willing to join the "International League" and align with France. In this world where the weak fall prey to the strong, they were living too difficult of lives and could be swallowed up at any moment.

Shire gave them an opportunity, a chance to survive with dignity as a complete nation in this brutal world.

Compared to this, any sacrifices made could be said to be insignificant.

Ultimately, 17 countries assembled a total of 637 soldiers who gathered in Toulon.

The troops initially planned to be transported to Greece by troop ship to land at Piraeus, but considering the danger posed by Constantine I, they eventually used 20 transport planes for two trips to deliver them in batches to their destination.

On the day the "League of Nations Army" landed, the French Army announced its formal withdrawal from Greece.

In actuality, the French Army just arrived at Piraeus, let the troops embark for photographs for the newspapers, then disembarked again to integrate into the "League of Nations Army."

Thus, the "International League" had a military base at Piraeus, located only 2 kilometers away, with a force exceeding 50,000 men, mostly French Army.

Their first task was to establish a large military airfield: airplanes were the fastest response transportation tool, and air superiority was crucial.

Constantine I cooperated throughout, providing every convenience to the "League of Nations Army," offering supplies and manpower, even sending troops to assist.

He himself moved into the military base with his wife and children under the guise of "hosting" and "assisting."

Shire didn’t have much involvement in these matters, as he delegated them to Gallieni for coordination.

This was somewhat beyond the scope of Gallieni as Minister of the Army, requiring utilization of even the air force and navy, yet because of Gallieni’s esteemed position, the operations faced no obstacles.

Gallieni sighed: "This is what an army should be like, they seem like a cohesive unit."

It was in fact because the French Army had acquired more advanced tactics and military branches and had developed three-dimensional combat capabilities to overwhelm enemies comprehensively, which reassured Gallieni.

...

At the Paris Aircraft Factory, the sound of airplane propellers was endless; occasionally, several aircraft would rise from the ground and soar into the sky.

Two black sedans smoothly drove through the gate and, after turning, stopped in front of the research department.

Dorne, who was inside talking with researchers, saw Shire get out of the car and hastily went out to greet him.

The entire atmosphere of the research institute was somber and oppressive, completely devoid of its previous vibrancy.

"What’s the extent of the damage?" Shire asked.

He had rushed over after hearing about the dive bomber incident, marking the first time the aircraft research institute had encountered a bottleneck.

"We’ve lost two prototype aircraft." Dorne replied, "All four test pilots died."

Shire asked, "The accident happened during the dive, didn’t it?"

"Yes," Dorne responded.

He brought Shire to his workbench, extracted a dive trajectory chart from the disordered drawings, and explained:

"We’ve calculated that to significantly improve bombing accuracy, the aircraft should maintain a dive between 70 to 90 degrees."

"This way, the bombing error can be kept within 30 meters."

(Note: A bombing error of about 30 meters represents a qualitative leap, as level bombing errors typically span several hundred meters, with higher altitudes resulting in greater errors.)

Dorne took out an image of an airplane:

"But our aircraft’s structural strength isn’t sufficient."

"During a dive, the wings and fuselage experience such immense overload that they easily disintegrate."

"Another critical point of failure is at the moment of recovery after bomb release, where the connections between wings and fuselage are likely to break."

The two prototype aircraft that met with accidents did so due to these two scenarios consecutively.

The first aircraft disintegrated during a dive, which Dorne thought could be easily resolved by appropriately reinforcing the prototype’s structure.

However, in the subsequent improved test flight, the second aircraft’s wing snapped along the root at the instant of bombing release, leading to a fatal crash.

"The load on the wings changes dramatically at the moment of transition," Dorne frowned:

"From a diving state to level or even pulled-up flight almost instantaneously."

"To enhance the structure to withstand such intense overload, an increase of at least 50 kilograms in weight would be required."

"But doing so would in turn increase the aircraft’s own overload and also destabilize it."

Shire nodded in understanding.

Putting it simply, it’s like "adding water to flour and then flour to water," leaving the problem unresolved.

"We have another option," a researcher interjected, "we could use high specific strength materials at the wing joints, like titanium alloy."

(Note: Titanium alloy has a strength comparable to steel but with a density only 60% of steel, successfully refined in 1910, though it entails exorbitant costs.)

Dorne immediately dismissed this proposal: "We’re manufacturing a bomber, Will; it needs to be mass-produced, and using titanium alloy would make its cost prohibitively high."

While technically feasible, this was impractical for wartime equipment.

Once again, everyone fell silent; only one prototype remained. If they couldn’t devise an appropriate solution, this project might face termination.