“My Fuhrer, with all due respect, building three hundred submarines is impossible.
We simply don’t have enough shipyard capacity.”
Having finally recovered from his stunned silence, Schacht managed to voice his objection.
No wonder Hitler eventually grew tired of him in the original timeline.
He was the kind of man who would tell you something couldn’t be done when it genuinely couldn’t.
“I’m not asking for them tomorrow,” I replied.
“If we can field two hundred boats within four years, that’ll be enough to start with.”
I noticed Himmler drawing breath to speak.
Before he could launch into one of his grand speeches, I cut in.
“And besides, we’re going to build them using an entirely new method.”
Having Himmler at these meetings really is a double-edged sword…
“An entirely new method?” Schacht asked.
“Does this have something to do with the logistics system you mentioned the other day?”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“It’s closer to adopting the principles of automobile production.”
“…Automobile production?”
Schacht gave me another one of those skeptical looks.
Would you stop making that face already?
I began explaining the basic concept.
What I had in mind was what later generations would call modular block construction.
Traditionally, a ship was built almost entirely inside the dry dock.
The keel was laid there.
The hull was assembled there.
Everything—from beginning to end—took place in the same dock.
The obvious consequence was that a single ship occupied the dock for months, sometimes years.
At this point in history, the greatest bottleneck in shipbuilding was simple.
The number of docks available.
If you wanted to build more ships, the conventional answer was to build more docks.
But massive facilities like that couldn’t appear overnight.
Even the industrial giants across the Atlantic couldn’t expand their dockyards instantly.
So what was the alternative?
History had already provided the answer.
Whether among the Allies or the Axis, every major nation eventually arrived at the same solution.
The Americans used it to mass-produce Liberty ships.
Japan used it to build the Matsu-class destroyers.
Germany would eventually use it for U-boats.
Advances in welding technology, stronger steels designed specifically for welding, and an insatiable wartime demand for ships all pushed the world toward the same conclusion.
Stop trying to build the entire ship in one place.
Build individual sections somewhere else…
…and assemble them in the dock.
It was essentially the same philosophy used in automobile manufacturing.
Separate the vehicle into major components.
Construct those components simultaneously.
Then perform the final assembly in one location.
There were still technical hurdles to overcome.
Poor welding on a submarine wasn’t merely an inconvenience.
It was a death sentence.
Even so…
The concept itself was entirely practical.
The only reason no nation had fully embraced it yet was simple.
No one had needed ships in such overwhelming numbers.
Not yet.
Three hundred submarines, however…
That was exactly the kind of demand that justified redesigning the entire production process.
To completely blockade Britain, even assuming our future submarines would be larger, more advanced, and suffer fewer losses than they had historically…
We would still need to produce at least one hundred U-boats every year.
Naturally, block construction wasn’t without drawbacks.
“My Fuhrer…”
Schacht let out a tired sigh.
“Creating such a system would require an enormous amount of investment, wouldn’t it?”
By now, he’d reached the stage beyond frustration.
He simply looked resigned.
“Exactly.”
I nodded.
“Which is why we must begin now.”
“We’ll have to start by modernizing the dockyards themselves.”
“The Reich needs every submarine it can possibly build.”
“Delays are unacceptable.”
Building ships in large sections meant every individual module became far larger than before.
That required massive cranes.
Heavy transport systems.
An entirely new industrial infrastructure.
Even so, it was still more efficient than endlessly constructing new dry docks.
The downside was the enormous cost.
In peacetime, few governments would ever agree to such an investment.
Which is precisely why only a dictatorship like the Reich can realistically begin something like this before the war.
“I understand.”
Schacht finally nodded.
“I’ll begin coordinating with Todt.”
He turned toward the admirals.
“Admiral Donitz.
Admiral Raeder.”
“I’ll be relying on your cooperation.”
His expression made it painfully obvious he’d accepted there was no point arguing any further.
There’s nothing more valuable than competent civil servants.
Good.
That settles the navy—for now.
“Excuse me, my Fuhrer…”
Donitz raised a hand.
“What exactly do you mean by a ‘new medium submarine’?”
“The successor to the Type VII is still only at the conceptual stage.”
“Hm?”
I blinked.
Schacht had gone completely expressionless.
For some reason…
Himmler’s eyes were positively shining with excitement again.
…Right.
I forgot.
I never actually explained that part.
Realizing I’d skipped over the most important detail of all, I turned back toward the two admirals.
It looked like I had another lengthy explanation ahead of me.