High-standard low-temperature-resistant materials were unquestionably high-tech in this day and age. Only a handful of countries could produce them.
Though the Russian Empire often touted itself as an industrialized nation, its people knew the truth about their own affairs. Bragging a little in peacetime was one thing; when it truly mattered, they could not be counted on.
One only had to look at the railways they had built in recent years. They needed repairs more than a dozen times a year, each repair lasting more than a dozen days. They spent longer under repair than in operation.
A comprehensive inspection revealed rusted rails where rails should not have rusted, warped rails where rails should not have warped, and rotting sleepers—which would have been bad enough. Most outrageous of all, some of them had actually sprouted.
They had intended to hold someone accountable, but too many people were implicated and too many pleas for leniency came pouring in. The investigation simply could not continue. In the end, the government had no choice but to foot the bill, tear out the railway, and start over.
The lessons learned could not be forgotten. To ensure the quality of the Siberian Railway, the Tsarist Government had long since made a clean sweep: no domestically produced low-temperature-resistant materials were to be used.
Even though the public called for support of domestic products, there was no helping it. The Tsarist Government had been burned by domestic goods too many times.
An ordinary railway would have been one thing; at worst, they would lose some money. But a strategic artery like the Siberian Railway had to be guaranteed quality.
Imports not only meant higher costs, but also sharply increased transport pressure. Work halting while they waited for supplies was a common occurrence.
Just think about it: even