Holy Roman Empire

Chapter 698: Running Out of Officers

Theory and reality often go the opposite directions. Perhaps it was Obodov’s effective countermeasures, or perhaps the officers, with no way out, had resolved to fight to the death. The encircled Russian Fourth Army displayed a level of combat effectiveness that exceeded the Prussians’ expectations.

Seven days passed in the blink of an eye, yet the Fourth Army remained firmly entrenched, like a nail driven deep into the ground, leaving the Prussians stuck in a stalemate.

As the casualty numbers in his reports continued to climb, General Hansgrohe, tasked with the annihilation of the Fourth Army, was nearly pulling his hair out in frustration.

Despite suffering over 50% casualties, the enemy showed no signs of surrender, making it clear they were determined to fight to the bitter end.

“If all Russian troops were this tenacious, there’d be no point in continuing this war,” Hansgrohe thought grimly. The population of the Prussian-Polish Federation was limited so it couldn’t sustain such attritional warfare.

Rubbing his temples, Hansgrohe turned to his adjutant and said, “Send a telegram to headquarters. Report our situation in detail, and tell Marshal Moltke to grant us five more days. I guarantee we’ll wipe out this enemy force.

If reinforcements are needed elsewhere, we can begin withdrawing some troops from here. We no longer need this many soldiers to maintain the encirclement.”

After these days of fighting, Hansgrohe was confident the enemy wouldn’t attempt to escape. To ensure success, he had even left an opening in the encirclement to tempt them into a breakout.

Yet, the enemy acted as though they hadn’t noticed, stubbornly holding their ground and refusing to give him any opportunity to exploit.

Refusing to retreat even when given a chance defied all logic. Hansgrohe couldn’t fathom what the Russian commanders were thinking and it left him thoroughly frustrated.

“Yes, General!”

It wasn’t just the Prussian forces feeling frustrated. Lieutenant General Obodov, trapped within the encirclement, was even more exasperated. The Prussian army seemed to have gone mad, launching relentless attacks with no regard for casualties. Their assaults left the Fourth Army barely able to defend itself, let alone counterattack.

Once surrounded, he was completely unaware of the situation outside and had no idea why the enemy was acting so frantically.

The sound of whistling filled the air as a fleet of airships appeared on the horizon. This was the most joyous yet nerve-wracking moment of the day for the Fourth Army.

At some point, the sight of incoming airships had become the army’s spiritual pillar, bringing them a glimmer of hope for survival.

This was also the most nerve-racking moment. After the first few days, every subsequent arrival of the airship fleet inevitably led to an aerial battle.

In just over ten days, the Russian forces had paid the price of 35 airships lost, averaging nearly three destroyed in combat every day.

Of course, the Prussian forces were not spared either. The losses on both sides were nearly equal, making the airship fleets arguably the most evenly matched units in the Russo-Prussian conflict.

Obodov raised his binoculars, observing the heart-pounding aerial battle while silently counting: “1, 2, 3, 4... 49.”

Forty-nine airships—this number filled Obodov with joy. Compared to the previous day, it had increased by a third, while the enemy’s numbers were only half as many.

The numerical gap was significant and even with some transport airships in the Russian fleet, they still held an absolute advantage.

Although combat airships and transport airships had been differentiated by this time, it was still common for transport airships to be used in combat roles.

Airships were large and robust enough to withstand a few ordinary bullets. Since heavy machine guns for the air force hadn’t yet been invented, the real threat was artillery.

Whether it was a combat airship or a transport airship, as long as it was armed with artillery, it could be sent to the battlefield. However, the accuracy was abysmally low. If a hit landed, though, the outcome was the same as both were fragile targets.

Essentially, airships were not designed for direct combat. Their high costs made losing even one a painful blow for any country. The Russo-Prussian War thus marked the dawn of human history’s earliest air battles.

Seeing that the situation was hopeless, the Prussian airship fleet decisively retreated. The Russian forces, focused on delivering strategic supplies, had no time for pursuit.

Perhaps the reduced number of troops in the Fourth Army helped, or maybe the higher-ups finally showed some compassion for the weary soldiers. Either way, today’s supplies were unusually abundant.

Rarely seen items like fresh vegetables, beef, ham, cheese, bread, butter, and bean flour were delivered, making Obodov’s stomach growl at the sight.

As a commander, Obodov quickly realized that it was not likely an act of kindness from the higher-ups but rather an indication that the value of the Fourth Army had increased.

Keeping 500,000 to 600,000 Prussian troops pinned down here was the greatest contribution of the Fourth Army. Since their lives were being leveraged, their treatment naturally improved.

Shaking his head to dispel these thoughts, Obodov instructed the guard beside him, “Send someone to check carefully and see if there are any orders from headquarters.”

Before the guard could respond, a young officer ran over with a document in hand.

“General, this is a report from headquarters,” the young officer said.

Obodov grabbed the document and quickly opened it. The more he read, the darker his expression became, as though the sky itself had fallen.

It wasn’t that the situation was dire. In fact, the overall battlefield outlook was overwhelmingly favorable, and Russia’s victory seemed increasingly imminent.

October 28, 1880: The Russian Fifth and Seventh Armies launched offensives from the northeast against the Warsaw region and were now at the gates of the city.

November 1: The Russian First and Second Armies initiated the East Prussian Campaign.

November 3: Under the cover of the navy, Russian forces carried out a successful landing operation in the Gdynia region.

November 5: Another successful Russian landing operation was conducted in Kołobrzeg.

November 7: The Russian Southern Front Army broke through the Prussian defense lines.

November 8: The Russian forces split into three routes. The Eighth Army advanced directly toward Berlin, the Ninth Army turned north to attack Poznań, and the Tenth Army took a central position to provide support.

The battlefield was full of good news, except for any mention of rescuing the Fourth Army. The implication was obvious. Though it wasn’t explicitly stated, the warning was unmistakable.

The Russian Army’s swift advances were inseparable from the efforts of the Fourth Army. If they hadn’t pinned down the Prussian mobile forces, the Fifth and Seventh Armies wouldn’t have dared to march on Warsaw, and the Southern Front wouldn’t have risked splitting into three.

In this situation, anyone who faltered and jeopardized this hard-earned strategic advantage would bear the consequences.

There were no explicit orders, but this battle report was the clearest directive. Obodov understood perfectly. The Fourth Army was not just being abandoned as a pawn, they were being treated as sacrificial pieces.

If they had attempted to break out earlier, at most they would have lost their own heads. But if they tried to escape now, their entire families would face the guillotine alongside them.

Don’t think that just because executing nobles wasn’t common in Europe, they were safe. Alexander II had earned the nickname “The Butcher” for a reason. Without heads rolling, how could reforms have succeeded?

After a moment’s thought, Obodov gave his order, “Announce this great news to the entire army. Tell everyone that victory is within reach. If we can hold out for just half a month more, Warsaw will be ours!”

“Seeing through it but not speaking out” is one of the survival rules in this brutal world. Smart people naturally understand, while those who don’t are the single-minded ones. For them, this battle report truly is good news.

Hold out for half a month? Even Obodov didn’t believe it himself. Deep down, he thought the Fourth Army had already performed beyond expectations by lasting this long.

But people are prone to blind faith, especially when victory seems close at hand. In such moments, they tend to self-hypnotize and unleash unimaginable levels of resolve and combat power.

In his heart, Obodov had already decided that as long as the Prussian main forces could be tied down, they would hold the line for as long as possible. When it became untenable, they would simply fight to the last as a local garrison.

As long as the Fourth Army didn’t abandon their position and continued resisting, no one could pin the blame on him.

Luckily, the soldiers didn’t know about Obodov’s cynical thoughts. Otherwise, the hard-won morale would have immediately collapsed.

Sometimes ignorance is a blessing. It’s better to immerse oneself in a sea of hope than to be plunged into despair upon learning the harsh truth.

The Prussian military was at a complete disadvantage on the battlefield with the Prussian government in a full-blown panic. Even with Moltke’s repeated assurances, he could not dispel everyone’s doubts.

A nationwide mobilization was deemed necessary. Anyone capable of holding a rifle had to be sent to the front.

The shortage of officers? Not a problem. If the officers from the main forces couldn’t be moved, then they’d pull them from local units.

If that didn’t work, they’d find someone to temporarily fill the role. If a suitable replacement never came along, then the temporary officer would simply stay in place.

With the enemy nearly at the gates of Berlin, who cared about quality? Increasing numbers was the priority, at the very least to give people a sense of security.

While ramping up military mobilization, the Prussian government also launched a diplomatic offensive.

Trying to court the Ottomans, Central Asian countries, or the German Federal Empire who were small players at this stage was pointless, they no longer had the capacity to influence the outcome of the war.

At this point, the Prussian-Polish Federation needed the support of the great powers. On the European continent, securing gains on the battlefield could still mean losing them at the negotiation table.

The Prussian government wasn’t hoping for Russia to retreat empty-handed, but it still sought to secure the support of the great powers and preserve its strength as much as possible.

At the Vienna Palace, Franz had just sent off the special envoy dispatched by the Prussian government.

Frankly, he was baffled. The war hadn’t even been decided yet, so why was the Prussian government so anxious?

The Russians might seem to be advancing triumphantly on the battlefield, but the war was far from over. The Prussian-Polish Federation still had 600,000 to 700,000 new recruits, and no matter how poorly trained they were, they could at least manage to hold cities, couldn’t they?

In response to Franz’s doubts, Chief of Staff Albrecht explained, “Your Majesty, the war has reached a point where the Prussian-Polish Federation’s military casualties have long surpassed the one-million mark, with more than 300,000 deaths alone.

While the losses of ordinary soldiers can be replenished immediately, the loss of junior officers is much harder to compensate for.

According to the data we’ve gathered and analyzed, the casualty rate among Prussian noble officers is far higher than the 13.5% for ordinary soldiers, nearing 20%.

The shortage of Prussian officers isn’t just a result of this war, it’s also a lingering effect from the previous war.

During the First Russo-Prussian War, the young generation of Junker nobility suffered heavy losses. Now, they face not only a shortage of junior officers but also a significant lack of mid-level officers. Even their senior officer ranks are insufficient.

The shortage of qualified officers has a significant impact on the army’s combat effectiveness. Compared to the early stages of the war, the fighting strength of the Prussian army has already declined.

You can see this from their siege of the Russian Fourth Army. If it were the Prussian army at its peak, they wouldn’t have needed so long to achieve results.

The shortage of officers isn’t anyone’s fault. The Prussian-Polish Federation has done quite well in this regard. They had pre-war reserves of officers sufficient to command 1.5 million troops.

This figure, in theory, should have been enough for any war. Before the outbreak of the Russo-Prussian War, no one could have predicted that the scale of the conflict would reach its current magnitude.

Both the Prussian-Polish Federation and the Russian Empire have demonstrated mobilization capabilities that far exceed our expectations.”

Not just the people of this era, even Franz, a time traveler, didn’t know in advance that Prussia and Russia could escalate the conflict to this level.

This level of mobilization is almost comparable to World War I. The Prussian-Polish Federation has successively mobilized 2.6 million troops, while the Russians have gone to the extreme, mobilizing nearly 4 million.

And this is not the end. The number of troops on both sides continues to inflate, like balloons being pumped with air, constantly expanding.

Like balloons, as the size of their armies grows, their combat effectiveness keeps declining.

The Prussian army’s decline is more evident, primarily because they initially pursued a quality-over-quantity strategy. The Russians, however, prioritized numbers from the start. While their troops’ combat effectiveness has also declined, since their initial quality wasn’t high to begin with, the extent of the decline is less noticeable.

Franz asked in confusion, “As far as I know, many officials in the Prussian government have military backgrounds. In this time of crisis, having them return to service to address the emergency shouldn’t be a problem.

If these individuals can step up, and additional civilian soldiers are promoted to officer positions, the shortage of junior officers should be resolved. There’s no need for the Prussian government to be this anxious, is there?”

This wasn’t Franz speaking nonsense since many Prussian government officials indeed had military backgrounds. This wasn’t unique to the Prussian-Polish Federation. Austria had a similar situation.

Under a system of universal conscription, it wasn’t just government officials who had served in the military, people from all walks of life had spent time in the armed forces.

In times of crisis, having them return to the military was one way to address the shortage of officers.

Albrecht shook his head and stated, “Your Majesty, while these individuals might seem to have organizational skills, they are not suited for military service at all.

In the Prussian-Polish Federation, military officers are predominantly Junker nobles. Influenced by traditional power structures, the most talented individuals, or at least those best suited for the military, tend to stay in the military long-term.

Those who retire from the military and move into government positions are, for the most part, individuals who were eliminated midway, essentially second-rate candidates whose military abilities are already questionable.

If these people were to be forced back into the military, their positions would likely correspond to the ranks they held before leaving, but those ranks have little to do with actual military command ability.

Putting a group of bureaucrats with unknown military skills in charge of troops would be unimaginable chaos.

I believe they would likely perform worse than first-year cadets at a military academy. At the very least, cadets are passionate, free from bureaucratic infighting and shirking responsibilities, and can follow orders strictly.”

Franz nodded awkwardly, acknowledging that letting bureaucrats command the army was indeed a big pitfall. Before the battle even started, the army might first get dragged into political struggles.

After pausing for a moment, Albrecht added, “Promoting civilian officers is something the Prussian army has already begun doing. However, these soldiers have not received a military academy education, so their development potential is very limited. Only a very small number of them can actually serve as officers.

Even now, among the junior officers of the Prussian army, the number of civilian officers is actually not insignificant. However, their performance has been quite poor, and there have been numerous problems.”

Franz hesitated, stopping short of speaking. The issue of civilian officers was a challenge for all European countries.

It wasn’t as the later generations described, with the nobility monopolizing the military and excluding civilian officers.

In reality, the nobility was only interested in mid-to-high-level positions. The lower-level positions, like company or platoon commanders, were not even on their radar. No one had such shallow ambitions.

The real problem lay in military competence. Ordinary soldiers had never been exposed to military knowledge. How could they be turned into qualified officers?

In times of peace, the path for ordinary soldiers to advance was essentially blocked. Only a very few geniuses could manage to rise to the rank of officer.

In times of war, there are indeed opportunities, but the prerequisite is surviving first. Military merits are not easily earned, they require risking one’s life in exchange.

Even noble junior officers must lead charges, let alone civilian officers. Many dangerous missions would likely fall on their shoulders.

No matter how talented you are, only if you survive the battlefield will you have a future. Otherwise, you’ll just end up a martyr.

Earning military merits is not the end. On the contrary, it’s merely the beginning. Rising to higher ranks requires even greater personal military competence.

In peacetime, there’s a chance to attend military academies, and after learning there, one can roughly meet the requirements. But in wartime, there’s no such luxury as war waits for no one.

In a sense, Albrecht’s complaints about the poor military competence of civilian officers are an undeniable fact.

Aside from a few exceptional geniuses, most civilian officers, after being promoted, are like ducks forced onto a perch. It’s entirely normal for them to struggle and fail to adapt in the short term.

The military is a place that reveres the strong. No one cares about all the reasons behind your struggles, nor will they give you time to learn slowly.

If you’re not capable, you’ll face rejection. No special tactics are needed to push you out, you’ll be sidelined naturally.

This doesn’t just apply to civilian officers, even many scions of powerful noble families, if they lack the necessary abilities, will face the same fate.

Not only now, but even in the future, there’s only one viable path for civilian officers which is to attend military academies.

Through academic training, they can improve their military competence and bridge the skill gap between themselves and noble officers.

However, this path is also extremely challenging. Enrollment in advanced military academies is limited, akin to a single-log bridge overwhelmed by a flood of candidates. They must also compete against noble applicants.

Due to disparities in access to education, unless you’re a genius, advancing is almost impossible.

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