Chapter 73
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 73
Chapter Title: Sword of the United States (3)
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Meuse-Argonne.
The one place where Germany was still putting up some semblance of a fight.
The high command, in particular, pinned their grand hopes on this sector, believing that every additional American they killed here would tilt the negotiations in their favor.
So even if they had to concede ground elsewhere, they were urging the troops here to fight tooth and nail.
"The enemy is advancing further."
"What about reinforcements? Any word on additional troops?"
"There's a new directive from above."
"Oh? What is it!"
The commander, who was like the sky itself to his men, perked up eagerly, but his staff officer trembled, dreading the explosion of rage to come.
Why do I have to be the one delivering this report and bearing his wrath?
"Austria-Hungary is breaking away from the Empire to seek a separate peace with the Allies, so the order is to withdraw all Austro-Hungarian forces from the current front lines."
"What the hell kind of bullshit is that! If we pull them all out? Even if those worthless idiots can't fight worth a damn, don't we still need troops to fill the gaps? What is this? What kind of dogshit nonsense is this?!"
And then they expect us to win?
By forcing the enemy to bleed and buying time?
Yeah, I get it. We have to hold the Sedan.
The moment Sedan falls, rail links to the occupied territories in France and Belgium get completely severed.
Then at least give us enough men to push them back!
"Breaking news! Breaking news!!"
"What now."
He felt a neuralgia headache coming on, but he couldn't ignore the report.
As expected, the latest dispatch was filled with horrors.
"The Americans have breached our defensive lines. Our retreating forces are taking heavy casualties from the enemy's relentless pursuit. They're pouring in massive firepower and widening the breach even further."
"Map! The map!!"
At the commander's furious bellow, staff officers hurriedly marked the enemy's positions on the map according to the new report.
"Ah..."
"This is, well..."
It was grim.
The finely honed blade of the U.S. Army was slicing through the German defenses like a hot knife through butter.
How long had it been since the Americans arrived in the Meuse-Argonne?
They learned anew every day, evolving further with each passing moment.
The idiots who had marched in dense, orderly formations on the first day of the offensive were long gone.
Now they shook the battlefield with overwhelming barrages.
If not that, they led with tanks and charged behind them.
The skies were perpetually swarming with those damned observation balloons and aircraft.
And that wasn't the end of it.
Things the Germans could only dream of—they were making reality with their overwhelming industrial might.
Three railway guns belching fire like demons from hell left no German defensive line standing.
Sure, frontline reports claimed countless enemy tanks destroyed, but the next day brought pitiful pleas for support after encountering even more.
On the first day, the enemy had tasted the fury of Germany's superior air force, but now it was their own side getting bombed.
And now, the Americans were copying the Hutier tactics—the pinnacle of Imperial assault doctrine.
Infiltrating relentlessly past enemies thrown into chaos by massive barrages, severing their communications.
It was clear. The Americans had mastered their techniques.
The commander scowled at the damned markers shifting positions on the map.
"The 93rd Division?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"Those goddamn nigger Division has pushed this far? Why? How the hell?!"
"The enemy is mimicking our tactics for mobility. They've committed tanks and Stormtroopers along these axes we identified as weak points—"
"So now some nigger outfit is using the Empire's tactics? And that's why they broke through? That doesn't make any sense!"
He erupted in nonstop fury, as if his bile was bursting forth.
"Eugene Kim, Eugene Kim! Is that bastard Alexander? Genghis Khan??"
"The enemy has ample supplies..."
"What fucking supplies in this swamp! Cut the excuses! The U.S. Army's crazy for pinning stars on a kid not even thirty, but if we lose to that brat, we'll get bullets in our skulls too! Stop them! Stop them now!"
The Americans were coming.
Striding forward like grim reapers heralding the war's end.
How do you stop the enemy when they're right at the gates of Sedan?
Without the Austro-Hungarians?
"Stop the enemy. Crush the 93rd Division first."
"Yes, sir."
"Why didn't the Hutier tactics lead to a full breakthrough?"
"They couldn't supply them down to the frontline troops, and the infantry mobility allowed the enemy to reorganize and form new lines faster."
"Right. Then like this—"
He slapped reserve counters in front of the 93rd Division's markers.
But he hesitated.
No reserves left.
All the pieces symbolizing German forces were pinned to critical points that absolutely could not be yielded.
Just moments ago, he'd shoved the few remaining ones into the sectors held by the Austro-Hungarians.
"This... like this."
Where could he pull more from?
The commander looked pathetic, at a loss for words, and a few staff officers stepped up to adjust the situation.
"How about this, sir? Defending Sedan is the priority. Pull forces from here and here to shorten the line."
"That hands over all the high ground! Impossible."
"We're going to lose it anyway. The enemy already dominates the surrounding areas. We don't know how much longer we can hold, so pull back while we still have freedom of movement."
"Nonsense! You think we have freedom? Troops retreating on that assumption are already getting their necks snapped by the Americans!"
Taking advantage of the stunned commander, the staff officers began raising their voices at each other.
Even they could see there was no answer.
How long could they juggle the bottom stones to support the top? Only hold out vaguely until that distant day of armistice.
"To defend Sedan... we abandon the Meuse-Argonne sector."
"General!!"
"We have no troops! If you lot can't go out and shoot Eugene Kim dead yourselves, shrink the front now!"
"General, we're only holding this line because we have the high ground."
"......"
No one had a solution in this impasse.
The blade of the United States was slowly, but surely, ripping into their vitals.
"Let's smoke a cigarette, calm down, and talk after."
A few minutes' reprieve was the only answer he could give.
The Empire is defeated.
No German general could look at the tower of reports piling up daily without that thought.
"The Somme has been breached!"
"Anglo-French forces are advancing on Cambrai."
"Request for reinforcements from Meuse-Argonne. Enemy pressing on despite massive losses!"
"The Hindenburg Line is collapsing."
"We can't hold!"
"Enemy has broken through the Hindenburg Line! Trenches crumbling!"
"Our supply lines—"
"Enough! Stop! ENOUGH!!"
A day of darkness.
The German Army could fight no more.
Reports hadn't been like this in the past.
No matter how fiercely the enemy attacked, dispatches always noted how the glorious German forces fought "heroically" but succumbed to overwhelming odds.
But now, the proud sons of Germany were surrendering with hands held high, barely resisting.
It was over.
Even at General Headquarters, open mutters rang out: "Ludendorff's gone mad," "Arrogant in victory, but a fool who can't handle defeat."
Were the other fronts intact?
The Balkans had crumbled too. With Bulgaria collapsing, the Allies flung open the path to Austria-Hungary.
Ottoman Turks? They were long since corpses.
Ludendorff's final task was preserving the Empire's backbone—the German Army itself.
Prussia was a state where "the army has the country," and as long as the army endured, the Empire could rise again.
Ludendorff prepared for what might be his last audience with the Kaiser.
"Your Majesty."
"You've come."
No trust remained in the Kaiser's eyes.
A bungling fool who had wrecked the Empire.
He knew without asking.
He was finished.
But even if his sovereign cast him aside, a subordinate must serve to the end.
Even if dismissed from all posts, he could not withhold his final counsel.
"I have a plan to preserve the Empire's foundation."
"Sigh... Very well, let's hear it."
"Hand power to the reds."
"Have you finally lost your mind, Ludendorff? Did the reds slip money into your back pocket?!"
"No, Your Majesty. Please, just hear me out."
Frail and manic, Ludendorff mustered his last reserves to forge one thread of hope.
Whether a delusion of happiness or true path to resurrection, who could say.
"Hand power to the reds and negotiate with the Allies."
"......"
"The terms will be harsh, of course. But defeat is certain, so they'll have no choice but to accept."
'They'?
An odd word.
The Kaiser, who had lived his life as a monarch, understood instantly.
"The people's ire will naturally turn to the government. Cowards without the will to fight, buckling under Allied bayonets."
"Then—"
"Once negotiations conclude and the enemy withdraws, punish the reds who colluded with the foe despite hope remaining for the Empire, and establish a new regime."
It was all the reds' fault.
This winnable war ended in defeat only because the reds stabbed the Empire in the back!
Ludendorff bellowed, eyes bloodshot.
"They deserted en masse, dodged the draft, agitated for peace, and sabotaged endlessly for world revolution and their communist state. It's the truth! We fought bravely, but the Empire's internal cancers formed a fifth column of betrayal!"
"......For now, you need rest. Off with you."
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!!"
"Withdraw."
Once Ludendorff was half-dragged away, the Kaiser clutched his throbbing head.
The war seemed lost.
Fools. Starting a war on a whim and botching it.
Since they'd lost, cede what must be ceded, salvage what could be salvaged.
Woodrow Wilson's laughable notions fell on deaf ears.
Negotiations would ultimately be Britain's and France's domain. They were reasonable gentlemen; as always, pay the loser's price, and the Empire's form would endure.
Dissolve the Empire? Then who stops the reds, or that Asian upstart? As ever, the crusade to defend European civilization fell to the great Germans.
After all they'd endured, the nation wouldn't collapse.