Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: The Battle of Gumbinnen...?
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“Insane, insane, utterly insane!”
The 1st Corps Commander, Hermann von François, excitedly clutched the report.
The chief of staff also struggled to close his mouth after hearing the briefing.
“I’d heard he was famous and skilled in ambushes and deception, but I didn’t expect this level!”
“Th-this is no time for that! We need to prepare for interception immediately!”
“Exactly! We must!”
An entire battalion had devoured a regiment.
While headquarters bickered endlessly about whether to retreat or not, a certain captain had shown them firsthand.
Instead of wasting time, harvest one more serf’s neck.
“If the report is accurate, the regiment is annihilated—it’s no different from crippling an entire division!”
A Russian division consisted of 16 infantry battalions and 3 (±1) artillery battalions.
With one regiment—four battalions—wiped out, that was 25% of their combat strength gone. Considering they hadn’t fully mobilized, it was undoubtedly massive damage.
The enemy forces deployed toward StallUPÖNEN numbered four divisions, but magically, one had vanished. At least for now.
François’s 1st Corps had two divisions. Still numerically inferior, but superior in every other way.
Plus, Rommel’s battalion was brilliantly luring the enraged enemy... that part was settled.
“The 1st and 2nd Divisions will intercept the vanguard of the pursuing Russian 1st Army!”
François bellowed vigorously.
This was the moment the opening skirmish turned into a German victory.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
If you asked me what the Battle of StallUPÖNEN was like for me.
It was sneaking right under the enemy’s nose and waiting.
Then grabbing a scrap in my mouth and running like hell.
“We’re withdrawing from the operational area starting now. Companies that have secured prisoners, pull back quickly.”
“The enemy pursuit will catch up. Can we retreat while dragging prisoners along?”
“The captured military maps suggest a slight buffer. We’ll use it to the max, and if it looks bad, we ditch the prisoners.”
“Hmm.”
“We’ve racked up more merit than expected, so the Russians won’t let us off easy. Since it’s come to this, let’s lure them into our forces for interception.”
After that, we fled using the enemy’s maps and such, and the properly pissed-off Russians chased us even into our controlled territory—only to get their heads smashed.
The Russians suffered over 4,000 casualties and 6,000 prisoners, totaling more than 10,000 losses from the first battle alone.
Merely a “tactical minor victory,” at best.
But a victory was a victory, and we became heroes of the opening clash.
“There’s the 2nd Battalion!”
“It’s the Red Fox!”
‘...Red Fox?’
And so, my merits recognized, I was summoned to General François—
“Ah, it’s you! The ‘Red Fox (Rotfuchs)’!”
“...Red what?”
“Hahaha!”
François beat me to the punch, and I missed my cue to greet first.
Fox? What fox out of nowhere?
Even seeing my bewildered reaction, François approached with booming laughter.
“How about it? It’s the nickname I made for you! The entire corps headquarters is already calling you the Red Fox!”
...I came back with a scrap in my mouth, and they really treat me like a fox.
No, but why red again? Red Baron and all—do Germans just love red?
I’d only thought it inwardly, but coincidentally, François said:
“Red foxes are common in Eastern Europe. Perfect for you, who showed flawless ambush, assault, and withdrawal!”
“Well... thank you.”
“Thanks to you, the corps saved face! Showing those sly headquarters bastards pushing retreat what’s what—much appreciated!”
“Not at all.”
As the general clapped my shoulder, I quickly schooled my face to seriousness and bowed slightly.
I had to pour out what I wanted to say while he was thanking me.
I continued carefully.
“All merit belongs to the regiment that commanded our battalion and the subordinates who followed orders excellently.”
“...Breathe before speaking.”
“If I have any credit this time, it’s merely for encouraging my excellent subordinates to shine—”
“I get it. I get it. I’ll put in a good word for your merits at General Staff HQ, so don’t worry.”
“Thank you.”
I could finally smile.
He looked a bit exasperated, but since François himself promised, my merits wouldn’t be downplayed.
“Beyond that, I want to reward you personally. You might not know, but... there was some friction from above, and you defended my honor.”
François winked amiably.
Friction—probably the clash between the retreat-pushing army HQ and the hawkish defense-advocating corps HQ.
It was practically insubordination, but this victory let François hold his position somehow.
“As corps commander, I’ve got some pull. What do you say? Want a promotion? I could be your patron in the army.”
“...”
At the sudden offer, I spun my brain quickly.
Seeing François’s slightly odd glint, this wasn’t a blank check.
Rather...
‘He’s testing my caliber?’
Of course, with Junkers prestige on the line, he’d try to deliver if I asked.
Less a crisis, more an opportunity.
As I sorted my thoughts, the corps ops map caught my eye.
“May I take a look at the operations map?”
“Hm? Go ahead.”
It was top-secret among secrets, but trusting me, the general permitted it readily. The silent chief of staff stayed quiet too.
Curiosity flickered in their eyes, but I kept calm and approached the map.
“...”
‘As expected.’
The map was cluttered with pieces and markers—they were plotting a new plan.
First, a sharp red arrow stabbing straight at the Russian 1st Army.
‘Not just 1st Corps... 1st Reserve Corps... and... is this the 17th Corps?’
Not corps-level, but army-level—the 8th Army ops map.
Strike the Russian 1st Army and dart back to rear positions...
“Hmm.”
“Something you want to ask about the plan?”
“If we’re retreating, why hit the 1st Army? Just withdraw.”
“Well... withdrawing inevitably means clashing with the northward 2nd Army. To block their intervention before fighting them, we have to strike once.”
François explained uncertainly, ambiguously.
“Our offensive doctrine doesn’t let us ignore the enemy in front. This is our home turf, after all.”
“...”
“We can’t yield a drop of blood to the enemy.”
“In other words.”
I looked up at the general coldly.
“There’s no tactical or strategic necessity to hit the 1st Army.”
“Hey...”
“Enough.”
As the chief of staff bristled to stand, François calmly stopped him.
Then, looking somewhat guilty, he prompted me.
“Continue.”
“Our army HQ seems gripped by unnecessary haste.”
I didn’t hesitate, unleashing my prepared thoughts. The momentum was mine.
“With 2nd Army’s position unconfirmed, crafting this plan out of crisis fears of encirclement tomorrow is overly rash.”
“But meanwhile, we don’t know if the 2nd Army is actually advancing north.”
I shook my head.
They were missing the point.
“The Russians mobilized faster than expected, but they’re still absolutely slow.”
The 2nd Army’s northward path had crap terrain, Russian and German rails didn’t match so logistics were crap, and there were barely any rails to begin with.
Factoring in comms, advance would slow even more.
Simple math showed it. They won’t arrive on time.
“By the time we set up defenses there, neither 1st nor 2nd Army will arrive—high chance.”
“Ugh... I’m not sure. What do you think?”
“May I consult the staff briefly?”
Sensing something, the chief of staff frowned and asked the general.
François nodded, and he rose quickly.
“Even if 2nd Army is faster than expected, there’s still no reason to hit 1st Army first. Block 2nd Army instead.”
“That... makes sense.”
“Terrain and roads already disadvantage us; with the premise wrong, no reason to execute.”
We watched the departing chief of staff and quickly conferred.
François seemed to grasp it but sighed soon after.
“But it’s army HQ’s plan. Corps can’t do much.”
Tsk, a shame to let this opportunity slip.
Ah... no helping it.
“...I’ve heard Your Excellency has the Kaiser’s confidence.”
“...That wording feels ominous.”
Sensing chills, François eyed me warily.
His guess was spot on.
“How about tattling to His Majesty the Kaiser to oust 8th Army Commander General Prittwitz?”