Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Normalization of the 8th Army
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-Russia's 2nd Army is threatening the southern flank, and even if we win the battle, maintaining the front line will be difficult. Therefore, permission for the 8th Army to withdraw to the west side of the Vistula River...
"Maximilien, you crazy bastard!!"
Crash! In the end, Chief of Staff Moltke threw the teacup he was holding.
"No! No! How many times do I have to say no?!"
"..."
The adjutant flinched and quietly slipped out of Moltke's line of sight.
There was nothing to be done when he flew into one of his hysterical fits like this; they never subsided easily.
"Arrrgh!"
Rip!! Tear!! Moltke crumpled and tore up the telegram to vent his anger. He seemed to be imagining it was Prittwitz's body as he put his strength into it.
He stomped on the scraps that fell to the floor, trying to calm his rage.
Moltke, with his hefty build, was panting from even those light movements.
"Huff, huff."
The war had pushed Moltke, who was already emotionally unstable, to the brink.
The Schlieffen Plan, which he had modified to suit his own tastes, was proceeding precariously.
The French army's Lorraine Offensive had begun not long ago, raising the curtain on full-scale border battles.
With mischief brewing on the Western Front, the constant whining from the Eastern Front was enough to drive anyone mad.
"...Adjutant, send a telegram to Prittwitz. Just write Nein! One word, big and clear!"
"Understood. Also, His Majesty the Kaiser has just summoned you."
"I'm already busy enough... Hah, this is maddening."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Grand Headquarters (Großes Hauptquartier).
The Grand Headquarters was the Imperial German Army's supreme command, but in reality, it was more of a place for military symbolism and political rhetoric.
True command and orders were issued from within by the OHL (Oberste Heeresleitung, Supreme Army Command).
Originally, the Grand Headquarters had been created as a means for the Kaiser to control the army... but now it was just a residence.
The Kaiser had summoned Moltke to the Grand Headquarters.
"Is the Schlieffen Plan proceeding well?"
"By the grace of God and Your Majesty's virtue, the plan is progressing perfectly."
Moltke spouted his bluff without batting an eye.
Of course, Wilhelm II, who knew nothing of military affairs, just chuckled and accepted it.
"Haha, as expected, that Schlieffen Program was the answer, eh?"
"...Indeed."
"Kuh, to maximize Germany's industry and develop the railroads, I personally oversaw the five-year plan. There were complaints from arrogant subjects, but look—the plan is succeeding thanks to it."
"..."
No one had asked, but Wilhelm II proudly rattled off his self-praise.
Moltke, who lacked talent in both military and politics, briefly showed an expression of what do you want me to do about it?
Whether the Kaiser's domestic talent was real or not, he had indeed succeeded in implementing most of the Schlieffen Program's requirements.
The problem was that forcibly retiring Count Schlieffen had left no one to incorporate those changes into the Schlieffen Plan.
What about Moltke? That man had only ruined the plan further.
The current Schlieffen Plan wasn't drawing out Germany's full strength.
"...And what of the Eastern Front?"
"..."
After wasting time on the pomp and ceremony typical of nobles, the Kaiser finally got to the point with a sharp glare.
Moltke took a moment to refine his words in his head.
But it wasn't easy.
'The field army commander cries retreat every day. The enemy outnumbers us two to one. Our forces are being pushed back... How do I put this nicely?'
The Eastern Front was plagued by numerous serious issues... but he couldn't just spill everything to the Kaiser.
Moltke carefully opened his mouth.
"...Thanks to our army's heroic resistance, the Slavs are suffering greatly. They will undoubtedly fulfill their role until the Western Front is resolved."
"Is that so?"
As the Kaiser nodded indifferently, the Chief of Staff let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Good. This energetic but woefully ignorant monarch still didn't grasp the situation well—
"Then what is this?"
"...Pardon?"
Wilhelm II beckoned with his finger, and a quietly waiting attendant stepped forward.
In the heavy atmosphere, he placed the letter envelope he held onto the table before Moltke.
As the Kaiser stared intently, as if urging him to open it and check, Moltke tensely pulled out the letter from the envelope.
"...This is."
"A letter from General François, commander of the 8th Army's 1st Corps."
Moltke gritted his teeth as he gripped the letter.
The Kaiser continued, staring at him.
"A long letter condemning 8th Army Commander Maximilian von Prittwitz's passive attitude and demanding his dismissal. From 1st Corps Commander Hermann von François."
"Th-this violates military protocol! How dare he commit such insubordination...!"
"Quiet."
As Wilhelm II spoke softly, Moltke dropped his gaze to the floor.
The truth of the Eastern Front had been exposed.
"Is General François correct? Does Prittwitz truly lack 'offensive spirit'?"
"Y-Your Majesty. No. General Prittwitz is..."
"Then you're saying General François is lying?"
"..."
"Answer properly! You're the Chief of Staff!"
Seeing Moltke just opening and closing his mouth, Wilhelm II shouted in frustration.
But Moltke couldn't easily respond.
'Damn it, how do I tell him that I recommended Prittwitz, so firing him would undermine my own authority!'
Who could have known he'd end up groveling like this after all his initial bluster...!
The Kaiser frowned at Moltke's demeanor.
"...Hah, I get the picture. Tsk tsk tsk."
"..."
"I keep telling you. If your uncle, Helmuth von Moltke, were in your position, things would be much better."
"..."
Moltke stayed silent at Wilhelm II's insult.
His tightly clenched fists, white-knuckled, revealed his emotions.
Regardless, the Kaiser continued coldly.
"Dismiss General Prittwitz."
"Your Majesty."
"I won't hear objections. East Prussia is the Junkers' homeland and the birthplace of our kingdom. He's held on too long, the one who wants to abandon such an important place."
Moltke wanted to somehow sway Wilhelm II, but he gave up at the fierce glare.
He had known something like this would happen eventually... but not today.
Still, the Kaiser showed some consideration by letting Moltke breathe.
"You dismiss him. You recommended him, and you dismiss him—no one can complain."
"...Yes, understood."
It wasn't the kind of issue that could be brushed off so easily, but Moltke acquiesced.
He had no choice.
However...
'General François... How dare he...'
His malice turned toward an easier target.
"Tch, then get out. To botch things this badly."
As Moltke staggered out of the room, Wilhelm II stroked his lips.
Unlike his dissatisfied tone, his lips curved slightly upward.
'This should give me some control over the OHL.'
People were dying on the front lines.
Yet the power broker smirked at his tiny political gain.
It was tragic.
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8th Army Headquarters.
"Why!! Why me!! Why should I be dismissed!!"
"..."
He had been watching for the right moment to launch the Gumbinnen Hit-and-Run Operation.
Then the General Staff cut off the 8th Army commander and chief of staff's heads.
Despite the General Staff's sudden decision, the 8th Army staff felt it was inevitable.
Above all, there was no time to be surprised. They had an immediate problem at hand.
"Then... shouldn't we cancel this operation you requested, sir?"
"The situation hasn't changed. It's an offensive planned to halt the Russian 1st Army's advance."
"No. I think canceling it is the right move."
"Why?"
In that moment, Max Hoffmann stepped forward decisively.
"The 1st Corps has requested a change in operations. They predict the Russian 2nd Army's movements will be slow."
"Hmm."
As Hoffmann slowly repeated Rommel's earlier explanation, the staff's reactions split down the middle.
Half were astonished, half self-recriminating.
"Well, that's surprising."
"No. We should have considered all the factors from the start. An inexcusable mistake."
Max Hoffmann fell into the latter group.
"Cancel the offensive and withdraw the 8th Army."
"Indeed."
"I agree."
A new battlefield.
The staff's gazes converged on the operations map.
"However, to defend East Prussia, we must crush one enemy force before they join up."
In the shaky headquarters.
"In other words, dealing with the 2nd Army is our only path left. Nothing else offers victory."
The operations room fell silent at the cold declaration.
Gazes simultaneously focused on one spot on the map.
And the name of the promised victory seized the staff's thoughts.
"Tannenberg."
Hoffmann said softly.
"Here, we intercept the Russian 2nd Army."
The die of fate had been cast.