Chapter 76
Chapter 76
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: The Entente's Situation
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Just as the major had said.
As soon as they established a new defensive line centered on Ypres, the British unleashed a ferocious offensive.
They wore gas masks and their veterans had all become crow food, yet they pressed on with their devastating assault even through the chlorine gas.
This offensive intensified even further after Commander John French was dismissed and Sir Douglas Haig took over as commander.
In the end, around 150,000 British troops were annihilated.
By this point, Falkenhayn was convinced.
'So, political factors. To think they'd throw away lives like this just because the front line was at risk.'
For the British, Ypres was the hub of supply and reinforcement strategies, the key to defending the Channel, and a symbol of having preserved Belgian independence.
For Belgium, it went without saying—it was a symbol of national survival.
The combination of pragmatic and political reasons had sparked an assault so fierce it defied rationality.
'In that case.'
Here, Falkenhayn saw a possibility.
'What about Verdun for real?'
Now, apply Ypres's situation to Verdun.
The French military was already badly shaken by the chemical warfare and the air raids on Paris.
In such circumstances, if they lost Verdun—which left a symbolic impression from the Franco-Prussian War...
They would surely pour everything into recapturing it. Otherwise, countless people would face the so-called 'guillotine'.
'Even if Paris holds, it should create enough variables.'
"Heh heh heh."
Having finished his calculations, Falkenhayn smiled faintly.
Once again, Rommel had been right... or so he thought.
Unaware that he had failed to notice the cold-blooded judgment of his favored subordinate, Falkenhayn immediately sprang into action.
Following Ypres, he began reorganizing supply allocations, systems, and troop strength with Verdun as the new target.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
I had no more ideas left, and citing my lack of insight into operations, I cut off all personal meetings with Falkenhayn.
I focused solely on my duty: logistics.
"Here's the train schedule."
"Thank you."
Logistics work meant creating and solving numbers and graphs, so I became a silent calculator, continuously producing answers.
'Looks like they've settled on the Verdun line after all.'
Numbers didn't lie; how they were used depended entirely on human will.
The implications of countless equations and functions were simple.
As the British at Ypres hesitated after pouring in their forces,
the Germans gathered their full strength and aimed a demonstration at Verdun.
"I don't get it. Why Verdun of all places?"
"If the British at Ypres took that much damage, wouldn't it be better to expand gains there?"
"Operations won't tell us—it's classified again. Damn annoying bunch."
The other staff officers grumbled loudly while sneaking glances at me.
They seemed to be waiting, as always, for me to provide a clear answer.
But my response to that sentiment was as concise as could be.
"Who knows."
Pretending ignorance was the best move right now.
Seeing the staff officers disappointed and resuming their chatter among themselves,
I quietly pulled out a sheet of letter paper.
'Alright, first Hindenburg and Ludendorff, Max Hoffmann... Oh, Tirpitz is here too. Can I trust that guy?'
Scribble—scribble— No matter the justification, a mere major couldn't take down the Chief of Staff.
'To evade surveillance, I need a suitable delivery boy.'
Thus, I wanted to prepare so that hyenas stronger than me could hunt the prey simultaneously.
Thankfully, my wasted life up to now hadn't been entirely in vain.
'Just recently, Malon joined Section 3b as a junior. I should entrust it to him. If not Malon, then Knoller...'
I knew plenty of hyenas, and messengers to convey my intentions to them.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The Anglo-French Entente forces were flailing under total pressure.
Their governments, the enemy's tactical superiority, the horrific battlefield where no merits could be earned, the countless casualties, military blunders.
Everything was crushing the Entente.
The French military, in particular, was shaken to its core.
"Haa..."
French Army Commander-in-Chief Joffre let out a secret sigh.
'How could the Commander-in-Chief fail to protect Paris!'
'The Eiffel Tower is gone! How will you take responsibility for this national loss?'
'Resign immediately!'
'...'
When Paris was threatened, the civilian government had relocated to Bordeaux.
But when the military ultimately defended Paris, their legitimacy and authority were damaged. In reaction, the military's influence grew stronger.
What any politician hated most was their power being threatened.
Until now, without proper justification, they had merely poked at the military, but the Paris air raid finally gave them ammunition, and the deputies unleashed a full assault.
The powerful purge of the military shook Joffre's authority greatly, and his own position hung by a thread.
"We must win... but we can't be reckless. Yet, in the end, we must win..."
Joffre muttered anxiously.
With hundreds of thousands already lost in the recent French offensive,
the government, fearing public unrest, had imposed an embargo on the news—but it was also a blade aimed at Joffre's neck.
It was a warning: screw up again or displease them, and they'd lift the embargo and offer him up to public opinion as a sacrifice.
"How do we win...?"
To avoid a purge, he needed achievements,
but staring anxiously at the operations map choked him.
"The British can't support us... They lost everything at Ypres, so they might even need to pull back further..."
The elite British forces were gone. Even with masks, they were raw recruits—second-rate on the Western Front.
"Numerically overwhelming disadvantage..."
After the great offensive, the troop ratios had diverged sharply. Joffre had wanted to halt it long ago, but fury over the Paris raids and demands from public opinion, government, and parliament forced him to intensify it.
The Anglo-French Entente numbered about 1.8 million; the Germans, 3.4 million.
The Germans had fewer casualties and superior mobilization capacity.
Short-term material differences were stark too.
"...Offensive is impossible."
How on earth.
How on earth had everything gone so wrong?
It felt so unreasonable and absurd that Joffre massaged the nape of his neck.
If he knew all this stemmed from just one man's replacement, he'd have collapsed clutching his neck for sure.
"No choice but to wait it out."
After repeated sighs, the Commander-in-Chief reached that conclusion.
Forcing an offensive wouldn't yield gains, so even if his position was at risk, sticking to the straight path was best.
A truly sound choice—the optimal one for the French Army.
No matter how badly Russia fared, the Germans still faced a two-front war, and industrial superiority lay with the Entente.
Drag it out, and France would win.
"..."
Well, the war was on French soil, so there were political risks,
but ultimately just political risks. At worst, Joffre gets dismissed and someone new takes over as Commander-in-Chief.
In other words, Joffre's sacrifice would open the path to France's victory.
"...Adjutant."
"Yes, sir."
With resolve hardened, Joffre called his adjutant, who had stood silently like a statue behind him.
Joffre continued in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Prepare my discharge papers."
"...Discharge, sir?"
The adjutant's face darkened, as if shocked—or as if the inevitable had arrived.
To reassure him, Joffre smiled faintly.
"Just in case things go south. Not saying I'm retiring right now."
"..."
"Better to have them ready than face the guillotine unprepared."
"...Understood. I'll prepare them."
At Joffre's words, the adjutant recomposed himself and replied.
It wasn't much comfort—just consideration for his superior's feelings.
Gazing at such an adjutant, the Commander-in-Chief smiled gently, then slowly let his lips droop.
"And summon the generals and staff officers. We need to set a new policy for the French Army going forward."
"Are you sure that's wise, sir?"
"What, it's the Commander-in-Chief managing the army. What's unwise about it?"
Joffre slightly evaded the adjutant's question.
The current offensive policy was set by the government and parliament.
In a situation where civilian control overwhelmed the military, was openly rebelling okay? But the Commander-in-Chief didn't answer directly.
"It's just... too frustrating and heartbreaking to keep taking this."
He merely muttered coldly with a smirk.
Yet deep in his eyes,
black flames flickered: he would not die alone.