Criminal Incompetence #6
Somehow, because Russia lacked any proper trains running from north to south, the German offensive that kicked off from the north stalled out without even covering a third of the distance.
But stopping there wouldn't be the German way. The forces blocked in the west—the still-potent strongest of the German army—halted their north-to-south push on the eastern front and redirected every last reserve south along the Carpathian Mountains, hurling them east from the southern flank. The lineup made the east look easier than the west, and it seemed like even if they won there, they'd still starve just the same. And it actually worked.
Concentrating their main effort in the south while pinning us in the north paid off.
"We've recaptured Romania!"
"The oil fields?"
"They look like they were blown up quite a while ago."
"..."
"It's fine! Those bastards are just cannon fodder in droves. It's a straight shot to Baku!"
And that's exactly how it went. Every time the Germans launched a massive offensive, those guys would retreat en masse, abandoning their trenches and falling back, making it look like a light tap would send them reeling. The German offensives were succeeding. If you ignored their insane casualty rates, that is.
"What the hell?"
"When we launch a big push, those mole bastards rig their trenches with bombs and run, then keep fighting from their bolt-holes after fleeing, so it's causing some issues with the advance."
"'Some issues'? Judging by the reinforcements you're requesting, it's anything but minor."
What the—something's off with the numbers here. They respond to normal German assaults with standard trench warfare, to massive offensives with massive retreats, and to flanking attempts with feints at key points. For the Germans, it must have felt like, What kind of bullshit war is this?
The silver lining was that since the enemy fled far and wide every time the Germans mustered a big push, the occupied territory kept expanding steadily. Nothing like the densely packed trench lines in the west.
But that very spaciousness created the problem.
"It takes forever just to fill the reinforcements, so how do we man the expanded front?"
If those cowardly yellow-skinned bastards counterattacked across the entire line, it'd be a disaster. The issue was that His Majesty demanded we seize the oil regions—and quickly.
Just say we took the Romanian oil fields and call it a day? Hell no, they'd ask if we'd actually secured the oil, how much we could extract, and so on. The invincible German army had two paths left.
No reinforcements yet, but trusting they'd arrive on time and racing across the plains to Baku for the petroleum—or waiting for reinforcements, pushing further south to rescue the Ottomans in their civil war, then following the Baghdad railway straight to Iraq.
Compared to the latter, the former sounded angelic. That second option? Basically Alexander the Great. If it worked, he'd probably say, Let's go all the way to India.
The German Eastern Army Group operations staffer, Hoffmann, prepared plans for Baku. Even he knew they needed the oil.
The Germans were already sick to death of horse-drawn carts.
"Shall we blow Baku?"
"Won't that just send all the desperate Germans flooding back west?"
"Still better than letting it fall into German hands."
Damn! The Brits were dead set on blowing it regardless of any normal persuasion. Not their property, so no holds barred. Hmm, maybe I pushed the front back too far? To the Brits, it must look like we're lagging behind like typical Orientals.
The Russians were keeping quiet thanks to their ever-growing manpower and supplies flowing their way, but they were probably worried too. Still, pulling back just far enough to dangle Baku like this was perfect. It stretched their lines and made them obsess over Baku even more.
"Or should we show them that thing?"
"That thing?"
"You know, the one even we allied Koreans are kept in the dark about, shipped around in containers."
Oh, that?
"You're sharing intel assets with us but holding out on this? Kinda hurtful."
"It's still a prototype."
"Heard you've deployed over a thousand already."
"Where'd you hear that?"
"Beats me, just overheard it."
Russians? Japanese? Untrustworthy bastards everywhere.
"Anyway, since you know, this'll be easier. Those oil-guzzling friends of yours need Baku."
"Then show us its power once. Our general staff is waiting for results too."
Listening to them, it sounded like we'd stolen one of their tanks? Well, good results mean budget for the project. If we said we'd perfected it, they'd scoff—What kind of weapon is that for cowards? Just iron coffins—and ignore us. But since we're hiding it to keep it for ourselves, they're desperate to test it.
Right now, somewhere on the battlefield, comrades were dying. Those Westerners' karma dragging Orientals into their war—talk about a dog's death. No amount of propaganda about defending neighbors or a preemptive defensive war changes that.
Those clueless Teutons had no chance of winning, and Orientals never had beef with Germans originally. So these hundreds of thousands of deaths? Entirely my greed. I figured this way fewer would die overall.
"Your Excellency? Your Excellency?"
"Huh? What is it?"
"Nothing. Let me pour you a drink."
"What an honor. The ground should be dry by now—time to show you that tank battle."
"Tank battle. Sounds dashing."
Without the Brits nagging, I could've lured them deeper and encircled their entire eastern main force. But oh well. Better than Baku going up in smoke.
Encircling them isn't a one-time thing anyway.
As long as they stretched a massive line to Baku for their navy and tried to hold it, we could encircle them over and over—and over again. Not as devastating as the first time, but still.
"Initiate Phase 2 of the Dismemberment Operation."
We'd already shattered both their legs ages ago; now it was time to rip off an arm.
With the strongest German forces stretched thin to Baku, their reinforcements inevitably came from Austria-Hungary. Geographically closest, after all.
Now the eastern front had Germans wrapping around the Korean salient protruding centrally from above and below. Normally, we couldn't move rashly—we held key points, but both flanks were exposed.
One wrong push, and we'd lose the keys while facing multi-axis assaults. Germans knew it; we knew it. That's why they dared the risky Baku dash.
Germans weren't idiots. But the moment they left their rear to Austria-Hungary and bolted for Baku, they'd already lost strategically.
Because right then, the revolving door effect they feared most—the tactical writ large into strategy—was unfolding for real.
Hindenburg, who'd come to the front to review battle reports, trembled at the absurdity in writing.
"Where the hell does it say that's a 'toy' anywhere?!"
Two "toys" and the Empire crumbles. With no proper barbed wire, anti-tank mines, or anti-tank guns yet, the Austria-Hungary troops guarding the rear vanished—and the Germans racing to Baku suddenly faced tanks from behind, realizing where their allies went.
Each monster flew division markings in every color.
Too obvious where they came from.
'Wave the white flag?'
'Without firing?'
'Feels like the guns'll fly off if we do.'
'Yeah.'
Comparing speeds and travel time from the front, it seemed those guys hadn't put up much fight despite it being the line. But Germans couldn't even curse Austria-Hungary.
How do you stop that?!
'Crush us and move on!'
'Got it.'
Some Germans resisted, some tanks were wrecked, but the German main force heading to Baku vanished just like that.
Hindenburg alone agonized over how to report this mess. Defeat in battle? That's normal. The problem was countermeasures.
And rightly so—this was a war he didn't know.
But he had to find answers. Iron horses—or steeds?—smashing machine-gun-proof trenches? Time for a total strategic overhaul.
He realized: "So that's why they wrecked the oil regions from the start."
It had always bugged him. Blocking navy fuel didn't explain everything.
'Redeploy to Baku, and it'll happen again. But skipping it isn't an option.'
Otherwise, this repeats endlessly on the eastern front. Head to Baku? High encirclement risk.
No oil now, oil only at Baku, need oil to reach Baku without breakthrough or encirclement.
One certainty: To counter those iron monsters, we needed matching mobility. Not carts—useful for logistics, but useless against them.
At minimum, trucks. And for those, at least field guns loaded up to blast them.
Otherwise, massed iron horses break through uncontested. That meant not just the eastern front—Berlin was in danger.
So he needed countermeasures. Something better than trucks with field guns. For him, for the German people.
The Kaiser didn't know, but even truck fuel was running perilously low.