Chapter 159
Chapter 159
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 159
Chapter Title: Tannenberg (2)
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The German 8th Army began moving in earnest two days after the Russian 2nd Army captured Lauenburg, on August 17.
"So, Rennenkampf's 1st Army has no intention of budging from Gumbinnen for a while?"
"Yes, Wilhelm... er, yes, Your Highness the Commander."
Friedrich von Hesse-Kassel, the eldest son of Landgrave Karl von Hesse-Kassel and cousin to Princess Margarete, absentmindedly answered Crown Prince Wilhelm's question as usual before realizing the presence of others and hastily correcting himself.
In the original history, Friedrich would go on to make Princess Margarete, who doted on her sons, wail in agony after losing her brother Maximilian on the Western Front and then having her own neck severed by a bayonet while leading from the front on the Romanian Front. But his encounter with Tesla had dramatically altered his life.
As a child, Friedrich had played around during Tesla's radio experiments with his younger brother Maximilian, naturally developing a dream to become a scientist, and ended up enrolling in a technical university alongside him.
Of course, this was an unusual path for someone of such noble birth as the Kaiser's nephew, and it ultimately caused Princess Margarete to faint in shock.
However, when World War I broke out, her sons volunteered as communications officers rather than risking the front lines, drastically reducing the chance of losing them—a silver lining, in a way.
Of course, they themselves had no idea their fates had changed.
"To be precise, the order is for the 1st Army to hold and defend the captured territory while preparing to assault Königsberg."
The Russians were broadcasting unencrypted plaintext messages everywhere, security be damned.
And thanks to the vastly advanced communication technology boosted by Tesla, the German communications unit intercepting Russian wireless telegrams had effortlessly obtained their orders, as one might expect.
"Your Highness the Crown Prince, if the 1st Army isn't moving, it would be best to prioritize dealing with Samsonov's 2nd Army, exhausted from their overextended advance."
"Mm, I agree. Well done regardless, Friedrich. You've earned a great merit here."
Crown Prince Wilhelm patted his beaming cousin's shoulder, a grin tugging at his lips.
The Germans weren't just relying on intercepts; they had air reconnaissance from their formidable air force, plus active intelligence from East Prussian civilians who had ignored evacuation orders and stayed behind. All this gave them a crystal-clear picture of Russian movements.
According to the intelligence gathered by the Germans, Samsonov's Russian 2nd Army was worn out from marching too hastily in the sweltering summer heat.
German hunters never missed a chance when their prey showed weakness.
"General Scholtz, link up with the 1st and 3rd Reserve Corps and strike the southern flank of the Russian 2nd Army."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
The 20th Corps under artillery commander Friedrich von Scholtz (Boje Friedrich Nikolaus von Scholtz), along with the 1st and 3rd Reserve Corps, moved south to attack the Russians stationed at Usdau (modern-day Uzdowo).
"General Mackensen, join General François's 1st Corps and squeeze the Russians from the north."
"As you command."
At the same time, the 17th Corps under August von Mackensen and the 1st Corps under François applied pressure from the north against the Russian 2nd Army.
Originally, controlling strong personalities like Scholtz, François, and Mackensen would have been quite the challenge, but the unassailable authority of Crown Prince Wilhelm, the firm heir to the throne, was more than enough to turn these generals into obedient lambs.
Of course, those lambs turned into ferocious wolves before the Russians.
Thus, the 8th Army feigned assaults from south and north to envelop the Russians, secretly weaving a massive encirclement net without tipping them off.
It was the moment when Germany's warcraft—passed down from the days of Frederick the Great, a work of art in its own right—bloomed once more in East Prussia.
Yet Samsonov remained fixated on merely repelling the German attacks, oblivious to the noose tightening around his neck.
Three days later, on August 20, 1913.
The encirclement around the Russian 2nd Army was complete.
And with it, the fate of Samsonov and his 2nd Army was sealed.
"The sunlight's especially dazzling today. If it weren't for the war, I'd be lounging for a sunbath."
Russian 2nd Army commander Alexander Samsonov quipped good-naturedly as he downed a glass of chilled beer.
The mansion where he lounged with legs stretched out had been "requisitioned" from some nameless German Junker, just like the beer.
Of course, the owners had apparently fled with their family before the Russians arrived, so permission hadn't exactly been sought.
"I wish the Germans would stay quiet on a day like this."
Over the past three days, the Germans had strained (in Samsonov's view) to drive the Russians out.
But by God's grace, the Russians still held their gains, and Samsonov, who had been anxious from the reckless dash into East Prussia to catch up with the 1st Army, could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
"Speaking of which, what was Rennenkampf up to?"
"We only know the 1st Army is fighting the Germans like us. We're too far from them, and the lakes and marshes make messengers unreliable..."
To top it off, the few Russian scout planes were shot down by German fighters—somehow packing machine guns that rattled away the moment they took off.
This had Northwest Front commander Yakov Zhilinsky issuing a flight ban to avoid losing all their precious aircraft.
"What about wireless telegraph?"
"The heat's frying the machines; they keep crapping out."
Samsonov scratched his head in annoyance at his aide's report but didn't find it suspicious.
Given the Russians' shoddy equipment, malfunctioning telegraphs were par for the course.
"Get the technicians on it and fix them somehow."
"Yes, sir."
Of course, requesting proper equipment from Northwest Front HQ would be better, but Zhilinsky was unlikely to approve.
Guns and ammo were already scarce for the current Russian army. Fancy telegraphs? Fat chance.
Samsonov sighed at his army's grim reality, downing more beer to soothe his burning frustration.
Boom! Kra-boom!
"Hm?"
But before Samsonov could even sip his tea, an unidentified sound boomed from afar without warning.
Samsonov set down his teacup with a grave expression.
If his ears weren't deceiving him, that was definitely artillery fire.
As Samsonov moved to investigate, an officer burst through the door, pale as a ghost.
"Commander, disaster!"
"I can tell from your face. What is it?"
"The Germans have launched an offensive!"
"Tch, tireless even in this heat. But is that worth rushing in like this?"
"W-Well..."
The officer hesitated, pondering how to explain.
He gulped and spoke.
"This German offensive is different. They're coming from all sides—everywhere!"
"What? All sides? What does that..."
"General Samsonov!"
As Samsonov looked baffled and tried to question further, another figure appeared.
"Report! A massive German artillery barrage and strong assault have begun against the 1st Corps! General Leonid Artamonov requests support!"
This time, it was a messenger.
But the problem was that messengers were flooding in to Samsonov.
"The 23rd Corps is under attack! General Cyprian Kandratovich asks for orders!"
"Large German force approaching the 6th Corps!"
"The 13th Corps urgently requests support..."
"Ugh... uwaaa..."
Samsonov couldn't keep up with the sudden barrage of reports.
1st Corps, 23rd Corps? Plus 6th, 13th, and 15th Corps under attack?
'That's basically every unit in the 2nd Army!'
And Samsonov wasn't fool enough to miss what that meant.
"Encircled... We're encircled right now!"
The Germans hadn't been too weak to push them back.
They'd held back on aggressive assaults to weave this encirclement net.
"Notify Commander Zhilinsky immediately and request reinforcements. Tell Rennenkampf and the 1st Army to hurry with support!"
"But the radio..."
"Fix it somehow! If not, send pigeons or couriers. Use any means to get Rennenkampf's ass over here now!"
"Y-Yes!"
Staying put meant doom for him and the 2nd Army.
And after the 2nd fell, the 1st would be next.
'And if the 1st falls...'
Samsonov squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to imagine it.
All he could do now was pray his message reached Rennenkampf and that support came swiftly.
Boom! Kra-boom!
"Someone get me a phone! A telephone!"
"The lines just got severed by the barrage!"
"Pigeons?"
"Screee—!!"
"Just got snatched by a German falcon."
"Damn, not sure if couriers will make it. Jägers everywhere."
But contrary to Samsonov's hopes, the German 8th Army was aggressively blocking all Russian attempts to contact other units.
German shells churned the earth, snapping phone lines; Russian pigeons were falcon food the moment they flew; couriers fell to hidden snipers' bullets left and right.
Thus, the Russians couldn't coordinate with outsiders or even nearby units in time, while the Germans tore into the panicked herd like wolves hunting terrified deer, tightening the noose mercilessly.
Rat-tat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat-tat!!
"Aaaagh!"
"Damn it, I saw that in the Far East! Get away—touch it and you're done!"
In Tannenberg's woods, Germans led with submachine guns, turning invading Russians into hives one by one.
The German artillery's 105mm howitzers rained fire without end, and the Imperial Air Service dumped bullets and rockets on Russians from above, just like their Western Front comrades.
Vroooom—putt-putt-putt-putt!
[Hey, little Voss! I admit your skills are good, but don't get ahead of yourself!]
"Tch, I know, Ernst uncle."
Among them was Werner Voß, just 16, who had trained as a NCO candidate at Kre feld Military Academy before volunteering for the air service he always fancied when war broke out.
Unlike his future fame, he was still a green scout pilot.
But his exceptional talent—which would make him the youngest flight instructor in original history—was already closing the gap with the aces rampaging on the Western Front.
"Commander! We can't hold the Germans. At this rate, we're done for—total annihilation!"
"Son of a...! When the hell is that bastard Rennenkampf coming?!"
Samsonov bellowed in a scream-like voice, but no word from the 1st Army.
Meanwhile, the Russian 2nd Army crumbled powerlessly or surrendered in terror, weapons discarded.
Cauldron Battle (Kesselschlacht).
The tactic the Germans would later use repeatedly against Soviets in WWII—isolate foes in pockets, then annihilate—was shining in East Prussia's forests and lakes.
"Rennenkammpf—!!!!"
But Rennenkampf remained utterly silent.