Chapter 170
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 170
Chapter Title: Serbia's End (1)
"Remember this, General Potiorek. This is your last chance."
"Yes, Your Majesty. This time, I will not betray Your Majesty's expectations."
September 3, 1913.
As dawn broke, the Austro-Hungarian forces under Oscar Potiorek's command once again crossed the Drina River, which divided Bosnia-Herzegovina from Serbia, launching their third offensive against the Serbian army.
The objective of the Austro-Hungarian army was to force the Serbian forces advancing from Austrian-Hungarian Vojvodina back to their homeland for defense.
And this time, they aimed to finally capture Belgrade and destroy Serbia, completing their revenge for Franz Joseph.
Boom!Kaboom!!
"Attack! Attack! Drive those Serbitch bastards back home!"
"Don't show such a disgraceful sight to the fatherland and His Majesty again!"
Unlike the previous battles where they had only shown pathetic performances, the Austro-Hungarian army and Potiorek now advanced with venom in their eyes.
Having not only botched the first and second offensives spectacularly but also allowed the Serbs to counterattack, they could no longer afford to disgrace themselves if they wanted to restore their honor from that incompetent past.
Moreover, Commander Potiorek had received a stern warning from Archduke Franz Ferdinand that failure in this offensive would mean dismissal. With a resolve to fight the Serbs to the death, he relentlessly pushed his soldiers to the front lines.
"Field Marshal Putnik, the Austro-Hungarians are pouring across the Drina endlessly. At this rate, the defensive line won't hold much longer!"
"......It's my fault. I should have opposed the prime minister's push for an offensive to the end."
In response to the urgent plea from the Drina River defensive line, Radomir Putnik, who had been directing the offensive in Syrmia (known as Srem in Serbian), muttered with a troubled expression.
In truth, Serbia's Syrmia offensive had not been of their own volition.
Between Austrian-Hungarian Syrmia and Serbia flowed the Sava River, and the Serbs not only lacked ammunition for an offensive but also lacked the capacity to build bridges to cross the river, unlike the Austro-Hungarians.
"Prime Minister, the Russians keep demanding an offensive."
"Damn it, what offensive? We're barely holding the homeland as it is! If they want an offensive, they should send support first!"
However, as the situation in East Prussia deteriorated rapidly and the Galician front stalled, Russia relentlessly demanded that Serbia launch an offensive against the Austro-Hungarians.
They believed that if the Serbs struck the Austro-Hungarian rear, it would shake the forces on the Galician front.
Of course, Serbian Prime Minister Nikola Pašić expressed reluctance and asked for support first, but the Russian bears, with fires on their own feet, instead pressured Serbia by threatening to cut off aid if they didn't advance.
"Hoo....... Field Marshal Putnik, commence the offensive."
"Understood, Prime Minister."
In the end, the Serbian government yielded to Russian pressure and ordered Putnik to launch the Syrmia offensive.
Putnik accepted it with hesitation.
'It shouldn't have been chasing the retreating Austro-Hungarians. I should have acted more cautiously!'
Having defeated the Austro-Hungarian offensive more easily than expected, he had grown too hasty in thinking he could turn the crisis around for his homeland.
Though they had failed to capitalize on it properly so far, showing only incompetence and lethargy on the battlefield, he should never have forgotten that Austro-Hungarian forces and equipment still vastly outmatched Serbia's.
As a result of that overconfidence, the Syrmia offensive failed, and now Potiorek's Austro-Hungarian army was once again targeting Serbia through the western border.
"Abandon Syrmia. Withdraw the troops immediately and head to the Drina to block the Austro-Hungarians."
"Yes, Field Marshal!"
Regaining his senses, Putnik issued orders to his staff officers.
The fate of the Serbian homeland hung by a thread.
Now was the time for action, not regret.
Putnik acted swiftly.
He abandoned the Syrmia offensive without hesitation, repositioned his forces to Loznica along the Drina basin, and sought to halt the incoming Austro-Hungarian army through trench warfare.
This marked the beginning of what would later be known as the Battle of the Drina.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat───!!
"Arrrgh!"
"General Potiorek, the casualties are too severe!"
"No retreat. Even if we die here, keep pushing, push, push forward!"
The battle was so brutal that the stench of blood could be smelled dozens of kilometers away.
The Austro-Hungarian and Serbian armies clashed head-on as if there was no retreat behind them, and trench warfare—the hallmark of World War I—claimed hundreds, even thousands of soldiers' lives daily.
"Urk... ugh......"
"M-mother......"
Austro-Hungarian soldiers fell to Serbian bullets, spilling their guts and groaning as they died.
Austrians, Hungarians, Croats, Czechs—regardless of ethnicity, they all rolled on the ground and died equally.
The chronic ethnic conflicts plaguing the Austro-Hungarian army did not apply to the dead, at least.
"Don't fall back! If we retreat here too, how will we face the late Emperor Franz Joseph's face! Keep charging, I said!"
But Potiorek, the typical incompetent general brimming with passion for revenge against Serbia yet lacking the ability to match it, ignored the massive losses and kept sending soldiers into the trenches.
And the other Austro-Hungarian officers were no different.
Already battered in pride by constant comparisons to their German cousins, who were dying valiantly on the Serbian and Galician fronts even in the eyes of their own citizens.
So this time, they had to achieve results no matter what.
Of course, that was the logic of the high command; frontline soldiers, teeth gritted at officers shoving them into the jaws of death with pistols to their backs, had no choice but to charge at the Serbs desperately.
Vroooom──!
"Enemy fighters!"
"Hit the dirt!"
Kaboom! Kaboomb!
But the Serbs couldn't laugh either.
The German Empire, supporting the Austrian offensive, had diverted some supplies meant for the Western Front to provide submachine guns and even dispatched some Eastern Front air forces—freed up by victories at Tannenberg and Lake Masurian—to Serbia.
Thus, the Serbs suffered endlessly from Austro-Hungarian soldiers charging trenches with submachine guns, as well as enemy fighters raining bullets, bombs, and rockets from above.
Rumble rumble───
And what Germany gave the Austro-Hungarians wasn't just that.
"Enemy armored cars ahead!"
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat-tat!!
German wonder weapons, Ehrhardt armored cars, plowed through Serbian lines, spraying machine-gun fire in all directions.
Originally destined for the Eastern Front, they were deployed here on Falkenhayn's judgment that clearing the pesky Serbian front took priority over the refitting Eastern Front.
"Field Marshal Putnik! We're almost out of shells!"
"Hoo....... At least I miss the Balkan Wars when we didn't worry about shells."
With no way to stop the armored cars except human-wave attacks, the Serbs racked their brains. To make matters worse, supply shortages reached their limit, tying their feet.
Everything from weapons and ammo to uniforms and boots was scarce, but the depletion of artillery shells was devastating.
"Can't we somehow increase shell production? Our artillery is useless without shells!"
"I'm sorry, Field Marshal Putnik. We have no answer to that either......"
Serbia was an industrially weak nation.
Its sole shell factory produced only 100 rounds a day, and Serbia lacked the resources or capacity to build more.
In contrast, the Austro-Hungarians, proving their great-power status despite shortcomings, had ample supplies—even issuing waterproof boots to all while Serbs ran barefoot. Some Serbs even fought over dead Austro-Hungarian boots along the Drina.
"Still, we can't give up here. If we lose, Serbia is finished. We must hold out to the end!"
"Yes, Field Marshal!"
Yet the brilliant commander Radomir Putnik and the patriotic Serbian army endured the Austro-Hungarian onslaught under the protection of trenches, machine guns, and barbed wire, despite the odds.
If things continued, the Austro-Hungarians might suffer yet another bitter defeat in the worst case.
"F-Field Marshal Putnik! Big trouble! Greece and Bulgaria have declared war on us and are invading across the borders!"
"......No, no!"
But the goddess of victory smiled no more upon Serbia.
"Sons of Bulgaria, remember the humiliation of the last Balkan War! Remember the homeland trampled by those Serbian trash traitors! This grudge can only be repaid with blood. Become the incarnation of vengeance and burn all of Serbia!!"
"Long live Greater Bulgaria! Avenge the Balkan War!!"
On September 8, 1913, as trench warfare raged along the Drina basin, Bulgaria—officially joining the Entente—finally declared revenge and war on Serbia.
300,000 Bulgarian troops under 1st Army Commander Kliment Boyadzhiev and 2nd Army Commander Georgi Todorov crossed into Serbia, striking the rear of Serbs preoccupied with blocking Austria-Hungary.
But unfortunately, Bulgaria wasn't the only nation targeting Serbia.
"The Kingdom of Greece, as a member of the Entente, hereby declares war on the Kingdom of Serbia, enemy of the Entente. I expect you to fulfill your duties admirably once more."
"Long live Greece! Long live King Constantine!"
Greece, promised most of Macedonia in exchange for ceding Serbian territory to Bulgaria, also declared war on Serbia simultaneously and mobilized 150,000 troops to attack southern Serbia.
"Bulgarian forces are pushing into our territory. We need to send reinforcements to the eastern border immediately!"
"Not just the east—the south is in danger too! The Greeks are stomping up from our underbelly."
"Damn it, we've conscripted everyone who can fight, and most are tied up west and north blocking the Austro-Hungarians. We have no troops left!"
Indeed, Serbia had scraped together every last soldier.
People don't fall from the sky; conjuring more was impossible.
"Serbia urgently needs Russian support! We don't even need troops—just weapons and ammo through Romania would help immensely."
"Prime Minister Pašić, I'm sorry, but Russia has no surplus either......"
"Listen, Ambassador! Serbia launched that reckless offensive for Russia and ended up like this! Now that we need help, you're turning your back on us?!"
"......I have nothing to say."
To add insult to injury, even the trusted Russian Empire hesitated to aid Serbia.
With their own soldiers wielding clubs for lack of weapons, Russia had nothing to send.
Russia wanted to help but couldn't, and with their last hope dashed, Prime Minister Pašić and his ministers could only slump in despair, covering their faces.
Even Greece, which had half-forcedly hosted the Serbian exile government originally, had turned its back. They couldn't attempt a great escape over the Albanian mountains with army and civilians as in original history.
Montenegro, the sea outlet, was blockaded by Austro-Hungarian and Greek navies, and Romania—the sole path to Russia—remained neutral under the living King Carol I, playing both German and Russian sides.
"Is surrender the only option now......?"
As someone muttered weakly,
"With the enemy advancing, is this the time for such feeble words!"
A sudden elderly roar pierced the ears of the despondent Serbs.
"Y-Your Majesty?"
Petar I.
Grandson of Serbia's independence hero Karađorđe Petrović and the aging king nearing seventy appeared before his despairing ministers.
"Since when have we Serbs discussed surrender in the face of foreign invasion?"
"......"
"Take up arms, sons of Serbia. I may lose my crown, but never my convictions. If tomorrow is our end, we shall meet death as proudly as our ancestors, as warriors."
"Your Majesty......!"
Despite his age, declaring he too would fight to the end with weapon in hand, Petar I's impassioned speech brought tears to Pašić and the Serbs as they bowed their heads.
Afterward, orders went out to all Serbian forces on the fronts to assemble in the capital, Belgrade.
In pursuit, the Austro-Hungarian, Bulgarian, and Greek armies advanced on Belgrade after the withdrawing Serbs.
Thus began the Siege of Belgrade, the final act of the Serbian front.