The Age of Absurdity, Part 2
January 31, 1913, 4:00 AM, Strasbourg.
Aided by a sudden night raid and the biting cold, a breach was torn through the eastern encirclement. Through this gap, a massive wave of German forces began to move in chaotic disarray.
"Breached by a ragtag rabble like that?! What on earth were the men on the ground doing?!"
"I... I am deeply sorry, sir."
"The Germans are nothing but defeated remnants anyway! I told you to throw every last man we had at them, whether it worked or not!"
"The units... the units aren't responding to orders, General."
To be fair, the French Army possessed far better organizational structure than the German Armed Cooperatives. However, that did not mean the French were in any better shape. Their communication equipment was severely lacking. Sporadic skirmishes flared up across the city. Heavy snow had fallen throughout the night, reducing visibility to near zero. Their military doctrine was still stuck in the Napoleonic era, yet they were suddenly forced to face a chaotic melee they had never trained for. Under such conditions, there was no way Auguste Dubail's orders could be properly relayed to the front lines.
"...It doesn't matter. The enemy is numerous, which means they will move slowly. We pursue them immediately."
"Yes, sir!"
"As for our currently available forces... No, forget it. You wouldn't know anyway. Just scrape together every single soldier we can find and have them hunt down the rear of the Armed Cooperatives."
Only someone of Leon Trotsky's caliber could hope to maintain control over an army in the middle of urban warfare. In truth, even Trotsky had barely been able to control his troops. It was highly doubtful that even a tenth of the orders he issued had actually reached the front-line units. The only difference was that Trotsky formulated his strategies under the assumption that his orders would be completely ignored, which, ironically, allowed him to maintain some semblance of control.
Why were massive urban battles like the Battle of Stalingrad impossible during the First World War? The biggest reason was the lack of communication equipment. Imagine being a soldier thrust into such a battle back then. How could anyone resist the urge to desert? It was a situation completely devoid of control. The German Armed Cooperatives only managed to hold their lines through sheer conviction, junior officers who doubled as political commissars, and the rallying figure of Marx Stahl—a man who served as a giant, living banner for them to gather under.
Only now did Commander Auguste Dubail realize how he had to issue orders in this mess.
"Then, which battalion should we dispatch the orders to—"
"What are you talking about at a time like this?! Just send runners in every direction! I don't care if the encirclement breaks. I don't care if we abandon every single stronghold we currently control. Just grab every warm body you can find and bring them here!"
"Yes, General!"
"The artillery is the same. Bring every single cannon. Then, give those fleeing Germans a proper, blistering welcome."
In the end, grabbing whoever was nearby and ordering a mindless, all-out attack was the only viable solution. Besides, the enemy was nothing but a disorganized pack of defeated stragglers. They would surely appreciate a thorough pounding from overwhelming artillery fire.
In any case, the French uniforms were so gaudy and cumbersome that they practically glowed in the dark. Countless lives had already been lost to these absurd, outdated uniforms. Yet, in a situation like this, where they had to hastily assemble troops and prepare for a massive pitched battle, the bright uniforms were actually a blessing in disguise.
"G-General, however, something is strange."
"What is it now?"
"The German force that initially occupied the city numbered two hundred thousand. Assuming they suffered heavy casualties in Germany, that number should have dwindled to about one hundred thousand by now."
"Indeed. And?"
"Right now... a crowd of approximately five hundred thousand is currently moving through the breach!"
Auguste Dubail was left utterly speechless.
Where on earth did those extra four hundred thousand come from?!
Of course, once dawn broke, their identity would be immediately revealed. Those properly uniformed and armed numbered a mere hundred thousand at best. The remaining four hundred thousand were nothing but a ragged mob. But one didn't need to see them to know the truth. If a force of two hundred thousand suddenly swelled to half a million, where else could those extra numbers have come from? It was blindingly obvious that the vast majority were civilians.
"...Are they dragging all the city's civilians along with them? Why on earth would they do that?"
Auguste Dubail pondered in silence. If the Armed Cooperatives moved swiftly on their own, they might stand a chance of slipping through the encirclement and escaping. But dragging four hundred thousand civilians along meant they wouldn't even be able to match the marching pace of a regular soldier.
"...Belay my last order. Under no circumstances are you to fire the artillery!"
It was rather comical to worry about civilian casualties at this stage. After all, Auguste Dubail had secretly planned to carry out a thorough 'cleansing' of the Alsace-Lorraine region anyway. Nevertheless, to the outside world, the French Army was strictly a 'liberating force' and a 'citizens' army.' If they didn't at least play along with the charade, they would face severe international condemnation. At the very least, as an army of the Republic, they could not bring themselves to openly obliterate French citizens with artillery fire.
"General, artillery is the easiest way to wipe them out!"
How could Auguste Dubail not know that? And yet...
"Do you not see the shadow of the guillotine looming before your eyes?"
"That is..."
"It is a column comprised mostly of civilians anyway. We can catch up to them even at a walking pace."
"Yes, General."
But in the end, the French Army failed to move their troops.
"E-Every single factory in the city is catching fire, sir!"
"What?!"
"The battalion commander has sent a request for reinforcements! They are engaging unidentified hostile forces inside the city!"
By 6:00 AM, as the first light of dawn broke, sporadic clashes began to erupt throughout Strasbourg. As if determined to reduce the city to ashes, explosions went off here and there, and skirmishes were initiated from all directions. *Is that... a decoy?* Auguste Dubail's mind went into overdrive.
"Which one is the main force, and which one is the decoy?!"
"General! You must not pursue them under any circumstances!"
"Why not?"
"They must have sent the refugees out as a decoy disguised as a retreating column. The moment we chase after them with our eyes peeled, the forces remaining in the city will undoubtedly retake Strasbourg!"
On the other hand:
"General! We must ignore Strasbourg and pursue them immediately!"
"And why is that?"
"Common sense dictates that the ones remaining in the city are the decoy!"
Indeed, what was common sense, and what was absurdity? Witnessing the horrors of the 20th century's first great war, Auguste Dubail felt, for the first time in his life as a soldier, a deep skepticism toward the Republic. Was this war even rational? Was the national revolution common sense, or was Stahlism?
At the very least, he knew that Stahl, Trotsky, and Ludendorff were all fundamentally absurd figures, and that catching their opponents off guard with utterly nonsensical maneuvers was their specialty.
"If we let them go like this, we will be the ones branded as defeated!"
"He is right, sir. We must at least hold Strasbourg before the German regular army arrives."
Auguste Dubail made his decision.
"The scale of the explosions is far greater than expected. We will hold Strasbourg."
Marx Stahl, the genius of explosions.
One only had to look back at his track record. To the world, Stahl was famous for discovering penicillin and synthetic ammonia. However, what had made him famous nationwide in the first place was the comedic farce of his "hydrogen explosion show" during his early ammonia experiments. Though he had transitioned into a professional revolutionary, he was still a chemist by trade. The sheer volume of things he had blown up throughout his career could easily fill a truck.
"Chairman Stahl, what do you think is the role of a decoy unit?"
"I am not entirely sure."
"It is to make a small force appear massive. It is to deceive the enemy into believing a unit with absolutely no strategic objective is of vital strategic importance."
Erwin Rommel, on the other hand, was a master of deception. The tactical brilliance he displayed during the Second World War in the original timeline did not simply appear out of thin air. One might say the seeds of his genius were sown early. Such brilliant deception could never be achieved without the natural temperament of a born trickster.
"That is why I have a request for you, Chairman Stahl. With our limited troops and weapons, how can we orchestrate the grandest explosions possible?"
Which factories contained the most combustible materials? Which ones would yield the most spectacular visual impact when detonated? Rommel received a crash course from Stahl on everything there was to know about dramatic explosions.
Thus, at the very moment five hundred thousand civilians were escaping Strasbourg and paralyzing the French chain of command, Rommel split his forces into tiny squads and began orchestrating massive explosions.
BOOM! CRASH!
"Where on earth is that blast coming from?!"
"Find them immediately! There must be a massive force of German militia still remaining in Strasbourg!"
In the pitch-black night, with snow falling so heavily it blinded the eyes, only the thunderous roars and brilliant flames remained vivid. Cut off from headquarters, individual French battalions wandered aimlessly through the city, searching for the source of the explosions without the slightest clue of what was actually happening.
"C-Could it be them?"
"What?"
"Those Austrian Hydrogen Suicide Bombers! The ones from the Russo-Japanese War!"
"...Do not jump to conclusions just yet. My teeth still grind when I remember how much those bastards harassed us with their explosives. But... the possibility is certainly there. Find them at once!"
Unaware that these massive blasts were the work of mere squads, the French battalions hunted frantically for the Germans like cats chasing mice. Having successfully orchestrated these explosions to make it seem as though the city was being torn apart, Rommel gathered his scattered scouts.
"A French company is heading toward the chemical plant in the northern part of the city!"
"Assemble all forces. We strike that company immediately."
A few battalions against an entire army corps. It was a fight of a mere five thousand against a hundred thousand. An impossible battle to win. Yet, the notion that war was a simple numbers game was only half-true. If five thousand clashed head-on with a hundred thousand, there was no way the five thousand could win. But what if those hundred thousand were split into fifty groups of two thousand? Overcoming an overwhelming numerical disadvantage through rapid maneuver and defeating the enemy in detail—that was Rommel's tactic.
"Two German battalions spotted ahead! They are all wearing the uniforms of the Armed Cooperatives!"
"D-Damn it! The rumors that the retreating column was a decoy were true! Retreat, retreat immediately!"
Terrified by the sudden encounter, the French soldiers fled in panic. Without fighting a single real battle, Rommel was racking up victory after victory.
"We are not done yet! Pass through the central road and move south immediately!"
Rommel's infantry battalions were maneuvering through the city at a breakneck pace that would have made anyone's heart burst. They had to show their faces in as many places as possible to deceive the enemy into believing a massive force was still present. The distance the German soldiers ran through the night easily exceeded dozens of kilometers.
"Huff... I-I can't go any further! I can't take another step."
"...It is time to use that. Bring it out."
Stahl had left a 'special gift' for Rommel's men, who were prepared to face death. A miraculous stimulant that would stave off sleep for at least three days and accelerate their cognitive processing threefold.
"This substance is extremely dangerous. It is something that should only ever be used in the absolute extremes of war, as it is more than capable of turning a man into a hollow shell."
"It does not matter. Not a single man in my unit has not already prepared himself for death."
"I... am sorry."
It was a drug secretly developed at the Stahl-Ferdinand Research Institute—methamphetamine, colloquially known as philopon. Because a single dose could ruin a person's life, Stahl had kept the research strictly classified and refused to touch it. Yet, shedding tears of blood, Stahl had handed the methamphetamine and syringes over to Rommel.
"The supply is limited. There is only enough for a single dose. No more. Administer it only when you are facing immediate, certain death."
Fueled by the drug, the German soldiers dashed through the city streets, executing their deceptive maneuvers with frantic, manic energy.
"The French butchers are trying to slaughter German citizens! We are the army that protects the people! Just hold on a little longer. Relief is on the way."
For half a day, the German soldiers ran and fought. Soon, the darkness receded, and the heavy snow that had fallen through the night ceased. The sky cleared up as if the storm had never happened. With their vision restored, the grim reality finally came to light.
There were only two battalions left in the entire city. Through whatever dark magic their commander had worked, a mere two battalions had maneuvered across Strasbourg, perfectly mimicking the presence of tens of thousands of troops.
"G-General..."
"A mere... a mere two battalions?"
"Their commander, Rommel... has sent an offer of surrender."
Auguste Dubail trembled with a murderous rage. To toy with the entire First Army all night long, only to offer surrender now...? General Dubail was so consumed by fury that he wanted nothing more than to execute every single prisoner on the spot. But he forced his anger down.
"T-This is no time for petty vengeance."
"Then...?"
"We proceed with the original plan. Pursue them immediately! If we run now, we can still catch up!"