To the Balkans
The last time I had seen Wilhelm II, he was weeping daily like a man in the throes of delirium, utterly shattered by the military high command's insubordination. But perhaps due to the sweet taste of victory, his complexion looked remarkably improved. At least I don't have to play therapist to a deranged middle-aged man anymore. Small favors. Wilhelm II grasped my hand and shook it vigorously for what felt like an eternity.
"Thank you, thank you indeed! Shtal, you are a true hero, a blessing to this entire continent!"
"You flatter me, Your Majesty."
"Wait. I have prepared something special for you."
Wilhelm II summoned a servant and handed me a box. Forgetting all imperial dignity, his eyes sparkled as he eagerly urged me to open it. Unable to withstand his relentless pestering, I lifted the lid, only to be momentarily blinded by a sudden glare. This was... a medal collection. No, wait. Usually, don't they just give you the single highest honor? You don't typically hand out the Iron Cross First Class, Second Class, and every other conceivable medal as a bundle deal, do you? Yet, the box was crammed with every single type of decoration the Kaiser could possibly bestow. I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded.
So that's why Trotsky fled to Warsaw as if his pants were on fire. If he had been handed something like this, he probably would have pawned the whole lot to fund his revolutionary army...
Feeling that I couldn't possibly accept such an absurd bounty, I made a polite show of humility, suggesting he bestow them upon Ludendorff instead. The Kaiser burst into a hearty laugh.
"Nonsense! I have a different reward in mind for Ludendorff. I shall sack that incompetent fool Moltke and appoint Ludendorff as the Chief of the General Staff!"
...Excuse me? Of course, Ludendorff, with his notoriously narrow political vision, would grin from ear to ear at the news. But was this really a good idea? No matter how much of a war hero Ludendorff was, the Junkers wouldn't just sit idly by. In the original history, Ludendorff had shared power with Hindenburg, knowing that trying to swallow the entire military establishment alone would give him severe indigestion. Deciding to throw Ludendorff a lifeline, I offered some cautious advice to the Kaiser.
"Your Majesty, while that is a magnificent gesture... I worry that the sycophants surrounding you might harbor deep jealousy and resentment toward Ludendorff."
The Kaiser let out a dry smirk. "Ha! Indeed. Those sons of bitches."
Uh-oh. It felt like I had accidentally tripped a dangerous wire. The expression of the Kaiser—the nominal representative of the Junkers—twisted into something demonic.
"Who is the master of Germany? Tell me, who is it?!"
"Why, it is none other than Your Majesty, of course."
"And yet! Those Junkers dare to encroach upon my divine, rightful authority. Yes, I was weak. I was incompetent! I let them snatch the entire military right out from under my nose while I watched helplessly!"
Should I... should I have kept my mouth shut? After throwing a spectacular tantrum for several minutes, the Kaiser finally calmed down, only to begin giggling like a madman.
"The Habsburg Empire is truly a progressive state. This nonsense about the divine right of kings is nothing but a lie. He who holds the military holds the state. Look at Kaiser Franz. Would any of those noble parasites dare oppose his will?"
"Yes, yes, quite so... however..."
"The military is mine! Not a single operation shall escape my grasp. The army belongs to me!"
...How did he realize that? In the original history, the Kaiser was indeed sidelined, reduced to a mere figurehead by Ludendorff and Hindenburg. Of course, Hindenburg—or even Ludendorff—behaved far more like a true Kaiser than this weeping, physically impaired monarch. Was the German Empire truly an absolute monarchy? In truth, the Kaiser held very little power compared to the Junkers. The German Empire was closer to an aristocratic republic of military elites than an autocracy. When it came to civilian control of the military, Austria-Hungary was indeed light-years ahead, just as Wilhelm II said. Without Franz Joseph's direct order, the Austro-Hungarian army couldn't lift a finger. But still... there were limits. It seemed the Emperor was planning to use the Schlieffen Plan's failure as a pretext to thoroughly purge the high command and strip the military of its autonomy.
Well, Germany is doomed.
A military free from civilian control runs wild, eventually turning into something like the Empire of Japan. On the flip side, if civilian control is too absolute, leaving field commanders unable to make a single move, it creates a different kind of disaster. If someone sits in Berlin micromanaging and ignoring the feedback of the men on the ground—much like Hitler did in the original history—the war is as good as lost. And Wilhelm II seemed determined to grip the military with that same suffocating fist... Frankly speaking, what did the Kaiser actually know about military strategy? Well, it wasn't my problem. I had my own work to do.
"Kaiser Wilhelm. As a representative of an allied nation, rather than these medals, I ask that you grant me an opportunity to ease your burdens."
"Oh! And what might that be?"
"If I were to take a few of those 'von'-titled aristocrats off your hands, wouldn't that make it much easier for Your Majesty to assert control over the military? Forgive my insolence, but I have heard whispers that certain generals have been showing... 'unsettling' tendencies."
"Splendid, magnificent! If only you were a subject of the German Empire!"
"I am not quite finished, Your Majesty. Taking only those haughty Junkers might arouse suspicion, so I would also like to take a few junior officers along with them."
"You are a truly loyal soul..."
I handed the Kaiser a list. While the great commanders of Austria-Hungary had faded into historical obscurity, the generals of the German Empire were, without exception, titans. If I can snag even one of them, it's a massive win! I'll sweep them all up and use them to completely overhaul our imperial army's DNA. I had compiled a list of the legendary commanders of this era and the next generation of junior officers from my memory, and presented it to Wilhelm II.
A few days later.
"Ahem... Though they are wicked men who mock me and fail to distinguish between politics and military affairs... I have decided to trust them one last time."
Wilhelm II's chronic indecisiveness had flared up yet again! Granted, the higher you climbed in the German military, the more 'vons' you encountered; if I had actually carted them all away, the German army would have collapsed then and there. Even so, I had expected him to banish a few decent generals to the Balkans and Italy, and boldly promote commoners to fill their shoes. Ultimately, the Kaiser, worrying about the overall efficiency of his war machine, left the military leadership largely intact. Not that he had abandoned his ambitions of military control, of course. He was currently unleashing a bloody purge within the high command under the pretext of the 'Moltke Treason Incident.' ...At this rate, he's going to trigger a massive coup.
"If that is Your Majesty's will, then I must respect it. However... it is also true that the Balkan front desperately requires reinforcement."
"Hmm?"
"Austria-Hungary is currently fighting on three fronts. We require the assistance of the German army."
"Indeed. It is thanks to you that western Germany remains secure. I shall, of course, aid our empire's closest ally."
And what of the officers transferred to Austria-Hungary? First, he promised to send the junior officers exactly as I had requested. Walter Model, Erich von Manstein, and Heinz Guderian. Even for someone with only a passing knowledge of World War II, these were names that rang immediate bells! The German Empire was a literal goldmine!
Honestly, no matter how indecisive Wilhelm II was, getting just these three was something to be profoundly grateful for. Furthermore, because their paths to advancement were blocked due to their commoner status—or, in the case of Erich von Manstein, because they were so ruthlessly ambitious—they had already aligned themselves with the Armed Cooperative Alliance. In other words, with the right incentives, it wouldn't be hard to lure them permanently to Austria-Hungary.
"Th-thank you, Your Majesty."
"They are mere company-grade officers whose names I have never even heard. There is no need to thank me. At any rate, I shall dispatch two generals to the Balkans."
General August von Mackensen, who had swept through the Balkans in the original history, and his package-deal partner, the brilliant Chief of Staff Hans von Seeckt. I could accept that much. Even if I hadn't aided the French front, they were figures who naturally should have been sent. But unlike the original history, a third general was coming. Oskar von Hutier, the pioneer of shocktrooper tactics! Oskar von Hutier was coming to Austria! Good grief...
"Well? Are they to your liking?"
"I am deeply grateful, Your Majesty!"
"Think nothing of it. Furthermore, I shall dispatch the Seventh Army to the Austrian-Russian border."
Was this how King Seonjo felt when he received the benevolence of the Wanli Emperor of the Ming Dynasty? With this, the crushing burden of fighting on three fronts would be significantly alleviated. After showering Wilhelm II with repeated expressions of gratitude, I departed for Austria-Hungary. It was time to crush Serbia.
Meanwhile, what of Russia, the very catalyst of this Great War? In the beginning, they were undeniably at a disadvantage compared to the Russian White Army. Think about it. What sane financier or foreign power would trust and support such a pack of lunatics? Moreover, the White Army, which had stubbornly seized Moscow—the logistical heart of Russia—held a clear advantage in mobilization capacity. To make matters worse, Roman von Ungern-Sternberg himself was a walking disaster. Setting aside his bloodthirsty madness, Ungern-Sternberg styled himself a 'Slavic national revolutionist,' yet he was of German descent, as evidenced by the 'von' in his name. A German-Slavic national revolutionist? What kind of bizarre hybrid was this?
Ungern-Sternberg himself brandished a highly dubious genealogy, claiming his paternal lineage was Slavic. Of course, the moment he asserted that his maternal bloodline descended directly from Genghis Khan, any shred of credibility evaporated into the cosmos. Yet, despite all this, the Russian Black Army managed to seize the upper hand over the White Army. Whether it was a calculated strategic move or simply a manifestation of his insatiable lust for slaughter, the moment Ungern-Sternberg took power, he completely ignored the White Army's stronghold in Moscow and hurled his entire force at Warsaw.
"Slaughter the traitors of Warsaw! Poland is the territory of the Russian National Revolutionary Republic... No, wait! It is the territory of the Russian Empire!"
He then unleashed a horrific massacre in Warsaw, turning the streets into rivers of blood that literally rose to the ankles. It was a tragedy so gruesome that it made Bloody Sunday look like child's play. If you only kill a moderate number of people, resentment builds, and the rebellion only grows. But what if you kill so many that there is simply no one left to rebel? For a long time to come, no one in Poland would dare whisper the word 'rebellion.' It was a monstrous act that no sane national leader could ever conceive—something only a blood-crazed maniac like Ungern-Sternberg could execute.
Yet, in a twisted turn of events, this brutality somehow painted the Russian Black Army as fierce patriots in the eyes of the populace. While the Russian White Army faltered and hesitated, the Black Army rallied public support and gained the upper hand.
"Foreign Secretary Churchill, I beg of you, cooperate with the war effort! If you despise Germany so much, submit your resignation and leave!"
"You speak as if I am actively sabotaging the war, Prime Minister. We are a democratic nation. Even in the midst of war, proper procedures must be observed."
In Great Britain, which had pledged to support the Russian White Army, chaos reigned. Just as plans were being finalized to blockade St. Petersburg and launch an amphibious landing in the Baltic Sea, Churchill rallied the anti-German faction within the cabinet and deliberately opposed the operation. But Churchill's obstructionism had finally run its course.
"Lord Churchill. Do you have any idea how many have died in Warsaw?"
"..."
"One hundred thousand! One hundred thousand slaughtered by blade and bullet alone! And now, they plan to lay siege to Warsaw and orchestrate an artificial famine to starve every last Pole to death."
"And why... why are you holding me responsible for that massacre?"
"Whether you bear responsibility is for the cabinet to decide. Have you no shame?"
"H-hmm... I am sorry."
"Haha, 'sorry'? Even so, I do not wish to abandon you just yet. Take that burning rage you harbor for Germany and direct it at the Russian Black Army instead. I shall entrust the planning of the landing operation to you, Lord Churchill."
Ultimately, the fallout from the Warsaw massacre forced Winston Churchill to take charge of the landing operation himself. However, the plan was plagued with friction from the very start.
"Our Royal Navy fleet shall make landfall at Tallinn, Estonia."
"...Beg pardon? Did you say Tallinn?"
"Indeed. The Russian Black Army is currently split, threatening Austria-Hungary at Kraków and the Russian White Army at Minsk."
"And?"
"In the midst of this, if we land at Tallinn—a mere three hundred kilometers from St. Petersburg—we can catch the Russian Black Army completely off guard!"
On paper, it was flawless. The enemy's capital of St. Petersburg was virtually undefended. The primary battlefields were in Slovakia and Belarus, vast distances away. If it succeeded, the Russian Black Army would be severed at the neck in a single stroke. If it succeeded!
"Absolutely not. The Baltic Sea is a confined body of water. Entering it is no different than sailing directly into Russia's backyard!"
"The Baltic Fleet, shattered during the Russo-Japanese War, has yet to be rebuilt. No matter how treacherous a Baltic landing may be, it is well within the capabilities of the Royal Navy!"
Of course, Churchill harbored a separate calculation of his own. We must resolve this before the German army pushes deep into Russian territory. Otherwise... Poland will fall into German hands!