Chapter 394: The Austro-Hungarian Joke Tradition: A ‘Reliable’ Ally |
After finalizing the use of this Austro-Hungarian military train, the previously chaotic platform finally spurred into action.
Although the instruction unit soldiers were somewhat unfamiliar with this train bearing the double-headed eagle emblem, their movements were not sloppy in the slightest.
Three “Siegfried Mark 1” Armored Knights, led by Ludwig, crushed the gravel beneath them and slowly climbed onto the reinforced flatcars.
Followed by heavy crates of ammunition supplies, canvas-covered trucks, as well as 77mm field guns and new anti-armor guns.
Morin, along with Kleist and others, stood by the platform, holding a loading manifest and looking up occasionally to confirm progress.
Not far away, Major Sakasi was leaning against an iron pillar, a slender cigarette between his fingers, squinting as he observed the busy scene before him.
The ingratiating smile on his face had faded somewhat as he simply watched these industrious Saxon soldiers.
“Sir, I don’t understand…”
A young Austro-Hungarian Army lieutenant walked over, playing with a lighter in his hand.
The lieutenant glanced at Morin, who was directing calmly, and asked in a low voice: “Weren’t we planning to use this train to transport that batch of… ahem, ‘local specialties’ back to Vienna to make some extra cash? Giving up these cars to these Saxon barbarians, aren’t we taking a huge loss on this trip?”
In the Austro-Hungarian army, using military trains to smuggle private goods and scalp supplies was long an open secret.
It could even be considered an established “unspoken rule.”
In fact, these VIP passenger cars and several of the flatcars were reserved for the goods and families of several major Viennese merchants.
And now, they had given it all away to this Saxon colonel who popped out of nowhere.
“A loss?”
Major Sakasi exhaled a smoke ring, turning his head to look at his adjutant as if he were an idiot.
“Leitner, you’ve been with me for two years now, right? Why is your vision still so short-sighted?”
Lieutenant Leitner was stunned, muttering somewhat indignantly: “It’s true, isn’t it? Those Saxons usually walk around with their noses in the air looking down on us. Why should we press our hot faces against their cold asses? Just for a colonel?”
“Just for a colonel…”
Sakasi repeated the phrase, then suddenly sneered.
He pointed to the massive behemoths being secured on the flatcars, then pointed to the terrifyingly well-equipped soldiers carrying semi-automatic rifles on their backs.
“Look closely. Are these ordinary Saxon troops?”
Leitner followed his finger, his eyes somewhat bewildered: “The equipment is quite good, but what does that prove? Aren’t all Saxon elites like this?”
“This is the Saxons’ Imperial Guard Assault Instruction Unit…”
Sakasi flicked his cigarette ash, his tone becoming somewhat meaningful: “And that young officer directing the loading is named Friedrich von Morin.”
Seeing his adjutant still looking clueless, Sakasi shook his head helplessly.
“You’ve just been busy looking at chests and legs at the opera house these past few days in Dresden, haven’t you… How could you not even have heard his name?”
“Is he very famous?” Leitner scratched his head.
“Famous?” Sakasi sneered. “More than famous. To some people, he’s practically synonymous with seeing a ghost.”
“The Mage Killer, Ghost of the Night, Butcher, Line Breaker, Eye of the Sky…”
Leitner’s eyes widened: “You mean… those rumors are true? I thought they were made up by the Saxons’ propaganda department.”
“Made up?”
Sakasi pointed to Morin’s overly young face, speaking to his adjutant with exasperation at his failure to meet expectations: “An active-duty colonel in his early twenties, wearing the Blue Max on his chest, commanding the Saxon Empire’s most elite soldiers, and even the Saxon Emperor looks upon him highly… Do you think this can be fabricated by making up stories?”
Leitner gasped.
In a rigidly hierarchical army, becoming a lieutenant in one’s early twenties was considered having ancestral graves smoking green (exceptional luck). And he had always believed his commanding officer becoming a major before thirty was already very impressive.
Colonel? That was simply a fairy tale.
Unless this person was an illegitimate royal child, or had truly achieved monumental merit.
“Moreover…”
Sakasi narrowed his eyes, looking at Morin’s upright back, a shrewd smile curling his lips again. “The Saxons are about to conduct coordinated operations with us… Their Crown Prince, their generals—nobodies like us could never build connections with them, and they wouldn’t give us the time of day.”
“But this Colonel Morin is different.”
“He’s young, on the rise. If we can lend him a hand now, it will definitely make him remember us!”
“This is called a political investment. Learn a thing or two, kid.”
Sakasi threw his cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it fiercely with his polished leather boot.
“What’s one military train? If we can build a good relationship with this colonel, even just becoming a familiar face, it will be of immense benefit to us!”
Leitner now admired his commanding officer with ultimate prostration.
No wonder he managed to become a liaison officer responsible for transnational coordination, while he himself could only follow behind carrying bags. This was the difference.
Facts proved that Major Sakasi hadn’t been completely bragging to Morin.
The Austro-Hungarian military train temporarily arranged for the instruction unit’s regimental headquarters and direct-reporting units had indeed completed preparations.
And those few passenger cars supposedly reserved for officers did indeed look… quite luxurious.
There were even lace curtains hanging on the windows, and the seats were padded with velvet.
But this made Morin feel even more uneasy. This didn’t look like going to war; it felt like going on a picnic.
But since things had come to this, there was no other choice.
According to the rules of the instruction unit, when encountering a military train with dedicated officer cars like this, allocation wasn’t based on military rank.
Instead, clerks would check the results of the previous few internal competitions—yes, Morin had brought the habit of “grand competitions” to the instruction unit, and standardized them after upgrading to a regimental unit.
Therefore, during daily training, there was always a competitive mindset within the instruction unit.
Plus, those who could enter the instruction unit were already considered “top students,” so from officers down to soldiers, everyone was highly ambitious and attached great importance to the competitions.
And the winners of the competitions, besides receiving honors, bonuses, and extra meals, were directly assigned to ride in these officer cars when such situations arose during rail transport.
This also saved Morin, Kleist, and the others the trouble of allocating cars.
Just as the troops began boarding and securing the heavy trucks, regimental artillery, and Armored Knights onto the flatcars, a familiar figure appeared at the edge of the platform.
Major Nicolai, wearing an officer’s greatcoat with the brim pulled slightly low, obscuring almost half his face.
He looked even more haggard than when he was in the conference room a few days ago, his eye sockets sunken, as if drained of his last ounce of energy.
“Hey, Major Nicolai~ I knew you’d come.” Morin jumped off the platform and walked over to him.
“After all, it’s your regimental headquarters departing today… Look at our relationship, how could I not come see you off~”
A forced smile squeezed onto Major Nicolai’s exhausted face, but he quickly restrained his expression, taking a sealed file envelope from his adjutant and handing it to Morin.
“Oho, even brought a gift~”
Morin joked as he took the file envelope, making Major Nicolai and his adjutant laugh as well.
“You kid… seriously though, this is far more precious than a simple gift.”
Nicolai lowered his voice, his gaze sweeping warily around, then continued: “There are two pieces of intelligence inside.”
“The first is a detailed assessment of the current state of their army, compiled just the other day by the Army General Staff based on reports from our military observers in the Austro-Hungarian Empire.”
Speaking of this, Major Nicolai even sighed.
“Colonel Morin… after reading it, it’s best to be mentally prepared… The situation of this ally of ours is even worse than we imagined.”
“It’s not just a problem of outdated equipment and insufficient training. Even more serious is the morale and ethnic conflicts… Many soldiers can’t even understand their officers’ orders.”
Morin nodded; this indeed fit his stereotype of the Austro-Hungarian army.
“And the second?”
Major Nicolai’s face turned even gloomier.
“This is a new clue we dug up while clearing out the domestic spy network.”
“The Britannians’ reach extends further than we imagined.”
Major Nicolai stared into Morin’s eyes, speaking word by word: “They are not only infiltrating Saxony, but their shadows are present throughout the entire Balkan Peninsula.”
“Moreover, according to reliable intelligence, their activities in the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Kingdom of Greece are very rampant… So you must pay attention to problems in this regard.”
Morin tightened his grip on the envelope.
“So you mean, there are ghosts inside our ally?”
“We can’t say for sure right now either. After all, the timeliness of this intelligence isn’t great, and we can’t definitively conclude the specific situation over there. Their internal ethnic problems were severe to begin with~”
Major Nicolai shrugged, a hint of helplessness in his words.
“Still, thank you for making a special trip to deliver these materials. They’ll be of great help.” Morin thanked Major Nicolai earnestly.
“Don’t mention it. Intelligence support is inherently one of Department III’s duties… Anyway, you must read the section on the overview of the Austro-Hungarian Army carefully. I can’t be the only one laughing until my stomach hurts.”
“?”
“Hahahaha!”
Major Nicolai, who always presented a fierce “spy chief” image, rarely made a joke with Morin.
The two shared a smile, then saluted each other in farewell on the platform.
With a long blast of the whistle, this train bearing the Austro-Hungarian double-headed eagle emblem slowly started.
Morin stood at the carriage door, watching Major Nicolai’s retreating figure on the platform. Thinking of what the other had just said, his heart began to feel somewhat heavy.
Perhaps the upcoming battles in the Balkan Peninsula wouldn’t go as smoothly as he imagined.
He turned and walked into the carriage, nodded to a few regimental headquarters officers passing by, then casually found an empty seat and opened the file envelope Major Nicolai had delivered.
Ninety percent of it was an assessment of the Austro-Hungarian army’s combat power. The Army General Staff had clearly put a lot of effort into compiling it.
After spending a relatively long time reading it, Morin exhaled a breath of stale air, leaned back in his seat, and stared somewhat blankly at the roof of the carriage.
To be honest, Morin had heard of the Austro-Hungarian Army’s incompetence even before transmigrating.
However, after reading the report, he found he still underestimated the degree of this ally’s incompetence.
Highly disciplined armies, resourceful strategists, efficient and clean governments… This is the attitude toward war in fantasy nations.
Well-trained armies, rigorous and efficient general staffs (not really), wartime autocratic semi-military governments… This was the Saxon Empire’s attitude toward war.
Chaotically managed armies, corrupt governments, parliaments constantly tearing each other down, layman politicians leading professional generals…
This was the f*cking Austro-Hungarian Empire’s attitude toward war.
If Morin had to evaluate the current state of the Austro-Hungarian Army, he couldn’t even use the phrase “fair without, foul within” (all surface, no substance) to describe it.
Accurately speaking, it should be “foul without.” (Terrible on the outside too).
In the analysis provided by the Army General Staff, they quoted the evaluation of Austro-Hungarian Chief of the General Staff Conrad himself: “The current state of our army has already demonstrated what permanent arms limitation should look like.”
To be honest, when Morin started reading this sentence, he almost laughed out loud, but he quickly stopped laughing.
Because this wasn’t the f*cking enemy; it was the ally they would be sharing a trench with next.
The Austro-Hungarian Army had always severely lacked a national defense budget. As this massive empire stepped into the 20th century with a population of 51 million, the average Austro-Hungarian citizen only needed to pay the equivalent of £0.72 annually in national defense expenditure for their country.
In contrast, the neighboring Saxon Empire, with a population exceeding Austro-Hungary’s by more than 25 million (since it was “Greater Germany,” the population was larger), required each person to contribute the equivalent of £1.43 annually for national defense construction.
Looking solely at per capita national defense expenditure, only the now-defunct Great Rus Empire, with a population more than three times that of Austro-Hungary, bowed down in defeat at £0.49 annually.
So before the outbreak of WWI in this world, the Austro-Hungarian Empire was undoubtedly the only country whose military expenditure remained stagnant.
Besides this, the conscription quality of the Austro-Hungarian Empire could be said to be utterly abysmal.
Compared to the lengthy service careers of the Saxon Imperial Army soldiers, Habsburg soldiers undoubtedly lived in paradise.
Because upon reaching service age, Austro-Hungarian citizens determined their unit assignment via a lottery.
A healthy, 21-year-old male Austro-Hungarian citizen would randomly draw his service unit from among the “Common Army,” the “Imperial-Royal Landwehr” (or Royal Hungarian Honvéd), and the “Ersatz Reserve” (Supplementary Reserve).
The “Common Army” was similar to the regular armies of other countries in this world.
After three years of active duty in the standing army, they transferred to the reserve for seven years, then to non-active posts in the Landwehr for two years, finally finishing at age 33…
This was also the most exhausting service unit; all Austro-Hungarian citizens hoped they wouldn’t draw this one.
Active duty in the “Landwehr” wasn’t considered easy either, but it was slightly better than entering the “Common Army,” serving two fewer years.
If an Austro-Hungarian citizen drew the third option, the “Ersatz Reserve”…
Then congratulations to him, he could just hit the tavern for a drink that night, because his military career would be no different from a civilian’s.
The so-called “Ersatz Reserve” would only be filled into the standing army during wartime; in peacetime, it was just a “filler unit.”
Only one-eighth of the citizens called into it would receive the same strict military training as the first two.
The total annual training time for the vast majority of the rest added up to a mere eight weeks.
This also meant these people knew nothing about modern rapid-fire rifles, machine guns, and field artillery, let alone mastering them…
Besides the quality of soldiers, the equipment of the Austro-Hungarian Army was also a major problem.
Looking solely at the artillery, although the Austro-Hungarian Empire possessed excellent military-industrial enterprises like the Škoda Works, the quality of their field artillery units fundamentally couldn’t be called modernized artillery.
Due to the aforementioned military budget issues, the Austro-Hungarian Army General Staff was powerless regarding this.
Half of the artillery in the Austro-Hungarian field artillery units was a field gun called the “9cm FK M.75.”
So what did this “M.75” mean?
It meant this artillery piece was equipped by the Austro-Hungarian Army in 1875.
Yes, this was a bronze cannon that was considered highly advanced in 1875, even earning incessant praise from foreign experts.
However, Morin felt that if the inventor of this artillery piece, Major General of Artillery Franz von Uchatius, knew the artillery he designed was used by the Austro-Hungarian Army for 40 years…
He would probably sit up in his grave out of anger.
While the train carrying the instruction unit sped toward the southeast, and Morin was overwhelmed by the fact that the ally’s incompetence exceeded expectations…
Vienna, one of the twin capitals of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, this incredibly glorious city of music, was shrouded in a gray haze.
The waters of the Danube flowed quietly, reflecting the magnificent yet slightly mottled Baroque buildings on both banks.
The rich aroma of coffee still drifted from the street cafes, and the melodies of waltzes still echoed in the dance halls.
But every Viennese face was written with confusion about the future and weariness of the war.
Skyrocketing prices, dwindling bread rations, and the constant casualty lists from the front lines were like a thick layer of snow, crushing this city until it could barely breathe.
And under this oppressive atmosphere, some shadowy undercurrents were quietly surging in the city’s shadows.
In an inconspicuous alley in the Old Town of Vienna.
A small bookstore with a “Antique Book Restoration” sign had its doors tightly shut.
In the dim basement, several oil lamps hissed as they burned, stretching the shadows of a few people long and projecting them onto the musty walls.
Sitting at one end of the long table was an old man with a graying beard, wearing gold-rimmed glasses.
He wore an ordinary-style coat, looking like a scholar from some university, but a firm light shone in the eyes hidden behind the lenses.
Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk.
This was a Czech deputy who had always presented a slightly radical face in the Austro-Hungarian parliament.
This Imperial parliament deputy had long attacked the autocracy and national oppression of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, seeking to achieve Czech autonomy within its borders.
But at this moment, even he himself hadn’t realized that he was engaging in a conspiracy capable of pushing the entire Empire into the abyss.
“Mr. Masaryk, our patience is limited.”
Sitting opposite him was a man wearing a black trench coat, hiding his upper body in the shadows.
His Saxon was spoken with extreme standardness, so standard that it even made Masaryk feel he had no accent.
But in this Empire, a melting pot of nationalities, someone without an accent was actually a minority.
This man was exactly the senior operations director stationed in Vienna by the Holy Britannia Empire’s General Directorate of Military Intelligence, codenamed “Raven.”
“We have provided you with funds and weapons as agreed… and even helped you establish a stable communication channel with the Czech officer corps.”
“Raven’s” fingers tapped lightly on the tabletop, making an irritating sound, which also represented the unrest in his heart.
“But until now, we haven’t seen any substantive progress.”
“A coup is not a game, sir.”
Masaryk’s tone held some dissatisfaction. In fact, he had always felt somewhat regretful and doubtful about his cooperation with these Britannians.
“Launching a coup in such a massive country requires precise planning and waiting for the most opportune moment.”
“Opportunity?”
“Raven” sneered.
“The Saxons’ massive army is assembling. Once they achieve a breakthrough in the Balkan Peninsula, the entire situation in this region will lean towards the Central Powers. When that time comes, your so-called ‘Czech autonomy’ will truly only be a dream.”
Masaryk fell silent.
He naturally knew the urgency of the situation, but he knew even better that he was playing with fire.
The Britannians were undoubtedly no angels; his cooperation with them was tantamount to signing a pact with the devil.
“The problem now is Archduke Karl… his attitude remains very hesitant.”
Masaryk sighed, then continued: “Although he deeply loathes this war and is dissatisfied with Franz Joseph I’s stubbornness, he is the Crown Prince after all. Asking him to betray the House of Habsburg, to betray the crown on his head… it’s too difficult.”
Karl I, Crown Prince of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, great-nephew of the current Emperor Franz Joseph I.
Because Franz Joseph I was advanced in years, after Archduke Ferdinand died in the Fireball attack in Sarajevo, he was quickly established as the heir to the Empire.
Although this heir enjoyed a good reputation in the military and among the populace, in this tottering Empire, the young Archduke Karl was an anomaly.
He hated war, sympathized with ethnic minorities, and even repeatedly expressed his yearning for federalist reforms in private.
But precisely because of this, his relationship with that stubborn old Emperor, and the pro-war military high echelon headed by Chief of Staff Conrad, was like fire and water.
This was exactly the entry point Masaryk and the Britannians wanted to exploit.
“He hesitates because the bargaining chips aren’t enough, or rather, because he feels there’s no chance of winning.”
“Raven” pulled a photograph from his breast pocket and pushed it in front of Masaryk.
The photograph showed a relatively compact-looking Armored Knight painted in dark colors and draped in camouflage netting. From the background, it seemed to be in some warehouse.
“Tell Archduke Karl, we don’t just provide intelligence and funds.”
The corners of “Raven’s” mouth curled into a smile. He knew he had produced a bargaining chip the other party couldn’t refuse.
“For this operation, the General Directorate of Military Intelligence specially dispatched a ‘Special Operations Team’ into Vienna.”
“Among them are not only our best operatives, but also… high-end combat power sufficient to confront any conventional force. So you only need to organize a conventional force to receive powerful support~”
Masaryk’s pupils shrank violently.
“You brought that kind of thing… into Vienna?”
“As long as the goal can be achieved, the methods aren’t important, are they?”
“Raven” stood up, adjusted his collar, and looked down at this Czech deputy from above.
“We need chaos, a chaos sufficient to paralyze the Austro-Hungarian Empire.”
“As long as Archduke Karl nods, launches the coup, and announces withdrawal from the war, or at least announces autonomy for the Czechs and Hungarians… then the Saxons’ rear will catch fire immediately.”
“Raven” walked to the door, paused, and looked back to leave his final words.
“The final day… Mr. Masaryk, I’ll give you a final 24 hours.”
“If you still cannot convince Archduke Karl to make up his mind… then we can only use another method to create chaos.”
“For example, let His Highness the Crown Prince… suffer a little unfortunate accident, and then frame those radical Austrians for it…”
The door closed, leaving Masaryk sitting alone in the dim basement, feeling cold all over.
He knew he had gotten into a car with no brakes, currently speeding madly toward a cliff.
“May God bless us…”
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