Holy Roman Empire-Chapter 943 - 206: The Depressed Frederick

Chapter 943: Chapter 206: The Depressed Frederick

The roar of artillery, the whir of engines, and the occasional screams of soldiers composed a march of hell.

At the French Command, Marshal Patrice McMahon couldn’t help trembling as he looked at the steadily increasing casualty reports.

After collecting his thoughts, McMahon forced himself to calm down. He knew he couldn’t panic now. If he couldn’t stay composed, France was finished.

As one of the founders of the Second French Empire, McMahon’s affection for his country even surpassed his own life.

“You are all aware of the situation at the front. Our top priority now is to find a way to deal with the enemy’s armored troops. Only by neutralizing them does the great France have a future.

From now on, the fate of the Empire lies in our hands. Our homeland is right behind us, and there is no way back.

If you don’t want the fires of war to reach our homes, if you don’t want to see our families displaced, then keep the enemy outside our national gates!

Time waits for no one, the international situation is getting worse, and France doesn’t have much time left. You are the elite of the French Army, and the responsibility to counter the enemy’s armored troops now rests on your shoulders.”

There’s no escaping age, and the harsh reality taught McMahon a profound lesson. With military technology changing by the day, traditional tactics and strategies had been relegated to the rubbish heap, increasingly unable to keep up with the times.

Take, for example, the newly emerged Austrian armored troops. McMahon tried to fight them the same way he fought cavalry, with disastrous results naturally.

Against cavalry, you could shoot the men or horses; when it came to armored tanks, regular bullets were just a tickle and posed no threat whatsoever.

All past experience was unreliable, forcing McMahon to pool wisdom and seek countermeasures.

“Marshal, after several days of engagement, we’ve found that the enemy’s armored troops are impervious to bullet fire. We must use cannons to destroy them.

Regular cannons have a too low hit rate due to their angle of elevation. It would be best to produce a cannon specifically for flat trajectory firing.

Besides destruction by force, trenches and mountains can stop the enemy’s armored troops from advancing. Generally, the worse the roads, the more they can hinder the movement of the enemy’s armored troops.”

To be precise, these should be considered battlefield experience, not countermeasures. They seem adequate on the surface, but in reality, they are not feasible.

In the fast-paced battlefield, it’s too late to wait for the domestic production of flat-trajectory cannons—the war would have been over by then.

Mountains are the natural wonders shaped not by human will, and the French Army couldn’t possibly retreat to the mountains.

Digging trenches and destroying roads appear to be the most effective measures, but the biggest problem is that they are not feasible.

The French Army had expelled most of the population from Belgium and the Rhineland region, leaving only those who were either Francophile or German spies. The Allied Forces could easily make their move. If the roads were destroyed, they could just pass through the fields.

I’m not sure about other areas, but the Flanders Plains along the coast are passable for armored troops. No matter how hard the French Army tries, they couldn’t possibly dig hundreds of kilometers of trenches in a short time.

Even if they managed to dig it out, it would be useless. Infantry accompanied the armored troops, who could simply fill in the trenches.

Of course, it’s possible to delay, but that’s not what the French Army wants. Merely delaying does not lead to winning the war.

Especially with the possibility of Russian, Spanish, and Swiss forces joining the war at any moment, the French couldn’t afford to waste time.

“Do we have any other methods? Relying on these measures alone is not enough to turn the tide.”

McMahon asked, frowning. Victory was the only thing in his eyes now; everything else was negotiable as long as this battle could be won.

The middle-aged officer added, “The enemy’s armored troops come in two types, one with slow speed and high defense, real clunkers; the other is fast but lightly armored, like a car draped in a layer of armor.

The former requires cannons of at least 120mm caliber to be destroyed; the latter can be taken down with 60mm light cannons.”

The tanks were slow, and so were the heavy cannons—neither had much advantage over the other, so the hit rate couldn’t be relied upon.

Armored vehicles might seem easy to destroy, but they move quickly, making them very hard to aim at, and understandably, the hit rate is pitiful.

…

A series of suggestions was more or less the same, none satisfying. The old Marshal McMahon waved his hand and said, “Try according to your methods first, and we’ll see how effective they are.”

If it weren’t for political pressure, McMahon would have truly liked to withdraw his troops back to the country and fight a homeland defense battle.

However, that was merely wishful thinking. If he actually did such a thing, the spit from his countrymen alone could take his life.

The people of France would not tolerate government failure, especially not in a war that was crucial to the fate of the nation—they simply could not afford to lose.

…

The Central European battlefield was still hanging on by a thread, while the Southern European battlefield was a complete disaster. Influenced by favorable international conditions, the Italian national independence movement entered a new climax.

It wasn’t just Victor Emmanuel III who came out daily to call on the Italian people to resist the tyranny of France. Members of the royal family from several Sub-States also made sporadic appearances to assert their presence.

Nobles and capitalists from the Italian Area also sent representatives to make contact with the Anti-French Alliance, to discuss the future of Italy together.

It was clear that everyone had a high political sensitivity, aware that it was time to take sides, and they decisively leaned over.

In line with the principle of ‘the more allies, the better,’ Austria naturally wouldn’t reject the allegiance of these local power brokers.

With this group of guides, the good days for the French in the Italian Area were gone for good. Not only did they have to combat the Austrian army at the front, but they also had to deal with an endless succession of uprisings in the rear.

If it were not for geographical limitations that restricted the full deployment of the Armored Troops, perhaps the Anti-French Alliance would already be parading through Turin.

In fact, the Austrian army wasn’t far from parading through Turin, left with only those last dozen kilometers or so, as the French Army stubbornly resisted.

Outside Turin City, the sky was ablaze with artillery fire. Staring at the billowing smoke in the distance, Crown Prince Frederick sighed.

Austria had inherited the traditions of the German Region, with a strong martial spirit, and every soldier had an affinity for the battlefield. Growing up in such an environment, Frederick was no exception.

After much effort, he had barely persuaded his father and managed to get an opportunity to go to the front line. Unfortunately, no commander was bold enough to risk putting the Crown Prince on the first line of the battlefield.

Not to mention dying wrapped in horsehide. Even the slightest bump or bruise on the battlefield would be a political disaster.

Under these circumstances, whether Frederick liked it or not, he became a glorified logistic officer, specifically responsible for the road maintenance from Milan to the Turin Area.

No matter how heated the battle at the front became, Frederick could only watch from afar; anywhere within twenty miles of the battlefield was off-limits to him.

Because of this, Frederick frequently protested to his superiors, but there was nothing he could do—as a soldier, obedience was paramount, even for the Crown Prince.

Consequently, Frederick became the most unique presence on the Southern front, arguably the top seed in the gilded age, whose main job was to organize Civilian Husbands in road repair and material transport.

“Your Highness, a new batch of supplies has arrived. They need your signature for receipt.”

After saying this, the young officer took out a document and handed it over.

Snapping back to reality, Frederick took the document and scanned it briefly before slowly saying, “Wait a moment. I’ll inspect it before signing.”

According to the regulations of the Austrian army, officers in charge of material transfers had to inspect the goods, and once they signed off, they were accountable for it.

Of course, the inspection was performed by specialists; it was impossible for those in charge to do everything personally—there were simply too many materials to manage on one’s own.

Inspecting every single item was impossible, but conducting random inspections was feasible. If any issues occurred with the supplies, comprehensive accountability would be enforced.

The security of strategic materials was crucial, directly affecting the outcome of the war. Frederick’s work might seem inconspicuous, but in actuality, it was a typical case of a low-ranking position with heavy responsibility.

This personnel appointment was clearly intentional by the commanders. Others could be bribed, but Crown Prince Frederick could not be bought.

Not only could he not be bought, but one also had to handle dealings with him carefully. Should any issues arise, even those with influential backers would find no use for their connections here.

Since Frederick’s rise to his position, all manner of gods and demons had retreated, and the unsuspecting graves had already grown over with grass. It wasn’t just the individual’s misfortune; their backers would also be ruined.

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It was an era of war, and the Vienna Government had zero tolerance for those sticking out their hands where they shouldn’t. For those replacing good with inferior goods—death, for embezzlers—death, for those trafficking supplies—death…

There was no discussion of lesser or greater degrees of guilt; those who committed the deeds were to lose their heads. Beyond those direct charges, they would also be hit with a charge of treason. Whether they colluded with the French or not, such acts were automatically considered suspect.

After this strong crackdown, those daring to play tricks in logistics were true desperadoes. People with significant wealth and businesses certainly didn’t dare risk their lives by acting recklessly.

With fewer issues arising, Frederick seldom inspected personally anymore, but with the current idleness, it was natural for him to find something to do.