Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 201 Mackensen's Decision
After some time, Georg slammed his fist on the table and made up his mind.

“Alright! Schmidt, do as you say! Contact Duke Albrecht and Crown Prince Rupprecht immediately! Tell them our plan and ask for their opinions!”

"in addition."

He picked up a pen and began writing quickly on a piece of paper.

"I'll send a letter to General Bilo of the Second Army in a bit. Be polite and say that I congratulate him and his troops on their brilliant victory at Charleroi! And remind him that the training assault battalion is a treasure of the Imperial Army, and I hope he will use it 'carefully' in the upcoming battles."

He specifically emphasized the word "cautious".

Nobelsdorf smiled and nodded: "Yes, Your Highness."

Forward Command Post of the 1st Army of the Saxony Army.

As the outermost "revolving door" of the entire "Schlieffen Plan," the First Army's mission was to sweep across the entire coastal area of ​​the United Kingdom of Flanders as quickly as possible, and then, like a giant scythe, swing towards Paris, the capital of the Gallo-Brussels Republic.

Army Group Commander General Mackensen stood before a huge map, listening intently to his staff's reports.

His military bearing was impeccable, his crisp uniform adorned with several medals, and his white beard was neatly trimmed. He was like a sculpture, exuding the unique dignity and aloofness of an old-school Prussian soldier.

A battle report that had just been sent from the General Staff was placed on the table next to him.

He has already seen it.

When his gaze fell on the keywords 'Training Assault Battalion' and 'Captain Friedrich Morin', the corners of his mouth on his usually icy face involuntarily turned up, unable to be suppressed.

The staff officers around him exchanged knowing glances when they saw the familiar smile on their old general's face.

They knew this old general all too well.

Normally, he is as serious as a stone, but when he scolds someone, he can make the entire command post tremble.

He would only show such a smile in two situations.

One possibility is that they fought a resounding and decisive victory.

Another possibility is seeing a battle report about the young captain named Morin.

Some time ago, when the battle report came that Morin had led his men in a 'artistic' raid on the Liege fortress, opening up the way for the Second Army, the old general was like this: standing alone in front of the map, looking at the battle report, unable to hide the smile on his lips.

Now, that smile has reappeared.

One of the staff officers, who was on good terms with Mackensen and was also quite bold, couldn't help but tease, "General, judging from your expression, did Captain Morin of the assault battalion do something earth-shattering again?"

Upon hearing this, Mackensen suppressed his smile and coughed lightly, attempting to regain his serious demeanor.

But the pride and satisfaction in his eyes were impossible to hide.

He picked up the battle report, glanced at it, and then said in a calm tone, "Hmm, he played quite well in Charleroi."

"not bad?"

The staff officers around him almost burst out laughing; they had all seen the battle report.

One battalion withstood the fierce attack of a division plus part of a cavalry division, held out for three days, achieved an incredible exchange ratio, and finally received reinforcements, completely crushing the Gauls.

Is this what you call "not bad"?
What constitutes a good fight? Does it mean one person single-handedly broke through the entire Fifth Gallic Army?

They all knew that General Mackensen was being modest, but he was secretly overjoyed.

In fact, many people have figured out the relationship between Morin and Mackensen these days.

This Captain Morin was personally dragged out of the playboy's life by the old general, thrown into military school, and then put to the test on the battlefield.

Now this rough gem is finally beginning to shine brightly. How could the old general not be proud?

Ignoring the snickers of his staff, Mackensen put down the battle report and refocused his attention on the current situation of the First Army.

For him, it was one thing to be proud of the younger generation he had watched grow up, but the war in front of him was what he, as an army group commander, had to devote all his efforts to.

"Give me a report on the situation we are facing," he said in a deep voice.

An operations staff officer immediately stepped forward and pointed to the map.

"Reporting to the general, our First Army's offensive has been very successful recently."

That was indeed very smooth.
Although the armored airships assigned to the First Army Group were temporarily redeployed to support the Second Army Group's attack on the Namur Fortress complex, this did not affect the advance speed of the First Army Group's 400,000-strong force.

Especially after the main force of the United Kingdom of Flanders stationed in Antwerp recklessly marched south in an attempt to relieve the siege of the Namur fortress complex.

The First Army seized the opportunity and captured the important city of Antwerp.

Immediately afterwards, Brussels, the capital of the United Kingdom of Flanders, seeing that the situation was hopeless, declared itself an open city, and the First Army occupied the city without bloodshed.

With the major transportation routes within the United Kingdom of Flanders fully opened, the 'Northern Reserve Group,' composed of a large number of reserve and temporary conscripted troops, gradually took over the defense of the rear.

Mackensen was able to lead the main force of the First Army Group rapidly toward the border of the Gallo-Russian Republic without any worries about the rear.

During this process, a small incident also occurred.

Their old adversary, a detachment of the Holy Britannian Expeditionary Force, landed in the Dunkirk region with the fire support of the Royal Navy fleet.

But they weren't very lucky.

Because the First Army's advance was so rapid, the Breton troops had barely landed and hadn't even had time to settle in before they were trapped in the narrow landing zone of Dunkirk by the First Army's vanguard.

Although the Royal Navy's battleships provided fire support in the coastal waters, the immense power of their guns prevented the First Army from launching a reckless attack.

The problem is that this force, which, according to reconnaissance, consists of only one division of about 20,000 men, is itself trapped there and cannot advance even half a step inland.

After leaving a corps to coordinate with reinforcements arriving from the rear, the Britannian detachment was completely surrounded, ensuring they could not threaten the flanks and rear of the army group.

Mackensen then ignored them and continued to lead the main force of the First Army into the territory of the Gallo-Russian Republic.

Due to the presence of the notorious "air left" faction in the Gallic Republic, the First Army encountered almost no significant resistance after entering Gaul.

On August 14 alone, the entire unit advanced more than 8 kilometers without any hindrance.

This speed of advance drove the entire army crazy.

Some rank-and-file soldiers even began to optimistically believe that they might simply walk all the way to the outskirts of Paris.

This overly optimistic sentiment was not contained until the evening of August 14, when the vanguard of the First Army encountered the first main force of the Britannian Expeditionary Force, which had been urgently mobilized by rail, near Arras.

Upon receiving the report, General Mackensen immediately ordered the entire army to halt its advance and deploy along the Arras line, where it confronted the Brittany Expeditionary Force.

Now, he stood before the map, contemplating his next move. "John French, a Britannian."

Mackensen glanced at the red arrows representing the enemy on the map, a cold glint in his eyes—his old adversary had caused him considerable trouble in previous small-scale conflicts in overseas colonies.

"General."

One of the staff officers spoke up:
"According to the General Staff's battle report, the Second and Third Armies have formed a semi-encirclement of the Fifth Army of Gaul. Should we consider cooperating with them?"

Mackensen looked up at the staff officer: "What do you mean?"

The staff officer said excitedly, "I think we can launch an attack to the southeast, targeting the Gallic Fifth Army, which is in a semi-encirclement. They will suffer a major defeat and their morale will be low, making it the perfect time for us to attack!"

"By then, the combined pressure from the Second Army from the front and the Third Army from the flanks and rear will be enough to completely collapse this Gaulish force!"

This proposal excited the other staff officers in the command post.

This is indeed a very tempting plan to wipe out an entire enemy army group in one fell swoop.

However, Mackensen shook his head.

"No."

The old general's voice sounded exceptionally firm in the forward command post.

The command post fell silent instantly, and everyone looked at the old general with puzzled expressions.

"General, why?" the staff officer who had made the suggestion couldn't help but ask. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

“I know it’s a good opportunity.” Mackensen’s gaze remained fixed on the map. “But have you forgotten what our primary task is?”

He pointed emphatically at the location of Paris on the map with his baton.

"Our mission is Paris! To be at the gates of Paris as quickly as possible, and to deliver the heaviest blow to the Gallo-British Republic, both politically and militarily!"

"Then a huge encirclement will be formed to completely surround the main force of the Gallic Republic's army. This is the core of the General Staff's entire 'Revolving Door' plan!"

"If we turn now to attack the Fifth Army of Gaul, we may achieve a brilliant tactical victory, but it will slow down our advance toward Paris. This is a classic case of losing the big picture for the small gain, picking up the sesame seeds while losing the watermelon."

The old general's voice echoed in the command post, each word striking a chord in the hearts of the staff officers.

They were silent.

Yes, they were only thinking about the immediate opportunities, but forgot the highest strategic objective of the entire campaign.

Mackensen looked at his advisors and softened his tone.

"You must remember that as commanders, never let immediate victories go to your head. Every tactical action must serve the ultimate strategic objective! Otherwise, even if you win every battle, you may still lose the entire war in the end."

"Yes, General!"

The staff officers responded in unison, their faces showing expressions of learning.

Mackensen nodded, but he knew very well that while the General Staff's plans were plans, the actual situation on the battlefield was constantly changing, and blindly sticking to the old ways was also a major taboo in military strategy.

His goal from the beginning was to eliminate the Brittany expeditionary force in front of him and then quickly advance on Paris.

However, tactically speaking, he can indeed do something.

His gaze shifted back and forth between the positions of the Brittany Expeditionary Force and the Gallic Fifth Army on the map.

Although these two forces are geographically connected, they belong to two different countries and have completely independent command systems.

This 'joint' is often the weakest link in the entire defense line.

A relatively conservative idea gradually took shape in the old general's mind.

“We won’t attack the Gallic Fifth Army, but we can attack the junction between them and the Britannians,” Mackensen said slowly.

"The junction?" The staff officers all gathered around.

"Yes."

Mackensen's baton drew a line on the map between Alas and Cambrai.

"Our goal is not to defeat any one of them, but to sever their connection and turn them into two truly isolated forces unable to support each other!"

"Once we succeed, the Brittany Expeditionary Force will find that their right flank is completely exposed! And the Fifth Gallic Army will find that their left flank is also wide open."

"At that point, what do you think John French, that Britannian, will do to save his own troops?" Mackensen's lips curled into a cold smile.

"He will retreat!"

One of the staff officers immediately realized what was going on:

"He will absolutely retreat without hesitation to protect his flank! He cannot afford to sacrifice his expeditionary force here for the sake of the Gauls!"

“That’s right!” Mackensen nodded approvingly. “Once the Britannians retreat, the end will be for the Gallic Fifth Army! They will become an isolated force and be devoured by the Second and Third Armies like dumplings.”

"And what about us?"

Mackensen's baton was once again pointed towards Paris: "We have smashed their junctions, forced the Brittany to retreat, and cleared the biggest obstacle in our path. Now we can advance on Paris at full speed without any worries!"

This plan is much more cautious and pragmatic than the previous direct attack plan, and it is also more in line with the strategic mission of the First Army Group.

It's like a scalpel, precisely cutting into the enemy's most vulnerable spot.

The staff officers in the command post looked at the attack route drawn on the map with a baton, and their faces turned red with excitement.

"The general is wise!"

"This plan is perfect!"

Mackensen ignored the staff's flattery; he considered it all meaningless.

So he quickly pulled his chief of staff and several key staff officers aside and began to discuss the specific combat plan in detail in front of the map.

"Our main focus will be on this."

He pointed to an area southeast of Alaska.

"This is the border between the Brittany Expeditionary Force and the Gallic Fifth Army's defensive line. The terrain is relatively open, which is suitable for us to take advantage of our numerical superiority."

(End of this chapter)