ch20

A Shallow Night

“Commence firing!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The Field Guns arrayed toward the Ruthenian Tsardom army’s position spat orange flames.

“Ugh, ughaaack!!”

The Ruthenian Tsardom army, utterly exhausted from the arduous march, literally collapsed on the spot. It wasn’t surprising that they were sound asleep, completely unaware that an attack was about to begin.

But… the world always takes one thing for another.

The world took the lives of the Ruthenian soldiers as the price for their sweet slumber.

And for Samsonov, in exchange for the fleeting glory of being hailed as a brilliant commander and praised by his subordinates, it would bestow the disgrace of being an unparalleled incompetent who annihilated an entire army under his command.

“Damn it! You incompetent fools! Don’t retreat! Hold your ground!”

Samsonov, desperate to avoid his predetermined fate, personally took up a pistol and exhorted (executed retreating soldiers) his men.

But… what army in the world could stand against the enemy in their underwear? Not even the most elite Imperial Guard could accomplish that.

Especially since the ones facing the enemy in their underwear this time were a pseudo-peasant army scraped together from serfs: the Ruthenian Tsardom army.

To them, Samsonov’s order to hold their ground and stop the Imperial army’s offensive was like telling them to juggle while riding a unicycle and flying through the air.

“If you, want to live, run away!!”

In the end, the Ruthenian Tsardom army’s front lines crumbled as easily as a biscuit soaked in milk.

“Damn it! You incompetent fools! Don’t run away, fight!”

Samsonov’s encouragement and urging were futile in the face of overwhelming terror—the certainty of death.

And after about five hours of relentless shelling that had thoroughly softened the Tsardom army, the Imperial army, a killing machine with centuries of tradition, began to move.

“Ugh… ugh…”

He saw his own men abandoning their weapons and running away.

Samsonov dimly realized something as he watched them.

That there was no way to win this battle, that he, standing here now, was simply a defeated commander.

“Haha… damn it…”

He saw the Imperial cavalry’s Cavalry Saber cutting down his men. The proud sons of the Ruthenian Tsardom were senselessly crumbling.

Why? Why was this happening? Was it because they had recklessly advanced too deep into East Prussia? Or because they had underestimated the Imperial army’s strength?

Or perhaps…

“…Haa.”

What could he do? He was, after all, just a defeated commander.

Click. He cocked his revolver. Rather than suffer the humiliation of being captured by the Germanic Imperial army bastards…

He pointed the cold muzzle at his temple. And…

“Ruthenian Tsardom, ura!”

Bang!

While Samsonov’s 2nd Army was literally blown to smithereens by Falkenhayn’s 8th Army, what were the Ruthenian Tsardom’s 1st and 10th Armies doing?

The answer was simple.

“It’s already too late to save them.”

It was regrettable that the 2nd Army, which had advanced deep into East Prussia, had been annihilated, but that was the 2nd Army’s problem. Rather than recklessly moving the army to save them, it was wiser to carefully respond to the enemy’s attacks. At least, that’s what Rennenkampf thought.

“Hmm…”

Rennenkampf looked at the map. With the 2nd Army gone, their numerical superiority was as good as gone. Some might ask: Didn’t the Ruthenian Tsardom army still have the 1st and 10th Armies, so even with the 2nd Army gone, they still maintained a several-fold numerical advantage?

But that was a judgment that didn’t consider the 10th Army’s situation. The 10th Army was made up of newly conscripted rabble, and its level was ‘severely’ lower than the 1st Army, which had at least completed basic training, or the 2nd Army, which included the Ruthenian Tsardom’s pride, the Guards.

In this situation, going any deeper was like sticking one’s head into a tiger’s mouth. Rennenkampf made his decision without hesitation.

“Send a request for withdrawal.”

The 1st, 2nd, and 10th Armies were formed by the Ruthenian Tsardom authorities scraping together every available soldier through mobilization.

In that situation, the 2nd Army had been wiped out. If the 1st and 10th Armies were also to suffer devastating blows in engagements with the Imperial army, a huge void would open up in the Ruthenian Tsardom’s steppes.

‘This is the worst…’

It was like leaving the door wide open to a robber. Now was the time to retreat for the sake of the motherland.

And so, Rennenkampf’s 1st Army sent a request to headquarters for withdrawal to the mainland.

And the Imperial army was watching their movements as if they were Son Goku in the palm of Buddha’s hand.

How could Falkenhayn and the 8th Army be watching the movements of an entire army?

The reason was simpler than one might think.

The Ruthenian Tsardom army was using radios. And they were doing so in plain text, without using any codes.

The Ruthenian Tsardom was still a quasi-medieval country that hadn’t even properly experienced the growing pains of modernization. The reality of the Ruthenian Tsardom army was that they were only just beginning to introduce radios, let alone encrypt them.

Whether they knew it or not, the Stavka (headquarters) and Rennenkampf were communicating very actively.

“What are you saying?! You refuse to retreat?!”

“Well…”

The real reason the Ruthenian Tsardom was straining itself to squeeze out troops was to ‘show other countries that it could save the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, which was in crisis.’

How could they turn tail and run at the first sign of an Imperial army offensive?

For such purely political reasons, the Stavka rejected Rennenkampf’s proposal.

“Damn it! At this rate, our country will be in danger!”

Eventually, after Rennenkampf’s communications, which were repeated almost as frequently as spam, the higher-ups reluctantly accepted Rennenkampf’s proposal.

In the end, exactly three days after the 2nd Army was annihilated, the 1st Army began to withdraw from its occupied territory.

And the Imperial army was already watching their every move.

Son Goku could not escape the palm of Buddha.

“Hoo…”

Pyotr, a soldier in the 1st Army, let out a sigh steeped in fatigue.

“Why are they putting us through this dog training, those damn superiors.”

“I know, right… Running away without even fighting the Germanic bastards. It’s just a bunch of cowards.”

Weren’t they moving to eradicate the Germanic Empire? Weren’t they moving to protect their brethren in the Balkans? But running away without even fighting was… truly the act of despicable cowards.

“Hey, Pyotr. Have you heard the rumor?”

“What rumor?”

He tilted his head and asked his comrade, Fyodorov.

“The rumor that the 2nd Army, where your younger brother, Niki, is, was defeated by the Imperial army bastards.”

“You idiot. You believe such rumors?!”

There was no way the weak Germanic bastards could win against the invincible Ruthenian Tsardom army.

At least, Pyotr had been taught that since he was very young. Of course, his comrade Fyodorov didn’t seem to think so.

“…”

Fyodorov was born in Saint Petersburg. Therefore, he had naturally been able to meet people from various countries since he was a child.

And he quickly realized that the civilization west of Lithuania was so brilliant that it was embarrassing to compare it to their own. That the Ruthenian Tsardom was still at the level of a backwater village.

That it was as difficult as plucking a star from the sky for the Ruthenian Tsardom to win against the Holy Germanic Empire.

But Pyotr, who had grown up in a rural village in Ukraine his whole life, and he lived in different worlds. People who lived in different worlds had different beliefs.

And getting someone with different beliefs to understand your own was close to impossible.

“I see. If we hadn’t retreated from here, we could have killed the Germanic Empire bastards. But the higher-ups must have their own reasons for making this decision, right?”

“Well… I guess so. I’m just disappointed that I didn’t get to kick the Germanic bastards’ asses.”

If they hadn’t run away, he would have crushed the Germanic Empire bastards with his own hands. He muttered that and swung his hands around.

At that moment,

“Hey! You there! Are you gossiping?!”

A shout mixed with annoyance reached them.

“No, sir!”

Pyotr and Fyodorov answered their superior’s scolding with a speed close to a spinal reflex.

“You two! I’m letting it slide this time because there’s no time, but I’ll be watching you from now on.”

The superior left them with a word of warning and moved on. As soon as the distance was far enough that his face was no longer visible, Pyotr quietly complained.

“Damn bastard…”

The Ruthenian Tsardom army lacked talent. To the extent that if you could just read and write, you could become an officer.

The officer who had scolded them a moment ago had also become an officer in an instant simply because he could read and write.

But the amazing thing was that the officer knew fewer words than Fyodorov himself. It was just that he knew a lot of the words that came up on the dictation test.

But the way he acted more important than the aristocratic officers… was really unsightly.

‘I wish… he would just get sniped by the Imperial army and die.’

Bang!!!

Now, his head was blown apart.

“Huh…?”

And the world takes one thing for another.

Bang!

Fyodorov’s vision turned red.