ch31

“Humanity is insane. Hell itself couldn’t be more horrific. Only madness could drive such deeds. Behold this slaughter! This terror and these corpses! Words cannot express the impression I’ve received. Humanity is insane!”

A Soldier’s Diary

Verdun. A historic fortress city located in eastern France.

I’ve heard that even Attila, the Scourge of God, a symbol of terror in ancient Rome, failed to conquer this city.

Truly the pride of the French! The bulwark of the French!

And now, I am leaving to conquer it.

Please be well there, Mother.

Adolf Hitler.

“Hey, Corporal Hitler. A love letter?”

“Ah. It’s a letter to my mother, sir.”

Though I should add, ‘my deceased mother.’

I wonder why I’m writing to her. Partly to commemorate her, but… I think I’m also envious of my comrades writing to their families.

“Let’s have a look. Wow, quite the calligrapher, eh? If you’d gone to the Academy of Fine Arts for writing instead of art, you might have gotten in?”

Of course, that was just a compliment. But those words from my senior officer sounded quite appealing to Hitler himself.

“…Really?”

“Hm? What?”

“That…”

That my writing is pleasing to the eye, I was about to say, when,

“You’ll have to walk from here.”

The voice of the supply sergeant was heard.

If you ask why the Imperial Army, a modern nation, is using horse-drawn carriages instead of trains or trucks, you only need to look at the number of trucks the Imperial Army possesses in this era.

‘4,000 vehicles.’

Yes. The Imperial Army, with its vast territory and over 100 million soldiers, possesses a mere 4,000 trucks. Of course, it’s not as if they didn’t requisition from the civilian sector… but unfortunately, the Empire was a ‘nation with a railway and carriage system that was meticulously well-established.’

Why bother buying expensive trucks from the private sector when you could ride the railways and carriages for cheap? Of course, this wasn’t a major problem for the Imperial Army.

The Imperial Army was, after all, on the defensive. They could use the existing railway lines to supply their defensive battles.

However, the story changed when the Imperial Army began advancing into French territory.

Would the French kindly leave the railways intact for the Imperial Army to use as they retreated?

They destroyed all infrastructure, including railways and roads, as they retreated. The only consolation was that they managed to capture a significant number of warhorses abandoned by the French army.

Thanks to that, they were able to march comfortably by carriage, as they were now.

Hitler got off the carriage, thinking such thoughts.

“Alright, lads. From now on, we’re going to attack the bastion of hell. Unlike the Roman walls, it’s impossible to look after you. So, if you don’t want to die, be careful.”

I looked down at the map and tapped the desk.

Our Imperial Army currently had Verdun, a massive fortress disguised as a city, surrounded on three sides.

All that remained was to cut off the lines of communication with the rear.

‘Of course, pushing forward with brute force… isn’t impossible, but.’

One problem was that, unlike the initial shock, the French soldiers were gradually developing resistance to ‘poison gas.’

They were making makeshift gas masks by wrapping cloths soaked in urine around their faces when they saw poison gas, or they were hastily supplying the front lines with the gas masks they had in the rear, however few they were.

No. Rather, they were also starting to release poison gas towards us. Although the amount itself was less than ours… this was a problem that needed to be seriously considered.

‘Chemical warfare has begun.’

The final piece of the puzzle for creating a hell called trench warfare had been put in place.

The morale of the soldiers on the front lines would also plummet. It was truly unfortunate. To think that a genius like Einstein would not develop nuclear weapons but would collapse in the mud of the trenches. It was so unfortunate that tears almost welled up in my eyes.

The disappearance of a bomb-making machine that would surely end this war in ‘my’ victory was certainly a sad thing.

Of course, what’s spilled cannot be gathered again. That’s why I try to save as many soldiers as possible.

By killing as many enemies as possible.

“General Konrad. I hear that the fortress of Verdun is being called the Devil’s Bastion by the soldiers?”

I said, looking at him sitting across from me.

“Yes. It is also the first place where our offensive has stalled since the start of Operation Konrad.”

Yes. The Imperial Army, which had been advancing as if it would crush all enemies in its path, had been stopped. At Verdun, no less.

In Arras to the north, they had crushed a handful of British troops defending the outskirts and entered the city, beginning full-scale urban warfare, in stark contrast.

“Of course, it is true that the French defenses, built over hundreds of years, are a hindrance. But trying to break through them head-on would obviously result in heavy casualties.”

I always believe that the right grand strategy is to minimize the damage to our own forces and maximize the damage to the enemy. Of course. Reducing damage only means ‘reducing the damage that occurs as a result.’

Well. The sacrifices that are happening right now are unavoidable, but…

“Please avoid a frontal assault as much as possible.”

“Yes? But Verdun is a center of supply. If we don’t capture Verdun in a short amount of time, it will be impossible to advance any further…”

“Our goal this time is only to secure the depth of the mainland, that is, Alsace-Lorraine and Burgundy. We have already succeeded in securing a sufficient depth with this much.”

45km. Although it was not a very long distance, in the world of trench warfare where one unit disappears for every 1km advanced, it was a distance close to eternity. It would take a lot of time and blood for the French army to recapture all those lands.

“And above all… the Empire’s supply lines are at their limit here.”

He, of all people, would know the Imperial Army’s supply situation best.

“The amount of fodder and salt to feed the warhorses at the front is critically low. If we continue to overwork the warhorses like this, we may have to fight without supplies in the many offensives to come.”

“…I understand. Then, if we manage to capture Verdun and Calais, which are currently under attack, we will stop the offensive on the Western Front.”

Bang! Tens of thousands of cannons began to fire at Verdun.

The Battle of Verdun, unlike other battles fought by the Imperial Army, progressed very slowly and leisurely. Mainly in a bad way.

“Fire!”

The bombardment continued for days, involving everything from light artillery to heavy artillery, and even railway guns. If you ask how railway guns were mobilized to Verdun… it can be summarized as ‘they ground down the engineering corps.’

In any case, despite this intense bombardment, the French defensive lines themselves remained solid. The mud that had driven the French mad this time absorbed the impact of the shells.

But apart from that, the morale of the French army was at rock bottom. The sound of shelling that could be heard 24 hours a day eroded people’s mental strength.

To make matters worse, five hours before the offensive began, the Imperial Army changed the target of the bombardment from destroying the French defenses to increasing the French confusion. The so-called Hurricane Bombardment began.

Dozens of types of shells, including smoke bombs, tear gas bombs, and chlorine gas bombs, were fired at the French positions.

“Masks! Put on your masks!”

But the French army had already developed some resistance to the gas. They quickly put on the gas masks they had just received from the rear to respond.

But the real problem was just beginning. Even in the already damp and humid mud, wearing a gas mask made the habitability of the French positions literally the worst. Some soldiers, unable to withstand this environment, deliberately feigned gas mask failure, inhaled chlorine gas, and were transported to the rear.

But the Imperial Army’s full-scale offensive had not even begun yet.

Exactly five hours after the Hurricane Bombardment began, the Imperial Army began charging towards the French positions with the sound of loud whistles.

Peeeeeeeeep!!!

“Waaaaaaaah!!!”

“Los! Los! Los!”

Hundreds of thousands of Imperial soldiers simultaneously burst out of the trenches. But their target was not Verdun.

Their target was none other than the two wings of the Verdun fortress.

The Imperial Army intended to completely break the two wings of the rooster and slam it into the ground.