Chapter 201: Mackensen’s Decisive Action

After some time, Georg slammed his hand on the table, having made up his mind.

“Good! Schmidt, proceed as you suggested! Immediately contact Duke Albrecht and Crown Prince Rupprecht! Inform them of our plan and ask for their opinions!”

“In addition…” He picked up a pen and quickly wrote on a sheet of paper. “Send a letter to General von Bulow of the Second Army Group shortly. The wording… should be polite, congratulating him on the glorious victory achieved by him and his troops at Charleroi! And while you’re at it, remind him that the Instruction Assault Battalion is a treasure of the Imperial Army, and express my hope that he will use them ‘cautiously’ in the battles to come.”

He deliberately emphasized the word “cautiously.”

Knobelsdorff smiled and nodded: “As you command, Your Highness.”

Saxon Army First Army Group, Forward Command Post.

As the ‘Revolving Door Panel’ on the outermost flank of the entire ‘Schlieffen Plan,’ the First Army Group’s mission was to sweep through the coastal region of the Grand Duchy of Flanders at maximum speed, then swing like a massive scythe toward the capital of the Gallic Republic—Paris.

General Mackensen, the Army Group Commander, stood before a huge map, listening intently to his staff officers’ reports. His military uniform was immaculate, adorned with numerous medals, and his gray mustache was neatly trimmed. He stood like a statue, exuding the unique authority and sternness of an old-school Prussian officer.

A battle report freshly transmitted from the General Staff lay on the table beside him. He had just finished reading it. As his gaze fell upon the keywords ‘Instruction Assault Battalion’ and ‘Captain Friedrich Morin,’ the corners of his usually icy face turned up in an uncontrollable smile.

The surrounding staff officers, seeing their old General’s familiar grin, exchanged knowing glances. They knew their old General too well. Normally, he was as stern as a rock, capable of dressing down the entire Command Post. He only showed this smile under two circumstances. One was after a magnificent, sweeping victory. The other was upon reading a battle report concerning that young Captain named Morin.

A while ago, when the report detailing Morin’s ‘artistic’ raid on the Liège Fortress and the opening of the path for the Second Army Group arrived, the old General was just like this, standing alone before the map, watching the report, unable to hide his smile.

Now, that smile had returned.

One of the staff officers, who had a good relationship with Mackensen and was bolder than most, couldn’t help but jest: “General, judging by your expression, has Captain Morin of the Instruction Assault Battalion pulled off another earth-shattering exploit?”

Mackensen heard this, cleared his throat, and attempted to restore his serious demeanor. But the pride and satisfaction in his eyes were impossible to conceal. He picked up the battle report, glanced at it, and said in a ‘very restrained’ tone: “Hmm, he performed quite well at Charleroi.”

“Quite well?” The surrounding staff officers nearly laughed aloud. They had all read the report. One battalion, holding off the fierce assault of a division plus a portion of a cavalry division, enduring for three days, achieving an unbelievable exchange ratio, and finally holding until reinforcements arrived, completely crushing the Gauls. This was called “quite well”? What would be considered fighting well—one man taking out the entire Gallic Fifth Army Group?

They all knew General Mackensen was feigning modesty; he was overjoyed inside. In fact, many people had figured out the relationship between Morin and Mackensen these days. This Captain Morin was personally pulled out of a life of dissipation by the old General, thrown into military school, and then onto the battlefield to be forged in fire. Now that this raw talent was finally beginning to shine, how could the old General not be proud?

Mackensen ignored the staff officers’ suppressed laughter. He put down the battle report and refocused his attention on the current situation of the First Army Group. For him, being proud of his protégé was one thing, but the war at hand was what demanded his full commitment as an Army Group Commander.

“Report on our current situation,” he said in a deep voice.

An Operations Staff Officer immediately stepped forward, pointing to the map. “Reporting, General, the advance of our First Army Group during this period has been extremely smooth.”

It had indeed been extremely smooth. Although the Armored Airship attached to the Army Group was temporarily transferred to support the Second Army Group’s attack on the Namur Fortress Cluster, this did not affect the advance speed of the forty thousand troops of the First Army Group.

Especially after the main forces of the Grand Duchy of Flanders, stationed at Antwerp, foolishly moved south in an attempt to relieve the Namur Fortress Cluster. The First Army Group seized the opportunity and captured the important city of Antwerp. Subsequently, the Grand Duchy of Flanders’ capital, Brussels, seeing the inevitable, publicly declared itself an open city, and the First Army Group occupied the city without a shot being fired.

As the main transportation arteries within the Grand Duchy of Flanders were completely opened, the ‘Northern Reserve Group,’ composed of large numbers of reservists and temporarily conscripted troops, gradually arrived and took over the rear defenses. Mackensen was thus able to lead the main force of the First Army Group to push rapidly toward the Gallic Republic’s border without any concerns about his rear.

A small episode occurred during this advance. Their old adversary, a detachment of the Holy Britannian Empire Expeditionary Force, launched a forced landing in the Dunkirk region under the fire support of the Royal Navy fleet. But their luck ran out quickly. Because the First Army Group’s advance speed was so fast, the Britannian unit was cornered in the small Dunkirk beachhead by the First Army Group’s vanguard almost immediately after landing.

Although the Royal Navy’s battleships continuously provided heavy Naval Cannon fire support from the nearby sea, preventing the First Army Group from launching a reckless, full-scale assault, this force of about two divisions (approximately 20,000 men), according to reconnaissance, was firmly trapped and unable to advance a single step inland.

After leaving a corps-sized force, supported by reinforcements rushing up from the rear, to completely surround the Britannian detachment—ensuring they could not threaten the Army Group’s flank or rear—Mackensen disregarded them and continued leading the First Army Group’s main force into Gallic Republic territory.

Due to the existence of the famous ‘Air Left Wing’ of the Gallic Republic, the First Army Group encountered almost no meaningful resistance after entering Gallic territory. The entire Army Group advanced over thirty kilometers on August 14th alone without obstruction. This speed of advance left the entire unit ecstatic. Some junior soldiers even optimistically believed they might simply walk all the way to the gates of Paris.

This overly optimistic mood was only curtailed when the First Army Group’s vanguard encountered the first wave of the Britannian Expeditionary Force main body, which had been urgently rushed by rail, near the city of Arras on the evening of August 14th. General Mackensen received the report and immediately ordered the entire army to halt its advance. They deployed along the Arras line, establishing a standoff with the Britannian Expeditionary Force opposite them.

He now stood before the map, contemplating his next move.

“The Britannians… Sir John French…” Mackensen looked at the red arrows representing the enemy on the map, a cold glint in his eyes—his old adversary had caused him quite a few setbacks during previous small-scale colonial conflicts overseas.

“General.” A staff officer spoke up: “According to the General Staff’s battle report, the Second and Third Army Groups have formed a semi-encirclement around the Gallic Fifth Army Group. Should we consider coordinating with them?”

Mackensen looked up at the staff officer: “Your suggestion is?”

The staff officer said excitedly: “I believe we can launch an attack to the southeast, targeting the semi-encircled Gallic Fifth Army Group. They have just suffered a major defeat and their morale is low; this is the perfect time for us to attack!”

“At that point, coupled with the pressure from the Second Army Group from the front and the Third Army Group from the flank/rear, it would be enough to completely shatter this Gallic unit!”

This proposal greatly excited the other staff officers in the headquarters. It was indeed a highly tempting plan that offered the chance to annihilate an enemy Army Group in one stroke.

However, Mackensen shook his head.

“No.” The old General’s voice was exceptionally firm in the forward post. The headquarters fell instantly silent, and everyone looked at the old General with confusion.

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

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

He heavily pointed his pointer at the location of Paris on the map.

“Our mission is Paris! To reach the gates of Paris at maximum speed, delivering the heaviest possible political and military blow to the Gallic Republic! Then, to form a massive encirclement and completely trap the main force of the Gallic Republic Army—that is the core of the General Staff’s entire ‘Revolving Door’ plan!”

“If we divert now to attack the Gallic Fifth Army Group, while it would achieve a glorious tactical victory, it would slow our advance toward Paris. This would be a classic case of sacrificing the bigger picture for a small gain—picking up the sesame and losing the watermelon.”

The old General’s voice echoed through the headquarters, every word striking home with the staff officers. They all fell silent. They had been so focused on the immediate tactical opportunity that they had forgotten the highest strategic objective of the entire campaign.

Mackensen looked at his staff, his tone softening slightly. “You must remember, as commanders, never be blinded by immediate victory. Every tactical action must serve the ultimate strategic goal! Otherwise, even if you win every battle, you might lose the entire war in the end.”

“Yes, General!” The staff officers responded in unison, their faces showing that they had absorbed the lesson.

Mackensen nodded. But he knew clearly that the General Staff’s plan was one thing, and the ever-changing reality of the battlefield was another. Blindly adhering to the script was also a major military blunder. His goal had always been to defeat the Britannian Expeditionary Force in front of him, and then launch a swift attack on Paris.

But tactically, he could certainly make some adjustments. His gaze moved back and forth between the positions of the Britannian Expeditionary Force and the Gallic Fifth Army Group on the map. Although these two forces were geographically linked, they belonged to two different nations, and their command structures were completely independent. This ‘junction’ was often the weakest link in the entire defense line.

A relatively conservative idea gradually formed in the old General’s mind.

“We will not attack the Gallic Fifth Army Group, but we can attack the junction between them and the Britannians,” Mackensen said slowly.

“The junction?” The staff officers leaned in.

“Exactly.” Mackensen’s pointer traced a line on the map between Arras and Cambrai. “Our objective is not to defeat either of them, but to sever the connection between them, making them two isolated forces incapable of supporting each other!”

“Once we succeed, the Britannian Expeditionary Force will find their right flank completely exposed! And the Gallic Fifth Army Group will find their left flank wide open.”

“At that point, Sir John French, that Britannian, what do you think he will do to save his own troops?” A cold smile played on Mackensen’s lips.

“He will retreat!” a staff officer immediately realized: “He will absolutely retreat without hesitation to protect his flank! He will not sacrifice his Expeditionary Force for the sake of the Gauls!”

“Correct!” Mackensen nodded approvingly. “The moment the Britannians retreat, the Gallic Fifth Army Group’s doom will be sealed! They will become completely isolated, and the Second and Third Army Groups will annihilate them. And what about us?”

Mackensen’s pointer moved to Paris. “We will have shattered their junction, forced the Britannians to retreat, cleared the biggest obstacle in our path, and we can then advance at full speed toward Paris without any concerns!”

This plan was far more cautious and grounded than the direct assault proposed earlier, and it more closely aligned with the First Army Group’s strategic mission. It was like a surgical strike, precisely targeting the enemy’s most vulnerable point.

The staff officers in the headquarters, watching the attack route drawn by the pointer on the map, were all flushed with excitement.

“General is brilliant!”

“This plan is perfect!”

Mackensen ignored the staff officers’ flattery; he considered such things superficial. He quickly pulled his Chief of Staff and several core staff members aside to discuss the specific operational plan in detail before the map.

“Our main thrust will be here,” he said, pointing to an area southeast of Arras. “This is the boundary between the Britannian Expeditionary Force and the Gallic Fifth Army Group’s defense lines. The terrain here is relatively open, suitable for us to leverage our numerical advantage.”

(End of this Chapter)