Chapter 200: The Revolving Door is Taking Shape

Hearing Crown Prince Georg’s suppressed roar, Major General Schmidt von Knobelsdorff, the Fifth Army Group Chief of Staff, gently pushed open the curtain of the temporary headquarters. He carried a tray holding a pot of freshly brewed black tea and two clean cups.

“Your Highness.” Knobelsdorff’s voice was calm, as if nothing unusual had happened outside.

Seeing his Chief of Staff, who had been specially sent by the General Staff to assist him, Georg took a deep breath, forcibly calming his inner fury. He still needed to maintain the demeanor of a Crown Prince in front of Knobelsdorff.

“Schmidt, you’ve arrived.” Georg’s tone softened, though his face remained clouded with anger.

Knobelsdorff placed the tray on the table, his gaze sweeping over the crumpled telegram that had been smoothed out again. He knew His Highness was reading the latest battle report from the General Staff, but this made him slightly curious. He had quickly skimmed the report himself, and the dispatches received today were nothing short of ‘triumphant news.’ From the First Army Group to the Fourth Army Group, they were all advancing swiftly. By all appearances, it should have been excellent news that put His Highness in a good mood. Why was he so furious?

He picked up the teapot, pouring steaming black tea into Georg’s cup. The aroma instantly filled the air.

“Your Highness, is there a problem with the battle report?” Knobelsdorff asked softly.

Georg picked up the teacup but didn’t drink, instead looking at the swirling red liquid and letting out a long sigh. “There is nothing wrong with the report itself, Schmidt. Our Army’s offensive is progressing smoothly, even faster than scheduled. Of course I am pleased.”

This statement puzzled Knobelsdorff even more. If everything was going well and he was pleased, then who was he roaring at in the headquarters just now? The air?

Georg seemed to notice his confusion, forcing a bitter smile onto his face, and pushed the telegram toward him.

“See for yourself. The problem lies here.”

Knobelsdorff picked up the telegram. When he saw the specific casualty figures for the Instruction Assault Battalion in Charleroi, his brow also furrowed slightly.

“One hundred and eighty-two casualties… nearly one-fifth of their strength,” he murmured aloud.

“Yes, one-fifth!” Georg’s voice involuntarily rose again. “What were von Bulow and Ludendorff, those two men, thinking? What did they treat the Instruction Assault Battalion as? Expendables?!”

“That is the unit I personally established! Every soldier in it was a gem handpicked from the entire army! It was meant to be the seed to explore new tactics for the future Saxon Army! Not to be thrown into the city to trade lives like common infantry!”

Georg grew angrier the more he spoke, starting to pace back and forth in the headquarters again. “No! I cannot leave this unit in their hands any longer! I will immediately send a telegram to the General Staff to transfer the Instruction Assault Battalion to our Fifth Army Group! Under my personal supervision, who would dare to mess around like that again!”

Knobelsdorff listened quietly to the Crown Prince’s outburst, not interrupting. He knew His Highness needed a listener at this moment, not a contrarian. Only after Georg had calmed down somewhat and settled back into his chair did Knobelsdorff speak slowly.

“Your Highness, I understand your feelings. The Instruction Assault Battalion is your life’s work. It is only natural that you feel distressed seeing it suffer such heavy losses.”

He paused, continuing with great sincerity: “However, my personal suggestion is that you should not do this.”

“Why?” Georg looked at him, confused. “Should I just let them continue to act recklessly?”

“Of course not.” Knobelsdorff shook his head, then sat down in the chair opposite the Crown Prince and continued: “Your Highness, have you considered what the other generals in the military would think if you forcibly transferred the Instruction Assault Battalion now?”

Georg was taken aback.

Knobelsdorff continued his analysis: “Since its formation, the Instruction Assault Battalion, thanks to your strong support, has received a disproportionate allocation of resources compared to other units—the best equipment, the most outstanding personnel, the highest priority in logistical supply… Honestly, there have already been rumors circulating within the military.”

“Many people have been saying that this is merely ‘His Highness’s toy unit’—a privileged ‘Royal Guard’ that looks good but is useless in combat.”

“Fortunately, the two battles at Liège and Charleroi have allowed the Instruction Assault Battalion to use irrefutable results to violently refute these rumors and silence their critics. At least for now, no one dares to question this unit’s combat power.”

“But if you, at this moment, immediately transfer it back to your side for protection merely because it suffered some casualties… the old rumors will likely resurface.”

“People will say, ‘See? This unit is indeed the Crown Prince’s private property; it can only win when things are going smoothly! The moment it encounters a tough fight, His Highness gets protective and won’t risk it!’”

“If that happens, the prestige the Instruction Assault Battalion earned with its own blood and merit will be severely diminished!”

“How can a unit perceived as ‘privileged’ truly ‘instruct’ other units? How can the officers and soldiers of other units genuinely embrace and learn their tactics?”

This argument left Georg speechless. Though still angry, he knew Knobelsdorff’s words were logical and wise. As the Imperial Crown Prince, while an idealist, he was no fool, and he understood the complexities of politics and human nature. He sighed helplessly, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his aching temples.

“Then your suggestion is to just let this go?”

“Absolutely not.” Knobelsdorff smiled. “Your Highness, I believe that if you truly wish the Instruction Assault Battalion to be a respected benchmark for the entire Army, winning everyone’s genuine respect, it must acquire more—and indisputable—military honors.”

“War is the only standard for testing a unit’s quality. Only units that survive the most brutal battlefields and consistently achieve victory are truly qualified to instruct others.”

“Of course, they must fight, but resupply must also be meticulous! We must ensure this unit always maintains its peak combat effectiveness! Personnel, weapons, and ammunition must be supplied with the highest priority… This point, I believe General von Bulow and General Ludendorff are acutely aware of after the Battle of Charleroi.”

Knobelsdorff looked at the Crown Prince and continued: “Once we have achieved our current strategic goals—for example, after the capture of Paris—that will be the time to allow the Instruction Assault Battalion a period of ‘extended rest,’ to summarize its tactical experience, and then begin batch training of ‘Seed Force’ for the various Army Groups. That would be the most opportune moment.”

Georg remained silent for a long time, then finally nodded.

“You are right, Schmidt. I was being impulsive.” He had to admit that his Chief of Staff was more comprehensive and calmer in his thinking.

“However!” Georg quickly changed his tone, his eyes becoming sharp again. “This matter cannot be simply dismissed! I may not transfer the unit back, but I must send a stern letter to von Bulow to reprimand him! He needs to know just how precious this unit is! If he dares to mess around like that again, I will not forgive him!”

Knobelsdorff smiled and nodded: “I believe a personal letter from you will certainly make General von Bulow fully understand the gravity of the situation.”

Seeing that the Crown Prince’s emotions were finally stable, Knobelsdorff knew it was time to discuss the real matter at hand. He stood up, returned to the map, his smile receding, replaced by a focused, serious expression.

“Your Highness, I actually came to discuss something else. After these thirteen days of fighting, the advance of our entire right wing has successfully met the objectives of the plan. Former Chief of the General Staff Schlieffen’s conceived ‘Revolving Door’ is now basically taking shape.”

His finger traced a massive arc on the map from north to south. This arc represented the spearhead of the Saxon First, Second, Third, and Fourth Army Groups.

“Now, we have reached the most crucial part of the entire plan—closing the door.”

“Our Fifth Army Group and the Sixth Army Group to our left flank, acting as the ‘hinge’ of the Revolving Door, are, according to the original plan, supposed to firmly hold our current position, tying down the central main force of the Gallic Army.”

Knobelsdorff’s expression grew heavy as he spoke. “However, intelligence received this morning from the forward reconnaissance units shows something unusual.”

“The Gauls are massing troops along the Metz-Verdun line. I surmise that following the somewhat ‘successful’ advances of their Third and Fourth Army Groups in the Lorraine region against our Sixth and Seventh Army Groups, they are eager to create a breakthrough here.”

“So, we now face a choice.” Knobelsdorff looked at the Crown Prince seriously: “Should we continue to hold our position firmly, or… should we deliberately retreat a short distance and lure them deeper?”

“Retreat? Lure the enemy deeper?” Crown Prince Georg’s brow instantly furrowed. He walked to the map, his gaze moving back and forth across the Fifth Army Group’s defense line.

“Schmidt, if we retreat, wouldn’t the flanks of our two adjacent Army Groups—the Fourth Army Group and the Sixth Army Group—be completely exposed to the Gallic attack? That is too dangerous!” As a Crown Prince who had received a complete military education, he immediately saw the immense risk in this plan. Exposing an army’s flank is the weakest point of any military unit. Voluntarily exposing the flank of allied forces to the enemy is an absolute taboo in any military textbook.

“Yes, Your Highness, you are correct,” Knobelsdorff nodded, not denying the danger of the plan. “This is a high-risk decision. Should any error occur, our entire central line could be torn apart, potentially leading to the failure of the entire ‘Revolving Door’ plan.” His tone was calm, as if stating an objective fact.

“However,” Knobelsdorff’s tone changed, a gleam of excitement flashing in his eyes, “the higher the risk, the greater the reward.”

He used the red pencil to draw a massive arrow on the map, pointing in the direction the Gauls might attack. “Your Highness, look. If the Gallic Third and Fourth Army Groups are successfully lured forward by us, they will run straight into a trap we have prepared for them—a pocket.”

“At that point, our rapidly advancing Fourth Army Group to the west can act like a pair of pincers, violently clamping down on their flank from the north! And our Fifth Army Group will hold them in place frontally.”

“Once this encirclement is formed, the Gallic main force will be completely circled! They won’t even have time to break out to the west, because by that time, our right-wing main force will likely be at the gates of Paris!”

Knobelsdorff’s voice was filled with unrestrained excitement. This was an unbelievably bold, even insane, plan. But if successful, the resulting victory would be equally magnificent. Annihilating the main forces of two Gallic Army Groups in one go! This would fundamentally shift the entire Western Front, decisively tilting the balance of victory toward the Saxon Empire.

Georg stared intensely at the map, his mind racing. He was not a bloodthirsty general, but he understood that war was a massive gamble. To achieve the greatest victory, one must dare to place the greatest bet. Knobelsdorff’s plan was like a devil’s temptation, stirring his deepest desires.

“What are the chances of this plan succeeding?” Georg asked hoarsely.

“That depends on two points.” Knobelsdorff held up two fingers. “First, whether the Gauls will take the bait. Judging by their performance in the Lorraine sector these past few days, their commander, Joffre, is a firm believer in the ‘Offensive Doctrine.’ If we expose a weakness, there is an 80% chance they will pounce.”

“Second, and most crucial, is whether our flanking Army Groups, the Fourth Army Group and the Sixth Army Group, can ensure their own safety once their flanks are exposed, and even launch a counter-encirclement against the pursuing Gauls.”

“This is a coordination issue that requires extremely high execution and mutual understanding.” Knobelsdorff admitted candidly: “Therefore, I request your authorization to immediately contact Duke Albrecht of the Fourth Army Group and Crown Prince Rupprecht of the Sixth Army Group to solicit their opinions.”

“If both of them are confident, then I believe this ‘Lure the Enemy Deep’ plan is a risk worth taking!”

Silence fell over the temporary headquarters. Georg’s mind was in turmoil. As the commander of the Fifth Army Group, his first responsibility was to his own troops. If this plan failed, the Fifth Army Group would bear the brunt of the attack, facing the danger of being torn apart by a massive frontal enemy force.

But as the Imperial Crown Prince, he also had to consider the overall war strategy. If this plan succeeded, the Saxon Empire could potentially defeat the Gallic Republic first, and at minimal cost. This would be unparalleled glory for him and for the entire House of Wettin.

(End of this Chapter)