Chapter 68 Prittwitz is a Pig

Caliban Railway Station, Saxon Empire border.

A military train bearing the black eagle emblem of the Saxon Empire slowly pulled into the platform. The heavy steam locomotive emitted a final puff of white smoke and a long, drawn-out hiss.

The door of a carriage in the middle of the train opened, and the sprightly General August von Mackensen, surrounded by his accompanying staff officers, stepped off the train.

On the platform, several military officers who had been waiting for some time immediately came forward to greet him.

“Welcome back, General.”

“Thank you for your hard work, General.”

Mackensen nodded to everyone expressionlessly, then asked:

“How is Prittwitz’s counterattack going?”

When Madrid fell, the General, who was something of a ‘living fossil’ of the Imperial Army, had originally intended to stay and command the subsequent battles.

But under Prittwitz’s insistence and the persuasion of other officers, he ultimately had no choice but to follow the orders of the Emperor and the General Staff and return home first…

The temporary military train he was on did not include a wireless telegraph carriage, so Mackensen had no idea how the situation in the Kingdom of Aragon had unfolded along the way.

Now, upon hearing his question, a grim-faced staff officer who had been waiting on the platform quickly approached him and handed him an urgent telegram that had just arrived.

“General, an urgent telegram from the Aragon front.”

Mackensen nervously took the telegram, and his expression froze.

When he saw the words “Cuenca, Valencia lost,” “Expeditionary Force encircled,” and “Land supply line cut off,” the veteran general, hardened by countless battles, felt his vision dim, his body swayed, and he nearly fainted on the spot.

“General!” His aide-de-camp, quick as a flash, supported him.

“I’m fine…”

Mackensen waved his hand, taking several deep breaths before barely steadying himself.

His face turned ashen, and the hand clutching the telegram trembled slightly from the force.

When Mackensen left the Expeditionary Force Command and transferred authority to Lieutenant General Prittwitz, who was replacing him, he had repeatedly emphasized to the successor that the upcoming battle must never be too conservative!

And he must not keep thinking about fighting some safe defensive counterattack!

After all, the combat effectiveness of the friendly National Army and International Brigade was limited. The Saxon forces could not expect them to hold out for long under high pressure until the moment for a defensive counterattack arrived…

But now it seemed that the damned Prittwitz hadn’t absorbed a single word!

Seeing the unfavorable turn of the tide, the latter actually ordered the various units of the Expeditionary Force to voluntarily retreat, wanting to consolidate his forces to preserve strength and wait for the enemy’s offensive to dwindle before executing his textbook-style defensive counterattack.

This decision was utterly idiotic!

The Saxon Expeditionary Force’s withdrawal directly exposed the flanks of the friendly forces’ front line, causing the entire defense system to collapse instantly.

The combined forces were severely scattered, and the Kingdom Army and Britannians seized the opportunity to defeat them one by one!

“Idiot! Prittwitz is a complete and utter pig!”

Mackensen could no longer suppress the rage in his heart and burst into a torrent of curses in front of all the officers and dignitaries on the platform.

His roar echoed across the empty platform, leaving everyone in a state of terror.

“And the General Staff! Who approved this appointment? Who suggested handing command over to such a short-sighted fool who only knows how to follow instructions by the book?!”

No one dared to answer his question.

Mackensen angrily paced back and forth on the platform, his chest heaving violently.

He knew that getting angry now wouldn’t solve anything. The most important thing was to find a way to recapture Cuenca and Valencia and re-establish contact with the main body of the Expeditionary Force.

Mackensen abruptly stopped and said to the officer who had handed him the telegram: “Prepare the telegraph machine immediately! I need to send a telegram to the General Staff!”

“Yes, General!”

A few minutes later, in the temporary communications room at the station, Mackensen personally dictated the message, instructing the telegraph operator to send a telegram to the General Staff at the fastest speed.

The content of the telegram was simple, but every line revealed the veteran General’s urgency and resolve to fight.

He strongly requested authorization from the General Staff and His Majesty the Emperor for him to personally command and immediately mobilize the twelve infantry divisions that had completed assembly and were ready for battle on the border.

He requested they cross the border into the Kingdom of Aragon and relieve the besieged Expeditionary Force at all costs!

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Simultaneously, at the General Staff Headquarters of the Saxon Empire.

In the operations room, where the atmosphere was tense, the Chief of the Army General Staff, Moltke the Younger, and a group of General Staff officers were staring intently at the situation on the map of Aragon.

Red attack arrows completely encircled the units representing the Saxon Expeditionary Force and other friendly forces.

Everyone was shocked into silence.

None of them had expected that this military operation, which was previously predicted to be relatively straightforward, would take such a sharp turn for the worse in just a few days, escalating to the current state.

Just then, a staff officer hurried into the operations room and handed a telegram to Moltke the Younger.

“Chief of Staff, a telegram from General Mackensen.”

Moltke the Younger took the telegram and quickly read through it. When he saw Mackensen’s request, his tightly knitted brow did not smooth out at all.

He knew that Mackensen’s plan was the only and fastest way to resolve the crisis facing the Expeditionary Force.

But he also knew what it meant…

It meant that the Saxon Empire would completely drop its pretense, shifting from ‘limited intervention’ to ‘full-scale involvement,’ which was practically tantamount to declaring war on the Holy Britannian Empire.

Moltke the Younger pondered for a moment, then immediately made a decision.

“Prepare the car. I must see His Majesty the Emperor immediately.”

Regardless of anything else, this decision had to come directly from the Emperor.

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Dresden, a royal retreat of the Saxon Imperial Family.

In the magnificent audience chamber, Albert II, Emperor of the Saxon Empire, was listening with a look of astonishment to the report from the Chief of General Staff, Moltke the Younger.

“What did you say? The Expeditionary Force is surrounded?!”

Albert II’s voice was strained with shock; he even suspected he had misheard.

Just two days ago, the report he heard from the General Staff was: “The war is going smoothly. Seville, the most crucial strategic objective of this operation, is firmly under the control of the Expeditionary Force…”

How could “everything is going smoothly” suddenly turn into “the entire army is in peril”?

What on earth happened in between?

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Moltke the Younger bowed his head, replying in a heavy tone:

“Due to Lieutenant General Prittwitz’s major error in command decisions, our forces became detached from the friendly forces, and the enemy seized the opportunity to cut off our retreat…”

Albert II slumped back in his chair behind the massive oak desk, feeling dizzy and disoriented.

He did not immediately burst into anger, for he knew very well that this was no time to dwell on Prittwitz’s culpability.

The most pressing matter was finding a way to resolve the difficult situation in the Kingdom of Aragon.

“Does the General Staff have any proposed countermeasures?”

Albert II forced himself to calm down, looking at Moltke the Younger as he asked.

Upon hearing the Emperor’s question, Moltke the Younger timely presented General Mackensen’s request:

“Your Majesty, General Mackensen requests your authorization for him to personally command the twelve divisions already assembled on the border to immediately enter Aragon and launch an attack to relieve the Expeditionary Force… The General Staff believes this is indeed the fastest and most effective solution right now.”

“General Mackensen, you say…”

Albert II murmured the name, his fingers tapping the desktop unconsciously.

He naturally knew of Mackensen’s capability; the veteran general was one of the most aggressive commanders in the Imperial Army. If he executed this mission, the chances of success were high.

But…

Albert II voiced his concern: “Will doing this completely escalate this military action in Aragon into a full-scale war between us and the Britannians?”

Moltke the Younger was silent for a moment, then raised his head, looking directly into the Emperor’s eyes, and said clearly, word for word:

“Your Majesty, there is indeed that risk… However, if we do not find a way to rescue the Expeditionary Force now, we will be even more passive in the coming situation!”

“At that point, even if we do not wish to fight, the Britannians will likely not miss this opportunity to press their advantage.”

(End of this Chapter)