The sudden decisive battle not only disrupted the Austrian government’s plans but also derailed Britain’s strategy.
In this world, “adding flowers to a brocade is easy, but delivering coal in the snow is hard.” With Prussia and Russia already engaged in a decisive battle, the British government no longer has time to help them rally allies.
The instinct to weigh advantages and disadvantages is a fundamental part of human nature, and international politics and diplomacy are no exception. After all, politics and diplomacy are ultimately decided by people.
Whether it’s the Central Asian countries, the Ottoman Empire, or the German Federal Empire, they would all choose to observe the situation at this time.
If the Prussian-Polish Federation suffers defeat in this battle, the war will end prematurely. The Prussian government will lack the capacity to organize a second decisive battle, and the Russians will not give them time to recover.
At that point, even if these potential allies combined forces, they still wouldn’t be enough to contend with the Russians. The outcome would be the same, whether they helped or not.
If the Russians were defeated, the war would continue, but the balance of power would shift, and the initiative would flip. In that case, many nations would be eager to offer their support to the Anglo-Prussian side, just as they did in the first Russo-Prussian War, seizing the opportunity to carve out a piece of territory from the Russians.
That said, the German Federal Empire would be an exception.
George I would not dare to accept a victorious Prusso-Polish Federation. While usurpation in Europe is rare, the “Comedy Empire” with its elective monarchy is a unique case.
Of course, if the Prusso-Polish side won this battle, the British wouldn’t support a Prussian-German fusion either. The British government needs a pawn to counterbalance Austria, not to nurture a rival power.…
As the battlefield shifted westward, the winter was no longer characterized by icy, snow-covered landscapes, presenting yet another challenge to Russia’s logistical system. This was evident in the deployment of Russian troops.
The southern forces closely coordinated with Austrian movements, ensuring nearby supply lines. The northern front relied on sea transport, allowing supplies to be shipped from Saint Petersburg or procured from the Nordic Federation. Meanwhile, the Warsaw front benefited from river transport along the Vistula and Narew rivers.
However, the Narew River is primarily fed by snowmelt, with limited navigability each year. In two months, it would freeze over, and once the upper reaches were blocked, the lower reaches would no longer be reliable.
Ivanov’s persistent opposition to launching the Warsaw campaign took such factors into account. If not for controlling the Vistula River, even with the Fourth Army already embroiled in the conflict, he would not have ordered an offensive.
From this perspective, the Russian military demonstrated much more rationality compared to the first Russo-Prussian War, avoiding reckless advances that left frontline soldiers starving.
Troop movements take time, especially when involving over a million soldiers. The principle of “speed is the essence of war” clearly did not apply here. It wasn’t a matter of the soldiers lacking effort, it was the difficulty of moving with baggage and supplies that made rapid marches impossible.
In this regard, the Prussian army, fighting on home soil, had a significant advantage. The railways constructed by the Prussian government came into full play, allowing Moltke to complete troop deployment ahead of the Russians.
At the Prussian general headquarters, Moltke stared at the map marked with marching routes and let out a sigh.
Ivanov was still the same Ivanov he was familiar with, embodying caution to the extreme. Except for the overly ambitious and reckless Fourth Army, the subsequent Russian forces advanced steadily, with distances between adjacent units typically not exceeding thirty li (approximately 15 kilometers).
With such short distances, a rapid march would only take half a day, leaving little time or opportunity for Moltke to exploit.
“Dispatch all our cavalry. Break them into small units to harass the enemy and delay the marching speed of their other forces, but avoid direct engagement.”
After a brief pause, Moltke added, “As for the Fourth Army, which has already presented itself to our door, leave them be for now and let them come further in. ṘἈℕőᛒÊS
Order the Seventh and Eighth Divisions to circle around the right flank and instruct the Fifth and Seventh Corps to regroup immediately. I want to take down the Russians’ vanguard first.”
Unable to swallow the Russian main forces, targeting the vanguard instead is a reasonable alternative. This is the most that Moltke’s available mobile forces can achieve.
War is ultimately a contest of who makes fewer mistakes. Since the Russians have slipped up, Moltke naturally wouldn’t let the opportunity pass.
Once again, the battlefield proves that rushing ahead for glory isn’t always a good thing. If your comrades fail to keep up, you’ll have to face the trial of blood and fire alone.
The prematurely advancing Russian Fourth Army is now facing such a trial. Although they only set out two days ahead of schedule and didn’t march at a particularly fast pace, in reality, the timing of their movements is at least five days out of sync with their allies.
The main command takes time to make decisions, orders take time to be conveyed, and there are inevitable delays between unit mobilization and action.
Five days is enough to change many things. Even though the Fourth Army’s pace wasn’t rapid, the distance between them and the nearest Russian forces has stretched to over 130 kilometers.
At such a distance, if conflict breaks out, even if nearby Russian forces rush to the rescue at full speed, it would still take them at least two days to arrive.
In reality, this is purely theoretical. While a unit might cover 130 kilometers in two days, it would require abandoning supplies, weapons and heavy equipment.
Without those essentials, and dragging along exhausted troops, the unit’s combat effectiveness would be severely diminished. Forget about mounting a rescue, they might just be marching to their doom.
Granted, Russian cavalry could pull it off. In fact, they wouldn’t need two days, just one would suffice.
Perhaps this reliance on their cavalry emboldened Lieutenant General Obodov to take the risk of advancing toward Warsaw.
After all, pushing for an early decisive battle aligns with the desires of many back home. As the one to initiate the campaign, Obodov has already secured significant political favor.
If he manages to achieve military success, it would be a natural progression for him to replace Ivanov as the voice of the Russian military in the future.
Risk?
What venture in these times comes without risk? The Fourth Army is strong and well-equipped. Even in the worst-case scenario, they could fortify their position on the spot and wait for reinforcements to arrive.
Buoyed by a string of battlefield victories, the high-spirited General Obodov has grown overconfident, dismissing the enemy as insignificant.
This view is not unique to him. Many within the Russian military share the sentiment, believing the enemy’s victory in the last war was purely a fluke, a result of catching Russia at its weakest.
Now that the Russian government has purged the corrupt elements from its ranks and installed a generation of “masterful tacticians” like themselves, how could they possibly lose?
…
At dawn, as the first light of the day broke over the horizon, Lieutenant General Obodov, still groggy from just waking up, caught the faint sound of artillery fire in the distance.
Being a seasoned military commander, Obodov immediately became alert. Before he could figure out what was happening, a guard came running over hurriedly.
“General, our vanguard forces have encountered the enemy and are requesting artillery support.”
“How did the enemy get here so quickly?”
As the words left his mouth, Obodo realized his misstep. This was not a question the guard could answer.
“Order the artillery to provide fire support, and summon the officers for a meeting. I need to organize the battle plan.”
The march so far had been unimpeded, with no signs of resistance. Now, just as they were nearing the gates of Warsaw, an enemy force appeared. It was clear this wasn’t merely an attempt to block their path.
Obodov wasn’t one to shy away from a fight. If he were a coward, he would never have managed to conceal his intentions from the general staff and lead the Fourth Army into action.
In the Russian military, balance was essential. Only strong and capable commanders could maintain full control over their troops. Armies respected strength. To establish authority, one needed “military achievements.”
Without demonstrable skill, accomplishments, and firm control over his forces, Obodov’s movements would have been exposed long ago, with complaints flooding headquarters before he even had the chance to act.
…
The brutal battle had begun, and Obodov had predicted the start but not the outcome.
The Prussian army was much faster than he had anticipated, and before he could react, he found himself caught in a pincer movement.
From the outbreak of the battle to the encirclement, the enemy had taken less than two days. Clearly, they had been well-prepared, or it would not have been possible to move so quickly.
The question of whether to break through became the biggest dilemma facing Obodov.
A bearded officer, speaking excitedly, said, “General, we can’t retreat now. The enemy clearly had a plan. If we try a breakout, we will suffer heavy losses.
We acted on our own this time. If the troops suffer heavy losses, we’ll be facing a military tribunal when we return.
Instead of cowardly sitting in prison, I’d rather die on the battlefield! The battlefield is a soldier’s true home!
Besides, the situation isn’t that dire yet. We still have over a hundred thousand troops. In the short term, the enemy can’t overwhelm us.
Better to defend our position here and wait for reinforcements to arrive, then hit the enemy with an attack from the center!”
The real problem was the “military tribunal.” Taking independent action on the battlefield isn’t a crime, but if everything has to wait for orders from headquarters, how can one seize the opportunity?
If independent action results in a defeat, it becomes a grave crime. All the responsibility would fall on their shoulders, and there would be no one else to blame.
Obodov understood that there must be loopholes in the enemy’s encirclement, and issuing an order to break through now could allow at least half of the troops to escape. However, as the highest commander, he himself would be finished.
It wouldn’t just be his downfall, all the senior officers of the Fourth Army would share in the misfortune. Whether they end up in a military tribunal would be a matter of luck, and there was a real chance that Ivanov would use them as an example, perhaps even executing them outright.
After analyzing the current situation, Obodov reluctantly realized that issuing an order to break out meant certain death for him. Not only would he be finished, but his family would also suffer disgrace.
Staying and holding out was equally fraught with danger. The enemy had clearly prepared in advance, and the chance of receiving reinforcements was very low. A single mistake could lead to the complete annihilation of his forces.
Reinforcements arriving in a week was an ideal scenario. The closest units to the Fourth Army were indeed just over 100 kilometers away, and cavalry could reach them in a day, but others were several hundred kilometers away.
To rescue them, it wouldn’t be possible with just a few units. A large force would need to be mobilized, or it would be like sending a meat bun to a dog—hopeless.
Gathering the troops and dealing with the enemy’s potential interception along the way would take time, and what the Fourth Army lacked most was time.
“Order the troops to hold their positions and wait for reinforcements. From now on, send a telegram to headquarters every day requesting assistance. Be sure to pay attention to the wording, highlighting the seriousness of the situation.”
After hesitating several times, Obodov ultimately decided to take a risk. “Better them than me.” For a slim chance of survival, he had no choice but to use the 100,000 soldiers of the Fourth Army as a bargaining chip.
If he lost the gamble, at least he would die on the battlefield which was far better than being executed. The Russian government was relatively lenient toward the dead.
Once dead, debts are forgiven. As long as one dies on the battlefield, past mistakes can be forgotten.
But if he won, it would be a huge victory. The victor would not be blamed, and any prior independent actions would be seen as battlefield adaptability and seizing opportunities.
The “halo of a great general” would automatically fall upon him, and he would become another miracle in Russian military history, admired by future generations.
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