Chapter 571: General, This Constitutes Severe Cowardice!

By this point, even Chief of Staff Semyon, known for his steady demeanor and meticulous nature, was somewhat bewildered.

With his extensive combat experience, he had seen all sorts of situations on the battlefield... but this was a first.

No one could believe that the enemy would immediately release a captured prisoner, hand him a map containing critical intelligence, and essentially announce their upcoming river crossing operation.

But the returned map didn't seem to be a mere smokescreen. The enemy's actions on the opposite bank strongly suggested to the Southern Army... that they were serious.

"Have the Rebel and Saxon commanders across the river truly lost their minds?"

A lieutenant colonel from the operations section pulled off his cap and rubbed his head, his tone thick with incomprehension.

"Based on our reconnaissance over the past few days, they have sixty, maybe seventy thousand men in the Rzhyshchiv sector at most... And they plan to cross the river and attack our hundred and thirty thousand?"

"Perhaps the Saxons are just that arrogant," another staff officer adjusted his glasses and chimed in. "The battles a few days ago made them think our army is weak, so..."

"Enough."

Denikin's voice cut through the discussion.

As the command room fell silent, the Commander-in-Chief of the Southern Army stood up, resting his hands on the edge of the desk.

He stared at the operational map for a long time before speaking slowly.

"Regardless, our decision to pull troops from the flanks to reinforce the center appears correct for now."

Chief of Staff Semyon nodded; this was indeed a fact.

Whether the Southern Army ultimately launched their own crossing offensive or defended against a Rebel counter-crossing, the depth of their central forces had to be guaranteed.

"I have a hundred and thirty thousand men against their few tens of thousands, and I'm supposed to avoid their vanguard?"

Denikin slapped the desk, his voice rising sharply. As he spoke, his mustache trembled.

Clearly, getting beaten down recently had allowed a considerable amount of fury to build up within the veteran general.

The first failed crossing cost them nearly three thousand men.

The second was even worse. Being "attacked mid-crossing" resulted in the near-total annihilation of the units that managed to cross the Dnieper.

And it cost them numerous precious Armored Knights...

This caused the morale of the entire Southern Army to plummet continuously. Even the junior officers had begun whispering, questioning whether they could win this war.

But Denikin's fury didn't burn for long before a staff officer tactfully cooled him down.

"General, what about the Saxon armored airship?"

This question froze Denikin's raised fist mid-air. He slowly opened his hand and sat back down.

Right, the armored airship...

His mind inevitably flashed back to the shadow that behemoth cast over the Dnieper River during the previous battles.

The firepower of the armored airship over Rzhyshchiv wasn't exactly terrifying. Based on synced intelligence from the Center Army, its offensive capability fell far short of the one over Kyiv.

But the most troublesome aspect of that airship was its ability to loiter over the battlefield indefinitely.

The moment White Army artillery fired, they would quickly receive counter-battery fire directed from above. As soon as troops massed, the airship's heavy guns would rain down and scatter them.

Not to mention its ability to carry Armored Knights, capable of deploying an elite force to critical areas at any moment...

"The field anti-air magitech devices provided by the Britannians..." Denikin turned to Semyon. "Are they calibrated?"

Chief of Staff Semyon nodded, replying, "They've been undergoing calibration since arriving behind the lines with a Britannian military observer mission... They are currently combat-ready."

Denikin was about to speak when his Chief of Staff immediately added, "However, even if we deploy them, the Britannians strongly advise against placing these field anti-air magitech devices on the front lines."

"Why?"

"Primarily because deploying and packing up the entire system takes time. If placed too far forward and they can't be packed up quickly enough, they are vulnerable to destruction by enemy long-range artillery..."

Semyon paused, recalling the Britannians' words, and continued, "Furthermore, based on the Britannians' combat experience on the Western Front, once activated, both the anti-air magitech device itself and its small magitech power core will be detected by Saxon armored airships within a certain range."

Denikin pondered this for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on the desk twice before making a decision.

"Then deploy them in the rear. We simply lure the Saxon armored airship to us."

Semyon's eyelids twitched as realization dawned on him.

"General, you intend to... let the Rebels cross the river before attacking?"

Denikin tilted his head, a cold smirk pulling at his lips.

"During our last offensive, we were counterattacked by the Rebels halfway across... Indeed, a force is most vulnerable while crossing a river. This applies to anyone, and the Rebels across the river are no exception."

"Since they've handed us this opportunity, we must grasp it firmly!"

"Order the frontline perimeter units to proactively fall back. Let the Rebel vanguard cross. While their follow-up forces are still on the water..."

He slammed his fist down.

"...Bring the hammer down!"

Chief of Staff Semyon ran this concept through his mind rapidly... It was indeed viable. Or rather, the Saxons across the river had already demonstrated this exact tactic to them a few days ago.

If the Rebels were hit by a full-line counterattack from the Southern Army halfway across, the troops that had already landed would be encircled and annihilated by absolute numerical superiority, and the pontoons and ferries on the water would be exposed to artillery fire.

"General, it seems you are increasingly certain the Rebels intend to launch a counter-crossing," Semyon noted quietly.

Denikin remained silent for a moment, his right hand absently rubbing the edge of the desk. After a long while, his tone carried complex, indescribable emotions.

"Although I loathe to admit it..."

He looked up at the map, bristling with blue and red markers.

"Aside from having fewer troops and slightly inferior training... the Rebels across the river hold the advantage in every other aspect."

No one in the command room spoke.

"Their combat resolve is stronger than we imagined. And now, with Saxon support... their long-range firepower and reconnaissance capabilities far exceed ours here in the Southern Army."

As Denikin continued, the silence among the White Army officers in the room deepened.

"We have a considerable number of artillery pieces, but their performance... lags far behind the Saxons'."

"In the past two battles, a third of our army's artillery was neutralized."

He paused here, a look of genuine pain flashing across his face.

A third of their artillery... That wasn't just a handful of field guns.

The stockpile the South Rus Volunteer Army had painstakingly hoarded for so long had its lid blown off by enemy counter-battery fire in mere days.

"If only I had a few more War Alchemists..."

Denikin's tone turned wistful. "Even just two more, and I wouldn't be this passive."

Unfortunately, the majority of the War Alchemists surviving from the old Greater Rus Empire were controlled by Kolchak.

The entire Southern Army, or rather the entire South Rus Volunteer Army faction, possessed only three War Alchemists in total.

To Denikin, these three men were his most precious strategic assets. Unless absolutely necessary, he would never lightly commit them to battle, especially not on the front lines within range of enemy heavy artillery.

"General," Semyon interjected tactfully after Denikin's lament. "If the Rebels truly launch a counter-crossing offensive... perhaps it is indeed time to deploy them."

Denikin nodded silently. He then turned to face the assembled officers.

"The original plan remains unchanged."

His voice regained the steady decisiveness expected of an army commander.

"If the Rebels do not cross, our army will launch a general offensive against Rzhyshchiv, supported by the War Alchemists and field anti-air magitech devices."

"But if the Rebels are truly arrogant enough to attempt a counter-crossing..."

Denikin stepped to the map, jabbing his index finger heavily onto the river.

"Then, when their crossing is halfway complete, launch a full-line counterattack. Ensure none return!"

The officers immediately acknowledged the orders and dispersed to adjust deployments according to the new plan. Only Chief of Staff Semyon remained standing motionless before the operational map.

Noticing his Chief of Staff's stillness, Denikin walked over to him.

"Do you still have concerns?"

Semyon tapped the desk with the eraser end of his pencil, hesitating before speaking.

"General, over these past few days... our recon units haven't spotted any armored vehicles on the opposite bank. We don't know if the enemy hid them or relocated them elsewhere."

After saying this, Semyon shook his head.

"Hopefully, I'm just overthinking it."

October 6th. The first light of dawn broke over the horizon.

On both the east and west banks of the Dnieper River in the Rzhyshchiv sector, two different armed forces of the same nation began their final pre-battle preparations almost simultaneously.

On the west bank, the National Army troops within Rzhyshchiv city had been awake since before dawn.

Soldiers crouched in communication trenches, gnawing on dry, hard rye bread and hardtack. Alongside this, they were served borscht, a half-palm-sized slab of salted pork, and incredibly rare butter.

This was arguably the heartiest breakfast they had received recently, making every National Army soldier acutely aware of the importance of today's battle.

In the frontline trenches, some men's hands trembled, while others expressionlessly checked their rifles.

A veteran of the International Brigade chugged water, then hung a polished, gleaming shell casing around his neck—a talisman he brought back from the Kingdom of Aragon.

Other soldiers in the trenches also made their respective preparations, awaiting the final moment.

Not far behind the riverbank positions, another bridging unit deployed by the Saxon Eighth Army had staged all its equipment.

Standard pontoons lined up neatly under camouflage nets, with articulated bridge decking and anchor cables piled nearby. Engineers crouched beside the gear, smoking what could be their last cigarette.

Further back, in the Artillery Instruction Regiment's positions, gunners completed loading in the darkness.

Firing tables for all calibers had been calculated. Target coordinates were scribbled on scrap paper pasted to the inside of each gun shield. These coordinates corresponded to known White Army fortifications, fire points, and transit nodes on the opposite bank, identified via aerial reconnaissance.

In the sky, under Lieutenant Colonel Andreasia's orders, the L15 armored airship slowly pushed forward from the airspace above Rzhyshchiv. Its massive hull cast a long, narrow shadow in the morning light.

Both friend and foe knew its attitude adjustment signaled impending action today.

The White Army on the east bank was equally busy.

Denikin's orders had been cascading down the chain of command since last night. The vanguard troops of the detached divisions had completed their deployment along the river.

Per the orders issued on October 4th, the remaining forces were also to arrive at their respective positions before 2400 hours today.

White Army soldiers were making their own tense preparations. Rarely seen hard liquor and cigarettes were distributed early, but no smiles could be seen on anyone's face.

The entire front line was taut as a bowstring.

At exactly 6:00 AM, the tension on both banks of the Dnieper in the Rzhyshchiv sector reached its absolute peak. Everyone waited for the enemy to strike first, or for their own attack orders.

But what broke the silence wasn't the roar of guns from the front line.

On the west bank, in the comms tent of the Rzhyshchiv Battlegroup Headquarters, the operator received an encrypted telegram precisely at 6:00 AM.

The cryptographer rapidly decoded the message, and the telegram paper was handed to Ludendorff.

[Instruction Brigade flanking attack has officially commenced. Awaiting allied forces to synchronize frontal coordination as planned. Wishing you continued victory!]

Staring at these few lines, Ludendorff's fingers unconsciously tightened.

He looked around the tent at the officers—Eighth Army staff, National Army liaisons, and several Cossack chieftains. Everyone awaited his word.

However, at the same time, numerous reconnaissance reports from along the riverbank indicated significant White Army activity on the opposite shore. Clearly, they had completed the massing detailed in the intercepted telegram two days prior.

This meant the troop density in the White Army positions was substantially heavier than a few days ago.

"The enemy across the river truly pulled forces from their flanks..." he muttered softly, standing up and walking to the newly updated operational map.

"Chief of Staff, reassess the frontal firepower disparity." Ludendorff's voice was strained.

The Eighth Army staff officer quickly crunched the numbers. Factoring in reconnaissance data from recent days, the White Army's frontal infantry strength likely exceeded eighty thousand men.

Conversely, the river crossing forces of the Rzhyshchiv Battlegroup—two Saxon infantry divisions plus the National Army main force—totaled no more than sixty thousand.

The twenty thousand Cossack cavalry were utterly useless during the crossing phase. They had to wait for the pontoon bridges to be completed before they could gallop across the vast plains on the other side.

In river crossing operations, the attacking side is inherently at a disadvantage. Sixty thousand men forcing a crossing over a wide river against eighty thousand prepared defenders...

Ludendorff's Adam's apple bobbed. He felt as if he were staring at the end of his military career.

"Wait."

He spoke again. His voice was controlled and steady, but staff officers familiar with him could detect the underlying hesitation.

"The Instruction Brigade's flanking attack has indeed commenced... but the frontal troop disparity has changed."

"In the original plan, the Instruction Brigade's armored forces were the spearhead of the crossing. This was one of the reasons Army Headquarters and the National Army deemed the plan viable."

He stepped to the front of the map, pressing his finger onto the frontal crossing zone.

"But now, we are sending an infantry mass to gnaw on a reinforced defensive position... I need time to reassess—"

"Major General Ludendorff."

A voice called out from the corner of the tent.

Everyone turned to look at the military inquisitor who had been standing silently on the periphery.

Standing in the corner, Lieutenant Colonel Hubertus closed his notebook. The military inquisitor assigned to the battlegroup rarely interfered in specific command decisions.

Even when Ludendorff argued with National Army officers, he merely recorded it.

So when Lieutenant Colonel Hubertus proactively stepped up to the table, nearly everyone's eyes locked onto him.

"Major General Ludendorff, I need to confirm something..."

Ludendorff frowned deeply.

"What is it?"

"Has the operational plan for the Rzhyshchiv Battlegroup been jointly approved by the Eighth Army Headquarters and the Provisional Government's General Staff?"

"Yes."

"Has the Instruction Brigade arrived at the designated area at the specified time according to this plan?"

"Yes... They even arrived early..."

"Are the frontal crossing forces prepared?"

Ludendorff paused for a moment before answering, "Basically complete."

Lieutenant Colonel Hubertus placed his notebook on the table and stared directly at Ludendorff. "Then regarding your decision to halt the offensive now, have you received new orders from Army Headquarters?"

"The situation has changed. As the battlegroup commander, I have the authority to make adjustments based on battlefield conditions..."

"Yes, you do indeed have the authority to adjust."

Hubertus didn't raise his voice, yet everyone felt a palpable sense of pressure.

"But the Instruction Brigade has already commenced their attack. You did not notify them in advance, nor have you identified new circumstances sufficient to prove the original plan is unexecutable."

"The White Army has reinforced their front!"

"That intelligence falls within the scope of the plan's assessment."

Hubertus flipped to a document tucked inside his notebook.

"The final assessment submitted by the Battlegroup Operations Section yesterday noted that the White Army might mass heavy forces on the front."

Ludendorff's face darkened further.

"Lieutenant Colonel, what exactly are you trying to say?"

"If you unilaterally suspend frontal coordination after allied forces have penetrated deep behind enemy lines, and cannot produce sufficient justification, I can only record this as an act of severe cowardice!"