It's better to conquer them than to command the steel torrent

Chapter 151 | What does it mean when cigarettes go bad...?

Compared to Hurriel, Veronica's mind is still focused on Valland.

"What if the Varlanders also imitate the Hullers? How should we attack Berlin then?"

She worried that Bolin would also be unable to break through after a long siege.

Major General Kovalev thought to himself: Come on! The strategic battle is still undecided! Why are you already worrying about how to attack the city?

Despite his complaints, he still objectively analyzed the situation: "The situation in Perlin is different from that in Budapest, Your Majesty. If we reach the stage of attacking Perlin, it means that the Walland army in the Brandenburg region has been severely damaged by us, and we can calmly surround Perlin from three or even four directions."

He continued, "The Danube River runs through Budapest, allowing the Hurricane army to use it to contain us and continuously support the city's garrison. Obviously, Polin does not have such a terrain advantage."

To the northwest of Budapest are rolling hills and mountains, making it easy to defend and difficult to attack.

A forced crossing of the Danube followed by an attack on the mountains? That would be tricky.

In a modern military strategy game, such an operation would be called "crossing a river to attack a mountain," and would result in extremely high terrain penalties.

Attacking across rivers results in a 60% attack penalty, while attacking mountains results in a 50% attack penalty plus a 40% loss penalty. When these two factors are combined, they create a severe debuff for the attacker, making it difficult even for elite troops to win.

“Very good, I understand. The difficulty for Budapest lies in our inability to defeat the Hurricane army west of the Danube and to completely isolate Budapest,” Veronica nodded.

A city that is completely isolated is much easier to besiege, as manpower and ammunition will be quickly exhausted.

Veronica felt somewhat relieved to know that the attack on Bolin would not be hindered by the terrain.

"May the goddess of victory protect Ivanros this time, and may God bless our homeland."

She muttered to herself, completely forgetting that she had made a deal with an evil god.

This is truly... even God would laugh.

"All we can do now is try our best to provide the troops with sufficient supplies, and then quietly wait for good news." Major General Kovalev raised his hand and glanced at his watch.

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"...Good news, Shang. Yesterday, a small squad raided an enemy convoy at night and brought back a lieutenant prisoner. He confessed that the senior officer who died in the shelling that day was a major general named Barannikov."

In the defense command post located in the basement of the business school, Major General Ratz-Jené was full of praise.

"Oh? Now it's been verified from multiple sources." Shang Ke smiled slightly, snapped his fingers, and sighed with a wry smile, "A brilliant general's flower withered in Budapest."

That very night, radio interception proved that a major general had died on the Tsarist side. Afterwards, the defending troops captured a number of enemy soldiers, all of whom confessed to the death of a chief of staff.

However, the city defense command was cautious and did not rush to open the champagne at the halfway point. They waited a few more days until they captured an officer and obtained more authoritative evidence.

According to personnel intelligence provided by the Second Directorate of the General Staff, Major General Barannikov was an engineer officer who had extensive experience in attacking river and lake areas and was also skilled in demolition operations. He was a well-known figure in Ivan Ross's army, where generals were a dime a dozen.

Shank felt a sense of gratification, after all, this guy had been carrying out a massive 'demolition' operation in Budapest, using crude explosives to destroy many strongholds and causing considerable casualties to his side.

In addition, this Major General Barannikov happens to share the same surname as a notorious game designer in later generations.

A refreshed and invigorated Shang Ke said with anticipation, "My country is expanding its powerful armed forces. If my superiors aren't misleading me, I might be able to command a mechanized division when I return home." The brigadier general chief of staff laughed heartily and said confidently, "Perfectly reasonable! Your exceptional talent is more than enough for the task."

"Actually, I also worry about whether I can manage a tactical unit well," Shang Ke said, half humble and half proud.

Generally speaking, division-level combat units belong to basic tactical formations.

Major General Yene glanced at the map and chuckled casually, “In fact, if the goal is just to be competent, it’s easier to command a division than a battalion because you have a complete staff team to help you. Of course, commanding tactical units also requires talent, and some division commanders will always be mediocre.”

In short, the lower limit is relatively high, unless someone acts arbitrarily and gives reckless orders.

Everyone was in a good mood because they had confirmed that a major general had been killed in the bombing.

First, a patrol team went deep behind enemy lines and killed a brigadier general; then, a captured mortar killed a major general. What Mr. Shang said about double happiness really came true.

So even though the predicament wasn't over, everyone decided to relax a bit and have a few drinks to ease their minds.

After a brief respite, everyone threw themselves back into the intense battle of defense.

A noteworthy situation soon emerged.

Starting from the first day of late November, the Romanian army, which had previously only been fighting in the southern part of the city, appeared in the northern part of the city for the first time as a complete unit.

Approximately two companies of Romanian infantry participated in the attack on Heroes' Square, suffering more than half their losses with no success.

Shank gave a very low evaluation of the Romanian army, believing that its weapons and equipment were poor, its tactics were outdated, and it was one of the worst armies in Europe. He believed that its combat effectiveness was about the same as that of the Imperial Russian National Strike Forces, and its morale was even worse.

Comparing the Romanian army's regular field troops to the Imperial Russian National Strike Forces, which were essentially untrained cannon fodder, clearly demonstrates that the Romanian army was far from a skilled fighting force.

People optimistically believed that Ivanrod's army was running out of manpower and had to send its allied forces to launch a strong attack on key targets.

Winter has arrived in Budapest, with daytime temperatures dropping to 4°C and nighttime temperatures to -3°C. The temperature difference is small, and it remains chilly all day long.

One early morning, Heroes' Square was shelled again.

For the officers and soldiers of the 3rd Battalion of the Military Police Regiment defending this place, this was already a common occurrence; the enemy would routinely shell the area even if they did not attack.

After a series of loud explosions, no one noticed that the shelling was unusual, with an abnormally high number of duds—about a third of the shells were half-buried in the ground without exploding.

"We see a lot of enemy activity on the front lines. This shelling is not harassment. Prepare for battle."

Sergeant Matt, a cigarette dangling from his lips, stood in a bunker that had been expanded from a large bomb crater.

At this moment, Sergeant Matt suddenly felt something was off.

Huh? Why does this cigarette taste different?
It tasted fine a few minutes ago, but suddenly it turned strange, incredibly astringent and pungent, like a cheap cigarette.

He threw away the cigarette, took another one from the pack, lit it, and found that it still tasted off.

Sergeant Blanca, who was in the same bunker, used to be a quiet girl. She had only recently learned to smoke to relieve stress, and she also looked doubtful.

A moment later, Sergeant Matt recalled something his father had said when he was a child: Some poisonous gases are invisible, but they can spoil cigarettes, even the most expensive ones.

A bad feeling welled up in his heart.

(End of this chapter)