Part IV: The Cost of Victory
Zachadia completed full mobilization late in the summer of 1916. Across the nation in April and May, young men had assembled in dusty village squares and crowded city plazas before mustering to training camps where they were each handed a Vz. 98 bolt action rifle along with powder blue fatigues and sturdy leather boots. Training lasted three months, which meant that the majority of these new soldiers began to be shipped to the front lines by mid-August.
Many units passed through the capital on their way to the front, and if one stood in Prague Main Station on a hot summers day in 1916, crowds of blue uniforms would have dominated the scene. Throngs of soldiers gathered in groups to play cards, to share illicit flasks of vodka or simply to wander outside and gaze at the city for what might have been their first time. To an observer, it might have seemed as though the glory of Zachadia was concentrated on this one point in time and space as the boisterous young men gathered while awaiting to be shipped far across the Kingdom, and indeed across the globe.
No sooner did these men arrive at their posts than they were pressed into combat, as there was a dire need for warm bodies by the end of the summer. Fierce fighting along the Western front had whittled down the ranks of the professional soldiers, particularly among the non-commissioned officers corps who provided much of the army’s institutional expertise. From the mud of Prussia, to the sands of the Levant, to the jungles of South Asia, Zachad soldiers marched and fought and often died. They died stacked in triple berths aboard troop transports in the Indian Ocean. They died counting down the seconds between the crashes of artillery, lying prone in crude earthen bunkers. And they died by the dozen, cut down in murderous volleys of machine gun fire, as uncaring officers ordered them over the top for the first or the second or the fifth time.
Units were formed, attritted, reformed, amalgamated and disbanded. A factory worker from Dębica might have been on a mortar team alongside a farmer from Oradea, who if he knew Interslavic at all, spoke it with a thick Hungarian accent that rendered mutual comprehension difficult if not impossible. Yet these men, gathering in their tens of thousands across the far corners of the globe, still found common ground. They spoke of their lives before the war and dreamed of a world which might come after it.
As the warmth of summer faded, optimism about the war’s progress began to falter after a series of devastating defeats in India. Albin colonial forces, initially concentrated predominantly in Hyderabad, marched north and shattered the Smolenskii armies besieging Delhi. As the Smolenskii troops retreated in poor order, they appealed to their Zachad allies. General Tyl’s Army of Southeast Asia quickly moved to reinforce the collapsing front from its reserve position in Hispanian Bengal. The army, primarily composed of Thai and Khmer soldiers from Zachad colonies, was underequipped and poorly trained, outfitted first as a garrison force based out of Bangkok. It was not meant for the type of brutal fighting that it was forced into during the Monsoon Season in northern India, as trucks and artillery carriages became stuck in knee-deep mud and cartridges fouled due to the damp.
The sacrifice made by thousands of Thai soldiers during the Siege of Rewa became an important rallying cry during the Siamese Independence Movement later in the 20th century.
Yet Smolensk’s position in India continued to collapse, and the Zachad Army found itself cut off, deep in the sub-continent and unable to evacuate towards a port. As supplies dwindled, General Tyl attempted to hold the city of Rewa, in northern-central India, only to be gradually surrounded by Albin forces. After a brutal, week-long siege, Tyl surrendered. Many of the colonial soldiers under his command had already deserted, rather than die fighting for an empire they had no stake in.
Later that same month, Zachadia suffered another grievous defeat in the Asian theater, this time at sea. The Asiatic Squadron was intercepted by the Albin Pacific Fleet, itself escorting a massive invasion force of over 30,000 colonial soldiers. Admiral Petr Moravec, following sightings of the fleet off the coast of Sarawak, directed his small mixed force of light cruisers and destroyers to trail it from a distance in the hope of making an end run around the screening force and attacking vulnerable transports as they prepared to disembark troops on Malaya. Yet foul weather forced the Albin fleet to spread out, ironically leading to a chance encounter early on the morning of January 22nd in which two Albin heavy cruisers chanced upon the Zachad force and gave chase. Though the lighter ships held a speed advantage, wireless transmissions allowed the larger Albin fleet to vector in reinforcements from multiple directions.
Admiral Aelfgar Hayden’s Pacific Fleet, steaming south off the coast of Shanghai.
The resulting battle lasted well over a day, with the Asiatic Squadron attempting to lose its pursuers and the Albin cruisers firing at extreme range. Slowly, however, the damage piled up, with one shell landing on the bridge of the flagship
Bialystok and killing Admiral Moravec himself. After three ships had been sunk with an additional four taking on water and battling fires, the force surrendered. The news of its loss was received poorly in Prague, where Prime Minister Láska was forced to report to King Charles that Asia was effectively lost. While a barebones garrison and police force still existed in Bangkok, there was nothing to prevent its seizure by the Occidentals - or perhaps more concerningly, to fight an uprising by emboldened native forces.
The Battle of the Straits of Johore virtually guaranteed Occidental supremacy in East Asia for the rest of the war.
In the European theatre, little changed as the Western Front ground into a stalemate along the German border. An autumn offensive by the Kingdom of France into the Rhineland made headway until the weather turned and the Germans began to transfer additional forces to the West, stalling the offensive. Nonetheless, German manpower reserves were beginning to thin, leading some generals in the Paris Pact to counsel that the alliance could grind down the enemy war machine with another year of fighting along the Empire’s long front. However, the Albin blockade of the Baltic Sea along with the French and Hispanian Atlantic coastline scrapped this idea, something that was reinforced by the defeats in India and southeast Asia.
Almost overnight, the loss of overseas goods forced Zachadia to institute extensive rationing across the Kingdom to prevent food prices from spiraling out of control. The blockade demonstrated the dependence of the nation’s economy on overseas markets and inputs, which had now been neatly severed by a few vital strokes. Rubber was in particularly short supply. Effective naval control of the Mediterranean meant that it could still be imported from the colony of Zachad Abyssinia, but the few plantations there, which had never equaled the output of those in Indochina, now took on a new level of importance.
Already apoplectic over the losses in Asia, King Charles told Prime Minister Láska and Minister of War Radomír Nováček to commit the Army to the defense of the African colonies, even if it required transferring forces from the Balkans or the German front. It was a radical departure from his earlier caution over launching the Bohemian Offensive, and reflected the growing concern that Zachadia could no longer afford to patiently wear away at its enemies.
Africa still hung in the balance at the beginning of 1917. The Emirate of Kanem Bornu had been under complete Albin occupation for nine months when Zachad troops crossed over Acquitanian central Africa in late May of 1917 to begin its liberation. Though entry into Acquitanian territory was technically illegal, few colonial authorities persisted in the harsh southern reaches of the Sahara Desert, where colonial boundaries were poorly demarcated. The Zachad forces traveled in several dispersed columns overland in order to live off the land, having long since surpassed the limits of their supply lines. Local Kanuri people acted as valuable scouts and ensured that the ragtag force did not immediately attract the attention of the far larger Albin army south of Lake Chad.
East Africa, however, quickly became the locus of the continent as the Albin General Edric Ramsey’s Army of Central Africa launched a major invasion of Zachad Abyssinia. Combined with a small Dutch colonial contingent, Ramsey could call upon more than 100,000 soldiers in East Africa, most of whom were better equipped and trained than the Zachad colonial forces in the region. General Maximilian Rokytnice scrambled to respond to the offensive, quickly settling on a strategy of “defeat in detail” as the Albin forces spread out to cover the vast terrain of Abyssinia.
For the first two months of the campaign, the lack of a front line led to a classical war of maneuver as the European armies danced around each other, both sides attempting to isolate the enemy on favorable terms. Finally, Rokytnice detached his Fifth Corps, a force primarily composed of Hungarian and Czech professional soldiers, to the north in an attempt to lure away Ramsey. The faint was successful, and he managed to engage 16,000 Albin colonial soldiers under Arnolf Bodwin in Sidamo province, where they were cut off and destroyed.
The Fifth Corps to the north were in dire straits, though. After several brief engagements with General Ramsey’s Army of Central Africa, the Fifth withdrew towards Jimma on the single road available to them, the recently constructed Abyssinian Transport Company’s Welega Byway. The road was little more than packed earth, but included the only steel bridge over the Didessa River capable of transporting artillery. It had been built in 1913 near the town of Bonga at the head of the Barta Valley, and it was here that the Fifth Corps chose on June 15 to dig in and make their stand. Though outnumbered nearly three-to-one by the enemy, the jungle walls of the Barta Valley effectively boxed the Albin advance into a single direction, uphill over rough terrain. Their casualties were resultantly severe, but the combination of steady bombardment and numbers slowly eroded the Zachad position.
Word of the Fifth’s advance had reached General Rokytnice shortly after he had dealt with Bodwin’s forces near Irgalem. He had responded by immediately ordering a forced march towards Bonga, a distance of almost 250 kilometers. The march took place over rough terrain, and that Rokytnice’s men reached Bonga in just over two weeks is a testament to the sheer grit and exertion of men who knew that for every second they delayed, their comrades to the north paid for it in blood. On the morning of July 2nd, Rokytnice’s Army of East Africa began an assault from the south end of Barta Valley and tore through Edric Ramsey’s poorly-defended rear echelon. By the end of the first day of fighting, the Albin were effectively bottled inside of the valley.
Zachad troops climbing a ridge near Tarcha, Abyssinia during the relief of Bonga.
The Battle of Bonga lasted another two weeks as the Albin attempted desperately to fight their way out of the valley. However, without their artillery support and separated from their logistical tail, they suffered horrendous losses. By July 15, less than 15,000 men had successfully withdrawn, with the rest surrendering or perishing along the steep jungle inclines. They represented less than a quarter of the original Army of East Africa, and with their defeat the entire Albin offensive into Zachad Abyssinia essentially collapsed. It was, without a doubt, the finest Zachad victory in the war thus far, and it had occurred in the theatre that was in the most dire need of one. Bonga was celebrated in every Zachad newspaper, while General Rokytnice would be feted for the rest of his life as the “Savior of East Africa.”
Moreover, the victory paved the way for a counter-offensive into Albin Africa, as Russian forces arrived from the Red Sea later that month and assisted in mopping up the enemy remnants that persisted throughout the Abyssinian Protectorate. Zachad commanders were soon able to contemplate an attack that would force the transfer of Albin forces away from West Africa and allow for the full liberation of Kanem-Bornu.
But there is a darker side to this story.
Anselm Barker, a journalist of Germanic-Albin extraction, traveled with Ramsey’s Army of East Africa throughout the spring as it penetrated the Zachad colonies. What he documented - mostly through journal entries, owing to a lack of film - was a brutal system of colonial extraction centered on rubber plantations throughout Sidamo province. Wartime needs and the lack of Indochinese rubber had forced colonial administrators to turn a blind eye towards acts of extreme cruelty on the part of plantation owners meant to “incentivize” the local population to meet ever higher quotas.
His accounts quickly found their way into the press of the Occidental Alliance nations, where Zachad atrocities were paraded as proof of the Paris Pact’s innate savagery and lack of humanity. They were, of course, just as resoundingly disputed by Zachadia and her allies, who wrote off the reports as mere wartime propaganda. Yet in the post-war era, their veracity ultimately came to light as follow-on investigations continued to turn up evidence of barbaric practices that found widespread adoption in colonial Abyssinia during the wartime years. Today, the Barker Journals are a black mark of shame upon Zachadia’s history - one that subsequent generations of Zachad citizens have all-too-frequently shied away from addressing in full.
From “A Subaltern’s Sorrow,” by Menasse Abdi Issa. Gdansk: Liberation Press, 1974.
I am a professor of modern politics, though an anthropologist by training, and an Abyssinian by birth. Each day when I leave my university office, I pass through Memorial Plaza in Prague, wherein a statue of the great Bronislav Láska greets me on my way home. Yes, after a full day of teaching young Zachad students about the mysteries of my vast and troubled home continent, I have the privilege of confronting the revered Prime Minister himself: the victor of the First European War, the architect of the modern welfare scheme, a gentleman and a scholar.
But what is Láska to me? He is the one who turned a blind eye to the mutilation of my grandmother - nay, who knowingly condoned, even encouraged these practices, so that the war engines of the kingdom might grind more bone and flesh into gristle, so that the vast colonial empire might expand its reach ever more. Yet nevertheless that statue remains, is even adorned with flowers on Victory Day.
Do you see, then, how that statue looks different to my eyes? And can you imagine, then, how I bear its weight inside of me when I educate your youth on the proud histories of my homeland, or the present conflict in the Suez?
No. You cannot.
At the culmination of the East Africa Campaign, the war had lasted just over a year. In that time, the great powers had recorded a combined total of just under nine million military casualties, roughly a third of which were deaths. Far more would become crippled veterans, begging on the streets of the sleek European capitals after the war. Yet more would appear unharmed, yet spend the rest of their lives tormented by invisible mental scars that bore out the trauma of the conflict.
Even these losses are known, discussed and respected, however. What is not? The suffering of the civilian population in the Balkans, Anatolia and the Middle East whose homes were destroyed by fighting, and who waged brutal war upon each other in the name of religion or ethnicity. The people of northern India who starved during the winter of 1917 after their harvests were ruined by artillery. The nameless thousands of rubber workers in Abyssinia punished by mutilation for failing to deliver on time. And many, many more. The European powers paid all of these costs without hesitation, along with their vast millions of young men, in their great game. This was the cost of victory.
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Whew, apologies for the wait, all. The story has now finally caught up to where I am in the gameplay, so I now get to return to actually... Playing it. Also, now that this is finished, I'm looking forward to catching up on all the other AARs in this forum! Finally, I saw that a few readers have nominated this story for the ACAs - thank you very, very much, your support means a lot to me.