Years later, looking at the massive flag slowly rising over the Elector’s Gate in Dresden, Field Marshal Conrad, former Chief of the Austro-Hungarian Army General Staff, would recall that distant morning when Friedrich von Morin led troops to rescue him from the hands of the coup plotters.
Neither Conrad nor the other tied-up staff officers expected anyone to come and save them at that time.
Because all this happened too suddenly, or rather, Masaryk’s camouflage in this regard was too perfect.
From top to bottom, the entire city of Vienna hadn’t noticed this conspiracy happening right under their noses.
Moreover, with the help of Britannian intelligence personnel, the Czechs’ coup plan, among all coup events, could be considered relatively meticulous and well-considered…
And they had also bribed many personnel in key positions in Vienna in advance, such as the Chief of Police, who provided a lot of assistance.
So Conrad and the others simply failed to make any effective response, basically being controlled in a daze.
It could be said that if a certain military train hadn’t mistakenly delivered a trainload of people to Vienna this morning, then Emperor Albert II of Saxony might have received the bad news of losing an ally later…
In the preceding hour, as the gunfire in various parts of Vienna gradually died down, Conrad and the others also felt the situation was hopeless, and could only wait here for the judgment of fate.
Just when gunfire rang out again in the General Staff building, the crowd was both nervous and terrified. They didn’t know whether “Loyalist” reinforcements had arrived, or if infighting had broken out among the coup faction.
When the office door was kicked open and a few soldiers wearing cuirasses rushed in holding submachine guns, the heart of this Chief of the Austro-Hungarian Army General Staff leaped to his throat, thinking the rebels were about to silence them.
But when he clearly saw the uniforms of the arrivals, his whole person was stunned.
That familiar field gray uniform, the emblem on the collar tabs, and that steel helmet which was distinctly different from the Austro-Hungarian Army…
Conrad quickly realized these were Saxons! Their allies!
For a fleeting moment, a terrifying guess even popped into the minds of Conrad and all the staff officers present: Could this coup have been orchestrated by the Saxons?
It wasn’t until Morin spoke that opening line, which Conrad would later write into his memoirs, that this Field Marshal’s heart slowly settled down.
A few combat engineers quickly stepped forward, cutting the ropes binding Conrad and the group of officers.
Freed from his bonds, Conrad moved his numb wrists. He looked at this excessively young Saxon officer before him, and then at those soldiers behind him radiating a murderous aura, his mind still a mess of paste.
“You are Saxon soldiers? I am very grateful for your support… But, you… who exactly are you? Why is your unit here?”
Conrad supported himself on the desk and stood up. He was, after all, the Chief of the Imperial Army General Staff. Even having just walked back from the gates of hell, he quickly regained the demeanor of a superior.
Morin stood up straight, answering neither haughtily nor humbly: “Saxon Imperial Army, Imperial Guard Assault Instruction Unit, Colonel Friedrich von Morin.”
“Instruction unit?”
“Friedrich von Morin?”
When this answer came out, Conrad and the other Austro-Hungarian officers instantly stirred.
Even far away in Vienna, they had heard of this elite Saxon unit that had forged a formidable reputation on the Western Front.
When the instruction unit was first established, it indeed carried a certain classified nature, and no propaganda was done.
However, after Morin led the instruction unit to fiercely farm stats on the Western Front, the Saxon Imperial Army’s high echelon also realized this, and intentionally began propagandizing this unit.
As for Morin’s deeds, they were even given some “embellished enhancement.”
Conrad had even proposed establishing the Austro-Hungarian Empire’s own instruction unit following the Saxon model.
Unfortunately, because the Imperial Parliament… especially those Hungarians, kept restricting the budget, it failed to be implemented.
However, after the initial shock, an even greater doubt welled up in Conrad’s heart.
“Colonel Morin, I still don’t understand…”
Conrad frowned, his tone full of confusion: “Why did you appear in Vienna? And at this point in time.”
“It’s a long story…”
Morin also had a somewhat strange expression. What could he say?
Say that your train driver didn’t know the way and brought me here? If he said that out loud, even he would feel it was absurd.
He cleared his throat, trying to explain in an official and serious tone: “Your Excellency Field Marshal, according to the original plan, my unit was supposed to take the military train provided by your army and head to the assembly area in Njeguši near the border.”
“But… during the transport, it seems there was some miscommunication between the liaison officers of both sides…”
Before Morin could finish speaking, an Austro-Hungarian staff officer nearby, who usually handled railway dispatch plans, slapped his thigh and took over the conversation with sudden realization: “So you took our military train. Then it’s not surprising!”
There wasn’t the slightest bit of surprise in this staff officer’s tone; rather, it carried a sense of relief that said, “I knew it.”
Morin: “…”
Conrad and the other military officers were also stunned at first, then a complex expression mixing embarrassment, helplessness, and “I f*cking knew it” appeared on their faces.
The railway system of the Austro-Hungarian Empire was a notoriously “magical organization” in all of Europa.
Even going south when you mean to go north was only considered a minor problem for Austro-Hungarian railway dispatch. You know just how magical this organization was.
And now, this magical railway system actually miraculously delivered an elite assault unit of the Saxon Empire directly to the heart of the rebelling capital at the most critical moment.
What was this?
A lucky mistake?
Or… did this crappy railway system finally do one thing right?
“Ahem.”
Conrad coughed dryly twice to cover up the embarrassment on his face. He waved his hand and spoke: “Regardless of the process, Colonel Morin, your arrival is the will of the Lord! It is the luck of the Habsburg Dynasty!”
Although the process was somewhat absurd, obtaining the support of their ally’s most elite unit in this nearly desperate situation was already a massive, unexpected joy for the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
Moreover, judging from the fact that the other party had cleanly and decisively eliminated the rebels entrenched in the General Staff building in such a short time.
The combat power of this allied unit was indeed as rumored, perhaps even stronger.
“Colonel Morin, how many men did you bring this time?” The flame of hope reignited in Conrad’s eyes, and he asked eagerly.
Based on his deductions from some materials he had previously read about the instruction unit, since the entire instruction unit was mobilized, it must be at least a reinforced regiment’s worth of troops, a few thousand men at least.
With such a fresh force present, there was confidence in putting down this rebellion.
Morin looked at his expectant eyes. Although feeling somewhat apologetic, he still answered truthfully: “Your Excellency Field Marshal, the situation is somewhat special… Due to train capacity issues, only my regimental headquarters and regimental direct-reporting units came with us this time.”
“Regimental headquarters and regimental direct-reporting units?” Conrad was stunned for a moment, the smile freezing on his face.
The joy on the faces of the other Austro-Hungarian officers also faded instantly, replaced by visible disappointment.
In their view, in the organization of any army, although the regimental headquarters and direct-reporting units are important, they are not the main combat units.
The true core of combat power is the several infantry battalions subordinated to them.
Now Morin said only the regimental headquarters and direct-reporting units came, so how many people could that be?
Conrad pressed unwillingly: “Colonel, can you tell me the specific troop strength?”
“If we include truck drivers, cooks, regimental clerks… everyone who can hold a gun, it’s roughly close to seven hundred men.” (The supply company wasn’t present, otherwise it would really be eight hundred).
“Seven hundred men…”
When this number came out, the air in the entire office seemed to freeze.
The bit of hope that had just risen was instantly doused with a basin of cold water, chilling them to the bone.
The faces of the Austro-Hungarian officers all fell, like defeated roosters.
Seven hundred men?
What they had to face were rebels who had controlled the core areas of Vienna in a short time. Their number was at least two or three battalions!
Scattering seven hundred men into the city of Vienna probably wouldn’t even make a splash.
Morin looked at this bunch of dejected Austro-Hungarian officers, feeling speechless.
It’s just seven hundred men… Is such a big reaction necessary?
My seven hundred are all elites… Even the cooks in the field kitchens have been drilled from fat guys into burly men.
What kind of trash the opposing rebels from the Austro-Hungarian Army are, don’t Conrad and the others know clearly?
However, he also understood these people’s feelings. After all, in traditional concepts, numbers were the key to determining victory or defeat in war.
Just as an atmosphere of despair permeated the office, Conrad, who had been silent all along, suddenly slammed the table hard and stood up.
In the eyes of this Army Chief of Staff, who was over sixty years old, a flash of ruthlessness that others had never seen before unexpectedly appeared.
He raised his head, staring fixedly at Morin, and said in a slightly hoarse but incomparably firm voice: “Seven hundred is seven hundred! Colonel, issue some rifles to us old guys too! Count us officers of the General Staff in as well!”
As soon as Conrad said these words, everyone in the office was stunned.
Those Austro-Hungarian officers who were just sighing all looked up, staring at their Chief of Staff with disbelief.
Even Morin was somewhat surprised.
Bro, this old man’s not bad!
In the memories before his transmigration, historians didn’t evaluate this Chief of the Austro-Hungarian Army General Staff, who wielded a “fragile sword,” very highly.
Things like “A giant in strategy, a dwarf in tactics,” “High ambitions but low abilities,” “Grand aspirations but sparse talent”—anyway, not many good words.
But looking at it now, regardless of this old man’s command level, he more or less still had some backbone.
“Your Excellency Field Marshal…”
A staff officer tried to dissuade him. After all, having a group of officers who stayed in the General Staff year-round go to the front lines to kill enemies sounded too crazy.
“Shut up!”
Conrad, Chief of the Austro-Hungarian Army General Staff, directly interrupted his words. His cloudy but exceptionally bright eyes at this moment swept around his subordinates.
“This rebellion occurred in the capital of our Empire! Occurred right under our noses! This is a disgrace to us all!”
His voice grew louder, his chest heaving violently.
“Now, our allies… the warriors of the Saxon Empire, have come from thousands of miles away, fighting a bloody battle for our country! Are we, the soldiers of the Empire, supposed to hide behind our allies and watch them shed blood and sacrifice their lives?!”
“I, Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, cannot do it!”
The old Field Marshal’s voice echoed in the office, sonorous and forceful.
“I would rather die on the streets of Vienna like a soldier, than live an ignoble life here like a coward!”
Morin was dumbfounded listening to this. Conrad could actually say these words?
And these words were like a shot in the arm, stabbing fiercely into the hearts of every Austro-Hungarian officer present.
Yes, they were Imperial officers, the sharp sword of the Habsburg royal family.
Even if this sword was rust-stained, it was still a sword!
“The Field Marshal is right! Count me in!”
“Colonel, give me a rifle! No, just give me a pistol, I’ll lead the charge!”
The office, which had been shrouded in gloom just moments ago, was instantly ignited.
These staff officers, who usually only dealt with maps and documents, were suddenly pumped up, enthusiastically volunteering to fight, rediscovering the soldier’s backbone that had long been worn away by a comfortable life.
Morin looked at this group of “recruits” with an average age of over forty, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Alright, although their combat power is worrisome, their morale is commendable.
Morin didn’t say much, merely nodding to Manstein beside him.
“Go, distribute the captured weapons to our allies.”
Immediately after, he looked back at Conrad, continuing the sentence he hadn’t finished earlier.
“Also, Your Excellency Field Marshal… although I didn’t bring many infantrymen, I brought quite a lot of ‘tools’ on this trip.”
“I brought six 170mm heavy mortars, three 77mm field guns, and three new 50mm anti-armor guns.”
The eyes of Conrad and the others instantly widened.
As if feeling it wasn’t stimulating enough, Morin leisurely dropped a final bombshell.
“Oh right, my regimental direct-reporting units also have three ‘Siegfried Mark 1’ Armored Knights.”
When Morin spoke this sentence breezily, the only sound left in the entire Chief of the General Staff’s office was the sound of sharp intakes of breath.
Field Marshal Conrad and his staff officers felt their moods today were like riding a roller coaster, going up and down—it was truly too thrilling.
A unit of less than seven hundred men, yet possessing this level of heavy firepower, plus three Armored Knights?
What kind of absurd unit organization was this?
Had the Saxons become wealthy to this extent?
“Colonel Morin… are you sure you said three Armored Knights?” an Austro-Hungarian colonel asked stutteringly. He suspected he might be having auditory hallucinations due to nervousness.
“Of course.”
Morin said very “Versailles” (flexing humbly): “As a field unit in the Imperial Guard sequence, isn’t it very normal to be assigned an Armored Knight squad?”
The Austro-Hungarian officers in the office looked at each other in dismay, their faces written full of the expression “This is not normal.”
In the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the standard Armored Knight “Guardian of the Holy Crown” was an absolute treasure. They even wished they could enshrine these Armored Knights.
Let alone a regiment, even a division might not be able to obtain the support of three Armored Knights in combat.
Yet this Saxon colonel before them actually spoke of it so lightly.
The corner of Field Marshal Conrad’s mouth twitched. He looked at Morin’s young and confident face, his heart filled with mixed feelings.
He finally understood now why the Saxon Army could sweep through Gaul like a hot knife through butter on the Western Front.
Just this unreasonably luxurious troop configuration was enough to crush any army on the Europa continent.
Of course, this thought of his was somewhat a misunderstanding…
“In that case, we must formulate a counterattack plan immediately!”
Conrad, who was the first to recover his wits, clapped his hands, forcibly pulling everyone’s attention back from shock. A quick-reacting staff officer had already found a map of the Vienna urban area from a nearby desk and spread it on that bloodstained conference table.
“Colonel Morin, please first introduce the specific current situation,” Conrad gestured with his hand.
“Yes, Field Marshal.”
Morin walked to the map, picked up a pencil, and began introducing methodically.
His clear logic, precise wording, and keen insight into the battlefield situation made all the Austro-Hungarian officers present marvel inwardly.
“Currently, my men have completely controlled the Vienna Westbahnhof, and have established defensive and artillery positions there… The explosions you heard just now were my two 170mm mortars placed there opening fire.”
“My main force, about half an hour ago, already launched an attack on the Schöneberg barracks… supported by three Armored Knights. The objective is to rescue the Imperial Guards imprisoned there and capture the barracks.”
Morin used the pointer to circle the locations of the West Railway Station and the Schöneberg barracks on the map.
“If all goes well, we should soon receive support from some friendly infantry.”
“And after controlling the General Staff, my next target is here—”
The pointer tapped heavily on a building on the map named “General Telegraph Office.”
“The coup forces cut off all wired communications in the city. Although I had the communications company at the train station try to contact the outside world using radios, the effective communication range of radios is still not far enough. The hope of success is very slim.”
“Therefore, we must take down the General Telegraph Office, re-establish contact with the outside world, and have the troops loyal to the Emperor around Vienna come to support.”
“After achieving this goal, we will then, based on the actual situation, decide whether to prioritize attacking Schönbrunn Palace to rescue His Majesty the Emperor, or directly destroy the rebel headquarters located in the Parliament Building.”
Morin eloquently laid out his entire plan. The whole process was logically clear and methodical, as if he hadn’t just been dragged into this coup, but had been planning for it for weeks.
After listening to Morin’s narration, Field Marshal Conrad remained silent for a long time.
He looked at this Saxon colonel before him, who was younger than his own grandson, his eyes full of complex emotions.
There was admiration, there was jealousy, but more than that was a heartfelt marvel.
In such a short time, facing such a chaotic situation, this young colonel was not only unpanicked, but had actually already launched a methodical counterattack.
Controlling transportation hubs, establishing artillery positions, rescuing friendly forces… every decision was precise and fatal to the rebels.
“Colonel Morin,” Conrad spoke slowly, his tone solemn, “You are a born commander… Your grasp of the battlefield situation and your deployment of troops can be called perfect.”
He looked around at his subordinates, who were still somewhat dazed, and sighed.
“You all watch carefully and learn well! See how Colonel Morin rapidly seizes combat opportunities and turns passivity into initiative under a disadvantage.”
Facing the praise of the Austro-Hungarian Field Marshal, although Morin felt slightly pleased inwardly, his face didn’t show the slightest hint of smugness. He merely continued to act coolly: “This is nothing more than the duty a commander ought to fulfill.”
Conrad looked at Morin, then at the officers under him, and couldn’t help shaking his head.
If at the start of the war, the officers under my command were all like this Colonel Morin, would I have been pushed back into the country by those Serbians?
On the other side, Morin also took the initiative to ask: “So, Field Marshal Conrad, do you have any instructions?”
After all, this was the capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and Conrad was the nominal supreme commander.
He had to put on a show of deference, more or less.
Conrad waved his hand. Having just experienced the major ups and downs of life, his brain was still a mess of paste right now. How could he come up with a better plan?
“No, your plan is very thorough. I have nothing to add.”
He forcibly maintained the posture of a superior, saying in a deep voice: “Just execute according to your plan! We will all cooperate with your actions!”
“Yes, Field Marshal!” Morin didn’t decline, cleanly taking over command.
He knew that at such a moment where every second counted, any hesitation and pleasantries were fatal.
“Then, gentlemen,” Morin turned around, facing that group of Austro-Hungarian staff officers holding captured rifles, “The battle is about to begin.”
After quickly arranging the upcoming operational plan, the portable magitech communication terminal on Morin’s person also rang.
After Morin took the main unit out of a dedicated bag, he saw the flashing runes on it represented the handset held by Ludwig.
Soon, Ludwig’s voice also came out.
“Colonel Morin, the battle at the Schöneberg barracks is almost over. The enemy has been pinned down in the barracks, and we are gathering the surviving Imperial Guard soldiers outside!”
“Copy that. Continue attacking according to the plan. Remember to advance steadily and steadily, absolutely do not advance rashly! I am also pushing forward according to the plan over here!”
“Understood. I will contact you again when we enter the next phase!”
Ludwig, controlling the Armored Knight hiding somewhere unknown, cleanly ended the communication after speaking.
At this time, he was not only an Armored Knight but also responsible for observing the battlefield situation, maintaining communication with Morin, and passing important information to each other.
Ludwig switched back from the “semi-sympathy” state to the “full sympathy” state, then looked towards the barracks gates across the street.
Looking inside through the destroyed barracks gates, the instruction unit soldiers were, under covering fire, rescuing those Imperial Guard soldiers who had previously been brought to the drill ground to be addressed.
And the instruction unit’s two “Siegfried Mark 1s” were rampaging inside the barracks.
The MG08 heavy machine guns mounted on them spewed scorching tongues of fire. The dense rain of bullets pinned the coup soldiers firmly behind the barracks and covers, unable to even lift their heads.
Where had these hastily cobbled-together rebels ever seen such a spectacle?
The old-style Mannlicher rifles in their hands were no different from fire pokers against the heavy armor of the Armored Knights.
Occasionally, a few bold soldiers tried to use the methods from the “Combat Regulations,” approaching the Armored Knight and throwing multiple hand grenades consecutively to paralyze vulnerable parts like joints.
But before they could even rush out of cover, they would be mowed down by the two heavy machine guns on the Armored Knight’s shoulders.
“Hold them off! Everyone hold them off!”
The coup officer in charge here hid behind a broken wall, roaring hoarsely, but his voice was quickly drowned out by the deafening sound of gunfire and explosions.
His several hundred men were currently pinned down in the barracks area by the opponent’s two Armored Knights and less than a platoon of infantry, unable to move an inch.
This battle was too suffocating!
However, the true nightmare was just beginning.
Screech!
A sharp whistle descended from the sky.
BOOM——!!!
Having completed ranging shots, a 170mm heavy mortar shell smashed onto a two-story barracks building.
It must be known that this thing had previously been brought along to attack the Liège Fortress. It was a proper fortification-busting heavy artillery piece. Using it to demolish barracks now could seemingly be said to be a piece of cake.
The violent explosion instantly blew off half the roof. The violent shockwave tore a massive gap in the wall.
Bricks, wood, and human body parts mixed together, were thrown high into the air, and then fell like rain.
Dozens of rebel soldiers in the barracks were reduced to fine powder along with their hiding place, just like that.