Fuxu, Petain, the Parliament, the British, and everyone else, including Shire, had all overlooked one thing.
"The last bout of madness" didn’t just happen to the surrounded Germans, it happened to their own troops as well.
People only knew that Nivelle was not suited for his position, but they didn’t put themselves in his shoes: continuing as such would ruin his career, and he might never see the light of day again. Instead, putting everything at stake in a desperate gamble might still offer a sliver of hope.
Thus, Nivelle, disregarding everything, mobilized forces to gather south of the River Somme. In just a few days, more than ten divisions totaling over 300,000 men had assembled, including Kristen’s First Specialized Artillery Division, which was originally designated to be sent to Verdun.
The First Specialized Artillery Division was fully equipped with Shire A1 tanks. Nivelle thought, having been learning Shire’s tactics this time, deploying them on the battlefield should not be too different from Shire’s forces, right?
What Nivelle didn’t know was that he ordered the First Specialized Artillery Division to attack the fortified defense lines along the River Somme, leaving little room for the tactics Kristen had learned to be effective.
Nivelle was still worried these preparations were not enough.
He then, in the capacity of Allied Supreme Commander, requested the Russian and Italian armies to counterattack, and coordinated with the British Army to assist in the counteroffensive at the River Somme.
All this, Nivelle conducted in secret, citing "military intelligence."
This seemed to be Xia Fei’s offensive plan, previously thwarted by Shire, now actualized by Nivelle.
The only difference was that Xia Fei’s plan included Romania declaring war.
But this wasn’t Nivelle’s choice, as it had to be handled jointly by the British and French governments engaging with Romania, a decision outside the realm of the commander’s secret dealings.
In the morning, the River Somme defense lines were shrouded in a continuous drizzle.
The air reeked of burning corpses, the soldiers hiding in the trenches seemed used to it, not even bothering to cover their noses with a napkin.
Some soldiers curled up on planks, but the murky, foul-smelling water still reached their ankles.
The soldiers below the planks had to endure the bone-chilling sensation of having their legs submerged in the water all night.
They stood in the cold rain, shivering, holding small pieces of bread or spoiling, stinking cans, trying with trembling hands to get the food to their mouths without letting it fall or get soaked by the rain.
One soldier couldn’t help but complain: "It’s only just December. It’s not that cold yet. What if it gets colder or starts snowing?" Check latest chapters at noveⅼfire.net
Another soldier let out a faint chuckle: "Our Du Yar is very optimistic. He says we’ll live to see snow."
There was a burst of laughter around, but the laughter was tinged with bitterness.
Many of the troops were new recruits who had just been brought in and were terrified by the veterans’ nonchalance toward death.
Du Yar was one of them. His face was pale, whether from the cold or fear, as he shivered uncontrollably. "You, you... don’t do anything?"
A veteran replied with a blank expression:
"What can we do? Look past it, Du Yar! Unless Shire comes to command us, we won’t live long."
"For France, for victory, right? It’s just that we won’t see it."
"Look at the corpses lying in no man’s land, that is our fate, the reality we must face!"
Du Yar wanted to say something, but suddenly, three red flares soared into the sky before his terrified eyes.
The artillery roared to life immediately, thousands of cannons simultaneously spewing shells that rained down on the German positions, lighting up half the sky.
But unlike the previous week-long continuous bombardment, this artillery preparation lasted only half an hour.
To be exact, it didn’t even last half an hour. While shells were still pouring down on the enemy’s defense lines, the deadly charge whistle blew.
The French soldiers climbed out of the trenches like ants, shouting as they charged toward the enemy positions.
Kristen’s First Specialized Artillery Division was among the attacking forces, his troops positioned on the flanks of the assaulting units.
He had protested this arrangement: "Tanks should be in front of the infantry to provide cover, not on the flanks like cavalry."
Kirsten had learned during this time of study and training that tanks and infantry should cover each other to maximize combat effectiveness.
However, Nivelle’s response was: "Infantry doesn’t need cover, Major General, the artillery cover is sufficient."
"Artillery cover?" Kristen objected: "We know what will happen. As soon as our artillery stops, the Germans will bring up their machine guns and mow down the charging infantry like wheat."
"Exactly." Nivelle moved closer, staring intently at Kristen: "I don’t intend for the artillery to stop."
"What?" Kristen thought he had misheard: "You intend, you intend to have the soldiers charge through the artillery fire? Our own artillery? That would inevitably cause friendly fire..."
"I know." Nivelle cut Kristen off: "But as you said, if we don’t do this, they’ll be mowed down by enemy machine guns. Isn’t that right?"
Rather than letting them die under enemy machine gun fire, it’s better they die under our artillery fire.
The latter could at least give the French forces a chance to storm the German trenches and engage in close combat, whereas the former would merely waste lives senselessly.
Therefore, in the long run, the latter choice was obviously better.
Kristen was beyond shocked.
The noble sounding cause was for victory, for France, but essentially it was about paving a path with soldiers’ lives to secure Nivelle’s position as commander.
He’s utterly mad, Kristen thought.
Nivelle, however, didn’t care at all about Kristen’s opinion. Pointing to the map on the table, he coldly ordered: "When the infantry enter the trenches for close combat, your task is to find a way through the anti-tank ditches and trenches to penetrate the enemy’s depth. Can you do that?"
"Yes, General." Kristen replied reluctantly: "We can do it."
He could indeed do it. Trenches could be filled with sandbags, and anti-tank ditches could be bridged with steel beams.
This inspiration Kristen had gained from Shire’s battle at Namur.
Shire had used sophisticated armored bridge layers, whereas Kristen could only have engineers bridge them manually: tanks carrying two thick steel beams, which would be manually placed to bridge the anti-tank ditches.
"Very good." Nivelle straightened Kristen’s uniform: "Everything depends on this battle. After the victory, don’t worry about promotions, understand?"
"Yes, General." Kristen stood and replied.
But his mind was in turmoil: Where were the coordinating infantry after the breakthrough? What about logistics? How to ensure fuel and ammunition supply?
He wanted to speak up, but opened his mouth and swallowed his words back.
It’s no use saying anything, Nivelle simply didn’t understand these matters.
Moreover, the attack was scheduled for tomorrow, leaving no time for preparation.
Kristen regretted not aligning himself with Shire sooner.
If he had become part of Shire’s forces, he wouldn’t be fighting such a doomed battle now!