Chapter 569: "General Morin’s Unilateral Bias"

Manstein, Rundstedt, and the brigade staff worked overtime, finally producing a preliminary draft of the operational plan suitable for submission.

After reviewing it, Morin made minor adjustments to a few details and had it sent to the newly formed "Rzhyshchiv Battlegroup" temporary command headquarters.

The battlegroup's temporary HQ was located in a woodland roughly twelve kilometers west of the city. Numerous field tents and camouflage nets were scattered beneath the canopy, rendering the encampment virtually invisible from the air.

However, this woodland was only large enough to conceal the command echelon. The actual bulk of the forces was distributed across a much larger surrounding area.

The two infantry divisions redeployed from the Eighth Army, the National Army's main forces, and the yet-to-be-fully-assembled Cossack cavalry were all stationed here.

Nearly a hundred thousand troops were scattered across several square kilometers of woods and villages. According to the allied plan, they would secretly move into their jump-off positions within Rzhyshchiv the night before the offensive began.

Currently, all units were under strict radio silence and concealment protocols. But the eating, drinking, and daily activities of nearly a hundred thousand men simply couldn't be entirely hidden.

Even concealed in the woods, the cooking smoke rising at meal times from the endless sea of tents couldn't be masked.

Wagons and trucks hauling ammunition and rations streamed in from the rear, churning the dirt paths through the woods into muddy quagmires.

Fortunately, air superiority was temporarily in their hands.

The brigade aviation squadron boasted aces like Richthofen and Immelmann, along with four other highly capable pilots. Bolstered by four fighter aircraft from the Eighth Army, they formed an airtight "Fokker Corridor" over Rzhyshchiv.

White Army recon planes were intercepted the moment they reached the east bank. With the L15 armored airship also coordinating interceptions while airborne, not a single enemy aircraft had managed to cross the river and photograph the west bank over the past few days.

The ground blockade was equally effective.

The armed infiltration of the east bank by the Thunder Warriors under Klaus's command had inflicted severe pain on the White Army recon squads.

In one instance, a White Army recon team was wiped out by a flanking volley from suppressed light machine guns wielded by a two-man Thunder Warrior team deep behind enemy lines before they even reached the riverbank.

Thus, up to this point, the secrecy surrounding the upcoming massive offensive held firm.

But what made Morin increasingly anxious was something else: after the plan they had worked overtime to produce was submitted, there was absolute silence from the battlegroup command.

No approval order was issued, nor were any revision requests returned. It just hung in limbo.

"What the hell is Ludendorff thinking?" Morin's anger finally boiled over after his third inquiry to the battlegroup command went unanswered.

Manstein, who was organizing an artillery deployment plan, looked up.

"Perhaps the battlegroup command is still discussing it? After all, our plan is indeed quite bold... radical, even..."

"Discussing... The offensive date is right around the corner, and they're still discussing? With this kind of hesitation, how can they ever seize opportunities on the battlefield?"

Morin paced around the table twice before making a decision.

"Prep a car. I'm going there myself."

Manstein hesitated.

"General, going there now... Major General Ludendorff might not appreciate it before they've reached a conclusion—"

"If he doesn't appreciate it, I'll force him to reach a conclusion! Unbelievable, hesitating like this at a time like this..."

Morin was already walking out, his voice trailing back from the tent flap.

"Erich, grab the supplementary materials for the plan, the topographical maps, and the field recon reports on the crossing points. Bring them all."

"Yes, General."

Ten minutes later, two staff cars bounced along the dirt road through the woods toward the battlegroup command.

Morin sat in the back seat in a foul mood. His aggressive posture made it look more like he was going to a gang fight than a meeting with his superiors.

Manstein sat beside him, reviewing the documents. Catching Morin's state out of the corner of his eye, he whispered a reminder.

"General, when we get there... we should exercise some restraint. There are allied officers present, after all."

"Don't worry." Morin rolled his neck, cracking a few joints. "It's not like I'm going to start a brawl."

Manstein highly doubted that.

A dirt road connected Rzhyshchiv to the hidden location of the battlegroup command, so the driver reached their destination in no time. By the time Morin hopped out of the car, he had already pasted on a professional expression...

Not exactly cold, but definitely not friendly.

After being announced, an officer, barely daring to breathe, led him to the largest camouflaged tent.

A large-scale map was spread across the long table inside. Several Saxon officers and three or four National Army officers were in discussion.

Ludendorff sat at the head of the table. Beside him sat a National Army major general—Konev, the commander responsible for coordination.

Several Cossack cavalry officers... or more accurately, "chieftains," were also present, though they sat to the side, seemingly uninterested in the discussion.

Morin's entrance brought all activity to a halt.

Ludendorff turned his head, his expression subtle, but at least lacking overt hostility. "Major General Morin, I didn't expect you to make the trip personally..."

"Major General Ludendorff."

Morin couldn't be bothered with pleasantries. Besides, there was no one here with a higher rank than his... He walked straight to the table and slammed the documents Manstein handed him onto it.

"The Instruction Brigade's operational plan was submitted quite a while ago. Command has neither approved nor rejected it, and the scheduled offensive date is fast approaching... I want to know where the bottleneck is."

Morin's tone, while not outright "aggressive," was entirely devoid of politeness. Combined with his pre-existing "filter" regarding Ludendorff, he found it incredibly difficult to speak to the man calmly.

Ludendorff didn't answer immediately; his expression turned complex. Major General Konev of the National Army merely held his cup, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Major General Morin..."

Ludendorff finally spoke, his pace deliberate. "I have read your plan, and the battlegroup operations section has studied it repeatedly... But this plan deviates drastically from the original directive. We need time to assess the risks—"

He walked to the map and pointed at the winding thirty-five-kilometer march route.

"A thirty-five-kilometer detour, detaching from allied cover, an independent crossing... You are taking a reinforced brigade deep behind enemy lines. If the allied frontal crossing falters, you will become an isolated force."

Morin immediately fired back.

"A frontal crossing carries far greater risks!"

He stepped up to the map, jabbing his finger at the river segment directly facing Rzhyshchiv.

"This is an area under heavy White Army surveillance. A hundred thousand men crossing here... you can't treat the enemy like idiots and assume they see nothing. They will have early warnings, prepared fortifications, and artillery barrages waiting... Even if we commit all our artillery for suppression, the time window for troops to deploy and execute crossing operations will be exceedingly narrow."

"Conversely, the river bend thirty-five kilometers south offers concealed terrain and weak enemy defenses. The Instruction Brigade has the capability to push through rapidly!"

Ludendorff refused to yield.

"But taking a single brigade deep into the rear of an army group with over a hundred thousand men..."

"It's not an isolated force! The flanking Instruction Brigade and the frontal main force at Rzhyshchiv are fundamentally mutually supportive. There is no 'isolated force' scenario here!"

Morin cut Ludendorff off unceremoniously. "The allied frontal crossing will pin down the Southern Army's main force. They won't have the spare capacity to turn around and deal with me. Moreover, the Instruction Brigade's mobility vastly outstrips infantry. By the time Denikin reacts, his flank will already be torn open."

"In that scenario, if he diverts forces to deal with this surprise attack on his flank, the pressure on your front will proportionally decrease!"

Hearing Morin's explanation, Ludendorff didn't know what to say, realizing the man's logic was sound.

Major General Konev set down his cup and interjected in heavily accented Saxon.

"General Morin, I admit I don't understand armored forces... but I have one question. If the rasputitsa (mud season) arrives early, will your trucks and armored vehicles still be able to move?"

Morin laughed in exasperation upon hearing this.

Facing this National Army officer—who reeked of bureaucracy and was clearly cut from a different cloth than the International Brigade veterans—Morin abandoned all pretense of politeness.

"Oh, interesting. I wonder who it was during the operational conference that said, 'The rasputitsa is overblown... oh, we locals are used to it...'?"

This remark instantly silenced the National Army officer. He had attended that meeting and witnessed Morin "debating the heroes."

Having his own side's dismissal thrown back in his face left him momentarily humiliated.

Morin ignored his embarrassment and continued, "The route I selected passes through three villages, two of which are connected by basic dirt roads... The remaining off-road sections total less than ten kilometers. The Instruction Brigade's engineer assets are more than sufficient to guarantee passage."

Konev didn't press further, but his expression indicated he wasn't fully convinced.

The tent fell silent for a moment. Morin simply stared at Ludendorff, who rested one hand on the table edge while absently stroking his chin with the other.

Then, Morin heard a sentence that nearly made him explode on the spot.

"How about... we discuss this a bit more?"

Morin's breathing hitched.

"Major General Ludendorff, we are out of time for discussion."

He corralled his emotions with the last shreds of his composure, speaking with earnest gravity. "Regardless of anything else, the offensive date is fixed. Allied deployments are complete, ammunition and supplies are in position... Every delay exponentially increases the risk of exposure!"

"If the White Army discovers our massing during this time, a hundred thousand men trapped on the west bank of Rzhyshchiv unable to move... that would be a true disaster."

Ludendorff looked up, their eyes meeting.

The latter's expression was complex—not anger, but rather a profound indecision.

Morin could read the meaning behind that indecision.

This man wanted stability. He wanted a beautiful, error-free victory to gild his reputation. Morin's plan was too bold. Boldness meant high returns... but it also meant if it failed, the resulting blame would be too heavy for him to carry.

Yet he couldn't completely reject the plan, because logically, it had no fatal flaws.

Furthermore, he remembered the Liege Fortress... Morin had launched a surprise attack using unprecedented tactics then too, and the resulting victory indirectly unhinged the entire Western Front.

"How about this," Ludendorff finally said. "I will request guidance from Army Headquarters..."

Morin wasn't angry. He simply pulled his hand back from the map and stated flatly, "Fine. Then I'll wait here for the reply."

Ludendorff clearly hadn't expected Morin to squat in the command post.

He opened his mouth to say something, but seeing Morin's posture, which screamed I'm not leaving without an answer today, he simply waved at the comms officer.

"Draft a telegram. Send it to Army Headquarters."

The encrypted message was drafted and sent at top speed. All that remained was waiting for the reply.

According to comms protocols, the battlegroup command and Eighth Army Headquarters opened their receivers for scheduled windows every two or three hours.

The next window was at 6:00 PM. But considering the Eighth Army would likely need time to discuss the matter, a reply probably wouldn't arrive until 8:00 PM.

Morin checked the time. Nearly four hours to go.

"Then we wait."

He found an empty stool, took off his peaked cap and placed it on the table, and jerked his chin at Manstein.

Manstein understood immediately. Pulling a stack of documents from his briefcase, the two began "working" right in front of Ludendorff.

Ludendorff's expression twitched, but he ultimately didn't kick them out. The work of the other officers in the tent continued, though their voices were noticeably softer than before.

Over those four hours, Morin truly didn't waste a second.

He had Manstein review the confirmed deployment plans for the other battlegroup units, then cross-referenced them with the Instruction Brigade's flanking route to perform more precise time calculations.

During this time, Ludendorff's adjutant brought them coffee and pastries twice. Morin didn't stand on ceremony—he drank what he wanted and glared when he felt like it.

The only thing that surprised him was that a few National Army officers actually approached him, asking specific technical questions regarding river crossings and mobile flanking maneuvers.

Their attitudes were sincere, their questions concrete. It was obvious these staff officers genuinely wanted to learn from their allies.

Morin answered concisely. The officers nodded thoughtfully and returned to their stations... It seemed not everyone was opposed to the plan.

Approaching 8:00 PM, the scheduled comms window finally arrived.

Morin put his documents away and put his cap back on. Ludendorff stood up, and the two walked toward the comms tent almost simultaneously.

At exactly 8:00 PM, the radio equipment powered up.

After tuning the frequency, the operator began listening. The tent was so quiet they could hear the hum of electrical current inside the machine.

Soon, the click-clack of Morse code began. The operator rapidly transcribed the message and handed it to the cryptographer.

Two minutes later, a decoded slip of paper was handed to Ludendorff.

Standing two paces away, Morin didn't crowd him, simply waiting for the final verdict.

After reading the slip, Ludendorff remained silent for a moment before finally handing it to Morin.

Morin took it and scanned the text. It was incredibly brief, translating to a mere two lines: "Approval granted for the Instruction Brigade to execute the flanking maneuver as proposed. All other battlegroup units are to cooperate fully. The established operational objectives must be achieved... Hindenburg, Alekseyev."

When Morin handed the paper back, a smile had already spread across his face.

"See? Army Headquarters... even the allied command believes this plan is sound."

Ludendorff didn't speak, merely exhaling sharply through his nose. His expression was a mix of relief and resignation... probably a bit of both.

As the battlegroup commander, he had requested guidance from his superiors. They approved it, so he would execute it.

With a portion of the responsibility offloaded, his psychological pressure naturally lessened significantly.

"Since the Army Commander approves, the Instruction Brigade's departure time will follow your proposed schedule," Ludendorff finally stated, setting the tone.

Having gotten his desired answer, Morin didn't linger. He and Manstein left the command post immediately.

As they walked out the camp gates, a messenger from Ludendorff relayed a message suggesting that since "it is getting late, you should stay the night and return tomorrow." Morin bluntly refused.

He didn't want to stay here a second longer than necessary...

The car started up again, bouncing along the dirt road back to Rzhyshchiv.

"General, the Eighth Army's approval... was somewhat beyond my expectations," Manstein said from the back seat, recalling the afternoon's events with genuine surprise.

"I thought Commander Hindenburg would hesitate just like General Ludendorff..."

"Hindenburg is highly likely still 'AFK'... He probably didn't even think much about it."

"'AFK'?"

"I mean, the Commander delegates authority to his subordinates and doesn't interfere much..."

Morin leaned back, tapping his knee rhythmically.

"Furthermore, the person who actually grasped the key points of this plan was almost certainly Colonel Hoffmann."

Manstein thought about it and nodded in agreement.

"Colonel Hoffmann does run the Army operations section... And based on our interactions recently, essentially all of the Eighth Army's operational plans originate from him."

"Tsk. If only Hoffmann were the battlegroup commander," Morin sighed, a hint of regret in his voice.

Manstein didn't dare respond to that.

But then Morin's tone shifted, and he frowned.

"What exactly is going on with Ludendorff?"

"General?"

"Where is that reckless aggression he had at the Liege Fortress?"

Morin recalled their collaboration on the Western Front. Ludendorff's style then was completely different.

"Back then, he dared to charge into a fortress complex with a single brigade. When I said we should airdrop in, we airdropped in... Why is he so timid now?"

Manstein pondered for a moment before answering.

"Perhaps... it's because of his position... At Liege, he was a localized commander, gambling only on the success or failure of a single brigade... Now he is the supreme commander of a 100,000-man battlegroup. The stakes are different."

He thought for another moment and added.

"A friend of mine in the War Ministry previously revealed that before the Eighth Army deployed to the Eastern Front, the candidates for Commander and Chief of Staff went through several rounds of adjustment... General Ludendorff securing this position wasn't easy. Perhaps he simply wants a stable, guaranteed victory to prove himself."

Morin didn't comment further, merely exhaling and staring out into the night.

"Regardless, his hesitation cannot be allowed to affect the rhythm of the allied river crossing..."

Manstein: "It shouldn't come to that... After all, Army Headquarters has already made its stance clear."

"Let's hope so."

The car jolted, splashing through a rain-soaked section of the road before smoothing out again.

It was late at night when they returned to the Rzhyshchiv camp. Morin didn't head straight back to Brigade HQ. Instead, he took a detour toward the military inquisition team's tent.

A light was still on inside.

When Morin pushed the flap aside, Major Klose was sitting at a makeshift desk reviewing some documents. Across from him on a cot, the newly arrived Second Lieutenant Mahn was cleaning his pistol.

Both looked up simultaneously.

Second Lieutenant Mahn reacted with terrifying speed. He bounced off the cot like a coiled spring, snapping to a crisp salute.

"General Morin!"

Morin was momentarily stunned by the sheer volume.

"General Morin, I... I have always..."

Second Lieutenant Mahn's face flushed bright red as he stammered, "I have always looked up to you as a role model in the army! When I found out I'd be assigned to the Instruction Brigade, I... I couldn't believe it..."

Looking at the young second lieutenant, Morin genuinely didn't know how to respond.

He had never imagined he had "fans" within the military inquisition system.

"Uh... thanks?"

Major Klose stood up, walked over to Second Lieutenant Mahn, and casually patted him on the back.

"Alright, the General definitely isn't here to listen to this right now."

He turned to Morin. Though his expression was calm, a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

"General, did you need me for something?"

"Mhm." Morin nodded, then let the tent flap drop shut behind him. "Major Klose, a private word?"

Though somewhat disappointed, Second Lieutenant Mahn had the tact to grab his pistol and exit the tent.

Once they were alone, Morin asked, "The other military inquisitors deployed to the Rzhyshchiv Battlegroup from the Eighth Army... Are you familiar with them?"

Major Klose froze for a second, then searched his memory.

"The inquisitor assigned to the battlegroup command is Major Weber... We trained together, so we have some history."

Hearing this, Morin stepped forward, placing both hands firmly on Major Klose's shoulders.

The action startled the major.

"Major Klose."

Morin's tone turned dead serious.

"I've observed you these past few days. You're different from the inquisitors we've had before... You can distinguish between genuine problems and trivial nonsense."

Major Klose straightened his posture. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Right now, there is a matter concerning the entire operation. I need your help."

"General, as long as it does not violate regulations, I will do my utmost." Major Klose hesitated slightly before nodding.

"Excellent!" Morin patted his shoulder. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

...

Morning of October 4, 1915.

East bank of the Dnieper River, approximately three kilometers from Rzhyshchiv.

An unremarkable mixed woodland extended for hundreds of meters. The underbrush and untamed, low-hanging trees provided natural concealment.

A Thunder Warrior knelt on one knee behind a thick tree trunk at the edge of the woods. The camouflage netting of his "ghillie suit" blended seamlessly with the dead leaves and branches, rendering him nearly invisible from mere meters away.

The muzzle of his semi-automatic rifle, also wrapped in dark fabric, pointed northeast—the most likely approach vector for White Army patrols.

Deeper within the woods, another Thunder Warrior crouched behind an earthen mound, monitoring the southern approaches.

Scattered between them were two squads of Instruction Brigade infantry, equally dispersed and on high alert.

In the center of the woods, several camouflage nets were stitched together, appearing from above merely as a slightly darker patch of shadow.

Beneath the nets lay a semi-buried bunker. Its earthen walls were simply packed tight with no further reinforcement. The space inside was barely large enough to squeeze in six or seven men and a massive radio set.

Four operators from the "Radio Reconnaissance Detachment" attached to the Brigade Communications Battalion were crammed inside, wearing headsets and adjusting frequency dials.

This detachment had been inserted into this position late at night three days ago.

The river crossing had not been easy... The current high-powered radio equipment was simply too heavy for the Thunder Warriors to swim across with.

Ultimately, guided by Morin, they secretly crossed the Dnieper at night. One of the Thunder Warriors maintained constant contact with Morin, receiving guidance via the "Eye of Omniscience."

Of course, Morin claimed he cast an 【Eagle Eye】 spell... and no one could prove otherwise.

By the time the squad reached their designated position with the equipment, completed assembly, and erected the antennas, the horizon was already turning pale gray.

Fortunately, the woodland they selected was secluded enough. Based on previous armed infiltrations, the White Army's closest patrol routes were sufficiently distant. Coupled with their excellent camouflage, they remained relatively safe for now.

As for why Morin took such a massive risk to deploy radio reconnaissance equipment on the east bank... the reason was simple.

During an armed infiltration mission a few days prior, a Thunder Warrior team ambushed a squad of White Army soldiers and captured two codebooks from a dead communications officer.

These codebooks revealed the possibility of intercepting and analyzing enemy communications.

However, monitoring from the west bank at Rzhyshchiv proved ineffective. The distance caused severe signal degradation, rendering the intermittent transmissions impossible to record coherently.

Hence this risky forward deployment. After all, when fighting Russians, gambling on exploiting their communication flaws was practically standard operating procedure.

And the results were immediate.

The day the equipment went live, the operators began intercepting a massive volume of radio traffic from all levels of the White Army's Southern Army.

However, the haul over the first two days was laughably absurd. The White Army's radio discipline was an absolute disaster.

They did possess at least two cipher systems... corroborating the captured codebooks. Yet, in routine communications, a shocking amount of traffic was transmitted completely in the clear.

And the content of those transmissions...

"Intercepted another one."

An operator pulled off one earcup and turned to report to the squad leader.

"A quartermaster from some regiment in the Southern Army's Third Corps is asking the neighboring regiment for vodka..."

The squad leader's mouth twitched.

"Did you log it?"

"Does this... count as military intelligence?"

This had been the norm for the past two days. The White Army's radio channels were flooded with garbage.

Some demanded winter coats, others complained about the terrible rations. One officer even used his authority to send a "telegraph love letter" to his mistress in the rear. The operator transcribing it felt second-hand embarrassment for the man.

But this morning, things changed.

Around 9:40 AM, a radio operator suddenly sat up straight, pressing both earcups tightly against his ears while his hand flew across the telegram paper.

"Squad Leader!"

"What is it?"

"Intercepted a new message!"

The squad leader leaned in. Initially, he wasn't overly hopeful; this scene had played out far too many times over the past two days.

It wasn't until the operator handed him the transcribed paper with trembling hands that the squad leader realized they had hooked a "big fish."

[Top Secret]

To: Left Flank Army Commands From: Southern Army Headquarters Date: October 4, 1915 Subject: Orders to Reinforce River Crossing Assault Sequence

Given the development of the current tactical situation, and the enemy's relevant troop deployments from Rzhyshchiv toward Kyiv, our forces intend to launch another large-scale river crossing offensive in the Dnieper River sector in the near future, aimed at breaching the Rebel defensive lines and pushing deep into their hinterland.

To concentrate superior forces on the primary axis of advance and ensure the success of the river crossing operation, it is hereby ordered:

Left Flank Army Commands are to immediately detach infantry divisions from their subordinate units and integrate them into the river crossing assault sequence. The detached units must possess strong combat capability, be at full strength, and be allocated sufficient artillery and machine gun firepower.

Left Flank Army Commands are to immediately detach infantry divisions from their subordinate units and integrate them into the river crossing assault sequence. The detached units must possess strong combat capability, be at full strength, and be allocated sufficient artillery and machine gun firepower.

The detached units must complete assembly prior to 2400 hours on October 6, advance to the designated river crossing jump-off zones, and submit to the operational command of the River Crossing Assault Group.

The detached units must complete assembly prior to 2400 hours on October 6, advance to the designated river crossing jump-off zones, and submit to the operational command of the River Crossing Assault Group.

The remaining units of the Left Flank are to transition to defense in place, secure the flanks of the River Crossing Group, and prepare to advance as follow-up echelons.

The remaining units of the Left Flank are to transition to defense in place, secure the flanks of the River Crossing Group, and prepare to advance as follow-up echelons.

This order is issued to fulfill the sacred mission of a "Unified and Indivisible Rus." It is expected that all generals will fulfill their duties and not fail this heavy responsibility.

Commander-in-Chief, Southern Army. Anton Ivanovich Denikin.