Chapter 89: The Joint Offensive

The British Royal Navy's Grand Fleet entering the Bay of Biscay was not the most significant event at the time.

On September 27th, the Russian army launched a general assault on the Austro-Hungarian forces entrenched at Lemberg, signaling the beginning of the campaign to capture the Silesian Plain. After the outbreak of the Great War, Russian troops had already invaded the Silesian Plain, sweeping through most of the region within a month, yet failing to take Lemberg. As long as over three hundred thousand Austro-Hungarian soldiers continued to hold out in Lemberg, the Russians could neither secure their footing in Silesia nor achieve greater victories.

Only by capturing Lemberg could they advance into the Carpathians and penetrate deep into Austria-Hungary.

Despite suffering a crushing defeat at Tannenberg, the Russian leadership possessed a clear understanding of their situation, especially Chief of Staff Brusilov. Even before the battle at Tannenberg concluded, Brusilov advocated concentrating forces against Austria-Hungary, rather than hastily engaging the German Empire. According to Brusilov's plan, the Russians would first need to seize Silesia, south of Poland.

It was precisely due to Brusilov's persistence that the Russians began planning the assault on Lemberg.

Strategically, Brusilov's decision was entirely correct. Although Russia claimed to possess six million troops, its infrastructure was so poor that it could scarcely support such numbers at the front. Based on roads and railways in Polish territory, even sustaining a million soldiers proved difficult. If they stubbornly contested with the German Empire, the Russians would gain nothing.

In contrast, Austria-Hungary was far weaker and easier to defeat.

More importantly, Germany had only this one ally at the time and could not abandon it. Thus, as long as the Russians launched a fierce attack on Austria-Hungary, the Germans would be forced to reinforce the eastern front. In other words, attacking Austria-Hungary would also serve to pin down German forces.

At this moment, Britain and France suggested that Russia should launch a meaningful offensive on the eastern front.

Interestingly, the battle at Tannenberg in early September was precisely Russia's response to British and French requests for a significant eastern offensive. At that time, Britain and France insisted Russia shouldn't focus solely on Austria-Hungary, but also exert pressure on the German Empire. Without their explicit urging, the battle at Tannenberg would not have occurred.

Now, however, Britain and France deemed the Russian offensive in East Prussia pointless.

This infuriated not only the Russian soldiers but even the Tsar himself. Russia had lost hundreds of thousands of men at Tannenberg, yet Britain and France showed no sympathy, claiming the losses were meaningless. To have such allies was cause for disappointment and anger.

Yet, the current state of the war left the Tsar and his generals with no time for further reflection.

On the western front, the German army had advanced to within less than one hundred and fifty kilometers of Paris, while French forces remained in disarray. If Russia failed to launch a decisive campaign on the eastern front to tie down the Germans, France was likely to be defeated before the year’s end.

As for Britain, watching from across the channel, there was little hope for immediate action.

Clearly, all the pressure rested squarely on Russia.

Against this backdrop, the Tsar approved Brusilov’s operational plan, deciding to mobilize 1.2 million Russian troops for a full-scale assault on Lemberg.

At the time, Brusilov was also aware that Britain and France were planning a major offensive on the western front.

It was obvious that the Russian attack on Lemberg was meant only to pin down the German army; whether the city could be taken was not the critical issue.

Indeed, this proved to be the case.

On the fourth day of the Russian assault on Lemberg, the last day of September, the Anglo-French forces launched the Battle of the Marne on the western front.

This was the truly decisive engagement.

In early September, the Anglo-French forces had retreated south of the Marne, establishing a new defensive line between Paris and Verdun, as the German offensive began to lose momentum. Despite persistent pessimism among the Entente and deep unrest in France—including nearly half a million Parisians fleeing the city in the first ten days of September—the situation at the front had shifted considerably.

In a sense, the German army had reached its limits.

On the far west of the line, Mackensen and Demarwitz’s corps had been repeatedly weakened; though both commanders were highly talented, they could not compensate for the lack of manpower. In the center, the Fourth and Fifth Corps, besieging Verdun, had received reinforcements several times, yet still failed to capture the crucial fortress complex. Even worse, the Third Corps in the center was also depleted.

Clearly, a gap had appeared in the center of the German line.

Opposing them, French Commander Joffre had formed two new corps, strengthening his forces, while the British Expeditionary Force was arriving steadily.

Curiously, the Anglo-French forces did not target the Germans’ vulnerable point.

Given the circumstances, had they deployed the two newly formed French army groups to the center around September 20th, and used part of the British Expeditionary Force to pin down the two western German corps, they might have severed the German line and completely shattered their offensive.

Missing the first opportunity, the Anglo-French forces did not miss the second.

While pursuing the retreating French Fifth Army, Demarwitz’s Second Corps deviated from its original course, creating a modest gap between itself and the First Corps, forcing Mackensen to turn left prematurely and pull troops from his already limited forces to fill the breach.

This, in turn, created new problems.

According to the original plan, Mackensen’s First Corps should have encircled Paris from the west with Demarwitz’s Second Corps. Forced to turn early, Mackensen was now approaching from the east. Whether they could encircle Paris was uncertain, but the greater issue was that his right flank was exposed to the Anglo-French forces. Worse still, the area ahead of Mackensen was precisely at the junction of the Anglo-French defensive sectors.

In other words, Mackensen was about to collide head-on with the main force of the Anglo-French army.

Joffre saw this clearly and decided to concentrate his forces against the German right, aiming to encircle and destroy Mackensen’s First Corps.

In fact, Joffre had an even better option, though he failed to recognize it himself.

Had the British pinned down Mackensen’s First Corps and Demarwitz’s Second Corps, the French could have launched a brilliant counterattack in the very center of the line. Breaking through the German central defense, even if they failed to encircle and annihilate the two outer corps, would have thwarted the German strategic offensive.

Even following Joffre’s plan, however, the Germans faced grave trouble.

In Marshal Schlieffen’s grand envelopment strategy, the two outermost corps were crucial. To use an analogy, the German army conducting the grand envelopment attack was like a massive hammer, with the First and Second Corps as the hammerhead—able to shatter the target in a single blow, provided they accomplished their objectives. The three inner corps merely served as the hammer’s handle, supporting the attack.

The gravest mistake made by Little Moltke was weakening the hammerhead to reinforce the handle.

Evidently, Joffre made a similar error. By ordering the Anglo-French forces to attack Mackensen’s First Corps directly, he was engaging in a frontal clash with the Germans.

At that time, the Germans were not without options to turn the tide.

If they provided timely support to Mackensen, the Germans could have held their ground at the Marne, perhaps even routed the Anglo-French forces there. Unfortunately, Little Moltke remained fixated on Verdun. He reasoned that capturing Verdun would open the road to Paris. Moreover, the Russian offensive at Lemberg affected the Germans, for instance by forcing Ludendorff to plan a counterattack on the eastern front.

Feng Chengqian understood all too well what outcome the Battle of the Marne would bring.

If Little Moltke persisted, the German strategic offensive would end here.

But Feng Chengqian was a naval officer; even after being promoted to captain by the Kaiser and receiving the Blue Max, the highest honor for Imperial military men, he could only offer suggestions—namely, to reinforce the First Corps as much as possible and hold the Anglo-French forces south of the Marne.

At that moment, Feng Chengqian had more urgent matters: planning the next naval operation.

This was not Feng Chengqian’s own idea, but the Kaiser’s directive.

In Feng’s view, there was no need to rush into naval operations; he believed it was more important to pay attention to the raiding ships still active at sea, especially Count Spee’s Far Eastern Fleet. The issue was not that the Imperial Navy lacked the ability to fight, but whether the Royal Navy would come out to engage. Yet the Kaiser believed that challenging the Royal Navy was the best way to ease the pressure on the German army on land.

Admittedly, the Kaiser’s perspective had some merit.

After the Battle of Shetland, the Royal Navy’s initiative in the North Sea was greatly diminished. In September alone, troops and supplies shipped from Britain to France fell by fifty percent compared to the original plan, largely because the British authorities feared the Imperial Navy would blockade the Channel. Of course, this was also related to the German army’s actions on land, such as capturing Antwerp in mid-September.

Clearly, if the Imperial Navy acted more aggressively, the Anglo-French situation would become even more dire.

The problem was, Feng Chengqian was not yet in a position to organize a large-scale naval battle. First, the Royal Navy might not agree to a decisive engagement; second, the Imperial Navy itself needed time to refit. Not least, the two battlecruisers heavily damaged at Shetland would require three months for repairs.

So, should the battleships go out and fight?

After careful consideration, Feng Chengqian decided to postpone the offensive until the end of the year or early next year, waiting until the fleet’s strength had been restored before making any moves.

At that time, his greatest concern was the Spee Fleet, still active in the Pacific.