Chapter 0964: The Empire's Demise
Within the underground command center of the Austro-Hungarian Army's General Staff in Vienna, a heavy atmosphere loomed.
Archduke Friedrich, Duke Kaspar, and Field Marshal Baron Herzendorf all wore grim expressions. They had pinned high hopes on the Battle of Vienna, yet the unfolding events had turned into a complete disaster.
The Austro-Hungarian forces had crumbled almost instantly. At the mere onset of the German Army's first assault, their defensive lines collapsed entirely. Of the 200,000 troops stationed outside the city, many perished under the relentless German artillery fire, while some surrendered outright. The majority, having lost all will to fight, retreated into the city in disarray.
Worse still, those who had been thoroughly terrorized spread tales of German superiority and the sheer devastation of their artillery. Panic began to take hold within Vienna's garrison, as more and more soldiers expressed their unwillingness to continue resisting the German advance. If this continued, the Austro-Hungarian Army would not need to fight at all—they might as well surrender outright.
"What should we do now? The troops have no will to resist. If the Germans storm the city, we won't be able to hold them back at all!" Field Marshal Baron Herzendorf spoke with deep concern.
"Indeed, we are out of options. The battle we had staked our hopes on is bound to end in an utter catastrophe," Duke Kaspar added, his tone filled with despair.
It was evident that he had lost all faith in this campaign. The Germans' onslaught was too overwhelming, and the Austro-Hungarian forces were far too feeble. Without even the advantage of numbers, the so-called patriotic fervor meant little in the face of death.
"Regardless, the battle has begun, and we cannot simply abandon it now. Order the troops to continue resisting. Let us hope that God will grant them the courage to fight," Archduke Friedrich sighed.
Even as he spoke, he knew the outcome was all but decided. Yet, no matter how unwilling he was to accept it, there was no changing the fact that Austria-Hungary was utterly outmatched by Germany.
"What of His Majesty?" Archduke Friedrich suddenly asked.
"The Emperor remains in the palace basement. He seems to believe it is the safest place," Duke Kaspar replied.
"Let him be. After all, he is soon to be a monarch without a country," Archduke Friedrich said bitterly.
All of them knew that Austria-Hungary was doomed. Emperor Charles I had ascended the throne for barely twenty days, and soon, he would go down in history as a ruler whose reign ended in the swift destruction of his empire.
After securing the outskirts of Vienna, the German Army did not pause. That very afternoon, they launched an assault on the city itself.
To hasten their advance, several armored divisions were deployed in the urban battle. Though street fighting posed great risks to armored units—especially given the vulnerability of their relatively thin armor—tanks nonetheless played a crucial role in breaking through enemy defenses. While the Austro-Hungarians had erected barricades in the streets, German tanks advanced under covering fire, shrugging off machine-gun volleys before obliterating enemy strongpoints with their cannons. This cleared the path for infantry and significantly reduced casualties.
Despite being regarded as elite, the defenders of Vienna proved no match for the Germans. Whatever advantage they should have had in urban warfare—familiarity with the terrain, fortified positions—was squandered by sheer incompetence. The Austro-Hungarian troops were untrained in street combat, lacking both the tactics and discipline needed for such a battle. When confronted with the German assault, they faltered, disorganized and overwhelmed.
With morale at an all-time low, the defenders retreated step by step, unable to mount a meaningful resistance.
By the evening of the 27th, at least one-third of Vienna had fallen into German hands, with over 100,000 Austro-Hungarian soldiers taken prisoner.
The German advance had exceeded all expectations. Not only had they breached the city proper, but they had also captured a vast portion of its districts. More importantly, they had all but shattered the last vestiges of Austro-Hungarian resistance. From this point forward, victory was merely a formality.
Field Marshal Hausen was optimistic, predicting that by sunset the following day, Vienna would be entirely under German control. When that happened, they would capture Austria-Hungary's key officials—including the Emperor himself. With the fall of Vienna, the war would effectively be over.
As dawn broke on the 28th, the German offensive resumed.
As Hausen had foreseen, the previous day's crushing defeat had left the Austro-Hungarian soldiers in an even deeper state of panic. Many refused to fight. Even those positioned behind barricades did not return fire when the Germans approached—instead, they immediately raised their hands in surrender.
There was no fight left in them. Their only thought was survival.
The German Army advanced at an astonishing pace. By midday, they had seized the majority of Vienna. The remaining pockets of resistance were limited to the eastern and southern districts. It was all but certain that by nightfall, the entire city would fall.
"Enough. Order the troops to cease resistance. To the Germans, our struggle must seem like a pathetic joke," Archduke Friedrich said, his voice laden with despair.
Duke Kaspar and Field Marshal Herzendorf understood his meaning well.
Had their resistance inflicted significant casualties on the Germans, it might have been worthwhile. But now, with their soldiers too demoralized to fight, further resistance was meaningless.
Half an hour later, Archduke Friedrich, acting as the supreme commander of the Austro-Hungarian forces, issued the order to surrender. Across the city, soldiers laid down their arms and capitulated to the Germans.
Vienna had fallen entirely into German hands.
With the capital lost, the fate of Austria-Hungary was sealed. After half a century of existence, the empire had come to an end—a few years earlier than in another timeline, yet no less inevitable.