Russian

For the Tsarist Russian soldiers who had not yet landed, the Seattle coastline was a true doomsday zone, a complete meat grinder, an oceanic hell that made them tremble with fear and break their hearts!

But for the Tsarist Russian soldiers who had landed, Seattle was the boundary between hell and heaven.

After enduring countless hardships and exhausting the luck of three generations, the Tsarist Russian soldiers finally climbed to the position, only to fall into the deepest despair upon seeing the iron-clad soldiers.

"Mom, we'll never meet again," Sergei's eyes began to sadden.

He looked at the soldiers in front of him, clad in perfectly fitted steel armor, and his last hope within him was extinguished.

Large-scale battles in this era were essentially about mutual attrition using human lives; after all, not many countries could afford to fully equip their forces, and under the rule of capital, the intensity of war would not be excessively expanded. Various small-scale trench warfare battles were the most popular combat versions.

Narrow battle lines unfolded simultaneously, wearing each other down through multiple small-scale trench warfare battles. Whichever side suffered fewer casualties would gain an advantage, slowly pushing the front line forward little by little.

This type of combat resulted in fewer casualties, a large number of prisoners, and a significantly prolonged war duration, with a campaign lasting one or two years being normal.

When these Tsarist Russian soldiers were conscripted, they had speculated about the scale of this war. In their view, this war would still follow this model, where the scale of casualties would be much smaller, allowing more of them to return home safely.

In their common knowledge, they all thought this battle would proceed in the same manner, but they never expected that Mr. Dutch Van der Linde, on the opposite side, would completely deviate from the usual combat mode!

Who the hell conducts saturation fire strikes in this era of precious productivity! Who in this era can extensively equip their soldiers with steel armor on a large scale!

In this era, a small squad with one Maxim gun could be considered a machine gun squad. Mr. Dutch Van der Linde had set up an entire row of thousands of Maxim guns on his front line. Those who knew thought it was for war; those who didn't might think it was for dismemberment!

After passing through two life-and-death checkpoints—saturation artillery bombardment and the strict Maxim gun defenses of the bunkers—the surviving Tsarist Russian soldiers, whose fighting spirit had already been largely diminished, completely shattered upon seeing the trenches full of steel-armored soldiers.

Some even shed tears.

They were treating them like animals!

Had they known this landing operation would be so terrifying, they would rather have turned back to counterattack the Tsar and depose him than participate in this horrific landing operation!

Sergei was so desperate that he didn't even have the will to resist. He dejectedly put down his worn rifle, looking at the steel soldiers in the trench before him with a face full of sorrow, waiting for the gunpowder to bloom from their dark gun barrels.

However, the dark muzzles showed no glow of gunpowder.

Instead, amidst the sounds from within the position, a steel-armored soldier removed his helmet, revealing a Tsarist Russian face.

"No time to explain, Davarish, quick, quick, quick! Take your bread and drinking water and go to the train station to catch a train! Make sure to take the special prisoner-of-war train directly to Valentine! Mr. Van der Linde has already prepared housing and work for you! Damn it, you're as lucky as I am! Your comrades will surely envy you!

Remember, you must take the special prisoner-of-war train, otherwise you won't be assigned work or housing!"

Sergei hadn't even reacted when the Tsarist Russian-faced Van der Linde's Guard soldier shoved a large, still soft white bread and a bottle of drinking water into Sergei's hand, then took his rifle, put an arm around his shoulder, and pushed him towards the back of the position.

"Ah?"

Sergei, who had just been in despair, was completely bewildered at this moment.

He looked at the white bread in his hand, which he had never eaten in his life, and at the Tsarist Russian-faced soldier who had already moved on to the next prisoner and handed him bread, and he was utterly lost.

What does this mean?

Seeing him still dazed, another steel-armored soldier nearby quickly came over and urged him.

"Hurry up, gentlemen, if you hesitate any longer, you'll miss this train! Quick, quick, quick! Get moving!" The approaching steel-armored soldier pushed Sergei and the other prisoners, moving them towards the back of the position.

Sergei, utterly bewildered, held the large white bread and walked backward aimlessly as he was pushed.

"Quick, gentlemen, gather together, get on the truck quickly, don't waste time, the soldiers behind are still waiting for transport!"

Not far from where they left the position, steel military trucks were waiting in the road.

Van der Linde's Guard soldiers, dressed in black and white uniforms, shouted at them, urging them to board the trucks.

"Bang!"

As the back of the truck closed, Sergei sat numbly on the seats along the sides of the compartment, staring down at the bread in his hand, lost in thought.

He still couldn't understand what was happening.

"Clang, clang, clang…"

Sergei, in a state of utter confusion, was arranged to board the truck, and then the train.

It wasn't until the train started moving and a breeze came through the windows on both sides that he slowly began to react.

"What's going on?" His gaze turned to the Tsarist Russian prisoners in the same carriage.

The prisoners sitting opposite him also looked utterly confused.

A bearded middle-aged man who looked like a classic Tsarist Russian serf was even more puzzled.

"I don't know, I didn't even react. They just swapped my gun for bread… I've never eaten such good bread before…"

Sergei was filled with questions. He lowered his head, looking at the white bread in his dirty hands, at its tempting appearance. Although his mind was full of doubts, he ultimately couldn't resist the temptation.

"Awooo!"

Sergei lowered his head and took a bite, and the rich aroma of the bread filled the air.

It was a taste he had never experienced… his mother had never tasted it either…

Sergei was in tears, yet he didn't know why he was crying.

*********

"Hmph, as expected, my skills are superior!" Mr. Meyegov stood on the ship's deck, gazing at the night sky and the sea beneath it. He sniffed the lingering scent of gunpowder in the air, a triumphant smile appearing on his face.

His decision not to immediately dispatch warships to assist the landing force in the offshore areas was indeed correct.

Given the firepower of Dutch Van der Linde today, their ships approaching would only result in their destruction.

If that were the case, he would truly become the greatest sinner in the downfall of the Tsarist Russian Navy!

As it is now, only thirty thousand soldiers were lost. Although the proportion and speed of these losses were equally alarming, it was still much better than losing the warships as well.

Moreover, if the warships were lost, it wouldn't just be the loss of thirty thousand soldiers.

The three hundred and fifty thousand soldiers of Tsarist Russia were naturally not all at sea. In reality, during wartime, these soldiers were continuously transported by ships, like a production line, one ship after another.

Otherwise, let alone this era, even during World War II, no country could simultaneously deploy thousands of warships or steamships to keep three to four hundred thousand soldiers at sea. After all, there would also need to be supplies for these three hundred and fifty thousand people, and equipment for these three to five hundred thousand people.

Therefore, although thirty thousand soldiers were lost today, subsequent reinforcements were still being continuously transported.

Watching wave after wave of ships sailing in the night, Mr. Meyegov deeply felt the greatness of his plan.

If the warships had suffered a major setback today, their Tsarist Russian naval power would have been completely depleted, and this offensive plan would have ended prematurely, unlike now, where they have enough ships to continuously transport troops and supplies.

The more Mr. Meyegov thought about it, the more he felt his idea was brilliant. The more he thought, the more complacent he became, even feeling that his influence in the court would greatly increase.

"Alright, take another tenth! Just to celebrate. After all, once people are dead, there's nothing left to spend money on."

Mr. Meyegov felt his plan was truly wonderful.

With over thirty thousand people dying in a day, this saved a huge amount of expenses, or rather, he could completely use this to his advantage to continue funneling naval funds into his own hands. Wouldn't he go crazy after returning home?

As for whether the death of over thirty thousand people would have any negative consequences?

Don't worry, it's impossible. Even the Tsar himself, after sacrificing two million people in World War I, told the British: 'It is our greatest honor to sacrifice for our friends.'

So, how could Mr. Meyegov, who sacrificed a mere thirty thousand people, be criticized?

Moreover, serfs are not qualified to criticize his noble Grand Duke Meyegov!

Mr. Meyegov reached out and poured himself a glass of high-grade French chilled red wine that had been transported over. He took a small sip, then narrowed his eyes, enjoying it.

If we are not qualified to evaluate the countries of the World War II era, then we are completely qualified to evaluate the Tsar and his nobles of World War I, because these people truly did not act humanely.

The bloodline of the Tsar and the Tsarist Russian nobles is no longer Slav; it has long since become Germanic. They naturally do not care about the lives of the Slavs.

Just like the Qing Dynasty.

As Commander-in-Chief Meyegov savored his red wine, his assistant, Mr. Meyegov, walked over.

"Grand Duke Meyegov, we cannot continue like this! Our current landing is simply a wasteful expenditure of our soldiers' lives, which is a great weakening of the Empire!

I believe we have no need to contend with the VDL Party in Washington State. We can completely land from other states, instead of needlessly losing manpower like this!"

Mr. Meyegov narrowed his eyes and glanced at Mr. Meyegov, disdainfully saying, "Do you know what foolishness you are speaking? Continue to change the landing site? Do you know the cost and time required for the Empire to open up this shipping lane? Do you know how much money is needed to maintain this ocean transport?

I tell you, arbitrarily changing the shipping route is an extremely foolish act. It means our fleet will have to pay a higher price and spend more time to get back on track, and the cost of sailing will also increase proportionally.

Now, Washington State has just been fought for one day, and you say we should stop because it hasn't been taken. Then if we change to another place and it's not taken in a day, will you say to change places again? What about the losses in Washington State then?

I tell you, your current remarks are completely undermining morale! If you weren't Prince Nikolai's nephew, I would have already sent you to a military tribunal!"

"In short, the landing will continue tomorrow! I refuse to believe that the Dutch Van Der Linde government can sustain this level of firepower consumption indefinitely!"

It must be said that although Mr. Meyegov was a bit greedy and a bit bad, he still had some skill.

Of course, it was only a little.

Perhaps this also had something to do with his lack of significant aggression.

Meanwhile, the Prussian troops far away on the German-French border were much more aggressive.