Alternate History Thread IV: The Sequel

Naploen dies in his campaign into Damascus after contracting ze bubonic plague, that or he gets shot, i have thoughts on how this would play out but i have yet to put them down so they are rather rough
So you want to kill the Antichrist, eh? :p Judging from the performance of the Directory in the War of the Second Coalition before Bonaparte appeared on the scene, it might be salvageable; Massena, for one, seems like a good and bloodthirsty pawn in the hands of others, who could temporarily rescue the Republic. Certainly his performance in Switzerland in late 1799 is a good indicator of that. But the question of the war's resolution, as well as that of the resolution of the political situation in France, is more intractable. If Sieyes can pull of his version of 18 Brumaire correctly (he was the one who originally started it after all), he might become First Consul instead of Bonaparte. I think that Bernadotte, however, will take this particular opportunity to hijack the coup and put himself at the head of the government. While certainly no Napoleon, he's very much competent; look at his governance in Sweden for that. At the same time, he wasn't megalomaniacal or anything. No 'star' for Bernadotte. I could envision him seizing control of 18 Brumaire, albeit not with the same flair Bonaparte did, then turning around and cutting a deal with the Coalition, maybe in exchange for some territory but more probably instead having to give up the republics in Italy and Switzerland.

Long-term? Well, the HRE is still around and the Rhineland is still under French control. The Imperial framework might just be self-dissolved, or it might continue being meaningless. Prussia and Austria also get to retain their preeminent position in Poland. Of course, the most important bit is Tsar Pavel and his mad coolness; I think das does Tsar Pavel stuff better, though. :p
 
I could envision him seizing control of 18 Brumaire, albeit not with the same flair Bonaparte did

Frankly Napoleon Bonaparte was downright pathetic during 18 Brumaire. Unlike a certain other Bonaparte. Still, it shouldn't be difficult to top Napoleon's "performance".

Anyway, the big question is whether or not the rulers of France are able to get an enduring peace with Great Britain, since the Anglo-French rivalry more than anything else drove Napoleon's wars of conquest.

The Imperial framework might just be self-dissolved, or it might continue being meaningless.

Or it might be reformed into a more viable German Confederation equivalent in the face of the French threat.
 
Of course, the most important bit is Tsar Pavel and his mad coolness; I think das does Tsar Pavel stuff better, though.

Isn't he the one who had the half baked idea to invade India without proper maps?
 
Isn't he the one who had the half baked idea to invade India without proper maps?
Among other things, yes. He kinda forgot that Russia doesn't border India or even Afghanistan for quite some time. :p Genial madman, or maybe merely a better than competent madman? I think there are some cool comparisons between him and Carl XII, although it breaks down pretty quickly, obviously.
 
Ahem, certain assessments of certain German dynasties conquering Italy were promised. :p

The consolidation in the 12th-13th centuries would probably be bloody, even a little Norman Conquest-esque, but overall a little assimilation on the Germans part could make Italy (or at least the south) a potential player in Mediterranean politics. I forsee Aragon and Constantinople both coming to dislike this.

It seems Venice will also have a faster rise, due to the crushing of the other maritime states, though which Roman Empire (Greek or Germano-Latin) they come into conflict with first is up for grabs.
 
Couple the death of Napoleon Bonaparte, with a near defeat in Syra, Damascus when he attacked before the Turks could trap him in Cairo. Then his attack on Acre would be a crushing defeat if nt even conducted. This would cause him to just sit in Egypt, waiting for that opening in the British blockade before i could return to France. Instead of dying before he reached France, he would die in France, after plotting with Sieyes, but before the plot could be carried out.

This would not only put Sieyes at a disadvantage of suddenly losing an ally, but also losing a powerful ally, powerful being the key term. With Napoleon out of the picture wouldn't it leave Sieyes and the rest of the "Brumaire" club sort of stuck. Not only that but the French military would be stuck in Egypt, their conquests there cut off from the rest of the Empire since their navy had already been destroyed by the British. Not to mention the Second Coalition would surely take advantage of the newly weakened and stretched out French Army and make further ground in Italy and push past the French Alps.

thoughts?

also map on this era if possible, not of the alt hist, but accurate to the time
 
I support the US-Japan alliance. :p

Pretty unlikly what with the difference of opinions the US and Japan will have over China, with America wanting an open market and Japan wanting a ocean of slaves+resource colony...

And I'm sure nothing would make the UK less likely to join the US than an invasion, especially as America can't dilute out the population in any serious manner like with the previous conquests ;).

Also a war between Britain and the US at that point would see something worse than the great depression in global finance, coupled with shipping being pretty much screwed, thus revolutions galore in latin america etc
 
Pretty unlikly what with the difference of opinions the US and Japan will have over China, with America wanting an open market and Japan wanting a ocean of slaves+resource colony...

And I'm sure nothing would make the UK less likely to join the US than an invasion, especially as America can't dilute out the population in any serious manner like with the previous conquests ;).

Also a war between Britain and the US at that point would see something worse than the great depression in global finance, coupled with shipping being pretty much screwed, thus revolutions galore in latin america etc

I see an easy solution to that dilemma, with the American interest at the time only just starting as an emerging power, wanted to protect its stake from the already established powers of Europe, where instead the U.S is approached as becoming the dominant trade partner to East Asia through the alliance with Japan.
 
You're about a third of a century out of time there, bub.

Hmm, what was the point of the sphere of influence then I wonder? Truly though, if we could find a way to replace the U.S.A's interest in the free market for American dominance of East Asian trade I could see this hurdle being overcome anyway. :p


Well, help me out here man, I want a U.S-Japanese alliance dammit!! ;)
 
Ahem, certain assessments of certain German dynasties conquering Italy were promised. :p
And were merely awaiting me having the time to read something so I'd only look like a fool as opposed to a total fool.

First problem is that Roman influence in southern Italy isn't dead yet by the time of the Ottonian emperors and several times even played a major part in frustrating the ambitions of said emperors in Italy. You may recall that I once used this as the basis for a major European conflict in the late 11th century in an althist once upon a time when the world was young and vibrant. Technically said Kingdom of Sicily doesn't even exist until the Normans come in under the Hautevilles in the mid 11th century anyway; Sicily itself was largely controlled by the Saracens (and was totally under their dominion following the fall of Taormina in 906) while southern Italy was a patchwork of Roman Imperial outposts and disparate Italian states until the coming of the Normans. In short, it's a very big political mess to negotiate for any Ottonian emperors, and they are up against some very significant opposition in the Saracens and Romans, which is especially potent stuff considering the distance southern Italy is from the Ottonian power base in the Rhine and Main valleys, as well as the regular revolts of the north Italian cities (which continued in OTL until the 1030s) that made threatening the Pope so difficult, among other things. (Said revolts were one of the key premises in my althist as well, and if it had not been for the military genius of Otto IV and the destruction of the Norman Kingdom of Burgundy/Arelate, the HRE would have certainly been forced north of the Po.)

So assuming the descendants of Otto manage to not only clear southern Italy but also can hold it from all comers, and manage to assemble the naval power to seize Saracen Sicily in the meantime - no mean feat, and one that vexed even the great Boulgaroktonos in his time - then Italy would indeed have been such a huge investment for them that they will likely try to value it higher than Germany.
Thlayli said:
The consolidation in the 12th-13th centuries would probably be bloody, even a little Norman Conquest-esque, but overall a little assimilation on the Germans part could make Italy (or at least the south) a potential player in Mediterranean politics. I forsee Aragon and Constantinople both coming to dislike this.
Bloody isn't half the word. If the Ottonians are spending enough time down in southern Italy to make it even close to worth their while, there will be innumerable opportunities for antikings to arise in Germany. There were already loads during the OTL 11th century, and the 12th and 13th won't be any easier. Therein lies another key problem with an attempt to establish a powerbase in southern Italy; it just isn't up to the strength of the usual medieval German core in the Rhine and Main valleys (and Magdeburg, I guess) and thus is an inferior instrument for fighting off antikings and Popes. It's also a poor vehicle for controlling the Ostsiedlung, and attempting German migration into Italy will either weaken both movements or stall one altogether. Besides, there are already an awful lot of Italians in southern Italy, whereas the Slavic population density east of the Vistula is at best low. Makes colonizing easier that way. So any attempt to direct a colonization of Italy will take away from an effort that is far more likely to succeed; why do that?

As for the Aragonese and Romans, the former will not be making an appearance until the 13th century in any significant form in southern Italy (as you yourself mentioned), while the latter...will be interesting. Either the Romans will redouble efforts to take back southern Italy from the Ottonians or they will ignore their lost cause and focus on the east. Redirecting Maniakes alone to the east instead of the west would not only save the Romans a costly civil war but also allow significant gains against the Muslim states. While I can see a periodic expedition to southern Italy by megalomaniacs like Manuel I who would want to use the Orthodox population base to wreak some havoc, on the whole the elimination of the Norman threat will balance out any losses westward expeditions would induce. (Besides, a few Italian campaigns were conducted by Manuel himself and the Palaiologoi dabbled in the area, so it's not like it won't damage the Romans beyond what already happened there.) The incoming Turkic tribes in the latter half of the 11th century will have interesting results. The struggle between them and the Romans was close, after all, and by no means preordained; with the aforementioned good positioning the Romans might be able to secure in the Middle East, it's possible that the Turks will be reduced to Eranshahr, recreating the old dominions of, say, the Ghaznavids plus the Buwayhids.

'Course, that doesn't mean the Romans get away scot free. That's just be terrible of me. The usual seesaw of war will probably continue between Roman and Turco-Iranian just as it had between 54 BC and 627 AD. Seljuq Eranshahr captures Antioch a few times, maybe manages some deep raids into Anatolia; by the same token, the Romans will probably be able to penetrate deep into Mesopotamia a few times and may even advance as far as ma boy Herakleios did (Esfahan, for the record). And then of course they'll have to deal with the menaces from the north, like the Pechenegs, and Hungary will finally begin to awaken with interesting consequences for Roman Illyria and Dalmatia. They and the horribly overstretched HRE will probably clash for dominance a few times, and I can't say as I could pick which of the two somewhat ramshackle, threatened on multiple sides edifices would win that particular series of conflicts.
Thlayli said:
It seems Venice will also have a faster rise, due to the crushing of the other maritime states, though which Roman Empire (Greek or Germano-Latin) they come into conflict with first is up for grabs.
Doubtful. Any Imperial sovereign who has a chance ought to try to grab Venice. It's not as though it's got any major advantages over Genoa save for that little lagoon that any sane man who could pile rocks could get through. (Shades of the mole of Alexandros at Tyros, or that of Otto IV. :p) As for Pisa, they might be able to relocate to Corsica with some success, and it's not as though the Ottonian emperors have the kind of naval power needed to crush them. As to which empire they come into conflict with first, assuming they survive: that's easy. Venice was officially a vassal of the Roman Empire, which in concrete terms translated to 'close ally'. This condition persisted until the time of Manuel I. The Romans were quite prepared to allow Venice significant autonomy in exchange for maintaining the alliance; Basileios II even let them have a chunk of the Dalmatian coastline for the timber (although what use the Venetians could make of it was probably limited).

Oh, and since you've so conveniently eliminated a grand place for the Normans to go, they've got to end up somewhere. Population pressures and all that. As was once mentioned by a certain person who frequents these threads, the Hautevilles - or their analogue - might have great success among the taifas of southern Spain during this time, either playing them off against one another or simply serving as mercenaries, during which time they can carve out their own kingdom from seized Castilian territories (like el Cid in reverse). Inasmuch as your scenario involves switching Italian political fragmentation for German political fragmentation, I assume they might do well in Germany as well, grabbing some nice profitable stuff. (Like the Kingdom of Burgundy/Dauphine/Arelate/that place. Oh, wait. It's been done. ;))

Oh, and if you want a German-Italian kingdom of Sicily, then your best bet is the Hohenstaufen dynasty, not the Ottonian/Salian one anyway.
 
I didn't want to doublepost, but the distinct lack of any response to my response is disappointing, especially when
Ahem, certain assessments of certain German dynasties conquering Italy were promised. :p
And were delivered upon. ;)
This would not only put Sieyes at a disadvantage of suddenly losing an ally, but also losing a powerful ally, powerful being the key term. With Napoleon out of the picture wouldn't it leave Sieyes and the rest of the "Brumaire" club sort of stuck. Not only that but the French military would be stuck in Egypt, their conquests there cut off from the rest of the Empire since their navy had already been destroyed by the British. Not to mention the Second Coalition would surely take advantage of the newly weakened and stretched out French Army and make further ground in Italy and push past the French Alps.

thoughts?

also map on this era if possible, not of the alt hist, but accurate to the time
Thing is, even without Napoleon's forces, which didn't return to France in OTL either, the Republic was able to ensure its continued survival in 1799. Despite defeats at the very able Suvorov's hands, the French maintained their position in Switzerland and were able to push back the Anglo-Russo-Dutch forces in the north. The question after 1799 was never one of whether the Republic would survive, and it was likely that it wouldn't even be disastrously defeated, but it was whether it could manage to turn this into a glorious victory a la Bonaparte (which merely allowed the French to not come out the losers) or whether it would have to be satisfied with survival but losing the Italian puppets.

As for Sieyes, I think that he'd just use one of the other military men hanging around as his tool; hence the suggestion of Bernadotte as somebody likely for him to approach (due to his proximity) but also as someone who, like Napoleon, might hijack the coup and seize control himself.

Oh, and the primary reason for this post is this thread. World History is showing, yet again, an interest in althisting, but instead of the idiotic questions people usually ask there it looks like somebody is trying to actually come up with intelligent counterfactuals (though the choice of the first one isn't really promising). Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate this thread, post good ideas, assist with the development of existing ideas, and in general convert these people into NESers.

:p
 
Well, help me out here man, I want a U.S-Japanese alliance dammit!! ;)

I don't :p I also find your attempts to have Japan rule China via military force more disturbing by the fact that you want our beloved USA allied to the despotic and military regime of Japan in keeping China down ;)
 
The Story So Far, 1861-1870.

Installment I
Installment II
Installment III

The American Civil War, which began with an election and an artillery barrage in South Carolina, had rapidly escalated into a tremendous conflict of North against South. While the Union loyalists generally fared worse than the Confederacy in northern Virginia, the main field of combat, in 1862 the Federals made huge gains in the West while managing to force the hitherto victorious rebel Army of Northern Virginia to withdraw from its invasion of Maryland. More defeats followed in the next months at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, such that the Southern general Robert E. Lee felt as though he could invade the North successfully; in this, he was disastrously mistaken, for the Union Army of the Potomac, under the command of George G. Meade, won a decisive four-day victory at Gettysburg that saw Lee’s army nearly destroyed; at nearly the same time, Ulysses S. Grant was making a name for himself in the West with the capture of Vicksburg, such that the Union seized control of the entire length of the Mississippi. The next year and a half saw victory after victory for the Federals, who capitalized brilliantly on Gettysburg and Vicksburg; Meade wintered in 1863 close to Richmond itself, while Grant seized Atlanta early the next year. The Confederacy was in the end completely broken by the fall of 1864, but the conventional warfare of the earlier years simply gave way to asymmetric conflicts, in which the Confederate secret society the Ku Klux Klan refused to give up and conducted terrorist operations all throughout the Deep South. These only intensified when some rebels made their way to the Plains and fought with the Native Americans in the series of bloody Indian Wars. America was by no means a healed society in 1870, but the real threat was past and the enemy now was merely a huge nuisance.

That victory in 1864 forced Napoleon III to give up his Mexican adventure early; looking for new fields on which to do diplomatic and military battle, he turned back to Europe. Realizing his tacit support of Prussia against Austria in 1866 was a mistake that allowed half of Germany to be united, Napoleon used his considerable forces and influence to organize the southern German states into their own confederation, and then in saving Austria from the Hungarian Revolt of 1866-7 brought the Habsburgs down on his side. Spain’s Carlist Wars, in the meantime, ended unexpectedly with the adoption of a Liberal King, Maximilian I, former emperor-to-be of Mexico. Realizing the great power that Napoleon had assembled, in 1869 the North German Confederacy and the Russian Empire joined with the hitherto-isolated United Kingdom and with the revanchist Italy in the treaty of Frankfurt. The two alliance systems divided most of Europe between them, but nobody was quite willing to provide a spark for the powder keg yet. But in the next decade, it would come…all too soon.

Thunder Road, 1870-1874.

The creation of two grand alliances did not force a war in Europe immediately as had, for example, the Coalitions against Napoleon and the Diplomatic Revolution of the 1750s. For one thing, none of the antagonists save perhaps France and the North German Confederacy were prepared for war. France itself was most interested in consolidating Habsburg - and thus, allied - control of Spain, after all. Von Bismarck and the North Germans, for their part, were still engaged in the process of integrating the other members of the Confederacy with Prussia. And both sides had their eyes on extending influence into the Balkans. Russia was extremely interested in significantly weakening Austria and claiming a measure of hegemony, and Gladstone's government was worried enough about the new French-led alliance to be willing to give way on several key points. Besides, psychologically many of the contestants weren't nearly as ready as they wished to be. So instead of an immediate all-out conflict, the world was treated to a display of alliance-building and proxy fighting that slowly built up to the inevitable main event.

While all attempts to get the Netherlands onto one side or the other failed miserably (although the House of Oranje was fairly sympathetic to their relatives the Hohenzollerns, and despite Willem III's "sale" of Luxemburg to the NGC, the Netherlands was unwilling to enter a new war over much of anything, preferring to instead strengthen its colonial position), Belgium became a battleground between French and British adherents. Napoleon III in particular wanted to use Belgium as a route to invade the Rhineland, skirting the Eifel range and hopefully landing on the flank of those ominous North German armies. Britain, obviously, wanted to keep Belgium out of the war and thus aligned itself with the neutralist parties in the government (chief among which was King Leopold II himself). An internal palace feud began, between Leopold and his Habsburg queen Marie Henriette, who became the advocate for not only the rest of her family in Austria but for her son in law Maximiliano I of Spain as well. With Belgium thus largely immobilized between the two parties, it reverted to de facto neutrality, and looked to do so for the duration of any conflict barring exogenous shock.

Portugal, formally Britain's ally, was largely overawed by its neighbor Spain; with the Carlist Wars finally ended and Franco-Spanish troops crawling the countryside exterminating both Bourbon and Carlist adherents, Luis I - who was more interested in patronizing the sciences anyway, and who had a stagnating domestic situation to boot - declined the efforts of the Earl of Granville (who became Gladstone's foreign secretary after the death of Clarendon in 1871) to bring him and Portugal into the wider Frankfurt Treaty alliance system. His Prime Minister, the duke of Saldanha, had other plans, but they were cut short by yet another coup d'etat (in which the Historic Party once more took office). To the east, Maximiliano I was busily consolidating his control of Spain with significant help from a French expeditionary force under Marshal F.A. Bazaine. Juan Prim, previously de facto generalissimo in charge of Spain, took control of the Spanish military itself and systematically began training it up by fighting partisans while receiving weapons and tutelage from the French troops. Spain's army rapidly began recovering from its previously disastrous state, though it was by no means capable of facing one of the Great Powers' militaries on even terms yet. In the civil field, Maximiliano had to work to force the Cortes to accept him as a monarch. The ability to speak Spanish certainly helped, as did the old ties his dynasty had within Spain; by and large, though, what opposition did arise was crushed by the 'stick' of the French and reformed Spanish armies. Maximiliano, as his carrot, naturally expanded the rights of the Cortes and initiated some centralizing reforms to gain the allegiance of part of the republican segment of the Cortes itself. He nearly alienated many of his Conservative supporters by abolishing slavery in the entire Empire in 1872, but enough support on both sides of the aisle had materialized in the metropoly by that point to make it a relatively safe move. The hot-button items of universal manhood suffrage and separation of church and state had to wait, though.

The Italians constantly made noise over the status of the Patrimony of St. Peter, as well as Savoy and Nice; Prime Minister Giovanni Lanza, while devoting much of his time to social reforms and economic tinkering, repeatedly locked horns with the French on the issue of the contested areas. Giuseppe Garibaldi, in particular, caused an international incident when he marched on Rome a second time in 1871 with an army of twenty thousand volunteers and was repulsed by the French garrison at Vetralla. Lanza was forced to disavow Garibaldi's actions, after which his government fell and was replaced by Urbano Rattazzi and the Democrats. Rattazzi continued to honor the Frankfurt alliance mostly due to the overwhelming Italian support for it, but grew to depend mostly on personal force of will rather than support for his political positions. His death in 1873 allowed Lanza's successor at the head of the Liberal-Conservatives, Marco Minghetti, to recapture the premiership. In the military sphere, Italy was able to modernize its army and navy with Prussian and British help respectively, but was still largely inferior to the Austrians and French. The memory of Custozza had not yet been erased.

Von Bismarck's North German Confederation continued to consolidate itself and integrate its constituent militaries. The Prussian Greater General Staff now had effective control over the entire NGC army. Due to the perceived imminence of a war with France and Austria, in 1870 von Bismarck passed a law in the Reichstag that reorganized the military recruitment areas for the Landwehr and essentially eliminated the independence of the constituent states' armies. Prussia fortunately outnumbered the other parts of the NGC by a vast margin, but the Hannoverians and Saxons were both not particularly happy at the new arrangement, and hinted that there would be political ramifications. Von Bismarck wasn't too worried about this, though, because Prussia's supermajority in the Reichstag was basically unassailable, and his Reptile Fund ensured that the Reichstag didn't break down on political party lines either. Von Bismarck's neighbor to the south, though, was briefly embroiled in a major squabble. Von der Pfordten, previously chancellor, died in 1871 and Ludwig II attempted to use his status as President of the Confederacy to reign without a prime minister, provoking major dissent within the SGC. Forced to call in the French military, Ludwig had to fight against a significant portion of his own army in a two-month civil war that the North Germans very nearly took advantage of (but decided not to due to the ongoing reorganization of the army). When the dust settled, the Bavarian King was unchallenged at the top of the South German Confederacy, but the only reason he was head and shoulders above everyone else was because he was sitting on French bayonets. The Bavarian and Württemberger armies were gutted and the South German capacity to fight a war was seriously diminished. Napoleon III was not amused.

Austria, spurred by the sobering prospect of a war with every single nation on its border save the South German Confederacy, was desperately attempting to shove whatever military reforms that could be done into place. Kaiser Franz Josef largely left matters to his minster-president, Eduard Taaffe, who with the assistance of the Inspector General of the Army, Erzherzog Albrecht, and Field Marshal Gabriel Radic, streamlined the Austrian army and introduced the French chassepot to the entire force. Civil reforms were left largely by the wayside; Hungary was to expect nothing good in return for its failed uprising in 1866-7, for example, and Germanization was renewed with vigor in those lands.

But it was in the Ottoman Empire and its Balkan neighbors that the catalyst for any war would appear. Serbia and Greece both plotted against the Ottomans, conspiring to seize wide swathes of Macedonia, completely out of touch with what they could reasonably control (as all parvenu states are wont to do); Russia, too, conspired to force the Ottomans from Europe and create a Bulgarian state instead, while advancing greatly in the Caucasus. Gorchakov had already secured international recognition for the abrogation of the parts of the Paris Peace that had barred Russia from having a Black Sea Fleet; said Fleet was rapidly being built up again, although it was nowhere near as powerful as its predecessor had been. Diplomatically, the situation in the Balkans was essentially 'everybody against the Turk' as of 1869, for both the Austrian ally of Serbia and the Russians were intent on expansion. Austria, however, believed that Russia was the greater threat, and rightfully so; the Ottomans could be plundered later if Austria managed to weather the coming storm. Their assistance against the Russians, however, would be invaluable. French and Austrian agents at the Porte began wooing Sultan Abdulaziz; since Franco-Turkish relations were already excellent, it wasn't a particularly difficult task. Abdulaziz was extremely worried about a British attack, though, and asked for concrete French support; after prevarication, he instead got a large Spanish expeditionary force under the former Carlist Ramon Cabrera. Franco-Spanish naval support was also promised. In 1873, with the new Spanish troops and promises of more aid (and the knowledge that either way, he'd have to face the Russians), the Sultan was sufficiently emboldened to join the Freiburg system by signing separate alliance agreements with France, Spain, and Austria. He also nearly began a Great War early by removing Carol I as prince of the Danubean Principalities; the Hohenzollerns were infuriated, and von Bismarck threatened war, but ultimately backed down due to Russian insistences of unreadiness. Sultan Abdulaziz kept the Principalities under the ‘regency’ of Manolache Epureanu, infuriating many of the Western Powers who ultimately decided to wait until they were better prepared.

Prince Milan Obrenovic of Serbia was now caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, he could simply go along with his friends the Austrians. His other choice was to ride the tide of public opinion into an alliance with Russia and nebulous promises of aid. The classic 'damned if you do...' was difficult to face: either prepare for a major storm of Serbian public opinion by abandoning the struggle against the Ottomans, or prepare for a major storm of Turkish and Habsburg troops that the Russians might not arrive in time to defeat. The prince, who only came of age in 1872, prevaricated and attempted to hold off on a conflict, but events were moving too fast for him to control the situation. The 1874 harvest was terrible in Anatolia, and revolts sprang up all over the Ottoman heartland. As troops were redeployed in an attempt to contain the uprisings, the Serbian government itself began to push for the prince to change his policies, and the Russian agents seeded throughout the country didn't help by whipping up anti-Ottoman riots. Those same Russian agents, hard at work in Bulgaria, saw their efforts bear fruit in 1874; in June of that year, the Bulgarian secret societies, led by Lyuben Karavelov and Vasil Levski, among others, initiated uprisings in Sofia, Stara Zagora, and Plovdiv. The Sultan ordered Osman Pasha, one of the best remaining Turkish generals, to crush the uprisings. Faced with the imminent destruction of the best chance Serbia had to successfully fight the Ottomans, and with the knowledge that he had perhaps two weeks before Austrian troops redeployed from elsewhere, the prince took the plunge. An alliance was concluded with Russia on the fifth of July, and two days later the Serbians declared war on the Ottoman Empire. Russia responded four days after that by declaring the Paris Peace null and void and launching its own attack on the Ottoman Empire; this coincided with a similar declaration from the megalomaniacal state of Montenegro, led by its prince, Nikola I. Within the next month, the rest of Europe was once more at general war.

Honorable Intentions, 1874-1875.

Since it was a series of Serbian actions what started the Great European War, it will be with Serbia we will continue. As of 7 July 1874, Serbia had roughly thirty thousand men under arms in any effective way, of whom only half of which were of reasonable skill. Prince Milan himself took official control of the army, leading ten thousand men in securing the Ottoman frontier posts at Nish. Easily successful due to Osman Pasha's preoccupation elsewhere, the Serbians then planned a descent upon the great fortress of Vidin on the Danube. The prince with a reinforced army of fifteen thousand marched on Vidin and invested it, aided by the lack of a significant Ottoman garrison. That, of course, was when the Turkish army arrived. Osman Pasha had forty thousand men suppressing Bulgarians but detached half of them to annihilate the Serbians. Osman relieved Vidin in mid-July without a significant battle, and pursued Milan's retreating army towards Bor. At Bor on the twenty-first of July, Osman's army repelled a counterattack by the Serbians and then responded in kind, easily driving Milan's troops off the field with heavy casualties.

But the Ottoman commander was not going to simply continue on and annihilate the Serbians. He would entrust that mission to the Austrians, while he himself moved to defend the Danube crossings from the incoming Russian armies. Already by the end of July the Russians had assisted in the declaration of independence by the Danubian Principalities and shoved out the few Ottomans that were there; in early August, the main Russian army, of nearly 200,000 and under the overall command of the velikiy knyaz, Nicholas, began probing along the Danube for possible crossing points. The overall plan was to cross on the inner Danube so as to avoid the strong Turkish fortifications along the Black Sea coast. A large reinforcing Turkish army of some 125,000 was inbound to Varna, thence to the Danube delta, under Abdul Kerim, while the Spanish army under Cabrera of 75,000 men was heading for the western Danube but would take some time to get there. Nicholas instructed the Russian van, under Josef Gourko, to surprise Osman Pasha's inferior force and force a crossing a few miles east of Vidin, and mask Ottoman troops in preparation for an attack on that fortress, left partly unmanned due to the troop needs elsewhere along the river. Gourko charged across the river, which was surprisingly easy to bridge (the Russian river navy making short work of the nearby Turkish gunboats, with the Austrian river navy nowhere in sight) and immediately began to deploy to the east to screen the landing site. Most of the Russian army had finished crossing by the fifteenth of August and began to move on Vidin, which was besieged under the leadership of the great Russian engineer Todleben, hero of the defense of Sevastopol in the last war.

Meanwhile, Osman had collected many of the troops that were tied down by the Bulgarian uprisings - which had been partly crushed - and was holding the other great fortress of the inner Danube, Plevna. His inability to break through Gourko's screen consigned his troops to the fortress, which he began fortifying intensively with the aid of the engineer, Tewfik Pasha. The Ottomans were forced to wait until Cabrera arrived from Anatolia to deal with the Russians, while Abdul Kerim was engaged with a Russian flank guard of 75,000 under the command of the knyaz Aleksandr Imeretinsky in the lower Danube. With Todleben's assistance, Vidin was seized after two weeks, by which time the Spanish were rapidly approaching. To the west, Prince Milan had used his respite well and managed to reconstitute the Serbian army after the disaster of Bor; with ten thousand men, he effected a linkup with the Russians just before Vidin fell and then advanced purposefully on Nish, which had been recaptured by Osman Pasha previously. He managed to capture that city, but was shortly halted by the arrival of the Spanish army. Cabrera sent out a flank guard to hold off the Serbians and then vigorously began to oppose the numerically superior Russians around Montana. Lethargy on the part of the top Russian commanders halted operations for a few weeks, but in September Nicholas began probing once again, finally launching a major attack at Banitsa on September 16 that drew in much of the Spanish army. In the battle of encounter at Banitsa, the Spanish managed to gain ascendancy in the town of Banitsa itself but to the north a Russian detachment under the rising star Mikhail Skobelev was able to secure the main high ground in the area, pushing several batteries of artillery to the top and firing down on the Spanish in the town. With this key advantage, the Russians had the battle in hand, although Cabrera forced them to fight for every last inch of the town until night fell, under which cover the Spanish withdrew.

With the Spanish line disrupted at Banitsa, the velikiy knyaz began pouring troops into the weak point. Skobelev led the assault, which began pushing into the foothills of the Stara Planina towards Slivnitsa and Sofia. As the Spanish lines lengthened, Cabrera was forced to shift his troops further east to cover the Shipka Pass and the flanks of Osman Pasha's stronghold at Plevna. This allowed the Russians and Serbians to effect another linkup, this time with the Montenegrins, who were fresh from a small victory over an Ottoman detachment at Vucji Do. When winter forced a relative slowdown in campaigning, the Russo-Serbo-Montenegrin troops had managed to cut off Ottoman Bosnia and Novi Pazar, but advancement into Bulgaria itself was still rather limited. One notes immediately, however, the conspicuous absence of Austrian troops; this is because, outside of a few bombardments of Belgrade, the Austrians were in no position to intervene in the Balkans. They were fighting desperately elsewhere.

The Austrian situation, however, must be passed over for the main event: the German campaign. The North German Confederacy's brilliantly organized military was essentially in a race against those of France and Austria. At stake was Austria itself, reliant on arms from France to provide their technological edge (such as it was) against her enemies; if the South German Confederacy could be severed, it would mean doom for the Austrians and probably a cessation of hostilities in favor of the Frankfurt Allies. Helmuth von Moltke, Chief of the Greater General Staff, had been mobilizing before the Serbians had even officially allied with Russia, and was ready to launch an attack after two days of war. King Ludwig's shadow of an army in South Germany was woefully inadequate to fight the modern and overwhelmingly powerful North German one. Prinz Friedrich Karl, in command of the NGC First Army of 70,000, advanced purposefully into Franconia, crossing the Main at Würzburg on the 23rd of July and was immediately engaged with the majority of the South German field army. Neither side had a numerical advantage as the morning turned into afternoon, but at around three o'clock North German reinforcements began to arrive, appearing on the northern flank of the South German troops on the high ground near the village of Grombühl. The southerners were encircled and overwhelmed, nearly annihilated, with the remnants retreating disparately towards Munich. At Erlangen a few days later they were caught by a flying column of North German cavalry and rounded up. The North German army advanced, victorious, south towards Munich. King Ludwig fled to Paris, and the governments of Baden and Württemberg declared the South German Confederacy dissolved, but remained at war with North Germany and in alliance with France. Even Bavaria wasn't a total loss, as Gabriel Radic's troops began swarming across the Inn and occupied Munich itself. The destruction of the ramshackle South German state within four weeks was certainly bad news, but the situation on the whole wasn't all that terrible, save for the minor fact that Austria and France were now completely cut off from one another. Further French munitions would have to rely on either reopening southern Germany or blasting a new route through northern Italy.

The remainder of the German front began to open up as the summer wore on and was still fairly fluid even as winter set in. Despite the Austrian seizure of Munich, the North Germans were able to ride their momentum to the Swiss border and force Württemberg to heel. Baden, however, remained at war, bolstered by the main French army under Patrice MacMahon himself. MacMahon and the North German First and Second Armies (under Karl Friedrich and Kronprinz Friedrich Wilhelm, respectively) finally clashed at the inconclusive Battle of Pforzheim in October after two months of cautious maneuvering and minor engagements; the North Germans, despite the French advantage of the chassepot and their new 'secret weapon', the mitrailleuse, had far superior artillery. MacMahon had made the error of abandoning much of hist artillery in favor of the new weapons, which proved effective technically but which were tactically outranged by the Krupp guns from the Rhine foundries. The Germans managed to drive the Franco-Baden army off the field, but with such severe casualties that Karl Friedrich elected not to pursue. In the east, the Third Army of Karl von Steinmetz opposed the Austrians around Munich, slowly pushing the Habsburgs out of the city and across the Isar, culminating in a savage fight on the River Isen in September during which the Austrians initially drove back the German assault across the river, but failed to check a drive by a flanking corps that had been thrown across the Isen the previous day. Von Steinmetz was however the victim of a major Austrian counterattack that drove him back across the Isar and made Munich an urban battleground, a retreat only halted by the arrival of Landwehr troops. Bohemia and Silesia were largely quiescent. The Austrians faced off against Leonhard von Blumenthal's Fifth Army, which conducted relatively lax operations but which held about 100,000 Austrians in Bohemia and Moravia, tying them down and preventing them from joining other operations.

In Galicia, the Russian juggernaut under the velikiy knyaz Michael, with some 150,000 men, opposed a slightly smaller number of Austrians under Erzherzog Albrecht. The Austrians weren't quite ready in time and thus lost Przemysl fairly early before Albrecht arrived to prevent the Russians from seizing Lemberg. The wily Albrecht declined to trap most of his troops inside Lemberg and instead kept them mobile, preventing the Russians from safely besieging the fortress-city. Operations largely stalled here for the remainder of the year, until Michael retreated to Przemysl and detached troops to irrupt through the Danubian Principalities into Austrian Transylvania. Agents were already hard at work on inciting a Magyar revolt, though this had not yet borne fruit in 1874.

Italy was the final major front, and what a front it was. Prime Minister Minghetti was suddenly threatened with major French and Austrian invasions on his northern front. The heart of Italy's industrial region was seriously threatened from the start, for Napoleon III had dispatched Auguste Ducrot with 150,000 men through the Alpine passes into Lombardy while Austrian Field Marshal Franz Kuhn launched his own attack into Venetia. Garibaldi returned from retirement to hastily gather a volunteer army while the Italian regular army, commanded by Alfonso la Marmora, attempted to stand against a numerically and technologically superior French force. La Marmora decided to go on the offensive to try to drive the French back enough to allow him to deal with the Austrians; his attempt, which resulted in the Battle of Vigone, at which Ducrot's mitrailleuses and chassepots shredded the onrushing Italian infantry. Forced to fall back in disarray, the Italians evacuated Turin and sent the government to Milan. All attempts to conquer Rome itself, mounted by Garibaldi, were once more repelled despite real support by the Italian army. Francois Canrobert, the able French veteran of the Crimean War, was able to keep his hold on the Patrimony of St. Peter with relative ease. And finally, the Italian mobilization allowed Raffaele Cadorna, the most competent of the Italian generals, to oppose Kuhn in Venetia beginning in September, although he could only hold the Austrians to the gain of Venetia itself, failing to reclaim Venice or indeed anything beyond the Mincio.
 
On the oft-forgotten Caucasus front, Mikhail Muravyov, the victor at the siege of Kars during the Crimean War, took command of 75,000 Russians driving for the same objectives as he'd fought for twenty years prior. Ottoman forces were weak and under the command of Muhtar Pasha, with 50,000. Muravyov pushed the Ottomans back to Erzerum before winter set in, although his supply system was terrible and bound to collapse soon unless further help was given. No major pitched engagements occurred, as Muhtar was unwilling to risk his troops in what would almost certainly be a lost battle. Instead, he maneuvered around towards the east, seeking a position from which to cut the Russian supply lines; a series of pitched battles on the Aras River in November seemed to be a precursor to a later struggle there. Meanwhile, the Russian flank guard, with naval support from the reconstituted (albeit not yet all that powerful) Black Sea Fleet, was advancing on Trebizond, facing fierce Turkish resistance. Under the command of Beybut Shelkovnikov, the flanking force managed to batter its way into Of in early December, but further advances were made impossible by stiffening Turkish resistance and the worsening winter weather.

Finally, on the high seas, the war was rapidly developing. Britain's first major commitment to the war came when they redeployed additional troops to Gibraltar in early July, and almost immediately were put under land blockade. Periodic Spanish assaults were thrown back with relatively low losses. The Franco-Spanish naval forces did attempt to blockade Gibraltar, but those attempts largely failed due to the presence of a strong Royal Navy force under Admiral Michael Seymour. Seymour, who had brought the new Royal Navy battleships HMS Alexandra and HMS Temeraire, mostly confined himself to keeping the numerically superior (and possibly qualitatively as well) Franco-Spanish fleet of Hyacinthe Aube from interdicting supplies to Gibraltar. In November, Seymour was reinforced with an addition squadron and determinedly attacked, forcing Aube to battle off Tofino Bank. The French and British navies were roughly equal in terms of quality, as this was a somewhat low point in the Royal Navy budget (although not as low as it had been before Gladstone took the premiership) while a high one for the French, which enjoyed a great deal of funding from Napoleon III. The Royal Navy force was however more numerous and more qualitatively even, while the French had the weak link of the Spanish. Seymour wisely concentrated on this weak point, and first broke the Spanish squadrons before turning with his full strength on Aube's fleet. The French flagship Richelieu was sunk before Aube, who had transferred his flag to the Solferino, managed to withdraw with the tattered remnant of the Spanish flotilla to Malaga. The exhaustion and damage of the Royal Navy fleet precluded an attempt to blockade Aube in Malaga, so Seymour withdrew to Gibraltar. Elsewhere on the high seas, the British Channel Fleet under Admiral Geoffrey Hornby was unable to bring the numerically inferior French fleet of Bernard Jaureguiberry to battle. In the Indian Ocean, the Royal Navy essentially reigned supreme; a descent on French Obock was planned but remained unexecuted due to the lack of forces in the area. As were the British efforts in the Ottoman Empire; they were imminent, but had not yet materialized.

Diplomatically, the latter part of 1874 and the early months of 1875 were furiously active. Efforts were made by both sides to bring the United States into the conflict, as they had been during the Napoleonic Wars; President William T. Sherman, despite his military background, was steadfastly opposed to joining a European war (his response to the French ambassador, "War is hell; why should I wish to subject America to that nightmare again?", nearly caused a diplomatic incident of its own) and instead chose to concentrate on eradicating the last pockets of Southern and Indian resistance on the Plains. Portugal remained unwilling to join either side, as did Belgium and the Netherlands. The Scandinavian countries, inasmuch as they were basically the Frankfurt Allies' backyard, refused to join the French and stayed profitably neutral. Much attention was given to Greece by both sides; the French, however, were operating at a handicap given that the Ottomans were steadfastly opposed to any territorial aggrandizement of Greece, which is, of course, what the Greeks wanted most. The UK, Russia, and North Germany, who had the ability to bargain away other countries' territory, were thus able to win the bid by giving away Crete and much of southern Rumelia, including Thessalonika. Greece was further convinced by the Royal Navy's victory at the Tofino Bank, proving that the Franco-Spanish fleets wouldn't be able to ruin the Greek economy by interdicting trade and landing troops throughout the Peloponnese. King Georgios I's decision, however, forced the fall of the government, and the Vouli refused to pass a treaty of alliance until the King formed a majority government. The deadlock between King and Vouli continued throughout the first months of the year, preventing the Greeks from joining the war quite yet.

Due to the strong North German positions in Baden and Württemberg, the French elected to try a different route to clear them from western Germany. This was the main objective of Napoleon III's talks with the Belgians, but his words and veiled threats, as well as those of the Belgian Queen, failed to sway Leopold from his resolutely neutral course. Napoleon thus decided to attack Belgium and risk the new front, gambling that his troops would break through to the Rhine Province and force von Bismarck to heel. A renewed offensive was planned in Italy to seize Milan and link up with the Austrian army under Kuhn. Spanish troops would start being redeployed everywhere, and efforts would be made to reinforce the Ottomans, who seemed mighty isolated after the twin victories of Tofino Bank and Banitsa. The Allies in turn planned to knock out Austria to relieve Italy and then concentrate on the Ottomans. Efforts would be made to prepare Greece for war as well. The German logistical mastermind, Karl von Bittenfeld, began a circuitous journey through Russia and occupied territory in August, before the war had even started in earnest, and finally managed to reach Athens in early January 1875. He would help organize the slowly coalescing Greek army and along with his detachment of Prussian officers would endeavor to give the Greeks a crash course in the use of the Dreyse rifle as well as basic tactics.

The ongoing war was having interesting effects on the political scene as well. Disraeli failed to return to the premiership after attempting to ride dissent with "the Right Honorable Mr. Gladstone's War", mostly because of the naval victory over the Franco-Spanish fleet at Tofino Bank, hailed as a new Trafalgar. Nevertheless, many in Britain, though content with the victories, were dissatisfied with the involvement in a continental conflict that so far had not yet proven threatening to the home islands. The slightest slip-up would probably end the Liberal government. Von Bismarck had a significantly easier time of things, with general support in the Reichstag for a war of union for the German People. Being the Kanzler, though, he could easily block antiwar measures and clear the way for Helmuth von Moltke and the GGS to do their thing. Of all of the states, only Italy really had a political meltdown on their hands. Marco Minghetti managed to hold onto office in the Chamber of Deputies solely because said Chamber was unable to convene due to the lack of a home - Turin having fallen to the French - as a result of which the Deputies were temporarily scattered. By this time, control of Italy had largely fallen to the military, specifically General Cadorna, who got himself appointed generalissimo by the prime minister and who immediately declared a state of emergency that conveniently allowed him to extraconstitutionally prevent the Chamber from meeting. Minghetti was marginalized while Cadorna took over most of the reins of power. In Britain, the move was protested by the Liberal government, but the Italians largely dismissed it as the ‘necessities of war’, and the British, happy enough to see the French distracted, didn’t press the issue…unlike the Italian people themselves. Riots broke out in the parts of the North that weren’t yet occupied by Franco-Austrian troops; Milan, in particular, was a disaster, as in January a major supply base was blown up, and no one could figure out if it had been the Austrians, French, or the Italian people themselves.

The new campaigning season in Bohemia was delayed for a few weeks due to terrible snowstorms, but in late January the hordes began to move. The newly formed German Fourth Army – referred to as German because they were, in all truth, the only remaining German government, the Southern Confederacy having been eradicated and dissolved – under the command of General Eduard Vogel von Falkenstein, was massing around Nürnberg, preparing to drive through the Böhmer Wald into the rear of the Austrians in Bohemia. At the same time, von Blumenthal’s Fifth Army would pressure the Austrians in Silesia. In Prague, the Austrian Field Marshal von Gablenz knew the outline of the German plan – for Bohemia was a vast salient now that Bavaria had been lost to the Germans – but he did not have the ability to counter it effectively. He requested permission to retreat from Erzherzog Albrecht in Galicia, but it was denied on political grounds. Losing Bohemia might shorten Austrian lines and prevent one of their largest armies from being cut off and annihilated, but it would be a clear sign that Austria was losing the war to the populace, and besides the military functionaries of the Reichskommissariat weren’t inclined to give up the only real industrialized territory in Austria with nary a shot. So in the end von Gablenz, despite his numeric superiority over the two halves of the German army (having received many of the few reservists Austria had), was forced to parcel out his troops to try to cover his rear and at the same time conduct a counteroffensive against one of the two wings. He chose to attack the Fifth Army, but the heavily entrenched Germans threw back the Austrians at Troppau in a bloody two-day meat grinder that lost much of von Gablenz’ numerical superiority. In the meantime, von Falkenstein was advancing towards Prague itself, having brushed aside the few corps sent to hold him off not far from Pilsen. After only a month of campaigning the Germans were nearly to Prague advancing from the rear, while von Blumenthal resumed his offensive after the bloodbath at Troppau. Von Gablenz managed to extricate most of his original army from the trap, but had suffered unacceptable casualties in the process. Fighting off Prussian cavalry on the way, he regrouped around Iglau and began to reorganize his exhausted army.

In Bavaria, the Austrians were determined to keep their foothold, although expanding it seemed out of the question. Von Steinmetz’ Third Army, although more numerous than Radic’s force due to the arrival of Landwehr troops, was unable to mount a recrossing of the Isar or break the Munich deadlock. Much of the city was ruined in the artillery duels and counterbarrages. Finally, in February, the Germans attempted to make an end run; looping north, von Steinmetz sought to cross at Landshut. He had left a sizable corps in the city itself to hold the Austrians, but the canny Radic wasn’t fooled; leaving his own detachment in Munich, the Austrians were able to outmarch the Germans and reach the bridges at Landshut first with their excellent hussars. Repelled from Landshut, von Steinmetz decided to further play with his numerical superiority and threaten crossings at so many points that the Austrians could hardly hope to cover them all. And so a war of maneuver on the Isar began, with Radic seeking to use his inherent advantage as the defender to conserve men to hold enough bridges, and reluctantly destroying those he couldn’t hold.

It was the intent of the Austrians to deadlock the Germans there, though, because that was one of the few places they could be effectively held; elsewhere, there were no such formidable natural obstacles. In Galicia, Erzherzog Albrecht was forced to rely on his fortresses to hold off the Russian hordes, but without Przemysl to hold the Russians his task seems Herculean at best. The previous year, Lemberg had been relieved from an investment, but this time the Russians were more determined to capture it than ever, so upon besieging the city the velikiy knyaz ordered the construction of lines of contravallation to hold off the Austrian relief force that was imminent. Albrecht’s arrival, surprisingly enough to him, did not force the Russians to abandon the siege, so the Austrians were forced to engage in a countersiege, beginning in late April. Supplies became scarce in the Russian camp, so Michael ordered his men to storm out of their lines at their besiegers (while maintaining the siege of Lemberg itself) and drive off the Austrians. The extremely thin Austrian lines gave way under the pressure of thousands of stolid Russian peasant soldiers, but Albrecht had ordered his garrison to sally from the fortress as well. Breaking up the Russian lines of circumvallation, Albrecht forced the velikiy knyaz to retreat to Przemysl once more. This time, though, the cost had been much steeper for the Austrians in terms of manpower…so when the Russians returned with yet another army (built on the remnants of the last one) in July, Albrecht gave up the ghost, left Lemberg with a minimal garrison to hold off the Russians, and then slowly retreated into the Carpathian passes, carrying out a policy of scorched earth while he did so. The Russian forces, absorbed with the reduction of Lemberg, were unable to pursue the Austrians until October, at which point the imposing mountains had been beefed up with formidable fortifications.

The southern end of the Carpathians was a sideshow. Russia was unable to commit many troops due to terrain limitations and the demands of other, more critical theaters, so the onus was on the newly independent Romanians (the new name of the Danubean Principalities), under the temporary regency of Mihail Kogalniceanu, to provide the muscle. This didn’t amount to much muscle at all, and the Austrians were easily able to repulse the attacks on Transylvania not far from the frontier. Romanian irregulars made progress in the more wild areas of the Carpathians, but such control was transient and fleeting and didn’t amount to much. On the Danube to the west, Austrian river gunboats made their appearance, once more shelling Belgrade. Friedrich von Pöch established firm control of the Danube up to the Iron Gates, beyond which Russian artillery halted his monitors. His land counterpart, a relative of the famed Admiral von Tegetthoff, conducted relatively unimaginative operations in Bosnia that consisted mostly of establishing de facto control over those territories and then exerting pressure on western Serbia. The small remnant of the Serbian army that had been left to defend the homeland was easily able to repulse the attacks, though.

Such a sideshow could not be found to the south. Prince Milan and Gourko were tasked with driving south for Macedonia proper, capturing Skopje and perhaps bringing the Greeks into the war. Ottoman troops had had to make up the deficiency here, so their objective didn’t seem particularly difficult; however, Gourko, in one of his typically bold (or foolhardy) moves, charged south out of Kosovo down the Lepenac, far ahead of the main body; a force of Turkish troops ambushed his cavalry at Kacanik and sent them back reeling with heavy casualties. Suleiman Pasha, the somewhat inept commander of the Turkish forces, then ordered a counterattack that drove the Russians and Serbians back to Pristina. Fortunately for them, the Montenegrins had not been idle. Nicholas I ably led a series of attacks against the Ottoman forces at Scutari that allowed the city to fall into his hands and so forced the Turks to divide their forces. Finally, to the south the Greeks finally moved in July. The winter and spring had seen a series of fierce debates in the Vouli, with many deputies threatening to walk out if the King did not allow for a real parliamentary government; reluctantly, Giorgios gave in and released Charilaos Trikoupis from prison, who promptly formed a majority government and passed the treaty of alliance with Russia. On July 16 the Greeks declared war and their armies began spilling north through Thessaly. General von Bittenfeld was the real organizer of the Greek troops, and King Giorgios reluctantly allowed him field command as well; Prime Minister Trikoupis concurred and appointed the old admiral (and War of Independence hero) Konstantinos Kanaris as minister of the Navy. Kanaris’ ships, cooperating with the Russians, landed allied troops on the Turkish Aegean islands, and the Turkish fleet was powerless to stop them. That was mostly because said Fleet was largely sitting at the bottom of the Mediterranean off Cyprus because of the advent of the Royal Navy in the eastern Mediterranean, a direct consequence of the actions around France earlier that year. Admiral James Hope landed a sizable British force on Cyprus and easily overran the island, which had not even been garrisoned that heavily; he also, acting under orders from the Cabinet, seized control of Rhodes as well, angering his Greek allies who could nevertheless do nothing about it.

Indeed, the Ottoman Empire was under extremely heavy attack this year. No Spanish aid was forthcoming due to the British control of the seas; the Turks were completely cut off. Sultan Abdulaziz was being pounded from all directions. British troops from India began to swarm into the Red Sea, spreading out throughout the Hejaz and Yemen. Hope’s counterpart, General Patrick Grant, erstwhile governor of Malta, was landed near Alexandria and quickly captured the city, proclaiming a British protectorate over Egypt a scant month later in Cairo. Khedive Ismail fled to France and managed to evade the Royal Navy; in his place, carried by a wave of popular enthusiasm for the British (mostly because Grant promised to remit Ismail’s prohibitively high taxes), was appointed his pliable son Tewfik, who would be sure to serve as an excellent puppet. In the meantime, Grant collected most of the Anglo-Egyptian forces (leaving about a quarter of them to maintain security and to extend control southward) and moved into Palestine, where Ottoman control was rapidly collapsing. Meanwhile, in Tripolitania, the situation rapidly turned to lawlessness; an Egyptian adventurer, Urabi Pasha, gathered what elements of the Egyptian army he could convince to go against Tewfik, and then marched into Tripolitania as British forces secured Cyrenaica. Setting himself up as a military dictator independent of the Sultan and a magnet for the Egyptian anti-foreign movement, Urabi began to establish a firm powerbase for the revanche against the British that everybody knew he was planning.

And finally, there were the actions the Ottomans took against the Russians. Or vice versa, actually, because the Ottomans were too sadly short of manpower to mount any effective actions. Todleben was put in charge of besieging Plevna and did so with vigor and aplomb, trapping Osman and his own Tewfik Pasha inside. Active operations on both parts made the siege remarkably difficult to end, with extreme gallantry on the part of both Turks and Russians. But the important part to the velikiy knyaz Nicholas was that it tied down the significant Turkish garrison. This meant that the elite Spanish army under Caprera would not receive much assistance. With Skobelev in the lead, the Russians began pressing the Spanish back. While a Turkish covering force held the Shipka Pass, Caprera retreated down the Iskar River into the Balkan Mountains and then turned to fight at Yablanitsa. The Spanish gave the Russians a bloody nose there but Skobelev managed to outmaneuver them again and force a retreat further into the mountains. All the while, as the Spanish retreated, they picked up reinforcements from the Ottoman troops who were engaged in hunting down the Bulgarian haiduk rebels; the Russians, too, gained manpower on the march by the assistance of said haiduks. Due to the large number of revolters in Sofia, Caprera decided to bypass it for now, yielding it to the enemy so that he could recross the Iskar south of the city and fortify Elin Pelin. Skobelev decided to consolidate his gains and extend the Cossack cavalry flank guards to his west far enough to make contact with Gourko’s troops in Kosovo. And far to the east, in the Caucasus, Muravyov won the Battle of Ararat and forced the Ottomans out of Erzerum, which he then seized. Shelkovnikov on the Black Sea shore was not so fortunate, attacking Muhtar Pasha’s personal headquarters at Trebizond and suffering horrible losses before finally withdrawing.

So after the first half of 1875, the Ottomans were seriously battered, to say the least; the south was in complete anarchy, Europe was almost a total loss, and the Caucasus front was only barely holding, and even there the Russians had made major gains. They were almost completely cut off and virtually destroyed. Practically the only good news for Abdulaziz was the serious trouble that Italy, too, was in. For generalissimo Cadorna had given himself a very big mess to handle. Almost immediately the French drove across the Ticino, with la Marmora’s forces horribly inadequate to halt Ducrot’s rampaging Frenchmen. Milan was captured, and Cadorna quickly realized that there was scant hope of holding onto northern Italy at this point. A hue and cry arose when he ordered the abandonment of the remaining territories north of the Po, but he managed to save the army in so doing and shorten the lines he needed to hold. La Marmora was given a command more appropriate to his talents, that against the Austrians, who were underperforming under Kuhn. Cadorna himself took the field against Ducrot, and when the French finally finished digesting their new territories they found him waiting for them at the Guastalla crossing point. By enlisting Kuhn to launch a diverting attack, Ducrot managed to get Cadorna to loan la Marmora some of his army, weakening the forces immediately in front of him and allowing the French army to make its own crossing, near Colorno. With the river-line broken, Cadorna maneuvered inconclusively in Parma and Modena, to buy time for la Marmora to extricate himself from the swamplands around Ferrara. Knowing that the French supply system was throwing a fit trying to get stuff across the Po, and that Ducrot’s mitrailleuse artillery had not yet been taken across, Cadorna counterattacked at the Secchia River and successfully forced Ducrot to pull back to Parma, stabilizing the front there south of the Po. But he was forced to deal with more issues, as well: the Patrimony of St. Peter simply would not crack to Garibaldi’s volunteer force, and regulars would be needed if the mitrailleuse and chassepot fire was to be braved. But the Italians simply didn’t have regulars to spare, and so Rome continued to hold out. The Chamber of Deputies reconvened in Napoli of all places and immediately began to protest the handling of the war. They were a force that could not be ignored for long…

Elsewhere, too, the Frankfurt cause was weakening. Chief blame goes to the French offensive in Belgium, which Napoleon did sign off on and which was completely unexpected. King Leopold woke up on the morning of February 9 and found that his nation was at war. French troops under Charles Bourbaki were besieging Charleroi and Namur, while another corps under Justin Clinchant swept through Arlon and Luxemburg as the other flank guard. The main army, under Emmanuel de Wimpffen, drove through Dinant, using Bourbaki’s troops as a screen for Liege so that the corps could then march up the Meuse to Huy and Liege. The Belgian fortresses were in varying conditions of repair, inasmuch as Leopold was in the middle of his grand campaign to make Belgium more defensible, so while Arlon fell easily and Charleroi was stormed within days, Namur and Liege held out longer, delaying the French army somewhat. Which allowed the Germans, after most of them were finished being stunned – only von Bismarck and von Moltke had seriously thought of the possibility of a French attack through Belgium, it seems – to redeploy their final army, the all-reservist Sixth, under the command of August Karl von Goeben, to aid the Belgians, pending Leopold’s approval. Von Bismarck and Lord Granville informed the King of their wish to deploy troops to protect Belgian independence as per the London treaty of thirty years prior. But the French were already on the move, and the German troops had been en route to break the Bavarian deadlock before they were reversed in midmarch; so the three-pronged French offensive continued. By the 20th of February, even Liege had fallen, so while Bourbaki prosecuted the Belgian war, Clinchant and de Wimpffen prepared to plunge into the Rhineland. Clinchant’s troops secured the Eifel range – a job made significantly easier by the distinct lack of large elements of German troops – and began to spill into the rear areas of the Second Army. From the battlegrounds in the Saarland, Kronprinz Friedrich Wilhelm redeployed two army corps to halt the French tide on the Moselle, and indeed after an early reverse at Bitburg, Clinchant’s southern wing was halted, and the main body was forced to stop in front of Koblenz to deal with more Second Army troops. (The fact that this weakened the army in front of MacMahon didn’t bother von Moltke much, as he knew full well that the Germans outnumbered the French on that front and thus could afford to remove some troops.) The Sixth Army was a long time in coming, though, and de Wimpffen got a free ride – up to a point. Spilling out of the northern parts of the Rhenish Slate Mountains, de Wimpffen’s “Army of the Rhine” was able to seize Bonn and Köln with relative ease, and began pushing into the Ruhr. That was when von Goeben finally began to send the leading elements of his army against the French. At Dormagen, the corps that von Goeben had sent wide to the north (under the command of one Edwin von Manteuffel) contacted de Wimpffen’s van and broke it up. Further corps began to cross the Rhine and deploy on the French eastern flank. De Wimpffen decided to smash these against the river and immediately swung his army to the right while leaving a screen to cover von Manteuffel; von Goeben, having thrown his corps piecemeal across the river, was unable to unite them and they were separately hacked to pieces and forced back across. The French then turned on von Manteuffel and drove him back into the Ruhr.
 
The French invasion of the Rhineland and the massively negative world opinion that was generated by the attack on Belgium did two things. The first thing it did was aid in the greatest recruiting effort in history. To supplement the Landwehr and the regulars, the Confederation began a conscription drive, easily passed by the Reichstag (after a few speeches from Rhenish members) in a fit of patriotic fervor. Drafting whoever they could get their hands on was easier when many of them came of their own volition. Von Moltke’s general staff logistics apparatus was badly strained, especially without the genius of von Bittenfeld to help things along; but through the spring and summer of 1875 several hundred thousand men began their crash course in warfare and then took the oath and hoisted the colors. While von Goeben’s main army was licking its wounds across the Rhine – which de Wimpffen was unwilling to attempt to cross just yet – and while von Manteuffel was sitting in the Ruhr, watchfully prepared for any French moves, volunteers were streaming towards western Germany. Even the Baden front (which had not seen much action for the first part of the year, as the First Army and Second Army were bled dry for reinforcements in the Rhineland) saw a serious German manpower boost. Similar calls in France, it must be noted, received far less enthusiasm after the first year, especially after the attack on Belgium… In any event, while this version of the levee en masse did hurt the German economy, by and large it was easily balanced out by the increased manpower. Which was sorely needed after the losses of the previous year and the new Rhine front’s opening.

On the waves off the Spanish coast, Admiral Aube had made the important decision to pull back to the Gulf of Lyon. He felt that the British would not be willing to risk a landing in Spain (he was right) and he knew that his fleet was horribly exposed out there. The critical advantage of being able to halt any Royal Navy attempt to make a run into the rest of the Mediterranean was, he believed, largely useless anyway due to the British seizure of the Suez Canal in Egypt. So Aube drew the fleet back to guard Corsica and the Gulf of Lyon, and Seymour promptly began to send detachments into the Eastern Med, commanded by his subordinate, the previously acquainted Admiral James Hope, whose performance in those regions is already known. In the colonial field, things were remarkably quiet: an expedition had been outfitted in India but had still not yet reached Basra, the ultimate target, for example. French Gabon was seized as British troops landed at Libreville, as was Senegal with an attack on Dakar and St. Louis. Grand Bassam only avoided the British attentions because of a lack of resources.

The second half of 1875 can truly be said to have been decisive. The French, who had the manpower advantage in early 1875 (after having wrested it from the Germans, who had mobilized faster but with fewer men), now faced a qualitatively inferior but superiorly led German army that also held the artillery advantage (as the mitrailleuses, while effective, were not suited to an artillery duel, among other reasons; they were awfully high on maintenance, for example) and the advantages of home ground and numbers. Even with the Austrians to draw away German manpower, they would still be fighting a helluva lot of German conscripts. De Wimpffen was ordered to hold on the defensive while the Emperor himself brought up reinforcements to the Rhineland. It was there, the French felt, that the critical engagement would be fought. Meanwhile, the Italians hung on grimly, as did their Austrian adversaries. And the Ottomans were doubtless going to enter their agony soon enough…

One Final Effort, 1875-1876.

To this day it is not known who exactly had Raffaele Cadorna assassinated, but most guesses point not towards his war enemies the Austrians or the French, but to his own countrymen in the Chamber of Deputies that he so illegally superseded. His death in August 1875 cut off the head of the Italian state and left the field open to virtually anyone. Marco Minghetti, still the prime minister, attempted to reassert control but found that nobody actually cared about him or for him; Agostino Depretis and his Democrats seized the premiership, but la Marmora in the field decided not to listen to them either. Taking advantage of the political infighting, Auguste Ducrot and Franz Kuhn immediately launched a drive south, breaking la Marmora’s army at Bologna and pushing south across the Apennines. By September, Ducrot was on track to relieve Rome, and General Canrobert’s garrison would be able to finally resupply. Kuhn, for his part, began slashing south along the Adriatic coast, aided by the Austrian navy under the command of the brilliant von Tegetthoff, which shredded what few vestiges of Italian opposition there were. Despite having many of his men siphoned off for operations elsewhere, Kuhn had barely any enemies to face, and so rolled into Ancona and Tolentino with little trouble. With the approach of the Franco-Austrian armies, Garibaldi was finally forced to withdraw in November, and the French cavalry column that relieved the city was a sight for sore eyes among the exhausted garrison. Italy had, to all intents and purposes, collapsed. On Sicily, a rebellion was brewing and already spreading into Calabria and the rest of southern Italy, dissatisfaction among the southern populace at the failure of the northerner-led government to win the war piled on top of anger at being treated like fifth-class citizens. And in Napoli itself, the infighting continued.

But as one enemy of Napoleon III was eliminated from the war, so too was one of his allies. Sultan Abdulaziz was rapidly beginning to regret his war and had already had to crush one coup attempt by military officers. That first one had failed, but further attempts were bound to succeed. And the Allies kept pressing on; the Greeks surged past Volos and began to besiege Thessalonika, with von Bittenfeld dispatching a force towards Ioannina, which managed to beat the Montenegrins there. Von Bittenfeld’s Greeks were an odd mishmash of klephts and regular infantry, not quite one or the other. Under any other circumstances the Ottoman military would have torn them to shreds, but the Sultan was running out of manpower by now and could only spare a few rear-area troops for the Greek offensive. Von Bittenfeld successfully secured Thessalonika and, after pausing to rest and reorganize, continued north up the Vardar towards Skopje. He and Gourko’s forward units linked up after the Russo-Serbian troops renewed the campaign in Kosovo and smashed Suleiman Pasha’s army on the same battle site where Lazar had lost to Murad centuries ago. (A move that played very well in Serbia, for the obvious reasons, and a huge propaganda boost in general for Milan.) Meanwhile, the Montenegrins harried the remaining Turks into Albania itself, fighting an asymmetric campaign that got a lot easier as Greek troops from the south moved in on Ioannina as previously stated, and a Royal Navy armada bombarded Tirana. And while western Macedonia was collapsing, the east did not look so good either. Rumelia was mostly Ottoman, but Bulgarian uprisings were frequent, and it was one of these that allowed Skobelev to drive across the Iskar River relatively unopposed and then soundly beat Caprera’s expeditionary force at Ihtiman. Further pursuit was aided by Greek forces, now turning eastward, as well as Gourko’s troops. In Armenia, old Muravyov died during the attack on Erzinjan, but Shelkovnikov quickly took up the reins, captured the city, and continued forcing Muhtar back. British forces from India also landed at Kuwait and began negotiating an agreement for a protectorate, and then began striking northward towards Basra and the rest of Mesopotamia. And in Palestine, Grant’s Anglo-Egyptian army trounced a scraped together Turkish garrison force and entered Jerusalem in triumph.

The Ottoman Empire’s exit from the war had been clear nearly from the beginning, but it had come much faster than anyone had expected. In October 1875, the Sultan agreed to an armistice, in preparation for peace talks, and abrogated his alliance with the French system. While British, Russian, Serbian, and Greek troops fanned out over the countryside as occupiers, more troops were detached and moved towards Austria, to prepare to attack the Habsburgs…who were themselves not doing so hot. Von Steinmetz kept up the pressure on the Isar, finally forcing a crossing at Dingofling with heavy losses. Collecting what troops he could from Munich and the other crossing points, Radic skillfully retreated towards the Inn and the Austrian frontier. Forcing the Germans to briefly halt on the Grosse Vils and the Rott, the Austrians managed to get most of their troops out of Bavaria safely and establish a strong position on the Isar without having lost much ground. To the north and east, though, things weren’t so happy. The Germans had seized Budweis early in the summer on their march towards Prague and now the Austrians obviously wanted it back, as it would do a dandy job of offering a route to circumvent the Iglau position. What began as a single-division flank attack on August 3 at Wittingau near Budweis turned into a full-blown battle of encounter by August 7, with two full Austrian corps engaged against twice that number of Germans. The Austrian commander, Edmund von Schwarzenberg, son of the famed general at Leipzig, had been brought out of retirement (due mostly to a shortage of experienced general officers), and managed to take the town itself, from which the Austrians were able to withstand significant punishment. The ponds and lakes around the city canalized the German advance, and it was slow and bloody going. Only when the Austrian retreat was nearly cut off and after an intense artillery bombardment did von Schwarzenberg abandon his position, having dealt heavy losses to the German troops. Once again the Austrian hussars proved to be a key advantage in preventing the Germans from interfering with the Austrian retreat. Through a grinding series of slow and bloody attacks, trading manpower for position, the Germans clawed their way to the top of the Moravian Plateau and were able to see Brünn and even the twisting ribbon of the Danube from their heights. Before winter arrived the allies were advancing in eastern Austria, too. Erzherzog Albrecht could only hold the Carpathian passes for so long; he managed to hold on at the critical Battle of Korostov, where the Austrians turned back the Russian vanguard, but was unable to keep from losing ground once the main body arrived. Too, the end of combat on the Ottoman front allowed the Russians and Serbs to transport more troops towards Hungary and Transylvania. Efforts were immediately directed at sparking a Magyar revolt, and indeed flare-ups occurred in Debrecen and Sopron (though were rapidly crushed by Austrian reservists). In Transylvania itself, the Romanians were able to take Kronstadt, but only with significant Russian aid. The Serbians, for their part, were unable to cross over the Danube due to heavy Austrian naval presence, but were able to make some noise in occupied Bosnia at least.

And finally, there was France and the western German front. The Rhineland was clearly going to be a major battlefield, but it was taking the Germans a long time to bring up forces. Von Moltke had flatly ordered von Goeben not to launch an attack across the Rhine again, because supply routes were tenuous at best on the other side and it was too easily defensible; thus, most of the Sixth Army began coalescing around von Manteuffel’s corps in the Ruhr. De Wimpffen would have taken this moment to attack, but his nervous sovereign demanded that he release troops to fight in Belgium under Bourbaki, with British troops certain to arrive any day now. Thus the French were somewhat neutered for a few days before de Wimpffen convinced Napoleon to countermand the orders; confusion and uncertainty were the order of the day in the camp of the Army of the Rhine. Operations between the two bloated masses of men, the German and the French, were slow to begin but in August finally began to pick up speed. Much of the problem lay in the vacillating nature of the Emperor, who was tagging along so as to look properly Napoleonic; he would alternately insist on a battle with the enemy and then promptly attempt to go back on his original orders not long afterward; in this way the French avoided battle despite having a qualitatively superior army for over a month. When an exasperated de Wimpffen finally managed to take a modicum of control for himself, it was September. Marching from Bonn, the French suffered a minor blow when von Manteuffel threw back their van at Pulheim, but Antoine Chanzy’s corps rapidly came up and forced the Germans to withdraw northward. Advancing towards the Ruhr, the French finally began to contact the German troops. Strangely, von Goeben refused to engage his entire force, despite the numeric superiority the Germans enjoyed. The French found themselves failing to come to grips with any German force more than a corps; if they attempted to engage with more of their own army, the Germans would extricate themselves and move on. And raids were being carried out on their line of supply as well. Crossing the Rhine near Krefeld nearly turned into a disaster, with heavy German resistance, but the French managed to establish a tenuous beachhead and then expand their corridor enough to control some bridges as well. With some difficulty the French made it into Essen in November, but it was a diminished Army of the Rhine that did so.

Baden was strangely quiet; the First and Second Armies and the forces of Clinchant and MacMahon were virtually equal, and the Germans seemed content to allow the French to keep control of their hold on the east bank of the Rhine for a bit longer. Desultory operations continued but they were of relatively low intensity and impact. In Belgium, however, things were easily going to hell. The French began converging on Brussels from Charleroi, Namur, and Liege, easily driving back what few Belgian regulars could be scraped together into a field army and ramming their way through a few divisions at Tienen. Leopold had finally broken down and allowed Anglo-German (in reality, due to the French operations in the Rhineland, they were merely British) troops into Belgium to help ward off the invader. General Frederick Roberts was deployed to assist the Belgians, and made it to Brussels, at least, before Bourbaki did. Anglo-Belgian forces repelled a reconnaissance in force by the French at Nivelles, and then swung round to engage more oncoming French at Neervelp and win again. Roberts’ British Expeditionary Force was threatened to be rapidly overwhelmed by the numerically superior French. However, Bourbaki failed to concentrate effectively, and his disorganized troops failed to launch any major effective offensives in the remainder of the year, though the British did smash what few attempts were halfheartedly made in the direction of Brussels.

France and Spain decided to begin another push on the high seas in September to help clear the Italian coastline; Aube and the Spanish admiral Patricio Montojo y Pasaron massed a fleet in the Gulf of Lyon and sailed south along the Italian coast. Meanwhile, on the Adriatic shore, von Tegetthoff and his flotilla of Austrian monitors decimated what few attempts the Italian fleet could muster against them, bombarded Bari, and rounded the peninsula, briefly meeting with the French before heading back to safer Adriatic waters. Such actions obviously did not go unnoticed by the British. Admiral Seymour immediately raised steam from Gibraltar and headed east. He engaged the allies off Trapani in Sicily on October 8; this time, the contest was more even, since part of the Royal Navy fleet had been detached. Seymour had managed to cross the T on the allied fleet, which had not had much advance warning of the British approach; the fight then degenerated into a duel between sets of floating batteries, with relatively little maneuver. A storm began to come up during the afternoon that forced some of the monitors back towards land; this reduced the count of the allied navy, but Aube hung on grimly until he was approached from the rear by a ragtag force from what was left of the Regia Marina. Not wishing to be surrounded, he and Montojo cut off the action and sailed back north to Toulon, leaving a seriously battered British fleet behind them that could claim the victory. Yet Seymour had failed in his strategic aim: the Franco-Spanish fleet, though diminished, was still at large, and could safely call the Gulf of Lyon a home.

So the eastern theater was largely closed, and the war was beginning to reach its endgame. Spanish troops were called north from their positions in Iberia (it most certainly did not help that many of their finest were prisoners in Turkey, but there wasn’t anything to be done), providing a much needed boost to their allies’ manpower, a completely fresh force of regulars, albeit somewhat poorly trained ones as compared with the armies of the Great Powers. Austria in particular saw some serious beefupage of their seriously depleted manpower reserves, and phased out many of their reservists into Hungarian-crushing duties. The Italian campaign, for one thing, was not yet finished, so full effort was to be aimed at bringing that to a speedy conclusion in 1876. Then to cross the Rhine and snap the German armies in southern Germany between Austria and France like driftwood. Or something like that. Napoleon III was not particularly good at making similes. But he was good at public opinion polls: in one of his usual plebiscites he managed to show that a good three-quarters of the French people were still behind the war effort. The strong position in Germany certainly helped, as did the destruction of Italy (to all intents and purposes); the Turks had been a distraction. Von Moltke, on the other hand, prepared for the ultimate knockout blow in both Western and Eastern Europe. As Russian troops were continuously redeployed to the Austrian border, things began to look very ominous in Vienna...but not quite so bad that peace overtures were suggested. The arrival of the Spanish troops certainly helped morale, after all. And finally, the British prepared to grab anything and everything they hadn’t already grabbed outside of Europe itself, as was their wont. Oh, and to protect Belgium, that sort of thing.

Napoleon III, de Wimpffen, and the Army of the Rhine were sluggish to begin moving; the old French terrible logistics organization once more taking its toll. Being on the eastern side of the Rhine didn’t help much either...and there was another problem as well. French supply routes through Luxemburg, the Rhineland, and Belgium were being attacked by partisans, referred to as “jägers”. French troops needed to be detached to hold them down, reprisals were bloody, and in general inflamed the population of the Rhine Province even more than originally. In any event, the French were in some measure of trouble. Napoleon III was confident of success though. Having crossed the Rhine, it was essentially a straight shot across the North German Plain to Berlin, then south to link up with the Austrians. And with this much space, the French would finally have room to maneuver. So away from Essen they marched; first came Dortmund, which von Goeben contested for several weeks before withdrawing to Hamm. The French were again brought to battle at Bergkamen; once again, they managed to win a bloody victory, only in the end ensured by an accidental German charge that saw many of their men slaughtered by concentrated mitrailleuse fire. French casualties mounting, Napoleon ordered men to be brought up from MacMahon’s army (still skirmishing inconclusively with the Germans in the south), as well as Ducrot’s Italian army. Ahead of him, the Sixth Army was badly mangled; it would only need a single strong blow to finish it off. Through spring, French troops flooded northward, ballooning the Army of the Rhine’s size tremendously. Napoleon began to seek battle in earnest once more, though de Wimpffen attempted to warn him about the almost completely ruined logistical situation…

Said logistical situation got one hell of a lot worse when the Germans finally made their countermove. Von Moltke had been building up the strength of the First and Second Armies for several months now, and they were ready to punch through MacMahon’s weakened Army of Baden. A series of heavy battles in the Schwarzwald commenced, with the Germans winning the climactic victory on the Kinzig River on March 16. From there, Prinz Karl Friedrich crossed the Rhine and sped into Alsace, where the population alternately greeted the Germans like liberators and like conquerors. Leaving a cavalry screen to shield his western flank from an attack coming out of France proper, Karl Friedrich seized Strassburg and Colmar and then surged northwest towards Nancy. MacMahon, attempting to scrape together enough men for a counteroffensive, was killed at the Battle of Gravelotte in early April. Meanwhile, Kronprinz Friedrich Wilhelm turned against Clinchant’s mini-Army; crossing the Moselle at Cochem, the Second Army managed to surprise the French at Bitburg, badly mauling Clinchant’s troops and forcing him to retire into Luxembourg. By mid-April, the First Army was already besieging Metz (well, technically, the force left at Metz was but a corps of observation, but they were covering it in any case) and driving northwards towards Belgium to link up with Leopold and the British. Speaking of which, Bourbaki was nearly at his wits’ end; the supply situation was so bad that he was out of ammunition for the precious mitrailleuses, and thus was severely beaten by Roberts at Wavre. Beginning to withdraw, Bourbaki at least managed to withdraw towards France. Clinchant was not so lucky, and was in serious danger of being caught in a pocket with the imminent Anglo-German rendezvous. Back in northern Germany, Napoleon immediately decided to take decisive action and marched on the Sixth Army. Near Detmold, his forces had to march through a forested, swampy area, and were set upon by a force of jägers assisted by German cavalry, who in the confusion killed de Wimpffen himself before managing to extricate themselves. Napoleon appointed Jean Margueritte to command of the army, and under his guidance the Army of the Rhine lurched up to the Weser, still beset by partisans. Napoleon’s hope was to engage the Germans and clear his way to Berlin, so as to make useless this vast turning movement in the south; surprisingly for him at least, von Goeben elected to give him the chance to do so and ordered the Sixth Army to fight at Alfeld on the Leine.

The first the French saw of the Germans was a fumbling contact with von Manteuffel’s corps on the ridge west of Capellenhagen on the twentieth of April. With the first-class Krupp breechloading artillery set up on the top of the ridge at the village of Holzen-Ith, the French were raked badly and forced to largely go to ground; the few heavy artillery pieces with the Army of the Rhine (since many of them had been replaced by mitrailleuses) were forced to duel with the German artillery while other French corps attempted to work their way around the Holzen-Ith position. By the evening of the twentieth the French infantry had, after a sanguinary struggle for the larger village of Holzen to the south, cleared a way for the chasseurs to swing wide and ride down the artillery. Briefly halted on the wooded ridge by the German infantry, the chasseurs were forced to postpone their mission until the morning of the next day, but von Manteuffel, following a prearranged plan, had his corps withdraw during the night. While there was some confusion, the Germans had previously practiced the movement so there were few casualties and by and large the French were unaware of the movement, and thus deployed into full combat array to gloriously charge up the ridge to Holzen-Ith, then be greatly disappointed when they found they had only captured the remains of the German corps’ camp. After a two hour pause to rest and reorganize, Margueritte ordered a renewal of the attack, and the French slowly began to make their way towards the village of Grünenplan. There, another of von Goeben’s corps, under the command of von der Tann, held a horseshoe-shaped ridge several miles long, with the village at the center and the ridge opening to the south. After the chasseurs ran headlong into an ambush at Eschershausen on the road towards Grünenplan from Holzen (south of the ridge), Margueritte decided to bypass an attempt on the ridge itself and instead mask it while passing northwards, straight at Alfeld, through the forest to Coppengrave. While German artillery on the Grünenplan ridge did make repositioning difficult, by late afternoon the French had managed to reach Coppengrave, beyond which Prinz Georg von Sachsen’s corps held a strong position at Hohe Warte guarding a dell that was the only way through the last ridge before Alfeld itself. While no attack was made that day, the French brought up more troops through the forest (an arduous trek, but a necessary one to prevent the German artillery from shredding the reinforcements) and also moved troops onto the Grünenplan ridge to screen the right flank of the troops at Coppengrave.

On the 22nd, Margueritte ordered the French vanguard to begin an assault on the ridges around Coppengrave, to gain control of the dell without having to fight in the village itself, which was bristling with German artillery and entrenched troops. Charles Frossard, the aging destroyer of the Magyars, was in command, and he knew that without sufficient artillery support he would have to attempt a shock attack and not attempt a deliberate assault, which would give too much warning to the Germans. Thus French troops surged up the face of the ridge around Coppengrave; the Saxon prince in the village itself likened them to ants, with the colorful zouaves standing out in particular. A bloody fight ensued in the wooded ridge as the French finally got close enough to avoid the German artillery. As morning turned into afternoon, the nonstop hand-to-hand combat wore down both sides, yet Germans and French both poured more men into the fray. The issue was finally decided when a column of French hussars, having passed through the ridge a few miles to the north at Marienhagen, spread out into the rear of the Saxon troops. Prinz Georg ordered a withdrawal southeastwards, but the troops on the northern wing, fighting cavalry and the French infantry, were nearly caught between the two. Von Goeben ordered a timely charge by the Uhlans before most of the northern division was utterly destroyed, and the cavalry broke up the French hussars and provided cover for the badly mauled division to escape. The Saxons fell back in disarray towards Warzen and Gerzen to the south, and Frossard’s men occupied the ridge. The Weser was in sight now; only von Manteuffel’s corps – and another day of combat – remained before the French could reach the Alfeld bridges. While night once again prevented the French from mounting a serious second attack of the day, it did not keep them from occupying the village of Hohenbüchen. In capturing Hohenbüchen, Frossard cut off von der Tann from the rest of von Goeben’s army, and split the Sixth in two. Von der Tann refused to withdraw, though, and instead was determined to resist as long as he could.
 
April 23rd was to see the French launch a two-pronged offensive. First, von der Tann’s corps would need to be cleared from Grünenplan. Now isolated, this would be child’s play. In addition, Frossard would continue the attack on Alfeld, break von Manteuffel’s corps, and seize the bridges. He would only be authorized to do so once Napoleon and Margueritte believed the Grünenplan position sufficiently reduced, though, as it was an impediment to further advancement, with its commanding artillery position preventing any further flow of reinforcements. So at seven o’clock in the morning, the French on all three sides of the ridge launched a simultaneous attack. Von der Tann was hit from every direction, and in some cases, the French had even managed to move in mitrailleuses up close enough to shred the German lines. The Germans began to fall back towards the village itself, but stopped on the way down the ridge. A series of roads, following the contour of the hills, had been cut into the south side of the ridge. It was here that the German troops turned and fought again. Slowly being crammed into a tinier and tinier space, the German field of fire was nonetheless excellent, especially since the reverse slope of the ridge was far less steep than the northern slope. French troops fell by the hundreds with each volley from the Dreyse guns. Both sides were suffering horribly, with astronomical casualty rates, but the French slowly began to push the German troops closer towards the village, until they were mostly packed into Grünenplan itself and completely encircled. But still they managed to hold out. Von der Tann had created something akin to what Ulysses Grant had at Shiloh in the American Civil War twelve years earlier: a Wespennest that defied all attacks and tied down many times its number of enemy troops. Without the Grünenplan position reduced, Margueritte was leery of allowing Frossard to attack, but finally grew exasperated with the French failure to force von der Tann to surrender and allowed the attack on Alfeld to go forward just after noon. Von Manteuffel had already been bombarding the French troops at Coppengrave constantly since the morning attack on Grünenplan, so the French had taken some losses but were mostly just irritated and ready to go. So go they did, in perfect formation, regimental ensigns flying and the tricolor hoisted; even as shells burst overhead and solid shot bounced through their serried ranks the French troops remained steady and calm. Soon they were over a small rise and marching down towards the town itself; here is where von Manteuffel had entrenched much of his corps, and here the French threw themselves into the fight with abandon; against all odds, regiments broke through here and there and swarmed down towards the Weser. A battery of artillery was stationed in a last copse of trees before the town itself, and here the Germans constantly pumped case shot into the flanks of the oncoming French. The chasseurs were sent to ride the artillery down, but soon became entangled with a unit of Uhlans and fled; infantry was diverted from the onrushing French charge and finally cleared out the copse despite heavy losses. And then they were in the town itself – and if they had thought that the attack on the copse, or on Holzen-Ith had been bloody and devastating, they were devastated by the German preparations in the town itself. Artillery had been stationed in the streets, acting as giant shotguns as French were mowed down by case shot. Two captured mitrailleuses were also there and shredded the squadrons of hussars that tried to ride them down. The streets of Alfeld were a ruined mess, a nightmarish bloodbath that the French continued, bravely, insanely, to dash into with cries of “Vive l’Empereur!”

But finally, as twilight approached, the French had had enough. Frossard himself had been killed an hour earlier while trying to rally a unit of chasseurs a pied; when his death filtered through the ranks of soldiers that survived the horror in the streets, the French began to break and run back west. And German artillerists pumped even more shot into the retreating French until they were out of ammunition; the Uhlans’ sword arms were nearly useless by the end of the day through sheer overuse; the horses themselves were exhausted. Impossibly, insanely, the battered Sixth Army had held and von Goeben claimed the field. Margueritte performed admirably in collecting groups of survivors and extricating the men that could be gathered from Grünenplan, where the Wespennest fight still raged, and bringing them back west. In total, the Battle of Alfeld is estimated to have taken some 96,000 casualties, divided between the two more evenly than one would think. The horrifying losses were captured for posterity by American and British photographers, who took home scenes showing the ruinous aftermath of the slaughter that contributed greatly to public sentiment against the war (in Britain, anyway; the Americans were somewhat inured to this, having seen similar scenes in their own Civil War).

Following the destruction, Napoleon III rapidly realized his position was lost; he had the option on the 24th to renew combat and die like an emperor, or surrender and possibly lose his throne and prestige. While he dithered over those choices, his ability to retreat was being closed off forever. German troops met up with the British in Belgium, trapping Clinchant in the Ruhr and beginning a series of attacks on the Channel ports. French detachments, under no particular higher command, began to thrash out against the German positions in Alsace and Luxemburg. But in Austria it was even worse. Erzherzog Albrecht, architect of the new model Austrian army (well, okay, it was mostly based on the French one, but still had a uniquely ‘Austrian’ flavor), was killed by a Cossack raid in the Carpathians in February; his army, no longer led as ably – the understatement of the century – was pushed back by the Russian velikiy knyaz. Michael’s troops finally broke the last remnants of Albrecht’s army at Kashau and fanned out into the Hungarian Plain. Austria began to try to parcel out troops as best she could; but taking troops from one place would not strengthen another. The Russian army slaughtered the Austrian reservists left in Hungary to pacify the Magyars, and revolt broke out anew; in the meantime, Gabriel Radic on the Inn decided that the Slavs’ future lay with Hungary, no longer with the Habsburgs (and certainly not with the parvenu Serbs), allied with the new government in Nyiregyhaza after an extended correspondence, and aligned his Croatian troops with von Steinmetz’ Third Army. As precious few troops loyal to Kaiser Franz Josef remained, the various ethnicities broke up into revolt. Franz Kuhn, in Italy, unfortunately held one of the last loyal Habsburg armies, but von Schwarzenberg’s army disintegrated into conflict between Czechs and Germans, and the other forces of any strength near Vienna were firmly on the side of the allies. By early April, Franz Josef knew all was lost and fled to Italy, then to France; with much of the rest of the royal family also gone, Austria was leaderless and ruined. Von Steinmetz occupied Vienna on the first of May and on the eighth von Bismarck declared the end of the Austrian Empire. It was clear he meant to parcel it out among the various nationalities that had aided his and the Russians’ cause. As for the Spanish troops bolstering the Austrians, many of them were cut off, but the majority, under Ramon Blanco y Erenas, managed to cut their way through the Slavanian jägers and make their way safely to Italy. Speaking of Italy, its demise had not yet come. While Vittorio Emanuele II was still alive, Italy fought on, at least according to allied propaganda; in reality, though, Spanish, Austrian, and French forces were sounding its death knell. The fall of Napoli on March 31 proved to be the decisive event; most of the Chamber of Deputies’ remaining members were captured, as was Prime Minister Depretis. What remained of the Italian army, under the command of Nino Bixio, the old veteran of the Redshirt campaigns, gathered in Calabria, saved only by the arrival of Patrick Grant at the head of several thousand of his troops. Grant stabilized the condition in southern Italy and prevented Ducrot and Kuhn from finishing the Italians off, though Bixio knew it was obviously too little too late.

So the fortunes of France had fallen a great deal and Napoleon finally resolved to commit suicide when he heard of the Austrian dissolution on the 10th of May. Margueritte dissuaded him, though, and the Emperor himself reluctantly had his envoys open terms with the German armies surrounding him, which now included von Blumenthal’s as well as von Goeben’s. The surrender at Warstein rocked the European world to its foundations. Napoleon surrendered with the sole condition – granted to him magnanimously by von Goeben with the approval of the Kanzler himself – that he be allowed to return to France with his and Clinchant’s armies. French and Spanish representatives were to gather with those of the rest of the Allies in Brussels to determine the nature of the peace. (The Russian, Turkish, Greek, Romanian, Montenegrin, and Serbian representatives complained, but they acquiesced; their part in the fighting was long over, for the most part.) While the guns were not silenced across Europe on the 10th – news didn’t travel that fast, after all, and some French detachments didn’t believe the information for some time, while in Paris itself the mob was taking to the streets and threatening to seize the city – to all intents and purposes, that day, the tenth of May, 1876, can be regarded as the end of the Great European War. All that remained was to settle the peace.

After the Thrill is Gone, 1876.

Brussels had only narrowly avoided being scarred by war. The actions of the British Lord Roberts and his Anglo-Belgian army had successfully contained the French offensive. But not far away from the city, within a few hours’ ride, one could easily see ruined villages, pounded by artillery, or fields with scars in the land and the mounds of battlefield graves. Much of Europe had been covered in the same way. Germany was in large part a mess; the west and south were in terrible condition, especially the Rhineland, where the factories were silent and burned out shells of themselves. Italy and the former Habsburg domains were largely the same way; ruined and fought over by the successors to what had come before. Brussels was a microcosm of safety, like London, Berlin, and St. Petersburg, where the war had not quite touched, but it was by no means a place to linger, either. Napoleon III’s representatives, for one, were quite conscious of the need to wrap up negotiations quickly. Paris was in flames and threatening to break out in revolution once more. And the other nations recognized the need to solve the Habsburg and Italian and Ottoman issues as rapidly as possible to the benefit of the remaining Powers, while those lands were still worth something.

Of immediate interest was Austria. The Habsburg dynasty was dead, Franz Josef having fled first to France and then to his brother Maximilian in Madrid. The Habsburgs naturally refused to renounce their right of accession to the Archduchy of Austria, but tacitly allowed Wilhelm I’s son, the Kronprinz Friedrich Wilhelm, to ascend to the throne there anyway. Austria, along with the former South German Confederacy, would be included in the new pan-German Reich. Bohemia, though, would not. Von Bismarck was leery of trying to control the Czechs, while Alexander II wasn’t too happy about Germany getting the industrialized Bohemia either. In the end, it went to Hungary, as it had during the time of the House of Luxembourg; this would give Hungary an industrialized region that would aid its economic growth, creating a mini-Austria that would be able to have at least some power, while not giving it too much. Pan-German activists complained about the Sudeten Germans, but the Hungarians – who had formed themselves into an oligarchic republic, with the great landowners making up the majority of the assembly – gave the Germans certain assurances as to the Sudetenlanders’ autonomy. That Magyaro-German rapprochement fell apart, though, when applied to Slavania. Gabriel Radic was clearly in favor of an autonomous Croatia and Bosnia (never mind that Bosnia had been Ottoman at the start of the war), while von Bismarck wanted compensation for losing the Sudeten Germans and thus demanded Carniola, Styria, and Carinthia in their entirety. The settlement nearly broke down until the British agreed to compensate the Germans monetarily for the portions of Slavania they were giving up, while the Hungarians undertook to give Slavania a measure of autonomy in the new republic. Hungary itself, meanwhile, retained much of Transylvania (which really shafted the Romanians, who at least added on some portions of territory, such as the region around Hermannstadt and Bistritz; they also got part of Bukovina), but failed to secure Galicia, that part going to the Russians as part of Alexander II’s reward for basically winning the war against the Turks and Austrians. As for the Trentino and the Tyrol, both went to Germany, although Venetia would go a different route.

Macedonia was a can of worms; each of the parvenu Balkan powers – Montenegro, Serbia, and Greece – wanted huge overlapping chunks of Macedonia, and a few powers that didn’t even, technically, exist (like Bulgaria and Albania) also extended large claims. The solution the Great Powers adopted was to fully reward no one. Albania remained Ottoman, as did much of Macedonia proper (i.e. the area around Skopje). Ioannina also stayed under the control of Constantinople. Bulgaria was created and given the sections of Bulgaria north of the Balkan Mountains; the border ran just miles south of Sofia, the new capital. The Dobruja was Solomonically divided in half between Bulgaria and Romania. Eastern Rumelia remained Turkish, but still had autonomy (and a very large Turkish military presence). Serbia, for having started the war, didn’t get a whole lot – but they did acquire Novi Pazar with its iron, as well as Nish, about which they were somewhat mollified. Montenegro got Scutari, which wasn’t quite what they wanted (which was Novi Pazar) but it was better than nothing. The Greeks snagged Crete and Thessaly including Thessalonika, but didn't get most of the Aegean islands to their extreme displeasure. The Russians annexed the portions of the Danube delta they had lost to the Ottomans in 1856, as well as parts of Armenia, including Kars. Now, Britain…Britain got a lot. Egypt was officially made a British protectorate, as was Kuwait, recognized by the Sultan. Tripolitania stayed under Ottoman control, something that would haunt the British later, but at Brussels nobody could give it away without angering Urabi Pasha and his army of revanchist Egyptians.

Finally, there was Western Europe. The only reason the Germans had secured French agreement to their proposal to annex Austria was because the French wanted something in return; specifically, the Saarland and Luxembourg, as well as much of the old Bavarian Palatinate. Von Bismarck initially refused, and nearly threatened to renew war, but von Moltke’s warning that the German army was in no condition to continue fighting – and that the economy was beginning to really suffer what with the large number of people out of their jobs and into their uniforms – forced von Bismarck to acquiesce to an extent. He didn’t have much of a choice, after all, with the British and Russians anxious to be rid of the war; to speed it along, British cash was once again provided, this time to the French, so that they could pay the astronomical indemnity von Bismarck demanded, partly for reparations and partly to pay for their chunk of the southern Rhineland. Italy was by comparison extremely easy to divvy up; the Spanish, angry that they weren’t being thrown any bones, were allowed Sardinia, while the French were allowed to create a puppet “Italian Confederacy” in northern Italy under the presidency of the Pope, an idea Napoleon had toyed with in the 1850s and now renewed. Said confederacy was greatly weakened in military terms but basically contained all of Italy from Rome north to the German, Swiss and French borders. The territories to the south of that were reluctantly allowed to become the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies once more, this time under the leadership of the House of Savoy and the sponsorship of Britain. Said Kingdom became something of a hotbed for renewed Italian nationalism, although it was much weakened from the old Risorgimento, mostly because of the tremendous difference between north and south but also because of the existence of the Italian Confederacy. And then, of course, at sea, the British had confirmed their naval ascendancy once more (although room for improvement was definitely noted); in order to protect their Red Sea control – including an informal protectorate over the Ottoman Hejaz – the British annexed Obock from the French, but otherwise took relatively little, being on the whole satisfied with the gains from the Ottoman Empire.

It took less than a month to hammer out, and most sides were embittered by it all – especially the Germans, who were angry that the French got away practically scot free and who blamed their former allies – but the peace was signed that would determine the new course Europe would take. The next decade, while a time of rebuilding and renewal, would also turn out to be one of expansion and conflict outside of Europe and in, as revisionist forces aimed to overturn the Brussels treaty either directly or indirectly. Europe had seriously damaged itself for now; but the time ahead looked bright and promising.
 
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