Chapter 396: Unified Command by the Germans!

Major General Chai Wulang stood beside the command vehicle on Platform One, holding the unit loading schedule. Over twenty thousand soldiers of his Third Division had already boarded, but the other seven divisions were still arriving one after another. The platform was filled with dark‑gray silhouettes; the soldiers bore heavy packs, moving in a long line at a slow pace, and apart from footfalls and occasional coughs, almost no other sounds could be heard.

"Division commander, sir," the adjutant jogged over, sweat on his forehead, "the Seventh Division's convoy was ambushed by guerrillas on the road, delayed two hours, and is expected to arrive at nine o'clock."

Chai Wulang glanced at his pocket watch: seven twenty.

"Notify the railway dispatch to adjust the departure order. Let the Third and Fifth Divisions' trains depart first, and slot the Seventh Division at the end after it arrives. We cannot leave the entire railway line idle."

"Understood," the adjutant recorded, "additionally, the Degjun liaison team requests all division commanders to go to the headquarters for a meeting to discuss deployment details after reaching the Western Front."

"Got it. I'm heading there now."

Chai Wulang handed the schedule to the Chief of Staff, then turned toward the station main building. It had been converted into a temporary command post, with Degjun Tenth Group Army staff coming and going, and the sounds of phone rings, typewriters, and a mix of German and Japanese chatter filling the air.

The conference room was on the second floor. When Chai Wulang pushed the door open, most of the other seven division commanders were already seated around the long conference table. At the head of the table sat Major General Hans von Sekete, the Degjun liaison chief commander, studying a map with several Degjun staff officers.

"General Chai, perfect timing," Sekete looked up, greeting in German, "we're discussing the unloading and assembly plan after the troops arrive. Please, have a seat."

Chai Wulang sat in the empty seat. A service soldier brought coffee, but he did not touch it.

"According to the latest intelligence," Sekete tapped the Western Front map on the wall with his baton, "the French forces' second defensive line in the Verdun area lies at this spot—the high ground clusters on the east bank of the Marne River. In the past two weeks, Degjun launched three regiment‑scale probing attacks, all repelled. The conclusion: a frontal assault is too costly; we must find a weak point."

On the map, the Verdun area resembled a bite taken out of a cake: Degjun held the northeast, while the French controlled the southwest. The opposing positions interlocked like teeth, with red and blue markers densely covering the area.

"The Tenth Group Army's mission," Sekete continued, "is here—in the forested area upstream of the Marne River, to forge a new attack axis. The terrain is complex, the French defense is relatively weak, but it is also unsuitable for large formations to deploy. Therefore, we need elite infantry capable of infiltration and raids, not traditional front‑line push units."

He turned to the eight Sakura Nation division commanders: "This is precisely where your troops excel. Experience on the Eastern Front has shown that Sakura Nation soldiers are adept at forest warfare, mountain warfare, night fighting, and small‑unit infiltration. We will make full use of that."

The First Division commander raised his hand and asked, "General, what is the concrete operational plan?"

"It is divided into three phases," Sekete moved to the map, "Phase one: the troops complete final preparations in the rear assembly area, resupply ammunition, and undergo three days of terrain‑adaptation training. Phase two: in regiment units, infiltrate at night to the attack launch points. Phase three: at dawn, launch a simultaneous assault to seize these three high grounds—"

His baton tapped the three numbered high grounds: "—Control these heights, and we can threaten the flank of the French second defensive line. Once secured, Degjun's main forces will immediately follow up to expand the gains."

The conference room fell silent. The officers stared at the map, their minds racing. As professional soldiers, they could instantly see the plan's strengths and risks: the advantage is surprise, potentially opening a breach; the risk is that if the infiltration is discovered or the assault is stalled, these deep‑behind‑enemy units could be encircled and annihilated.

"General," Chai Wulang said slowly, "this plan requires precise intelligence support. We need to know the French deployment details in these areas, their patrol patterns, and the locations of their artillery positions. Otherwise it's a death sentence."

"Intelligence work is already underway," Sekete nodded, "Degjun reconnaissance aircraft have conducted intensive photography of the area over the past week, and special forces have dispatched multiple reconnaissance teams. When you arrive in three days, we will provide detailed terrain maps and enemy reports."

He paused, his tone turning solemn: "But I must be frank: war offers no 100 % certainty. The Verdun battle has shown that even the most perfect plan can encounter unforeseen events in execution. Your units will face a severe test—French resistance will be fierce, firepower intense, casualties… will be heavy."

The officers exchanged glances. No one spoke, but the air was filled with a heavy sense of realization.

"One final question," the Second Division commander said, "how will our command authority be divided? On the battlefield, do we follow the Degjun commander's direct orders, or maintain a relatively independent command structure?"

This is a pivotal issue. The Sakura Nation army has its own distinct command culture and combat style; handing full control to Degjun could cause friction.

Sekete clearly anticipated the question: "At the Group Army level I will command uniformly, but below division level you will enjoy considerable autonomy. Degjun will provide artillery support, logistical sustainment, and intelligence, yet the specific tactical execution is for you to decide based on actual conditions. We trust the professional competence of Sakura Nation officers."

That answer eased the officers' breath. At least they would not become mere puppets obeying orders blindly.

The meeting continued for another hour, covering supply details, communications coordination, casualty evacuation, and other specifics. At nine o'clock, as the session ended, Sekete suddenly called out to Chai Wulang.

"General Chai, please wait."

After everyone else left, Sekete closed the door and walked to the window. Outside, another military train pulled into the station, its shrill whistle cutting the morning's silence.

"General, is there something you need?" Chai Wulang asked.

Sekete turned, the confidence and firmness from the meeting gone from his face, replaced by fatigue: "General Chai, you and I are professional soldiers; there are some things… I'll speak plainly."

He moved to the map, his finger pointing at Verdun: "I understand the plan's risks better than anyone. Yet Degjun has no choice. If the Verdun battle yields no breakthrough, the Western Front will be locked in a stalemate, and Deguo… cannot afford a stalemate."

Chai Wulang listened quietly.

"Therefore the Tenth Group Army must succeed, at least achieve some substantive results," Sekete's voice was low, "but that means many will die. Many of your soldiers, many of mine."

He stared into Chai Wulang's eyes: "I know this cooperation… is unusual. I know your soldiers have emotions, have doubts. But on the battlefield, emotion and doubt can kill. I need you to ensure that when orders are given, your troops can execute without hesitation."

Chai Wulang was silent for a few seconds: "General, my soldiers are professionals; they will fulfill their duties. But I would also like you to guarantee one thing."

"Please, go ahead."

"Do not treat them as expendable," Chai Wulang's voice was calm, but each word carried weight, "do not let them die to achieve some political goal. Every soldier is a person, has a family, and a reason to want to live and return home."