Holy Roman Empire

Chapter 473: The Rule-Abiding Falkner

The setting sun bathed the earth in its bloody light, casting its glow over the remnants of the battlefield. The air was thick with the stench of blood and gunpowder.

Occasionally, dark brown buzzards swooped down from the sky, snatching pieces of flesh from the ground. The atmosphere was eerily surreal as if one were in the depths of hell.

The soldiers, busy clearing the battlefield, paid no heed to the grim scene. Having just endured a brutal battle, they were physically and mentally exhausted, simply wanting to gather their fallen comrades’ bodies and send them back to God’s embrace.

As for the enemy’s corpses, the soldiers didn’t bother. They handed them over to the conscripted Zulu workers, who would bury them in shallow graves.

There was no other way. Unexpected incidents always happened on the battlefield—such as someone fainting from an injury or being knocked unconscious by a bullet. If such cases were left to the unreliable Zulu workers, they might end up burying the wounded alive.

If it was the enemy, no one cared if they were buried alive. But if it were their own comrades, it would be a tragedy.

Thus, when clearing the battlefield, soldiers from the “Boer republics” always supervised the Zulu laborers. The former inspected and commanded, while the latter carried the stretchers.

Not far away, a “Boer” officer approached with a few soldiers. He was a middle-aged man, around forty to fifty years old, tall and slightly thin, with golden hair and a pair of striking, vigorous eyes.

The newcomer was Viscount Falkner, inspecting the battlefield. To play the part completely, everyone participating in the battle had changed into Boer military uniforms.

These uniforms had been hastily made. Due to the tight schedule, many of them were just ordinary clothes dyed in the right colors.

Don’t underestimate this small change. On the battlefield, bright uniforms were easy targets. The yellow-green uniforms of the Boer republics might not be aesthetically pleasing, but they were practical.

One could easily blend in by lying on the ground, as the color was similar to the local environment, making it easier to conceal oneself.

In contrast, the British army across from them was much more eye-catching. Their red uniforms were certainly attractive but completely unsuitable for the local environment, turning them into easy targets.

For Viscount Falkner, who had spent years in Africa, what use was aesthetics? Could it be eaten?

As a pragmatist, Viscount Falkner never cared about the appearance of uniforms. Even in daily life, except for attending banquets or certain events where he would wear formal attire, he always wore a military uniform, specifically camouflage suitable for the African jungle.

This preference was born from years of experience in Africa: the closer your clothing was to the natural environment, the better your chances of survival.

In fact, Austrian military uniforms at this time varied by region. For example, troops stationed in Libya and the Sinai Peninsula wore tan uniforms, while those in Congo wore various camouflage patterns.

In the South African theater, the yellow-green uniforms of the Boer republics were quite suitable. They might be a bit ugly, but they were practical, and there was no need to stand out.

Viscount Falkner had even exploited the British uniform’s glaring weakness, repeatedly ambushing them in the jungles.

After several skirmishes, the British had learned to avoid the forests, retracting their lines to engage only on the open battlefield.

Viscount Falkner knew this was just the beginning. Before long, the British might not even come out to fight at all.

This was determined by the exchange ratio between the two sides on the battlefield. In open battles, it was usually seven to one or eight to one, while in the jungles, it could easily be more than ten to one.

If things continued this way, it wouldn’t be long before the British lost their numerical advantage. Governor Delf was already trying his best, and the British soldiers were fighting valiantly.

Unfortunately, the combat effectiveness of the native troops was quite limited. On the battlefield, they were little more than cannon fodder, contributing nothing substantial besides adding to the casualty count.

If not for the presence of British soldiers, even the current exchange ratio would not have been possible. It wasn’t that these soldiers lacked bravery; in fact, they were often braver than most British soldiers.

However, bravery did not equate to combat effectiveness in the era of firearms. Their military discipline was lax, they often ignored orders, and they would frequently fire aimlessly into the air without checking for enemies.

This issue was not exclusive to the 19th century; even in the 21st century, many African armies fought this way. When two armies exchanged fire, they often didn’t aim properly, and their bullets would fly into the sky.

During a charge, they would rush en masse without any formation. Although there were no Maxim machine guns, Austria still had plenty of Gatling guns, which were perfect for dealing with such chaotic assaults.

Since they didn’t value their own lives, British commanders cared even less about the casualties among these cannon fodder troops. From the start of the war, the British used native soldiers to absorb the brunt of the losses.

Compared to European wars, this conflict was more like a farce. Although the war was fought fiercely, the majority of casualties were among the native troops.

If not for concerns about wasting ammunition and increasing logistical pressure, Viscount Falkner would have also formed a cannon fodder unit against the British to wear them down.

Viscount Falkner had experience with this sort of thing. When clearing native tribes earlier, to minimize losses, he had formed native armies to do the fighting.

These people showed no mercy when killing their own. Viscount Falkner was certain that the number of Africans who died at the hands of colonizers didn’t even amount to a fifth, perhaps not even a tenth, of those who died at the hands of their own people.

After all, labor was money, and the colonizers valued their wallets. Only these native armies didn’t care. By the time the war was over, these native armies would be mostly depleted as well.

Despite this, Viscount Falkner still formed a native melee army. Whenever there was close combat, he would send them in.

If you find two black regiments fighting each other in the Anglo-Boer War, with two white armies watching from behind, don’t be surprised—this is a normal tactic.

It was a tacit agreement between both sides. The British also hoped to balance out the casualty ratios through such battles, to avoid unfavorable statistics.

Viscount Falkner did not want to end the war immediately. Merely expelling the British from the Boer republics was not enough to satisfy his ambitions. His eyes were now set on British South Africa.

These gradual, small victories weren’t enough to make the British concede. Leaving them with hope for victory would keep the war going.

The time for a decisive battle would come once the fighting reached deep into British South Africa. By then, the new troops from the Boer republics would have become seasoned veterans. They could then launch a decisive offensive to capture Cape Town and create a fait accompli.

At that point, it would be up to the diplomats from both countries to negotiate. Regardless of the outcome, the participating nobles would have earned their military accolades. On this matter, all the nobles involved in the war were remarkably united.

Since adopting this new combat strategy, the casualty ratios between the sides quickly converged. From an initial seven or eight to one, it rapidly narrowed to within two to one, occasionally even reversing.

Since none of their own people were dying, neither side felt any pressure.

Neither Governor Delf nor Viscount Falkner included the casualties of the native troops in their reports. The existence of these units could be glossed over entirely.

Within just a few months, the total casualties of the Anglo-Boer War exceeded 100,000. If all these losses were white soldiers, no one could endure it.

This way, everyone could save face. Losing a battle didn’t matter; they’d just find some expendable troops to thrash and gather enough heads to write a report.

Using diplomatic euphemisms, a significant defeat could be presented as a stalemate. Retreating could be framed as a strategic withdrawal to prevent giving the enemy an opportunity.

Governor Delf’s reports were written in this manner: continuous victories on one hand, and constant requests for reinforcements on the other. There was no problem with this approach; he would just find an excuse, such as the enemy reinforcing their troops.

This was the African continent, and the lawmakers back home in Parliament couldn’t inspect the front lines personally. The British government was on their side. If they lost a battle on the front lines, the Cabinet would face inquiries from Parliament.

A burly young officer with a cheerful demeanor ran over to report to Viscount Falkner, “General, the casualties have been counted. Our forces have 76 dead and 84 wounded. We defeated over 3,000 enemies, killing 156 and capturing 98.”

This data automatically filtered out the casualties of both sides’ native troops. Even if recorded, it wouldn’t matter as the Austrian government wouldn’t recognize it.

Killing white soldiers counted as military merit; eliminating native troops was just a bonus, roughly equivalent to a ratio of 100 to 1.

Even this data, after subtracting the casualties of their own native troops, amounted to almost nothing.

This wasn’t the Austrian government being harsh, but a practical necessity. Without this restriction, these nobles could create records of millions of casualties within a year, resulting in field marshals everywhere and dukes walking the streets.

Integrity? That didn’t exist at all! Even if it meant turning all local indigenous people into military achievements, these colonizers would do it.

With this constraint, things were different. To earn a title by killing natives, they would need to eliminate hundreds of thousands, which was nearly impossible for a few hundred colonial troops to achieve.

No way to fabricate achievements? No problem. Besides military achievements, seized spoils of war and conquered lands could be converted into military merits.

Most nobles were granted titles through territorial expansion, and naturally, they kept the spoils of war for themselves, as converting them to military merits was too expensive.

This was legal. In colonial activities, all seizures could be handled personally. They could either exchange them for military merits with the government or keep them for themselves.

Because of this, the Anglo-Boer War became highly sought after. This time, the achievements were genuine, not only granting titles but also offering opportunities for military rank advancement.

Don’t underestimate military ranks. In Germany, they are symbols of honor, especially those earned through real combat, which are the most respected.

Even a commoner who rises through military achievements will gain respect. In contrast, nobles without military merits are often looked down upon by the old aristocracy.

As the war progressed, more nobles reported to Viscount Falkner’s command, some individually and others with private armies from noble families. If the war continued, this number would keep increasing.

Without these new recruits, it was uncertain when this fledgling “Boer Republic Army” would become combat-ready.

After all, soldiers can be trained in months, but it is much harder to cultivate officers. A unit without qualified officers cannot effectively wield its combat power.

The outcome of the battle did not surprise Viscount Falkner. The British were as slippery as ever, using native troops as rearguards while they themselves retreated.

With enthusiasm, he ordered, “Understood. Send out the orders: all units should first take care of the wounded, then the main force will rest for a day before continuing forward.”

The young officer replied, “Yes, General!”

Viscount Falkner frowned slightly but spoke calmly, “Don’t call me General. I’m only a Colonel now. It would be embarrassing if word got out.”

There was no choice. Despite commanding tens of thousands of troops in battle, his rank was still Colonel. Even if he were to be promoted, it would have to wait until after the war when he returned to Vienna.

Until then, he could only command the entire army as a Colonel. These were the rules. If he impatiently called himself a General prematurely, it would spread and he’d be mocked for lacking manners and not understanding protocol.

Viscount Falkner was of noble birth, albeit from a minor noble family. However, his family had a history spanning hundreds of years, making them an old nobility of sorts.

He had always placed great importance on protocol, especially when it came to the family’s reputation. There could be no compromise in this regard.