Trenches, Guns, and Magic

On the same day Helga led her technical team to Ploiești to busy themselves with silver pellet production, Lieutenant Colonel Andreas also lifted off in the L15 armored airship after completing unloading and resupply.

Richthofen and the other two reconnaissance aircraft discovered the marching column of Romanian reinforcements about fifty kilometers southeast of Bucharest.

Subsequently, the 12th Guard Reserve Cavalry Regiment, acting as the Kampfgruppe's cavalry reconnaissance detachment, conducted close-in reconnaissance of the Romanian reinforcements.

A massive amount of reconnaissance reports, aerial photos, and the support of the system map allowed Morin to completely grasp the movements of the enemy reinforcements.

A force totaling three divisions—two infantry and one cavalry—was forced to switch to a march on foot after the railway was blown up.

The column of tens of thousands of men stretched into a long snake winding for several kilometers, moving slowly along the main road and multiple country dirt roads on the Wallachian Plain.

When Morin issued the combat order to Lieutenant Colonel Andreas, this armored airship commander, whose combat spirit was soaring, asked only one question.

"To what extent do we hit them?"

"Hit them until they don't want to walk anymore..."

Around 3:00 PM that afternoon, the L15 armored airship appeared in the sky above the Romanian reinforcement column.

Heavy machine guns and 20mm autocannons opened fire simultaneously. A hail of bullets descended from the heavens, blasting swathes of blood mist and dust among the Romanian marching column.

The massive marching column instantly plunged into chaos.

It was hard to say how low the organizational level of these troops had fallen, having fought fiercely in the Kingdom of Bulgaria for more than half a month and then hastily rushed back to reinforce without adequate rest.

But the final result was that the Romanian soldiers scattered and fled under the attack. Some dove into the fields on both sides of the road, while others lay flat on the road covering their heads.

The horses panicked, neighing madly and bolting in all directions, dragging supply carts on rampages that knocked blocking infantry flying.

A Romanian officer drew his saber, screaming himself hoarse at the scattering soldiers, attempting to maintain order and organize a counterattack.

But counterattack what?

Use the rifles in their hands to shoot at the armor-plated behemoth in the sky? It would be more practical to pray to the heavens...

Even more fatal was that after the L15 completed its first strafing run, the soldiers on the airship began dropping explosive satchels from the bomb bays.

The massive amount of military explosives the Romanians had stockpiled over years of dealing with the Austro-Hungarian Empire ultimately fell on their own heads.

After lighting the delayed fuses, the soldiers on the airship simply pushed the explosive satchels out of the cargo bay.

These explosive satchels tumbled as they fell. Some exploded before hitting the ground, while others bounced a few times on the ground before finally detonating.

The explosions blasted crater after crater amidst the marching column. Every explosion took away a swath of standing figures around it.

The reaction of the Romanians was exactly the same as their compatriots in the Prahova River Valley earlier—they made no reliable reaction, or rather, they couldn't make any reaction.

By the time the L15 finally turned and left, the marching order of the Romanian reinforcements was completely paralyzed.

The casualties of over a thousand men were certainly heavy, but what was more fatal was the collapse of the troops' organization.

The soldiers of three divisions were mixed together; the formations were entirely scrambled.

Officers couldn't find their units, and soldiers couldn't find their officers.

Half of the supply train had flipped into the roadside ditches. Wounded mules and horses ran wildly on the road, and discarded weapons and equipment were everywhere.

Lieutenant General Popovich, who was lucky enough to not be targeted by Morin, the "map-hacking fiend," climbed out of a shallow crater, his entire person covered in soot and dirt.

It took him a great deal of effort to reassemble his scattered staff, and even longer to barely restore the basic formations of the three divisions.

But the next morning, when the troops attempted to set out again, the L15 returned.

This time, Lieutenant General Popovich chose to break the troops into smaller parts, marching dispersedly in battalion-sized units. For the Kingdom of Romania Army, this was a challenging attempt. At the same time, dispersed marching meant the marching speed dropped even further...

And this situation made little difference to the airship; it merely changed from hitting a line to hitting an area.

What caused Lieutenant General Popovich even more mental breakdown was that every attack by the airship would re-scramble those painstakingly restored formations, and then he would have to spend a massive amount of time rallying the troops again.

Round and round it went.

Just like the Entente forces of Gauls and Britannians facing crossfire for the first time on the Western Front, these Romanian troops, who had never suffered aerial strikes, had absolutely no idea how to deal with this threat from above.

The only solution they could think of was that the attacked units were too small and too dispersed; they should concentrate, speed up, and strive to pass through the airship's blockade zone as quickly as possible.

This logic was exactly the same as the Entente forces facing heavy machine guns... Can't charge through? Then send more people to charge!

The final result, naturally, was about the same.

While the Romanian reinforcements were tormented by aerial strikes to the point of tears, the ground reinforcements Morin had been waiting for so long finally began arriving successively.

On the evening of May 29, 1915, Morin stood by a road behind the Kampfgruppe, which had been extra-repaired by the engineers, watching the marching column snaking over from the northwest.

Those were the four infantry regiments and one artillery regiment drawn from the Fifth Army Group by Crown Prince Georg, and the ones arriving tonight were the vanguard.

Morin didn't immediately throw these newly arrived troops onto the front line. Instead, he had Kleist arrange for these five regiments to enter a rest area in the rear to sleep and eat their fill before starting acclimatization training for the "special combat environment."

Adding these reinforcements, Morin counted his assets on his fingers.

The instruction unit, plus the originally attached three infantry regiments and two artillery regiments (one transported by the airship), one cavalry regiment, plus the newly arrived four infantry regiments and one artillery regiment.

Eight infantry regiments, three artillery regiments, one cavalry regiment.

Compared to the "Morin Kampfgruppe" when it was first established, this organization could be said to have undergone earth-shattering changes.

"Colonel, eight infantry regiments... I really didn't expect we would be commanding a force of this scale so soon."

Kleist couldn't help but sigh to Morin during the staff meeting that night.

"The infantry alone is enough to form two and a half divisions, plus the artillery and cavalry... This is already the scale of a corps-level unit."

Manstein, flipping through the roster of the newly arrived troops nearby, chimed in without looking up:

"But our commander is still a colonel~"

The tent fell silent for a second, then several people laughed out loud simultaneously.

"When we finish fighting and return home, the Colonel will have an extra general's star on his shoulder, won't he?"

"The youngest general in the history of the Imperial Army..."

Morin waved his hand, not dwelling on the issue of rank.

In his view, what should come will come eventually; everything will fall into place naturally.

A more pressing matter was right in front of them: these newly arrived troops had absolutely no experience fighting vampire creatures.

"Starting tomorrow, pull one battalion from each newly arrived regiment to rotate onto the frontline positions. Have them follow the experienced veteran units to familiarize themselves with the situation."

Morin pointed at the defense line outside Bucharest on the map.

"At the same time, distribute the combat manual on dealing with vampire night raids. Have the NCOs of each regiment explain it article by article to the soldiers."

And arriving along with these reinforcements was a transport airship flying over from the other side of the Carpathian Mountains.

Although this airship lacked the armed-to-the-teeth combat power of the L15, its belly was stuffed with more ammunition, rations, medical supplies to meet the Kampfgruppe's consumption, and...

"Another four tons of silver."

Lieutenant Colonel Andreas brought this news to Morin after finishing his pleasantries with the transport airship's commander.

"The Imperial Air Ministry is finally willing to bleed?"

"It's not the Air Ministry this time." Lieutenant Colonel Andreas's expression was somewhat odd.

"It was the Austro-Hungarian Army Chief of Staff, Field Marshal Conrad. After learning we urgently needed metallic silver, he purchased it from Vienna in the name of the Austro-Hungarian Army..."

Speaking to this point, Lieutenant Colonel Andreas became even more curious about Morin. The connections this man had were unimaginably strong.

Never mind the Crown Prince and the high command of the Saxon Empire, but now even a Field Marshal of an allied nation was actively doing him favors...

To Andreas's confusion, Morin ultimately gave a standard answer: "Oh well, although they say the simpler a soldier is the better, the truth is, the military isn't all just fighting and killing; there's also the ways of the world~"

Over the next two days, Morin conducted a large-scale adjustment of his troop deployment.

The original trench defense line constructed around the west and north sides of Bucharest was handed over to the newly arrived four infantry regiments and the 105mm field artillery regiment.

Although these troops lacked experience fighting vampire creatures, holding a position was no problem for any unit of the Saxon Army.

Moreover, verified by continuous nights of actual combat, a complete standard operating procedure for dealing with Blood Servant night raids was already quite mature.

Searchlight sweeping, flare coverage, intersecting directional blasts from Anti-Vampire Claymores, flamethrowers sealing breaches...

Every step was written into a temporarily printed combat manual issued by the Kampfgruppe command post.

Even on the title page of the manual, a sentence originating from frontline soldiers was added: Remember, your comrade is your best friend, silver is your second best friend, fire is your third best friend, and running fast is your fourth best friend~

Under the guidance of the veteran units, these newly arrived troops only needed two nights to complete the mental shift from "My God! What the hell is that thing!" to "Here they come again! Hurry up and burn them!"

It had to be said, the grassroots quality of the Saxon Imperial Army currently was indeed rock solid, and the execution capability of the officer and NCO systems was impeccable.

After handing over the defense line, Morin led the instruction unit, the other three infantry regiments, the two artillery regiments, and the reconnaissance detachment of the cavalry regiment, bypassing the Bucharest urban area and advancing southeast.

The objective this time was clear: choke the throat between Bucharest and the Romanian reinforcements.

The position Morin chose was located in a hilly area about twenty kilometers southeast of Bucharest.

Several main roads leading to the capital from the south converged here, and the terrain offered natural high ground to utilize. It was a highly ideal blocking position.

The earthwork efficiency of the Saxon Army was once again perfectly displayed.

The strength of four infantry regiments was deployed, commencing work simultaneously along the reverse slopes of the hills and both sides of the roads.

Trenches, barbed wire, machine gun positions, artillery observation posts—these things practically sprouted from the soldiers' hands with the efficiency of an assembly line.

In two days, a continuous basic defensive position rose from the ground. Although not as "finely crafted" as a permanent defense line, it was sufficient for the battle at hand.

The artillery of the artillery regiments and the instruction unit's directly attached artillery battalion also completed deployment behind the position, their fields of fire covering all possible attack directions.

The range and power of a large number of K14 105mm howitzers were enough to make any infantry unit attempting a frontal assault on this defense line pay an extremely heavy price.

After the position basically took shape, Morin stood in an observation post on top of a certain hill, a field map densely marked with information spread before him.

"Current location of the Romanian reinforcements?"

"According to the latest reconnaissance report from the cavalry detachment, the enemy vanguard is about five kilometers from us."

Paulus pushed up his glasses and tapped a spot on the map with his finger.

"After being repeatedly bombed by the L15, their marching speed is astonishingly slow... Three divisions stretch for nearly ten kilometers in depth. The rearguard is still ten kilometers away right now."

"But based on this distance, their vanguard will make contact with our outpost positions today."

Morin nodded; everything was proceeding according to plan.

The Romanian reinforcements had already been battered by the L15 armored airship, and now they had to face a newly constructed trench defense line, so the choices they could make were very limited.

Sure enough, at noon on June 1st, the vanguard of the Romanian reinforcements—an advance brigade of the 19th Infantry Division—arrived within visual range of Morin's position after a series of brief outpost skirmishes with the Kampfgruppe's cavalry reconnaissance detachment.

Lieutenant General Popovich finally saw the defense line lying across his path.

"When did they run over here?"

The Lieutenant General's chief of staff looked through his binoculars for a long time, his face growing increasingly ugly.

"Judging from the deployment and completion level of the position, they must have been here for several days, right? It seems the airship's aerial attacks earlier were to delay our march."

"Can we bypass it?" another staff officer suggested.

Lieutenant General Popovich shook his head.

"We can't bypass it. Look at this terrain... They're blocking the convergence point of all roads leading to Bucharest. Detouring north would mean walking at least an extra twenty kilometers of mountain roads, and our supply train and artillery simply cannot travel on those roads."

"Then we can only fight."

Lieutenant General Popovich ordered the attack.

His logic was simple: the Saxons were besieging Bucharest on the front, so it was impossible for them to deploy too many reserves in this direction. As long as he concentrated superior forces to fiercely attack one point, he should be able to open a breach.

The 19th Infantry Division deployed into attack formation first, its four infantry regiments advancing toward the Saxon defense line successively.

Then the Kampfgruppe's 105mm howitzers began to speak. Two artillery regiments plus one directly attached artillery battalion, totaling sixty 105mm howitzers, commenced saturation fire on the Romanians' attack front after simple calibration.

A central Romanian infantry regiment heavily targeted by the strike directly collapsed under the artillery barrage. The surviving infantry retreated to their start line, leaving the ground littered with corpses and wounded.

And their retreat caused the friendly forces on their flanks to suddenly lose their cover, quickly leading them to retreat as well.

Lieutenant General Popovich ground his teeth and ordered the 20th Infantry Division to also join the attack.

Two divisions attacked jointly, charging forward simultaneously.

And this time, they finally rushed past the artillery barrage zone; after all, Morin only had 60-odd guns. However, the price they paid was nearly a thousand casualties.

When the Romanian soldiers, whose morale had nearly plummeted to zero, finally reached the front of the trenches, what greeted them was the crossfire of water-cooled heavy machine guns, the directional blasts of Claymore mines, and the unreasonable firepower from within the trenches...

The attack was repulsed again.

The next day, after an attempt to flank with cavalry met inexplicably precise artillery fire, Lieutenant General Popovich finally ordered the 2nd Cavalry Division to dismount and act as infantry, launching a third attack in coordination with the two infantry divisions.

The result was still the same.

When the news of the third attack's failure reached Lieutenant General Popovich's command post, the Romanian general finally accepted a cruel reality—he couldn't break through.

So, upon the suggestion of his chief of staff, the Romanian reinforcements began digging positions on the spot, constructing their own trench system in front of the Saxon defense line.

Just like on the former Western Front, both sides very naturally transitioned into a standoff phase.

And this was exactly the situation Morin and the Saxon officers wanted to see the most... They were far too familiar with this.

"Let them dig."

Morin showed a rare smile at the staff meeting that night.

"The deeper they dig, the better, the stronger the better... For every day they dig here, the people in Bucharest grow one day more desperate."

Also at midnight that same night, after Morin finished inspecting the forward positions and was preparing to climb into his camp bed to continue pushing the final few percent of the [Steel Wind Strike] learning progress, Kleist lifted the tent flap again.

"Commander, latest telegram received from the rear."

Morin took the telegram paper.

The telegram wasn't long, but it contained a lot of information.

The first piece of news was that the reinforcements supporting the "Morin Kampfgruppe" were passing through the various passes of the Carpathian Mountains.

And the commander of this corps-level unit was Georg von der Marwitz, Lieutenant General of the Army.

Morin wasn't familiar with this name, but he still gleaned some information from Kleist.

Marwitz... hailed from a traditional Saxon military Junker family, with a formal cavalry background. In the early stages of the war, he commanded the last large-scale cavalry charge.

But as the cavalry showed signs of fatigue in the face of this war, this man quickly adjusted his command style, utilizing cavalry more rationally, and earned a fairly good evaluation from the General Staff.

At least he wasn't the type who knew nothing but loved to give blind commands.

The second piece of news made Morin feel things were getting interesting.

That was, after the Kampfgruppe relayed the news of Bucharest back to Dresden, the homeland immediately sent an ambassador to contact the Vatican.

And the Papal State dispatched a small team to assist the very next day. They should have just arrived within the Austro-Hungarian Empire and would arrive via other airships within a few days.

Morning of June 3rd, the positional standoff between the Romanian reinforcements and the Morin Kampfgruppe entered its second day.

Lieutenant General Popovich, after two consecutive days of failed offensives, temporarily abandoned the attempt for a frontal breakthrough and shifted his focus to reinforcing positions and resting troops.

But Morin didn't intend to give him this breathing room.

At noon that day, the L15 armored airship lifted off again.

This time, the flight path didn't head straight for the Romanians' frontal positions. Instead, it took a wide arc, sweeping from the flank toward the rear depth of the Romanian reinforcements.

In the cargo bay of the airship, the twenty-seven "Thunder Warriors" were fully armed, divided into nine three-man combat squads, standing quietly in their drop positions on the bottom deck of the cargo bay.

Unlike their configuration during the demonstration at the training ground a few days ago, their weapon loadouts this time had undergone some adjustments tailored for the ordinary army they were about to face.

Among the nine squads, the "Swordsman" of each squad still wielded a two-handed greatsword, which was also the "Thunder Warriors'" most lethal weapon in close-quarters combat.

But the "Shooter," originally carrying the M1915 large-caliber rifle, all swapped to MG14 light machine guns, with additional ammo belt boxes hung at convenient positions on their lower backs, ensuring ample ammunition.

The "Shield Guard" sheathed the single-handed sword in his right hand, replacing it with an MP14 submachine gun or one of the pump-action shotguns Helga had brought over.

Klaus stood in the front row of the drop positions, leaning on his greatsword with both hands, waiting quietly.

The broadcasting system in the cargo bay was suddenly activated. After a sound test, Lieutenant Colonel Andreas's voice came through.

"'Thunder Warriors,' attention. Entering drop airspace in three minutes..."

"The target area for this operation is an assembly area behind the Romanian positions, where their reserves and command post are located."

"The frontline main force will launch a coordinated attack the moment you land..."

Hearing this information, Klaus activated the portable magitech communication unit built into his armor, switching to the squad-wide communication channel.

"Squad leaders, report status."

"Group One, ready."

"Group Two, ready."

"Group Three, ready."

"..."

The nine squads confirmed one by one: spell units operating normally, weapons and ammunition in place, armor magitech core energy full.

Klaus looked back at his comrades similarly clad in gray heavy armor.

With all helmet visors closed, no expressions could be seen. He didn't need to see them... These men had survived the life-or-death crisis brought by the modification serum alongside him at the Imperial Military Medical Center... Thirty men went in, twenty-seven came out.

The names of the three who didn't come out were engraved on the inside of each of their armors.

"One minute!!!"

An Air Force soldier secured with a safety harness shouted to Klaus, holding up a sign with the time.

At the same time, the deck at the bottom of the cargo bay began to slowly separate. A long gap appeared beneath their feet, letting in cold wind wrapped in the moisture of the clouds.

Looking down through the gap, the rear of the Romanian positions was clearly visible—tents, horses, stacked ammunition crates, and figures walking back and forth in panic.

Immediately following, the L15 armored airship opened fire first.

Tongues of fire from machine guns and autocannons spewed from the weapon pods beneath the airship, raining a hail of bullets onto the Romanians' assembly area.

Explosive satchels followed closely behind, blasting fireball after fireball on the ground.

The Romanian soldiers began running in panic. Some dove into trenches, some lay flat on the ground covering their heads; shouts and the neighing of horses were everywhere.

After completing the first round of attacks, the L15 lowered its altitude.

Three hundred meters... two hundred and fifty meters... two hundred meters...

The indicator lights in the cargo bay turned from red to green.

"Jump."

Klaus stepped off the edge of the deck without the slightest hesitation.

The ninety-kilogram armor, plus his own body weight, plummeted straight down under the pull of gravity toward the ground two hundred meters below.

Behind him, twenty-six identical figures followed closely, leaping out of the cargo bay one after another.

In his ears was the howling wind and the metallic clatter of the armor vibrating. Through the observation slit on his visor, he could see the ground rapidly magnifying.

One hundred and fifty meters.

One hundred and twenty meters.

One hundred meters.

Klaus activated the spell unit, and the preset [Feather Fall] triggered instantly.

A layer of pale blue aura rose from the surface of the armor plates, and the speed of descent slowed abruptly.

From the ground, the twenty-seven figures clad in heavy armor, after an initial rapid plummet, then began to descend slowly as if held up by pairs of invisible hands.

This sight falling into the eyes of the Romanian soldiers on the ground possessed a devastating impact.

Twenty-seven figures completely encased in gray heavy armor descended slowly from the beams of light spilling through the gaps in the clouds.

The metallic luster reflected by the sunlight hitting the armor surfaces, combined with the pale blue aura emitted by the spell units, reflected in the pupils of the Romanian soldiers looking up at the sky, forming a scene that simply shouldn't appear in the mortal realm.

It was like some ancient religious mural—Archangel Michael leading the warriors of Heaven descending to the human realm.

Many of the Romanian soldiers who were previously scattering in panic froze in place; some even dropped directly to their knees, making the sign of the cross over their chests.

Their brains clearly couldn't process this information...

...What was the situation with dozens of people in full plate armor floating down from the sky?

But Klaus and his comrades didn't give these people much time to think.

The instant they landed, [Feather Fall] dissipated, and their sabatons stomped into the dirt, smashing deep footprints.

"All squads confirm landing points, spell unit status..." Klaus's voice carried through the magitech communication unit.

"Group One landed normally, spell unit normal."

"Group Two normal."

"Group Three normal. A company-sized unit on the south side has begun assembling..."

"Group Three, handle it yourselves. All other groups commence attack according to plan."

Klaus drew the two-handed greatsword from his back. The magical circuitry on the blade flashed for a moment.

On his left and right, one shield-bearing warrior had already raised his MP14 submachine gun, while the other shooter gripped his MG14 light machine gun at waist level.

In a triangular formation, the three charged toward the nearest group of Romanian soldiers.

The two with guns fired first.

In the hands of an ordinary infantryman, the MG14 light machine gun was a weapon that required setting up a bipod and firing prone. But in the hands of a "Thunder Warrior" enhanced by the modification serum, this light machine gun felt like a submachine gun.

The shooter gripped the forward carrying handle with one hand and the pistol grip with the other. The muzzle jump was completely suppressed by his superhuman arm strength.

A sweeping barrage poured out a rain of brass casings.

A group of Romanian soldiers dozens of meters away were mowed down in rows before they could even raise their rifles.

The "Shield Guard" holding an MP14 submachine gun or a shotgun was even more exaggerated.

In the right hand of the shield-bearing "Thunder Warrior," these two weapons became upsized combat pistols.

He held the chest-high shield with his left hand, extending the weapon in his right hand past the edge of the shield, his accurate short bursts precisely downing every enemy attempting to flank.

And Klaus, like the other "Swordsmen," pushed off violently. The ground was crushed into a crater under the ninety-kilogram armor, and he shot forward.

His sprinting speed was so fast that the surrounding Romanian soldiers only saw a gray blur.

On the Romanians' reserve position, a Romanian NCO had yet to react before an armored foot kicked him squarely in the chest.

The NCO's body flew backward off the ground, crashing into a large number of soldiers behind him, finally landing in a trench and smashing against the trench wall with the sound of shattering bones.

Immediately following, the greatsword swung in an arc. The blade, carrying the faint glow of magical enchantment, swept horizontally across the Romanian infantry on the reserve position.

This kind of one-sided slaughter played out simultaneously across the entire rear of the position.

The nine three-man squads fanned out according to their respective attack zones. The tactical process of each squad remained consistent: suppressive fire, advance, close-quarters sweep.

Some Romanian junior officers who had recovered their wits attempted to organize counterattacks.

But the rifle bullets struck the armor and bounced off with clattering sounds amidst bursts of magical aura, completely unable to penetrate.

The combined effect of protective spells and the physical defense of the armor rendered these conventional munitions entirely unthreatening.

Several Romanian soldiers, possessing courage far exceeding the rest, charged forward with fixed bayonets under the leadership of an officer, attempting to surround them. Under such circumstances, their bravery was truly commendable.

But the bayonets and the officer's saber only produced a harsh metallic clash against the armor, then snapped in half.

The "Thunder Warrior" showed no expression behind his visor. With a backhand flick of his greatsword, the leading officer was sent flying.

Immediately following, plain but incredibly fast chained slashes completely shattered this final burst of courage.

In a trench not far away, a Romanian captain knelt on the rough bottom of the trench, his pistol having fired its last bullet.

Ten paces ahead of him, a sword-wielding "Thunder Warrior" was walking over unhurriedly. The armor was splattered with mud and blood, and blood was still dripping from the greatsword...

The captain's hands were shaking. Under this oppressive aura, he couldn't even reload his pistol.

His lips trembled, squeezing out a sentence in Romanian.

"Have we done something wrong... that the Holy Father has sent these angels to settle accounts for our sins?"

Answering him was a flash of silver light.

While Klaus and his "Thunder Warriors" rampaged through the Romanians' reserve positions and rear command post as if traversing an unpopulated land, the frontal positions of the Morin Kampfgruppe were not idle either.

After the artillery's fire preparation concluded, the instruction unit and Guard infantry charged to the front of the Romanian positions.

Under a pincer attack from front and rear, the defense line of this Romanian returning force collapsed across the board in less than an hour.

When Lieutenant General Popovich received news of routs from everywhere in his command post further to the rear, he was still trying to figure out what exactly had jumped down from the sky...

But he could no longer investigate further, because the collapse of the front line and the enemy forces closing in on this location no longer permitted him to sit there.

Ultimately, this general, upon whom King Ferdinand I of Bucharest and the city's defenders had pinned all their hopes, issued the order for a general retreat.

After two days of fighting, not only did the Romanian reinforcements fail to advance a single step toward Bucharest, but their positions were driven back several kilometers in multiple places.

When the telegram announcing the forced retreat of the reinforcements reached the Bucharest City Defense Command, the pressure that had accumulated over many days in this isolated and helpless city finally erupted entirely.