Reborn In 17th century India with Black Technology-Chapter 1227: WW1: Taking back Thessaloniki (1)

It was September of 1705.

Nearly nine months have passed since the full-scale mobilisation of the empire began, and thanks to the locomotives and the logistical capability of the empire, it has already stepped into the final stages.

Vijay received constant reports about the manufacturing status of the Naya Samrat and the production of ordnance right at his beck and call. He had to admit, he was very pleased with the result, but how could he not? Millions of weapon systems had been manufactured, and thousands of Naya Samrats had been put into service, a number exceeding his expectations.

But, as he went through those reports, what was on his face was not a smile showcasing his satisfaction. Instead, his brows were furrowed, and the expression screamed his skepticism. He practically looked like a rural farmer who had taken on a huge loan and was constantly uneasy about how he would pay it back.

Ironically enough, the truth might not be too far off. The worry that appeared on his face was really because he was feeling uneasy about the amount of money that was being burnt every day simply to maintain the behemoth of an army he had raised.

This time around, in order to guarantee the victory to the greatest extent, he had gone all out and mobilised nearly four million troops. The expenses to maintain them were simply astronomical; conservative estimates suggest that simply maintaining the military would cost him up to five billion Varaha per year.

Make no mistake, Vijay was not thinking that the cost of employing a single soldier was too expensive.

Granted, not all of them were at the same level as the regular army, and the average battle effectiveness of the entire infantry had dropped drastically compared with a few years ago due to the influx of new recruits. Even so, they were still kilometres ahead when compared with the average battle effectiveness of a European soldier.

After all, despite being new recruits, they had already experienced the life of a soldier during their years of study, be it in their university, college, or school. Not to mention that the average fitness standard of young Bharatiyas was not too different from that of a trained soldier of the European Union.

So he could still understand the expenses each soldier required. The trouble, however, was that he did not want to leave the army idle. He could not allow the military to do nothing while burning money that was enough to prop up a decent navy for a small country.

He got out of his contemplation and immediately ordered a high-level military conference.

"There’s no need to wait any longer," he stated, commanding the room with his presence alone. "We have to take the initiative as soon as possible."

"So I have decided to act." His eyes showed clear determination, and as a result, the officers sat up straight, their backs like spears, their expressions turning sombre and eager.

"We have taken Constantinople under our control, but..." Vijay pulled out a map and tapped on it with a ruler. "This small strip of land surrounding Thessaloniki is still under the control of the European Union, cutting off the land route from the empire to mainland Greece, one of our allies in this war."

He lowered the ruler and slowly placed it on the table as he spoke again, without turning his head.

"So our first objective," he said, and the room immediately grew attentive, "is to push from Constantinople and retake Thessaloniki along with its surrounding region. Doing so will establish a direct land route with our ally Greece for the first time in this war. It will also push our frontier hundreds of kilometres forward, while keeping the logistics sustainable, since Greece will handle that side of the supply chain."

He displayed another chart, this time showing the logistics data of a command.

"The command headed by Vaibhav Krishnamurthy is well-equipped and already has rich experience in battle. According to the Research and Analysis Wing, there is a high chance that they could complete the objective by themselves, though they may face some difficulty moving forward afterwards."

"So here’s where we come in. While Vaibhav is on his mission, we will begin transporting troops from the mainland. Let’s mobilise and transport them in batches, so that by the end of the battle for Thessaloniki, we should have moved half of our standing army onto the soil of the European continent."

The commanders all looked at each other, and finally, the Martial as well as the admiral got up and saluted with determination, swearing to complete the task.

The Baghdad Railway and the Bharath to Mediterranean transportation corridor became increasingly busy.

However, what was faster than this were the orders which he had sent, travelling through a series of trains, trucks, and horses, reaching the desk of Vaibhav Krishnamurthy in a sum of 15 days.

Vaibhav, opening the hard-sealed letter sent by the emperor, first validated its authenticity by matching it with the numbers he had on him according to the protocol, and once the authenticity was confirmed, he finally opened the letter and went through its contents carefully.

Vaibhav put down the letter. His eyes were burning with excitement. "Lieutenant, call for a meeting." He ordered, no longer wanting to waste any time.

The meeting was held on the very same day, and after he relayed the orders of His Majesty the Emperor to the senior officers of his command, the mobilisation of the army immediately started.

Thankfully, what Vaibhav led was an autonomous command operating somewhat independently from the high command in the mainland, so the mobilisation of his million troops took only a day, and the very next day they were ready for battle.

Standing atop the western walls of Constantinople, Vaibhav squinted under the harsh sun. But, as he looked out at the troops stretching across the horizon, a quiet pride rose in his heart, making him unconsciously straighten his back while also strengthening his confidence in the coming victory.

He did not deliver a grand speech to rouse the momentum of his troops or attempt to boost their morale, because there was no need. Every soldier under his command already knew they were going to win. What was the point of wasting their time on hollow words when they could have marched several kilometres in the meantime?

So his command to commence the operation was simple.

"Advance."

That was all. A single word.

"Grin!"

Far from disappointing anyone, the opposite happened. The generals exchanged smirks of varying sizes and promptly led their troops forward.

The infantry marched steadily to the sound of drums. Scouts and rangers took the lead, spearheading the formation. Commandos spread out along the flanks, ready to provide support whenever necessary, while the cavalry moved alongside the infantry. As for the steam tractors and transportation carriages, they travelled in the centre of the formation, right alongside the artillery units.

"O Lord," a Slavic scout exclaimed under his breath as he turned around and ran without looking back. His brows were beaded with sweat, and his body was already drenched. The Bharatiya have started their attack; he has to inform His Excellency the general about this, no matter the cost.

"Bang!"

Sadly, right at this moment, he felt his world go black, and then there was no more. The horse, feeling the sudden reduction in weight, neighed and took off into the distance without its rider. As for the scout, he was naturally unlucky to have come under the radar of the sharpshooters of the rangers. His head was blasted by a single shot of the Shikhari rifle, with the bullet going from the side of his temple and exiting on the other side.

A few minutes later, the cavalry came across that body, and the major, not surprised, simply ordered, "See if there is any intelligence on him that is useful and dispose of the body."

"Sir!"

’Stomp!’

Many scouts fell like him, thanks to their ignorance of how the Rangers operate, but few scouts farther inland, after not receiving any reply from the scouts near the frontier, immediately became alert and hid themselves at tricky places.

Thanks to their foresight, even though the Rangers and the scouts arrived in their close vicinity even before the infantry appeared on the horizon, they could not immediately find them, which allowed some of them to catch sight of the massive army approaching the fortress.

Çorlu, Slavic Byzantium, European Union.

The general was immediately alerted that the Bharatiya Army was inbound and would appear at their doorstep in a few hours.

He quickly relayed the news back to his highness and gave orders for the troops to take on a defensive position and guard the fortress.

With the loss of Constantinople, Çorlu, a small town, was turned into a steel bastion by the European Union, a new frontier against the Bharatiya Empire. So there were over 200,000 troops guarding the entry into the European Union.

"They’re here," he muttered as he put down the telescope.

"Artillery ready!" he roared, and got a deafening response from his troops.

"Ready!"

"In that case, fire at will. You have the strength of the European Union behind your back; there is no way we are losing this battle."

Unfortunately, he was extremely wrong. The artillery fire of the Bharatiya Empire that appeared like a blanket covering the whole sky, a fiery blanket like the coming of the armageddon, a fiery blanket like the falling of world ending meteors, came crashing onto the wall of Çorlu with great momentum, immediately sending vibrations coursing through every soldier, making them feel the impact in their bones, shaking their wills and making their expressions fearful and uncertain in one single salvo.

"Fire the 12-pounders, 24-pounders and the 48-pounders!" the artillery commander roared, veins popping in his neck and forehead. "Hit them back with everything we got."

His roar finally woke up the artillerymen who were momentarily stunned, and their hands began to move, soon regaining the silky smooth actions they had practised countless times.