Holy Roman Empire

Chapter 545: Airship Bombing Squadron

Time passed quickly, and before Franz knew it, March had already slipped by. Declaring war but not fighting for a month—under different circumstances, Franz might have found this amusing.

But there was no choice. War serves politics. These absurd situations do happen in reality.

To buy time for the Ottoman Empire, the European nations were evacuating their citizens at a snail’s pace. Officially, they claimed to be “handling property matters,” but in reality, they were stalling to allow the Ottomans to transport supplies.

Once the fighting started, no one could expect free trade to continue. The Austrian government had already issued a notice warning that any ships entering the combat zone would do so at their own risk.

This was also a tacit understanding among everyone. If the Ottoman Empire collapsed, the debts owed to Britain, France, and other countries would go down the drain. How could they not appease the wounded hearts of various countries?

Despite its decline, the Ottoman Empire was still an old power with considerable resources. Back in its heyday, when it spanned across Europe and Asia, it had accumulated quite a lot of wealth, and its ability to repay was still strong.

Facing life or death, the Ottoman government was desperately raising funds to purchase supplies. The treasures from the royal palace were being sold off, and even the nobility contributed a symbolic portion of their wealth to support the war effort.

In addition to this reason, there was also the matter of using the war to give the Russians some training. Naval operations are no joke. As long as they were just circling the Aegean Sea, the Russian troops, being physically tough, might be able to endure it.

But if the operation extended to more distant areas, without proper naval training, a large number of soldiers would collapse on the journey, and those who made it ashore would be weak and unfit for battle. What would they fight with then?

The Russian government was full of landlubbers with no experience in overseas expeditions, so they didn’t take this as seriously as they should have.

Austria, on the other hand, had plenty of experience. Without proper training and weeding out those prone to seasickness, they would be in for a rude awakening later.

Faced with such an unreliable ally, Franz decided to tolerate it. After all, the Russians were fighting on behalf of Austria.

The fiercer the fighting on the Anatolian Peninsula, the smoother the war in the Middle East would go. If even half of the 150,000 Russian soldiers survived, it would be a blessing.

If the Russian commanders were incompetent, they might need to be replaced midway through. Even the best strategy needs capable people to execute it.

In theory, with naval superiority, they could avoid heavily fortified positions and focus on attacking weak spots. However, that also involved factors like intelligence, the commander’s judgment, and the speed at which troops could be mobilized.

The Ottoman Empire is, after all, a religious empire, and the Ottoman government has already called for a holy war. Regardless of their combat effectiveness, they at least have plenty of people willing to fight to the death.

The resistance in the early stages is bound to be extremely fierce, and it will only change after their casualties surpass their psychological threshold.

Didn’t the Russian government want to use Austria to train its troops? No problem—by the end of the war, they’ll definitely have a battle-hardened army. But they’ll have to bleed more along the way.

Whether it’s a loss or a gain depends on one’s perspective.

Seeing the Ottomans’ preparations, Franz almost felt like feigning a ceasefire and waiting three to five years before launching an attack. By then, the strategic materials the Ottomans had purchased at great cost would be nearly useless, and their treasury would be emptied.

Maybe after crying wolf a few more times, they could achieve victory without fighting.

It’s a nice thought, but Franz couldn’t change the established strategy for a secondary target, as the real objective of this campaign wasn’t the Ottoman Empire.

After April Fools’ Day, the deadline for the final ultimatum had long passed. At this point, Franz could no longer afford to delay.

“Order the navy to set sail and bombard the coastal cities of the Ottoman Empire. Remember to follow protocol—before opening fire, send airships to drop leaflets. We are civilized, after all.”

In this era, bombarding port cities was highly imprecise, and the outcome relied heavily on luck. The destruction caused by the bombardment would be far less severe than the panic it would generate.

Franz, who always cared about his reputation, naturally had to be polite before using force. What if all the civilians in the port fled? Wouldn’t that save the work of expelling them?

The purpose of the bombardment was not only to create chaos but also to conduct fire reconnaissance and select a landing site.

The Ottoman Empire had many coastal ports, and it was impossible to defend them all. There would inevitably be weak points.

In this era, without radios, gathering intelligence during wartime was incredibly difficult. Even if they obtained intelligence, sending it back would require going through Persia, which would take too much time.

There was even the possibility of being led into a trap, so the judgment of the commanders would be crucial.

...

Constantinople, Allied Command Headquarters

“At 10 a.m. on April 5, 1874, our Mediterranean fleet launched bombardments on the ports of Finike, Alanya, and Anamur.

Preliminary assessments place Finike’s defensive firepower at Grade C, while Alanya and Anamur’s defensive firepower are rated at Grade D.

At 3 p.m. on April 6, 1874, the Black Sea fleet bombarded Ağva and Karasu, with the enemy’s firepower preliminarily rated at Grade B.

April 6, 1874…”

The firepower defense grades are a classification system devised by the Austrian Navy to differentiate the strength of the enemy’s coastal artillery. It ranges from S to F, with seven levels in total.

Looking at the military map spread across the table, Admiral Aleister felt somewhat confused, unsure of where to begin. As a naval officer, land operations were not his expertise, and choosing a landing site was proving to be a challenge for him.

He soon decided to relinquish the decision, handing over the responsibility to the Russians. If the wrong place was chosen and heavy losses were incurred, it would be the Russians’ problem.

“General Ivanov, where do you think is the best place to land?”

Without much hesitation, Ivanov provided his answer, “Let’s go with Ağva. It’s the closest to the Bosporus. If we take this position, within two months we’ll have full control over the Black Sea Straits.

Once we achieve that, we’ll have won most of the war. If the enemy chooses to defend the straits, we can push further and march toward the Ottoman capital of Ankara.”

It was easy to see why. Ever since the Near East War began, Russian foreign trade had become heavily dependent on Austria.

Even though the Austrian government doesn’t impose transit tariffs, transportation fees are inevitable. The railway companies don’t care whether the two countries are allies or not—they won’t miss a penny they are owed.

Imports are not a big issue. At worst, they could buy Austrian products, which wouldn’t have much impact. But the losses on exports would be significant.

With international grain prices soaring, yet domestic grain piling up in warehouses, Alexander II was nearly pulling his hair out.

Austria was the only buyer left, and if the capitalists didn’t take advantage of the situation to drive prices down, they wouldn’t be true capitalists. No matter how much international grain prices rose, Austrian buyers kept their purchasing prices unchanged.

That could be tolerated, but if they didn’t open up the Black Sea Straits soon, what would they trade with the British by the end of the year?

The grain-for-loans deals absolutely could not be halted. If they were, Russia’s railway construction would grind to a halt.

Understanding these issues, Aleister subtly reminded Ivanov, “The importance of the Black Sea Straits is undeniable, and the Ottomans know this too. They’ve deployed a heavy amount of troops in the area.

Maybe we should first land in a region where the enemy’s forces are weaker, get them to move, and then launch a full-scale attack.”

This was the established strategy, and Aleister didn’t want the Russians to mess it up. A direct landing at Ağva would surely result in heavy losses.

The Russians might not mind losing their troops, but Aleister cared about the money. Austria was footing the bill for everything, and the saying “when the cannons fire, gold flows like water” wasn’t a joke.

After hesitating for a moment, Ivanov nodded. It was wise to respect the wishes of the financiers. Without Austria’s support, they couldn’t cross the sea anyway.

The 150,000 Russian troops couldn’t all land at once, so dividing forces to attack multiple areas wouldn’t disrupt his overall plan.

Seeing his goal achieved, Aleister was pleased, “Very well, I’ll have the airship bombing squad coordinate with us. Let’s see if we can take out the enemy’s coastal artillery in the process.”

There was no choice—due to technical limitations, airplanes weren’t feasible, so Franz had to make do with airships. The bombing squadron was essentially a low-budget version of an air force.

This unit had always been somewhat awkward in Austria. Since its establishment, it hasn’t had any notable achievements. They hadn’t even had the chance to perform in battle, while the airship transport unit had shown much better results.

If it weren’t for the outbreak of the Near East War and the need to neutralize the enemy’s coastal artillery before a landing, Aleister probably wouldn’t have even remembered that Austria had such a unit.

In recent years, Austria has been generally peaceful. Besides occasional skirmishes in the colonies, there was only the Anglo-Boer War.

The colonial enemies didn’t require the airship unit, and during the “Anglo-Boer War,” they were fighting undercover. Using airships would’ve drawn too much attention. Once the secret was out, the charade would be difficult to maintain.

After waiting so many years, the airship bombing squadron finally had its moment to shine. Franz immediately deployed the unit to the Balkan Peninsula, eager to test it in real combat.

Though in the original timeline, airships were quickly replaced by airplanes, the fact that the Germans used airships to bomb Britain proved they still had some military value. Surely, they could at least handle bullying the Ottoman Empire, right?

At the same time, Franz hoped to attract the attention of other nations and drive up their military spending.

If every country were to develop an airship air force, only to have them rendered obsolete overnight by the arrival of airplanes, the reactions would be quite entertaining.

...

Ağva was just an ordinary port city in the Ottoman Empire. If there was anything different about it, it was probably its proximity to the Bosphorus Strait.

The spring breeze swept across the land, turning it green and bringing the willow trees to life, but it could not dispel the smoke of war.

Ever since the Austrian navy bombarded the city, its peace had been shattered. The wealthy had fled early, and the market had become desolate.

The Sultan’s order for a “holy war” had already been issued, and everyone was mobilized. With insufficient weapons, people resorted to crafting their own. The city’s blacksmith shops suddenly became bustling with business.

As a veteran blacksmith, Akyol felt heavy-hearted. Even his work at the forge lacked its usual dedication. What once required painstaking effort was now done hastily, as if he had no concern for losing customers.

And indeed, he didn’t worry about losing customers now. For the sake of the “holy war,” he had been requisitioned without pay and given heavy tasks to complete every day.

Akyol shouted at his apprentice, “bin İsmailağa, move faster! If you don’t finish the task, you’ll be feeling the whip!”

(Author’s Note: Before the 1934 Surname Law, Ottoman civilians didn’t have surnames. “bin İsmailağa/Son of İsmailağa” was a common type of name.)

“bin İsmailağa” was a young boy, probably around thirteen or fourteen years old. Hearing Akyol’s words, he sped up his work and complained aloud:

“Master Akyol, what’s the point of us forging these weapons? Isn’t war fought with guns now? With these things, I bet we won’t even get close to the enemy.”

Ağva was a port city, with people constantly coming and going, and from what they saw and heard, everyone knew that the era of cold weapons was long over.

Akyol shot him a glare, “Why so much nonsense? These are decisions made by the officials, and you don’t need to worry about them.”

Akyol had the same question himself, but his limited knowledge restricted his ability to think about what use these cold weapons might have.

To make these weapons, the officials confiscated iron materials on a large scale, and because there wasn’t enough, they even melted down farming tools and iron pots.

Every time Akyol saw the farming tools he had painstakingly crafted turn back into molten iron, his heart bled a little.

But Akyol, whose spirit had long been ground down by life, would never question why. If the officials said to do something, then he would do it.

Asking too many questions could earn him a whipping, and what good would that be? The Ottoman Empire was not a place governed by the rule of law. If the officials whipped you, you’d just have to accept it.

The boy, still feeling somewhat rebellious, didn’t dare confront his master but seemed equally afraid of the officials’ whip, so he just kept his head down and worked harder.

After a while, he grumbled again, “Hmph! It’s all because of those infidels. If they hadn’t invaded, we wouldn’t be working this hard. When they come, I’ll make sure to teach them a lesson!”

Akyol ignored the boy’s complaints. He definitely didn’t want the enemy to land in Ağva. Even though he was illiterate, he knew the enemy wouldn’t be easy to deal with.

In the last war, the Ottoman Empire had lost its capital, and many nobles had fled back in disgrace. Akyol had witnessed it all with his own eyes.

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