On June 17, 1882, under the cover of the Austrian Navy, the five major war zones of the Anti-Ottoman Coalition launched simultaneous offensives. From the Caucasus to the Black Sea, from the Mediterranean to the Middle East, a battlefield stretching over twenty thousand miles was formed, setting a record for the longest front line in human history. Had Franz not set his sights on Iraq, perhaps Persia would have joined the Anti-Ottoman Coalition as well. Mutual survival? Not a chance! These two had been old rivals. There’s no need to go too far back into history, just the refugee crisis following the last Near East War had already turned them into bitter enemies. When the Third Near East War broke out, the Persians were just as eager to join the fray. However, Austria refused to include them. Without the backing of a great power, the Persian government could not withstand British pressure and had to suppress its restless ambitions. At the Coalition Headquarters in Constantinople, Albrecht was now the only high-ranking officer left. Perhaps because the Ottomans seemed weak, everyone wanted to seize the opportunity for military achievements. Naturally, Albrecht could not stand in the way of their ambitions. From the moment the plan for dividing forces was implemented, his role as Supreme Commander had effectively turned into that of a logistics officer. Apart from the Austrian troops, he no longer needed to concern himself with the other armies. The bright sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room. It was another beautiful day. The high-ranking officers had all left, and aside from the staff officers, the coalition headquarters was now occupied only by the representatives left behind by each nation. The overall battle plan had already been decided, and the implementation details were left to the various war zones. As a result, the operational command had become rather relaxed. Before they knew it, their daily work had boiled down to receiving battle reports from the front lines and analyzing them. Albrecht asked, “How is the landing operation progressing?” A staff officer replied, “Apart from some minor trouble in the Sea of Marmara theater, the overall situation on the battlefield is excellent. In the Black Sea theater, the Russian army has successfully occupied Amasra and Zonguldak and has completed landings at four ports: İnceburun, Samsun, Ordu, and Rize. In the Mediterranean theater, our forces have captured Çeşme, Datça, Finike, and Kemer, and have successfully landed at four ports: Antalya, Anamur, İçel, and İskenderun. In the Sea of Marmara theater, the Greeks have successfully landed at Pendik, but after completing the landing, their performance has been subpar, and the battle remains in a stalemate. The Montenegrin army has failed three consecutive landing attempts at Bandırma, and Marshal Maksim Terentyev is now planning a fourth attempt.” Indeed, the situation was highly favorable. It had only been three days since the landing operations began, yet such brilliant results had already been achieved which was truly impeccable. As for the minor setbacks in the Sea of Marmara war zone, they were hardly worth mentioning. From the very beginning, Albrecht had no expectations for Greece or Montenegro as these two small nations were merely there to make up the numbers. It wasn’t a matter of effort. The key issue was their limited military strength and their inability to sustain heavy casualties. Many people only saw the brilliant victories but overlooked the bloodshed and sacrifices behind them. After glancing at the map, Albrecht abandoned any thoughts of further offensives. In a way, this war was nothing more than chaotic fighting. The Anti-Ottoman Coalition was relying on its overwhelming strength to attack from all directions, breaking through wherever the enemy was weakest. There was hardly any strategic finesse involved. After a brief moment of thought, Albrecht ordered, “Send a victory report to Austria, and make sure a copy is sent to our allies as well.” … While the coalition headquarters had begun celebrating the victory, Marshal Publius at Pendik Port felt none of the joy of triumph. Watching his allies advancing triumphantly while his own forces were being pushed back by the enemy was a frustration only he and his men could truly understand. During the military meeting, Publius slammed his hand on the table and cursed angrily, “Look at this! This is the battle you’ve fought! Two infantry divisions couldn’t even take a small port and were pushed back instead. An utter disgrace! This is the battle report from the supreme command. From now on, we are the laughingstock of the entire coalition. Even with a three-to-one advantage, we still failed to break through on the battlefield…” As the overall commander of the Greek forces, Publius was under immense pressure. He didn’t expect to match the performance of his allies, but at the very least, he couldn’t lag too far behind. At the current pace, if things continued this way, the war might be over before they even managed to advance beyond this small port. Forget about war spoils, at this rate, the Austrians might even charge them for supplies. After all, there was no such thing as getting a free meal without doing any work. According to the agreement, the resources consumed during the war would first be deducted from the war spoils, and only then would the remaining gains be divided among the allies. Without a doubt, this calculation was done for every participating country. The strategic supplies consumed by Greece would be converted into monetary value and subtracted from their share of the profits. If they were unhappy with this arrangement, they could simply refuse logistical support from the Austrian government and handle their own supplies. However, that was out of the question for Greece. Long-distance military campaigns had always been an enormous financial burden, a true gold-devouring beast among gold-devouring beasts. Though Greece had only deployed a little over 20,000 troops, once the battles started, daily supply consumption could easily reach tens or even hundreds of thousands of guilders. Spending a year’s worth of Greece’s revenue in just a month was entirely possible, without even breaking a single sweat. General Weber Velvet, commander of the 1st Division, explained, “Marshal, it’s not that we aren’t trying, it’s just that the enemy’s firepower is overwhelming while ours is too weak. The moment we show ourselves, we’re immediately suppressed. When we were fighting along the coast, we had fire support from the Austrian Navy, and we were in a much stronger position.” Even though all the coalition forces were equipped with Austrian weaponry, their armament levels varied. Each country had different firepower allocations, with Austria being the strongest, while Greece and Montenegro ranked at the bottom. In the era of firearms, firepower directly determined a unit’s combat effectiveness. Greece was not a wealthy nation to begin with, and maintaining a navy only worsened its financial strain. After external threats diminished, the Greek army had grown complacent, and its firepower remained at levels from twenty years ago. As for the Ottomans, despite their decline, they had learned harsh lessons from history. After suffering two consecutive defeats in the Near East Wars, the Ottoman government had become increasingly focused on military modernization. With fortress defenses to rely on, superior firepower, and greater combat resolve, it was no surprise that the Greeks were struggling. Publius interrupted, “Stop making excuses for your incompetence. I’ve already submitted a request to General Command regarding the firepower issue. It will be resolved soon. Right now, our top priority is to come up with a battle plan and capture Pendik as quickly as possible. We need to prove our strength to our allies.” In a world ruled by the law of the jungle, the strong preyed on the weak. If Greece wanted to carve out a piece of the Ottoman Empire for itself, it had to demonstrate the power to do so. … Compared to Publius, who was growing increasingly frustrated, Marshal Maksim Terentyev was much more composed. Montenegro had only joined this war to make up the numbers, it had no real expectations of claiming spoils. Geography had already blocked any path for its expansion. Surrounded on three sides by Austria, with only a narrow coastline, and unfortunately, the territory across the sea also belonged to the French. No matter which direction Montenegro tried to expand, it would be a near-impossible challenge. Faced with this harsh reality, the Montenegrin government wisely abandoned any ambitions of territorial gain. Their reasons for joining the war were varied: to take revenge on the Ottomans, boost national morale, and strengthen the government’s prestige. Or perhaps to maintain their presence on the European stage and avoid being forgotten. Or simply to earn favor with the Austrian government since securing a strategic alliance meant ensuring Montenegro’s survival. Maksim Terentyev fully understood Albrecht’s orders. Their role was simply to tie down Ottoman forces. Conquering cities and seizing territory was a job for their allies. Landing operations had failed? No problem! They would just move to a different location, regroup, and try again. As long as casualties remained under control, they could keep up these maneuvers indefinitely. Battle results didn’t matter. No one had expected much from them to begin with, and even if they lost, there would be no real criticism. Montenegro’s greatest contribution to the alliance wasn’t its military strength, it was the political impact of bolstering the Anti-Ottoman Coalition’s influence. Once the landing assaults began, Maksim Terentyev frequently changed landing sites. Each time, he relied on Austrian naval artillery to bombard the enemy before attempting a landing. If a probing assault proved too difficult to break through, he would immediately call it off, avoiding direct confrontation with the defenders. The thunderous roar of cannons signaled the start of yet another landing operation. This was Terentyev’s second attempt at this location. Lowering his binoculars, he murmured to himself, “The timing seems just about right.”
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