Contact Battle

February 1, 1864.

The Prussian-Austrian Allied Forces reached the southern bank of the Eider River. Under the dim cover of night, concealed by the vast mist rising and spreading over the river, men and horses moved across the silent, winding Eider.

The German Allied Forces headquarters on the southern bank mobilized every available boat, along with bridges large and small under their control, and hurried across the frigid Eider River.

Tens of thousands of troops marched urgently before the narrow, tranquil Eider, and the commotion they caused could hardly be small.

Even though the army had made foolproof preparations before setting out, such a massive troop movement could still be spotted so long as the Danish scouts were not blind and deaf.

Yet the Danes could only watch helplessly as it unfolded. The Allied Forces held an absolute advantage in numbers, and their units scattered across the narrow terrain of the Jutland Peninsula were simply overwhelming to a small nation like Denmark.

The Eider River twisted and turned, with many possible landing sites and little ability to defend them. Worse still, the Eider, which rose in the hills south of Kiel, flowed gently and was not wide, making it impossible to hold.

Unless the entire nation devoted itself to constructing a defensive line stretching over a hundred li along the Eider, such a thing was naturally impossible for Denmark, with a population of only a few million, to accomplish in a short time.

Before long, the Allied Forces' vanguard had landed on the northern bank and begun establishing positions along the shore.

For the moment, the Danish army did not dare act rashly. It merely watched from afar, while reconnaissance cavalry prowled around the edges of the Allied Forces' positions.

In this strange atmosphere, both sides stared each other down, maintaining a delicate balance.

The Danish military did not dare slack off. While drawing in its forces to confront the Allied Forces, it dispatched fast riders at full gallop to send word to the capital that the German Allied Forces had crossed the Eider River.

Awaiting instructions from the government before taking corresponding measures, the Danish Army, as both the defender and the weaker side, did not dare act without authorization.

They exaggerated the problem as much as possible and conveyed the danger of the situation to the rear as thoroughly as possible. That way, even if they suffered defeat later, they could shove the blame onto the enemy.

It was not that the soldiers had grown lax—it was that the Germans had no martial honor, with two rogue nations dragging a pack of lackeys along to attack us.

Even if we lost, it would be the government's own political failure. The enemy was so powerful, yet you could not pull any allies into the fight. Just wait to be thrown out of office!

Naturally, the Danish government could not sit still and await death. The Foreign Ministry urgently contacted the British ambassador.

The prime minister personally led a delegation to seek help from the British ambassador, while the government also sent envoys to Russia, France, and even Sweden.

Unfortunately, the envoys of those nations spoke vaguely. Britain alone remained clear in its support for Denmark, but when the matter of sending troops arose, the British said they were awaiting news from home. Do not worry, they said—the Kingdom would surely respond soon.

February 2.

Prussia was the first to launch a probing attack against the Danish positions, attempting to outflank the Danes.

Half an hour earlier.

Winter on the Jutland Peninsula remained bitterly cold. The biting wind swept across the faces of soldiers gripping steel rifles, and the breath from their mouths instantly became a sheet of white mist before their eyes.

The officer leading the unit pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat. Printed on the pack was an exquisite "Cornflower" emblem, the trademark of the Ernst Tobacco Factory.

He opened the paper flap and drew out a cigarette, placing it between his lips.

He casually took a kerosene lighter from his pocket. In the trench, pressed against the earthen wall with his head lowered, he shielded it from the wind with one hand while the other flicked the flint wheel. A shower of sparks burst forth, instantly igniting the oil-soaked cotton wick ahead.

The young officer bent his mouth toward the flame and lit the cigarette between his lips. A red glow flickered at its tip.

He drew in deeply, the smoke passing through his throat and flowing into his lungs before he exhaled great clouds of it with his breath.

The young officer felt refreshed, as though the restlessness in his heart had been eased. He began waiting calmly for the order to charge.

As the headquarters issued its command, the Prussian Army began its attack. Led by their officers, the soldiers charged toward the Danish fortifications.

Amid the howling roar of artillery, battle-hardened Prussian soldiers advanced steadily forward. No one dared retreat.

Only the attack and the rifles in their hands were what the soldiers could rely on. Reloading, aiming, firing—done in one fluid motion.

Artillery fire crisscrossed, blasting one crater after another across the earth. Gunpowder smoke filled the dust, and only the flashes of enemy guns and cannons lit the road ahead.

Bang... Bang... Bang...

Amid intense gunfire and cannon blasts, the Danes relied on their fortifications and favorable terrain to successfully halt the Prussian attack.

Although the Prussian soldiers were still attacking, the gunfire had clearly grown sparser.

The first wave of attacks had failed to achieve the expected results. The charging troops suffered grievous casualties, but the disciplined Prussian Army had not been broken. Since this was only a probe, the rear command post decisively ordered the assault troops to withdraw in an orderly manner.

Thus ended the first exchange of fire between the Allied Forces and Denmark. To the Danes, those Prussian barbarians were nothing much after all.

The Prussian commanders in the rear did not care. This was merely an appetizer—what did it amount to? The rear artillery had not even been deployed yet. The earlier attack had only been meant to test the mettle of the Danish Army.

The Danes did have some destructive power, but in the eyes of Prussian officers, it was still far from enough.

Prussians feared tough battles least of all. As the nation with the most abundant martial spirit in Europe, what kind of battle had they not seen?

Besides, this had only been a Prussian probe. The German Confederation and the Austrian Empire had not even made their move yet!

The combined strength of the various sides was several times that of the Danes. For the Kingdom of Prussia, which had dealt with great powers such as France, Russia, and Austria, it had always erupted in adversity.

A declining nation like Denmark was not worth their notice at all. In a battle with the wind at their backs, their confidence was simply bursting through the roof.

The Danes' victory in the previous First Schleswig War had relied more on international forces. This time, however, the Danish government had shown sluggishness in politics.

It had failed to promptly link up with other nations on the European continent to lend its cause support, such as Britain, which had previously warned Prussia.

Even now, the British had made no major moves. As a naval power, Britain could not possibly strut about alone on the European continent.

As for France, it could have disrupted Prussia's plans, but Bismarck had long mastered the diplomatic game, trading other interests for the silence of Napoleon III's government.

The British had hoped to draw Russia into the conflict, but Britain and France had joined hands in the previous Crimean War to deal the Russians a devastating blow. Naturally, Russia could not possibly intervene in the turmoil on the European continent at this moment.

That left the British in a difficult position. They could hardly send their navy ashore to fight Prussian barbarians to the death, could they?

So Britain could only offer the Danes every form of verbal support, without the slightest sincerity about sending troops.

Maintaining the balance of power on the European continent was Britain's national policy. Denmark losing the two duchies would not affect the continental situation at all.

At most, the Danes would retreat deeper into the Jutland Peninsula and lose some territory. Moreover, the defeated Danes would inevitably hate Prussia even more and stand more firmly at Britain's side, planting a hidden piece for Britain on the European continent when the next upheaval came.

Of course, the British still had other moves to make. Things were far from reaching the point of war, and the Danes had not yet gone all out!

After all, though Denmark was a small country, it had once prospered in history. Its performance in the previous First Schleswig War alone had shown considerable strength.

The Danes controlled the outlet of the Baltic Sea, possessed an excellent geographical position, and had a developed economy. Even now, they could support a sizable army.

War was always filled with uncertainty. What if the Danes held out? Besides, the Danish government had displayed extraordinary confidence before the war began, or things would not have reached this stage.

Though no one knew where the Danish government's confidence came from—at least, Ernst thought so—it did not change its sluggishness in diplomacy.

Now, through vertical and horizontal alliances, Prussia had stabilized most of the great powers and even won over Austria and the German Confederation.

With the pressure of public opinion and diplomacy gone, so long as they did not suffer a major military setback, Schleswig and Holstein would be meat in the bowl. Of course, the premise was settling Austria after the war—but Bismarck had long been confident and composed.