In the early hours of the morning, General Brusilov, commander of the Russian Army's Western Front, was roused from sleep by a shrill telephone ringing.
"The Gorlitsa-Tarnow Line has been breached?"
General Brusilov became more alert. He took the coffee handed over by an orderly, sipped it, then leisurely made his way to the sand-table map.
The Gorlitsa-Tarnow Line lay within the German realm's "Galicia-Lodomeria Crown Land" and was one of the Russian Army's key fortified lines. The Russian Army had previously pushed into Galicia from here, wiping out and capturing large numbers of Crown Land troops.
Had Prussian reinforcements not arrived in time and cut off the Russian Army's retreat, the Russians might already have crossed the Carpathian Mountains, entered the wide-open plains of Hungary, and watered their horses at the Danube River.
That was why this area had always been a major focus of the Russian Army on the Eastern Front. Lviv in the south had even once been honored with an inspection by the Tsar himself.
"Put me through to General Luthen on the second defensive line. Order them to strengthen their defenses. I'll immediately redeploy mobile forces to support them."
"What? We can't reach them?"
General Brusilov's expression shifted slightly. The long stalemate on the Eastern Front had been enough to wear down any commander's fighting spirit. The Galician and Hungarian armies opposite them had remained entrenched for so long that Brusilov had long abandoned any hopes of earning glory.
Yet precisely because the Eastern Front had made no progress for so long, the greater part of Galicia still under Russian control was all the more crucial.
"Where are the airships we deployed at the front? What exactly is happening?"
"What? The phone lines were cut, and the airship was destroyed too?"
"What the hell are