Ahmed Yilmaz's words, however, poured a bucket of cold water over Hanım.
"The British? They're no different from the Russians! Afraid of the wind, afraid of the cold—when it comes to fighting, all they know is how to hide behind us.
If the British hadn't collapsed first and thrown our deployment into chaos, we would have stopped the Austrians by the Danube River long ago!"
"How could that be?!"
It was not only Hanım. Nearly everyone present cried out in shock. In their minds, the British had always been their most steadfast and powerful ally—their last pillar of support.
But Ahmed Yilmaz, emboldened by drink, said dismissively, "Don't you believe it. In Bulgaria, the Russian army has already fallen into our encirclement. Russians surrender to us in droves every day, and the deserters are beyond counting.
Those Russians were finished—it was only a matter of sooner or later. Then the Austrians came, but that was already within our expectations.
Do you know what that's called?"
"Besiege the stronghold to strike the reinforcements."
Someone beside him prompted.
"That's right! Besiege the stronghold to strike the reinforcements, my friend. It was a tactic used by our ancestors. We should have dealt with those invaders ourselves.
But those smug British—they! It was them! The Austrians chased them until they fled in every direction, and in the end they crashed straight into us.
That traitor Omar Pasha actually forbade us from firing on the enemy, because he was afraid of hurting the British.
Our soldiers could only watch as the British smashed our formation into a scattered mess, but the Austrians had no such concerns.
They bombarded us without restraint. How could soldiers of flesh and blood withstand steel and gunpowder?
In the end, we had no choice but to flee in utter rout!"