War had flared up once more on the Balkan Peninsula. This grand battle was the largest in the history of the European Continent, with both sides committing over a million troops across a front more than four hundred kilometers long.
Yet this battle, destined to go down in history, unfolded with remarkable comedy. Logically, the coalition forces had been inadequately prepared, while the Russians, as the initiators of the campaign, should have held an overwhelming advantage—perhaps even secured victory outright.
Reality, however, was tragically absurd. The attacking Russian forces had fallen into chaos as well.
Preston, commander of an artillery regiment, cursed furiously. "Damn it! We're artillerymen, and you sent me a pile of bullets? Do you expect me to feed bullets to the cannons?"
The officer delivering the supplies answered mechanically, "My apologies, Colonel, but these are orders from above. If you have any objections, please contact headquarters. For now, please sign for the supplies."
Preston's artillery regiment had only just arrived. The infantry regiment originally stationed here had already advanced to the front, but the logistics department was still issuing supplies according to the original plan.
Frowning, Preston replied, "We'll report this to higher command, Major. These supplies are completely useless to me. You'd better haul them back."
The major said solemnly, "That won't do, sir. My orders are to deliver this batch of supplies here and hand them over to the garrison. You must sign for them.
"As for how you handle these supplies, that is up to you. You can dispose of them privately, or toss them somewhere. After the war, just report them as combat losses.
"These are a full week's supplies for an infantry regiment. There are quite a few good things in there. You won't be losing out, Colonel."
After hesitating for a