xymnovel Chapter 233 Pasha's Collapse
Chapter 233 Pasha's Collapse
The Ottoman Empire, Larissa Front Command Post.
A messenger, covered in blood, stumbled in. He collapsed to the ground, letting out a desperate wail with his last ounce of strength.
"Defeated... Major El... Total annihilation..."
The news sent shockwaves through the tent, causing everyone's expressions to change drastically.
On the main seat, Edhem Pasha's face, already ashen from days of defeat, instantly lost all color, turning as pale as a corpse.
He swayed, reaching out to grab the table in front of him, but grasped only air. He staggered back a few steps, only managing to stay upright thanks to the support of his personal guards.
It’s over.
It's all over.
What he lost was not just a rapid reaction force of 800 elites.
What he lost was the last bit of courage and confidence the Ottoman army had in launching an offensive on this battlefield.
The death of El and the annihilation of El's forces were like a cold steel needle, piercing through the hard shell of arrogance and stubbornness in his heart.
He was wrong.
That's completely wrong.
Inside the large tent, a terrifying silence fell.
All the Ottoman generals kept their heads down, none daring to look at their commander-in-chief. The only sounds they could hear were their heavy breathing and the whistling wind outside the tent.
German military advisor, Major von Riedl, stood calmly to the side.
He didn't say anything.
There was no blame, no complaint, not even the slightest hint of "I told you so."
He stood there quietly, like an indifferent bystander.
But his silence, his calm, at this moment, made Edheim Pasha feel more ashamed and humiliated than any harsh rebuke.
It was a blatant, condescending contempt.
"puff--"
Edhem Pasha felt a sweet taste in his throat, and a mouthful of blood spurted out, splashing onto the huge military map in front of him.
Crimson blood stained the flag that represented the Ottoman Empire.
……
At the same time, in Larissa, the Greek frontline command headquarters.
When news of the resounding victory in the Wolf Howling Valley ambush reached the command post via telegram, an uncontrollable cheer erupted. The young staff officers embraced each other, celebrating this exhilarating triumph.
Only Constantine remained calm.
He showed no joy.
After hearing the battle report, he neither celebrated nor ordered a pursuit.
He simply issued a few short and clear commands.
"Order: All forces on the Thessalian front to immediately cease all offensive operations and enter a state of full defense. Fortify fortifications, consolidate forces, and allow battalions to take turns resting."
"Order, Quartermaster Department, to commend the 3rd Company of the 1st Mountain Infantry Regiment for successfully completing the mission of luring the enemy, awarding them a collective First-Class Merit. All fallen soldiers shall be compensated according to the highest standards. All personnel who participated in the battle shall receive double pay."
"Order the Propaganda Department to immediately spread news of the victory at Wolf Howling Valley throughout the entire country as quickly as possible! I want every Greek to know of our victory!"
After giving the order, he waved his hand, signaling his staff to quiet down.
"Gentlemen, celebrations are welcome, but not now. The war has only just begun."
His voice was like a bucket of cold water poured over everyone's heads, quickly calming them down from their euphoria of victory.
Constantine did it.
With minimal cost, and with a perfect, surgically precise ambush, he completely broke Edheim Pasha's spine.
From that day on, the once invincible Ottoman veteran never dared to have any intention of launching an attack.
He ordered a five-kilometer retreat along the entire front, relying on existing second-line fortifications and hastily dug trenches to hold the line to the death.
The main battlefield in Thessaly, under his unilateral "ceasefire," fell into a strange stalemate, yet one that Constantine had anticipated.
Hundreds of thousands of Ottoman troops were thus pinned down on the front of the Thessalian plain. They dared not advance, nor retreat.
Constantine bought himself the most precious strategic buffer time for his real killing move, at the cost of thousands of Turkish lives.
Late at night.
In the command post, only Constantine remained.
He walked up to the huge military map, his gaze passing over the silent Thessalian front and landing on the northwest corner of the map, on the deep mountain region marked "Epiros".
There was complete silence there.
There were no markings indicating the outbreak of war.
He reached out and picked up a small blue arrow flag, representing the elite troops, from the preparation area of the sand table.
Below the flag, in small letters, is a designation: "Mountain Hunter Division".
His fingers, holding the small flag, moved slowly across the map.
The flag landed over mountains and across the Ottoman Empire's careless border defenses.
Finally, the arrowhead of the flag gently landed on a city on the map called "Ioannina".
That place was the logistical hub for the entire Thessalian front, housing hundreds of thousands of Ottoman troops.
Constantine released his grip.
That blue flag, solitary yet unwavering, was planted in the heart of the enemy's territory.
Now, it's the real ghosts' turn to bare their fangs.
Constantine stared at the flag, as if he could see through the map and into the man leading five thousand ghosts on a silent march along the rugged mountain path.
Metaxas, my friend.
The fate of Greece is now in your hands.
He turned around, picked up the military overcoat hanging on the hanger, put it on, and walked out of the command post.