1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 262 The Beginning of the Avalanche

The main Ottoman position was dozens of kilometers away.

The morning dew still clung to the tents, and Edhem Pasha hadn't slept all night. He stood on the hill outside the headquarters, peering through binoculars at the Greek army's positions opposite, where all was silent, like a beast licking its claws before a great battle.

His heart was filled with the excitement of the impending decisive battle. He had staked all his forces and all his hopes on this plain. He was going to decide the fate of the world in one battle here.

Just then, an unusual burst of light suddenly lit up the eastern horizon, turning half the sky into an eerie orange-red.

Immediately afterwards, a slight but clear tremor came from the ground.

A moment later, the muffled explosion, like distant thunder, traveled a great distance to reach his ears.

"Boom... Rumble..."

The Ottoman soldiers on the position were also startled by this earth-shattering sight, and they all poked their heads out of their tents, looking eastward with surprise and uncertainty.

"What's going on?" Edhem Pasha put down his binoculars, his brow furrowed.

An adjutant rushed over and guessed, "Pasha, judging from the direction, it should be Erasona. Could it be... our ammunition depot has caught fire accidentally?"

A flicker of unease crossed Edhem Pasha's mind, but he forced a calm nod. Erasona was deep within the Empire, heavily guarded; barring unforeseen circumstances, he didn't suspect anything else.

"Send someone to investigate!"

However, before his messenger could set off, an even more terrifying scene unfolded.

The flames not only did not extinguish, but instead intensified. A thick plume of black smoke, like a dragon crawling out of hell, rose up menacingly, blotting out the sky and the sun.

Even from a distance of tens of kilometers, the aura of destruction still sent chills down one's spine.

Anxiety began to quietly spread through the Ottoman military camp.

An hour later.

A warhorse charged into the camp like a madman. The cavalryman on horseback was covered in blood and his face was covered in soot. He didn't even have time to dismount before he tumbled off the horse and scrambled toward the headquarters.

"Pasha! Pasha!" he cried out in anguish, "The devil! The Greek devil has descended from the heavens!!"

Edhem Pasha's heart sank. He rushed forward and grabbed the soldier by the collar.

"What nonsense are you spouting! Explain yourself! What exactly happened in Erasona?!"

The messenger's eyes were unfocused, filled with extreme fear. He spoke incoherently, screaming intermittently, "It's the Greeks... they appeared out of nowhere... fires everywhere, explosions everywhere... granaries... ammunition depots... all burned down! All gone!!"

"impossible!!"

Edhem Pasha roared like a madman, shaking the messenger's shoulders wildly, his bloodshot eyes looking like he wanted to devour him.

"That's our heartland! Our rear! How did the Greeks get there?! Did they have wings?!"

"While your main force is on the front lines, his main force is naturally behind you."

A cold voice came from the side.

German military advisor Major von Riedel also emerged from the tent at some point. He didn't look at Edheim Pasha, but stared expressionlessly at the huge black column of smoke in the east.

His voice was devoid of any emotion.

But what he feared most came to pass in the most devastating and direct way.

The news of the complete destruction of the supply base spread like wildfire through the vast Ottoman military camp at an unimaginable speed, like the most virulent plague.

Panic is a more terrifying weapon than bullets and bayonets.

A soldier who was wiping his rifle stopped what he was doing when he heard his comrades whispering beside him.

"Ellasona was burned down? Really?"

"Everything's burned! Food, ammunition, everything's gone!"

"Then...what should we eat?"

This question, like a spark, ignited the most primal fear in the hearts of all the soldiers.

They were not fighting for the Sultan or the Empire.

They did it for military pay, for the three meals a day they could have.

Now, there's no food left.

The most fundamental link that held this massive army together—logistics—was cleanly and decisively severed by Constantine with a single fire.

The avalanche has begun.

First, it was a few soldiers. A farmer from Anatolia threw down his rifle and began silently packing his belongings.

His actions inspired the others in the tent.

Then came entire squads and platoons of soldiers. They no longer obeyed the officers' orders, but threw down their weapons and began to flee to the rear like headless flies.

They didn't know where to escape to.

All they knew was that they had to get out of this hellish place—a place without food or ammunition, a place where defeat was inevitable—as soon as possible.

"Halt! Anyone who retreats will be executed on the spot!"

Some officers, loyal to their duty, drew their swords and tried to quell the mutinous soldiers. They cut down several ringleaders of the deserters and shot several others dead with their pistols.

But this is meaningless in the face of an avalanche-like collapse.

If you kill one, ten or a hundred people will rush past you.

The surging tide of fleeing soldiers directly overwhelmed and trampled the officers who tried to stop them.

The once disciplined Ottoman army, which made the whole Balkans tremble, completely collapsed in just a few hours.

They are no longer soldiers.

They became a mob of irrational, starving people fleeing for their lives.

The frontline command system was completely paralyzed by the panic.

Edhem Pasha stood on the hill, staring blankly at everything.

He saw his army, like the receding tide, irresistibly dissipating into the distance.

He saw banners representing the legion's honor carelessly discarded in the mud by the fleeing soldiers, left to be trampled on.

He saw his carefully constructed defenses become riddled with holes and rendered useless.

His weathered face no longer bore the arrogance and stubbornness of yesterday.

Anger, resentment, fervor... all emotions have faded.

All that remained was a deathly despair.

He lost.

The defeat was so complete, so absurd.

His elite reserve team hadn't even had a chance to be deployed to the battlefield yet.

The "magnificent tomb" he prepared for Constantine has not yet been used.

The decisive battle he had been dreaming of was lost before it even began.

Major von Riedel walked up to him and handed him a pistol.

"Pasha, have some self-respect."

Edhem Pasha did not take the gun. He simply slowly took the command sword, bestowed upon him by the Sultan and symbolizing the glory of the Commander-in-Chief, from his waist.

He held the knife in both hands, gazing at the gems inlaid on the scabbard, which shimmered in the sunlight.

That was the glory of his life.

Now, that glory, along with his army and his empire, has been buried in the ashes of this great fire.

He let go.

Clang!

The commander's sword fell to the ground with a crisp yet dull sound.