August 29th 1914
Smedrova
14:00 Hours
That was it, all the troops were gone. The last divisions were sent north, to push the artillery away from Belgrade. The plan was destined to fail, but Putnik was ordered to do all he could to move the Austrian's back. Hracovec had gone south to Novi Pazar to defend against the Austrian advance from Foca. Mijatovic had gone with him. Two younger generals, Milosivic and Drasovic had gone North with the men to Belgrade, and General Jivanovic was sent East, in charge of the eastern boarder. Putnik did not expect the Austrians to be brave enough to make an offensive on that boarder, not with the Russians so close. Lastly, Misic, the second in command, was sent to Pristina to oversee the move north to defend against the Austrians.
That left Steponavich here with Putnik and the ministers. He despised them. They seemed to think they could run this war themselves. Sometimes they appeared to forget that war is no game of politics, and every decision could end the whole war at once. Ministers who had their positions merely because of the party they joined were his superiors, he could not stand them.
"Speak of the devil..." he muttered as he spotted two ministers approach him. He continued to stare out the window as they passed, praying they would let him be. His prayer was ignored.
"Ah, General Steponavich." One said. It took Steponavich a second to remember his name. It was Vojkan Nikolik, the Minister of War, who had recently been appointed after the previous minister died in Belgrade. "We have information you would appreciate seeing. Please, accompany us to General Putnik."
Nikolik and the man with him, Marovic, nodded and continued on his way. Steponavich sighed.
"I will come." He followed the ministers into a back office. After they left Belgrade they had been forced to settle in this small town, and its state of affairs was no where near that of Belgrade. Many small buildings had been taken over by the government who set to work immediately. Marovic opened the last door in the hall and stepped into the room. Inside General Putnik sat behind a desk, with an aide to his right.
“Ministers, General, what can I do for you?”
“I just received this.” Nikolik threw a paper onto Putnik’s desk. From a few feet away Steponavich identified what it was. It was a map. “Over one hundred thousand Austrian troops are marching from Foca, that’s more men then we were prepared for. They will hit our men by this evening.” Putnik sat in silence for a second.
“Alea Iacta Est. The Austrians have made the first move.” Nikolik laughed vaguely Marovic rolled his eyes and Stepanovich missed the reference. Putnik looked back up from the map at Marovic. “Why are you still here Minister?”
“Im here because you have been leaving me out. I have not been told of any of your plans, including the final destination for many of our men.”
“I have felt no need to give you this information, it does not concern you.”
“I am the minister of Intelligence, of course it concerns me!” Marovic shouted. He rarely got this excited, but these generals had been pushing him to his limit. Stepanovich stepped back away from the scarlet-faced minister. He enjoyed seeing the minister squirm, but did not want to make an enemy out of him. “How am I to do my job if you don’t give me information I demand!”
“You are in no position to give me orders Minister. I report to the Monarch, his son and the Prime Minister only, and last time I checked you were none of those men. Now leave my office or I will have you escorted out.” Marovic looked as though he would respond, but the sudden arrival of a guard persuaded him otherwise.
“This is not over Putnik.” Marovic hissed as he turned and left the room. Nikolik looked nervous and Stepanovich did all he could to stop from laughing. Putnik shook his head slowly and turned around.
“Our troops will arrive to re-enforce Novi Pazar by the 16th of September. I expect them to remain where they are until then. Do you understand me?” The two men nodded. “Good. You may leave.”
--
August 30th 1914
Skopje
12:15 Hours
The men all gathered around Georgi now. He easily could out-shout most of the other men who knew how to read, and, occording to Boris he was a natural speaker, when he opened his mouth, people listened. The group he read to had started with just his fellow Communists who worked in the plant. Most were Bulgarian, but more and more each day were Serbs. They all wanted to hear what was going on.
“Will you look at that! Austrians murdering unarmed Serbs…” Someone who was looking over Georgi’s shoulder shouted.
“Back off man, let him read!” someone else called. Georgi felt himself lifted up suddenly and placed on a nearby stone. He stood a good head taller now then anyone else around.
“Finish up Georgi.” Boris said from beside him.
“It says here that the Austrians have found a harsh welcome at the end of the Serbian rifle…” He paused as a cheer went around the group. “And that General Misic is assured that victory will come within the day. He said “our boys will be home by Christmas.” Georgi frouned at that, a holiday, just another sign of the oppression. But his fellows did not seem distressed by the wording, in fact they were happy.
“Now we can send those Austrians packing, you know, I think Ill sign up, I want to kill a few before their all running back to Vienna!” A man shouted; a good number of other men joined his cheer. Boris was even happy at the sound of dead Austrians. Perhaps this would not be the war to overthrow the oppressors, perhaps the revolution was destined for another day, another time. If the war went as well as the papers said, perhaps it would be done by Christmas.
Smedrova
14:00 Hours
That was it, all the troops were gone. The last divisions were sent north, to push the artillery away from Belgrade. The plan was destined to fail, but Putnik was ordered to do all he could to move the Austrian's back. Hracovec had gone south to Novi Pazar to defend against the Austrian advance from Foca. Mijatovic had gone with him. Two younger generals, Milosivic and Drasovic had gone North with the men to Belgrade, and General Jivanovic was sent East, in charge of the eastern boarder. Putnik did not expect the Austrians to be brave enough to make an offensive on that boarder, not with the Russians so close. Lastly, Misic, the second in command, was sent to Pristina to oversee the move north to defend against the Austrians.
That left Steponavich here with Putnik and the ministers. He despised them. They seemed to think they could run this war themselves. Sometimes they appeared to forget that war is no game of politics, and every decision could end the whole war at once. Ministers who had their positions merely because of the party they joined were his superiors, he could not stand them.
"Speak of the devil..." he muttered as he spotted two ministers approach him. He continued to stare out the window as they passed, praying they would let him be. His prayer was ignored.
"Ah, General Steponavich." One said. It took Steponavich a second to remember his name. It was Vojkan Nikolik, the Minister of War, who had recently been appointed after the previous minister died in Belgrade. "We have information you would appreciate seeing. Please, accompany us to General Putnik."
Nikolik and the man with him, Marovic, nodded and continued on his way. Steponavich sighed.
"I will come." He followed the ministers into a back office. After they left Belgrade they had been forced to settle in this small town, and its state of affairs was no where near that of Belgrade. Many small buildings had been taken over by the government who set to work immediately. Marovic opened the last door in the hall and stepped into the room. Inside General Putnik sat behind a desk, with an aide to his right.
“Ministers, General, what can I do for you?”
“I just received this.” Nikolik threw a paper onto Putnik’s desk. From a few feet away Steponavich identified what it was. It was a map. “Over one hundred thousand Austrian troops are marching from Foca, that’s more men then we were prepared for. They will hit our men by this evening.” Putnik sat in silence for a second.
“Alea Iacta Est. The Austrians have made the first move.” Nikolik laughed vaguely Marovic rolled his eyes and Stepanovich missed the reference. Putnik looked back up from the map at Marovic. “Why are you still here Minister?”
“Im here because you have been leaving me out. I have not been told of any of your plans, including the final destination for many of our men.”
“I have felt no need to give you this information, it does not concern you.”
“I am the minister of Intelligence, of course it concerns me!” Marovic shouted. He rarely got this excited, but these generals had been pushing him to his limit. Stepanovich stepped back away from the scarlet-faced minister. He enjoyed seeing the minister squirm, but did not want to make an enemy out of him. “How am I to do my job if you don’t give me information I demand!”
“You are in no position to give me orders Minister. I report to the Monarch, his son and the Prime Minister only, and last time I checked you were none of those men. Now leave my office or I will have you escorted out.” Marovic looked as though he would respond, but the sudden arrival of a guard persuaded him otherwise.
“This is not over Putnik.” Marovic hissed as he turned and left the room. Nikolik looked nervous and Stepanovich did all he could to stop from laughing. Putnik shook his head slowly and turned around.
“Our troops will arrive to re-enforce Novi Pazar by the 16th of September. I expect them to remain where they are until then. Do you understand me?” The two men nodded. “Good. You may leave.”
--
August 30th 1914
Skopje
12:15 Hours
The men all gathered around Georgi now. He easily could out-shout most of the other men who knew how to read, and, occording to Boris he was a natural speaker, when he opened his mouth, people listened. The group he read to had started with just his fellow Communists who worked in the plant. Most were Bulgarian, but more and more each day were Serbs. They all wanted to hear what was going on.
“Will you look at that! Austrians murdering unarmed Serbs…” Someone who was looking over Georgi’s shoulder shouted.
“Back off man, let him read!” someone else called. Georgi felt himself lifted up suddenly and placed on a nearby stone. He stood a good head taller now then anyone else around.
“Finish up Georgi.” Boris said from beside him.
“It says here that the Austrians have found a harsh welcome at the end of the Serbian rifle…” He paused as a cheer went around the group. “And that General Misic is assured that victory will come within the day. He said “our boys will be home by Christmas.” Georgi frouned at that, a holiday, just another sign of the oppression. But his fellows did not seem distressed by the wording, in fact they were happy.
“Now we can send those Austrians packing, you know, I think Ill sign up, I want to kill a few before their all running back to Vienna!” A man shouted; a good number of other men joined his cheer. Boris was even happy at the sound of dead Austrians. Perhaps this would not be the war to overthrow the oppressors, perhaps the revolution was destined for another day, another time. If the war went as well as the papers said, perhaps it would be done by Christmas.
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