The doubts in the Serbian soldiers' minds were quickly answered.
It was obvious that what awaited them was not a cleared-out position, but a defensive force ready and waiting.
After experiencing multiple defensive operations, the instruction unit, based on their own firepower advantage, had found the most optimal distance to initiate an attack.
That was when the enemy entered a range of about 70 meters from the first trench.
At this distance, the instruction unit's firepower advantage could be fully brought to bear without worrying about accuracy.
For the enemy, this was a distance that put them in an even greater dilemma...
To continue attacking forward, they had to sprint for over a dozen seconds through a rain of bullets, which was clearly unrealistic.
But if they retreated, they would suffer several rounds of "free shots" from the instruction unit.
Under these circumstances, the instruction unit soldiers and Guard Reserve infantrymen in the position didn't give the Serbian soldiers any time to think. The gunfire merged into one continuous sound.
The Serbian soldiers charging at the front fell in rows as if hitting an invisible wall.
Bullets tore through their bodies, the warm blood turning into clouds of red mist in the cold morning air.
"Hold steady! Keep your fire steady! Don't waste bullets!"
After firing one volley head-on, the NCOs of the 1st Company, 1st Battalion of the instruction unit immediately jumped into the trench and ran back and forth. Although their voices were hoarse after staying up all night, they still maintained the unique "composure" of veteran NCOs.
They constantly smacked the backsides of those Guard Reserve soldiers who were getting a bit hot-headed from prolonged firing, reminding them to control their firing rhythm.
"Burst fire! Did you hear me?! Give me burst fire! If you just empty your bullets randomly, do you plan to bite them with your teeth later?"
"Machine gunners! Short bursts of three to five rounds! Yes, just like that!"
"Marksmen! See that officer? Yes, the one waving his pistol and yelling randomly—take him down!"
The roars of the battle-hardened veteran NCOs echoed back and forth in the trench; everything appeared orderly.
For the Saxon soldiers, the bloody battle with the "Vukodlak" last night had drained a massive amount of their energy and ammunition, but it hadn't ground away their will to fight.
To be precise, everyone had entered a "bloodshot eyes" (frenzied) state. Everyone was only thinking about firing their guns and bringing down every enemy still moving in front of them.
Infected by this atmosphere of "battle frenzy," Austro-Hungarian Army Lieutenant Colonel Strauss even personally operated an MG14 light machine gun borrowed from the instruction unit, sweeping fire madly at the enemy ahead, cursing profusely in Saxon the whole time.
"Come on! You scum! Taste what it feels like to be slaughtered too!"
For this lieutenant colonel, this was perhaps the most exhilarating battle he had fought since the war began.
The Austro-Hungarian officers around him looked at each other in dismay. No one could have imagined that this lieutenant colonel, usually known for his refined elegance in Vienna social circles, actually had such a wild side.
Those routed Austro-Hungarian soldiers forcibly propped up on the position were similarly infected by the fanatical atmosphere.
Although their marksmanship was still predictably terrible, they at least dared to poke their heads out of the trench and fire forward.
Let's put aside the hit rate for now; the sheer noise created by hundreds of rifles firing simultaneously was scary enough.
At least in terms of momentum, the Austro-Hungarian soldiers did not continue to lose this round.
The only "losers" were the soldiers of the Serbian Third Army who had already charged up to the front of the position...
Because what they faced was the northern position personally overseen by Morin.
Here, there were not only Guard Reserve infantry and Austro-Hungarian routed soldiers, but also the veterans of the 1st Company, 1st Battalion of the instruction unit, and those four tireless armored supermen.
The attacking Serbian soldiers couldn't even reach the barbed wire before being pinned down entirely.
A Serbian officer tried waving his pistol, leading by example to charge forward with the soldiers around him, but the next second, a precise bullet blew off half his head.
The one who fired was a 1st Company veteran. He didn't even bother to verify the kill; he was already moving his muzzle to the next target as he fired.
The battle didn't last long. About 20 minutes after the Serbians launched their attack, the overall trend was already very clear.
The Serbians' first attack, after paying a heavy price in casualties, was mercilessly crushed.
On the wilderness, the attacking tide receded, leaving only twisted corpses and groaning wounded scattered across the ground.
Behind the defense line, Morin lowered his binoculars, his expression unchanged.
He knew this was just the appetizer. This probing attack force consisted of only two battalions, but the unit cards lit up by aerial reconnaissance indicated that the Serbians had massed three infantry regiments in this direction.
The real test was yet to come.
He turned his head and looked at Major Hoffmann beside him.
"Have the Austro-Hungarians sweep the battlefield, gather ammunition and weapons..."
"As for our own men... make the most of this time to rest in place and check their ammunition, prepare for the next attack."
Major Hoffmann nodded and immediately went to relay the orders.
Morin looked up at the sky. The sun had risen, dispersing the morning mist.
Just like this twisting and turning battle situation, it was gradually becoming clear.
While the positions where the Serbian First Army Group launched its attack turned into a meat grinder, and the bugle of their offensive was torn apart by the roars of artillery and machine guns, on the right flank of the Saxon Fifth Army Group, another force determining the battle situation was quietly arriving at a crossroads of destiny.
The Second Army Group of the Kingdom of Greater Serbia Army.
To their commander, General Pavle Jurišić Šturm, the dramatic collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Fifth Army Group seemed as if God Himself had pushed open a narrow door to victory for him.
A chance to find life in a desperate situation.
A desperate counterattack capable of turning the tide.
He knew very well that at this moment, the Austro-Hungarian army in this grand campaign had already been reduced from a chess player to a chess piece... The entity truly deciding the direction of this war was that elite army group personally led by the Saxon Imperial Crown Prince.
This also meant that if he, Pavle Jurišić Šturm, wanted to reverse the battle situation and save his country, he had only one choice.
He had to frontally crush this elite army group personally led by Saxon Imperial Crown Prince Georg.
And now, the enemy's flank—that seemingly soft waistline—was starkly exposed to his forces.
General Šturm's fingers traced lightly over the map, an indescribable thrill spreading from his fingertips through his entire body.
He repeatedly asked himself, could this be the only chance of his lifetime...
A chance that would allow him to personally crush one of the top military powers in the world, and an ace unit personally overseen by their Crown Prince at that.
Thinking of this, General Šturm's blood involuntarily heated up.
If the army group under his command could accomplish this seemingly impossible combat objective and break through the flank of the Saxon Imperial Army in one fell swoop, then he would not only be the national hero who saved this campaign and all of Serbia.
He might even be recorded in the annals of history because of this legendary campaign, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the greatest brilliant generals in history.
However, just as he was immersed in this lofty ambition, a voice carrying annoying news interrupted his thoughts.
"General!"
A staff officer walked briskly into the command tent, a trace of anxiety in his voice.
"The Austro-Hungarian army, acting like madmen, is still launching attacks against our rear flank. They are trying to hinder our river-crossing operations!"
Hearing this report, General Šturm raised his head and exchanged a glance with the Chief of Staff beside him. An indescribable complex emotion was revealed in both their eyes.
They had anticipated all possibilities, especially the Saxons' likely reactions, terrain constraints, and their own logistical pressure...
But the one thing they hadn't calculated was that the Austro-Hungarian Sixth Army Group, which had been in a standoff with them all along, would display such uncharacteristically stubborn resistance at this most critical moment, even launching proactive attacks.
These Austro-Hungarians had completely overturned their previous stereotype of being "weak as a willow" and "collapsing at the first touch."
They seemed to have forgotten fear, throwing troops in time and time again to launch practically suicidal attacks, even though doing so would completely expose their own flanks to the attack direction of the Montenegrin field army...
However, the only fortunate thing was that although the Austro-Hungarian Sixth Army Group's offensive was fierce, it consistently failed to break through the defense line General Šturm had set up in advance.
That defense line, composed of one infantry division and two home defense brigades, had acted like a resilient dam since making contact with the enemy, holding back the surging tide.
In the view of General Šturm and the other staff officers, there were two reasons for this.
On one hand, the Austro-Hungarian Sixth Army Group didn't seem to have committed its entire force; the scale of the offensive was limited.
On the other hand, it was because their combat effectiveness was indeed poor, especially their severe lack of modern artillery support... Relying solely on infantry charges made it very difficult to crack prepared positions.
"Report! Austro-Hungarian combat mages appeared in the latest wave of attacks! They tore a gap in our defense line!"
Soon, a new battle report arrived, increasing the tension in the tent by several degrees.
"Where are the reserves?!" the Chief of Staff asked immediately.
"The reserves have already moved up, and the gap has been temporarily plugged."
Hearing this, General Šturm's taut nerves relaxed slightly.
Just like the combat mages of other countries in this World War that had broken out less than a year ago, the spellcasters of the Austro-Hungarian Empire had already exposed their common failing...
That was, the rate at which ordinary combat mages improved their "firepower" was beginning to fall behind that of the various national armies.
Unlike the situation at the very beginning of the war, the participating nations had now all realized the importance of automatic firepower and were constantly striving to strengthen their conventional forces through various means.
So unless they were strategic-level figures like the high-tier mages in the Holy Britannia Empire's "Highland Mage Order," capable of directly changing the entire battlefield situation with a single high-tier spell...
Otherwise, ordinary combat mages, relying on their limited daily spell slots, could only achieve minor tactical breakthroughs. Their impact on the overall battle situation was minuscule.
General Šturm paced in front of the map, thinking for a moment, and finally made his decision.
"Ignore them."
He said decisively.
"Order the troops crossing the river to speed up! At all costs, speed up!"
He walked up to the map, his eyes burning as he stared at the Saxons' flank.
"The First Army Group is attracting all the enemy's attention and firepower on the front. Every minute of their casualties is creating an opportunity for us... We cannot waste this opportunity, nor can we let them sacrifice themselves in vain!"
The Chief of Staff spoke with some worry: "General, if the Austro-Hungarians break through our rearguard line..."
"We don't have that many troops."
General Šturm interrupted him, speaking forcefully:
"We only have this much troop strength on hand. If we draw more men to defend against the Austro-Hungarian attack, what will we use to attack the Saxons? Trying to handle both sides will only result in handling neither! This is a major taboo in military strategy!"
The Chief of Staff looked at General Šturm's resolute profile and finally nodded.
He knew very well that his old partner had made up his mind to wager everything on this massive gamble...
About 20 minutes later, General Šturm, waiting anxiously in the tent, finally received the latest news.
"General, the army group's direct-subordinate Armored Knight squadron and the cavalry division have completed crossing the river."
"Multiple pontoon bridges have also been erected. It is estimated that before 10:00 AM today, the main force of the army group will have entirely crossed the river and can launch an attack on the Saxons!"
"Excellent!"
General Šturm nodded emphatically. He looked at his Chief of Staff, and at the faces of everyone in the command post.
"Gentlemen, success or failure hinges on this one move."
"For Greater Serbia!"
Before the spring floods arrived, the flow of the Sava River was relatively gentle, suitable for river crossings.
This was also one of the reasons the Balkan Coalition Command decided to launch an offensive at this time.
And the combat engineers of the Serbian Second Army Group displayed astonishing efficiency in this endeavor.
Under General Šturm's "at all costs" order, the efficiency of the entire river-crossing operation was pushed to the absolute limit the Serbian army could achieve. The main force's crossing, originally estimated to be completed at 10:00 AM, was forcefully brought forward by twenty minutes.
At this moment, although massive supply units were still queuing up on the opposite bank, the main force of the army group that had already crossed was fully capable of launching an attack.
More importantly, before crossing the river, all units had already been resupplied with ammunition and basic combat materials.
General Pavle Jurišić Šturm, who had crossed the river along with the army group headquarters, stood at a temporary observation post on the riverbank. He watched the ongoing crossing operations on the opposite bank through his binoculars, then looked at the fully assembled, high-morale soldiers beside him.
He knew he couldn't wait any longer.
He lowered his binoculars, turned his head, and issued the order to the staff officers beside him.
"Pass my order: an all-out offensive!"
What he needed to do now was condense the strength of the entire army group into an iron fist to smash fiercely through the Saxons' soft flank defense line.
As the order was issued, the military flag of the 2nd Royal Cavalry Division, subordinate to the Second Army Group, was the first to move forward.
Excluding the supply and logistics units moving with the infantry, this cavalry division's 3,600-plus riders split into several gray torrents, surging forward to conduct reconnaissance and screening for the massive follow-up force.
Their division commander, Major General Miloš Vasić, was the most senior cavalry expert in all of Serbia, having previously served as the commandant of the Serbian Army Cavalry School.
At this moment, riding a majestic black warhorse, he looked ahead, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's.
For Miloš, this operation was absolutely not just simple reconnaissance.
What he had to do was, like an experienced surgeon, precisely locate the most fragile point on the Saxons' flank defense line... Then, using his cavalry like a scalpel, slice it open to tell the world that cavalry had not yet exited the stage of history.
Time ticked by.
The dozen or so cavalry units sent out on reconnaissance missions, like a cast net, began returning successively with intelligence.
Major General Miloš Vasić compiled all the intelligence onto a crude map, his brows gradually furrowing.
The bad news was that the Saxons' reaction speed was astonishingly fast.
They were not the completely undefended soft flank the army group headquarters speculated them to be. Instead, in an extremely short time, they had already constructed a complete defense line.
The reconnaissance cavalry found massive traces of earthworks in multiple locations they considered likely key defensive points.
Freshly turned earth, crisscrossing communication trenches, and those camouflaged machine gun emplacements all indicated the enemy had prepared long in advance.
A few reconnaissance squads that got too close were even subjected to precise enemy artillery fire...
This proved the enemy's artillery positions and observation posts were also fully deployed, forming a complete defensive system.
Of course, the intelligence brought back by the reconnaissance cavalry wasn't entirely bad news.
The good news was that, based on the scouted length of the defense line and the cavalry's rough observation of the troop density within the trenches via binoculars, the troop strength the Saxons deployed in this direction was not large. It was highly likely only a single infantry division.
For one division to defend such a long line, their troop strength would inevitably be stretched thin.
And what made Major General Miloš rejoice was that the elite cavalry under his command indeed lived up to expectations.
On the Saxons' seemingly complete defense line, they found several junctions where troop strength was sparse and defensive works were relatively crude.
These places were simply breakthrough points tailor-made for cavalry charges.
Or rather, it was practically an invitation for him to launch a charge.
"Opportunity!"
A wave of excitement surged in Major General Miloš's heart, but he wasn't blinded by this sudden good news.
He knew very well that cavalry alone could not gnaw down an infantry position supported by artillery and machine guns.
Suppressing the urge to immediately launch an all-out charge, Major General Miloš ordered his reconnaissance cavalry to maintain surveillance of the enemy positions, closely monitoring any changes.
Meanwhile, he himself took a few bodyguards, turned his horse, and galloped towards the rapidly advancing Fourth Corps in the rear.
When Major General Miloš found the advancing Fourth Corps, the corps commander, General Milutin Milutinović, was raging furiously over the troops' marching speed.
"Are you turtles? Walking so slowly! The Saxons' asses are right in front of us. Do you plan to wait until they finish building a toilet before charging up?!"
But this historically rather aggressive general, upon hearing the intelligence brought back by Major General Miloš, displayed undisguised excitement on his face.
"The strength of one division? And there are such huge loopholes in their defense line?"
He walked to the marching map hastily unrolled by the staff officers, his gaze sweeping back and forth over it.
"General Miloš, you mean we can launch an attack immediately?"
"Yes, General."
Major General Miloš answered affirmatively:
"The battlefield width is limited. Even if we wait for the main force of the army group to catch up completely, the ones launching the attack first will inevitably be your Fourth... We cannot give the Saxons the opportunity to continue fortifying their defense line!"
General Milutin slammed a fist heavily on the map table.
"Well said! That's exactly what we'll do!"
He immediately made the decision to use the superior troop strength of his two divisions to launch a fierce attack on the Saxons' flank defense line right away. To ensure success in one strike, he even proactively made a request to Major General Miloš.
"General Miloš, I need your cavalry division to coordinate with our attack! When our infantry launches a frontal assault, you tear open their defense line from those weak points!"
"With the greatest of pleasure!" Major General Miloš agreed without hesitation.
Immediately following, General Milutin sent someone to find the army group's direct-subordinate Armored Knight squadron, which was also force-marching.
Those steel giants, five or six meters tall, were advancing on the muddy road with heavy steps.
To enter combat as quickly as possible, they abandoned their 10-20 km/h transport vehicles and maneuvered entirely under their own bipedal walking mechanisms, even though every step consumed precious engine hours...
The squadron commander of the army group's direct-subordinate Armored Knight squadron was an experienced veteran knight.
He had destroyed three enemy Armored Knights during the Second Balkan War and was the undisputed ace among all Serbian Armored Knight pilots.
He wasn't influenced by General Milutinović's impatient and hurried attitude; instead, he calmly asked Major General Miloš a critical question.
"General, during your unit's reconnaissance, did you find any traces of Saxon Armored Knights?"
"No... none of the returned intelligence mentioned enemy Armored Knights."
Major General Miloš shook his head and continued:
"I speculate they should all have been deployed to the frontal battlefield to deal with our First Army Group."
This speculation was highly reasonable. After all, the First Army Group had suffered heavy casualties in the past two days' battles, highly likely having encountered a massed charge by the Saxons' "Teutonic Knights."
Hearing this, the Serbian Armored Knight squadron commander nodded, no longer harboring any doubts.
The commanders of the three units quickly reached an agreement.
The 5th Division subordinate to the Fourth Corps would act as the main assault force, with the 6th Division as the reserve.
The ten "Iris Mark II, Modified" units of the army group's direct-subordinate Armored Knight squadron would act as the spearhead of the attack, tearing open the enemy defense line at the front. And the 2nd Royal Cavalry Division would maneuver and draw the enemy's attention, then attempt to charge through the scouted gaps to strike the enemy's junctions or important units further in the rear.
After sending a brief combat plan telegram to the army group headquarters, General Milutin directly ordered the entire army to begin operations. His Chief of Staff reminded him somewhat uneasily: "General, aren't we waiting for a reply from the headquarters?"
General Milutin waved his hand, his tone full of unquestionable confidence.
"The battlefield situation changes rapidly, and opportunities are fleeting! Waiting for a telegram back and forth would take over an hour! If fighting wars always required waiting for headquarters' replies, we would never catch any combat opportunities!"
Hearing this, the Chief of Staff couldn't say anything more.
He knew that this corps commander, known for his decisiveness, had already placed all his chips on this surprise attack.