The train arrived early in the morning.
Skoropadskyi stepped onto the platform with his adjutant and silently observed the station for several seconds.
Military transport occupied several railway lines.
Platforms were loaded with ammunition crates, sacks of oats, spare saddles, and engineering equipment.
Artillery shells were being unloaded on a nearby track.
Skoropadskyi immediately noticed the markings.
Three-inch shells.
Recently produced.
That was a good sign.
But the quantity looked insufficient.
A staff carriage had already arrived at the station.
The colonel waiting for him quickly approached.
—"Your Excellency."
—"Good morning."
They shook hands.
—"How are things?"
The colonel visibly tensed.
—"In short—not as well as the reports suggest."
Skoropadskyi smiled faintly.
—"That already sounds honest."
During the ride to headquarters, the colonel began his report.
The division consisted of roughly twelve thousand men.
Four cavalry regiments.
A horse artillery brigade.
An engineering company.
Reconnaissance detachments.
On paper, it looked respectable.
The problems appeared in the details.
—"A shortage of artillery crews."
—"How much?"
—"Approximately eighteen percent below authorized strength."
Skoropadskyi immediately asked another question.
—"Horses?"
—"Roughly nine percent below requirement."
—"Reserve horses?"
—"Even worse."
The colonel turned another page.
—"The main problem is officers of the old school."
—"Explain."
The colonel cleared his throat.
—"Some regimental commanders still believe in mass cavalry charges."
Skoropadskyi remained silent for several seconds.
—"After the Russo-Japanese War and the Balkans?"
—"Yes."
The colonel looked uncomfortable.
—"They believe a European war will be far more mobile."
Skoropadskyi looked out the carriage window.
—"Machine guns do not care about generals' opinions."
The colonel allowed himself a brief smile.
When they arrived at divisional headquarters, several officers were already waiting.
The first to step forward was Mykhailo Omelianovych-Pavlenko.
—"Your Excellency."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
—"Good to see you."
They had served near each other before.
Omelianovych-Pavlenko looked exactly as Skoropadskyi remembered.
Calm.
Reserved.
Highly professional.
The next officer was Petro Bolbochan.
Younger.
Far more energetic.
His gaze was direct.
Too direct for most staff officers.
—"I am honored to serve under your command."
Skoropadskyi studied him for several seconds.
—"I have read your evaluations."
Bolbochan remained calm.
—"I hope they were favorable."
—"Not always convenient for your superiors."
A faint smile appeared on Bolbochan's face.
—"Convenience sometimes interferes with results."
Omelianovych-Pavlenko glanced at him briefly.
Skoropadskyi noticed.
The ambition was obvious.
But so was the willingness to speak honestly.
That could become either a problem—
or a major advantage.
After introductions, they moved to the maps.
The table showed their potential deployment zone.
Western direction.
Railways.
Bridges.
Supply hubs.
Skoropadskyi carefully studied the map.
—"How long would full mobilization require?"
One staff officer answered.
—"Officially five days."
—"Realistically?"
The room became quiet.
Bolbochan answered first.
—"Seven or eight."
Several senior officers frowned.
Skoropadskyi looked at him.
—"Why?"
—"Railway junctions are overloaded."
He pointed at the map.
—"If infantry, artillery, and reservists begin moving at the same time, the entire schedule collapses."
One senior colonel said disapprovingly:
—"That is overly pessimistic."
Bolbochan answered calmly.
—"It is a railway capacity calculation."
Skoropadskyi looked at the numbers.
Several seconds later, he nodded.
—"He is correct."
The room became even quieter.
Skoropadskyi pointed at the western sector.
—"How many machine guns does this division possess?"
The answer came quickly.
—"Thirty-two."
Skoropadskyi frowned.
—"For twelve thousand men?"
—"Yes."
Everyone fell silent.
He slowly closed the folder.
—"Good."
The officers exchanged nervous glances.
—"From this moment forward, we begin a complete review of the division."
He looked at each of them.
—"Horses, artillery, ammunition, communications, and railway logistics."
His voice became harder.
—"If Europe explodes, we will not have time to correct mistakes after the war begins."
The room fell completely silent.
No one argued anymore.
Two days later field inspections began.
They started with one of the oldest cavalry regiments in the division.
Nearly twelve hundred cavalrymen participated in the exercise.
Six squadrons.
A horse artillery battery.
A reconnaissance detachment.
Observers were positioned on nearby hills.
According to the exercise scenario, the regiment was supposed to scout the enemy's flank, locate artillery positions, and withdraw under the protection of its own horse artillery.
Training machine gun crews were positioned on the opposing hill.
Mock infantry positions were marked with flags and trenches.
Skoropadskyi watched through binoculars.
At first everything went correctly.
Forward scouts moved carefully.
Reconnaissance work was disciplined.
Then the situation changed.
The regimental commander issued a new order.
Buglers sounded the signal to attack.
The squadrons began reorganizing.
Hundreds of cavalrymen formed dense lines.
—"What is he doing?" one younger staff officer asked quietly.
No one answered.
Seconds later the cavalry advanced.
First at a trot.
Then at a gallop.
Open ground.
A direct charge toward machine gun positions.
Skoropadskyi silently watched through his binoculars.
In a real battle, men would begin falling at one and a half kilometers.
At eight hundred meters artillery would join the fight.
At four hundred machine guns would tear apart the formation.
He lowered his binoculars sharply.
—"Stop the exercise."
Signal flags immediately rose.
Buglers sounded the order.
The regimental commander rode over minutes later.
He looked irritated.
—"Your Excellency, the attack was developing successfully."
Skoropadskyi looked at him calmly.
—"Successfully against whom?"
The colonel frowned.
—"Against the simulated enemy."
—"The simulated enemy possessed machine guns, fortified infantry, and artillery."
The colonel straightened himself.
—"The speed of cavalry has always compensated for infantry firepower."
Skoropadskyi stared at him.
—"In Manchuria?"
The colonel remained silent.
Skoropadskyi continued.
—"In Bulgaria?"
The colonel answered coldly.
—"Russian cavalry possesses traditions that should not be destroyed because of temporary fashionable theories."
Several senior officers silently supported him.
Skoropadskyi answered calmly.
—"Machine guns are not a fashionable theory."
He pointed toward the field.
—"You just destroyed half your regiment in ten minutes."
The colonel replied sharply.
—"Offensive spirit cannot be replaced by caution."
Skoropadskyi stepped closer.
—"And meaningless death cannot be called courage."
The colonel said nothing else.
His expression said enough.
That evening Skoropadskyi submitted an official report.
Several days later approval arrived.
The colonel was transferred into reserve.
His command was given to Mykhailo Omelianovych-Pavlenko.
When he received the promotion to colonel, he remained silent for several seconds.
—"That was unexpected."
Skoropadskyi answered calmly.
—"No."
He looked at the map.
—"The next war will be unexpected."
Several days later another officer arrived at headquarters.
His train had been delayed nearly an entire day.
When the adjutant announced his arrival, Skoropadskyi was reviewing supply reports.
—"Who?"
—"Staff Captain Marko Bezruchko."
Skoropadskyi placed the documents aside.
—"Finally."
Minutes later Bezruchko entered the office.
The young officer looked tired from travel but carried himself confidently.
—"Your Excellency."
—"You were delayed."
Bezruchko allowed himself a slight smile.
—"The War Ministry decided my documents should travel slower than trains."
Skoropadskyi smiled.
—"Bureaucracy remains stable even when Europe does not."
Bezruchko handed over his papers.
—"The transfer is officially complete."
Skoropadskyi quickly reviewed them.
Strong academy results.
Excellent staff training.
Outstanding recommendations.
He looked at the officer.
—"Why did you accept?"
Bezruchko answered immediately.
—"Because too many men in this army are preparing for the previous war."
The room became quiet.
Skoropadskyi slowly nodded.
—"A good answer."
That evening the first full staff meeting took place.
Present were:
Petro Bolbochan
Mykhailo Omelianovych-Pavlenko
Marko Bezruchko
and several senior officers.
New reports covered the table.
Bezruchko spoke first.
—"The primary issue is communications."
He pointed at the map.
—"During rapid movement, contact between regiments can disappear for six to eight hours."
Skoropadskyi immediately asked:
—"Solution?"
—"Additional mobile telegraph teams."
Bolbochan added:
—"And more motorcycle couriers."
One senior officer frowned.
—"Cavalry does not need motorcycles."
Bolbochan looked at him calmly.
—"War does not care what we prefer."
Skoropadskyi barely hid a smile.
Then Omelianovych-Pavlenko moved to artillery.
—"Ammunition reserves are fourteen percent below standard."
He opened another report.
—"In a major campaign, that will not last long."
—"How long?"
—"Approximately two weeks during heavy combat."
Everyone fell silent.
Bezruchko added:
—"Railways will not replenish losses quickly enough."
Skoropadskyi looked at the western border.
Several seconds later he spoke.
—"Everyone is preparing for a short war."
He looked at his officers.
—"I want this division prepared for a long one."
He suddenly closed the folder.
—"Good."
The officers exchanged glances.
—"Let us imagine a situation."
He approached the map.
—"Mobilization began three days ago."
His finger moved toward the western border.
—"Our division is advancing west. The infantry corps on our right is delayed by one day. Railway traffic is overloaded. Reconnaissance reports enemy cavalry on our flank."
He looked at his officers.
—"Your actions."
One senior officer answered first.
—"A full cavalry attack."
Skoropadskyi said nothing.
Bolbochan spoke next.
—"Reconnaissance first."
He pointed at the map.
—"If the enemy is stronger, we must preserve mobility."
Bezruchko added:
—"And we must immediately restore communication with the infantry corps. If the right flank falls behind, we open a gap."
Omelianovych-Pavlenko continued calmly.
—"Horse artillery takes the high ground. Main forces remain in reserve until enemy numbers are confirmed."
The room became quiet.
Skoropadskyi studied the map for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
—"That is how modern cavalry must think."
He looked at the older officers.
—"Reconnaissance, mobility, and coordination."
His voice hardened.
—"Not beautiful charges for textbooks from the previous century."
No one argued anymore.
Late that night the meeting ended.
Officers began leaving.
Bolbochan remained near the map.
—"Do you truly believe war is close?"
Skoropadskyi looked west.
—"I believe Europe behaves like a man walking on thin ice while convincing himself the cracks are only noise."
Bezruchko quietly said:
—"Then we do not have much time."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
—"That is why we cannot afford old mistakes."
Night slowly settled outside headquarters.
And Europe had very little peace left.