Holy Roman Empire - Chapter 485

Chapter 485: Chapter 58, Christmas
 

Vienna, clad in its silvery garb, welcomed the annual Christmas festival once again. The severe cold did not dispel everyone’s enthusiasm, as the festive atmosphere had already filled Vienna.

In shop windows, a dazzling array of Christmas gifts were displayed; around the Gothic fountain at the center of the square, colorful game tents for the Christmas market had been erected.

Street performers had also started their shows, filling the air with music that was warm, sweet, sorrowful, and melancholic, along with pleasing and graceful dances.

The charm of an international metropolis was undeniable, and Vienna, the capital of art, was undoubtedly so. Here, one could appreciate music from Europe with distinct characteristics, dances and magic of various styles.

Franz had still not received any good news from South Africa, and it seemed that the war could not end before Christmas. Without surprise, all this was within Franz’s expectations.

Encountering a slight setback was also a good thing, as it could make people more composed. In these years, Austria’s expansion had gone too smoothly, making many people arrogant.

If it weren’t for their hubris, they would not have claimed to capture Cape Town before Christmas. Now that they had failed, it was the right time to tighten the reins of the Austrian carriage.

The great era of colonial expansion was over, leaving only some insignificant remnants. What came next was to develop oneself and transform the spoils of war into one’s own strength.

There were no successful examples to follow in this regard; none of the great colonial empires from the original timeline had passed this test. Without having transformed their gains into their own strength, World War broke out.

And then there was no “after that.” The World War greatly diminished their power, new competitors arose, and they lost their last chance.

The British’s Empire Federation plan, the French’s provincial strategy—they all came too late and failed under the external interference of the U.S. and the Soviet.

The vexing issues temporarily left Franz’s mind, for Christmas was still to be celebrated. This day was the World Day of Peace; no European country would cause trouble at this time.

The ongoing Anglo-Boer war had also ceased, allowing both sides to fully enjoy this special festival without worrying about sudden attacks from the enemy.

The Christmas gifts that Franz had prepared were already distributed to every soldier’s hands; though they were just some ordinary candies, everyone was very happy.

Rudimentary Santa Clauses had appeared in the military camps, hung with cards. This could be considered a benefit of compulsory education; the soldiers could write their Christmas wishes on their own.

The makeshift chapel had also opened for the day, and the military priests became busy.

Viscount Feckney sighed helplessly; while the soldiers celebrated the holiday, the officers’ faces were filled with worry.

The war had progressed to this point, yet victory was still far out of reach. The home government had given its final response: if Cape Town could not be taken by the deadline, then a ceasefire would be called.

You dig your own grave, you fill it. The original plan was to end the war within half a year; now, even after extending it to a year, if the war still couldn’t be ended, there was no need to continue.

If it wasn’t for the cannon fodder army used in the later stages of siege warfare, the morale of the troops would have probably collapsed by now.

Even so, a war-weariness had developed among the soldiers. Perhaps it was due to pride, or maybe cultural traditions, but these feelings were not outwardly shown.

However, the officers had taken notice. To watch blood and flesh fly every day and not mentally collapse was a sign of inner strength.

At this time, it was up to the officers to act as psychologists, soothing everyone’s uneasy emotions. Christmas was an excellent tonic, relaxing tight nerves and greatly beneficial in alleviating mental stress.

Compared to the disheartened Viscount Feckney, Governor Delf in the city truly felt like the days were dragging by. Suffering consecutive defeats, the morale in Cape Town had hit rock bottom.

The military supplies were still somewhat guaranteed, but the large number of war refugees were in a dire situation. Having lost their livelihoods, they simply couldn’t afford the soaring food prices and had to rely on government relief.

The Cape Town Colonial Government wasn’t wealthy either. After being skimmed by bureaucrats at every level, the distributed supplies could barely fend off starvation. Even at Christmas, there was only an additional 300 grams of fish per portion.

This was caught by the fishermen from the ocean, now the main source of meat in Cape Town. Beef and lamb transported from across the oceans were priced exorbitantly, unaffordable for ordinary people.

“The Boer Republican Army” had not intercepted refugees entering the city and even intentionally guided the surrounding British to converge on Cape Town. Now, from Cape Town to the Cape of Good Hope, the area was swarmed with refugees.

If the military were included, the population in this small area had already surpassed four hundred thousand. If it weren’t for Governor Delf’s decisive orders to expel the blacks and the mixed races, the number would have been even higher.

More people didn’t necessarily mean more power, but more people definitely meant more consumption. To sustain such a population, at least 1,500 tons of living supplies were needed daily.

Along with various strategic supplies, the Cape Town Colony needed at least 3,000 tons of supplies from outside every day to meet the basic needs.

The actual demand was much higher. The materials for constructing defensive fortifications alone amounted to an astronomical number.

If the war continued, Cape Town would become the city with the densest concentration of bunkers and fortresses in the world.

Even more tragic was the water shortage in Cape Town; in later years, it would become the world’s city with the most severe water crisis, and the present was no exception.

The external supply of tap water had been cut off by the enemy long ago, and they could only figure out solutions within the small area between Cape Town and the Cape of Good Hope.

The largest source of fresh water was the rainwater from the sky. Groundwater was simply out of the question, or else why bother with seawater desalination?

You can’t do without water, and now the British could only buy water from the Portuguese. If a few thousand tons of water didn’t arrive one day, a crisis would immediately erupt.

In order to save water, seawater was now used for constructing fortifications. Governor Delf could no longer worry about the consequences, as long as it was adequate for the moment.

It could be said that Cape Town now lacked everything except for population. Water, food, fuel, building materials… there was not a single item that could be self-supplied locally.

Even for Britain, supplying so many materials was proving to be a bit of a strain.

To alleviate the pressure on supplies, each supply ship that came would take away a shipload of refugees.

With the population reduced, what to do about the future development of Cape Town was already too much to worry about now.

By Christmas Eve, the local population had successfully dropped by one hundred and twenty thousand, easing the pressure on supplies. Otherwise, even the little bit of fish available might not have been possible to provide.

This was still summer, and rainfall was relatively abundant, so there was no need for fuel for heating. If it were winter, the pressure on supplies would be even greater.

Additionally, factoring in the influence of the monsoons, during winter it was not uncommon to see murderous waves over ten meters high, and in the months of July, August, and September, the Cape of Good Hope shipping route was almost unnavigable.

Even now, the British had paid a hefty price to transport supplies, with almost two percent of the ships being lost en route.

There was no helping it; the wind sailing wooden ships of the time had very limited resistance to high winds, natural disasters were not so easily withstood, and there were occasional man-made disasters as well.

Lately, the Royal Navy had struck out multiple times to annihilate pirates, but there were still short-sighted pirates who flocked to the area.

Sometimes Governor Delf wanted to pry open the pirates’ skulls to see what was inside, wondering why they didn’t even bother to scout ahead and knew to rob ships carrying fresh water and stone.

High in his position, he did not know the hardships of the pirates. Gathering intelligence wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Aside from a few pirate groups that could manage it, most pirates robbed any merchant ship they encountered.

Since learning that the next reinforcements were the Indian Colonial Army, Governor Delf had prepared to go home to avoid the limelight. As for counter-attacking the Boer to redeem himself, he wasn’t so bold.

Like most Britons, Governor Delf looked down on the Indian Colonial Army. In his eyes, the combat effectiveness of this army was about the same as the black cannon fodder outside.

The only value was using cannon fodder against cannon fodder, which could reduce casualties among the young men. The troops in the Cape Town area needed rest and recuperation; without it, this army would be wasted.

One could refer specifically to the Near East War—back then, the British Army performed relatively well. However, due to untimely rear supply and the lack of effective rest and recovery, by the end of the war, most of the British soldiers who had fought were spent.

This “spent” was not physical, but mental exhaustion. Mainly manifested as war-weariness, battle-fear, and anti-war sentiment, especially British soldiers who had mixed with the Italians, brought back a bunch of bad habits.

The subsequent defeat in the Persian War, the prolonged inability to make achievements in suppressing the Indian rebellion, and the labored performance in the expedition to Ethiopia all proved a decline in the British Army’s fighting strength.

The South African War is even less worth mentioning. The achievements won were so poor Governor Delf was embarrassed to speak of them.

On one hand, colonial troops had been pampered and spoiled, and could not even ensure the most basic training; on the other hand, the main army’s fighting strength had declined, with many tactics still stuck in the era of muzzle-loading rifles.

If neither the colonial military nor the regular army could fight, it was not surprising to fail on the battlefield.

Otherwise, in the original timeline, it would not have resulted in the joke of hundreds of thousands of people besieging the Boer Republic and only achieving victory after three years.

The more Governor Delf knew, the greater his pressure became. The seemingly glorious British Empire was already beginning to decay from within.

In such a state, would Britain be able to meet the challenge of France and Austria? Deep inside, Delf was beginning to have doubts.

The failure of this war had been a severe blow to both his body and spirit, leaving him without the arrogance of the past.

Night had deepened, and the sounds of merriment outside had ended. Governor Delf, lost in thought, let his mind wander further and further.

From initially worrying about the war in Cape Town, to then fretting about his own personal future, and later, worrying about the future of Britain.

On this Christmas night, Delf did not sleep a wink.

…