On February 26th, thousands of white parachutes blossomed in the skies over Budapest, the capital of Hungary. Members of the Hungarian Communist Party, who had been providing radio navigation for the Chinese Air Force, immediately relayed the news to their special task forces upon seeing the dandelion-like specks.

The commander of one such task force, positioned near the Presidential Palace, received the call and immediately ordered his comrades: "Move out!"

The members of the task force unfurled their sickle-and-hammer flags and began to assemble across the square from the Presidential Palace. On the other side of the square, the Presidential Guard watched the rapid gathering under the red banners. "Don't they think this is a waste of time?" some of them whispered anxiously.

A captain of the Guard walked over to them, thrusting a pre-prepared red flag into their hands. "Mind your own business," he reminded them. "We’re going to have a proper handover. Let’s not have any 'accidental' injuries."

Hungary’s economy had been poor for years, providing a fertile ground for the Fascists to take power. Under Nazi pressure, these elements had conducted "cleansings" of the Hungarian Communists and other leftists. While much of it was for show, the Hungarian nationalists truly loathed many leftist views, and the operations had seen their share of personal vendettas settled under the guise of official business.

Now that the Communists were about to take power again, the nationalists were desperate to avoid giving the leftists any pretext for revenge. They were being exceedingly cautious in their words and deeds.

Fortunately, it was not the Hungarian Communists' first time in power, and they had learned from their past failures. The handover proceeded with remarkable smoothness. When they burst into the President’s office, the pro-Nazi President was already prepared for arrest. Everything proceeded in orderly accordance with the Communist Party's directives.

Meanwhile, in Bucharest, the capital of Romania—the nation most loathed by Hungary—the Romanian President was shouting at his Foreign Minister: "Why has there been no word from China? How exactly did you contact them?"

As the war progressed, the nations of Eastern Europe knew that Germany was a lost cause. Bulgaria was China’s gateway into the region, and it was inevitably going to be resolved by them. For the past twenty years, Hungarians had been singing: "We come from Asia; we are cousins with China."

Romania, the only nation in the world with "Rome" in its name, could trace its origins back two thousand years to Roman military control. Yet the modern Romanians were not descendants of the Romans, whereas the Hungarians were indeed of Eastern descent and could establish good relations with China. Romania sought to appeal to Rome, but Rome was nowhere to be found.

Instead, the army of Russia—the self-proclaimed "Third Rome"—was hammering at Romania’s gates, attempting to turn the country into a Soviet satellite.

The Romanian Foreign Minister, having little left to fear, spoke his mind: "I have not been authorized to negotiate any change to Romania's borders."

The President was left speechless. During the Roman Empire, the ancestors of the Hungarians had conquered the Pannonian Basin, the so-called Hungarian Plain. This plain was surrounded by mountains, and while Hungary had been invaded by various powers over the centuries, it had largely held onto this territory.

The Carpathian Mountains in the east were traditional Hungarian territory. During the First World War, Hungary and Austria had been part of the Dual Monarchy of Austria-Hungary. Hungary had not wished to participate and had not truly supported the war effort. They had assumed that after the war, when the monarchy dissolved, they would go their separate ways. They never expected that at the Paris Peace Conference, Romania would demand the Carpathians—a request the Allies granted. Thus, Romania, previously a lowland nation, seized the mountains in one stroke. From that moment on, Hungary and Romania had been mortal enemies.

Now, Hungary was greeting the Chinese military with such fervor because they clearly wanted the Carpathians back. Even if the Romanian President knew he couldn't stop it, as President, he simply could not bring himself to cede territory to China for peace.

Seeing that the President lacked the resolve to "sever the limb to save the body," the Foreign Minister rose to leave. "I still have to contact the Chinese. Farewell."

He ignored the President's sallow complexion and walked out. Once outside, he hurried back to his own office, where a Soviet representative was already waiting.

"Will the Soviet Union agree to my demands?" the Foreign Minister asked immediately.

The Soviet representative, still hoping to drive a hard bargain, replied, "We must first determine if you can fulfill your promises."

The Foreign Minister sneered. "If the Romanian army holds for just three more days, Chinese paratroopers will likely land on the front lines. I am very curious to see if the Red Army has the courage to attack the Chinese flag when it rises over the Romanian positions."

In the arena of verbal sparring, Foreign Ministers feared no one. Especially now, with Romania destined to be occupied by either China or the USSR, the Minister had cast aside all decorum.

The Soviet representative was left embarrassed by the remark. He wanted to continue threatening the Minister, but no longer dared. This was the inevitable result of acting alone without coordinating with China. The Soviet Union did not respect China, and thus could not expect respect in return.

Finally, the representative adopted a polite tone. "We will certainly abide by the agreement."

"Are the documents ready?" the Minister asked sharply. He demanded guarantees for the safety of himself and his family, as well as their property and status. He required these guarantees in writing from the Soviet government.

In truth, even if the USSR were to break its word, a former Romanian Foreign Minister would have little recourse. But with the documents in hand, any Soviet breach of faith could be used to damage their international credit. Thus, the USSR had little incentive to break the promise.

The Soviet representative reluctantly produced the files. After carefully comparing the seals and confirming their authenticity, the Minister tucked the documents away and began contacting the Romanian military command.

One reason Romania had not turned earlier was the presence of over a hundred thousand German troops in the country. This German force was currently resisting the Soviet offensive, utilizing the terrain to successfully halt the Red Army's advance.

Had it not been for Hungary’s rush to switch sides, the Romanian leadership would have preferred to wait. Although German defeat was inevitable, Romania truly did not wish to be occupied by the Soviets.

China was ten thousand miles away; its occupation would be temporary, and Romania believed the Chinese would soon withdraw. The Soviet Union was a neighbor; an occupation by them might last indefinitely.

Meanwhile, the offensive of the Soviet Army Group South intensified. After several days of combat, the Red Army had determined the scale and resolve of the German forces, as well as their core defensive positions.

Fighting one against five is difficult; fighting five against one is much easier. The Red Army had massed an enormous amount of artillery. Even with the Germans utilizing the terrain, the Soviets were not worried.

With the order given, the Red Army commenced a two-hour fire preparation. Bombers dropped their loads from above, while 220mm heavy guns and 150mm pieces reached a density of one gun for every three meters of the front. As a deluge of shells fell like rain, the German lines were instantly engulfed in fire.

The intensity of the bombardment was such that German officers who had served in the First World War felt as if they had been transported back twenty years. A sense of terror and despair welled up within them.

The Red Army did not fear death, especially when fighting the Germans. During the invasion of 1942, the Nazi-indoctrinated Wehrmacht had carried out horrific massacres in the Soviet Union. Combined with the deaths of their families and comrades, hatred was deeply etched into the souls of the Red Army soldiers.

When the bombardment ended, the Red Army did not believe the artillery alone could resolve the Germans. They began their charge.

The German defensive positions had been under preparation for over a year. Though heavily damaged by the Soviet artillery, they had not entirely collapsed. Germans who had not been killed or concussed by the blasts crawled from their tunnels and bunkers, entering their shattered trenches to defend.

Despite the war, the Germans—while acknowledging the Red Army's ferocity—did not hold them in high regard. In their view, the Red Army, possessing total superiority, would be arrogant and incautious in its assault.

Sure enough, as the Red Army surged forward in mass formations, German machine gunners opened fire, cutting down some of the attackers.

However, instead of panicking, the Red Army soldiers immediately took cover. Mortar teams following the infantry began to hammer the machine gun nests. In the preceding fire preparation, the German artillery positions had been virtually annihilated. While machine gun nests held an advantage against infantry, they were vulnerable to mortars. They were soon silenced.

Had the German artillery been intact, the mortar positions would have been countered immediately. But with the machine guns gone and no artillery support, the Red Army jumped from their cover and continued the advance. Before long, it was a battle of bayonets.

That the Germans were still willing to engage in bayonet combat proved they remained one of the world's elite forces. As Napoleon once remarked, "Germans are hatched from shells." But no matter how fierce, they were still mortal men. Faced with overwhelming numbers and an enemy equipped with the AK-47 assault rifle—ideal for close combat—the Germans were soon defeated.

After a day of bitter fighting, the Red Army seized several key strongpoints on the line.

Meanwhile, in Poland, the fire preparation by Soviet Army Group Center dealt a similar blow to the Germans, driving them from the Lviv line.

The man currently commanding the Polish campaign was Acting Chief of Staff von Manstein. His expression remained unchanged despite the heavy blow. Even if the Soviet fire preparation had greatly exceeded expectations, Manstein was calculating the rate at which such a scale of bombardment would consume their logistics.

He quickly reached a decision: withdraw slightly, then launch a counter-attack to clash with the Soviet mobile forces.

On the 27th, to the west of Lviv, German and Soviet armored units clashed. Germany committed approximately 500 tanks, half Panthers and half Tigers. Across from them were solid ranks of T-34/85s.

The German panzers dealt a heavy blow to their Soviet counterparts. Despite the massive bombing of their homeland, the German tank crews remained formidable. While the Soviet crews were no longer the novices of 1942, the Germans had leapt far ahead of their 1943 equipment levels.

By noon on the 27th, the Germans had lost 104 tanks, while the Red Army had lost 308. But just as the Soviets were suffering these frontal losses, other Soviet armored units began to outflank the German wings. Knowing better than to get bogged down, the Germans withdrew.

Over the next four days, Manstein commanded the German forces almost without sleep. The Red Army faced constant counter-attacks—sharp, stinging blows that nonetheless gave the Soviets the chance for direct engagement.

The Red Army did not fear fighting the Germans. With the German mainland under siege, the Wehrmacht would only grow weaker with every engagement.

By March 3rd, the Red Army had advanced another sixty kilometers. Then, German jet fighters suddenly appeared in mass over the combat zone, suppressing the Soviet MiG-15s in short order.

Some MiG-15s had been fitted with new engines, but the majority had not. Consequently, the MiG-15’s combat effectiveness could not match that of the constantly upgraded German jets.

Manstein’s eyes were bloodshot from days of continuous command. He had to analyze every situation with minute care. He trusted Model's assessment: "The enemy commander [Red Army] displays considerable skill in planning a campaign, but once the offensive is frustrated, he loses his reason and launches frantic, futile assaults on the line. While he has improved, he clearly cannot seize a favorable situation to expand his gains. The Russians worship brute force; in adversity, they lose their capacity for logical thought and cannot adapt."

This Soviet offensive followed the same pattern. On the map, it was a standard "arrowhead" formation—narrow at the front, wide at the rear. This model allowed for sustained pressure.

But that was the view of an amateur. To a tactical master like Manstein, the situation was vastly different. Different Soviet units had suffered varying degrees of damage, significantly weakening the sustained combat capacity of the rear units.

Manstein had prepared an encirclement, but before closing the trap, he allowed the Red Army to feel they were advancing in an orderly fashion. Along the way, they fought various battles, constantly pushing back the resisting Germans.

Model believed that while the Red Army possessed combat power, their understanding of military science was still severely lacking. They were merely "fighting a war," having not yet grasped the "art of war" itself.

Manstein agreed with Model, but his mind momentarily drifted. He thought of He Rui, the man who was about to defeat Germany. He Rui was a universally acknowledged military genius, a view Manstein shared after studying his campaigns.

However, Manstein was certain that He Rui was a great *strategist*—a man who decided the outcome of a war before it even began. As a fellow military man, Manstein couldn't help but wonder about He Rui's *tactical* skill.

But He Rui had been in supreme command since the age of twenty-five and had been Chairman of the Northeast Government at twenty-six. Since then, he had not handled tactical duties. China's tactical victories came from the universal deployment of advanced equipment that other nations were still testing. While everyone else was fumbling in the dark, China’s new equipment and tactics were dominant across the board.

By the time other nations realized China had chosen the correct equipment path, the Chinese army, accustomed to their superior gear, simply rolled over their enemies with new tactics based on that equipment.

Thus, Manstein could not be certain if He Rui counted as a top-tier tactician. He was inclined to believe he was—otherwise he couldn't have developed such advanced tactical equipment—but there were simply no actual examples of He Rui commanding at the tactical level.

In the current campaign, Manstein viewed the Soviet operational level as mediocre, but he wondered what the result would be if he were facing He Rui instead.

Ever the professional, Manstein realized his mental state was wavering and chose to rest. After two hours of sleep, he was awakened by an orderly. Feeling refreshed, he looked at the maps again.

As expected, the Soviet armored vanguard had resumed the offensive. The infantry on the wings were attempting to widen the front. This was the Red Army's new "Wide Front, Great Depth" operational theory.

A wide front ensured that German flanking maneuvers would be ineffective, while great depth allowed them to strike at German logistics. From the perspective of learning from experience, the Soviet logic was sound.

However, the Red Army had underestimated Heydrich’s management of Poland. Heydrich had prepared vast stockpiles and organized a transport system within the country. Manstein was now utilizing these resources, turning Poland into a massive killing field.

At least for now, the Red Army’s strategy was inferior to He Rui’s. He Rui was a strategist; his advances were not primarily aimed at combat, but at securing strategic points.

If He Rui were in command of the current Red Army, the offensive would likely have halted long ago. He would have advanced steadily, prioritizing the restoration of administrative control over the occupied areas.

That was what Manstein had feared most when drafting his plan. His current operation relied on utilizing the resources within Poland; if those supply points and transport links were destroyed, even Manstein would be powerless.

Furthermore, even if he won this counter-attack, Manstein lacked the strength to hold Poland indefinitely. The reason for the fight was to deal the Red Army a heavy blow so the main German force could withdraw to the fatherland for its defense. Another reason was pride—the Wehrmacht could not allow itself to flee ignominiously under Soviet pressure.

Politically, a crushing blow to the Soviets would be a powerful asset in any future Sino-German negotiations. Even in such dire straits, if the Wehrmacht could still devastate the Red Army, China might be willing to utilize Germany to continue suppressing the Soviets and keep them pinned in the northern tundras.

On March 4th, Manstein ordered the counter-attack. The Germans struck the Soviet rear units with fury, easily routing two Soviet infantry corps on the left and right. At the front, the Soviet armored vanguard was suddenly met with a ferocious German counter-thrust.

By March 5th, the situation had taken a sharp turn for the worse. The Soviet armor at the front was suffering heavy losses. To turn the tide, they would have to pull up armored reserves from the rear, but doing so would likely cause the infantry in the back to collapse.

The Soviet General Staff reacted quickly this time. Using their electronic computers, they ran numerous calculations and concluded that if they continued the head-on clash with the Germans, their probability of victory was only 42%.

Zhukov demanded they fight on and seek a decisive battle. But Chuikov and others felt something was wrong; they advocated for a retreat.

Zhukov was furious. "War is ever-changing!" he shouted. "Are we really going to leave victory or defeat to a computer manipulated by others?"

Chuikov understood Zhukov’s point, but he had personally overseen the programming of those computers. The war models had been set by a large group of generals, including himself—and even Zhukov had contributed many ideas. These concepts had been processed by mathematicians into equations. These were equations built on vast amounts of blood and experience, not just cold machine logic.

In Chuikov’s view, this was a carefully prepared German counter-attack. If the Red Army withdrew now, the Germans would have no way to touch them.

As Chuikov prepared to argue further, Zhukov barked, "Let the General Secretary decide!"