The offensive continued.
But no longer the way it had in the first days.
The columns still moved forward, taking roads, passes, and small settlements, yet now every kilometer had to be forced open.
The enemy no longer disappeared after the first shots.
They began to hold their positions.
The morning was gray and cold.
Low clouds hung above the hills, covering the distant slopes. After the night rain, the road had turned into mud. Wagons became stuck, and horses struggled to pull artillery pieces uphill.
Gunfire sounded ahead once again.
This time it lasted longer.
An officer stopped at the side of the road and listened carefully.
Rifle fire.
A machine gun.
Then a short artillery strike.
—"Again?" the sergeant beside him asked.
A runner quickly approached them.
—"Forward units have encountered a fortified position. The enemy is holding the heights above the road."
The officer frowned.
—"Austrians?"
The runner shrugged.
—"Still unclear."
The firing ahead intensified.
Now without long pauses.
—"Bring up the second company," the officer said. —"And pass the coordinates to the artillery."
The orders moved down the column.
The advance slowed.
Wagons began stopping directly on the road while infantry moved toward the roadside, taking positions among the wet trees.
One of the soldiers quietly cursed as he pulled his boot from the mud.
—"At least before they used to retreat."
Another replied:
—"Looks like now they've decided to stand."
The machine gun opened fire again ahead.
Bullets passed over the road, forcing men lower.
The officer raised his binoculars.
Flashes appeared across the slope.
The position had been prepared in advance.
Trenches.
Camouflaged firing points.
Properly selected fields of fire.
—"This no longer looks like a rushed defense," he said quietly.
The sergeant looked ahead.
—"You think Germans?"
The officer did not answer immediately.
An artillery shell exploded ahead of the road.
Accurate.
Too accurate.
—"Possibly," he finally said.
A pause.
—"Or someone is learning very quickly."
The slope ahead erupted with fire once more.
Romanian infantry attempted to push uphill toward the enemy positions, but each time the fire forced them back to the ground.
—"Left side! Through the trees!" someone shouted ahead.
Several soldiers rose and ran along the forest edge.
Almost immediately another machine gun opened fire.
From a different direction.
One of the soldiers fell.
The others dropped into the wet grass.
The sergeant cursed.
—"They're covering the approaches."
The officer continued observing.
Calmly.
Carefully.
—"They're working by sectors," he said. —"Not firing blindly."
A pause.
—"This is no longer the same enemy that was retreating a week ago."
Behind them, artillery crews began deploying their guns.
The gunners hurried to pull them off the road and position them directly on the slope.
—"Faster!" an artillery officer shouted. —"Before they range us here too!"
The machine gun ahead opened fire again.
Then another.
Now from two separate positions at once.
The officer slowly lowered his binoculars.
—"We'll have to force the offensive through now," he said.
A pause.
—"This is not going to end quickly anymore."
The battle had already been going on for several hours.
The slope ahead was hidden beneath smoke and wet fog mixed together by artillery explosions. The ground had turned into mud, and men moved through it slowly, constantly slipping back downhill.
Romanian infantry tried once more to push forward.
And once more they were stopped by fire.
—"Down!" the sergeant shouted.
A burst of machine-gun fire swept over the road.
Several men fell.
The others pressed themselves against the ground.
The officer quickly looked ahead through his binoculars.
Now the enemy position could be seen more clearly.
The trenches were not arranged in a single line, but in several strongpoints supporting one another with overlapping fire. Machine-gun positions covered neighboring sectors, while the artillery worked not against open ground, but against specific avenues of approach.
—"These are Germans now," the sergeant said beside him.
The officer did not argue.
Too much had changed.
Before, the enemy had tried to hold.
Now the enemy controlled the battle.
Another artillery strike hit the road.
Directly between two companies preparing to move forward.
Mud and stones burst upward.
Men were thrown aside.
—"They're targeting the approaches," the officer said. —"They're not letting reinforcements move up."
A runner crawled toward them, breathing heavily.
—"Orders from battalion command. Continue the attack. Artillery support will begin in several minutes."
The officer looked ahead.
Then toward the slope on the right.
Then back to the road.
—"If we push straight again, they'll pin us down the same way."
The sergeant nodded.
—"They're waiting for it."
A short pause.
The officer made his decision quickly.
—"First company stays here. Suppressing fire."
He pointed toward the trees.
—"Second company moves through the forest. Slowly. The main thing is to reach their flank."
—"And if they have more positions there?"
—"Then we find them there instead of on the open slope."
The orders began spreading.
Several sections moved into the trees, trying not to make unnecessary noise. Branches struck their faces, wet ground slipped beneath their boots, but the movement continued.
The firing near the road did not stop.
At last, Romanian artillery opened effective counterfire.
The first shells landed high above the slope.
The next came closer.
—"They're correcting fire," the sergeant said.
The officer listened silently to the explosions.
Then the enemy machine gun opened fire again.
But shorter now.
With pauses.
—"We're hitting them," someone said.
The officer raised his hand.
—"Prepare yourselves."
The men tensed.
—"As soon as the forest reaches the slope, we attack immediately. Don't give them time to reorganize."
Artillery thundered ahead once more.
But now both sides answered each other almost without pause.
One of the soldiers sitting in the mud beside a tree said quietly:
—"A week ago this was different."
Another gave a nervous smile.
—"A week ago they weren't waiting for us here yet."
The officer heard it, but said nothing.
Because they were right.
The war was changing.
And so was the enemy.
The headquarters had to be moved again.
The offensive had pushed farther forward, communication lines had stretched, and the previous position no longer allowed proper control over the corps. Runners spent hours simply traveling between sectors, while telephone lines were constantly cut by overloaded traffic and artillery fire.
The new headquarters position was established in a small town near a railway station.
The streets were crowded.
Wagons.
Horses.
Ammunition crates.
Exhausted soldiers moving through the town almost without stopping.
Inside the building, the atmosphere was different.
Quieter.
More tense.
The advance on the map no longer looked as smooth as it had several days earlier.
Some formations had pushed far ahead.
Others had barely moved.
On several sectors, gaps had begun to appear between corps.
An officer finished his report and stepped back from the table.
—"On the northern sector, progress is minimal. The enemy is holding the heights and launching constant local counterattacks."
Another added:
—"On the central axis, the pace is slowing as well. Losses are increasing."
One of the generals looked at the map.
—"How serious?"
The answer came immediately.
—"Most severe from artillery and machine-gun fire. During assaults against prepared positions, units are taking heavy losses before even reaching the slopes."
A brief pause.
The chief of staff slowly moved his hand across the map.
—"German formations?"
—"Confirmed on multiple sectors."
The room became quieter.
The officer continued:
—"Their tactics differ from the Austro-Hungarian units. They hold positions in an organized manner, redeploy reserves quickly, and use artillery against avenues of approach."
One of the generals said grimly:
—"So we've completely lost momentum."
Another officer disagreed.
—"Not completely. We are still advancing."
—"But we are no longer controlling the situation the way we were at the beginning," the chief of staff replied.
A pause.
—"The offensive has stretched faster than the command system."
For several seconds, no one spoke.
The communications officer unfolded another report.
—"Problems are increasing on the flanks. Corps coordination is worsening."
—"Reserves?" a general asked.
—"Almost all committed already."
A pause.
—"And the south?"
The officer answered:
—"One hundred and fifty thousand remain on the Bulgarian border."
Someone said quietly:
—"And we cannot move them now."
The chief of staff nodded.
—"If the Bulgarians strike together with the Germans, the situation becomes critical."
One of the generals looked farther south on the map.
—"Are they preparing?"
—"Intelligence reports troop movements."
A pause.
—"But there are no confirmed timelines."
Silence settled over the room again.
Finally, one of the generals spoke.
—"If we stop now, the entire offensive loses its meaning."
Another replied immediately:
—"If we continue without regrouping, we may lose far more."
The chief of staff listened silently.
Then he raised his eyes.
—"We cannot halt the operation now."
A pause.
—"But continuing at the previous tempo is no longer possible."
He looked around at the officers gathered near the table.
—"Strengthen the flanks. Improve communications between corps. Bring artillery closer to the forward positions."
One of the officers asked:
—"And the offensive?"
The chief of staff answered calmly:
—"Continue it."
A pause.
—"But now we are advancing in a different war."
No one objected.
Because everyone understood:
the first days were over.
The counterattack began at dawn.
At first, the Romanians thought it was another ordinary artillery preparation.
A few explosions ahead of the trenches.
Then more.
But within minutes, the fire intensified sharply.
Shells no longer landed only on the front line. They struck roads, crossroads, reserve positions, and supply columns farther behind the lines.
—"They're hitting the rear!" one of the officers shouted.
Another explosion struck beside the road.
Horses panicked.
One of the wagons overturned directly into the mud.
Runners tried to move forward, but artillery fire covered the roads almost continuously.
—"Telephone line cut again!"
—"Restore it!"
—"Men have already been sent!"
Another impact.
Closer this time.
The ground shook beneath their feet.
On the forward positions, everything disappeared into smoke and mud.
Romanian infantry still held the trenches, but now they were facing not scattered artillery fire, but coordinated bombardment.
The officer looked over the edge of the trench.
Infantry formations were moving on the opposite slope.
Steadily.
In order.
Covered by artillery fire.
—"It's started," the sergeant beside him said.
The officer kept watching silently.
The enemy infantry did not rush forward chaotically.
They moved in short advances, halted, waited for artillery fire to shift, then moved again.
—"They're advancing together with the artillery," one of the soldiers said.
The sergeant gave a bitter smile.
—"Because they know what they're doing."
Romanian artillery answered.
But now it was forced to fire almost blindly.
Communication between batteries and forward positions broke constantly.
—"Movement reported on the right flank!"
—"How many?"
—"Unknown!"
A pause.
—"Left flank under fire too!"
The officer quickly looked around.
Reports kept arriving.
Almost all of them bad.
—"They're attacking multiple sectors at once," the sergeant said.
The officer nodded.
These were no longer isolated clashes.
This was a full offensive.
Another artillery strike hit the trenches.
Earth and shattered boards flew upward.
Someone screamed.
—"Medic!"
A field medic immediately crawled forward.
The officer looked outside again.
Enemy infantry was already closer.
Too close.
—"Prepare yourselves!" he shouted.
—"Hold fire until they're closer!"
Rifles rose over the trench line.
The men waited.
Then the enemy approached within range.
—"Fire!"
The trench line erupted with shots.
Several figures ahead fell.
But the rest continued advancing.
Machine guns opened fire on the trenches again.
From several directions at once.
—"They're moving around the right flank!"
The officer turned sharply.
Through the smoke, new infantry groups could indeed be seen advancing.
—"Send reserves there! Quickly!"
Soldiers began moving along the trenches under fire, constantly ducking low.
A runner nearly fell into the position.
—"Orders from headquarters! Hold positions at any cost!"
The sergeant exhaled heavily.
—"Then things are worse than I thought."
The officer said nothing.
Because he already knew it himself.
The line still held.
But the initiative no longer belonged to them.
By evening, the battle had not ended.
It had simply spread across the entire front.
On some sectors, the attacks had been stopped.
On others, Romanian units still held their positions despite constant fire.
But elsewhere, the line had already begun to fall back.
Not in panic.
Not all at once.
But steadily.
Under pressure.
The roads became crowded again.
Only now it was no longer advancing columns moving forward.
It was wounded men.
Reserves.
Artillery being rushed toward sectors where the situation was worsening.
At one of the crossroads, an officer dismounted quickly and approached a group of signalmen.
—"What's happening on the right flank?"
One of them answered tiredly:
—"Units are withdrawing toward the next line of heights. Communication with several formations has been lost."
—"And the center?"
—"Still holding."
A pause.
—"But the enemy keeps pressing."
Another wave of artillery thunder rolled somewhere ahead.
Closer than before.
The officer looked at the map spread across an ammunition crate.
Several hours earlier, the positions on it had looked different.
Now the lines required constant correction.
—"They found the weak sectors," one of the staff officers said quietly.
Another gave a grim smile.
—"We created them ourselves."
A brief silence followed.
No one argued.
The advance had been too fast.
The corps had stretched too far apart.
Communications had failed.
Reserves were insufficient.
Now all of it was returning against them.
Another runner rushed toward the table.
—"Report from the front. On several sectors, the enemy has secured our former positions."
The officer slowly straightened.
—"Then this is no longer a counterattack."
A pause.
—"This is a full offensive."
The room became quieter.
One of the generals looked at the map.
—"We can still stabilize the front."
Another answered immediately:
—"If we still have time."
A short pause.
Outside, artillery thundered again.
Now almost without interruption.
A communications officer lowered himself wearily into a chair.
—"A week ago we were advancing without stopping."
No one answered.
Because everyone understood:
that week was over.
The offensive still continued.
But now the Romanian army was no longer thinking about how to advance farther.
It was thinking about how to hold the ground it had already taken.
The initiative was gone.
And with it, confidence in victory was beginning to disappear.