Rain had been falling almost without stop for the second week already.
The roads had completely turned into mud. Wagons became stuck one after another, horses were collapsing from exhaustion, and artillery increasingly had to be pulled out by hand.
On the maps, the offensive still continued.
At the front, everything looked different.
Romanian units were withdrawing toward a new line of heights.
Not quickly.
But constantly.
—"Move! Faster!" an officer shouted as a column of infantry passed him.
Artillery struck behind them again.
Shells landed along the road.
Earth and mud burst upward.
The men instinctively ducked, but the column kept moving.
Stopping was more dangerous.
—"They're hitting the road again," the sergeant said, breathing heavily after climbing the slope.
The officer looked back.
Smoke was rising below the trees.
Their old positions remained there.
—"Because they know where we're withdrawing," he answered.
Another explosion sounded closer.
A horse ahead bolted sideways, nearly overturning a wagon loaded with ammunition crates.
Several soldiers rushed to hold it down.
—"Do not stop!" the officer shouted again. —"Keep moving!"
The column slowly continued uphill.
On both sides of the road, other formations were moving as well.
Infantry.
Artillery.
Wounded men.
Runners.
Everything had merged into one continuous stream.
One of the soldiers, soaked with rain and mud, said quietly:
—"Remember when we were marching forward along these same roads?"
Another gave a grim smile.
—"Back then it felt like the war here would end soon enough."
A pause.
—"Now we've spent the second week just trying not to let them break the front."
Gunfire sounded ahead again.
Short.
Dense.
The officer immediately raised his head.
—"What now?"
A runner hurrying downhill answered quickly:
—"The rearguard is holding the crossroads. Germans are trying to reach the road before we do."
The officer cursed under his breath.
—"If they cut the road, the entire column stops."
He turned sharply.
—"Second company forward! Help them hold the position!"
The soldiers left the road, moving through the wet forest.
Water splashed beneath their boots.
Branches struck their faces.
But nobody complained anymore.
Everyone was too exhausted.
The firing ahead intensified.
Now machine guns could be heard clearly.
And artillery.
When they reached the crossroads, the battle was already in full force.
Romanian infantry held positions along an embankment near the road, firing toward the slope ahead.
Several wagons were burning directly in the mud.
Dead horses lay nearby.
—"Where's the enemy?" the officer shouted.
—"In the forest ahead!" one of the soldiers answered. —"Trying to outflank us from the right!"
A machine gun immediately opened fire along the embankment.
Earth sprayed downward.
The officer quickly studied the position.
—"How long have you been holding?"
The rearguard sergeant gave a tired smile.
—"Longer than we wanted to."
Another artillery explosion struck near the road.
One of the wagons overturned completely.
—"If we stay here much longer, they'll wipe us out," someone nearby said.
The officer looked at the map.
Then at the road behind them.
Then forward again.
—"We need to buy time," he said calmly. —"At least one more hour."
The sergeant exhaled heavily.
—"And then?"
The officer folded the map away.
—"Then we withdraw again."
The Germans were not trying to attack along the entire front at once.
They searched for weak sectors.
And when they found them, they struck fast.
Romanian positions stretched unevenly along the heights. In some sectors, the trenches were properly fortified, with reinforced machine-gun points and communication lines connecting neighboring positions. But nearby, there were units that had only managed to dig shallow trenches into the wet ground over the past few days.
The front was being built faster than the army could organize it.
The soldiers sat in muddy trenches almost without sleep for several days. Many ate while standing, without even removing their coats, constantly waiting for another attack.
Sometimes gunfire erupted on the right flank.
Sometimes reports arrived about enemy movement.
Sometimes artillery began striking the roads behind the line again.
—"They're trying to outflank us again," the officer said, lowering his binoculars.
The sergeant beside him gave a tired smile.
—"That's all they've been doing for the past two weeks."
The officer said nothing.
Because it was true.
The enemy was not throwing itself into chaotic assaults.
It pressed wherever the line began to weaken.
Artillery struck again ahead.
This time briefly.
Only several volleys.
—"Now they'll move," the sergeant said quietly.
Almost immediately, infantry emerged from the fog ahead.
German units advanced in short rushes, constantly covering one another with fire. One group would lie down and begin firing while another moved farther forward.
—"Machine gun to the right!" someone shouted.
A burst immediately swept along the trench line.
Several soldiers pressed themselves lower.
Romanian infantry opened return fire.
Rifles cracked almost continuously.
The officer quickly looked left.
Smoke was already rising there from new explosions.
—"They're hitting between the positions," he said. —"Trying to split the line."
A runner crawled into the trench.
—"Report from the left sector. Enemy units have reached the forest behind the height."
The sergeant turned sharply.
—"If they secure that position, they'll be able to fire directly onto the road."
The officer nodded.
—"That's exactly why they're going there."
Another artillery strike covered the slope ahead.
Immediately afterward, German infantry advanced again.
Closer now.
—"Fire!" the officer shouted.
The line erupted with rifle shots.
Several figures ahead fell.
But the others continued moving.
The machine gun on the right opened fire again.
This time almost without pause.
—"They're pinning us while the others maneuver around," the sergeant said.
The officer stared ahead, trying to make out movement through the smoke.
Then he turned sharply backward.
—"Where's the reserve?"
One of the soldiers answered immediately:
—"The reserve has already been sent to the left flank."
A short pause.
—"Then we hold with what we have," the officer said.
Another shell exploded directly in front of the trenches.
Earth collapsed downward.
Someone screamed.
A medic immediately crawled forward.
German infantry began moving again.
Slowly.
Without stopping.
As if they knew the pressure would eventually break the line.
The sergeant exhaled heavily.
—"They don't even give us time to breathe."
The officer silently reloaded his revolver.
Because he understood:
this was no longer an attempt to stop the offensive.
This was a methodical operation to destroy the front.
The headquarters had been moved closer to the railway again.
Otherwise, controlling the front was becoming impossible.
Runners arrived almost without interruption. Some had barely entered the building before others were already leaving with new orders. Telephone lines were constantly failing, and more and more often the command had to rely not on communications, but on officers personally sent to verify the situation at the front.
The map no longer showed a continuous front line.
Now it looked like several separate sectors only loosely connected to one another.
Some positions were still holding.
Others were already withdrawing.
And between them, gaps constantly appeared that had to be sealed with whatever forces remained available.
An officer finished his report.
—"On the northern sector, two divisions are withdrawing toward the next defensive line in the heights. Communication between them remains unstable."
Another immediately added:
—"On the central axis, the Germans continue pressing along the roads. Artillery fire is nearly continuous."
The chief of staff listened silently.
—"Losses?"
—"Exact numbers are still being confirmed."
A pause.
—"But in the last several days alone, some units have lost up to a third of their strength."
The room became quieter.
One of the generals lowered himself heavily into a chair.
—"At this rate, we'll soon lose corps not in battle, but through complete collapse of command."
Another officer nodded grimly.
—"Units are withdrawing to different lines. Some no longer know the exact position of neighboring formations."
The chief of staff slowly moved his hand across the map.
—"The main problem?"
The answer came almost immediately.
—"The front line itself."
The officer stepped closer to the map.
—"Originally, the defense was built along the Carpathian border. The line was stretched, but relatively stable."
He pointed farther across the map.
—"Now, after the offensive and the withdrawals that followed, the front has changed completely. Salients and exposed sectors have appeared everywhere."
Another officer continued:
—"On some directions, formations pushed too far forward while neighboring units have already fallen back."
A pause.
—"Because of that, gaps and exposed flanks are constantly opening, and the Germans keep trying to exploit them."
—"If they break deeper into one of those sectors, neighboring corps will have to withdraw under threat of encirclement," one of the generals said.
A short silence followed.
—"Reserves?" another general asked.
—"Almost all already committed."
A pause.
—"And the south?"
The communications officer opened another report.
—"Bulgarian forces continue concentrating near the border. Artillery and additional formations have been observed moving forward."
Several officers immediately looked toward the southern sector of the map.
—"If they attack now..." one of them said quietly.
The chief of staff finished the thought for him.
—"Then we face a second front while barely holding the first."
Silence settled over the room again.
One of the generals spoke sharply:
—"Then we need to shorten the line."
Another immediately objected:
—"If we begin withdrawing now, we lose everything we gained at the start of the operation."
—"We are already losing it," the first replied.
The room fell silent again.
Because they were no longer arguing about the offensive.
They were arguing about how severe the defeat would become.
The chief of staff straightened slowly.
—"Prepare a withdrawal toward the next defensive line."
A pause.
—"Step by step. No panic and no collapse of the front."
One of the officers asked:
—"And offensive operations?"
The chief of staff looked at the map for a long moment.
—"Terminate them."
No one answered.
Because everyone understood:
the offensive was over.
The breakthrough began closer to evening.
At first, it looked like another attack against one sector of the line. Artillery struck the Romanian positions, and then German infantry moved forward.
But very quickly it became clear:
this assault was far stronger than usual.
—"Right flank requesting reinforcements!"
—"Tell them there are no reserves left!"
The runner froze for a second, as if he himself did not believe the words he had just heard.
Then he hurried farther down the trench.
The officer climbed to the edge of the position and looked ahead.
German infantry was advancing below the slope.
Not in a single line.
In several separate groups.
Some kept firing.
Others maneuvered through the forest on the right flank.
—"They're trying to outflank us again," the sergeant said.
The officer gave a grim smile.
—"Because they know we're still holding the center."
Another artillery strike hit the positions to the left.
Earth exploded upward together with shattered logs and pieces of trench walls.
—"Any contact with the neighboring units?" the officer asked sharply.
—"Last report was ten minutes ago. They were still holding then."
A pause.
—"And now?"
There was no answer.
Machine guns opened fire across the trench line again.
Now almost without interruption.
Romanian infantry returned fire, but more and more often they were shooting nearly blind through smoke, mud, and collapsing earth.
One of the soldiers crawled quickly toward the officer.
—"The Germans reached the road behind the forest!"
The officer turned sharply.
—"How far?"
—"I don't know! But our men are already falling back from there!"
For a moment, everything seemed to go quiet.
As if the front itself had taken a breath before the next blow.
Then disorganized firing erupted from the right.
And shouting.
The sergeant looked in that direction.
—"If they take the road, we'll be cut off."
The officer spread the map directly onto the wet ground.
He studied the positions.
The forest.
The road behind them.
And immediately understood:
the Germans were not striking the line itself.
They were striking the withdrawal routes.
—"Pass the word along the line!" he shouted. —"Prepare to withdraw!"
—"What about the wounded?"
The officer closed his eyes for a brief second.
Artillery struck nearby again.
—"Take whoever we can."
A pause.
—"The rest later."
Soldiers immediately began gathering ammunition crates and pulling machine guns from the mud.
Behind them, the sounds of wagons and withdrawing formations were already growing louder.
The front was beginning to move backward.
One of the artillery officers ran toward the position.
—"No horses left! We can't pull out two of the guns!"
The sergeant cursed.
The officer looked at him.
—"How much time?"
—"Ten minutes. Maybe less."
Another explosion struck near the road.
Closer now.
The officer made his decision quickly.
—"Destroy the guns. We leave them here."
The artillery officer froze for a second.
As if still hoping the battery could somehow be saved.
Then he nodded slowly.
Soldiers immediately rushed toward the artillery pieces.
Meanwhile, the firing on the right flank was getting closer.
—"They're already in the forest!" someone shouted.
The officer rose sharply.
—"Withdraw! Everyone withdraw!"
The line began pulling back.
At first in order.
Then faster and faster.
German artillery continued striking the road, mixing retreating infantry, wagons, and reserves into one endless stream.
Behind them remained shattered positions.
Abandoned crates.
Destroyed guns.
And the bodies of those they no longer had time to carry away.
The front still existed.
But now it was retreating almost everywhere.
By evening, headquarters had once again sunk into a continuous stream of reports.
The maps had already been replaced several times. The front line was changing too quickly, and the officers could barely keep up with marking new positions.
Some formations were still holding.
Others were already withdrawing toward the next defensive line.
And some units simply disappeared from the overall picture for hours at a time until communications were restored again.
A signals officer approached the table quickly.
—"Report from the northern sector. Units continue withdrawing toward the line of heights."
Another officer immediately added:
—"On the central axis, the Germans have secured positions near the road and continue bringing up artillery."
The chief of staff listened silently.
—"Southern flank?" he asked.
An officer opened another report.
—"No major engagements yet. But Bulgarian troop concentrations near the border continue."
A brief pause.
—"They're waiting for the right moment," one of the generals said quietly.
Another officer rubbed his face tiredly.
—"And we can barely redeploy forces between sectors anymore."
The chief of staff slowly looked at the map.
The front no longer resembled the one from the beginning of the campaign.
Not a continuous line.
But a chain of salients, withdrawals, and constantly shifting positions.
—"We advanced too far before we had time to consolidate," one of the officers said.
Another gave a grim smile.
—"And now we're paying for it."
The room fell silent for several seconds.
Then the door opened sharply.
A communications officer entered quickly with a telegram in his hand.
—"Urgent message from the south."
The chief of staff looked up.
—"What is it?"
The officer hesitated for a second.
As if he himself understood how much the situation would change after these words.
—"Bulgaria has declared war on Romania."
The room went silent.
Completely.
Several men looked at the southern front on the map at the same time.
One of the generals exhaled slowly.
—"So it begins."
No one answered.
Because everyone understood what it meant.
The front was no longer limited to the Carpathians.
Now the threat was coming from several directions at once.
The chief of staff stared at the map for a long time.
North.
Center.
South.
Then he spoke quietly:
—"Prepare withdrawal contingencies for the southern sector as well."
One of the officers raised his eyes.
—"So the offensive is officially over?"
A brief pause.
The chief of staff answered calmly:
—"The offensive ended already."
Outside, artillery thundered again in the distance.
Now the sound no longer resembled the beginning of an advance.
Now it sounded like the beginning of the retreat of the entire campaign.