Holy Roman Empire - Chapter 244:

Chapter 244: Chapter 131: Disaster Strikes
The Constantinople campaign has been raging for so long that the number of corpses in the city’s corners is unknown; they started to rot before they could be dealt with.

Both warring parties only cleared the bodies in front of them, while those in the corners of the city and inside residents’ houses were neglected.

With the arrival of the scorching summer heat, Constantinople in August was shrouded in a stench so oppressive that it was terrifying.

Artillery fire still roared, leaving only ruins and remnants to speak of the past. To conquer this city, the Russians had already paid too high a price.

Daily casualty reports? Menshikov had long since stopped looking. The toll of thousands of casualties each day had numbed him over the course of several months.

“The Constantinople meat grinder” had become known worldwide; wherever there were Europeans, the brutality of the war spread.

If someone were to tally the losses, they would find that the Russian Army’s casualties here had surpassed the total from two battles in Bulgaria, yet the Russians remained undaunted.

Only because the outer defenses of Constantinople had been breached, or rather, shattered—after tens of thousands of tons of ammunition had been spent, these fortress works had become ruins.

Urban warfare had begun, and now both sides had entered a stage of pure human sacrifice. The exchange rate had gradually decreased from the initial five to one down to four to one, to three to one… and now it was already at 1.3:1.

A middle-aged officer spoke in a solemn voice, “Commander, our cannon fodder army has nearly been wiped out, and the conscripted Bulgarian Guerrilla Team has also suffered heavy losses.

There are not many able-bodied men left on the Balkan Peninsula. It’s now very difficult to replenish our forces.”

Of course there were few left; the locals had sustained the heaviest losses in this war.

The Ottomans conscripted strong men for war, the Russians did the same, and the English and French didn’t have to conscript because the Ottomans did it for them.

With just over ten million people in the whole Balkan Peninsula, how many were able-bodied men? It was unsustainable.

Before attacking Constantinople, Russian conscription was typically for hard labor. Techniques like using civilians to attack cities were rarely employed by the Russians.

But once they reached this city, the situation changed. The devastating casualties forced the Russians to rely heavily on cannon fodder.

Menshikov answered with a chilling voice, “Understood. We’ll make do with what we have. When the cannon fodder is gone, it’ll be our own men’s turn.

The enemy is about to give in. Just conquer this last district and we win the war!

Order the military tribunal to strictly enforce military law. Kill those who hesitate in battle, kill those who speak of retreat lightly, and kill anyone who disturbs military morale!”

It was inevitable; this war was tied not only to Russia’s fate but to Menshikov’s own as well.

If Constantinople could not be taken, he might as well die on the battlefield, for many would want to rip him apart otherwise.

From a military standpoint, Menshikov was a fool, engaged in senseless warfare, completely disregarding the loss of troops.

In order to sustain the war, the Russian Army relied on strict military law. To establish his authority, Menshikov made a grand act by executing nobility officers who violated military regulations!

The nobility officers who died by his hand were not one or two; in total, dozens had been executed.

If Constantinople were to be captured, all would be well. He would be Russia’s national hero, and those executed nobility would be synonymous with cowards, along with their disgraced families.

If Constantinople were not taken, the situation would be different. Nicholas I himself couldn’t withstand the repercussions of losing the Crimean War—let alone Menshikov.

Menshikov wasn’t ready to die in disgrace, so he desperately fought on. It didn’t matter who, or how influential they were; anyone who dared to violate military law was to be executed.

“Yes, Commander!” the middle-aged officer sternly replied.

It was not just Menshikov; the fate of the high-ranking officers of the expeditionary force was tied together. The battle of Constantinople was extraordinary—if they lost here, none would expect to see better days.

On the Crimea Peninsula, before the Anglo-French forces, overwhelmingly dominant, had time to celebrate, a bolt from the blue struck: cholera broke out in the French camp in July 1854.

Hot weather, coupled with unsanitary conditions, and before the Allied Forces could react, the epidemic erupted, spreading from the French camp to the British camp.

The flies and mosquitoes of the Crimea became excellent vectors for the disease, and a large number of Allied soldiers began vomiting and suffering from diarrhea, dying in their tents.

The public places of the Allied camp were filled with filth, and sanitation was a mere notion. The number of sick swelled rapidly, and the epidemic reached uncontrollable levels.

By early August, in the Varna region alone, 500 British soldiers had died of the disease. The number of deaths within the French camp was soaring to over sixty per day.

And this was just the beginning; the sudden epidemic initially went unnoticed and spread to other areas with the movement of people.

Istanbul

In a clearing not far from the docks, more than a dozen French soldiers were resting when suddenly one of them began to vomit, drawing everyone’s attention.

A young man asked with concern, “Alphonse, what’s wrong with you?”

The vomiting soldier weakly replied, “I don’t know, I just suddenly felt a bit nauseous and wanted to throw up.”

A man resembling an officer said, “You might have a cold. Just take care of yourself and if you’re not better by tomorrow, go see the medic.”

Clearly, he just thought that Alphonse had caught a cold, an ailment that usually people relied on their bodies to fight off, with only the serious cases seeking medical help.

Despite the French Army’s better logistics compared to the British, medical resources were still extremely scarce, and ordinary soldiers, unless they were higher-ranking officers, found it difficult to obtain effective treatment.

Then another man said, “I can’t take it anymore, I need to relieve myself.”

After saying that, he ran off without looking back to take care of his business not far away.

Such a minor incident clearly would not attract everyone’s attention. They were reinforcements who had just arrived a few days ago, and were now acclimating to the climate of Constantinople.

Because of the unfamiliar environment resulting in some adverse reactions, this was common. Usually, it would be fine after a while; if not, the only option was repatriation.

However, most people were reluctant to be sent back, even though the casualty rate on the Constantinople Battlefield remained high.

Because the body could not adapt to the climate, leading to adverse reactions, it usually meant an inability to return home safely, with the majority dying on the way.

In this era, the sea was not to be trifled with, and the conditions on a ship were quite horrendous. Without sufficient medical aid, once someone fell ill, they were practically stepping through the gates of hell.

Seeing the increasingly large number of sick people, Commander Aimable Jean Jacques Pelissier finally realized something was amiss, but by then it was too late.

Too many had died in Constantinople; in defending this fortress city, the death toll of the French Soldiers alone had exceeded one hundred thousand. The Russians had even more casualties, and civilian deaths were incalculable.

Because of the war, the French Army simply had no way to clear the bodies from the city. In fact, many corpses were buried under collapsed buildings, making them impossible to remove.

This created a favorable environment for rats and flies to thrive. That summer, the number of rats and flies in Constantinople broke all historical records, as if they were the true masters of the city.

Pelissier ordered the Guard, “Please bring Dr. Ambroise over and hand these materials to him.”

Despite his suspicions, Pelissier still did not dare to confirm that a plague had erupted. Up to that moment, he had not been informed of the outbreak of pestilence on the Crimea Peninsula.

Busy with the defense of Constantinople, Pelissier had no time to pay attention to rumors, and even if he wanted to, he might not have taken them seriously.

The Allied Forces had been plagued by illness since the start of their campaign on the Crimea Peninsula; it was no longer news. People had grown accustomed to it over time.

Besides, the time when the Allied Forces confirmed the outbreak of the plague on the Crimea Peninsula was only a few days earlier than Pelissier had realized, and the virus had entered the city before that.

Bigger to the war, with large numbers of people dying every day, people’s spirits became numb to death over time. What did it matter if a few died from disease?

Ambroise spoke gravely, “Commander, I have just visited the hospital and, combined with this data, we can preliminarily conclude that the plague has arrived!”

Pelissier’s face darkened, as the worst-case scenario had unfolded. Constantinople was connected to the sea and reinforcements or supplies could be sent continuously as long as casualties were acceptable, he was confident he could hold out indefinitely.

There was, however, one exception—the plague. Humans are vulnerable in the face of disease; Pelissier could defeat the Russians, but he was helpless against the pestilence.

“Can it be contained?” Pelissier asked with concern.

He was merely asking about containment; cure was something he no longer expected. In this era, contracting the plague meant leaving one’s fate to the heavens, with no cure-all available.

After some thought, Ambroise said, “Sorry, Commander, I cannot answer that question.

It depends on the transmissibility of the plague and how many people are already infected; only then can we draw conclusions.

But now, during wartime, the army moves too frequently, we have far too few doctors, and it’s impossible to spread them out to diagnose and treat the troops. We can’t determine which cases are common colds and which are plagues.

Actually, from the symptoms alone, it’s possible that common colds could develop these symptoms. If it weren’t for the high mortality rate, I’d suspect we were just dealing with a highly contagious influenza outbreak.”

The plague is feared precisely because of its swift spread and high mortality rate.

Pelissier continued, “Can you determine the characteristics of this plague?”

Plagues are categorized, and different types result in varying levels of lethality.

Ambroise shook his head, “Currently, we have too little information to determine the origin of this plague and its transmission route. We cannot rule out the possibility of it being bubonic plague.

Professionally speaking, I personally believe that Constantinople is no longer suitable for habitation.

The city has too many dead, and at times, we can smell the stench of rotting corpses in the open sewers. War is inherently a breeding ground for plagues.”

Pelissier gave a wry smile, “Alright then, Dr. Ambroise, I leave the investigation and management of this plague in your hands.

As to whether Constantinople is fit for habitation, I cannot answer you. This is not merely a military issue, but also involves politics.”

Pelissier understood the logic that it was unsuitable to stay in Constantinople during a plague outbreak.

However, the consequences of abandoning Constantinople were too severe, and as Commander of the expeditionary force, he was not in a position to cover for it; he did not even have a say in the matter.

Ambroise replied, “Very well, Commander. I can only say I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee the outcome!”