Treating soldiers well

After enjoying lunch with his parents, King Carol and his wife, Princess Sophie Marie, Prime Minister Bretianu approached Crown Prince Edel with a sense of urgency. Despite the relaxed atmosphere lingering from the meal, the Prime Minister's demeanor shifted the mood as he entered Edel's office.

"Your Royal Highness, the cost of this war has far exceeded our initial budget of 50 million lei," Prime Minister Bretianu lamented as soon as he stepped in.

Edel, seeking to reassure him, took a seat and responded, "At least the war is over, isn't it?"

Curious about the specifics, Edel pressed on, "Prime Minister, can you tell me how much this war has actually cost us?"

With a heavy sigh, Prime Minister Bretianu consulted his documents before replying, "Our total expenditure on this war reached 73.2 million lei. The primary reason for this overrun was the enormous consumption of artillery shells, which amounted to 15,000 tons. Notably, our stock of heavy artillery shells was reduced by half. Additionally, we used up 40 million rounds of bullets, accounting for one-fifth of our total inventory. Beyond ammunition, the largest expense was military rations, particularly those for horses."

Edel was already aware of the staggering ammunition costs. On the first day of the Battle of Tarnovo alone, 4,600 tons of ammunition were used. Despite efforts to restrain further usage, the daily expenditure never fell below 1,500 tons. Given that a single 75mm artillery shell cost 30 lei and the pricier 210mm cannon shell cost 1,350 lei, with over 3,000 rounds fired, the expenses quickly accumulated to more than 4 million lei, not including the broader military consumption.

The cost of feeding horses was also significant. Each horse required 3 kilograms of grain and 6 kilograms of fodder daily. With 38,000 horses deployed and over 3,000 vehicles supplementing them, the logistical demands were immense.

Prime Minister Bretianu then shifted the discussion to the human cost of the war. "We have yet to calculate the pensions for the casualties. The standard pension for fallen soldiers is based on the 50-month salary of a senior sergeant, totaling 4,200 lei each. For officers, it's based on their respective salaries at their previous positions. We plan to distribute these pensions over five years due to our current financial pressures. Additionally, we will involve local governments in supporting the families of these fallen soldiers."

Edel nodded in agreement, recognizing that compared to other nations, Romania's pension plan was quite generous. "This seems adequate, especially considering the lower pension amounts in other Balkan countries," he remarked.

The fiscal health of Romania had been robust, with government revenue reaching 616 million lei at the end of 1912. Despite challenges such as the brief closure of the Black Sea Strait by the Ottoman Empire, Romania's economy had grown by 7.1%, bolstered by excellent products and strategic responses.

Shifting his concern to another pressing issue, Edel inquired about the soldiers who were discharged due to injuries. "What arrangements does the government have for our soldiers who can no longer serve due to their injuries?"

Prime Minister Bretianu outlined the government's proposal, "For those unable to care for themselves, we plan to provide 80% of their salaries for a period of 50 months. For other disabled soldiers, we will offer a monthly subsidy of 70% of their active-duty salary for the same duration."

Unsatisfied, Edel pressed further, "And then? What additional support can we offer?"

"That is the extent of the current plan, Your Highness," replied the Prime Minister.

Dissatisfied, Edel expressed his concern, "That's not sufficient. We cannot simply hand them a sum of money and send them on their way. We must provide ongoing social care and ensure that their comrades still in service know that the kingdom values their sacrifice and will support them after they can no longer serve."

Prime Minister Bretianu explained, "Your Highness, this approach is consistent with practices across Europe."

Edel, however, envisioned a more compassionate approach. "We should strive to place these veterans in government departments wherever possible. If they are no longer fit for combat, perhaps they can contribute in other ways, such as janitorial work or security. If that's not feasible, we could consider extending their pension benefits."

Taking note of Edel's suggestions, Prime Minister Bretianu quickly adapted the plan, "We will also explore opportunities for these veterans in state-owned factories and possibly within the police department. If these options are insufficient, we can extend the pension period to 60 months."

Pleased with the revised plan, Edel approved, "Proceed with this approach, Prime Minister."

However, Bretianu warned of the financial implications, "Implementing this plan could elevate our war costs to 150 million lei, potentially leading to a fiscal deficit of 80 million lei this year, making the next two years financially challenging."

Unperturbed, Edel confidently responded, "Do not fear. If necessary, next year's deficit could even reach 200 million lei."

Shocked, Bretianu exclaimed, "Your Highness, that could bankrupt us!"

Edel reassured him, "It's alright. The royal family will not stand by idly."

Relieved by the Crown Prince's assurance and aware of the royal family's increased wealth, Bretianu felt more confident in managing the potential fiscal challenges. After concluding his report, he respectfully excused himself, leaving Edel to ponder the future with a mix of anticipation and concern.

This time, Major Hoffman was summoned to help establish Romania's first armored car unit. The concept of armored vehicles was not new; as early as 1855, British inventor J. Cohen had mounted a machine gun and armor on a steam tractor, creating a patentable wheeled armored vehicle. However, this design was never practically applied. Later, in 1899, another British innovator, Sims, improved upon the idea by installing armor and a machine gun on a four-wheeled vehicle. By 1900, Britain deployed armored cars in the Anglo-Brazzaville War in South Africa, but these vehicles had numerous faults and were only operable on roads, leading to unsatisfactory performance.

Despite these early setbacks, the potential of armored vehicles was recognized globally, prompting further research and development. Romania, inspired by the lessons of the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905, where Russian cavalry was decimated by Japanese machine guns and artillery, saw the urgent need for mobile armored units. General M. Nakasize of the Russian Siberian Cossack cavalry was particularly influential, having designed Russia's first armored vehicle, the "Nakaxiyang," in 1905. This rudimentary design simply involved bolting steel plates to a car and arming it with a Maxim machine gun, but it was plagued by issues of overloading and could only reach speeds of 25 kilometers per hour.

Eder, a visionary in military innovations, had considered developing armored vehicles before, but the existing prototypes were merely modified cars with numerous operational issues. However, with World War I looming, he believed the time was ripe for Romania, which boasted the largest automobile industry in Europe, to advance in this field. Belgium had already successfully modified two Dongfeng trucks by reinforcing the driver's cab and adding a rotating machine gun to the rear compartment, a design somewhat reminiscent of modern pickup-mounted machine guns.

Crown Prince Edel, inspired by these developments and articles he had read, decided to establish a Romanian armored vehicle force, aiming eventually to create something akin to a marine tank. He called upon Major Hoffman, then serving in a motor transport regiment, to lead this initiative.

"Your Highness," Major Hoffman greeted as he entered Prince Edel's office, dressed in his crisp blue major's uniform.

Edel, observing the officer who might pioneer Romania's armored forces, responded with a warm smile, "How are you finding the army?"

"Thank you for your concern, Your Highness," Hoffman replied, his German heritage evident in his disciplined posture. "The army has taught me much that books could not."

Edel, pleased by Hoffman's vigor, cut straight to the point. "Do you remember our discussion in the classroom?"

"Of course, Your Highness. Are we to form such a unit here in Romania?" Hoffman understood immediately; their previous debate over the use of armored vehicles in assault at the military school had clearly made an impression on the prince.

"Yes," Edel confirmed, "I intend to establish a battalion-level experimental unit, and I believe you are the most suited to lead it within the entire Romanian army."

Hoffman was thrilled. His experience in the cavalry and transport units had prepared him well, but he had longed to create an ideal unit, a dream that seemed unreachable given his current rank and status. Now, with the prince's support, that dream was within grasp. "Thank you, Your Highness, for your trust. I will lead this new force diligently and explore the best operational strategies."

Edel, observing Hoffman's enthusiasm, retrieved some sketches from his desk drawer. These were designs he had envisioned based on armored vehicles from both World Wars and modern designs, hoping they would guide the modifications needed for the Romanian units. He handed these to Hoffman, saying, "These are my visions for our future armored vehicles. Please, take a look."

Hoffman, studying the rough sketches of vehicles like the SdKfz 221, SdKfz 234, the American M8, and the Japanese Type 92, was initially puzzled but recognized the prince's expectant gaze. "These sketches are excellent, Your Highness. They will greatly aid in the construction of our armored vehicles. I would be eager to discuss these further with the author."

Caught off guard by Hoffman's assumption that someone else had designed them, Edel improvised, "The designs were by an automotive engineer currently abroad."

"That's disappointing," Hoffman remarked, "I had hoped to meet this insightful engineer."

"There will be a chance," Edel reassured him, then shifted the conversation towards logistics. "How much funding do you believe we need for this experimental unit?"

Understanding the financial concerns inherent in establishing a new military unit, especially one requiring costly modifications and armaments, Edel disclosed his planned budget. "I have allocated 800,000 lei for this project. You can coordinate directly with the Volkswagen factory for the necessary modifications."

Hoffman, calculating the costs in his head, realized the budget would allow for only a couple of prototypes based on simpler models. Despite this limitation, he confidently assured, "Thank you, Your Highness, for your support. I will liaise with the Volkswagen factory immediately."

"Proceed," Edel commanded.

After saluting, Hoffman left the office, buoyed by the exciting prospect of forming a new military unit. Although funding was tighter than ideal, the opportunity to pioneer Romania's armored forces under Edel's patronage was a significant honor and responsibility.

Edel watched Hoffman depart, satisfied with the progress. While the current initiative was modest, it laid the groundwork for more advanced armored units and, eventually, tanks. He was quietly shaping the future of Romania's military capabilities.