Date: March 6th, 1905 – Belgrade, Kingdom of Serbia
Petar slept fitfully, his mind a kaleidoscope of maps, financial ledgers, and the faces of his ministers. The sheer scale of the undertaking, the audacity of his reincarnated purpose, pressed upon him even in his dreams. Alex Volkov had been a student, accustomed to theoretical problems; Petar Karađorđević was a king, faced with the intractable, messy reality of a nation. When dawn broke, grey and cool over Belgrade, he rose with a renewed sense of urgency. The previous day had been about reconnaissance; today, he would delve deeper into the instrument that, for better or worse, would be a primary tool in forging any empire: the military.
After his morning routine, now feeling slightly less alien, he sent for his principal military aide-de-camp, Colonel Živojin Mišić – a name that Alex's historical knowledge flagged as highly significant for Serbia's future military successes. Mišić, a man in his late forties, lean and weathered, with intelligent, watchful eyes, arrived promptly.
"Colonel," Petar began, forgoing pleasantries, "I wish to have a thorough briefing on the state of the Royal Serbian Army. Not just a summary, but a deep assessment. I want to understand our strengths, our weaknesses, and our readiness for any eventuality." He paused. "And I wish to speak directly with General Radomir Putnik. I understand he is currently serving as Chief of the General Staff. His insights would be invaluable."
Mišić, a man of few words but keen perception, showed no outward surprise, though Petar's directness and specific request for Putnik were a departure from his more passive demeanor of the past. "General Putnik is in Belgrade, Your Majesty. I will arrange for him to attend you at your earliest convenience. Shall I also summon the Minister of War?"
Petar considered. The Minister of War was a political appointee, and while important, Petar wanted to hear from the professional head, the man responsible for doctrine, training, and operational planning. "General Putnik will suffice for now, Colonel. I want his unvarnished military perspective. We can involve the Minister later as needed. Also, inform General Putnik that I may wish to visit a barracks or observe a training exercise in the coming days. I believe it is important for the King to see his soldiers firsthand."
Mišić's eyebrows rose fractionally at this. Royal visits to barracks were not unheard of, but this sudden impetus was new. "I will convey your wishes, Your Majesty."
Within the hour, General Radomir Putnik was announced. He was older than Mišić, perhaps in his late fifties, with a stern, deeply lined face, a full moustache, and an air of quiet, formidable professionalism. He had a reputation as a brilliant strategist and a demanding leader, one of the architects of the army's modernization efforts after the disastrous Serbo-Bulgarian War of 1885, a conflict Petar's inherited memories recalled with a sting of national humiliation.
"Your Majesty," Putnik said, his voice a gravelly baritone. His bow was precise, military.
"General Putnik, thank you for coming on such short notice," Petar said, gesturing for him to be seated. Unlike with Pašić and Paču, Petar felt a different sort of anticipation. This was a conversation between a nominal commander-in-chief and his top general. Alex Volkov's lifelong fascination with military history and strategy surged to the forefront. "I am undertaking a thorough review of our kingdom's capabilities. Yesterday, I spoke with the Prime Minister and the Minister of Finance. Today, I wish to understand the true state of our spear and shield: the army."
Putnik nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "A wise endeavor, Your Majesty. An army is a complex organism. What specific aspects are of most interest to you?"
"Let us begin with overall readiness," Petar said. "Our standing army is, I know, relatively small. Our true strength lies in our ability to mobilize reserves. How quickly can we bring the army to full war footing? What are the bottlenecks in that process – equipment shortages for reservists, transportation, logistical organization?"
Putnik's response was methodical and detailed. He outlined the three 'bans' or levies of the Serbian army – the active army (I Ban), the II Ban of older reservists, and the III Ban, the last reserve. He spoke of recent improvements in mobilization plans but admitted that equipping the later bans to the standard of the active army remained a challenge. Transportation, as Prime Minister Pašić had noted, was heavily reliant on animal draft, limiting speed and capacity.
"And the quality of our officer corps?" Petar pressed. "Are promotions based on merit and competence, or are seniority and connections still overly influential? Are our officers receiving modern tactical training, especially at the company and battalion levels where initiative is crucial?" Alex knew that many armies of the era suffered from rigid, top-down command structures.
"We strive for meritocracy, Your Majesty," Putnik stated, though Petar detected a hint of reservation. "The memory of past favoritism is not easily expunged from any institution. Our Military Academy provides a solid grounding, and we have sent officers abroad for advanced training – to France, Russia, even Germany. However, consistently disseminating the latest tactical innovations throughout the entire officer corps is an ongoing effort."
"A vital one," Petar affirmed. "An army is only as good as its junior leaders." He leaned forward. "Equipment. Prime Minister Pašić mentioned concerns about artillery modernization. What is your assessment? Our Mauser rifles are good, but what of machine guns? How many do we possess? Are we training effectively in their use? My readings suggest these weapons will be decisive in future conflicts." Alex's knowledge of the Russo-Japanese war, where machine guns had begun to show their horrific potential, was at the front of his mind.
Putnik seemed mildly surprised by the King's specific mention of machine guns and their tactical importance. "The Mauser-Koka rifle is indeed excellent. Our artillery park is mixed; the French Creusot guns form the core, but we are always seeking to upgrade. As for machine guns… we have a limited number, primarily Maxims. Their potential is recognized, Your Majesty, but they are expensive, and ammunition consumption is considerable. Their integration into our tactical doctrine is still evolving."
"It needs to evolve quickly, General," Petar said firmly. "And we need more of them. Significantly more. This is an area where I believe we must not fall behind." He made a mental note to discuss funding for this specifically with Paču. "What about our domestic production capacity for ammunition, for rifles, for any military materiel? The Kragujevac arsenal – what are its capabilities and limitations?"
"Kragujevac primarily produces rifle ammunition and can refurbish weapons," Putnik explained. "We have the capacity to assemble rifles from imported parts, but full domestic production of modern firearms or artillery is beyond our current industrial base. We are reliant on foreign suppliers for new weaponry, which, as Your Majesty is aware, carries political and financial implications."
This was a critical vulnerability, Petar knew. An empire could not be reliant on potential enemies or fickle allies for its arms. Self-sufficiency in military production had to be a long-term goal.
"Intelligence," Petar shifted. "What is our capacity to gather reliable intelligence on the military strength, dispositions, and intentions of our neighbors? Particularly Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire, and indeed, Bulgaria."
Putnik's expression became guarded. "We have our sources, Your Majesty. The General Staff's intelligence section works diligently. The border regions are always… active. But systematic, deep penetration of potentially hostile states is a difficult and dangerous business for a nation of our size."
The conversation continued for another hour, covering training regimens, logistics, medical services, and the morale of the troops. Petar listened more than he spoke, but his questions were pointed, informed by Alex's understanding of historical military successes and failures. He wasn't just asking about numbers; he was probing for the underlying philosophies, the institutional cultures, the human factors. He sensed that Putnik, initially perhaps wary of a young king's sudden interest, was beginning to recognize a genuine, informed desire to understand.
"General," Petar said finally, "I appreciate your frankness. It is clear we have a solid foundation, built on the courage of the Serbian soldier and the dedication of officers like yourself. But it is also clear there are areas where we must improve, and rapidly, if Serbia is to be secure and to fulfill its destiny." He stood, signaling the end of the formal discussion. "I meant what I told Colonel Mišić. I wish to see some of this for myself. Perhaps a visit to the Belgrade garrison tomorrow? An infantry regiment, perhaps an artillery battery. Not a parade, General. I want to see men training, see their barracks, their equipment. I want to speak with officers and soldiers directly."
Putnik, who had also risen, gave a curt nod. "It can be arranged, Your Majesty. The 7th Infantry Regiment is garrisoned here in Belgrade. They are a good unit."
"Excellent. Tomorrow morning, then." Petar extended his hand. "Thank you again, General. Your insights have been most valuable."
Putnik shook the King's hand, his grip firm. "I serve Serbia, Your Majesty." He then departed, leaving Petar with a much clearer, and in some ways more sobering, picture of his military strength.
Later that afternoon, Petar found himself back in his study with the maps, but this time, his thoughts were overlaid with Putnik's assessments. He traced the border with Austria-Hungary along the Drina and Sava. He imagined Austrian divisions, better equipped, perhaps more numerous, attempting a crossing. He thought of the mountainous terrain of western Serbia – ideal for defense, if the defenders were well-led and supplied.
He recalled Alex Volkov's studies of the Boer War, where determined irregulars with modern rifles had held off a major empire for years. There were lessons there. But his ambitions went beyond mere defense. To forge an empire, even a regional one, required an army capable of projecting power.
He considered the officers he knew from Petar's memories, and those Putnik had mentioned. He needed to identify men who were not just competent, but innovative, aggressive, and, crucially, loyal to him and his vision, not just to a vague notion of Serbia or to their own advancement. The Black Hand, the secret society of nationalist officers that Pašić had alluded to – they were a double-edged sword. Their fervent patriotism could be useful, but their penchant for political interference and violence was dangerous. He would have to tread carefully there.
His engineering mind began to consider specific problems. Putnik had mentioned logistical weaknesses. What about improving roads? Strategic railways, not just for commerce, but for rapid troop deployment? Could Serbia develop its own designs for more efficient field kitchens, better shelter, lighter equipment? Small things, perhaps, but war was often decided by such details.
The conversation about machine guns stuck with him. He knew their devastating potential. He had to find a way to equip the Serbian army with them in numbers, and to develop tactics that maximized their impact. This would be a priority.
He felt a sense of urgency greater than before. The clock was ticking towards 1914. Every day, every decision mattered. He needed to move quickly, but also wisely. Building an army, like building an economy, was a long-term project. He had to plant the seeds now, cultivate them carefully, and hope they would bear fruit in time.
His first full day of active intervention had focused on understanding the political and financial sinews of his kingdom. This second day had been about assessing its muscle and bone. Both were vital. Both needed strengthening. Tomorrow, he would see the soldiers themselves. He would look into their eyes, and they would look into his. It would be another test, for them and for him.