Date: September 18th, 1905 – Ćuprija, Kingdom of Serbia
The summer of 1905 in Belgrade was a period of simmering activity beneath a veneer of seasonal languor. The heat lay heavy on the city, dust rising from the unpaved streets. However, within the Stari Dvor and the various ministries, Petar's seeds were beginning to germinate, often with uncomfortable friction. The austerity measures continued to be a source of muted grumbling, a constant reminder of the King's new, more demanding reign. Minister Paču, true to his word, enforced them with grim diligence, his monthly reports to Petar detailing every dinar saved, every levy collected, and every agonized plea for relief from some cash-strapped department.
Milan Stojadinović's Royal Commission for National Resource Development was slowly taking shape. Petar had ensured it received a modest initial budget, carved out with some difficulty from contingency funds and a small suite of offices. Stojadinović, brimming with youthful energy, had encountered predictable bureaucratic hurdles from established ministries wary of this new, independent body operating under the King's direct purview. Peter had been forced to intervene subtly on a couple of occasions, a quiet word to a recalcitrant minister here, a pointed inquiry there, ensuring Stojadinović had the access and cooperation he needed. The young economist was learning quickly about the realities of navigating the Serbian bureaucracy, but his enthusiasm for the task remained undimmed.
During these months, Colonel Mišić continued his discreet watch over Major Dragutin Dimitrijević's and his associates' activities. The reports were infrequent and guarded, speaking of fervent nationalist meetings in private apartments, oaths sworn by candlelight, and a growing impatience among the younger, more radical officers for decisive action to "liberate" Serb lands. Apis remained a shadowy, influential figure, a source of constant, low-level anxiety in the back of Petar's mind. He was a force that would, eventually, have to be confronted, co-opted, or neutralized. But not yet. For now, Petar is focused on building his strength and his base of loyalties.
The most anticipated development, however, was the impending arrival of the first shipment of Maxim machine guns. The contract, signed in June after much wrangling, stipulated delivery within three months. As September approached, Petar found himself increasingly restless for news. These weapons were more than just military hardware; they were a tangible symbol of his commitment to modernizing Serbia, a visible return on the sacrifices he had demanded of his people.
Finally, in mid-September, word arrived. Twenty Maxim machine guns, shipped from Germany via the Danube, had arrived at the port of Smederevo and were being carefully transported by rail and wagon to Ćuprija, the designated site for the new Army Machine Gun School. Petar's decision was immediate. "Colonel Mišić," he declared, "inform General Putnik that I wish to accompany him to Ćuprija. I intend to inspect these new weapons personally and review the progress of the training school. We will depart подходящо." (Petar would naturally speak Serbian, but per instruction, this is rendered in English. The meaning is "at a suitable time" or "in due course," here implying "soon").
The journey to Ćuprija, a garrison town in the Morava valley, took the better part of a day by train and carriage. The railway line, one of Serbia's few major arteries, was a testament to both the kingdom's aspirations and limitations – a single track, often slow, but a vital link nonetheless. Alex Volkov's mind noted the inefficiencies and the potential for upgrades, even as King Petar observed the fertile countryside, the peasant farmers toiling in their fields, and the small villages flashing past. These were the people whose lives he aimed to transform, the lands from which he would draw the strength for his burgeoning ambitions.
General Putnik, accompanying Petar, was as stoic and professional as ever, though Petar thought he detected a hint of quiet satisfaction in the old soldier's demeanor. This program was, after all, something Putnik himself had long advocated for, now brought to fruition by the King's assertive will.
Ćuprija When they arrived, Supriya was a scene of organized chaos and purposeful activity. The existing barracks were being expanded, and new, low buildings were under construction—classrooms, armories, and workshops for the nascent Machine Gun School. Soldiers and laborers swarmed the area, the sounds of hammering and shouted commands filling the air. It was raw and unfinished, but it was a start.
The Commandant of the new school, Major Kostić – a man in his early forties, lean, with keen, intelligent eyes, personally selected by Putnik for his technical aptitude and combat experience in previous border skirmishes – greeted them with a crisp salute. "Your Majesty, General Putnik! Welcome to the Royal Serbian Army Machine Gun School. We are honored by your presence."
"Major Kostić," Petar replied, returning the salute. "I am eager to see what progress has been made. And, of course, to inspect our new arsenal."
They were led to a newly constructed, secure storehouse. Twenty gleaming, dark steel Maxim machine guns were resting on sturdy wooden trestles. Each was an intricate piece of engineering, a marvel of modern industrial production, bearing the stamp of its German manufacturer. Their water jackets, tripods, and ammunition belts were beside them. With Alex Volkov's ingrained fascination for mechanics and engineering, Peter felt a genuine thrill. He strolled down the line, examining each weapon. He ran his hand over the cool steel, tested the smoothness of a feed mechanism, and sighted along the barrel of one. He asked Major Kostić about the specific model variant, its rate of fire, effective range, and the initial inspection process upon their arrival.
Kostić answered with knowledgeable precision, clearly passionate about his new command. "These are the latest MG08 models, Your Majesty. Robust, reliable. We have already begun familiarization training for the initial cadre of instructors. The men are… exceptionally keen."
"I expect nothing less," Petar said. "These weapons represent a significant investment, Major. And a significant responsibility. They are the tools with which we will safeguard Serbia's future."
He then toured the rest of the burgeoning school. The classrooms were still bare, smelling of fresh-cut timber, but blackboards were in place, and diagrams of the Maxim's mechanism were already pinned to the walls. The firing ranges were being extended and reinforced. Barracks for the first intake of trainees – NCOs and promising soldiers selected from across the army – were nearing completion. Peter spoke with the newly appointed instructors, a mix of experienced officers like Kostić and bright younger NCOs who had shown an aptitude for complex weaponry. He questioned them on their understanding of the Maxim, their proposed training methods, and how they intended to instill technical proficiency and tactical acumen in their students.
"Remember," Petar emphasized, addressing them collectively, "a machine gun is not just a rifle that fires faster. A tactical instrument can dominate a battlefield with intelligence and courage. Your task is to train men who understand its power and its limitations and who can integrate it seamlessly with infantry and artillery. You are not just teaching them to shoot; you are teaching them to win." Alex's readings on the Russo-Japanese War and the dawning understanding of what trench warfare would become lent a chilling prescience to his words.
If any of the first batch of trainees had already arrived, Petar spoke to them too, though the school was still primarily in its setup phase. He wanted every soldier, from the highest general to the newest recruit handling these weapons, to understand the King's interest and the strategic importance of their mission.
The visit lasted several hours. As the afternoon wore on, Petar felt a deep sense of satisfaction, a tangible reward for the political battles he had fought and the financial burdens he had imposed. This was real. This was progress. Twenty machine guns were a modest beginning, but they were his beginning, the first steel teeth in Serbia's resurgent military power.
Before departing Ćuprija, Petar addressed the assembled officers and NCOs of the new school. He stood before them, a young king whose voice carried a new weight of authority and conviction. "Soldiers of Serbia!" he declared. "You stand at the vanguard of a new era for our Royal Army. Today's weapons are the first fruits of our determination to provide you with the best tools to defend our beloved kingdom. The path to a stronger, more secure Serbia is arduous. It demands sacrifice, discipline, and unwavering resolve from us all. But here, in Ćuprija, we lay a new foundation of strength."
He spoke of his vision for a modern, highly skilled military capable of defending Serbia's borders and asserting its interests. He stressed the importance of professionalism, innovation, and unwavering loyalty to the Crown and the nation. His words were not just for the men present; they were intended to ripple outwards, to send a message throughout the army and the kingdom.
On the return journey to Belgrade, Petar was more reflective. The sight of the machine guns, the purposeful activity at the school, had been invigorating. Yet, he knew the challenges remained immense. Funding for the subsequent tranches of weapons would be an ongoing battle with Minister Paču. Integrating these new arms effectively into an army still largely reliant on older doctrines would require constant pressure and oversight from General Putnik and his staff. And then there was the ever-present shadow of the Black Hand. As he built this new, more visible arsenal, he had to remain vigilant about the hidden currents of power within his officer corps. He wondered how many of the keen young men at Ćuprija might already be listening to the whispers of Apis and his fervent nationalists. The new school, a symbol of his modernizing efforts, could become a recruiting ground for them if he wasn't careful.
The visit to Ćuprija was a success, a milestone. But it also served to sharpen Petar's awareness that building an empire, or even just a strong and independent kingdom, was a multi-front war waged not only with steel and treasure but also with wits, will, and a constant, careful assessment of the loyalties and ambitions of the men around him.