CHAPTER - II
MAY 26, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, FEDERATION TERRITORY, CENTRAL MILITARY DISTRICT, MULTINATIONAL UNIT GARRISON
The air in the Federation feels chilly no matter what the season. For better or worse, it's tricky for someone from the Commonwealth to say that the tribe that lives in these parts is friendly. These Communists are a superstitious lot, after all.
My name is John Doe, the man without a name. Sometimes people with good manners lovingly call me Mr. John.
Unfortunately for me, it seems the Commies think I'm a spy—what an outrageous error. Officially, I'm nothing but a simple visa issuer from the Commonwealth who gets sent all over the place in the name of my king and country.
Of course, as a gentleman, I should probably keep the truth a secret.
Having entered the Federation, I toy with that idea in my mind to relax a bit. Even if I'm only a messenger, I feel more nervous than I have been since my very first mission.
It's bad enough that I actually feel relieved when I find the person I'm looking for and finally make contact. That's rare for me these days.
"Hey there, Colonel Drake. What a relief to see a familiar face."
"Why, if it isn't Mr. Johnson. Can't believe you made it all the way out here. You weren't attacked by any savages on the way over, were you?"
"Luckily, I'm playing at being the savages' friend at the moment."
The courtesy offered to diplomatic envoys by Federation officials is legendary—though it goes without saying I mean that in a bad way. So naturally, I expected the entry of a "visa issuer" would attract the attention of the Federation's secret police.
"…Turns out, they're wise enough to be a bit flexible while at war with the Empire."
"Indeed, Colonel Drake. I'm rather surprised myself."
He's being sarcastic, but I've been able to travel safely to the front lines, so never say never during wartime.
"But to be honest, I was nervous. General Habergram works his people to the bone—sending an old man like me all the way out to the eastern front."
"I'm sorry for the trouble but appreciate you coming."
Lieutenant Colonel Drake is another fellow struggling to meet the Intelligence agency's unreasonable demands, so I'm sure that's real sympathy I detect in his voice.
I wish I brought him a bottle of something.
"It really has been nothing but trouble. I don't know how they plan deployments these days, but to think they would hurl me at my age into the evil nest of Communists to serve as a liaison!"
When Drake flicks his eyes, it's clearly meant as a warning. But there's no reason to worry. This is the Federation, and the Federation is providing the garrison space and everything else they need. The troops stationed here are probably being treated to the latest facilities available. I wouldn't be surprised if there are speakers in the walls, recorders in the phones, and a listening gadget or two stashed in the ashtrays, too. On the contrary, it would be stranger to think the whole place isn't bugged. It's not really an issue of common sense.
The Federation's Communist Party's secret police are diligent to the point of borderline paranoia. That makes them a huge pain in the neck.
"Wouldn't you like some insight into what the higher-ups are thinking about now?"
"Are you sure you should be telling me?"
"I'm aware we have an audience, so it shouldn't be a problem."
If it's already out in the open, then might as well go for it. I shrug. "Truth is, the home country's feelings about the Federation are genuine."
"That's surprising. I thought lots of people in the home country were conservative."
"Not much has changed. But even so, some people are praising the progress of Communism with all their hearts, and many people are extolling the party's wisdom; yes, especially the advances brought to farming villages by the party's agricultural policy—there are even comments that the developments are unbelievable."
"In other words?"
"Communism is just as 'fascinating' as ever."
Anyone from the Commonwealth would frown at high praise expressed like that. Who can say whether colonials would understand, but anyone from the home country would have no trouble reading between the lines. Any bona fide gentleman of the Commonwealth would be at risk of choking on the sarcasm and bile loaded in that statement.
Drake seems to be holding back a laugh as I clap him on the shoulder and invite him for a walk.
"I don't mind letting our hosts hear indoors, but why not use this chance to take in the scenery as we talk?"
"Yes, why not? Let's have a stroll."
Drake readily agrees to the idea and takes the lead; we wander outside on the pretext of me inspecting the outdoor positions.
But there turn out to be hardworking ears outside, too. Well, I anticipated that my presence would draw some attention.
I fully expected there would be some people tailing us. But even so, it's eerie to be stared at so much from all directions.
As a seasoned Intelligence agent, I'm simply stunned by the brazen surveillance state. Everything vividly speaks to the Federation's true nature.
These people are our allies, though…
I feel like I should commit to memory their most prominent trait: their distrust of those from capitalist states, even during wartime.
At the end of the day, the current friendly relationship between the Commonwealth and the Federation is…merely an alliance of convenience. Peeking beneath the thin ice, I imagine it would be quite easy to find a river of suspicion.
You can't let your guard down against what might be flowing beneath the surface. Wincing inwardly, I dare to step forward. Though nothing is
stable, the dirt at least is what it appears to be.
What gets built upon the dirt can be one measure of that—which is why I dislike this sad wasteland of blackened earth. Though my family's country house is modest, we're proud of it. I miss the garden there.
Ah, but I'm a public servant, so I should be focusing on work.
"Colonel Drake, I have some news that will put you in an even worse mood. According to the latest intelligence, the Imperial Army is using its current momentum to prepare a major offensive."
"You're certain?"
"I've no doubt. It looks like the participating formations have already been announced. They seem to be splitting the eastern front into sectors: The A Front is the southern offensive, and the B Front is everything else. The A Group will attack while the B Group guards their flank."
If you picture the geography of the Federation in your head, the explanation is simple. The enemy has gathered an unusual number of troops below us—that is, to the south. The intel was confirmed by deciphering and analyzing intercepted communications. It's most likely an accurate prediction.
"It's basic—easy to understand, right?"
"How likely is it that the Federation is able to hold in the south?"
"Good question." I nod, acting calmer than I feel. "It's not hopelessly unlikely, but it's not terribly hopeful, either. The situation is a bit delicate."
People often misunderstand this point. While knowing the enemy's situation is a terrific advantage, it's only an advantage. Just because you succeeded in obtaining intelligence doesn't mean you can automatically parlay that into a surefire plan to overwhelm the enemy.
On the contrary, there's some difficulty in knowing. For example, if you received the uniquely accurate forecast that one hundred trained lions are about to rush you, how would you feel?
"The A Group is apparently comprised of armor, mages, self-propelled guns, and other highly mobile combat elements. If we can find a way to stop them, the outcome might start to look very different, but in a battle of maneuver warfare on a flat field, the Federation's defending forces might be in trouble."
"So an urban battle would give them better chances…?"
Drake seems to realize the situation is unfavorable, and his expression
darkens as he groans. "It'll be a bloodbath either way. Contesting control over the cities in the south will be hell. It's awful… We're taking youths with their whole lives still ahead of them and turning them into meat pies." Drake has the black humor typical of an officer who has seen his share of horrors on the front line. "How depressing. If only there was even one piece of good news…"
"…Oh, right. I forgot—there is one thing that might count as good news."
"Anything to lighten the weight is welcome…but the south is in a precarious position. I'd be especially happy if it was something to do with that."
I nod to let him know it is indeed related.
It's become crystal clear that there are signs of an impending Imperial Army offensive, but behind that lies a glimmer of hope.
"We've received political intel that says opposition to the imperial family and the government has intensified. The rumors say that the A and B Group formations reflect an internal conflict."
"It may only be hearsay, but if the enemy is even slightly disordered, that's great."
"Then rejoice. Apparently, things really have gotten quite complicated for our friends in the Empire."
"Ohhh?" Drake seems to find that interesting and lets out what seems like a subconscious whistle.
Frankly, I also welcome anything that might throw a wrench into the imperial war machine.
"Supposedly, a rift has formed between the Imperial Army General Staff and the imperial government. And I also hear that a supply officer in the General Staff who fell out of favor was driven away and forced into the B Group."
"Honestly, that sounds fishy. It's not just something like a lizard cutting off its tail?"
Though Drake's healthy skepticism is admirable, what the Empire's leadership cut off happens to be one of their most important assets.
"If we must labor under the lizard analogy, it'd be like cutting off the brains, not the tail. Though the head of the General Staff and the central office tried to protect the man in question, they were unsuccessful. The
deputy director of the Service Corps is getting a 'promotion' to 'coordinator' of B Group."
"A promotion from the General Staff? Which general is that?"
"The handful of a military administrator Lieutenant General von Zettour. The specialists in the home country heard it was likely he would be leaving the General Staff and are already shouting for joy."
After listening to my news, Drake seems to fall into thought for a little while, but then he finally nods as if something clicked. "…He's certainly high up enough that I've heard of him before. Is Zettour really such a capable fellow?"
"He is—terrifyingly capable." I nod frankly.
It's too bad I can't explain where I'd gotten the intel. All the reliable info we have shows that this Lieutenant General von Zettour of the Imperial Army is a military man of pure evil.
His skill at continuing to provide logistical support during the Imperial Army's rapid advances always surpassed our predictions. His maintenance of the supply network, the establishment of the Council for Self- Government, and even his procurement of cold-weather gear for the eastern front—everything we learned from the encoded messages we intercepted indicates he's a diligent worker who readily adapts when the situation calls for it.
That's why it's such great news that he's been promoted away from Central.
"Just between us, whether or not he handles the A Group's logistics will make a huge difference in our chances to protect the resource-rich south. The analysts are already anticipating an easier time."
Just as they're about to launch a huge offensive, the military administrator who heads up logistics and supplies has been let go. That's the biggest sign of discord within the Empire.
When operating a large organization, skillfully managing human resources is what decides success or failure.
Has the Empire forgotten that? Maybe their streak of victories has made them cocky.
"Chaos in the enemy supply network on the eastern front isn't bad news, but may I add something?"
"Tell me what's on your mind."
Drake quietly voices his doubt. "You're saying a military administrator has been assigned to this B Group operating on the eastern front. But the enemies we can see are currently establishing defensive lines."
"What of it?"
"That could very well be a sign that the enemy wants a defensive battle! I can't see B Group continuing to build up their defensive positions and interpret it as a good sign."
In my head, I agreed with Drake's keen insight: It's a valid worry. A competent military administrator could function as expert organizational support. B Group having such an officer who could organize the logistical network can affect even the preparedness of their defenses in a big way.
Given the circumstances, it would be a huge problem if the Imperial Army improves its supply situation or strengthens its relationship with the Council for Self-Government.
Then I flash a wry grin. From what I've gathered from the Imperial Army intel, Zettour is tragically being exiled to the countryside and nothing more.
He still has his rank, but one glance at the position makes it clear his new job is a mere formality… This is a bit of an extreme comparison, but it's basically the same as a King of Arms1 in the home country.
"As a part of the Intelligence agency, I can promise you one thing: He's
not coming out here with any authority. This next bit is somewhat speculation, but what we're hearing is that his new position is an empty title."
"That's confirmed?"
"…Personally, I believe it's as good as fact. If I say anything else, we'll start running into issues of how information is evaluated, and classified intel will be involved. But I do believe it's true."
The broken enemy code—that is, the magic—made it clear that the lieutenant general wouldn't be assuming command of B Group. It's unfortunate that I can't tell Drake the source, but the reports are genuine.
Zettour's role will consist of only inspections, maybe providing some support as an advisor at most. During peacetime, it might have sounded important, but during a war, the role of a high-ranking officer with no command authority is limited.
He'll have rank but with none of the power that should go with it. I almost want to pity him.
"It's not bad news, but for those of us who actually have to face off against B Group, it's still a question mark."
I nod awkwardly in response to Drake's shrug. I would have liked to bring some better news, but…that's the best I could come up with.
"The rest is all awful news or top secret, sorry."
"No, no, please give my regards to General Habergram. Of course, I'd have even more regard for him if he'd get certain girls out of my hair."
The emotion coloring his voice when he said that was exhaustion. I can even detect a genuine cry for help in his tired expression.
Drake isn't the type of officer to whine, so he must really be at his wit's end. It must be First Lieutenant Sue. Or at least I think that's her name? He seems to be having a hard time with the volunteer mages who have been deployed as a political and diplomatic necessity vis-à-vis the relationship between the Commonwealth and the Unified States as well as the Entente Alliance.
I feel for him, but Drake, like me, is a poor servant of the state who must fulfill His Majesty's and the homeland's every request.
"I wholeheartedly sympathize. Alas, I can't help you with that. You'll have to ask not General Habergram but his superior."
"Even a man of your position can't help, Mr. Johnson?" It's terribly regrettable, but that is correct.
Anything involving the volunteer mage units isn't a matter of Intelligence or military rationale but an issue for the absurdly sublime dimension of diplomacy or perhaps even circumstances of the state.
All the colonel can do is nod in silence. "Reality can be quite harsh… I'll do my best."
"Sorry, Colonel Drake. At least let me present you with this souvenir. I tangled with the Federation customs agent to smuggle in a bottle of scotch from the home country."
"You have my gratitude. I'll be sure to savor it."
"I hope it will be of some consolation to you during your backwater tour of duty. All right, sooner or later I'm sure we'll meet again."
-x-X-x-
THE SAME DAY, IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN, CENTRAL STATION
The platform area at the imperial capital's Central Station was brimming with activity as usual, echoing with the intertwining harmony that arose from the sounds of human activity coming from the diverse crowd mixing with the mechanical clamor of the military and civilian trains stopping and departing with every passing minute.
Ever since the start of the war, transport of people and goods by rail had only—and rapidly—expanded. Anyone who tracked the movement of matériel in the Empire would have considered this much traffic as undeniable proof.
This space was both a symbol of modernity and the pulse of the Empire. It was natural, then, that people in military uniform bound for their assignments as a matter of national necessity shook hands and, though loath to part, boarded their trains to begin their journeys.
High-ranking officers were no exception.
"General von Zettour, congratulations on your promotion to inspector of B Group."
"Are you congratulating me on a demotion? I'll respond to that forced compliment with forced gratitude."
The old brothers-in-arms Lieutenant General von Zettour and Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf shook hands and winced as they joked.
"…Zettour, you really got the short end of the stick."
"It can't be helped. I was the one who defied Supreme Command."
Zettour, who in the realm of grand strategy was lower ranking, had snapped at his higher-ups.
The imperial family, the people, the government—no matter what you want to call it, ultimately, a military person was considered subordinate to the wishes of the state. Obedience to legitimate orders was treated as the soul of discipline. There could be no exceptions.
Supreme Command was the master, and Zettour was the servant. "Honestly, I was prepared to lose my position as deputy director of the
Service Corps. What actually happened instead was almost anticlimactic." "Hmph, the only one who sees it that way is you. That's downright
impudent coming from someone being sent away."
"But since my job in the east is a concurrent post and they're leaving my seat open, they must have some sympathy."
Rejecting the wishes of the state was essentially rebellion.
By toeing such a dangerous line, he knew that the worst case would be complete dismissal from the service. In that sense, the relief he expressed to Rudersdorf was genuine.
They must have preserved his position out of some kind of compassion.
Keeping all his achievements in mind, they must have been willing to let him off with exile to the east. Bureaucracy is an agglomeration of cold- blooded organizers, but it can still be considerate enough to treat human resources with care.
Apparently, Rudersdorf had a different impression from Zettour, though. "…The issue is the lack of parity!" he spat, shaking his head. "You and I both opposed them. So what's this all about? Don't tell me you don't know,
Zettour!"
Supreme Command's feelings were revealed in their punishments. On the surface, there was no difference in how they treated Rudersdorf versus Zettour…but in practice, there was a giant chasm.
"I lose out on my promotion, but I stay in my current position. Meanwhile, you're sent to the east. I don't mean to speak poorly of going to the front, but to be sent without any authority? While ensuring you'll have no role in the rear? They're freezing you out."
"I'm choosing to think of it as if I've been given a vacation."
"You never change. But, Zettour, I'm warning you… The higher-ups— no, the whole government has its eye on you."
"Why bring that up now?" Zettour smiled bitterly. "You can't work in the Service Corps without getting blamed for something at some point. We're in the middle of a total war. It's impossible to be everyone's friend."
Groping in the dark for the most efficient way to pile up the bodies of enemy youths while your own are falling to the ground heaving blood in exchange—that's war.
No one was less suited to being a General Staff officer than a person who wanted people to like them. That was incredibly clear, given the
lamentations, grief, and anger of the families who had lost loved ones.
"And recall that I was the one who led the initiative. We were meddling in foreign affairs. Even if I hadn't acted on my own authority or opposed Supreme Command…sooner or later I would have been punished."
The person who made every effort with the best intentions had ultimately failed. Given that outcome, the consequences could be considered surprisingly lukewarm.
When all was said and done, Zettour didn't hold any grudges.
"An organization requires rewards and punishments to be doled out accordingly. A soldier interfering in diplomacy, even if their intentions are good, is a soldier who is overstepping their authority. What would happen if we were unconditionally exempt from accountability? It would be against the principles of military command." So what happened was inevitable, seemed to be Zettour's point, readily excusing the way he had been treated by looking at the big picture of military administration from the perspective of a single member of the organization. "Restraints are unavoidable. Cracking the whip when the time calls for it is the sign of a healthy military. Shouldn't we be happy there's some punishment rather than none at all?"
"But it's not fair. Rewards and punishment may be the foundation of the military, but when you get down to it, you only stepped out of bounds to make up for the state's lack of a plan. Holding a grudge for the way the General Staff has handled their human resources would simply be—"
Even if there weren't any people around, Rudersdorf was going too far. This is no good, thought Zettour as he interrupted. "That's enough." "Mrph." Always true to his feelings, Rudersdorf's eyebrows expressed
his dismay as he held his tongue.
"No matter what, we're still soldiers. And as long as we're soldiers…" "We have no choice?"
His old friend's discontented attitude gave Zettour pause. "General von Rudersdorf, I hate to say this to you, but…a soldier has to follow the state's grand strategy. At least, that's all I can say right now." He chuckled. "They're probably suggesting that I go honorably to the front lines and cultivate a true warrior's spirit."
"Maybe it's a roundabout way of getting the Federation Army to mop you up for them."
"You're overthinking it. If they were sending one of us east as an
execution, I think they'd do it a bit differently. They're probably trying to stir my pride so I'll 'volunteer' to be the ceremonial head of a regiment. At least, that's what I would do."
Having been with the General Staff so long, Zettour was familiar with how these things went.
For example, when he thought of how the "promotions" of the higher- ups who pushed into Norden had left the Rhine front in a precarious position…he winced.
"I'm one of the lucky ones, relatively speaking."
"You're always like that. To think that a general is here, groaning like a first lieutenant about how unreasonable the military is. Things have gotten bad, Zettour. Nothing ever turns out the way you want it to when you're a soldier."
"I remember talking about the same thing when we were lieutenant colonels. In the end, your position can change, but things still won't go according to plan—that's life. It just means that the ones at the top of the ladder have their struggles just like the ones at the bottom do."
"You're too philosophical. No one would normally reach that kind of conclusion."
He knew from experience that he had no choice but to be philosophical. And why was that again? Whose mess had he been cleaning up? It was a very interesting question.
Zettour himself had a background in Operations. He understood the absurd requests from Rudersdorf and the other Operations staffers were consistent in the context of their needs and station. Perhaps it had been necessary from the beginning, but he usually went along with their unreasonable demands willingly… Ahhh. He had a sudden realization.
"Can I say something?" "What?"
"The Service Corps is a military organization. Its strength doesn't lie in politics."
Rudersdorf was right to look at him with eyes that said, Why are you stating the obvious all of a sudden? But it's important to be reminded that institutions are operated by people.
"I can't have you look at my decisions and misunderstand. So just to be clear: The Service Corps wasn't meant to handle political matters. It's
merely a tool. They don't think on their own. So don't expect anything out of them beyond railways to the combat theater."
"In other words?"
"When it comes to negotiating with anyone who isn't the military, sorry, but please lend them a hand."
Flaws in any organization had to be fixed by a person.
It sounded nice in theory, but that sentiment didn't amount to much more than simply putting off the issue with a quick fix. Still, with a war going on, everyone was forced to take measures that were ad hoc, if they were being described charitably. Most solutions were haphazard if they were blunt about it.
Due to the nature of the situation, Zettour often found himself forced to get his hands dirty with political matters…but that deviated from what a staff officer in the Service Corps was supposed to do.
From the perspective of an administrator of supply and matériel, it seemed as if the General Staff was getting lost in a similar yet decidedly separate universe.
"I really think you're too fit for the job. Having you leave day-to-day administrative duties at this juncture…is honestly fine with me." Rudersdorf smiled ferociously. "That said, if instead of Zettour the administrator we had Zettour the Operations man take charge of the secondary fronts…then I would truly be able to rest easy."
"Oh? But I might take such a cushy position as an opportunity to lose myself in philosophical contemplation like the academic I am."
"Ha-ha-ha. That'll be the day." Rudersdorf lightly punched him in the shoulder as he continued laughing. "It's not as if I'm unfamiliar with the kind of Operations man you are. And I can't imagine you've forgotten how things work, so worrying about whether you can handle it is a waste of time."
"Good grief, you're really always ready to thrust some new headache onto me."
"General von Zettour, have you forgotten? An industrious staff officer is a good staff officer. I'm not about to let you get away with a nice, long rest for your weary bones in the countryside."
"Hmph," Zettour snorted. "Right when I thought I was being kept on the payroll out of kindness, I get hit with this unexpected request. If you want
me to work, you could at least give me a smidgen of authority to make it happen…"
He was being demoted with a nominal rank and nominal position. That was what his superiors intended. Meanwhile, here was Rudersdorf, in charge of things on the ground, rejoicing in his luck and trying to entrust the entire B Front to him.
And if the necessary authority to handle things was unclear, his work would be plagued by incredible difficulty.
"That doesn't sound like the kind of gripe you'd normally make, Zettour."
"Well, I should be allowed a gripe or two. Why should I have to be the only one to suffer? We're talking about holding down the B Front. Anyone 'requested' to do such a thing would normally want to go hide in their parents' basement."
"What are you talking about? If I could have it my way, I would have a much easier time if I could have left all the logistics to you."
"…I know." He swallowed the urge to say, So I suffer either way. As he was about to remark that that was always the case, the train's whistle interrupted them.
They had been talking so intently, neither of them realized it was time to
go.
"Hey, the train's here. Look, Zettour." "Yeah, seems that way."
The train that glided into the platform was the usual combination of
passenger and freight cars. There had to be a mountain of supplies being sent to the eastern front on those freight cars.
The train's most distinguishing feature was the cheap paint job it had gotten that was supposed to provide a degree of camouflage. The cars were painted a somewhat gloomy color in order to make them hard to spot from the sky.
It reminded Zettour of his future in an uncomfortable way. No matter how Rudersdorf spun it, he still felt anxious.
Before departing, though aware that it was uncharacteristically repetitive of him, he opened his mouth to speak. "About the logistics for Andromeda, to be blunt…"
He had to say it.
He felt he had to make his point clear, but it got him nowhere.
"There aren't enough horses. We'll just barely be ready by forcing everything through with rail. It's all we have left. There are trucks as insurance, but…whether fuel stocks will hold up or not is in the air."
"…Yeah."
If Rudersdorf already fully grasped the main points and understood the most glaring issues, there was nothing else Zettour could meaningfully add. "I've known that from the beginning. Don't worry about A Group. I'm leaving B to you." With a bob of his head, Rudersdorf pounded his own
chest. It must have meant he was up to the challenge.
"I've been going along with your recklessness for so long."
"For better or worse, we're inseparable former classmates. Let's win this thing together."
"And what if we fail?"
Always have a backup plan in mind. That was the nature of a staff officer. Some might have even called it the essence of their being.
They hoped harder than anyone for the operation to succeed. But they also prepared for failures no one wanted to see or think about. It seemed like a contradiction, but it was precisely because they desired success more than anyone that they also constantly envisioned the worst scenarios.
"I'll reorganize the lines and won't hesitate to retreat. I'm not interested in betting on a losing horse."
"…A drastic retreat will affect B Group. If you do plan to fall back, let me know."
He knew Rudersdorf wouldn't screw up the timing. Being nervous about it seemed strange.
But perhaps Zettour was anxious because it was his first frontline duty in a while? He was in a strange mood. He hesitated to bring it up, but something felt wrong, as if he had done his shirt up one button off. He just couldn't verbalize it properly.
In the end, he decided to say nothing. It was better not to speak up in the first place if he was unsure.
"I believe in you. And now all I have to worry about is the A Front. You have my gratitude."
"I suppose I don't have to go nuts with it."
"If you say you'll do it, I'm sure you'll do it no problem."
"…I'll do my best. But this isn't an issue that can just be solved with joint responsibility. Allow me to say something, bearing in mind how rough you are with people."
"Let's hear it."
"Colonel Uger and the others I'm leaving behind are excellent officers, but they're good-natured people. They're very cooperative but tend to be restrained when it comes to expressing their own views."
"By that you mean…?"
"You need to understand that when they say something is impossible, it's different from when I say something is impossible. When they say something can't be done, it's most likely because they've already exhausted all their options."
The Service Corps staff officers he was leaving in Rudersdorf's care were too used to working at full tilt. They were incredibly talented at cutting away excesses in the pursuit of efficiency.
As members of an organization, they were the perfect cogs. The issue came down to how they would be used.
"I hope you'll remember this: All my subordinates are hard workers. You might even say they work too hard. Please keep that in mind when you're making requests of them."
They would never cut corners. They were industrious and unselfish, which was praiseworthy, but…it became a problem when the staff officers didn't get necessary rest. If they pushed themselves to their limits, they wouldn't have the proper reserves of energy in the event of an emergency.
"…I'll keep that in mind. What a mess this has turned out to be. It was much simpler to squeeze resources out of you."
"All the impossible demands from you and the rest of Operations have left my people and me gaunt. At this point, much more squeezing and all you'll wring out is hatred. Our blood and tears have long since dried up. That's how hard my people work and how much they strain themselves. If only they were blessed with a better colleague."
"Ahhh, I hope you're blessed with a good colleague like me in B Group."
"Ha-ha-ha! If only."
Zettour laughed at how awful Rudersdorf was being, and Rudersdorf shrugged. Though they had grown older, their banter hadn't changed from
the time they entered the service together. "I wish you luck."
"Thanks. I'll see you again sometime."
"You bet. I'll be waiting for your triumphant return, General."
They continued chatting as they clapped each other on the back and shook hands. No matter how much a staff officer was praised, it undoubtedly had nothing to do with how good a person they were.
"Have some pricey liquor and cigars ready. I'm planning on bankrupting you."
"Fine by me. You can expect a welcome back party for the triumphant Operations Zettour. We'll make it a big one. And all the arrangements will be made by Service Corps Zettour, so you can believe me when I say everything's taken care of."
"…I never thought you'd manage to get one over on me. It seems I'm already washed up. Well, time for me to dutifully head to the eastern front. See you again soon."
With those final words, Zettour boarded the train and entered his compartment. Waiting for him there was a batman who bowed low, nervously trembling.
"Excuse me, General! Your luggage…" "Luggage?"
"Yes, sir! If you'll point me in the direction of your bags, I can take care of them for you right away."
"Thanks, but there aren't any."
The young batman's face went blank. Did he hear that correctly? "Y-yes, sir… So…you don't require any assistance?"
Zettour almost pitied the poor kid, who had gone white as a sheet, perhaps from the stress of questioning a high-ranking officer.
"Take a look. All I've got is my officer's suitcase. It's not as if I'm moving house, so what would be the point of taking more than I can carry? An officer has to be ready to move at a moment's notice if the order comes down."
-x-X-x-
[Image]
-x-X-x-
"P-please excuse my ignorance, sir!"
Zettour shook his head lightly and told him not to worry about it.
"How terribly unfortunate if my predecessors gave you the wrong idea. Anyhow, might as well make the best of it. Troops on their way to the east are allowed a free cup of tea, right? As a member of the military, I'd like to take advantage."
"Yes, sir! I'll bring it immediately."
The batman dashed off with impressive speed. He must have been trained well. But the peacetime sensibility made Zettour want to give him a piece of his mind. Etiquette was all well and good, but was that much necessary on a train headed to a war zone?
"…What a handful. He's too polite for field service."
He would probably also have to say something about the operation and usage of the trains themselves. As he was about to make a mental note, he realized something with a start.
This isn't the General Staff Office.
It wasn't the type of place where he could order something to be improved and it would happen immediately. He wouldn't be able to remember everything, so he would probably have to start writing things down at some point.
The right to make requests went only so far.
Sitting in the chair in his compartment, he murmured, "So I've got to wage war while holding the reins of B Group…"
This certainly wasn't what Supreme Command had envisioned. Zettour retained nominal authority, but it was Rudersdorf back at headquarters who was meant to command the operation. The fact that they couldn't have guessed that he, shorthanded for the major operation in the southeast as it was, couldn't handle overseeing both the Service Corps and B Group… made things rather lopsided.
"Thanks to that, part of his work got dumped on me."
The higher-ups didn't intend it, but the labor had been divided. And as a result, he was being sent to the eastern front with greatly limited authority and supplies. Even if the Eastern Army Group and the General Staff Office hadn't already been on bad terms, he was basically parachuting down on them without warning.
He probably wouldn't be able to take his time and get to know everyone
at HQ.
"That idiot Rudersdorf. As if it'll be so simple."
Unable to issue actual orders, only requests. What a difficult world we live in. Zettour could already see how his influence on the eastern front would be terribly small.
In effect, he had no pieces to play with. "No, there is one…"
A single card in his hand. But it was a wild card. "The Salamanders…"
When conceptualizing the Kampfgruppe, he never dreamed it would be used like this one day. It was a special unit reporting directly to the General Staff with Lieutenant Colonel von Degurechaff in command. The unit wasn't being used very aggressively in the east, but perhaps that would need to change soon.
"If this was going to happen, maybe I should have had the Kampfgruppen currently being formed sent to the east as well? No, that wouldn't have been doable even if I'd wanted to."
There were several experimental Kampfgruppen operating in the homeland for research purposes…but sending them all over the place had backfired. It had seemed fine at the time because of how easy and convenient it was to deploy them.
If they had been held in reserve, they could have been pooled together and sent to the east to give Zettour a decent force to work with.
Instead, he was stuck with hardly anything.
"At any rate, if this is a sign of how everything else will go, all I can do as a field commander is hold my ground as ordered. Of course, it'd be nice to win."
Successfully carry out the objectives of Operation Andromeda on the eastern front—the ideal was clear. And he wanted to do it with as few casualties as possible.
If they could win, Zettour's duties in the east would essentially disappear. If the B Front quieted down, he could snark at the B Group staffers.
"But if we can't win?"
The ominous doubt that slipped from Zettour's lips sent a chill up his spine.
If Andromeda failed? He might be able to handle the aftermath. It would be awfully tough, but he didn't consider himself so senile that he couldn't make do.
But that wasn't the real issue.
At this point, he was confident that the situation was still manageable. They would improve what needed improving, learn from their failures, and plan the next operation accordingly. But what if that one failed? Would they persevere and come up with a third?
They would most likely be able to scrabble together some kind of operation. Though the shortage of manpower had been worsening for a while now, surely the General Staff wouldn't be completely unable to draft a new operation.
The true problem lay elsewhere.
Would the Empire and its army have enough strength left for a third operation at that point? No…would they even be able to recover from failing the second?
Thinking objectively, Zettour had to admit the chances of either scenario going well were hopelessly close to zero. If two major operations couldn't get them over, would the foundations of the Empire still be standing after?
It was difficult to be optimistic about even their chances of successfully defending, much less attacking. It would require an awful lot of self- deception to look away from reality and pretend like there weren't serious problems underpinning the entire situation.
…Vexingly, things appeared to be different for the Federation Army.
They endured defeat after defeat, only to stand up again.
"Oh, I see." Zettour finally realized what had been bothering him. "We aren't allowed to make a mistake, but the enemy is… I was just thinking that was rather unfair."
-x-X-x-
MAY 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, EASTERN FRONT, EASTERN ARMY FORWARD BASE
When Tanya answers the General Staff's orders to report to the eastern army's forward base, it's under the assumption that Colonel von Lergen or Lieutenant Colonel Uger—one of the officers she's acquainted with—has come with a message.
Anything too dangerous to transmit in writing, or too important, normally gets delivered by an officer.
Given the market factors of secrecy and convenience, getting called in is surely the going rate for information. And as I'm a lieutenant colonel, the messenger should be no one higher than colonel.
This conclusion should come naturally to anyone familiar with the inner workings of the Imperial Army. Though she happily came along, eager to rekindle an old friendship with the messenger from Central, Tanya is now frozen in place.
Even for a place outfitted as a headquarters…the quarters she had been invited to were much too nice. I should've realized right then and there.
"Been a while, Colonel von Degurechaff."
Waiting in the room the eastern army batman led her to was…not a mid- ranking officer. Raising a hand with a faint smile is a good-natured older gentleman—a general. There's no mistaking him. It's the deputy chief of the Service Corps, Lieutenant General von Zettour, wearing his stars.
The shock from being caught off guard is immense. This veritable sneak attack nearly causes little Tanya's heart to leap out of her throat.
If I had been able to predict the future even slightly more accurately, maybe things would have been different. For instance, if there had been a way to know the next words Zettour would say, maybe it would have been less alarming.
"I've been exiled from the General Staff Office. I'm here to play in the east for a spell…so I have a favor to ask." He went on without hesitating, his tone casual. "To get straight to the point, I've been sent here because I upset Supreme Command… It's not an easy job, pointing out your boss's mistakes."
Lieutenant General von Zettour, who was supposed to be the brilliant string puller in my career plan, has slipped up.
To Tanya, who has been proceeding according to her prudent life blueprint, these circumstances are most regrettable. The boss of my faction has failed! This is why I can't stand politics!
Possessing the self-restraint to not grumble like that in front of people is something Tanya can be lauded for. But pride and patience alone won't solve this problem.
By the time it becomes obvious that Tanya has lost the initiative, it's too late. Unlike multiplying positive and negative numbers, multiplying astonishment with astonishment never comes out positive no matter how many times you repeat the function.
Before the stunned Tanya can recover, Zettour begins speaking matter- of-factly without worrying about her status. If there was any hint of him manifesting a Being X–like harmful energy from his entire body, she may have responded differently.
But for the imperial soldier Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, bound by the norms of society as a civilized individual, fleeing while a superior is speaking isn't an option.
By the time the risks are plain to see, the conversation has progressed to the point where she can no longer retreat.
The General Staff and Supreme Command have clashed.
A major offensive, Operation Andromeda, has been green-lighted for political reasons. Stockpiling for said major offensive has already begun, and the rumored reorganization of the eastern army is already under way.
The forces are split into an A Group that will concentrate on the main area of operation and a B Group that will defend the extensive lines that stretch across the rest of the theater of operations; moreover, most of the armor will be committed to capturing the southern cities…
Tanya is told all these things nonchalantly before she can get a word in.
Having heard this much, I don't even want to imagine how classified this information is.
The next thing Zettour says guarantees it.
"And I'm here on orders to inspect and advise B Group; I'll be aiding in the reorganization of the front lines. In order to properly support Andromeda missions in the south, B Group will have to live with most of their armor getting retasked, but we'll simply have to do our best with what we've got, eh?"
Tanya just stares. Though she should be reacting in surprise, she only listens on while gaping like a numbskull.
The eastern front is often referred to as "extensive," but that's actually
inaccurate. Put more bluntly, it's too long.
And thanks to that, everything is stretched thin and becomes disjointed. That applies to defensive positions and troop formations as well. The ideal logically would be to hold Commie welcome parties from strong points of prepared firing positions and solid trenches like what the troops had on the Rhine. Unfortunately, the positions we're working with are horribly lackluster and worn down.
You could say that one-man operations are becoming a chronic issue.
Though the planners know it's more efficient and desirable to dedicate multiple people to a task, they simply don't have the numbers. The Empire's instrument of violence, its military, can carry on as long as the state doesn't go bankrupt, but it's undoubtedly feeling the attrition of national strength and human resources.
Yet, they're going to take the armor normally saved for emergencies and give it to A Group?
Who could hear that without getting dizzy? And that's only if the unlucky victim doesn't die of shock on the spot.
"I'm sure you must have arguments, objections, and so on, but if we can seize the Federation Army's resource area, we can expect a dramatic shift in our war economy."
"With all due respect, that's only if we're successful."
"That's a very good observation. For the sake of discussion, let's hear what you have to say. What do you think about Operation Andromeda?"
"…I think, considering my rank, I shouldn't…" "I'll be frank: Give me your unreserved opinion."
Tanya attempts to avoid the question by saying it's not appropriate, but Zettour insists with a gentle smile on his face that doesn't reach his eyes.
I guess I have no choice. Tanya braces herself. Sharing opinions when requested by a superior is part of what an officer gets paid for.
"Overburdened communication lines, a supply network that is about to collapse, a huge exposed flank, barely enough troops to secure various strategic points or hold defensive lines, and to top it off, the tyranny of distance—moving ahead with all these things present"—she almost spits out her conclusion—"is reckless."
"I won't understand if you're vague. Elaborate."
"I don't have any other words to describe it. If I had to rephrase it, I
would say that the operation is a gamble that is far too dangerous."
Once you say something aloud, you're obliged to explain it. Tanya offers her view dispassionately, with a professional air that overcomes subjectivity to the greatest extent possible.
"To be frank, under the current circumstances, B Group is a misnomer. Though it's called a group, the only group on the eastern front is A. B might as well be a pile of rubble! We don't even have the minimal necessary troops according to eastern-front standards, much less those found in our textbooks."
"Is that how it seems to you?"
Tanya nods emphatically. "You don't need to have gone to war college to see that; I'd bet even the newest students at the academy can tell. Regardless of A Group's success, if B Group cannot hold, the entire army will be forced to undertake a massive retreat. Under these circumstances, insisting on leaving B Group with little more than a skeleton crew, we'll be risking not only the Andromeda front but the rear as well."
It's clear that these are makeshift adjustments based on creative accounting. The brass can say B Group will hold the line all they want, but there simply aren't enough troops to make that happen.
A Group has secured local superiority, just barely, through the army's efforts to concentrate their forces. They'll probably be able to at least drill an opening in the enemy lines.
The enemy's defenses are thick but certainly not uniformly so; we can consider punching through anytime.
But the biggest question is whether we can exploit the opening.
Unless we have units in the wings with the discipline and leadership to hold that breach open, our pains will be in vain.
"At present, we have no units on standby—not only that but we're drawing off units from B Group! We need to recognize that we're putting the cart before the horse."
"Surely a staff officer's duty is to do something about that."
"A staff officer's duty is to raise appropriate objections as necessary in the face of impossible circumstances. At least, that's what they taught me at war college."
During the staff officer retreat, they emphasized how important it is to honestly admit when something is impossible, no matter how badly you
wish it were otherwise.
"A staff officer isn't supposed to brute force things when they can't be done. Even if you can tip the scale, we mustn't forget the underlying laws that govern how the scales work in the first place. We can't put anything larger than a weight on it."
"Colonel, it's not becoming of a field officer to put too much confidence in their academic education. We don't get a blank check. I don't deny that Andromeda is a high-risk operation, but since we've been ordered to carry it out, all we can do is our best."
"I understand what you're saying"—Tanya shakes her head in response
—"but I just don't like it."
"You're being awfully negative. It's not like you. Did something happen?"
"I realize my objection is vague and difficult to describe, but if I may be allowed to speak anyway, I don't like any of it. Even the name rubs me the wrong way."
"Oh?"
Tanya catches him smiling wryly out of the corner of her eye. Nothing she's said so far came with the intent to pique his curiosity, but apparently, she has captured his interest nonetheless.
"How unusual." "Sir?"
The gaze directed at Tanya's blank look is so mischievous. What did she say that could possibly amuse her superior like that?
"I was sure you were my good luck charm… Although I thought you were a bit more logical of an officer."
"Names and natures do often agree." "Hmm?"
His eyes urge her to continue, so Tanya obliges. Not that I'm a huge fan of structuralism, either, but sometimes there are moments that absolutely call for deconstruction.
"We put too much faith in language. Which is why we tend to forget that our thoughts and imaginations are shaped and restricted by words."
Ultimately, humans are caught in the thrall of words. In Tanya's understanding, names are words, yet the meanings they possess can at times bring about misunderstandings.
"A division from the Dacian Army and a division from the Federation Army are both 'divisions,' but the threat they pose is quite different… Become too used to fighting against the Federation and you're liable to overestimate Dacia, but if you get too used to fighting against Dacia, you might underestimate the Federation instead. The same logic applies here."
"I see. Now that you mention it, that's true."
What an interesting observation. That's what Zettour's expression says as he nods. Well, I'm glad it's a topic that interests a superior scholar.
"So what does the name Andromeda suggest?"
"The Andromeda Galaxy. Doesn't that mean we're reaching a bit too far? To me, at least, it's self-evident. By the time we're endeavoring to ignore the tyranny of distance, it's already clear what we should be worrying about first."
It's almost as if our internal fears slipped out in the form of this strange operation name.
Though I don't know if it was done consciously or unconsciously.
Fascinatingly, this seems a lot like how no companies like the phrases growth strategy and long-term plan more than those that are about to go under. Put concisely, these are all signs of an organization that's failing to hide how it's already hit the limit.
"There's no need to be overly heroic or overly, odorlessly neutral, but I do think it's important to consider how the name of an operation comes across."
Whether you inspire or stump the members of your organization is a matter of life and death.
"That's a good point, Colonel. I'll be sure to suggest that indirectly to the one who named it."
"Sir?"
"Usually I choose the operation names, but this time it wasn't my choice… I'll be sure to explain your logic in full to General von Rudersdorf."
Yet another unexpected turn. Consistently losing the initiative in this conversation is maddening.
Before Tanya can blink, Zettour takes out a cigar. Wow, now I have to deal with secondhand smoke? I sigh inwardly. Today is just a parade of the unexpected. But then after a moment's silent hesitation, he puts it right back
in his cigar case!
"I thought I'd have a smoke, but I guess I'm not in the mood." "Is something wrong?"
"Well, I thought I'd offer you one and we could have a frank conversation, but then I remembered the law. If I gave you a cigar, we'd both be disciplined."
No doubt. Tanya smiles wryly in spite of herself.
Minors are prohibited by law from drinking and smoking. And for an aerial mage, doing anything that could weaken your lungs would violate your duty to devote everything to your job. An underage aerial mage ignoring her duty and smoking? I can't think of a more complete breach of contract.
Putting that aside, Tanya reels her often-wandering mind back in.
What's important here is that the general has something so serious to discuss with her that he would offer a mere lieutenant colonel a cigar.
It must be something totally outrageous.
Even just listening to what he's said so far has been uncomfortable… Any more and honestly, I'd like to turn tail and run. I want to run, but I can't, and that is the rough thing about being an individual in society or an organization—especially the military.
"Today is just full of surprises. But I've decided that nothing you can say will shock me. I'm at your service, sir."
When Tanya braces herself and gives him an opening, Zettour nods slightly. Yet, he still seems to be hesitating, and the silence persists for a time.
It's only a few seconds, but it's a long few seconds.
When he finally looks up, his expression is pained, and he bows his head to her. "Sorry, Colonel, but please lend me an aerial mage company."
"Huh? I beg your pardon… You're asking me to divide up my troops?" "Yes, I'm requesting one of your companies."
I thought I would be ready.
I knew it would be a difficult order. But this…
It's such a cutthroat demand that I can't help but be taken aback. Tanya balls up her fists and glares at him.
"With all due respect, please allow me to object. My companies aren't
mere companies."
"I know. That's why I want to use one as a command company." "…It's like you're ripping me limb from limb, but…"
Maybe we aren't quite in standalone operation territory yet, but everyone is shorthanded.
Tanya's precious human resources in the Lergen/Salamander Kampfgruppe can't be described as well staffed, no matter how generous you want to be. Losing more of her subordinates at this juncture would be unbearable.
The recent arrival of a replacement company means we're barely maintaining the head count for an augmented battalion, but only three of the companies can be considered elite. No one with any sense of responsibility could calmly allow one of those three to be taken.
"You should be able to spare one, right?"
"How merciless of you. May I ask what it's for?" "Reserves. Strategic reserves, Colonel."
"General, please allow me to object out of a sense of duty."
Luckily, he nods and offers to listen. Tanya prepares to do her best to persuade him—she has to protect her people.
"It makes no sense to pull from the Kampfgruppe. If you want to draw troops off, I'd appreciate it if you would consider the Eastern Army Group or B Group instead."
"In other words…you want to say I don't need to take one of your units?
Just a moment ago, you were saying that B Group doesn't even exist."
Even if B Group is low on people, this is a magnitude issue. They may not have hands to spare, but taking one person from a hundred is very different from taking one person from ten.
Tanya nearly raises her voice in spite of herself. "The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is the core of the Salamander Kampfgruppe. Of our total forces—armor, artillery, mage, and infantry—it's not an exaggeration to call it the keystone. Above all, given the current state of deployments and operations on the eastern front, I strongly oppose this idea."
Receiving a look that urges her to go on, Tanya is happy to continue her rant. "The Salamander Kampfgruppe is under direct control of the General Staff. Shouldn't it already be earmarked for reserve purposes…?"
"Colonel, you're misunderstanding. These aren't reserves for B Group."
"What?"
"They're for me—or more technically speaking, for the General Staff group dispatched to the eastern front."
Even Tanya is lost for words when he says that like it was his intention the whole time.
"Officially, I'm only permitted to assist and advise B Group…I don't have the authority to give direct orders. It's similar to how an admiral in the navy can't go over a captain's head to steer their battleship."
"Won't you still be providing guidance and oversight to their units?" "…Nominally. In reality, my powers are greatly limited. It's not much
more than a farce. Certain people in the homeland must have been convinced the General Staff would find some other way to handle things."
"So then," Tanya asks without thinking, "why are you here, General?" "Between conducting a major offensive on the southern end of the
eastern front and supervising the aerial battles in the west, handling matériel and playing Whack-a-Mole with the Council for Self-Government, the General Staff is nearing its limits."
"No offense intended, sir, but haven't we trained countless staff officers?"
"We have. But how many of them do you think have a grasp on the actual state of things?"
"Ahhh." It slips out as Tanya understands the root of the problem. Handoffs. Anyone who has handed off a project even once can immediately imagine the difficulty. Even the most dedicated, hardworking, competent individual has an incredibly hard time jumping into an organization and hitting the ground running.
"Since I just happened to be free on the eastern front…the General Staff leaped at the opportunity to shove some work off on me. Thus, if possible, I'd like to have some troops to work with."
Since I do understand where he's coming from, I'm having a hard time coming up with a rebuttal. Certainly, with no authority, his position becomes a formality. But Zettour knows the most about the workings of the General Staff, and he's capable. Given the chance, it makes sense that the General Staff would want to leave things up to him.
That's always how organizations work. Meanwhile, the formality of a position Zettour has been granted is basically removed from the actual work
he needs to do.
Which is why Tanya has to ask something. "General, honestly…your explanation only confuses me even more. To be frank, I don't follow."
"What about it?" Zettour tilts his head in amusement while wearing an ever-so-cryptic smile. It's a truly demonic grin.
It's because Tanya is a member of the same organization that she can confidently doubt him: This must be one of those times where there's some outrageous scheme in the works behind the scenes.
"What do you actually want to use these reserves for?" "You aren't convinced that I simply want to be prepared?"
"But B Group is the relevant party here and should be well aware of their defensive duties on the eastern front, even if they are uninformed of the situation at home. Surely they'll do all they can to deal with whatever may happen."
It's only natural that the unit assigned to defend should give their all. Even when the homeland's political aims or the military's circumstances are involved, I can't imagine anything needs to be added to the job description.
Honestly, for the life of me, I can't understand what he's trying to do. "General, with all due respect, allow me to ask…the purpose for the
reserves."
She stares at his face, determined not to miss a single quiver, and in response he nods with a wry smile. "Colonel von Degurechaff, let's look at a map while we talk."
"Yes, sir."
I'm familiar with the map of the eastern front—I've seen it enough times to be sick of it.
That said, as you might expect when it's a lieutenant general's map, there are new and minute details on it that people at Tanya's level aren't aware of yet.
Still, there isn't much difference from the positions Tanya and the other commanders have been informed of.
Imperial Army units are concentrated to the south along the A Group's positions while B Group's forces are spread thin in the center and north. Though they've scraped together adequate troops for an offensive through extreme concentration, it's clear at a glance that in exchange, a broad swath of the front is vulnerable; the situation is very precarious.
When they were teaching us at the academy, it's likely no one ever imagined conditions as extreme as these.
It's understandable that Zettour would be sent over to nominally advise the defense, and it makes sense that they would take advantage of his presence to throw the whole responsibility at him.
"General, if you're advising under these circumstances, then I feel like reserve troops are…"
"Unnecessary. That's true if I were going about this the usual way." "You're not?"
"…Colonel, the usual is a luxury. That's what I think." A sudden murmur.
The complaint is so natural, it must have slipped out by accident. He's practically talking to himself, so that remark could have easily been missed. "B Group's defense plan is pie in the sky. Supporting the main lines via sustained defense sounds great in theory, but with such a limited number of troops, our defense will be paper-thin; it's utterly reckless… The only
solution, though extremely high-risk, is to conduct an offensive defense." "Are you saying we should target the enemy field army? I beg your
pardon, but that sort of move would require mobility."
"B Group has reserves. Most of them have been taken, but there's still an armored division."
"But there aren't enough forces to carry out an offensive."
It's terribly strange that Tanya has to be the one to point out something so obvious. Zettour must know that already.
He has teased her for not acting like herself, but here he is getting unusually timid. Usually Zettour is brimming with confidence… Is this all due to his demotion? None of this seems normal for him.
"…You want to lure them in and annihilate them? That's the ideal strategy when outnumbered, but there's no reason the enemy would fall for that."
As in Austerlitz, as in Trafalgar. Thrashing the enemy when they expose themselves is the most effective strategy. Both Napoleon and Nelson had to work awfully hard to bait their opponents.
"…Take a look at this map. See these railroads? Logistically speaking, the enemy wants to use these rails, right? I want to put out some bait here and nail down this route."
"In other words, manipulating the enemy to act according to our intentions. Of course, that all depends on being able to lure them out."
"True. Basically, if we can lure them out…the rest is easy, right?
Maneuvers, encirclement, annihilation. It'll be a classic, quick solution."
His words implying that the Imperial Army shouldn't fight a protracted battle carried an intense desire for a swift solution. There's a grave significance in an officer who is familiar with the situation in the rear doing everything he can to not drag things out.
It means the potential danger is so great that we need to hurry even if it's risky.
"I think I see what you're getting at now. You want the Lergen Kampfgruppe to be the bait? Regrettably, I'd like to decline."
"You decline, hmm? To be frank, Colonel, that's meaningless. While my authority to issue orders to the local troops is doubtful…I still retain my full powers as deputy chief of the Service Corps in the General Staff."
This is what it means for something to be nausea-inducingly sinister. He talks as if I have free will and then flashes his secret weapon—the chain of command.
Tanya serves under the General Staff, which means she reports directly to Zettour, since he's the deputy chief of the Service Corps in the General Staff. I never had any ability to refuse in the first place.
"If it's an order, then I can no longer object to you taking a company. But if we're talking about securing adequate preparations for battle, then I wish you'd give it back."
"But then there's no guarantee I'll be able to mobilize a rapid response force as needed. You'd be wringing your own neck. So I must refuse. Though it's not necessarily a trade, I will, however, take the observer off your hands."
It's true that this offer is better than a simple refusal. Still, it means getting stuck on the front lines minus one company of Tanya's babies in exchange for him removing some deadweight—a pretty rotten deal. Talk about highway robbery.
Tanya replies with an expression that makes it obvious she's fed up. "So our guest will be sent to the rear. In other words, I won't have any room left to make excuses?"
"Glad you're so quick on the uptake… I'm going to have you get muddy
for me."
A direct order: Wade into the muck. Apparently, the General Staff loves that mad, black earth. What a ridiculous place to work. If it wasn't wartime, I'd be appealing to the Labor Standards Inspection Office.
"And just to confirm once again, you're going to take a company away from me?"
"Correct." With a tone that said it was an undeniable truth, Zettour declares, "It'll be enough seed money for me to roll the dice with."
"I had no idea you were a gambling man, General. You'll have to excuse me, but I was under the impression you were steadier than that."
"Colonel von Degurechaff, do you ever go to the races?" "Huh? Y-you mean horse races?"
"That's right."
The question is so sudden, Tanya is bewildered for a moment and lost for words. "No, I mean, I…"
"Ha-ha-ha! I'm sure you haven't. Let's just say your superior ability makes it easy to forget our age difference."
"Yes, sir."
If he's figured it out on his own, then there's no need to prod that snake, so Tanya simply nods deeply.
"…Colonel, horse racing isn't fair gambling. It's not a game that comes down to pure chance but rather being able to peel back the fog of uncertainty after making observations and analyses. In that sense, it's similar to war."
"As someone who isn't fond of betting, I'm not sure if that's true or not, but if you say so, then I'm inclined to visit a racetrack."
"I doubt you'll be able to. Don't even bother." "Sir?"
"The famous horses are good ones. Sadly, they've all been mobilized as warhorses… I know that for a fact, since—as part of my role with the Service Corps—I'm the one who carried out those requisitions. No exceptions were made. Now, then…" Zettour's expression relaxes into a smile. "To get back on topic, though I detest leaving things up to chance…I have a certain love-hate relationship with bets that I stand a decent chance at winning. Not that the gamble we're looking at now is a particularly good one."
"So you gamble when you think you can win, General?"
"The potential reward is so huge… And it's better to sacrifice personnel with an actual plan in mind rather than simply crashing them into the Federation Army because we must."
"In that case, I'm all out of counterarguments."
After no small amount of hesitation, Tanya makes up her mind.
Either way, the moment the request became an order, she couldn't refuse. In the military, most deviations can be justified by some regulation or another, but it's impossible to rebel directly against a ranking officer's orders or the chain of command.
Thus, since Tanya can't avoid handing over a company, the next best thing is to minimize the damage. Considering pure fighting power, giving up First Lieutenant Wüstemann's replacement company would be ideal. But that's too dangerous, considering how undertrained they are.
Providing troops means taking the responsibility of recommending them, to some extent. In this case, offering the company led by an aerial magic officer who came up through the academy like First Lieutenant Grantz is probably the safe choice.
"…There's a company led by a young first lieutenant named Grantz…" "You have my gratitude."
He probably means it as a thank-you to Tanya, who has made a distressing choice, but considering the chaos that will soon follow, it's hard to sense any sincere gratitude at all. When going along with one of Zettour's crafty shenanigans, the most important thing to know is what role you play.
"By the way, General, now that my Salamander Kampfgruppe is down an arm, what kind of swindle are we going to be a party to?"
"It's not complicated. While Andromeda is being carried out, you'll be a militarized canary out there helping the army hold the B Front. When the enemy comes, let yourselves get surrounded."
Her superior says something so outrageous with a straight face, as if it was nothing.
Get surrounded?
Unless you've been trained as part of an airborne unit that drops into enemy territory, you're taught not to get surrounded. It's obviously a terrible idea for Tanya to direct her openly doubtful gaze at her superior, but
she looks up at him in spite of herself. This is abusive.
"Then we'll mobilize units to save you. We'll force a maneuver battle and then turn it into an encirclement. I'm sure it's the only way we can support the main lines."
…That's all well and good, but it's also the opinion of someone who doesn't have to be the bait. For Tanya's sake, there needs to be at least one thing guaranteed.
"Can I trust that we won't be abandoned?"
"I won't abandon you. In the worst case, I'll at least give you back your company. That way, even the most reclusive staffers will come out for the rescue. If I charge in leading the company, everyone will leap into action, worried about what might happen if something befalls me."
"That's a risky move, in terms of how it could affect discipline." "Setting aside strategic-level discussions, on a purely operational level
in a maneuver battle, it's a trivial issue. The enemy in front of you must be attacked."
Even acting on one's own authority can be justified if the achievements are great enough. But that applies in only very specific situations.
"Easier said than done…I think is what they say."
"And that's what wit is for, surely. Basically, your job is to block the railroad. I'll handle the rest."
"Understood," says Tanya before changing the subject. "Please give me the details on where we'll be sent."
They say if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles, but if you don't know the terrain, you can't even start the fight. Even nuclear war requires a map.
"You'll be at a position called Soldim 528. It's suitably urban, at a suitable distance, and most critically, it's right on the railroad. The convenient location makes it an optimal candidate for the enemy to retake."
The point he refers to on the map is indicated with only an ID number. "Won't they just go around? I doubt even the Federation Army is bored
and foolish enough to go banging their head against a stronghold."
The Federation Army has long since stopped mindlessly rushing defensive positions with hordes of infantry knowing full well they'll fail. There were times in the past when they might have taken the bait, but given their recent skill and quality improvements, it's biased to assume they're
still just inept Commies.
"Even if the changes are only evident in the enemy's lower-ranking officers, the improvement in quality has been remarkable. While it might be an exaggeration to call them outstanding, they've surely learned the basics after paying the price in blood and bodies by now. Are you sure they'll come?"
"They will. I'm an Operations man with a smattering of logistics knowledge. For a time, I was treated like a logistics man with a smattering of operations knowledge, but that doesn't mean I've lost my touch. The way I see it, it's precisely because the enemy is sensible that they'll aim for the railroad." Zettour's voice is filled with confidence and conviction.
"…That's why you're certain you can divine their intentions?"
"The principle of war has nothing to do with ideology. No matter what you personally believe, ignoring the laws of physics will come back to bite you."
"Yes, I agree…"
"The Federation Army doesn't have much choice, either, especially when it comes to transportation by truck or horse. If they're plotting a counterattack, their options are limited. That naturally means railways take on a life-and-death importance."
The point the logistics specialist Zettour makes has Tanya sinking into thought in spite of herself.
Could the fate of the battle over the eastern front be decided by the fighting surrounding the railroads, unlike in the historical war against the Soviet Union? It's starting to seem like a fairly reasonable hypothesis.
However, the eastern army believes that the biggest risk is the potential enemy armored vanguard advancing over highways or open fields.
"The Federation Army seems to value roads and highways higher."
"I think they care about railways more. Though the Federation Army excels at bringing prodigious amounts of matériel to bear, I doubt they have enough forces available to commit large amounts of armor to deal with A Group and still be able to punch through B Group's defenses with what's left over. That's why our enemy will be tempted to take advantage of the railways as well. They'll want to hold a critical position in order to temporarily stabilize the B Front."
That makes sense.
Limited resources, limited choices, limited solutions.
What a sad war when both sides are scraping the bottom of the barrel.
This is the ironic outcome war's extreme consumption has wrought.
Capitalism and Communism fight in the same arena after all.
"I want the Salamander Kampfgruppe to welcome that enemy vanguard. Basically, you'll be defending to the last. Without further orders, retreat will be prohibited."
"…With all due respect, that position is rather close to the enemy lines. If you order it, I'll promise to put up a hard fight, but physical limitations can't be ignored. I'm really not sure a single Kampfgruppe will be enough to hold it."
"All I want is for you to stubbornly stand your ground. Hold Soldim 528 no matter what it takes."
"I'd appreciate the authority to declare a retreat if food, water, or ammunition runs out and there's no hope of resupply."
"I can't allow retreat. Hold until your allies break the encirclement." The order essentially saying to defend with their lives is maddening.
"General?! Surely that's a bit…!!" Tanya replies with military rationale as her shield. If the side that acts most like a fool is destined to lose the war, you would be hard-pressed to claim that assigning the Salamander Kampfgruppe to defend a base is the right move.
"The Salamander Kampfgruppe is by design, fundamentally a breakthrough force! Tying it down with orders to defend a static position should be out of the question. That negates all its strengths!"
"Things are going downhill either way… And the Salamander Kampfgruppe is the only force I have at my disposal. Sorry, but just accept the short end of the stick."
"I'd like to ask…did my unit get the short end of the stick because of some political wrangle?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny that." In other words, he's not denying it.
In this situation, silence says it all.
"But I'll also promise you this… It'll depend on the situation, but I'll make sure to furnish you with reinforcements. You won't be left to die."
"…I'll do what I can with what I'm given."
-x-X-x-
JUNE 9, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, SOLDIM 528
Shit, so I'm basically Freeman?
Behind some abandoned rubble that was once the outskirts of Soldim 528… With that most excellent cover, Lieutenant Colonel von Degurechaff complains loudly in her head as she peers through binoculars to check enemy movements alongside the other officers.
Surrounded by Commies, unable to withdraw, the Kampfgruppe is currently embroiled in a defensive battle.
If that were describing someone else, I would sympathize, empathize, and praise their ferocity. The heroic struggle of a surrounded unit is sure to grace the pages of history books.
And that'd be great—as long as I'm not involved in a big way. "Surrounded by Commies, huh?"
If this were the Korean peninsula, heartwarming naval artillery fire would be supporting us from the coast… No, at least in Freeman's fight, they had air superiority.
Meanwhile, I'm an aerial mage, so I have to go get it myself.
I have to do everything. The army is being outrageous. Who takes the foundation of modern society—the division of labor—and just chucks it out the window?
Tanya sighs as she crouches, ready to return to base.
Her adjutant must have noticed, because she asks in a concerned voice, "Colonel, are you all right?"
"I'm just sick of our nasty neighbor's visits." "…They certainly are a nuisance."
"That they are." Tanya laughs.
You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your neighbors. And as long as our neighbors are the Federation Army, we can't ignore them.
"Damn it all. I'm jealous of Lieutenant Grantz. He's probably enjoying General von Zettour's hospitality right about now."
"You don't think he'll mess anything up, will he?"
"What's there to worry about? General von Zettour is a patient guy.
He'll hold off collecting on a mistake or two until a critical moment." "That's tolerant, ma'am?"
"It's a suspended sentence, so I think it comes from a place of kindness. Now, then." Tanya shakes her head and enters the Soldim 528 encampment like an inspector would. It doesn't take long to make the rounds. That is to say—it's a very small base.
Good grief, thinks Tanya with slumping shoulders as she calls out to the familiar face of her vice commander on watch at the perimeter.
"How are things, Major? What's the status?" "It seems we are well and truly surrounded."
The comment her second-in-command makes with such an air of importance is actually ancient news. She could call him reliable, but that would be too charitable.
Is there anyone who wouldn't notice if they were surrounded by the Federation Army? My frank assessment is that it's highly unlikely. If someone like that does exist, I'd want to have the structure of their mind studied to advance science.
"I can see that. And it's what the general predicted."
If we're going to be hit by a Commie tsunami, then it's only natural that we prepare trenches and a coordinated defensive plan. Traditional wisdom says it's best to have a shelter against every storm, and "prevention is better than the cure" is by no means limited to medicine.
It's important for believers in the principle of a market economy to be sensitive to costs that are difficult to visualize. For people in Tanya's position, it's important to never forget that skimping on risk management could end in tragedy.
Safety doesn't come free.
It's that simple—even a child could understand. "But I guess I didn't think we really would be…"
"Major Weiss, it's great to be honest, but please have a little more faith in your superiors."
"Well, their estimates are always so optimistic."
"Certainly, when you get good news from above, it's best to take it with a grain of salt, but this was a negative prediction. You should be able to trust that."
They're coming, they're coming, we were warned. That should have
allowed us to steel our resolve somewhat.
"If you know it's going to rain, you just have to make sure you have an umbrella."
Anyone shaking in their boots now is the exact type of numbskull who gets rained on because they ignore the forecast. The question is: Did B Group come prepared for the weather?
Given the thin spread of troops, I have my doubts.
"But wow, there sure are a lot of them. What does the air force's recon have to say?"
"Here is the report. They say it's four or five divisions."
Her adjutant hands over the air force's photo analysis. Apparently, they're quite the diligent bunch and sent up an observation unit as soon as we were surrounded.
"The blessing in this curse is that we get air support. But…," Tanya murmurs, "look at them mustering those numbers when all we can scrape together is an augmented regiment."
The Federation troops confronting B Group are suspected to be unseasoned replacements, but…the Federation Army has been known to form new units rather than replenish.
"The issue is the quality of the troops. There's no info about that?" "I understand your concern, Major Weiss, but no, there isn't."
Lieutenant General von Zettour's predictions are the latest intel we have, but I hardly find wishful thinking such as Maybe they're exhausted to be much comfort.
"So we don't have a firm grasp on enemy strength beyond the face value of 'four or five divisions.' That's tricky. If one of those ends up being a guard division or something, we'll be in trouble."
"I doubt it'll be a guard division."
"If you're already feeling that confident, that's a load off my mind, ma'am, but…"
Tanya smiles wryly at her vice commander's strained remark. Officers on the front lines regarding those in the rear with skepticism is typical during wartime, but she can't overlook the fact that he's doubting proper situational analysis.
"Come on now, trust your allies more. The Federation Army's guard divisions are under constant observation. Is Imperial Army Intelligence so
inept that they'd miss movement this obvious? I certainly hope not." "So you trust them?"
"I'd like to do so unconditionally. Sadly, trust is built over time, and our fellows are currently in the rebuilding phase… Don't forget to always envision the worst-case scenario."
Trusting someone is different from overestimating them.
"In any case, our friends in A Group are the ones conducting a major offensive, not us."
Setting aside the outcome of Operation Andromeda, which is now under way, it's a fact the main battlegrounds will be the southern cities. Though the Federation grows people on trees, the Empire has already annihilated them in two different battles. Rhetorically, nearly inexhaustible and infinite are close, but reality comes through in numbers.
Are they really so confident that they can afford to send a guard division away from the critical battle? If that were even remotely true, they would have repelled the Imperial Army long ago.
"Then what if we conducted reconnaissance in force with mages or armor?" suggests Weiss.
An assertive idea. Perhaps that's how a young major should think, but does even a seasoned field officer like Weiss get anxious when surrounded? Is that what's egging him on?
As an aerial mage, he should be able to relax a bit more, since he can always withdraw via air if push comes to shove. Not that I don't grasp how difficult it would be to propose shamelessly abandoning your comrades.
At any rate, Tanya rejects his idea with a frown. "We're outnumbered, so we don't have the leisure of wearing ourselves out. All we can do is learn what we can passively."
"At least a surprise nighttime raid, what about that?"
As Tanya is about to shake her head and refuse, an unlikely participant voices an opinion.
"It's not a bad idea. We could learn a lot from even a single strike." "You too, Lieutenant Serebryakov?"
"…Remembering the Rhine makes me want to flex my skills. Taking our shovels on a field trip could be good."
"No, I refuse, you warmongers."
The savage nature of Tanya's subordinates is sometimes worrying. In
my previous life, I never would've imagined there would come a day when I'd be living and working alongside the type of people who get a thrill from a nighttime sneak attack.
"Call me conservative, but I'm prioritizing the preservation of our troops."
"Are you sure, ma'am? If you'll excuse my insistence, with your permission, Lieutenant Serebryakov and I could lead a party of volunteers to attack."
Growing tired of her subordinates' refusal to listen, Tanya doubles down. "Whatever you say, no is no. Besides, we're supposed to be focusing on defense."
"But in positional warfare…"
"This isn't a trench battle—it's the defense of a stronghold. Our job isn't a cultural exchange with the enemy trenches, it's preparing to welcome our guests." As the ones surrounded, we're essentially under siege. "Let's be serious—we may not like it, but we know what the enemy is capable of. I mean, they've only just arrived, but they're already fully on guard."
"What are you thinking, ma'am?"
"Today and tomorrow will be dedicated to fending off enemy offensives."
After that, we can play it by ear. I wouldn't say it's a bad idea to strike at the enemy once they've loosened up a bit. After all, some assertive action tends to become imperative in order to maintain the defenders' will to fight. Even my subordinates blessed with plenty of combat experience are itching to move…so I imagine we'll have to sally out and strike at some point.
"This will tempt them to be careless, so…adopt a passive attitude. It'll be a fierce defensive battle with Lieutenant Tospan's infantry in the leading role. We can expect some backup, but it's dangerous to assume the reinforcements will be able to rescue us."
Which means we need to save some energy just in case and somehow cope with whatever the enemy throws at us in the meantime.
"Captains Ahrens and Meybert will play supporting roles as planned. We'll keep them in reserve for the time being. Oh…" Remembering something to add, Tanya continues, "We might send them in as additional forces depending on how the situation plays out. Have them prepare with the worst-case scenario in mind."
That's when Tanya notices Captain Meybert running over, and she smiles wryly at his apt timing.
"Captain Meybert, good of you to come. The enemy is here, but I want you to keep the guns quiet for now."
"Ma'am?"
"What is it, Captain?"
"N-no, understood… I was hoping to be kept for later as well." He smiles, explaining how lucky he feels.
Tanya is utterly shocked.
The artilleryman is worried about requesting to hold back his barrage?!
Usually, firing away is all he can think about!
"I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth, Captain!
I approve, but what a surprise."
"Well, we aren't receiving any shells. I have no choice but to be conscious of that."
"Welcome to my nightmare. We're literally encamped on top of a railroad, and our resupply is still proceeding at a snail's pace—what kind of joke is this?"
You could have never imagined this situation back at the academy.
We were taught that as long as you held the rails, you wouldn't have to worry about supplies. In the case of a Kampfgruppe being supported by a railroad line…barring the rails being blasted to bits, it should have been impossible to be short of supplies.
Thus, common sense does us no good.
In the ten days since arriving at this position, we've managed to stockpile mainly food from the Council for Self-Government. In other words, we aren't getting deliveries of shells and so on from the homeland. We have to do everything we can to fortify this position in preparation for a defensive battle, but we barely have enough resources—it's bad enough to be cry worthy.
So Tanya racks her brain for ways to increase staying power.
"All right, here are your orders." Her officers await her command with bated breath, and she delivers it in a grave tone. "Prepare your troops for nap time. On the double."
"A-are you serious, ma'am?"
Her vice commander replies, puzzled; he's disappointed. It's such a
critical instruction that she wants to snap at him for not comprehending its importance. If her subordinates don't manage their time properly and fail to get enough sleep, that's their own fault, but if they fail to get enough sleep due to the rotation schedule, that's Tanya's error.
No one has time for that kind of mistake when fighting a war.
"Tuck your soldiers in. We need to establish a rotation and give everyone a chance to rest properly."
"…The trick will be securing enough places to sleep."
First Lieutenant Serebryakov murmurs precisely because she's one of the veterans who lived through the demands of round-the-clock interceptions on the Rhine front. Not getting enough sleep is bad for your skin, sure, but first and foremost, it's bad for fighting a war. Exhaustion does a real number on the brain. The drop in mental acuity is unacceptable.
"The troops are already building a half-entrenched position, but we don't have nearly enough beds for everyone. We'll probably have to use sandbags, but still, we can't skimp on water or sleep." Tanya orders her vice commander from experience. "Make sure at least one of every three meals is hot, even if you have to use mages as heat sources."
"That's against regulations…"
"Sometimes a commander needs to act on their own authority. Major Weiss, we're at war, so officers need to take their turn napping, too."