CHAPTER - IV
JUNE 18, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE EASTERN LINES, SOLDIM 528
If I write that fortifying the position at the Soldim 528 position is going slow…is that a contradiction? A position not being a position yet does seem to go against common military sense.
But that's where we're at in reality. There's a serious shortage of materials. As a result, we're having to make do with what's on hand using that creative ingenuity known as the wisdom of the field.
A classic example would be using an underground storehouse as a subterranean trench, perhaps? And that is exactly where Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff has posted herself.
At that moment, about to face a major Federation Army offensive, she is savoring a light nap in her uncomfortable, underground pseudo-bed.
A familiar sound comes closer.
It's always the sound of shell impacts that wakes her.
"…Tch. As usual, it's a bit too loud for a pleasant wake-up call." Jumping up and putting on her cap, she remembers the Rhine, dwelling on the irritating memories. They say memories are beautiful, but there was nothing beautiful about the Rhine.
Tanya shakes her head. Some things are an improvement. For instance, the environment.
Instead of soaking in muddy trenches, she can go straight to the battlefield from a crumbling, partially submerged pseudo-bedroom; that
should probably be celebrated as a cozy work-from-home situation. "Enemy attack! Enemy attack! All units, prepare for combat! I say
again, all units, prepare for combat!"
The belated alarm that rings out and the tension slipping into the voice calling everyone to arms are unmissable harbingers of large-scale combat. Since we've been expecting it, given the increasing pressure from the enemy over the past few days, it's all too easy to realize that this is a major Federation offensive—there's no room for misunderstanding.
"Damn Commies. Working overtime is against your ideology!"
Diligently preparing to attack, getting units into position, coordinating between artillery and infantry—that's not the sort of work that can be wrapped up by quitting time. Even a well-disciplined unit like the Salamander Kampfgruppe would take weeks to finish a job like that working only five hours a day. Commies say they protect workers' rights, but they're swindling labor out of people more effectively than the capitalists.
With rage against injustice, unfairness, and deviance in her breast, Tanya swears to herself that this cheapening of labor will not stand. This unfair competition can't be forgiven. Everything must be done fairly.
Waiting for Tanya when she arrives at the command post bunker in a whirlwind of righteous indignation are reports from Captain Ahrens and Captain Meybert, who were on duty. The gist is that the enemy has come out raring for a fight.
And even while she is being briefed, the command post is a flurry of activity. First, Lieutenant Serebryakov appears with a message from Major Weiss, who is standing by with the battalion for rapid response. At the same time, communications personnel are relaying the info to B Group HQ and requesting reinforcements from the air fleet.
Everything is being handled according to procedure.
Thankfully, that affords Tanya, the commander, some, if not much, time
—more precious than gold—to think about their situation.
"If the enemy is coming, our only option is to fight back, huh?" Tanya murmurs to herself.
For a commander on the defense, it's less something that needs to be anticipated and more of a…preestablished harmony. And to be frank, there isn't much room for inventive approaches to countering the enemy attack,
either.
"Captain Ahrens, what's the status of the armored forces?" "They're all still hidden in shelters. No losses."
Without her needing to ask, Meybert gathers that she wants to hear from him as well. "Same for the artillery. Apart from the squad providing sporadic support to the infantry, the guns are being saved for later… although about ten percent of our remaining shells got caught in an explosion."
"That was a tough blow the other day. Getting our food bombed to bits was a frustrating failure."
It isn't clear whether it's preparatory bombardments, harassment, or the Federation just showing off their guns, but their artillery has been causing damage to Soldim 528.
Construction on the position is running behind because of a lack of materials. That's not fatal, but it's enough trouble that it's hard to be optimistic. Compared to the days on the Rhine front, this war is so wretched, I almost want to cry.
Before, it was like materials grew on trees. These days, there isn't even enough space to store what ammo and rations we do have. There aren't enough protected areas. Thanks to that, supplies are basically stored in bivouacs, and stray enemy shots have blown away some of our temporary storage.
Maybe it would be worth it to gather the scorched wheat. But exploded shells could hardly be rounded up and reused. Recycling has its limits.
"All right, if we have enemy infantry on our periphery…are we finally facing an all-out offensive?"
The enemy's movements conform perfectly to a classic assault. The infantry inches ahead and attacks after a few days' preparation. Meanwhile, the side under siege piles up all the ammo it can find and waits. Textbook offense and defense.
Suddenly, Tanya realizes something is missing. To name it: the trumpet calling for the charge, the preparatory bombardment that is the modern-day Gjallarhorn. It's indispensable even for an attack by aerial mages to take control of the sky.
This is the theory.
For a tactical sneak attack, a short, concentrated bombardment is
considered a suitable solution, but normally, supporting artillery fire is an essential element of an offensive.
"It's not even a night raid, so it's weird that they're not doing a thorough preparatory bombardment."
"But, Colonel, they probably don't have that many shells, either, right?"
Tanya nearly nods in response to Meybert's plausible remark but resists the temptation; we can't cave to optimism.
As a rule, anything that can't be declared confidently is a hypothesis. Above all, I have a bad feeling about the Federation lately. It's a state blessed with matériel. Even if they're struggling, would the enemy really send in their infantry with no support besides that sparse scattering of shells that landed a little while ago?
"We need to keep in mind the possibility that it's a ruse to make us think that."
Though it's true that enemy bombardments are prone to cutting off. That makes this tricky.
"At present, the enemy artillery are temporarily inactive. We should treat this as a rare opportunity. The question is how much pressure the enemy infantry will put on us. That depends on how long Lieutenant Tospan's unit can hold out…"
We can't expect much from him is what I really think.
In the worst case, Tanya will have to pull a pseudo–command group move like the Federation Army again. She's prepared to go out there, kick the infantry's ass with Serebryakov, and even arrange for a diaper if she must.
Tanya's adjutant, clinging to the comms equipment, interrupts her train of thought with a shout.
"Lieutenant Tospan would like to make a suggestion!"
"What? Lieutenant Tospan? Give it here." She snatches the receiver away from Serebryakov. The hunch that the expected headache has just arrived sends a chill up her spine.
We have enough on our plate with just the Commies. We'll borrow any help we can get our hands on at this point. We've already hit our limits. Just try and pull some stupid shit, Lieutenant Tospan. I may be a sensible individual, but you'll learn that my patience is finite.
"This is Lieutenant Colonel von Degurechaff. I'll thank you to keep it
brief, Lieutenant Tospan."
"Yes, ma'am. Then may I have your orders?"
"Orders?" Caught off guard, she merely parrots the word back at him. She's already given instructions for the defensive line. The defense plan has been drawn up, the personnel positioned—everyone knows how things should flow.
At the last minute, surrounded and under attack, what orders could she possibly have for the commander of the infantry stationed on the defensive line?
The only thing there ever is to do is defend. He shouldn't have to confirm that with the commander of the Kampfgruppe back at HQ.
"Sorry, Lieutenant Tospan. What do you mean, orders? I'm fairly certain I already issued them. If it's the plan for directing the defense, you should have received it earlier."
"Yes, Colonel. About that, as a rule, the army would have us retreat when facing an enemy attack of this scale. But if we can't do that, it's possible for the commander of the unit to issue orders to fight to our deaths."
"…Wait, retreat and death? You're citing the infantry manual2?!" "Yes, if you give the order to defend with our lives…"
I take back what I said. I even judge myself for thinking it. Tanya grins unconsciously.
Moving the receiver away from her ear, she praises him loud enough that all the officers present can hear. "What a guy."
A stubborn fool, in other words, is a useful human sacrifice—someone who will doggedly carry out whatever they are told to do. More sensitive the minds, the faster their gears turn, the more likely they are to flee in a crisis. Even a fool, if they have a tenacious spirit…can be an uncommonly fine meat shield and a welcome asset.
Oh, Lieutenant Tospan. Tanya is of a mind to heartily celebrate his excessive honesty.
I bet I would run away.
No, I have no doubt I'd be long gone. I respect you for willingly holding your ground as if fighting to the death is a given.
Moving the receiver closer to her mouth, Tanya expresses her sympathy
as one gear in the machine to another. "I like you, Lieutenant Tospan!" "Ma'am?"
"I'll send over the order in Colonel von Lergen's name."
Doing it in his name is only for show. It's Tanya giving the order to fight to the death. It's only sensible that an action deserves a reaction.
"And you can keep the ones who bring you the orders as reinforcements. I need you to hold firm. Firm! After all, we're surrounded. Where are we supposed to retreat to?"
With First Lieutenant Grantz's unit, which had been originally paired with Tospan's unit, off with Lieutenant General von Zettour, the infantry was operating with reduced firepower. I would rather save First Lieutenant Wüstemann's company, but this is probably the time to use them to fill the gap.
At the moment, I won't be inconvenienced by only having two mage companies at my disposal. If the infantry can hold, keeping Ahrens and Meybert with their artillery and armor as strategic reserves should be plenty.
"Right, Colonel. Just as a matter of regulation, I had to confirm. I hope you understand."
"That's fine! Just fine! I approve! I truly do understand, Lieutenant Tospan!"
Infantry. Independent infantry.
In other words, the cornerstone of war.
You can't build a functioning corporation with executives only. A holding company is basically like a general staff. Without people below actually doing the work, the enterprise can't exist.
In the end, Tanya is forced to demonstrate her cruel management skills and work honest Tospan and his troops to the bone.
"I'll send out Lieutenant Wüstemann's mage company. He's not up to Grantz's level, but, well, do what you can with him."
"Thank you!"
Subordinates who understand their role must be given appropriate performance evaluations. The willingness to defend a position with your life when ordered to is convenient for Tanya.
Certainly, during peacetime, it's an utterly useless, timid attitude. But in wartime, in a defensive battle, there's nothing better than soldiers of that
rare nature. It makes sense that a general from ancient times argued that rather than clever soldiers, he preferred stubborn ones who would tenaciously carry out their mission once they got their orders.
They're so easy to use. Human resources who don't whine or complain! That's getting encouragingly close to a manager's eternal ideal. Even setting aside my personal sentiments, if the infantry can be the axle in your plans, it becomes much easier to fight a war.
"You heard that, right, Lieutenant Wüstemann? After delivering the orders to Lieutenant Tospan, you're to support him in combat."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Nodding at his enthusiastic reply, Tanya rotates her shoulders.
The rear, huh? It wouldn't be bad to kick back in a reasonably safe headquarters, or more like that's my personal ideal, but…to someone fighting as hard as Tospan, being the commander issuing the order to defend with your life must sound pretty good.
Meybert is a duty officer, so he has a handle on the overall situation.
There won't be any problems if Tanya leaves the rest to him.
Reputation, reputation, reputation.
It is what it is. Humans are political animals. They'll do what needs to be done.
"Captain Meybert, I'm leaving command here to you."
"Yes, ma'am! You can count on me! But where are you going?"
"To the front lines, of course," Tanya declares with a grave expression plastered on her face. Really, she'd like to trade places with him and stay behind instead, but her rank won't allow it.
In that case, she should at least score some points.
"I'm just a little girl. I'm not so thick-skinned that I can order my troops to hold their ground in exchange for their lives and then kick back in a lounge chair—though life sure would be a piece of cake if I were!"
"Ha-ha-ha!" The dry laughter filling the command post indicates that her subordinates appreciate the gravity of the situation and are not in danger of being crushed by it.
The effects of laughter on mental health really are substantial. It'd be great to get a support visit from a comedian, but…if someone's going to come from the Empire, maybe it makes more sense to find a circus? Maybe I should look into it the next chance I have.
"Lieutenant Serebryakov, we're joining the firefight on the periphery, too. Let's make things easy on Lieutenant Tospan and the others. This is what you call that beautiful spirit of solidarity."
"Yes, ma'am! I'll follow you to hell and back!"
Serebryakov's lively reply is a breath of fresh air. Even an annoying job is welcome if I have an eager subordinate.
And so, keeping things voluntary, Tanya heads for line one, where Tospan is commanding the defense.
We're at war, so enemy attacks are expected.
But the sight that greets her when she arrives is despicably hideous. "…This is unbelievable," she murmurs at the sight of the bodies of
enemy soldiers.
Yes, plural. Corpses are strewn all over.
If this were the Rhine front in the early days, say 1923, it would be a different story.
In an era where we hadn't yet learned the might of machine guns, maybe the doctrine of charging so bunched up could still be justified.
But this is Unified Year 1927.
How many years has this war been going on? Or does Federation ideology warp space-time? What year is it here? Did you call up an ancient legion or something? What's with the close formation?
Of course, even the Federation Army has its troops dispersed to some degree. But they might as well be human bullets, the way they're charging at the buttoned-up and fortified imperial firing positions. And it seems like they're bunching up on purpose to make it easier to maintain unit cohesion. Maybe things would have been a little different with a smoke screen, but as it is, they're sitting ducks.
The rhythmic fire of our light machine guns is heartening, but people are being mowed down before Tanya's eyes.
"These damn Communists. Do they value human life at all?"
This squandering of resources can't be justified in terms of humanity, the economy, or the military. Honestly, Communism is the only way of thinking that finds this acceptable.
What do they think human resources are?
As a decent person, I feel sick when I think of these cultists—as sinister as Being X.
"These guys who only give orders are entirely too irresponsible. This sort of thing has to be changed." Tanya voices her righteous indignation in spite of herself.
Come to think of it, how the Federation chooses to waste its human resources isn't something Tanya has to care about.
In fact, I'm happy they're numbskulls.
Still, Tanya von Degurechaff—though she's proud of being a good citizen—must despair. She can laugh off the idiocy of the Dacians—they were foolish because they didn't know any better—but there's nothing to chuckle about where the Federation Army is concerned; they know better.
But Tanya draws a clear line between free thought and her duty.
This is a defensive position on the forward-most line, so if the enemy is rushing them, it's Tanya's job to see how efficiently she can mass-produce enemy corpses and obliterate their will to fight.
They're enemies, so they simply have to die. I do feel for them, dying such pointless deaths, but that's a separate conversation. Even legally, if it's kill or be killed, then it's the plank of Carneades.3
"Draw them in! Hold your fire! Not yet!"
Cheerfully mowing them down is an easy method, but laziness and corner cutting are to be avoided on the battlefield. Sadly, unlike on the Rhine, light machine gun barrels and ammo are too scarce to waste on the eastern front.
Since we don't have the resources for unrestricted suppressive fire, the troops can't just let loose with a hail of bullets. Under the current circumstances, the only decent option is to leave the timing of the close- range salvo to the most experienced gunners and wait it out.
It's still irritating to be so short on ammo. We wasted an eye-watering amount on the Rhine. You could even call it a "dim-witted waste of national resources on an unbelievable scale."
But we were also in the grip of a mania wherein the supply network, supported by raison d'état, reliably delivered an unprecedented amount of supplies.
That said, I'm not sure if it was the sane enabling the insane or the insane enabling the sane.
On the eastern front, something must have run out. We catch glimpses of
the limits of our logistics. The supply of things like shells, which should be abundant, is particularly dire—so blatantly that we can't pretend to not notice.
"Heavy artillery incoming!"
The warning shout from her adjutant brings Tanya back to her senses.
So the enemy guns that have been quiet are just now getting down to business? This is the worst possible time for a bombardment. Well, shit. Turns out they were saving ammo.
Just as their infantry is advancing, the artillery pins us down with a barrage overhead. This is the optimal move as long as you ignore the casualties inevitably incurred when Federation infantry are hit by stray Federation artillery fire.
"These vicious bastards. So their infantry is expendable?!"
This is what it means to shudder in response to evil. Do Communists just have no concept of human rights?
"What about enemy mages?!"
"Signals visible, maintaining their distance."
What should we do? Tanya thinks for just a moment. Fighting a defensive battle while enemy artillery forces us to keep our heads down is the worst. Right as she wishes she could order counter-battery fire or a retreat…the field telephone begins to ring.
Having leaped at it, Serebryakov raises her head to report. "It's Captain Meybert. He's urgently requesting permission to return fire!"
"Rejected!"
The words Serebryakov relays with a tense expression are terribly tempting. Tanya wants to shut the enemy artillery up. Any soldier being shot at knows the feeling.
But she immediately shakes her head.
Of course, personally speaking, I would love to let them fire. How great it would feel to say, Blow away those obnoxious enemy artillery crews. Sadly, even Meybert, with his duty-focused tunnel vision, can recognize that our stores of shells are strained. We don't have any to spare.
"But, Colonel!" Tanya's adjutant replies, seeming dissatisfied with her verdict. "If I may! I think simply continuing to endure this bombardment will affect morale!"
"I said no!"
"Can't we at least counterattack?"
"No means no! We absolutely do not have the shells for it! Don't tempt me any more!"
It's not as if I don't understand the desperation on Serebryakov's face as she refuses to back down. On the contrary, Tanya feels the same way.
Should she celebrate the fact that she and her subordinate share that feeling? Or should she lament that fate forces her to say the opposite of what she really thinks? Surely the answer is the latter.
Unfortunately, I'm being toyed with by both Being X and organizational logic. Oh, how I must suffer. For a moment, in spite of herself, Tanya weeps internally at her pitiful plight.
"But, ma'am! At this rate, we could be completely pinned down!"
"No problem! We'll have the mages prevent that." She continues, "Call up Major Weiss."
With the receiver in hand, waiting as the phone rings, Tanya has to ask herself if this is really the right thing to do.
Shouldn't we be on guard against the enemy mages?
But the mage unit is currently acting as a distraction. In that case, being overly wary and leaving Weiss and the others idle probably poses a greater risk.
"Colonel, this is Major Weiss." "Hi, Major. Time to go to work." "Yes, ma'am. At your service."
How encouraging it is to get such a lively reply even at times like these. "Knock the enemy's annoying shells out of the sky, Major. I want the
mages on defense against artillery."
"You want to protect a position of this scale…with just us?"
Rousing her borderline annoyed spirit, she goes ahead and hits Weiss with a demanding order. If things were slightly different, I would've probably commiserated with him.
Humans are bound to their position down to the slightest remark. Though Tanya would like nothing more than to groan about the restriction of her freedoms due to professional necessity, this isn't an issue that can be solved by complaining. It would only be more wasted effort.
"You've been trained for it. Remember our good times in the homeland. We did it while surrounded by the beauty of nature around the time the
battalion was formed."
"Colonel! Our troop density is way too low! We can't cover this huge area with just two companies of aerial mages!"
"Major Weiss, what did I teach you on the exercise grounds? Did past me teach you to whine like that?"
People who keep their subordinates from voicing legitimate objections using a mind-over-matter attitude are hopeless. There can't be any reality less pleasant than the one where I need to employ such distasteful orders.
It's a cruel world.
This is none other than the epitome of middle management misery. First Tospan, now Weiss—glossing things over with empty encouragement makes me want to cry.
"U-understood… We'll do our best."
There's hardly time to debate responding to his stiff reply with a peppering of arbitrary support before the war situation shifts.
"Enemy infantry approaching our zone!"
Is it Tospan or one of the infantry's noncoms? In any case, the warning from a lower-ranking officer causes Tanya to look up.
She's been having them hold their fire, so it makes sense that the enemy is advancing. Before anyone realizes it, the enemy has gotten so close, we can make out their faces. If Tanya has her troops wait any longer, they risk getting charged. Right as she's thinking they should probably fight back in full force, something dawns on her.
It's just a little idea, but little ideas often lead to big changes. Surely there's no harm in trying it.
"Mages, hold up! I want just the infantry to return fire!" "Huh?"
Paying no mind to the perplexed mages, the infantry begins to shoot. Smiling at Serebryakov next to her, Tanya points out that they're mimicking the enemy's tactics.
"Let's lull them into a sweet dream. We'll pretend we don't have mages, just like our Federation opponents pretended they didn't have artillery."
"Do you think they'll fall for it?"
Tanya responds boldly to Serebryakov's skepticism. "I appreciate your efforts, Magic First Lieutenant, but try thinking like a foot soldier."
"Hmm?"
It seems that magic officers frequently undervalue their own abilities, taking them for granted. Since she's not a foot soldier, Tanya can only guess, but she can still imagine how terrified the enemy infantry must be of mages overhead.
We should recognize that they're always nervously looking at the sky, checking for mages. And they tend to split into squads to run for cover when trying to escape machine gun fire.
…Now then, if they're convinced there are no mages, how often will they look up at the sky?
Up… Now, there's an idea. Tanya grins.
It's a universal truth that trouble always comes raining down from above.
"General von Zettour is…being completely unreasonable, too." "Unreasonable, ma'am?"
Tanya was talking to herself, but her adjutant responds, so she shrugs. "Are you advising your superior to leak classified information,
Lieutenant Serebryakov?"
"N-no." Serebryakov shakes her head, and Tanya lets her know it was just a joke. Continuously shooting at waves of Federation soldiers from behind cover can't be good for a person's mental health.
Seriously, though, this work environment is quite possibly the worst. "…Shall we blow off some steam by prepping for this counterattack?"
Peering out from behind their cover, Tanya sees enemy soldiers quickly approaching.
Basically, they're focused on the ground, purposely forgetting threats in the sky during their charge. It's an efficient advance, but thinking that war is waged in two dimensions is a mindset that should have been left in the past.
After all, the modern era is the era of three dimensions. Feeling lucky not to have enemies launching formulas at them, the relieved enemy foot soldiers have assumed there are no mages—a weakness Tanya takes full advantage of.
"Did we get 'em? Did we get 'em? …All right, let's go!"
As if exemplifying how to lead from the front, Tanya leaps into flight.
Soaring into the air, she opens fire on the enemy below with her submachine gun. All she has to do is squeeze the finger laid over the trigger
anytime the barrel of her gun lines up with a Federation soldier.
Pop, pop-pop-pop. A pleasant report sounds as the rain of formula bullets falls on the earth below.
No matter how the Federation infantry tries to respond, it's too late. They just barely manage to look up at the sky, but most likely…they can't even tell what's happening to them.
Mana manifests inside the formula bullets, ready to interfere with the world. We control the combustion as much as possible to produce less shrapnel so the explosion formulas we're scattering don't damage nearby buildings.
It's just a single attack. But it's a well-planned ambush.
As the formula bullets burst, elements that were once Federation soldiers spray across the earth; at that point, many of them make up their minds.
"Clear! Clear! The enemy soldiers are losing the will to fight!"
Nobody wants to die. Facing the horror of death, human instinct is to flee. That instinct can only be suppressed with a certain degree of training and discipline.
"01 to my group! Don't destroy too much of the cover! Think of Lieutenant Tospan. If we leave them with nowhere to hide, I'm the one who'll have to apologize!"
"Colonel! The enemy mages are on the move! It seems they're on rapid response duty—they're headed straight for us!"
After nodding a thank-you to Serebryakov, Tanya summons her vice commander, who was on anti-artillery duty.
"Major Weiss, the enemy's here. The enemy mages!" "So they finally decided to show up!"
"Like kids late for school! Being late for war is human—a fine thing.
We should be grateful for their self-sabotage, I suppose." "You're absolutely right! Shall we punish the tardy children?" "Yeah." She nods emphatically. "Have fun with them."
"Yes, ma'am! May I borrow Lieutenant Serebryakov?" "Sure. Lieutenant, go support him."
If she's sending her adjutant away, Tanya needs to find a new buddy.
Luckily, defending against infantry on the ground isn't a terribly hard job.
Perfect, she thinks and taps the young guy fighting alongside Tospan's infantry. "Lieutenant Wüstemann, come play tag with me down on the
ground. Let's scatter the enemy foot soldiers!" "U-understood!"
All right. With Wüstemann as her new partner, Tanya sets about mopping up the remaining enemies. That said, chasing away infantry whose will to fight has already collapsed is exceedingly simple. Even a second lieutenant fresh from the academy can do a decent job at it.
Tanya observes how Wüstemann's unit operates, to see what they've got, and mentally notes that they're still very green.
Skill-wise they're not bad, but they don't pay enough attention to their coordination with Tospan's infantry. Certain allowances can be made, since it was such a sudden pairing, and they may not intimately know each other's capabilities yet, but if they're in the same Kampfgruppe, they should know.
But at this point, Tanya should admittedly revise her evaluation a bit.
Given their education and experience…I suppose this is what you get.
It's not only Wüstemann; all the magic officers are unfamiliar with the way regular infantry operates. It's taught to some extent at the academy, but most magic officers lead mage platoons and companies, not infantry. They just get used to that way of operating.
For that reason, she adjusts her mental evaluation of Wüstemann to
Nearly up to standards.
"All done here. We've driven off the enemy." "Nice job."
Having completed their task, Tanya gives the lieutenant a few pointers based on things she noticed. "You put in some great effort, but I want you to learn more about the infantry. Though you still lack experience in leading a mage company, you're coming along. That said, you don't seem to understand how the other arms work, which defeats the purpose of being part of a mixed-unit Kampfgruppe."
"That makes a lot of sense."
"To be clear, I'm not blaming you. I mean, the situation isn't good, but…despite your lack of experience, you're doing all right—that's for sure."
Tanya's way of expressing it is a bit severe, but it's a perfectly appropriate evaluation.
"Thank you for the harsh compliment."
Wüstemann obediently nods; you can say he has room to grow. If all that's missing is experience, education can fill in the gaps. An individual who accepts feedback and is willing to learn can be taught up to a certain level.
Deeply impressed by the power of education, Tanya turns her focus back to work and walks over to the infantry unit.
"Where's Lieutenant Tospan?" "Here!"
A sooty face capped with a helmet pops out from the edge of some cover.
"Oh, you're commanding from the front, too?"
When it comes to overly frank people and serious idiots who don't even know the meaning of slacking off, it all comes down to how you use them.
Lately, Tanya has felt that Tospan's stock is doing great. Well, part of the problem is that he started so far down.
Anyhow, as long as he's right next to me, that makes things easy. "Lieutenants, we have work to do."
"Yes, ma'am!"
There's only one reply. Just Tospan.
"…Lieutenant Wüstemann?"
"Yes, ma'am," answers the young officer, brimming with relief that his job is done. That's no good. You can only let your guard down once work is over and you're drinking your coffee.
I was just praising him earlier, but maybe I spoke too soon. What a handful. Tanya gives him a hearty slap from behind. "It's too soon to relax, Lieutenant."
"H-huh? There are still enemies around?" The way he stiffens up betrays his lack of experience. Only a total amateur changes their level of alert based on enemy presence or lack thereof.
"This is perfect. Reeducation in the field. Let's go get supplies." "Huh? Supplies, ma'am?"
His perplexed expression shows he wasn't expecting that, but Tanya nods. "We're going to collect lost items—time to show some kindness to the environment by recycling."
You have to be eco-friendly with your ego—that ensures you'll keep
doing it.
Being eco-friendly is wonderful, since it makes economic sense. It's lawful and carries economic advantages, and it signifies market equilibrium.
"Lieutenant Wüstemann, it's about picking up what's been left behind. Take weapons, ammo—anything useful—off the enemy corpses. That's one source of supplies." She smiles at him. "Oh, and there's no need to take prisoners for grilling. There's no need to kill them, either, but don't go getting shot because you went too close."
"…It's indecent."
"You think you can wage a decent war? Bullshit." She jumps on his word choice and warns him with a scowl. "Are you saying you throw yourself into the slaughter purely, justly—sane and sober? Don't make me laugh. That's a broken man talking. Going to war after downing some liquid courage with a grimace is much more human."
He frowns for a moment, perhaps thinking to argue back, and then whines, "So are you drunk, then, Colonel?"
Boy, did I overestimate him. I can't have him taking everything literally.
Haven't you ever heard of a metaphor?
"How rude. If I look like an adult, you need a new pair of eyes. You know minors are prohibited from drinking and smoking, so of course I'm always sober. Look, it's not like my hobby is torturing my subordinates," she argues, feeling awkward. "It seems that you are misunderstanding me. I'm an exceedingly peaceful, law-abiding individual. I believe that, especially at war, we must follow rules and regulations. And I expect the same out of my troops."
"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I'm not sure I follow." "It's utterly simple."
My subordinates tend to be narrow-minded. Recalling the past, Weiss and the other veterans of the Salamander Kampfgruppe used to be the same way, a fact that is vaguely horrifying.
But the reality is we're at war.
It's precisely because we're at war that Tanya makes sure to hold her humanity dear.
"We're soldiers. We shoot because we're told to. Because it's a reasonable order. In the end, we merely pull the trigger because HQ tells us
to. Who's out here killing each other for fun?" "But that doesn't mean…"
"—You want to loot corpses?" Tanya smiles wryly as she instructs him. "Don't be so self-centered, Lieutenant—it's childish. My subordinates and I are merely doing our jobs. The reason I say to get supplies is because we need supplies, and the reason we need supplies is because the higher-ups gave us orders that require them—that's all."
"…So you're saying the army…the army orders it?"
"Lieutenant Wüstemann, did you come to the front lines on a patriotic volunteer trip?"
"I can't say I don't love my country…"
"Haaah," Tanya sighs. Wüstemann may have some aptitude, but his strange way of thinking gives her pause. Tospan, who stays quiet and waits for orders, might be more endearing.
She whirls around to face Tospan and gives him a concise explanation of what to do. "Lieutenant Tospan, I want the infantry to patrol and round up useful items. Recover any souvenirs the Federation Army has dropped."
"Recover dropped items? Right away, ma'am."
An immediate response. No hesitation. So even a person who does only what they're told is capable of this much progress. To Tanya, it's a shining example of successful training. Lately, she's been finding it quite fun to invest in human capital.
"Look at that, Lieutenant Wüstemann. That's the correct work attitude." Telling him to remember that, she turns back to Tospan. Instructing him on how far he's allowed to go out, she also reviews the procedure for the expected counterattack.
Frankly, it's quite an efficient exchange. Taking what we can has become so highly standardized in the Imperial Army that a quick meeting to confirm procedures is enough even with Tospan types.
Tanya should probably rejoice in the optimization. Not that she really wants to think about being forced to be efficient in realms like this.
"By the way, Colonel. May I ask a question about this collecting? If we're sending out the infantry, why don't we consider building an outer perimeter? We can advance if we do it now."
Bewildered, she stares back at him.
A suggestion? From Tospan?
"…You want to advance?"
"Yes, Colonel. The enemy can only offer limited resistance right now."
Logically, he has a point: If we build a forward position, we can use the space we gain to buy time in a delaying battle. But there are too many reasons Tanya can't accept even a decent suggestion from Tospan.
"…Rejected. Your tactical judgment is valid, but we don't have the matériel for it. That's the whole reason we're stuck going out borrowing."
"What a hard-knock war…fighting with supplies people have dropped." "Truly, Lieutenant Tospan. I'm in complete agreement with you."
Ironically, when we have people, we're short on supplies, and when we have supplies, we're short on people. Tanya vents on her subordinate in a roundabout way.
"I sure miss getting supplies. Lieutenants, put it on a card if necessary, but get me some rolling stock for freight from the Federation Army!"
"…Ummm, Colonel?" Tospan is puzzled.
Tanya shrugs and shakes her head at him. "Forget it. I was just griping— I'm in a bit of a mood."
If she were talking to Serebryakov, who is more familiar with her tendencies, she could expect a little more…of a thoughtful rebuttal to console her somewhat, but it would be too much to expect that out of Tospan or Wüstemann.
"Still," Tanya continues her griping. "Defending this town with a single Kampfgruppe is enough to make anyone want to whine a bit."
By all rights, this should have been a job for a division at least. When you think about it, defending a base with a Kampfgruppe goes against the very purpose of its formation.
"I'm human, too. Now and then, a complaint is going to slip out."
Ah, but they're not interested in listening to their superior's bitching.
When they don't say anything, Tanya thanks them genuinely.
"I appreciate the polite silence. Now then, let's be punctual like civilized people. Lieutenant Tospan, I'm leaving collections up to you. Lieutenant Wüstemann, back him up."
""Yes, ma'am!""
The sight of her troops saluting and jogging off elicits both anxiety and hope. If Tanya was forced to pick, she would feel like she needed to count on them. There's no choice but to use the available human resources to the
best of my ability, so…having some expectations isn't a bad idea.
Watching them go, these soldiers learning to stand on their own two feet, she celebrates that their careers are coming along. She has no intention of being so inept that she would get in the way of her subordinates' promotions. Making full use of your talented subordinates, the ones you trained, can be said to be the essence of management.
Though it's a bit late for someone who previously worked in HR, I should probably recognize that when I reconfirmed the value of education, a latent talent for cultivating people blossomed.
"They say when you complain about lacking something, what you actually lack is ingenuity… Can't slack off when it comes to cultivating your people. Of course, there's a limit to what you can do in the field, but still."
There's that saying about how necessity is the mother of invention, and a shortage of human resources has spurred Tanya to find new ways to best utilize what little she has. The human infrastructure of the Empire is so fragile that Tanya feels compelled to go out of her way to educate Lieutenants Tospan and Wüstemann despite the costs involved.
What a mess. Tanya shakes her head.
-x-X-x-
JUNE 18, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, EASTERN ARMY B GROUP HEADQUARTERS, WAR ROOM
The officers crowding the war room at B Group HQ all wore severe expressions as they peered at the map spread out in the center of the room.
That part was fine.
Staff officers staring at a map is as natural as human beings breathing.
There was just one problem: The inspector and supervisor nominally in charge, Lieutenant General von Zettour, was glaring around the room, demanding someone speak, but apparently, a cat was holding everyone's tongues hostage.
"Gentlemen, I need your thoughts. The Lergen Kampfgruppe has been
surrounded for over a week."
The staffers of B Group glanced at one another, trying to pass off the responsibility of replying.
"The Lergen Kampfgruppe is completely isolated in enemy territory—" When, after taking their time, one of the officers finally spoke up, what he said was awfully trite.
"Gentlemen, apologies for the personal announcement, but you don't mind, right? It turns out I can read maps, too." Zettour decisively cut him off. "If you take into account the enemy unit intel scribbled here, it's clear that Soldim 528 is an isolated stronghold."
In other words, it was also impossible to misunderstand the Federation's desire to recapture the strategic urban rail stop… That said, it was a shock that despite the huge battle raging in the south, they still had enough troops to deploy in such numbers in the central area—which was decidedly not where the hottest action was happening.
Striking at enemy manpower was a necessity—especially now, while they still could.
"I can see that without you telling me. But I do thank you for your kind explanation."
But the response to Zettour's biting sarcasm was silence. "Why is the rescue plan behind schedule?"
He pressed them again but got nothing. His stare roamed the room—I can't believe it, he seemed to be saying.
"You have a fighting force. They should already be positioned in a place where they can deal with the enemy's movements. Though many of B Group's strategic reserves were drawn off, you should still have a unit dedicated to rapid response."
"…General, it's the bare minimum."
"Isn't that plenty?" Zettour shot back at the whining B Group staffers.
Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf and the other Operations staff were partial to the concentration of force, but not so much that they would leave their flanks unguarded. These people had full divisions of armor, mechanized infantry, and regular infantry at their disposal.
"Why aren't you moving them?"
"If failure isn't an option, then we need to take an approach that has the highest chance of succeeding. The state of the Imperial Army forces on the
eastern front is, as I'm sure you've heard…"
I knew that already, thought Zettour, staring at the map with a wry grin. The situation was rather far from ideal. Under normal circumstances, the area that each division was defending would have been covered by three divisions, minimum.
In that sense, he could comprehend B Group's hesitation. If they deployed their counterattack and firefighting emergency units, that was all they had; their sense of crisis was valid—if you're waging war according to common sense, that is.
On that point, the Federation Army's inexhaustible manpower and their foreign matériel assistance was a wonder. The Federation Army's military strength and human resources had been deeply underestimated in the existing evaluations of their enemy's fighting power. Or rather, it was all too far beyond the Empire's preconceptions.
It was easy to take out a Federation soldier. Taking out the Federation Army, however, would be a feat.
Thinking of the Empire's current state after they nearly blew it, all Zettour could do was sigh. He would have laughed at the idea that if you couldn't stay on the tightrope, you'd have nowhere to stand, except it currently applied to him. What a horrible corner they'd been driven into.
…But basically…
If failure wasn't an option, then all they needed to do was not fail.
Wishing for all victories all the time was surely too much, but that didn't mean they couldn't win here and now.
"At any rate. I understand the situation and your fears. With all that in mind, I'm still requesting that you come up with a rescue plan."
"General, with so few troops, the likelihood of a rescue succeeding is—" "Our troops are finite, but remember that time is as well."
As a strategist, Zettour had his worries about the situation, but as a tactician, he knew he could rely on his skills.
After all, he had a better understanding of time and timing than anyone else present.
Strategically, when the Andromeda Operation was poised to capture the southern cities, it would be unacceptable for A Group's attack to be blunted by a crisis in B Group.
"What is it, ultimately, that's causing you to hesitate? If it's already been
decided that you'll conduct a rescue, you should probably decide how best to go about it, right?"
"Even if it's necessary, we need to take into consideration the situation all across the eastern front…"
"The objective is to hold the B Front. The target is the enemy field army. It's that simple. Making it more complicated is a heroic first step toward failure." You don't get that? Zettour asked with his eyes, but he realized it was pointless.
The hearts and the minds of B Group were at odds.
In their minds, they could understand—that it was unforgivable to abandon their brothers-in-arms. They could see that the only thing to do was for B Group to open a way out for them with a maneuver battle.
If this were war college, they would all undoubtedly choose to wager everything on the maneuver battle.
But their hearts were filled with apprehension. The fact that they were hesitating to act in these strenuous circumstances proved they were thinking with their hearts, not their minds.
He could preach his logic, but regardless of how their minds responded, it wouldn't move their hearts.
…Zettour would have liked to rely on their self-motivation. But if they were this far gone, he would have to give up on utilizing the "bright staffers."
Swallowing a sigh, Zettour fell back into silent thought before the map.
Lure them in far enough and strike before they go on the defensive. The attack needed to punch through the enemy, but it was so vulnerable that any hiccup could be disastrous. It all came down to timing. If they moved too soon, the enemy would be able to get away. If they moved too late, they were liable to get bumped back themselves and lose the Lergen Kampfgruppe in the process.
Determination. That's what a commander's job entails.
If you're going to use your heart, it has to be with unwavering resolve, not hesitation. You're here to make one decision. The lives of your soldiers and the fate of the nation rests on your shoulders.
It comes down to a single person's judgment.
The responsibility is heavy and rough, so if you don't feel sick, you're probably not human. Zettour took out the cigar he'd swiped from
Rudersdorf and distracted himself from those feelings to regain some composure.
It was fine to recognize the weight of the responsibility, but if it crushed him, he would be no different from the staffers of B Group. It would defeat the purpose entirely.
If all he did was gaze at the map, the limits appeared on their own. The important thing was what to write on top of it.
Luckily, they had drawn the enemy far enough in.
In that case, the seeds had been sown, so the diligent laborers of the Imperial Army needed to put in the effort to reap. Is it harvest season yet?
"It must be time," Zettour murmured and smiled at the sound. The feeling of his doubts melting away and the weight lifting off his shoulders was indescribable.
The certainty that this was the perfect opportunity gave him hope.
Now all that was left was to strike before they missed their chance.
Simple, and their target was clear.
It was obvious the enemy was interested in using the railway, so the Federation Army units must have guessed that the Imperial Army would use the rails for reinforcements or escape.
And the reports that were coming in showed that they were keeping their attention on the tracks.
But they were actually too focused. The Federation Army was so concerned with securing the rails that they were excessively concentrating on that one route. They lacked the preparedness to say that the road didn't matter as long as the destination was reached.
So at this moment, attacking from somewhere unexpected would cut deeply.
The enemy wasn't looking beyond the railroad, they weren't keeping the encirclement completely closed, and they were keeping only a rudimentary watch on the tracks…which meant it would be possible to strike despite the power imbalance.
Our chance has arrived.
Not that there was anything wrong with killing time debating, but military logic demanded action. So though he was reluctant to part from them, it was time to take his leave.
Thinking of what came next and what arrangements were necessary,
Zettour called the nearest orderly over. "…You, sorry, but can I borrow you for a moment?" He made his order casually. "I need two cups of coffee. Bring them to my office. And can you get Lieutenant Grantz for me, as well?"
To the orderly, it was as if he had asked for the coffee in order to retire to his room. It would be clear to anyone that he had given up on the meeting. But he commented to make sure.
"Well, everyone has their opinions, but it seems to me, gentlemen, that you've understood my request and will respect it. And I understand that the things you want to take into consideration are important to you." He said it in a purposely exhausted tone and heaved a conspicuous sigh. To drive his point home, he expressed himself in a way that could be interpreted as disappointment. "So with the authority vested in me by the homeland, as inspector and advisor, I'm going to take some distance from this debate. Let me know when you've come up with the perfect plan for the operation."
"Understood."
"Very good… I'm expecting a conclusion as soon as possible." He said it, but he winced inwardly, feeling like a total fraud.
Was this the result of Rudersdorf pulling all the capable soldiers for the aggressive attack operation? It wasn't as if the ones left in B Group had no brains at all, but…they were unenterprising and tinged with cowardice to the point that their autonomy had broken down.
Is the eastern front too worn out?
This wasn't a kind way to put it, but these staffers couldn't be used anymore as a part. He needed to implement a bold change in personnel as soon as possible. These men had lost the soul of a staff officer. They couldn't be treated as such anymore.
Having announced the end of the meeting, Zettour hurried out of the war room.
He had nothing left to do there.
What he needed was people who would act. When he arrived back at the room assigned as his office, he reached for the phone on his table.
The number he dialed was that of the commander of one of B Group's few reserve divisions.
"Commander Cramm, this is Lieutenant General von Zettour."
"Weren't you in a meeting? I beg your pardon, General, but what can
I…?"
"It's an invitation to take a walk with me. How about it, Commander Cramm?"
Just as he was about to ask where to, Zettour continued by casually hurling a verbal bomb into the receiver.
"Let's go wage a little war."
"D-do excuse me, but…is that an order, General?" Cramm reacted to Zettour's calm comment by biting, feigning it being in spite of himself.
"No, officially I'm using my authority to advise and make requests of the Eastern Army Group on the division level. It won't bother me if you refuse."
"Sir?"
"The staff officers of the eastern army understand and respect my intentions. To put it another way, they gave me a lot of meeting time." What Zettour said as he continued calmly, or at least in a voice that sounded calm, was inflammatory.
The eastern army staff lacked the nerve to do what was needed. Once you've decided to bring your fist down, war is all about how fast you can take that swing. Consideration should be careful, but action should be decisive—never the other way around.
"I decided to let them enjoy their meeting for as long as they want. Meanwhile, I'm planning on fighting this war seriously with you soldiers."
"…You must be joking."
"It would be great if I was, but unfortunately, this is reality." He denied it simply, in a way that allowed for no misunderstanding, and bowled over Cramm's hesitant voice. "This is war, Commander Cramm. What do you say?"
"…It's to save our fellow soldiers, right?"
"Of course," answered Zettour. "The objective is to hold the B Front. The target is the enemy field army. Our actions will relieve our beleaguered comrades. Of that, I have no doubt."
After a moment's silence and a quiet groan, Cramm's strained voice reached Zettour's ears. "If it's to save our troops…then I suppose I'll at least hear you out."
"You're a model officer—very good. I'll brief you."
He understood honor, so it was easy for a crafty soldier to handle him.
The difference between a staff officer and a division commander is simple. The former is far from useless, but the latter stands out for their passion for assertive action.
Before understanding with their head, they understand with their heart.
Division commanders are truly simple, which makes things go quickly. "The basic idea is bypass, bypass, direct attack. Do you remember the
plan I asked you to research?"
"Yes, we're conducting a thorough survey based on the request for consideration the strategic reserve divisions received. I believe it was a classic maneuver battle…"
The energy in his voice was unmistakable even over the phone. It was immediately clear that he was on board.
We'll save our fellow soldiers with a maneuver battle!
Surely no soldier could hate such a plan. If there were such a misguided character in the Imperial Army, they would have to be an enemy spy.
"Have you discussed it with the other division commanders?" "Per your request, yes."
All it took was one assertive commander to get everyone in order… If Zettour could mobilize them, then his wager had basically paid off already.
"Very good! Commander, I thank you. Now we'll be able to get through this somehow." Zettour made his request in a solemn manner per formality. "By the authority vested in me by the General Staff, I request that you advance our left wing and to the enemy forces' flank."
"So it's confirmed?"
It was only a formal excuse. But soldiers can often be relied on to move as long as they have an excuse.
"Save our troops."
"…I'd like nothing more. Your instructions, sir?"
As Zettour had anticipated as a member of the same organization, they jumped at a justification that allowed them to rescue friendly troops.
Offering an excuse…
That was the only surefire way Zettour could personally move units on the eastern front.
"Encircle them using a clockwise maneuver. Destroy the units of the Federation Army surrounding the Lergen Kampfgruppe. And while you're at it, nip the enemy counterattack in the bud; don't let it become a concern
for the main offensive down south." "Understood."
"Oh, and one more thing. Well, it's not a request, but just to let you know."
"Sir?"
"I'm borrowing a vehicle. Sorry for the ex post facto approval, but I'd like to have your understanding."
Cramm told him that wouldn't be a problem, and after thanking him, Zettour hung up.
"Excuse me, General. First Lieutenant Grantz, reporting in. You wanted to see me?"
Just as he was thinking to ask again where Grantz was, he showed up— what timing. Lieutenant Colonel von Degurechaff's education was comprehensive.
The orderly had even arrived with the coffee. He must have been waiting outside to be polite.
It seemed he would be able to count on these people.
"Thanks for coming. Go ahead and sit down." With a gentle expression, Zettour offered the young lieutenant a seat, as if he was inviting him in to make small talk, and treated him to a cup of the coffee the orderly had brought.
"I'm sorry I didn't ask your preference, but have some coffee with me." "I-I'd be honored to, sir!"
To Grantz, who excused himself as he reached for the coffee cup with a tense expression, it must have been quite a nerve-racking tea party. Until the orderly left the room, Zettour maintained an amicable smile, but…time was too precious to waste here.
If this weren't a battlefield, Zettour might have been a bit more pure, too.
"Allow me to ask you point-blank, Lieutenant Grantz… What's the condition of the company you've received from Colonel von Degurechaff?" "No problems, sir! We're on standby for rapid response. As soon as you
issue orders, we'll be ready to carry them out."
For Zettour, that was a satisfactory response. No, it was even better than he expected. Considering the average level of discipline among the troops in the east, it was almost jaw-dropping.
But then again, it was Degurechaff's unit, so of course this was the standard. Though it was brimming with the quickness, ambition, and fighting spirit of lower-ranking officers, the soldiers seemed disciplined.
They had been taught well. As officers, cogs of state-sanctioned violence, they were the highest-quality role models. On the eastern front with its mud-water coffee, the aroma they gave off was of the real thing.
"No, I suppose it doesn't make sense to compare them to how awful the coffee is."
"General?"
"Nothing. I was just remembering the dining room in the General Staff Office." He shrugged with a wince, indicating the hardships involved. The General Staff's dining room was truly atrocious. Speaking only of his diet since being thrown on to the forward-most line in the east, he could declare with confidence that his post-demotion meals were better quality.
The young magic officer, Grantz, maintaining a respectful silence, was another quality factor… No matter where you are, there is some sort of advantage. If you can find it, that's a giant step forward.
On that point, the fact that Zettour had this precious pearl of a mage company in the palm of his hand made it possible for him to make daring decisions and take audacious actions despite having been sidelined from the General Staff Office to the eastern army with no authority.
"Lieutenant Grantz, I wonder if I can ask you to bend over backward for me."
"Yes, General!"
He said it with the mild expression of a kind old man. "I need you to go somewhere via tank desant."
"Sir?"
When the youth stiffened up, apparently not understanding, Zettour's eyes crinkled into a smile. So there's a limit to how well they respond.
That's fine. I'll just explain.
"War, Lieutenant. Let's start a war." "A-a war, sir?"
"Oh, well, I suppose I should use my words more precisely. We're already at war, so… To be more accurate, let's call it our war."
Even if the eastern army got caught up in it, this was a program that essentially only Tanya and Zettour knew about. It didn't require any
pretension to use the word our.
Something sacred or perhaps a moment's loneliness.
He couldn't quite describe the feeling, but he rephrased his intention with pride. "Lieutenant Grantz, this is our war. How could you sit it out?"
"General…?"
"What, Lieutenant? If you have a question, ask away. Questions shouldn't be bottled up."
"What is it that we're starting exactly?"
He has the right instincts. It was a roundabout way of asking. He was using language cleverly to appear dense while confirming the heart of the matter.
"Don't be so cold, Lieutenant." Zettour bit on Grantz's response. "It's about Soldim 528. You know the Lergen Kampfgruppe has been surrounded, right? It goes without saying, but we're going to rescue them."
"Oh!"
The open-book response made Zettour deeply envious—that naive joy, or maybe it came from a sense that a superior's words were trustworthy.
Youth that doesn't yet know how to doubt is dazzling like that.
"We're shifting to offense in order to relieve them. We'll lead the way… If we don't, the eastern army…may never get off their asses. I want to believe this is just an issue in B Group… They're only understanding their fellow soldiers' crisis with their minds. Which is why…" Zettour unpacked the reasons the same way he had to the division commander. The idea was to explain, get sympathy, and offer a justification.
Say it was the right thing to do.
"They don't have the proper sense of urgency, so we're going to give them a kick in the pants. We'll do a little blocking action."
"Yes, sir!" However…
Maybe Grantz was too thoroughly trained, given the happy look on his face when told he would lead the fight.
Even if only in name, Zettour's official title was deputy director of the Service Corps in the General Staff. Naturally, it wasn't recommended for him to go riding a military vehicle out to the forward-most line.
To say nothing about how impossible it would be to not stick out carrying a rifle and grenades. Those who would happily go along with the
plan, no questions asked, were surely the exception.
And in reality, it seemed that normal people naturally had reservations about it—Commander Cramm, for instance.
When Zettour showed up at divisional headquarters before the sortie with Grantz and company as his escort, Cramm approached, already looking…confused.
"Hello there, Commander Cramm. Sorry to bother you when you're so busy."
"General? What can I do for you?"
"What a strange thing to say, Commander. How's the unit? I hope my vehicle will be here on time."
Apparently, even this most military man became lost for words when shocked. After freezing up for a few seconds, he rebooted and finally seemed to grasp Zettour's intentions. "We'll go! General, please, I beg you
—please stay back!" he shouted.
For a man in Cramm's position, his plea for Zettour to stay in the rear was an utterly natural reaction. But we won't get anywhere that way…
Zettour needed to fulfill the condition of an elite from the General Staff standing on the front lines, no matter what. Even the chickens in B Group would hesitate to leave General von Zettour and order an excessive retreat.
"I think you're misunderstanding something." Upon looking into Cramm's confused eyes, Zettour emitted a sigh. "Commander Cramm, you're a newly appointed division commander; have you already forgotten? Seriously? Ever since the formation of the Imperial Army, it's been expected that a commander lead his troops." Zettour drove home his conclusion in an extremely even tone. "I may be the one asking things of you, but I'm also the one who proposed this plan. It's called practicing what you preach. Leading the way is, of course, my right as well as my clear duty."
It took only a moment for the bewildered major general to recompose himself, but in that time, Zettour had hopped into the car and begun checking his equipment.
"General, are you serious? You don't have to do all that—we can…," Cramm said reflexively.
Zettour responded with a sigh. "…Allow me to make one thing clear. I want to fix this misunderstanding." He crinkled his eyes into a kind smile as
if to say, Listen, Commander Cramm. He could understand that straitlaced field officers were wary of ruses. And he couldn't claim he wasn't going to be tricky.
But right now, he was just another officer in the field.
"You can think of it as a bluff if you like, but I—no, a General Staff officer—should be the one seizing this chance to envelop one of the enemy wings. Do you think I enjoy polishing chairs with my butt?"
"…General, the rescue is your objective, right?"
"Are you asking if I want to give B Group a kick in the pants? Of course I do." Zettour continued, saying exactly what was on his mind, "Naturally, the rescue is at the forefront of my mind. Our target is the enemy field army. We'll hit the enemy and save our friends. Nothing more, nothing less."
There was nothing untrue about the simple words he said.
Personally, Zettour didn't want to leave the troops to their fate. If he had a unit he could send to save them, then of course he would have started the rescue mission already.
"In exchange for that odd job, we'll have to pay by being hated—just a tiny bit, yes, ever so slightly—by the eastern army staffers," Zettour continued in a carefree tone like putting sugar in a teacup. That much essence was plenty. "It's a clear rescue action that will merely wipe out the meddling Federation Army in one fell swoop, Commander Cramm. Fewer enemies, assisted allies. I should think that's easy enough to understand. I can't make it any simpler." He smiled. "Gentlemen, we should fight and get muddy, too. I hardly think there are any fools here who are scared of a little dirt."
Zettour declared the debate over and turned to his escort, Grantz. "Take the car out, Lieutenant Grantz. I'll count on you to drive."
"Yes, sir, if that's your order. But, General, are you sure this one's all right?"
"Why not?"
"It's not even armored. As your escort, I'd prefer you rode in at least a light tank."
He was right, but with apologies to Cramm, nodding emphatically next to him, Zettour couldn't heed his advice. The point was to show off the fact that a general was exposed on the front line.
"No. Making requests carries no responsibility. To best announce my presence, I should put my life on the line. This sort of situation is the reason the word fair exists."
"It's too dangerous, General. At least allow our division to provide you with a vehicle…"
"Commander Cramm, tanks are too slow. In terms of speed, and only speed, this is the best option. We also have to get into position quickly. Use tank desant or whatever method you like—just get them sent in."
"But the losses…"
"It's not as if I'm telling you to have your troops ride on tanks right into enemy positions and get slaughtered. In order to get the troops deployed swiftly, let tanks be their feet. It's a tight-knit joint operation of infantry and tanks."
This was a lesson learned from Operation Iron Hammer.
Upon further study of the Federation Army operating formation and considering Degurechaff's way of using troops, employing tanks as improvised transports was found to be unexpectedly effective in live combat.
"You mean they should disembark for combat when the enemy is spotted?"
"That's right."
"…I remember the report about how the Lergen Kampfgruppe did that." "Yes, during that airborne mission. Now it's time to rapidly deploy infantry on tanks and attack the enemy's flank. This is the sort of thing you can only do on the vast eastern front." He nearly continued with a
disclaimer but swallowed those words instead.
Tank desant, an enveloping attack, encircle and annihilate tactics. The combination of those three things was clear evidence of an overdependence on mobility.
The Imperial Army's troops were spread extremely thin. They didn't have the resources to consider any other tactical options.
"At any rate, our success depends on speed. Commander Cramm, advance as if you're the main thrust of the entire army's attack."
"Yes, sir."
"All right. We'll advance as well. Oh, and send a repeated request to the other division commanders—not that I think there are any who would still
hesitate at this point."
-x-X-x-
THE SAME DAY, SOLDIM 528
The mind of a unit commander under siege is often torturous. Thus, adequate sleep is necessary to maintain mental health. Sleep is one of the mind's best friends. It's rare to find a person who hates sleep.
Which is why it's a commander's right to request not to be woken up except in case of emergency. Put another way, anytime I find Tanya being dragged out of bed by her adjutant, First Lieutenant Serebryakov, there's good cause to expect trouble.
Yet, here we are again.
"Sorry to wake you, Colonel. It's an urgent message from high command!"
My adjutant has burst in to wake me up again. It's not as if it's Serebryakov's fault, but when it happens this often, I'd like to express my discontent. Sadly, as a member of the military, I'm not permitted to sleep soundly when high command has an emergency.
"Urgent? Give it here." Bracing herself for another unreasonable demand, Tanya reaches out for the telegram, but the concise text throws her. "From General von Zettour to the 'Lergen Kampfgruppe': 'Colonel von Lergen,' promptly begin the 'designated' actions. What does that mean? This is all of it?"
"Yes, that's the whole message."
If Serebryakov isn't aware of anything else, then this is literally all of it.
The telegram doesn't ring any bells, so Tanya thinks, Is this meant to confuse the enemy? Am I just taking a dummy message too seriously?
She wants to laugh it off and believe she is overthinking, but the terseness gives her pause.
It's a message from allies outside the encirclement. If they are trying to tell her something and she misses it, the best-case scenario is that she gets laughed at. But in the worst case, the unit might even be abandoned.
"What are the designated actions?"
Is it some kind of metaphor? Or just a bluff to throw the enemy off the trail? But "designated" actions…
"…Hmm?"
"Lergen Kampfgruppe," "Colonel von Lergen," "designated actions"?
Looking at the parts in quotes, she notices that "Lergen Kampfgruppe" and "Colonel von Lergen" are outward-facing labels. So does that mean "designated" is the same?
In other words…maybe the thing to do is consider the message with those parts removed.
"Promptly take action…? …Action."
When Tanya murmurs it softly, something bothers her. Action, in the end, is assertive spontaneity.
In Imperial Army staff officer education, you get it pounded into your head countless times that an officer's role is to carry out the mission they're given and to obey not the letter of the order but its intent.
"Intent? …The issue is the intent. What is this order really trying to say?"
That is, what is Lieutenant General von Zettour determined to do? The important thing is her superior's intention. And Tanya isn't the type who can ignore her superior's decision.
If the boss says white, then everything black in the company is also white. In the most blackened, corrupt cases that won't be able to escape the law, there's no choice but to jump ship. That said, Zettour seems all right, so he scores points there.
Tanya's mind is self-conscious in the manner of a good, modern citizen
—she values laws. If she gets an unreasonable order that impinges on her free will, she'll be forced to confront a grave conflict. Lucky for her, the General Staff is admirably law-abiding.
If anything, there have been plenty of orders she didn't want to carry out, but they were all reasonable.
That's worlds apart from the evil of Being X, who thrusts things upon me without considering my free will. Honestly, that's the problem with the devil's kin. No, given how Being X failed to properly explain the terms of the contract, the devil might actually be a more honest guy.
If God can't crack down on this interloper's rampage, he must be dead.
As long as God is dead, all I can do is use my modern mind to defend myself from evil in accordance with the laws of nature.
How harsh this world can be.
No. Tanya shakes her head and brings her thoughts back to the present.
She has to deduce what Zettour might be thinking using a thought experiment.
"What would I do in this situation if I were the general?"
A revolving door, decapitation tactics… He's an expert with an exhaustive knowledge of logistics, so let's factor in his career thus far.
His personality almost certainly rules out passively waiting with no plan. Is he attached to seizing the initiative independently? Wait, but then you could say he would favor an aggressive breakthrough action.
"Assertiveness? …Is that what 'promptly' is supposed to indicate?" Tanya raises her head and looks up at the ceiling subconsciously. That's certainly a possibility, or rather, she could see it being true. Zettour may not always look it, but he has a fairly radical side to him.
It appears that the higher-ups want me to take prompt action. If a staff officer is being asked to act, then…?
It can only be an order to begin an operation and choose the optimal action.
The duty is always the same. Use your brain to help yourself somehow.
That is, I need to come up with a way to break out of this situation.
The situation? It's the agony of being surrounded. A light burns in her mind.
In that case, the answer is simple.
It's difficult to accept so abruptly, but it just might work.
"An operation to break the siege. I can't believe it—General von Zettour intends to make an aggressive move, even under these circumstances!"
Once Tanya realizes her superior is planning a maneuver battle, she has no doubt what her role is.
If he's expecting her to fulfill her duty as a staff officer, then this is the moment.
"We'll act in concert with the rest of the troops!"
Having made up her mind, Tanya both promptly and swiftly announces their next move. "We're clearing out! Round up all the unit leaders! On the double!"
"Colonel, will you reply to the telegram?"
Oh. Tanya realizes she is forgetting herself. She was getting so excited that she forgot a simple truth.
Hard work, attentiveness, and success.
The golden rule of being a productive member of an organization is truly simple yet deep.
"You're so attentive, Lieutenant Serebryakov! You're exactly right. I have to reply to General von Zettour's love letter, or I'll be derided as an officer with no honor!"
Okay. Tanya orders an equally concise message in reply.
"From the commander of the Lergen Kampfgruppe to 'General von Zettour': 'Colonel von Lergen' will promptly begin the 'designated' actions. That is all!"
Not long after…
The message was delivered by magic officer to the car Lieutenant General von Zettour had single-handedly designated as the forward command post.
-x-X-x-
[Image]
-x-X-x-
"Telegram, General. It's a confirmation from Colonel von Lergen." "Let me see the text."
"Yes, sir, here it is."
First Lieutenant Grantz had received the message with his orb and written it out for the general. After one glance, Zettour gave a short nod. "From the commander of the Lergen Kampfgruppe to 'General von Zettour': 'Colonel von Lergen' will promptly begin the 'designated' actions? This is…fantastic."
The text he received was wonderfully simple. Clear and concise.
If she didn't grasp my intentions, she wouldn't have been able to reply in such a simple format… That was the moment he knew his thoughts had reached her.
"Everything's going according to plan. This is good news, Lieutenant Grantz. The Lergen Kampfgruppe is ready to coordinate with our operation here. Now we'll be able to pincer the enemy."
"So…" Grantz seemed to have grasped something. He cautiously inquired, "…General, does that mean you and Colonel von Degurechaff set up a plan in advance?"
"No, not at all."
"Huh? But then, this reply…"
"Lieutenant Grantz, that's just the kind of creature a staff officer is."
The young magic officer didn't quite seem to get it, and Zettour patted him on the shoulder with a wry inward smile. Is it because I hold my subordinates to too high of a standard that I feel he's lacking when he can't immediately comprehend things?
"Remember this, Lieutenant: No one who fails to understand the necessary matters at the necessary time can be called a real staff officer."
A group of officers who build a shared understanding of what must be done based on shared foundations—that's the secret to the instrument of violence known as the Imperial Army functioning at the greatest possible efficiency. No, it isn't even a secret.
Everyone knows it. Even children know that staff officers are the essence of the Empire. They just don't know what that means.
"I hear some people call Colonel von Degurechaff a monster. But if you ask me, she's a fine staff officer."
The strengths of a staff officer…
They lie in decision-making skills but also the ability to sense when to act. Plus, the flexibility of understanding an ally's intentions, or the objective of an offensive, and making autonomous judgments.
A coordinated conjugate of officers who grasp the intent of their orders and can act on their own discretion is exceedingly efficient.
There may be multiple heads, but they think with one brain. All in one and one in all: That is the ideal of the General Staff, the heart of staff officer education, and the fundamental principle of field battle.
"What I mean to say is she's correct."
Given an ideal environment, staff officers are expected to all arrive at the same judgment. With a mutual understanding of what the ultimate aim is, they individually set an objective with an eye on the greater goal and act on their own discretion; the result is organic synchronization and coordination.
The magic officer Degurechaff is a truly exceptional fighter. But more than that, she has vividly proven herself as an excellent staff officer. It's just so delightful.
"Ha-ha-ha! Now that we've come this far, we can finally say we're having fun!"
Previously, he had felt a slight pain about using a child for war, but having come this far, he felt a thrill more than hesitation or pangs of conscience.
That's just what she is.
If that's what she is, then that's what you use her for.
"This makes things so much easier than holing up in the rear, dealing with people who can't understand even when you explain every little thing. It's so much more pleasant to work with someone who simply gets it."
Ultimately, even an officer is just a cog in the machine.
If you look at them as merely a part, then all that matters is reliability and performance. In other words, their ability. In a war, anything that isn't ability is nothing but trivial sentimentality.
"A rare breed of officer, an excellent commander—basically, a vicious staffer. I guess we have to watch out for the younger generation."
We must be shouting the same things right about now.
Amused—no, delighted from the bottom of his heart—Zettour raised his
voice. Was there anything an officer wished to do more than this? "This offensive is a go! We advance. Let's get moving."