The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 7: Ut Sementem Feceris, ita Metes

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The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 7: Ut Sementem Feceris, ita Metes Page 5

by Carlo Zen


  The ability to worry is quite a fitting way to prove to ourselves that we’re still alive.

  “…We can’t coordinate with these guys. We shouldn’t even try. Instead of teamwork, we’ll just pile up a heap of individual victories until it becomes something resembling team play. I guess that’s the plan, then.”

  Necessity justifies it.

  “Let’s take advantage of an aerial mage battalion’s mobility.”

  What a nostalgic operation theory. I remember how, back at the war college, I suggested it to General von Zettour during a coincidental meeting.

  A unit specializing in mobility that excels at single strikes and can respond quickly with small numbers—an aerial mage battalion really is the optimal reserve force for tasks that require flexibility.

  They’re the optimal manhunt specialists. Now, turning back to more immediate concerns, it’s time to get Tanya’s thoughts in order.

  The situation is extremely unfavorable.

  Chain of command has collapsed.

  The transfer of command is ineffective.

  And to top it off, enemy numbers are grim.

  But that’s no reason to neglect the things we have to do. On the contrary, we should apply ourselves even more steadily and carefully than usual.

  “Battalion, attention!”

  The order elicits a perfect reaction.

  The members of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion turn to me in a synchronized motion as if an electric current zapped them from their heads to their heels.

  It’s something that was drilled into them countless times in training.

  The way Major Weiss, First Lieutenant Grantz, and First Lieutenant Serebryakov are standing tall at the head of the formation speaks to how perfectly disciplined the troops are.

  They’re pros. I feel nothing but satisfaction seeing them work. Which is why I’m confident I can expect them to perform admirably in the future as well.

  “In brief, our mission is to support our allies! Don’t expect the other units to do anything but defend their positions!”

  “That isn’t too much work for them?”

  The formal beauty of Weiss spouting a joke at the appropriate moment to lighten the mood, the exquisite timing of his interjection… Nothing can replace the peace of mind and confidence of knowing that your vice commander can read the mood.

  “Assume that you’re splitting roles. While they hold ground, flank our numbskull enemies and scatter them.”

  Tanya’s smile is like a silent You know what to do.

  It’s the same job as always.

  “Battalion, this is business as usual. Mop them up the way you always do, turn in reports like normal, and then return to base like any other day.”

  It’s exceedingly easy for aerial mages to cross distances. They’re the ideal reserve force: exceptionally rapid to deploy with the mobility the Imperial Army has been craving.

  The Imperial Army’s forte is running around within established positions to conduct interior lines defense. It’s a tradition that is drilled into every cadet at the academy, and then, as a finishing touch, they carve those concepts into the officer corps’ very flesh and bones at war college.

  In other words, the current conditions are all anticipated scenarios. Protecting a base by using interior lines tactics to fend off encroaching enemies is no exception.

  “Enemy soldiers!”

  “We have enemy contact! Get in there!”

  Even the hand-to-hand combat within the position is performed with no hesitation.

  This is the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, after all. We have plenty of members who have been around since the Rhine. Their proficiency with shovels is beyond excellent. Once you get used to using them, shovels are extraordinarily handy tools. A stab to the privates and then a whack to the head is a surefire way to incapacitate the enemy.

  “Elimination complete, yeah?!”

  “Colonel, over there!”

  When I glance over, I see a group fleeing from the direction of the gunfire. To put it plainly, it’s the sad troops who can be described as the remnants of the defeated army.

  The way they’re retreating in a panic instead of facing the enemy…suggests there’s a hole in our lines now.

  “What the hell? Patch it up!”

  I learned this well at the academy. With defense by interior lines, the defensive lines frequently require repair. You can find as many examples as you can look for of a collapse in one corner leading to a total rout.

  I learned at war college: Ignore a breach in the lines for too long and you’ll be forced to switch to mobile defense, but even mobile defense requires a certain amount of space to be successful. In a trench battle, you can abandon the first line—assuming you have the depth to weather a sustained attack.

  But in the end, defense in depth is another theoretical ideal, one you can’t rely on in a static defense where there isn’t much space to spare. Which is why the instructors kept emphasizing how critical it was to maintain a solid defensive line.

  “Shit, what are the guys on the west side doing?!”

  Is there some vulnerability on that flank? Soldiers fleeing from the direction of the western defensive position is about the worst sight I can think of.

  Tanya needs to go and find out what’s happening there. Right as she’s about to rush over, a sound rings in her ears, alerting her to just how serious the situation is.

  An echoing call of that most vexing “Urá!”

  Agh, damn it all to hell. It’s obvious what’s going on. That’s a cry you get used to hearing when you’re on the eastern front!

  The better you hear it, the more pressure the enemy’s advance puts on our troops. Their morale is peaking while ours is falling apart.

  It’s clear we’re about to be overwhelmed by enemy forces. One glance is enough to tell the cause. I can see it even if I don’t want to.

  The ones running are all pale-faced youngsters and men who look pretty old to be on active duty. An ad hoc unit of newbies and reserves. When it dawns on her, there’s no way to disguise her sigh.

  These guys are vulnerable.

  They’re too fragile.

  They’re far below the standards of the powerful Imperial Army Tanya knows. Having been continually fighting on the front line, that’s her honest opinion.

  “…They’re raw recruits.”

  Tanya nods at Weiss in silence.

  “Shall we withdraw to the second line?”

  Nein. She shakes her head.

  A retreat would be difficult. If we could move in an organized way, a withdrawal would at least be a tactical option. It would be more logical than a futile attempt to maintain the crumbling line, which can hardly be called optimal.

  But with the headquarters destroyed, an orderly retreat is impossible.

  It’s nothing but an empty theoretical option that can’t be realized. No, if we’re unlucky, it could be even worse than armchair theories. What would happen if the disarray spread rapidly so that even the points currently holding out ended up peeling off?

  A classic loss of leadership followed by a classic rout. A feigned retreat followed by a counterattack would be impossible to pull off without a solid foundation.

  Troops who believe they’re already defeated are useless in a counterattack.

  I never thought I would have to prioritize the sure thing over the rational. War really forces some horrible choices on people.

  Tanya makes up her mind.

  “Prepare for an assault battle. Major, you’ll command the 203rd.”

  “Huh?”

  Weiss is a veteran, too. If his eyes are asking me Are you serious? that means he understands what I’m trying to do. He’s found the rational in the irrational.

  “I agree wholeheartedly that it’s unwise, but we have to do it.”

  “…Understood.”

  “I’ll command the infantry. Lieutenant Serebryakov, you and your company follow me. The rest of you, go with Weiss. Watch the
timing for the counterassault.”

  With a curt “Let’s break it out,” Tanya swiftly hands out instructions and sets off in a deliberately casual jaunt toward the friendly troops who have transformed into shells of a defeated force.

  “Dig your heels in!” You couldn’t call it a terribly loud shout, but she musters all the volume she can. Sadly, despite the fact that an aerial magic officer with her rank clearly visible is screaming at them, none of them returns to their positions.

  Not only that, but they stare at her blankly. Apparently, their understanding of the world has broken down.

  Fine. Tanya frowns a bit.

  Why are officers called officers? Because they do what needs to be done when it needs to be done.

  Hasn’t it been said that soldiers should fear their own officers more than the enemy?

  “Consider this fleeing before the enemy.”

  “Huh?!”

  Her adjutant’s vacant reaction is the expected response.

  Though Serebryakov has worked her way up the ranks, she was originally a draftee. And given her temperament, Tanya can understand why she would hesitate.

  Nevertheless… Tanya gives the order with confidence.

  “Prepare to fire!”

  “Preparing to fire, ma’am!”

  Training and discipline are nothing more than the optimization of conditioned reflexes.

  Her troops respond immediately.

  It’s only twelve people, but they are aerial mages—seeing them lining up to attack is jaw-dropping. And the pressure of a company of aerial mages is especially potent in a war zone.

  Anyone who still has the presence of mind to be frightened on a battlefield can obviously comprehend threats.

  Instincts can be extremely handy when controlled. Saying humans are like beasts is perhaps too strong a comparison, but humans do have instincts. If we brand them with intelligence, the appropriate regulation and management of people under extreme situations can be achieved.

  Urging the troops on has no effect. What a handful. Tanya switches to more provocative language. “What if the people back home found out? It would probably render them speechless. You should be ashamed of yourselves, you utter buffoons!”

  When she scans the terrified faces, all of them are recoiling. Troops who can no longer feel shame are a handful. This is pointless. There’s little reason to keep trying.

  If giving up isn’t an option, then is the only thing left to do to take things up a notch? Probably. Tanya steels her resolve and opens her mouth for the third time.

  “Attention.” Her voice is small, and no one listens.

  At this point, that’s not surprising. By the time soldiers are routing, they’re nothing but a mob of individuals consumed by terror.

  But people being scared isn’t useful.

  And these troops have to be put to use if the Empire wants to win the war. This is total war, i.e., a conflict where the entire population plays an active role in the war effort. The situation has gotten so out of hand that I almost want to laugh.

  Tanya repeats again, with composure, “Attention.”

  Hmph. She sniffs, reaching for the gun at her hip.

  Paying no mind to the fact that her action rattles even the weak-kneed soldiers, she aims horizontally and waits until the last second to lift the pistol into the air to shoot.

  “Attention!” She raises her voice and checks the response, but the outcome is only a commotion… “Arrrgh.” Her patience runs out. “Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is calling you to attention! Shut up and listen!”

  After emptying an entire magazine, she raises her voice again. “What are you doing? What about your posts? Who’s your commander?”

  “C-Captain Ryan’s dead! W-we’re done for!”

  Did the tension break? One of the kids screams that their unit has been wiped out, his face an unnatural pallor. This is a good opportunity. In response to the numbskull panicking over the insurmountable odds, Tanya sighs.

  There’s no denying that it’s going to be a tough fight.

  But so what?

  It’s not as if running away is going to help anyhow.

  People who flee despite the lack of an escape route are lemmings. If you’re just planning on falling into some water and drowning, then fighting to the bitter end seems more promising.

  “Wiped out? Soldiers, are those legs just for decoration?” Tanya laughs at them. “Aren’t you still alive?” Her expression changes in an instant. “Or what? You there, right in front of me. Are you saying you guys aren’t imperial soldiers? Are you Federation soldiers who have kindly come to inform us that our western position has fallen?”

  When she glances at her subordinates, Serebryakov and the others seem to catch her drift—they place their fingers on the triggers of their weapons.

  The one issuing a warning and the ones being warned are all soldiers. Everyone understands what’s going on.

  If she doesn’t need to explain every little thing, that’ll make this go quicker. Fantastic. Tanya continues, feeling quite satisfied.

  “This is simple. There are imperial soldiers, and there’s a position that needs to be held. It’s obvious what needs to happen.”

  This can’t be called a threat. It’s just proof that there really are idiots in the world who can’t regain composure without having a gun pointed at them.

  True idiots are constantly falling short of the lowest expectations of sensible people like Tanya. There’s nothing to guarantee there won’t be a deranged fool mistaking us for enemies and firing.

  “Are you enemies? Or are you Imperial Army, like us?”

  “What do you want from us, ma’am? There was nothing we could do!”

  “If you have complaints, you can tell them to a counselor, if you like—after you survive. Right now, you have a decision to make. Will you take back the position with us? Or will you resist us as an enemy? Give a clear answer. I can’t wait all day.”

  “…Are you serious? Why are you doing this?”

  “That’s obvious. We need to save our position right this instant.”

  It’s good to see some startled faces remaining. It will stay secret that Tanya is incredibly relieved when she surveys the ragged remnants and spots some survivors with faces that are just barely passable for soldiers.

  If we can find more instructors, it’ll make things easier. Leaders take on a lot of responsibility.

  When someone is staggering toward you, you should call out to them. What a human thing to do, right?

  “Lieutenant, you can still fight, yes? Great, round up your men.”

  “I—I…”

  Rank insignia, age, ribbon bars. Even if you can’t actually tell a person’s worth from a badge, it is one criterion that can be used to make decisions.

  “Didn’t you rise through the ranks? Unless you’re a fool who’s just been letting the years go by with your thumb up your ass, do what you need to do. If you can’t, I’ll lay you to eternal rest right here!” When Tanya smiles encouragingly to say, C’mon, you can do it, the effect is immediate.

  “Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha! You’re a monster, huh, Colonel?”

  “The fatherland’s enemies approach. Are you saying I should flash them a loving smile?”

  How rude! She puffs her cheeks out to pout.

  “Yeah, you’re right, Colonel.”

  “Damn straight, Lieutenant.”

  “Understood… All right, fellas, let’s do this.”

  His muttered words are low, heavy, and mixed with a sigh. There’s no mistaking that will. If a soldier still has enough energy to sigh, he passes muster.

  With a satisfied nod, Tanya offers a hand.

  “Good, good. What’s your name, Lieutenant?”

  “Second Lieutenant Barchet at your service, Colonel.”

  “All right, Lieutenant Barchet. Let’s hop to it, shall we?”

  Time to go to work. Tanya smiles faintly.

  Now we have the people. Even if we detach s
ome mages to support the defense after we take back the western position, it won’t need to be that many. If we do it right and get them organized, we might be able to cover most of the flank with them.

  It’s always wonderful to have a reason to feel hopeful.

  And you can’t look down on the powerful desire to work. Being able to expect a bright future is fabulous. All right, then. Tanya smiles. “Follow me! Let’s go!” She waves her pistol to encourage them and then runs off.

  I’m not a big believer in mind over matter, but then again, mindless corporate slaves can only produce empty victories.

  We’ll just have to devote ourselves to our work as members of a proper human society.

  “C’mon! We’re counterattacking!”

  “If you’re going to die, at least die falling forward!”

  “You imbeciles need to be taught how to fight like infantry from aerial mages? Get your asses in gear! Run!”

  Hmph. Tanya slumps her shoulders and even makes a joke to her adjutant when she comes jogging over.

  “Man, we should never act like a blocking unit. Things got a little dicey.”

  “…It was rather intense.”

  What? That was nothing. Tanya shrugs. Sure, it’s a pain in the neck, but it’s the easiest way to “persuade” someone without risking a call from Legal.

  It was a piece of cake, no sweat.

  You could even call it a civilized conversation.

  Rallying troops together, reorganizing them, and reminding the mob of their duties is so human—Tanya rather likes that part.

  Luckily, there are no other disputes at this urgent juncture.

  Relieved that they might be okay after all, Tanya takes direct command of the provisional unit that will reinforce the defensive line.

  As that group is hurrying back to the front, a monster appears out of nowhere, rearing its ugly head.

  Hulking frame. Painted red star. Though they’ve never seen it before, there’s no soldier on the eastern front who could mistake that familiar silhouette. More than a few people are cursing.

  “Tank! Is that a new model?”

  Several aerial mages abruptly cast explosion formulas as they’re conditioned to, which function both as a smoke screen and an attack. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to have any effect besides putting up some concealment.

 

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