by Carlo Zen
“According to our man on the ground, they’ve still only held some preliminary discussions. He reported that both sides said what they had to say and that the issues are more serious than simply finding common ground.”
So Lergen’s saying it won’t be so easy to get their support. He never thought it was something that could be accomplished overnight, but the fact that the Emp was facing an enemy offensive while the negotiations were still under way was another example of bad timing.
“What do you make of the Federation Army increasing military activity under these circumstances?”
“…I’m sure they’re priming us and figuring it makes a good bargaining chip. They seem to want to make us realize how weak we are,” Zettour murmured bitterly. If the Imperial Army concentrated on the eastern front too much, Ildoa could start to stir on the southern border.
Looking at the big picture, it was a classic feint.
“You mean if we get too involved in the east, Ildoa will be jumping for our throats?”
“No one can rule that out one hundred percent. We have no choice but to be frightened of these nightmare scenarios. Can you say any different, General von Rudersdorf?”
“…But it makes me wonder if that’s what they’re actually after.”
Rudersdorf was still going around in the same loops of doubt and worry. They had been through this debate several times before. It might be a feint. Or it could be the main attack disguised as a feint. Or possibly both of those things.
The Federation had a talent for this sort of negotiation and pressure. Maybe this was a ploy to get secret negotiations to go to their advantage. Or it was possible that the diplomacy was a ruse and they were planning a huge offensive.
Vexingly, each hypothesis had its logic and was probable enough.
“I understand that. We’re facing a military dilemma.” Smoking his cigar, Zettour confessed his true feelings in a sober voice. “If we hit them back, we’ll get drawn in further. But if we continue retreating, we’ll lose our foothold. On top of that,” he continued with gravity, “I must admit we don’t know the enemy’s intentions or capability due to lack of intel, so we’re ill-equipped to deal with them. We thought several times that we had wiped out the Federation field army… However, the truth is a shock. The size of the enemy’s reserve forces is nothing short of dizzying.”
Staff officers, especially, understand that sinking feeling of having failed to evaluate a situation correctly. And being unable to get an accurate grasp on the enemy’s strength is a veritable nightmare.
The Federation Army doesn’t have the ability to start a major battle, not right now. That analysis of the situation turned out to be gravely mistaken. “Of course,” he took care to add, “the enemy must also be trying too hard. Without a serious balancing act and creative accounting, it would be impossible to mobilize so many troops. But one thing we can say is that if they have so many forces, they’re more flexible about taking losses than we are. It makes you aggravatingly envious, doesn’t it?”
“How can you talk about it as if it doesn’t concern you?”
“Oh, it does. On the contrary, I consider it urgently every day.”
“I’m not sure you can talk, as someone so good at scraping people together.”
Zettour grumbled a response to Rudersdorf with a shrug. “I’d like you to remember that ‘Service Corps’ isn’t just another way to say ‘alchemists.’ I can try all I like, but I won’t be able to provide the infinite resources we need from a finite stock.”
“Hmph.” Rudersdorf snorted and, with his cigar between his teeth, asked in a strained voice, “So you mean logistical limitations will hold us back?”
“Regretfully, that is correct.”
“So what, then? Are you saying we should retreat?”
Even with Rudersdorf glaring at him, Zettour had to give the same answer. “I can’t deny it. The only way to fix the eastern front at this point is to assume a long haul and reorganize the lines while putting up a delaying defense. I won’t say we have to fall back dramatically, but if we can to whatever point is doable, the logistical burden will lighten proportionally.”
“And then?”
“If we buy time, at least we’ll make it through this crisis. If we can stabilize the lines, we can probably have enough time to come up with a solution.”
There is no other way. It was a cliché way of putting it, but to Zettour, it was also his sincere understanding of their situation.
“You’ve gotten awfully rusty, haven’t you?”
“Huh?”
That’s why he froze at his friend’s remark.
Rusty?
…Do you have some other brilliant idea?
“War is solved not with hesitation but with a strong will. Blooming late is an armchair theory. We need to get our way and put the enemy in a hard spot through decisive action, even if it’s quick and dirty.”
“You want to punch some more glass? Let’s not. I’m not a fan of putting an extra burden on wartime production.”
“This again?” Rudersdorf sighed and turned to his friend with a stern look. “You’re being stingy during a war, Zettour?”
“Please amend that to say that I’m aware that the amount in my wallet is limited. All you have to do is ask—I’m the one who has to conjure things up. There are physical constraints to what we can mobilize. We don’t have a genie’s lamp here, you know!”
“If it’s bankruptcy or defeat, I think bankruptcy is the better option.” Rudersdorf snorted.
His unsentimental view was the correct one for an Operations man. If you went out into the country, probably everyone felt that bankruptcy was fine.
But Zettour cocked his head. “I wonder. We’ve already—yes, already—run through the country’s assets. Even if the war ends, what will have become of us?”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s an issue. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it! Even if it’s something to worry about, now is not the time. We’ll worry about it once we’re able to end the war.”
“What?”
“Are you saying we should concern ourselves with finances while fighting?” He laughed at the absurdity. “That’s not our job, Zettour. Our duty is to win. We can’t use the budget as an excuse for defeat.”
It was a valid, coolheaded understanding of their situation.
As a soldier, he couldn’t deny it. But for Zettour, it was equally difficult to agree.
“To that end, I’ve got a bit of a gamble to make.”
“A gamble?”
“Now, while the enemy is on the move, is a once-in-a-million chance.”
“…You mean a large-scale invasion of Federation territory?”
“That’s right,” said Rudersdorf, and Zettour understood immediately. This was one of Rudersdorf’s typical plans to solve things with his fists.
If it goes well, great. But what if it fails?
“Hold on—are you insane?”
“The enemy has left its nest. Well, our lines are in a sad state, true…but if we rebuild them, it’s a great opportunity to encircle and annihilate.”
With a fierce grin that seemed to proclaim that their chance had arrived, Rudersdorf looked every bit the valiant general a model Operations man should be, that mass of fighting spirit.
“If we can do a good job, we should be able to push the lines up. It’ll be a sort of pursuit battle. If it goes better than Open Sesame did…”
Don’t be ridiculous, Zettour said with his dissenting eyes.
Enveloping the Republican Army on the Rhine front with their revolving door took an awful lot of preparation. The idea that if they worked extra hard, logistics and intel would be solid sounded like something out of an old folktale.
“We’re not on the Rhine anymore!”
“It has to be done.”
“It’s too great a risk. You’re saying we should put everything we’ve got on the table right now? Just load all our eggs into one basket, why don’t you?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Well, that’s probably an accurate way to express it; I see, so the Imperial Army is slipping into poverty. Even so, Zettour had to argue back.
“The best way to avoid a gradual decline is to plunge straight to the bottom?”
“Being risk averse is healthy. But consider this, my friend. You can’t call standing by and watching things get worse ‘good risk analysis.’ What we need is action. Action that is as drastic as possible.”
“You can talk about it all you like, but an operation like that is impossible.”
“Why?”
“I’ll give you the short answer!” Zettour spat. “The supply network won’t be able to hold out!”
“Force it.”
“Tell that to an alchemist or a wizard!”
Zettour was pointing out with a grimace that it wasn’t his job. As the person scraping the bottom of the barrel to make ends meet and just barely keeping the eastern front from falling apart, he had an objection or two.
Frankly, the Empire was nearing the limits of its national strength. They had surpassed the acceptable number of losses in the east ages ago, and the personnel shortage in the Imperial Army was growing increasingly severe.
They had drafted the young, plus recruiting the elderly and women to work as reserves, and they even had the prisoners of war laboring. It still wouldn’t be enough.
“…I just don’t think we should move. That would use up the last of our dwindling energy.”
“No, Zettour, it’s the opposite. We need to act while we still have the energy. Above all, the Federation Army has started a maneuver battle!”
“But why does that mean we have to respond in kind?!”
“The enemy has left its base. You could say we’ve lured them out of their cave… You’re the one who sowed the seeds, Zettour. You’ve got to reap what you sow. And it’s harvest time!”
“Wait, what are you saying I did?” Zettour asked, puzzled, and Rudersdorf replied in exasperation.
“You’re the one who sowed the dream of self-determination among the people in the east. They’re trying to make an anti-Federation flower bloom in the occupied territories, so now’s the time to take out the main forces!”
Zettour could only mumble “Mmmph” in response, so Rudersdorf continued with growing intensity.
“The Federation can’t hold out! Just as the imperial family of Russy crumbled, so too will the Federation’s Communist Party scatter like rats!”
“Show me the evidence that supports this. Are you sure it’s not just wishful thinking?”
“History testifies.”
“I’m gonna pass on lending my ear to that jerk. As far as I know, history’s the worst kind of liar.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” laughed Rudersdorf as he shrugged at Zettour’s remark. “That’s a good point. But if fate or what have you is really so fickle, perhaps it can be grasped with an iron fist.”
“That sounds like something you’d do.”
“That goes for the both of us. Anyhow, first we need to tighten up the lines. If possible, we’ll counterattack. Make the arrangements.”
MAY 1, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, EASTERN FRONT, SALAMANDER KAMPFGRUPPE HEADQUARTERS
To someone who just arrived from the south, even spring on the eastern front must feel cold. Regardless of how well he may have wanted to present himself, the colonel appears somewhat warmly dressed. I suppose the fact that he came prepared with cold-weather gear means his research of the battlefield is laudable.
Either way, the social animal Tanya takes care not to forget social norms: a warm smile, a polite demeanor, and a sharp, soldierly salute.
The colonel, who returns her salute as he approaches, must have the same stance. He’s plastered a fishy smile on his face.
“It’s certainly good to meet you. I must admit, I’m not sure whether to call you Fräulein or Colonel…”
“I’ve heard it all, sir. My hands and feet run red with the blood of my enemies. Frau or Colonel, as you prefer.”
“Well, that cuts to the chase. Oh.” The man’s expression stiffens. “Let’s finish up introductions. I’m Colonel Virginio Calandro. I’ve been dispatched from the Royal Ildoan Army as a military observer.”
“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff. Nominally, I’m the deputy commander of the Lergen Kampfgruppe, directly under the General Staff, but I’d appreciate it if you remember that in reality, I’m the commander of the Salamander Kampfgruppe.”
The first step in labeling people is experience and rank. Tanya feels a personal fondness for Colonel Calandro from that initial amiable moment where both of those criteria came into play.
To be blunt, it’s good business, I think? Anyone showing up here can’t be too inept.
“I’ve heard of you and your alias White Silver from Colonel von Lergen. He told me you were a living recipient of the Silver Wings Assault Badge, a Named, and a true soldier—so I must say I’m a bit surprised by your appearance.”
“I profit by being small. Less surface area that can be hit.”
“Oh, that’ll make things rough for me. Maybe I’ll walk through the battlefield in a half crouch.”
“I hope you won’t find this question rude, but what kind of combat experience do you have?”
“I trained with the Alpine Regiment, but this is the first time I’m participating in such a large operation, Colonel. It must be quite different from one or two little covert ops.”
He’s an officer flexible enough to banter but handy enough to be thrown onto the forward-most line in a pinch. Phew, Tanya thinks as she feels the burden on her shoulders lightening.
It’s much easier to handle a capable officer than an inept one. Of course, given that her each and every move is being watched now, there’s no time to relax, but still.
“Oh, don’t be modest. You’re a specialist in delicate situations. If I may be so presumptuous, I think they made a fine choice in sending you.”
“And thanks to that, I’ve been flung all the way onto the eastern front.”
“Ah yes.” Tanya finds herself sympathizing with a bitter grin. As someone who was sent to the front lines because she does such a good job, she can relate to that gripe. “Here you are on the forward-most line. On behalf of the Empire, I humbly welcome you.”
“Thanks. I’ll mainly just be watching and listening. If you could show me things as they are, that would be perfect.”
“Understood. As a host, I hardly meet the minimum requirements, but I’ll do what I can, even if it’s not much.”
“I appreciate it.”
MAY 2, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, EASTERN FRONT, IMPERIAL ARMY CAMP
“Colonel von Degurechaff, we’ve made contact with the enemy.”
At First Lieutenant Serebryakov’s announcement, Tanya jerks out of her pleasant doze. Just like Pavlov’s dog.
The sound of the word enemy is enough to banish her light sleep.
She swallows her sigh and acknowledges with a shout, “I’ll be there right away!”
Parting with her bed and beloved sleep, Tanya resolutely sprints for headquarters and is already holding back sighs by the time she’s looking over the brief.
“Enemy contact, huh? So it’s sooner than the General Staff anticipated.”
It’s rough to suppress her rage and condemnation.
The enemy has advanced too quickly. Not faster than expected but faster than we could have ever imagined. I don’t want to think that the General Staff’s understanding of the situation disagrees so much with ours on the ground that they’re optimistically assuming we’ll find the kind of environment they hope for.
Does this mean the enemy is more capable than the General Staff estimated? More powerful?
Either way, it’s not a favorable development for Tanya. Regardless of how things are done in sports, this is war. Overwhelming a weaker enemy is far more practical and profitable than competing against a stronger one.
“…I gu
ess all we can do is cry over our helplessness. We can’t even choose the opponents we want.”
Tanya adjusts the priority of things in her mind. Reflecting and assuming are both luxuries now. If she doesn’t first eliminate the threat facing her, the future of free thought is in danger.
“Major Weiss, let’s have the details.”
“A few moments ago, Captain Ahrens encountered a group of enemy tanks. We took no losses. Five enemy tanks were destroyed; however, since infantry showed up as reinforcements, he’s decided to withdraw.”
“So the report came in late? That’s unusual for Captain Ahrens. Was the radio out of order?”
“There seems to have been a light rain.”
Rain isn’t kind to radio waves. That said, I don’t really want to believe that a mere drizzle could cause that much of an issue… Are we just having critically bad luck?
What’s worse is that we can’t rule out the possibility of mechanical failure. The precision of the “precision” machinery we’re using to the fullest on the eastern front can’t be counted on. It’s hardly surprising, given that by the time we’re employing our equipment to the fullest on the eastern front, we’re already using them in a way that was unexpected, since they were made for operating in our homeland.
It really is irritating. A tsk slips out.
“Colonel Calandro’s arrived, ma’am!”
What switches her mind’s gears is the shout from the person outside on guard duty.
When it rains, it pours… Tanya leaps to her feet as etiquette demands and snaps off a textbook salute.
“Sir!”
“Thanks, Colonel.”
It’s been ages since an officer superior to her has entered the command post during combat. It doesn’t make things easy. But whining that this is exactly why Tanya told Colonel von Lergen she was against this won’t help now.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“The General Staff has given us orders for how to handle this.”
He seems to understand that she means not to worry about it. With a bob of his head, he thanks her and apologizes again.