by Carlo Zen
Given that failure, she wants to make sure that this time, their victory is complete. Wishes come true if you don’t give up. The army has the overwhelming advantage necessary to get the Federation to agree to a cease-fire. After achieving that difficult victory, the rest is up to the diplomats.
“Until the cease-fire is agreed upon and peace realized, we’re still at war. And if it’s war, then soldiers must continue fighting to win.”
“Not one to let your guard down, huh? That’s a fine thing.”
Tanya looks back at Calandro. Why would I?
Tanya isn’t such an imbecile that she would neglect learning from her mistakes and let victory slip away twice. Tuition for the teacher called experience is too high. Paying twice for the same lesson isn’t cost-effective at all. Or really, it’s just a waste.
“Security is the greatest enemy, they always say. And isn’t the truth everywhere you look?”
“I see.” Calandro cracks a tired smile. “You have a point. Generally speaking, you’re right. But—may I say something?”
“Of course.”
“You’re young. No, I don’t want you to take that the wrong way. What I really mean is, look at all that you’ve accomplished at your age. It’s praiseworthy. But there are some things you will only realize as you grow older.” He laughs it off as the babbling of an older man.
Tanya considers how best to argue back but realizes none of the options benefits her, so she responds with a polite, vague smile.
Silence is golden. Gold is justice.
“Ultimately, what wins is common sense. Colonel von Degurechaff, no one wants to continue this ridiculous war at this ridiculous scale. If I may say so, the current situation is abnormal.”
“…I have next to no experience in society outside of the army, so all I can say is that we shouldn’t rely on wishful thinking.”
“But with these results, it must be a sure thing. Having suffered a defeat this massive, even the Federation… Ah, but any more than this is just trying to see the future, and it’s not the sort of thing we mid-ranking officers should be discussing anyhow.” Calandro chuckles, as if to say that he’s making too many predictions. “Don’t you believe in the victory of reason, Colonel?”
“I believe in my own reason. But I can’t be sure about other people I hardly know. I expect them to be reasonable, but trusting them is difficult.”
“But raison d’état is different from the personal sort, isn’t it? Besides.” He gets a far-off look in his eyes as he continues, “The members of the Imperial Army General Staff, at least, seem reasonable… Ahhh, errr, I really am saying too much now.”
“Hmm, that’s trouble for me. If a colonel is going to clam up, then won’t a mere lieutenant colonel like me have to be even more silent?”
“You got me there. I’m not usually so talkative. It’d be a lie to say I don’t have an opinion, though. I know I should just be celebrating your achievements… Congratulations—that’s really all I can say.”
To the opportunists, even if the Imperial Army’s definitive win isn’t awful news, it’s hard to call it good. This is probably an embarrassing position to be in for a soldier from Ildoa.
It’s a stupid farce, but Ildoa—even like that—and the Empire are allied nations.
“To be frank, I just didn’t think this would happen.”
“Didn’t think it would happen?” Interesting. Tanya engages. She’s incredibly interested in hearing on what basis Ildoa ended up trying to take advantage of the situation. “Is this a chance for me to discreetly inquire as to how the Ildoan General Staff thinks the war will go?”
“Nein, if you’ll allow me to brush off the question like they do in your country. I don’t doubt our ally’s victory for a minute.”
“Sure,” says Tanya, about to thank him. Calandro is being awfully generous today. In the end, these guys are sensible.
So they weren’t sure if the Empire could pull it off?
Well, that’s a reasonable level of wariness, thinks Tanya. The Imperial Army may be on a rampage against the entire world, but that in no way guarantees a victory on this scale. And it was close, so you can’t even say they made assumptions without thinking and ended up being proven wrong.
“At least officially?”
“Of course officially.”
“Do excuse me. Everything you say is correct, Colonel.”
Sharing an unspoken understanding is a strange bond. Shrugging our shoulders and making liberal use of the space between the lines is actually quite intellectual and not unpleasant.
“What a rude lieutenant colonel you are.”
“Well, I was raised in the field.”
“…I’m not sure what to say to that. Is this the sort of animal a Silver Wings recipient is?”
“Maybe.”
Perhaps it’s the anticipation of being able to participate in civilized activities like this more often once the war is over that’s getting me excited.
Cease-fire, pacification, and then peace. At least I hope that’s what happens.
“Well, I can’t compete with that. I suppose I’ll be going now.”
“As long as you’re here, why not tour the battlefield? I would hate for you to write in your official report that the Lergen Kampfgruppe didn’t show you much of anything.”
Tanya makes the offer out of pure goodwill. Calandro is nominally here to observe, and he’s doing us the favor of going along with the “Lergen Kampfgruppe” fiction.
“As luck would have it, the principal officers of the Salamander Kampfgruppe, beneath the Lergen Kampfgruppe, happen to be free. I could have someone take you around.”
“I appreciate the offer, but that’s all right.”
“Are you sure?”
That much entertaining we can do pretty painlessly…, Tanya was thinking, so she’s caught off guard by this unexpected reply.
This is curious Colonel Calandro we’re talking about. I thought he would be interested.
“Let’s just say I spent the day having a good long chat with Colonel von Lergen. I can write that up with no trouble.”
“So, then?”
“I won’t interrupt your celebration. Have a wonderful time.”
She is about to say, You won’t join us? But she knows you’re not supposed to do things you know someone won’t like to anyone but your enemies. After all, Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is an individual of common sense.
“Thank you. We will.”
“Please do.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thus, with the mood still buoyant, the Salamander Kampfgruppe with Tanya in the lead raises a triumphant cheer in the direction of the far reaches of Federation territory.
We’ve annihilated multiple corps.
We’ve acquired a path to invade. And more than anything, the military supplies we were able to seize are like a blessed rain upon the Imperial Army logistics org.
“Colonel! One more shot!”
“Sure! I’ll take some of you, too!”
Everyone mingles, beaming.
Struggling to focus and take a picture with a looted camera—errr, a trophy of war—isn’t something you get to do every day. Though she knows how to work one due to having used them on reconnaissance, she never thought she would have the leisure to take landscapes and portraits; the scent of civilization nearly moves her to tears.
It’s just such a beautiful fragrance.
“Hmm? Wait a minute.”
Sniff, sniff. When she wiggles her nose, she detects a good smell. If it’s real…it’s something we haven’t seen on the front lines in quite some time…
“Huh? Where’d that come from?”
“It’s a special ration from the beloved party, Colonel! We stole it from enemy HQ when we attacked.”
The camera, the alcohol, mostly provided by the Federation. Ahhh. Tanya shivers at the delectable horror of barbarian economics even as she enjoys them.
“Lieutenant Serebryakov! Use all ou
r funding! Buy out the alcohol in the area and serve it to the Kampfgruppe!”
“Are you sure, ma’am?”
“Of course! Oh, and one thing before I forget. The airborne guys did a great job, too. I want you to pay our respects.”
“Certainly. I’ll distribute some to them in the spirit of sharing!”
Commies are horrible precisely because you can start to think, even as a joke, that Communism might not be so bad. If the unproductive practice of taking from havers went on forever, the efficiency of distribution in such a looting economy would be fantastic!
“Lieutenant Serebryakov, feel free use some of the classified funds from the Kampfgruppe treasury, too! Find something we can nibble on! I’m sure our fellow troops have plundered more than they can get through even with their numbers.”
Encircling multiple Federation supply bases means we’ve seized a ton of supplies. It’s just a bonus, but it’s one of the reasons the food situation is better on the front lines than the home front.
In any case, wonderful victory, wonderful feast, and the smell of civilization.
Victory is just that great.
[chapter] VI Excessive Triumph
MAY 13, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE
From: Imperial Army, Eastern Army Group Headquarters
To: Imperial Army General Staff Office
The attacking Federation Army has been repelled.
We are currently making provisional estimations of achievements on the eastern front.
Several divisions, including the main enemy forces, have been annihilated.
We are continuing to pursue the enemy and capitalize on our gains.
P.S. Arrange for transport of prisoners as soon as possible.
“We won, huh?”
“…We sure did.”
The achievements of the Imperial Army were so massive that both the boulder and the willow could project calm. And if you questioned the outcome of the major maneuver battle on the eastern front, all you had to do was glance at the wall map.
Certainly at one point, the pressure was on in the east and they were forced to retreat quite a ways. There was disarray in the frontline units, wandering supply lines, and finally confusion at Eastern Army Group Headquarters—they had to admit that there was plenty to improve on.
Still, the results were there on the map.
“…We can probably even count Moskva and the southern cities among the options of where to invade.”
“In theory, Rudersdorf.”
“So it’d be tricky?”
That’s not even the half of it. Lieutenant General von Zettour winced and made himself clear to his esteemed friend. “Rebuilding the rail network is impossible. Even right now, we’re pushing the limits by sourcing supplies on the ground!”
A maneuver battle, which involves invasion on a large scale, is constantly faced with the limits of logistics.
If they were using interior lines strategy at home, procuring supplies would be easier. In their own, familiar country, they could’ve gotten backing from the self-governing provincial bodies and moved at full speed—that wasn’t just armchair theorizing.
But in foreign lands, even the kindest group is made of strangers, like the Council for Self-Government. Just creating a strategic base in their hinterlands and invading openly hostile enemy territory was a logistics nightmare.
Establishing a supply base that could sustain a major invasion was beyond the Empire’s national strength.
“We’re really lucky we were able to capture entire enemy supply depots at their HQ. We’re just barely able to make it with what the Council for Self-Government provided plus what we’ve seized—it’s a miracle.”
The secret to making ends meet all the time was simple—if you had the tactics from the old Art of War book that said to source your food in enemy territory.
“What if that stopped?”
“Then we’d really have to procure everything in enemy territory.”
And Zettour didn’t even want to imagine that scenario. Seizing enemy matériel could still be called a military operation, but there was a subtle but critical difference between seizing enemy supplies in the field and coercing people to give them to you.
“Specifically?”
Since he was asked, he had to answer.
“Organized looting.”
“Looting? This isn’t the age of mercenaries. Are you serious, Zettour?”
“I’m serious.” He nodded at Rudersdorf. “That’s where we’re at. At the very least, hmm, to keep up appearances… Formally, it would be requisitions in line with military law. But I wonder how far military scrip will get us in enemy territory.”
“Right,” his old friend answered with a wince. Even he knew. Military scrip was about as reliable as a candle in the wind. Regardless of how it worked at home, in enemy territory, the only people who would trust it were those in the position of being forced to pretend to.
“What’s the difference, even…between requisitioning with military scrip and looting?”
“…So we’re demanding things that don’t exist, and that’s why we have to bend over backward. But we can’t very well give up on our operation because of supply issues.”
“I’d sure like you to.”
“That doesn’t sound like you, General von Zettour… We’re soldiers, remember.”
Zettour emitted a sigh, and Rudersdorf tossed a question at him point-blank.
“If, hypothetically, we were to carry out another advance under the current circumstances, what logistics measures would you take?”
“…Negotiating the cease-fire is higher priority, isn’t it? With this outcome, even the Federation will have a hard time refusing to talk.”
“Negotiation is only possible if the other party is on board. Have you forgotten?”
Zettour was about to reply that he hadn’t forgotten, but then he realized what Rudersdorf was trying to say. “…I see. You think we need to plan for the possibility that they turn down negotiations?”
“Exactly.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure how likely that is. Colonel von Lergen’s report only just arrived, but…according to him, while there might be a battle over terms, a cease-fire agreement is only a matter of time.”
“I read it. He reported that the Federation side was groping for the possibility of a cease-fire, right?”
“Yes,” said Zettour, continuing.
The terms they had come up with via Ildoa were simple. All armies would cease firing along the current demarcation line. Occupied territories would be considered under provisional control and possession would not change hands.
But all demands for possession of regions the Empire effectively controlled before the war would be rejected. That would be a final solution. And then the Imperial Army would establish a demilitarized zone of a few kilometers around the border as a precaution. If necessary, there was leeway for occupation to guarantee security.
They had also included the stipulation that residents of occupied territories would vote on where they felt they belonged. Though they would have to keep track of multiple nationalities, if this came through, securing the Empire would basically be a success. Counting the nominal reparations, you could say they got almost everything they wanted.
“It’s true that we argued a lot about the residents voting. To put it another way…we beat them so soundly that they had to set aside their complaints for a moment and get the cease-fire in place…”
“You don’t think it’s just something on the Federation side?” Rudersdorf couldn’t deny it but felt it could be for other reasons.
Zettour rejoined, “Isn’t it more like the will of all the belligerent states? Even the Ildoans, seeing such a victory, will try to get on our side by wrapping up the negotiations.”
“It’s all in the realm of possibility in the end.”
“So we should prepare for the worst case?”
“You have
another idea, General von Zettour?”
I see. Zettour nodded at Rudersdorf’s comment and pondered in silence for a time. He did the math in his head, looked over all the available supplies they had, consolidated the reports from the field, and groped for a possibility.
But it was true that even amid all those inquiries, he couldn’t keep the thought from bubbling up in the back of his mind: After such a thorough victory, there’s no way negotiations won’t work out.
The remnants of the Republic could expect support from the Commonwealth.
The Commonwealth could expect support from the Federation and the Unified States.
But public opinion in the Unified States wasn’t up for joining the war. All the Unified States had contributed so far was lend-lease and voluntary soldiers. Of course, both of those things were extremely problematic, but they didn’t add up to the presence of the Federation, which had actually joined the war.
Ultimately, the Federation Army’s overwhelming matériel superiority must have been the pillar supporting the other states’ will to fight.
And the Empire had just crushed it in the east. Not only that, but it must have shocked and awed everyone nearby.
With that, diplomatic resolution should be possible.
Zettour was steeped in those thoughts when the phone rang, bringing him back to himself. A call on the direct line? The timing means…
“This is Lieutenant General von Zettour… Understood.”
“Good news?”
Zettour’s old friend asked, clearly invested, and he nodded. “An emergency meeting of Supreme Command.”
“Oh? And what does Supreme Command say?”
“They’re considering the terms. Now the details will get decided… We’ll finally have a path to ending this.” It’s just a little further. Filled with that emotion, he murmured, “The joy of harvesting the seeds you’ve sown. Such are the blessings of Heimat.”
They had fought for their fatherland. With their honor, with pride in their breasts, they left the bones of their fellow soldiers behind and still leveled their guns. Their predecessors and ancestors must have protected their homeland in the same way, as would their descendants.