by Carlo Zen
“…At any rate, we have a lot of problems right now. We must buy time. And to add to that, I don’t want to wear down our fighting force.”
“Then perhaps the northern route brought up earlier is a good idea after all.”
The prime minister and the facilitator brought the plan back around to building a supply line to the Federation. Considering how efficient sea routes were for transportation, it wasn’t a bad idea. But…that was with the caveat that the ground, sea, and air forces had to come up with the manpower to do it.
“Mr. Prime Minister, as we said—”
“Wait.” Churbull held up a hand to quiet the navy representative and offered a proposal in a calm, informed tone. “I realize we’re in the extraordinarily trying situation of being tight on ships. And that’s precisely why…I want to propose adding civilian boats to the convoys.”
Civilian boats? It was a proposal that had everyone cocking their heads in spite of themselves. The waters in question were clearly dangerous. Insurance companies would definitely refuse the contracts.
It was hard to imagine any ships other than the ones they had already requisitioned would head for the northern route. At least, not normally…
“Allow me to confirm one point.” A member of the Foreign Office, who had until then remained silent, quietly spoke. With command of the Commonwealth specialty, triple-dealing diplomacy, his mind was the very definition of sharp. “Does that include ships from neutral countries?”
The question seemed inconspicuous, but its implications were major. If they added neutral nationality ships into the convoy…couldn’t a “grave accident” take place?
Which was why everyone waited for Prime Minister Churbull’s reply with bated breath. Does he want an accident like that to happen?
“Well, all I can say is that in the long run, it very well may. Of course, at the start, I intend to move forward with our own boats. But…it is possible that vessels will become scarce. It’s just difficult for me to answer a hypothetical question.”
“Ha-ha-ha. Yes, as you say, sir.”
His answer was ambiguous.
He didn’t deny it, but neither did he affirm it. Still, those who knew the ways of Whitehall understood what wasn’t said.
Since he didn’t deny it with a no, the prime minister would definitely do it if the need arose.
“Gentlemen, give me that mean laughter. This isn’t a public school hall. Let’s conduct this war seriously.”
The prime minister with his indirect remarks must have made up his mind to pursue raison d’état to the last. Hence, no one was surprised by the next thing he said.
“Now then, let’s review our policy. We’ll keep the air battles in the west to interceptions only. If we do that, then that many imperial soldiers can head to the eastern front, right? Meanwhile, our main goal will be to get the colonists to join our side.”
“If we take too long, the Federation may not be able to hold out.”
“We’ll deal with that if it comes to it. Ideally, they’ll knock each other out. Of course, the worst case would be if the Empire survived. So I want to wear them both down.”
The prime minister chuckled slightly; those comments had to be his real thoughts on the issue.
And yet, most of those present would probably support him unconditionally. If blood was going to be shed, better to have some other country’s youth do it than their own.
Above all, for the Commonwealth, having the irritating Empire and the equally irritating Communists take each other out would be absolutely fantastic.
“I have one suggestion. As a show of friendship with the Federation, let’s commit a Unified States voluntary unit and some marine mages to guard the northern route.”
“…What voluntary unit do you mean?”
“They’re from the Entente Alliance. I think both militarily and politically, as well as in terms of propaganda, dispatching some units would be wise.”
The Foreign Office had been rather quiet up until this point, but their explanation put weight on the propaganda war. Frankly, it was a proposal that completely ignored military practicality.
“What does the navy think?”
“We’re opposed.”
“Opposed?”
“The aim is fine. And it’s not that I don’t understand the objective. To be blunt, however, we’re lacking that most critical method.”
This wasn’t the sort of operation those in the field would happily risk their lives to carry out. With the frowns the navy representatives were wearing, it was impressive that they accepted the aim as valid at all.
“You’re saying we can’t send troops to guard the route?”
“We’re already noticeably short on escort vessels. If we’re asked to draw off any more, our maritime escort efforts are liable to fail.”
“What?”
Even subjected to Prime Minister Churbull’s stern gaze and tone, the navy’s answer didn’t change.
There was no way it could change.
“Mr. Prime Minister, I’m sure you recall how it was during your days as First Lord of the Admiralty.”
“…If that’s what you’re talking about, then I remember it being possible to poach enough destroyers.”
“The fleet’s answer is that it’s not. The total number of destroyers is already having a hard time standing up to an increased rate of attrition, and if the main fleet is missing escorts, then…”
“Exactly. It could hinder the fleet or anti-sub combat.”
“There’s one thing I’d like to ask. The imperial submarines are having their way out there, but what are ours doing, taking a nap?”
“…With all due respect, there’s a difference between the Empire, a continental state, and us, a maritime state! Please take into account the fact that we depend on maritime trading routes and the Empire is already cut off from them!”
“If you understand that much, then you must know how precarious our trading routes are, right?”
The representative saw where the conversation was headed, but Prime Minister Churbull didn’t give him the time to cover up his mistake.
“To protect a trading route that important, we need destroyers. Until we can mass-produce them, pull them from the fleet. Use marine mages to help with anti-sub combat.”
The atmosphere was filled with the will radiating from the prime minister’s entire body. For a moment, the naval officers were nearly swallowed up by it, but then they all raised their voices to retort.
“Mr. Prime Minister! Anything but that!”
“Please rethink this! The fleet’s destroyers are the elite fighters in decisive fleet battles! If you go throwing them into an attrition battle, we’ll never be able to annihilate the enemy fleet!”
These were the voices of men who knew the sea. But they seemed to forget that they were on a hill.
“Shut up!”
One shout.
The argument was decided all too easily the moment the prime minister barked at the men from the navy and they failed to respond.
“The Commonwealth cannot last a single day without maritime trading routes!”
That was the fate of a maritime nation. They had to cross the water to survive. Everything their existence as a state required was found in foreign lands.
If they desired something, their only choice was to carry it across the sea.
Whether they were for or against it, the Commonwealth couldn’t exist apart from the sea.
“Isn’t that what the navy is for? If it’s not, then we might as well let our seawalls rot! Look at how strong it is! What enemy would dare challenge us? What do I care about a decisive fleet battle that may never happen?! Survive tomorrow! That’s our priority!”
“…Understood.”
There was no one who couldn’t sympathize with the shame of the bowing Sea Lords.
Their subordinates would curse them. The northern seas were rough. Of course, no one would be happy to have their unit broken up and committed
to a place like that. Their hearts would probably remain set on a decisive fleet battle.
But once a major objective had been decided, the state had to carry out its big plan without delay.
“Can we move on? Under these conditions, how much of a force can the navy send to the northern route? Be aware that we have to expect some losses.”
“If we send a group of high-speed transport ships, we can limit the amount of time we spend in dangerous waters. And I think the Home Fleet can provide high-speed destroyers to escort them.”
“I want those transport ships to be able to cruise at eighteen knots minimum.”
“Impossible!”
“Do you know the attrition rate in our coastal waters?”
“Are you saying we should try to break through enemy-controlled waters with a sluggish convoy?!”
What they were debating was how to do it. Whether or not it was possible was no longer up for discussion.
“Isn’t that why there’s an escort?”
“The assumption in our coastal waters is that our fleet is nearby! If we’re crossing territory where the Imperial High Seas Fleet is active, that’s a different story!”
Unless the convoy was fast enough to outrun the enemy, they could be captured by a surface-level ship. Voices urging the risk was too high persisted in pointing out the problems.
“There’s a risk of getting captured by aircraft or mages either way, so wouldn’t a slower yet bigger convoy with more protection have a better chance of success?”
“Slow convoys are the ones supporting our country’s supply needs, you know!”
“Wait, wait, wait!”
…Even if the discussion had gotten a little off topic…
The Commonwealth had decided on a policy of opening up a northern route.
In that case… General Habergram became absorbed in thought. Certainly it’s not…a bad plan. But isn’t it almost too convenient for the Federation?
At a glance, the conclusion seemed to be in pursuit of the Commonwealth’s interests.
“Gentlemen, can we assume we’ve heard everyone’s opinions now?”
Everyone nodded yes…and they were probably glad to not have any objections. Unanimity was a harbinger of unity.
It was good news that made even an attendee like General Habergram smile at how bright prospects were. He wanted to think that things were going in a good direction. Which was exactly why he couldn’t quite accept it as the head of the intelligence agency, having been forced to endure such constant hardship.
“We’ve at least agreed that we’ll send a marine mage unit escort to the northern route along with the Unified States voluntary troops. So the only sticking point is the ships. Now, then…” Prime Minister Churbull puffed his cigar in silence…and waited to continue until everyone’s patience had just about run out. “I have an idea about one boat.”
The comment made Habergram “hmm.”
An idea about where to scrounge up some ships would have been understandable. Perhaps in that case he would have talked to someone in charge of shipping schedules in advance. But…a single boat?
That said, it was the prime minister speaking. Everyone politely squelched their doubts and waited for him to continue. Ohhh. General Habergram revised his assessment.
The navy representatives had all gone pale in the face; they seemed to have some idea what he had in mind.
“We can pack it full of cargo, and as a bonus, it won’t even need an escort. Right?” he asked the navy, and they were already panicking.
“P-p-please wait, Mr. Prime Minister!”
“Not that. Anything but that—you mustn’t!”
You could say it was quite a spectacle, seeing naval officers, who usually prided themselves on being so on top of things, practically foaming at the mouth in agitation.
And their desperation only made their comical irritation funnier for some reason.
“It’s the conclusion I arrived at taking the scarcity of escort vessels you complained of into consideration.”
“But that one, that ship—”
“We’re using the RMS Queen of Anjou. Make sure to relay that to Fleet Command.”
Habergram remembered that name.
It was the Commonwealth’s largest ocean liner.
In other words, the world’s largest cargo-passenger ship. And if he remembered correctly, the fastest cargo-passenger ship. Before the war, he knew it as the fastest luxury passenger ship in service.
He had heard it was requisitioned, but I see. Judging from how upset the navy is…it must be even handier than the rumors said.
“But!”
“Choose your best marine mages for the escort. Don’t let her sink!”
After one murmured “Oh no,” the navy members felt silent and just stared reproachfully at the army members, who suddenly busied themselves with puffing on their cigars and began looking toward the ceiling where it was safe.
The air force officers seemed intent on surviving the moment with stone-faced expressions. Keen to not get mixed up in it, they plunged into an extremely specialized technical discussion of airplane engines.
The members of the Foreign Office and other government officials looked as they always did, like none of this had anything to do with them.
A danger zone like this is no place to linger. If I accidentally stay too long, the chances I get caught up in some needless trouble will spike. My best bet is to leave now… But just as General Habergram had decided to withdraw…
He noticed the voice of a young official beckoning him.
When he followed the call…he arrived before the one who had up until moments ago been locked in a furious exchange of opinions with the navy, or rather had been mocking them—Prime Minister Churbull himself.
With a big smile on his face, the prime minister gave him a familiar clap on the shoulder. Most people would consider that an honor.
Such was the bliss of ignorance.
“Excuse the delay, Mr. Habergram. I’m sorry for the sudden invitation, but I’d be happy if I could join you for tea tomorrow at three o’clock. If that’s fine with you, I’d appreciate if you came to the prime minister’s residence around that time…”
“It would be my pleasure, sir.”
An invitation from the prime minister was a de facto order. Unless he had a tea party planned with the king, he would have to be with Prime Minister Churbull at three o’clock the next day.
“Very good. Then I’ll have my butler prepare. Is something on the light side fine with you?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Prime Minister.”
A CERTAIN DAY, THE COMMONWEALTH CAPITAL LONDINIUM, THE PRIME MINISTER’S RESIDENCE
The next day, Major General Habergram appeared at the appointed hour at the prime minister’s residence.
Along the way, he had looked at the drabness above. The meager sunlight was normal. It wasn’t so unusual for the sun to not peek out in the autumn sky.
He’d been raised in that climate from birth. He couldn’t complain. Sometimes he wanted to pop off to the Inner Sea and enjoy a beach vacation, but this was wartime.
Society and beaches were for after the war was over. He was practically used to the dull military-issue items and the world being dyed beige.
Surely even the institution of three o’clock tea couldn’t escape the scourge of war. Near the prime minister’s mansion, there were anti–air artillery positions, in light of the aerial combat, and a few dugouts; here and there, soldiers were having tea at their stations.
Compared to the principle of the thing, which was to take your time, relax, and chat, there was nothing sadder.
When he was led—“Right this way”—to a table in a corner of the prime minister’s residence, the buckets set here and there in case of fire reminded him they were at war.
“There you are. Take a seat.”
The prime minister offered him a chair, and the butler left to prepare their tea. Before the war, Habergram never would ha
ve dreamed he’d be sharing a table with Prime Minister Churbull.
Though he was honored to have such an opportunity, it brought him no joy. He felt awful because he knew it meant his fatherland was in trouble.
For example, the people around him. The service staff, with their crisp movements that practically embodied discipline, were pros, but…many of them were quite old. Even the youngest had to be over fifty.
It was no wonder, considering the army had snapped up most young men. At some point, everything they had taken for granted had become the past. Consciously noticing the passage of time always made him melancholy.
That the uniforms of the people bringing over the tea things were as impeccable as before was actually depressing.
“My apologies, but as we’re at war…”
Tea was served with the implication that this was all they could manage. Habergram was about to take the comment at face value when suddenly, he couldn’t believe his eyes.
A glimpse of silver polished to an unnatural beauty.
Silver tarnished so easily—was it even possible to polish it so well? Considering how scarce labor was, he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or disgusted.
So tea with porcelain and silver like the good old days? In wartime, at the prime minister’s residence when he and his people are under the pressure of leading the war?
“My butler is too picky. The tea is fairly good.”
“Considering the wartime distribution circumstances, I’d say it’s surprisingly good.”
The Assam tea he was prompted to drink wasn’t bad even for peacetime standards. Considering the commerce raids they were currently facing, you could say it was unexpectedly delightful.
“I’m sure my butler’s ideal is to serve only what is in its quality season. Of course, I’m not thrilled when we can’t get the good stuff and are forced to make substitutions, either.”
Discriminating taste, love of tradition, and that unflappable demeanor. Even if he was putting up a brave front, that he was displaying the Commonwealth’s traditional attitude was truly encouraging.
“I can’t deny that we in government have some serious work to do when it comes to ersatz products. The tea delay is unexpectedly severe. Can’t fight a war without tea.” The prime minister laughed, and General Habergram found himself smiling wryly.