Plus Ultra

by Carlo Zen

  I mean, you can only really laugh at an officer who loses a man to bad potatoes. Who would have thought I had a guy in my unit who would be taken out by his own stomach…? Nah, it’s not even funny.

  The Republican bombardments come as always, shaking our position like clockwork, but I must feel oddly reflective on this auspicious day because I sent a man to the rear for a difficult-to-verbalize reason.

  That said, what we learned from this lesson was promptly applied. As such, this morning’s breakfast was bacon, hard biscuits, and ersatz coffee. The vegetable soup featuring the guilty potatoes was hastily disposed of. Personally, I worry about my diet being unbalanced without vegetables, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

  I had someone go to get supplies first thing this morning, so I figure maybe we’ll get a chance to eat canned vegetables with lunch. And well, even if we are on a battlefield, we can’t escape falling into routines, and I’m a bit sick of it. It’d be great if we could get a meal that’s not part of the rotation.

  Aside from these things, our daily battles in the trenches take place in the world of All Quiet on the Western Front. We basically repeat the same pattern day after day. The only novelty to keep my attention is whether the recruits training on the front lines are doing well or not.

  Well, I only put them in yesterday. Tanya expects that after a week’s baptism of war in the trenches she’ll find out whether they’re usable or not.

  If not, all she has to do is send them back and apply for their retraining.

  So although she regrets war’s brand of tunnel vision, she devotes herself to instructing her troops. First, just as her boss said, she gave them the most difficult test first; despite the risks, she reluctantly took them on a night battle, but to her surprise and delight, they only lost two.

  Though she’d told everyone they were leaving in thirty seconds, that pair couldn’t keep up and were blown away in an artillery barrage, a fact confirmed by one of her subordinates. That was all. Apart from that, the newbies all followed instructions, and no one went insane. As Tanya mulls over the recruits’ misfortune to be blown up together in their two-man cell, she finds herself in a somewhat philosophical mood and begins to wonder about the role of luck in food poisoning.

  In any case, she’s doing what she needs to do.

  But actually, even though she’s doing what she needs to do, she sometimes gets doubtful looks.

  For instance, she reported in, “I’M INSTRUCTING THEM ACCORDING TO YOUR ORDERS.”

  And the response she received was “ROGER. GOOD LUCK.”

  But then when they went on the night raid and lost only two men, the higher-ups told her to be more careful next time. She began wondering if maybe they wanted her to do it with zero losses.

  But this is a battlefield, she argued, and we went on a high-risk operation. Losing two newbies under those circumstances is not bad.

  But when it comes to luck, it seems Tanya has to admit that she needs to take certain things into account.

  Still, she finds it lamentable that just because they don’t want any losses and her unit got unlucky, the blame is laid on her as the commander who was present.

  I know history repeats in little ways, from private companies to the Yankee military. For example, when that guy MacArthur ordered his subordinate Eisenhower to plan a parade and then insisted he had no memory of it—there are a number of rotten incidents like that throughout time.

  Still, Tanya is feeling really sad. Ahh, I might start to cry. I mean, I’m a girl, you know!

  …??

  When her thoughts stray, she suddenly realizes she feels off.

  Her mind floods with the horror of psychological contamination.

  She runs off in search of some kind of help as if her life depends on it.

  A doctor! I need to see a doctor!

  APRIL 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, JOINT MEETING OF THE SERVICE CORPS AND OPERATIONS

  “Well, it’s the appointed hour, so I would like to begin the joint meeting between the Service Corps and Operations surrounding the pros and cons of the Rhine offensive plan.”

  The officer presiding over the meeting spoke, but no one followed him, and silence reigned.

  In contrast with the splendid exterior of the building, the expressions of the high-ranking men in the meeting room were dour.

  Some of the officers were practically tearing their hair out with incessant worries, unsure what to do, and among them was Major General von Zettour. The situation changed from moment to moment, and just getting a handle on what was going on was incredibly difficult. Moreover, the Empire was learning from the rising pile of corpses, courtesy of the Republicans, how fundamentally impossible a frontal breakthrough was in trench warfare.

  That is, the price of a front assault on the trenches was too high. On the other hand, a large-scale firepower offensive would put too much strain on the supply lines.

  They had just improved the supply-line light-rail to the front, but there were already requests from every post for reinforcements coming in day after day.

  The burden on supply had blown through prewar estimates long ago.

  The Entente Alliance was essentially collapsing, and it was necessary to allot some military strength to the area for a short time to ensure it, which also weighed heavy on Logistics.

  Even the local army group alone was enough to secure overwhelming superiority for the Imperial Army in the north, but the harsh winter weather had held them back. They weren’t in a situation where they could spare troops to reinforce the main fighting lines on the Rhine. These lines would probably be frozen stiff until next spring. In other words, it would be a while before they could expect any easing up on the supply line burden from the north.

  Meanwhile, the navy was in the process of gaining superiority in the channel against the Republic, but the navy and army disagreed on whether that was a good thing or not. The air and magic forces were prepared to support either side if asked, but the army’s and navy’s worries were just so different.

  The navy apparently couldn’t wait to break through the channel. After all, their ambition was to wipe out the Republican fleet in a battle of warships. They even proposed doing an amphibious operation afterward, like with the Entente Alliance, to completely annihilate the country.

  As far as Zettour could see, taking command of the sea for a landing operation seemed likely to keep casualties down far more effectively than advancing by breaking through the trenches. The issue was the safety of the route if they went by sea. If they broke into the channel between the Republic and the Commonwealth, they had to be worried about how the (superficially) neutral Commonwealth would react. Would it just stand quietly by?

  He’d already been over these questions with Major General von Rudersdorf. They were both forced to conclude that if they entered the channel, the Commonwealth would probably interfere to maintain the balance of power. If that happened, the fears that made the rounds at the office in “Predictions on the Shape and Direction of the Current War” and “Theory of Total War,” would come true.

  Yes, world war. The war’s expansion would be like a never-ending chain reaction, and they wouldn’t be able to avoid it. If that happened, they could end up with a Rhine-like scenario on every front.

  The Republican Army on the Rhine lines was quite a handful. If it was only the Republic, though, they still had a chance of winning.

  But what would happen if some units from the Commonwealth showed up? They could find themselves in the opposite of their current superior position.

  As long as it was doubtful the Imperial Navy could stop the Commonwealth Navy, if the remnants of the Republican Navy joined in, it would be all the imperial fleet could do to protect itself.

  Of course, they couldn’t twiddle their thumbs for too long, either. If they waited to act, even the Empire would run out of steam. Then they would lose the strategic effects of having brought down Dacia and the Entente Alliance.


  And they couldn’t bear the idea of being beaten from the side by the Commonwealth or some other interloping power. What can we do about this dilemma?

  Yet, it was becoming clear that if they tolerated the current situation, anything that happened to affect the supply lines could spell disaster. That was their irritating predicament.

  Since the founding of the nation, the Great Reich had obtained its historical lands but was also hounded by territorial conflicts, so there was never any lack of sparks for the next war.

  Hence their distress. No one with a simple solution to a problem suffers. For better or worse, there were people present who knew the plan.

  Zettour knew. He knew that all they had to do was not lose. Zettour believed, to a rather surprising degree for a member of the military, that there was no need for them to go on the attack. Simply put, the status quo was fine.

  And Rudersdorf was also aware of it. He knew there was no need for them to make serious attacks on the trenches. Unlike Zettour, however, he couldn’t accept the notion that this attrition war was fine. He had the lucid determination of a soldier: If they could control losses and win, then why not do that?

  They finally both made up their minds and received permission to speak.

  “I feel we should change the way we’re looking at this problem.”

  Zettour didn’t consider himself timid, but given the significance of what he was about to say, even he was nervous. There was just a hint of stiffness in his voice, too small for almost anyone to pick up, but he spoke as calmly as possible.

  His secret plan to disentangle these snarled-up threads in one blow would be gory. The Gordian knot is just a story. A sharp sword is sharp no matter who it’s cutting.

  “With our existing doctrine and values, we probably won’t make it. We need a paradigm shift.”

  Achieving victory by attacking the enemy castle and forcing them to sign a capitulation was now impossible. It would be difficult to demand a full surrender outside of instances like the Empire and Dacia or the Entente Alliance, where there was an overwhelming gap in national strength. Looking at the current terrible war, it seemed the bloodletting would have to continue until one or the other of the powers couldn’t take any more.

  “Don’t aim for victory, avoid defeat. If we don’t do that, it will be too hard to be the last one standing.”

  “…General von Zettour, you mean you oppose the offensive?” a member of Operations asked him, perplexed. That was as far as their thinking went.

  No, that was probably common sense. To them, the offensive was how they would overcome and trample the enemy and end the war. But they were wrong.

  “No, I support the offensive as such, but I do think we should modify its operational aims.”

  “Change its aims?”

  Go on—no, stop. The question could mean both of those things, and Zettour answered by dropping a bomb in plain terms.

  “The goal of the operation shouldn’t be to break through. It should be to bleed the enemy. To put it another way, our offensive plan should be to wear out as many enemy soldiers as possible.”

  Conclusion: Exhaust the enemy.

  “We carry out a thorough bloodletting and crush the enemy’s ability to continue fighting.”

  Degurechaff’s remark.

  He could still remember each and every word the young soldier said to him in the war college library. The shock of hearing her speak so dispassionately about such a horrible world was hard to forget. And now that everything was progressing just as she had said, he was even more surprised. How much did that girl Degurechaff predict?

  Predicting the future of a war is extremely difficult.

  The only constant rule is that common sense can change in an instant and a new principle of war can conquer the battlefield. There aren’t many soldiers who can adapt to those changes, so to think there’s one who can predict them is…!

  “In other words, we bleed the enemy until they collapse. This is the only way to resolve this.”

  Someone unconsciously shifted, and the creak of the chair sounded extra loud in the quiet room. It was completely silent.

  Zettour was actually feeling calm in the face of it. No, strictly speaking, he was sympathizing with Degurechaff. He sensed now that she had been able to speak so calmly back in the library because she understood.

  She understood the cost of breaking through would be too high. Even if they could pull it off, their losses would be heavy. And if the Commonwealth, anxious about the deteriorating war situation, decided to intervene, they would be pushed right back. That would be the worst possible outcome for the Empire.

  If they shed all that blood not for nothing but a push in the wrong direction, the soldiers’ will to fight would crumble.

  I couldn’t send men in that condition back to break through again, at least. Giving the order would only lead to more waste. So why not let the enemy make that mistake?

  We’ll just wait for the Republic to drown in their own blood.

  Zettour believed this was the only viable option for the Imperial Army. In other words, war is ultimately about not heroes or the expression of chivalry but how efficiently you can kill your enemies.

  To put it another way, it was inevitable that this conflict would become total war.

  “So we’ll thoroughly pummel enemy soldiers and supplies. I ask that we draw up an offensive plan with those aims, and that is all I wish to say at this time.”

  Surely, almost definitely, our future has been decided. The frozen expressions on the faces of his colleagues and subordinates spoke to that.

  You’re crazy, they said.

  The operation he proposed was the opposite of almost anyone’s idea of common sense. Leave parts of their territory undefended and prioritize wiping out the enemy field army. And finish them off with a revolving door? You would have the army that exists to defend the fatherland carry out this operation? No one could help but think these things.

  But sooner or later, the staffers sitting there would understand—there was no other path. He didn’t know when, but he knew they would come around to the plan for its military merit, in every way except emotionally.

  “I agree. Clearly, we should focus on annihilating the enemy’s field army.” Despite the others’ hesitation, Rudersdorf made a clear declaration of his strong support for Zettour’s idea. He was aware that posterity would judge them harshly, but he made up his mind and stated his position with confidence.

  It’s a mad world where promising youths are pit against one another in battles to the death to see who can draw the most blood… And we’re likely to carve our names into history as the ringleaders. If that’s the case, then let’s at least improve the situation a little bit by putting an end to the war with our own hands.

  “I have an idea… We advance. In other words, I believe the best plan is to escape forward!”

  And therefore, he made a proposal that was devoid of rationality: Fight the war aiming not at the territory but at the army.

  …Oh God, why do you let these things happen?

  After vomiting up the contents of his stomach, including everything he’d eaten the night before, Magic Second Lieutenant Warren Grantz was lamenting to the heavens in a corner of his lodgings. Even the recollection of what he’d just experienced horrified him.

  I hit a Republican soldier whose name I don’t know over the head with my shovel and kept swinging like a madman. Then orders brought me back to reality, and soon after that, we were ordered to leave.

  I poured mana into my computation orb like my life depended on it so I could race across the sky for all I was worth.

  As soon as I took off, several machine guns began firing at me.

  I frantically formed my defensive shell and protective film. No matter what, I had to get away. With that on my mind, I forgot about support completely and made a run for it.

  That’s when it happened. Whether by some trick of fate or the work of the devil, I saw the battalion
commander climbing at a furious pace. Despite the dark veil of night, she was singing a hymn in an invigorating voice—the battalion commander. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but I was scared she was escaping alone and would leave me behind, so I tried to follow her.

  I don’t want to get left behind was what I was thinking when I started to ascend, but right at that moment, First Lieutenant Weiss seemed to come out of nowhere to grab my arm and pull me down. When we got back to base, he chewed me out—Why would you approach the commander while she’s acting as our decoy? Are you insane?—but if he hadn’t saved me, I would have been turned into mincemeat like those other two guys who came to the front the same time as me.

  At the time, all I was thinking about was getting back, so my memories before I made it onto a safe flight path are really hazy.

  Looking at the scenes recorded on my computation orb, I want to thank God I was somehow able to make it back from such a dense rain of fire.

  It was only a few seconds. The reactions of the pair from Seventh Platoon were delayed by mere moments, but they paid for it with their lives.

  One careless moment. But it meant so much.

  The second I arrived at the rear base, the sensation of bashing someone’s head returned to my hands, and I felt sick. No, it wasn’t just me. All the recruits felt the same way.

  The guilt—it was like I’d suddenly become an unpardonable criminal.

  And right next to us and the worries tormenting us, the senior officers coolly began to interrogate the prisoners.

  “Tell the truth. If you don’t, my hand might slip.”

  “Relax. We follow the law of war. If you fellows take the prisoner’s oath, you’ll have your rights.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re not torturers. We’re proper, sensible humans.”

  …I couldn’t believe it.

  I couldn’t believe humans were capable of this.

  This battlefield.

  I had thought I understood that all manner of brutal, inhuman things would be done. I’m a soldier, myself. I thought as long as I was in the military, I wouldn’t hesitate to do my duty.