The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 4: Dabit Deus His Quoque Finem

by Carlo Zen

  Hofen remarks how terrifying it was, and Tanya responds with a comment about how badly they might have been chewed out if they hadn’t made it in time. With this exchange, the two officers are still feeling each other out, but both are satisfied with the results.

  “Which way is divisional headquarters?” Tanya gets right to the point and informs Hofen of her battalion’s situation. It’s true that they came on orders to perform the rescue, but now it’s more important to prepare for their next operation.

  “Allow me to escort you. We’ll be here keeping a check on the enemy remnants, but what about you?”

  “We have orders from the General Staff to advance farther. I imagine it’s so those who come after us will have an easier time.”

  “After seeing in that fight how skilled your units are, I would say so. Major von Degurechaff, I’m so grateful to you and your battalion. I’m impressed that you pulled off that breakthrough and saved us. It’s too bad we can’t treat you to drinks, ma’am, but please allow us to treat your subordinates once you can take a break from operations.”

  He quips with a big grin that they’ll protect the 203rd until their mobile mission is over, and Tanya smiles wryly, commenting on his cleverness.

  “Not to be presumptuous, but my units can drink. Unfortunately, when they get a chance to, they down enough to make up for their usual abstinence. They’re so hard-core that once, on the southern continent, they downed an enemy transport unit just for beer… I’m afraid you might go bankrupt if you treat them, Major Hofen.”

  “Ha-ha, they sound like they know how to party. All right, then, all the officers of my battalion will pool together to treat you guys. Drink as much as you like!”

  Every nonchalant gesture he makes is filled with a veteran’s tact and wit. A colleague like that is a priceless partner. Honestly, even just one seasoned officer is enough to make things go so much more smoothly.

  “That sounds fun. Oh, this is nothing much, but…”

  Even Tanya wants to get closer to someone she feels she can get along with. She casually produces the bottles and cigarettes entrusted to them by the staffers as a sign of that pleasant impression.

  “Ha-ha-ha. It’s too bad you can’t have such a tasty drink. Let’s both live through this and I’ll treat you when you’re older.”

  “I’ll be looking forward to it. Well, I’d better be going.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be hoping we don’t go broke.”

  They part like pros, with an exchange of respectful salutes, and Tanya, with her subordinates trailing behind her, makes a dignified exit from the battlefield. Okay, on to the next job.

  As he watches her go—Sheesh—his expression breaks, and he murmurs, “So the rumors were true.”

  “How did it go, Commander?”

  “…I never would have thought those dubious rumors about the officer of unknown age were true…”

  Met with the blank stare of his subordinate, he realizes that the man hadn’t met Major von Degurechaff or any of the mages who had come to their rescue.

  Grinning wryly, he explains what he has seen—the presence of a child officer.

  “Huh?”

  “I mean I met the commander who came to rescue us, and…what can I even say? She looked about the same age as my daughter!”

  “C’mon, you must be kidding! A General Staff officer? She has to be in at least her late twenties if she graduated war college.”

  All Hofen can say is that it was what he really saw.

  True, his subordinate is correct. It wasn’t rare for someone out of the academy and war college to be in their early thirties by the time they wore the General Staff officer insignia.

  Who would believe him if he said she looked like his ten-year-old daughter?

  “Sheesh. I guess some battlefield legends have unexpected truth to them.”

  “I…see, sir.”

  “Well, more importantly, we’ve got work to do. Work. We all fought so hard to drive out these enemies; we’re gonna blow them apart before they regroup!”

  MARCH 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, WAR ROOM

  “The breakthrough is a success! They did it!”

  It was the report that the vanguard unit, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, had reached Tiegenhoff. The Third and Thirty-Second Divisions, who were at one point feared annihilated, would probably be saved. This was what it truly meant to be thankful for God’s protection.

  “What about the encirclement?!”

  “We’re not sure! According to the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, they all seemed equipped like standard infantry, apart from a few mechanized units.”

  “Wonderful! In that case, we can win!”

  Still, there were probably few people as grateful as Rudersdorf, Deputy Director of Operations in the General Staff.

  Whether they lost both the Third and Thirty-Second Divisions, and Tiegenhoff along with them, depended entirely on the Federation Army’s fire support.

  But though he braced himself for the worst, as he often did, this time it seemed Lady Luck would smile on the Empire. When they took the lid off the situation, the Federation Army’s immensely powerful bombardment abilities were nowhere to be found.

  “We have plenty of shells from Zettour, and we have full run of the rails… Sheesh, at this rate, settling things after we win will be more of a pain than the battle itself.”

  “General von Rudersdorf?”

  The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion did a magnificent job with the rescue mission. All they did was liberate a city under siege, but now…the Federation troops who were going to invade the Empire would suffer arteriosclerosis. The threat of their supply lines being attacked from the rear was a nightmare for officers and men alike.

  Even a surrounded point could become a base for mounting a counterattack, if it could connect with other units. In the vast war zone of the east, that was certainly a lesson learned.

  It seemed that now that victory was in sight, his tongue was getting a stretch. On top of that, the idea of artillery being allocated for mobile operations he’d been discussing with Lieutenant General von Zettour came to mind.

  “If we can crush the infantry before the artillery gets set up… Shit, I keep wishing we had self-propelled guns. Cannons are so slow—their one weakness—but there’s nothing we can do about it…”

  Heavy guns or superior firepower? Rudersdorf smiled wryly at the eternally unsolvable dilemma.

  …And just as dismay began to set in, a rare piece of good news arrived. Rudersdorf was one of the first to thank God.

  Relaxing one’s attention frequently causes a winning battle to end in tragedy… No, perhaps it should be past tense. At least, Rudersdorf had no shortage of reasons to believe that.

  This was a defensive battle making the best use of the interior lines maneuvers anticipated and planned for by the Imperial Army General Staff. But, though only to an extent, they had grasped the signs of their enemy’s offensive.

  “…I’m surprised at how little there is for a General Staff officer to do in a winning battle. Honestly, being a deskbound hero is so uncomfortable. It was the same with Norden and the Rhine, but I think I would feel better out on the front lines with the troops.”

  Providing is preventing.

  It was just a saying, but at the same time, he had to trust in the work they had done to prepare and wait for the results. It wasn’t easy to take responsibility for the lives of the troops. Even people who don’t like to write letters get used to writing to the bereaved families of their subordinates; it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

  “We can only hope for success and that our losses are few.”

  “Yes, General.”

  But, some wisely continued.

  “Luckily, our troops have a measure of heavy artillery support now, and the imperial air forces have indisputable supremacy in the skies. We could even borrow some troops from Tiegenhoff and use them to pincer the enemy—that is, if we need more. Our advantag
e in firepower is already apparent.”

  They would control the sky, amass their firepower, make the terrain their ally, and resist the enemy who outnumbered them. It was a classic route, but there was a reason it was so well tread.

  “The only problem is the Federation Army’s decentralized attack. We imagine much of it has to do with balancing out the attack routes with supplies, but there are also several strange movements that we can’t rule out as dissemblance.”

  “Agh, what a pain. They could have stayed bunched together and made it easier on us. These bastards and their clumsy tricks.”

  “General von Rudersdorf, with all due respect, I should point out that there’s nothing incompetent about the Federation’s attack plan.”

  Rudersdorf winced because he knew it was true and picked up on the other man’s implications. “Yes, there’s no doubt that the plan itself is trouble.”

  Since the fighting broke out, he could tell the Federation’s attack routes were meticulous and prepared with considerable zeal. The practical issue was that they were coming on routes he wished they weren’t. Not only was their major invasion following the sneak attack an attention-grabber, but the way they were actually going about it was formidable.

  “But you’re not taking into account that critical factor—the Federation Army’s level of training… It’s strange, but this seems like a first-rate intellect devised a plan with no regard for what his troops are actually capable of.”

  The problem was the vague incongruity he felt here and there. He wondered if perhaps they used a previously prepared plan and prioritized the sneak-attack effect…but any commander should still know the status of his troops on the border.

  Then either it was an awfully secretive plan, or they used it because they had no others. But it wasn’t Rudersdorf’s job to think about it any more than that. The rest was for Zettour and those fellows.

  Good grief. Smoking a cigarette, he turned his attention back to his own area of expertise and looked at the map depicting the war situation.

  “I wouldn’t have expected this position to be around still… Who would have thought a city would make such a good resistance base?”

  The murmured remarks acknowledged how troublesome it was when an opponent unhindered by the laws of war attacked a city.

  “…Aside from Arene, the Imperial Army doesn’t have much experience with urban warfare. Well, neither does the Federation Army, but they also don’t seem to have any qualms about breaking international law to attack cities.”

  “Legally speaking, the Federation hasn’t signed the convention respecting the laws of war on land.”

  “That’s problematic.”

  The staffer affixed the question Why? to his face, and Rudersdorf spelled it out for him, exasperated in spite of himself.

  “What’ll they do with prisoners?”

  “Huh? Prisoners, sir?”

  Rudersdorf broke it down for the blank-faced officer: This war has no rules! There may have been norms and standards written down on a scrap of paper, but they wouldn’t apply to war in the east.

  “In terms of international law, there are no rules governing this slugfest between the Federation and the Empire. The Service Corps has said we should follow the convention just in case, but it’s doubtful our opponents believe in reciprocity.”

  “We just have to hope the Communist Party or whoever is progressive.”

  “Expecting nothing of these specialists in firing squads and internal Gewalt is probably better for your mental health.”

  MARCH 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, MAIN ATTACK GROUP HEADQUARTERS

  The forces the Imperial Army called Group B were called the Main Attack Group on the Federation side. Ever since the fighting started, taking control of imperial lands and wiping out the Imperial Army were the goals of the Main Attack Group as they broke through the border like troops who’d lived their whole lives for this reckless advance.

  They forced their way through the Imperial Army’s Eastern Army Group’s delaying action with numbers and continued their single-minded advance with no regard for losses. But the expressions on the officers’ faces were tense in a strange way that was difficult to describe, far removed from elation.

  And precisely because they were advancing, their grim expressions became more and more severe.

  It was clear on the faces of the generals and staffers in the war council meeting held by the brains of the Main Attack Group at headquarters that they were near their breaking point.

  “Although our advancing forces are currently facing quite a bit of resistance, the imperial units are retreating, meaning it’s still possible to push on as we have been.”

  “Ideally, we would wait for the heavy artillery to arrive, but we have troops filled with the desire and determination to offer themselves up for the revolution. Of course, I think brave, loyal men like that should have artillery support…”

  It was a war council, so naturally the reports were about the war.

  So here’s something.

  It goes without saying that it’s essential to use appropriate wording and keep reports brief so as not to invite misunderstanding. Even the most hurriedly cultivated and deployed Federation Army officers knew that (even if whether they could implement it or not was a different story).

  “Comrade Generals, I beg your pardon, but how exactly is the war proceeding?”

  “Just as you heard in the report, Comrade Political Commissar.”

  Actually, they had a tendency to talk too much, and the Federation Army wasn’t so amateurish as to allow for loose-lipped high-level officers and political officers. If anything, perhaps the issue was that these were neither amateurs nor fools.

  “So, Comrade Generals, what is your view on the situation, then?”

  “We’d like to hear from you regarding party directives. I think you’re the expert there.”

  “It’s true that I’m in charge of military politics, of course…”

  The exchange is all very roundabout, with hidden meanings.

  “…This council is getting awfully heated. Let’s relax a bit, gentlemen.”

  After the trickle of acidic conversation ran dry into an awkward silence, the chairman exercised his wit. Everyone stood as if they had been saved and huddled together, talking among themselves with faces that said, Sheesh.

  In whispers, of course. But even now that the war council was clearly livelier, the conversations were still grim, because everyone was glancing around and knew that the others were sounding them out, too.

  …No, everyone was sighing internally, feeling helpless.

  The government’s announcement that they were keeping the pressure on the Imperial Army had to be a mistake.

  Yes, it was true that they broke through the border in their initial offensive.

  And it was true that the Imperial Army units were retreating.

  But anyone in the Federation Army with decent military knowledge feared the embellishments in the reports sent to Moskva.

  On the individual level, well, it was probably done to protect their position. They’d just write something to sound a bit braver.

  Given the “special political environment” the Federation Army was operating in, they could understand why the men on the front lines would write such things. And because they understood…it was easy to imagine what kinds of changes would get passed on from the rear.

  Probably something like, “The Imperial Army’s morale has collapsed for the most part. We’re currently eradicating fanatic resistance as we push forward.”

  In other words, the Imperial Army was losing, and the Federation Army was putting down the fanatics resisting along its smooth advance.

  One could only call it removed from reality.

  “…So what’s really going on?”

  “Nothing much different than by you. The Imperial Army moves a lot faster than we thought.”

  They were unable to crush organized opposition, and their only enemy was the Eastern
Army Group right now. Considering the Imperial Army’s doctrine and geographical circumstances, they wouldn’t be able to avoid the extremely problematic arrival of the Great Army as reinforcements.

  And worst of all…, several people thought grimly, swallowing the words they couldn’t say.

  There were indications that the Great Army would show up much faster than expected.

  “It’s also incredibly problematic that we have no way to win an air battle. I realize that we’ve been forced by ‘pressing circumstances’ to transfer the few mage units we have—I know we had no choice—but it’s still hard.”

  “…Mage units?”

  “I knew these guys were trouble, but there’s a big difference between hearing something and seeing it. What the hell did the political officers mean when they told us they have less firepower than artillery, are slower than planes, and are fewer than infantry, so they wouldn’t be a threat?”

  “That’s going a bit far. You might want to watch it… That said, I agree with you. Our supply situation was already bad enough, but thanks to the mages tearing through in the rear, the lines have nearly collapsed.”

  And the losses in aerial battles, always reported to Moskva as negligible, were gnawing away at the Federation Army’s offensive resources.

  The Imperial Army air fleet could boast of its power, while the Federation Army air forces had no choice but to fight at a disadvantage. Well, it could be said they were still just barely putting up a desperate resistance, even if all they could do was offer support from above.

  The Federation’s handling of magic forces was the worst of what was coming back to bite it. The shackles of the past were heavy, and the Federation Army’s mage forces were behind. For that reason, a few old-fashioned units were the most it could operate with.

  “Oh, right. I wanted to ask you something… Is the rumor true, that a political officer applied to send mage units our way?”

  “If you’re talking about Officer Chobarkov, apparently it’s true… Which is why he’s been taken back home to the Commissariat for Internal Affairs for a hearing or whatnot.”