The Saga of Tanya The Evil, Vol. 8: In Omnia Paratus

by Carlo Zen

  “Why bring that up now?” Zettour smiled bitterly. “You can’t work in the Service Corps without getting blamed for something at some point. We’re in the middle of a total war. It’s impossible to be everyone’s friend.”

  Groping in the dark for the most efficient way to pile up the bodies of enemy youths while your own are falling to the ground heaving blood in exchange—that’s war.

  No one was less suited to being a General Staff officer than a person who wanted people to like them. That was incredibly clear, given the lamentations, grief, and anger of the families who had lost loved ones.

  “And recall that I was the one who led the initiative. We were meddling in foreign affairs. Even if I hadn’t acted on my own authority or opposed Supreme Command…sooner or later I would have been punished.”

  The person who made every effort with the best intentions had ultimately failed. Given that outcome, the consequences could be considered surprisingly lukewarm.

  When all was said and done, Zettour didn’t hold any grudges.

  “An organization requires rewards and punishments to be doled out accordingly. A soldier interfering in diplomacy, even if their intentions are good, is a soldier who is overstepping their authority. What would happen if we were unconditionally exempt from accountability? It would be against the principles of military command.” So what happened was inevitable, seemed to be Zettour’s point, readily excusing the way he had been treated by looking at the big picture of military administration from the perspective of a single member of the organization. “Restraints are unavoidable. Cracking the whip when the time calls for it is the sign of a healthy military. Shouldn’t we be happy there’s some punishment rather than none at all?”

  “But it’s not fair. Rewards and punishment may be the foundation of the military, but when you get down to it, you only stepped out of bounds to make up for the state’s lack of a plan. Holding a grudge for the way the General Staff has handled their human resources would simply be—”

  Even if there weren’t any people around, Rudersdorf was going too far.

  This is no good, thought Zettour as he interrupted. “That’s enough.”

  “Mrph.” Always true to his feelings, Rudersdorf’s eyebrows expressed his dismay as he held his tongue.

  “No matter what, we’re still soldiers. And as long as we’re soldiers…”

  “We have no choice?”

  His old friend’s discontented attitude gave Zettour pause. “General von Rudersdorf, I hate to say this to you, but…a soldier has to follow the state’s grand strategy. At least, that’s all I can say right now.” He chuckled. “They’re probably suggesting that I go honorably to the front lines and cultivate a true warrior’s spirit.”

  “Maybe it’s a roundabout way of getting the Federation Army to mop you up for them.”

  “You’re overthinking it. If they were sending one of us east as an execution, I think they’d do it a bit differently. They’re probably trying to stir my pride so I’ll ‘volunteer’ to be the ceremonial head of a regiment. At least, that’s what I would do.”

  Having been with the General Staff so long, Zettour was familiar with how these things went.

  For example, when he thought of how the “promotions” of the higher-ups who pushed into Norden had left the Rhine front in a precarious position…he winced.

  “I’m one of the lucky ones, relatively speaking.”

  “You’re always like that. To think that a general is here, groaning like a first lieutenant about how unreasonable the military is. Things have gotten bad, Zettour. Nothing ever turns out the way you want it to when you’re a soldier.”

  “I remember talking about the same thing when we were lieutenant colonels. In the end, your position can change, but things still won’t go according to plan—that’s life. It just means that the ones at the top of the ladder have their struggles just like the ones at the bottom do.”

  “You’re too philosophical. No one would normally reach that kind of conclusion.”

  He knew from experience that he had no choice but to be philosophical. And why was that again? Whose mess had he been cleaning up? It was a very interesting question.

  Zettour himself had a background in Operations. He understood the absurd requests from Rudersdorf and the other Operations staffers were consistent in the context of their needs and station. Perhaps it had been necessary from the beginning, but he usually went along with their unreasonable demands willingly… Ahhh. He had a sudden realization.

  “Can I say something?”

  “What?”

  “The Service Corps is a military organization. Its strength doesn’t lie in politics.”

  Rudersdorf was right to look at him with eyes that said, Why are you stating the obvious all of a sudden? But it’s important to be reminded that institutions are operated by people.

  “I can’t have you look at my decisions and misunderstand. So just to be clear: The Service Corps wasn’t meant to handle political matters. It’s merely a tool. They don’t think on their own. So don’t expect anything out of them beyond railways to the combat theater.”

  “In other words?”

  “When it comes to negotiating with anyone who isn’t the military, sorry, but please lend them a hand.”

  Flaws in any organization had to be fixed by a person.

  It sounded nice in theory, but that sentiment didn’t amount to much more than simply putting off the issue with a quick fix. Still, with a war going on, everyone was forced to take measures that were ad hoc, if they were being described charitably. Most solutions were haphazard if they were blunt about it.

  Due to the nature of the situation, Zettour often found himself forced to get his hands dirty with political matters…but that deviated from what a staff officer in the Service Corps was supposed to do.

  From the perspective of an administrator of supply and matériel, it seemed as if the General Staff was getting lost in a similar yet decidedly separate universe.

  “I really think you’re too fit for the job. Having you leave day-to-day administrative duties at this juncture…is honestly fine with me.” Rudersdorf smiled ferociously. “That said, if instead of Zettour the administrator we had Zettour the Operations man take charge of the secondary fronts…then I would truly be able to rest easy.”

  “Oh? But I might take such a cushy position as an opportunity to lose myself in philosophical contemplation like the academic I am.”

  “Ha-ha-ha. That’ll be the day.” Rudersdorf lightly punched him in the shoulder as he continued laughing. “It’s not as if I’m unfamiliar with the kind of Operations man you are. And I can’t imagine you’ve forgotten how things work, so worrying about whether you can handle it is a waste of time.”

  “Good grief, you’re really always ready to thrust some new headache onto me.”

  “General von Zettour, have you forgotten? An industrious staff officer is a good staff officer. I’m not about to let you get away with a nice, long rest for your weary bones in the countryside.”

  “Hmph,” Zettour snorted. “Right when I thought I was being kept on the payroll out of kindness, I get hit with this unexpected request. If you want me to work, you could at least give me a smidgen of authority to make it happen…”

  He was being demoted with a nominal rank and nominal position. That was what his superiors intended. Meanwhile, here was Rudersdorf, in charge of things on the ground, rejoicing in his luck and trying to entrust the entire B Front to him.

  And if the necessary authority to handle things was unclear, his work would be plagued by incredible difficulty.

  “That doesn’t sound like the kind of gripe you’d normally make, Zettour.”

  “Well, I should be allowed a gripe or two. Why should I have to be the only one to suffer? We’re talking about holding down the B Front. Anyone ‘requested’ to do such a thing would normally want to go hide in their parents’ basement.”

  “What are you talking about? If I could
have it my way, I would have a much easier time if I could have left all the logistics to you.”

  “…I know.” He swallowed the urge to say, So I suffer either way. As he was about to remark that that was always the case, the train’s whistle interrupted them.

  They had been talking so intently, neither of them realized it was time to go.

  “Hey, the train’s here. Look, Zettour.”

  “Yeah, seems that way.”

  The train that glided into the platform was the usual combination of passenger and freight cars. There had to be a mountain of supplies being sent to the eastern front on those freight cars.

  The train’s most distinguishing feature was the cheap paint job it had gotten that was supposed to provide a degree of camouflage. The cars were painted a somewhat gloomy color in order to make them hard to spot from the sky.

  It reminded Zettour of his future in an uncomfortable way. No matter how Rudersdorf spun it, he still felt anxious.

  Before departing, though aware that it was uncharacteristically repetitive of him, he opened his mouth to speak. “About the logistics for Andromeda, to be blunt…”

  He had to say it.

  He felt he had to make his point clear, but it got him nowhere.

  “There aren’t enough horses. We’ll just barely be ready by forcing everything through with rail. It’s all we have left. There are trucks as insurance, but…whether fuel stocks will hold up or not is in the air.”

  “…Yeah.”

  If Rudersdorf already fully grasped the main points and understood the most glaring issues, there was nothing else Zettour could meaningfully add.

  “I’ve known that from the beginning. Don’t worry about A Group. I’m leaving B to you.” With a bob of his head, Rudersdorf pounded his own chest. It must have meant he was up to the challenge.

  “I’ve been going along with your recklessness for so long.”

  “For better or worse, we’re inseparable former classmates. Let’s win this thing together.”

  “And what if we fail?”

  Always have a backup plan in mind. That was the nature of a staff officer. Some might have even called it the essence of their being.

  They hoped harder than anyone for the operation to succeed. But they also prepared for failures no one wanted to see or think about. It seemed like a contradiction, but it was precisely because they desired success more than anyone that they also constantly envisioned the worst scenarios.

  “I’ll reorganize the lines and won’t hesitate to retreat. I’m not interested in betting on a losing horse.”

  “…A drastic retreat will affect B Group. If you do plan to fall back, let me know.”

  He knew Rudersdorf wouldn’t screw up the timing. Being nervous about it seemed strange.

  But perhaps Zettour was anxious because it was his first frontline duty in a while? He was in a strange mood. He hesitated to bring it up, but something felt wrong, as if he had done his shirt up one button off. He just couldn’t verbalize it properly.

  In the end, he decided to say nothing. It was better not to speak up in the first place if he was unsure.

  “I believe in you. And now all I have to worry about is the A Front. You have my gratitude.”

  “I suppose I don’t have to go nuts with it.”

  “If you say you’ll do it, I’m sure you’ll do it no problem.”

  “…I’ll do my best. But this isn’t an issue that can just be solved with joint responsibility. Allow me to say something, bearing in mind how rough you are with people.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Colonel Uger and the others I’m leaving behind are excellent officers, but they’re good-natured people. They’re very cooperative but tend to be restrained when it comes to expressing their own views.”

  “By that you mean…?”

  “You need to understand that when they say something is impossible, it’s different from when I say something is impossible. When they say something can’t be done, it’s most likely because they’ve already exhausted all their options.”

  The Service Corps staff officers he was leaving in Rudersdorf’s care were too used to working at full tilt. They were incredibly talented at cutting away excesses in the pursuit of efficiency.

  As members of an organization, they were the perfect cogs.

  The issue came down to how they would be used.

  “I hope you’ll remember this: All my subordinates are hard workers. You might even say they work too hard. Please keep that in mind when you’re making requests of them.”

  They would never cut corners. They were industrious and unselfish, which was praiseworthy, but…it became a problem when the staff officers didn’t get necessary rest. If they pushed themselves to their limits, they wouldn’t have the proper reserves of energy in the event of an emergency.

  “…I’ll keep that in mind. What a mess this has turned out to be. It was much simpler to squeeze resources out of you.”

  “All the impossible demands from you and the rest of Operations have left my people and me gaunt. At this point, much more squeezing and all you’ll wring out is hatred. Our blood and tears have long since dried up. That’s how hard my people work and how much they strain themselves. If only they were blessed with a better colleague.”

  “Ahhh, I hope you’re blessed with a good colleague like me in B Group.”

  “Ha-ha-ha! If only.”

  Zettour laughed at how awful Rudersdorf was being, and Rudersdorf shrugged. Though they had grown older, their banter hadn’t changed from the time they entered the service together.

  “I wish you luck.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you again sometime.”

  “You bet. I’ll be waiting for your triumphant return, General.”

  They continued chatting as they clapped each other on the back and shook hands. No matter how much a staff officer was praised, it undoubtedly had nothing to do with how good a person they were.

  “Have some pricey liquor and cigars ready. I’m planning on bankrupting you.”

  “Fine by me. You can expect a welcome back party for the triumphant Operations Zettour. We’ll make it a big one. And all the arrangements will be made by Service Corps Zettour, so you can believe me when I say everything’s taken care of.”

  “…I never thought you’d manage to get one over on me. It seems I’m already washed up. Well, time for me to dutifully head to the eastern front. See you again soon.”

  With those final words, Zettour boarded the train and entered his compartment. Waiting for him there was a batman who bowed low, nervously trembling.

  “Excuse me, General! Your luggage…”

  “Luggage?”

  “Yes, sir! If you’ll point me in the direction of your bags, I can take care of them for you right away.”

  “Thanks, but there aren’t any.”

  The young batman’s face went blank. Did he hear that correctly?

  “Y-yes, sir… So…you don’t require any assistance?”

  Zettour almost pitied the poor kid, who had gone white as a sheet, perhaps from the stress of questioning a high-ranking officer.

  “Take a look. All I’ve got is my officer’s suitcase. It’s not as if I’m moving house, so what would be the point of taking more than I can carry? An officer has to be ready to move at a moment’s notice if the order comes down.”

  “P-please excuse my ignorance, sir!”

  Zettour shook his head lightly and told him not to worry about it.

  “How terribly unfortunate if my predecessors gave you the wrong idea. Anyhow, might as well make the best of it. Troops on their way to the east are allowed a free cup of tea, right? As a member of the military, I’d like to take advantage.”

  “Yes, sir! I’ll bring it immediately.”

  The batman dashed off with impressive speed. He must have been trained well. But the peacetime sensibility made Zettour want to give him a piece of his mind. Etiquette was all well and good, but was that muc
h necessary on a train headed to a war zone?

  “…What a handful. He’s too polite for field service.”

  He would probably also have to say something about the operation and usage of the trains themselves. As he was about to make a mental note, he realized something with a start.

  This isn’t the General Staff Office.

  It wasn’t the type of place where he could order something to be improved and it would happen immediately. He wouldn’t be able to remember everything, so he would probably have to start writing things down at some point.

  The right to make requests went only so far.

  Sitting in the chair in his compartment, he murmured, “So I’ve got to wage war while holding the reins of B Group…”

  This certainly wasn’t what Supreme Command had envisioned. Zettour retained nominal authority, but it was Rudersdorf back at headquarters who was meant to command the operation. The fact that they couldn’t have guessed that he, shorthanded for the major operation in the southeast as it was, couldn’t handle overseeing both the Service Corps and B Group…made things rather lopsided.

  “Thanks to that, part of his work got dumped on me.”

  The higher-ups didn’t intend it, but the labor had been divided. And as a result, he was being sent to the eastern front with greatly limited authority and supplies. Even if the Eastern Army Group and the General Staff Office hadn’t already been on bad terms, he was basically parachuting down on them without warning.

  He probably wouldn’t be able to take his time and get to know everyone at HQ.

  “That idiot Rudersdorf. As if it’ll be so simple.”

  Unable to issue actual orders, only requests. What a difficult world we live in. Zettour could already see how his influence on the eastern front would be terribly small.

  In effect, he had no pieces to play with.

  “No, there is one…”

  A single card in his hand. But it was a wild card.

  “The Salamanders…”

  When conceptualizing the Kampfgruppe, he never dreamed it would be used like this one day. It was a special unit reporting directly to the General Staff with Lieutenant Colonel von Degurechaff in command. The unit wasn’t being used very aggressively in the east, but perhaps that would need to change soon.