by Carlo Zen
“Why aren’t you moving them?”
“If failure isn’t an option, then we need to take an approach that has the highest chance of succeeding. The state of the Imperial Army forces on the eastern front is, as I’m sure you’ve heard…”
I knew that already, thought Zettour, staring at the map with a wry grin. The situation was rather far from ideal. Under normal circumstances, the area that each division was defending would have been covered by three divisions, minimum.
In that sense, he could comprehend B Group’s hesitation. If they deployed their counterattack and firefighting emergency units, that was all they had; their sense of crisis was valid—if you’re waging war according to common sense, that is.
On that point, the Federation Army’s inexhaustible manpower and their foreign matériel assistance was a wonder. The Federation Army’s military strength and human resources had been deeply underestimated in the existing evaluations of their enemy’s fighting power. Or rather, it was all too far beyond the Empire’s preconceptions.
It was easy to take out a Federation soldier. Taking out the Federation Army, however, would be a feat.
Thinking of the Empire’s current state after they nearly blew it, all Zettour could do was sigh. He would have laughed at the idea that if you couldn’t stay on the tightrope, you’d have nowhere to stand, except it currently applied to him. What a horrible corner they’d been driven into.
…But basically…
If failure wasn’t an option, then all they needed to do was not fail.
Wishing for all victories all the time was surely too much, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t win here and now.
“At any rate. I understand the situation and your fears. With all that in mind, I’m still requesting that you come up with a rescue plan.”
“General, with so few troops, the likelihood of a rescue succeeding is—”
“Our troops are finite, but remember that time is as well.”
As a strategist, Zettour had his worries about the situation, but as a tactician, he knew he could rely on his skills.
After all, he had a better understanding of time and timing than anyone else present.
Strategically, when the Andromeda Operation was poised to capture the southern cities, it would be unacceptable for A Group’s attack to be blunted by a crisis in B Group.
“What is it, ultimately, that’s causing you to hesitate? If it’s already been decided that you’ll conduct a rescue, you should probably decide how best to go about it, right?”
“Even if it’s necessary, we need to take into consideration the situation all across the eastern front…”
“The objective is to hold the B Front. The target is the enemy field army. It’s that simple. Making it more complicated is a heroic first step toward failure.” You don’t get that? Zettour asked with his eyes, but he realized it was pointless.
The hearts and the minds of B Group were at odds.
In their minds, they could understand—that it was unforgivable to abandon their brothers-in-arms. They could see that the only thing to do was for B Group to open a way out for them with a maneuver battle.
If this were war college, they would all undoubtedly choose to wager everything on the maneuver battle.
But their hearts were filled with apprehension. The fact that they were hesitating to act in these strenuous circumstances proved they were thinking with their hearts, not their minds.
He could preach his logic, but regardless of how their minds responded, it wouldn’t move their hearts.
…Zettour would have liked to rely on their self-motivation. But if they were this far gone, he would have to give up on utilizing the “bright staffers.”
Swallowing a sigh, Zettour fell back into silent thought before the map.
Lure them in far enough and strike before they go on the defensive. The attack needed to punch through the enemy, but it was so vulnerable that any hiccup could be disastrous. It all came down to timing. If they moved too soon, the enemy would be able to get away. If they moved too late, they were liable to get bumped back themselves and lose the Lergen Kampfgruppe in the process.
Determination. That’s what a commander’s job entails.
If you’re going to use your heart, it has to be with unwavering resolve, not hesitation. You’re here to make one decision. The lives of your soldiers and the fate of the nation rests on your shoulders.
It comes down to a single person’s judgment.
The responsibility is heavy and rough, so if you don’t feel sick, you’re probably not human. Zettour took out the cigar he’d swiped from Rudersdorf and distracted himself from those feelings to regain some composure.
It was fine to recognize the weight of the responsibility, but if it crushed him, he would be no different from the staffers of B Group. It would defeat the purpose entirely.
If all he did was gaze at the map, the limits appeared on their own. The important thing was what to write on top of it.
Luckily, they had drawn the enemy far enough in.
In that case, the seeds had been sown, so the diligent laborers of the Imperial Army needed to put in the effort to reap. Is it harvest season yet?
“It must be time,” Zettour murmured and smiled at the sound. The feeling of his doubts melting away and the weight lifting off his shoulders was indescribable.
The certainty that this was the perfect opportunity gave him hope.
Now all that was left was to strike before they missed their chance. Simple, and their target was clear.
It was obvious the enemy was interested in using the railway, so the Federation Army units must have guessed that the Imperial Army would use the rails for reinforcements or escape.
And the reports that were coming in showed that they were keeping their attention on the tracks.
But they were actually too focused. The Federation Army was so concerned with securing the rails that they were excessively concentrating on that one route. They lacked the preparedness to say that the road didn’t matter as long as the destination was reached.
So at this moment, attacking from somewhere unexpected would cut deeply.
The enemy wasn’t looking beyond the railroad, they weren’t keeping the encirclement completely closed, and they were keeping only a rudimentary watch on the tracks…which meant it would be possible to strike despite the power imbalance.
Our chance has arrived.
Not that there was anything wrong with killing time debating, but military logic demanded action. So though he was reluctant to part from them, it was time to take his leave.
Thinking of what came next and what arrangements were necessary, Zettour called the nearest orderly over. “…You, sorry, but can I borrow you for a moment?” He made his order casually. “I need two cups of coffee. Bring them to my office. And can you get Lieutenant Grantz for me, as well?”
To the orderly, it was as if he had asked for the coffee in order to retire to his room. It would be clear to anyone that he had given up on the meeting. But he commented to make sure.
“Well, everyone has their opinions, but it seems to me, gentlemen, that you’ve understood my request and will respect it. And I understand that the things you want to take into consideration are important to you.” He said it in a purposely exhausted tone and heaved a conspicuous sigh. To drive his point home, he expressed himself in a way that could be interpreted as disappointment. “So with the authority vested in me by the homeland, as inspector and advisor, I’m going to take some distance from this debate. Let me know when you’ve come up with the perfect plan for the operation.”
“Understood.”
“Very good… I’m expecting a conclusion as soon as possible.”
He said it, but he winced inwardly, feeling like a total fraud.
Was this the result of Rudersdorf pulling all the capable soldiers for the aggressive attack operation? It wasn’t as if the ones left in B Group had no brains at all, but…they were unenterpri
sing and tinged with cowardice to the point that their autonomy had broken down.
Is the eastern front too worn out?
This wasn’t a kind way to put it, but these staffers couldn’t be used anymore as a part. He needed to implement a bold change in personnel as soon as possible. These men had lost the soul of a staff officer. They couldn’t be treated as such anymore.
Having announced the end of the meeting, Zettour hurried out of the war room.
He had nothing left to do there.
What he needed was people who would act. When he arrived back at the room assigned as his office, he reached for the phone on his table.
The number he dialed was that of the commander of one of B Group’s few reserve divisions.
“Commander Cramm, this is Lieutenant General von Zettour.”
“Weren’t you in a meeting? I beg your pardon, General, but what can I…?”
“It’s an invitation to take a walk with me. How about it, Commander Cramm?”
Just as he was about to ask where to, Zettour continued by casually hurling a verbal bomb into the receiver.
“Let’s go wage a little war.”
“D-do excuse me, but…is that an order, General?” Cramm reacted to Zettour’s calm comment by biting, feigning it being in spite of himself.
“No, officially I’m using my authority to advise and make requests of the Eastern Army Group on the division level. It won’t bother me if you refuse.”
“Sir?”
“The staff officers of the eastern army understand and respect my intentions. To put it another way, they gave me a lot of meeting time.” What Zettour said as he continued calmly, or at least in a voice that sounded calm, was inflammatory.
The eastern army staff lacked the nerve to do what was needed. Once you’ve decided to bring your fist down, war is all about how fast you can take that swing. Consideration should be careful, but action should be decisive—never the other way around.
“I decided to let them enjoy their meeting for as long as they want. Meanwhile, I’m planning on fighting this war seriously with you soldiers.”
“…You must be joking.”
“It would be great if I was, but unfortunately, this is reality.” He denied it simply, in a way that allowed for no misunderstanding, and bowled over Cramm’s hesitant voice. “This is war, Commander Cramm. What do you say?”
“…It’s to save our fellow soldiers, right?”
“Of course,” answered Zettour. “The objective is to hold the B Front. The target is the enemy field army. Our actions will relieve our beleaguered comrades. Of that, I have no doubt.”
After a moment’s silence and a quiet groan, Cramm’s strained voice reached Zettour’s ears. “If it’s to save our troops…then I suppose I’ll at least hear you out.”
“You’re a model officer—very good. I’ll brief you.”
He understood honor, so it was easy for a crafty soldier to handle him.
The difference between a staff officer and a division commander is simple. The former is far from useless, but the latter stands out for their passion for assertive action.
Before understanding with their head, they understand with their heart. Division commanders are truly simple, which makes things go quickly.
“The basic idea is bypass, bypass, direct attack. Do you remember the plan I asked you to research?”
“Yes, we’re conducting a thorough survey based on the request for consideration the strategic reserve divisions received. I believe it was a classic maneuver battle…”
The energy in his voice was unmistakable even over the phone. It was immediately clear that he was on board.
We’ll save our fellow soldiers with a maneuver battle!
Surely no soldier could hate such a plan. If there were such a misguided character in the Imperial Army, they would have to be an enemy spy.
“Have you discussed it with the other division commanders?”
“Per your request, yes.”
All it took was one assertive commander to get everyone in order… If Zettour could mobilize them, then his wager had basically paid off already.
“Very good! Commander, I thank you. Now we’ll be able to get through this somehow.” Zettour made his request in a solemn manner per formality. “By the authority vested in me by the General Staff, I request that you advance our left wing and to the enemy forces’ flank.”
“So it’s confirmed?”
It was only a formal excuse. But soldiers can often be relied on to move as long as they have an excuse.
“Save our troops.”
“…I’d like nothing more. Your instructions, sir?”
As Zettour had anticipated as a member of the same organization, they jumped at a justification that allowed them to rescue friendly troops.
Offering an excuse…
That was the only surefire way Zettour could personally move units on the eastern front.
“Encircle them using a clockwise maneuver. Destroy the units of the Federation Army surrounding the Lergen Kampfgruppe. And while you’re at it, nip the enemy counterattack in the bud; don’t let it become a concern for the main offensive down south.”
“Understood.”
“Oh, and one more thing. Well, it’s not a request, but just to let you know.”
“Sir?”
“I’m borrowing a vehicle. Sorry for the ex post facto approval, but I’d like to have your understanding.”
Cramm told him that wouldn’t be a problem, and after thanking him, Zettour hung up.
“Excuse me, General. First Lieutenant Grantz, reporting in. You wanted to see me?”
Just as he was thinking to ask again where Grantz was, he showed up—what timing. Lieutenant Colonel von Degurechaff’s education was comprehensive.
The orderly had even arrived with the coffee. He must have been waiting outside to be polite.
It seemed he would be able to count on these people.
“Thanks for coming. Go ahead and sit down.” With a gentle expression, Zettour offered the young lieutenant a seat, as if he was inviting him in to make small talk, and treated him to a cup of the coffee the orderly had brought.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask your preference, but have some coffee with me.”
“I-I’d be honored to, sir!”
To Grantz, who excused himself as he reached for the coffee cup with a tense expression, it must have been quite a nerve-racking tea party. Until the orderly left the room, Zettour maintained an amicable smile, but…time was too precious to waste here.
If this weren’t a battlefield, Zettour might have been a bit more pure, too.
“Allow me to ask you point-blank, Lieutenant Grantz… What’s the condition of the company you’ve received from Colonel von Degurechaff?”
“No problems, sir! We’re on standby for rapid response. As soon as you issue orders, we’ll be ready to carry them out.”
For Zettour, that was a satisfactory response. No, it was even better than he expected. Considering the average level of discipline among the troops in the east, it was almost jaw-dropping.
But then again, it was Degurechaff’s unit, so of course this was the standard. Though it was brimming with the quickness, ambition, and fighting spirit of lower-ranking officers, the soldiers seemed disciplined.
They had been taught well. As officers, cogs of state-sanctioned violence, they were the highest-quality role models. On the eastern front with its mud-water coffee, the aroma they gave off was of the real thing.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t make sense to compare them to how awful the coffee is.”
“General?”
“Nothing. I was just remembering the dining room in the General Staff Office.” He shrugged with a wince, indicating the hardships involved. The General Staff’s dining room was truly atrocious. Speaking only of his diet since being thrown on to the forward-most line in the east, he could declare with confidence that his post-demotion meals were better quality.
&
nbsp; The young magic officer, Grantz, maintaining a respectful silence, was another quality factor… No matter where you are, there is some sort of advantage. If you can find it, that’s a giant step forward.
On that point, the fact that Zettour had this precious pearl of a mage company in the palm of his hand made it possible for him to make daring decisions and take audacious actions despite having been sidelined from the General Staff Office to the eastern army with no authority.
“Lieutenant Grantz, I wonder if I can ask you to bend over backward for me.”
“Yes, General!”
He said it with the mild expression of a kind old man. “I need you to go somewhere via tank desant.”
“Sir?”
When the youth stiffened up, apparently not understanding, Zettour’s eyes crinkled into a smile. So there’s a limit to how well they respond.
That’s fine. I’ll just explain.
“War, Lieutenant. Let’s start a war.”
“A-a war, sir?”
“Oh, well, I suppose I should use my words more precisely. We’re already at war, so… To be more accurate, let’s call it our war.”
Even if the eastern army got caught up in it, this was a program that essentially only Tanya and Zettour knew about. It didn’t require any pretension to use the word our.
Something sacred or perhaps a moment’s loneliness.
He couldn’t quite describe the feeling, but he rephrased his intention with pride. “Lieutenant Grantz, this is our war. How could you sit it out?”
“General…?”
“What, Lieutenant? If you have a question, ask away. Questions shouldn’t be bottled up.”
“What is it that we’re starting exactly?”
He has the right instincts. It was a roundabout way of asking. He was using language cleverly to appear dense while confirming the heart of the matter.
“Don’t be so cold, Lieutenant.” Zettour bit on Grantz’s response. “It’s about Soldim 528. You know the Lergen Kampfgruppe has been surrounded, right? It goes without saying, but we’re going to rescue them.”
“Oh!”
The open-book response made Zettour deeply envious—that naive joy, or maybe it came from a sense that a superior’s words were trustworthy.