by Carlo Zen
“The main position is—!”
“Enemy infantry?! Shit, on me!”
But there is a shortage of a critical element: suppressive fire. Soldim 528, being under siege, never had an abundant supply of ammunition, and the battalion had been having trouble making ends meet. Participating in a major firefight on the way over decidedly didn’t help.
Pitifully, as commander, Tanya has the least firepower at this moment when she needs it the most.
“Tch… Successive engagements are a curse.”
She has no bullets left. She despises the limited selection of long-range gear she’s stuck with. Just as she is thinking, Even if I wanted to fight at close quarters…, she recalls the shovel on her hip. She’s wearing it because she thought she could use it during an urban battle, but what’s to stop her from using it in a 3-D battle?
When she glances down, she sees imperial positions on the verge of being stormed by enemy infantry. Regardless of how it would go in a normal positional battle, here they only have a makeshift defense without so much as a reserve trench. If our troops get overrun, it won’t end well.
I have no choice. I have to put this implement of civilization known as a shovel to practical use.
As soon as she has made up her mind, her shovel glints as she begins her descent. Then, having raised it above her head, she brings it down unhesitatingly on an enemy soldier.
It’s a strike landed by an aerial mage without slowing down, boosted by gravitational acceleration, using the same logic of the furious cavalry charges performed in every age and area. Even if Tanya herself is light, she’s now a fearsome missile.
A dull crash.
A fallen soldier.
Then instead of braking, she uses her defensive shell and protective film to send the other soldiers in the area flying before finally making landfall. Grabbing a gun off an enemy on the ground, she surveys the area and immediately finds the man she’s looking for.
Should she be stunned? Moved by his valor? To her immense surprise, Zettour, who isn’t even a mage, is mixed in with the foot soldiers, carrying a personal weapon.
Despite the heaps of corpses, he holds his ground instead of retreating… What a fantastic boss. Tanya doesn’t feel she can compete.
“Are you all right, General?”
“The glint of your shovel was mesmerizing.”
How awkward that he saw her out of ammo. Beginning to blush, she looks away and apologizes for her bad form.
“Sorry you had to see that.”
“On the contrary, Colonel, it was a valuable scene I never could have imagined while polishing a chair with my ass back at the General Staff Office. It was quite an interesting performance.”
“It’s an honor to hear you say so, sir.”
So it’s the kind of failure we can chuckle about? Since Tanya did her best, I figure it’s okay to feel relieved that the evaluation wasn’t too harsh.
“I’ll do better next time.”
“That’ll do, Colonel. That’ll do. At any rate, once we clean up here, allow me to invite you to tea.”
“How refined, sir.” She laughs that it’s a strange thing to propose on a battlefield.
“Don’t you think that culture is what separates us from the beasts, the normal from the abnormal?”
“I’m not able to be as consistent as you. But I’m exceedingly honored to be invited.”
“Good.” Zettour laughs, too.
“I have a nice blend our friend from Ildoa left before going home. We should have something other than coffee once in a while. Anyhow, do this right.”
“Yes, sir! I’ll see you later!”
[chapter VI] Hans von Zettour
JUNE 18, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
The Federation Army units dealt with the charging imperial armored units according to regulations. The reserve forces were assigned rapid-response duty and intercepted the imperial rescue units trying to make a breakthrough.
Though Federation doctrine emphasized numerical superiority, they didn’t necessarily have it on the receiving end of Lieutenant General von Zettour’s charge. Still, what they lacked in numbers, they made up for with ability.
The Federation Army’s handling of the situation, on battle lines ruled by the fog of war, was exceedingly close to perfect. The carefully prepared plan was enacted without a hitch, and the pet they had kept safely in their pocket for just such an occasion—a full armored division—was decisively rushed over.
Even the Imperial Army General Staff was forced to recognize their enemy’s organized resistance as something worth imitating.
Without excessive interference by political officers, plus their burgeoning pursuit of military logic, the Federation military organization had built itself a reliable defense. Perhaps it was by the book, but when you have the ability and opportunity, there is nothing more solid than a frontal attack.
If the imperial relief unit had been short on nerves, the Federation surely would have won. Their counter-advance would have shattered the imperial will to fight along with everything else; they probably could have even made a long-range march of it.
If there was one fatal miscalculation the intercepting Federation troops made, it was this: They didn’t anticipate wild animals escaping the supposedly surrounded enemy position, baring their fangs, and chomping down hard from behind.
In a struggle for supremacy, a stab in the back can trigger the collapse of even the most powerful of armies.
Because the Federation Army had unwisely committed its reserve forces and continued choosing the right answers according to the textbook, a single action outside its paradigm froze its brain.
The blessing within the curse was that a sheepdog had been pursuing the animals.
Lieutenant Colonel Drake was forced into the heroic role of saving his fellow troops, which, while not at all what he intended, proved a stroke of luck for the army overall.
Dragged along after rampaging First Lieutenant Sue went rogue, the voluntary mage unit ended up pursuing the enemy, and by slowing down the mage battalion that zoomed out of Soldim 528, the Federation troops just barely managed to contain what would have otherwise been a fatal strike.
But ad hoc tactics would only work for so long.
The Federation Army was aware of the B Group’s dwindling will to fight, so the Imperial Army’s drive to break the encirclement overturned all its expectations; they were pincered by the mage battalion from behind, and all of their reserve troops had already been deployed.
The commander of any army would have their head in their hands.
But it turned out that the damage to the Federation Army at the point where they were broken through was momentarily localized. The real problem was caused by its organizational structure as they faced this challenge—that is, the issue of decision-making.
What do you do when you can no longer maintain the line?
Counter? Retreat? Defend?
Any of those choices would have been one way to proceed. But the Federation commanders failed to make the crucial call. No one was able to secure the time necessary to reorganize the crumbled formations.
It wasn’t that there were no commanders who could make a quick decision.
In fierce battle after fierce battle, Federation commanders were accumulating experience and knowledge, honing their judgment and combat skills at a pace that rivaled their imperial counterparts.
There was only one reason they failed to decide.
Regardless of how outstanding an officer, the Federation Army considered obedience the supreme virtue. Put another way, disobedience was simply not an option on principle. Their organization lacked the culture of acting on one’s own discretion, even in an emergency. Not that it hadn’t ever been done. But doing so was a heroic decision that took something more than bravery.
Most people would simply wait.
For an order.
Or more precisely, for permission.
That’s how they had b
een disciplined: to fear the party more than the enemy.
Of course, if they realized they weren’t going to make it, they might eventually move.
But they didn’t go far enough.
So Lieutenant General von Zettour’s advance—which went not only far enough but all the way—opened the door.
Was this resolute charge an example of savage valor, recklessness, or a casting away of indecision? No matter how it was described, there was no doubt Zettour had won his wager.
JUNE 19, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE EASTERN LINES, IMPERIAL ARMY UNIT IN PURSUIT
The rewards of victory are many and various, but one that is guaranteed is the right to chase down fleeing enemies. No matter the era or place, there is nothing that feels better than firing at your enemy’s knapsacks.
I mean, you get to attack their backs, you know?
Once a general pursuit is ordered, everyone has to go whether they want to or not.
Among the bravely charging units ordered to hunt down the enemy are Tanya and the rest of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. It’s full speed ahead in aerial strike formation aiming straight for the enemy’s backs as the Empire’s hunting dogs.
But the face of the commander Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, leading the troops, darkens for a moment, and she signals nonchalantly with her eyes to her vice commander flying nearby.
He looks worried, too, as he approaches casually. He’s a trained officer as well—he gets full marks for considering the watchful eyes of their subordinates.
“My, what a view. Who could have expected a pursuit battle?”
“You said it. The breakthrough is a success. So there was a point to defending Soldim 528.”
“Ha-ha-ha.” What a cheerful chat as commander and deputy commander laugh together. The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion may train from scratch, but at least it has commanders it can count on.
So yes, Weiss and Tanya are doing a good job. Probably the only one who catches the cryptic air between them is Tanya’s adjutant.
“We’re supposed to mop up the rest of the enemies while giving chase in order to secure the area, but…Colonel?”
“Weiss, I’ll ask you point-blank…do you really think pursuit is possible, given the circumstances?” Tanya glances at her vice commander with a bitter look.
“We’ve been ordered to pursue…but it’s not what you want? It’s true that the unit is tired, but we’re still mission-capable.”
“Major Weiss, even we’re exhausted, and we certainly didn’t have it the worst.”
Of all the units that participated in the breakthrough operation, the 203rd is probably in the best shape. Yet, Tanya hesitates to take the opportunity to expand their gains via pursuit.
If it were only her own unit, she might have forced them to keep pace with the rest of the troops. Sadly, those other troops, who would be their last hope, may or may not be in any position to move.
Considering B Group’s current status, by the time they achieved the breakthrough…the troops were already at their limits.
“So there’s no way?”
Tanya gives a small nod in response to Weiss’s pained comment. She doesn’t have to ask what he’s referring to.
It’s frustrating to not be able to follow up one success with full force, but neither is there any way to gloss over the complete lack of reserves.
“It’s too big a risk to press on with the battalion alone. The best we can do is provide support alongside the air fleet. I’ll approve a slight advance as a tactical measure, but I want to avoid incurring any further fatigue.”
“If those are your orders…”
“Let’s make them strict orders. I don’t want to exhaust units that have already been through a hard fight. We had that multinational unit hounding us, too. I can’t let this drag on.”
“So we should call it off entirely?”
Tanya signals that she wants to consider it and goes over the issues on her mind.
When we met up with General Zettour, he was definitely giving off vibes that implied he wanted to mop up the enemy. He was so amped that he had been personally at the front, gun in hand.
And along with the tea plans, he had made a request: “Colonel, after the pursuit battle, I want you to report in and tell me how it went.”
Remembering that, Tanya sighs.
The higher-ups always talk like it’s so easy. He said to report in, but does that mean he expects a souvenir? Does she dare to return empty-handed?
I don’t want to be the sort of boss who merely hands down her superior’s contradictory orders.
“I don’t want to be like that, but”—Tanya spots a cluster of enemy mages like tiny floating specks and grumbles—“it also feels like a waste.”
If I want to heed warnings from history, then the only practical option is to withdraw. But I also understand feeling, like Cao Cao, that we’re squandering an opportunity.
If I could just lay into the Federation and Commonwealth mages who have been following us and causing trouble… Well, it’s not something I wish for no reason.
“Colonel?”
“Nothing. I’d like to withdraw, but I also feel like settling the score, since they’re right in front of us—two actions that are mutually exclusive. So the only thing to do is to probe them.”
Tanya laughs at herself for acting out of character. But this is what happens when you’re stuck in a situation with no good choices.
It’s awful, but then so much of life is.
Reality is full of absurdity—from Being X, to the sorrows of middle management, or the fool who pushed me in front of the train. Thus do I wish that all those evils rot.
Let’s brace ourselves.
Let’s stand up against absurdity.
We’ll hold our ground and act with tenacity.
“01 to all units! We’re going to destroy those enemy mages! Prepare to strike!”
If you’re going to do it, abandon all hesitation.
Ordering the charge, Tanya leads her battalion as they swiftly close in on the multinational unit led by Lieutenant Colonel Drake and Colonel Mikel.
THE SAME DAY, THE MULTINATIONAL UNIT’S REAR GUARD
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Colonel Drake, on the pursued side, had problems of his own. Or perhaps one could say the thoughts of any member of an organization on a battlefield start to resemble one another. It doesn’t matter if you’re victorious and transitioning to pursuit or defeated and retreating, your worries will be more similar than some might imagine.
Will it be all right to return empty-handed? It’s the first time Drake, magic marine of the Commonwealth and seasoned hero, has had to face the conflict of wondering that while being pursued.
If he had to describe this novel experience in a nutshell: the taste of vomit. It was the sort of dilemma he never wanted to go through again.
“The enemy is after us. But I’m not sure what to do. Honestly, what a…”
No, he would hold his tongue, but it absolutely was a shit show. How could he hesitate between counterattacking and fleeing?
Strictly speaking, there was no problem with his own hands being empty, but he had to consider Colonel Mikel and his standing with the Federation Communist Party.
If the multinational unit retreated empty-handed, would Mikel’s physical safety be guaranteed or not? Being defeated was already complicated enough.
It was easy to imagine this as a concern shared by all Federation officers—to the point that Drake was forced to realize: That’s why the Federation Army is so fragile. If he could believe the rumors he was hearing, they were starting to value military logic. But the divergence from a Commonwealth soldier view was still as substantial as ever.
“…So what should I do?” Drake murmured and turned his mind to organizational theory and the Federation’s internal logic. If it were only about clobbering the enemy in front of them, things would be much simpler…
But as it was, they were basically being pincered.
“Does it bother you so much to bring up the rear of a fighting retreat?”
“…No, it isn’t that. I’m worried about what excuse to make…”
“Colonel Drake?”
He was having a frank conversation with Mikel, who gave him a puzzled look—minus the usual interpreter. It was a risky move, but if neither the political officer nor loose-lipped First Lieutenant Sue was around, he didn’t have time to waste on useless formalities.
Risk, risk, risk.
They were only waging war alongside the Federation, so why was there so much to take into account?
“Please allow me to ask you plainly. Are we allowed to retreat without achieving anything significant? I’m especially concerned about any difficulty you might experience in your position. Do you think you’ll be let off the hook without punishment?”
“I’m making it a point of not discussing politics. Could you do me a favor and not make me leak confidential intel?”
In other words, politics were involved. If politics were involved, he wouldn’t get off easy. Drake responded to Mikel’s implicit answer with a hollow laugh at the sky. “…Got it. I understand the Federation’s culture and wish to respect it.”
They needed to return with a souvenir as a matter of political necessity.
He had always believed that politics was a nasty business, but with this, he confirmed anew how truly, hopelessly rotten it was.
“So we need something to show for all our effort, but we’re the rear guard fighting fiercely as we retreat. I hate to admit that Lieutenant Sue’s rampage saved us this time, but in retrospect, we were able to provide effective support for our fellow troops as a result of her actions.”
They had been able to avoid the collapse of the army when the imperial pincer attack threatened to destroy them completely.
“Let’s hold out at the back of the pack. We’ll stay with you and fight.”
Mikel’s apologetic thanks was lost to the wind.
Drake didn’t hear what he said. It wasn’t the sort of thing that should be said between brothers-in-arms. A man doesn’t need a reason to stand firm beside a fellow soldier.